Teaching His Virgin

“Yes, you’ve been critiquing Ainsworth clothing to the one and only Kace Ainsworth.”

He begins to lead me with him toward another part of the club.

“I will get us a private room, and then get someone to fetch you a harness of that same design.”

He pauses, looking to me.

“Is that something you want?”

I nod before I’ve even had time to think about it.

After critiquing him so harshly, the least I can do is try on one of those outfits — those harnesses.

I blush again, watching as we approach a waitress.

Even if he decides not to let me keep it, I’m going to do it for him anyway. Anything to make up for how ruthless I was. Even if he did seem to like what I had to say.

Chapter Five

Kace

The look she has on her face — the one of bewilderment and shock when I admit who I am — that makes me even more intent on having her and making her strip. I want to punish her for some of those things she said about my work, even though I am inspired by her criticism.

The next expression on her youthful face — the one of mischief and wonder that comes over her as I begin to lead her to the part of the club with private rooms — that one has me itching to put her in one of those harnesses.

I want to watch her strip and put it on, before making her helpless in addition to completely and fully exposed. She will be at my mercy, exactly as those harnesses were designed to do.

I see a waitress up ahead. Pulling her aside, I say that we are interested in renting a private room for the night. I asked for a specific one, knowing that there are more hooks and similar devices built into the walls there than in others.

When the waitress returns with the keys (they have a small charm in the shape of a ball gag attached to them), I make a second request of her.

“Have someone bring my car around. Have them also get one of my harnesses, one exactly like that.”

Taking the keys from the waitress, I point out the harness in question, making sure there are no mistakes.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Ainsworth,” she says. “Please go ahead and get yourself and your lady comfortable in the room, and I will get someone to deliver the suit to you.”

“Very good,” I say, and begin walking my little fashion designer with me toward the room I’ve reserved for us.

It’s away from the main area, but so are the rest of the private rooms. This one, however, is one of the biggest in the entire establishment. It’s designed to house multiple playmates if necessary. But for tonight, it’s just going to be her and me.

I’m in love with this girl’s face, the way her eyes widen from behind her boxy glasses as she takes everything in. Even in a 70s’ styled dress, like she is, she’s gorgeous to me.

Even if those clothing items cover up so much of her skin, I’m intrigued by her willingness to try on something she’s uncomfortable with. All her critique about my designs had to do with their risqué quality. How much flesh was on display in what she called “unnecessary” and “unusable” in daily life.

I didn’t think she would go for wearing something like that. I didn’t think she would take me up on my offer.

As we get to the door and I put the keys in the lock, I study her. She’s blushing again, looking down, and fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. It’s excitement and fear moving through her, but she doesn’t move to take it back.

She doesn’t move to back out like some of the other women I’ve been with. She stands firmly by the door, waiting patiently to be directed inside.

Whether it’s because I told her she could have the harness after or not, it doesn’t matter. She gets points for being so willing to do this for me, even though she has no idea what more I plan to do to her once she is inside — if she thinks to critique me in the same way, once that item is on her, not on someone else.

“Go on in, miss,” I say, gesturing her inside the door I’ve opened.

She moves quickly and obediently. It’s something not lost on me, and something I will be eager to take advantage of in a moment.

“Get comfortable. It may be a few minutes we have left yet to wait.”

I follow in after her, closing the door. It’s not enough to lock it, but enough to create a private space. My little fashion designer occupies herself by looking around the room, studying the bed and the other furniture in this place.

There are chairs and couches with extra leather attached. I then notice her studying the walls, the fancy hooks, and clips along multiple surfaces. They’ve been carved to look like they belong in the room, not as though they are relics from a dungeon.