Sexy Just Walked Into Town Page 5

“Oh, yes, I forgot.” Damn, now what should I do? Just go ahead with my plan?

  “With all due respect, Vicky, you hardly know him.”

  “We all have to start somewhere. And I want to get to know him.”

  “You do?” He raised his thick eyebrows. “Mr Dresden, really?”

  “That’s not his name.” I scowled. “And, yes, I like him, and clearly he likes me—”

  “But—”

  “Shut the fuck up, Carlos.” I was losing patience. “You have no idea what I’ve been through and how many years I’ve waited for someone to come along who yanks my chain.” I calmed my voice. “And he does, so just forget the protective big brother routine.”

  He shrugged. “Just letting you know I care.”

  I sighed. “I’m sorry.” I glanced away. “Perhaps it wouldn’t do any harm for you to escort him to one of the lounges and then tell him you’ll be outside and if he tries any funny business you’ll rip his limbs from his body.”

  Carlos flinched, as though he didn’t like the violent image. Odd when erotic thrashings got him off so spectacularly.

  “I’ll certainly give him a warning,” he said, “though I’ve never doubted you being able to handle a bloke, Vicky.”

  “You’ve never seen me with one.”

  “Exactly.” He grimaced and shoved his hand down the front of his tight leather trousers, appearing to adjust himself.

  “Sorry about that,” I said, nodding at his impressive bulge.

  “No worries, you were right, it’s a perk of the job getting a whipping from you. I can’t complain, I get enough of them.”

  “I’m sure your Mistress will see to your needs.”

  “If she thinks to.”

  “She will.” I rested my hand on his thickly muscled bicep.

  Carlos was a hunk of power, all hard and coiled and ready to explode. He didn’t, though, he kept himself calm and was always graceful in his movements. He also adored his Mistress and was undemanding and grateful for anything she gave him.

  Carlos turned and headed towards reception. “You wait in lounge two and I’ll get him,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Can you grab my bag, too, the red one, from my dressing room…please?”

  “Sure.”

  I darted as fast as I could on my heels to lounge two. Opened and shut the door, leaned back against it, and stole a couple of rapid breaths.

  The air smelled of polish, and the room was warm and dimly lit by two table lamps and an artificial fire. In the centre was a couch, double-bed sized and made of white leather—easy to clean. Above the fire was a plasma TV linked to porn channels and to the show room, but it was off, the screen black and still.

  I stooped and straightened a stash of erotic magazines that were set on the low table. I lined them up and stared at the buxom topless lady on the front. She had enormous chocolate-drop areolae and pouty red lips.

  After a minute or two a knock at the door had me catching my breath.

  I straightened, turned, and pulled my plaits over my ears so they hung down to my tits. I’d tied little blue ribbons on the end to match my dress.

  I blew out a breath and tried to settle a tumble of nerves in my stomach. This was it, the moment I’d been subconsciously wanting for weeks.

  My silver fox was here.

  But was he just a cunning predator, wily and clever and out to see what he could get from me? Or did he have something to offer in return for my Dominatrix services? Could we be more than a symbiotic BDSM relationship?

  I hoped so, and finally, I’d plucked up the courage to find out.

  * * * * *

  This woman would be the death of me.

  I stood outside the room with Carlos, the man I’d watched Vicky the Domme Doll spank on more than one occasion. Of course, I wished she’d been doing that to me—or that she’d let me smack her pert arse instead. Either way I’d be happy. The fact that she’d asked me to this room… What did it mean? Jesus Christ, I was nervous—more nervous than I’d ever been—but it wouldn’t stop me from seeing what she was like in a one-to-one situation. Unless Carlos was going to join in?

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Another man sharing her with me?

  Fuck, no. No.

  Carlos lifted his hand to knock on the door but must have changed his mind. He lowered it, giving me a look that said so many things at once. A sub he might be, but if I made one wrong move, I had a feeling he’d kick the shit out of me. Brawny as he was, he’d knock me down no trouble. Not to say I was weedy—lithe and compact was more like it—but still, I didn’t fancy finding out just how far this man would go if pushed.

  “You’re to go in alone,” he said, his voice gravelly. “But I’ll be outside—right here. You follow the same rules as the ones you signed for when you first joined. You deviate, you’ll have me to deal with. Understand?”

  “Yes,” I said, bristling a bit. “Why would I choose to break them and risk not seeing—coming here again?” I’d nearly revealed my true feelings for Vicky, and that wouldn’t do.

  No getting romantically involved with the staff—rule number one.

  I was fucked there. She invaded my dreams most nights, appearing as the delicious little doll she was. I’d wondered, too many times to count, what she’d look like without those dresses of hers on, without the makeup. Just as pretty, just as hard-on inducing I was sure, but I wanted to know, I wanted to see her, inside and out.

  “I didn’t think you would,” Carlos said. “I was just making sure.” He frowned at me, cocking his head. “Vicky’s one of my friends.”

  There had been no need to tell me that. I’d got what he was saying way before then. Mess with her, he’d mess with me. Did I look the deviant type, was that it? Or had another customer treated her badly in the past? If they had and I knew who it was, I’d string the bastard up.

  I nodded, wishing he’d just open the door so I could get inside to see her. I imagined her there alone, waiting for me, hoping for more than she was probably willing to give. But who the hell shacked up with their customers? She must have a boyfriend or husband tucked away somewhere, I was sure of it. How could she not, a beautiful, dainty little thing like her?

  Carlos rapped on the door then turned the handle.

  My guts rolled over. This was it, my time with her, no one else present—no sharing. He pushed the door—it appeared to be stuck—then abruptly it flowed wide, bringing the whole of the room into view.

  Vicky wasn’t there.

  My excitement sank, and I immediately thought she’d had a change of heart. She’d been rash, hadn’t she, inviting me in here. Or had Mistress Zara put a stop to it?

  I looked at Carlos, who gestured for me to enter, and he handed me a red bag.

  “Give this to your dolly,” he said.

  That was trust, right there—then again, this place was crammed with cameras. I wouldn’t dare to root about inside Vicky’s property—unless it was her cunt, arse, or mouth, and only then with her permission.

  I stepped inside, and the door was closed. I didn’t know what to do with myself so took in my surroundings. Very nice. Very comfortable.

  “Do you like what you see?” Vicky asked from behind me.

  I turned around, heart leaping, to see her standing beside the door. There she was, my dolly, cute as a fucking button and pressing all mine just by being in the same room as me. I swallowed, smiled, and nodded—the only things I could manage.

  “Are you Dom or sub?” she asked, pushing off the wall and holding her hand out.

  I wished she’d been doing that to wrap her fingers around mine, but it was clear she wanted her bag. I lifted it up and she took it, delving inside as soon as she’d got it open.

  “Only it makes a difference to what I pull out of here,” she said.

  “Both,” I said. “It depends.”

  “I see. So you come here to watch me, a Domme, yet you have Dom tendencies yourself. This should be interesting.”

&nb
sp; It would be—depending on how far she was prepared to go. I wanted all the way—all the damn fucking way—but did she? Vicky had only mentioned the sound of spanking…

  I’ll take that. I’ll take anything.

  “Remove your clothes,” she said nonchalantly, as if she said that kind of thing to men all the time.

  I was startled but refused to let it show on my face. I’d proclaimed to be a Dom sometimes, and Doms didn’t falter. They got on with it. As did subs. They obeyed without question. I stripped off my suit and shirt, going for casual as I fiddled with my tie and the buttons, acting as if I did this all the time. I wanted to be a match for her, not some weird freak she might think me to be. Some bloke who stared at dolls through windows and wanked while the doll smacked some other man’s arse. Maybe I was weird, but she catered to my fantasies, and…weird or not, I’d enjoyed myself every time I’d watched her. She had grace, nothing brash about her when she put on a show. When she struck with a paddle or whip, it wasn’t hurried, it was as though she was born to do it.

  Her calling.

  I want her to call me. After tonight. And while we’re in here? Call my name as she comes.

  I threw my clothing onto the coffee table. The smut mags fell off, landing on the floor with a thwap. I stared at them, a fan shape, where only sections of women’s bodies on the covers were displayed. A seductively placed leg, one half of an exposed breast, and the mag on the bottom, a woman’s cunt spread wide for all to see. I didn’t mind porn, but I’d prefer to see the pie as a package rather than the contents spilling out.

  Vicky’s contents, though, they were another matter, and I had many fantasies that I’d like her to be the star of. Starting as soon as possible.

  “My, my,” she said, coming towards me then circling around me until she stood right in front. “That’s an impressive sight.”

  What, my body as a whole or my rock-hard dick? Was I a Dom or a sub here? The rules hadn’t been made clear, so I wasn’t sure whether to thank her as my Mistress or come out with something a Master would say. I had to know the boundaries, had to ask.

  “What am I?” I said, staring into her eyes.

  “Whatever you want to be. I’ll play switch if you will.”

  She batted her eyelashes, and shit, I’d do anything she asked. I reached out to place my fingertips on the swells of her tits, letting them linger before drawing my touch down towards the low neckline of her dress. She didn’t flinch, didn’t shy away, and I took that as a positive. Did she find me attractive? There was no question I found her attractive, my cock showed her that.

  “This is you,” I said, taking my cock in free hand. It was weighty, throbbing, and thick with my need for her. “Because of you. No one else makes me this hard.” There, I’d given a confession of sorts, my way of letting her know how I felt about her. Either it would put her off or make her step back—or she might well think I’d just said it for something to say.

  She widened her eyes a little, as if what I’d said had surprised her, yet at the same time she looked pleased. A small smile lifted the corners of her mouth, and she closed her eyes briefly. I imagined that’s what she’d look like when coming, and my dick ached—fucking hell, it ached.

  Instead of answering, she pulled her hand out of her bag and handed me something. I couldn’t see what it was until they were nestled in my palm. Nipple clamps, diamante with a small ring on their tops. I stared at them a moment longer then raised my head to look at her. She’d asked me to put them on.

  On her or me?

  I hesitated, then, “Do you have any more of these?”

  She lifted her eyebrows, delving back into her bag, maintaining eye contact all the while. Out came another set—ruby-encrusted this time—and held them out. I took them, my fingertips skimming hers, and a rush of lust—ball-busting, heady lust—went through me.

  I released my cock, took the diamante clips and attached them to my nipples. The pinch far exceeded anything I’d experienced before, and I let out a long groan. She licked her lips at that, the pinkness of her tongue compared to the white of her face a deep contrast. She lightly bit the tip of her tongue, breathing unsteady, the pulse in her neck fluttering.

  I stepped forward and, ruby clips in one hand, I used my other to drag down her neckline. She was braless and her tits popped out, heavy and begging for me to touch them, suck them, slip my dick between them. Her nipples were hard, rigid points that I longed to roll my tongue around. I glanced up at her face to check she was okay with what I was about to do. She sighed, thrust her chest out, and closed her eyes.

  I hovered one clamp over a nipple, wanting her anticipation level to skyrocket. I counted silently to thirty, knowing how slow it went when you were on the receiving end, when you wanted something so bad and it was there, right there, just not there enough.

  I counted another ten seconds.

  Then let the clamp snap onto her nipple.

  She bucked her hips, sucked in her bottom lip. I stared at how her flesh was squashed between the sharp little teeth biting it, at how she fought against the pain. Her hands were by her sides, one clenched into a fist, the other clutching her bag, and she kept her eyes closed. Irregular pants came out of her, as if she were frantic not to divulge any more emotion. My breathing was erratic, and I coached myself to bring it under control. Difficult, when all I wanted to do was crush the woman to me and touch her all over. Kiss her, show her with my mouth that I was full of passion. Whisper dirty words that would send her towards an orgasm that was more explosive than any she’d had before.

  I held the second one over her other breast. Counted again. She must have known what I was doing, how I was playing this, yet she didn’t protest. I waited a few beats then let the teeth do their thing, gnawing at her tit and hopefully giving her the same steely pleasure-pain as I was getting from mine. My areolae throbbed, the surrounding skin burned, and my bollocks drew up as I imagined jerking at her clamps and giving her a fresh burst of cunt-soaking agony.

  “God,” she whispered. “Oh, my God…” She opened her eyes, staring directly into mine. “Take my bag,” she said breathlessly. “Look in the…in the side pocket. The one with the…zip. Little chains.”

  I did as she’d asked, dropped her bag to the floor then tested the links by giving them a sturdy tug. They had attachments on the ends, and I looked from my chest to hers. She nodded. I raised my eyebrows. My initial thoughts as to what these toys were for was clearly correct.

  Fuck, she likes the same damn thing I do.

  I clipped the ends to the rings on my diamantes, letting the slim metal ropes dangle to just above my navel. The added weight, although not that much, drew the clamps down. A fresh wave of pain radiated outwards. I watched her watching me, then, after she’d nodded again, I secured the attachments to her ruby-studded rings. We were joined by thin silver threads that bowed—any jerky movements from either of us could rip the clamps clean off or have them gripping harder. Whatever happened, the pain would be unique, mind-blowing.

  “What do you want me to do now?” I asked.

  “Step away,” she said. “Until the links are straight.”

  It meant moving away from her, erasing the close proximity where her body heat reached me and I could imagine what she’d feel like flush against my body. But if it meant doing something she wanted or needed, I’d forego the pleasure I’d so far gained from being near her.

  I stepped back once, gauging how many more paces it would take before the chains were how she wanted them. One more would do it. I moved again. Her tits rose with the pull, nipples slightly elongated, and she sucked in a breath. If her tits were being tortured as much as mine and she loved pain, she’d be in seventh heaven now.

  A guttural sound came out of her, maybe a garbled word that hadn’t quite formed properly, and she tipped her head to look at the ceiling, exposing the arch of her slender neck. I was torn between so many actions. Stepping forward to kiss her throat, licking up the column until my tongue r
eached her jawline then her mouth, where I could take her lips in a savage kiss; staying put; or easing away just a bit more to increase the pressure.

  “Tell me what you want,” I said.

  She swallowed, lifted her head, and stared at me. “Hold the chains and tug them.”

  I obeyed, pulling carefully, flicking my gaze from her tits to her face to check she was okay. She sighed, a flush appearing on her chest and neck, and her doll-like appearance suddenly didn’t belong, didn’t matter. I’d spotted her in the reception area, the beautiful Vicky, before she’d got dressed in her frilly gear. Mistress Zara had told me who Vicky was, and I’d booked room six immediately, waiting patiently inside for her show to start. That she was a painted doll when she appeared had made me think I had a kink I’d never discovered, but now? No, it was Vicky herself.

  I brought the chains together in the middle so I could hold them in one hand. With the other, I smeared away her rouge, her lipstick, swiping the makeup from my thumb onto the side of my thigh. I kept going until it was almost gone and the real woman was displayed. She didn’t complain, didn’t do anything but stand there as I denuded her face, letting out more sighs every time the links were jerked. Her skin was soft, her lips softer, the bottom one fleshier than the top. I stepped forward, pulled again, dragging her closer. With a final, nipple-wrenching jerk, she cried out and her knees gave way.

  I caught her in my arms, dragging her small body up to mine. My cock became folded within the material of her dress, and the steely coolness of the metal attached to her tits pressed into my chest, a delightful sensation of hot and cold.

  “Vicky,” I gasped, looking down into her face.

  A smear of mascara swept from the corner of her eye to her temple, and now I could see a true rise of colour on her cheeks, not one created by powder.

  “Yes, Master?” she said, moving her body against mine as she hitched in rapid breaths.

  “I want to take you to the places you take others. It’s your turn tonight, to give it up.” Damn, I hoped she went along with my suggestion.

  She was silent, staring into my eyes as though searching the absolute depths of my soul. She licked her lips and her jaw slackened. I could almost feel the tension leaving her body, from her face to her shoulders to her back and legs. She became heavier leaning onto me, and I knew I had her.