This will take some getting used to.
Tony’s car wasn’t there when she pulled up to the club ten minutes early. In fact, no cars were parked outside the club.
She texted him. I’m here.
He replied in seconds. ETA 5.
Sure enough, his car pulled into the lot five minutes later. He parked next to her and got out wearing that panty-melting smile of his.
This thong won’t be any help.
If anything, the way it rubbed between her legs was just making matters worse, although the distraction from the way it dug into her ass tempered the sexy effect somewhat.
She hoped she didn’t end up with a wet spot on her dress.
He removed the toybag from his trunk along with an additional bag, and a blue plastic tube about a yard long that had a strap he slung over his shoulder.
“What’s that?” she asked.
He grinned. “Your doom.” When her eyes widened, he laughed. “Sorry, I’ve always wanted to say that. It’s my cane and crop tube.” He locked his car and headed to the front door. After finding the right key, he opened it. “After you.”
“No alarm?”
“Nope. He doesn’t keep cash on the premises.”
She walked into the office as far as the daylight drifting into the room allowed for her to see. He left the two bags just inside the front door and walked over to a wall switch, hitting it. The office lights came up.
“Let me get the ones inside.” He disappeared through the play space door. A moment later, he returned without the tube. “All set. I should probably ditch the ‘come into my parlor’ line of jokes, huh?”
She smiled. “I’m all right. Sir,” she added.
He laughed. “You’re a quick study. I like that.”
She followed him into the larger area. He’d brought all the house lights up, which brightly lit the entire area. During the play session last week, softer lights and individual, colored lights illuminated the play area, adding a feeling of intimacy to the setting, while the lights over the social area were much dimmer. He took his bags over to a table at the front of the social area, where she saw he’d also left the tube. He opened one of the bags and rooted around inside it for a moment. When he straightened, he had a couple of items in his hand.
“Put your things on the table,” he said, his voice slipping into a lower, more serious tone. “Including your glasses.”
Without hesitation, she did.
“Good girl. Arms out in front of you.”
She did, struggling against her nerves. He buckled a black leather cuff around her left wrist, then her right one. “Not too tight, are they?” he asked.
She shook her head even as her pulse raced. Well, I asked for this.
He pointed at the floor. “When I do this, I expect you to kneel in front of me. I shouldn’t have to say a word about it.”
She knelt on the floor.
“Good girl. Hold your hair out of the way.”
When she did, he buckled a matching leather collar around her neck, inserting a couple of fingers between it and her flesh to check the fit. “Too tight, or good?”
She let go of her hair and swiveled her head around. “It’s good. Sir.”
He laughed. “I like how you remember to add it on. Don’t worry, it’ll become a habit soon enough.” He stood in front of her and her heart pounded as she recalled her dreams. “Hands on your knees,” he quietly said.
She did.
He stood there for a moment, not speaking. As the air conditioner kicked on, the silence in the immense room deafened her, made her acutely aware of how vulnerable she was.
And the fact that she hadn’t thought to tell anyone what she was doing. That she would be here alone with Tony.
Don’t be stupid. Everyone trusts him.
She flinched a little when he rested one hand on the top of her head. “It’s all right, pet,” he softly soothed. “I just need to go over a few things with you. For starters, when we’re alone, you will give me a greeting before we start our play. You will kiss my feet—the tops, not the bottoms—the backs of my hands, and then…” He laughed. “I guess we’ll modify the last part. You’ll nuzzle my cock through my pants. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“No objections?”
“No, Sir.”
“Good girl. Greeting, pet.”
She leaned forward and kissed each motorcycle boot, on the top of his foot. Then she sat up and pressed her lips against first his left hand, then his right. His height and her position put her at the perfect position to lean in and rub her nose against the zipper of his jeans.
She didn’t think it was her imagination that the bulge there grew a little.
“Good girl. Stand up.”
She did, a little disappointed to know nothing else was going to happen, and amused to see him adjust himself through his jeans.
“Skirt up.”
She swallowed. “What? I mean, Sir?”
He cocked his head at her. “I gave you specific instructions on how to dress. Show me.”
“Oh.” She looked at the floor, her face blazing hot as she lifted her skirt.
“No. Look me in the eye.”
It took her longer to force her gaze up to his than it did to hold her skirt up.
“Keep your skirt up until I say put it down,” he sternly said when her hands had started to lower.
She jerked her hands up again, forcing herself to maintain contact with his green eyes.
He looked amused. “How do you feel right now, pet?”
“Exposed,” she squeaked.
He chuckled. “Good. That’s the way I want you to feel. Exposed and vulnerable. I want to force you out of your comfort zone. I need you to be able to trust me. I need my commands to become second nature in your brain. Where you respond to me, not to anything around you. Where your focus is solely on me and you can trust me and let go regardless of what else you might feel.”
She nodded.
He walked around her. “Hike the back of your dress up, too, pet. Let me see.”
Swallowing again, she adjusted her grip on the fabric until the skirt was gathered around her waist.
“Spread your legs. More,” he ordered when she didn’t spread them to his liking.
Now her face felt like a neon beer sign in the window of a bar next to a dry county.
His soft voice in her left ear startled her. “How do you feel now, pet?”
“Extremely exposed, Sir,” she whispered.
“Good. Stand like that until I say otherwise, with your skirt up and your feet spread.” He turned his back on her and walked over to his bag and grabbed a couple of items. When he returned, she saw he had the metal whisks from the other night, a short, leather strap with a solid handle she knew was called a slapper, and a…
“Is that a spatula, Sir?”
He grinned and held the black object up. “Yep. Good for scraping batter out of bowls, or smacking subbies’ asses.” He stepped in close and hooked a finger through the front D-ring on the collar. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “And as I told you, you can always call red. I want to give you a little taste of what I have in store for you later tonight, so you have something to look forward to. Any objections?”
She shook her head. “No, Sir.”
His grin did dangerous things to her reserve. “That’s my good girl. Keep that dress up and those feet apart.”
He released her collar and walked around behind her. She flinched again when she felt his hands on the thong’s waistband.
Then she realized he was pulling it down her legs.
She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together as she felt what little covering she’d had disappear.