Breath on the Wind (7 page)

“There’s a lot to be said for working for yourself.”  A sizeable percentage of Andy’s role was actually just to listen to the clients.  More often than not, they needed a way to unload the things they couldn’t speak about to anyone else as much as they needed their particular brand of kink.

Selene sat a little straighter.  “Yeah.  You know, you’re right.  I’m going to look into it.  All this time away from Rick, just to get shouted down by pompous fat twats in suits, just isn’t fucking worth it.  But I still want the cane.”  If she’d have slumped or given any indication of being more seriously depressed or upset, Andy would have pushed harder for a less intense implement.

“Okay.  I’ll use the cane, if you’re absolutely sure that’s what you want.”

“It is.”  Selene nodded firmly.

“Okay, but I’m going to pull the strokes.”

“I need...”

Andy interrupted her.  “I know, but I am not going to draw blood on you, and I am not going to mark you so hard you can’t sit down on Monday.  You might have some trouble tomorrow, though.  I want to confirm your safeword, too.”

“Clifford.”

“Clifford.”  Andy repeated and nodded.  “Okay.”

Andy rose and went to a chest of drawers that was set against the wall by the door.  It was almost as tall as she was, even in her heels.  Inside were the tools of her trade, kept out of sight in this room to preserve the atmosphere.  She crouched down to the bottom drawer which contained some of the least used items, and selected a rattan cane with a black rubber grip.  The shaft was thicker at the end near the handle and tapered to about half its original diameter.  From one of the other drawers she pulled out four sets of leather cuffs.  The silver chain between each pair of cuffs was about a foot long, and the black leather had adjustable buckles and was lined with short pile fur so that they wouldn’t mark the skin if the sub pulled against the restraints.

By the time Andy had what she needed, Selene had stripped and had folded her clothes neatly on the chaise lounge.

The bed that dominated the room was a four-poster in twisted ironwork that had been painted a brilliant white.  Some of the intricate motifs allowed for ropes and cuffs to be attached without it being obvious that that was what the bed had been designed for. 

Selene lay face down on the bed and stretched her hands and feet out to the corners of the firm mattress.  Andy made sure that the woman had one of the pillows comfortably under her face, and the slid another, with its lilac satin case and lacy frill, under Selene’s hips to raise her buttocks.  Once she was satisfied that her client was comfortably positioned, she chained Selene’s wrists and ankles to the bed.

“Make sure you face me.  I need to see your face.  Don’t turn away.”  Andy instructed.

Selene nodded. 

“Say it.  I want to make sure you understand.”

“I won’t turn away, Mistress.”

“Good.  As soon as you start to feel you’ve had enough, use your safeword.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Andy turned to a timer that was sitting on the nightstand and set it.  “Thirty minutes.  No more.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Andy picked up the cane from the edge of the bed where she’d left it while she chained Selene in place.  She adjusted her stance; her knees were almost touching the comforter.  She kept her feet apart so that she was balanced. She circled her wrist and arm to stretch out the muscles and loosen the joints.

First, she laid the cane on the cheeks of Selene’s well-toned ass, so that the woman could feel the cool wood. She would not cane her for the full thirty minutes, that would be dangerous, and play like this would heighten the anticipation of the stroke.  Andy rubbed the cane back and forth, and then pulled her arm back and brought the shaft down against the meat of Selene’s buttocks.  They quivered with the force of the blow, even though Andy hadn’t delivered it at full strength.  Selene’s body jumped from the bed, but she didn’t make a sound.

Andy repeated the action of laying the cane gently on the skin before delivering another stroke, being careful to hit the flesh with the middle of the cane rather than the thinner end of it.  Each time that she repeated the stroke, she aimed for the bottom of Selene’s ass or the top of her thighs.  Each thwack of the cane left a set of two red lines that immediately rose as welts.  They would bruise and they would be sore, but Andy took great care not to break the skin, or to lay the cane across any of the marks that she had already made. 

Andy had delivered ten strokes when the timer rang.  Selene’s backside was flushed red and crossed with the tramline marks of the cane.  Andy left the cane on the bed and unchained Selene before retrieving a bottle of aloe vera gel from the top drawer of the cabinet.  She sat on the edge of the bed, and massaged the cooling gel into the welts, taking her time to ensure that they were well coated.  She knew that the application of the gel, though soothing, would sting at first, and that was also part of the play.

Andy left Selene lying on the bed and went to make her a cup of chamomile tea.  When she returned Selene had only moved so far as to pull the pillow out from under her hips.  She’d added it to the one under her head and was lying, still on her front, with her hands folded under her cheek.  The edges of the marks on her ass were already beginning to darken.

Andy handed Selene another pillow, so that she could prop herself up a little higher, before she handed her the cup of steaming, fragrant tea.  It was an important part of the play for each dominant that used the dungeon, whether they were paid to be there or were paying to be there, that they ensured the wellbeing of their submissive.  That included making sure that they relaxed afterwards and that they had done as much as possible to prevent a post-scene crash, a depression similar to the comedown after a drug-induced high caused by endorphins and adrenaline competing and receding, and sometimes additionally fuelled by guilt or confusion.

Andy made sure that she was satisfied that Selene was mentally stable before she allowed her to see if she was physically able to rise and dress.  Although there was no small amount of wincing involved, Selene was far more relaxed and calm than when she’d entered the room, and was visibly happier. 

Once Selene had left, Andy returned to her office and the dressing room, intending to change into her street clothes, but when she saw her trench coat hanging on the hook on the wall, another idea began to form.  It was a touch unethical to take equipment from the club home, but Andy guessed if there were going to be any perks to being the boss, this would be one of them.

Chapter Six

When the knock came at his motel room door, Chiz still picked up his gun before he checked the peephole.  He was expecting Elmo, they hadn’t agreed on a time, but he’d figured she had some sort of day job and that he wouldn’t see her until evening.  When he’d sat down and thought about his reasoning, he realized he was basing that entirely on the way she’d been dressed the day before, which was no indication of anything, really.  Clothes were only clothes. 

He was more pleased than was healthy to see her on the other side of the door.  She had arrived much later than the day before; it was full dark outside.  This time when he opened the door and waved her through, he didn’t bother to try and hide his gun, although he did click the safety on first.  She didn’t seem to mind the firearm.  If she did, tough shit.  Where he went, his gun went.

Chiz was disappointed that the stockings weren’t making another appearance and he was still hoping that he’d get a chance to feel those snappy black and red heels against his skin, but what she was wearing tonight had his full attention.  The coat she was wearing was a thoroughly boring shade of brown, barely saved from making her look frumpy by the belted waist.  But it didn’t quite reach her knees, and the shiny black high-heeled boots it revealed there had Chiz’s cock twitching hopefully.

It took him a second to notice that she was carrying a brown paper grocery sack.  He ran his palm over his mouth, just to check that he hadn’t actually been drooling.

“What you got there, dolll?”

“Something to liven up the evening.  Are we playing Cops and Robbers?”  She nodded towards the gun still in his hand. 

Chiz double checked that the safety was on.  He’d been so distracted by the boots, he still was, that he couldn’t recall having done so before, then he set it down on the table.

“We’re playin’ somethin’, by the looks of it.”

The coy smile that Elmo gave him lit him up inside like the Fourth of July.  And then she emptied the bag out onto the bed.  At first glance, it as just a jumble of stuff, so Chiz moved closer to get a better look.  Some more internal fireworks went fizzboom.

Lying innocuously in a pile on the blue and pink patterned comforter was a pair of handcuffs made from black neoprene and joined by a short metal chain, a length of silky black material, a suede flogger and a soft plastic, matte black paddle that was smooth on one side and textured on the other.

He wet his lips before he could speak; his mouth had gone dry.  “You want me to use these on you?”

“Actually, I was thinking of using them on you.”

The fireworks stuttered some, but they didn’t go out.  “You just happened to have this shit lyin’ around?”

“Something like that.”

The thought of using the toys on Elmo had given Chiz a hard-on that he thought might last into the new year.  The thought of her using the toys on him... well, it didn’t lessen the stiffness of his cock, which was interesting.  But he’d never not been the one in charge before, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about one or two of those toys.

“Perhaps you need an incentive.”

Chiz almost jerked when Elmo spoke, he’d been so lost in his own head.  He watched as she took a step back, unbelted the coat, and shucked it off her shoulders.  At the sight of what she revealed, his internal fireworks set off a gala display.

The smooth, shiny corset gave her a tiny waist.  He wanted to wrap his hands around her middle and see if his fingers met, but better than that, it pushed her tits up and out.  He made an audible sound at the sight of the creamy swell of her breasts threatening to burst out of their confines.  He hadn’t even taken in the full outfit before she was reaching down and pulling the little flimsy shorts she was wearing down and over the boots, which reached halfway up her thighs and fulfilled everything he’d hoped they would be from his first glimpse of them; from the spindle heels all up the gleaming inky blackness of the patent leather or PVC.  Whatever they were made out of, Chiz didn’t give a fuck.  They were glorious.

Elmo was a vision, standing in nothing but the skintight boots and the corset, the outfit perfectly framing her naked, hairless pussy.  She reached up and flicked her black curls over her shoulder, revealing the faintly bruised imprint of his teeth that he’d left the previous night.  That made up his mind.  He was going to throw all in tonight and let the chips fall where they may.

“Alright, doll, I’m all yours.”

Her demeanor changed subtly, she stiffened, drawing herself up taller, and planted her hands on her hips.

“You will address me as Mistress or Domina.”

It wasn’t that he had an actual problem with authority, although his childhood teachers and Samuel might disagree, but he couldn’t help himself, he reached out to brush his hands over the firm mounds of her breasts that were making a bid for freedom.

“No!”  Elmo slapped his hand away.  “No touching until I say.”

Chiz smirked and reached for her again.

She slapped his hand away again.  “If you’re going to be a naughty boy, I will have to punish you.”

“Go for it, doll.”

Elmo’s expression was stern.  “Strip.” 

Chiz complied, smiling at the strict persona she was adopting.  He expected her to make some comment when he stepped out of his jeans, since his cock was solid and nearly weeping with arousal, but she barely even glanced at it.  She was really getting into her role.

“Kneel.”

Chiz followed her command.  Elmo sifted through the items on the bed and picked out the length of material.  She leaned over him, bending at the hips, to tie the blindfold in place. That put her breasts tantalizingly close, almost as if she was daring him to touch her.  Chiz leaned forward, trying to bury his face in her deep cleavage.

“No.”  She pulled back.  “Do not move.”

Elmo leaned down again to tie the blindfold.  As she fixed it in place, Chiz asked, “Have you done this before, doll?”

He couldn’t see her, since she was knotting the material behind his head, but her tone remained unamused.  “If you keep talking, without addressing me properly, I will spank you.”

Elmo finished fixing the soft material in place and moved away.  Disoriented by his lack of vision, Chiz lost track of her.

“Stand.”

Chiz was unbalanced without his sight, but he complied.

“Good boy.”

He jumped slightly when she placed a light, unexpected kiss at the nape of his neck.  He’d been so busy trying to figure out where she was in the room that he’d missed the subtle cues of her approach.  He felt her fingertips feather down his neck, over his shoulders and down his arms.  The lightness of the touch brought his skin out in goose flesh.  She gently circled each wrist with her fingers, bringing both his hands to the small of his back.  He kept them where she had placed them.  He heard the jangle of a chain, and then she was pressing the Velcro fastenings of the cuffs closed around his wrists.

Chiz felt Elmo moving away from him, heard her moving something, opening something, but he couldn’t tell what it was.  He knew when she returned to him; the heat of her body was palpable.

He jumped and gasped when he felt the ice cube run across the back of his shoulders.

“Be still.”

Chiz tried not to move as the ice cube ran across his collar bone, but he couldn’t stop the muscles in his chest twitching at the contact.  It took immense effort to remain still, to not make a sound as the ice was returned to his skin again and again, down the length of one arm, his chest, grazing a nipple, the side of his ribs, a shoulder, his chest again, the other arm, dangerously low over his abdomen, a hip.

When Elmo ran an ice cube down the length of his spine, continuing into the curve of his ass, he couldn’t stop himself from jolting forwards.  “Jesus.  Fuck!”

“Careful, or you will be punished.”

“If you say so, doll.”

“I repeat.  You will address me as Mistress or Domina.”

It took everything he had not to move when he felt her ice-cooled fingertips running over his cock, just a whisper touch, so gentle it was almost like a breath.  She teased him with light touches as he swallowed convulsively in his efforts not to cry out, he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of a reaction this time.  When her fingers left him he let out a hissing breath; only to gulp it back in when he felt the heat of her mouth around him.

Once, twice, three times she took the length of him into her mouth. The fourth time Chiz cried out; she’d put an ice cube in her mouth as she sucked him.  She tortured him, her tongue swirling the frozen ice in the heat of her mouth around him as she worked his flesh.  Her mouth was the only part of her that touched him.

Suddenly it stopped.

He felt her move away again, heard her move around the room, but didn’t feel her approach him.  His blood was singing and he had no idea where she was in relation to him until the tips of the suede strands of the flogger flicked against his chest.  Chiz was so disoriented that he was beyond coherent thought, or it might have occurred to him that she was playing this game too well for a beginner.  As it was, he could only stand and wait for the alternate snapping flicks and feather brushes of the flogger as she played it over his chest and back, then down his legs, behind his knees, before working her way back up again. When Elmo flicked it over his cock he moaned.

“Are you enjoying this?”

“Yes.”  The answer was out, floating on groan, before he’d registered what he was going to say.

“Yes, what?”  The soft lengths of suede swept over his aching cock, and then she flicked it over the solid, tender flesh.

He couldn’t focus on the question.  “Fuck!” 

He felt the heat of her body behind him.  When she undid the blindfold he was momentarily blinded by the absence of darkness, even though the light in the room was low and dim.  Chiz blinked several times before he could focus on Elmo standing before him, slapping the paddle against one palm.

“Kneel over the bed.”

Chiz moved stiffly to obey her.  This was the toy he was least sure about, but he was deep in the game now.  He knelt at the end of the bed so that his body from the waist up was flat against the cover, his head turned to one side so that he could see her.  She stood behind him but slightly to one side. 

“I’d put you across my knee but you’re too big.  I think ten strokes should suffice.”

Chiz tensed and groaned.  He should stop this.  This wasn’t him.  He should be the one holding the paddle.  But the sight of Elmo so nearly naked yet so nearly dressed, her attitude, the whole weird place his head had been at for the past few days, combined to keep him where he was.

“Careful or I’ll double it.”

Elmo knelt on one knee by his side.  She’d chosen the side to which his head was turned.  He knew she’d done this on purpose because he had an excellent view of her pussy and he could see that she was sopping wet.  He took in the flush that bloomed across her breasts and neck and swallowed to keep from groaning again.  Knowing that she was turned on by what she was doing made his immobility even more torturous.

“One.”

Chiz felt the paddle slap his ass cheeks, low and dangerously close to his balls.

“Two.”

She hit the exact same spot.

By the time Elmo had counted to ten Chiz couldn’t stop himself from grinding his hips into the bed.  He was almost as surprised as he was aroused.

“Do you want to come?”

“Yes,” he answered through gritted teeth.  He was struggling to make his peace with the vulnerability.

Yes, what?”  She slapped his backside with the paddle again, but this time she’d turned it.  Instead of hitting him with the smooth side, the textured side connected with his heated, tender skin.  He felt the blow all the way up his spine and deep into low places in his gut.