Comfort Object (3 page)

He met my eyes.
Guilty
. He smiled self-consciously, but his fingertips reached out to touch my waist and trail down over my hips.

“You can tell? I guess after all this time you know it. How long have you been…working as a sex slave?”

“I'm not a sex slave,” I murmured, letting his fingers slowly lift the hem of my dress and brush across the tops of my thighs. “But you promised me two thousand dollars for seeing you outside the club, and I'll need it up front.”

“So you're a whore,” he said, so quietly I almost didn't hear him. But I did.

“Call it what you want,” I said, putting my hand over his before it snaked between my legs. “The money first.”

“Are you worth it?”

“I'm worth it, yes. Do you have it?”

With a peeved look, he took out his wallet and removed a stack of bills. He handed them to me, but before he let go, he said, “This is for sex, right? There are no rules about fluid exchange here?”

I hesitated. What were the rules here? I was whoring myself, which was a first. I accepted money for “sex” every night at Club Eden, but that was only mental sex, psychological fucking, spanking and toys and silly scenes, prostitution within the confines of the law. This man wanted actual prostitution, to penetrate me for money. More than once, I assumed.

“You have to use a condom,” I finally said. “For everything. And you can't scar me or draw blood.”

“Jesus.” He laughed, letting go of the money. “I don't know what kind of people you usually hang out with, but I'm not into making chicks bleed.”

“Good,” I said. “Do you have condoms?”

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handful. “They had them at the door of the club. Which is why I thought it was weird that no fucking was allowed.”

“Fucking's allowed, only not with the staff. Couples fuck there all the time. Are you married?”

He laughed again. “No.”

“Just like to fuck around? Try new things?”

He shrugged, looking at me almost defensively. “I have a friend; he's really into this stuff.”

“And you wanted to give it a try?”

He laughed again. “Give it a try. Yes.”

I wasn't sure what the fuck was so funny, but then his fingers were on me again, and he was drawing up my hem and discovering my thong.

“Okay,” I said. “Do you want me to help you, or do you want to do things on your own? I mean, do you want to fuck me as a dominant? You want me to be submissive for you?”

“Yes, I want you to be submissive. Like my…slave.”

“Okay. And you know what to… I mean, I can sort of teach you how to be an effective Dom, if you want.”

“No, I kind of know.”

“From your friend?”

He nodded.

“He let you watch. And you liked it. He has a slave?”

“Yeah. Sort of.”

“Okay. But just so you know, this is just…business. For now, during this session, I'm your slave. Afterward I'm a person again.”

“You're not really into this? In real life?”

“No, I mean, I am.” His hands, God, they were talented. He found my clit like a hound on the scent. It was getting harder to concentrate. “I…I love being submissive.”

“But on your own terms.”

“No. It's not… I'm just not available right now.”

“You have a boyfriend.” He pulled my thong down, letting it fall at my feet.

“No. I don't. I'm just not a lifestyler. I can't be submissive all the time. I choose not to be.”

“Only sometimes. When someone's paying you.”

“When I want to be submissive, I'm submissive. Is that enough for you?” I said, half-horny, half-annoyed by his insistent line of questioning.

“Yes. What's your name?” he asked me then. “Is it really Little Nell?”

“It's Nell,” I said. “Just Nell.”

“Well, Nell,” said Mr. Gorgeous. “I just want to fuck you silly. Is that enough for you?”

“Yes, Master,” I said. “I'm yours.”

I'm yours
. I've said it a thousand times in my line of work, and it never fails to give me a shiver, make me a little wet.
I'm yours, now what will you do with me?

“I want you to kneel down and suck me first.”

Mmm. Good line, delivered well, like a real Dom. I was pretty certain he'd heard it from his “friend.” I hoped his friend was a really good lover, because I had a feeling I was about to reenact a scenario Mr. Gorgeous had already viewed and liked a lot. I felt, for a moment, that his friend was a third party in our illicit little rendezvous.

I took his shirt off first, selfishly, because I wanted to see him fully unclothed. Naked, perfect male. His abs were tight, defined bunches of muscle. I wanted to outline each one with my tongue and then lick him from his neck all the way down to his—

Focus.

I knelt and took my time undoing his belt and unbuttoning his seven-hundred-dollar jeans, daydreaming about doing him and his Dom friend at the same time.

Rich boys and their naughty habits. Gorgeous looked to be in his early twenties. I was twenty-eight, and I didn't think he was as old as me. Just a young rich boy sowing wild oats. I would show him wild if he wanted it. I'm sure he had no idea how horny I was.

By the time I got his pants off, he was already rock solid. I rolled on a condom as deftly and sexily as I could and took him in my mouth.

God, I wanted it. A big, hard cock jammed in the back of my throat. I'd had a cock like this, attached to a great, straight, dominant, loving man, but he'd left me. Douglas. I hadn't been enough for him. I'd tried to be, but working at the club and needing time for myself, I had never been enough. But this man, he only wanted me right now. One night. One night, I could manage.

Well,
manage
was one word for it. I licked his rigid tool, reveling in its masculine power, exploring it from base to hard tip until he lost patience and nudged it between my lips. I salivated for him, opened wide for him to take me. For once I wasn't even bothered by the bitter taste of latex. I was too enthralled by the way he completely filled my mouth. His musky, male scent sent me deep into the throes of submission, and the fact that he was a stranger added an extra kinky thrill. I wanted to give him the best hummer he'd ever had, one he'd remember when he was in his eighties. I wanted to show him how much I appreciated his perfect body.

I cupped his balls and tried to coax him deeper into my throat. He made a guttural noise and placed his hands on either side of my head, just light pressure. When I moaned, he tightened his hold and started to fuck my face. I faltered for a moment, terrified that I might gag, but he slowed and let me find a rhythm. I settled into accommodating his deep thrusts, and soon I managed to wrench some erotic groans from him. He stopped abruptly.

“I want to come on you.”

I pulled away and whipped off the condom. For two thousand bucks, sure. I expected the facial, but he yanked at my dress.

“I want to come on your tits.”

A tit man. Okay. He shot hot cum over my chest, and I received it like a gift. Douglas used to make me rub it all in and lick my hands. Gorgeous rubbed it in himself and got sidetracked pinching and squeezing my nipples. A tit man all the way.
Ohhh
…and I loved tit men. He leaned closer and I braced for pain, but instead he only tapped the taut peaks. Not flicked them. Tapped them. I'd never had my nipples tapped this way, and I was surprised by how intense it felt. It wasn't pain. It was a
tease
. It made me fidget and left me craving more. With each light tap my clit throbbed. I moaned and leaned into him, desperate for some kind of relief, but he only stroked and tapped my nipples until they were hard as stones. Then he closed his fingers on them and twisted so hard that a gasp of protest came to my lips. Fire shot straight to my center. He watched my reaction in a strange, detached manner.

“Do you have any of those, what do you call them? Clips? Clothespins?”

“I have some nipple clamps, Master.”

“Go get them. And don't call me Master; that's weird. You can call me Kyle.”

Mr. Kyle Gorgeous. Fitting. I didn't know whether to crawl for the clamps or get up and go for them. Well, he wasn't much of a Dom. I got up and walked, and he didn't correct me. I came back and placed them in his hands. They weren't the most stringent pair I had, but he'd never know. I liked the more painful ones, but I didn't know if he knew how long it was safe to leave them on.

I knelt down again, but he pulled me back up.

“I want you to look at my face while I put them on you. Look right at me.”

Again I felt the ghostly friend. I didn't think Kyle had the imagination to come up with this on his own. He closed the clamps, one and then the other, on my hard, puckered nipples. The ache bloomed, then commuted into a rush of wetness between my legs. I gasped, staring at him. His blue eyes looked dark earlier, but now they were light and wide. He watched as if trying to gauge what I was thinking. I don't know if he knew I was daydreaming about his friend.

“Do you like that?” he asked, tugging on the little beads that hung down from the silver clamps.

“Yes, Kyle. I like it a lot.”

“Shake your titties, push them together for me.”

I did. The hungry way he was looking at me really turned me on. He might not be a Dom, but he was sexy. He put his hand between my legs, probing me roughly, and again the submissive inside me exulted. My mouth opened in a moan, and I let his fingers penetrate me as deeply as he wished. I was so wet, my pussy squelched against his fingers.

“You do like it, don't you? You horny little slut.”