Tell Me (2 page)

“Oh God. Sir, that’s so good. I want to come.”

“Really?” Tony slid his hand between her legs and nudged the brief film of the thong to one side. He slid two fingers deep into her pussy, then withdrew them to inspect the wetness he had collected. “I believe you may be right. But that would be such a bad idea, little slut. You know the rules about orgasms without permission.”

“I know, but I need to come, Sir. I need you to rub my clit.”

“Like this?” He flicked the tip of her swollen bud with the pad of his finger, then drew it slowly across the end. Thea stiffened, thrusting her bottom up, her legs spread wide. It was to no avail, Tony withdrew his hand after just a couple of seconds. “I don't think so, not quite yet. We haven't finished here,”

“Oh, Sir, please.”

“Hush. Concentrate.” He started the ritual tapping again, this time on the spot at the back of her right thigh where it would hurt like hell tomorrow, and the day after, every time she sat down. The final stripe was like liquid fire, seeping into her bones. Thea was sobbing now, an emotional response to the extreme arousal, the intimacy, the humiliation, her absolute submission to the Dom who owned her for this night.

Another stroke to her left thigh had Thea squirming against the bench, her fingers gripping the solid wood legs of it as she fought the urge to reach back and cover her abused bottom, to beg him to stop.

She knew he was ramping this up, even the rapid taps against her skin were hurting as he prepared for the next stroke, on her bottom again this time. She let out another scream as the cane landed for the big one.

Tony paused, allowed her time to get her breath back. He would stop if she asked him, or even if she just gave him a signal she’d had enough. She wouldn’t, not yet, or at least not intentionally. So often Tony just knew when to stop, as he had earlier. But she wanted more. She was hurting but she craved the pain. She needed to feel that final surge of energy, that rush of endorphin-fuelled lust that would drive her past the point of no return.

She’d experienced it before, many times. The sensation reminded her of a cork popping. Then, the pressure valve opened, whatever it was that screwed her up and messed with her head would flow out, freely. She would be rid of the tension, the pent up anxieties that plagued her, built up day after day, week after week and ground her down.

Tony would know. The moment she was free, he would know.

Thea reached for it, trusting Tony to take her to that place.

The next stroke was to be in the exact same spot he’d just caned. Tony started tapping, the mini-strokes falling so fast she couldn't tell one from another. Thea inhaled, the action automatic, ingrained, then she held the breath as he pressed the cane against her smarting bottom. Even so, despite her relaxed, near-euphoric state, the final stroke was excruciating. Thea screamed, then shuddered violently as her muscles tensed. The action was involuntary, sending aftershocks of sensation through her. Tony moved in close, slipped his hand between her legs again and this time his caress was long and purposeful. He massaged her clit, at the same time sliding two fingers inside her to curl against her G-spot. She groaned, squeezing, loving his touch, needing him to stay this time.

Tony seemed to read her mind. He knew, as ever, the precise moment to flick the switch, to turn pain into pleasure, the contrast between the two heightening both. Or perhaps they were near-identical, perhaps that was why she couldn’t seem to find one without the other.

“Now.”

One word, enough. Her orgasm washed through her, the waves of pleasure pulsing, spinning her head around, scrambling what was left of conscious thought. The first release was powerful, therapeutic, cleansing. It was followed by a series of smaller after-tremors—less intense but equally satisfying—filling her cold, rigid frame with warmth, light, a sense of well-being.

Thea had no idea how long she lay there, Tony’s hands on her, in her, drawing out her demons and replacing them with the quiet glow of submission, of safety, of peace.

The shudders had left her body, and she was only dimly aware of his fingers stroking her breasts as he released the clamps on her nipples, then the brisk rubbing of his palms on the sensitive nubs to dissipate the sharp pain as the blood rushed back. All the time his soft voice seemed to surround her, his words muffled but offering encouragement, approval, admiration.

She mewled a little as a soft blanket fell over her tender shoulders and back. His hands under her body raised her from the bench, turned her, then lifted her. She relaxed into Tony's arms as he murmured words into her ear, words she hardly registered as she snuggled into him.

Tony set her down on a sofa in the aftercare lounge, then settled beside her. Thea crawled into his arms, the blanket still wrapped around her as she began to shiver. Tony pulled it tighter, tucking in the edges.

“Do you need another blanket? A warm drink?”

She nodded, grateful for his close attention. “Tea please, in a minute.”

She was vaguely aware of Tony summoning one of the wait staff and ordering a pot of tea, glad he could manage to do so without relaxing his embrace. She needed this now, this closeness. She desired Tony’s gentle, warm brand of aftercare as much as she had craved his dominance earlier. He was an expert with a whip, a flogger, or a cane, but he came into his own with the cuddles afterwards. It was one of the reasons she adored scening with him, one of the reasons she could contemplate no other Dom since they had started to play together.

She curled up in his lap, his arms around her. Thea laid her cheek on his chest, loving the feel of the expensive silk mix of his shirt, cool against her face. He smoothed the hair back from her forehead and dropped a light kiss on the top of her head.

“I’ll be alright soon. Just a few minutes…”

“No rush, sweetheart. We have all night. Or I do.”

“I need to get home.”

“Yeah? Why’s that then?”

“I, I just do. But you haven’t… I mean, would you like to find a private room?”

“You beg me to fuck you most times, and it’s no hardship to oblige. But it’s not mandatory. You’re tired, pretty wrung out in fact, and as a rule I prefer my subs to be conscious when I fuck them. I think we’re done here. Apart from this, of course.” He tightened his arms around her, hauling her up against him and rubbing large circles on her back. “Ah, here’s your tea.”

“I love this… with you. Sir.” Thea’s words were a soft whisper, barely audible. Despite her submissive nature she often struggled to admit out loud to feeling vulnerable. And gratitude was way up there on the same scale of personal risk-taking as far as she was concerned. It was a measure of her trust in Tony that she could say as much as she had.

“You earn it. Every time, but that was an intense scene. More than usual. Is there anything wrong?”

“Wrong? What do you mean? I thought you said I did well…”

“That’s not what I mean. You were very—needy. Demanding, as though you had demons to exorcise. So I wondered what caused that.”

“Nothing. At least, nothing here. With you.”

“Okay, I get that you’re entitled to your privacy and I’m not prying. But we are friends, yes? You know you can talk to me. I can listen almost as well as I can handle a flogger.”

“I do know. It’s not that, and not you. I just, I like to keep things separate. It’s better that way.”

“I’m not sure I agree, but if you insist. You have my mobile number. Use it if you change your mind. Shall I pour?”

Thea nodded, and considered the matter closed. She wriggled into a sitting position but despite her reluctance to open up to him, and her claims that she had to get home, she was in no real hurry to separate from Tony’s comforting warmth. She took the offered cup of steaming tea and sipped slowly, allowing her body time to drift gently back down from the endorphin-induced high. She spotted a couple of chocolate biscuits on the tray beside the teapot and nibbled one of those. Her blood sugar needed a boost.

How long had she been scening with Tony now? Six months? Eight, perhaps. They met here at the club every couple of weeks or so, and to Thea’s way of thinking each scene was more intense than the last. More satisfying. More fulfilling. As the days passed between their encounters she would long for her Dom’s summons. Eventually he would text her, usually a curt few words and giving her just hours’ notice. Today had been no exception

Tonight. Nine thirty. Corset. High heels.

Her response…
Yes, Sir.

She let her mind drift back to the evening she met this tall, dark haired Dom. She had been coming to The Wicked Club alone for a couple of months, watching other members enjoying the facilities, attending demonstrations of wax play or bondage techniques. She enjoyed regular spankings administered by the dungeon staff when she requested it, and those were quite delightful. She was happy, blending in and anonymous in her kink. She certainly wasn’t looking for a regular Dom.

In fairness, Tony was no regular Dom. He was simply—perfect. From the first moment he strolled up to her, flashed that ebony-eyed smile and invited her to join him for a drink she was under his spell. He was attractive, but Thea thought that was true of all Doms. They exuded a certain—something—that drew her in. With Tony it was more. His classic good looks were just part of it. He looked to be a little older than she was, perhaps in his mid-thirties, and smartly dressed. Thea loved a man in a well-tailored suit and Tony was the epitome of male elegance. His dark grey jacket and trousers were immaculate, his crisp white shirt pristine. He removed his burgundy and grey striped tie as they sat in the bar and unbuttoned his collar. Thea thought she might dissolve into a puddle at his feet.

Tony’s physical perfection was just a part of his appeal though. He was unfailingly courteous, he smiled a lot, and when he invited her to accompany him back into the dungeon she was more than happy to drape herself over a spanking bench for him. He had never disappointed her, delivering just the right level of intensity to satisfy her craving for pain. Submissive to her core, Thea rarely attracted anything approaching discipline from her Dom, but on the rare occasions he did harden his tone with her or raise a disapproving eyebrow her pussy melted. She just quivered, her desire for his dominance bringing her to her knees every time.

She had scened with no one else since that first time with Tony. She had no desire to. He had set the standard as far as she was concerned and no other Dom would measure up. He had set the bar high, yet she didn’t even know his last name. She had no wish to know. Tony was her guilty secret, he existed here at The Wicked Club. In this place, with this powerful Dom, she could let herself go, safe in the knowledge that the Thea who stripped in public and orgasmed on a growled command, was a world away from the prim, efficient woman who inhabited her everyday life. And never the twain should meet.

“Sweetheart, are you falling asleep?”

“What? Oh, sorry…” Thea’s musings came to an abrupt end, disturbed by her Dom’s soft voice. His aftercare was intoxicating, but Thea knew she could postpone the inevitable no longer. “I need to be off.”

“Do you have a taxi booked?”

“No, I wasn’t sure how long we’d be.”

“I’ll call one, while you get dressed. Unless you want me to drop you off?” He raised one eyebrow, his expression mischievous. They both knew she absolutely refused to accept a lift home. Ever. It was better that no one at The Wicked Club knew where she lived, even Tony. He often offered, and she always turned him down.

Ten minutes later, decently dressed in her long overcoat, which completely covered her fetish outfit beneath, Thea scrambled into a taxi at the foot of the entrance steps in front of the club. She lifted a hand to Tony, his smile and sexy wink as the vehicle pulled away causing her pussy to clench despite the bone-deep satisfaction he’d already provided.

Tony always did have that effect on her. That’s what made him so dangerous.

“Twenty five thousand? How the fuck did this happen?” Tony tossed the sheaf of documents onto his desk and strode to the window. The street scene outside wasn’t exactly peaceful or calming, but it was infinitely more soothing than the mayhem contained in those pages.

“Someone screwed up, that’s how.” The quiet, measured tones of his PA belied the direct nature of her words. Isabel Barnard had worked for him for the last ten years, and for his father before that. She knew Tony appreciated plain speaking, and had no objection to it herself. “Your predecessor didn’t want to pay out for good legal advice so his head of HR—now your head of HR—managed the case himself. He turned up at the tribunal with incomplete documentation, he wasn’t rock solid on the right procedures, he couldn’t demonstrate…”

“Okay, okay, I get it. A car crash, right?”

“Right. The tribunal took a coach and horses through our case, found for the claimant on all counts.”

Tony surveyed the street below for several more seconds, then turned from the window with a sigh. He scowled again at the papers spread on his desk but the message they contained hadn’t improved since the last time he perused them. Dart Logistics, his newly acquired logistics and distribution company had just ended up on the wrong end of an industrial tribunal ruling, and had been ordered to pay the complainant compensation of twenty five thousand pounds to soften the blow of his allegedly wrongful dismissal. As far as Tony could make out his ex-employee hadn’t put in a full week’s work for nearly four years, and seemed especially averse to Mondays and Fridays, but had still managed to convince the tribunal that he’d been badly treated. At least Tony’s firm hadn’t been ordered to reinstate the idle slug, so he supposed he should be thankful for that.

“Is there any point in appealing?” He glanced across the desk at Isabel who was leafing through the pile of papers.

She shook her head slowly. “Unlikely. These matters are more concerned with process than justice. The tribunal isn’t saying you shouldn’t have fired Jeremy Malone, just that you, sorry, the previous CEO, should have made a better job of it. The warnings weren't recorded properly, Malone didn't have representation when he was interviewed by HR, he wasn’t made aware of the necessary standards he had to achieve in order to retain his position. Like I said, process.”