C.H.A.S.E. 3: Welcome to the Fetish Club Page 3

Then her finger found the hard bump of his prostate, sending long, searing waves of agonizing pleasure straight to his bound cock. Ani pinched his nipple, and he twisted, forgetting Crystal’s pussy for the moment as the agonizing need to come shot through him. “Fuck me! Please, fuck me!” he begged. “Please, Mistress!”

  Instead Crystal yanked him back to her pussy. “We’re almost home,” she promised. “And I’m almost there. Make me come!”

  Come? He’d make her come, all right. He’d make her pay for the pain she caused him. He tugged on the stud piercing her clit, worrying it with his teeth and his tongue before he sucked her clit back into his mouth once more. Pain, pleasure, the lines blurred until he could no longer tell the difference.

  He could feel Ani humping her fist as she ground her thumb into his ass now, sending painful spikes of pleasure rippling through him. Beneath him Crystal writhed and moaned, shuddering on the brink of release. The limo pulled to a halt just as the women came together, their cries shattering him as they collapsed in a pile.

  Moments later the car door swung open. Apparently unfazed, the driver offered Mistress Ani his hand.

  Something near panic hit Ricky. His dress was scrunched up around his knees, his makeup had to be a disaster by now, his hair was a wreck, and he was in handcuffs. Well, wrist restraints. Something. And he was supposed to walk across the sidewalk and through the lobby of her condo, past the doorman and residents and people on the street looking like he’d just had his face buried in pussy?

  “Ricky.”

  He snapped his head around toward the voice. Mistress Crystal. A firm hand gripped his chin, and a wet wipe descended on his face. “There. That’s better.” From nowhere she produced a compact and dabbed the sponge briefly over his nose and chin. “Charlie, could you help Ricky out, please?”

  The amazing Charlie set him on his feet next to the limo in one smooth, swift move. Ani reached down to twitch the wrinkles from their gowns and scoop up his leash. Charlie set his shoes on the sidewalk and steadied him as he slid his feet back into them.

  Well. That was a bit better.

  And then Crystal appeared, looking perfect, not a hair out of place, her tiny bag tucked neatly under her arm. The thing had to have magical properties, he thought rather abstractly. Wrist restraints, wet wipes, and a compact? In a bag that size?

  Charlie reappeared with Ricky’s suitcases, escorting them not only to the door, but all the way to the elevator. He waited while Mistress Crystal pulled her elevator key from her amazing purse. Key. Only the penthouse would require an elevator key. Ricky nearly giggled.

  “Come on. Share.”

  He blinked like a deranged owl. “I apologize, Mistress. I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “Something struck you as funny. Share the thought.”

  Ricky allowed himself a smile. “My mother. She’s always complained that I don’t date women from the proper social circles. I was thinking she’d approve of your address.”

  Crystal and Ani both laughed. “She doesn’t like the women you date?”

  “I don’t date. But no, she hated my first wife. Candy’s a brilliant attorney, mind you, but she had to earn her degree. Remarkable ACTs, perfect 4.0 transcripts, scholarship, student loans, that sort of thing. But her parents are of the wrong social class, and she graduated from the wrong college.”

  “We should invite her over,” Crystal laughed.

  “My ex-wife?”

  “Your mother. That would be so much fun! Send Charlie to fetch her, arrange a very proper tea, give her a tour of the condo -- all except the dungeon of course. And she’d never know what you had on under your respectable Armani suit. It is an Armani, isn’t it?”

  “Usually, yes, Mistress. But I didn’t pack a suit this trip.”

  “Another time, then. But it would be fun.”

  Another time. Did that mean there would be other times? Was this more than just the week he’d signed his common sense away for? And what was that about a dungeon? She had a dungeon -- in a penthouse condo?

  He waited in the middle of the living room, not sure which way to turn, as Crystal handed Charlie an obscenely large pile of cash. “Thank you, Mistress Crystal.”

  It struck Ricky as odd that Charlie called Mistress Crystal “Mistress.” Did he…

  “You’re very welcome, Charlie. Care to stay and play with us?”

  Charlie looked Ricky over, smiling. “Thank you for the invitation, Mistress, but I can’t tonight. Got to go to church with Molly in the morning. But when I’m down on my knees in a few hours there’s one thing I’m gonna be prayin’ for, and that’s a sweet ass like that all my own.”

  Oh Lord. It was his ass Charlie was admiring!

  3:00 AM, Sunday, 11 February 2007

  Crystal’s Penthouse Apartment

  Midtown Manhattan

  “Mistress…” Ricky flushed with embarrassment.

  “Yes?”

  “I think I should tell you -- that is -- I’m straight.”

  Crystal glanced at the elevator doors. “Does that frighten you? The idea of Charlie’s cock in your ass?”

  Fuck. He’d known he ought to keep his mouth shut.

  This was, in a sense, a contract negotiation. What he did for a living. He could do this. Give and take. All he had to give was the truth -- maybe more of it than he’d intended. “The idea of anything in my ass frightens me, Mistress. But Ani’s touch also turned me on. The thought of Charlie admiring my ass doesn’t excite me at all. I don’t find him attractive.”

  “Ani’s touch turns you on? What about me?”

  “Everything about you excites me, Mistress.”

  “And if I gave you a choice -- my cock or Charlie’s dick in your ass -- which would you choose?”

  Her… Oh. A strap-on. As contract negotiations went, he was pretty sure he’d been outclassed. “If you were to offer me such a choice, I’d much rather you touch me, in any way you please, Mistress.”

  Crystal’s smile turned feral. “But it doesn’t matter, does it, slave. I’m not likely to offer you such a choice. And the thought of watching Charlie slide that big, thick dick of his into your ass turns me on. It’s a shame he didn’t have time to stay and play.” She handed his leash to Ani. “It’s late and we all need some sleep. Show the slave to the blue room, please.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  Ricky tried not to let his disappointment show. He’d assumed, after the limo, that they’d all be sleeping together. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be alone with Ani, either. But before he could muster the nerve to voice an objection, Ani stepped behind him to rip off his wrist restraints. The Velcro made a harsh tear in the quiet of the entryway. He scooped up his bags and followed Ani down the hall.

  And into a sea of blue. The room was opulent, luxurious, and very feminine. From the blue satin comforter on the four poster bed to the shimmering blue satin drapes and swags, all the fabrics in the room were shades of blue, no two the same. Even the carpet was a deep royal blue. He stopped just inside the doorway, feeling slightly lost.

  “Unpack. I want to see what you’ve got in there. You may use the closet, and the highboy.” Ani’s voice sounded amused, but no longer malicious.

  With the efficiency born of many years on the road, Ricky quickly emptied his suitcases, shaking out wrinkles as he deposited his wardrobe onto hangers and into drawers.

  “Leave that one out.” That one being a white satin fly-away baby-doll set. “Strip for me.”

  Strip? Not just undress. He’d never done anything that blatantly sexy for a woman in his life. His cock, which had finally calmed down, immediately jumped back to life. Turning to face her, he tilted his head down and glanced at Ani from under his lashes, just to be sure she meant what he thought she did.

  She looked flushed, excited, almost hungry. His pulse raced as he reached behind him to unzip the red silk gown. Was she cherishing the thought of torturing him? Or was she really that excited about seeing his naked body? That would be a fir
st.

  How the hell did women get out of these things on their own, anyway?

  “Turn around. I’ll get the zipper.” Her hands lingered in his hair for a moment longer than necessary, then scooped it over his shoulder. She took her time drawing the zipper open, slowly allowing the dress to fall open. “I love silk. So smooth and sexy. Never knew it would be such a turn-on on a man.”

  Ricky let the gown fall to the floor, then bent slowly to pick it up, still not quite ready to turn around again.

  “Strip for me.” Her voice was softer this time, huskier.

  Still bent, he stepped carefully to either side of the puddled fabric, letting the gown trail over his inner thighs as he straightened. Turning to face her, he slid a finger along the edge of each of the cincher’s removable cups, slowly peeling the Velcro apart. The Victoria’s Secret thong came next, its silken triangle damp with the pre-cum that had managed to leak from his tortured cock. He shimmied it down his legs and let it fall to the floor beside the cincher’s cups.

  Strip. One would suppose that meant down to the skin, but…

  “Leave the cincher on. I want to play with your tits.”

  “Yes, Mistress. Whatever Mistress wants.”

  “What do you want, Ricky?”

  “Whatever Mistress wishes.”

  She ran one red taloned fingernail across his lips, over his chin, and down his sternum. “What do you want, Ricky? Say it.”

  “I want you to touch me, Mistress.”

  She made a quick slash with her fingernail. “That’s a touch. Is that what you want?”

  White-hot pain laced his vision. “Yes, Mistress,” he moaned.

  “Interesting.” One sharp nail flicked his nipple. “What else do you want?”

  Every sense of self-preservation he had left warned him not to tell her, but she was a Mistress. His Mistress. Even if it was just for this week. “Anything that pleases Mistress pleases me.”

  She pinched his nipple, twisting it sharply, and his hips bucked toward her so hard he nearly lost his balance.

  To hell with self-preservation. “Please, Mistress. Suck my nipples. Lick them. Bite them. Anything.” Just touch me. But he didn’t say that out loud. Not yet.

  She smiled, and he got a flash of small, perfect white teeth before she attacked. He tried to prepare himself for pain, but instead she undid him with a gentle kiss and a lick. The real pain came when the hand he hadn’t seen coming reached between his legs and ripped loose the strip of medical tape.

  Freed, his cock sprang to full attention, and only the fact that the blood flow had been restricted kept him from coming instantly as the pain washed over him. “Fuck!” he screeched. “You could give a guy a little warning.”

  “Like Band-Aids. Fast is better.” She stroked his cock, as if in apology. “Besides. You like pain.”

  He wanted to argue with her. Real men didn’t enjoy pain -- it simply wasn’t proper. But the way his cock was behaving she’d never believe him, so he kept his mouth shut.

  She rewarded his silence with a quick nip to his nipple.

  His cock thumped against his belly, pre-cum leaking down its tip. It was all he could do to suppress the moan of pleasure that bubbled up into his throat.

  “So careful. So controlled. I want you out of control, slave. I will break you. You will scream. You will moan. You will beg me to fuck you.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” he agreed. What was the point in arguing? She knew his secret now. It was simply a matter of time. And pain.

  3:15 AM, Sunday, 11 February 2007

  Crystal’s Penthouse

  “I want to see you in the baby-doll set.”

  “Whatever pleases you, Mistress Ani.” He pulled on the slinky white satin, relishing the tease of the fabric over his rigid nipples. Tying the ribbon bow that held the baby-doll closed, he accidentally brushed the tight little spikes with his thumbs, sending electric shock waves through his gut. “I’ll need a moment to tape up.”

  “Don’t bother. I assume Mistress will have her own restraints in mind.”

  His cock jumped again at the thought. He pulled the G-string on, though it tented out awkwardly over his flushed, swollen cock head. He could feel his balls drawing up. One more of those and he was going to come, hard and fast. He tied the string over his hip, trying hard to think about budgets and billing and anything but his raging erection.

  “Turn around.”

  He spun obediently, giving Ani a good look at the shimmering satin fly-away.

  “Face the wall.”

  Before he could turn fully she’d captured his wrist and wrenched it up behind his back. The tearing sound of Velcro hit his ears moments before the restraints fastened around his wrists again.

  Ani’s hand trailed down the line of his G-string. “You have a great ass. Armani should be held liable for the way your suits fit. Talk about distracting.”

  Ricky blinked in confusion. “I didn’t know you paid any attention to my ass.”

  “We always watch your ass.”

  “We? I thought you all hated me.”

  “Eight women. Forty-five gorgeous and totally unavailable gay guys, one straight man, and he treats women like shit. Of course we hate you. That doesn’t mean we don’t admire your ass.”

  His former excitement melted. He swallowed hard, hiding his disappointment. Really. What had he expected? Ani wasn’t going to lie to him and tell him his staff loved him. He wouldn’t have believed her anyway. “I guess I should be flattered.”

  “You aren’t, are you?”

  That was Crystal’s voice. Mistress Crystal. The one woman he really didn’t want to think badly of him. Still, he couldn’t lie to her. “No, Mistress.”

  “You’d like them to like you.”

  He shook his head, afraid to speak. His voice was going to crack, and that was so undignified. Though why he should worry about his dignity standing in his Victoria’s Secret baby-doll set and a cincher that granted him a decent B-cup bust line, with his cock showing clearly behind the skimpy triangle of satin that covered his genitals, he didn’t know. But no matter what his wardrobe, he was still a man, and men didn’t cry. Especially not over something as inconsequential as office dynamics.

  “Ricky?”

  He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He was just tired. It had been a long, long day.

  “Richard.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “Tell me about Brasden-Marten.”

  Brasden-Marten? Why would she… It didn’t matter why. Wasn’t his place to ask. He blanked his mind and drifted to auto-pilot. “Brasden-Marten is an International Intellectual Property Rights law firm. Contract negotiations. We represent male models to the advertising market worldwide. Very lucrative.”

  “And your staff?”

  “One office manager, four junior attorneys, four legal aides, and my administrative assistant.”

  “All female?”

  Why did Crystal want to know that? “Eight women. Two men.”

  “Why do you think they hate you?”

  “I know they hate me. They call me Richard the asshole.” He shrugged, trying hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “We represent some of the most glamorous male models in the world to a clientele made up of some of the richest businessmen in the world. I have one simple rule. No screwing the clients. You’d think I asked these guys to cut off their balls. Any time we send a model out on an assignment that turns out to be a cover for a sexual liaison we all run the risk of being brought up on charges of soliciting clients for prostitution. And true or not, that would be the end of Brasden-Marten.”

  “So that makes it OK to be a dick to your office staff?” Ani made no attempt to keep the emotion out of her voice.

  So much for leaving the workplace out of this week. “It’s not easy to maintain a professional environment, but I try. If that makes me a dick, so be it.”

  “No, Richard. Asking your administrative assistant to fetch your coffee, never
bothering to speak to anyone unless it’s to issue an order, that makes you a dick. Half the time you don’t even remember my name.”

  “I know your name.”

  “What?”

  “I know your name, Ani. I know everyone’s names. I know your date of birth, your home address… I know you take your coffee black, one sugar. And if I was nice to you every woman -- scratch that, the gay guys are worse gossips than the women -- everyone in the office would assume I was hitting on you. I do my best to keep a professional distance.”

  “You’re saying it’s all an act?”

  “I didn’t say that. I just don’t get close to my staff. It’s not professional.”

  “Then why are you unhappy?”

  That was Crystal. Somehow he thought she might understand. “It’s not enough anymore. I want…”

  “Turn around.” When he did, she picked his chin up and forced him to meet her gaze. “Why are you unhappy, Ricky?”

  “No one gives a rat’s ass about the company. I’m tired. I could close the doors tomorrow and no one would care about anything but their missed paychecks.”

  “I’d care.” Ani’s voice softened. “I’d miss watching your gorgeous ass as you storm down the hallway looking like sin waiting to happen.”

  “We can work on Richard’s interpersonal skills later.” Crystal handed his leash to Ani, changing moods so fast she made him dizzy. “Take the slave to the dungeon and prepare him. I’ll join you shortly.”

  Ani tilted her head down slightly, her only sign of subservience. “Yes, Mistress.”

  A few minutes ago he’d have been excited, but the grim reminder of the workplace he had to return to had definitely kicked him out of the mood.

  3:25 AM, Sunday, 11 February 2007

  The Dungeon

  Crystal’s Penthouse

  Ani led him down the hall to a locked door. She had to stretch to reach the top of the doorframe, where the key was kept. She wasn’t precisely small, though she was trim, almost thin. It was more that the bulky Victorian style doors had thick headers. She unlocked the door to reveal a scene out of medieval legends. Three of the walls were painted to look like stone block. Heavy velvet drapes covered a booth in one corner and most of the fourth wall. Mysterious pieces of exercise equipment -- or torture devices -- or perhaps they were both -- filled every nook. The sight of a rack full of whips, floggers, and assorted leather gear was almost enough to make him hard again.