His Absolute Domination: The Billionaire's Paradigm (#5) (A BDSM Erotic Romance) (The Billionaire's Ultimatum, Book Two) (14 page)

I nodded, and then I realized
something. Something important, too. A shift in thinking, abrupt
and all-encompassing.

This wasn't a punishment.

Lucent said it was, and I knew it
probably was under different circumstances, but this, right now and
right here, wasn't a punishment. It was an enlightenment of sorts.
A punitive transcendence?

He did want to punish me, and this was
somewhat that, but mostly he wanted me to know that his BDSM things
were nothing like Cole's. I didn't know if this was actually what
Lucent intended, but this was what I believed. Sam said something
similar, too. Sam also said that I was in good hands with Lucent. I
agreed with him.

Alongside me, Lucent removed his suit
jacket and his dress shirt. He lay his clothes atop mine, then
opened one of the drawers in his small table and pulled out a white
bottle of mineral oil. Uncapping it, he poured a generous amount in
his hand, and began my punishment.

...

With Lucent next to me, shirtless and
rubbing oil all over my body, I found it somewhat difficult to
relax. I assumed he wanted me to relax, but, oh my God. Really now.
How was I supposed to do that with some attractive, muscular man
rubbing me down?

He started at my neck, wrapping his
fingers around my throat and gently pushing down along the sides.
Then, towards my shoulders, squeezing lightly and pressing near my
collarbone. Along my arms, down, and back up to my armpits. We
needed oil there, too, and I laughed as he kneaded his fingers into
the pit of my arm.

"Miss Tanner," Lucent growled, but he
had a devilishly wicked and delightful grin on his face. "Stop
moving."

"It tickles!" I said in
protest.

"I have restraints," he said. "They're
built into the table, strapped underneath. Do I need to use
them?"

I stopped squirming as he massaged me,
but not because of this idle threat. Mostly, I wondered what it
might be like if he strapped me to the table. Were they full body
restraints, or just arm and leg ones?

"What kind of restraints?" I asked,
letting my curious nature get the best of me.

Lucent had moved onto my chest now
after slathering more mineral oil into his hands. Tantalizing and
light, he rolled my breasts around in his hands, moving in and out,
tweaking my nipples at the apex of his manipulations.

"There are cuffs," he said. "Leather.
This table is for one thing and one thing only, so I need to be
mindful of that. I like leather and oil. They go well together and
have a very primal look and feel and smell. It's nice. I also have
belts," he added, "to strap around your wriggling body and hug you
tight so you can't get away from me."

I beamed at him, my smile as bright as
the lights above. I liked that Lucent felt that way now and I hoped
it was more permanent. I didn't want him to want me to go
away.

Bending low, squeezing one of my
breasts roughly for a moment, he grabbed my well-oiled nipple
between his teeth and bit lightly on it. I gasped and my body
bucked up, but Lucent held me against the table with his
hands.

"Tsk tsk," he said, sounding more
amused than anything. "I really should use these restraints,
shouldn't I?" He let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Can you put one of the cuffs on my
wrist?" I asked. "If... if you don't want to, you don't have to." I
blushed and looked away from him.

"Curious?" he asked.

"I'd like to know how it feels, but
just one. I don't know if I'll like it."

Lucent nodded and leaned forward to
kiss me quickly. The oil from my nipple, now lightly smeared on his
lips, dripped into my mouth. It tasted of nothing and slipperiness,
warm and inconspicuously sweet.

"Just one," he said. "I'll keep it
loose. If you want, you should be able to slip your hand out of it
without much effort."

I nodded. I liked that. I
didn't know about the cuff or the leather or any of this, but
I
wanted
to know.
Just a little bit, just one. That was a small amount, and enough
for me.

Lucent removed himself from my
presence to collect one of the cuffs. Returning, he showed it to
me; it had a metal snap on the end, with varying snaps for
different sized wrists all along the outer edge. I held my hand out
to him and he wrapped the cuff around my wrist, snapping it at the
loosest setting. The cuff hung around my wrist like a large bangle
bracelet.

Satisfied, Lucent resumed oiling me.
Faster now, towards my stomach, he pushed against my abdomen with
his fingers and thumbs. My body tensed and tightened and flexed
under his fingers, but he had this way of doing it where every push
of his fingertips quickly moved towards a softer spot, evading my
body's inadvertent flexing. It tickled a little, but otherwise I
loved it. I didn't even know how to describe it. Were stomach
massages a thing? If so, Lucent was an expert at them.

And down. Getting more oil, he poured
it directly onto my sex. I glanced down my body, staring at the
slippery clear liquid pooling near my pubic bone and then sliding
through my trimmed hair, towards my clitoris, and forming a slick
waterfall past my labia and my slit. I only saw this for a moment
before Lucent dutifully continued oiling me.

His fingers spread the oil towards my
hips and my thighs, then back again. Rubbing it into my pubic hair,
smoothing it around, he traced a path towards my clit,
and...

Fuck! One finger, just one, and light,
small circles, he stroked a line around the hood of my clit, over
and over again. Over, inwards, again, further, teasing and
spreading away the soft covering of skin above my little bulb of
pleasure. Then he touched me, featherlight, directly on my
slippery, glistening pearl.

I wanted him to do this to me over and
over again, forever, his finger orbiting around the blazing Sun of
my body, but it was not to be. Lucent slid downwards, towards the
entrance to my sex, and oiled me there, too. Taking careful
measures, he made certain that I had some amount of oil glistening
in every crevice of the core of my body. My labia, each curve, all
of me; artfully lubricated and rubbed smooth by Lucent's commanding
hands.

That was it, though. Not my legs,
apparently. I would've liked him to oil up my legs, I thought, but
Lucent had other plans.

Digging through his table drawers, he
pulled out an assortment of paintbrushes stored in thick plastic
pouches.

"These were specially made for me," he
said. "I have also gone through the process of sterilizing them to
adhere to my strict specifications. They are extremely clean and
safe." Nodding to me, he added, "Close your eyes."

My eyes closed immediately with barely
any thought involved.

"Why?" I asked.

"Quiet for a moment," he said. "You
may speak after."

I listened to him and accepted his
order and quieted.

A tickle from the softest paintbrush
bristles I'd ever felt teased across my closed lips. It was so odd
and strange and sensitive that I wanted to laugh, but then the
paintbrush moved, quick as that. He touched my nose, waving back
and forth. I wanted to nuzzle against the brush and move my head
into it. This felt so different and nice.

Upwards, along the bridge of my nose,
brushing across my eyebrows, then down. Ever so gently, Lucent
painted a line of air, back and forth, across my
eyelashes.

This wasn't orgasm or climax or
anything of the sort, except it was, too. Pleasure, bundled up,
centered on my eye and my eyelids and my tiny little lashes. It
felt so amazing and beautiful and soft, and I thought that if for
some reason I ever couldn't have sex, this was the second best
thing.

Lucent knew a lot of these things,
didn't he? He understood. Had he done this to himself, too? He
mentioned he experimented with the safety of candle wax, but what
about this? I imagined Lucent laying down, carefully teasing the
soft bristles of a paintbrush across his closed eyes, experiencing
this pleasure for himself.

Would he let me do that to him
sometime? Would he let me bring him this pleasure? I sighed at the
thought, wistful.

Lucent teased along my other eye now
and I thought time must have stopped, because it seemed like
forever and mere seconds later when he pulled the paintbrush
away.

"You may open your eyes, Miss Tanner,"
he said quietly.

My eyes fluttered open, alive and new
and pleasant and fresh. "That was really nice," I said.

"You liked it?" he asked. A wide,
boyish smile teased at his lips.

I nodded, quick. "Yes."

"I have enough wax to begin," he said.
"Are you ready?"

I nodded again. "Yes."

"Good. It may be slightly
uncomfortable sometimes, and be very warm, but I promise not to
hurt you, Miss Tanner. I am going to paint a picture with wax
across your body now."

He... what? Oh my. Was that a thing?
Yes, I supposed so, because he was about to do it. I wondered if
this was a BDSM thing, a Lucent thing, or one of the most romantic
things I'd ever heard of. I decided it probably was a bit of all
three.

I was about to become a wax and oil
painting, apparently, and I thought maybe this was
amazing.

...

Despite having felt the wax before,
touching it with my fingertips and seeing it harden into a shell
around my nail and skin, I grew anxious. Trepidation, the calm
before the storm, or any number of cliches about adventure and
disaster; these ideas zoomed through my mind. I knew it shouldn't
hurt, and Lucent said it wouldn't hurt, but what if it
hurt?

He took a paintbrush and dipped it
into one of the green candles, then hurried to color a patch of my
skin. The wax dripped onto the side of my arm, then my breast,
until finally it swished and brushed against my body near my
shoulder. Lucent painted a swath of green from the outer edge of my
collar bone to the top of my breast.

I winced, prepared for the worst, but
nothing bad happened. The tiny drops of green wax on my arm and
breast dried quickly, glossy and light. The longer line of green
remained warm and soft and smooth against my body. Blinking, I
watched as Lucent painted me and the wax cooled and
dried.

He grinned. "I told you it wouldn't
hurt."

"I know. I just..." I just
didn't
know
. I
didn't know these things as much as Lucent knew them, and it was
all so foreign and new to me. Exotic and interesting, but scary,
too. I remembered Cole and his "version" of BDSM and how bad it
made me feel.

Lucent let the first brush lay against
the table and he picked up another. Dipping it into the darker
green, he painted a line next to his previous one, melding the two
shades together into something light, then mixed, and finally
dark.

That's what this was, I thought. There
was something soft and curious about this, and that was the light,
but then darkness waited on the other side. If you went too far,
stretched yourself beyond your limits, you reached that bad spot.
But, if you were careful, guided and wary, you could move partway
into the shadows without becoming entirely consumed by
them.

I thought maybe this was how Lucent
felt, and maybe it was why he worried so much. Maybe this was why
he didn't want me to be near him before. But then, why did he let
me come near him now? Was he too dark sometimes? He said he didn't
want to hurt me and he worried he might, but I didn't think he
would. Granted, I didn't think anything bad was going to happen
with Cole, either. Was I too naive?

"Miss Tanner," Lucent said, snapping
me out of my daydreamy thoughts. "I require a copious amount of
purple. It's far easier if I pour the wax instead of brushing it.
This also means it might become very hot. I can brush and spend
more time on this if you'd rather, but I'm eagerly awaiting the end
of your punishment."

The... end?

After I finish covering
your sexy-as-fuck body with melted wax, I'm going to fuck every
single thought out of your exceptionally curious head until you're
nothing more than a mass of pleasure and ecstasy writhing beneath
me on this very table.

My exceptionally curious head was all
the more curious and agreed with Lucent's eager anticipation. For
his part, he barely looked any different from calm, casual Lucent.
It made me wonder if he was ever eager like this before, but I
didn't realize it because he did a good job of hiding it. In the
library? In the BDSM club? In his office?

"You can pour it," I said, meek and
uncertain. This was another somewhat new thing, and it worried me
again.

He picked up the lighter purple candle
jar and held it over my chest. Slowly, he tipped it to the side and
poured lavender colored wax onto my body. From the center of my
breasts, covering one and then the other, downwards, lower, pooling
it onto my stomach.

It felt warm at first,
inconsequential. Then warmer. Warmer still, and... very warm. I
hitched my breath, inhaling sharply. But, fortunately, as soon as I
thought the wax was too much to handle in any particular spot,
Lucent move on. I glanced at him, grateful and worried and yearning
all at once. He watched me, too. He seemed to have one eye on the
fall of the wax and one on me, always keeping care to see how I
was.