Sexy as Hell Box Set (86 page)

She must have sensed my restlessness, because after yawning she sat, looked down at me and smiled. “I think we should go and have some more fun,” she said. “Make the most of where we are.”

She had a devilish Zara twinkle back in her eyes, and I couldn’t deny that I was over the moon to see it there. It made me very happy to see the old her was still alive and well. Improved and healed, with a bit of luck.

“What do you have in mind?” I asked, not even bothering to try to guess. Her imagination was too vivid.

She rested her hand over my groin. Instantly my cock grew heavy with blood, the desire for her touch, her attention, as strong as it always had been, if not stronger.

“I’m thinking, my sweet
virgin, that you haven’t had some kinky fun yourself for a while now. Let’s go to the pain room and I’ll give you a treat you won’t forget in a hurry.”

My heart
rate increased. Its rhythm was steady, though, it was just excitement wrenching up the pace. Would happen to anyone.

Right now, I had other things to think about than medication and my heart rate, though.
Zara had many things in her toolbox of administering pain, and while at times I’d had to be persuaded to see the fun in it, I knew now that getting a buzz, getting into the zone and then orgasming, was a truly blissful experience when she was at the wheel.

“Do you have anything specific in mind, Mistress?”

She smiled wider at my words, and the pleasure I felt in switching, letting her take control for a while was a much bigger sense of relief than I ever could have imagined. I didn’t have to be the strong one, in control, for a little while. She was okay, we’d made it through the most unbelievable thing she’d needed me to do. No, more than made it through, we’d grabbed it, rode its heady wave, enjoyed it to the max.

“I was rather fancying tying you up, Victor. Perhaps on a St Andrews if they have one, or just against a wall would do.” She tipped her head. “Maybe over a fucking table.” She licked her lips. “I’d like to see you fly high on endorphins, let pain rule your world and mix with pleasure. Witness you letting go of the burdens you carry with you at all times and just give in to me and the places I can take you.”

“That sounds like a very tempting offer, Mistress, and if it would please you, it would also please me.”

She stroked my cock through my trousers, and I couldn’t hold in a moan. Seeing and feeling her recent climax, finally tasting her c
lit, had almost made me come in my boxers. But I hadn’t, not quite. Her touching me now might, though, especially with such wicked and sinful promises flowing from her tongue like the sweetest honey.

Tipping forwards, her hair falling with a quiet swish to stroke the pillow and my face, she kissed my lips.

“You taste of me,” she murmured.

“I
’d like to taste you again, soon, more of you. It had been a long wait even for that little sample.”

“Perhaps you’ve finally learnt not to turn down what you really want. You have to trust me, even if you’re not sure it’s right for you. I know your desires, Victor, your needs, what hits your spot.”

“You’re right.” I pushed my hands through her hair and was glad when she stopped stroking my cock. It was beginning to demand more. So much more. “Because the feel of your pussy on my lips, the hot, wet flavour of your cream… I could nuzzle between your legs all night and be a very happy man, Mistress.”

“Then perhaps, if you
’re a good boy, I’ll let you do it again later, eat me out to your heart’s content.” She lifted up, stood and straightened her dress. Reached for her mask. “But first it’s play time. Put your mask on, Victor, I think you’re going to be glad of anonymity with what I have planned for you.”

I should have known this place would house a room like this. Zara had led me through a maze of corridors, stopping every so often to open doors and peer at whoever filled the
space beyond. The people inside had been engaged in various sexual acts and didn’t flinch as we watched them. My cock had got harder with every new sight. How could it not? The assault on my senses, visual and audio, had seen me shocked and, if I were honest, a bit embarrassed. Zara hadn’t appeared to notice my slight discomfort. She’d gazed at them all seemingly enraptured, and her breathing had been unsteady.

She was in her element.

And now I stood staring at a row of St Andrew’s crosses, six of them in all, two with men strapped to them, one with a woman. I held my breath at the sound of whip strikes, memories flooding in of Julie and the way she’d flogged herself maniacally.

Christ, I thought I’d seen it all.

Women attended to the men, letting out shrieks and dirty talk as they wielded their instruments—one used a bullwhip and stood quite far back from the recipient, the other had a cat, the strands shiny, as though the toy was new. A man wearing a cape and tuxedo flayed the woman on the cross, his long blond hair flying each time he struck, the sounds coming from him bordering on animalistic.

I released my breath. It came out as a sigh and had Zara putting her hand on my arm.

“Would you look at that,” she whispered. “What do you think, Victor?”

What did I think? There was a lot of pain going on, that’s what I thought, but the kind that elicited groans of pleasure rather than those of being hurt. The men were naked, their backs to us—one muscled, one lean—both striped with red criss-cross patterns, their arses too. A mosaic crafted by dominance. I was thankful I couldn’t see their cocks—it would have been too much for me to witness such an intimate thing, something I felt should be private. If Zara had it in mind to strap me to one of those crosses, I’d prefer to face the wall too—and keep my trousers on.

“Amazing, strange, mind-boggling,” I said.

“They won’t even be aware we’re watching.” She squeezed my arm then let it go. “Too busy feeling the pleasure, being in the zone.”

I wondered how long it took to get into that zone in public. How long it would be before the knowledge of other people being in the room with me would fade. When would I cease to care? I’d be finding out shortly, I was certain of that, and it came to mind whether the pain-giver went into the same space in their head as the one receiving. Or did they thrive on knowing they were being observed?

I winced as a particularly loud strike sounded. “How do you feel, you know, doing this kind of thing with someone else in the room?” I asked. Zara’s shows came to me then, of her performing in front of a row of windows knowing men or women were getting off on what she was doing.

“You go inside yourself. As though you’re alone. You’ll see.”

But what if I didn’t? What if I was hyper aware of everything and couldn’t get into it, didn’t feel anything but pain? I was prepared to give it a go but wasn’t optimistic about the result. Still, like Zara had
always said, she knew what I wanted and needed more than I did. She had a knack of tapping into my psyche and cherry-picking the exact thing that would suit me at any given moment.

How did she do that? Why couldn’t I do the same for her without being given a hint of what she desired first? Hopefully that would come in time; we’d be so in tune that instinct would take over.

“I’m not so sure,” I whispered, “but I’m willing to try, as always.”

“That’s the ticket,” she said.

I stared at her, and by God I could see by the glint in her eyes that she was turned on and ready to bloody go. Eager, wishing we were going for it already.

“Look at the woman,” she said.

I obeyed, taking in the fact that she was facing us, her belly the same sight as the men’s backs, covered in a red-and-pink lattice that to the casual observer would appear sore and shocking. Judging by the smile beneath her half mask, though, the sorer the better. She had her head tilted back, her chin up, eyes closed. A cascade of dark hair flowed over her shoulders, the ends almost long enough to obscure her nipples. Her black-as-coal cunt hair—what she had of it anyway—was sparse and damp, clumped together in several question-mark curves in the region of her hole. I imagined that was sopping, her leaking copious amounts of fluid, and that she was aroused beyond measure. She panted, short, sharp little bursts, and she could be Zara they were so alike, her body a similar shape, the swell of her breasts.

That got me wanting the vixen by my side.

Still looking at the female on the cross, I said, “I want you. To do whatever it is you want to do. Now.” I paused, then, “Please, Mistress.”

She guided me to one of the empty crosses, and my stomach bunched in knots that were uncomfortable. I’d be helpless on there, at her mercy, and while that didn’t bother me, being at someone else’s mercy did. What if a random stranger decided to join in, to take the whip—or whatever Zara chose to inflict on me—and give me a good old whipping themselves? What if it was a free-for-all in here and we just didn’t know it?

“This one,” she said. “I didn’t fancy the other. It’s too close to the right-hand wall. My swing might be restricted.”

Her swing. So she had it in mind to whip me, then. But where were the whips and floggers? I glanced from side to side, expecting to see them hanging on the wall from hooks like they’d been in Eden Street, but they weren’t. The walls were cave-like, uneven grey stone that, now I thought about it, gave the room an eerie
feel. I supposed the sight of the crosses, the people on them, and what was being done had taken my immediate attention.

“Step up to it, then,” Zara said, her tone indicating she meant business. “Come on, a bit closer. That’s it.”

She’d chosen the one between the woman and one of the men. I was so close to the cross that the tip of my nose almost touched the rough-hewn wood that had smoothed with the passage of time. There was a faint tinge in the air along with the scents of sex, of mould and these crosses having been here for years. How many places on the planet had them? Dungeons, households? I hadn’t known of their existence until I’d met Zara—hadn’t know many, many things, and I knew there were many more I had yet to see and learn about. Our life together was going to be one amazing revelation after another.

“That’ll do nicely,” she said. “Clothes off.”

I internally balked at that but did as she’d asked, putting it to the back of my mind that I was undressing. No one was interested in me. Or so I’d thought—a glance at the black-haired woman, who moaned rather loudly, told me she was watching with interest. To stop myself from wondering what was going through her head as I revealed my skin and dropped my shirt to the floor, I lifted one of my hands so Zara could secure my wrist to the cross.

“Not taking your bottoms off, then?” Zara asked.

I shook my head, swivelling my eyes in the woman’s direction.

“Ah, a little shy
, are we?” Zara whispered. “You’ll soon get over that if I have anything to do with it.” She gave my cheek a brief kiss. “I won’t bind you too tightly. I’ve always found pain from the chafing takes over that of the whip by the time the session comes to an end. Irritating, that.”

She was so casual that it put me at ease, and already the sounds from whips arcing through the air then meeting with flesh were receding. The groans of pleasure, however, were not. They seemed heightened, as if they had a mind of their own and were intent on making me acknowledge their presence, to goad my libido into firing up to the point of no return. I was a quarter of the way there already, if a bit anxious over how it was all going to play out. Sex in company had never been a penchant of mine, but who knew, it might be near the top of my list afterwards.

As she attached my other wrist, she brushed her breasts across my back. I sucked in a breath, wishing we were alone so that I could say the words that were sitting on my tongue. That I loved it when she was in Mistress mode. That I looked forward to her making me come. That no matter how uncomfortable I felt, I’d see this through until the end because it would make her feel better to revert back to her old self for a little while. To have control was important to Zara, and after what we’d done in the other room, what she’d relived there and in the shed, she deserved a bit of respite. So far this weekend had been an ordeal for her at times. Enjoyment, her administering pain and floating off to her usual world where only sex mattered, would do her all manner of good.

“This is going to be so fantastic for you, Victor,” she said, standing behind me and adopting the same position with her upper body as mine. She gripped my wrists, pushed into me, and put her cheek to my back. “You need to go to that special place where only you and me exist. You know the one, don’t you
?”

Oh, I knew the one all right, only I wasn’t sure if I could get there this time
, with an audience.

“Yes,” I said, the cross pressing into my cheek, my chest, its rigid centre hard against my cock.

How many other people had felt this very thing? If this room could tell tales, I was sure it would have me leaving in an instant. If it could project sounds of all those who had been shackled here like this, I’d drown in the noise—or get so turned on I couldn’t stand it.

“It won’t take long, I don’t think.” She raised her hands, stroking my
sides. “And if you close your eyes, that’ll help. Tell yourself the noises in here are just a soundtrack, something coming out of hidden speakers.”