The Denim Dom

Chapter Thirteen

Shayla gave herself plenty of time Saturday morning. She was up, had texted Tony, got herself caffeinated, showered, dressed, and out the door by nine o’clock in search of a thong. Fortunately, they had them on sale at her first stop, Target, so she bought an array of colors.

Including several in black in preparation for any similar orders Tony might throw her way.

Returning home, she tried a pair on and remembered why she hated thongs. The back piece immediately slid between her cheeks.

Maybe I should just go commando.

Her face heated as she thought about that. If Tony ended up bending her over one of the spanking benches later that night, she’d be flashing everything for the world to see. Not that a thin wedge of ass floss uncomfortably digging between her cheeks was much in the way of cover, but it was the principle of the matter.

Which brought her to another thought.

Hmm. She kept her bush trimmed close, hating to let it get long and shaggy. But she wasn’t shaved down there. She’d noticed most of the women at the club had been either totally devoid of carpet, making matching the drapes a moot point, or had the barest landing strip of hair down there.

Back to the shower it is.

When she emerged, she’d left a small landing strip surrounding her clit for modesty more than anything. Again, not that it would conceal much, but she preferred to think of it that way. By the time she fixed herself some lunch, changed into her sundress and thong, put on the lightest of makeup, and styled her hair, she had forty-five minutes to get to the club.

Plenty of time.

Curbing her anxiety, she tossed a pair of jeans, a blouse, a bra, a pair of real underwear, and a sweater into a tote bag to take with her.

Just in case.

She could wear the sandals with the jeans or her sundress. Grabbing her purse, notebook, and pen, she took a deep breath and headed out to her car while fighting the urge to dig the thong out of her ass.

This will take some getting used to.

Tony’s car wasn’t there when she pulled up to the club ten minutes early. In fact, no cars were parked outside the club.

She texted him. I’m here.

He replied in seconds. ETA 5.

Sure enough, his car pulled into the lot five minutes later. He parked next to her and got out wearing that panty-melting smile of his.

This thong won’t be any help.

If anything, the way it rubbed between her legs was just making matters worse, although the distraction from the way it dug into her ass tempered the sexy effect somewhat.

She hoped she didn’t end up with a wet spot on her dress.

He removed the toybag from his trunk along with an additional bag, and a blue plastic tube about a yard long that had a strap he slung over his shoulder.

“What’s that?” she asked.

He grinned. “Your doom.” When her eyes widened, he laughed. “Sorry, I’ve always wanted to say that. It’s my cane and crop tube.” He locked his car and headed to the front door. After finding the right key, he opened it. “After you.”

“No alarm?”

“Nope. He doesn’t keep cash on the premises.”

She walked into the office as far as the daylight drifting into the room allowed for her to see. He left the two bags just inside the front door and walked over to a wall switch, hitting it. The office lights came up.

“Let me get the ones inside.” He disappeared through the play space door. A moment later, he returned without the tube. “All set. I should probably ditch the ‘come into my parlor’ line of jokes, huh?”

She smiled. “I’m all right. Sir,” she added.

He laughed. “You’re a quick study. I like that.”

She followed him into the larger area. He’d brought all the house lights up, which brightly lit the entire area. During the play session last week, softer lights and individual, colored lights illuminated the play area, adding a feeling of intimacy to the setting, while the lights over the social area were much dimmer. He took his bags over to a table at the front of the social area, where she saw he’d also left the tube. He opened one of the bags and rooted around inside it for a moment. When he straightened, he had a couple of items in his hand.

“Put your things on the table,” he said, his voice slipping into a lower, more serious tone. “Including your glasses.”

Without hesitation, she did.

“Good girl. Arms out in front of you.”

She did, struggling against her nerves. He buckled a black leather cuff around her left wrist, then her right one. “Not too tight, are they?” he asked.

She shook her head even as her pulse raced. Well, I asked for this.

He pointed at the floor. “When I do this, I expect you to kneel in front of me. I shouldn’t have to say a word about it.”

She knelt on the floor.

“Good girl. Hold your hair out of the way.”

When she did, he buckled a matching leather collar around her neck, inserting a couple of fingers between it and her flesh to check the fit. “Too tight, or good?”

She let go of her hair and swiveled her head around. “It’s good. Sir.”

He laughed. “I like how you remember to add it on. Don’t worry, it’ll become a habit soon enough.” He stood in front of her and her heart pounded as she recalled her dreams. “Hands on your knees,” he quietly said.

She did.

He stood there for a moment, not speaking. As the air conditioner kicked on, the silence in the immense room deafened her, made her acutely aware of how vulnerable she was.

And the fact that she hadn’t thought to tell anyone what she was doing. That she would be here alone with Tony.

Don’t be stupid. Everyone trusts him.

She flinched a little when he rested one hand on the top of her head. “It’s all right, pet,” he softly soothed. “I just need to go over a few things with you. For starters, when we’re alone, you will give me a greeting before we start our play. You will kiss my feet—the tops, not the bottoms—the backs of my hands, and then…” He laughed. “I guess we’ll modify the last part. You’ll nuzzle my cock through my pants. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“No objections?”

“No, Sir.”

“Good girl. Greeting, pet.”

She leaned forward and kissed each motorcycle boot, on the top of his foot. Then she sat up and pressed her lips against first his left hand, then his right. His height and her position put her at the perfect position to lean in and rub her nose against the zipper of his jeans.

She didn’t think it was her imagination that the bulge there grew a little.

“Good girl. Stand up.”

She did, a little disappointed to know nothing else was going to happen, and amused to see him adjust himself through his jeans.

“Skirt up.”

She swallowed. “What? I mean, Sir?”

He cocked his head at her. “I gave you specific instructions on how to dress. Show me.”

“Oh.” She looked at the floor, her face blazing hot as she lifted her skirt.

“No. Look me in the eye.”

It took her longer to force her gaze up to his than it did to hold her skirt up.

“Keep your skirt up until I say put it down,” he sternly said when her hands had started to lower.

She jerked her hands up again, forcing herself to maintain contact with his green eyes.

He looked amused. “How do you feel right now, pet?”

“Exposed,” she squeaked.

He chuckled. “Good. That’s the way I want you to feel. Exposed and vulnerable. I want to force you out of your comfort zone. I need you to be able to trust me. I need my commands to become second nature in your brain. Where you respond to me, not to anything around you. Where your focus is solely on me and you can trust me and let go regardless of what else you might feel.”

She nodded.

He walked around her. “Hike the back of your dress up, too, pet. Let me see.”

Swallowing again, she adjusted her grip on the fabric until the skirt was gathered around her waist.

“Spread your legs. More,” he ordered when she didn’t spread them to his liking.

Now her face felt like a neon beer sign in the window of a bar next to a dry county.

His soft voice in her left ear startled her. “How do you feel now, pet?”

“Extremely exposed, Sir,” she whispered.

“Good. Stand like that until I say otherwise, with your skirt up and your feet spread.” He turned his back on her and walked over to his bag and grabbed a couple of items. When he returned, she saw he had the metal whisks from the other night, a short, leather strap with a solid handle she knew was called a slapper, and a…

“Is that a spatula, Sir?”

He grinned and held the black object up. “Yep. Good for scraping batter out of bowls, or smacking subbies’ asses.” He stepped in close and hooked a finger through the front D-ring on the collar. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “And as I told you, you can always call red. I want to give you a little taste of what I have in store for you later tonight, so you have something to look forward to. Any objections?”

She shook her head. “No, Sir.”

His grin did dangerous things to her reserve. “That’s my good girl. Keep that dress up and those feet apart.”

He released her collar and walked around behind her. She flinched again when she felt his hands on the thong’s waistband.

Then she realized he was pulling it down her legs.

She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together as she felt what little covering she’d had disappear.

He put an arm around her waist to steady her and tapped her right leg. “Step up, pet.”

She lifted her foot and felt him pull the thong off her leg and drop it to the floor, where it puddled around her left ankle. “Foot down, pet.”

She complied.

“Legs apart, like I told you.” This time he nudged her right foot out with his. The boot leather felt warm against the side of her foot through the sandal.

He stepped away again. She heard him move in front of her. “Do you want a blindfold, pet?”

“Yes, Sir.” The words slipped from her lips without even needing to think about them.

“Ah, my poor, bashful pet. I should make you watch this time, but I won’t. I’ll go easy on you.” She heard him walk away. Then he rummaged through his bag, his boot heels making solid sounds on the painted concrete floor as he returned. She felt him slip a soft leather blindfold over her head and buckle it.

“How’s that, pet?”

She nodded. “Good, Sir.”

Even the word “pet” had taken on a new connotation for her. It felt like a new name. She was his pet, his toy, his plaything.

She heard him pick up one of the items he’d left on the floor next to her feet. When the plastic touched the skin of her inner right thigh, she twitched but didn’t draw her legs closed.

“Keep that skirt up, pet,” he said in a low warning tone when she’d let it slip. She yanked it back up again, bunching it in her hands so she could keep her elbows at her sides and not drop the fabric.

He lightly slapped her ass and thighs with the slapper first, just barely enough to be stingy in a pleasant, scratching-an-itch kind of way. After a few minutes of that he switched to the spatula.

He caressed up and down her inner thigh with the spatula, down to her calf, behind her knee, with both the flat side of it and the edge. Then up her thigh, just between her legs where he skipped her clit and pussy altogether and repeated the teasing on her left leg.

“You’re wet, pet. I can smell you.” He sounded amused.

He didn’t chide her for not replying, so she remained silent.

He did that for long minutes, back and forth.

Then a stingier slap, against her inner right thigh, making her yip in surprise more than pain.

“Legs apart!” he barked. It startled her, and she forced them apart. He started slapping the insides of her thighs with the spatula, up and down, the backs of her legs, her ass. Not as hard as she suspected he could hit, but in a few moments she felt the stinging all over.

He stopped, which shocked her almost as much as when he’d started.

His warm breath blew across her clit. “My poor, wet pet.” He lightly brushed her clit with the spatula.

She froze, which didn’t escape his notice. “Good girl. Hold very still.” He slipped the edge of the spatula back and forth through the folds of her labia and up the seam of her ass, teasing her. She pressed her lips together to try to hold back her whimpers.

It seemed nothing escaped his notice. “Make all the noise you want, pet. It’s just us.”

He dragged the edge of the spatula across her clit. That made her moan and involuntarily thrust her pelvis forward, wanting to maintain contact with it.

“Good girl,” he cooed. “That’s exactly what I want you to do.” He repeated the motion, tormenting her with the spatula, making her clit swell and throb even as her pussy began to dully ache with a cramping need she knew only an orgasm would take care of.

When was the last time I felt like this?

That would be never.

Even James, in the best of days, had never inspired this much desire, this much blatant need in her.

Suddenly, all contact ceased. She moaned.

“Patience, pet. You gave me control of this. That means we do it my way.” Then cool metal touched her inner thighs.

The whisks. He slid them up and down her legs, occasionally brushing against her clit in the process and tormenting her even more.

“How do you feel, pet?”

She had to lick her lips. It took every ounce of will to speak. “Horny, Sir.”

“Good girl.”

Something else touched her clit. She didn’t have time to process what it was when he sternly ordered, “Come for me, pet.” A strong, vibrating buzz filled the air and her clit at the same time.

She cried out, surprised, but even more shocked when her body responded and an orgasm pulsated through her. Her knees went out from under her, but Tony’s arm appeared around her waist to catch her. He kept the vibrator firmly pressed against her pussy with his other hand. “You can do it, pet. Give me another.”

She sobbed as another one did, in fact, roll through her. Her legs felt like they couldn’t support her at all. He slowly eased her to the floor before pulling the vibrator away and shutting it off. As she lay there recovering, she realized she was curled half in his lap and half on the floor.

It took her a couple of minutes for her breathing to slow and her wits to return. He unbuckled the blindfold and carefully removed it. She blinked against the sudden intrusion of light and looked up into his face.

His serene, satisfied smile beamed down at her. “I think you have achieved at least partial comprehension.”

She closed her eyes and nodded as she let her head fall to his lap again.

He laughed. “Poor pet. Two orgasms and you’re worn out already.”

He helped her to her feet after removing the thong from around her ankle. He led her over to the couches, grabbing a clean, folded towel from a basket next to them. He spread it out for her before easing her down onto the couch.

He knelt in front of her so he could look her in the eye. “We’ve got about twenty minutes or so before anyone arrives. Take a few minutes. Okay?”

She nodded. He reached out and stroked her hair. “You all right?”

She nodded and closed her eyes. I’m better than all right.

And he was right.

Now she did understand at least part of the attraction of BDSM.

He studied her face for a moment before standing and leaving her. Dammit, now his cock felt like it was going to explode.

He grabbed the vibrator, spatula, and whisks he’d used on her and took them into the men’s room. How long had it been since he’d had that much fun giving a woman an orgasm?

Too damn long.

He hadn’t planned on doing orgasm play with her that soon, but when he’d laid his hand on the vibrator in his search for the second whisk, the temptation had just been too great. He wasn’t even sure he would use it on her, until the way she arched her back to push her clit out against the spatula.

She hadn’t shied away from him at all. He washed the implements and the vibrator with soap and water and left them on the edge of the sink. He walked into one of the three stalls, locked the door behind him, and unfastened his jeans.

He already had a wet spot on the front of his briefs where his cock strained against the material.

Freeing it, he spit in his palm and started stroking, hard, with his eyes closed. It didn’t take more than a few seconds before jets of cum exploded from him and left him shaking so hard he had to lean against the wall of the stall for support.

Fuck. No one had ever affected him like that before. Taking him dangerously close to a loss of control. He hadn’t expected her to agree to nuzzling him through his pants. He would have understood if she’d refused to do it.

But she hadn’t. It didn’t take any great leap of imagination to think about sinking his cock into her throat between those delicious lips of hers as she nuzzled his bulge.

Not that he would have forced himself on her, but he had come dangerously close to coming in his pants toward the end of their play.

He opened his eyes and let out a snort. I made a bigger mess than she did. One splash had hit the tile wall at the back of the toilet. Another string had landed on the seat.

He snickered. After he relieved himself into the toilet he cleaned himself and the stall up, flushed, and went back out to wash his hands and gather the implements.

Shayla still lay on the couch where he’d left her. She’d felt so good in his arms. If the damn floor hadn’t been so hard and cold he could have easily sat there for hours with her nestled in his lap.

Don’t rush things. You’ve already rushed enough.

He put the implements away and went to check on her. “How’s my pet?”

She opened her eyes and smiled. “I think I need a nap.”

“That would be nice, but unfortunately we have a class now.”

She sat up. He wondered if that same, sweetly dreamy look she now wore was the same post-orgasmic look she always wore.

He also wondered how deep into subspace he’d driven her with that play session.

He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Go get cleaned up, pet.” He handed her the thong. “You might as well keep that off for now until we go out to dinner.” He smiled. “I suspect it won’t do you much good anyway.”

Her face reddened again as she took the sodden thong from him. “Thank you, Sir,” she mumbled.

“And you can take the cuffs off. Leave the collar on, though. I want you to wear it during both classes.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“When I introduce myself, I will be introducing you as my submissive. All right?”

She nodded. “Yes, Sir.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze.

He reached out and tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “Another rule. When I speak to you, unless I’ve instructed you not to, you will look me in the eyes. Understand?”

He noticed she swallowed hard. Another nervous tic, he suspected. He’d noticed her doing it several times during the course of their previous conversations and today. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.” He kissed the top of her head. “Go clean up.”

He watched her get up, carefully observing her to make sure she was steady on her feet. As she walked toward the bathroom, he laughed. “You can straighten your skirt and put it down now, pet.”

She looked at him over her shoulder. “Thank you, Sir.”

Although the view is nicer when your ass is bare.

Shayla looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was mussed and her face still pink. I should have skipped the makeup. She washed her face and patted it dry with a paper towel. Then she took a couple of dampened paper towels into a stall with her. After using the toilet, she cleaned herself up as best she could. She patted her pussy as dry as she could with yet another paper towel and washed her hands.

I look like I’ve just been fucked.

The burping laugh escaped her.

You were just fucked. Sort of.

Holy crap, if he could do that to her with just that little bit of play, what else did he have in store for her tonight?

She realized she didn’t care, and that she was eager to feel every last bit of it.