Page 25 of Dominant

With a spike of fear, I slipped my panties off quickly, dropping my car keys to the floor and kicking them under the couch with what I hoped was a subtle motion. A small hand reached out and grabbed them, squirreling them away.

“That’s better,” said the man appreciatively. “Hm, very nice. Incredible tits. Now turn around so we can see all of you.”

I did as I was told, turning and taking in the whole room. It was richly ornate, with velvet furniture, polished wood, and antique art - all in hues of red and pink. Three other people in white shifts, two women and one man, stood at attention against the walls. Waiting to be summoned, I supposed.

“Open your mouth,” I heard the blond man say to Maggie. As I turned back around to face the couch, I saw him pulling his cock out of his pants. It lay fat and pink in his hand and he lifted it to Maggie’s open mouth as if feeding it to her. “Mmm,” he groaned softly as her lips closed around him.

“Come sit on my lap,” said the first man to me. “I love a great pair of tits. Let me feel them.”

Unsure what else to do, I turned and lowered myself backwards onto the man’s lap, and immediately felt his large, warm hands against my rib cage, running up my body and cupping each breast. I shivered as my nipples hardened against his hands, surprised to find the warm caress of this stranger’s hands on my exposed body welcome. His touch sent waves of pleasure across my sensitive skin and I let out a small, shuddering breath.

He chuckled, feeling my response, and the pleasant vibration of his rib cage against my back felt intimate and arousing. I arched my back against him, jutting my breasts out, and he squeezed and fondled them while all three men fell silent, watching Maggie taking the blond man’s cock deep into her throat. He held her hair back with one hand, watching her intently except for the occasional moment of intense sensation when he would close his eyes and moan.

I felt warmth spreading over my skin, the stranger’s hands on my hard nipples bringing my breath faster. A soft craving arose in me, and I circled my hips, ever so slightly, wanting to feel him between my legs. Sensing my need, he slid one hand down the front of my body and across the flesh of my inner thigh, gently probing at my slit with his fingers until he found my clit, and I gasped. I hadn’t realized how wet I was until he touched me, how swollen and ready I was. Beside me, the man in Maggie’s mouth was breathing hard and fast, lost in his pleasure, and I thought I might come just from watching him.

“This one is very responsive,” said the curly-haired man with approval to the others. He squeezed one breast harder and I shivered.

At that moment, a large man wearing a long black cape over street clothes entered the room and looked at our group with interest.

“Well, this looks fun,” he said theatrically, eyeing me with clear interest. “And who’s this?”

“She’s new,” said the man.

I squeezed my legs closed, gathering my breath. The fat man’s greedy eyes were bringing me back from the brink of orgasm and I didn’t want to be touched in front of him. The curly-haired man dropped both hands to my thighs, trying to hold me open.

“Oh, she looks like she needs some training.” observed the fat man.

“Hold still,” said the stranger severely, but I didn’t listen. The dangerous game I was playing suddenly seemed less fun. I planted my feet on the ground and violently wrested myself free of his arms.

He jumped up to grab me, and the fat man reached out and slapped me across the face. I gasped in shock. On the couch, the blond man squeezed his eyes shut and cried out, holding Maggie’s head down while he filled her mouth with his come, unconcerned by the altercation beside him.

I jumped away, skittish as a rabbit, and tried to orient myself to the door, when the large man grabbed my arms and threw me down onto the couch, pinning both arms tightly against my sides.

“Oh, you’re a wild one, aren’t you?” he said with a dangerous, feline smile. “Do you know, I particularly love breaking in the wild ones.”

Releasing one of my arms, he rifled under his cape for his pants and undid the top button. “I’m going to fuck you roughly right here, you insolent little slut,” he jeered, getting his zipper down and pulling out his cock.

I screamed and, acting on pure instinct, reached out and yanked the black masquerade mask off his face.

Alexander

“There’s a problem downstairs, sir,” came a voice at my elbow. I turned to see a concerned-looking servant beside me, and made my excuses to the group of members I was standing with.

We’d been watching a scene on the second floor that I was finding quite enjoyable. An expressive brunette, very vocal, had been strung up on the St. Andrew’s Cross and was having her nipples painfully clamped by Sir Vulpes. All of our members had an interest in BDSM, but Sir Vulpes was, in the truest sense, an artiste, who applied the principles of BDSM to his scenes with meticulous attention.

It had been arousing me to watch the brunette. Partly sexual, and partly animalistic - I felt a kind of bloodlust, inspired by her pain. It brought something violent and cathartic to the surface for me.

That was something that I’d been feeling less and less at the club. Lately, my experiences had been failing to satisfy me, leaving me feeling empty. The brunette’s screams woke something dormant inside me and I stood watching with my fellow members wondering for the first time in a while if I might want to have her later.

But just when I’d found something I liked, duty called. I was often called away to manage problems when I was at the club - much more so than Mark, I thought, a little bitterly. I followed the servant down to the first floor parlour, wondering what kind of problem awaited me and whether there would still be time to get back to the brunette before she was taken by someone else.

What I saw when I walked into the room shocked me so profoundly, I stumbled to a halt, frozen in place.

A sober-looking group sat in silence, waiting for me: four men, two initiates I recognized, and…

… Jordan Starck, naked and fuming, with a face full of tears.

For fuck’s sake. What the hell was my accountant doing in my club, naked and crying?

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