Page 52 of At Her Will

They returned to the public play spaces near the VIP lounge. She chose an unoccupied one, where the main feature was a section of iron rail fencing with spike tops, like he’d see around one of the fancy houses in the Garden District. Mounted on the wall behind it was a framed photograph, blown up to mural size.A man and a woman were bent over, each clasping one of their own ankles, free arms crossed to clasp the ankle of the other. Standing between them, his back to the photographer, was a Dom, one large hand resting on the lower back of each. On the point of the man’s raised buttock was a full wine glass. On the woman’s, an ash tray for the Dom’s cigarette, which he was currently drawing upon.

Though his shadowed features were in profile, they were familiar. “It’s Bastion,” Rev murmured.

“Yes. We have an accomplished erotic photographer who visits New Orleans adult clubs a couple times a year. Those interested can sign up to be subjects for his work. They can arrange for a private purchase, or get a free copy and give their permission for him to use the photos for his own showings and sales.

“He and Bastion came up with the pose together, but it was also part of the session Bastion did with these two subs. It’s become one of the photographer’s best sellers.” A smile touched her voice. “It was also the only time Bastion was allowed to smoke within Progeny’s walls.”

Vera removed the emerald ring and bracelet, and slipped them into Rev’s pocket, caressing his thigh, before she took off her black gloves. She wore fingerless silver mesh ones beneath. Her nails were painted silver with a metallic black on the tips. “Take off your shirt and hand it to me,” she said.

He was aware of people wandering the area, their eyes passing over him, so when she issued the command, he put his head down to follow her command. Her fingers whispered over his neck and shoulder as he shrugged out of the shirt and air touched his skin. His body was tense as a tied rope.

“Any need for Code 15?”

“No ma’am. Just…getting used to things.”

“All right.” A pause as she waited him out, to be sure, then she nodded at the fence. “Face this and grip these bars.” When she indicated the ones she wanted, his arms were stretched out to either side. Not to their full length, but close, his elbows slightly bent.

“Keep your head up. Spread your legs, shoulder width apart.” When the pants tightened over his buttocks, she slid her hand over one to squeeze with firm appreciation.

He could hear the noise of other people and feel the air of their passing. Their comments floated in the air around him. By facing the fence, though, it narrowed his focus to her, and made him less self-conscious.

Against one of the panels in the sectioned off area was a cabinet. When she opened the door, she revealed some of the things she’d discussed with him. A crop, flogger, and cane. After she put his shirt on a hook next to the cabinet, her discarded gloves on top of it, she tucked the handle of the flogger into the waistband of her snug skirt, the tassels dangling along her hip. She picked up the crop and cane in the same hand.

Then she stepped behind him where he couldn’t see her. Her hand applied firm pressure to his lower back, until he was right up against the fence, his toes between the rails, chest to them, hips, thighs. Two of the bars pressed against his pelvis on either side of his straining cock.

The position wasn’t comfortable, but his body adjusted and didn’t object. She had his full attention, particularly when she put her toe on one of the fence’s horizontal pieces, a foot off the ground, and tugged her skirt higher on her thigh. She unclipped her garter strap from her hose and the lace belt over her panties, a garment sheer enough to show him tempting shadows of what lay beneath.

She wrapped the strap around his wrist, tying the ends together around the fence rail. Then she went to his other sideand did the same provocative process. He could pull free, but his inner and outer reaction said he was going to stay where she wanted him to be.

“You’re bound, Rev,” she said. “You can’t move until I release you. You understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.” It was easy to be formal now. Her voice told him what to do. So did what was inside him.

She stroked his back and shoulders, and he realized she was doing more than enjoying the feel of him. She was testing his muscles, registering where there was more or less tension. Then she stepped back and the tails of the flogger landed against him.

He jumped, but it didn’t hurt. He just reacted to the new sensation, the way the straps hit and then slid down over his skin. She did it a few times, increasing her pace, letting him get the sense of it. Then she did it harder, changing her pattern and the way she hit, so there was more sensation to it, more impact and sting, though it still wasn’t painful, not exactly.

It awakened his skin. As it became more uncomfortable, he discovered what she’d meant, about how pain could be welcome. Each impact seemed to send a direct strike to his cock and balls, in just the right way.

He got a little lost in it, such that when she touched his back, caressing his reddened skin, his nerves jumped, but only to reach for her. His back arched so his shoulders pushed against her touch.

“Lay your head back, Rev.”

When he obeyed, she leaned against him, her breasts and hip bone against his side. She traced his forehead, his cheeks, his mouth, the parted lips, with her glossy nails and elegant fingers. He captured them in his mouth, and she let him tease them with his tongue as she took her other hand down his back to his ass and kneaded. He quivered.

“Put your forehead back against the bars and show me how you'd move inside of me, if I give you that privilege.”

That was a bigger step than just being half naked in front of people, but he looked at that photograph in front of him. The messages in it, and her touch, her presence, were the extent of his world. His hips thrust forward and retreated, pushing his ass against her palm. He thought of how she’d gripped him when they’d lain together in front of her fireplace.

Her thumb stroked the crease between his buttocks, making him shove himself harder between the bars. If his slacks hadn’t been in the way, his cock would have jutted out between them, straight and hard. One of the things he’d seen in the play area was a man bound against fencing like this, and his Domme was slapping his cock on the other side of it. He’d looked as if he wanted to die—from bliss.

Veracity stepped back, leaving him with an anticipation like thunder brought.

Hsst.The lightning came. The cane whistled as it cut through the air. The far sharper pain made him flinch and bite down on an oath. And yet, his already aroused nerve endings didn’t reject it. She waited a moment to be sure, then did it again. And again. Each time, he registered the pain, flinched, thought it was too much, then something else kicked in and said it wasn’t.

His fingers flexed, curled, clenched. When she switched back to the flogger, he jerked at the change in sensation. It hurt less and yet his skin was even more sensitive to it. Then he bucked as a swat from the crop got into the mix, hitting his shoulders, his back, his ass.

His breath was coming deep and hard. As he tried to do it like she’d taught him, and imagine her face, all the expressions that might be on it, he imagined her approval, her arousal, her look as her orgasm had taken her. By giving her this, his reaction to all of it, he was the boat she was riding toward that. Or maybehe was the whole damn ocean, willing to take her as far as she wanted to go.

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