San Francisco: The Complete Trilogy Page 7

James was struck with a deep need to know this woman, to have more than just an interesting conversation with her.

  He leaned toward her, close enough that she would feel his breath on her cheek. “I know what I’d like you to call me.”

  She inhaled sharply, chest rising. Tension hummed between them.

  James held out a hand. She tentatively placed her fingers in his. “I want you to call me Sir.”

  Chapter 5

  Christiana couldn’t breathe. His eyes were a beautiful color somewhere between green and gray, his face too handsome.

  “I’m not…”

  “Here to play,” he finished for her.

  That wasn’t what she’d been about to say. She’d been about to confess. I’m not a member, I’m not a submissive. I’ve just read some erotica and have a healthy fantasy life.

  “I respect that,” he continued. “I was only making my desires clear.”

  “You should find someone to play with,” she stammered.

  His fingers skimmed her cheek, his gaze never leaving her face. “I would rather watch with you than play with someone else.”

  “I’m really not that interesting,” she said desperately.

  “You are,” he countered.

  Christiana screwed up her courage, needing to confess, needing to get out of this situation even if it meant telling him everything. This had gone too far. She had gone too far.

  “Ah, I wonder what you’ll make of this.” He’d been looking at the stage as he spoke, but turned back to her, his eyes sparkling with wicked mirth.

  Confess.

  She took the coward’s way out, and looked at the stage, where the last couple was packing up, a new pair waiting off to the side to take their place. The new submissive wore an odd garment made of rough brown fabric. It was held up by straps that tied in bows on her shoulders. Rather than being sewn together, the sides were held together by yet more ties. The Dom with her was stroking her hair. He held a leather bag in one hand.

  What were they going to do? How did James know? Why did James think she’d like it?

  “Make of what?” she asked.

  The moment was gone, her resolve to confess evaporating under the heat of his gaze and her own damnable curiosity.

  “This will be a different sort of play,” he said. “Perhaps something you’ll find more instinctively appealing, though I know plenty of people who would swear that this is crueler than a flogging.”

  The first couple stepped down, the submissive looking content as she leaned against her Dom. The new couple moved into place. This time she was bound to the St. Andrew’s Cross, her arms up and spread, wrists held by the restraints attached to the top of the cross. She already wore ankle cuffs, and in a matter of moments her legs were spread wide. Rather than using the built-in restraints, the Dom used an expandable metal bar with hooks on the ends.

  The hem of her dress was stretched tight across her thighs, but once he was done with her ankles, the Dom undid the bows at the bottom sides of her dress, then kept going until the sides were fully open.

  “Why didn’t he just have her walk on naked?” she asked.

  “Could you imagine being in her place, bound, helpless, feeling the slow tug as each bow is undone, knowing soon you’ll be naked, exposed, and there’s nothing you can do about it?”

  “Oh.” Christiana swallowed heavily. “Well, when you put it like that.”

  James touched her cheek with his knuckles. “May I?”

  “May you what?”

  In response he slid his hand under her hair, palm cupping the back of her neck. His thumb rested just under one ear, while the tips of his fingers pressed tightly into her neck.

  Christiana’s eyes fluttered closed in reaction to the intensity of her response to the simple touch. But it wasn’t simple, or perhaps it was more appropriate to say it was deceptively simple. The back of her neck was intimate, rarely touched skin. His thumb was on the sensitive spot under her ear, a place she’d always liked being kissed. And his fingertips pressed against her neck in a way that spoke of command, of control.

  “You enjoy this.” His voice was deeper than a moment ago, laced with desire.

  He desired her.

  A second wave of heat ran through her body. “Yes.”

  His thumb played with her earlobe and then he squeezed her neck gently, applying only a minimal amount of pressure. Christiana drew in a deep breath.

  “You tempt me,” he said.

  “Tempt you to do what?” She tried to turn to look at him as she asked the question, but his grip was firm, his thumb against the back of her jawbone. She had no choice but to watch as the Dom on stage played with the sub, lifting the loose fabric that covered her naked front enough to show the audience flashes of her shaved pussy and firm breasts.

  “To forget my manners.”

  “Manners?”

  “Yes, Christiana.” The way he said her name made it sound exotic. When she was with him, she felt like Christiana, not Chris, which was what she went by at work. “You make me want to strip you naked right here, spread your body open on this couch, and touch and taste you until I know you. Until you understand that you want, no, need, to submit. To me.”

  On stage the Dom undid the shoulder ties, and finally the dress fluttered to the ground, leaving the woman naked and vulnerable. Her Dom started to play with her breasts, and the woman’s moans of pleasure made Christiana ache with longing…to be her. To be naked and exposed before James.

  Would he play with her nipples the way the man on stage was, pinching and tugging, dipping his head to suck and lick?

  Christiana watched the woman arch her chest up, begging for more. When the Dom pulled something from his pocket, Christiana had the oddest impulse to shout out a warning to the other woman.

  The Dom on stage plucked and rolled his sub’s right nipple, which was hard and flushed a deep pink-brown, then slipped a clamp on it. The sub yelped and wiggled in her bindings. The Dom waited patiently for her to still, then tightened the screw on the square vise-style clamps. The woman inhaled, and the chain dangling from the hardware on her nipple made the second clamp swing like a pendulum.

  He plucked and rolled her as-yet-unclamped nipple, then applied the second clamp.

  Christiana couldn’t stand it anymore. She reached for her own breasts, wanting to cup them, to rub her thumbs across the peaks through the fabric of her dress.

  “No,” James ordered.

  Christiana stopped, her hands cupping her breasts, but not yet touching her nipples.

  “You will not touch yourself,” he ordered softly.

  She dropped her hands to her thighs.

  “Palms up,” was his next command.

  She turned her hands, then relaxed her legs. She’d been pressing her knees together, but once she relaxed her muscles, they separated a handspan. Nothing lewd, but accepting.

  “Good,” he murmured.

  “Thank you.” The sentence felt incomplete.

  “James. Thank you, James. For now, we’ll use that. When you say my name, it’s a way of showing deference.”

  “Deference, not submission?”

  “I would treasure your submission,” he all but purred. “But I respect your wishes.”

  Arousal was thrumming through her, desire overriding both her good sense and the wariness she should have felt. “What if I want to submit?”

  “Just submit?”

  “To you. What if I want to submit to you?”

  He squeezed her neck, and then lifted his hand. Had she said something wrong?

  Christiana slid a glance his way, embarrassment cooling the fire of her arousal.

  “Slide the straps of your dress off your shoulders,” he ordered.

  “If I said something I shouldn’t have, please just tell me.”

  “You didn’t, but I’m not sure you know what you’re asking for.”

  That made her jerk her head to stare at him. “Don’t treat me like I’m too stupid to know w
hat I want.”

  “If you want to submit, slide the straps off.” His gaze bore into her. “And you’ll do it without my hand on you, so we both know it’s your decision alone.”

  Christiana slid the strap off her left shoulder, then her right, the thin pieces of fabric dangling along her upper arms. The neckline of the dress slid down an inch, then stopped, the fabric clinging to her breasts. Her nipples were hard and clearly visible through the fabric. If she took a deep breath the dress would probably fall the rest of the way.

  “I will not scene with you tonight.” He toyed with one of the dangling straps, and for a moment she thought he’d tug the dress down so she was exposed and naked. She understood the appeal of the tied-together dress the woman on the stage had been wearing.

  Then her brain processed his words and her disappointment made her close down. She pressed her knees together, pushed the straps up, crossed her arms, and hunched her shoulders.

  “No.” James spoke with a hard command. “Listen, don’t assume. I will not scene with you tonight. You stated before you wanted only to watch, and so I will help you fulfill that plan. But there are two more nights.”

  Christiana looked at him, keeping her face blank to hide her surprise at his words. It made sense. Of course this wasn’t a one-night affair. They’d put too much effort into setting this place up.

  Now he smiled, his voice gentler than it had been. “I have a proposal.”

  “A proposal,” she repeated.

  “Tonight we watch together. I should say we won’t touch each other, as I’m afraid that is a promise I would break—that I’ve already broken—but I won’t touch any part of you that isn’t currently exposed.”

  “I wouldn’t mind.” That was wildly inaccurate. She wanted, desperately, for him to touch her.

  He touched her cheek, and she leaned into his hand. “I know you wouldn’t, but I want you to trust me. And how could you trust me if I can’t keep a simple promise?”

  “I do trust you,” she said.

  “You will trust me more, after tonight.”

  “And what about tomorrow?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow night, once you leave the dressing room, you’re mine.”

  Christiana shivered. She met his gaze. She could get lost in those eyes.

  A buzzing sound made her jerk her attention back to the stage. The Dom had plugged in a vibrator—the kind with a ball-like thing on the end, called a wand. He knelt and spread his sub’s pussy lips, carefully positioning the head of the wand directly on her clit. The woman arched, straining against her bonds, face twisted in what might have been either agony or ecstasy.

  A second man jumped onto the stage, pulling a roll of black electrician’s tape out of the Dom’s leather bag. The Dom pressed the handle of the wand against the sub’s thigh, keeping the head positioned on her clit, and then the other man helped him tape it in place. Then they stepped back.

  The woman on the stage wiggled and twitched, chains clanking, and she moved in response to the stimulation. After only a few minutes, she cried out, “Edge!”

  The buzzing stopped.

  The Dom was holding a small switch box, which apparently controlled the power to the vibrator. The man was grinning in an unrepentantly devious manner as his sub made a noise of frustration.

  “Oh,” Christiana whispered. “That’s just mean.”

  James chuckled. “But there’s no pain. Only pleasure.”

  The Dom stroked his sub’s hair, arms, and waist, staying away from her erogenous zones. After a brief calming period, he stepped back and flipped the vibrator on again.

  This time she cried “edge” sooner, and the moment she did, he turned the vibrator off.

  On and on it went, until the sub was wild, thrashing in her chains, teeth clenched. The vibrator would be on for less than a minute before she’d cry out “edge.”

  “Why doesn’t she just lie?” Christiana wondered. “If she doesn’t say edge, he won’t turn it off, and she’ll come.”

  “Will you lie to me?” James slid his hand under her hair, grip a bit tighter than it had been the first time. “Knowing that if you did, not only would I be disappointed, but the trust between us would be broken?”

  Christiana relaxed into his hold, letting her head tip back slightly, so the weight of it rested on his hand. “No, James.”

  “And that’s why she doesn’t. I suspect soon she won’t be able to say edge, or she won’t realize until it’s too late and will orgasm.”

  “Will he punish her?”

  “Maybe. It depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On what she needs.”

  “Not what he wants?”

  “Those two things should be one and the same. After a long edging session, a single orgasm might not be enough, so he might push her to come again and again—forced orgasms. Or maybe he will spank her for coming without permission. In her current state, the spanking might calm her. Or maybe he’ll take her someplace more private and have sex with her.”

  “I thought sex was a given.”

  “You were planning to have sex with me tomorrow? But my virtue,” he said in mock horror, making his accent as English as possible.

  Christiana giggled.

  “I was going for Jane Austen heroine that time,” he said.

  The giggle became a full laugh. “I promise your virtue is safe with me.”

  “And yours is safe with me.”

  “What if I don’t want it to be?”

  “Would you like to negotiate the scene beforehand?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Based on that question, I assume you’re not from a club where all scenes had to be pre-negotiated, or contracted.”

  She licked her lips. “Where’s the fun in that?”

  The vibrator flicked on again, and the submissive’s eyes popped open and she wailed in pleasure. Christiana watched breathlessly as the bound woman’s body arched, the muscles in her arms and legs standing out. She was up on her toes, hands clenched into fists.

  Christiana had never reacted like that, never had an orgasm that intense.

  Tomorrow night you will.

  As if he could hear her thought, James released her neck, instead touching her chin to turn her to face him. Christiana leaned into him, breathless and needy.

  James’s gaze searched her face. And then he leaned down and kissed her. It was the most amazing kiss she’d ever experienced.

  He started out brushing his lips against hers, back and forth in a gentle caress. Then he tipped his head to the side, pressing his mouth to hers in a firm, dry kiss. It didn’t stay dry for long. He slid his hand into her hair, working his fingers into the tightly bound strands. When he tugged, she opened her mouth. He tasted like expensive gin and man. Her head fell back and he deepened the kiss. She could feel the heat of him, yet he didn’t press their bodies together. She wanted to feel his weight and heat bearing her down, yet she didn’t move into him. She knew instinctively that it would be better to wait. His tongue slid along hers, then flicked the roof of her mouth. Usually kissing this deep, this prolonged and intense was hurried, meant as only a short bridge between the first kiss and the clothes starting to come off. James proved the kissing was, could be, so very much more.

  When he finally pulled back, she was trembling, her whole body aching with need.

  James stared into her eyes, and for a moment he looked confused, almost as if he didn’t understand. Then he kissed her forehead and sat back. Pulling his hand from her hair, he slid it around her neck once more, picking up his drink with his free hand.

  On stage, the Dom was on his knees, face buried in his sub’s pussy. She was grinding herself against his head, and screamed again and again in pleasure.

  When the scene was done, the sub unbound and limp in her Master’s arms, James went to the bar, returning with a second drink for each of them. She was surprised, but grateful, to find that her flute held sparking water.

 
; Christiana sipped and watched scene after scene, couple after couple. Arousal was her constant companion. Even things she might not have found arousing were decadently pleasurable to watch when this turned on. She watched a sub get strapped to a bench, then man after man approached her, each one rolling on a condom before sliding their cock into her.

  “Would you like that?” James asked her.

  “Yes. No.” She whipped around to look at him, breaking his hold. “Please, no.”

  “I had no intention of sharing you.”

  “Maybe we should, um, preplan,” she said, concerned.

  “I thought you said negotiating a scene lacked excitement?”

  She winced internally. Her attempt to deflect his earlier question, and to hide her own inexperience, had been stupid. She looked at the floor, trying to figure what her next words should be.

  “Christiana, I know you were just flirting. I prefer to negotiate a scene so expectations are clear,” James said.

  He thought she’d been flirting? Well, he wasn’t wrong. “I don’t want everything we saw,” she rushed to say.

  “I know that.” His touch to her cheek was gentle. “There is a large difference between finding something arousing when you watch it, and wanting to experience it yourself.”

  She relaxed. “Right. I mean, that’s what porn is about.”

  “Very true.”

  She looked back at the woman on stage. “I can’t tell if I’m really turned on, or if I’m just so turned on from everything we’ve seen so far that my body can’t tell the difference.”

  “That’s possible. We want, and agree, to things when aroused that we might not when sober. That’s one of the reasons for contracts.” He took both her wrists in one of his hands, holding her firmly. “Look at me,” he commanded.

  Christiana obeyed.

  “Rather than a full contract, let us right now set some parameters. A sort of preliminary negation.”

  “Parameters. Right.”

  “I will be the only one to touch you.”

  “Yes, please.”

  “When we are in the scene, you will call me Sir.”

  “Sir, not Master?”

  “No. As much as I would like that, Master is reserved for subs I collar.”