Surrender: Fantasies Unleashed 3 (2 page)

She set her heels down, but the instant she regained her balance he turned her around, her ass against his upper thighs.
Shit
. Was he planning to bend her over and fuck her right now?

She was okay with that.

“Get changed,” he commanded. “Your outfit is back there.” One hand on her belly, the other reaching over her shoulder, he pointed to the screen. Its artwork was richly painted in pinks, reds, and grays. “You have five minutes. Be ready.”

He was supposed to remove her dress at the beginning of scene two. She opened her mouth to protest, but closed it.
Trapeze, Deana. Time to let go and swing.

She stepped behind the screen, and a motion-activated lamp came on to reveal a dressing area with a three-way mirror and a chaise lounge, lushly upholstered in white velvet. A bizarre costume lay at its end.
Surely he wasn’t serious.

She lifted the black bra—if you could call it that. More like leather-padded underwires held up by strips of red lace. Metal chains hung from the lace straps. The whole look was very goth, or was it punk? Definitely slutty.

“Why am I dressing to titillate you?” she asked. “Isn’t this supposed to be
my
fantasy?”

“Get dressed.” His voice was deep, almost a growl.

Her belly contracted. At work, anyone using that tone would be fired; if she heard it from a lover, she’d dump him; in an alley, she’d pull out her Mace. Now? The booming threat in his tone turned her on.

Be careful what you ask for.

She turned to face the screen.
Damn
. Given the back lighting, he could watch her undress in silhouette.
Whatever
. Especially if it helped get his cock up. Heat rose in her as she imagined him touching himself on the other side of the screen.

She slipped out of her dress and reached for the bra. It wasn’t like she’d ever have a chance to wear anything like it again. After getting the clasps fastened, she blinked at her image in the mirror. The bra fit—they
had
asked for her detailed measurements—but it pushed her breasts up and together like no bra she’d ever worn, making her boobs appear twice their size. Plus it left the majority of her flesh and her nipples exposed. Not exactly like the sports bras she wore to work. She twisted to look from another angle and the chains grazed her skin.

Her breath hitched. The weighted chains swung when she moved, striking her nipples, making them hard. What a clever, clever bra.

She grabbed the panties—a thong of sorts, made of leather and glass beads. She slipped out of her third-date panties—their black lace now outed as conservative—and pulled on the strange garment. It fit snugly, clearly made for her, and she snapped the closure.

Below the leather band that encircled her hips, an open triangle formed a made-to-measure frame for her trimmed bush. The triangle’s lower point was attached to a double string of beads that joined a single string farther back, that parted her fully exposed butt cheeks.

She couldn’t decide whether the thong’s beads—some smooth, some rough—were meant to be inside or outside her labia. She shifted, and the beads slid against her growing-slicker-by-the-instant folds.
Interesting.
Adapting to the sensation, she bent to adjust the strands and tucked them inside. She straightened. One of the beads nudged her asshole.

Whoa.
Did she get to keep the costume? Wearing it sure would make vacuuming more fun, and the thought of asking the costume department to rig one up was out of the question. Admiring herself in the mirror, she cupped her breasts, sucked in her gut, and swiveled her hips to enjoy the beads’ friction between her legs.

Running her hands down her body, she traced the line between the bra and panties. She looked hot. Not as hot as the show’s cast members, but between training and performances the artists worked out more than fifty hours a week. All she got was four or five hours at dance and Pilates. It wasn’t fair to compare.

“Time’s up,” Jake said. “Get out here, now.”

She spun toward his voice, and the chains’ weights struck her breasts again. Her cheeks reddened as her nipples peaked and the sensation shot straight down to her sex. She swung again, but her intentional swipes didn’t ignite the same fires.

Raising her hands above her head, she closed her eyes and danced—twisting, turning, letting the beads and chains go wild.
Niiice
. The chains brushed over her hardened nipples and the thong’s beads slipped and slid through her dampness. She ground her hips in a deep circle, and the leather triangle pressed against her clit.

Did she even need that Jake guy? With this outfit and a little help from her fingers, she could fulfill a few fantasies on her own. Too bad she hadn’t tucked a vibrator into her bag. Maybe she didn’t need one.

“Out! Now!” Jake’s command boomed from just beyond the screen. The sound penetrated her belly, setting off an earthquake of rumbling vibrations.

She smoothed her hands down her torso to rest on her hips. She would not act like some kind of supplicant. This fantasy was about losing control—not dignity.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” She wished she could dim her body’s telltale flushing.

“Now,” he said. “Or you’ll be punished.”

It sounded like he slapped something hard against his hand. Her sex squeezed and one of the beads grazed her opening. “Listen, Jake, or whatever your real name is, I checked ‘no’ to whips or canes.”

“Enough talking.” The screen crashed to the floor.

Her entire body clenched and she swallowed a gasp.

Struggling not to react, she kept her eyes focused on her reflection. But with the privacy barrier down, the heat of his gaze blistered her naked skin. She covered her breasts and slowly transferred her gaze from her image to his.

The air pushed from her lungs and her hands dropped to her sides.

Jake was wearing next to nothing, and what he was wearing—Ack! If he’d looked good fully clothed, another adjective, one far beyond her current vocabulary, was required for the unclothed version of Jake.

Her eyes devoured his bulging chest and ripped abs, and then slipped down the thin trail of dark hair tracing the path to his cock. She fought to keep her jaw from dropping.

Leather straps circled his hips to form a bizarre leather harness that encased his balls but left his long, thick cock hanging free from a ring at its base. She’d never thought of the male genitalia as attractive—some men’s were downright comical—but everything about Jake’s dick screamed beautiful. Glistening below a thick, veined shaft, his pink head curved into a stunning bulb. The photo she’d seen had not been enhanced. In fact, it hadn’t done him justice. And he wasn’t even hard. Yet.

Her mouth went dry. She stepped back from the mirror, and her calves hit the chaise lounge. She dropped down on her ass.

Graceful
. Dignity had definitely left the building.

He glowered. “Come here. Now.”

The lust spell broke.

Swinging her legs up onto the chaise, she crossed her arms and leaned back. “Stop being such a prick.”

He approached and leaned forward, one hand on either side of her. “Do you want me to
hit
you? To take you over my lap and
spank
you? To drag you out of here by your hair? Is that what you want?”

His salty, hot scent made her dizzy, and her back arched against the rush of heat and fear contracting inside her. But she shook off both to gather up a more useful emotion. She summoned all of her anger—anger at her body for flinching, at her cheeks for reddening, her nipples for hardening, her loins for betraying her desire. She retrained her anger on him.

Raising her chin, she looked him directly in the eyes. “My fantasy was to lose control during sex, to shed my inhibitions. I did
not
ask to be verbally abused. I did
not
ask to be threatened, and I certainly did not ask to be punished.”

He loomed above her, unflinching. He was going to hit her. Or worse.

Her cheeks burned. Her heart raced. What would he do to her? Better question—could she stop him?

“Come here, then.” Backing away, he issued the order more gently.

She stood and stepped forward, trying to hide the slight trembling in her knees.

Taking her shoulders, he turned her and carefully draped a black silk blindfold over her eyes, tying it under her ponytail.

“You didn’t even
read
my script, did you?” she asked.

“Blindfold: optional during scene four,” he said, clearly hiding a chuckle now. “Forget your script.” He was back to all business. “I give the orders, not you.”

“Fine.” She shook her head. “We’ll do it your way. At least to start.”

He ran his hands over her shoulders, tracing down to the tips of her fingers and back up. This was okay, if a bit gentler than the moves she’d thought up.

He kicked her legs apart.

She gasped. “Hey.” She tried to turn, but he held her shoulders firm, and braced one of her feet with his.

“I’m in charge,” he growled in her ear.

His hand spanned her belly—hugely sexy. But she wasn’t ready to cave to his alpha-male shit. To show him, she slid her legs closer together, but each time she moved her free foot, he pushed out the other. And all the while his hands were on her, over her, everywhere, distracting her from her goal. Soon, it was hard to even remember her script.

Moving up to her breasts, his thumb flicked her taut nipple, then he tugged up on the thong, digging the beaded string into her pussy and the edge of the leather vee into her clit. Rising onto her toes, she forced out a sharp breath. He flicked her nipple, then tugged again, and the alternating stimulation started driving her into a frenzy.

Just as she was getting used to his rhythm, he forced her feet even further apart and pressed his thigh between her legs. His hard cock brushed her ass. She heard a stifled groan as he worked his quads against the thong’s beads, pressing and churning and grinding them against her soft folds.

She arched, pushing herself harder onto his thigh, increasing the pressure of the thong on her clit. He sure knew how to work those beads, and while this might not be exactly what she’d planned, if she came hard enough she might not report him to his boss.

Too soon, he released his leg’s pressure and returned to gentle caresses. Slightly frustrated, she pushed back, trying to find his leg again, but he refused to cooperate. Then, suddenly, he pressed up with his leg at the same time as he pinched both of her nipples. Her head slammed back against his chest and she moaned. His leg pressed harder.

“Oh, yeah. Like that.”

The instant the words were out of her mouth, his leg and its delicious pleasure vanished. His hands tightly held her shoulders as he breathed heavily behind her.

“Why did you stop?” she asked.

His hands slid to her throat, and he lifted her chin, tipping her head back. She was about to object but got distracted by his hard cock pressed against her. Fires lit beneath her skin as he rubbed his erection along the string of beads that separated her ass.

Without warning, he spun her and lifted her into his arms.

“Put me down.” She pushed against his chest. “I can walk on my own.”

“Do I need to use a gag?”

She reached for her blindfold.

“Keep it on!”

She dropped her hands. “You don’t have to yell.”

“Then stop directing me.” He was doing his best to overpower her—she could tell—but at times his voice sounded more amused than intimidating.

He carried her farther than seemed possible given the small room, and she deduced that they’d gone through the double doors past the bed. He set her down on something soft. “Lie back.” He supported her as she complied.

As best she could tell by feeling around, he had her on a narrow table, covered with fake fur. “Why fuck me on this table when there’s a perfectly good bed?” she asked. “I know you’re the so-called expert here, but my script was way better.”

Her heart rate was rising. She hated having partners on top and wasn’t sure she could flip him over on this small bed.

“Quiet.” He pressed something hard against her lips and she shuddered.

“Do I need to use this?” he asked.

It felt like one of those ball gags like she’d seen in
Pulp Fiction
. If he tried to put that on her, she’d
really
fight back. “No!”

“Then don’t make me.” He continued to caress her, firmly, but gently. Using both hands he massaged one of her arms, slowly tracing toward her fingers. When she finally gave, just a little, he raised her arm above her head and snapped something around her wrist. She tried to lower her arm, but couldn’t.

“Hey. What did you do?” She twisted, arching off the surface. “I’m willing to give you a little leeway to improv, but not this.”

“Silence,” he growled into her ear.

She reached up with her free arm to see what was holding her and discovered what felt like a padded cuff. Before she could lower her arm, he grabbed that one too, and snapped on another cuff.

“Hey.”

Something pulled the cuffs and her wrists back, until her arms were stretched above her head.

She was about to object, but his tongue traced around one of her nipples.
Oh! That was nice.
With her arms forcing her into a slight arch, she felt sexy, and she pressed her breast into his lips. He circled, then sucked, then circled again.

“Don’t stop,” she said.

“I’m in charge!”

His mouth left her body.

So did his hands.

Fine, she thought. He didn’t like feedback. She might as well let him improv for a while.

She arched her breasts up, so he’d know what she wanted, and slid her legs against each other, wrangling every opportunity for pleasure from the thong.

He wasn’t taking her hints, so she bent her knees and let them fall open. Talk about obvious. She’d signed the full penetration waiver, and right now she wanted his dick, any way she could get it.

“Where are you?” She pressed her hips up and swiveled, rubbing the beads against herself. “I can hear you breathing. Why aren’t you touching me anymore? When are you going to fuck me?”