Surrender Boxed Set (Surrender Series Volume 1 - 7. BDSM romance with man love, bad boys, and billionaires.) Page 5

  “Are we going to play then?” I looked down at him, watching as he took the nipple between his teeth this time, pulling until my breast rose up from my chest. The sharp sting of his bite was not unpleasant. I gasped when he rapidly flit his tongue back and forth over the hard peak.

  “Let’s just keep this session unofficial. An off the clock quickie.” He smiled up at me before feathering tender kisses down my torso. Then he drew up on his knees and began stroking the length of my damp slit, lightly rubbing my clit, while he watched my face for reaction. “Only I should warn you, a quickie is rarely that quick with me.”

  My cheeks burned from his smoldering gaze. A lump of anticipation formed in my throat, and I swallowed it down before I naively asked, “Why’s that?”

  His glimmering eyes reminded me of a keen cat who’d caught a mouse. I was that mouse, writhing under his control. “Because pleasing my lover is as important to me as pleasing myself. I find it just as erotic to watch a woman come as I do receiving pleasure. You must get off before I do.”

  I was learning this new job had far more benefits than I’d first realized.

  The wet tip of his tongue dipped into my belly button, swirling circles before his mouth moved lower. When he reached my clit, he drew back the hood and blew on the exposed bundle of sensitive flesh, but he denied me his fingers and mouth still.

  “Ahhhhh.” I let out this frustrated cry as I arched my hips up, seeking out his lips.

  His laugh rumbled up from deep in his chest. “Not yet, sweet Charlotte. This may not be unofficial playtime, but I still plan to torture you first. You see if I take you to the top, but make you wait to go over, when you do come, it’s all the more intense.”

  I blushed until my ears grew hot. But I doused my embarrassment and focused on enjoying his touch, his dirty talk, instead. Combined, they drove my senses wild and made it difficult to grasp any coherent thought.

  He urged my legs wider apart, then he peeled open my glistening pussy lips. His fingers explored my inner labia thoroughly, until I bit my lips and whimpered. Next he took his time stroking my outer labia, before he slickened his fingers with my juices once more and began exploring my vagina and rectum. But still he only teased these quivering holes, never burying his fingers long enough to give me the full pleasure I craved. I undulated atop the mattress in my frustration, until I begged, “Please.”

  “Please what?” Even now, sex was a game for Dmitri. One which he was very skilled at, and he always emerged the winner.

  “Please…touch me.” I pressed my vagina closer to his mouth once more.

  “Touch you where?” His voice was gravel deep with lust now. “Touch you how? Tell me, Charlotte. Say it.”

  “Lick my pussy,” I whimpered. “Fuck me with your fingers. Ohhh, please, make me come.”

  “That’s better. I like your naughty mouth.”

  Still he tormented me by slowly licking my outer then inner labia. He poked his tongue in and out my seeping hole, but he avoided my swelling clit until I cried out once more.

  “Tell me how to please you. Tell me what you like.”

  He drove me mad, and the frustration mounted until my eyes rolled back into my head. Gone were any traces of inhibition, of shame, as I moaned, “Suck my clit.”

  His tongue made a languid sweep over the pulsing bud. I gripped the silk sheets in tight fists as my ass lifted from the mattress. My cunt was greedy, thrumming with need, and it desperately wanted to be as close to his lips as possible. Next he pushed the velvety hood back again before he molded his mouth to my clit, sucking it hard, rolling his tongue over it. I bucked and thrashed like a frantic colt resisting its rider.

  “What next?” His whisper was practically a passionate growl as he removed the bliss singing through my loins. “Would you like more teeth? More tongue? Tell me how to make you come.”

  “Use your teeth.” I panted. “And your tongue. Slip your fingers inside of me.”

  He took my exposed clit between his teeth and tugged, shaking it back and forth as he did so. Violent stimuli erupted in my groin, sending a shockwave of ecstasy up my pelvis and down my legs. When his fingers plunged into my pussy, he marveled at how wet I was. My cunt walls gripped him hungrily, urging his touch deeper still. He tickled my g-spot to flaming life with curled, skilled fingers, and I soon thrust my hips uncontrollably as the climax mounted. I let out a shrill scream as an intense orgasm rocketed through me. When it was over, I lay on the bed breathing shallow, legs trembling, while the amazing release made my vagina still pulse like a heartbeat.

  He moved away from me, but before he could leave the bed I placed my hands against his chest and pushed him to the pile of pillows. “Wait, let me suck your cock. Let me return what you’ve given.” My boldness surprised me.

  His sexy grin sent a thrill through me. “So you have a dominant side as well. We’ll have to explore this further in the future. For now…” He swept a finger down my cheek. “Just a taste.”

  I tried to watch him as I kissed a trail down his smooth, golden stomach. But sometimes the intensity of his hot gaze was just too much, and I had to look away to focus on my sensual ministrations.

  I teased him as he had teased me, taking tiny licks of the sweet skin below his navel. I kissed a circle around his meaty, erect cock, then I pressed my tongue into his velvety scrotum, sweeping it back and forth until he growled and yanked at my hair, urging my lips to his glans.

  “What would you like?” I whispered, trying to play some turnabout.

  His groan sounded like that of a lusty beast. “Suck my cock now. Suck it hard, use your tongue, lick my head, make me cum.”

  I lingered at his glans, taking my time wrapping my lips around his purple, swollen head. I explored every inch of the ridge beneath with my tongue. His hand fisted in my hair, and he pulled at my curls until it hurt, but not terribly. Next I flit my tongue over his hole, and his pre-cum flowed faster from the slick opening. I lapped it up like a cat enjoying a bowl of cream.

  “Give me your mouth,” he demanded, pushing on the back of my head. “Give me all of it.”

  As I slithered down his cock, I swept my tongue back and forth over his smooth shaft, loving the feel of rigid muscle beneath smooth, slippery flesh. His penis had a wonderful curve in it that made it perfect for finding the g-spot. Over the brief time I’d spent in this new job, Dmitri had taught me a lot about sex. The proper names for genitals and erogenous zones, plus the naughty ones he liked to use. I certainly enjoyed the dirty talk too.

  I massaged his sac while I held him deep in my mouth. He was large, and it took some skill to keep him there, but I had been working on ways to keep his full length down my throat. While his glans touched the back of my throat, I swallowed and sucked hard. He moaned, sounding like a bear, while his fingers clenched and released around the fistful of hair he held.

  I sped up my pace, slipping my mouth up and down his erection quickly while I maintained fierce suction. He answered by thrusting deep and rapid, and soon he face fucked me so ardently I had to struggle to control my gag reflex. Soon I felt his warm, sticky seed shoot down my throat as his glans thumped the back of my mouth.

  “Ah, my dear,” he said, as we lay in each other arms, catching our breath. “You are a natural. I know the crowd at Sanctuary will be impressed by your skill.”

  My heart fluttered with a combination of fear and excitement at his words. Curiosity over this Surrender Sanctuary, and the crowd he mentioned, gnawed at me, but I left my questions unasked as we headed downstairs for breakfast.

  ***

  I entered Dmitri’s roster of new patients into the database just as Mildred entered the office. She flashed me a dazzling smile and pointed to his closed door. “Is he still in session?”

  I nodded. “He should be finishing up any moment now.”

  She pulled a chair from the waiting area closer to my desk. “Great. Gives me a chance to catch up with you.”

  Mildred was a blonde bombshell with a
brain as dazzling as her beauty. Over the course of my employment with Dmitri, she and I had become good friends. She, like Dmitri, was a therapist. Abnormal psychology was her specialty, and she occupied the office right next to this one. Mildred and Dmitri often conferred on patients.

  She crossed her black stocking clad legs, tugged down the hem of her short red skirt, then tented her red lacquered fingernails, tucking them beneath her chin before she asked: “How’s the new job going?”

  Shocked, my gaze flew to her face, and the patients’ records were completely forgotten. “You know about that?”

  She gave me an impish smirk, blew a strand of thick, lustrous blonde hair from her pale blue eyes. “Sweetie, he asked for my opinion before he offered you the position. No pun intended.”

  Part of me wanted to feel angry, and part of me did. But I couldn’t seem to hold onto that sense of betrayal. Maybe it was because Dmitri treated me so well. Maybe it was because Mildred had never been less than kind to me. Could they really have been scheming against me all this time. Was that the reason for their friendly demeanors? Confusing emotions swirled to the surface of my thoughts, and I tried to quelled the hurricane of contradictory feeling. Mildred was my only real female confidant, other than Dad’s friend Lucy. I didn’t want to fight with her, but I could use an ear at that moment.

  “How do you…” I sighed, bit my lip, looked from her sculpted oval face, then looked back. “Do you think I’m doing the right thing, Millie?” She preferred this nickname to her given moniker.

  Her tweezed brows furrowed. “What do you mean, sweetie?”

  “Well…” My fingers fidgeted in the lap of my dress pants. “I don’t know… I always thought, before this, I was a moderate feminist, you know? Now, well, now I feel like I’ve betrayed that part of me almost.”

  She looked closely at me, then her thin fingers stroked her slightly pointed chin. “Let me ask you this, Charlotte: Do you feel you’re doing this on your own terms?”

  I thought about this, shrugged. “I-I guess so.”

  “Did Dmitri coerce you in any way? Was he dishonest about the contract, the job, and what it would entail? Do you feel subjugated?”

  I shook my head. “No I don’t feel subjugated, and he didn’t really coerce me. He was pretty upfront about everything, and did offer me an alternative if I couldn’t go through with it, so I could keep the extra income and keep Dad in the new place.”

  Her smile returned. “If you feel you’re doing this on your own terms, then I don’t think you’re a traitor to feminism, hon.”

  “But doesn’t this job go against feminist ideals? I mean, I’m a sex worker, right?” I thought of women who’d argued that sex was always on a man’s terms, and men always tried to get it from women to satisfy their needs, rather than finding out what a woman wanted. Dmitri didn’t do that with me, though. Other than Doug, he was the only man I could ever honestly discuss sex with, and the only man who’d cared about my pleasure equally.

  “Don’t confuse second wave feminism with third wave, Charlie.” Her nickname for me, which she’d asked if I minded the use of, but I told her I liked it. It sounded sexy and sassy, whereas I sometimes felt my full name sounded old and dowdy. “Remember that a lot of third wavers thought we needed a more pro-sex stance, to encourage women to embrace their sexuality as much as any man, rather than the sex wars that happened in second wave. I tend to agree with that. I’m a pro-sex feminist. I support sex workers and legalization of their trade, female or male. There’s no shame in that job, if you love what you do and do it on your terms. Not that there weren’t some great issues probed by second wave thought, but there were also ideas proposed that made some younger women feel guilty about their sexual desires. Like they weren’t allowed to have them. Don’t let another person define your feminism for you, sweetie. Only you can define what it means for you.”

  Her words seemed to lift a weight from my chest.

  Dmitri’s patient emerged from the office and he soon followed. As I gazed at his face, I thought of the tenderness he’d showed me this morning, how he’d encouraged my dominant streak, as well as he enjoyed my submission. Thanks to Mildred and this, a bit more of my guilt, my reservations, ebbed away.

  ***

  The Surrender Sanctuary lay in a rural area, on the outskirts of the city. Much like Dmitri’s home, the place was palatial. Only where his house was stonework and an onion dome, this mansion was all looming, carved white columns with a peaked roof and verandas lining most of the upper floor windows. It reminded me of old plantation homes I’d seen in Southern Gothic films.

  “Surrender Inc. is a sex resort and sex club franchise,” Dmitri had explained on the drive there. “I’m one of twelve board members who own and operate it. We cater to everyone from middle class to upper echelon elites. The Sanctuary, however, is only for board members and friends of board members. Everyone must be tested to get into one of our establishments, plus we provide protection, and when engaging in any bdsm activities we demand you play safe.”

  He led me through a pair of mammoth white doors. People milled about a spacious area carpeted in rich crimson. Inside was all pristine white walls and a checkerboard floor. Behind a front desk framed by potted ferns, a handsome blond man in an expensive looking suit smiled, waiting to greet us.

  “Nice to see you, Mr. Nichvalodov.” He spoke in a smooth falsetto that charmed the ears. “We’ve missed you at the Sanctuary.”

  Dmitri signed a ledger the young man slid his way. “Yes, it’s nice to be back. My friend Charlotte and I are anxious to perform tonight.” He placed a hand on my back and looked at me. “Aren’t we, my dear?”

  Perform? I almost choked on the deep breath I inhaled. What exactly did he mean by perform? I knew my contract had stipulated something about “live play in front of an audience,” but I’d figured we wouldn’t get to anything like that until much later in our arrangement. For now, I simply nodded and returned the young man’s smile, not trusting my voice would work if I tried to speak just then.

  As Dmitri led me into a elevator with shimmering doors that looked like polished gold, I asked, “We’re performing tonight?”

  “Yes, I wanted it to be a surprise. Are you uncomfortable with that?”

  I pulled the collar of the knee length, grey coat I wore over my costume tightly closed. “I…I’m not sure. What exactly will we be performing?”

  He rubbed a hand down his mouth, and his expression became unreadable. Was he disappointed? Annoyed? I couldn’t tell, but I’d have at least liked some forewarning I’d be on display this evening, and what that display exactly entailed.

  “I booked us in a live show room. That consists of you and I performing sexually for others. There will be a lot of people watching. At least a crowd of fifty.” He watched me for reaction as he spoke, his eyes narrowed to slits as he studied my face.

  I gulped, felt nerves tickle and burn the back of my neck. “Fifty?”

  “If you’d rather a private room—”

  “No, that’s fine.” I held up a hand. After all, this was my job, and I couldn’t constantly expect my employer to make adjustment for me, could I? Still, a small flame of anger flickered in my guts. I felt a bit ambushed by his secrecy, and wondered why he hadn’t prepared me more so, but I decided to ignore my fear and irritation and just do this. “It’s my job. Can you at least prepare me for what I’m about to face?”

  His expression now pinched in obvious displeasure. “Of course. Our room is called The Glass Cage. We’ll be performing a spanking, among other things, in front of live cameras. There’s microphones and flat screen tvs inside and outside the cell. Our audience will see and hear everything, and so will we.” He clenched his teeth now, and I could see the muscles working in his jaw as he did so.

  My cheeks flamed, while my stomach tied in tight knots. I inhaled a shaky breath and steeled my resolve.

  Before we made it to our room, Dmitri gave me a brief tour of a few areas on our way, t
hough he was curt and clipped for the remainder of our walk. I peeked into a private room decked out to mimic the inside of a spaceship, straight out of some pulpy science fiction movie. Another room was done up like a Wild West saloon, only it held a bed and a rack designed to look like an old gallows. A small cluster of tables and chairs smattered the front of the space.

  “Sometimes small live performances are held in these private rooms, also,” Dmitri told me, before we descended a wide, short staircase that opened into a huge round area. Four doors led off from this expansive, circular room. Dmitri pointed to the second door on the right. “That’s where we’ll be.”

  I tried not to have a panic attack right then and there. He didn’t take my hand as he opened the door and led me inside, and he walked off ahead of me as we entered. I supposed he was still miffed about me questioning him, but, dammit, under the circumstances, I felt I had a right to know what was expected of me. I simply kept my cool and surveyed the massive place we’d entered.

  It, too, was circular in shape. Chairs, like those found in a movie theater (only they looked more comfy) packed the place, surrounding a circular, raised stage. I noticed the huge flatscreen tvs filling the walls and suspended from the ceiling as I walked down a wide aisle toward the stage, my gaze fixated on what must be The Glass Cage.

  A transparent, shimmering dome encapsulated the stage. It reminded me of a garden gazebo, only much bigger. Dmitri walked up black, marble stairs and stepped inside. I followed.

  The interior held more tvs, and I spied tiny red lights blinking in every corner, plus elsewhere, hooked up to small, dark eyes I identified as the cameras he spoke of. A glass table off to the right held sex toys, whips, paddles, and other instruments of erotic torture. In the center of the stage a padded leather spanking chair waited. Its elaborate design incorporated intricately braided, colorful rope manacles for wrists and ankles.

  Dmitri peeled off his charcoal trench coat, revealing the tight black shorts he wore beneath. His sculpted, golden pecs shone under the overhead lights. “Disrobe, Mistress,” he told me, his tone still cold.