Claiming His Tease
Lena
“They’re all watching us, you know.” Josh’s casual tone sent a
shiver down my spine, and I flicked my gaze over to the spectators’ area of the play space without raising my head. I couldn’t see too well through my peripheral vision, but I got the sense that they were all there; every single person who’d been present the moment we’d been introduced.
My mind spun further into a submissive haze, and I closed my eyes to try to ease it. Not that it helped. I was kneeling in front of him in my underwear-even if we’d been alone, that would’ve been enough.
“We’ve drawn this game out for too long for them not to be curious. Word travels in this scene. By now, even the dungeon masters want to know what I’m gonna do to you. I’ll bet they wouldn’t even step in if I were to fuck you in front of everyone here…”
I forgot how to breathe; humiliation and longing combined to prickle over my skin. “You wouldn’t,” I said, but I wasn’t sure whether it was a declaration of bravado or a question.
“You sure about that?” Josh crouched beside me and stroked a hand over my tense, trembling body; down my abdomen, over the waistband of my panties, and down between my spread thighs. I bit back a whimper as his fingers trailed over my pussy for the first time, rubbing lightly over the
scrap of damp fabric, then just a little harder.
Or maybe I was pressing myself into his hand. I didn’t know anymore.
“Look at you,” he growled in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Desperate for me to get you off with my fingers, and we haven’t even kissed yet. You’re shameless, aren’t you?”
There was just the right amount of amusement in his voice to turn me on still further. If I could remember how to speak, I’d be pleading for his kiss, his touch, his anything…
He got to his feet and paced around to my other side. “I’m betting you won’t even last a five-minute scene before you’re begging for me to fuck you. Maybe I should just skip the formalities and get right to it, here in the middle of the dungeon.”
My exhibitionism fetish wasn’t usually this extreme, but another surge of heat rushed through me at his words, and I was almost sobbing with frustration now. “Please… Sir…”
“You’re begging me to take you in full view of everyone here?”
Josh adopted a mildly shocked tone, and I thanked God the spectators’ area was far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to hear him over the music. “Sorry, little tease. Not really my style. While you’re mine, only I get to
watch you come…”
I scrambled for the last shred of my defiance, the only part that hadn’t been frayed by time and imagination, his voice and his gaze. But there was nothing left. I was tired of resisting. I wanted him, and to be his. Completely his.
“Give me your orders, Sir.”
* * * *
Eight months earlier…
Lena
The opening night of a new fetish club was always an interesting
event. Pretty much everyone you’d ever met on the kink scene was likely to be there, plus some out-of-towners, plus a few people coaxed there by
curiosity or pulled back into the scene after a hiatus.
I wasn’t expecting to play tonight. I intended to soak up the ambiance and check out the new people and surroundings; to dance and
socialize and generally have fun.
Club Rack and Ruin was known as Club Alterna most of the time. Once every two weeks it would become Rack and Ruin, where the fetish community could gather and play. On other nights the club would be used for more vanilla purposes, the dungeon area closed off and various other subcultures invited in for small gigs, rock nights, and the like.
Unlike the membership-only clubs in the area, Rack and Ruin was a no-sex, no-nudity zone. People could parade around naked but for thongs
and nipple pasties if they wanted to, but no outright baring of breasts or genitals was allowed, not even during scenes. The club’s rules stated sex was off limits in all forms, from oral to fingering to penetration, though it was universally understood that the dungeon masters would look the other way if the players were subtle enough with their wandering hands.
When asked why she’d made that decision, the club’s owner, Rose Landry, had made a face and said it was out of her hands. She’d pissed off someone in law enforcement somewhere, and since the club didn’t charge a small fortune to get in or restrict its membership to the elite, the local police department would be occasionally dropping by to make sure nothing violated ‘obscenity laws’. Rose had said she hoped she could
change the club rules in the future, but she’d made no promises.
The no-sex clause didn’t seem to have dissuaded many scene regulars from attending the opening night, though, and so far the
atmosphere was lighter and more fun than it would have been at any of the other clubs. So far, I liked it here.
I let my eyes wander around the designated social space of Rack and Ruin, from the dance floor to the collection of tables and couches, and from there to the archway that led to the dungeon. Watching people play was a big kink of mine, and I resolved to head over there in a little while.
As Tamara began recounting a weird scene story I’d heard before to the people within earshot, I turned my attention to the rest of the group we were with. There were twelve or so of us, and we’d managed to
commandeer three comfortable couches, which were set at right angles to each other in one corner. The atmosphere was great-relaxed and friendly, with no expectations.
Three people approached our corner and were greeted with smiles, hugs, and backslaps by my friends. I vaguely recognized one woman from a rope workshop I’d been at the previous year, but her two companions were strangers to me.
The younger guy was blonde and stocky, and the woman’s submissive. The other guy, though…
He was tall, and I guessed in his mid-forties. His salt-and-pepper hair was enough to make me melt, and he was simply clad in a black shirt
and pants. Something about him was fascinating, although all I could see right then was the back of his head. Maybe it was the way he held himself
-alert, a little aloof, maybe.
Then he turned to be introduced to Izzy and Ben, and-
Wow. He’s hot. I mean, not centerfold material…more like…striking.
I swallowed the urge to laugh at the significance of the adjective, feeling a submissive pang that I hadn’t in a while. If he wanted to strike me… Well, I could live with that.
Nudging my friend Mel, I whispered, “Who’s that?”
She followed my gaze, an eyebrow rising in speculation. “That would be Josh. And yeah, he’s a Dom…”
She thinks she’s so smart… “How do you know I don’t wanna Domme him?”
Mel snorted. “You’re kidding, right? I know that look. It’s the same one you used to get when Matt was around.”
I opened my mouth to protest that it was not, but Izzy carried on with the wave of introductions, interrupting us. “Heidi, Josh, and Tim, you know Mel…and this is Lena.”
I smiled and gave a tiny wave, looking at each of them in turn. As
Josh’s gaze turned to me, I felt an irrational longing to sit at his feet and rest my head on his lap. I hated it when that happened with someone I didn’t
even know; it made me feel like I wasn’t in control. I only gave up control when I chose to, and that was rarely. Very rarely.
“Sit down, guys,” Izzy said, and Heidi slid into the booth beside her.
Tim sat at her feet without being asked, and she ran her hand through his hair. Josh was left standing, with no space left on the couches, and there was no way anyone would ever expect him to sit on the floor.
There were a few moments of debate. For the opening night only, the club’s rules stated that tops and Dominants got the seats, and subs and bottoms had to take the cushions if there was no space. It was at times like this that I was glad I wasn’t an outright sub–
“Lena.”
I blinked at Tamara, who was looking up at me from her spot on a cushion. “Huh?”
“You’re the sub-you have to give way so Josh can sit.”