A glance at Olivier said this did nothing for him. He didn’t look bored or uncomfortable, he didn’t look much of anything.
Not a surprise. He was assuredly not a boot-kissing sub.
She didn’t pause at a silhouetted room that looked like two Doms were working a sub tied down on his back.
She did pause to watch Master Penn with his Shane.
Shane was lashed tightly to a spanking bench with an abundance of straps, one nearly every inch apart on his skin. This being on his belly, his arms and legs bound to the legs of the bench.
His cock was wound round and round with silk rope, this binding him at the base of his balls as well.
He had a rather large phallus in his mouth that he looked to be blissfully sucking as Penn (plugged himself with a toy that was quite impressive) drove into his sub’s ass with not a small amount of fervor.
Amélie kept Olivier there, holding his fingers laced in hers, but her thumb stroked his wrist in a soothing way that also helped her to feel his steady, not accelerated, heartbeat.
This did nothing for him either and it appeared, unusually, that Olivier didn’t get much from watching.
She was about to move when Shane’s head suddenly shot back and he spurted from his rope, his body bucking in his bindings. Following him closely, Penn buried himself to the root, arching back delightfully, his face a mask of ecstasy, as he poured his seed into his submissive. Even in the throes of an apparently intense orgasm, he had the presence of mind to slap Shane’s right flank repeatedly, forcing more of an offering from his toy.
After giving herself the pleasure of watching Penn build a near-simultaneous orgasm with his partner, she tugged at Olivier’s hand to start them moving again. They didn’t run into anything more to watch as they made it to the room Olivier referred to as her “barn.”
They went in, she flipped the occupancy switch, and Olivier closed the door after he followed her inside.
“Mistress Amélie, a second…” He trailed off and she turned to him to see his eyes serious and on her.
She moved closer, raising a hand to put on his chest. “Yes, Olivier?”
“Need this…” He shook his head. “We’re in here but I need to talk freely. You and me. Just Amélie and Olly. Do you get me?”
She got him and sent that message by coming closer, resting her hands on his hips and saying, “I get you, Olly.”
Relief hit his face and he dipped it closer as he moved his arms around her to hold her in a loose embrace.
“Do a lot for you. Take a lot from you. I want you free to do your thing with me. But I’m not thinkin’ I want a plastic dildo, or anything like it, in my mouth, and I do not want you to share me with a guy, lettin’ him fuck my ass.”
So their leisurely stroll observing the playrooms got her something. Territory he did not wish to inhabit, play he found unacceptable.
But she found this mildly disturbing. Not his boundaries, in truth, the way she’d found he was, she’d expect Olivier to have both. But the fact it gave the impression that this was the first time he’d seen such play or considered the possibility it might be used on him. The play they’d witnessed was actually mild and often done, no matter the sexes involved.
If it wasn’t his thing, he should have already expressed those were lines he would not cross.
Although she’d noticed it was very clear he’d had less experienced or talented Mistresses working him, it was the first time since their first session he gave that odd impression he was green.
“My ass is yours,” he went on, pulling her closer, taking the loose out of his hold. “I gave it to you. I don’t have to say that. You know it. You can do what you want, you’ll guide me with you. But I don’t … I … fuck,” he hissed, looking over her head. His gaze again dropped down to her. “I guess I don’t want you to share me.”
That.
Now that.
That was another story.
“First, mon grande, those are boundaries and I can see in your eyes they’re firm ones. You’ll need to change your profile for hetero play only and find a way to share you don’t want to suck cock in its variety of forms.”
She expected amusement and/or relief but instead he seemed more agitated. “Share on my profile.”
“It’s a requirement, Olly.”
“Yeah, and I’ll do that, not a big deal, but this is me and you. Why would I need to tell everyone in the club if I’m with you?”
“Because it’s a requirement,” she repeated.
“No, baby, I get that. I’ll do it. But you say it like I gotta do it in the next second when it isn’t a big deal because it doesn’t matter because,” he gave her a squeeze, “I’m with you.”
She felt her lips part when she understood him.
He’d change his profile when he got to it because it actually wasn’t important to do it as soon as he could because the only person who really needed to know was her and she already knew.
He was hers.
She wanted …
No, needed that confirmed.
“Are you saying, Olly, that it’s also me who needs to make a note on your profile?”
“Come again?”
“I don’t like sharing.”
His arms tightened further and his face dipped closer, eyes darkening.
“It’s your prerogative, mon chou, to be claimed as exclusive, not mine,” she told him. “Are you saying I can claim you as mine, not in here, when I have you in a playroom, not when you allow me to do it by giving you commands to carry out when you leave me, but to the club?”
“You can not only do that, Amélie, I hope to fuck you do.” He grinned. “Though maybe not in the next second.”
She slid her arms around him, happiness filling her heart even if she felt the extent of it was too much to share with him at this juncture. So she hid it even as she gave him a firm squeeze to share at least some it.
“All right, not in the next second. Now, my chevalier, please take your clothes off and—”
“Leigh-Leigh, baby,” he whispered.
She blinked, automatically melting into him at his giving her a nickname.
She swallowed so it wouldn’t come out as a squeak when she asked, “Yes?”
“Before we slide into what we have, while we have now, thanks for givin’ me now, sweetheart. Means a lot you’d step outta the scene and listen to me.”
She didn’t know whether to cry tears of joy or be insulted.
“I’ll always listen to you, Olly, out of the scene or in it.”
“I got that from you but you gotta get knowing it means a fuckuva lot.”
Fuck, she could fall in love with this man.
“You do know that right now I’ve made it my absolute mission, when it was just my definite intent, to make you come harder than I’ve ever made you, right?”
He started chuckling, her body moving with his as he did, and honest to God, it felt better than any orgasm she’d experienced.
“Have a feeling your definite intent was enough, Amélie, but I approve of your self-appointed mission.” He let her go, finishing, “So I best get naked so my Mistress can work over her beast.”
“Do that,” she said haughtily.
He gave her a cheeky grin and moved his hands to his suit jacket.
She moved hers to the buttons of her blouse, walking to the table unbuttoning them.
“Once you’re done with that, Olivier, go to your stable. Stand in the middle, facing out, your gaze to the room, not me, please,” she ordered.
She went through her bag, pulling out the things she’d need, arranging them, and took off her blouse to expose the cropped bustier, which bared an inch section of skin between the waistband of her pants and bra, as well as her arms.
The rest was covered but all skintight, leaving very little to the imagination.
She went to the opening of the stall, which had three walls that would completely hide most people, but Olivier was a head above them.
/> He was standing naked, semi-hard, but his pecs jumped, his abdominal muscles tightened, and his cock seemed to grow before her eyes when he saw her without her blouse.
“My chevalier,” she called his attention from her chest to her face. “With your life in the outside world, I need to know how to cuff you. Do you need no visible marks?”
He nodded, swallowing.
She nodded back and moved again to her table.
She grabbed the fleece-lined shackles, rather than the metal ones, and came back. She started with his arms. Asking him to lift them above his head she cuffed him to the chains so his arms were up high with little bend, but he was not stretched and instead had a good deal of motion.
When he had his hands around the chains that would support him in order to accomplish what she asked next, she commanded, “Spread your legs to the outer rings in the floor.”
He did that, too, though with a slight hesitation, when he’d not hesitated with the arms.
When she had him shackled to the floor, link on cuff directly to the ring on the floor, no movement for his feet, only slack provided for him to sway his body, she stepped back and looked him over.
Swollen cock, swollen balls in their harness, he was so splendid, she could throw her plans out the window, drop to her knees, and suck him off happily.
He would come hard but not as hard as she was going to make him do.
More than once.
So she set about doing that and took her time. Strapping his ass open first, she then went to her handle-less equine grooming brushes.
Returning to him, she curried him everywhere, taking her time doing it, enjoying every stroke but doing it with the goal of having every inch of him sensitized. She started with a soft bristled brush that he enjoyed and she knew it by his extended, heavy cock, his frame swaying to reach her strokes, his offering of flesh, his playful nips at her ear and neck when he could steal them.
She got serious with her next brush, a tougher bristled one that caused him to suck in breath on the first few strokes, but he eventually swayed into them as well, her mighty, sweet beast.
She spent extra time on his back and inner thighs, brushing from up high, close to his scrotum, forcing noises that she fancied sounded like a lion purring.
When he was roughened up everywhere, his skin pinkish with the grooming, she went to her oils.
This was what she took extreme care and even more time with. A warming oil that she slickened him with liberally. It smelled of eucalyptus, a soothing scent that opened the nasal passages, adding another heightened sense to their play.
She oiled and massaged every inch of him, from neck to feet, cooing to him, brushing him with her breasts, touching her lips to his glossy flesh, using her thumbs to dig in, enjoying the muscles she encountered loosening under her touch.
She finished behind him. Reaching between his legs, she massaged the oil into his balls as she concentrated between his ass straps, gliding slippery fingers in and out of his hole gently, not going too far, feeling him tighten around her as the purring turned to a heady, pleasured growl.
Yes, Olivier liked this. He accepted her at his deepest vulnerability with no hesitation this time, allowing her to see, hear, and feel his enjoyment.
Finding herself needing to control the trembling of her hands (and legs, and other places) at the intoxicating experience of grooming her beast, feeling his excitement increase, the easy way he now put himself in her hands, she left him and moved first to the control panel to pull up both sets of blinds.
Then she went back to the table to collect the final piece to prepare him to perform.
She came around the stall and his lazy, aroused eyes sharpened as the wild held at bay under her ministrations came creeping.
“Shh, Olivier,” she shushed, moving to him. Sliding the bottle of oil she still held in her hand between her breasts with the control she’d already put there, she reached out to stroke his cock calmingly. “Shh, beast.” She pressed close, still stroking, head tipped way back to catch his gaze. “I’ve got you.”
The words came clogged when he noted, “That’s big.”
“Yes, though I will assure you that my aim is not to stretch you, cause you pain. I don’t want you to become accustomed to that.” She gave him a tender smile. “I wish you to remain tight. This is the biggest you’ll ever take.”
It was like he didn’t hear her. “It’s bigger than the other night.”
“Yes, mon chou, but trust me. You’ll like it.”
The wild seeped into his eyes and he gave a slight yank on his bindings, chains clinking. “Mistress.”
“Shh, my steed. Look at me. Take a deep breath. Look at me. I’m right here. Breathe deep. Then let me give you something.”
He looked at her. He took a deep breath.
Then he jerked up his chin like a stubborn stallion, neck tight, eyes still untamed.
“You please me,” she shared her massive understatement.
He said nothing.
She stroked him several more times to assure him of her care, her presence, before she moved behind him.
It was a juggling act, the plug under her arm, the oil, and the need to keep reassuring him as she dribbled the oil from his waist in a maddeningly slow line along the opened crack of his ass, the slick of it sliding under, dripping to his balls she was holding and gently massaging.
It took some time but he relaxed under her attentions, pushing back, tilting, offering.
God, but she wanted to take a bite out of that superior ass.
But it was time to give, not take.
She continued to assure at his balls while she held the toy to his coated hole.
She slid it in, out, not much, stretching, a little teasing.
She bent at the knees and reached deep to grab his cock and she started stroking, tight, commanding quietly, “Take it, press into it, accept what I’m offering, my steed.”
She stroked faster and he got her message, gently fucking her oil-slickened fist, for fucking her fist meant fucking his own ass. He took it, shoving back more, more, widening, accepting, taking it into himself in his own time, until the widest part of the plug opened him beautifully through a ragged groan tearing out of his chest, and his rim closed around the root.
“Magnificent,” she breathed, set the oil aside, and dragged the fingernails of both hands up his buttocks, watching with fascination, her pussy clutching, as they tautened against his straps.
Oh fuck yes.
Magnificent.
She pulled the remote out of her bra.
She moved around him, held his cock again in a fist, and looked into his burning eyes, dark as night, radiating need.
Her clit pulsed.
Yes.
Magnificent.
“Are you ready to perform for me?”
His voice was hoarse when he replied, “Yes, Mistress, whatever you want, baby.”
She leaned up. Pressing her body into him, he strained his neck down and they kissed, tongues tangling, wet and deep.
She hit the switch on the remote and he ripped his mouth from hers.
She felt a mini-convulsion, like a small orgasm, and nearly had to grab on to him to stay standing as his face saturated with pleasure.
But when his closed eyes opened, she saw only fear.
“Calm, beast.”
“What’s that?”
What it was was his plug vibrating up his ass, the end inexorably thumping against one of the most sensitive places in his body.
“A vibrating plug, mon chou. Calm. Give into it. Feel it. Let it take over. Don’t fight it. Let it guide you,” she advised, releasing his cock and stepping back a step so she could watch.
“Mistress—” he started to protest.
“I’m right here.”
She increased the vibrations (and thumping), taking it up two settings.
His head flew back, his back bowed, his hands wrapped around the chains he was dangling from rattled them.
r /> “Don’t fight it, Olivier.”
He dropped his head down, his eyes scoring into hers, that dark shadow suffusing his face, shrouding them both in his need.
“Baby.”
She increased the vibrations.
Unable to stop, he started thrusting, his powerful body swaying against his bonds, fucking the air so mercilessly, it was like she felt him in her pussy.
“You’re so beautiful,” she told him, fighting her need to go to him, touch him, sink to her knees in front of him and accept his rutting in her mouth.
She increased the vibrations and he gave her what she loved, his deep, decadent, animalistic, guttural grunts of pleasure filling the room.
And she knew he was gone.
But he also told her.
“More, Mistress, jack my hole. Please, baby. More,” he begged, still thrusting.
She turned it all the way to high.
Immediately, his body formed a perfect arc, head back, cock thrust proudly forward, shooting his seed gloriously across the floor.
She allowed the vibrations to continue as he convulsed through the last spasms, the final emissions trickling, and she turned the remote all the way to low.
Olivier went slack and hung from his shackles.
She took a moment to take small, deep breaths to calm her reaction to his glorious display before she went to him, telling him of her pleasure, running her hands over him.
Then she began to truly break him into their night’s mission.
She increased the vibration. He expressed surprise, then fear, but quickly became hard again for her.
She took him there, with patience, with pleasure, to the point her stallion was performing beautifully, driving his hips through the air.
And before he could come, she took him down only to give him the shortest of breathers and begin to build him back up.
Once there, she’d take him down.
And up.
Hanging from his shackles, at an ebb, his ravenous eyes, the pupils appearing nearly black, semi-focused on her.
“Please, fuck, baby, let me come. Christ, you’re killin’ me. I need to blow,” he begged.