required?
“We could practice first,” he suggested.
“What do you mean?”
“Right now, we could practice. Will you follow my commands?”
The thought of him telling her to do things—and her doing them—made her tremble. Her knees fell open against the sides of the tub. “Yes.” She would follow his commands.
“Good. Are you finished in the bath? Have you prepared yourself for me?”
“Not quite.”
“Finish up, then. Dry yourself. Before you call me back, I want you to find a butt plug and put it in your ass. Do you have a toy like that?”
“Yes.” Her voice was husky, and because he hadn’t told her not to, she slid one long finger into her pussy. She ground her palm against her clit.
“Don’t touch your clit or your nipples yet.” His voice was hard, and she snatched her hand away, hoping the splash didn’t betray her. “When you are properly prepared for me, sit on the edge of your bed and pinch your nipples until they are very hard. Make sure your pussy is wet. And Destiny?”
His stern command was a promise and a warning. “Don’t forget to call me Sir .”
Chapter Six
On Master and slave night, Destiny called for a taxi, enjoying her pantyless state this time. Johnny had been quite specific about what he wanted her to wear—a little black dress and the same boots she had worn the other night. No bra, no panties.
Mac waved her in.
Tonight, Johnny was sitting at the bar, not standing behind it. His gaze slid over her body with approval. Her breath stopped in her throat as he casually slipped his hand beneath her dress and caressed her bare bottom. One finger slid between her cheeks and she shuddered.
“Let’s get you upstairs.”
She followed him down the hall and up the short flight of steep stairs. He pushed open the door at the top and stepped through. She followed.
The large playroom had been torn apart. The couch had been broken down and scattered throughout the room to form more intimate seating arrangements. Small tables with shelves held drinks, water bottles and toys. The space held both dark corners and spotlit play areas. It throbbed with sensual music pitched just low enough to allow the sounds of leather on flesh and the moans of the slaves to rise above the steady beat.
Johnny snapped his fingers. Two naked women came forward. They didn’t wear traditional collars but instead had matching bands of colorful Celtic tattoos around their necks, very similar to the ones that covered Johnny’s arms and shoulders.
“Eyes down, Destiny.”
She obeyed, but tried to catch as much as she could with her peripheral vision. One woman reached for the hem of Destiny’s dress and pulled it over her head. The other bent to remove her boots.
“Leave them.”
“Yes, Sir.”
This was a world she had read about, dreamed about, but never thought she would experience, especially as a slave. She had always fantasized on the other side of the fence. Or had she? How else would she have known how to please a sub except by dreaming of being one herself?
Johnny led her across the room and pressed her down to her knees next to a low leather chair. With his booted foot, he nudged her thighs apart. Her breasts, with their hard, flushed tips, filled her vision. Lower, the plump lips of her sex were also visible. She felt so secure here, with him. Naked, exposed, aroused, trusting him to keep her safe and make her happy. She hoped she had done that with her subs, hoped she had made them feel honored and peaceful.
Johnny’s low voice broke through her reverie. “You may look around now, Destiny.”
She raised her head. The focal point of the room was a small raised dais which held a St. Andrew’s cross. The height from the floor was perfect for a whip. For closer work, there was enough room on the stage for a Master to use a flogger or a crop—even a cane. A scene was just ending. One of the nude servant girls stepped onto the stage with a towel and a spray bottle of
“We could practice first,” he suggested.
“What do you mean?”
“Right now, we could practice. Will you follow my commands?”
The thought of him telling her to do things—and her doing them—made her tremble. Her knees fell open against the sides of the tub. “Yes.” She would follow his commands.
“Good. Are you finished in the bath? Have you prepared yourself for me?”
“Not quite.”
“Finish up, then. Dry yourself. Before you call me back, I want you to find a butt plug and put it in your ass. Do you have a toy like that?”
“Yes.” Her voice was husky, and because he hadn’t told her not to, she slid one long finger into her pussy. She ground her palm against her clit.
“Don’t touch your clit or your nipples yet.” His voice was hard, and she snatched her hand away, hoping the splash didn’t betray her. “When you are properly prepared for me, sit on the edge of your bed and pinch your nipples until they are very hard. Make sure your pussy is wet. And Destiny?”
His stern command was a promise and a warning. “Don’t forget to call me Sir .”
Chapter Six
On Master and slave night, Destiny called for a taxi, enjoying her pantyless state this time. Johnny had been quite specific about what he wanted her to wear—a little black dress and the same boots she had worn the other night. No bra, no panties.
Mac waved her in.
Tonight, Johnny was sitting at the bar, not standing behind it. His gaze slid over her body with approval. Her breath stopped in her throat as he casually slipped his hand beneath her dress and caressed her bare bottom. One finger slid between her cheeks and she shuddered.
“Let’s get you upstairs.”
She followed him down the hall and up the short flight of steep stairs. He pushed open the door at the top and stepped through. She followed.
The large playroom had been torn apart. The couch had been broken down and scattered throughout the room to form more intimate seating arrangements. Small tables with shelves held drinks, water bottles and toys. The space held both dark corners and spotlit play areas. It throbbed with sensual music pitched just low enough to allow the sounds of leather on flesh and the moans of the slaves to rise above the steady beat.
Johnny snapped his fingers. Two naked women came forward. They didn’t wear traditional collars but instead had matching bands of colorful Celtic tattoos around their necks, very similar to the ones that covered Johnny’s arms and shoulders.
“Eyes down, Destiny.”
She obeyed, but tried to catch as much as she could with her peripheral vision. One woman reached for the hem of Destiny’s dress and pulled it over her head. The other bent to remove her boots.
“Leave them.”
“Yes, Sir.”
This was a world she had read about, dreamed about, but never thought she would experience, especially as a slave. She had always fantasized on the other side of the fence. Or had she? How else would she have known how to please a sub except by dreaming of being one herself?
Johnny led her across the room and pressed her down to her knees next to a low leather chair. With his booted foot, he nudged her thighs apart. Her breasts, with their hard, flushed tips, filled her vision. Lower, the plump lips of her sex were also visible. She felt so secure here, with him. Naked, exposed, aroused, trusting him to keep her safe and make her happy. She hoped she had done that with her subs, hoped she had made them feel honored and peaceful.
Johnny’s low voice broke through her reverie. “You may look around now, Destiny.”
She raised her head. The focal point of the room was a small raised dais which held a St. Andrew’s cross. The height from the floor was perfect for a whip. For closer work, there was enough room on the stage for a Master to use a flogger or a crop—even a cane. A scene was just ending. One of the nude servant girls stepped onto the stage with a towel and a spray bottle of
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