Casey's Choice Page 8

  “Well,” said Blake, “there are days when it’s time to take a risk and live dangerously. I say you do the painting talk soon. And on top of it all, we’ll take twenty-one minutes for break.”

  * * *

  Echo was out on a date, so Casey got ready alone the next Friday night, doing the braid up-do again, applying the makeup as best she could herself, donning the same dress and G-string. And this time when she walked out of the elevator to the door, she felt more comfortable, even though she’d only been there once. She felt like she belonged when the French doorman nodded his head and opened the door to her without question.

  In the foyer, she glanced around at the art again, the pictures she’d admired last time, remembering how she and Hunter had discussed art and other things. He’d promised to finish what they’d started. Her whole body tingled. What would he do? Would she like it?

  She entered through the second set of doors and her eyes sought him out, but he wasn’t in view. Although Alexa was there with her friend Cassia, it wasn’t clear who was mastering whom, because the two were simply standing together, talking. When Alexa caught her eye, Casey murmured “good evening, Mistress” and smiled, not sure if anything else was expected.

  “Sofia.” Alexa took her hand and squeezed, then let go. “You came back. Welcome.”

  “Thank you, Mistress.”

  “Cassia is going to scene with Max. Would you like to watch?”

  “Yes.” Casey blinked, resetting her brain into club mode. She was here, after all, to watch and experience BDSM, and the thought of seeing Max in action was enticing. She remembered touching his face, how his jaw clenched under her hand, and smiled, feeling a matching tingle along her own cheek. Was it weird to be attracted to him too, when it was Hunter who devoured her imagination? Was it wrong that she wanted to feel Max’s strong hand on her own ass? She blushed and focused on Alexa’s words.

  “Through here.” Alexa gestured to a smaller room. “In just a short while. I will prepare Cassia. Please give us a few minutes.”

  Casey nodded and stepped back, and a new voice made her whole body light up: “I’m glad you came back.”

  She turned to find Hunter at her shoulder, dressed in a suit. He was even more handsome than she remembered, and her eyes widened when he smiled at her. She couldn’t stop the smile that spread across her face. “Hi! Hi. Hunter.” A beat went by; she shook her head. “Sir.”

  He smiled. “Good.” He bent to kiss her cheek from behind, and she felt sparks shoot through her whole body.

  “Does everyone here call you Sir?” Casey couldn’t resist.

  “Yes. But it means different things from different people.” He smiled and rested one hand on her shoulder.

  “How?” She shuddered at the touch.

  “When Max calls me Sir, it’s a guy friend bonding name, and it means we’re equals. When Cassia calls me Sir, it’s a sign of respect for me, because this is my place, my club. When Alexa calls me Sir, it’s a way to highlight both of our titles, demonstrating to the group that we respect each other enough, even as equals in power here, to use our honorific names. Maybe the way professors in college refer to each other by their titles.”

  “And when I say Sir? What does that mean to you?” She held her breath.

  He pulled her to face him. “Right now I think it only means that you’re comfortable enough here to abide by our rules of play. You’re being polite. In the future, I hope it may mean more.”

  “Such as?” Her voice was low, her eyes locked onto his.

  “Maybe something like this.” He gestured into the room where Alexa and Max were standing. “Here’s the master class you wanted, Sofia.”

  “She’s ready.” Alexa nodded her head to Cassia, who knelt on the floor, knees spread wide, hands on her thighs.

  “Thank you, Mistress.” Max leaned in and gave Alexa a soft, lingering kiss on the lips, and trailed his hand down her slender arm. “I will take good care of her.”

  “I know you will.” Alexa stroked his cheek. “I want you to punish her severely before you bring her to pleasure. She has disobeyed one of our rules at home, and she has agreed to let you chastise her here tonight. She is allowed pleasure afterwards because she has agreed to be punished in public.”

  Max crouched down in front of Cassia. “Cassia, look at me. I’m going to bind you and punish you until you cry. Your safeword is mercy, but if you use it unnecessarily, the punishment will be worse. Is that clear to you?”

  Chapter Seven

  “Yes, Sir.” Cassia’s voice was quiet and tremulous. Casey caught her breath and grabbed at Hunter’s hand. He squeezed hers and whispered, “If she really didn’t want to do this, she wouldn’t be here tonight.” His breath was warm and faintly minty. She wondered how his mouth would taste.

  Casey nodded without looking at him, because she was riveted to the scene. Bound to the spanking bench, Cassia was unable to move, and between her parted legs, her arousal glistened. Max stroked her cheeks, running his hand over the curves, and Casey couldn’t look away; the gentle slope of Cassia’s body was a Brancusi.

  When Max started spanking Cassia, the woman jerked but didn’t make a sound, and she stayed quiet even after the spanking had gone on for several long minutes, only starting to moan and make sounds of distress when her ass turned a brighter red. It was then that Max took off his belt and doubled it up. “Cassia, it’s time for a taste of leather,” he told her, and the woman wiggled in vain. “Please don’t,” she said, and it sounded like there were tears in her voice. “I’m sorry. Alexa?”

  Max’s voice was firm. “Twenty-five hard strikes with the belt to start, and after that, additional spanks until I determine you’ve been sufficiently punished. If you ask me to stop again, you’ll get the cane once I’m done with the belt. You can take this, and you will.”

  Murmurs from behind her startled Casey; a raised eyebrow and a sharp glance told her that this was definitely a punishment on the harsher side. But that became instantly obvious when Max raised the belt high and brought it down with significant force, the sound a crack that split the air and echoed off the walls, and a second later Cassia wailed out in pain.

  “One,” Max told her, and brought the belt down again, and Casey noticed how the woman’s skin dented in and rebounded at the impact of the leather. A vicious-looking welt was left behind, but Cassia had no time to process before Max whipped her again, making her squeal out and tug hard at the bonds, so hard that the skin around her wrists turned white for a second. “Two.”

  He appeared to ease up after the fifteenth strike, but by then Cassia’s bottom was a mass of red stripes, some lighter, some deeper and more evil-looking, and it was clear that the woman was feeling it burn, because she sobbed and struggled in her bonds. But more than once, Max knelt down to whisper something into her ear, and waited for her response before he continued with the belt, and Cassia didn’t again ask him to stop.

  When it was finally over, Casey having counted at least forty lashes with the belt, Cassia was released. She fell into Alexa’s waiting arms, and wailed into her lover’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

  “Shhh, it’s okay, it’s all right,” soothed Alexa, and led her to a nearby couch. “But we’re not done yet, my love. Bend over and spread your legs for the plug, and then I’ll stand you in the corner for fifteen minutes. If you can take that without a single complaint, then I’ll let Max fuck you. But if you call out or move too much, you’ll stand there for an additional fifteen minutes and you’ll give him a blowjob only, and no orgasm for you. Understand?”

  “Yes.” Cassia sniffled and moved from foot to foot, clearly in agony. And who wouldn’t be, Casey wondered, with an ass so punished? How Cassia could stand there and not rub it and scream, she had no idea, but the woman bent over as requested and spread her legs so Alexa could insert a large plug into her rectum. Cassia made a high keening noise as the plug pushed into her body.

  “Last chance before it’s th
irty,” warned Alexa. “It’s a punishment. It’s not supposed to feel good. But if you behave and accept it, don’t fight it, I’ll let Max reward you afterwards. Whether you earn that or not is entirely up to you.”

  She walked Cassia to a corner and stood her facing the wall, still crying and shifting from leg to leg, so obviously uncomfortable that Casey rubbed her own ass in sympathy. The fifteen minutes went by quickly for Casey, because she went to fetch a glass of champagne and watched other scenes, but it must have been like torturous centuries to Cassia, for when she returned, Cassia’s face was red and streaked with tears while Max walked her to the restroom to remove the plug.

  When they came back, though, Cassia’s face was clearer and she was walking more easily, and her eyes sparkled when Max whispered something into her ear. She looked—hungry. Hot. Eager. The punishment had awoken something in her, and in Max as well, for when the two looked at each other, it was more sexual than anything Casey had ever seen, in movies, or theater, or real life. She caught her breath at the powerful connection between the two of them, and when Max grabbed Cassia around the waist and pulled her against his body, took her lips with his, fiercely, she rubbed her lips, jealous, yearning for something that strong and passionate.

  “Come.” Max whispered the word into Cassia’s ear and let her to a couch protected by an ornate throw blanket, but he glanced at Casey before he turned his gaze back to his partner. They locked eyes for a second, and he didn’t look away, and then he smiled at her, and Casey put her hand to her mouth. And in that moment she wanted to be Cassia, wanted to be the one with the whipped punished ass, the one Max was going to lay down and fuck into oblivion. He didn’t look away, and she felt her face redden at the way time stretched, linking them across the room just with a gaze, and she was terrified that he might say something to her, but also desperate to hear what he wanted to say with his eyes, to hear it in words. He nodded once at her, and trembling, she inclined her head just a fraction, but it brought forth another smile, one that lit up his face, his eyes.

  When he put his focus back on Cassia, her mind was still engaged, and she leaned forward, unable to look away, almost crying with the tension in her body, the need he’d brought forth with that one stare. Watching them was beautiful, it was so intense and animalistic that Casey understood why it was called fucking. This was no tender lovemaking, this was something primal and vicious and ancient, and she could almost feel the immensity of the orgasms as the two of them came at the same time, crying out in a duet of passion. She would have given anything, her soul even, to be in Cassia’s body at that moment.

  Feeling eyes, she turned and saw Hunter, but his gaze was on her. He was watching her watch them. The strange perversion of the scene made her feel even more moisture between her legs. Had he seen the way Max smiled at her? Did he think she was depraved for watching like this, her mouth open, barely breathing? Did he like depraved? Surely he did. She wanted to talk to him, to throw herself upon him, but people came up, talking, asking, gesturing, and he disappeared into the center of it.

  It was Cassia, probably, who needed to sleep after that scene, but Casey was the one who wandered into smaller side room to sit on a couch and drifted off, her mind full of Max’s fierce expression, his glittering eyes, his strong arms, the muscles working and contracting. The smile. Why did he smile at her? What did that mean? She moved her legs, restless, wanting to touch herself, but unable to bring herself to do that here, even though it would not be out of place.

  It was too much for her to manage, she was overstimulated, so she retreated into a half-awake, half-dream, drowsing with her head on a tasseled pillow, imagining Max’s mouth on her body, then Hunter’s mouth.

  * * *

  She awoke abruptly at a touch on her shoulder.

  It was silent, and Hunter looked down at her, his dark eyes shining in the dim light. “Sofia? Do you want to wake up now? The others have gone.”

  “What do you mean, gone?”

  “The event is done. They’ve gone home.” He sat beside her and she felt the warmth of his thigh. “You’re the last one. Max said I should wake you, but I thought it best to let you rest.”

  “I’m sorry. You should have woken me! I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” She sat up, panicky. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  He regarded her for a minute. “You looked—peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  She gave a short laugh, getting accustomed to the dim light, the silence. The late hour. “I wasn’t peaceful. I was overwhelmed by what—by Max and Cassia. It was almost too much for me to process, so I went away to think about it and I guess I fell asleep.”

  “Why was it too much?”

  “I don’t know.” She couldn’t mention the look, the smile, so she pulled out other words, which were true, if less inspired. “It was erotic and infuriating at the same time. Why did she let him keep going even after she wanted him to stop? They don’t have a nonconsensual agreement, so she could have ended it any time.” She got up and walked to the window.

  Hunter followed and stood close to her. “Because part of her didn’t want it to stop, the part inside, the part that can’t speak. The part of her that’s inside her very soul, the piece of her that craves the way Alexa doles out pleasure and punishment to her through Max, the part of her that longs to belong to Alexa so completely that she obeys every edict she’s given. And you saw how well she enjoyed her reward. It probably wouldn’t have been so good without the prior punishment.”

  “Yes, I did see that.”

  “She enjoys playing very hard, almost crossing the line.” Hunter cleared his throat. “She enjoys her pain and her submission.”

  “How can you do that without losing yourself?” Casey stared out the window at the city below. The cars were like fireflies, slow-moving chains of them, blinking and winking through the streets like a necklace of light. Max’s eyes, lights sparkling in them. His groans of pleasure, his fists closed on Cassia’s hands. She enclosed one fist in the other, squeezed.

  “Well, you don’t. The whole point is to lose yourself—a certain part,” he corrected. “And Alexa has lost herself in Cassia as well. They’re symbiotic, they need each other this way.”

  “But that really hurt her,” Casey argued. “And now she’ll be sore for days.”

  Hunter nodded. “She will. And she’ll like it. She always does. Comes back for more.”

  “I don’t really understand how that can be.”

  “It’s because she’s wired to enjoy pain with pleasure, Casey. She likes the whole lifestyle of being accountable and disciplined by her lover.”

  “What if Alexa or Max went too far?”

  “She can only do this with them because she trusts that they won’t. And if she said her safeword, they’d stop.”

  “But he told her pretty much that she couldn’t use it.”

  “He meant that she shouldn’t use it for frivolous reasons, like because the spanking hurt. It’s supposed to hurt, and she wants it to hurt. Saying that phrase, to her, is more of a turn-on than a threat. She knows they’ll stop at the first sign of genuine distress. She wouldn’t even need to safeword. But this is a game, remember? It’s a game we play, and the more real it seems, the more fun it is for the participants. The trick is to let it be so real that it fills you up without consuming you. Every couple needs to find that set point for themselves, and it looks different for everyone.”

  “But it would be so easy to cross the line.” Casey looked at the city. Was Max in love with Cassia? She with him? How could they not be, with that kind of passion between them?

  “Not so easy. From the outside, it may have looked a little terrifying. The threats, the cries, the warnings. But Cassia is a strong, independent woman, she has a successful career, and she’s never once jeopardized that. She’s been a member for years, she and Alexa, and this is their routine. Max can read her body like music; he knows when to go harder and when to slow down.”

  “I guess I did
n’t notice that, not the way you did.”

  “An experienced dominant or submissive does. You’ll see it, too if you continue here. It’s like learning anything new.” He paused. “When you first saw a painting by Rembrandt, did you notice his use of light is particular to him, the sidelight and the dark, or did it take some time and comparison with other artists?”

  “It took a little time.”

  “A new student can’t describe the difference between Monet and Cezanne. But after you study them, you know that Monet’s strokes—small and vigorous, all over the canvas—are different from Cezanne’s, whose are larger and flatter. It’s obvious, once you know what to look for. In the same way, as you get acclimated to a person’s body, you learn their tells. Their unique fingerprint of pain and arousal.”

  “But what if he didn’t see the signs and went too far?”

  “Then Cassia would tell him to stop, using the word mercy or something else. It’s a sign of respect to use a safeword, Sofia. If Cassia lets the scene keep going beyond her genuine comfort zone, she’s being dishonest to Max and Alexa, as well as hurting herself. It requires sensitivity on all parts, the willingness to compromise and listen and talk.”

  “It’s so much more complex than it seems at first.”

  “Far more complex,” he agreed. “More fun, too, when it’s done the right way. Don’t misunderstand. People are not perfect, not even here. Mistakes are made, and that’s where forgiveness and learning come into play. But we try to ensure that all of our members are empathetic.”

  She nodded and leaned into him, enjoying his warmth. The discussion had opened up something in her mind, a part of her that trusted Hunter.

  “So now that you’ve seen it, do you want to try it?” His eyes were dark, enigmatic.