Disclaimer: Not my characters, obviously. Just playing in their world for a while.
Thanks for hanging in there while I was working on this next update, guys. Sorry about the delay. :/ Needless to say, between work and life stuff, writing time was in short supply. This chapter is hella long though, so I hope that makes up for it. :) I'll always try to update as soon as possible, but it'll likely be a week or more between chapters.
All of your awesome reviews and comments continue to make me smile. You rock!
Quick note: as Shhh-FanGirl kindly pointed out in her review, the checklist Damon gave to Elena isn't something he came up with himself on the fly. The list is a resource pretty easily found on the web and used by Doms and subs as they begin negotiating and feeling out their relationships.
So, I've been thinking about dusting off my Tumblr page (address is in my profile) and using it to post pics of some of the outfits Damon picks out for Elena (including the one in this chapter) and other fun things. No nudity or NSFW stuff, obvs. Any interest? Let me know!
Okay, time to get down to business: Damon and Elena and their first night together at the club. Things get a little smutty. Or a lot. (That's a definite warning; the road ahead is quite lemony, tbh.)
Enjoy!
Chapter Seven
"So, how'd it go?" Caroline's reporter skills are in full effect as she drops onto the end of Elena's bed and hands her a cup of coffee.
"Thanks." She accepts the offering and wraps her hands around the warm mug. This is the first chance they've had to catch up. When Elena came home yesterday, she intended to take a quick power nap, but it turned into a Rip Van Winkle all-nighter. She finally woke up around midnight only to find Care already in bed. "It went well. Really well."
Caroline gapes at her. "That's all you're going to give me? 'Really well'?"
"I'm still trying to wrap my head around it all," she confesses. "He was attentive and kind and understanding and sexy. We talked about our jobs, families, school, hobbies, likes, and dislikes. I learned more about him in a few hours' time than I ever expected to, and it was nice. Reassuring. I guess I thought he'd be more aloof, more focused on teaching me the rules and stuff, which he did, but it was a conversation, not a he-lectures-while-I-take-notes-and-don't-speak type of thing."
Caroline nods knowingly. "I understand exactly what you mean. It was like that with me and Nik, too."
"Yeah?" Elena sips her coffee and tries to find the words to describe their morning (and afternoon) together. "I was too nervous to eat much of anything when I first got there, but he managed to distract me into eating a full breakfast. I felt a definite dominant vibe from him, just like I did the first night, but it was subtle. He didn't raise his voice, didn't act patronizing or impatient."
"Those are the marks of a good Dom, sweetie." Caroline smiles and pats Elena's knee. "See? All that worrying about dipping your toe into the kinky waters for nothing. He's perfect for you, and you're clearly the ideal submissive for him, even if you couldn't see it at first."
"Is this the part where you say 'I told you so'?"
"I kinda just did, silly."
"Hey." It's Elena's turn to engage in pillow warfare and she (wisely) waits until Caroline finishes the last of her coffee before hurling one at her friend's head. Her shot goes a little wide and only glances off Caroline's ponytail, landing on her desk and scattering pens and pencils everywhere. "Dammit. Between the two of us, we're going to have my entire room redecorated."
"Wow. And I thought I had crappy aim." Caroline giggles and picks up the pillow, tossing it back on the bed. "So, did you set a time for your first sex romp, er, play date?" she asks with a grin.
"Smartass," Elena grumbles. "Yes, we did. Wednesday night."
"Nik and I probably won't be there because the gallery's open late that night, but I'll be waiting with bated breath to hear about every detail. Well, maybe not every detail, but most of them!"
"You won't be there?" Elena repeats in a tiny voice as she tries to tamp down a sudden burst of insecurity.
"Don't worry, you'll be fine. I'm leaving you in Damon's very capable hands, but if you need a buddy or someone to compare notes with, talk to Rose," Caroline suggests.
Elena runs through the list of people she met at the club, but the name "Rose" isn't ringing a bell. "Who's she?"
"She's the bartender. You must have seen her the other night. Adorable, bubbly, hair styled in a pixie cut? She's also Elijah's sub."
Ah. She does recall seeing her after all. "Oh, okay. She was talking with Rebekah when we got there."
"Yep, that's her. Super friendly and a great listener." Caroline taps her chin and looks thoughtful. "Speaking of Rebekah, she'd be a good person to chat up, too. Especially since she brings perspective from both ends of the D/s spectrum."
"Good idea. I'll keep that in mind." Elena's phone chirps, and she grabs it off the nightstand. "Oh," she breathes, her heart doing a little flip when she reads the name on the screen.
"Lemme guess," Caroline says. "A text from Mr. Salvatore?"
"Uh huh."
"Well, that's my cue. I'll be bingeing Downton Abbey if you need me." Her friend winks at her and scoots off the bed, disappearing through the doorway.
"'Kay. Have fun," Elena murmurs.
Good morning, gorgeous, Damon's text reads. Sleep well?
Morning, she types back. Haven't slept that long since I was in college
Glad to hear it. You needed it
Guess so. How are you?
Waiting for Wednesday to arrive. You?
"Am I ever." Same here, she writes.
So . . . I'm doing a little shopping
Oh?
Yep. I need to know your sizes. Shoes, too, please
She provides him with the information, and the anticipation is already killing her. What will he choose to dress her in, she wonders?
Excellent. So many choices, he teases. What to pick?
Do I get a hint?
Maybe. There's a sale on G-strings and crotchless panties. Interesting
!
Something wrong? ;)
No, just curious
I bet. Let's see here. Sheer or vinyl? Latex or leather? Lace or satin? Ah, there it is
?
Ready for your hint?
Yes!
Here goes: it's black, and it's going to look amazing on you
That's it?!
That's it
Not fair!
You'll see it soon enough. Have to run. More shopping to do. 'Til next time, kitten
She signs off and tosses her phone on the bed.
There's no doubt about it. The next seventy-two hours and change are going to be pure torture.
###
Satisfied that Elena's curiosity is sufficiently peaked, Damon sets his phone aside and returns his attention to the computer screen. The outfit really is perfect for her; it'll enhance her curves in all the right ways and show off those mile-long legs. It'll give glimpses of skin without revealing too much. His favorite part about it? When it comes time to play, the only things in his way will be an easily accessible zipper and a pair of satin string ties.
He spends another half hour browsing for everything from lingerie to shoes to corsets to skirts and dresses. By the time he finishes, he has a solid start on a fetish wardrobe for his beautiful sub.
A couple of toys catch his eye, and he decides his collection could use a few devious additions. Wait 'til she sees this one. Or better yet, feels it.
After submitting his order, he sits back and lets his mind run wild for a while. He's tempted to call her over for an impromptu fashion show once the packages arrive, but that would spoil the surprises to come.
Better to let the anticipation build.
With the clothing and other accessories on the way, there's nothing left to do but fantasize and play out scenarios in his head until Wednesday evening arrives. He's already hand-picked and purchased her cuffs and collar from a BDSM supply store in downtown Atlanta, and they're waiting for her in a box in his closet.
The middle day of the week is always a toss-up between whether the glass is half empty or half full. This week, there's no doubt it'll be full and on the verge of overflowing.
###
Elena returns the last glass to the cupboard and closes the dishwasher. "There," she announces to no one. "Guess that's taken care of."
This is the cleanest their apartment's been in weeks. Her overabundance of nervous energy is responsible for the mopped floors, scrubbed shower, dusted shelves, and reorganized DVD collection. In between chores, she's been playing a rousing game of Twenty-Four Hours from Now, and each answer leaves her more distracted than the last.
Twenty-four hours from now, I'll be at the club with Damon.
Twenty-four hours from now, I'll be kneeling at his feet.
Twenty-four hours from now, I'll be bound, helpless, and completely bared to him.
"Holy shit," she mutters, fanning herself with a dishtowel. Thankfully, Caroline's not here to witness her thousandth meltdown of the day; her friend's still at the office trying to beat a deadline.
A sharp rap on the apartment door makes Elena jump and drop her towel. She's not expecting anyone, so she checks the peephole first, revealing a uniformed delivery man waiting in the hallway with a package under his arm.
She unlocks the door, wondering if Caroline's been indulging in a little online retail therapy.
The man glances at the package and back at her. "Are you Elena Gilbert?"
"That's me."
He hands her his electronic scanner thing. "Sign here, please."
She does and gives it back to him, then the mystery box is all hers. "Have a good night," he calls to her as he retreats down the hall.
"You, too," she murmurs, staring at the package in her arms. It has to be from Damon.
She races to her room and balances it on her lap while she slices the top open with a pair of scissors. One wad of bubble wrap later, she discovers three smaller boxes nestled inside in Russian-doll style.
The first is long and narrow, and she opens the lid to find a single red rose in mid-bloom. A note is attached to a black satin ribbon tied around the stem. Counting the hours, it reads. She buries her nose in the velvety petals and breathes in the rich floral scent.
Temporarily setting the rose aside, she reaches for the next box, which is larger but also slightly narrow. Shoes?
Sure enough, she parts the tissue paper and uncovers a pair of black pumps with a three-inch heel. The ankle straps give them a distinct bondage appeal.
She saves the biggest box for last, closing her eyes as she opens it. Her fingers go exploring and close around a fistful of leather, and she cautiously cracks a lid. Another note sits on top of the neatly laid out clothing: I can't wait to see you in this.
The first item is a corset with a zipper running down the front. Both sides are split and loosely laced with ribbons threaded in a criss-cross pattern. Underneath the corset is a pleated leather micro mini. She holds it up for a closer look. Things are going to get cheeky, especially if I have to bend over.
The last thing she finds is a scrap of black lace lying in the bottom of the box. The sides of the G-string are held together with thin ribbons tied in neat little bows. There's a definite pattern here, she surmises. Everything is easily removable, especially if one should happen to be . . . bound.
The panties are a bit of a surprise, even if there's barely enough material there to qualify. From what Caroline's told her, undergarments tend to be in short supply at the club. Doms often prefer unimpeded access to their subs and everything hidden (or not) under their clothing.
Carefully folding her outfit and returning it to the box, she digs her phone out of the packaging rubble and dials Damon's number, rubbing the rose's petals over her lips while she waits for him to pick up.
###
Damon's phone goes off while he's in the middle of a conversation with Nik, and he quickly checks the screen to see if the call is urgent or if it can go to voicemail. When he sees Elena's name displayed there, he excuses himself and answers.
"Hello there," he murmurs. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Your package arrived. Thank you for the outfit and shoes. Very sexy. And the beautiful rose," she adds. "I love them." She takes a deep breath, likely sniffing at the flower. He pictures her lying on a bed covered in scarlet petals—another vision he'd like to make a reality.
"I'm glad."
"The skirt's a little short though," she points out.
"Is it? Seems about the right length to me."
"Figured you'd say that," she answers drily. "I wasn't expecting the undies. I didn't think they'd be allowed."
"I was feeling generous. It's safe to say they won't always be included in the future."
"I'm sure."
"Are you ready for tomorrow night?" he purrs.
"I think so." Her voice is softer now, and he detects a hint of anxiety there.
"Nervous?"
"A little."
"No need to worry, kitten," he reassures her. "We're going to have an amazing time together."
Stefan, who's clearly eavesdropping while he slices vegetables in the kitchen, bats his eyelashes and puckers his lips when Damon stops at the fridge to get more ice for his drink. Damon grabs an extra cube and tosses it down the back of Stefan's jeans before heading to the hallway for some privacy. Stefan's shout and Nik's laughter follow him.
"My brother's being a pain in the ass," Damon mutters. "Can I send him out to LA to pester yours?"
"Stefan getting on your nerves?" she asks, sounding like she's trying to muffle a laugh herself.
"You could say that. He's lucky he's such a good cook."
"That always helps." She pauses as if something's just occurred to her. "Are you in the middle of dinner? If so, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."
"No, it's not actually ready yet. Stefan's been too busy lollygagging." Besides, he'd rather talk with her than eat.
"I heard that!" Stefan hollers from the kitchen.
She snickers, clearly having heard his brother's outburst. "I'll let you two get back to harassing each other. I'll see you tomorrow, Damon," she murmurs.
"That you will," he agrees. "Oh, Elena? One last thing you should know before you go—those ribbons keeping the G-string together?"
"Yeah?" she asks uncertainly.
"I'll be untying them with my teeth," he murmurs. "Sweet dreams, baby."
She sucks in a breath, and this time, he doubts it has anything to do with the rose. "Um. Y-you, too," she stammers.
He ends the call and pockets his phone, more excited than ever for the following evening's activities.
###
Elena glances into the rearview mirror, mostly to check that she hasn't smeared her mascara. She spent an insane amount of time getting ready. Caroline finally had to shoo her out the door so she wouldn't be late.
After downing a quick sandwich and a large glass of water, she showered, shaved and trimmed, dried her hair and brushed it until it shone, rubbed lotion into her skin, and even gave herself a mani and pedi, complete with glossy red polish. She hasn't paid this much attention to her appearance in, well, forever.
Getting out of the car before she earns herself a punishment, she wraps her borrowed trench tighter around her to keep out the night's chill and walks toward the house. Henry answers the door this time and greets her with his customary friendly smile. "Welcome back, Elena."
"Hi, Henry."
He takes her coat, and she stands there for a few seconds, tugging futilely on her too-short skirt before she remembers Damon's instructions. She moves out of the main walkway and kneels down next to Henry's desk, assuming the position Damon showed her.
She's grateful for the covering—however minimal—the G-string provides when the outer door opens again and a cool breeze licks between her legs, making her shiver. Without the flimsy pair of underwear, she'd be completely exposed not only to the cold air but also to everyone's gaze.
The newcomer converses briefly with Henry, but Elena doesn't recognize his voice. A pair of expensive Italian loafers enters her field of vision, and the man makes an appreciative sound. "What a beauty. I wish you were waiting for me, little one."
An inner door whooshes open, and a set of leather boots joins the loafers. "Admiring my submissive, Frederick?"
Damon. She wants to shift closer to him, but she's determined not to move from her position.
"I haven't seen her in the club before. Is she new?"
"Yes. This is her first official night as my sub," Damon explains.
"Ah. You're a lucky man."
"That I am."
The loafers move away and disappear through the inner door. There's a beat of silence, then Damon's hand smooths over her jaw and tilts her chin up until her eyes meet his. "Well done, baby," he praises her. "You look incredible."
"Thank you, Sir," she murmurs. He's looking pretty incredible himself—her gaze travels the length of his body, taking in the snug leather pants and black silk shirt.
He helps her to her feet and leans in for a kiss. A hand curls around the nape of her neck and holds her still while he takes her mouth, his lips and tongue demanding as they tease, taste, and caress hers.
She can feel the hard ridge of his erection against her lower belly, and she lets a little moan slip out as her mind fills with visions of what they'll be doing later. I must be the most easily aroused woman on the planet, she thinks as Damon pulls back and traces her bottom lip with his finger.
"Henry, grab me that box in the top drawer, would you?"
Elena hears the drawer open and close, then the box in question is placed in Damon's outstretched hand.
"Thank you." Damon lifts the lid and removes a set of leather cuffs. "Let me see your wrists."
She holds out her hands, and he slides the first cuff around her wrist. Something soft brushes against her skin. "Are they lined?"
He nods. "Fleece." After testing the tightness of the first, he buckles the second one into place. She twists her wrists, getting used to the feel of the cuffs. It's not unlike wearing a pair of chunky bracelets.
Damon takes the next item out of the box, and a shiver skitters down her spine. It's a collar made of smooth, black leather with a single O-ring attached to the front. He holds it up, and she obediently turns around so he can slip it around her throat. He scoops her hair over her shoulder and secures the collar with the buckle on the back. The lining is equally soft, making it more comfortable to wear than she assumed it would be.
He checks it to ensure it's not too snug, and she catches a glimpse of Henry, who gives her a thumbs-up. Damon turns her so she's facing him again. "How do they feel?"
"Good." Standing in front of him in a skimpy outfit, collar, and cuffs, she feels herself slipping into the submissive mindset. She needs Damon's control. Craves it.
He smiles and takes her hand. "Let the fun begin."
###
The lounge area is humming with conversation when they enter, and Elena glances around the room to see if she recognizes anyone. She spots the woman Caroline mentioned—Rose, who's busy pouring drinks behind the bar. As far as she can tell, the only other familiar face is Pearl, seated at one of the tables and chatting with a man in a leather vest and pants.
Damon leads her toward the bar. "There's a no-alcohol rule for anyone planning to engage in play, but we also stock juice, water, and soda."
"No alcohol?" she repeats. She's never heard of this stipulation.
"Nope. Even a slightly tipsy Dom or sub could put his or her partner at risk," he points out. "It leads to carelessness, impaired judgment, lack of safe word usage—things we'd like to avoid."
"Ah."
Damon signals for Rose's attention and she immediately comes over. "Good evening, Master Damon," she greets him.
"Hi, Rose. You're looking lovely as ever."
She blushes and fiddles with a ruffle on her halter top. "Thank you, Sir."
"I'd like you to meet someone." His arm curls around Elena's shoulders. "This is Elena, my submissive."
Rose's eyes widen, then a huge smile breaks out on her face. "Hello, Elena. It's wonderful to meet you."
They shake hands, and Elena returns her grin. "Likewise."
"Would you like something to drink?" Damon asks.
"I wouldn't turn down some water."
Rose nods and scurries off to fill her order.
While they're waiting, she glances around and catches sight of Elijah walking in their direction. When he reaches them, he gives Elena a thorough onceover but doesn't make any move to touch her. "Aren't you a vision," he murmurs. "A collar and cuffs. Imagine that."
"Do you need something, or are you just planning to ogle my sub all night?" Damon interjects.
"As enjoyable as that sounds, I'm afraid there's a situation which requires your attention."
"Of course." Damon pats the closest stool. "Wait here for me, kitten."
She eases herself onto it, hoping she doesn't flash the rest of the room, not that they seem like they'd mind. She tugs on her skirt again but gives up after a few tries. It's not going to magically grow longer.
Rose comes back with a bottle of water and a glass filled with ice and places them in front of Elena. "Here we go."
"Thanks." Elena twists off the top and pours some water into the glass.
Rose is still smiling. "Is this your first night as Master Damon's sub?"
"Yeah." Her gaze lands on the cuffs circling Rose's wrists. "My friend Caroline told me you'd be a good person to talk to. You're Master Elijah's sub?"
She nods. "I've been with Sir for a year now."
"Wow." Elena sips at her water. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure!" she answers eagerly.
"Your first night at the club—what was it like?"
Rose considers the question for a few seconds. "I was ridiculously excited but also a smidge terrified. Everything was new, unfamiliar. I quickly learned all of my anxiety was for nothing. Sir took excellent care of me."
"Good to know. I'm definitely at the excited/terrified stage," Elena admits.
"It'll pass, trust me." Rose pats her hand in reassurance. "It won't be long before you'll forget there was ever anything to worry about."
It's Elena's turn to smile. "Thanks, Rose."
"Any time."
Another couple sits down at the bar, and Rose hurries over to take their order. Elena nurses her water while she watches the other woman pour drinks. She happily greets everyone with a smile and a few friendly words. Caroline was spot-on; Rose is every bit as bubbly as she described her to be.
Elena's swirling a piece of ice around in her mouth when hands settle on her shoulders and squeeze gently. "Sorry for the delay, baby," Damon murmurs in her ear.
She shivers at the low timbre of his voice, a fresh wave of desire rolling through her. "Is everything okay?"
"It is now. I had to have a word with one of the new Doms."
"Oh?"
He nods, rubbing his cheek against hers. "His sub was showing signs of distress, but he was in power-trip mode and wasn't paying close enough attention to her reactions."
"Yikes."
"Needless to say, he's done playing for tonight, and he'll be attending another training class for beginner Doms." Damon sighs, and his breath ruffles her hair. "Ready to go explore?"
She finishes the last of her water and waves at Rose, who returns the gesture.
"Yes."
###
The main play area is teeming with activity. Elena takes in the sights—and sounds—as they pause for a moment in the wide doorway.
"Stay close to my side, Elena," Damon instructs. "If I stop or turn around quickly, you should bump into me. That's how close I want you to be. Understood?"
"Yes, Sir." He enters the room, and she sticks tight to him, imagining an invisible tether between his hip and hers.
They drift around the room, and Elena spots the same pieces of equipment from the other night, along with a few new ones. Each piece is in use, and the couches and chairs are filled with other couples observing the scenes and chatting amongst themselves. Large pillows are scattered on the floor, many of them occupied by subs either kneeling or lying at their Masters' and Mistresses' feet.
Talking's not all the couples are doing, Elena realizes as her gaze lands on a female sub kneeling in front of her Dom. She's pleasuring him with her mouth, and his hand is fisted in her hair, guiding her movements.
Heat rises to Elena's cheeks, and she nearly trips over her own feet. Looking elsewhere, she finds someone else she recognizes: Rebekah is in the process of securing a male sub to the spanking bench.
"Would you like to watch them?" Damon asks.
"Um . . ."
He smiles at her hesitancy. "They won't mind, if that's what you're thinking. Anyone who scenes in here expects to be watched."
They stand off to one side and observe the couple. Elena's fairly certain she's never seen the man before. "Is that Mistress Rebekah's sub?"
"Yes. His name is Trevor."
Trevor is dressed in a black tank top, but that's the only thing he's wearing—he's nude from the waist down. Rebekah circles him, alternating between swatting his bare ass and thighs with the crop and stroking him between his legs. After a bit of prolonged fondling, he tries to push back against her hand.
"Please, Mistress," he pants.
"Not yet, pet." The crop lands on his ass again, and he groans.
Rebekah continues her game of Tease, Withdraw, Smack, leaving Trevor writhing against the bench and pleading for release. She finally grips his cock and pushes him to the very edge with a series of firm, rapid strokes.
"Come for me," she demands, and Trevor cries out, bucking against the restraints as his seed spills over her hand.
The scene is incredibly erotic, and Elena knows without looking that her skin is flushed again. Still, something about it is bothering her. "Isn't it cruel to keep teasing and denying a sub until they're practically insane with need?" she whispers to Damon.
"Au contraire, mon cheri. Teasing makes the sensations build and build, leading to one hell of an explosive orgasm, as Mistress Rebekah just demonstrated." He nips her earlobe. "You'll learn about it firsthand very soon."
"Oh," she breathes, leaning into him.
"Let's see what else is going on, shall we?"
They continue their tour of the room, pausing briefly to observe a Dom shackle his sub to the St. Andrew's cross and work him over with a flogger. Not too far from this scene, another Dom has his sub bent over the arm of a couch while he spanks her ass. He stops abruptly and frees his cock from his pants, then roughly thrusts into her until her whimpers become screams of pleasure.
The combination of moans, pleading, and flesh slapping against flesh is starting to get to Elena. She feels feverish, on the verge of overheating.
Damon notices, of course, and leads her through another doorway and down a short hallway. A thumping beat vibrates the floor beneath her feet. When they enter the room, she discovers why: there's a dance floor, complete with strobe lights, a DJ, and a mass of undulating bodies.
"I thought you might like a change of pace," Damon explains, speaking directly in her ear so she can hear him over the pounding music.
She nods and smiles, following him onto the floor. They wade toward the center of the melee, and Damon pulls her tight against his body as they begin moving to the beat. It's almost too easy to fall into sync with him, Elena thinks as she rolls her hips against his. It feels like they've been dancing together forever.
He spins her around so her back is flush with his chest, and the unmistakable evidence of his arousal presses against her bottom. He locks an arm around her waist and his free hand lightly circles her throat just above her collar.
Her gasp is lost to the loud music surrounding them. She lets her head fall back against his shoulder, content to stay like this as long as he chooses. The beat changes, speeding up slightly. Damon grinds his erection into her ass, and she pushes back, wanting to feel more of him.
She catches a glimpse of Katherine and Stefan, who are dancing a few feet away. Stefan's also wearing a collar, she notices, and there's a leash attached to it that's wrapped around Katherine's fist. Katherine winks at the two of them, then brings Stefan's mouth to hers for a passionate kiss.
One song bleeds into the next, and time loses its meaning as her and Damon continue to move as one. His hand skims over the front of her corset and she doesn't realize where it's headed until it dives underneath her skirt. His digits flirt with the edge of her G-string then slip inside. He traces her slit and eases a finger past her folds.
"Oh, god," she rasps, clutching his arm for support. Unfortunately, the exquisite invasion is gone all too soon, and he turns her to face him once more. Bringing his hand to his mouth, he holds her gaze captive while he pops his finger in his mouth and slowly licks it clean.
"You taste divine," he murmurs once he's finished. "Time to go."
"Go? Go where?" She's so turned on she can't think straight.
"Upstairs," he answers, tugging her toward the doorway.
###
As it turns out, the upper floor is lined with private rooms for those who prefer to play behind closed doors. Damon explains that they're still monitored by security cameras to make sure things stay safe, sane, and consensual, but otherwise, couples who use them are left to their own devices.
When they arrive at the last door at the end of the hall, Damon takes a key from his pocket and unlocks it. He ushers her inside, and she immediately notices the large bed and a padded table similar to the one she saw in the dungeon. A pair of shelves holds a very . . . interesting . . . assortment of toys and other supplies. There's also a dresser against one wall and a doorway leading to what she presumes is a bathroom.
She senses Damon behind her and his mouth finds her shoulder, pressing a kiss there. "Remember your safe word?" he asks.
"Marshmallow," she dutifully recalls.
"Very good. If you use that one, everything stops. However, if you need a brief timeout for whatever reason—for example, the position you're in is too uncomfortable to bear or you're starting to cramp up—use 'yellow.'"
"Okay."
Damon notices her sizing up the least conventional piece of furniture in the room, which still seems plain and unassuming compared to the other things she's seen. "That's a bondage table," he explains. "Perfect for restraining my sub while I take my time exploring her body . . . thoroughly."
Oh, my. Her pulse kicks into overdrive.
He pats the tabletop. "Hop up here."
She climbs onto the table, shivering when her bare bottom makes contact with the cool leather. She watches as he collects a handful of clip hooks and an extra set of cuffs from one of the shelves.
"Lie back, baby."
She does, and he takes her left hand in his, brushing a kiss over her knuckles. He lifts it over her head and lines up her cuff with the ring on the upper corner of the table. He secures it with a clip and gives her right cuff the same treatment.
He skims his fingers from her cheek, down her throat, across her chest, over her bustier and pleated skirt, to her bare thigh, knee, and calf, finally coming to a stop in a loose circle around her ankle. He buckles a cuff just above the strap of her shoe and repeats the process with the other one. Damon eases her legs apart and clips each ankle to a corner of the table.
"Everything comfortable?" he asks.
She tests the cuffs, which are snug but not too tight. "Yes, Sir."
"Good." He digs through one of the dresser drawers, pocketing an item she can't see, and does a slow circuit around the table, keeping his eyes on hers. He slips a button loose on his shirt, then another. He stops beside her and releases two more, revealing a glimpse of his smooth chest. The rest of the buttons follow, and he shrugs off the shirt and tosses it aside.
Whoa. She wriggles in her restraints, her hands curling and uncurling reflexively.
He quirks a dark brow. "Something bothering you?"
"I want to touch you." She's longing to feel his muscles contract beneath her fingers while she runs them over his toned stomach and leaves a trail of kisses across his chest.
"Ah, but it's not about what you want, kitten. It's about what I want, and I want you just . . ."—he crawls up on the table—". . . like . . ."—straddles her hips and leans down until his lips are next to her ear—". . . this," he finishes in a whisper.
His mouth dips lower, finding the spot below her ear and just above her collar that functions as her personal self-destruct button. Shivers race all the way to the tips of her toes at the suction of his lips, the occasional nip of teeth, the softness of his hair as it tickles her cheek and jaw.
He's only just begun, and I'm already falling apart. Fingers grasp her chin and tilt her head back, then his mouth is on hers—teasing, coaxing, demanding. His hand leaves her face and tangles in her hair, giving it a firm tug. "Open."
She gasps, lips parting in compliance with his order. I completely understand what Care means by "Dom voice." Then his tongue is stroking hers, sweeping any other thoughts she might have under the rug.
Leaving her reeling from the kiss, he moves lower, lips feathering over the tops of her breasts where they're trying to burst free.
"I want to study every one of your reactions, Elena, and what causes them," he murmurs against her skin. "What makes you moan, quiver, whimper, scream, tremble until your legs give out—I'll learn them all," he promises.
He traces the zipper on the front of her corset, then tugs the tab down an inch. Two. Five. Now it's open past her belly button. With one final tug, the sides part and fall away from her body. Her nipples immediately tighten in response to the cool air.
Damon sits back on his heels, his eyes roving over her full breasts. "This is better than Christmas morning." He cups them in his palms and squeezes lightly. "So beautiful."
Leaning forward again, he hovers over her nipple, warming it with his breath but not touching. "Shall I put my mouth here, kitten?"
Elena makes an incoherent sound and arches toward his waiting lips, but he backs away before contact is made.
"What was that?" he murmurs.
She's not above begging. "Please."
"Say 'Yes, Sir.'"
Wetness pools between her thighs at the command. "Yes, Sir."
"Much better." The grin blooming on his face is nothing short of devilish. He takes her nipple in his mouth and sucks—gently at first, then harder until each pull sends a jolt of pleasure straight to her clit.
Just as she's pondering whether she could orgasm from the attention he's paying to her breasts alone—oh, hell yes—something incredibly soft slides over her other nipple. She glances down to find he has a thick satin ribbon wrapped around his finger, and he's running it back and forth over her sensitive nub.
Between the warm, wet haven of his mouth and the ticklish strokes of the ribbon, she has to remind herself to breathe. It's not an easy task, but she manages to drag in a breath before another wave of sensation crashes into her.
Her lids drift shut as the suckling turns into rapid flicks with the tip of his tongue. His thumb joins his ribbon-sheathed finger, rolling her nipple between the two. Without warning, he delivers a quick pinch to her tender flesh.
"Ah!" she cries out, eyes opening wide. He soothes her nub with the satin, then his teeth close around her other nipple, biting down just hard enough to elicit a gasp.
He keeps the pattern going, alternating between pleasure and hints of pain until she's writhing beneath him. A swipe of the tongue is followed closely by a tweak. A smooth stroke is chased by the tug of teeth. Sometimes it's a double dose of bliss, which he demonstrates by massaging one breast and nuzzling the underside of the other.
"Damon." His name slips out on a moan before she can stop herself. Blue eyes narrow in response, and she knows she's in trouble. The punishment is swift—his fingers and teeth provide a pinch-nip combo that makes her squeal. "Sir! Sorry!"
The pressure eases, and he releases her breasts, his mouth drifting further down her torso. He stops at her belly, just above the waistband of her skirt. "How about here?" he asks, tugging on the ring of her collar when she doesn't immediately answer him.
"Yes, Sir," she rasps.
He hums in approval, then dots kisses up and down her abdomen and dips his tongue into her navel. She arches her hips in an attempt to encourage him to focus his attention on an area slightly below where he is now, but he flattens a hand on her stomach to still her movements.
Damon moves lower yet, neatly avoiding the place she wants him most, much to her dismay. Instead, he trails his fingers over the inside of her thigh. "And here?"
"Yes . . . Sir." His mouth fuses to her skin, and that amazing suction starts up again. She's sure she'll have another hickey to match the one he left on her throat.
More kisses land on her knee, shin, and calf while a hand inches up her other leg and under her skirt. Oh, please, please, please. Pleeeease. His finger follows the lacy edge of the G-string but retreats after a few seconds, drawing an invisible line back down to her thigh. His thumb brushes a spot behind her knee, and she jerks, pulling uselessly against the cuff holding her ankle immobile.
"Ticklish?" Damon asks, a knowing smile curling his lips.
"N-no," she stammers.
"Let's try that again, but with the truth this time."
She sighs in resignation. "Yes."
"Any other spots I should know about?"
She seals her lips shut, refusing to give up the many places on her body that would be susceptible to a tickle attack.
"Don't worry, pet. I'll find them myself, sooner or later," he promises.
Oh, shit. As she lets that information sink in, he pats her leg and hops off the table.
"Well, this won't do." He removes the clips from her ankle cuffs and does the same with her wrists.
"Wait, what?" she asks, shock evident in her voice. Don't stop!
He scoops her up in his arms without answering and strolls over to the bed, depositing her in the center. Taking advantage of her distracted state, he slips off her skirt and tosses it over his shoulder, leaving her dressed in nothing but the wisp of material between her legs. Her shoes are the next things to go, and he swiftly unbuckles them, setting the pair of heels on the floor.
Pulling back the corners of the duvet, he uncovers four straps, which he attaches to her cuffs. The bed is much wider than the table, and before she knows it, she's bound in the spread-eagle position.
"I needed more room to . . . spread out," Damon explains, licking his lips as his gaze travels the length of her body.
"I thought you were going to stop," Elena whispers.
"Oh, I'm far from finished with you, kitten. Trust me." Taking one of the pillows from the head of the bed, he slides it under her hips and lower back. "Perfect."
He toes off his boots, then he climbs up on the bed, situating himself between her spread legs. He rests his chin on her hip for a moment, studying her while he flicks at one of the bows on her undies. "You're so expressive, Elena. I love seeing every reaction reflected in your eyes, your parted lips, your pink cheeks. Do you know what I can't wait to see next?"
She shakes her head.
"The look on your face when you come for me." His voice is low, gritty with need.
Fuck. The sound she makes is part moan, part whimper, but the meaning is clear: take me now!
Just as he promised on the phone, he catches the end of one of the ribbons with his teeth and pulls, releasing it. The other is undone in similar fashion, and the G-string falls to the bed before Damon collects it and flings it aside. She's completely exposed now, vulnerable to his every whim.
"Exquisite," he murmurs, "just like I knew you'd be." He uses his thumbs to part her folds. "You're glistening, baby."
She knows a brief moment of panic, wondering if she should have shaved instead of giving herself a meticulous trim job, but he quickly derails her runaway train of thought. "I can practically see those wheels of yours turning. You're thinking too much. Just feel."
At the first touch of his mouth on her sex, her worries evaporate. He laps at her gently, like a cat after cream, then he changes tactics—exploring deeper, thrusting into her with his tongue. A long, ragged moan leaves her throat, and her hands curl into fists, nails biting into her palms. Her lids start to droop as the sensations build.
"Elena," Damon growls. "Open your eyes and keep them on mine," he commands.
"Yes, Sir," she whispers, trying to focus her gaze on his. It's almost unbearably erotic—watching him pleasure her, especially when he flattens his tongue and slowly drags it over her clit.
He adds a finger to the mix, then two, fucking her while he continues to tease the throbbing nub at the top of her sex. She can feel the impending climax building, and her legs start to tremble.
Damon's fingers still, and he moves away from her clit, making her cry out in frustration. "I want . . ." she pants, "I need . . . to co—"
"Oh, you will, but not until I'm good and ready to let you." He waits until the tremors fade, then resumes working her into a frenzy. Fingers pump into her tight sheath, and he flicks at her nub just enough to keep her hovering on the edge.
When he slows the pace once again, she bites her tongue to keep a string of obscenities at bay. "Please, Master." She pleads with her eyes, her words, whatever it takes.
"Mmm. My favorite phrase," he murmurs as his fingers pick up where they left off. This time, he curls them upward, seeking—and finding—the spot that's guaranteed to send her into orbit. He strokes her inner walls, using his free hand to press down on her lower belly.
"Oh, g-god . . ." She's so close. So very close. It's nearly impossible to keep her eyes open, but she tries her best.
Damon's tongue swirls over her clit, making her hips jerk. "Come for me, Elena. Right now." His mouth closes around her little bundle of nerves and sucks. Hard.
A scream of ecstasy announces the arrival of her orgasm, and Elena's head thrashes wildly on the pillow. Wave after wave of bliss washes over her, and she can't hear anything but her own gasping breaths and her heartbeat pounding in her ears. When the pleasure keeps spiraling on and on, she glances down to find Damon continuing his ministrations.
He pauses to give her a satisfied smile. "That was fucking incredible, kitten. In fact, I'd like to see it again, just to make sure I didn't miss anything the first time."
Before she has a chance to formulate a coherent thought, his fingers are back at it—rubbing, stroking, thrusting—until her second orgasm is bearing down on her. Her already sensitive clit is completely on board with the plan, and all it takes are a few soft swipes of his tongue to set her off again.
"That's it. Over you go," he murmurs.
Her release slams into her, and her back arches off the bed as far as the restraints will allow. Hoarse cries fill the air, and she realizes they belong to her.
He eases her down from her high, giving her a brief respite while he stands and unbuttons his pants, shucking off the snug leather. She's not surprised at his lack of underwear—Damon seems exactly like the type who prefers to go commando. Before tossing the pants on the floor, he takes something out of the back pocket.
Sinking to his knees, he cups her sex and glides his thumb over her swollen clit. She moans and shifts restlessly at the gentle touch. She shouldn't want more after two mind-blowing climaxes, but she does. She might have to crawl to work tomorrow, but it'll be worth it.
Damon fists his cock, stroking it idly while he watches her squirm. "I've dreamt of being inside you, Elena. Of having your body splayed out beneath mine while I fuck you until you scream. Again," he adds. He tears the wrapper off the item he pulled from his pocket, and she realizes it's a condom. He quickly sheathes himself and parts her slick folds with the head of his penis, rubbing it along her slit.
"Are you ready for my cock, kitten?" he asks silkily.
"Yes, Sir." She tilts her hips slightly, trying to take him inside. Her efforts earn her a light slap on her inner thigh.
"Be still."
Warning received, she goes motionless while he waits, apparently testing her to see if she'll continue to obey. After a minute goes by without so much as a twitch, he nods in approval.
He eases forward, entering her an agonizing inch at a time, and she feels her body stretching to accommodate him. "You're so tight, baby," he hisses. Once he's seated deep within her, he pauses to let her adjust, dipping his head and pressing open-mouth kisses over her breasts and throat. His lips caress her own, and his tongue tangles with hers as he starts to move.
The rhythm he sets is slow, deliberate. Before she can get accustomed to it, he switches it up with rapid, shallow thrusts and an occasional deep stroke that keeps her off-balance but in a perpetual near-orgasmic state. "We fit together perfectly. It's like your body was made for mine," he whispers, gripping her hips as he picks up the pace.
Her breath leaves her in short, harsh pants as each thrust takes her ever closer to the edge. He's driving into her now, a fine sheen of sweat dotting his chest. A few wisps of dark hair hang in his eyes, and her fingers itch to comb through the soft strands.
Watching her closely, he bites his lip and rotates his hips, hitting places inside her that make her toes curl. He reaches out and palms her breast, fingers closing around her nipple and giving it a pinch. His thumb settles on her clit and rubs it in time with his thrusts. "Give it to me, Elena. I want to feel you squeeze my cock as you come," he rasps.
A high, keening cry leaves her lips as she climaxes, her muscles tightening around him just as he desires. His hips slam against hers, his rhythm faltering. After two more hard thrusts, he shouts her name as his own orgasm crashes into him. "So fucking good," he grits out through clenched teeth. With one last jerk of his cock, he leans down, capturing her lips and swallowing her soft whimpers. He kisses her, leisurely exploring her mouth while they float back down to earth.
Eventually, he slides out of her and leaves the bed, winking at her over his shoulder. "Don't go anywhere," he teases. Then he disappears into the bathroom, and she hears him dispose of the condom and run the tap. He returns moments later and climbs up on the mattress, moving from one corner of the bedframe to the next as he releases her cuffs from the straps.
He spends a few minutes massaging her arms and legs to relieve the slight stiffness in her limbs after being bound, then he pulls her limp form against his body. She stretches and tries to muffle a yawn, but it doesn't work. She's tired, yet exhilarated. Giving up control to Damon, submitting to him—it feels right.
"Did you enjoy your first foray into bondage sex?" he asks, fingering the ring on her collar.
"Very much, Sir," she murmurs, curling even closer to him.
"Still think it's cruel to tease a sub?"
"Frustrating, for sure, but not cruel. You were right—the, uh, payoff is definitely worth it." She tentatively raises her hand toward his chest and gazes up at him, seeking permission to touch.
He smiles and tucks a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "Go ahead, kitten."
Her fingers play along his pecs, then they work their way higher to his collarbone and throat. She encounters a hint of roughness on his chin and jaw from the stubble that's starting to appear there. She cups his cheek and boosts herself up on an elbow so she can kiss him, using the gesture to express the myriad emotions swirling within her—happiness, wonder, gratitude.
After a while, the overwhelming need for a nap won't be ignored any longer, and she rests her head in the crook of his arm, leaving a hand splayed on his chest. He drapes a leg over both of hers and pulls the duvet around them.
The last thing she registers before sleep takes her is the steady thump of Damon's heartbeat beneath her palm.
