DangerousLust (7 page)

When time was up I got back on my knees, Master Clay
watching as I pulled the plug free and removed the clamps.

Very good, Leona. I’d like you to join me tomorrow
evening.

I have my internship until 4pm, Master.

Very well. I will have the car pick you up from there.

I bit my lip, wondering if that was a good idea, but I’d
already told him where I interned.

Thank you, Master Clay.

I will see you tomorrow, Leona.

I realized he was about to sign out.
Master Clay?

Yes?

May I come?

No, Leona. You will wait until tomorrow.

That’s what I’d expected but I groaned.

Good night, Leona.

Good night, Master Clay.

Unplugging the camera, I sat up. With a sigh I put on my
thickest PJs to stop myself from giving in to the urge to play with myself. I
finished working on my essay and submitted it online, well ahead of the 10:00
a.m. deadline. I crawled into bed and lay there thinking about Master Clay and
Brad. When my roommate came home, drunk and all dressed up from the formal, I
thought about asking her what I should do. Was it okay to keep flirting with
the cute guy because flirting with him made me happy? Or did it make me a bitch
because I knew I wasn’t going to sleep with him, since I was involved with
Master Clay?

I couldn’t ask her any of this, so I pretended to be asleep
as she got into bed, but she fell asleep long before I did.

* * * * *

At 4:30 on Friday
afternoon I let myself in to Master Clay’s house. He left instructions on
Tumblr for me to ring the bell and if he didn’t answer to come in. I counted to
thirty after ringing and then opened the door, just in time to see Master Clay
walking down the stairs with his phone to his ear.

I quickly closed the door and started walking through the
foyer, taking the path he’d showed me to the back of the house. He held up his
hand when he reached the bottom of the stairs and I stopped.

“I understand, but that’s unacceptable.” He tapped his
fingers on the banister as he finished his call. “Ask them to come back with
another offer.” He hung up and looked at me. “Good afternoon, Leona.”

“Good afternoon, Clay.” I nearly added “Master” but caught
myself in time.

“How was your internship?”

“It was good, thank you.”

He tapped his phone, not looking at me as he spoke. “The
museum has wonderful events. Good networking, as well as educational.”

“Oh, I’m just an intern. I don’t attend the big events. I do
get to tour the exhibits for free. That’s how I knew about the artist.” I
pointed at his chandelier.

Master Clay looked at me for a moment, then nodded. “Please
head back to the room. Remember the rules. I will see you inside in a few
moments.”

This time there was white and gold lingerie waiting for me—a
white corset with gold stitching and gold lace boy-cut panties. The corset was
heavy and very beautiful. It had hidden hook and eye closures down the front
and laces in the back. I put it on and fiddled with the ribbons at the back, tightening
them as best I could. I took it off and adjusted the laces so they looked nice,
then put it back on. I wished I could make it tighter, to make my waist look
tiny, but I couldn’t apply enough tension and then tie off the ribbons.

Unlike last time the panties were not lined and the lips of
my pussy were clearly visible. When I was ready I walked into the Marquis’
Quarters, eager and not as nervous as I had been the first time. It had taken a
lot of effort not to spend all day thinking about what had happened last night
and what was going to happen today. Being busy helped. My boss at LACMA had
announced that she wanted a mini display about my exhibit at the gala. That
meant I had a ton of work to do before next Friday, which was good for
distracting me, but bad because it meant that I spent a lot of the afternoon
emailing back and forth with Brad. It had all been work-related and nothing
flirty, which was both good and confusing.

Master Clay entered the room. He’d removed the jacket he’d
been wearing a few moments ago and was rolling up his shirtsleeves. Out of the
corner of my eye I saw him toss something onto one of the couches but kept my
gaze down.

“Come here, Leona.”

Keeping my arms behind my back, I padded over on bare feet.
When I reached Master Clay he pushed my shoulders down, forcing me to bend at
the waist.

“Brace your hands on the trunk.”

I did as he ordered, my head almost touching the couch the
trunk was up against. Master Clay casually pulled the panties down.
Anticipation heated my blood. I couldn’t wait for him to put his hands on me,
his fingers inside me.

I tracked his footsteps and the sound of cabinets opening
and closing. When he returned I heard a click and then cold lube was dripped
down my ass cheeks.

“Relax,” was all he said and in the next instant a plug was
pushing into my ass.

I wasn’t ready and yelped, starting to stand up, reaching
back to push him away.

“Bend over again this instant,” he barked.

I dropped down, tears stinging my eyes.

He shoved the plug all the way in and it was larger than the
one I’d used on myself last night, and unlike last night I hadn’t actively
tried to accept it, which made it painful. My ass burned, my muscles screaming
in protest from the sudden invasion.

“You forgot your place, Leona.”

“I didn’t expect that. I wasn’t ready.”

“Is that a complaint, coupled with failure to address me
properly?”

His words were cold, frighteningly so.

“I’m sorry, Master Clay.”

He tugged my panties back up over my ass. “I have some work
to do. You will pleasure me while I do so. I don’t have time for a beating, so
your punishment will have to be indirect.”

That didn’t sound good. “I’m truly sorry, Master Clay. I
won’t do it again.”

“No, you won’t. Get up on the platform and wait for me.”

I circled the couches, the plug shifting in me with every
step. Hoping to make him happy, once I was up I spread my legs and crossed my
wrists behind my neck.

Master Clay returned, his face hard. “Drop your arms and
bend at the waist.” He held up a shiny silver collar. Unlike the one I’d worn
last time this one was not a circle, but rather molded so it looked more like a
wave—a posture collar.

He fitted it around my neck and buckled it in place. When I
stood I realized exactly how hard it would be to wear this thing. The front
cupped my chin and the bottom edges of my jaw. It dipped low enough to rest on
my chest, then rose to curve along my shoulders. I couldn’t lower my chin or
turn my head.

Master Clay grabbed my wrist. The way he did it reminded me
of Brad and that distracted me enough that I barely registered what he was
doing when he bound me with a metal cuff. There was no padding or lining, and a
foot-long chain dangled from it. When he’d done the same with the other wrist
he took the chains and fastened them to the back of the collar, forcing me to
bend my arms up behind me.

My heart was beating fast, but it wasn’t from arousal, it
was from fear. As rough as Master Clay had been last time, he hadn’t been so
cold or clinical. Right now it felt as if he saw me as a chore or a burden.

Finally he picked up a little metal tin with a red top that
looked familiar. He yanked my panties down just enough to expose my pussy.
Taking a handkerchief from his pocket he wiped my sex with it, removing the
lubrication my body had produced in anticipation of our play.

He took the top off the tin and I realized what it was from
the smell—Tiger Balm. Swiping his finger in the tin of muscle soother he then
rubbed it on my pussy lips, completely coating my outer labia. There was a
minute of cold before my pussy began to tingle and finally burn. Chain rattled
as I instinctively moved to soothe the burn.

Master Clay wiped his fingers on the handkerchief and then
took a seat, picking up the tablet that he must have brought in with him.

“Until I say otherwise you are not to speak. This is a very
light punishment. As I mentioned previously, real punishment is something I do
not take lightly. If you were experienced in BDSM your clit would be clamped
and also coated and you’d be given an enema of soapy water.”

He didn’t look up as he said it, and I was glad, because it
meant he didn’t see the tear running down my cheek.

I wasn’t sure how long I stood up there. I kept thinking
that the burning sensation would disappear, but it never did. It did fade, or
maybe the ache in my shoulders from the position of my arms and pain in my neck
from the posture collar became so strong that I was no longer as aware of the
other discomfort. The plug was a heavy in my ass, a constant pressure from
within.

“Leona, on your knees. Mouth open.”

I was so startled by the order that for a second I thought
I’d imagined it. I blinked and then scrambled to obey. My legs were stiff after
standing still for so long, but once I was down I dropped eagerly to my knees,
ready to be off my feet.

Master Clay opened his pants, pulling out his semierect
cock. Grabbing my hair, he pulled me forward, pressing my face to his crotch.
The posture collar made it impossible for me to bend my neck, so I had to kneel
up, bending my whole upper body to get my head close enough.

I took the tip of his cock in my mouth, glad he wasn’t yet
fully hard, since my mouth didn’t open much. I licked the crown but Master Clay
pulled my hair.

“No. You will hold my cock in your mouth. Nothing more.”

I stilled, kneeling there with my arms behind my back,
panties around my thighs, plug up my ass and a cock in my mouth. Occasionally
Master Clay would stroke my head, but I could tell his attention was on
whatever he was looking at. His cock remained semierect.

This was…boring.

When I’d read stories about subs in positions like this—in
bondage and waiting—it had seemed erotic and exciting. Even now there was part
of me that was aroused, but it wasn’t by what was happening, but by the
possibility of what could happen.

The burning feeling was finally gone, which was both a
relief and a disappointment, because at least that had been a form of
stimulation. The posture collar was more irritating than anything.

I wanted to like this, or at least get lost in the moment,
go into the “sub space” I’d read about. It wasn’t happening. Maybe I was too
new to this. Try as I might I couldn’t keep my attention on what was happening
and my thoughts wandered to the assignments I had due next week, my internship,
and then Brad.

We’d emailed each other probably fifty times about what
needed to happen to put together a demo for the gala. None of the emails had
been anything but professional. Was that because he was super professional on
email in a way he wasn’t in person, or had something I texted him last night
made him change his mind about me?

I couldn’t really blame him if he’d decided he wasn’t
interested. I was giving him mixed signals. How could I not be? I was giving
myself
mixed signals.

“Up.” Master Clay tugged on my hair.

I sat back, swallowing the spit that had gathered in my
mouth. My chin was held up so I couldn’t look down and ended up staring at the
buttons on Master Clay’s shirt.

“Stand and let me see your pussy.”

I rose to my feet. It was awkward to do with my hands bound
behind me, but I managed. Master Clay tugged the panties down to my ankles and
inspected my pussy lips. He was thorough, fingers sliding, pinching and tugging
until he’d touched every part of me. The boredom of a moment ago was gone under
a wave of arousal.

“You behaved beautifully once corrected, Leona. Now turn and
bend so I can see how your ass is handling the plug.”

Master Clay played with me, finally doing what I’d expected
him to do when I got here. He removed the plug and chained me to the metal grid
in the wall. With my neck still wrapped in the posture collar I couldn’t see
what he was doing, but felt it as he ran a vibrator over my skin, finally
sliding it deep into my sex and holding it there as he freed my breasts from
the corset and sucked each nipple in turn. I finally got the pleasure and
attention I’d craved, yet when I left that night I was haunted by a vague
feeling of dissatisfaction and worry.

* * * * *

“It’s too much text.”

“It’s only five hundred words. I’m a freaking genius that I
was able to cut it down that short.”

“It has to be shorter. Three hundred words max.”

I bared my teeth at Brad. “You want me to explain complex
geometry harmonic analysis in three hundred words?”

He didn’t look up from his laptop. “Yes.”

“Ugh.”

I looked at the clock and then with a groan started
rereading the app-based text for what felt like the hundredth time. When I got
it down to two hundred eighty-four words I emailed it to Brad.

“I just sent it to you.”

“Good. I’ve put in seven temporary pages within the app.
Instead of a prompt to scan they have a static copy of the image.”

I leaned over Brad’s shoulder to see what he was talking
about. Salli was coming by in half an hour to see how my piece of the exhibit
was coming, thought at this point it was really more mine and Brad’s. For the
gala we were going to have three phones with beta versions of the app on them.
Only the John Divola print would have a complete interactive bit, but that
coupled with example pages should be enough to impress everyone.

I was close enough to Brad that I could feel the heat coming
off his shoulder. He smelled like boy body wash. It was a good smell.

“Look at it on the phone. These are basically static images,
but they look like pages. I’m going to add ‘coming soon’ to each.”