I faced Dan, delighted to see he’d pitched a tent in his pants. Maybe he had dominant tendencies. A girl could hope.
“I am a submissive, Sir. In my case that means I derive sexual satisfaction out of being controlled by my Dominant. You can tie me, cuff me, or restrain me in order to take whatever pleasure you wish from my body. If I misbehave, you can punish me with a spanking or by tormenting me sexually.”
“Tormenting?” The bulge in his pants looked as if it would burst through the seams.
“Getting me excited but not allowing me to orgasm.” I shivered. “I will obey your every order. I’m yours to command to bring you every sexual pleasure you desire.”
“What if I want something you don’t?”
“Then I’ll use my safeword. If I say the word ‘sharkbait’, you know you’ve gone beyond my limits. Everything stops immediately.”
He snorted laughter. “Sharkbait?”
I grinned. “As in, ‘if you don’t stop now, I’ll be on you like Jaws chomping on a naked swimmer.’”
Tristan chimed in. “Her submission is a gift, Dan. She’s giving you control over her, for your pleasure and hers.”
Dan’s eyes widened. He licked his lips. “And you’re okay with that, Brandilynn? Really?”
“Yes Sir. I’m very okay with that.”
He blew out a long breath. “Damn.”
I winced. I hate profanity, but I had gone to that place in my head where it wasn’t my place to protest. I had handed all control to the two men. Dan and I would discuss how a man should talk around a lady after playtime ended.
Tristan’s voice was as smooth as butter, yet as commanding as a five-star general. “I’ll start so you can get an idea of what it’s all about. Join in when you’re comfortable. Brandilynn, think about being naked.”
I did as he told me, and just like that I didn’t have a stitch of clothes on. I stood naked in front of both men. I gasped in amazement.
Well that sure saves time and effort. Wooeee!
“Wow,” Dan said, looking me over.
“Indeed,” growled Tristan. “Turn around slowly so we can have a look at you, Brandilynn.”
I obeyed, proud of the body I’d worked so hard on. For the kind of men who hired me to decorate their arms, I had to keep in shape. Many agonizing hours had been spent on elliptical machines, treadmills and Nautilus torture devices to keep myself thin enough to slip into designer gowns. The results manifested in a sculpted rear end, a slender waistline and high, firm breasts well into my mid-thirties.
Dan looked me over, the want in his expression sending my stomach tumbling. His chest moved with quick breaths. Tristan put his hands on my breasts, testing their weight. Watching my face carefully, he pinched my nipples, his grip tightening until a bolt of desire sizzled straight to my crotch. I turned instantly wet with need.
His mouth crooked into a dangerous grin. “Get on the table. Kneel with your arms behind you,” he said.
He helped me climb onto the nearest reading table. I went to my knees before him, legs splayed apart to open me wide. My wrists crossed at the small of my back, and I bowed my head before him. My gaze greedily raked the erection straining the buttoned closure of his slacks. I wondered what he would do, how long he would play with me before pressing his flesh into mine. I shivered in anticipation.
Tristan bent his head to my breasts, sucking hard on one pert nipple, then the next. I made myself hold very still despite the trembling that started from deep in my core. His tongue rubbed like rough velvet over each tip, bringing the rosy nubs stiff. When he had them distended he seized one between his teeth. He applied cautious pressure, bringing sharp, delightful pain before repeating the torture with the other nipple.
My insides quivered. I felt keenly how I belonged to him to use in any way he deemed fit. It excited me, as submitting to a strong, confident male always did. Dan stood a little off to one side, watching the action. His fists clenched and released, clenched and released. I could tell he enjoyed the show, and I got a little bit of a thrill being watched. I’d been watched before doing scenes at the leather clubs in Atlanta, but
performing for one man instead of to a crowd felt incredibly intimate. It was almost as if Tristan demonstrated me for an interested buyer.
Tristan stepped back and looked at my swollen distended nipples with a satisfied air. Fire engine red from his attentions, they pointed brazenly at him. He slapped one fat mound with a stinging open palm and I jumped. Again, the sensation went zapping straight to my clit, warming my nether regions as effectively as the smarting skin itself. A slap to the other breast. Hot. So very, very hot. Honey flowed from my shaved mound, turning my inner thighs slick. Another sharp slap. My fair skin turned pink where the punishment landed. I panted.