The sharp, tight pressure of her climax made my own orgasm explode. I held her hips, fucking her hard, staring at her red ass cheeks and thinking, I love her.
What? Hell. I’d only known her for a couple of weeks, so love? No. But we’d developed a deep, comfortable compatibility I hadn’t felt with my other submissives.
It had to be the glasses. I picked them up from the end table and handed them back to her. She spit out her panties and said “Thank you,” and I laughed at her polite tone with my cock still buried in her ass. I made her lie back against my chest, and we rested together, our bodies connected. Her hair smelled like warmth and cookies, and all the good things.
“That’s what you get,” I said, running my fingers over her shoulders and arms. “Naughty little rule-breaker.”
“You’re so mean to me. Which I love.”
I snorted. “That takes all the fun out of it.”
We eventually separated ourselves and washed off in my shower. She was so delectable—red ass, freshly fucked, her hair piled on top of her head because she didn’t want to wash it. I wanted her to stay over, but she said she had to go home since she had work in the morning. I won the argument with promises of another orgasm to come.
I lied when I said her enjoyment took all the fun out of it. Her enjoyment meant so much to me that it was starting to freak me out.
Chapter Fifteen: Ella
My Gallery uniform arrived Friday evening by courier. I signed for the unmarked box, then hurried to my bedroom, because I knew what was inside.
As I pulled the tissue-wrapped pieces from the box, I marveled at the level of quality and detail. So exciting, that someone would make this racy uniform especially for me. There was an embellished bra with open cups, meant to highlight naked nipples. I shuddered, thinking how handy that would be for a sadist who was into nipple clamps.
The matching garter belt was a streamlined design of mesh and straps, decorated with tiny beads and understated lace—beautiful but harsh. It covered very little, and what it did cover was outlined with straps, like a harness. The uniform was intended to flagrantly present the female body for sex.
It turned me on so much I could hardly breathe.
The uniform came with three pairs of matching stockings, black stilettos, and a narrow silver collar. I picked it up and turned it over in my hands, fascinated by its suppleness and faint leather smell. I’d never worn a collar, because I’d never been in that kind of owner-slave relationship. I flipped over the lock attached at the center front and read the fine print: Property of The Gallery.
It meant I belonged to everyone there, ownership en masse. For the first time, I thought about what that really meant. It didn’t scare me. I was daring when it came to kink, and, as Devin knew, I’d had a highly enjoyable group experience before I left Pisa. But it was weird to think that right now, there were Dominant men who might touch me or hurt me, or even fuck me in The Gallery tomorrow night, and I hadn’t even met them yet.
Right now, those men might be getting a drink after work, or heading to the gym, or to a lover’s apartment. I held the collar up against my neck, then buckled it on, getting used to the mild feeling of constriction, the way the leather felt against my skin. Then I put on everything, as the note from Michelle instructed. Make sure it all fits…
It fit me like a second skin, not just physically, but mentally. As I looked in the mirror, I thought of Devin, my complicated sadist who came from a home with the wrong kind of pain. I knew he was flying into New York later tonight from a short hop through Europe, so I wasn’t sure my text would reach him, but I snapped a photo of the collar on my neck, with its dangling lock. I was careful to crop out most of my face—thanks to Leo, I no longer felt comfortable putting it out there—but I included my fingers tracing over the smooth leather. The message was I wish you could touch me right now.
I thought about texting more, like Wow, I love this, or I can’t wait, but it wasn’t necessary. Devin would understand.
Chapter Sixteen: Devin
I was deadheading back from Austria—flying as a passenger rather than a pilot—when I got Ella’s photo. Milo was beside me, having visited Vienna for business. He leaned closer when he saw my screen light up.
“Are there titties?” he asked. “I need to see some titties.”
“You could have had titties if you went to Bratislava,” I said, pushing him away. “They have the busiest dungeon in Europe.”
“You wouldn’t go with me, and I hate to prowl alone. Show me the damn picture. Is it Kellie? She’s hot as fuck.”
“No, it’s my scientist.” I handed him the phone. “Sorry, no nudity. She won’t do photos or videos for me.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“She’s smarter than the other ones, I guess.”
He gave me a look. “You’re into this one, aren’t you?”
I shrugged. “We’ve hooked up a few times. She’s fun to hang out with, and she has a high pain tolerance. She fucking loves pain.”
“She has a nice neck,” Milo said, looking at her photo. “You bringing her to The Gallery tomorrow?”
“Yeah, she’s going to love it.” I took my phone back. “She must have just gotten her uniform. She’ll probably sleep in it tonight.”
“What’s her name again?”
I had this weird impulse to say Dr. Ella Novatny. I was proud to have found her, because she was so intelligent, so gravitationally wise, and she had those black-rimmed glasses. I’d make her wear them at The Gallery, since blindfolds weren’t allowed. “Her name’s Ella,” I said. “She’s different from other subs I’ve played with, in a good way.”
“You going to let me have a turn with her?”
“Sure. She’s just your type.”
“Good. So she’s not a pain pussy, like Juliet?”
“She’
s no Juliet. Although Fort fucking loves Juliet, so I wouldn’t call her a pussy in front of him.”
Milo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, they’re cute together. Honestly, I didn’t peg her as the girl who’d turn him.”
“‘Turn him?’ Turn him into what?”
“A monogamist,” he replied, in a tone someone might have used for “serial killer” or “rapist.” Milo Fierro’s negative views on exclusive relationships were well known. “Fort never should have brought Juliet to The Gallery if he didn’t want to share her.”
“He wanted to share her,” I pointed out. “He just…couldn’t.”
I wouldn’t be like that with Ella. She was too kinky and highly sexed to keep to myself, and the truth was, she’d go wild for the pain The Gallery’s Doms would heap on her. “You should definitely work her over tomorrow,” I told Milo. “Once I’m done with her, of course. She’s going to love you.”
I tried to ignore the needling stab of jealousy those words brought as I texted back to Ella:
The collar looks good on you. We’re going to have fun tomorrow night.
Chapter Seventeen: Ella
I had my uniform on when he arrived, along with a coat.
Well, obviously a coat. I wasn’t going to stroll out of my apartment in my sex gear. And it was sex gear, one hundred percent. When I’d put on everything together—the bra, garter belt, stockings, stilettos, and collar—I’d looked super slutty and, well, super available, but that was okay. I completed the look with sex-siren makeup, dark lipstick and contour, as well as the non-waterproof mascara Devin insisted I wear. For trails of black misery on my cheeks? I’d texted him.
Fuck yes, he’d texted back.
I wanted to cry for him tonight. It didn’t come naturally to me. I made sobbing sounds during most scenes, but real tears rarely came.
“Hello, beautiful,” he said, hugging me close as soon as I opened my door. He looked amazing in his dark suit, the Dominant of my fantasies. His fingers moved over my thin coat to locate the garter belt straps underneath. He followed them down to my ass and squeezed my cheeks really hard. I teetered on my heels, because they were higher than I was used to. “Where are your glasses?” he asked.