Brick begins slowly, warming my ass with a figure-eight motion of the implement. It doesn’t hurt at all.
It just feels wonderful.
I lift my ass for more. He picks up the intensity, and I start to register more than warmth. There’s a little sting now. Still wonderful, though.
Then he whips straight across the lower half of my ass with it, harder.
I gasp, toes curling, butt clenching.
“Uh uh.” He taps my ass. “You think you can clench this ass and keep me out of it?”
He pulls my asscheeks apart, and I feel a dollop of cold lube drop on my asshole. “Who does this ass belong to?” he asks as he slips a finger in, massaging the tight ring of muscles open until they loosen a little. “Hmm?”
“You, sir.”
He slides a second finger in. My pussy clenches on air. My inner thighs strain, trying uselessly to draw my legs together.
The sensation of having his fingers inside me is both erotic and wrong. I work to relax. To submit to his will.
“What a shame. You wish you had something inside your pussy, too, don’t you?”
“Yes!” I cry. He’s right. I’m tugging to free my wrists, so I can put a hand between my legs.
“I’ll tell you what. Let’s see how you do taking your buttplug and flogging. If you’re a good girl, I’ll fill your pussy with a vibrator turned on high.”
“Ahhh-ah.” I half cry-out, half-groan. He’s already mind-fucking me by telling me what to expect. Just imagining it has me sobbing for release. “Please, Brick,” I warble.
He slides his fingers out of my ass and replaces them with more lube and then the cool bulbous end of a stainless steel plug. I tense against the sensation.
Brick grabs a handful of my ass and shakes. “Relax, that ass, baby. Show me you’re going to be my good girl.”
Of course, I have to prove myself.
I relax and Brick pushes the plug forward, breaching my hole, stretching me wider than I would believe possible. It burns a bit, and I whine.
“Push back,” Brick coaches.
I push with my muscles against the plug, which opens me to take it wider. In another breath, it gets past the widest part of the plug and seats at the neck. The relief is instant.
The pleasure non-stop.
I moan.
“Now clench around that while I whip you, little girl.”
“I don’t answer to little girl,” I somehow remember to tell him.
“Are you really in a position to get sassy with me right now?” He brings the flogger down across my ass harder than before, and I jump. He continues spanking me with it, making my ass dance as he rides the line of too much and not enough.
He stops and pumps the plug in and out of my ass.
“Please!” I moan.
“You need to come, my sassy assistant?”
“Yes!”
He pumps the plug some more then starts up the little motor of a vibrator. “Does your pussy need something to clench, too?”
“Yes!” I cry.
He penetrates me with the vibrator, pushing it inside me until the clit attachment lines up with that sensitive part of my anatomy.
I come immediately and without warning.
I’m shocked by how hard I come. My whole body bucks with the force of it and with the vibrator inside me and the plug stretching my ass, with my flesh heated from the flogger and the long foreplay of preparing and waiting and servicing Brick, I can’t seem to stop.
It feels like I got shot to the molten core center of the earth and then catapulted back via volcano.
I’m still coming when Brick removes the vibrator. “Did I say you could come, Ms. Evans?”
I’m incapable of making any sound other than “Ahhhh uhhhh.”
“Did I say you could come without me?”
I pant. It seems the orgasm has finally finished, and I’m as limp as a rag doll now. I lift my head and wet my lips with my tongue. “No, sir?”
I hear the rustle of clothing. Brick’s getting naked.
“No, I did not. That means you’re getting fucked in the ass tonight, babygirl. And no vibrator to fill that pussy.”
He eases the buttplug out of my ass.
I know we’re just playing, but I was so far gone into subspace, and now he sounds so disapproving, that I start to fall. “No,” I whimper. “I’ll be good.”
But Brick’s warm body climbs over mine to reassure me. “I know you will,” he rumbles against my ear. He blankets my body with his and slides a hand under my hips to stroke my clit. The juices of my pussy coat his fingers. He pushes them inside my channel a few times.
“You’re always good,” he murmurs approvingly, his other hand stroking over my breast. “Even when you’re very bad.”
It’s foolish, but it’s what I needed to hear. I needed reassurance that he wasn’t truly disappointed. That I did nothing wrong by coming without him or before he commanded it.
He unties my wrists but leaves my legs tied open and lubes up his dick.
“Put your fingers between your legs and tell me what you feel.” His voice is deep and rough.
I obey as he pulls my ass cheeks wide.
“I feel…so wet.”
He pushes the head of his dick against my asshole. “Uh huh. And what else?” He presses forward, sliding in easily now that I’ve been stretched open by the buttplug.
“Ahhh-uhn.” I moan. “Slick.”
He feeds his dick into me, inch by fat inch.
I have to work to breathe and relax.
“And swollen. I feel so swollen down here.”
“And so tight back here.” Brick starts to move inside me, careful to keep it smooth. I know he’s holding back because he’s usually so much rougher, snapping his hips when he thrusts and thrusting deep and hard.
After I settle into it, it starts to feel wonderful. I sink three fingers into my pussy, then four. I’ve never felt myself so wet and welcoming before.
Brick fucks my ass, and I hump my fingers. It’s so intense.
“May I… May I?” I beg.
“Hang on.” Brick sounds like he’s panting. He’s got to be close. He reaches under my hips, his fingers tangling with mine to get inside my pussy.
“Now, Madi.”
We both come. Brick pumps two more times and shoots his load into my ass. I come around several of our twined fingers.
In the euphoria that follows, I find it incredible that every day and every night with Brick just keeps getting better and better.
Madi
After “rehearsing” to my great pleasure all week, the night of our performance arrives.
Club Twilight is in a boring gray brick building in Chelsea. Our driver, Tony, pulls up to the curb, but before he can exit to open our doors, Brick springs out. He glances up and down the sidewalk, looking huge and intimidating in his dark suit. I let him take the time to sniff for predators and admire the gorgeous figure he cuts.
The moon limns his hair, turning it silver. His eyes glitter, but then he blinks, and they’re back to normal, human blue.
A second car pulls up behind us and Billy and Sully exit. They slam their doors simultaneously and head over to us in lockstep. They even shoot their cuffs in sync. I stifle a smile. Now is not the time to point out how choreographed their movements look. They’re too on edge.
They confer on the sidewalk. I almost call out to them-aren’t you forgetting someone? Me?–but I bite my tongue.
They’re super tense about tonight, and of course they are. We’re technically in enemy territory. But after my conversation with Ruby and all this prep work, I’m more intrigued than anything.
Finally, Brick comes to help me out. He’s the perfect gentleman, but I can feel how stiff his arm is.
And it’s close to the full moon. Did Thaddeus choose this date on purpose, knowing Brick would be more likely to lose control?
From what I know about vampires, this sort of tricksy maneuvering is exactly what they’d do.
Now I’m tense, too.
As we walk up the stairs to the nondescript door, I rehearse what Brick and I agreed on.
“We’ll keep it simple,” he decided. He’ll order me around, I’ll act like the perfect submissive. He’ll bend me over a bench and spank me over my underwear.
Under my cashmere coat, I’m wearing a dress. Short, white with easy access. I look like a virgin sacrifice. Which is kind of the point.
Inside is a black and white tiled foyer with a chandelier overhead. It smells faintly of incense, and there’s faint classical music piped in from a hidden speaker. We could be attending a socialite’s house party, except that we’re greeted by a hostess in a black PVC catsuit and seven inch heels. She takes our coats and sends us down a long hallway lined with gilt-framed mirrors. The hall ends at a pair of red velvet curtains. Brick steps in front of me, as if to block me. He takes a deep breath and pulls the curtains apart. Behind it is a huge medieval looking door made of wood and iron. It looks thick, but it’s vibrating with the pulse of club music behind it.
Brick pauses then deliberately delivers three booming knocks.
“Here we go,” Billy mutters.
The door swings open, and the bass assaults us. It’s so loud it rattles my teeth. I can only imagine how overwhelming it’d be to a shifter with supersonic hearing.
I take Brick’s arm, and we sail through.
I feel like a wide-eyed innocent, walking through the club. At first glance, the place looks like a bar/restaurant type concert venue with tables and chairs, already full with people enjoying a cocktail or a bottle of wine. Servers in white pirate suits and black torsolettes weave through the tables carrying trays.
A suave-looking man in a white tuxedo smiles at us as we pass. and the blue light flashes off his elongated canines.
Vampire.
I blink away and try not to think about what’s really in his glass of red.
Beyond the normal seating are bulky shapes of strange furniture. Spanking benches, a few St. Andrew crosses, and more elaborate frames made of gleaming wood and black or red leather. Curtained alcoves line the rooms-places where you can slip away with your partner for a private moment. Most of the curtains are open, revealing their playroom depths.
A few are occupied, and I want to crane my neck to see what the couples or throuples are doing, but don’t want to gawk. I already feel like Brick and I are the clueless couple in the
Rocky Horror Picture Show.
Billy and Sully flank us. I argued against them coming but was told it was important to have some wolves there for a show of strength. I tried to get them to wear matching Clydesdale outfits, but they didn’t get the joke.
When the floor show starts, they’re under strict orders to leave. They hate this, but I didn’t want to scene in front of them, and Brick agreed.
The dance floor in the center of the club is filled with revelers, thrashing in the neon lights. They dance around an elevated ten by ten stage that’s cordoned off with red rope. There are no hanging cages that I can see, and the stage is empty. For now.
Until our performance.
Above the stage, the ceiling opens to show a second floor that consists of a hall around an open square, lined with evenly spaced doors. There’s a railing for people to lean on and stare down at the stage. Or they can check into one of the rooms-like a hotel-and enjoy themselves in private.
At the end of the club is a giant gilt throne on a platform higher than the stage. There’s a throng of club goers around him, some of them mingling with the dancers. On the throne lounges a tall, well built man with lightly tanned skin. The spotlights fixed on him make his hair flare a brilliant white gold.
This had to be Thaddeus the vampire, self-styled king of Manhattan.
He straightens as we approach, looking past his leather-clad audience and raising a hand to snap his fingers. The pulsing music lowers. Most of the dancers move off the floor to take their seats, and the throngs part to let us approach the throne. It’s obvious Thaddeus and his posse were waiting for us.
Thaddeus beckons us forward.
Brick’s chest rumbles-his wolf thinks he’s being summoned and doesn’t like it.
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