Sin on Skin

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Carolina Panthers: Panthers Football LLC

Crystal Head Vodka: Globefill Incorporated Corporation

iPod: Apple Inc.

Levi’s: Levi Strauss & Co.

RomantiCon: Jasmine Jade Enterprises

Volvo: Aktiebolaget Volvo Corporation

Chapter One

Stevie Jones got in her car and headed for home. She’d had to let two more bioengineers go today. Her friend Monica, who was the head of human resources, had offered to lay the guys off, but Stevie had needed to face them herself.

Most of them didn’t like her. They called her the black-hearted bitch. She’d heard them. She was a tough, strict boss who stuck to procedure and ran a tight ship. Good for the pharmaceutical business but bad for the social life. Not that she would want to date any of those guys anyway. Work was work, and she didn’t like any goofing off in the lab. Her tough policies got most drugs that came through her teams approved fast and clean.

Monica’s mission over the last year had been to loosen Stevie up. She’d turned her on to these incredibly steamy erotic romances, where she’d found stories of women with sex lives Stevie never dreamed possible. Women in those stories had what they wanted—happiness with their partners. Something Stevie had never experienced. She’d always been a little take-it-or-leave-it when it came to sex.

Then Monica dragged her to RomantiCon, a conference for erotica readers and writers. They met several other women their age, all having a blast, drinking and ogling the cover models. Stevie had enjoyed the camaraderie. At the conference, her education or position didn’t matter. She was just one of the girls.

The wildest of the bunch, Cam, started a blog as soon as she got back home. The Tempt the Cougar blog was another secret pleasure. The rest of the women were constantly posting pictures of hot younger men. Stevie had posted a few times, but it was mostly dirty jokes or spoofs about hot younger men.

Once home, she kicked off her shoes and grabbed a beer, taking a moment to scratch the cat on the head before turning on her home computer. She let some of the stress from the day slip away as she pulled up the Tempt the Cougar blog. Why she felt she wasn’t worthy to participate more on the blog was beyond her. She should be able to jump right into it, wallow in her own sexuality. She wasn’t afraid of it. She was around men all day. Yes, they were geeky, bioengineering types who were all brains and no butch. Sandal-wearing, whining liberals were not her type. Nope. She needed one of the alpha types in the erotic books. She doubted any of the single guys who worked for her had ever had sexual experiences like the ones she’d been reading. She doubted any of them had it in ’em.

But even with the blog, she usually felt outside everything. She looked at the latest post. Rachel had been online again, searching for images, and boy had she hit the jackpot. There were seven different shots of cops in various states of undress. But the last one caught Stevie’s eye. He was thick, muscled, and the look in his eye said I will cuff you up and use you all night long.

She sighed. She’d never have the nerve to do the things these ladies had done. Monica had thrown the gauntlet down. A few weeks ago in a blog post, she’d taken their little obsession with younger men into the real word. Stevie remembered the post well.

“Let’s do this! I challenge each of you, and me too, to go out there and find a younger man to make our fantasies come true. No more dreaming. Let’s live, live, live!”

Stevie had laughed when she’d read it, not even bothering to answer the post. The rest of the group had. Some were excited, maybe a little frightened, but all were willing to take up the challenge. Stevie knew it would have to stay a fantasy for her. She wasn’t that bad on the eyes or anything. Her hair was dirty blonde and hung to her shoulders with some natural wave. She didn’t do much with it, but then, she was always working. No time to mess with appearances when you worked seventy hours a week or more. Her mother thought she was a bit on the thin side, and Monica always teased her about not having an ass. She wasn’t horrible. But she still feared rejection.

When she dated, it was usually a disaster. Seemed most men really didn’t want a strong, independent woman, even if they said they did. Not too many alpha males in her life. Lots of scientists, lots of accountants, but not one alpha werewolf running around Blake and Howell Pharmaceuticals.

Pity.

It seemed unless she found said werewolf, she was going to be alone for a while.

Stevie had been envious when she’d read the other women’s adventures in Cougarland. She couldn’t believe they’d each managed to do it. They’d all found younger men and fulfilled their fantasies. She had met these women, spent time with them; they weren’t so different from her.

No. She’d fantasize about it, live vicariously through her friends, but she couldn’t see herself actually rising to the challenge.

Monica was giving her a hard time, trying to convince her that she could do it too. Her friend had tried several different arguments, none of which were going to change Stevie’s mind. She took another drink of beer and glanced over the latest comments. Rachel had found her younger man and gotten her fantasy cop all in one. Maybe he was a werewolf.

Her cell phone vibrated on the desk. It was Monica again. She ignored it. Monica had been increasingly pushing her to get out more. Her friend recently joked on the phone that when future archaeologists found Stevie’s body, they’d know she was a homebody and a bookworm. No tattoos, not one piercing, not even her ears. They’d dig her up and find her sitting, ergonomically correct, in her computer chair, mummified, mouse in one hand and a copy of Clinical Pharmacology Today in the other.

Stevie looked at her reflection in the window across the room. Her hair hung unstyled, her glasses were riding on the end of her nose. She was wearing one of the five black skirts in her closet and one of probably a dozen white blouses. Stevie Jones was a nerd. Ten years of intense college courses and a very stressful job had taken their toll.

She looked around her living room. Beige surrounded her, soothed her. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t do something a little outside her comfort zone. She could. She’d driven past the Sin on Skin tattoo parlor every day for seven years. She’d thought about some ink. Had even considered designs.

She could do that. No fear of rejection there.

* * * * *

Before she changed her mind, Stevie was pulling into Sin on Skin’s tiny parking lot. The air was cool as she stepped out of the car. A guy was sitting on a bench at the far side of the building, reading something from his cell phone. He nodded, barely looking up as she walked past him and through the door.

The tattoo would make Monica happy and fulfill the requirement of “getting out of the box” or whatever HR nonsense she was always pushing around the office.

“Hi. What can I do for you?”

Stevie headed over to a Goth-looking young girl with blond, pink and black hair, standing behind a glass case filled with jewelry for various piercings.

“Hey.” Stevie glanced over the case. Some of the jewelry was so unusual she couldn’t even imagine what had to be pierced to accommodate it. She shook her head. “I’d like to get a tattoo.”

The girl had too many lip piercings for Stevie to count. “Do you have an appointment?”

Stevie looked around the reception area. Two empty couches sat in front of a huge TV playing some sort of skateboarding competition. The far wall had shelves and a table with large, open albums of the artists’ work to help those undecided on designs. Not a soul besides her in the room.

“Do I need one right now?”

“Nah. Just wanted to know if you had someone already working on a design or something.”

“Ah. Nope. Walk-ins welcome?”

The girl didn’t even smile at the reference. “Um. Usually on a Friday night that would be a no, but you’re way early. Let me see if Errol can do you.”

Stevie glanced at her watch. Seven. Seven on a Friday night was way early to this crowd. She was getting old. Stevie paced over and flipped open the closest album on the table. The girl walked to the front and stuck her head out the door.

“Errol. I got a walk-in and no one’s here yet. You want to take it or should I have her come back?”

There was more to the conversation that Stevie couldn’t make out. She paged through the album. The work was fantastic. This artist used an incredible amount of detail and shadow to make the tattoos amazingly realistic.

“He’ll be right with you.” The girl still didn’t smile. “If you need a soda or something, let me know. I’m Angel.”

This girl was as far from an angel as one could get. Dressed in a short schoolgirl skirt and half-unbuttoned shirt, she sauntered away on extraordinarily high heels. Stevie would have considered it a Halloween costume, but this was a regular Friday night. “Thanks. I’m okay right now.”

“That’s Errol’s book. Your lucky day. He’s gonna do you.”

Stevie barked out a small laugh. “I wish somebody would,” she murmured. The girl gave her an unamused look over a clipboard.

“His stuff is beautiful.” Stevie changed the subject, tapping her finger on a pencil drawing in one of the plastic sheet protectors. It was a wolf. Nothing much in particular stood out in the design. The artistry was what made it so incredible. The pencil lines looked more like brush strokes. The shading and the detail made the wolf appear alive on the page.

“Did that for a dude who never showed up to have it inked.” The deep voice startled her. She hadn’t heard him walk in. Stevie looked up. “Happens sometimes. I liked it.”

“Errol, this is…what’s your name, sweetie?” Angel asked as she snapped a clip over some papers on the tattered-looking clipboard. She pushed the board into Stevie’s hands.

The guy who had been sitting out front stood before her. Stevie boldly eyed him from head to toe before realizing what she was doing. If he was doing her, she was a happy, happy lady. He gave her a knowing grin. They stood looking eye to eye for a moment.

Angel tapped the pen on the clipboard to bring Stevie’s attention away from the artist and back to the task at hand. “I need you to fill this out. All of it. Sign the bottom of the second page. Have you had any alcohol today?”

“Um. No. I haven’t.” Stevie blushed. She’d been caught looking at him by the freaky girl.

Errol turned back to the album. “It’s my policy not to ink anyone who’s been drinking. I don’t like clients with regrets in the morning.”

Oh. Good. After that comment about somebody “doing her”, Stevie assumed the overdone schoolgirl thought she was drunk. And then she’d given Errol such a bold once-over…

This guy was hot. Stevie knew she couldn’t have been the first client to ogle him, but she hated that she’d been so obvious. Angel had to distract her—again—to get them all back on track. Embarrassed, she scribbled her name on the release forms.

Errol took the clipboard. “What do you want…” He looked down at the paper. “Stevie?”

Stevie inwardly laughed. His clean-shaven head, his slightly muscled arms and those dark, brooding eyes were what she wanted. After this week and all the talk on the blog, she wanted to be able to be like the other cougar women. She wanted to feel confident enough to convince this younger guy to let her have her way with him. She wanted to see just how much of his body was inked.

“An Ankh symbol,” was the answer she managed to give aloud.

“This way.” He started walking down a hallway covered in pictures of happy clients showing off their new tats. “The Egyptian symbol for eternal life. Nice.” He turned down another hallway and pushed open the door to the last room. “My lair.” He held the door for her.

As she walked past, she could smell his cologne, spicy and somewhat strong. It was as appealing as his full lips. Oh God. She was in trouble.

“What style are you thinking for the Ankh? Gothic? Celtic? Do you want ornamentation around it of any kind? Is there something in particular you’re trying to express?”

The room held a chair that looked like it belonged in a dentist’s office and a couple of stools. Like in the hallway, the walls were covered with more pictures of clients, a few random cartoons and other memorabilia. There were photos of Errol with friends or maybe family, she assumed, and an autographed photo with a couple of the Carolina Panther football players. He gathered up some papers, sat on a wheeled chair then pulled himself up to the drafting table in the corner.

“I think I want it fairly stark. Black and grays, like that wolf, and I’d like the cross to look like carved stone. Maybe have an aged, chipped look to it.” He was drawing as she spoke. “In the loop at the top of the cross, I want a jewel.”

“That black ink too? Some color would totally make that pop. It wouldn’t need much.”

Stevie titled her head. “I didn’t think of that. I’m a little afraid of the color being too much on my skin.” She felt a little embarrassed by her complete lack of a tan.

“Some emerald on that gorgeous, creamy skin would be hot.” He didn’t look up from the paper. Stevie felt herself blush.

“Where’s it going and what size were you thinking?”

Wow. She was feeling like a schoolgirl herself. “Um. My hip.” She put her hand on the top of her right butt cheek. “About an inch and a half tall.”

“Hmm.” He scribbled a little more. “I think you’ll be happier if we go a little larger. Is there some purpose for the artwork, or statement you’re trying to make? Anything that I can add in the details that will personalize it for you?”

She presumed most people were happy to tell him why they wanted a particular tat. She, on the other hand, was not ready to tell this hunky guy that she wanted to mark her membership in an exclusive club of sex-starved older women on a quest to find younger men. Well, that, and she’d always wanted one, and the Ankh was the best thing she’d thought of in a long time. She loved the symbol the publisher used, and it really would make a cool-looking design.

“Not really.”

“Uh huh. It’s okay to have personal reasons for your ink, baby. We all have them. But if you open up to me, I can make your experience so much better.”

She’d bet he could. She’d have to spend the weekend looking up pictures of hot guys with tattoos so she could post one on the blog.

Errol continued to scribble as she sat on a stool. He reached over and started a boom box that housed his iPod. Not surprisingly, Stevie didn’t recognize the band, but she did like the music. It reminded her of The Who in their early days.

“How’s something like this?”

He handed her the translucent tracing paper. Stevie couldn’t believe the detail for the short amount of time he had spent on the drawing.

He stood close to her so he could look over her shoulder as he spoke. “Of course, on you, it’ll be much more intricate. But is the design what you’re thinking?” Stevie inhaled his scent again. She could feel the heat of his body.

She thought of Monica and could hear her friend now. “You mean you were that close to a sexy younger man and you didn’t even try? Come on, Stevie.” She forced her concentration back to the design to take her mind off the man.

The Ankh was perfect. It had a three-dimensional feel that made it look like an ancient stone relic. He had included some wear around the bottom of the cross and a chip in one of the arms. In the loop that made the top of the cross was a gemstone with beams of light emitting both in front of the cross design and behind. Some vines wove from behind the base of the cross and reached out to the sides, giving the design more weight and depth than the Ankh would have held on its own.

“It’s perfect.” Stevie held it to her hip and looked in the full-length mirror by the door. Even though it was almost twice the size she had intended, it fit.

“All right. You ready?”

Stevie hesitated. She hadn’t bothered to change after leaving work and still wore her black skirt, white shirt and scarf. What had she been thinking?

“Drop the skirt and let’s put it in the right spot.”

Stevie found herself a little excited at his command. She reached back and unzipped the skirt. She never wore hose anymore so at least she didn’t have to fight those. She shimmied the skirt down a bit. He knelt behind her and pulled on the fabric, bringing it down a little farther.

“Do you want it more on the hip or more on the cheek?”

She looked over her shoulder to the mirror. He was on his knees, his hands holding the paper over her hip. He looked at her through the mirror. Were his eyes heated too? She wanted to drop the skirt and hold that drawing over her pussy right at this moment. But that was silly. She was getting carried away. He was doing his job. He’d seen a ton of stuff in this room Stevie couldn’t even imagine. He was not getting excited over an older woman who thought she could replace a real adventure with a tamer trip to the Sin on Skin.

“A little lower.” He slid the drawing down a little more. “That’s good.” If he only knew just how good. His fingers on her skin were exciting her.

After he transferred the image to his satisfaction, he had her stretch out on her stomach on the dentist chair, which he had reclined to a completely flat position.

“I’m going to need far more of that ass to show.” He started pulling out supplies, leaving her with the dilemma of figuring out how not to completely expose herself.

Stevie couldn’t think of a better alternative. She slid the skirt down and pulled her blouse up to the middle of her back. Her ass was almost completely exposed. At least she was keen enough to be wearing a thong and not granny panties today. She pulled them down and out of his way too. She took a deep breath and crossed her arms under her chin.

Directly in front of her was a picture of a girl with elaborate butterfly tattoos that covered both ass cheeks. Earlier, she’d seen a photo of a woman with a tat right on her mound. The photos reminded her that Errol didn’t care about her ass anyway. Skin, any skin, was merely a canvas to him. Still, she couldn’t help feeling self-conscious about lying half-naked in front of a stranger. If she wasn’t attracted to the man it probably wouldn’t matter, but she was. She closed her eyes.

“Here we go.” The machine started up and he rubbed a thin layer of petroleum jelly over her skin. Stevie again tried to think clinically about the situation and not about how his hands were on her bare ass. She concentrated on the sound the machine was making. It reminded her of the high-pitched hum of the broken fluorescent light in the break room at work. He started with what felt like a couple of small lines and the sting of the needle wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d thought it was going to be.

Errol drew a few more lines. “How we doing, Stevie?”

Stevie opened her eyes and realized that she faced a mirror so he could see her face and converse with her as he worked. “I’m good.”

“I bet you are.” He winked and went back to work.

Chapter Two

Stevie blushed and looked off to the side. She couldn’t help imagining how she might approach him sexually. How had Elizabeth and Cam done it? Monica had come out and simply told Sam she was looking to find a younger man to fulfill her fantasies.

Stevie felt some pressure on her back and glanced around. “You can relax,” he said.

She hadn’t realized her entire body was clenched, muscles taut. Probably because she felt like her ass was shoved in his face as he concentrated on his work. Oh, she wanted him concentrating on her, but not that way. She distracted herself with the pictures on the wall. More friends and more tat work.

“What do you do for a living, Stevie? I don’t get a whole lot of women in suit skirts in here.”

This she could talk about; get her mind off being exposed. She started in on her work bio. As she talked, she glanced at the shelf a little off to the left.

The photo prominently displayed there did not help her situation at all.

It was a picture of Errol. He was leaning against a brick wall wearing snug leather pants and motorcycle boots. A red leather vest hung open so she could see all the tats that adorned his upper body. The large tribal tat on his left side twisted and swirled over his shoulder and across his chest and down his torso. On his right side, a series of large skulls and a serpent wrapped around his shoulder and a very pretty pin-up girl covered his right biceps. Stevie could gain fifty pounds and still not have the curves that chick had. She looked past the pin-up girl to see he wore a thick leather bracelet on his wrist and two silver rings on the other hand. His head was tilted down but his dark eyes were looking back up at her from the photo with smoldering-hot desire.

She’d been having a hard enough time with attraction before the photo. But her mouth watered at the best part of the picture—he held up two large leather floggers, one in each hand. The kind of floggers she’d read about in her sexy stories. The kind men used to spank and pleasure submissive girls.

Somehow she still managed to talk pharmaceutical project management even as her imagination ran wild. She could easily see herself tied and bending to his will. The mental images her mind quickly created of playing with Errol and those floggers made her squirm.

“Easy, baby,” Errol said and met her gaze in the mirror. “I don’t want to mess up this beautiful ass.” He glanced over to the picture and back to her and gave her a knowing look. She felt herself blush. “You play?”

“You mean with the…um. No.” She needed to get up. She laughingly thought her pussy would be dripping on him soon if she didn’t stop her brain from manufacturing fantasies of being tied down naked with his body hovering over hers.

Before she could change the subject back to pharmaceutical testing, he smiled and asked, “You want to though, don’t you?” Stevie’s mouth fell open and for the first time in years, a man had left her speechless. With a slight nod of his head, he started back to work on her skin. “I see it in your eyes.”

He looked back up at her in the mirror. “High-powered businesswomen like you are often in the most need of submission.”

Stevie didn’t comment. She looked back at that stupid woman with all the butterflies flying out of her ass. She’d read several books about Domination and submission and had downloaded a couple more that were ready to be read. She did want it. Had wanted something like that for years, but she was worried about what that said about her state of mind. Did it make her weak? She’d shied away from anything but the books because she was fearful of the impact something like that might have on her life.

More than anything else, though, was the fact that Stevie Jones would never be able to let go like that. How could she be a strong, independent woman if she wanted to be submissive to a man?

He kept working as he spoke, easily looking from the mirror to her naked ass. “In charge all day at the office. Wrapped up in heavy responsibility and stifled by a business suit.” He shook his head. “Your body is looking for release. Your mind needs the ability to let go. To let someone else take all the responsibility for your pleasure is a powerful draw.”

It sounded like ecstasy. But she didn’t think she could really do it. She couldn’t give up that much control over anything. The stories were fiction. This was real life. Errol was a real Dom and Stevie Jones was a science geek.

“Don’t shake your head, Stevie. You could explore that need, with some encouragement.” He moved to change his angle and his arm brushed the naked skin on her ass. She could feel the cool vinyl cushion under her belly and the wetness beneath her pussy. She was having a hard time not fidgeting to work off some of the sexual tension they’d built up in the little room. It was getting hot and her skin stung where he worked. She gripped the chair, trying to think of the pain instead of how his gloved hand felt as held her skin tight.

He leaned closer to her. “It’s not easy to submit, but then again, nothing worthwhile is easy.” His words were almost a whisper, making his voice even sexier. “Come to my club tonight. I’ll teach you how to unlock all the secrets your body holds.”

“Club?” Oh my God. Stevie was about to explode. She glanced at his face in the picture. It was so strong. So alpha.

“I have a club for play parties.”

Stevie rose on her elbows and turned her head to look at him. “You mean a dungeon?” Maybe he was a werewolf too.

“Something like that,” he grinned. “But don’t make it sound so creepy. You’d like it. It’s nice enough for a sophisticated woman like you. Hold still.”

She settled against the padded chair again, trying to imagine the playrooms she’d read about. They always sounded so exotic. She wanted to find out what one owned and operated by a tattoo artist looked like. Would it be a sparse dungeon or would he use his artistic abilities to make it sexy and sensual? She wanted to go. She really wanted to.

She gripped the edge of the chair again when he hit a spot that was a little more sensitive. He lifted the needle as his eyes met hers in the mirror. “Almost got the outline of the cross. You’re doing great, Stevie.” His fingers caressed the skin around the tender area. It was sweet that he was so conscious of her comfort, but she wasn’t particularly worried about the pain.

Good God. Her arousal at the thought of submitting to Errol had almost made her forget she was getting a tattoo.

Why was she getting a tattoo again? Oh yeah. To overcome some fear of going out and making fantasies come true. Now here she was, face-to-face with that very fantasy. The rest of the girls had done it. They’d all stepped up and enjoyed their Cougar Challenge experience. Why couldn’t she? Why not go for it?

Stevie gave him a little sexy smile in the mirror. “How old are you?”

He was adjusting something with the machine. “Thirty-two.” He looked back to her, an eyebrow raised in question.

“Older than that,” she said without embarrassment.

“Not giving it up, huh?” He smiled and began working again. “You can’t be far off my age. Your skin is awesome.”

Stevie’s mind was racing faster than her blood pressure. She couldn’t stop thinking about Errol’s playroom. About him. She kept glancing at the photograph while Errol worked away, not saying anything further that wasn’t necessary to the tattooing process. She wanted to ask him a thousand questions. She wanted to know what submission was like in real life. Maybe the truth would scare her away from the things she was now considering. Putting herself in the position of submissive was easy when there were only her fantasies and a good book.

Stevie’s sex life had been incredibly boring thus far. Her husband had been one of the lab geeks she met in graduate school. His idea of sex had been as hot as a yearly physical and included about that much contact. She’d always been the one to initiate anything. He would have rather been in the lab than the bed any day. The marriage ended over diverging career paths before she’d ever mentioned any of her desires or fantasies to her ex. She’d never mentioned them to anyone.

She’d pretty much written off sex as no big deal, all hype and no dividend. It wasn’t until Monica managed to nag her enough to read one of the erotic novels that she’d even felt excited about what sex could be. Secretly, she’d read well over a dozen of them in the last few months. The books had managed to bring all her unlabeled desires to the surface.

Now her body and her brain were having a major disconnect. Her body wanted. All the time. She remembered some statistics about men thinking of sex every seven minutes. She was close to breaking that average. Hell, these days she masturbated more than most men. Her body was alive again after years of feeling that sex just wasn’t worth the effort. Her body wanted her to play along with the Cougar Challenge and find someone who could fulfill the fantasies those sexy novels had reignited.

Her brain was a little more skeptical. Her brain knew that real life often let down hope and left expectations unfulfilled. She felt the want between her legs and wished it were otherwise. She would let him finish, go back to her life and be happy with the tattoo. That, she was sure, wouldn’t be a disappointment. “It’s all fantasy in those books anyway,” she mumbled.

He stopped working. “Books about fantasies? Sounds good.”

“Did I say that out loud?” She lifted her head and let it fall back against her arm. “I’m as much a dork as Monica accused me of being.”

He started working again. “You’ve read BDSM books, huh?” His hand wiped away some extra ink. It was slow and deliberate, making Stevie think he was stroking rather than simply cleaning his work surface. God. Her imagination was getting away with her tonight. She needed a drink.

“Not really about BDSM. More like fiction that had it in there.” She couldn’t believe she was admitting it. “The content is probably absurdly inaccurate. You know romance…” She trailed off with a waving hand, hoping he’d drop the subject.

“Really? I’ve read a romance novel that got it pretty good. Submission is a little different for everyone. So is Dominance,” he explained very nonchalantly. “What was it you found appealing, Stevie?” He didn’t look up from the tat.

She hesitated to answer—but then figured if she answered his questions, maybe he’d answer a few for her. If she treated the subject clinically, took herself out of the fantasy, it could be an interesting conversation. Maybe she’d learn something that would calm her desire. “I think it’s as you said. Strong women often have a hard time finding someone who’s as strong as they are. The sexy werewolves in the stories are hard to come by in real life. So when women do find an alpha wolf, it’s freeing to let go and not be responsible for the sexual aspects of the relationship.”

“There are people who live their entire lives in that kind of Dom/sub relationship,” Errol explained. “Not only as part of sexual expression. For some, the power exchange is 24/7. Food, clothes, jobs; the Dominant in the relationship makes all the decisions. The subs aren’t responsible for any aspect of their own lives.”

Stevie turned again to look directly at him. “Really?” She couldn’t imagine that. “Not very sexy at all if you ask me.”

He chuckled. “What you’ve read about is what some of us call a bedroom sub.”

“Interesting. The stories I’ve read did include limits and safety issues, but nothing as extreme as turning an entire life over to a Dom.” She relaxed, rested her chin on her arms again and then wondered…

“Do you have a sub like that? For whom you make all the decisions?”

“‘For whom’?” He chuckled again. “First, not all subs are women.” Stevie knew that but didn’t interrupt him. “And no. I don’t. I like to play, but I don’t have a sub who’s mine, or what we called ‘collared’, right now.”

It was turning out to be an interesting conversation. “What’s the dungeon like, Alpha Werewolf?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, closet sub?” He looked up at her. “You get turned on by the thought of a sexy, strong werewolf tying you up and having his way with you?”

Stevie looked away. Oh yeah. She did. She’d thought she could keep the conversation clinical. He was making that very hard. “I’m just trying to figure out if the books are accurate at all.” If the words coming out of her mouth didn’t ring true to her, she was sure Errol wasn’t buying them.

“Tell you what. For research purposes, I’ll run down a typical list of things one would ask a potential sub about limits. You tell me what yours are, from what you’ve read, and I’ll tell you if your little books come from fantasy or reality.”

“That’s not necessary.”

Her hip stung a bit as he wiped away extra ink. She wanted to know and then again, she didn’t. She liked this new fantasy of playing with Errol. She could use it, blog about it and masturbate to it. If he told her she wasn’t up to snuff to be a sub, she’d be disappointed.

“No, but it could be fun. For example—have you ever been spanked, Stevie? Has anyone reddened this ass before?”

She felt the hitch in her own voice when she answered. “No.”

“Been tied up?” She shook her head. “Blindfolded?” Again she shook her head. She was beginning to feel embarrassed by her lack of playful experiences.

He turned to the machine and began changing out some piece of his equipment. His back was to her when the next words came out of his mouth. “Ever had anal sex?”

She didn’t answer.

“Have you ever touched yourself there?”

She had after reading one of the books and was surprised at how much she’d enjoyed the sensation. She still didn’t answer.

“So, some anal play would be permissible, but you’re not ready for actual anal penetration?”

Stevie laughed. Now he was the one being clinical.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He turned back to her. “How about public play? Was there anything about that in your books?”

She nodded. “Yes, there was.”

He again stroked her. “You know, if you make me drag all this out, this tat is going to be huge. If you need to, close your eyes and let the answers just come out. They’re words at this point, Stevie. They only power they have is the power to excite you right this minute. You’re already there, so have some fun with it. I promise not to do anything but ink you.”

She made eye contact with him again. His gaze was steady, his expression serious. He wanted her to trust him. For a second, she thought he might be genuinely interested in what her needs would be if they played.

It couldn’t be. She was a decade older than him and surely with all his connections at the club, he would never be interested in a science geek. He would more likely be playing with someone like Angel. Stevie brought herself back to the conversation. He was teasing her to pass the time as he worked. That’s all. She could enjoy it as well. She nodded.

He worked for a moment before asking another question. “Do you like the idea of being in a playroom, of being watched or playing with more than one person?”

She closed her eyes and took in a fortifying breath. “Yes. The idea of it.” But the actuality of being that bold was beyond her. “I’m reasonably sure I couldn’t do it though.”

“Why not? In your own fantasies, are the characters all men or both men and women?”

“In the fantasies, men and women.” But they were just that—fantasies. Even so, she was getting incredibly hot saying it out loud. She’d never voiced anything about her sexual desires before.

He patted her lower back. “Where do you think your pain threshold would be? High, low, somewhere in between?” He pinched her bare thigh and left his hand there.

The slick, smooth feel of the glove added to the mental images of him dancing through her head. Was this guy for real?

She laughed again. She was happy he’d pinched her. Now she knew she wasn’t dreaming. At this moment, if she had the inclination, she could play with a sexy, young alpha werewolf. But she was getting the idea that maybe she wasn’t ready for the wolf. “Probably the lowest.”

“You’ll be surprised.” He rubbed that spot again.

It sounded as if the wolf was ready for her.

Chapter Three

Stevie threw the gym bag in her car and hopped in. She didn’t look back at her condo, she didn’t hesitate and she wasn’t changing her mind. Nope. She was going. No reservations. Errol had extended the formal invitation when he finished the tattoo and the teasing conversation about her limits and she’d accepted. A quick trip to the house to clean up and get some clothes and she was on her way.

She glanced at the navigation system as the female voice instructed her to make the next left. She let out a nervous giggle. That would be the first of many instructions she’d receive in the next few hours and probably the easiest to follow.

Her mind was moving faster than the car. Being the scientist, she wanted to understand why she had decided now was the time to try this. Was it the blog? Had she spent too much time living vicariously though her friends? She didn’t think so because until today, she was quite certain this would remain fantasy.

But here she was, driving to Errol’s club.

Errol. She’d been attracted to him from the moment she saw him. He had been kind and teasing, and yet he could demand her attention with a look. Was she more attracted to him than she was letting herself believe? She found herself worrying if she would be good enough for him. Would he be interested in her beyond the playing?

She shook her head. She was just nervous over the situation, as she should be. She was about to pull onto the club’s street. He’d dubbed his tattoo parlor Sin on Skin and she felt as if her tat and her experience with him reflected the name. She shuddered at the name of the club.

Sin City.

The address belonged to the last of four businesses in a commercial office complex. She pulled her Volvo station wagon into a spot right at the door of a nondescript building. Gray brick sides and a single blacked-out glass entry door gave Stevie no clue what lay ahead. Stevie snickered to herself over the very vanilla, innocuous white letters that served as a sign for the club. The letters were only about two inches high and looked more like the lettering you would expect on an office inside a building, not a sign on a front door.

Sin City sat near an insurance agency and cat adoption center. Evidently Errol wanted nothing brash or showy to catch unwanted attention. There were no other cars in the parking lot this long after business hours on a Friday. She checked her watch as she got out of the car. Was she early? It was almost ten.

She heard the telltale sound of a door unlocking before it swung outward. Errol stood in the doorway. He didn’t look surprised that she’d shown up. He smiled and gestured for her to come inside.

Errol ushered her past the empty front office. “On a party night, someone would be here checking memberships. We’re members only.”

Stevie swallowed. She could smell that cologne again. He took her bag and she immediately wished he hadn’t; clinging to the handle had been comforting. She wasn’t exactly afraid, more like apprehensive and aroused over all the different sensations and emotions she was experiencing. At least she was feeling something.

Errol headed down a long hall. If he noticed her nervous condition, he didn’t comment. Stevie figured there wasn’t much she would do over the next few hours he wouldn’t notice and respond to.

“There are a few rules. Most everybody knows everybody else. We never talk about other members outside these walls and I will never pass any boundaries you set. You say when. Red. Yellow. Green. Just like stop lights. You clear on that?”

She nodded.

“In here, it’s Sir from now on.”

Dang. She knew that. Not that the fictional scenarios from her erotic stories were going to give her all the info she needed for the real experience, but she hoped some of it was close. Errol had promised she could leave at any moment, and he would stop at any time. He’d given her all his contact information and his driver’s license number, all of which she’d sent to Monica in an email. Monica wouldn’t see it until she got home from another wild date with her younger man, Sam—and judging by the stories Monica had shared on the blog, it’d be late tonight—but she’d have it.

Stevie wasn’t worried. She trusted her gut, and her gut had decided to trust Errol. Why, she wasn’t so sure. She liked the way he’d eased her into the earlier discussion. He was light and charming. He seemed to understand what she needed more than she did. She needed to know if she could let go. She needed to feel sexy. Hell, she needed to feel.

They entered a large lounge area with a couple of dark red suede sofas and a large-screen TV. All very modern. Bright abstract artwork adorned the walls.

“Did you bring the uniform I requested?”

Stevie nodded, her throat suddenly dry.

They followed a second short hallway to another door. Stepping through it, she saw what looked like a hotel suite. “This is my private area. You can change back here then we’ll talk. Wine or beer?”

Stevie didn’t really need to change. The uniform consisted of black high heels, thigh-high stockings and a black thong, so it was all under her clothes. She only needed to strip. “Wine.”

There was a bathroom, a large bed, and a sitting area with a credenza and another TV. She managed a few steps farther into the suite, stopping short of the bed. Errol followed behind her and over to the credenza where there was a couple wine bottles sitting on a black lacquer tray. The colors in the room were muted grays and blacks, with very masculine, boxy geometric designs coordinating the fabrics in the sitting area with the bed linens. Off to her right was another closed door.

Stevie let her skirt fall to the ground. She took a big breath and stepped out if it. Even knowing Errol was behind her and fully dressed, that didn’t seem so hard. After all, he’d already been rather intimate with her naked backside. It was removing the shirt and bra that was a bit more intimidating. Her fingers shook as she fumbled with the buttons. The shirt hit the floor. She twisted the front-clasping bra and unhooked it.

This was it. She was forty-four. He was thirty-two. She was skinny and very white. He was muscular and tan. If he rejected her after seeing her naked, she would die of embarrassment. She straightened her back. But worse, if she chickened out she would never forgive herself. She dropped the bra.

“This can come off now.” He peeled away the small bandage that covered her tattoo. “You told me your limits, but what do you want out of submission, Stevie?” His voice was close. She covered her small breasts with her hands and stood where she was, still facing the far wall. No mirror to use as a buffer here.

He reached around and offered her the drink. She took the glass and a quick gulp of the sweet wine. “I’m not sure how to answer that.”

“Well. Some subs want to be spanked—hit—hard. It’s about the pain. It’s about taking it for their master. But I don’t see you as the type. As a matter of fact, I don’t think the pain is what you’re all hot and bothered by at all. Is it?”

It wasn’t, but she wasn’t at all sure how Errol understood that with as little conversation as they had managed when setting up this meeting back at the tattoo parlor. They’d talked about her limits, but not her needs.

He whispered in her ear, “Tell me what you think you want. It’s been a long time since I’ve played with a newbie. I want to understand you.”

She was already wet. Standing open and vulnerable in nothing but heels and a thong, his presence behind her, looming, was sexy in itself. Stevie had found her alpha werewolf. “Why do you want to play with me?” She was glad she couldn’t see his face.

His breath was warm against her ear. “You’re a strong, intelligent woman, Stevie. Why wouldn’t I?” His hand ran gently down her left side. “A strong female who can submit is far more interesting than a mindless girl who throws herself under your flogger because she has no sense of herself. I don’t want a woman who needs me to form her completely. I want what every man wants—a beautiful, smart partner. I just want her to want to give.”

Stevie fidgeted with the glass, trying to understand the difference.

He ran a finger down her spine, tracing the outline of each bone. “Think of it this way—in your office, do you like working with people who challenge you and themselves, people who push the envelope and make things happen? Or the yes-men type who are predictable and wimpy?”

That she understood.

“So, what is it Stevie needs?”

She wasn’t sure what to say. Wasn’t sure how to verbalize it. She tried to think back to the characters in the stories and what had most appealed to her from their experiences. What had made her so hot?

“Honesty will get you exactly what you want. Maybe not exactly how you thought you wanted it, but the truth will help you.”

His voice made her want a lot of things. But how did she voice them without sounding like a slut? She took another drink

“I want to be completely sexual, with no hangs-up, no fears.” She looked at the floor. “No accountability for the success of the experience. I want to be the object of the experience. I want sex to feel like something other than a chore.”

“You want to be a slut?” He walked past her, not looking her over yet, no judgment in his voice. “You want your body to be the instrument of pleasure for others? Is it that simple? We can start there.”

She looked down again. He was right, of course. It wasn’t that simple, but he’d given her something to play with.

“Say it for me, Stevie. Tell me what you want.”

She took a deep breath. Yes. That was exactly what she wanted to be. “I want to be a slut.”

In no particular hurry, he turned to her. A wily smile came across his face. His eyes moved hungrily up her body, stopping at her chest. She held the glass in both hands so her arms were covering her breasts His glance darted to her eyes and he expectantly raised his eyebrows. It was an unspoken order. Stevie dropped her hands to her side.

“That’s my girl.”

The praise was for more than simply anticipating his demand, it was also for her appearance. His eyes were heated and his jaw tense. This young, hot man wasn’t looking at her as if she were old or skinny. It was clear Errol liked what he saw.

“Through the next door is the playroom. We’ll start with a little intro to submission for you, my executive slut. That’s what you want? To be played with and used and have no need to moralize or worry about internal inhibitions? For me to take the responsibility for you being a dirty girl?”

He pushed open the door to her right. She walked past him into the next room and he pointed to a small bench at the far end. “Walk to the bench. Bend over it and put your hands by the cuffs.”

Stevie was surprised at her lack of fear. The fact that he was fully clothed and standing there watching her as she walked away almost naked was so sexy. It made her feel sexy. She couldn’t remember ever feeling particularly sexy when she was naked.

The room was dim and larger than she’d anticipated. The walls were dark, with near life-sized photos of nude, highly tattooed men and women every six feet or so. A couple of long racks with lots of hooks holding the tools of Errol’s nighttime trade graced the walls on opposite sides of the room. Light flickered from artificial candles in sconces on the walls. The sensual lighting made her skin look warm and inviting.

She strutted without looking back, glancing at the unusual furnishings placed around the room. Some she recognized from her favorite erotic stories. There were three different benches for various spanking positions and in the far corner was a large St. Andrew’s Cross. She passed a tall metal cage and a swing that hung from the ceiling, and every piece of equipment had plenty of space around it. There were beanbag chairs and large wedge-shaped cushions scattered everywhere. She figured when this place was full, it could accommodate close to fifty people.

She stopped at the bench Errol had indicated. It was almost waist high and at least three feet in depth—to support her upper body, she guessed—with a kneeling platform. Like most of the equipment, soft black leather covered both the bench and the platform. Supple green-leather cuffs were attached to chains fastened to the edge of the bench farthest from her. Stevie bent forward. Her naked stomach shivered from the cold of the leather as she lowered her torso to rest her head on the bench, a couple inches from the cuffs. Her arms were bent, her hands next to the cuffs. Her legs had naturally spread to avoid the kneeling platform, her feet firmly planted on either side. Her ass was open and exposed and so was her pussy.

Music started playing in the background, but she still heard Errol’s approach from behind. “Now, tomorrow night,” he said as he moved in front of her and knelt so they would be eye to eye, “there’ll be a party here.”

He’d removed his shirt. Stevie looked over his muscled chest and could now see the entire tribal design. It covered his left shoulder and snaked across his chest, appearing alive and moving in the low lighting. She caught the smell of fresh soap. “This room will be full of players and voyeurs.” He buckled the first cuff on her small wrist and looked her over with hungry eyes. As he spoke, he ran his fingers down her free arm. The gentleness of his touch made her wonder if the books had been correct.

He got the second buckle latched and tested the chains with a little tug. “How are you, Stevie?” He looked her in the eye. The lengths of chain allowed her to reach far enough forward to touch the design on his shoulder as he knelt in front of her.

“I’m okay,” she said as she traced one of the designs. Okay was an understatement. She felt the leather of the cuffs on her wrists and it was as if, by fastening those simple restraints, Errol had set her free of all her hangs-ups. She didn’t care if her boobs were too small or if she was over forty. Laugh lines didn’t matter here. She didn’t care about budgeting initiatives or maintaining quality testing standards. She wanted his hands on her now.

He walked around to her side. “Red. Yellow. Green. You don’t say anything else unless I ask for something more specific.” His hand landed sharply on her ass. Not hard, but it had a sting. Stevie trembled.

“Yes Sir,” she replied as he rubbed the same spot to soothe. His fingers were coming very close to her pussy. She tried to raise her rear, to get them there, but she was on her toes already in the heels.

“I like the intimacy of bare-hand spanking. I like to feel the reaction of the skin under my hand, the warmth it creates.” She wiggled to get him to move again. “I see you do too.” He smacked again, a little farther down, getting thigh and ass. Stevie gripped the short chains the cuffs were attached to. Her entire body was alive at the moment.

Errol reached down and ran his fingers up the inside of her silk-covered thigh. “How we doing?”

“Green!” she gasped. The time spent in the tattoo parlor, the time spent driving home and back here had made her horny beyond belief.

He pulled the thong over her ass. She lifted one leg at a time so he could slip the panties off. His fingers lightly brushed her pussy.

“You have a very lovely kitty, my executive slut.” Two fingers slid into the folds, slipping around and easily finding her clit. “From your little books, you know the rule about asking permission to come, I presume?”

For a half second she regretted telling Errol about reading the books. Then again, giving him that secret was how he’d known of her interest. It was how he’d known she was aware of what she’d agreed to, how she was able to discuss her limitations before ever leaving the tattoo parlor. It was how she had managed to find herself tied down by this sexy man. “Yes.”

A harder slap landed on her thigh. The unexpected sting made her body rock forward and she lost her footing, stumbling to balance with her feet spread around the kneeling pad. She immediately corrected her mistake. “Yes Sir.”

“Lift your ass back up for me.” His fingers returned to her aching pussy and started to rub her clit, making it hard to comply. She situated her feet so her ass was high in the air. With his free hand, he pulled open a drawer on the side of the bench. He moved some things around and then placed a small vibrator, a tube of lube and a butt plug on the bench. He reached back in before tossing a couple condoms beside her as well.

The attention to her clit didn’t stop. She wanted to come so badly. “I need to come, Sir.”

His fingers stopped. “Huh. That didn’t sound much like asking permission, slut. It sounded like an executive order from some bossy blonde.” He leaned down, brushed her hair away from her ear and kissed her gently on the cheek. “Remember, Stevie, this is about you submitting to me. It is my responsibility to make all the decisions. You come or not…” He stood back up and picked up the butt plug from the table. “It’s up to me.” He rolled it across the small of her back.

He returned to fingering her clit. “Next time, I stop and leave you here.” She felt him pick up the small toy on her back. She’d had very little experience with ass play and had told him so in their “limits” conversation, but she’d said it was okay to try some. She hadn’t expected him to go there so soon.

He rubbed the soft toy in her juices, using it to tease her clit. Her thighs were starting to tremble with the need to come. She felt sweat forming on her belly where it rested on the leather bench. He dipped the butt plug into her pussy and twisted it around, pulling it out and rubbing it around the rim of her back hole, the unusual sensation making her pussy clench. Then he squeezed a generous amount of lube onto her ass, the cold liquid running down the folds of her pussy and onto her thigh.

Then he slid the plug into her ass. No easing, no teasing—he pushed it all the way home.

“Holy Toledo!” Stevie said and tightened her muscles to lessen the sensation. The burning in her ass intensified the yearning in her pussy.

He walked around in front of her. “Hold it in.” She nodded her head. Speaking wasn’t a good idea right this moment. Her body was on fire. He was standing directly in front of her with his jeans hanging loose on his hips. “Unbutton the jeans.”

Stevie struggled to reach him and work the buttons on his jeans. Had to be button-fly Levi’s. Even though she had a bit of length on the chains, she had to stretch until she managed the task. His head and chest were bare of hair, but there was a small trail of soft black hair that led down his abdomen. His cock was still hidden from view by the denim that lingered on his hips. The short chains were attached to the bench mere inches apart and even with the extra play in the chains, it wouldn’t allow her arms to open wide enough to push the jeans any farther down. But she tried getting a hand full of fabric and pulling at the denim anyway.

“Easy. You might catch something important there.” He pushed the jeans a little farther down. The head of a wolf tattoo peeked from his left hip. It was the one from his album. He’d said he liked it back at the parlor. Evidently he liked it a lot.

Looks like I found my alpha werewolf!

Chapter Four

“What do you want, slut? And tell me in the most vulgar vocabulary your higher-educated mind can manufacture.”

She looked up at him. Oh my. He wanted her to talk dirty. It’d been hard enough just to say “slut”. Now he wanted her to be vulgar.

“You’re blushing. You are the most interesting woman, Stevie.” He sweetly brushed her cheek with his fingers and wiggled his hips. His pants shifted a little bit lower. The wolf was showing some serious teeth. Her gaze followed the line of black hair that led down from his navel, teasing her. “Tell me.”

She wanted to see him, to touch him. “I want to, um. I want to see you naked.” The intense heat from her ass and pussy had made it all the way to her face. She felt the rush, and she hadn’t even said what she’d wanted to say. She wanted to let go. She wanted to be the slut.

“I’m sure you do. But that’s not what my little executive slut really wants, is it?” He dropped the pants. His cock sprang free. It was smooth and hung slightly to the left and he wasn’t even all the way hard. She wanted to get him there. “Tell me or we stop, Stevie. You’re mine while you’re here.” He reached over her, putting his cock right in her face as he nudged the plug.

She squirmed. “Sir.”

He wiggled the plug back and forth. “Tell me.” He rubbed his cock against her lips.

“I want to suck you,” she stammered. Why was this so hard? She was tied naked. He was wiggling a butt plug in her ass. What were a few naughty words at this point? He slapped her ass again, right over the plug.

“Last chance.” He stood, his cock now raging hard and right in front of her face. He reached to pull up his jeans.

Stevie looked away, every muscle in her body taut. She was breathing hard out of anxiousness. Had the music gotten louder? Until she’d been spread and tied and opened to him, she’d had no idea how deeply she’d been repressing her own sexual desires, her own needs. She wanted him. She wanted this.

“I want to suck your cock. I want it in my mouth while I have the plug in my ass. I want you to use me.” The words were freeing. Her body relaxed.

With no comment on her statement, he rubbed his cock against her lips. The reward was giving her what she wanted. She fought to take him into her mouth, but he teased her by pulling just out of her reach. The position was awkward. She heard herself let out a whimper.

He again rewarded her with his cock, only this time, he let her have it all. She took him into her mouth, letting him press to the back of her throat, and she didn’t care. When he eased back some, she hungrily licked and nibbled at his cock, enjoying the feel of his skin on her lips, the taste of him.

Errol moved and groaned. He held her head and fucked her face. “Suck it hard. That’s it, Stevie.” She looked up to see that his head was tilted back, eyes closed. “So good,” he murmured. Each command made her greedy. Greedy for his appreciation. He was enjoying her, appreciating her for the pleasure her body was giving him.

She slowed her efforts when she felt his hands fumbling with the chain on one of her cuffs. “Don’t stop until I tell you.” She went about her labor, taking a moment to lick around the base of his cock and trying to suck one of his balls into her mouth. The angle was hard, and she couldn’t manage it.

Her second hand came free from the chains but both still wore the cuffs. “Stand up.”

She pouted her regret. “Yes Sir.” As she stood, she realized her neck was stiff from the extended time in that position. He kicked off his boots and the jeans that had been in a sexy pile at his feet. Even if she hadn’t realized her neck was stiff, he had, and he rubbed her shoulders as he guided her to her right.

She found herself in front of a huge square frame with ropes strung from side to side and top to bottom at varying angles, making a web. Also something she recognized from the erotic novels. “You can drop the shoes if you need to.”

“Green,” she said without much thought. She wore those heels all day long, five days a week. She needed to come really badly, but her feet were fine.

“Good.” He clipped the cuffs to the ropes, slightly above her head but not fully extended. With the play of the ropes and the position of the clips, she could move her arms a little. “Spread your legs.” She complied with the order.

He put his finger on the plug and gave it a wiggle. The action sent a new wave of pleasure through her body. “I need to come. Please.”

He sauntered naked around the frame. “Well. That was almost a request and not an order, but not quite.” He walked to the wall and grabbed a red leather bag from a series of pegs that held floggers, riding crops and a few things she didn’t have a clue about. He reached for one of those mystery objects. It was a spanking device, she was sure. It looked like a bundle of switches. She fidgeted a bit.

“I think, Stevie, that you are very much enjoying yourself.” He walked toward her with a very sexy smile. He dropped the bundle of switches on the floor and hung the bag from a hook on the frame. He was still on the opposite side of the web, gazing at her front, which was completely exposed through the ropes. Oh boy, was she enjoying herself.

Her breasts were pushed through the web where she leaned against it and he bent his head, running his tongue around her nipple and sucking it. The warmth and the sight of him there was hot. Her little nipples tightened into beads and he twisted one. The slight pinch made her suck in her breath and she felt her body quiver.

“So responsive,” he praised.

To tease her, he took his time digging around in that red bag, mumbling to himself too softly for her to make anything out over the music. A set of nipple clamps and a blindfold were finally pulled from the bag. “We’re getting to the good part, Stevie. You ready to really be a slut for me?”

She had to swallow. If what they had already done wasn’t the good part, she wasn’t sure she’d survive the rest. She looked down to his still very erect cock.

She wanted the good part.

“Green.” She gripped the ropes and tried not to giggle in her excited state. He reached through the ropes and tossed the blindfold over her shoulder. She felt the toy in her ass with every slight movement of her body and watched as he closed a clamp on one of her nipples. Stevie whimpered again. The pressure on that tender tissue was overwhelming when added to the other sensations. She gripped the ropes tightly. After a second the pain settled into an additional sensual assault on her nervous system. Her ass, her pussy and now her nipple were all sending the same message to her brain. Come.

He walked around the frame and tied the blindfold around her eyes. The loss of vision was more like adding a sensation than taking one away. She tried to listen, to know what was coming next, to anticipate. “Sexy Stevie.” He ran one finger over her ass and down to her pussy. Stevie held her breath. ”You’re made for this. You give so well the first time out.”

She felt as if she was made for it. But she’d seen some of the severe whips and canes on the wall. Would she need to go that far to enjoy the experience? She didn’t like the thought of that so much.

He fingered her clit again. “You’ve been a very good slut so far. I’d love to show you off.” He leaned in close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek. “I think my little executive slut would like that too.” He licked her ear and let his breath tickle her. “I think you’d love to have an audience as you let yourself be used.”

His words tickled her imagination. She knew she wasn’t ready for that kind of play, but it made her feel good to hear his praise. Stevie shivered at the mental image created as his breath brushed her ears and his finger flicked her clit. The idea of being watched was much more appealing than the whips. She imagined people there now, watching her, imagined leaning over with her pussy exposed and her ass plugged.

“Maybe you want to be the party toy for a night, open and exposed to whomever I let play with you.”

She could take no more. “May I come?”

“Already?” He moved away from her ear so he could play with the plug again and wiggle it some more. “Hold it for me.”

She was dancing on her toes, squeezing all her muscles, working not to come. She felt his fingers leave her and she gasped at the loss of sensation. The nipple clamp came off and the surge of pain that followed from the blood returning to her flesh added yet another type of intense heat she’d never experienced. “Please!” She knew she sounded desperate, but she was. “Please, Sir.”

“Stick your ass high and spread those legs as far as you can.” Stevie almost collapsed when she felt him kneel behind her. He spread her cheeks and pulled her pussy to his lips. Stevie tried to hold it. She did. She wanted it to be his decision, but she couldn’t.

“Errol!”

The orgasm started. She felt the muscles of her pussy tighten and a wave rush through her. He pulled out the plug, adding what felt like an additional orgasm to the experience. She gripped the ropes as tight as she could to hold herself up so he could keep licking her. She screamed at the pleasure of the mix of sensations. She couldn’t see anything. All she could do was feel. And she felt everything in that stinging nipple, in her ass and in her pussy all at the same time. She felt the coarseness of the ropes in her hands, her weight pressing on the balls of her feet. Her pulse seemed to thump with the beat of the music.

Stevie stood trembling, holding the ropes for support, breath ragged.

Errol tsked at her from behind. “Oh, my little executive slut, you came without permission.” She strained to turn, to see him, but the blindfold was still in place. She felt him lean over her and unclip the cuffs. “Back to the spanking table with you. Lose the shoes.” She kicked them off and he led her across the room by the arm. She stumbled over the kneeling bench. “Kneel this time.”

Her knees found the top of the kneeling platform. She let her upper body fall over the bench, wrists at the edge, ready to be fastened. Errol brushed and lightly tapped her upper thighs with the bundle of switches. Maybe they were bamboo, she had no clue, but the sound of them hitting her skin reminded her of a snare drum. She shuddered, not sure if it was from fear he would overdo it or the remaining excitement from an incredible orgasm.

“This is one of my favorite little toys, Stevie. Not to worry. It’s not as aggressive as it seems.”

Errol tapped lightly up and down her thighs with the unusual flogger. No pain, just a new sensation added to her blindfolded world. Then the raining down of the switches intensified, as if Errol were warming up to something stronger. As he got closer to her exposed pussy, she found herself leaning toward it, tilting her hips to expose herself even more.

A sudden change in sensation shocked her when he used his hand and slapped her pussy. Several fast slaps made her push her knees off the bench to stand. She burned. She throbbed. It felt as if electricity flowed from her clit to her brain.

“Down.” His order was stern.

She kneeled again, reaching for the chains she knew were there. He may not have bound her, but she needed something to grasp, something to ground her in reality. He slapped her pussy once again. The shock of the sting on her lips was lessened but she had the thrill of not knowing when he’d slap her again—and she didn’t care.

He rubbed her clit. Stevie pushed against his hand, wanting him inside her. Wanting to be fucked, if only by his fingers.

“You want something?” he asked as he dipped two fingers inside her wet folds. “You ready to be fucked?”

“Yes Sir,” she said with enthusiasm.

He pulled his fingers away. “I’m not ready yet, Stevie. I want to play with your lovely body a little more. I have a few more things I want to do to that pussy.”

Stevie groaned aloud. No way could she take much more of this without coming again. “I still have to show you what happens to little executive sluts who come without permission.”

The bamboo landed hard on her ass. She jumped and yelped. That one was not a little playful slap. He’d stung her good. She felt herself blush—she was bent over, asking for whatever he dished out. She was being a slut. And she was so turned on by the freedom of not caring about anything, by only feeling, by not being responsible for his pleasure or her own.

Again he swung and let the switches bite her tender skin, this time on the backs of her thighs. Immediately, Errol rubbed the offended areas to soothe her burning skin. The opposing sensations of the sting and the gentle caress were exaggerated by the inability to see him or the room or anticipate what his next action might be.

“Bad little sluts get punished, Stevie,” his teasing voice said close to her ear. His warm body was leaning over her, his chest against her back. “But you didn’t try to avoid the pain, you didn’t let go of the chains even though you could. Very nice. You still okay?”

Stevie knew he had stayed well within her limits. It was her first real test. She’d done it. She loved the tone of his voice as he praised her. She loved the feeling of being the object of his attentions. She felt wanted and cared for. He’d done all those things for her—she hoped this was doing something for him as well. “Green.”

“The pain level, is it at your limit?”

She nodded her head in agreement. Errol moved away from her. “You are a very good little slut. Your ass is the prettiest shade of pink. It makes the emerald in the Ankh stand out even more.” She heard the distinctive hum of a vibrator and wiggled in fear. If he used that, she’d come again. She already wanted to.

She felt the slow vibration on her inner thigh and stilled. His other hand started to caress the skin around her still-sensitive ass. The vibrator was making small circles on the tender, sensitive skin of her upper thigh, moving closer to her pussy. The fingers of his other hand were making the same circles, inching closer to her ass. She gripped the chains harder.

The sensation, the anticipation, the darkness was memorizing. It made her shift her weight, tilt her hips and push her pussy closer to the sensation, wanting.

“I think you should come play with us tomorrow, Stevie.” He touched the vibrator to her clit.

“Please, Sir! May I come?” The thought of being in this position with others watching jacked up her need for release. She wanted it now.

“Tomorrow? Of course you can. Right now? No.” Two slippery fingers pressed into her ass.

“Oh! Please,” she pleaded, raising her head but not pulling away from the ecstasy her body was experiencing.

“My friend Eva and her sub are my special guests tomorrow night, Stevie. We could make you the play toy for the night. Spread you out as the buffet. You could submit to the three of us. Imagine the sensations, the knowledge that people are watching you.”

Her currently hyped-up imagination took no time to create an image of three people using her body for pleasure. That mental image added to the vibration on her sensitive clit and the sensation of his fingers stretching her tender opening. “Please, Sir!”

“Finally. Yes, Stevie. Come.” He pulled his fingers away from her ass and added pressure to the vibrator, rubbing it across her clit.

At his command, her muscles tensed further and she let the sensations assaulting her body do their magic. She came, whimpering and wanting.

She lay panting across the bench when she heard the telltale sound of a ripping condom package. “Tell me what you want, slut. Tell me.” A few seconds later, his hands grasped her hips. She felt his cock slide between her thighs, nudging to gain entry.

“Oh God! Fuck me. Fuck me, please.”

He pressed in a little bit at a time. The teasing wasn’t going to stop with his penetration. Stevie was amazed at his self-control. He’d held back through everything, managing his needs as well as hers. She remembered the sultry look in his eyes in that photo at Sin on Skin. She imagined him looking at her like that now as he stood behind her, looking down on his artwork.

He pulled back and then fucked her hard. No longer holding back his needs. He pounded, grunting at his pleasure. Stevie tried to match him, to push back and return his fervor, but he wanted control over that as well. Holding her hips so she couldn’t do anything but take, he dropped the pace to a slow, grinding, circular rhythm. She felt every bit of him as he moved inside her. His cock was as fabulous as she had imagined it would be when she’d briefly sampled it with her lips.

After all the teasing and tormenting, this slow, sensual fuck was perfect. She dropped the chains and gripped the leather at the edge of the bench to try to keep herself from moving. She felt his shaft as it slid in and out of her very sensitive pussy. She was going to come a third time.

“Sir…”

“Yes, Stevie. Come, baby.” He ground even harder. She could feel his thighs as they rubbed the inside of hers. She tried to hold off a little bit, but she burst again.

“Errol!”

He came when she did, growling when her muscles tightened around his cock. He slid in and out slowly a few more times after he came.

Stevie was exhausted. Errol helped her to stand and removed the blindfold.

“Hi.” His smile made him look boyish.

“Hi.”

“You okay?” He walked her to the bedroom where she’d dropped her clothes and eased her onto the bed. He crawled in beside her and started to remove the cuffs.

“You were so sexy in there, Stevie.”

She smiled as he got the first cuff off. “Yeah, but I’m guessing that was small time compared to what you’re used to.” Since he owned the joint, she was sure he normally played far more hardcore than she would ever be able to do.

“It’s not about extremes. Not always. Not for everyone. For me…I want a strong woman I can have a life with who happens to be submissive in nature. I like you. I like that you’re here and participating so freely with someone you just met. They say just showing up is eighty percent of life. And sexy Stevie, you showed up in a big way today.” He smiled gently, his fingers caressing her face.

She tried to snuggle up to him and felt the burn of her new tattoo. He’d managed to brush it a bit in all the excitement. “I think you scratched my tattoo at the end there. It stings a little.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “Is that all that stings?”

“What else would sting?” She laughed, unable to keep a straight face. He chuckled with her. Man, he was cute when he smiled.

He squeezed her ass. “I’ll have to make sure you don’t ask that question next time.”

* * * * *

“Do you actually live here?” She was heading to the bathroom for a shower. The building may have been on an office park, but he had created a comfortable space that resembled a studio apartment or luxe hotel suite.

“Nah. I like to stay here when the parties run late. It’s a perk of owning the place. But a full apartment was against the zoning rules. No kitchen.” He was buttoning up his shirt, getting ready to run out and get them some food from the bar and grill down the street.

“The complex management doesn’t mind the parties?”

“I own all the buildings. Bought the land cheap a few years back and went in with a developer to build. I’ve got a couple office parks across the north side of the city,” he said, to her surprise. He picked up his keys and threw her a black T-shirt and a wink. “I’ll be right back.”

Stevie took a warm shower, careful of the new tattoo. She thought back over all the emotions she had experienced with Errol. She wondered if, had she found out about this submission stuff earlier in her life, things would have been different. She’d never been very open in the bedroom. No one had known what she needed, not even her. She’d primarily been left unfulfilled by her sexual relationships and so had her lovers.

She’d enjoyed the play with Errol and she wanted to do it again, but she wanted…more. Tonight had been an awakening, and she had the Cougar Challenge to thank. Monica would be so impressed. She now knew this is what they’d all needed, to be awakened, to believe that forty was not fatal, to know that sex could get better from here. And for Stevie, she was going to make sure the sex got much better.

Errol’s descriptions of party play came back to her, his teasing whispers about being a toy for his friends. She was aroused by the idea. She’d told him in their limits discussion that she’d not ever been with a woman. She’d never considered it. Though she’d also admitted to fantasizing about both men and women…

Right now, it was downright hot just to imagine. She wanted to try it. Wanted to experience all of it. She wanted this weekend to bust her skinny ass out of her self-imposed shell. She’d already made up her mind while she was hanging from the spider web.

When she stepped from the bathroom, Errol was arranging food on a coffee table. She was wearing his shirt and had a towel wrapped around her hair. She felt remarkably alive and awake. She didn’t even worry about having no makeup on.

“He was shutting down but I talked him into cold sandwiches. I got us roast beef and turkey. You pick.” He handed her a cold bottle of water.

The roast beef was a monstrosity and overflowing with mushrooms, onions and peppers. The much smaller turkey sandwich had only lettuce and tomato. “I’m guessing you like the hot stuff.” She laughed as she plopped down on the red suede loveseat. “I’ll take the turkey.”

“You noticed that, huh?”

Oh yes, she had. “About tomorrow night…” She left the statement hanging, not exactly sure what she wanted to ask first.

“Tomorrow night is a real party, baby. I don’t think you know what that means. I was teasing you in there, trying to get your imagination involved. I wanted you thinking even further out of the box than you were feeling.” He took a huge bite of his sandwich.

She swallowed her much smaller taste. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she’d started eating. “Exactly.” Stevie dabbed her chin with a napkin. “I knew that—which is why now, after thinking it through, I want to do it.” She wanted it for herself and she wanted to show Errol that she could do more than just “show up”.

He leaned forward and caressed her knee. “Have you really thought it through? Have you considered that someone from that executive cabinet where you work might be here? Or even better—what if Eva is a coworker? Have you thought about that?”

Stevie almost spit out the tomato she was chewing in laughter. Only three women worked for her. None would be here.

“Don’t be so quick to laugh, Stevie. You’re here, and I bet none of your employees could imagine that. We’ve had what I call when-worlds-collide moments at parties, and it ain’t pretty.”

“So how does everyone else handle that?”

“If someone really cares, they wear a mask. But usually you start with smaller parties and a select group. Tomorrow’s an open free-for-all. There’ll be people at every piece of equipment and plenty of voyeurs hanging around to watch or join in.” He watched her carefully, intensely, as he took another bite.

Stevie admired the muscles in his arm move as he tried to remove some stray crumbs from the sofa. She mulled over the ramifications of being found out as a submissive in a sex club. He was right. It was a serious consideration.

“So. I wear a mask. I want to play with you and your friends, Errol. Please?” She propped her hand on her hips to show her confidence and waited for a response.

He let out a sigh, his slight smile amused. “It’s more than that. Eva may not want to play with a newbie. You’re not exactly what she would consider a trained submissive.”

She snuggled up to Errol, loving the solid feel of his body next to hers. She ran her fingers along the tribal tattoo on his shoulder, outlining the curves and swirls. “You could talk to her. I bet she’ll do it if you ask her.”

He looked up to the ceiling and grinned. “You’re not a very good sub, Stevie.”

She pouted, feeling very amused at how sexy and womanly she felt at the moment. Would this feel the same with anyone else? She doubted it. “Why not? I asked. I didn’t give you an order.”

He laughed. “Not exactly.”

She pouted again and ran her hand across his thigh, down over his cock and gave a playful squeeze to his balls. “Please, Sir. May I play with your friends tomorrow night?”

Chapter Five

“You asked for it. You ready for this?”

“We’ll see.” Stevie was more nervous than she had anticipated.

He popped her on her naked ass. “No ‘we’ll sees’ here, baby. Your actions tonight represent my reputation. Eva may have agreed to your limits, but she’ll play much differently than me. I’m in voyeur mode tonight. I’ll be along for the pleasure of watching you get fucked and teased.”

Stevie was naked, barefoot and already aroused. It was part of the conditions Eva had set. The rest of which Errol wouldn’t tell her. He was in black leather pants and a retro rock T-shirt. His wristbands, rings and tats made him look tough and unforgiving. For all she knew, around others, that was exactly how he acted.

He moved in closer, face-to-face. He looked a little concerned. “You still have your red, yellow, green. Okay?” Stevie nodded her understanding. “Always stand with your feet slightly spread and your eyes down when you’re not following a specific order. Make your body available to her.” Stevie took the position he described. “I’ve done everything I can to make sure this will be a good night for you. What happens now, what you take from it, is up to you.”

Stevie wondered exactly how it was up to her when she would essentially be the sex toy for a woman she’d never met. She wiggled her toes on the carpet and took a deep breath. If she wanted out, now would be the last time to change her mind. She looked at the closed door in front of her. In a few minutes, Domme Eva and her sub, Bill, would come though it. Other than that, Stevie had no idea what was going to happen this evening. She didn’t make a single plan. No one had conferred with her on the details. She’d made no decisions. The only thing she needed to do was show up.

There was a tap at the door. It opened without Errol extending an invitation—and Eva walked in.

Stevie couldn’t help but look up she came though the door. Eva wore a super-short black leather skirt with a matching corset that cinched in her waist with several shiny buckles. Her ample breasts threatened to spill over the top. She was a tall, curvy woman and the thigh-high platform leather boots exaggerated the look. Her face was round and very attractive. Her makeup was dark and dramatic. Eva matched the image Stevie had in her head and the stereotypes she’d seen in the media.

Bill walked in behind her. Stevie had imagined a thin, frail man who Eva would dominate and keep as a slave. Instead, Bill was as likely to have his picture posted on the Tempt the Cougar blog as Errol. Maybe more. He was a few inches shorter than Errol, but thickly muscled. His light brown hair was a bit long and shaggy. He had to be much younger than Errol, by the look of him.

Stevie glanced back to Eva. She was probably in her early thirties.

Wow. Stevie was about to have the ultimate cougar experience. She looked back to the floor when she realized that she was making eye contact with Eva.

Eva walked over to her. “She’s prettier than I expected.” She paraded around Stevie. Bill had stopped right in front her and Stevie felt the heated rush of blood going to her cheeks. She was standing naked in front of two total strangers and a man she met only the day before. Her body was humming with anticipation. All thoughts of backing out were gone. “But she needs to be shaved.”

Eva sauntered to the credenza against the wall and started to pour herself a drink. “I’m going to have Bill shave you then I have a costume for you.” She motioned for Bill. He had a bag Stevie hadn’t noticed before and headed to the bathroom. Stevie stood frozen to her spot. “Go on, girl. I want that thing nice and smooth. Don’t worry. Bill is very good with his hands. You’ll see.”

Errol gave her a gentle push to get her feet moving. “I forgot to tell you that Eva likes the costumes.” Stevie highly doubted he forgot to tell her anything. His sly smile confirmed her suspicions. “Take what you need from the experience,” he whispered.

She had no clue what that meant.

In the bathroom, Bill already had the water running in the tub and the soap and razor out. He was stripping as she entered. The muscles of his ass were tight, the globes round and clad in a bright green G-string. His shoulders flexed as he lowered himself into the tub with his back to the fixtures. Kneeling on the hard porcelain, he held out a hand. She took it and Bill guided her to sit on the ledge at the back of the tub. He was looking at her breasts as he kneaded the bar of soap, making a handful of lather. Stevie was holding her knees together, wondering if she should introduce herself before she let this man shave her pussy.

Bill pushed open her knees and went to work applying a generous amount of the slick lather. That answered that question. She blushed when he looked up and gave her a smile as his big fingers rubbed the suds over her clit. She knew she was already wet. The sweet-scented soap was making her even slicker. Bill rinsed his hands and expertly started to shave. He maneuvered her thighs and tugged on her skin in all the right places, preventing even the slightest nick.

She watched the concentration on his face as he worked. This was serious business to him. Did he appreciate the situation at all? Was he enjoying her in this position or was this some insane punishment from Eva? When his fingers again brushed over her pussy, Stevie moaned.

He stopped, closed his eyes and took a steadying breath.

So he was aroused. She looked down. His little G-string was insufficient to contain his excitement. Stevie found herself licking her lips at the thought of his cock in her mouth. She was an executive slut.

Losing her sense of mortification and gaining some confidence, Stevie tried to imagine telling Monica about this. She almost laughed out loud. What would the group think of her sitting spread out on a tub with a young stud between her legs, shaving her kitty while a Dom and Domme were waiting in the other room? They probably wouldn’t believe it. She wasn’t sure she believed it.

“Rinse,” Bill said. Stevie hadn’t been sure if he was going to speak at all or not. She lowered herself into the water enough to rinse the remaining soap. He’d not shaved her completely. He’d left a little hair on top, but her pussy was otherwise clean as whistle. Stevie reached to feel her own skin. He caught her hand to stop her. “Only if Ms. Eva says you can.”

After they dried, Bill fished from the bag the tiny scraps of fabric that made up her costume. She was so nervous that she made a mess of the thing as she attempted to untangle the pieces. Bill ended up taking it from her and laying it out on the counter. It was something close to a harem girl get-up. She had a very short, shimmering teal skirt that would barely be long enough to cover her ass. It had beads and coins hanging around the waist. There was a headband to hold her hair off her face and help keep the veil in place. The veil was to act as the mask Errol had requested to keep her identity unknown to the rest of the crowd. The shimmering teal fabric was soft against her cheeks and covered her nose and mouth.

She looked in the mirror as Bill attached several longer sheer scarves to the waist of her skirt. The teal in the veil made her eyes gleam a vibrant green. She felt like a sheik’s sexy slave girl.

Bill’s costume was easy to put on, considering it was only two armbands around his biceps and a chunky green collar. He finished securing the veil and gave her one last look-over. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

The seriousness in his eyes didn’t match the giddy feeling Stevie was having a hard time controlling. She knew she should be frightened, but the time with Bill had made her excited and very horny. She assumed that was the intention. A small introduction to having her body touched by strangers.

“It’s time, little ones,” Eva said. Stevie glanced up to see Errol and Eva both standing just outside the bathroom door. She had no clue if they’d watched the entire scene or not. She had been pretty wrapped up in watching Bill and the careful undertaking of his responsibilities.

Bill stepped from the room. Stevie followed and stopped next to him in the position Errol had told her to take when awaiting instructions. Eva pulled the little skirt higher on her hips. “I want that lovely pussy exposed. Nice job, Bill,” she said as she reached down and stroked Stevie’s pussy as if to inspect her.

Stevie about jumped out of her skin when she felt Eva’s fingers brush across her freshly shaved mound. The only woman who’d ever touched her there was her doctor—and this was no office visit. Stevie took a deep breath to calm her nerves.

“Take her to the center bench and wait for us,” Eva said as she walked back over to where Errol was leaning against the credenza, watching.

“Yes Ma’am.” Bill nodded and gathered the bag before leading Stevie into the playroom. The lights were lower than they had been the night before. Couples were already playing at the cross and a young woman was suspended on the swing. More people were sitting in chairs around the room talking, as if they were at a cocktail party. Most everyone took a moment to eye her as Bill led her to the center of the room. He pushed her to her knees then knelt beside her with his own legs spread a little, clasping his hands behind his back. Stevie followed suit.

They waited in the middle of the room. Stevie couldn’t stand the anticipation.

She glanced surreptitiously around the room again. A woman was tied to the spider web as Stevie had been the night before. The woman was very curvy, many might even consider her overweight, but in that position, with her large round breasts pushing through the ropes, her shapely legs spread and her ass tilted up in the air, she was incredibly sexy. The man lashing her ass with a long leather flogger was certainly enjoying her.

At one of the spanking benches, a man about Stevie’s age had been tied. A much younger woman was really working on his ass with a paddle. His cheeks were bright red, his hard cock dancing between his thighs. Each time the paddle landed, his body jerked. The girl, dressed much like Angel had been, reached down and stroked his cock and said something to him Stevie couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, he arched his back and stuck his ass higher.

Stevie felt a moment of self-consciousness. Errol would probably prefer to play with these more experienced women. He’d been wonderfully gentle and accommodating to her level of experience, but looking at the woman hanging from the swing with a vibrator strapped to her pussy, Stevie realized she might be in over her head—both with this adventure and Errol.

Eva appeared before her. Stevie didn’t dare look up. “Stand,” Eva said, her voice clear and stern over the music. “Face away from Bill.” Stevie did so. “Bend over and put your hands on your knees.” Stevie looked past Eva to see Errol standing behind her. He winked and gave her a little smile and a nod. Heat rushed back in and replaced the nervous anxiety.

Stevie felt a little uncomfortable being bent over with her ass and pussy right in Bill’s face. Eva fished a crop out of her bag and placed the business end of it between Stevie’s shoulder blades. She rolled the handle, letting the little leather fob dance along Stevie’s back, tickling her and causing her to arch. Then she stepped to Stevie’s side, out of her line of vision. “Errol, I know you don’t like to be the second Dom, so tell me. Are you playing or just watching your new toy?”

“I’ll join in where I like, if you don’t mind.” Errol also moved to stand somewhere behind Stevie. She couldn’t see him. She couldn’t see any of them as she looked forward.

“Don’t want to take any orders, do you?”

He chuckled. “Not from you, Eva. I may lose all sense of myself and end up tied to the cross and at the end of your whip.”

“No danger there, I’m sure.” Eva’s crop started little light taps on the side of Stevie’s thigh. “You’ve never had a submissive bone in your body.” The taps led up to Stevie’s butt cheek. The little skirt was nothing more than a belt in this position. “Bill. Is she wet yet?” Stevie felt fingers probe her pussy and her back tightened. She tilted her hips to push her throbbing pussy greedily toward the sensation. She’d been wet for what seemed like two days.

“Yes Ma’am. Nice and swollen too.”

“Huh.” Eva walked around in front of Stevie again. “Get a couple of toys out,” she said to Bill. She tilted Stevie’s face up so she could look at her. “You see, Bill spent most of the afternoon with a large plug in his ass. It’s not one of his favorite things. He did it for the reward of getting to play with you tonight. Bill will be using you as his own personal slave girl. Of course, I’ll be directing him so he doesn’t rush through and let you come too soon.”

Eva’s gaze fell on something behind her. “That’s a good place to start, Bill. Even the playing field.”

Stevie looked back and saw Bill covering a butt plug with lube before Eva tapped her chin with the crop, forcing her gaze forward once more. She felt Bill’s thick finger dip back into her pussy and then swirl around her ass. She sucked in a breath and her knees bent as his finger slid in. She knew she whimpered, but didn’t care. She pictured herself as others saw her, bent over, Bill playing with her and Errol watching, waiting to join in at his whim.

Bill took little time pulling out his finger and replacing it with a plug that was larger than the one Errol had used. The spreading, full sensation was acute. Stevie grit her teeth and hoped the pain would subside quickly and become the pleasurable sensation it had been the night before.

Bill wiggled the plug to give her yet another sensation. “Stand straight, slave girl,” Eva ordered. Eva wasn’t going to give her time to grow accustomed to the plug at all.

Stevie stood on shaky legs. Her ass was on fire. “Bill’s going to attach some much-needed bling to those pert little titties of yours. Turn to face him.” Stevie did so. Bill’s meaty hands on her breasts were rough as he twisted and pulled her nipples until they were peaked before attaching a clamp to each one. They weren’t as tight as the clamp Errol had used, but still added to the mounting thrills assaulting her body.

“Lift your arms over your head.” Bill gave the instruction. She was low sub on the totem pole, so she followed his order, holding her hands together over her head. He was playing with her stinging breasts, licking her nipples and tugging at the clamps.

Eva tapped the crop on the tender skin of her inner thighs to get her to open her legs. The woman’s long, slender fingers start to rub her pussy from behind. She thought the room started to spin; her entire body felt engaged. She smelled some kind of sage incense in the room and felt the presence of the other players moving about but had no care as to what they saw or thought of her. Her attention was on Errol and his reaction to her situation.

“Lay her on the bench.” Errol’s voice sounded heated as he issued the command. She doubted her werewolf would be out of the scene much longer. Bill scooped her up and placed her on her back on the nearby bench. This one was a little more than knee high and slightly wider than she was. Bill placed her feet on the ground and tied her ankles to the legs of the bench. Then he pulled her toward him, pushing her legs open, leaving her pussy and ass accessible. Her hands were left free for the moment and the bench was short enough that her head almost hung off the other end.

“Can I taste her?” Bill also sounded gruff and needy.

Stevie heard several sharp slaps of the crop. Bill rolled his eyes and moaned. Stevie suspected this was a very mild evening for him.

“Me first, you greedy little boy,” Eva snapped.

Stevie moaned at the thought of anyone licking her at this moment—she wanted Eva’s red lips on her. She whimpered at the thought and thrust her pussy up, begging to be touched.

“Tell her what you want, slut.” Errol’s voice was in her ear. Bill moved to kneel on one side of her, his hand caressing the bottom of one breast. Errol slid to her other side. “Tell her like a good little slut.” She was going to come before anyone even touched her aching pussy again.

“I want you to lick my pussy, Ma’am.” She was writhing. “Please. Lick my pussy.” The words embarrassed her. “I want your mouth on me.”

Stevie closed her eyes as she felt Eva’s hands caress the inside of her thighs, inching closer and closer. Eva bit her inner thigh, only inches from her pussy, and wiggled the anal plug at the same time. Stevie cried out.

“Oh, Errol. She’s so fucking hot,” Eva said—before her tongue pushed into Stevie’s folds, forcing her to grip the edges of the bench. Errol squeezed one of her breasts, flicking the nipple, adding to the torture of the clamp as Eva worked on her, flicking her clit with a pierced tongue.

“I can’t. I have to come. Please. Eva! May I come?”

Eva backed off. “The new ones take so long to learn to hold back.” She kissed her tummy. The crop stung her thigh with three rapid strokes. “Bill, show her how you can deny yourself. Fuck her mouth but do not come.”

Bill rose to his feet and swung one leg over the bench, straddling her. She felt his thighs brush against her shoulders as Errol wrapped his hands in Stevie’s hair to hold her head still. Bill maneuvered his cock under the veil, teasing her lips. She opened her mouth for him—he was thick. She had little control over the speed or depth to which he penetrated her mouth. The taste of a condom distracted her for a moment, but she got past it and enjoyed the fact that she was sucking Bill’s cock. He was enjoying her.

And Errol was watching.

Errol stroked her hair. “How do you feel, Stevie?” Eva started to tap Stevie’s pussy with her crop. “You’ve got strangers fucking you, sucking you, and all you can do is lie there and take it.”

On cue, Eva poked her tongue back into her throbbing pussy. Stevie could only imagine what it looked like to have a woman licking her. She tried to answer around Bill’s cock, but it came out as a garbled moan. How he held back his own orgasm, she’d never understand. She was managing, but that wouldn’t last much longer. Her thighs were trembling with the need to release.

Bill pulled back to let her answer. “Green! May I come? Please?” Stevie was tightening every muscle in her body to hold back. She knew this was supposed to be about them, about what the Dominant wanted, but she was enjoying herself too much to care right this minute. Errol had been right—she was not a good submissive.

“Do you like it, Stevie?” he asked.

She hadn’t a clue why he was asking her that. Of course she liked it. Maybe the barrage of sensations was preventing her from thinking clearly. Eva’s pace quickened. The crop hitting her clit started to feel like a vibrator. Stevie felt like she was going to explode. “Please!”

Eva pulled away. “Not yet, slave girl.”

Everything stopped. Everyone stopped. Stevie thought she was going to cry. She lay loose and limp, panting from the exertion of holding back. Stevie felt her ankles being untied then Bill helped her sit up.

Eva was kneeling in front of her with a knowing smile, stroking Stevie’s breasts. “Hold on, blondie. We need to get these things off.” Stevie didn’t register the meaning of the Domme’s statement fast enough. Eva pinched open the clamps that had been on her nipples far too long and pain seared through her breasts as the blood returned.

Eva leaned forward and took one of the aching nipples into her mouth. Her hand gently massaged the other. The pain eased quickly and Stevie looked down at the woman nibbling on her breast.

The sight of it was more erotic than she could ever have imagined.

She glanced around the room as Eva licked her way to Stevie’s other aching nipple. It was now full, each station busy with people playing. Observers dotted the floor and the beanbag chairs. Off to her left side, there were two men and a woman watching their play. She felt herself blush and closed her eyes.

“Open your eyes, Stevie,” Errol said as he slipped off his jeans and sat behind her, reached around to finger her clit. “What is it you need from this? What do you need from us?”

She tried to clear her head as Eva and Errol both kept pushing her closer and closer to her breaking point. “I thought Doms did what they wanted to subs. That it was all about your pleasure, your needs.”

He bit her on the shoulder. “Yes, that’s the myth, isn’t it? The ultimate is to get you to submit to your own desires as well as mine. You’re uptight. You’re closed off to most people. You ignore your own sexual desires in real life. I’m guessing you ignore much of anything that’s not work related. We haven’t had enough time for me to understand your needs completely, so I’m asking.”

Why did she ignore her own desires? What had caused her to close off the emotional side of herself for years? It wasn’t as simple as blaming the hours in the lab or the time spent at home staying on top of the newest technologies. She didn’t hide from life for the sake of work. She used work to hide from life. She’d always been an all-or-nothing kind of girl—and somewhere along the way, her career had become the “all” and her personal life had been left with the “nothing”.

“She’s not ready, Errol. But I am.” Eva’s words brought her back to the moment. Her body hadn’t gone off with her thoughts. It was still ramped up and ready to come. Eva reclined on the floor and spread her boot-clad legs. Her skirt was pulled up and her pussy was spread open in front of Stevie.

Her own desires faded quickly when she realized she wanted to explore the curvy woman. She wanted to feel her, to make her squirm.

Stevie glanced up to find Bill standing over to the side stroking his own cock. Poor thing was probably ready to bust.

“He’s fine,” Eva said. “Not to worry. You have something to attend to right here. I want those sweet lips on my cunt. I want to see your eyes as you taste a woman for the first time.”

Stevie shuddered at the harshness of her demand. Errol whispered, “You are so sexy, Stevie,” in her ear…

And that was it. Stevie went to her knees in front of Eva’s pussy. The woman was propped up on her elbows looking down her body at Stevie. She ran her hand down the soft skin of Eva’s thigh, enjoying the supple texture. Eva was as wet as Stevie. She traced the outline of the woman’s outer lips with two fingers. She looked up to give Eva what she had asked for, direct eye contact. Stevie wanted to see Eva’s reaction to her as well.

When she ran her fingers over Eva’s clit, the Domme arched and threw her head back. So much for eye contact.

Stevie removed the irritating veil, tentatively leaned forward and touched the tip of her tongue to Eva’s swollen folds. Stevie had tasted her own juices before, from the lips of others, from her fingers after masturbating, but this was something entirely different. This was another woman’s pussy. The taste was stronger, saltier—and incredibly sexy.

Errol wiggled the plug in Stevie’s ass. She’d almost forgotten about it, but the movement brought her attention back to her own body as well. “Eat her, slut. She gets hers before you get yours,” he said.

Stevie needed to come, so she plunged her tongue into Eva’s pussy—and more eagerly than she would have ever imagined. She pulled back and flicked the woman’s swollen clit with a sharply pointed tongue. She pushed two fingers in Eva’s pussy and stroked her as she licked. She felt Eva’s hips push forward, her thighs tighten around her head. Eva was going to come. Stevie was making her come.

Errol pulled out the anal plug suddenly and she moaned against Eva’s clit as Errol pushed his cock into Stevie’s tormented pussy. She desperately wanted to come. She wanted Eva to come. She pushed a third finger into the Domme. It was enough.

Eva gripped her head and growled, “Yes!”

Stevie arched, pulling away from Eva’s throbbing pussy to pay attention to her own aching, gluttonous need to be fucked—to be fucked by Errol. He pushed in slow and easy then stayed buried deep for a moment before pulling back just as slowly. Stevie wished he didn’t have a condom on. She wanted to feel his skin. She dug her fingers into the carpet, squeezing her muscles, trying not to come right away.

Eva scooted to the side and motioned Bill back into the activities. Stevie saw that his balls were tight and red from a cock ring, his shaft straining as he helped Eva to her feet. The woman ordered him to recline on the bench and he groaned as she slid a condom over his cock. She retrieved her crop and mounted Bill’s shaft without another word. She rode him hard, pinching his nipples and reaching around to tap his swollen balls with her crop. He let out a small yelp each time the crop landed. Bill gripped the edge of the bench above his head and pumped upward, giving her all he had. His muscled flexed, the veins in his arms bloated, exaggerating his bodybuilder physique.

Stevie’s attention was brought back to her own body when Errol reached around and started to rub her clit. “Have you figured it out yet?”

“Please, Sir. I need to come.”

He let his fingers slip away and he pushed in deep, grinding in circles without pulling back, his cock twisting and rubbing her insides. She cried out loudly, wanting him as deep as he could go, pushing back against him. “Please!” she pleaded.

“Yes, Stevie. Come.”

He pulled back and shoved into her two more times before she exploded. Her body, racked with tension from the evening’s activities, shook with the intensity of the orgasm. Errol’s fingers dug into her skin as he gripped her hips. He ground his cock into her, moving his hips in a circular motion. When Stevie looked back, he stopped, pulled out and flipped her over before sliding back in. He looked into her eyes while he fucked her. He didn’t seem interested in what was going on around them. He bent to take her lips, forcing a deep, heated kiss from her. “I’m there, baby,” he rasped on her lips.

Stevie tightened all her muscles to grip his cock, to give him as much as she could as he came. He pushed in and groaned. She felt every muscle in his body contract and then slowly relax.

After several minutes, he rolled off her. He gathered her up and settled into a nearby beanbag chair, Stevie cradled on his lap. His body felt so warm. His hand traced the new tattoo he’d created on her body and Stevie knew that wasn’t the only thing from Errol that would have a lasting impression.

“This Ankh…it’s the symbol of life, Stevie. I think you chose it for more than one reason,” he said as he pulled her headband off.

Yes, she now knew why she was here. Stevie caressed Errol’s chest and watched Bill come. His collar looked ready to bust under the pressure of his tightened neck muscles. It should have felt strange to watch the couple fuck. It didn’t. “I needed a catalyst,” she said.

“I’m hoping it’s a spark to light a new fire in you.”

She nodded. She couldn’t remember why she had decided to shut herself away in that biology lab. She’d had no horrible relationship, no real reason to spend her life alone, to lead a life as sterile the lab itself. She’d just quit trying, taken the path of least resistance. It took initiative to be happy. She had needed to put herself out there and find reasons to celebrate, people to enjoy.

She trusted herself. She could trust him. Errol could help her explore this part of her life. She’d gone to get a tattoo and taken a giant leap. Stevie looked around the room.

Boy, had she closed her eyes and leapt.

“Thank you,” she said against Errol’s chest. This wasn’t the real lifestyle kind of experience. He’d played sensual Dom for her and his friends had done the same, to help push her out of her own way.

“You’re welcome. For what exactly? So I know to do it again.”

“For playing with me. For somehow knowing what I needed. I know I’m not a real submissive like those girls.” She gave a nod of the head to indicate two girls who were strung up and covered with clothespins.

“This is different for everybody, Stevie.” He kissed her forehead. “Being a Dominant is taking control and working an experience or a relationship so that you and your submissive both get what you need. If it was just about me hitting you, that would be a very toxic relationship. Real BDSM is not about pain or time commitment or extremes.” He lightly gripped her chin so he could look into her eyes. “I’m looking for a relationship, not a punching bag.”

Stevie’s heart skipped a beat. “I didn’t hurt the alpha werewolf’s reputation by being a bedroom submissive?”

He chuckled again, his chest moving with his laughter. “No. My rep will stand. I’d love to explore this further with you—if that’s something you’d like to do.”

Stevie knew she wanted to see him again but hadn’t allowed herself to think past this weekend. “I think I’d like to play with the wolf as much as possible and see what happens.”

Epilogue

Stevie finished typing the brief rundown of her activities over the past two nights and how they had opened her eyes. The Cougars had been right. It was okay for them all to have a fulfilling life and a few fantasies. Age didn’t matter. She was now ready to explore what life had to offer. She was ready to feel something real again, and she had the Tempt the Cougar girls to thank for it.

So, there you have it. I had two younger men and one younger woman…or rather, they had me. LOL

Stevie smiled as she walked to the fridge for a beer, knowing the replies would be rolling in fast. There was a ding to indicate a new post before she could even make it back to her desk.

As expected, Cam, who put together the blog in the first place, was the first to post a comment.

You sneaky thing! All this time there was a wild woman lurking beneath that cool and quiet exterior! Sooooo… Ahem, any details you want to add to that little bomb???

Sunset, who was the second Cougar to pass the challenge, chimed in with her post only a few moments later.

Oh, you had them, baby! Congratulations! And I hope it brings you as much fulfillment as it did me. Now we know what to get you for Christmas. So what color do you prefer for your handcuffs?

And Monica’s post came at the same time Stevie’s cell phone rang. Gee, she didn’t even let me scan her post first, Stevie thought as she reached for the phone while reading her best friend’s remarks.

It's about damn time. I was afraid your hootchie couldn't cootchie anymore. You know what they say, use it or lose it. BTW, can we call you Slave Girl now? ’Cause that works for me on so many different levels. *grin*