For the Night, page 10
I exchanged a quick hello with Gretchen before she ducked into the club area, and then I went to my Mclean app to look up this new @OverheardMclean account.
For the past few days, someone had been posting things they’d “overheard” out here, kind of like the accounts dedicated to major cities on Instagram. Followers could send in quotes and conversations they’d heard, and the account posted them.
“I’m wondering if it’s Tate,” Shay said.
I didn’t know Tate well enough.
I scrolled till I saw the post.
Bottom: I’m just saying, you should watch yourself, Sir.
Top: When I do, people call me vain. Make up your mind.
Bottom: Ugh, you know what I mean!
“Who’s being quoted?” I glanced up at Shay.
“Noa and Lucian,” he replied. “Thing is, I was there when this happened the other day, and the only one who could’ve sent that in—aside from Noa and Lucian—is Kit. Which means we have both Tops and bottoms submitting quotes. It’s gonna be impossible to figure out who’s behind it.”
The plot thickens…
I did know Penelope had sent in something that Reese had said.
“So we can rule out that it’s a brat versus Sadist thing,” I deduced.
Shay nodded.
I saw Reese swimming closer. “Y’all talkin’ about the gossip account? I’m still gonna make you pay, Pen.”
Pen snickered and took a swig from our drink. “Come on—it’s fun! You’re so quotable.”
River snorted under his breath, having sat down a couple loungers over with a book.
My attention shifted when I spotted Macklin and his Owner arriving, and I alerted Shay. It was our cue. We had business to tend to now!
“I’ll be back in a bit.” I kissed Penelope’s cheek, then reached for my tank top.
“And where are you off to?” Reese eyed both Shay and me.
Shay responded. “Macklin’s gonna give us pointers on how to be good slaves for the Game.”
He was such a good liar.
“Come on, my pretty little pets!” Macklin called from the other side of the pool. “Let me see what I have to work with.”
He and Shay must’ve agreed on our cover beforehand.
“If you break my boy, I expect a new one,” Reese told Macklin.
“Thanks, Daddy,” Shay said dryly.
I snickered and followed him around the pool.
This was going to be fun!
But brat business aside, it wouldn’t hurt me to ask Macklin for slave pointers. It was gonna be a popular event. Over twenty couples had signed up, and I had a competitive streak.
“Make yourself comfortable…”
Um, could I move in? Because that would be comfortable.
While Penelope was in the bathroom, I wandered around her little cabin and couldn’t stop staring. It was so beautiful with all the new furniture and decorations. Super cozy. Warm colors, low lighting, a very comfy-looking couch, thick rug, round kitchen table that seated four, and potted plants in every nook and cranny.
I could honestly live here.
It just felt like a 100% stress-free environment. In fact, I yawned when I plopped down on the couch. And the couch tried to swallow me up.
I should’ve changed into PJs right away, because I wasn’t sure I could get out of this thing.
Leaning back against the cushions, I eyed the black-and-white photos on the wall across the room, and it was easy to see the love Penelope had for this community. There was one picture that brought an instant smile to my face. Greer had thrown Penelope over his shoulder, and he was sprinting toward the pool. Their faces were frozen in laughter—possibly some screaming from Penelope too.
Another photo was of her and Macklin grinning and eating something. Like a pastry, maybe? They had whipped cream or frosting everywhere.
Colt and Lucas leaning close to each other with a fire running in the background, private smiles on their faces. Colt and River working up a sweat with shovels and—oh, it had to be from back when they built the deck. I spotted stacks with floorboards behind them, and the deck area was cleared. Reese and Greer were measuring something for the cabins in one photo too. Lucian had his brows knitted in concentration, and he was holding a clipboard and a calculator. He was casually dressed, which was rare for him. He looked a bit younger in that picture.
This was Penelope’s Founders wall. Community history.
I wanted so badly for Mclean to be my new kinky home.
I heard the toilet flush and the water run, and the latter went on for a while. I didn’t know her plans, though I’d gotten the impression we weren’t going to bed yet. It wasn’t that late anyway. A little past eleven.
She’d been teasing me all evening too, so I needed me some action!
Eventually, the door opened, and I nearly swallowed my tongue.
Um, hi. May I serve you forever?
Funny how quickly I could suddenly get off the couch.
I didn’t know what to do or say; I just stared at her exquisite body, the lace thong she wore, the matching bra, all black… Her hair was down too. Thick, wavy, auburn. Fuck me sideways, this was porn.
She smirked faintly and nodded up the stairs. “You ready to head up?”
“I’m ready to do whatever you want, Ma’am.”
She chuckled and extended her hand to me. “Let’s go, then. We need to have a talk, and I’d like to do that my way.”
Talk? With words?
We’d see if I could form anything coherent.
I walked over to her and slipped my hand into hers, and she led the way up, which put her delectable ass in my line of sight.
It was so bitable!
“Are you okay with me blindfolding you?” she asked.
No. Not at all. But only because I wanted to stare at her forever.
“If you wish to rob me of my view, yes, I suppose.”
She exhaled a laugh. “You’re wonderful for my ego, pet.”
I was only speaking the truth.
Reaching the landing, I was once again taken aback by the warm and cozy design of the place. Maybe not taken aback, but it brought me down from my lacy-thong high, and I was catapulted into a space that was all about fluffy pillows, dimmed lighting, and what looked like the most comfortable bed ever. Aside from two nightstands and a dresser—never mind, a chair in the corner too… That was all, though.
She turned around and kissed my cheek. “Lie down on your back at the center of the bed, please.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“And strip down…”
I shivered. “Yes, Ma’am.”
I did as told and discarded my top and shorts on the nearest nightstand, and then I crawled up on the bed. Oh my God, super-soft heaven, I’m here. How could anyone be nervous here? Because I was waiting for the nerves to set in, like they often did when I faced a Domme I liked. And this one was so many levels above like that it wasn’t even funny. Yet, zero nerves. It was strange.
Okay, one thing did it. Or two. My stomach tightened a little, and a flurry of anticipation butterflies surged through me when I spotted Penelope digging two pairs of cuffs from a drawer, and a second later, I saw the metal hooks in the bed frame. Solid wood.
“Standard safewords apply,” she said, holding up the cuffs in silent question.
I swallowed. “Green. Very green.”
“Excellent.” She smiled and walked toward me, and I lay down on my back. “I’m going to encourage you to speak freely tonight. No speech restrictions, no rules about when you get off, when you can moan, or if you beg for more.”
“Understood.”
I sucked in a breath as she straddled my hips and leaned over me.
“Close your eyes,” she whispered.
I swallowed and closed my eyes. Okay, the nerves were settling in. Like a buzz running through me, making me wanna squirm and ask what her plans were.
She blindfolded me first with a silky black thing.
“The topic we’re going to discuss is my sexuality.”
Wait, what? I blinked instinctively, and that didn’t work very well behind the fabric.
“What do you mean, Ma’am?”
“I’ll explain.” A beat later, her lips were on mine for a brief second, before she handcuffed me to the bed. Arms out, metal closing with a snick-snick-snick. “Not too tight?”
“No, Ma’am.”
What did she mean by her sexuality?
I’d wondered not too long ago if she was bi, considering she’d carried on kink dynamics with at least one man, though those had been nonsexual. Either way, I couldn’t say it would require any lengthy discussion. She could just tell me, and I’d be fine. But hey, if she needed to talk, so be it.
“I suppose I should start by saying that sex and what stimulates me are different,” she admitted. “This right here…? Having you under me, at my mercy, is my sex. Controlling you, pushing you between states of pain and bliss, is my orgasm. It’s what releases endorphins in my brain, and it’s what gives me pleasure.”
Oh. Huh. So she was on the ace spectrum?
“You’re asexual?” I guessed.
“Not quite,” she said. “It can be argued that I’m on that spectrum, but I’m not good with labels. My sex drive, for what’s considered conventional, is low.” She started running her hands up and down my body, testing sensitive spots and where I might be ticklish. “I still feel sexual attraction, I get aroused, and I love to get my sub off. I want to be in sexual situations frequently—but this is how I get off.”
“By being in charge.”
“By being in charge,” she confirmed.
I flinched, and a giggle burst out of me when she reached my rib cage. I couldn’t help it!
“So, um—” I squirmed and tried to shy away from her fingers. “You never come? Like, a regular orgasm?”
“No, I do. It’s just not very often.” She slid farther down my body until she planted her knees between my legs and parted them. “How often would you say you come? On your own, with a partner, doesn’t matter.”
I hummed, thinking about it, but her hands were distracting. She rubbed my thighs so sensually that it was tough to focus. Unhurried movements, fingers inching closer inward…
“I don’t know, maybe three or four times a week…?” I bit my lip. “Sometimes five, sometimes every day, sometimes I can go a week or two without.”
She acknowledged me with a hum of her own, and then she pulled up my knees so my feet were planted firmly on the duvet.
“I might average one a month, but like you, I go through periods when it’s more and sometimes less.”
Oh. All right. The tension between us felt a little off, and I wasn’t sure if she was waiting for me to throw a fit or tell her this wouldn’t be working for me. I’d lusted after Penelope Darling for so long, almost…two years? Something like that? And maybe lusted was a strong word. I’d had girlfriends and playtime arrangements in that time, but I’d admired her for that long anyway. I’d sought her out online to get a dose of her opinions. I’d read every journal entry she’d posted, and I’d made sure to catch every seminar or demo she’d hosted outside of Mclean.
Getting her off wasn’t precisely a deal-breaker.
“The question now is…” Fuck, she dropped low, and I felt the softest kiss at the top of my pussy. “Is this okay with you, Nora?”
I presumed she was asking about the orgasm and sex stuff, not what she was currently derailing my thoughts with.
I took a steadying breath and realized I’d been clenching my fists.
Relax. Deep breaths.
“I have two rules,” I said. “I’m monogamous for intimacy and sexual play, and I’m only drawn to women who are dominant. Everything else is just details. My dream to serve you is about accommodating your needs, not my projection of what they might be. It’s about making you happy, whether that body worship includes orgasms or massages.”
It just wasn’t a big deal to me. It might be to some…? But my own pleasure was mainly derived from servitude, not how many times I could get my Top off.
Penelope let out a breath and dropped a kiss along the inside of my thigh.
Maybe she wasn’t ready to say anything. Maybe she was processing.
One thing—oh my fuck—she was ready for…was to go down on me. I sucked in a breath and tensed up, and she kept kissing me, only now she was right where I wanted her. But man, she had all the patience. Soft kisses, wet kisses, firm ones…where she delved deeper with her tongue, and I was squirming again.
“Fuck,” I exhaled.
“My girl will always keep herself smooth for me,” she murmured. “So that I can see her marks and bruises.”
Your girl.
“Yes, Ma’am.” I bit back a moan as she slid a finger deep inside me, quickly followed by a second, and I arched my back. “May I see you, please?”
“Not yet. This is for me.”
Oh God.
I grabbed on to the chains of the cuffs so I didn’t hurt my wrists when I pulled and writhed, because that was clearly where I was heading. She kissed me, fingered me, and licked me as if her goal was for me to lose my mind.
Then she pinched my clit, and I nearly arched off the bed. I gasped loudly and felt the pain shooting through me, intensifying the pleasure.
“I’m going to have so much fun with you, sugar,” she told me.
A resounding smack sounded through the loft, and the air was sucked out of my lungs. Pussy spanking, check! Fuck, fuck, fuck, she was relentless all of a sudden. Her hand came down over and over, until she switched things up with her soft tongue and perfect fingers. Then back to spanking me.
I moaned and whimpered, and the pressure started building up rapidly. The wetter I got, the more the impact sounded—and felt. Sharp pains. Heat. Fucking fire. And I got it. Like servitude was my crack, control was hers, and she played me like a damn fiddle.
She fucked with my head too when she sucked on my clit and squeezed the insides of my thighs so hard that her nails were going to leave a mark. I choked on a gasp, and I wanted to scream as much as I wanted to moan.
“Fuck!” I cried out instead.
“You’re going to bruise beautifully, pet.”
Yeah, my pale ass had heard that before. I whimpered as my eyes burned behind the blindfold, and I started panting like a madwoman.
She hummed against my flesh and pushed me closer and closer toward the cliff. The pain faded, and she finger-fucked me faster, each movement causing slick sounds that filled the air. Along with my heavy breathing. All of it brought me under. I went from knowing that I was getting closer slowly to…holy fuck, I was right there. Drowning in pleasure. I sucked in a final breath and held it, and I tensed up so hard that I trembled. My muscles protested. Sweat beaded on my face.
I was so gone.
I imploded and couldn’t make a single sound, and she kept working me. She fucking controlled my orgasm too. How was that even possible? She increased every ounce of attention that got me off and kept the pain at the perfect level where it just fueled the bliss. Her mouth and tongue never left my clit, but her fingers pinched, and her hands spanked and squeezed.
The faintest whimper left me in the end, allowing me to draw a ragged breath, and she brought me down slowly. Squeezing turned into gentle rubbing, and I shook and shuddered.
Sweet Jesus, I wasn’t sure I could walk now if she asked me to. My whole body felt like jelly. It was part of the mattress now. A permanent bed feature. Thank you and goodbye. Lights out.
Penelope kissed her way up my body. I was busy panting.
She released me from the cuffs, causing my arms to flop down, and removed the blindfold. A chill hit my face. That felt nice. Okay, I just had to breathe. Breathe and get my heart rate down.
I exhaled and blinked drowsily.
She smiled down at me, and I wanted to…
“I wanna pull you down on me, but I can’t lift my arms,” I croaked.
She chuckled softly and kissed my nose. “Good thing you don’t have to move a muscle for a while. I was thinking I’d get us some drinks and snacks?”
Oh yum.
“I love your post-sex plan,” I said.
“And I…” Her gaze grew gentle, and her smile was filled with warmth. “I love what you said earlier. It means a lot to me.”
I understood what she was referring to, but she had no reason to thank me. I was here for her, no matter what that entailed.
The following day, I was on my own for a while. Penelope and the other organizers of the event got together to hammer out more details, so no bottoms were allowed near the cabin where they sat.
I did absolutely nothing useful, except catch myself staring at Penelope.
Last night…had changed something.
She’d never uttered the words you’re mine or anything like it, but I’d felt it in her touches, in how she’d completely possessed my mind and body. And how she’d opened up too, about her sexuality. She was entrusting me with that, and it brought us closer.
Around noon, Shay, Camden, and I had pizza delivered, and we got comfortable on the deck after fetching cold drinks and napkins.
Camden was cute. He couldn’t sit still to save his life, and he was clearly deep into his regression as a Little. He kept talking about how his Daddy was gonna be here soon, and he’d waited forever—as in, forty-eight hours. Said Daddy, Anthony, was a music teacher in New York, so they had an interesting schedule. It was a private academy that allowed for flexibility, partly because Anthony actually ran the whole thing, but they traveled back and forth a whole lot between Nashville and New York—and now DC too, where August was establishing a headquarters of some sort.
“We’re going back to Nashville in two weeks,” Camden went on frankly, despite that no one had prompted a conversation. “I miss all my stuffies, but at the same time, it gives me an excuse to buy more here and in New York. You know?”
Shay and I exchanged a grin.
“Oh, this is so delicious,” Camden gushed around a mouthful of pizza. “Mm-mm-mm!”
