Cassiel, page 3
“All of those hard limits must have restricted your options when you were human,” Tristan grumbles. Too many remove the freedom to play. “It will be a challenge to come up with a role play that will push her limits. She’s damned near vanilla.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. Aleah’s list will change dramatically once she trusts. Then, she’ll be willing to explore damn near anything that doesn’t risk doing permanent damage,” I say. “She once said she’s afraid she’s kinkier than I am. I ignored her fear at the time and didn’t recognize it came from a place of shame rooted deeply in her mind. I’m not going to do that anymore. If she wants to explore, we’ll help her navigate her way safely. Let’s grab a drink and put together a scenario.”
Tristan leads the way to the large wooden swing chair with yet another spectacular view of the Mediterranean Sea. We help ourselves to a couple of sweating bottles of beer sitting in a large ice bucket, and I pick up the pen and pad lying next to it.
“So, what do you have in mind for a role play?” I ask as I get ready to write. “Let’s make it a good one. I have to admit I’m no longer afraid of Aleah’s sexual appetites, and I’m looking forward to our new journey of discovery. How about something that gives Aleah some idea of what’s in store for her at one of the kink events she says she has to attend. Any ideas?”
“Great idea. I think she has an event on Friday night so this can be a trial run. A win-win, as she’s so fond of saying. She likes to write from first-hand experience, so I figure we come up with a role play that will expose her triggers and give her something to write about,” I say.
“You know her better than I do? What does she like? What does she find triggering? Once we come up with a scenario, I can place the charm that will make the scene real. The spell will work best if I weave in details,” Tristan says. “What do you have in mind?”
“It’s always best to keep things simple with Aleah. She has such a huge wall of inhibitions, she’ll do a good enough job of adding complications herself, and she’ll question everything. I propose she be a reporter or businesswoman asking for her first kink experience.” I conjure and don a pair of sunglasses.
“Which one of us will work the scene?” Tristan asks. “She’s not going to respond well if we sic Cass on her.”
“Au contraire, mon frere, I disagree. Cass is precisely the right person because she doesn’t trust him on any level. And putting them together when they’re most vulnerable is the best way to see just how he’s involved in our mating bond.
5
CASSIEL
I open the folder on my lap and review the role play Atroyel and Tristan concocted for our first scene with Aleah. They’d looked very much like the cats that shared the canary as they’d presented the role play they’d cooked up. Something about Aleah seems to have given Tristan and Troy selective memory about who I am. I insist on free rein to shape the scene in whatever way I feel appropriate, and, in this circumstance, we’ve agreed the objective is to help protect Aleah. That’s all the consent I need to do the mind probe that will take me beyond the fortress walls she’s erected in her subconscious.
Since Aleah arrived, something interfered with my psychic connection with my brothers, but I can’t put my finger on what that is. Before Atroyel left us to find Aleah, we could read each other’s emotions and speak telepathically. Typically, the only reason we close ourselves off is mentally protect each other from harm, but ever since they’ve activated this godsdamn mating bond, I haven’t had a clear read.
Much as I’d hated it, I’d had to wait for Troy and Tristan to reveal whatever hot plan they had in mind. Aleah had mumbled something about freshening up and fled as soon as Troy and Tristan were out of sight. I’d paced the deck while I considered and dismissed ways to get our team under control.
When Tristan and Troy were done concocting their scenario, we’d all met up on the upper deck, but I was oblivious to the magnificent view of the ocean. We sat on the low-slung couches, and Tristan opened a bottle of wine to toast Aleah’s first experience with a Dom.
After what seemed like an excessive amount of time discussing consent and safe words, we’d all agreed on their role-play—a control-freak businesswoman looking for her first BDSM experience. Using our furniture creation powers, I’ve replicated one of the clubs on Aleah’s list that caters to Doms and subs alike to start Aleah’s training. As a Dom, I prefer master-slave sessions, but I’ve set up several viewing and playrooms to accommodate just about any fantasy or role-play. When we’re ready to watch the scenes similar to what she’ll see Friday night, I’ll use the portal to take her to a real club.
I’m hugely into role play, and from what I learned reading the diary, so is Aleah. Or she could be if given a chance. I’m about to find out, and despite my better judgment, I’m looking forward to having Aleah all to myself without Atroyel and Tristan’s overprotective presence.
I’m sitting in one of the viewing salons that is much like the viewing rooms seen in the movies, except the room it faces into is much larger. The salon itself has wide burnished walnut and alternating gold paneled walls, a cathedral ceiling crowned with a crystal chandelier, and gold- and black-veined marble floor. It’s like stepping back into another era, the perfect setting for this role play.
I review the scenario we chose. Aleah’s applied to be the play partner of a master Dom—me. Her profile tells me she’s curious about everything and wants to discover the lifestyle. Tonight, she wants a chance to explore the world of bondage, discipline, domination, and submission firsthand.
My alter ego in this role play rarely finds a candidate who meets his many specifications. I snort, attributing the emphasis on the word to Atroyel. The scenario, written role play, tells me this one is precisely who I’ve been longing for. I’m to show her some scenes with the twofold objective of preparing her for what she’ll see at the kink events and finding her hidden secrets. Yes, this role-play will do nicely, and I’ll be whomever I damn well please.
Aleah’s strut announces her arrival and shouts the mantra: ”I’ve got this.” The furtive glances as she takes of her surroundings tell a different story. The moment I see her, intuition sparks into flames of desire on a level I haven’t felt in a very long time. That’s saying something because I fuck a lot of women, whenever and however I can. That’s one of the benefits of being a sex angel, showing woman how good it can be. But something about this woman burrows past my sexual needs and hammers on the locked door protecting my heart.
For the first time in forever, I hesitate a split second before strengthening the protection spell that will shield me from her magic. There’s something very different about Aleah. She’s an expert at hiding her conniving nature with something that looks authentic. I can’t figure out what has set my senses on simmer, but suddenly I need to know more. Aleah’s up to something with my brothers, I can feel it. I completely ignore the voice of logic telling me I’m letting my fear rule my brain. I’m simply not wired for emotional outburst. I stubbornly ignore the voice of my conscience calling me out for the liar I am.
Aleah is a knockout, smoking hot in the black dress I chose for her, and she’s added black fingerless elbow gloves that she’s pushed down to the wrist. I can feel the tension vibrating off her as she approaches. She’s taking quick breaths, but her bright look tells me she’s eager and curious. She’s under the influence of Tristan’s memory manipulation spell and shows no sign of recognition. Tristan’s charm has effectively removed all memory of me, Atroyel and Tristan from her mind. Her vivid brown eyes are glued on mine as if she’s memorizing every feature and cataloging it for future reference. She stops where I’m leaning against the mirrored wall and sticks out her right hand.
“Hi, I’m Aleah. Good to meet you.” Her words are short and clipped, like those of a woman used to wielding power and control, and she’s using a fake name. Yet, a shadow of insecurity flashes behind her brilliant eyes before she shields them. She wears a mask of ornate filigree that does nothing to hide her hypnotic beauty.
“Kneel before me.” I chop out the order, my tone filled with command as I add the standard BDSM hand motion—my open hand moving down with fingers together.
Aleah hesitates a moment before dropping to her knees, her movements have a hint of awkwardness that confirms she’s not used to this protocol. She stares at me a moment and that look sends streaks of lightning to my cock before dropping her gaze to the floor.
“That’s right. You will not look at me unless I command you to.” I pause for effect. She says nothing. Excellent. “Recite my rules.”
“I must not look at you unless commanded. I must not speak unless given permission or to say a safe word. I must remember and obey your commands. I must respond vocally to specific requests.” She pauses a moment. “Sir.”
I take a moment to examine the petite woman before me. Round buttocks and small breasts with hard nipples that poke through the silk dress she’s wearing. Nipples that beg for my attention, but that will have to wait. As I agreed when I took on this role play, my responsibility as an Acquired Taste Dom is to ensure her first experience doing a scene will leave her wanting more. Wanting me. I push the unwelcome thought away. This session is strictly business, and I have work to do.
“I want you to stand up and face me.”
She’s rigid as I slowly circle her, taking in this gorgeous woman. Her black curls dance around her face in loose tendrils. I reach for the hint of her scent as it drifts by and catch something floral, something tropical. Something subtle that makes me want to own this woman. At least for tonight.
Time to test just how compliant my wannabe sub is. I slide my hands down her arms before pulling down the zipper I’d only recently zipped up. But this time, I unzip halfway, allowing the dress to slide down, while allowing a finger to trace a line down her spine.
It’s everything I can do to keep my hands from grasping her pert breasts as they fall free and bounce invitingly. She instinctively crosses her arms over her breasts before she catches herself and forces her arms to her side. Her timidity sends another bolt of electricity through my cock. I take moment to admire the large brown nipples before pulling the dress back in place.
“Sit.” I point to the love seat facing the floor-to-ceiling one-way glass. “Keep your eyes trained on the window. Understood?”
The tension in her body shows that she’s unsure whether she should speak. “When I ask a question, you may answer.”
“Yes, Sir. I understand.” Her contralto voice excites me. She keeps her eyes trained on the floor. But first things first. I refuse to work with an inexperienced sub without the assurance that she knows what she’s getting into. If I do my job well, she’ll focus on her answers and drop the defensive wall. As she watches a few scenes, her reactions will show me any remaining responses she’s trying to hide.
As soon as she’s seated, I shift my position to stand directly in front of her. “As this is your first kink experience, I need to understand what you’re hoping to discover in this experience. You have permission to speak freely. Let’s start with your preferred pet name. Do you have one?”
Her eyes widen in surprise, and she chews on her bottom lip, her eyes still fixed on a spot on the floor. Good. She’s compliant. I bring my wayward mind back to attention. She’s thinking, that’s all.
“Look at me, Aleah. When I give a command, I expect instant obedience. Do you have a preferred pet name?” I put enough steel in my tone to let her know I mean business.
I’m watching for it, or I might have missed the blush that colors the shell of her ears. “No, Sir.”
“What do your lovers call you?” I study her as another blush infuses her fair skin.
“Beauty or babe, mostly.”
“I like little girl or baby girl.”
She snorts as the words leave my mouth. I quirk an eyebrow in question. “Quite the oxymoron given my age,” she says, “And I’m nobody’s little. Little play is a hard limit for me.”
It’s not the first time Aleah has mentioned little play, one of my favorites, and I file that tidbit away for later consideration.
“Any more disparaging remarks about your physique will earn your ten strokes with the flat of my hand.” I lay the spanking card on the table for all to see. After a lengthy discussion in our earlier meeting, Aleah had agreed to reduce her list of hard limits and use her safe words if we ventured into territory that makes her uncomfortable. Atroyel had explained that the memory manipulation spell would not make her do anything she wasn’t already inclined to do. His reassurance had resulted in her moving a bunch of her no-chance-in-hell options to the maybe-we’ll-see category giving me all the leeway I need.
She shifts a bit on the leather couch. This time the blush makes its way to her cheeks, staining them a red that complements the reddish-brown undertones in her black curls.
“Do you have any questions about my rules?” I ask. I’d included an explicit list of rules for Aleah to review before this scene, including to address me as Sir, keep her eyes respectfully lowered, and not to move or speak, unless to say her safe word. One the scene starts, I, as Dominant, will have complete control and expect full cooperation from the submissive.
“No, Sir,” she replies quietly.
“BDSM play is all about a state of mind, which brings us to yours. Why are you here, little one?”
A fleeting smile catches the corners of her lips. Another blush reaches her ears as her eyes dart away from mine. Little one it is, then.
“That will be ten strokes for disobeying my command. Eyes on mine. Hiding your thoughts is not an option.” I bark out the order, and her eyes shift back to mine. I cross my hands over my suit jacket and wait. While many choose to dress in fetish gear to attend an event, I prefer the power suit that clearly shows who is in control. First impressions, after all, make a huge difference in setting the right mood for the scene.
After several minutes of worrying her bottom lip while her eyes dance from mine and back to the floor again, she straightens her shoulders. “A friend of mine suggested you dominant types are better lovers, and I’m here to find out.” Her eyes flash with a there-I-said-it look that sends another surge of blood straight to my cock. Her eyes drop to the tent in my trousers before darting back to mine.
“Are you hoping to become part of the lifestyle, or are you just a player?” A little test to see how far she’s willing to go with this without the stumbling block of memories with Atroyel.
“Meaning?” This little angel is a thinker, not the usual sensation princesses who come to a club like this looking for a bit of fun with the rich and potentially famous.
“Meaning, are you hoping to get a taste of what it’s like to live as a submissive twenty-four-seven, or are you merely looking for a bit of sexual titillation?
Her shudder gives me all the answer I need, but she says, “God no. There’s not a chance in hell I’ll let a man tell me what to do outside of the bedroom.”
I hide a frown as she lets some of the pieces of her puzzle slip into place. The memory manipulation spell hasn’t changed her story . . . at least not yet. She’s only willing to concede control for sexual purposes, and she’s not very experienced. I decide to test my theory.
“Where is your favorite place to have sex?”
A slight frown crosses her face as if she’s worried her answer will disqualify her.
“There is no right or wrong answer, little one.”
“I’ve only ever had sex on a bed, chair, or couch except for once in the shower, so I guess I’d have to say the bed.” The expression on her face makes it clear she doesn’t like announcing her inexperience. Almost as an afterthought, she adds, “I got fingered in an elevator once. That was fun.”
I clamp down on the words “with whom” before they drop out of my mouth. There’s not a chance that Atroyel groped anyone in an elevator. He’d die before making such a public display of himself.
“What was fun about it?”
She pauses a moment before answering. “His passion, I guess. He wanted me and couldn’t wait to have me.”
I quirk another small smile as she leaks that secret, revealing her need to be desired. “And did he?” I ask.
“Did he what?” She pauses a beat. “Have me? Yes. I guess you could call it that.” She grimaces then smooths her features.
“Meaning?” A smile tugs at her lips as I toss her question back at her.
“Meaning he was a thirty-second wonder.” She sucks in her lips as if trying to pull the words back.
6
CASSIEL
Aleah fills the silence that follows her comedic and rather pathetic description of a former lover by fidgeting with the hem of her dress. I use the moment to engage my mind probe and search her thoughts. Aleah’s synapses fire like bullets from a semiautomatic machine gun, and her gaze bounces from my face to my crotch and back.
Shit. Fuck. What is wrong with you, girl? Guys hate to be reminded about their performance. Not that this guy looks like he’s got performance issues. He’s got a hard-on and a fuck-you attitude. What the fuck am I doing here? Have I lost my mind? He said he’s going to spank me. Do I really want this? YES!!! NO!!! What if he hurts me? Great time to start worrying about that. You did ask for this. Could we get on with this, please? Fuck!
Her heart drums a staccato of excitement. “I meant to say he wasn’t very good.” She gives a what-can-you-do shrug.
