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“Why do you do these things to me?”
“Because you love them, and so do I. You’d better plan on getting your ass fucked tonight. I bought a strap-on this morning.” She picked up her purse and rummaged around inside its wide girth, finally pulling out a pink dildo attached to straps, and a harness to fit around her waist.
“Put that thing away!”
“Oh, now you’re going to get proper again?” she giggled.
“We may run out of luck.”
“Well look at it for a minute, slut, just think of me ramming it down your tight, dark hole after you’ve sucked me off a few times. I figure you really owe me at least a dozen good comes—I’ve been treating you so well lately.”
Tessa looked at her; had to smile seeing Martine’s serious expression. “You really have an interesting way of putting things,” she said. She was feeling the life return to her limbs.
“You just have to accept it, Tessa, you’ll be a lot happier when you do.”
“I don’t know. Somehow with you, it’s never easy.”
“I know, but think about the sex. You love it.” In her own way, she was trying to be kind.
Tessa didn’t know what to say.
“So, where’s he taking you next?” Martine asked.
“Miles?”
“Of course Miles.”
“I don’t know.”
“To Damien’s soiree?”
“He won’t tell me,” Tessa admitted.
“Really?” Martine looked surprised, “humm, he’s taking me.” She stood with her bag, stuffing the pink dildo and harness inside before she strolled away.
“The bitch,” Tessa thought, “she’s laying me away again.” She thought again, “Gotta get a hold of the jealousy. I can’t let Miles know.
Chapter Fourteen
How could Miles take Martine and not take her! Tessa fumed.
The event of the season, the one whispered, gossiped and rumored about for weeks before and after the main event. Tessa’s sources, however, never really knew when the party took place, or where, or who was actually there and not just making up stories. Still, that didn’t matter, fantasies about decadent parties were Tessa’s specialty, even though she’d never donned leather, or worn chains, or had a studded collar around her neck. She regularly got off on the idea, imaging a perfect night of submissive bliss with Miles and his friends. As time passed, however, the graphic scenes in her imagination were not enough. She had to experience it for herself.
Was she imagining it right? Did she really understand what happened at these affairs? As Miles’ submissive, did she look and feel and breathe the part of a submissive with the right sort of depth and attitude? Sometimes she felt terribly defiant for a submissive, though that was something Miles didn’t complain about.
Miles would tell her that soirees aren’t important; what was between the two of them was all that mattered. That was the truth; all the pleasure she was getting from him should be enough to last forever, just the way it was. How could she ask for more?
But then, there was her bottled up curiosity. She was having a devil of a time handling life without a good clear glimpse of a hundred men and women parading through a ballroom in latex and leather, preparing themselves for sex play in dreary dungeons, or on a public stage. She hoped there would be feathers, masks—she loved masks, even though Miles would find them both confining and dishonest. His strict values required ultimate honesty. He wouldn’t want to cloak her, even for the perceived mystery . . .
Damien’s Ball was an obsession. Thoughts of it rambled through her head, even as she and Miles drove through downtown traffic on their way to dinner.
They rode in silence; while Tessa was considering her unmet desires, Miles was still considering Tessa. Not just whether he would take her to the soiree; he was considering her from a more substantial point of view. He’d taken a dozen submissives to this annual soiree over the years, some on the drop of the hat, little pawing submissive twits whose affections hardly amounted to a decent orgasm when it was all over.
Tessa had been different from the beginning, and nothing that transpired over the last few months had changed his initial impression of her. She was not a typical submissive. She was prone to talk too much, and question things that no decent sub would consider questioning. But then, she hadn’t been schooled in the proper decorum and that had been his job. If she wasn’t progressing, it was as much his fault as hers.
The only problem was, he didn’t really want to train her the way she should be trained.
As far as taking her the soiree, there was a selfish inclination to hold on to her for himself. He knew she wouldn’t change her mind about him, and suddenly fly off with another Dominant. It was pure and simple a selfish desire in him to keep her bound to him and him alone. The other side of his dilemma—he couldn’t risk bridling her so tightly that when he did release her, she’d bolt away. These were stupid musings and he knew it, but they troubled him nonetheless.
