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He’s not out of line entirely, yet. But he’s already close.Fucking push your luck,I silently dare him.I’ll have you thrown out of here, and you’ll never darken the door again.
I think he knows it, too. He lets go of the collar before the pressure against my throat can be too much, both of his hands in my hair as he steps closer. “Unzip me, slut,” he growls, and I can see the hard ridge of his cock behind his fly, thick and threatening. “Get my cock out for me.”
Slowly, I obey. I reach up, reminding myself what’s in it for me if he doesn’t push too far and we finish the session. My cut of my fee alone is a good payout, and then he’ll tip well—or if he doesn’t, Nikolai will send him a reminder that the girls expect to be rewarded for their services, and generosity is expected for the continued patronage of the club. If he continues to betoostingy, his access to all of the club’s services will be throttled. The men don’t have to tip extravagantly to stay members, but they do have to extend some generosity, or Nikolai considers it an insult.
“Good little slut,” he murmurs as I unbutton his suit trousers and slide the zipper down, my fingers reaching inside for his cock. “Wrap that pretty little hand around it and give it a stroke. Get used to it before I need your mouth.”
He makes it sound huge, and I bite back a snicker as I slip him free. He’s not small, exactly, but he’s nothing impressive either, nothing that I’d be worried about being able to wrap my lips around. An average-sized, decent cock, big enough to fuck a girl hard and satisfy her if that’s what she wanted, but not anything to be alarmed about.
I wonder what the man at the bar looked like, I think before I realize it, imagining the hard ridge in his pants, the way he must have throbbed as he watched me. He’d left so quickly—I wonder if he’s in the men’s room right now, stroking himself to the thought of me, and it’s not until I feel the sharp jerk of Matvei’s hand in my hair that I’m brought back to the present.
“Stroke my fucking cock,” he snarls, his hand twisting. “What kind of fucking whore did I win? I thought you were the best girl that Bratva asshole had here.”
“I am,” I hiss, forgetting myself for a moment. He lets out another growl of displeasure, suddenly dragging me to my feet by my hair, his erection swaying as he pulls me towards the leather spanking bench.
“I’ll teach you what that pretty mouth of yours is for,” he snaps, pushing me down over it and leaning down to strap the cuffs around my ankles as I grit my teeth.
I dislike being restrained by men I don’t like, and I dislike it from this man especially.You have a safeword,I remind myself.He agreed to it when he signed the contract. If he doesn’t abide by it—
Matvei is walking to the cupboard where the implements are kept, and I wince as I wait to see what he’ll pick. He looks through the assortment of floggers, paddles, canes, and crops for a long moment, before choosing a paddle with thin cutouts in it.He knows what will actually cause pain,I think grimly as he takes it out, rubbing the wood against his palm with a smile on his face as he walks towards me.
“These should come down, I think,” he says, his fingers tracing the edge of my panties. “Or perhaps—”
His fist closes around the delicate lace suddenly, and I let out a yelp before I can stifle it as he tears them away, the fabric leaving an abrasion against my skin as it tears away. It’s nothing more violent than others have done in the past, but something in my gut stirs uncomfortably at his touch, thewayhe is about it, some inner sense pinging that this man doesn’t simply enjoy causing pain or exercising power as a kink. He doesn’t just want to be aroused; he wants me to be afraid,trulyafraid. Even here, in a place where there are rules and limitations and boundaries that he’s supposed to abide by, his pleasure will come from making me wonder if he’s really going to obey.
This is a man who obeys no one, and who resents being expected to abide by any rule.
And it does frighten me a little. More than a little, once he begins.
I try not to show it. I press my lips together as he brings the paddle down, trying not to let him see how truly unsettled he makes me. I let out small whimpers, let my thighs quiver against the leather in an attempt to give him the display that he wants, but I refuse to let him see my true emotions. He doesn’t deserve to see anything true or real about me.
But that only serves to make him more angry.
He wants me to cry. He wants me to beg. And for the first time in my career, I find that it’s not just a matter of not preferring to do the things asked of a submissive. Everything in me screams back to fight this man. To tell him to fuck off, to stop touching me.
The trust between a dominant and a submissive is a fragile thing. A submissive trusts their dominant to obey their boundaries and not try to cross their lines, to yield when the submissive says their safeword. The dominant trusts that the submissive will speak up if those lines are crossed, not allowing it to go too far.
There are no lines here except the ones enforced. Matveiwantsto push past my boundaries, to run roughshod over them. Outside of this club, I can’t imagine what he does to women who end up in his bed, and I don’t want to. He wants me to fear that he won’t honor my safeword when I say it. It’s not enough to cause pain and pretend to be in danger; he won’t be able to get off unless I actually fear for my safety.
I suspect that’s a part of his frustration, because, in a place like this, there’s always someone to help me if things get too out of hand.
The paddle comes down harder than I’ve ever been struck in my life, and suddenly Matvei’s hand is in my hair, dragging my head back so hard that I can feel that something will be strained in my neck tomorrow, pulling me into an arch almost beyond what my body can take. “Scream for me, little girl,” he hisses, his fingers digging into my scalp, tugging at my hair until I’m almost afraid that he’ll rip something free. Then he brings the paddle down again and again, beyond pain, beyond anything that’s a game. I open my mouth—not to scream for him as he demands, but to utter the word that will put a stop to all of this.
I rarely use it. I’ve rarely had a client that pushes me so far as to need it, and I’veneverhad a client refuse it. It’s in the contract they all sign in black and white—refusing a safeword means having their membership immediately rescinded, no refunds.
“You’re not even wet for me, you stupid cunt,” Matvei hisses. “What kind of fucking place is this?”
Something hard suddenly shoves between my thighs, and for a moment, I thinkhe’sinside of me, and then I realize it’s the handle of the paddle. No foreplay, not even lube to ease it, just the hard object shoved into me, and Matvei spitting insults in the moment before I can speak the word that should put a stop to all of this.
“Pearl.” I choke out the word through a pained gasp and expect it all to stop. He’ll let go of my hair, release me, put the paddle away. He’ll leave, and then I’ll have a long talk with Nikolai about whether or not this man should actually be allowed to hold a membership here.
Icertainly won’t be seeing him again, and I wouldn’t recommend that any of the other girls be asked to, either.
And then I realize that none of that is happening.
He doesn’t stop. His hand is still in my hair, pulling back painfully, his other hand still grinding the paddle against me. “You’re going to fucking come on this for me,” he snarls. “If you don’t get wet for my cock, maybe this will demean you enough to get some kind of response, you fucking—”
“Pearl!” I snap the word again, trying to twist away, but of course, it’s impossible while strapped to the bench. “That’s my safeword, you asshole!” The time to pretend at being submissive is over.He’s going to let me go, or he’s going to wish he had.
