Many people hate being labelled as an omega. It’s okay most of the time, and no one can tell the difference between an omega and a beta. However every couple of months an omega has to go through heat; an unbearable period of heightened sex drive.
For most it would mean searching for an alpha to be a long term mate, as a beta wouldn’t quite have the stamina to solve an omega’s problem. It’s not to say it wasn’t possible, but an alpha is more desirable for most. Although it wasn’t the rule, many omegas tended towards being on the more submissive side of the spectrum, even if BDSM wasn’t a large part of their sexual life. The natural dominance of an alpha helped to balance out a partnership; something that didn’t come as easy to betas. Although that isn’t to say a beta/omega pairing was unheard of; they weren’t even all too rare.
Omega’s tended to fall into one of two categories when attempting to seek out their perfect mate. Most would spend the majority of their high school life dating in the hopes of finding that perfect someone to settle down with, while some would have several friends with benefits to call upon during the rough period of heat. It was hardly surprising that teen omegas were often referred to as sluts, even if it wasn’t in their control.
Malia was never someone who wanted a relationship. Her omega classmates would often complain about feeling lonely when not in a relationship, something Malia never sympathised with. She had tried dating a couple of times but always found it stressful, not worth the effort. She was much happier on her own.
She was convinced she must have been a beta, as she just didn’t have the same emotions people described omegas to have. She had associated herself as maybe being asexual, since she didn’t seem to have the desire that her friends would often talk about.
That of course changed when she had her first heat at sixteen. She decided she fitted much better under the label of aromantic. She still had no interest in dating, but her sex drive had sky rocketed.
She discovered what fun masturbation could be.
As she started to get older, her heats of course got stronger, and she was unable to solve this issue herself. As she was nearing her seventeenth birthday, she decided she needed a solution and came up with a plan. Without a fuss, she picked up her fake id, pulled on her most revelling black dress, and travelled to a pub on the outskirts of Beacon hills, where she was unlikely to be spotted by someone who recognised her.
She didn’t want her classmates labelling her as one of the Omegas who would sleep around with the other alphas and betas at school.
That night she ended up getting her first repeat customer, an alpha by the name of Tobias. He fucked her roughly, and at the end felt sorry for the seventeen year old so offered her some compensation. He didn’t know that Malia had already nicked a fifty from his wallet in the pub, but she still accepted the hundred he offered her.
Getting $150 dollars for something she can’t deal with on her own? To Malia it was win-win. She had returned to the pub every night that week, going home with different alphas. Not all of them paid her, but it didn’t mean she went home empty handed. After the guy had passed out in an orgasm filled bliss, she would sneakily take a few notes from their wallet and be gone before they woke.
Of course, she didn’t take enough for them to really notice. That way it kept them coming back. She just took enough to cover her taxi fair and bar tab, leaving a little on the side as a treat.
As she got older, she started being more upfront about her charges, refusing to go home with anyone who didn’t want to pay. She had several regulars and could afford to turn away those who wouldn’t cough up a little cash for her time.
When she moved to Dallas, it became her main source of income to put her through college. She often wondered why she even bothered with her degree when she could make more in one night than her career goal would in a month.
“Red dress, or blue dress?” She deliberates out loud, standing in front of her mirror and holding both up. “Red or blue, red or blue.” She alternates which one she holds up to her chest. “Red, blue, red, blue, red, blue. Or maybe the purple one!” She goes to her wardrobe to find the purple dress, only to remember that was the one she wore yesterday. She might not be going to the same bar, but the purple dress needs washing.
Some of her clients don’t have the patience to let her strip completely.
Yes, the purple dress defiantly needs washing.
“Red or blue. Red or blue…” she mutters. It doesn’t matter really, as whatever she doesn’t wear today she will use tomorrow.
She looks out the window to get a feel for the weather tonight. Because it’s a Monday none of her usual hunting places are open. If she has to go out on a Monday it’s always a case of finding an unoccupied street corner.
Since it’s January and the weather can be quite chilling, she decides the sleeved, slightly longer blue dress is the way to go, even if she doesn’t usually have quite as much success in it. She should still earn a few hundred, and enough to dilute her heat until tomorrow.
Once dressed she takes her time doing her make-up, making sure to use the longer lasting brand. Tomorrow her heat is at the strongest. She needs to have several clients tonight if she stands any chance of making it to school tomorrow looking relatively normal rather than desperate to be bent over the desk and fucked, rest of the class be damned.
Despite having only just turned four pm, she heads out her flat and down the lift, deciding on her first location of the night.
The first few clients are simple, both only wanting a quick hand job in their cars before they arrive home from work, likely to their wife cooking tea and their kids doing their homework.
The idea doesn’t really bother Malia. As long as she gets her twenty-five bucks it doesn’t matter to her where the guys go off to after.
The benefit of being out at this time is being able to catch the people who have had a rough day at work and are looking for a hand job on their way home, which work out to pay more per minute of activity. However she isn’t as busy at this time so there is more hanging around, meaning she averages less an hour overall.
Still, it’s $50 she wouldn’t have got if she had still been at home. A hand job doesn’t really solve her heat problem, but it will pay for the weeks shopping. Plus a bit of spare change.
“What are you doing out here?” A guy calls, having pulled up to the curb and rolled the window down.
“I can be doing anything you want,” she drawls seductively. Malia struts over to him, the guy watching her hips swaying.
“You know, prostitution is illegal right?”
“Who said I was prostitute?” She teases, worrying at her bottom lip in a way many find erotic.
“I think the ripped fishnet tights and high heel boots say it all,” he states with a raised eyebrow.
“Well, maybe you could help be buy something classier, so people don’t mistake me for one of those prostitutes. And I could show you my thanks for your generosity.”
“So I give you money, and you will get me off,” he accuses, but the glint in his eye giving off his true thoughts.
“I didn’t say that now, did I?”
“When is your heat? I can smell it on you.” So he’s one of those guys.
“It’s at its strongest tomorrow.” The guy mulls it over.
“Do you have any commitments you can’t cancel?”
Malia does have lectures tomorrow, but she doesn’t have to think before she answers, “No.”
“And how much would you be wanting for your… new tights… if your gratitude was to last forty-eight hours or so?”
No one has ever wanted Malia for more than two hours, let alone two days! She has no idea what the going rate would be. The man most notice her pause, as he carries on.
“We can go via yours if you want to pack a bag and need to rearrange anything. And I promise I won’t kill you. Do you have any limits?”
“Blood play – I don’t mind if you accidently draw blood, but nothing on purpose. Scat. Infantilism and age play.”
“But submission, bondage and masochism are all green?” Malia nods. “How much do you normally make in a night?”
“Depending on the day, a couple of grand.” She answers, stretching the figure slightly in the hopes of getting more from the man. The most she has earnt in a night was $3760, having been invited to a party and paid per activity per guest. However most nights she does three or four hand jobs at $25 apiece, four or five blow jobs at $50 a time, and goes to a couple of men’s houses at $200 an hour. Plus the few bills she nicks from unsuspecting pockets.
“You agree to come with me, and I will give you one hundred.”
“$100!” Malia exclaims, annoyed. Two days is not worth that little. She could have almost earnt that just in the time she has been talking to this man. Okay, so that’s an exaggeration, but still!
“A hundred grand. If you agree to become my submissive for the whole time.”
“As long as you have a spare toothbrush, we don’t need to go via mine,” she announces without hesitation, walking round to the passenger side of the vehicle. A hundred grand is a lot of money to pass up. Who cares if he may be a serial killer, his money will mean she has enough for life, even if that life may end in forty-eight hours!
“My name is Derek, but you can call me Master.”
It’s maybe a thirty minute drive to Derek’s place, and every minute that ticks by Malia’s doubt rises. She doesn’t know where she is going, and it’s dark so she is unable to follow the route. No one knows where she is, and she never carries her phone on ‘work nights’ in case she gets robbed (and she gets most of her clients to transfer the money into her bank, so she doesn’t carry much cash). To top it all off, she is stuck with a guy who is older, stronger, and obviously an alpha.
She’s screwed. Figurately and soon to be literally.
“Have you done this before?” Derek questions as they exit the car, having come to a stop outside of what Malia assumes is his house.
“I tend to take a more submissive roles when with clients. And some have been into bondage and sadism, but never to this level,” she admits honestly.
“Okay. So ground rule is,” he stops with his hand on the door handle, turning towards her. “If at any point you are uncomfortable, unhappy, or no longer enjoying this, you must say the word Argent, and we will stop straight away. We will discuss the issue and then see what to do from there. If you decide you want to stop, I will drive you home, and we will discuss what to do about your money; I promise we will come to a fair compromise, so don’t let that stop you from speaking up. Got it?” Malia nods. “From the moment you step through this door, you will be my submissive. I expect verbal answers to any question I ask, as well as total obedience to any order.”
“I’ve got it,” she confirms.
“I’ve got it, Master,” Derek corrects. Malia echoes him, and is pleased when Derek smiles at her.
Malia holds her breath as he opens the door and she follows him in, the threshold being a visual barrier into the unknown.
“I have just got to put the room in order. When I return I want you naked and on your knees with your head down. You may put your stuff on the floor under the chest of draws, out of sight.” His words send a shiver down her spine.
She stands, watching the man’s retreating figure rise up the stairs.
Only once he is out of sight does she start to move, unzipping her knee high heeled boots.
She has never been particularly self-conscious about her body, but undressing in a strangers hallway with the lights on is a far stretch from her usual haste in a darkened bedroom. Anyone could knock at the door right now with her undressing just behind it.
Heck, it’s probably not even six pm yet, there could easily be a delivery driver about to walk up to the front door.
She pulls her dress over her head, shaking it out to make sure it’s turned the right way. It’s the only clothing she has with her, so folds it carefully to lessen the wrinkles and puts it on top of the unit for the time being.
Had she been thinking with her brain rather than seeing dollar signs, she would have thought about needing a change of clothes.
She shimmies out of her tights, screwing them up in a ball. The first thing she is going to do when she gets home is throw them out. The tights have seen much better days, but she loved the style and could never find anything to replace them with. At least not for a reasonable price. Although after spending time with this man, this Master, she will be able to reason spending the extra money for a new pair.
She unfastens her bra, letting the straps slide of her shoulders. Finally, she hooks her thumbs over her thongs waistband to pull it off her ass. She shakes her backside, letting gravity do the work. When the fabric hits the floor she steps out with her right foot, and uses her left to kick the fabric up. She catches it in the air with a little celebration boogie.
A chuckle interrupts her. She looks up to notice Derek staring down from the top of the stairs with an amused expression.
“Well, don’t stop on my account, I was enjoying the show,” he chuckles as he starts to descend the stairs. “However, as great as it is, this isn’t what I asked for…” he teases, with a hint of scolding.
“Sorry,” she splutters, hastily grabbing the clothes on top of the unit to shove them underneath. She stays on her knees, head dropped to look at Derek’s feet.
“Was that an apology? I don’t know who you were apologising to…”
“I’m sorry, Master,” she corrects herself.
“You are starting to push your luck, Cupcake. You have got away with a few things now, and I don’t want you to start thinking you can push it further. Follow me, we need to go through a couple of things before we can get started.”
Malia starts to rise to follow, however Derek stops her.
“Did I tell you to stand?” She shakes her head, confused over what he’s getting at. “Well stay down then.” At her continued confused expression he elaborates further, “You may crawl.”
A shiver runs through her body. As much as her brain tells her this should feel wrong, crawling on the floor naked while the man is fully dressed and commanding, going against every feminist movement she believes in, she can’t help but feel like this is right.
Even if crawling is much harder than she thought it would be. And the house is much larger than she first thought. Eventually she catches up with Derek, who has taken residence on the couch in the living room.
“So we have already been through a few things, but to reiterate; you say Argent to stop everything, you are my submissive for the next forty-eight hours, and I expect complete obedience. I am going to go through what’s going to happen over the next few days, and you are to speak up at any point you have a question. Understand?”
“Good girl,” he praises, leaning forwards to stroke her cheek in praise. “You’ve already listed some hard limits, is there anything else you wish to add to the list? Anything you don’t say I will assume is green unless you safe word.” Malia considers for a moment, trying to think of anything else she can’t stand.
“Fisting. And I don’t like the idea of being left alone in bondage.”
“Of course. However what’s your thoughts of being left alone in a cage?”
“I don’t want to be trapped.”
“You can open it from the inside, and I won’t lock it. Is that an ok compromise?”
“Yes, Master.” She is slightly claustrophobic, but the idea of spending time in a cage, out of the way while not needed, has a certain appeal about it.
“Good girl.” He puts a finger under her chin, pulling her head forwards so he can lean down and plant a kiss on her forehead. Another shiver rakes through her body. “Until six pm on Wednesday, you are to be completely mine. I still have to go out to work during the day, but I will be leaving you a list of chores, and I expect you to have dinner cooked for half five. If you have any free time after doing your chores, you are allowed to find a book off my bookshelf in the dining room and read it in your cage – which I will show you later.
“I am going to order takeout tonight and then take you on a tour of the house. Do you have any food allergies?”
“Not food, but I am allergic to plasters, Master.”
“Thank you for letting me know.” Without further explanation Derek leaves. Malia is left feeling lost, unsure if she should be doing anything, when she hears Derek.
“Hey Xing, it’s Derek. Yes, I’m good thanks.” Malia guesses he must be on the phone to someone. “No, the case is still open. Anyway, can I have my usual please? But large instead. Yes, please. Thanks. Something like that,” he chuckles. “Ok. How long will it be? No, that’s fine. See you in a bit.”
Thoroughly confused, Malia waits for Derek to return.
“Come on, I will show you round. You may stand.”
Derek’s house is much larger than she first expected. Although from how much he promised to pay her for two days worth of work, she should have guessed he must have a fair amount of money and no idea what to do with it.
He takes her into every room but one, telling her she will see it later. They haven’t come across a cage on her tour, so she assumes that must be in the room as well.
With perfect timing, the doorbell chimes as they start back down the stairs.
“Go grab the kneeling pad from where I showed you and wait where you were earlier.” Malia nods and heads off, wanting to be out of sight by the time Derek answers the door.
She needn’t have worried, as Derek makes sure she has gone before he opens the door anyway.
When he returns to the living room he has a bag of Chinese. The smell alone makes Malia’s stomach rumble, which receives a chuckle from Derek.
“Normally I eat at the table,” he announces as he sits down next to where she is kneeling, putting the takeout on the coffee table in easy reach. “But tonight is a special occasion since it’s your first day. Don’t get used to it though,” he teases.
He starts pulling out containers, and even a disposable plastic plate and cutlery.
“Put the radio on,” he orders as he starts serving up onto a single plate. Malia rises, slightly confused and starts to head through to the kitchen where she saw the radio on the window. “And bring back some drinks. I will have a cola – there should be cans in the fridge – and you can have a glass of water.”
“Yes, Master,” she answers, feeling oddly domestic. She finds a music channel before grabbing two glasses, filling one with water, and a can of pepsi.
Who chooses pepsi over coke?
“Thanks, Cupcake.” Derek takes the empty glass and can as she kneels upon her return, pouring half the fizzy liquid into the drinking glass. He takes a mouthful before setting it down and picking up the plate. Malia watches Derek pick up a bit of rice and chicken, wondering if she is just expected to kneel and watch. Derek didn’t serve her a plate, and there doesn’t appear to a second one to help herself. But why would Derek have asked about allergies if he didn’t intend to give her something?
Her question is answered when he directs the second forkful towards her. She meets the fork half way.
The food is amazing. The chicken is covered in a lemon sauce which is strong enough to taste, but not enough to be overpoweringly bitter. The rice is just ordinary, but it complements the chicken perfectly. And there is just something about being hand fed like this that makes the food taste that little bit better.
She can’t help the moan that escapes her lips. Derek smirks at her, but doesn’t comment further. She makes a mental note to ask what Chinese this is before she leaves; hopefully they would deliver to her apartment as well.
Derek sets into a rhythm of giving himself two bites before passing Malia one, topping up his plate as it empties. She feels like she is getting the short straw, but soon feels full even though Derek is still going.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, sensing Malia is more reluctant to take the food.
“It’s very nice, Master. However I don’t normally eat this much food in one sitting.” Derek nods in reply, going back to the rest of his meal without offering Malia any more. It’s not long before he has also finished, putting the plate down and then his feet following to rest on the coffee table as well. He reaches for the remote to the TV, turning it up loud enough to play over the radio in the background.
“Come closer,” he commands, and Malia shuffles forwards. Derek doesn’t look at her, scrolling through the programs, but he drops his hand to run through her hair. She finds the action soothing, and rests her head on his thigh. Derek doesn’t comment, so she assumes it’s okay.
Malia doesn’t really know what she had expected when she agreed to go with Derek, but this wasn’t it. She had probably anticipated a lot of rough sex and a bit of pain, yet instead she appears to be playing house. And getting around two grand an hour four it. Plus she finds it oddly satisfying, being able to tune out all her real world stress and instead just focus on the hand running through her hair. She doesn’t even know what Derek has decided on watching, and doesn’t have the energy to open her eyes and look.
Malia didn’t realise she had dropped off to sleep until she feels a hand shaking her shoulder.
“Wakey wakey, Cupcake.”
“Uh? What?” She mutters, confused as to where she is. She has been moved from her position on the floor and is now curled up on the couch, her head resting on Derek’s thigh still.
“I left you asleep as you looked so peaceful, however the cheesecake is now defrosted and I didn’t want you to miss out.”
“Oh, umm. Thank you, Master. I’m sorry I dropped off. I didn’t realise I was tired.”
“That’s fine. I’m glad to see you are comfortable enough to drift off. It’s a big compliment to a dom. Right,” he pats her side in a universal signal to move. “I’m going to dish up the cheesecake, while you can tidy this away. Put the chicken and noodles in one tray as they can keep in the fridge, but just bin the rest.” Malia nods, sitting up and clearing the sleep from her eyes.
She puts the chicken in the noodle tray, and gathers the remaining trays into the bag it came in, carrying it all through to the kitchen. She puts the chicken on the counter and is about throw the bag when Derek speaks up.
“Can you take it outside? I don’t want the house stinking of leftovers all night.” Malia looks out the window, listening to the howling wind, before looking at Derek like he’s mad. “Problem?” He asks, standing squarer.
“It’s cold,” she states as if he is stupid. Derek continues to stare at her as though her point doesn’t matter. “I don’t want to go outside naked, it’s cold.”
After several moments of a silent standoff, Derek speaks up.
“I didn’t give you many rules, so it’s hard to believe you’ve forgotten them already,” he growls at her. She stands there for a moment in defiance, but his hard stare makes her back down. She turns in a sulk to open the back door, heading out into the dark and cold unknown in search of a bin.
When she comes back in she is shivering.
Derek is no longer in the kitchen, and the chicken has already been moved, so she heads back through to the living room.
Derek is sat on the couch how he was before, as relaxed as ever watching the news. She goes to kneel next to him but is interrupted.
“No. Naughty girls need corner time. I want you to stand in that corner with your nose touching the wall, hands on your head,” he points to a corner empty of everything.
“I’m not a child,” she strops, stamping her foot for emphasis. Derek gives her a disapproving look.
“I never said you were a child. Besides, you said age play is a limit. However you have agreed to be my submissive, and as your Master I want you in the corner to think about what you have done.”
“But I don’t even know what I did!” She shouts.
“And that’s why you are going to stand in the corner thinking about it.” Derek’s attention goes back to the TV, ignoring Malia.
“This isn’t fair. I’m an adult! You can’t just scold me.” Malia stands there, waiting for a reaction from Derek. When she doesn’t get one she throws her hands in the air, making an noise of exasperation before going to the corner he indicated.
She refuses to put her hands on her head. She isn’t a child, she doesn’t need time out. Besides, she needs to warm up from being outside, so wraps her arms around herself.
Stupid spoilt Derek. Thinks he can do anything.
Making her go out in the cold.
He didn’t even say please.
As though he expects everyone to bend to his will.
But that is exactly the case; you agreed to be his submissive, one part of her brain reasons.
Still, he is being a brooding old man.
He’s being dominating.
He is still being a masculist.
That’s not really the case though is it? He isn’t doing it because he thinks men are better, but because he is a dominate alpha. If you want to stop you just say one word.
You wouldn’t survive your heat without them.
Stupid hot men fucking with her brain.
You could be fucking the hot man if you get your head out your ass.
Why would I want to?
Because even this punishment is turning you on.
Fuck it brain, why does it have to be right. Malia finally puts her hands behind her head, her elbows out to either side and touching the wall.
This apparently is the signal Derek was waiting for.
“You can come join me whenever you are ready to apologise.”
“I’m sorry, Master,” she says, turning round and heading back to the kneeling pad. “I’m sorry I wasn’t obedient, despite promising I would be. And I’m sorry for acting out when you picked me up on my error.” She drops her head.
“Thank you. I forgive you. I want to watch the rest of this program, then I will take you up to the playroom and you can try and persuade me to let you earn back your slice of cheesecake. Sound okay?”
“It sound’s good, thank you Master.”
She stands behind Derek, almost shaking with anticipation as he opens the door to what he called the playroom.
Her jaw actually drops when she gets her first look at the playroom. The walls are a deep chocolate brown colour, designed to look like wooden panelling. There are several lights around the edge of the room with a red glow, helping create an enticing atmosphere. It’s a stark contrast to the bright lights through the rest of the house, and takes her eyes a few moments to adjust.
To her right is a red cross, which is where she decides to start her exploring. It’s not like a plus sign, more like an x, big enough for her to stand in front of. Looking at it closer, there are cuffs at the end of each post at about the right distance to restrain her arms and legs. She walks over and strokes the wood, working her way down to the soft leather of the ankle cuffs. She doesn’t know what it does, but she defiantly wants to find out.
“The St. Andrews cross,” Derek announces, making her jump. Malia looks over to him where he is still stood near the door. She nods in acknowledgment before standing up and moving to the next piece of equipment.
“This is a stockade?” She questions, recognising the structure. “What it for?”
“For you, if I’m in the mood for it,” he dodges the question. Malia looks at him for a moment with her head cocked, but decides not to push for a further answer; she will probably find out soon enough anyway.
She continues her route round the edge of the room, past a mirror, a chest of draws, and daunting looking chair. She next stops to admire what looks similar to a tool bench, but covered in black leather. She tests it with her weight, and discovers the topping to be relatively cushioning despite it’s ridged look.
The third wall is covered with equipment, from chains to whips to collars, and everything in between.
She looks up over to Derek, who has been observing her every move closely. He doesn’t give any indication that she is doing something wrong, so she picks up one of the whips. This one looks just like what a jockey might use on a horse. She starts to toy with it, swishing it around in the air and listening to the noise it makes. She giggles when she accidentally hits one of the hanging chains, making it jingle with a domino effect through the rest of the equipment.
It makes a pretty sound.
Feeling brave, she gently brings it down on the palm of her other hand, testing the feel. It stings a little, but it’s a pleasant plain – if such a thing was to exist. Getting braver, she tries it a little harder on her thigh.
“Ow,” she squeals, reaching an impressive pitch. She hears a nasally chuckle from behind, reminding her Derek is watching.
“Be careful,” he warns. “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself before we even get started.”
The warm bubble in her abdomen increases. She puts the crop back before she gets herself into trouble. She moves to the final wall, looking at the object next to Derek.
“The cage.” Derek doesn’t respond, knowing he doesn’t need to.
The cage is much more substantial than she had imagined, with thick black bars running vertically. It isn’t that high, but probably enough for her to sit in without hunching over. It is also a substantial length. Probably not quite enough to lay down straight, but if she tucks her legs up slightly she suspects she would be able to get comfortable. She sleeps in that position anyway.
Finally she turns to the one remaining item in the room, occupying the most space in the middle of the room is a bed. But not just a normal bed, as this one has framework over it with multiple attachment points. It’s high enough that she could stand on the bed and only just be able to reach the frame over the top.
“So, what do you think.”
“I think you have a very high quality room, Master,” she responds, feigning innocence. It’s not a lie though, as every item looks to be worth a fair amount. Derek chuckles, shaking his head at her antics.
“Is there anything you need to say before I make my next move?” He asks, hinting at the word Argent. Malia shakes her head. “I am very glad to hear that. Go sit in the chair.”
Derek doesn’t follow her like she had expected, but instead heads to the chest of draws she passed earlier. He stands obscuring her view, unable to see what he is retrieving.
Malia waits patiently in the red chair, placing her wrists on top of the cuffs attached to the arm rests. She is surprised at how soft the chairs padding is considering its strong structure. She guesses everything in this room is probably made to withstand a considerable amount of force.
“For now,” Derek starts, heading over with any items hidden out of view behind his back, “I only want you to feel. Try to relax rather than squirm. Embrace rather than avoid. Do you understand?” Malia nods. “Good girl,” he praises as he raises a piece of fabric to her eyes, taking away her vision. “I promise I will stay in this room the whole time. I do not want to hear a sound from you unless it is a safe word.” He ties the blindfold behind her before the contact disappears.
She starts worrying that he may have left before she feels a breeze over her right nipple. She lets out a small gasp of surprise.
“Sshh,” he blows, feeling the sound as much as she hears it. The draft moves to her left, feeling her nipple slowly harden as it also receives attention. Without her vision she can feel the slightest of disturbance in the air as Derek moves.
“Good girl,” he whispers, now next to her ear. As Derek reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear she tilts her head slightly, making it easier for him. The next thing she knows is Derek chewing on her earlobe. Her instincts want her to jump away, but she remembers Derek command to relax.
Suckling. Not chewing; he is suckling on her lobe. Her first thought is to be weirded out, but instead she finds herself imagining what the scene before her must look like. She is surprised at how intermate the image seems.
Derek is still suckling on her ear as she feels hands at her wrist, one lifting her hand while the other fumbles about below. It’s not until after her hand is placed down does she realise Derek is attaching one of the cuffs to her wrist.
He strokes her hand as he finishes, the electric of the touch replacing the loss of his mouth on her ear as he moves to the next hand. Once her second hand is fastened down she gently tugs at the restraints, testing their unrelenting hold. If desire was audible she wouldn’t be able to hear her thoughts anymore. Not that they are particularly coherent in the first place.
“I’m not going far,” he announces as his contact disappears. Malia listens closely, following his footsteps across the room.
True to his word, he returns shortly. Malia holds her breath in anticipation.
The first sensation she gets is a very light touch over her collar bone. So light she isn’t completely convinced it was real until it starts slowly teasing down her chest.
She allows her head to relax back against the head rest as she swims in the feather light sensations.
“Enjoying that?” Derek asks rhetorically, a smile forming on Malia’s lips. He starts trailing patterns all across Malia’s front. She still can’t quite place the object, but suspects it to be some sort of feather duster.
She moans as he trails the feather downwards, coming to a stop just below her bellybutton. She can’t stop her small thrust, wanting more of… something.
“I don’t know what you are after, but you won’t be getting it like that,” he snickers.
He brings the feather lower, lightly tickling her private region. She bites her lower lip, holding back a moan. She throws her head back against the chair as continues teasing her.
“Please, Master, please!”
“Please what?” he chuckles.
“Please. More. Something…” she gasps as the feather trails over her clit.
With her neck exposed Derek decides to attack the area, nibbling just above her collar bone. Malia knows there will be a bruise there tomorrow, but doesn’t want him to stop.
“You are very riled up considering we have only just started.” Malia moans, unable to comprehend what could happen for the rest of the evening. It could only be eight pm, easily several hours before turning in for the night.
“On a scale of zero to ten, what is your pain tolerance?” Derek asks, all contact leaving Malia.
“Um.. I.. umm…” she stutters. “Well, more than a paper cut, but less than a broken limb, Master.”
“Well, that narrows it down,” he replies with a sarcastic chuckle. “It also wasn’t what I asked.” Without further warning, he pinches Malia’s right nipple. She lets out a gasp of surprise, which turns into a moan of pleasure as he starts to twist.
“I guess maybe a six or seven, Master.” She rushes out. Derek releases her sensitive flesh, the blood rushing back making her see stars behind the blind fold. She breathes heavily, regaining her breath and trying to collect herself from the jumble of emotions twirling round her mind.
“I will be back in a moment,” he says, patting her thigh before all contact disappears once again.
Malia takes the opportunity to collect her thoughts, knowing that whatever is about to come in the next few hours will be intense. And probably involve pain.
Is she a pain slut? No, she doesn’t think so. But she also didn’t think she would have been so turned on by a feather duster and a chair, so who knows!
Even though the pain doesn’t particularly interest her, the idea of suffering through it because Derek wants her to defiantly does. It doesn’t matter what he is about to do to her, but knowing it’s her job to be a toy that he can mould and do whatever to is enough to keep ‘Argent’ far from the front of her mind.
She doesn’t notice Derek’s return until there is a weight on her lap. She giggles in surprise, the action being unexpected that ever her reaction takes her by surprise. However her giggle is cut short when she feels hand placed around her neck.
Derek starts almost massaging her throat with his thumbs. After a moment he stops his circular motions, pressing slightly harder and restricting her airflow. He doesn’t push so hard as to stop her breathing completely, but it’s enough to notice the reducing oxygen.
It’s only a couple of seconds before he releases the pressure, massaging her windpipe once again.
“You all good?” he asks in concern, checking she is still okay. Malia nods her head, not trusting her voice at the moment. Once again Derek restricts her air flow, slowly increasing the pressure until her breathing is completely stopped. After a couple of seconds he lets go again.
Malia really wishes he would get off her lap, otherwise he is soon going to notice just how wet she has become.
“Take a deep breath,” he warns her, before once again pressing down on her windpipe. This time he doesn’t start gently, but instead goes straight to blocking her airflow.
Even though hasn’t known the man long, and her life is literally in his hands, for some reason she trusts him not to take it too far. However it isn’t until she starts involuntarily gasping does he slowly release the pressure.
“Careful, take shallow breaths otherwise you could pass out from the rush of oxygen,” he warns. It still doesn’t stop her from fighting to take in as much as possible, but Derek’s hands prevent it from happening.
When he releases her this time, he completely removes his hands.
“Good girl,” he praises, and Malia all but preens. Derek’s hand reach up behind her, untangling the knot of her blindfold before slowly pulling the fabric away from her eyes. It takes a moment for Malia’s eyes to adjust. At some point Derek had disposed of his shirt, and she is face to face with his solid body. It’s clear the guy works out, and could easily overpower her. That fact makes her vulnerability that much more thrilling.
She tries to reach for his six pack, curious to find out what it feels like, but the pull of the cuffs quickly reminds her the she can’t. Instead she is left almost drawling at the sight.
Derek laughs in amusement.
“Look all you like, but no touching.”
Ever the obedient girl, Malia looks. She starts at his v, disappearing beneath his tented pants. A shiver runs through her, realising what she is doing to the all powerful mysterious man. She skips over his taut six-pack.
Derek’s pecks stand out to her next, slightly tanned skin almost filled to bursting with the muscle underneath. His nipples stand to attention against the pinkened area. Malia’s mouth starts watering, wondering what the textured skin would feel like against her tongue.
As she passes his shoulder she sees the ripple of muscle as Derek fiddles with the blindfold. Her eyes linger on his lips, remembering the feel of them against her neck as he bit the skin. Finally she comes to a stop at his eyes, staring into the depths of green. Malia is surprised at how colourful they are in comparison to the dark aura he seems to admit.
“Like what you see?” he teases.
“Yes, Master.” Malia looks away in embarrassment.
“Well, don’t stop on my account. Besides, I want you looking at me before I start again.”
Again? He had removed the blindfold, didn’t that mean it was over?
Curious to find out what is in store next, she looks back at him.
He raises the blindfold, but this time wraps it around her throat. He pulls it taut behind her, but not so much to restrict her breathing just yet. He grabs the ends with one hand, holding the fabric securely.
Slowly, he raises his spare hand to her throat, forcing her head slightly upwards to accommodate for the width of his palm.
“Keep looking into my eyes,” he commands. Once she obliges he increases the pressure, pulling the blindfold tight as well as pushing his hand into her throat.
He shuffles his buttocks slightly, finding a more comfortable position for himself. That’s alright for him she thinks to herself, having a man squashing her legs and restricting her breathing.
As the time increases Malia starts to get more and more uncomfortable. She starts trying to gasp for air, but rather than release her, this time Derek presses harder. He continues to hold her, even as she starts bucking to try and get him off.
Malia is almost completely out of breath, and her thrashing increases tenfold. Maybe she was wrong to trust this guy, who is about to kill her!
“Look into my eyes,” he reminds her, Malia not having realised she shut them. She opens them again, finding the energy from somewhere.
She starts kicking her legs, not knowing what that will achieve but needing to try something to remove Derek from her neck.
Just as she feels like she is about to pass out, her eyes starting to role back, Derek removes his hand.
He still keeps hold of the blindfold, not letting her completely off the hook, but able to get enough oxygen to stop her from fainting. He slowly starts to release his grip, still controlling the oxygen she is allowed access to.
Eventually she is able to form coherent thoughts, realising that she is still alive and that Derek stopped just in time. Her trust in him increases slightly when she realises that he was watching for that moment before she passed out, but was trying to push her to the limit.
After a couple of minutes, he releases the blindfold completely.
They stay there in silence for a further few minutes, Malia regaining her breath while Derek just stares.
“What did you think of that?” he asks, as if the puddle on the chair doesn’t say it all.
“I-“ She is interrupted as she feels a pinch on her nipple, Derek attaching something he retrieved from behind him as he spoke. She can’t speak around her moan as he attaches a clip to her other nipple, a chain connecting the two.
“I asked you a question,” he commands, slightly tugging at the middle of the chain in warning.
“I thought, uggh, it was… it was.. was very interesting… very… very good,” she stutters out between breathes, Derek rolling the chain between his fingers sending strange sensations through her body, unable to concentrate on what she is saying.
“I’m very glad to hear.” He smiles, and Malia could almost fall in love with that look. “Do you need a break or are you ok to continue?” he asks, seeming to actually care about what she says. Derek is a very different man to most the clients she sees, who have more of a wham-bang-thankyou-ma’am kind of attitude towards her.
She doesn’t know if she needs a moment to collect herself or not, which of course means she knows her answer.
“I want whatever you want,” she replies honestly, completely slipping into the role of submissive.
“Well, what I want is for you to lay on your back on the bed,” he decides, rising up off her and starting to undo the cuff on her right hand, “while I go and retrieve some equipment for what I plan next.” He rubs her hand, checking the circulation in her fingers before moving to her left wrist. “You have until I return to collect yourself and get in position.”
With that he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.
Malia is grateful that he remembered not to leave her in bondage, as per her request at the beginning of the night. He may be a scary demanding alpha, but he does listen to what she said, and he does seem to care about how she feels.
She rises from the chair, taking a moment to stretch her muscles before making her way to the bed.
She climbs on over the red satin sheets, positioning herself in the centre of the double bed to await his return.
She feels almost as though she is an elaborate meal put on display, waiting to be devoured by the Master of the house.
Feeling a little cheeky, she gets up of the bed and hunts through the draws. Eventually she finds a piece of fabric long enough for what she wants it for, and takes it back to the bed with her, just in case Derek arrives before she is finished and she isn’t where he requested.
Once sat on the bed she loops the fabric around her neck, loosely so not to restrict her breathing like only a few moments ago. She ties the fabric in a large bow, positioned slightly to the side, to hopefully give Master a pleasant surprise.
She holds her breath when she hears him ascending the stairs. As he opens the door she completely freezes, not daring to move a muscle in anticipation of Derek’s reaction.
Derek freezes as his eyes land on Malia, presented on the bed with her bow. Finally Derek reacts, chuckling at her antics.
“You cheeky cupcake,” he teases with a smile, and Malia beams knowing she was the one to bring that smile to his lips. He puts down whatever he was carrying on the nearest surface before leaping over to the bed, jumping up and landing with legs and arms straddling him. Almost animalistically he rips at the bow with his teeth, undoing it in one go. He then grabs the fabric, using it to secure her arms to an eye bolt in the headboard.
“That’s better, you can’t get up to any mischief now,” he teases as he dismounts the bed. He quickly tickles her feet as he leaves, Malia kicking out in an involuntary reaction.
“Hey! That’s not fair, Master,” she pouts with a smile.
“Oh well, I’m not fair,” he teases back. Malia decides she likes this side of her Master; almost as much as the brooding dominate persona she has seen until now.
Derek is doing something out of her view when she smells smoke. This causes her a moment of panic before Derek turns around, holding two lit candles, with another couple still on the unit he dumped everything on when he entered.
“Mood lighting, of course,” he says with a smirk, suggesting there is something more to it that Malia can’t quite understand. He places one candle each side of the bed, just far enough to the side so that the cover does not catch fire.
He returns to the unit, picking up a tub without a lid, but leaving the other candles where they are. He balances the tub on the headboard, out of Malia’s line of sight.
Climbing onto the bed, he straddles her hips, almost sitting on her but still supporting most of his weight himself.
He leans forwards, taking the forming hicky in his mouth. His hands are placed either side of her head, making her feel captured. Secured. And most surprisingly: safe. She allows herself to get lost in the pleasant sensations.
So much so that she misses when he moves his hand and retrieves something from the Tupperware box.
She gasps when she feels a shocking cold on her nipple, a stark contrast to the warm room that had already started to melt the ice cube now on her breast.
Once Derek decides her nipple has had enough, he swaps to the other, still sucking at the spot on her neck. Even though the ice cube has melted dramatically from when he first retrieved it, it feels just as cold on her second nipple.
He stays at her neck until the cube completely melts, dampening the duvet beneath them. He sits up, dropping his weight on her hips with a smirk.
Malia can’t help but rut up against his clothed rear, hunting out any kind of friction she can get. Does this guy not know her heat is tomorrow! The constant level of frustration is starting to drive her insane.
“Stop that, or I’m going to have to make you stop,” he orders. Try as she might, Malia can’t help trying for one more thrust, using her feet to push her up further and almost dislodge Derek. He tuts, and Malia almost, almost, feels guilty for disobeying. Derek climbs of the bed heading over to the wall containing all the leather.
“I was intending on spanking you tonight, but I changed my mind earlier. Don’t think I won’t change it back if you push me. However, I can’t have you thrusting when I said no, so I am going to cuff your legs to the bed posts, so you won’t be able to get the momentum you really need to go for it,” he explains as he heads back, black leather cuffs in hand.
Malia debates putting up a fight for fun, but decides she would rather go back to the ice cubes than have the whip.
No doubt the whip will come out at some point in the two days she is with Derek, but she can try to postpone it for now.
Derek fastens her legs to the bottom of the bed before resuming his previous position, straddling Malia’s hips.
He reaches up to grab another ice cube. Malia watches as he slowly brings it down to her skin, placing it above her heart. She gasps on contact, the cold still surprising her. He trails the cube down to her belly button, taking a weaving path that leaves behind some of the melted water.
He changes his position, now kneeling between Malia’s legs so he can bring his tongue to lap at the water trail. The slightly rough texture of his warm tongue is such a different sensation to the cool ice cube, it sends a visual shiver through her body. Derek laughs, but continues in his mission to lap up all the water. Once finish he sits up on his knees with a self-satisfied smirk.
“Are you ready?” he challenges.
“Ready for wha-“ Malia is interrupted as Derek leans forwards, reaching into the tub once again. He pops an ice cube into his mouth, holding it between his teeth.
He leans down, running the ice cube across Malia’s lips.
While distracted by the almost kiss, he takes a second hidden cube and places it directly on her clit. Malia parts her lips with a gasp, and Derek drops the ice cube from between his teeth into her mouth. Her body is receiving so many signals it takes her a moment to process it all. There is the cold on her clit, making her tense. There is the ice melting in her dry mouth, rehydrating her cheeks. And of course there is Derek on her lips, demanding access that she can’t help but grant, the ice cube almost forgotten as they explore each other’s mouths.
They continue this way until the cube on her clit melts, and she finally gets the first feeling of Derek’s hands on her intimate areas, causing her to moan which is quickly swallowed by Derek.
He detaches himself from her, despite Malia’s effort to follow his retreating lips. Derek chuckles patronisingly.
“I don’t want you getting too cold,” he announces coyly, reaching down to the floor. Malia forgot he put a candle there earlier until she sees him reveal it. Confused, Malia cocks her head as she watches him hold it above her and starts to tip the candle.
Is he trying to warm her up?
It’s not until she sees the melted wax starting to pool at the tip that she realises what’s about to happen. She starts squirming, but of course that doesn’t stop the wax from starting to drip.
It feels as though it falls in slow motion, landing squarely on the centre of her stomach. She lets out a hiss at the hot contact, holding her breath as it cools to a more tolerable temperature. Derek balances the candle between her boobs, blocking her sight of the solidifying wax.
After a couple of minutes he uses his nail to pick at the cooled wax, pulling her skin as it detaches, almost as painful as when it first landed.
“Beautiful,” he comments, looking at the mark the wax left. “Let’s see what I can draw.”
He picks the candle up before Malia can process his words, already starting to tip it so the wax drops.
This time in lands much higher, above her breast. He trails the wax in a continuous stream, creating the letter ‘M’ in red wax.
Malia looks away for the rest of the word, the pain level increasing as he continues.
“Damn it,” he mutters under his breath, the wax having stopped. Derek shifts his weight, leaning down to reach the candle from the other side of the bed. Malia watches as he rises back up, fresh candle in hand with plenty of melted wax. She shuts her eyes before he continues his design, hissing as she feels him start once again.
Eventually he reaches the other side of her chest, finishing the word – whatever it may be.
“Stunning. But it needs something more…” he comments. Malia doesn’t think it was intended for her ears, so she doesn’t comment.
She feels Derek’s weight leave the bed but she doesn’t open her eyes to confirm it. Instead she is focused on the burning on her chest, decreasing as the wax starts to cool. She thinks about the fact that she is currently Derek’s canvas, the wax being his chosen tool. She tugs at the fabric restraining her arms, not really to try and escape, but instead to remind herself that she is at this man’s mercy. The freedom to let her mind wonder while she is used for this man’s - her Master’s - pleasure brings her a sense of peace that she couldn’t begin to explain. She barely notices when he returns, now using the wax on her abdomen.
After an indeterminate amount of time, Derek calls her name. It takes a couple of times for her to realise and for her to open her eyes. She is confident she wasn’t asleep, but couldn’t explain what happened.
“Hey, Cupcake. You back with me?” Malia nods, still is a haze of peace. “I think you may have been on the verge of subspace.” Malia gives a questioning look, having not heard of it before. “I can explain it to you after work tomorrow, but just know that it brings me an immense amount of pride that you almost reached it. It’s one of the greatest compliments to a Dom; at least in my opinion.” He smiles at her, and she can’t help but smile back, even though she doesn’t understand. “I wanted to show you what you look like before I take it off. Do you mind if I take a photo of you? I promise I won’t share it. Although I can’t promise that I won’t keep it – you do look exquisite.” Malia nods her consent, wanting to know what she looks like.
Derek leaves her for a moment, fetching his phone.
He spends several minutes – almost reaching double figures – taking photos from different angles, untying Malia and getting her to pose in different ways.
“Ah ha! That’s the one. I might even get it printed and framed, keep it as a memento to remind me of this, albeit very expensive, couple of days. Come look,” he instructs, and Malia moves to kneel behind him at the end of the bed.
She gasps at the sight, almost unable to believe that it is her in the picture. She is kneeling with her hands behind her back. Her head is up, but mostly obscured by her hair, hanging in front of her. Close friends and family might recognise her, but she doubts her classmates would.
But what really draws her attention is the artwork on her body. Across her chest reads ‘Master’s’ in red cursive wax. Malia raises her hand, running it over the wax that still remains on her body.
Her stomach is covered in blue, red and orange flowers, with detailing from the red candles.
“It’s amazing, Master,” she says in awe, unable to believe such artwork could be made from dripping wax. Is it self absorbed to be turned on by yourself?
“Well, it has taken a few hours.”
“Hours!” Malia gasps, unaware she was out for so long. “What’s the time?”
“It’s just gone eleven pm.”
“Eleven…” she breathes. Derek chuckles.
“Right, anyway. It’s time for bed-“
“Bed!” She interrupts. At Derek’s glare she apologises. “I’m sorry, Master.”
“Yep. I haven’t got to leave for work until nine, but I want an early morning to be able to make the most of my temporary possession,” he drawls, giving Malia goose bumps at the objectification.
“But… sex?” she stutters.
“What about it?”
“Is that not what you wanted me for?”
“Oh, silly Cupcake. I wanted you for much more than that. Besides, you are no where near desperate enough yet.”
“But… it’s my heat tomorrow-“
“I am aware. But my point still stands.”
“Hush. Unless you want to start tomorrow with a punishment,” he teases. “Let’s get you settled in,” he says, reaching for the clamps she had almost forgotten about. He releases them gently, but does not stop the pain as blood rushes to her nipple. He unclasps the second one before she is recovered, and the pain level increases dramatically. She can’t hold back the groan of pain, needing it to stop quickly. She goes to cup her nipples in the hopes that maybe adding a bit of pressure will help, but Derek grabs her hands to stop her. She pouts in frustration, but he continues to ignore her wishes.
Derek stands up off the bed, holding Malia’s wrist to drag her up as well. “I want you to leave the wax on overnight, lets get you settled in.”
He leads Malia over to the cage, opening the large door at the end. He looks at Malia expectantly, who stares back in confusion.
“I’m told the best way to enter is to crawl…” he hints. Malia stares back, questions filling her head. He is going to leave her in here to sleep! However she is tired, and it’s a battle to fight another day. She kneels down, crawling in.
Derek leaves her for a moment, collecting something from a draw before returning and kneeling at the entrance.
“Give me your hands,” he requests. Reluctantly she places her right hand in his, before he pushes on a large mitten, almost the same as a boxing glove. “I can’t have you getting yourself off overnight, and I can’t yet trust you not to, so I’m making sure you can’t.” He padlocks – padlocks – the glove round her wrist, pulling it to check it won’t slip off. “Other hand,” he requests, dropping her right. There is no point fight now, so she hands it over for him to put on the other glove.
Once it’s locked on, he stands and shuts the cage door.
“I’m not locking it like I usually would, but unless there is a valid reason you are to stay in here until I allow you out, understood?”
Derek starts going about tiding up the room, Malia watching from her position on the floor. Well, there is a thin mattress in the cage that is surprisingly comfortable, so she guesses it isn’t quite on the floor. Still, there is not blanket or pillow, so it’s not exactly as comfortable as a bed. One of which she can see from where she is. Her eyes follow Derek, pouting at him as he tidies up the equipment they used.
Why does Derek want her in the cage when there is a perfectly suitable bed she could use?
“Night night,” Derek coos at her, ignoring her sorry look. He turns the light out as he leaves, shutting the door and plunging her into completed, frustrated, darkness.