Bodhi Page 3

  Oh … she could imagine…

  And she wanted to wrap her mind so far inside Gavin’s desire and demands she’d drown.

  “Relax your tongue. Relax,” he said, pushing himself all the way in, deep into her throat, causing her to gag immediately.

  Her eyes watered. She thought for sure she’d vomit, but she didn’t as she swam in sensations, the trance. Nothing was in her mind. It was blank. Only delicious cock filled her thoughts and her throat, penetrating her until she couldn’t breathe or think or make reason of sense. All she had to do was be open, become a vessel, allow him entrance inside her vulnerability — allow him to attempt to humiliate her with those awful retching sounds.

  His hand remaining fixed to her hair, he would occasionally pull out, allowing her to breathe, each time asking if she was okay, but then he would proceed more insistently than before, causing her to gag over and over and over.

  And then on what was to be the final withdraw, he said, “Stick out your tongue. All the way.”

  With the ferociousness of a beast, he pumped himself while she watched, and then he spilled his load onto her tongue and into her mouth, making sure it dribbled down her chin. Leaning back, he smiled, swiped a towel off the chair she hadn’t realized he’d placed there, and wiped his cock.

  “If you were mine, I’d walk you out there in front of everyone with my cum dripping from the corners of your mouth,” he said with a sly grin as he wiped some from the sides of her lips with his thumb. “Would you humiliate yourself further for me?”

  She swallowed more of him, then said, “This”—she licked his taste from the corners—“is a privilege.” Her eyes darted back and forth as she took stock of the anything-but-average man. “It only humiliates a woman who doesn’t feel it’s an honor to have received it.”

  He had no answer for that, or he kept it to himself. Only another smile took shape … a genuine one. She had pleased him — reached some part of him he seemed to keep closed off. He wiped the rest from her mouth with the towel and asked if she could stand.

  They stood eye to eye, Audrey looking up at him from her height of near five-eight, for several intense seconds, her muddy browns to his Copenhagen blues. Then he surprised her by cupping her face and pressing his lips to hers.

  “Kiss me,” he mumbled, mouth grazing hers. “Show me how you kiss. You lead.”

  Seeking out his hidden places, she slipped him her tongue, passing any remaining semen to him as she licked him, nibbled him, ate him, tasting him as long as he allowed … which wasn’t long enough.

  After pulling away, he met her eyes and told her they would go to Kate. He would see to it both women made it home safely.

  But first, Audrey would follow him through the halls. Behind him this time. She wouldn’t touch him, and she wouldn’t make eye contact with anything but his feet and the floor. He removed her red ribbon and assured her the throngs of people would know by her walk and posture that she belonged to him, she couldn’t be shared without his permission, and that she was safe and under his protection.

  Except … he hadn’t claimed her, hadn’t asked or demanded any formal submission, and still she obeyed him without question. She followed him to Kate — head bowed, novice ribbon removed — without touching him but bound to him.

  3

  Kate lay on a tiny sofa, the same type of couch as in the other room sans the color. Everything in this pocket of the world was white. The door. The chair. The tables. The blinds on the windows now drawn to keep the hazy eyes off the aftercare.

  Kate certainly seemed to be receiving the treatment. Wearing a fluffy bathrobe, a white one, she glowed. Her inky hair was now down and hitting her collarbone A glass of champagne filled her hand, and rosiness brightened her cheeks. However, a different color painted her shoulder blade where the material had slipped, where it looked like Peyton had sunk his teeth into her skin.

  Audrey eyed the bruises and marks, and Kate noticed, smiled, and lifted the fleece, then she attempted to stand.

  “Sit, Kate,” her Dominant said from behind her in the voice of a satisfied grizzly bear.

  Peyton may have sounded like a bear, but he wasn't imposing. Thin, lean, and lanky, but not awkward, he stood a couple inches taller than Gavin. His hair was only inches shorter than Kate’s, but it was much lighter and had sun-kissed sienna highlights. They appeared natural, though. And he’d replaced his belt with another it seemed.

  Peyton always wore a different belt. Always, Kate had said.

  Audrey didn't normally notice banal things like designer clothing, shoes, or accessories … on men anyway. However, "things" like belts — the textures, colors and smells, the type of hide — no longer seemed inconsequential.

  Nothing in the dungeon seemed frivolous or without thought or merit. Each act was choreographed, timed. Each instrument chosen wisely. This world had been deeply contemplated, then orchestrated.

  The smell of the leather must’ve been an aphrodisiac because Audrey could feel a need rising again, starting in her mind, shooting sparks to her groin. Stealing her gaze from Peyton's waist and one-of-a-kind belt, Audrey’s eyes landed on the faces of the men — Gavin's and Peyton's.

  As she peered at them, studied them, she felt words passing between them without sound. It seemed something they did often. Communicate with their eyes and their posture. This place must thrive on ESP. Darcy, Peyton, and Gavin (the man whose cock she’d swallowed without bothering to ask for a surname) all seemed to speak in riddles using looks and body language.

  "Champagne," Kate offered, breaking Audrey's hypnotized stare.

  “We can drink?” Audrey asked with a stunned blink.

  As Gavin held up a finger — one single finger — Peyton smirked. Audrey sat next to Kate and tugged at the robe. Kate, never seeming overly modest or ashamed, let it slip to her waist, exposing her huge breasts and the evidence she wasn’t an amateur in the world of BDSM.

  The bruises had colored. The welts risen. It hurt a little to look at them — the way it hurt to look at the sun — but Kate’s face told a different story. A tale of peace. And just as we needed the sun’s light and constancy despite its risk, Kate needed the bruises. They were badges of honor — hippie bullshit in the middle of a fucking BDSM dungeon — and Audrey had a fucked-up clit to prove it.

  Bodhi… Maybe it wasn’t flower-child bullshit after all.

  Kate drank champagne and eased back against the seat and ice.

  “You’re beautiful,” Audrey said with tears in her eyes she couldn’t hide, then she kissed the bite on Kate’s shoulder.

  Gavin came up beside them, wearing a smile, and sat on the arm.

  “You were here.” Kate popped a small strawberry into her mouth.

  “I was. Audrey was too.” He tipped his head, his eyes a laser beam of blue, traveling between Audrey and Kate — a straight fucking line of deadly heat a person shouldn’t dare underestimate.

  Kate glanced at Audrey, then covered her mouth, but the shit-eating grin escaped. “God, my orgasm was ten times better. No offense, Peyton—”

  “—none taken—”

  “—but you don’t visit the rooms anymore. Unless there’s a problem. I almost came when Peyt told me. And you were here too.” Kate eyeballed Audrey. “I would’ve liked it if you would’ve scened with us.”

  “Really?” Audrey asked, knowing she must’ve been blushing the color of the berries.

  “Yes.”

  “Well…” Audrey sighed, the uncertainty she’d felt before was being replaced with vigor. “I’m glad we’re getting this out in the open.”

  “Open communication,” Gavin interjected.

  Kate cleared her throat. “Then time to fess up, old friend. Did you two play tonight?” She pointed a finger between Audrey and Gavin. “I see my buddy no longer has her ribbon.”

  "Yes,” Gavin answered, looking at Audrey — no, through her, burning her face with the fire in his eyes. The hollow remained between her legs though.


  “Holy fuck,” Kate exhaled on a dramatic sigh.

  “What?” Audrey asked as Gavin redirected his warm gaze toward Peyton. The men exchanged some sort of James Bond-type espionage in their glances. They seemed to own the fucking patent on it.

  “Kate, Kitten, you need to sleep. Those pills should be working soon. Gav will call a driver for you. For both of you,” Peyton said without patronization.

  “I have my own car,” Kate retorted. “We booked a room.”

  “Someone will drive you to your hotel and bring you back here in the morning for your car. I have your keys,” Gavin said, patting his pocket. “I’ll return them when you are rested and not drinking champagne.”

  “I’ve had one glass. What? Do you think you own the place?” Kate grinned but then gave into his demands. Peyton helped her stand.

  “Show me your bruises,” Kate gushed to Audrey, but she looked at Gavin as he smirked.

  “You dirty devil. What the fuck did you do to her?”

  “Kate, now, now…” Peyton began, “bruised ass or no bruised ass, when you use your filthy mouth, you know I might take you over my knee.”

  “Some bruises are for the inside, Katharine.” Gavin kissed the tip of her nose, then he kissed Audrey’s.

  He took hold of Audrey’s shoulders, squaring them, and sighed, but he kept his gaze on the comrade who stood behind her. Gavin had that same damn look as before: pensive and intense, communicating through the void, his stare full of Daniel Craig secret assignments.

  “Goodnight.” Gavin kissed Audrey’s cheek, gave her long, dirty-blonde hair three quick tugs, and left the room with a stunning, rather hippie-like smile floating in his blue-blue eyes. They were like the color of Van Gogh’s starry sky. Dark and mysterious and as blue as the deep end of a Copenhagen ocean.

  4

  “Good morning,” Gavin said as he opened the door of the dungeon before Audrey rang the bell to the service entrance, and the look she gave him asked him questions without her having to use words.

  She invented ways around everything.

  “I have cameras.” He pointed to the corner of the doorframe. “I see all.”

  “You’re here early.”

  “Every day.”

  She peeked inside. “You’re alone?”

  “Darcy doesn’t usually come in until two or three.”

  “Bring me my keys,” Kate yelled as the cab pulled away.

  Gavin went toward the lot and gave Kate her keys, and once he returned, before Audrey knew what was happening, Kate was honking and blowing kisses out the window of her cherry-red Mustang as she took off down the street. A person might never know Kate winced with each shift of the gear stick, ached and throbbed around the curves and turns.

  Because Kate took it like a pro.

  Flinching was a reminder of why they’d made the hour trip last night from Spring Hill to Tampa. They only had the weekend. Or Audrey did anyway, and she planned on making the best of it. It was only Sunday morning…

  “What are you two up to?” Audrey asked with a raise of her brows. Kate had practically shoved her out of the cab, telling her to trust her own instincts and ring the buzzer beside the door. The girls hadn’t talked much last night. They’d mostly slept.

  “You didn’t get the proper tour last night, and I was grumpy.” Gavin ran a palm over the top of his head. He had light scruff there too.

  “Grumpy, huh?” Audrey smiled, but maybe he was correct.

  He had come off as a bit of an asshole. But every story had two sides, or three or four, and every-fucking-body had bad days. If torturing her clit and giving her the best orgasm of her life was grumpy, then she couldn’t wait to see him elated.

  Gavin was all business as he showed her a locker area, bathrooms, and six hotel-sized rooms with codes and doors — two private, four with the infamous windows — and then he showed her the main floor. The communal areas. Last night, the open rooms had whizzed by in a flurry of bodies and groans.

  He brought her into the first, where more than a dozen oversized thrones lined the walls. Thirteen to be exact. Symbols were carved into the grain, on the heads and arms, emblems she couldn’t make out but knew couldn’t be arbitrary.

  Two school desks were in the center. Those also appeared old and unique and were made of a dark wood. The tops were wide enough to hold a partial torso, leaving the head and neck, lower legs and feet, to spill over the edges — a perfect position to receive punishment.

  Audrey felt a dull ache stab her pussy just picturing herself on one of the desks, naked and exposed and at her Master’s mercy. But right now, Audrey longed to caress one of the crosses Gavin had guided her toward.

  “Touch it,” he said after he must’ve noticed her blurred gaze.

  Her fingers inspected every inch — the binds, the smooth grain, the shape — her mind racing to catch the fantasy she’d rehearsed a million times while masturbating.

  What would it feel like to be fastened to it? What would the man be like who did the binding? How would he hurt her, taunt her, own her? Would she go through with it?

  “No one is here,” he whispered, then touched the nape of her neck.

  She shook from the friction, the nearness of his smell. Leather, cedar, shadows. He held his fingers there, not squeezing or pressing — only possessing.

  Leaning into his touch, going with her instincts, she arched her back, closed her eyes, and breathed. His scent mixed with something else this morning. The polish on the cross. The smell of her own arousal.

  He trailed his hand down her back, reached her tailbone, and took hold of her waist — not pressing, not squeezing — possessing her there too.

  “How is your clit?” he whispered, and she didn’t know why he was being quiet if the place was empty. But his tone and breath settled her, righted her, comforted her — made her forget she didn’t know him at all, and yet she wanted his dick to jar her, wrestle with her, strangle her.

  “Sore,” she said, a sly smile on her lips as she shifted her gaze toward his.

  In an instant, his hand was at her nape again, but now he did press and squeeze. He gripped her neck, twisting her face toward him, and then he kissed her.

  This time, he didn’t let her lead.

  He gave her tongue, demanded her attention. He bit and sucked her lips to the point of bruising until neither of them could breathe and until their two bodies, fully clothed, became one.

  Separating his swollen lips from hers, he paused, then smirked. “Do you want the full tour?”

  “Are you clean?”

  “I’m tested every few months. You?”

  “Yes. Same.”

  Although she had no need to be tested every few months. She’d only had sex with Dell in the last fourteen years. Even after their separation, they’d fucked, but not since the divorce. The familiarity and need for a lover had replaced common sense once or twice … or maybe a few times. But now, it had been over a year since she’d been breached, and she wanted nothing more than for Gavin to be the one to climb over her walls and lay siege.

  “Take off your clothes,” he said.

  She found that she could do this. And would. Entering a dreamlike state, she undressed, wishing to please him even in this moment, wanting to present her body to him as a gift.

  “I’ll take care of you,” Gavin said in a hush, his breath hitting her skin as he guided her to the cross. He buckled her wrists and ankles while continuing to reassure her. Audrey knew exactly what he meant by those words, and she was already drowning in them.

  Once she was splayed out and naked in the formation of an X, Gavin ran his hands over every part of Audrey’s body, tickling her into a further trance — the one his voice had started.

  “Are you too sore to fuck?” he asked, but she could hear the darkness in his tone. He wanted to fuck her cunt while it was still sore. He was counting on it. He wanted to bruise what he’d hurt. Re-mark what he’d torn. Break the doll and glue her back together.

 
“No, Gavin. Please.”

  Reaching a hand between her legs, he pinched her clit without warning, and she screamed, then bit her lip and cursed. “Fuck...”

  “You’re not ready.” She could still hear the darkness, the ache for her permission he desperately sought.

  “Not ready for that, no. But you… I need you to…”

  She heard the unbuckling of his pants and felt him draw near again.

  “To what?” He stroked his cock along her seam. “You’re so wet already, baby girl. You please me.” His voice cracked just above a whisper, the ache apparent on the tip of his tongue.

  Such a contradiction …. this man. His restraint and gentleness would soon be off the leash.

  “Thank you, sir.” Exhaling, she closed her eyes and waited, but nothing happened. He was a sadistic son of a bitch making her wait, playing these head games.

  “I'm not afraid to give you what you need, Audrey. And we haven’t set limits.”

  Did Gavin know what she needed?

  Her mind began to race. Dell had known her for years, loved her, and he had been afraid to cross an invisible line they’d drawn in the sand. The trust they once shared had crumbled beneath heated arguments and second-guessing. Her need to submit was organic, and Dell’s effort had not been.

  But Dell probably wouldn't have been receptive to Audrey’s desires even in the best of circumstances. Audrey had barely scratched the surface of her underlying fetishes when attempting to first explain to him how she’d recently begun to admit she liked pain.

  Needed pain.

  Wanted to be pushed.

  Controlled.

  Craved stinging and slapping.

  Things she couldn’t even imagine.

  That her pussy ached thinking about being commanded and held and forced. That kink was more than an occasional nip or bite or pull of the hair.

  “It's about taking care of me, Dell. Anticipating my—"

  “I do that.”

  “Yes. I'm not saying—"

  “You want me to hurt you to take care of you? Jesus, Audrey.”