Knight Nostalgia: A Knights of the Board Room Anthology(26)
Marcie wore dark blue jeans with a scoop-necked black shirt that had a sparkling design of a tiger on the front, her Big Cat Rescue shirt. She’d bought it on a recent trip to Florida with him. It had been a business trip, but he’d taken her so they could enjoy his membership at The Zone, a top notch BDSM club. While there, she’d also wanted to visit the big cat rehab facility she’d last visited when she was a teenager, on a trip with Cass and her siblings. So they’d taken a day tour there.
After the over-the-top night at the club, it had been kind of surreal, walking hand-in-hand with her, listening to the guide tell them about the rescued and now forever-protected big cats.
Just one of a whole welcome montage of images from that trip. Including other, far more adult ones.
At The Zone, they had a holographic room where different scenarios could be brought to life. If a sub liked to be watched while under her Master’s control, but the Master himself didn’t want staring eyes upon her, there was a program where it looked as if people were standing and watching, in a circle around where the Dom had the sub strapped down. Or maybe she liked to dance, and wanted to be surrounded by other couples. Couples who demonstrated moves that made Dirty Dancing look like Mr. Clean had visited the set with his Magic Eraser.
His girl liked to dance, so Marcie had been enchanted with that one. And even more delighted by the version of it that had ballroom dancers swirling around them in long flowing skirts and neat tuxes.
He liked dancing, too, but with her especially. He liked doing pretty much anything with her. Such that he’d spent the first half hour in a $500/hour room testing out all the controls with her, like a couple kids at a game console. And then the next forty-five minutes dancing on the wood floor, until they were both breathing heavy from the exertion. Her brown eyes had shone like stars, and her laughter alone had made him hard as he twirled her around.
They had eventually gotten to the mind-blowing sex, restraints and pain part of the evening, but what had stuck in his head since then wasn’t that. It was her jumping up and running into the middle of the ballroom dancers, putting out her arms and twirling, her hair streaming out around her.
The move had brought her teen years back to him, and the reminder of how ridiculously close she still was to that age. As if she sensed his shift into the wrong kind of waters, she’d asked him to switch it to the erotic dancers and morphed into his siren, his temptress. When the music had kicked in with Bruno Mars’ “That’s What I Like,” her hips fit the rhythm in a way that worked the hell out of her short skirt. Her arms lifted and the rest of her body moved in a way that would have kept his attention even if a marching band had blasted into “Flight of the Bumblebee” behind him. Her gaze fastened upon him, her lips parting.
A smile had touched his lips even as his heart pounded faster, particularly when she worked her shirt up like a strip tease during the “You got it if you want it” part. She got it all the way off as Bruno took it back to the chorus line.
Every part of her was an invitation to her Master to take whatever he wanted. She’d continued her erotic dance in her lacy scrap of bra, the smooth muscles in her abdomen tempting his mouth, her hands caressing the curves he wouldn’t wait another moment to touch, squeeze, mark.
He’d taken a lot that night, and she’d been a vessel for his darkest desires. At the end of it, she’d been spent and weak. He’d carried her back to the controls, holding her in his lap as he returned the setting to the ballroom dancers. As she watched them, she reached out with trembling fingers as if she’d pass them through the light of their bodies. Her lips curved in a soft smile, her long-lashed eyelids dropping low, so her eyes were glimmers of russet fire.
VR goggles were becoming the preferred way to experience such fantasies, but he was glad The Zone still employed a room for the holographic idea. He didn’t want to see Marcie through a lens and, when he touched her, he wanted his actual hands on her actual flesh.
Coming back to the present, he noted how the tiger’s golden sparkles on the shirt brought out amber lights in her dark brown eyes. The generous amount of skin revealed by the neckline was graced by a thin gold chain and a pendant with three pressed forget-me-nots under glass. She had a steel collar and cuffs with an etching of the flowers upon them, but they were unmistakably for a submissive serving her Master. He put them on her when it was just the two of them, when he particularly wanted to reinforce the bond between them or she needed it; usually one and the same.
The pendant she wore now was something she’d made of the flowers he’d sent her in college, and he’d agreed that could be her public collar, with the sparkling chain he’d bought her, whenever she wished to wear it. Except when her job required otherwise, he’d rarely seen her without it.
As she came toward him, her heeled boots gave her hips a distracting sway and her breasts a God-blessed quiver. Her own blond hair, similar to her sister Cassandra’s, had been left down, because she knew he liked it that way. Unless he was wrapping the thick tail of it around his fist as he was driving into her from behind. A thought he put deep in his head, so he wouldn’t embarrass himself in mixed company.
Back when he and Marcie had finally had their “okay, we’re together” moment, he’d made the asinine decision that, for the next several weeks, they weren’t having actual sex. He’d told her he could command her climax how and whenever he wished, but she wouldn’t be taking care of his—not directly.