White Leather and No Regrets Read online

  And she did.

  “No sound,” he said. “Not a whimper. Not a moan.”

  And she didn’t.

  “Ahh, yes. Lovely. So lovely. You’re so responsive.” He pinched her nipples, drew them out.

  The pain was exquisite and it seemed to lengthen her orgasm. She wanted to scream, to cry out. He rolled her nipples between his fingers. Watching him in the mirror, it felt as though the woman reflected there was some other wanton creature, whom she’d never met before. A goddess. His goddess—the one he’d created in just these few moments. And she embraced that woman whole-heartedly with every fiber—every passion—inside her. Her labia, so pink and shiny, so puffy. Her clit looked so long and thick. And still he tugged on her nipples and she felt the sensation all the way to her vagina. The way he played her. His hands and his cock stretching her.

  “Goddess. My goddess,” he said.

  And she wanted more. The pain fanned the lust to an intense burning inferno. She wanted to feel more, to experience something else and she didn’t know how to put a name to it. But she needed it—she’d die if she didn’t have it.

  He rolled his hips; he lightly twisted her nipples. Her pussy felt so sensitive, so wet; he filled her so full. The sound of squishy wet sucking met her hearing as he fucked her—so slow and deep. She lost all sense of where she was, that she was in a public dressing room with a man whom she didn’t even know. Him fully dressed; her completely nude. His cock inside her, his hands—oh, God, his hands doing amazing things to her.

  “Don’t stop,” she barely breathed the words. “Don’t ever stop.”

  “Fucking you, or”—he twisted both nipples again—“this.”

  She tried so hard not to make a noise, but she couldn’t help herself. “Both,” she said. “I need more.”

  He withdrew just as she was on the brink of experiencing another orgasm.

  “No,” she said, unable to stop the words. She swung around, flattened herself against him. She gazed up into his eyes. Her whole body was on fire in a way it never had been before. And she didn’t even know his name.

  With little thought, she reached up to rub her nipples, she arched her back. “Fuck me,” she said. “Again. Harder.”

  He eased back. He pulled a card from his vest pocket. He ran it lightly between her labia lips. Edged the tip inside her.

  And left it there.

  “If you want more. If you really want more of this, call the number on that card. Then we’ll see.” He righted his clothing.

  And then he was gone.

  Shocked didn’t begin to describe her state of mind. She reached down for the card nudged so neatly between her wet, puffy lips. She glanced at the name on the card.

  Ariyel Esmund. And there was a phone number.

  With one hand she gripped the card, wet with her juices. With her other hand she reached between her legs and it didn’t take long to bring on another orgasm. But it wasn’t nearly as satisfactory as the one he’d given her.

  Ariyel Esmund.

  She removed the mask. Quickly she dressed in her drab brown suit, her body still humming from the intensely erotic interlude. She rebound her hair quickly, with few pins, unable to locate all of them. She bought the dress and the mask. The card—the card she slipped inside her bra to nestle against her flesh. Her nipples throbbed with the memory of his handling. She was late getting back to work, but cared little for the disapproving look of her superior. Her body still burned from the erotic encounter in the costume shop. Every time the card scratched against her breast her pussy got wetter. Ren barely made it through the rest of the afternoon.

  It was the next day that she finally got up the courage to call the number, after a sleepless night filled with erotic dreams. It was then she received her first set of instructions.

  She never did keep the date with Jim. Instead, on Halloween, she dressed in the Athenian gown, she donned the silver mask, and, following Ariyel’s instructions, at midnight, standing at the window of her apartment with the blinds drawn, she slipped her hands beneath her dress and made herself come. Again and again. There was a man in the apartment in the next building who watched her. Slowly, she removed her dress, slipped her fingers between her wet lips, and made herself come again. She watched the stranger as he jacked off and came.

  And then she closed the blinds and called Ariyel. She related the experience in detail to him as she stroked over her clit. As he told her to do. And then he told her to come. And she did, just that quickly. It was then he set the date and time for their first meeting.

  She never looked back, and there was no regret. And the fire in her womb was firmly ignited.

  * * *

  Primal. Now, standing in the garden, anticipating her master’s arrival, Ren knew it had all been fated right down to that first encounter in the costume shop. Ariyel had changed her life. He was the one to ignite her primal goddess.

  Acceptance. A breeze wafted across her clean-shaven pussy, played with the little ring piercing her clit. He’d been with her when she went for her appointment to have every speck of hair removed from her body except, of course, the thick mane of hair on her head. And when the attendant had finished, Ariyel had fucked her right there at the salon.

  “Get me ready,” he’d said.

  “Here?” she said as she sat up feeling quite bald after the procedure.

  He quirked a brow. “You don’t want me to fuck you?” He shrugged, then started to turn away.

  Quickly she slipped off the beige padded table and knelt in front of him. She slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a condom. She released him from his trousers. She sucked him, then she sheathed him. Kneeling there, she tilted her head back and gazed up at him. Waiting.

  “Get back on the table.” Quickly she complied. “Sit on the edge. And spread your legs.”

  He stood there, dressed in a dark blue business suit, and watched her settle herself. Her legs wide, her bald pussy lips opened, no nest to hide a bit of pink flesh. On display for him. It felt strange. She’d never shaved there before. But it wasn’t just that. Now there wasn’t a speck of hair on her arms, her legs—her ass—anywhere.

  Ariyel stepped up to her. His cock was so hard and she needed him inside her. But what she needed more was for him to want to be inside her. Even here in this room, where anyone could walk in. She got wetter.

  “Ariyel.”

  He notched his cock at her entrance. “You did this for me,” he said.

  “For you,” she agreed.

  He stroked her breasts. His cock slid deeper into her. “You have an appointment for the piercings?” He slid deeper.

  She moaned. “Ariyel.”

  “Have you?” He didn’t go any deeper. “We talked about this. You agreed.”

  “I know. Yes, I made the appointment.”

  He pushed home. He locked her gaze with his. He stroked her clit. “Come, Ren. Right now.”

  And she did. So powerful. So beautiful. It rocked all the way through her. She never came now unless he gave her permission. The denial, and the anticipation, often kept her in a heated state of flux always perched right at the edge. The feeling was exciting, addicting. That ache, her wetness, always gave her a certain heightened sensation. She felt things more intensely, tasted things differently, more sensually. Even using a pen, touching the keyboard at her desk was different—almost erotic. Ariyel was never out of her thoughts. Not for one moment. Even when she was totaling up the most recent invoice for nuts, and bolt, and…screws.

  He tugged on her nipples. The orgasm spun out, roaring through her body. He twisted. He fucked her. He pulled her up from the table. She wound her legs around him. He sat on the metal chair near the wall, her on his lap.

  “Now you fuck me,” he said. “Show me how much you want to please me.”

  She rose and positioned herself over his cock. Circled her hips. Pulled up, dropped down. She arched her back. He tugged on her nipples.

  And then he came. She felt him pu
lse inside her. She smiled. She’d pleased him. And then he kissed her. Deeply. Passionately. And again she lost all track of time and place. Every nerve ending in her body so deeply engaged.

  When she turned to dress, she smoothed her hands over her denuded flesh. Soft and silky. She pulled on the white leather short skirt, the zippered white leather jacket that had been made exactly for her proportions by a craftsman Ariyel used often for such specialized work. She slipped on the white leather high heels.

  She felt…powerful. She felt beautiful. She felt cared for.

  “Thank you for this, sweet Ren.” He cupped her face and kissed her deeply, consuming her. Her nipples, erect from his handling, throbbed; they brushed against the red satin lining of the jacket. She almost came right then and there. But Ariyel hadn’t given permission. She held the energy inside her, burning her, pulsing through her. She brushed her palm against his crotch.

  “I have to get to a business meeting. I’ll drop you back at your apartment first.”

  “It’s Saturday,” she pouted. Her pout was met with disproving silence.

  “I’ll see you home.”

  She nodded, then allowed him to escort her to his sleek black Jaguar. When they pulled up in front of the apartment, he stopped her from getting out of the car. A hand went to her knee; he spread her legs wider.

  “Like this,” he said. “Always.” He unfastened her seat belt.

  “Yes, Ariyel.” His hand slipped between her damp thighs.

  “Look at me,” he said.

  It was a little after 1:00 P.M. according to the digital clock, as his fingers slipped inside her. People strolled by the car. It was not the sort of car one could pass by without admiring. Ariyel slid deeper inside her. She looked into his eyes—eyes that pierced her soul. She wanted to come, but she couldn’t—not yet. He had to say the words.

  “You agreed,” he said.

  “Yes,” she responded, needing him. Wishing it was his cock inside her. She shifted on the seat, widening her legs. A man walked by; he glanced at the car, paused for a moment, and then continued on. Ariyel added a third finger inside her. She moaned.

  “There will be an email waiting for you. Answer the questions and send it back to me.” He twisted his fingers.

  “Yes, Ariyel.”

  His thumb brushed across her clit.

  “Slide your ass to the edge of the seat,” he said.

  She immediately complied. He slipped her white leather skirt up over her thighs, up over her ass. She felt the pliant brown leather seat against her cheeks. The filtered daylight sifted over her newly bald pussy.

  “Look at your pussy. Look at me inside you.”

  There was no short hair to block one bit of the view as she gazed down at his fingers filling her. Slowly he worked them in and out of her. They grew wetter and wetter with her juices.

  He leaned closer to her. His other hand cupped her nape. Turned her head so she looked at him. “Come, Ren. Now.”

  And she did.

  Later, when she got to her apartment on shaky legs, she went directly to her laptop and checked her email. She ignored the rest, and opened the email from Ariyel. Words popped out at her from the lengthy text.

  Dildo. Anal sex. Whips. Handcuffs. Bondage. Butt Plug. Sex with another man at Ariyel’s request. Sex with a woman.

  She hesitated over the last two. She tried to examine her feelings about how those words made her feel. Excited. Ren needed a moment. She got up, went to the kitchen for a glass of water, then returned to the table. She set the last two answers to “maybe.” The others she marked, “yes.” And then she sent the response back to Ariyel. Her stomach doing butterflies because she had no idea what her response would fuel next from her lover. This was the third such email from Ariyel. She doubted it would be the last. Ren had yet to answer a firm “no” to any of his suggestions.

  She got up and went into the bathroom. She removed her clothes, then stepped into the shower. She wished he were with her now.

  Half of her closet was now filled with white leather—Ariyel’s favorite. She was changing. She sensed that she was moving toward a point of no return. She examined her feelings, considered her past, her present, her future.

  Ren had no regrets.

  * * *

  Surrender. Ren felt the slender chain sway—the one linking the small rings piercing her nipples. She had to admit she been a little reticent about the piercings, but after that first time in the dressing room when he’d tugged on her nipples and she’d known there was more depth to sensation than simple surface pleasure, she finally gave in, her adventurous side—the one she hadn’t known she possessed—kicked in. One look at Ariyel’s face when she’d shown off the piercings—her nipples and the ring in her clit—and she knew she’d have done it ten times over. And when he’d fucked her after being away for several weeks, the experience had been amazing.

  It was at a moment, in the back room of the salon, her nipples and clit stinging from the fresh piercings, that Ren realized she would do anything for this man. Anything. She had fallen hard. And she didn’t plan on looking back. There was no man for her but Ariyel.

  As she stood in the garden, the soft summer breeze stroking her lightly, she recalled that intense level of emotion with a certain fondness. And then she recalled that night four months ago, when he called and asked her to meet him at Chez Taste, an exclusive, if not intimate, restaurant catering to a very exclusive clientele, that something changed yet again.

  * * *

  She wore a simply cut white leather strapless cocktail dress. The bodice was designed as a corset with silver rivets and white leather lacings up the front. Her hair was now styled in a shorter, shoulder-length cut, a rich shade of chestnut, with longish bangs. The color of her hair, the deep tan to her smooth skin, her long legs, set off the white leather dress with a breathtaking exoticness. Ariyel told her to arrive at the restaurant at precisely 9:00 P.M. That’s when she first met his good friend and somewhat shadowy colleague, Creed Bennett. Where Ariyel was beautiful and golden, Creed was the antithesis, representing all that might come from darkness. Dangerous, wild, and devouring like a black panther. From raven-black hair, to swarthy skin, to his black leather jacket and black leather pants. A big man, almost dwarfing Ariyel’s angelic physique. In almost the same way that Ariyel had bowled her over that first time in the costume shop, Creed Bennett practically yanked the primal, most primitive goddess inside her to the surface with the sharp claws of his intense demeanor. The sensation terrified her; it excited her, layering her interest with a rich dark texture of emotion.

  She felt the piercings, the plug in her ass, more deeply than she ever had before. And over dinner—caviar to shrimp salad to succulent salmon—that night a different sort of craving built as she watched the two men. And they watched her.

  She had wondered about the butt plug Ariyel had gifted her with about a month before. He never fucked her in the ass. She’d never encouraged him to do so. They had discussed it, she was open to it, but he’d refrained. And then the gift of the plug. Now she had a feeling she knew why. It wasn’t Ariyel who’d take her there; it was Creed Bennett. She knew as surely as she knew her own name that Ariyel planned to share her with this darkly attractive friend of his.

  Halfway through the salmon, Ariyel leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “Remove the plug.” She made her way to the ladies’ room and did as he asked. She stared in the mirror. Again, she was reminded of how she’d changed over these last months. First the costume, then removal of her body hair, the piercings, the haircut, the makeup. The butt plug. Creed Bennett.

  Should she be angry at Ariyel? Everything he’d asked for, she’d given. Not just for him, but because she had wanted to give, and she had wanted to receive the texture of rich pleasure he offered her. She had wanted to feel. Who was that woman in the mirror? She looked a hell of a lot more sophisticated than the little mousy bookkeeper she’d been just a few months ago. She cupped her breasts and the little white
gold rings pressed against the fabric of the dress. She couldn’t help smiling. Her relationship with Ariyel was pleasantly exciting, but she had always sensed there was something more. She had a feeling that Creed was the more.

  Yes, she loved Ariyel, but she wanted Creed, too. Ren was long past the point of denying her sexual feelings. Ariyel had seen to that. He’d refused to let her hide; he’d encouraged her to experiment. And she’d felt safe with him there to guide her and to protect her.

  And now, somehow Ariyel had known what should come next. He’d never spoken of Creed, though he had discussed his work as a visiting professor at the university. They’d discussed his family—the money he’d inherited, which explained his extravagant lifestyle. But he’d never mentioned this particular friend. She now sensed he’d been saving Creed. Saving him to give her something special.

  She stepped into a stall, removed her panties, and stuffed them into her purse. She prepared to remove the plug, easing it out slowly. Then she pushed it back in. There was still a bite, even after steadily using in over the last weeks. Creed was going to take her there and she knew she was definitely going to feel the bite then.

  She stepped from the stall, delayed at the sink as she cleaned up, checked her makeup, then exited the bathroom. As she stepped from the ladies’ room, she was surprised to find Ariyel waiting for her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, a concerned look on his face.

  “I’m fine,” she said.

  He caught her arm before she could move past him. “You want this?”

  She turned to look at him. There was no question what he meant. “How do you know me so well? I never asked for this—not in so many words. I love you, Ariyel. But this is going to change things, isn’t it?”

  “I know that. But you do want this. I’ve taken you so far, but you—you’re so beautiful, so wonderful. You need more—you deserve more.”

  “And you want to give me to him? Are you sure?” Some other instinct told her that was true as well.