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The bass of the club pulses with a familiarity that seeps into your bones. The curves and architecture of the rooms are something you know intimately, she however is not.
She had been here, last night. You inhale and it was confirmed, it was her. A sliver of intrigue weaves through you. She had specifically come back when you had said you wouldn’t be available… despite showing you a great deal of deference before.
Astarion, you, are intrigued.
She doesn’t wear any jewelry, her preferences shrouded in mystery. Not a beautiful white ready to submit. Not a ruby red signaling her availability or interest. Not even a strap of black leather like yourself, signaling your dominance to all in the room.
She has chosen not to announce herself.
You watch as she turns down another suitor, a man, this one clad with rubies. She does not want casual.
You reach behind the bar to the various jewelry and begin to sample which would complement your skin tones best weighing it against her actions.
You can see that she wants to be seen. Claimed and called.
She turns down another, a woman, this one adorned in white. It was not as swift, she entertained a kiss or two however, her attentions waned and the submissive left her be.
This needs to be artful, otherwise she’ll slip between your fingers. You finger the collars instead of the bracelets. You watch as she settles herself in the lounge under the main spotlight. She’s challenging the room. Was anyone thee willing to step onto the stage? With her of all people?
You slip the white choker into your fingers. You are quite capable of answering her call. You unbuckle the bracelet at your wrist and make sure to leave the collar’s latch dangling open.
You step onto the Dias and approach her displayed lazily across the furniture like it’s a throne. Her eyes suggest you are bold. Your body shivers in excitement. “Might I be a breath of fresh air?” You hold out both bracelet and collar. “Which would you prefer, darling?”
There’s a moment where the air feels heavy, alive. Her eyes flash to yours, unmistakably pleased and heavy with the arousal underneath her skin.
She leans forward running a finger down both her options. “Which do you prefer to wear?” Her eyes slide down your body, secretly thrilled you came. You know you’re gorgeous and she’s reacting to it.
You smile cheekily, “Either fits the glove. But if I may say, I’m here for you. So I’d much rather know which you prefer. If it means I get to taste you.”
Her fingers curl around the white choker and with a delicious shiver you bare your neck. “Then I am yours. Do with me as you wish.” You leer. You’re on a stage. She means to exemplify you. She means to share you.
The spotlight doesn’t bother you. Half the people in this room have seen you naked and just shy from either passing out or cumming and the other half will drum up business. Either way, you find yourself wanting to feel her, however she’ll have you. Her touch is immeasurably warm and sensuous around the latch on your collar and she was equally as delicate with the latch on her own wrist. The black leather was stark against her wrist almost cold compared to the smooth square pearls at your neck.
She stands, pleased already you can tell. She steps aside and gestures her previous seat. “Please, sit. Make yourself comfortable.”
That wasn’t exactly what you were expecting but you are nothing if not flexible. You lounge back into the cushions aware that most of the bar had just gone very quiet. “You have me. I’m curious to see what you’ll do with me.”
She leans over you and holds your gaze, a finger dancing over your lips. “You are beautiful.”
You indulge your tongue against her skin.
“I want this. I want you.”
You nibble on the proffered fingers. “Why?” You ask.
She smiles deeply, almost privy to the answer already. She speaks. “Because you want to fuck me and I’m not going to let you. Worse, I’m going to insist on tasting your pleasure this evening, for all to see.” Her hand finds your leg and pushes so that she can settle between your still very clothed thighs. You shift to make room, allowing yourself to relax against the back of the lounge. “I would taste you. I want to worship you.”
You feel the need to palm your choice of jewelry. She has taken the dominant role and placed you in the submissive, yet she wants to service you. Your skin prickles pleasantly, her motives are maddeningly amusing.
“I am yours.” You entertain. “If you wish to taste me, I would welcome it.” Secretly and quietly you shiver with anticipation at the thought of being the focus of her attentions.
Her smile is pleased. Her hand lands on the dip of your hip, fingers fluttering underneath the laughable excuse of a shirt you’re wearing. The fabric pulls from you and you incline towards her to make the the transition easier.
You aren’t ready when she stops with the shirt bunched around your eyes. You aren’t expecting her lips on yours but they burn pleasantly.
On instinct you try to reach for her but find your arms tangled.
Her nails score your chest leaving red trails and lust in their wake. You arch towards the sensation, loosing a moan against her lips when those clever nails catch your nipple in their wake.
"So very beautiful." She mumbles after releasing your lips. Your shirt is gone with a yank, discarded with little care or dignity somewhere on the stage.
Your pleasure reddens her cheeks as she slides her fingers along the lacings for your trousers “May I?”
For a moment you repress the need to collapse into laughter, she’s not just welcome, you’d be offended if things ended here. The wind up is always the most pleasant part and she’s coiling you well. “Please,” You intone with a roll of your hips.
Meanwhile she guides your hips to rise and rolls your pants over your ass and cock while you bemusedly try to figure out exactly what’s going on in the pretty head of hers’.
She isn’t nearly as conflicted. She takes a wrist in each of her hands and lifts them to the top of the chair. “Don’t move those.”
You clench your fingers into the slippery fabric as anticipation leaves you breathless.
She stands and pulls at your trousers, her delight obvious in each glowing pale inch of your skin being bared. Once they’re discarded with as much care as your shirt, her hands return to your flesh pushing and pulling at the muscles in your thighs, fingers settling along your skin soothing at overworked and sore muscles. Another moan leaves you, this one not for show.
She is very talented.
Her fingers sing across your calves, thumbs digging in just a tad more over the tendons wrung tight in the back of your legs. You sigh at the relief running in your veins. This is very nice.
That nice feeling takes on a bit of tension when she reaches your feet. At first you’re a bit nervous but when her thumbs dig pleasantly into the arch, after that you relax. She uses her full palm on your heel.
As an after thought her hands turn delicate and cradle your ankle, reaching between bones to find tendons in need of soothing.
And soothe she does.
Another moan you do not feel obligated to loose tantalizes the eyes and ears in the shadows watching the two of you. You try to remember this is a performance.
A laugh bubbles up your throat when you realize you’ll need to do very little acting. You’re already hard for her and she’s not done more than rub you. “That feels amazing,” You murmur. It’s delightful, really. It wasn’t quite worth a whisper yet so early in their dance but it was better than petty teasing, a murmur.
Your cock disappears into her mouth deceptively warm and inviting. Genuine pleasure blooms in your veins and your voice expresses your joy to the whole room. She’s experienced and uses her tongue well, your legs flex, struggling against the onslaught of pleasure you can do nothing other than endure. You moan quietly as her mouth suckles your dick and a free hand cups your balls, supporting and rolling the weight of them.
Suddenly this is less of a performance and much more of an experience.
Your hands find themselves in her hair, fingers weaving into the silk that is her hair. “Darling…”
All the pleasurable sensations stop. She pulls off and irritation is obvious in her posture. Her hand stays on you, working your erection though, she does not want you to wane.
“Where are your hands, Astarion?”
“Shit.” You place them back above you, on the top of the lounge as requested. “I didn’t mean to..” Her lips are so soft.
She kisses and interrupts you, sweet and soft. “I know.” Her words soothe but her hand have purpose. They are coiling some rope about your wrists, securing you to the lounge. The harder you pull the tighter the rope will get.
The position leaves you vulnerable, in more ways than you’d care to count. Exposed. Suddenly all those eye and ears in the dark are so much heavier, their gazes sparked with arousal.
She’s put you on show quite well.
You can’t stop the whine falling from your lips. Her retribution will likely be thorough. She takes you in her mouth and you shudder, she’s so warm. Her nails dance around the poem that is you ribs and stomach, belatedly you notice they are almost blood red and trimmed on the left side.
She smiles wickedly around your cock and her other hand comes into play, teasing and pushing at your entrance. Your thighs flex in response surprise on your lips, most women wouldn’t even bother. She breaches you, rubbing almost immediately against the part of you that can make you see stars. You hands struggle against the bonds she’s placed you in, ones you submitted to. It leaves a delicious tension in you knowing you can get free.
Your hips kick into her grip as you moan your pleasure to the room.
They want, and it’s you, it’s. all.. you…
She brushes her lips against the head of you with her tongue, suckling the precum from your cock. “Ugh… s-shit.”
“That’s it, that’s what I want.”
Her fingers in your ass pick their pace back up and you can’t help but buck against it. You’re going to come.
She pulls you inside a torrent of suction and warmth. Her intent to drive sanity from your veins far more successful than you’d like her to know. It’s just a kiss, and yet..
And yet….
You hang from the string she dangled, happily through the tension it wove. You are happy to be here.
“Please.” Your pleas are meek.
She meets you with all the passion you require, pulling heavily on your dick, enhancing the experience the best she can.
‘Please, please, yes..’
You can’t hold back any longer. You slip the ropes.
Your hands are loose and holding her to your surging hips. You can’t, you won’t savor this without her. She takes you so well. She smells divine.
“You’re beautiful,” You echo as you come inside her mouth, spending with each agonizing spasm of muscles you must endure, over and over and over.
“As are you, my love.” She swallows. “You’re so beautiful.”