Breaking My Own Rules Ch. 08

Okay," I said as Randy returned with my wine. Not long after, people began arriving and Randy was playing host, greeting friends, meeting new members and guests. It was obvious that most of the people showing up knew each other, or at least had a passing acquaintance. And it definitely seemed like more of a party atmosphere than Wednesday had. I saw one couple arrive and be greeted warmly by Randy.

"He's a partner, too," DeDe told me. As I watched, the woman with him tugged at his sleeve. He glanced at her, over at us, and nodded with unspoken communication. The woman immediately scurried over to kneel next to DeDe. They were obviously friends. "Sky, this is Suzie."

We chatted for a few minutes of basic girl talk, then Suzie's master was there, taking her hand to lead her down a hall. DeDe watched them go. "They're saving a room," she said. We're going to scene with them in a little bit."

"Oh," I replied, feeling like I was about to be abandoned.

DeDe must have heard something in my voice, because she looked around sharply, maybe even guiltily. "It's a public room. You're welcome to watch. It's just at the end of that corridor." When Randy walked up next to us, she looked even more guilty. He cocked an eyebrow at her but didn't say anything.

"There is someone I would like you to meet, Sky." He held out his hand and pulled me to my feet, leading me through the growing crowd. When he started down one of the halls of private rooms, I tensed up, but he turned that nerdy smile on me. "It's just to talk. I figured you would like a little more privacy. You can leave any time. Did DeDe tell you where we'll be?" I nodded. He shook his head in annoyance, but he was still smiling. "I knew that was a guilty look. She almost let the cat out of the bag, I bet."

"Don't be mad at her," I begged.

"I have to be," he said sternly, "Because she's so damn good at apologizing!" He laughed. "Here we are." I looked at the closed door. A reserved sign was pinned to it. Randy put his hands on my shoulders. "Don't forget, you can walk away at any time. But I just want to assure you that this is one of the good guys. DeDe really likes him. In fact, she suggested I call him and ask him to come tonight. And this is just to talk, unless you decide you want more. You're the top tonight. You're calling the shots. Remember, trust has to come first. Ready?"

I nodded, though I didn't feel at all ready, except maybe for the wet spot growing in my panties. Here I was jumping into the unknown, yet again. At least it felt like I had a parachute this time. Randy opened the door. There were a couple of couches in the small room, and a man stood up from one of them, crossing the room in a couple of strides. "Francois, I would like you to meet Skylar, Sky," Randy said. I didn't even know he knew my full name.

I held out my hand, but Francois folded both of my hands in his. "Skylar, it is my pleasure," and for the first time ever, I didn't hate the sound of my full name. Somehow, his soft French accent made it sound glamorous, and romantic, and maybe even a little erotic. Damn, that wet spot was growing. He gestured toward one of the couches, and I let him pull me over to it. I sat on the edge of the cushion as he settled on the other couch against the adjoining wall. Immediately, that small but respectful distance put me at ease and I settled back against the cushions. Randy was handing me some papers.

When I looked up at him, he said, "Be gentle with Francois." He gave me a sort of salute, then backed out of the room. I looked at the papers; they were checklists, mine and Francois'.

"May I?" he asked, reaching for my checklist. I had to remind myself that transparency was the rule in this world, and I only blushed a little bit when I handed it over. I looked through his list. It seemed he was a little more adventurous than I, but mostly in that he was Okay With activities that I'd checked as Soft Limits. I looked at his expression as he read over my list, trying to get some inkling of what he was thinking. When he finished reading it, he set it aside on the couch with the air of one who found it interesting, but not particularly relevant to the moment at hand. He looked at me with milk chocolate brown eyes and smiled softly. "Do you mind if I take my jacket off?" he asked.

I shook my head, dumbfounded that he would even bother to ask. When he unzipped it and shrugged out of it, I swear I did that thing that every woman in the world hates when some guy does it to her. He had a tight tee shirt on and my eyes did a slow, thorough mapping of every chiseled muscle barely hidden by the stretchy fabric. Somehow, I managed, with great effort, to return my gaze to his face, and a shadow of a smile was playing over his lips, even as he kept his gaze firmly locked on my face. But then, my chest wasn't near the distraction that his was.

"So, Randall told me you found yourself in a very troubling relationship."

'How much did he tell you," I said, wringing my hands again.

"That's all. He is a very discreet man. You have to be, in this business," he said, spreading his arms to encompass our dungeon room.

"He thinks I need to find a different Dom," I said, blushing furiously.

"What do you think?" he asked softly.

"I don't know. I didn't even know anything about all this before... him."

"What was it about him that was different, made you feel different? These are questions you need to find the answers to, before you can determine if it is a Dom you want."

I shrugged defensively. "Everything was so much more intense with him."

"Because you gave him all the control?"

I snorted. "He said I was a lousy sub because I wouldn't follow his rules. He said it was because I wanted him to control me even more. So every time he would escalate his control, his punishment, add more rules." I was looking everywhere in the room now but at him.

"So he would make you more helpless, more afraid of displeasing him. Skylar, that is intensity from adrenalin, not pleasure."

I was wadding up the hem of DeDe's dress. "I guess," I said softly, trying to smooth out the fabric. "But now, anything less seems... unsatisfying. I'm addicted to him," I confessed.

He shook his head. "No. Not to him. Don't ever believe that. What about in the beginning, before the intensity. What made you want him?"

"He made me feel desirable," I mumbled. I was staring at my lap.

He slid to the edge of his couch and reached over to tilt my chin up. "You are very desirable, Skylar. Why would you think that you are not?"

I rolled my eyes. "My mom always said I was built like a bean pole."

"Does she still say that?"

"She died when I was thirteen," I said softly.

Usually, when I told people that I got a heavy dosing of pity. He, on the other hand, snorted. "Your body image is based on something you were told when you were thirteen?" he said with astonishment.

"I'm obviously not built like someone like DeDe," I argued, then wondered if he was purposely baiting me, trying to make me angry.

"So?" he demanded. "When I walked into the dungeon tonight, three men were watching you and one man had approached Randy to ask if you were available. Shall I tell you how many women were looking at you with envy? Did you see none of that?"

"That's just curiosity because I was new," I muttered.

"Skylar," he said sternly. Oh, oh. Dom voice. My alarms were going off and my wet crotch spot was growing. "That was curiosity about an unattached, desirable woman. So what am I to do with you? You say you found this pretender exciting because he found you desirable, yet you refuse to see that others also find you desirable."

He took my chin more firmly. "I find you very desirable. And I swear if you dare say that I'm making that up, I will take you over my knee right now." I was sure he would feel the tremor go through me, and probably smell my arousal, too. Then that damn mouth filter that I hadn't gotten fixed screwed me over yet again.

"You're making that up," I whispered.

He burst out laughing, then picked up my check list. "I think you need to change spanking from Soft Limit to Okay With." I blushed. Damn, I was doing that a lot anymore. He leaned back and studied me. "Look at me, Skylar," he said in that deep, low voice that seemed all the more effective for being laced with a French accent. I wondered if they all went to school somewhere to learn that. Dom School. Hmmm. "I want to see your eyes," he added. I did my best. He had that intent gaze and the lighting in the room was soft, making his chocolate brown eyes look more like espresso.

He held my list up. "This tells me you want a Dom. Your arousal tells me you want a Dom." Shit, maybe he could smell me. "But I also see your assertiveness, even your anger peek through now and then. Do you know what that tells me?" I shook my head, looking down at my lap again, but I caught myself as he cleared his throat and looked back up. I was rewarded with that soft Gallic smile. "Do you know the difference between a sub and a slave?" he asked.

I shook my head. "One time, he told me that I was a sub, not a slave. I didn't know what he meant."

"Did you ask him?"

"I wasn't supposed to ask questions. Just answer them."

"Of course," he muttered. "A slave gives up all control, does whatever he or she is told to do. Serves whoever he or she is told to serve. A sub negotiates what control he or she will or will not give up. You had not given up all control, so you were a sub. But I suspect he wanted to turn you into a slave." He paused a moment. "It is also possible that he intended to sell you or trade you when he had achieved that final capitulation."

I was picking at the hem of DeDe's dress, my head down to hide tears that were welling in my eyes. "What am I going to do?" I asked, feeling like I was teetering on the edge of the Grand Canyon.

He grasped my hands, folding them into his, pulling them away from the ravaging of the fabric. "You've already done it. The only questions now are how are you going to move forward with your life. I do believe you are searching for someone to help you find control over yourself, over aspects of your life that feel like they are spinning out of control. Yes?" I shrugged and that seemed to trigger the release of a tear from my left eye. Before I could lower my head, he reached up and caught it with his thumb. I watched in wonder as he touched that thumb to his lips and his tongue darted out to taste the salt of it. How the hell could that be so erotic!

"Mais non. But no," he corrected. "Not everything. Some things you want to keep control over, and some things you must, even though you may not want to. This is where you must negotiate. And it is also where you must be strong, and accept responsibility for the control that must remain in your hands. Do you understand what I am saying?"

I bit my lip. "I think so. But I'm not sure I know which is which, I mean, what I have to keep responsibility for."

"That is where a true Dom can help you. And the friends you are making here."

"And the sex," I whispered, blushing furiously again.

He gave a very soft laugh, and I swear there was a French accent to his laugh. "You do not need to be afraid in order to have fantastique sex. You only need a fantastique lover." He leaned very close. "You know what they say about French men. Ils sont magnifique!" Then he was pulling one of my hands to his lips, gently kissing my knuckles. It might as well have been a Taser blast straight to my clit. When he saw that effect on me, he straightened my fingers and kissed my fingertips one by one, then folded all but my index finger and began sucking on it. I was melting, sort of like the Wicked Witch of the West only in a far more pleasurable way. And without the flying monkeys.

"Skylar," he said, so softly that I had to lean closer to hear. "I want to show you that it can be just as intense; no props, no toys, no threats, no rules, no pain, and no commitments. Your desire is in you. Not him, not anyone else. Tell me what you desire."

I shook my head in confusion. "Doesn't that make me the top?" I asked trying to sort it all out.

He was sucking on two of my fingers now, and he smiled at me around them, even as I was sure I was wetting the couch with my arousal. He kissed my fingertips, pulling them away from his lips just long enough to say, "Subs are always the tops. We just pretend otherwise." Then he was sucking even harder on my fingers and I sank to my knees on the floor.

"Tell me, Skylar," he said, following me to kneel on the floor.

"I want you to suck on my breasts like that," I said, amazed at my audacity. Apparently, he wasn't, because he had the zipper of the dress down my back to my waist and the shoulders pushed down my arms to expose my breasts in a flash. He leaned down and sucked a major portion of my left breast into his mouth, slowly working his way back out to the nipple and areola. I leaned back, grasping my ankles to support myself and breathing hard. When he had sucked my nipple to tender hardness, he nipped and pulled on it until I was gasping, then started in on the other breast in the same fashion. Somehow, he managed to grip my nipple firmly but gently in his teeth and still ask, "What next?"

I could hardly think straight already, I just knew there wasn't nearly enough bodily contact as I arched my back and tried to meet belly to belly. He pulled away and repeated, "What next?"

"My clit," I gasped. "Please suck it, too." He grasped my shoulders and gently pushed me back and down. His hands ran slowly down my arms, finding the fabric of my dress, capturing it and pulling it along. Fingers reached out and hooked in my panties, and then they, too, were sliding slowly, inexorably downward. When they were free of my hips, he lifted my legs straight up into the air in front of him. He kissed the back of my knees through the thigh highs DeDe had insisted I wear, slid the fabric past them, then kissed them again as he drew my dress and panties over the heels I was wearing and toss them aside. His hands were at my ankles, holding my legs in the air. My fingers were digging into the soft carpet trying to hold myself still. His lips on the backs of my knees was almost torture.

He was still kneeling, and he set my feet down to each side of his hips and looked down at me. He leaned over me, planting his hands next to my shoulders. His lips brushed the tip of my nose. "Skylar, when you squirm, I know I'm doing something right. Relax." His lips brushed mine and I craned my neck up for more, but he pulled back and smiled down at me. "Sorry, I have a date with your clit. By the way," he added, as he retreated back between my legs, "These walls are soundproofed. You're welcome to scream your appreciation for my efforts. I like to measure my success in decibel ranges." He pressed my knees to the sides and blew softly on the dampness of my pussy. I arched my back and moaned.

He teased me without mercy, the tip of his tongue playing along my lips and down to my ass, then back again, never quite lingering long enough at my clit or in my pussy. I squirmed to get closer, flexed my hips to guide his tongue to my neediest nub, but he chuckled at my efforts and defied every one of them. "If you don't suck my clit right this minute, I swear I'm going to die, Francois!" I gasped. Then his lips were on my clit and I was going out of my mind. He alternately sucked and licked, then did both at once. I was writhing and spasming at the same time, panting in rhythm with my orgasm.

But then Francois was asking "What next?" again. One of my voices was saying very quietly, 'How much more can you take?' but I figured all those nagging voices had been deathly silent during my current ordeal, so I didn't owe them any answers. "Fill me, please," I asked, holding my breath, waiting for the gotcha moment. This wasn't how D/s sex was supposed to go, was it? What did they call it, topping from the bottom? I thought that was a punishable offense. He simply asked, "How, Skylar?"

That was when I really fell apart. Everything about Dr. Tom that made me turn to Jello whenever he showed up, came spewing out of my unfiltered mouth in one breath. "Hard, fast, deep," I gasped. I couldn't open my eyes. I was too embarrassed by my neediness. But he simply rose up on his knees and donned a condom. I didn't even remember him unzipping his jeans. He placed one of my knees and then the other over his shoulders. He pushed into me, slowly but steadily. He grasped my hands, lacing his fingers with mine and pinning them by my shoulders. Then he was leaning down against my legs, shoving them against my chest as he angled himself to reach the deepest crevices of my vagina. When he was satisfied with the angle, he began plunging hard and fast. The position, with my legs over his shoulders and his arms braced near my shoulders rendered me immobile without the use of ropes. I was coming within the first few strokes.

He rode out the aftershocks, then suddenly pulled out and flipped me onto my belly, using his knees to spread my legs. He guided himself back inside me, then grasped my hands again, fingers laced together, lowering his weight on my back. He methodically adjusted his angle until he struck my g-spot and I was writhing despite his weight bearing down on me, and shouting "Oh, fuck," over and over again. He tightened his grip and hammered away with short strokes that were almost unbearable in intensity. The rolling waves of orgasm just wouldn't stop, even when he pulled back and lifted me to my knees, plunging into the deepest reaches. If he hadn't been holding my hips so tightly, I'm sure I would have collapsed. And I was pretty sure I was putting the soundproofing to the test, though I couldn't hear myself anymore. My entire being was centered right where the tip of him was knocking with an insatiable rhythm. He buried himself deeper than before, stretching me to my limits, his balls snugged warmly against my clit as he groaned and pulsed with his own orgasm. I was still convulsively squeezing him, making him moan with each wave of contractions.

He remained perfectly still until the very last contraction faded away, then pulled slowly, reluctantly out and rid himself of the condom even as he settled into the corner formed by the two couches and pulled me into his lap. I swear I was only barely conscious, but I felt so safe wrapped in his arms. I snuggled against his chest, realizing for the first time that he was still dressed. He was kissing the top of my head, running his fingers through my hair and murmuring softly in French. It dawned on me, as sanity slowly returned, that I'd been an idiot to think I was topping from the bottom, or exercising any control at all. He had been in charge from the very beginning. And it felt... perfect.