Elevated Encounter

Elevated Encounter

John went into the elevator. Thankfully, it was empty. He hated having a crush of people around him, needing at least an arms-length of personal space. Too many bodies in close proximity made him anxious. His stomach growled, complaining of a late lunch.

The doors closed and the elevator started down and stopped at the next floor. The doors opened and five women got on. John backed up into the corner, giving the women a wide berth. He did this not only because of his anxiety in crowded spaces, but also as a courtesy to the women to subtly demonstrate that chivalry was not yet dead.

The elevator descended another floor. A woman with dark skin and short black hair dressed in a cream skirt-suit stepped in. Her brown eyes met his and she smiled. John nodded in recognition, returning a half smile to the woman who had called herself Raven. John cleared his throat and straightened his gray necktie. They had met eight months ago at the local BDSM club called The Octagon. Raven stepped up to John, holding eye contact and then turned around right in front of him. Club rules dictated that you didn't acknowledge other club members on the street. Certainly, this also applied to chance elevator encounters. He had no idea they worked for the same firm.

Five other men in suits followed Raven into the elevator. John knew a few of them to be partners at the law firm he had joined a few months ago. The people in the lift shuffled to make room for the men. Raven backed a little closer to John, close enough for him to smell her sweet and musky perfume.

Perhaps Raven was one of the lawyers at the firm or maybe she was a personal assistant. It's tough to tell the socioeconomic status of someone you only see decked out in leather and latex. It's difficult to assess the role someone held in the working world when all you ever saw them do was use paddles and floggers with expert precision. It didn't matter to John what her title in the firm was. Titles in the working world were seldom interesting and he wasn't one to be intimidated them. What did matter was that John knew her as Raven, a Domme who was an expert at whipping ass, an expert who had given him tips in the fine art of funishment. John had immense respect for Raven.

Nevertheless, John wasn't about to break the code of The Octagon and openly greet her.

The elevator doors closed. Raven clasped her hands behind. John could feel the tips of her fingers lightly against his clothed cock. As the elevator descended his aroused penis rose.

John cleared his throat. For a moment he contemplated what to do. He felt the urge to lean forward and press his erection into her hand. Let her feel the effect she had on him. But what if she wasn't intentionally touching him? That would be a serious dick move on his part. No, he would just hold his position, even though the awkward angle of his bulge was a bit uncomfortable.

The elevator passed two more floors before it slowed to a stop again. A couple of people groaned. Someone's stomach growled. Crowded elevators at lunch time were the norm. The doors opened again and two more stepped in. People packed in tighter. Raven moved back into John. He felt one of her hands slip under his belt. Her other hand found his erect penis pointing off to the side under his pants. As the elevator doors closed her fingers and thumb opened and closed around his awkward angled cock, scratching and stroking it, encouraging it to maximize its engorgement. Sure enough, she got it to grow to its full extent in that painful position. John could not see the smirk on her face. Though he suspected she was enjoying herself.

The elevator, with its sardined passengers, resumed its plunge towards the lobby level. Most of the eyes of those crammed into the compartment kept their focus on the descending floor count above the sliding doors. John was too distracted to care what numbers came up.

As the floor numbers flashed, Raven's fingers fiddled stronger with John's swollen member. The sideways erection was really uncomfortable. John shifted his hips to try to free himself, but it was no use. He would need a manual adjustment.

Somehow Raven sensed his predicament. She gripped his penis through his pants and pushed it upright.

John let out a slight sigh of relief.

Raven was an expert at reading body language. When they first met at The Octagon, Raven was giving a flogging demonstration. She was decked out in black latex that looked like it was painted on her body. It was a bit of a contrast with the form fitting cream business suit she now wore. John was there that night with Angela, his submissive, leading her around the club with chain attached to her collar. Angela was intrigued with spanking and wanted to incorporate it into their play time. John was hesitant about it. He was afraid of hurting her.

At the club that night, a line of women and men formed, each waiting patiently to take a turn to experience her expert hand with the flogger. John and Angela watched intently as she worked. They asked Raven questions in between sessions. They stood there and watched until the line dwindled to no one. Then, Raven offered to show them both how it felt. John declined. But Angela accepted, clapping excitedly.

Angela was about to step up to the Saint Andrews Cross when Raven held out a halting hand to her and said, "You need to ask your Dom first for permission."

Angela looked at John and said, "May I?"

John nodded.

Raven strapped Angela's hands and feet to the cross and began her dance of painful pleasure with her target of delight. A couple of minutes after Raven got started, she called John to her side. With each strike she pointed out Angela's reactions, noting the color of the sub's exposed ass becoming increasingly red, the tensing and relaxing of back and buttock muscles that showed the subtle signs of pain and pleasure. John watched and listened as Raven explained the techniques and their objectives.

After several minutes Raven paused and approached Angela, checking in with her. Angela was breathing heavy and said she was good. When Raven went back to her position with John she said, "You're sub is really into this. I can totally smell her creamy cunt." She handed the flogger to John, "Your turn." John took the flogger and followed Raven's guidance. Ever since that night John had incorporated a variety of spanking techniques into his sessions with Angela. It made their relationship deeper than either had ever imagined possible.

John and Angela regularly interacted with Raven at the club. Angela often asked Raven, with John's permission, for a funishment session. John always agreed. He enjoyed watching Raven work on his sub. In time, Raven revealed that she was a Domme with several regular female play partners. She also had two fulltime female submissives. Raven rarely played with men and was clearly not at all submissive to anyone. This point surged in John's mind as Raven's grip on his up righted cock tightened.

With each successive floor, Raven's clamped fingers became more unforgiving. Her grip was amazingly strong. The elevator stopped at the sixth floor. The doors opened and those outside could see there was no room. John could feel each pulse in his erection struggle against her grasp on him.

As the doors closed, he began to lose his battle of the bulge with Raven. The pain in his penis continued to increase, decreasing his erection. To his astonishment his arousal did not, however, diminish. Raven obviously felt the change and somehow managed to squeeze him even tighter. The increased pain and helplessness at the moment turned him on even more. The surreptitious encounter in the crowded elevator no doubt increased the eroticism of the experience.

This event, this targeted touching, was no accident and not a spur of the moment decision on her part. John understood Raven was trying to tell him something. Good dominates are deliberate with their words and actions. Clearly, Raven was communicating something. This wasn't just some random fondling.

Her overwhelming grip on him suggested a power exchange was in the works. He wondered if she was attempting to assert herself over him. At The Octagon, she had taunted him from time to time that she would make him her submissive. John had no interest in that role and made it perfectly clear. Raven always laughed him off anyway.

His dick ached within her vicelike grip. He fought the urge to struggle away from her. Maybe he should. Didn't his willingness to let her crush his erection suggest he had submissive qualities? Was she right about him? Perhaps he had Switch tendencies. John respected submissives, but it was at least some degree of pride that turned him away from the idea of submitting to anyone. Her painful grip on him was exciting and erotic. This had never happened before. A part of him didn't want it to end. Yet, the end was inevitable. In just a few moments it would be over.

He decided his enjoyment of the unexpected and totally erotic moment did not dictate who he was. No, he decided this was more a way for one kinky professional to extend an acknowledgement to another. Still, maybe this was more of an invitation than a communal outreach of acceptance and acknowledgement.

The elevator stopped at the third floor. A few people got out. Raven leaned forward and let go of his crotch. Her other hand still held his belt, pulling him with her.

She announced, "Excuse me." People ahead of her opened a gap. She stepped forward and for a moment held onto his belt tight, tugging him with her. Then, she let go and slipped out into the corridor.

John understood the invitation. "Excuse me," he said as he filed past the mass of bodies and exited the elevator. He felt a sense of freedom and relief wash over him in the hallway. It occurred to him that Raven's grip had distracted him from his usual anxiety with crowded elevators. Too bad he couldn't be engrossed with such erotic moments more often.

The quick click of Raven's heels on the tile floor got John's attention. He walked quickly to catch up, staying a few paces behind her. She opened a hallway door, glancing over her shoulder for a moment at John, as she went inside. She led him through a carpeted maze of office cubes, turning corner after corner until they had snaked their way to a corner office at the far side of the floor.

The plaque on the door read "Crystal Mason". Raven rapped on the doorframe as she entered. John came in behind.

At the desk sat another woman John recognized. She was one of Raven's submissives.

"I need your office for a while," Raven said to the woman.

"Yes, Ma'am." The woman said as she got up quickly. She grabbed her purse and smirked at John as she left the office, closing the door behind her.

John heard the key enter the doorknob and the lock tumble into place. It was an arousing surprise to hear that sound.

Raven sat on the edge of the desk, crossed her legs and looked intently at John. "How are things with your submissive?"

"Better than ever. I've got you to thank for that," he said. "How about you and yours?"

Raven shrugged. "I can't complain." She leaned forward with her hands on the edge of the desk. Her lower legs began to pendulum at the knees.

John crossed his arms. "What can I do for you, Ms. Raven?"

Raven was about to speak, but then held back. She looked at the floor in contemplation. Her legs continued their back and forth motion. The smile was gone from her face. Lines of stress were evident. There was tension there too. To John, it looked like her shoulders were perpetually pinched up, as if she was packing some unseen burden. Then she asked, "How have your sessions been going?"

"Fantastic. Your advice has been spot on in making my Angel cum."

Raven looked up with heavy eyes. "Good to hear."

There was that need in Raven eyes. The same need John had seen so many times in his Angel before he had dealt with her properly. It prompted him to ask, "Do you need some relief?"

"You have no idea." She hopped off of the desk and stood before him. "I want you to show me what you've learned. Can you do that?"

"I'd be honored," John said. His dick hardened with his words while an uneasiness of where this was going began to gnaw at him. This was all new territory. He hadn't played with someone else since he had contracted with his Angel. Full on sex with Raven would be a breach of his contract. As much as he found Raven attractive, he wasn't about to screw-up his relationship with Angela.

"I need digital penetration and clitoral stimulation," she said.

John nodded, "I can do that."

"But no other penetration. Keep your clothes on and contain your dick. Understood?"

"No worries," John said with relief. "Sex with playmates is a hard limit for me."

Raven leaned forward over the desk, bending at the hips and prominently displaying her round rump as she opened the center drawer and retrieved a bottle of lube and a hand towel. She turned around and tossed the bottle and towel to John. "Be liberal with it."

"How long do you need me to go?" he asked.

"Until I'm finished."

"How will I know that?"

"You're the Dom. That's your decision," she said as she removed her suit jacket and set it on the side of the desk. Erect nipples bulged under her white camisole. She turned back around and bent over the desk again, resting on her elbows. The skirt pulled tight and revealed the outline of a thong arching over her ass. Although John had never seen Raven in a skirt at The Octagon, the shape of her rear was easily recognizable after having spent so much time watching her work from behind.

For a moment John wasn't sure how to proceed. How should he begin? He hadn't yet tested his spanking skills on anyone other than his Angel. No kink is a one size fits all proposition. The events must be molded to the participants. In particular, the actions must be tailored to the preferences of the recipient. If the receiver doesn't get off on what happens then the scene has failed. Failure, in this instance, was not acceptable. He wasn't about to disappoint his mentor.

John gazed at Raven's gorgeous ass and wondered where to take it. Images from the training sessions she had given at The Octagon came to mind. His ever elevated cock still ached from her grip on it that had led him down to this place. John smiled for a moment. Then he knew what he must do.

He vanquished the smile while his brows came together. He sat into a nearby armchair and growled, "Turn that ass around."

Raven stood and turned around, facing him. She was wearing a slight crooked smile, an expression John took as a sign he was moving in the right direction.

"You're not properly prepared." John said. "Drop the skirt."

She slinked out of the skirt. It fell to her feet and she kicked it aside. Her silky thong matched her camisole.

"And the thong."

She cleared her throat and shimmed out of her thong. It landed on her skirt. Her deforested vulva fired up his already ridged wood. He could feel the cool slickness of his precum moistening his underwear.

He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor in front of him. "On your knees."

"Yes, sir," she said as she took two steps and slowly sunk down before him. Her eyes, bright with anticipation, stayed trained on his. The slight smile still shined on her face.

John loosened his necktie and then leaned on his elbows, keeping eye contact, showing her a subtle glare. He held his position, waiting for his dominance to win out. After a few moments, the smile on her face faded under the intimidating weight of his stare. He continued to wait. She shifted on her knees and briefly broke eye contact. Good. John knew then that she had now subconsciously submitted to him.

"It's my understanding that you've been misbehaving. What have you done?" John said with a sharp tone.

Raven blinked then looked down, off balanced by his authority. She said, "I've been stressed out with one of the partners. He stole an account from me that I had been cultivating for over a year and gave it to one of his buddies. Since then I've been bitching at my support staff over stupid shit. Yesterday, I rode the ass of one of our top paralegals so hard that she turned in her resignation this morning."

John sat back in his chair. He let several seconds pass and then said, "I see." He unbuckled his leather belt, pulled it from his pants and made it whip ready. "You clearly need some correction." He pointed the looped belt ahead. "Bend over the desk. Now!"

Raven jumped at his harsh words. She moved quickly into position.

"Spread those legs," he said. "Wider!"

She complied, opening her legs to nearly twice her shoulder width, angling her elevated buttocks just above the height of the desk. A slick sheen glistened on her raw-umber labia.

The belt was set aside and he removed his necktie. John grabbed her hands in turn and crossed the wrists behind her back. Then, he bound her wrists with the gray tie.

With her helplessly secured, he began to grip and rub each buttock in turn, enticing blood to engorge his target. As he massaged each cheek, he could sense Raven's body relaxed. He added a few gentle slaps in between the rub and grab. She let out a small moan.

John reached for the lube and squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers. He reached between her legs and lathered her lower lips with the lube, guiding the slick substance over her clit, circling the mons a few times before plunging first one finger and then two into her vagina. She groaned again.

He pulled away from her and waited. He waited in silence for the anticipation to build, waited for her to be just enough relaxed and edgy so that when the assault on her ass began she would be taken by surprise. John noticed that the room was indeed very quiet. Not even any office sounds were heard from beyond the door. That was interesting.

The smack against skin cracked the silence. Her body lurched a little. She let out a soft yelp. He slapped her again with a bit less force, testing her responses. His strikes fell at random intervals, sometimes one at a time. Sometimes the spanks landed in pairs, trios or quartet beats, coming down upon her flesh, setting her rear on fire with the barrage.

Her dark skinned bottom blossomed with rose hue. He halted his assault and held his palm just above her skin. Heat radiated from his crimson marks. Good.

John shifted on his feet and with his other hand he began lightly rubbing her labia, circling her clit, varying the pressure in an attempt to unlock the combination that might make her cum. She moaned with certain strokes and shuddered with others. Raven's breathing grew heavy. Her responses excited him.

He resumed slapping her ass. She shrieked and jiggled up and down as waves of pain and pleasure crashed within her core, sending shock waves in and around her clit, causing a cascade of pussy twitching. He fired off a blistering spanking barrage that caused her to cry out. At that moment he plunged two digits into her vagina and finger fucked her.

"Yes!" she cried out. "More!"

John stepped up the spanking intensity. His palm was beginning to burn against her bright red rear. He slapped her ass with multiple strikes, hard and fast. With his other hand he fingered her and rubbed her clit, searching for the right rhythm and intensity. His hand was soaked. Her scent permeated the air, awakening something within, a hunger to slide his cock deep within her hungry hole and flood her with his own desire. In his mind, he saw himself stop, pull out his cock and ram her hard from behind.

"More, Sir. I need more!"

His erection strained against his pants, ready to be released, ready to give this woman what he instinctively knew she was begging for. He worked her pussy with both hands now, one plunging her overflowing well while the other maintained unrelenting friction on her clit. He wanted her. He knew she was his for the taking. He was primed. She was flooding. It would make a glorious communion, a full forced momentary union where the student consumed the master, forever joined in time, where he would hip lock with her in a universal collision of souls.