BDSM Checklist: A, B, C

Xavier examined his handiwork. It was one of his better setups, and yet he felt slightly ill at the thought of actually stepping back
and letting everyone touch her.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
The word was a mantra in his mind. In less than a day Mae had invaded his mind and soul, making him want things he couldn’t
have. The more submission she gave, the more drawn to her he was.
He needed to see others touching her, needed the emotional distance it would provide. She could use her safe word—if she did
he’d end the scene, rather than just halting it—but he had a sinking feeling that she wouldn’t. Mae had yet to back down from a
challenge.
Her pussy was lovely—wet and pink, begging to be pleasured. For someone like Mae, who wasn’t used to scenes that didn’t
include sexual fulfillment, the past twenty hours must have been torture. He had no doubt that she was more than ready to come,
no matter who it was who touched her.
Still her admission that she would rather continue to be denied pleasure and wait for his touch was like gasoline thrown on the
fire of his desire for her.
Xavier laid his hand on her stomach. She tensed, then relaxed, almost as if she’d realized who was touching her.
That was the last straw. Xavier stepped away, leaving her alone and exposed in her bindings. He looked at the crowd of fifteen or
so people who had gathered.
“Mae is available for you to enjoy. Fingers and mouths only. No fucking.” Mae made a strangled sound behind the gag. Xavier
raised his voice, making sure everyone heard him. “She is not allowed to come.”
Several people chuckled. “What happens if she does come?” someone called out.
“If she orgasms then the breast whipping she has coming will be much more severe.” He put menace in the words, wanting to
scare Mae, giving her the fear as a tool to help control her body’s reaction to what was about to happen.
She moaned, her hips lifting slightly.
Then again, if she was, as he suspected, deeply masochistic, the idea of a severe breast whipping might only arouse her further.

Several people stepped forward. When the Dom who’d helped Mae admit her desires pulled up a chair, positioning it so he could
sit while playing with her pussy, Xavier tapped him on the shoulder. He smiled knowingly and silently gave up his seat.
A pretty female slave was kneeling by Mae’s head, kissing her neck just above the collar, while her owner fished an ice cube
from his drink and ran it over Mae’s belly. Xavier had known that every inch of flesh he left exposed would be considered fair
game, which is why he’d been sure to cover her breasts, saving those for himself.
Planting his hands on the barrel, he leaned forward and blew across her wet pussy lips, letting her know someone was there.
Mae was breathing heavily through her nose, and he watched her pussy clench. Xavier used two fingers to further part her outer
labia. Her vagina was lovely, the soft folds swollen with arousal, begging to be touched and fucked.
Xavier doubted she’d be able to keep from coming. The mind could not always control the body, but he knew she’d fight the
orgasm in an effort to obey. She’d fail, but he wanted to be the one to cause that failure. He wanted to feel her struggle for
obedience.
Smiling, Xavier lowered his mouth to her clit.
* * *
No. No. No.
Mae whimpered into the hated gag as fingers opened her pussy. She was doing her best to ignore the person kissing the
sensitive skin of her neck and the cold brush of ice over her stomach, but she wouldn’t be able to ignore direct stimulation of her
sex.
Something soft brushed her clit, the barest touch. She jumped, a spike of pleasure lancing through her. Clenching her belly
muscles, she braced herself to try to stop from coming.
Another soft flick of her clit, and now a finger was stroking her inner labia in a smooth rhythm. Maybe if it continued like this she’d
be able to fight it.
Lips pressed over her, a tongue stroked her clit, and Mae almost came.
Jerking her hips up, she sucked air in through her nose, gasping at the sudden, sharp pleasure. She’d moved enough to
dislodge the person’s mouth, giving her a chance to regain control.

The reprieve from stimulation was brief. As soon as her ass hit the barrel the tongue was back on her clit. Again she tried to lift
her hips and break contact, but didn’t have the leverage to hold the position for long. The hand running ice over her stomach
applied pressure, keeping her in place.
Fingers toyed with her pussy lips, pinching and tugging them, then a finger circled the entrance to her body, pressing in just
enough to remind her how achingly empty she was.
Something thick—it had to be at least two fingers—pressed against her entrance and Mae stiffened. She wanted to be filled, to
be possessed in this primal way, but she wanted it to be Master Xavier who did it.
The tongue stroked her clit again, this time paired with a sudden thrust that filled her aching pussy.
Mae couldn’t hold back the orgasm. She screamed, her legs pulling against the straps, her hips arching up. She started to move
her arms but the person kissing her neck held them down. Mae bit down on the ball as the orgasm continued to ripple through
her.
The mouth and hands between her legs didn’t stop. They went to work on her clit in earnest, alternating flicks with long licks. The
fingers inside her twisted, now rubbing her g-spot with each thrust. There were more hands and mouths on her—stroking the
exposed lower curves of her breasts, nipping the soft skin of her hip and massaging her upper arms.
Mae sobbed into the gag, her skull thumping against the wood as she sobbed in a combination of exquisite pleasure and
disappointment that she hadn’t been able to obey Xavier’s order. Not only had she failed to keep from orgasming, it had taken
less than five minutes for her to lose the battle.
And as much as she regretted that, defeat felt very good.
The mouth and fingers on her pussy stopped their sweet torment, only to return a moment later. It took only a second for her to
realize that there was someone new enjoying her pussy—the touch was different, not as precise. The realization that she really
was helpless—that she couldn’t control who or how many people touched her—made her shudder in submissive delight. Though
she’d come when she shouldn’t have, she wasn’t draped over this barrel, exposed for use, because she wanted to be.
She was here because her Master wanted her like this.
There was a rush of cold air on her saliva-damp neck as the person there left. She could tell someone else had taken their place,
and she knew, though she couldn’t see, that it was Xavier. She turned her face to him, straining her head to reach him.

Fingers brushed her cheek, then her hair. “Did you come, Red?”
His dark voice washed over her. She nodded, wishing she could tell him she was sorry, tell him that she’d tried.
“I’m going to punish you for that.”