Chapter Three 678

Chapter Three

Delphine

As I lower the black lace mask over my eyes, I check my reflection in the mirrored wall. I’d gone for a black corset, with silver front hooks and a black lace up back. I’d paired it with a simple black skirt, a garter belt and black fishnet stockings. Underneath it all, I was wearing a silk black thong.

Club Toska is a club for the elite of Newtown and the surrounding areas to unwind. They promise privacy and discretion, something which I need in order to fully explore my desires and push myself out of the confines of my mind.

It oozes class and elegance, which also promises sin and debauchery—with each private room decorated differently and set up for play based on individual requests.

The Onyx room was my favorite, with the mirrored wall, low lighting, luxurious bed dominating the space in the center of the room and a small chaise lounge tucked against the wall next to a discreet dresser, already stocked for the session. The furnishings are plush, in shades of black and silver. A black sex swing is fixed to the ceiling in the corner, and in the opposite corner there’s a spanking bench. There’s nothing personal here. Just how I like it.

I doubted that we’d use any of that this evening. All I wanted was to release some of the pressure that had been building in my head ever since Weston Edwards…no, Harrington had emerged on the scene.

Fucking little upstart.

The sooner I cut him out like a tumor, the better.

The door opens and a young man enters before closing it softly behind him. He’s wearing a black silk robe, and little else. When he turns to grin at me, I see he’s wearing a lace mask similar to my own. It doesn’t bother me that I can’t see his face. We’ve all got our secrets—that’s why we come to club Toska after all. I don’t need to see behind the mask to know that he’s handsome, the simmering dark eyes, the cheeky grin, square jaw and pearly white teeth all tell me he’s handsome and he knows it.

The man stands taller than me, around six foot five, I’d guess as he looks down at me, even with my heels.

Walking around him as he opens his robe and lets it fall to a puddle at his feet, I say, “I assume you’ve been prepared for this session?”

He nods, threads of gold in his hair catching in the dim lighting. “I have.”

Good. That makes it easier .

I slip off my heels, leaving them by the door as I let my gaze move over his body, taking in the hard lines of his defined muscles, the variation of his skin tone where he’s clearly been shirtless in the sun recently and the happy trail leading down his toned body to where his thick cock is hard and already dripping, begging for attention.

Ignoring him, I approach a dresser to the left, and open the first drawer, finding a black velvet roll-up pouch exactly where I expect it to be. Untying the cord, and opening it out onto the dresser top, I examine the collection of blades inside. Alexi had good taste. I’d give the ostentatious Russian beauty that. It was a shame that his tastes didn’t align with mine, he wouldn’t be tamed by just anyone, and I was too impatient to even try.

Selecting a thin dagger with a black handle inlaid with emerald stones and gold filigree, I lift it to the light and inspect the spotless silver edges of the blade. “Questions before we begin?”

My companion for the evening tilts his head, and a sandy colored curl falls in front of his eyes. “What is it you like about knives?”

His voice is curious, but there’s something else there, an underlying edge of humor, as if I somehow amuse him. He sounds young, his voice gravelly and soft .

Clicking my tongue, I wave the dagger and motion for him to get to his knees. “I don’t like personal questions.”

He ignores my instruction, instead crossing his arms as he narrows his eyes at me. “Is it the pain? Do you enjoy watching the blood blooming on the blade? The control?”

I take a deep breath and push the dagger into an ice bucket on top of the dresser. Patience was never my strong suit, but this man looked fresh and, since he was new to me, I’d show him some grace.

“You’re awfully impertinent.” I titter as I pull the knife back out.

With an easy shrug, one that has my gaze catching on his muscles as they flex and tighten with his movements. “I’ve been told I can be a bit of a brat.”

He sounds proud of himself, as if it’s some sort of achievement. But unfortunately for him, I’m not a brat tamer…I never keep a play partner for more than two sessions at a push. And I definitely don’t do repeats once the second session is finished, no matter how much time has passed between.

“I can see that.” The corner of my mouth lifts into a reluctant smile as I let the flat side of the icy blade trail down his sternum, causing his skin to pebble as I move lower. Lifting it so that the tip scratches over his flesh, I drift over to his nipple before placing the cool metal against him again—making him suck in his breath.

“Hmmmm, and do you like what you see?” He flexes on purpose this time, posing for me and himself as he glances in the mirror.

“You are beautiful.” I admit, as I let the knife move lower, tracing all the dips and divots of his body before I pause near the base of his cock. He doesn’t even blink as I press the blade against his shaft. “But far too self-aware of that fact for me in the real world.”

“It’s a good thing this isn’t the real world.”

“No, it’s not. Now get on your knees.” Stepping back, I move to sit on the edge of the bed. Crossing my legs, l let my hands rest on my knees, aware of his gaze tracking my every move. Twirling the handle of the blade between my fingers, I watch as he smirks. “I want you to crawl to me.”

He drops to his knees, sinking onto the hardwood floor. His thick thighs are taut as he shifts onto his hands and finally submits to me. Placing one hand in front of the other, he crawls towards me.

The man stops with his face inches away from my knee, and I watch, curious, as he places his hands on my legs and slowly pushes them apart, forcing my skirt up. Warm hands move up my thighs as he shifts forward again and settles between my spread legs, face practically buried in my crotch.

My brow lifts. I didn’t give him any other instruction other than crawl to me. Bad behavior needs correction, or people will only continue to push boundaries. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, I yank his head back and press the tip of the blade against his throat. “Did I tell you to touch me?”

He swallows, pushing against the knife. “No, ma’am.”

Applying a little more pressure, I’m transfixed as a bead of crimson forms at the tip before rolling down the metal. Pulling away the dagger, I slowly flick my tongue over the nick, the barest hint of copper hitting my tongue.

I trusted Alexi, and those running Club Toska enough to know that my beautiful little pincushion had been tested repeatedly and given a clean bill of health before stepping foot through that door tonight. The rigorous rules are what allowed me to relax and enjoy every slice, every cut, every moan.

“It’s going to hurt, do you understand?” I ask, hand still buried in his hair, holding him back as he nods. Without waiting for him to say anything else, I sink my teeth into his neck until he’s tense in my grasp, trying to stop himself from making any noise or instinctively pulling away.

Pressing the knife into his skin just above his nipple, I bite my way down his body until I taste that familiar metallic tang. Sucking an angry purple mark into his skin, I use my teeth and the knife to keep the blood flowing, although I’m always careful not to cause any permanent damage. This is all surface level harm, things that will eventually heal. Shame, I think to myself as I pull away and examine my handiwork. I rather like the sight of him covered in my marks.

Placing my hand on his shoulder on the opposite side, I drag my nails down his torso, leaving angry red tracks in olive skin. A soft sheen of sweat covers him, the excitement rolling off him in waves as he trembles under my touch.

My plaything for the evening nods, labored breaths coming in, choppy and uneven. “Yes.”

Lapping at a small incision I make between his ribs, I hum with approval. He tastes so sweet. I didn’t always sleep with my partners. Sometimes I simply released my rage with controlled slashes and nicks, mapping out their bodies, before tipping them handsomely and sending them on their way. But there was something about this one…the cheekiness and the ballsy attitude had me curious about what it would be like to have his muscular body beneath me, begging for more .

Biting down on the fleshy part of his ear until he groans, I whisper against the shell of his ear. “If you do exactly what I tell you, I may even fuck you.”

He shivers.

Delicious.