GrandSlam (10 page)

I stared at his groin. He had a solid bulge going on behind his
fly. My mouth watered to taste him again. Have him sinking deep into my throat
for more than just a few seconds this time.

“So we’ll try again,” he said quietly, removing his hand
from my blouse. “And this time you’ll obey me completely, not stopping until I
tell you to. I am your Master and what I say goes. That is all you need to
remember.”

I glanced up at him.

“This is your first lesson in submission,” he said, “and in
the next one I’ll be using my mouth on you. But probably not in a way you’ve
experienced before.”

Damn that image again, of me with a spanked-red bum, his
head between my legs holding my hot arse and his mouth working me to climax.

I nodded, licked my lips and watched as once again he undid
his trousers, shoved them and his boxers down to his thighs and palmed his
dick.

“Marie,” he said, stepping close, dick offered forward,
“suck my cock.”

This time there was no hesitation. I wrapped my mouth around
him and created a hot suction to drag him over my tongue straight to the back
of my throat.

Instantly his hands slotted into my hair. A thrill shook my
body, the tug bringing back a ton of memories and sensations I craved more of.

“Ah yes, that’s it, a little deeper though, as much as you
can, babe. And use your fingers too, I want to feel your touch on me.”

I softened my tongue and employed my hands to work the root
of his cock as I bobbed lower still. I had to fight my gag reflex, but it was
okay, I was under control.

“Perfect,” he said, “perfect, now just keep still, very
still.” He tightened his hold on my head. Even if I’d wanted to move I couldn’t
have. The power of his arms, his big body, made me feel even tinier next to
him, but I adored that, I relished the fact that this big, strong athlete
wanted me, needed me. Travis Connolly had a raging hard-on and it was all
because of me.

“Play with my balls,” he said. “Treat them gentle but firm.”

Quickly I sought them out. They were heavy sacs, the hair
sparse. I could feel the harder tissue beneath the surface and set up a steady
rolling movement, as if I were playing with two glass orbs in a silken bag.

“Oh, bloody hell, yeah, that’s it, Marie, keep on going.” He
canted his hips backward and forward just once, pulling out and then pushing
into my mouth.

The hair on his lower belly tickled my nose, the musky scent
of him filling my every breath.

“Yes, God, it’s been so long, Marie, and you’re so fucking
good.”

His words were a potent aphrodisiac. My pussy was clenching
around nothing, my clit engorged. But this was all about his pleasure, he was
getting close to coming, I was sure. His dick was solid, the stickiness of
pre-cum was coating my tongue and palate.

“I want you to swallow,” he said, increasing the tense hold
he had on my head. “If that’s not okay with you then tap my chest now.”

Swallowing wasn’t usually part of my repertoire, but sod it,
I wanted Travis’ cum down my throat more than anything else. To feel his cock
pumping and his spunk spurting was the only thing I could think of.

I continued to play with his balls, sneaking my fingers back
to stroke the smooth patch of skin between sac and arsehole. He felt like satin
there, soft and delicate. The complete opposite to every other tense, tough
inch of his body.

“Ah, yeah,” he moaned. “Fucking hell.”

I explored a little more, slid the tip of my finger over the
tightly puckered skin of his anus and rubbed. Not penetrating, just giving him
another sensation.

“Ah, Jesus Christ, get ready,” he snapped, jerking in and
out of my mouth over and over and holding my head in his strong grip. Fucking
my throat hard and fast. Owning me, possessing me.

Suddenly it was there, jets of cum hitting my tongue. I
swallowed, gulped, sucked him with vigor.

He groaned long and loud, another three hits of fluid left
his slit.

I lapped it all up, loving every pulse of his dick as it
jerked against my tongue.

Suddenly he released my hair, pulled his cock from my mouth
and folded downward onto his knees.

I was forced to let go of him but instantly wrapped my arms
around his body. He slumped in my embrace.

“Travis,” I panted. “You okay?”

“Fucking hell, that was too good,” he said, finding my mouth
and kissing me hard. “And it’s been so long, too long, since a woman took me
right through to completion.” He grinned, pulling in deep breaths as he did so.
“And you’re a little minx touching me somewhere I hadn’t told you to.”

“Are you complaining?” I gripped his shoulder, felt a shiver
go through him as his climax abated.

“That’s not the issue,” he said, raising his eyebrows and
sliding his hands up my back, cupping my nape.

“What do you mean?” I stared into his dangerously dark eyes.
Excitement danced there, as did a shot of something unknown to me.

“It means you’ve been a bad, disobedient sub, Marie. Very
bad.”

A tumble of nerves rattled through my belly. I had a feeling
I knew what was coming next. “And that means?”

“Which means, babe, that you must be punished.”

Following mine and Marie’s supremely hot tryst in her
office, I felt as though my world had been turned upside down. My mind and body
felt sharper, more efficient, which confirmed my suspicions about my
subconscious cravings holding me back. One smokin’ blowjob from a trainee
submissive and I felt better than I had in ages.

It was just a shame we’d had to end things so abruptly. A
knock at Marie’s office door elicited a gasp from her, followed by a panicked
look at her watch. With that, she’d immediately disentangled from me and
hissed, “Quick—it’s my next client. Just act normal—I’ll say we’ve overrun.”

I scraped my fingers through my hair and tugged at my
clothing to make sure I didn’t have that just-fucked look. I hadn’t been fucked
in the traditional sense, of course, but I hoped I would be in the
not-too-distant future.

Marie straightened herself out, pushed her hair behind her
ears and looked at me.

“Wait,” I said, reaching out and touching a small smear of
her reddish lipstick that had traveled sideways from the corner of her mouth.
It was probably on my cock too. The thought was hot. “Let me just…” I wiped it
away with the pad of my thumb, resisting the urge to kiss her, taste myself on
her tongue and let her know with my mouth how bloody happy she’d just made me.

“Thanks,” she said, drawing her gaze from mine and glancing
down my body to make sure I looked presentable. Apparently I was, so she
crossed to the door, then beckoned me. Flicked the lock and drew down the
handle at the same time and beamed at Nadia Gorlando.

“I’m so sorry, Nadia. Travis and I overran a little.” She
turned to me, the epitome of professionalism. It was scary how she could turn
it on and off so fast. “Thank you, Travis. See you next time.”

With that, Nadia and I traded places, and as soon as I was
out of sight of the two women, I allowed myself the grin that had been
threatening to emerge ever since the knock had come at Marie’s door. I’d
stifled it first because I knew Marie wouldn’t find the situation funny—not
yet, anyway—and then because I didn’t want Nadia to guess what we’d been up to.
The last thing I wanted to do was get Marie into trouble.

* * * * *

After a heavy-duty workout in the gym—during which I’d
accidentally dropped a weight on Peter’s foot—I was once again wandering the
halls of Los Carlos Tennis Academy with a smirk on my face. I hadn’t done it on
purpose, but seeing him hopping about and swearing had made me feel as though I
had yet another one up on him. Yes, he’d gone out on a date with Marie—and had
a second one planned—but I’d done something altogether more wonderful with her.
And I knew for a fact it wasn’t going to be the last time. She was eager to
learn more about that side of her, and I knew that her fear wouldn’t hold her
back. Curiosity would win out.

The question was, was the next date going to be Marie’s last
with Peter? Would she carry on seeing him while she was having an altogether
kinkier time with me? I had no right to demand she stopped seeing Peter, but a
huge part of me wanted to—most especially the Dominant part. Because I wasn’t
into sharing, not my woman at least. Borrowing someone else’s was different.
Had been necessary for a while. Thank God for Kev’s generosity and Elle’s
insatiable nature.

* * * * *

Saturday came around all too soon, and it seemed my brain
was determined to make me suffer for the entire day. I’d woken much earlier
than I needed to—my only plans were to tidy the apartment and get some laundry
done, maybe go for a run—and couldn’t get back to sleep. I tossed and turned
for a good half an hour before admitting defeat. By seven thirty I was running
on the beach, trying not to think about Marie going out on a date with another
man. Of course, the more I tried not to think about it, the more the thoughts
whirled through my mind until I was clenching my fists so hard they ached. I
ran much farther and harder than I’d intended to and as a result I felt wiped out
by the time I got home again. So much so that I nearly ignored the landline
phone ringing.

The trilling was insistent, not to mention annoying, so with
a heavy sigh I dragged myself over and picked up the handset without looking at
the caller display.

“Hello,” I said in a bored tone. If it was a telemarketer, I
would not be held responsible for my actions. They’d driven me insane back
home, and would continue to do so wherever I was.

“That’s no way to greet your best friend now, is it?”

“Hey, Kev. I’m sorry, mate, I’m just not having the greatest
day.”

“What? Surely it’s only about,” there was a pause as he
worked out the time difference, “nine thirty in the morning there. How can you
possibly be having a shitty day already?”

Had it been anyone else, I’d have lied through my teeth. But
Kevin had been my friend through thick and thin. Besides, he was the only one I
could talk to about the kinky stuff. So I told him everything that had happened
since we last spoke, right down to the amazing head from Marie and the fact I
was quietly fuming about her date that evening.

“Seems I’ve rung you at exactly the right time then, mate.”

“Why’s that? Are you on the next flight out, ready to go out
on the town and get me bladdered?”

“Hmm, my news is good, but not quite that good. I’m pretty
sure it will take your mind off the delectable Marie though.”

“I’m listening.”

“Good, because I’ve gone to a lot of trouble to get this
information. Through the most discreet channels, you understand. My friend, I
have found the answer to your problems. Possibly. It could make everything a
whole lot worse, actually, but I’ve done what you asked.”

“Can you please get on with it?”

“All right, all right. There’s no need to bite my bloody
head off. Stroppy bastard. Anyway, what I’ve phoned for, my good friend, is to
let you know that I’ve found an elite BDSM club in your area. And when I say
elite, I really and truly mean it. It’s so exclusive—and discreet—that I
wouldn’t be surprised if you met the president in there. I’ve spoken to the owners
and you’re on their list now, so they’ll let you in whenever you decide to go.
You’ll have to sign a confidentiality clause on your first visit, of course.”

I shuddered at the mental image of the President of the
United States dressed in BDSM gear, or even in civvies, spending time in a kink
club.

“Excellent. About the club, I mean. Not the president. Ugh.
Thanks for that image.”

“Ha, sorry! Ergh, now I’ve got a picture in my head. Bloody
hell, that is not nice. Not nice at all. Anyway, the club is called Haven of
Debauchery, and it’s…”

He gave me the address, told me all the details I needed to
know about dress code, where to leave my credit card details, whether I needed
someone with me or if I could go in alone and so on. I thought the name was
fantastic; it sounded exactly like what I needed, particularly to distract me
from thoughts of Marie and Peter at the Kodak Theater. Thoughts of what Marie
and Peter might get up to
after
they’d been to the Kodak Theater.

It didn’t bear thinking about.

I resolved to visit the club that very night for the sake of
my sanity. Since Marie had spun a web around my thoughts my grip had been
tenuous, but still, I fancied keeping a hold of it. Needed to if I was going to
get my head into the right place not just to show her a good time, but also to
take on Rufus Lampani in a friendly next week in preparation for the US Open.

Kevin and I chatted for a while longer, bringing each other
up to speed on life in general, then rang off. I felt a little better knowing
that I had somewhere to go that evening, somewhere that would be full of people
like me, who understood me and my kinks, and wouldn’t go gossiping to anyone
that they’d seen me there. I knew that Kevin would never have recommended the
place if he thought there was any chance that I’d be outed by one of its other
patrons.

A tiny, probing thought on the fringes of my mind lingered
for a while, then forced itself front and center.
I wish Marie was coming to
the club with me.

I sighed, knowing it wasn’t going to happen. Not that
evening, anyway. Hopefully another time. The thought cheered me and I reassured
myself with the notion that I would go and check out the club by myself to
start with—fortunately they allowed single males—and then return another time
with Marie on my arm. Looking completely fabulous in an outfit I’d bought for
her that would make me the envy of every other red-blooded male—and probably
lots of females too—in the place.

Images of Marie in a skintight black dress—not leather, it
was so cliché—with a high front and a very low back, matched with black
stilettos, swum through my head. The outfit would be so clingy that it wouldn’t
really hide her breasts at all, and I’d be able to stroke her back as she
walked by my side, maybe even dip my hand beneath the material and give her
luscious arse a squeeze every now and again.

My cock was rock hard in no time and aching. For her. I had
an idea—I needed a shower and figured that since I’d been naked in the shower
the first time I’d ever laid eyes on Marie, it would be a kinky idea to have a
repeat. Only this time she wouldn’t really be there—except in my
imagination—and instead of continuing to adhere to propriety, I’d wank myself
silly with thoughts of her.

That decided, I almost tripped over my own feet in my eagerness
to get into the bathroom. I pushed the button on the shower, took off my shoes,
then stripped, dropping my clothes where I stood. By the time I was naked,
tendrils of steam were winding their way through the air. I hopped into the
cubicle quickly, pulling the door closed behind me.

I washed my hair and body in no time at all, which left me
to enjoy myself. As the hot water pounded down onto my run-weary muscles, I
squirted another blob of shower gel into my palm, then closed my fingers around
my shaft, slicking the gloopy liquid up and down. A groan escaped my lips—I was
imagining it was Marie’s hand touching me, stroking me, teasing me to orgasm.

Closing my eyes, I let my imagination take control.

Her delicious body is pressed up against mine, her gorgeous
breasts flattened into my back. Her hand is curled around my cock, gripping
tight and pumping up and down, slowly at first, then faster as I rock my hips
to spur her on. Her other hand cups my balls, rolling and gently tugging them,
scratching her nails lightly against my sac as she wanks me off. As her pace
increases on my cock, I feel my balls tighten, draw up against my body as my
climax approaches. I press my hands on the walls of the shower to steady
myself, look down and watch her hands work me, pleasure me, make me come… A few
more strokes, a gentle prod of my arsehole and I am undone. I call her name as
jets of spunk fly out of me, coating the floor of the shower.

“Oh, oh, oh, Marie!” I realized I’d spoken the words aloud,
my orgasm pulling me from my daydream and making me desperately wish it had
been real. At that moment, I wanted her hands on me, her lips, more than
anything. God, what had she done to me? I was behaving like a man obsessed.

* * * * *

That evening, I dressed in my smartest black trousers and
teamed them with a black shirt. That was about as “Dommy” as it got for me—I
didn’t wear leather or PVC or things with studs and chains. It just wasn’t me,
I didn’t feel comfortable in that kind of gear. But I’d been told in the past that
I looked plenty dominant enough when I was all in black, so that was fine. As
long as it was obvious which side of the fence I was on when it came to
Domination and submission, I was happy.

I drove to the car park I’d been told belonged to Haven of
Debauchery. It was off the road and secure, manned 24/7, so I knew that there
was no chance of someone happening to see my car parked outside a BDSM club.
They really did think of everything here. In London, Kevin’s car would have
picked me up at my flat and dropped me off, but in L.A. I had to fend for
myself, which was fine. I could cope.

It wasn’t until I headed inside and walked down a
black-and-silver-painted corridor that I began to waver. Back home, I’d always
either entered Kevin’s club with someone on my arm or knew for sure that there
was someone in the club—lots of someones, usually—who I knew. Here, I didn’t
have anyone with me and I didn’t know a damn soul.

I would never have admitted it to anyone else—not even
Kevin—but I was daunted. A little scared, even. Would I enjoy myself, get
involved with what was going on, or was I destined to be a wallflower?

I steeled myself.
Wallflower, my arse.
I’d never been
the shy and retiring type and I wasn’t about to start now. Hell, would I have
retained my number one seed as long as I had if I wasn’t confident and
self-assured? Bollocks, of course I wouldn’t. Wimpy guys didn’t win Grand
Slams, Olympic medals or wipe the floor with every Wimbledon hopeful for two
years in a row.

I could do this.

After speaking to a stern-looking woman in a booth, paying
my fee and signing the necessary forms, I made my way into the main room, which
held a dance floor surrounded by raised seating areas and had a large bar at
one end. At the back of the room was a series of doorways, which I knew from
experience led to the playrooms—and the toilets, presumably.

Suddenly I felt better. I may be on a different continent
with a different culture, different nuances, but underneath all that we were
the same. Particularly between these four walls. Everyone here either liked
being dominant or being dominated. There were bound to be switches, of course,
and people who just wanted to play at spanking and being spanked—and all the
other methods of pain that an imaginative person could think of—but we all came
under one umbrella. We all enjoyed kink of one type or another. I was amongst
like-minded people. I felt more like myself than I had since I’d stepped off
that plane at LAX.