Desire Read Free Page A

deliberately undulating my movements, slinking across the carpet, licking my lips, my breathing still wild and exaggerated from my orgasm.
    “ Sit on your legs.”
    I sit on my calves again.
    “Look up.”
    Titling my chin I look up, blinded by the velvet blindfold.
    “Fondle your tits.”
    Cupping them, pushing them together, I knead them, rubbing my thumbs over my nipples until they ache. Sliding my hands up to my neck I caress my breasts, up and down, panting with need.
    I'm so wet now I'm dying.
    “ Lie on your back and open your legs.”
    Gracefully rearranging myself I tent my knees, planting my feet on the floor, wide as I can open my legs.
    “Hands above your head, wrists together.”
    I drape my right wrist over my left, my body completely open and on display.
    A hot mouth covers my clit, the tongue running back and forth over my pearl, hands pulling my skin, thumbs planted above my vagina and yanking. Bucking, arching, I can't help the moan at the potent sensitivity, at the raw sensation pouring heat and desire up into my body.
    He nicks my clit until I'm breathless, then plunges his tongue inside me, and it's right on my g-spot. Whimpering in a rough squeal, I'm destroyed by the orgasm, riding the high, moaning and shaking.
    My wrists are caught in a hand and I'm roughly hauled forwards, spun so fast on the carpet that it burns, and a penis is pushed into my mouth. It pumps while I scramble to adapt, sucking and swirling my tongue, trying to catch my breath with flared nostrils, holding to hips when he thrusts so deep down my throat, convulsing his orgasm.
    He withdraws, his hand heavy on my head, his palm patting my cheek briefly.
    I'm a little dizzy when a drink is put in my hand, my fingers closed around it, the man in charge commanding, “Drink.”
    I drink it in one go, thirstier than I realized.
    “Come,” he demands, pulling me up by the chain at my neck, forcing me to walk with him out the door and down the corridor, where it's cold and alien, the vibe lonely and sterile.
    I'm pushed into a new room and told, “Clean up, shower, redo your hair and make-up, and dress for your dance. Knock on the door when you're done.”
     

 
    Chapter 5
     
    Turn me on
    How do you compare to them
     
     
    I've practiced my dance secretly, excited for this day to come.
    Wearing the flimsy red neglige and skirt I am once again led around blindfolded. I recognize the steps when I'm guided onto the stage, left alone with the pole.
    It takes a while before a voice comes over the sound-system, “Remove your blindfold, and begin.”
    My song begins playing, with the deep and sexy beat of Deeper and Deeper. It's not the kind of song usually played in the club, but then I'm not a sweet girl who lived behind the sunshine curtain. There's goth blood running through my veins and I love the industrial grunge of this song by Dave Gahan. It also tells Dominic exactly what I want.
    Unknotting the blindfold I strut down the stage, jiggling my breasts with every step, my legs long and shiny, toned to dancer perfection. Wiggling around I unzip the skirt, undoing the button, seeing nothing but linked ankles stretched out in masculine relaxation in the shadows beyond the stage lights.
    This is an energetic dance, one which will highlight my flexibility and stamina. Sashaying back up the catwalk I bend provocatively, hollowing my back when I slide the skirt down, stepping out of it and grabbing the pole, hoisting myself up so that my body lines its length with my head facing down.
    Widening my legs into a split I slowly twirl the pole, arcing my pelvis I flex, pointing my legs away from the pole, only my sternum and chin now touching it. Folding my legs around the pole in a demure leg cross I flex up, gripping the metal and swinging around it, doing ballet against a pole, sexy and salacious.
    Working it I do a handstand when I reach the ground, making sure the pole is in my crotch when I flick up and hold it above my head, slowing