Jennifer’s dominant, Robert, has applied for the two of them to become members in the highly exclusive Tremboix Society, a BDSM network of the city’s most powerful and influential. Though Robert Daniels surely falls within that category, he agrees that they must go through the Tremboix’s rigorous screening process. Rather than questionnaires or resumes, the Tremboix uses only one metric to assess potential couples: the worthiness of the submissive. So it is that Jennifer finds herself standing alone before a gathering of the city’s most powerful and sexually dominant men with only one task: obey.
“Any woman can give in to a little rough sex,” he went on. “A firm hand or even a couple tight knots and most women think they’ve learned what it is to give in and submit.”
His hand brushed upwards from my hip, caressing the side of my breast almost imperceptibly, and then ran back down and out over my sensitive stomach. He felt me trembling in his hands – felt each little, automatic response to every contact he made with me. The hand rose again and cupped my right breast, teasing at the nipple ever so lightly. I felt myself thrusting my chest into his hand, begging for more substantial stimulation, but his hand withdrew in just far enough to maintain its infuriating lightness.
All the while, the other hand worked its delicate touch up my thigh, claiming my body as his one inch at a time.
As he continued to speak, his tone became quieter and more seductive, almost hypnotic. “But me, I can tell when a woman is truly, utterly powerless. It doesn’t have anything at all to do with ropes.” The tips of his fingers brushed the lace of my panties.
“Do you know what I mean, Jennifer?”
“Yes,” I gasped. I felt paralyzed by need, not just his touch but his orchestration. He was playing my body, and every note seemed to match a perfect harmony I had never listened for before. All the while it seemed that the air I breathed was of nothing but his scent, issuing me deeper into his world of physical bliss.
“Yes, sir,” I repeated slightly less breathlessly in an attempt to hide my state from the onlookers. Jack, of course, knew precisely what he was doing to me. There was no concealing this experience from him. I would be safe in his arms, his touch told me. I could let myself go.
The hand between my legs rubbed over my panties and I let out an explosive breath as the friction tugged lightly at my swollen lips and clit.
“I could take anything you possess right now, couldn’t I?” he asked softly. “Anything that is yours is being surrendered up to me. I can feel it in every breath you take.”
“Yes,” I breathed. “Yes.”
His fingers felt at the edge of my panties and then nudged them aside. The thought that I was somewhere where I was uncomfortable with my pussy being exposed seemed to flit back and forth somewhere in the distant recesses of my mind.
“I could manipulate you and use you and you would not even think to object.”
“Yes,” I repeated. Each word he spoke seemed infused with the pleasure his fingers were imparting to me. I held my breath as I felt them spread my lips and run along my sensitive folds. I had not opened my eyes in the past five minutes. Nothing else existed but the part of me that he was touching.
“When I put my fingers into you, you are going to be mine utterly.”
“Yes,” I agreed before I understood what he was saying. Then when I did, I repeated, “yes.”
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