The Broker: A Breaking-in Story, part 3

mollyinthemirror.jpgI pay for the coffee and we walk together out of the diner. I lead them to a gallery space where a group of us holds sex parties sometimes. It is nondescript from the outside, large and industrial looking on the inside, and with the combination of grunge and high culture being all the rage these days, it is in danger of becoming a trendy place. More importantly, it is well equipped, and empty during the day. I have permission to use it as long as I’m out by five. I have rarely taken advantage of that, but today is turning out to be quite a different kind of day.

It is dark when we walk in and I take advantage of the moment to press Jay against the wall to kiss him. I press my body against his as I pull his head down to me. His lips brush mine tentatively, but I hold his head and open his mouth with mine. He is not much taller than I, perhaps 5’8”, but I can feel the strength in his body as I bend him to me. He yields, but in the same way that flexible steel might yield: slowly, and purposefully. “You are a delicious one, aren’t you,” I murmur to him before I wander off to find the lights.

I switch on only a few of the overhead lights. The two rooms are dim but visible now. The front room is the gallery. The back room is the playroom. My two young friends are still standing just inside the vestibule. “Make yourselves at home,” I tell them. “Explore the place. Bathrooms are through that little hallway there. The bar is not stocked until evening, but there is soda and water in the refrigerator. The back room is where we’ll spend most of our time, I’m sure, but feel free to browse the paintings here. I’ll be right back.” I lock my wallet in the office and then I disappear into the ladies’ room. I need to give them a few moments to check in with each other, and I need to adjust my wardrobe a bit.

I keep a few items of costume and lingerie here for impromptu parties and I strip out of my jeans and turtleneck, my plain old bikinis, and don a black leather corset and sheer black stockings. I put my jeans and turtleneck back on, and pull on some tall leather boots instead of my walking shoes. I don’t think they’ll notice the differences for now.

When I return to the front room I find them looking a bit more relaxed. They’ve had a moment to confer and they both look eager and ready for some excitement. Jay is leaning against the bar and David is browsing the artwork. I pin Jay’s eyes with mine and take his hand without dropping his gaze. I run his hand along the side of my face, from ear to chin. I drop it to my throat and run it down my neck, between my breasts, to my belly, and bring it to rest on my hip. I hold his hand on my hip and turn so that my back is to him. I press myself back against him, my ass pressing his cock. He is already hard. Good. Slowly I grind against him a little bit. “Mmmm,” he murmurs, as he dares to move his free hand to the front of my thigh. He is trying for my cunt but he is too eager. We won’t have that just yet.

“No, no, no,” I chide him. “Come with me.” I lead him by the hand to the playroom. I call over my shoulder to David. “David, please, there’ll be time for paintings later.”

I give them a little tour of the playroom. Half is set aside for BDSM play and the other half is pillows and cushions and couches. I introduce them to some of the equipment.

“Have either of you two boys been in a dungeon before” I ask, in much the same tone of voice I use when asking new students if they’ve ever studied the human body before. They admit to no dungeon experience. “Ah, well then, you’ll find this interesting. Here we have a bench, perhaps one of the most all-around useful pieces of equipment. You’ll see its padded to make your discomfort as comfortable as possible. You’ll also see that it has D-rings for all manner of … attachment.” I push Jay down on the bench for a moment, my sudden action allowing me to lay him flat before he thinks to resist, and letting him feel the possibilities. His legs are splayed, one on either side of the narrow center piece of the bench and I run my hand up his thigh, dragging fingernails as I go. David looks on, smiling at the sudden turn of events. I grab the front of Jay’s shirt and pull him up to sitting again. I kiss him deeply while holding him in place. I feel that same warm-steel yielding that I felt earlier. I am warm and wet and can feel the electricity of this connection coursing through my body.

But I remain in command. I turn to David and point out a large, wooden, X-shaped structure. “And that is a St. Andrew’s cross, very useful for standing bondage, and for holding a target steady – of utmost importance when inflicting a single-tail whipping, but useful for flogging and caning as well.” I make sure to indicate all the chains and leather straps attached to each of the bondage pieces, and to the assorted canes and whips that stand against the wall. David grins as Jay tries to hide the nervousness which is seeping through him despite his best efforts at cockiness. I notice it has not diminished his hard-on though. I do believe his fear is turning him on!

“That kit there has toys for electricity play. Not my area of expertise, so you won’t be seeing any today, David. I do apologize.” He nods and smiles. “That’s okay,” he says, “Perhaps we’ll be back. I’m sure you can inflict more than Jay can handle in one day!” Jay grimaces and then grins. He knows he is in over his head but he is somehow trusting that I’ll be good to him.

“This kit has my personal toys. These I’m very skilled with.” I open my bag. From within I draw stainless steel dildos that look more like abstract art than like sex toys. I draw heavy solid glass butt plugs in a variety of sizes. I draw my flogger, green suede, and my nipple clamps: the clothespin variety, linked with chain. I draw my harness and my personal cock: also green, and only medium sized, but slightly curved. All these things I lay out on a table beside the bench.

I take David’s hand. Together we look at Jay. I look up at David and gesture toward the array of instruments on the table. “David, do you think we’re ready to begin?” The grin on his face is the only answer I need, but he has begun to enjoy his role, and so he speaks. “Oh, Molly, I think we’re very ready to begin.”

“Good. I’m counting on your assistance and your reliability as a witness.” I raise myself on tiptoes and kiss him very lightly on the lips. I am struck for a moment by how soft his lips are. I might need to come back for more of that. But later. Right now we have work to do. I look up at him and smile conspiratorially. “Now, be a dear and flip that switch over there. I think we need some music.”

He does this, and the first strains of Nekked’s “A Boy Can Dream” fill the room.

~ by Molly Montrevoir on April 17, 2007.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: