Leash Me (Your Pet For The Night) Read online

  Leash Me (Your Pet For The Night)

  By

  Audrey Grace

  * * *

  Table of Contents:

  Leash Me (Your Pet For The Night)

  About the Author

  Bonus Material 1 - His Every Desire

  Bonus Material 2 - Submitting to the Doctor

  Bonus Material 3 - Bound and Humiliated

  Bibliography: Erotica

  Bibliography: Gay Erotica

  Bibliography: Lesbian Erotica

  Bibliography: Erotic Romance

  License

  Leash Me (Your Pet For The Night)

  We meet in downtown Melbourne, two invisible people lost in the bobbing throng on a Friday night. We get a hotel room, the fancy one on Swanston. It has a nice cocktail bar, and we promise ourselves we’ll go to that later.

  Though whether we will or not, we cannot say at this moment. It’s just a gesture, a promise of something more, should the night begin to ebb a little too early for our liking.

  We’re dressed for one another, and that’s just the way I like it. Our meeting has no hidden meaning. It’s clear and obvious and plain to anyone who looks or sees or watches us.

  I wear a black lace top and a long, dark velvet skirt. My lips are red and my eyes are dark.

  You are in a black shirt, black trousers, black shoes, but your tie is green and striking. It reminds me of a snake in the sand, though I couldn’t really tell you why.

  Casually you attach the collar, fix it around my neck. I crane a little to make it easier. And then you attach the leash to my collar, and we walk out into the night, amidst the crowded streets surging with people, with equal nonchalance.

  You have not told me where we’re going, so I’m content to follow you. But more than that, it’s pretty clear that I must follow you. You have me in your grip; I’m tethered to your hand; to your command.

  You light a cigarette. It’s one of the slim and feminine ones, flavored like vanilla. You smoke it as we walk, but occasionally you hold it in front of my lips, and I take a drag from the tiny thing and take the smoke inside me.

  I can’t help but notice how erotic it is to share a cigarette with you. The way you hold it in front of me, just slightly too far, so I have to lean forward or walk quicker. The way you watch as I inhale the smoke and let it out through my nostrils as I’ve become accustomed.

  I can’t help but notice the way you smoke, the way the puff of wispy gray attempts to escape your lips, peeking out for just a moment before its sucked back in. It reminds me of a riptide in the ocean.

  Like the smoke I cannot escape your lips, your grip.

  You bring me close and kiss me lightly on my head, but I hear you smell my hair.

  “We’re here,” you say, and grin at me, and I realize we’re at a strip club. It’s called The Smell of Grass, which to me is a strange name, but I’ve never been to a strip club before, so perhaps I do not know.

  It doesn’t look too sleazy, but it’s not a high-end place, either. It lies somewhere in between, and why I like that about you I do not know, but I just do.

  It’s my first time to a strip club, and I feel excitement welling within me. What will it be like? Will the girls be naked? And do people really put money in the elastic band of their thongs?

  I’m excited, in a naive way, but also excited to be with you, to see you in a place you like, a place that excites you too.

  We’re at the door and the bouncer or guard or whatever he is looks at us and grins. He nods at me, and you nod back to him and detach the leash. In the moment that our tether is broken, I feel a strange and horrifying emptiness, but you take my hand, and our connection is reformed, and that cold and icy feeling melts away.

  The bouncer smiles at me and winks, so I just smile and look away. I can see that you don’t really like it, but you joke with him in a good natured way, and just like that the ripples of tension are smoothed, and an understanding is formed.

  I’m impressed by you. The bouncer does not look at me again.

  I watch as you fold the leash, end on end, and put it in your pocket. You’re careful with the leather strap, and you finger the silver buckle briefly.

  We walk into the club, and darkness swallows us fully.

  We find a table that’s by a sofa, and sit together for a while. You place your hand onto my thigh, and it feels as if I have been touched in other places. Just that small touch, it drives me crazy, and I cannot stop thinking about it.

  I purr in your ears, just softly and quietly, as you watch the girls.

  Not much longer later you rise, and I think that we must be going. “No,” you say, “we’re not leaving yet,” and you tell me, “just stay put.”

  I watch as you walk to one of the girls, a pretty, dainty thing. She’s got auburn hair that cascades down in perfect streamlined flatness. She’s a bit bigger, certainly curvier, than the rest of the women. But it suits her; she wears it well, and she’s undeniably sexy.

  She’s also naked — completely naked, and for some reason that surprised me. I guess that’s because I’d never actually been to a strip club, and only seen the brief glimpses on the telly and in movies.

  You tell her, “I want a lap dance,” and you tell me, “and you’re to watch.” I nod my head in diffidence, realizing the torture of what is to come.

  I watch as this woman, her nude and voluptuous body, writhes it all around you. I watch as her hair brushes past your nose and I see you smell it. I watch as her nipples, large and stiff, are rubbed against your chest, and I watch as she turns and places her round, firm bum right in the crotch of your trousers.

  I can see what she’s doing to you, how she’s turning you on. I can see your arousal, feel it even, as if it is an aura that surrounds your body, and even more, as if it was palpable.

  But there’s more to your arousal, and I can see that, too. I can see what it’s doing to you to watch me watch her touch you.

  “Good kitty,” you say, looking at me, and I purr at you. I am a good kitty, despite my desires, but I want to touch you so badly. But I cannot, not until you say, so I stay where I am and watch this women work her craft all over your perfect body.

  So I stay where I am, and continue to want you badly.

  The girl finishes and smiles at you, and you place a few bills into her outstretched hand. She takes it into her closed fist, and walks away and blows you a kiss, and you watch her as she walks, staring at that round, firm bum.

  You suddenly reach over to me and grip me by my collar. You pull me toward you and kiss me deeply, all tongue and teeth and panting breath.

  I devour it hungrily, and bite your lip, and suck your tongue, and taste your saliva.

  But you break the kiss and pull me to my feet, and your hand dives into your pocket and out comes the leash.

  You attach it to my collar once more, and lead me out of the strip club. I can see your excitement in your trousers, but gradually it subsides, and I’m left without a stimulating sight.

  But a stimulating memory is formed.

  I know the night is young, and will not ebb away just yet. I do not know where you are leading me, but I am content to follow.

  And more than that, I must follow.

  You lead me down the throbbing streets of Melbourne, past the gang of kids and crazies sitting outside Flinders, and through a set or narrow alleys to a little gem of a bar. It is like the so many others simply scattered and hidden around the city. You have to know where it is to find it.

  This one is goth inspired, and in it exotic looking people in their blacks and chains and studs squirm and writhe under a red glowing light, thrash and whip to loud, cacophonous music.

 
“Stop,” you say, “stop right here,” and I dutifully obey. We are right outside the entrance to the bar, and the booming base thumps right out into the cool and open air to blast us with vibrations.

  “Look inside and watch those people,” you whisper into my ear, and I smell the faint smell of smoke still lingering on your breath. It makes me want to kiss you.

  I move to get a better look and you press your body up against mine. “Go inside,” you whisper softly. “Go inside and find a man, a man you find attractive.” I turn to look at you, a question in my eyes. “Don’t worry,” you say quickly, “I’ll follow right behind you. So go and find a man you like and start a conversation. Flirt with him and chat with him and let him buy you a drink. Dance with him and lean on him and let his hands roam on you. Let him touch you as you please, let him do what you wish, and watch me while I watch you.”

  I nod and look at you once more and your eyes are hard and passionate. “Do not stop until I want to stop you.”

  You unclasp my leash and fold it up and place it in your pocket, and gently then you usher me into the mouth of darkness.

  The glow of red surrounds me and the thump of bass, it pounds me, and I walk into the goth-styled bar with you in tow behind me. The boys here are young and pretty, and I’m a little older. Which will only make the task I’ve been set that much easier.

  But, as you said, I must find a man I like, and the pretty boys with perfect faces are not really my type. They are, instead, the kind of boys who would work well as decor, trapped in cages in the nude, their lithe and pale bodies showing.

  I scan the bar for the kind of man that I find attractive, and there I find him, sitting alone, broad-shouldered and severe. He looks strong and muscular, but not in pretty perfection. Instead it is the kind of thickness and power that comes with work.

  I walk to him near the back and look at him for a moment. He looks me up my legs and body, until his eye lock on my collar.

  “Sit down,” he says, and he shuffles on the little sofa. “I’ll buy you a drink,” he offers me, and I accept it, like you told me. “What would you like?” he then asks, and I tell him exactly.

  “I would like a Bloody Mary, with extra spice.”

  “You like it hot,” he said to me, a grin spreading on his features.

  “Red in the glass, hot on my tongue, it’s simply my favorite.”

  He comes back with my drink, and I watch you watch me. I sip on the Bloody Mary, and feel my tongue ignite.

  The man is talking to me, and I look at him quite briefly. He’s attractive and hard and powerful-looking, and he looks like he knows what he wants.

  He’s kind of like you, in that way, except I’m not his kitten. But, then again, I am yours, and following your orders.

  I watch you watch me here and there, stealing glances when I can. You’re sat in darkness at the bar, but your eyes, they twinkle hard and bright.

  I take another sip from my hot red glass, and the man I’m sitting next to shuffles closer to me. He brushes his hand over my hair and leans his face toward me, and I feel his lips drag across my cheek, and the proximity is dizzying.

  I look over to you once more, and in my eyes I tell you that I am so conflicted. This man before me, his presence is strong, and it’s making me want him. He’s attractive, his lips are soft, and he knows what he’s doing.

  You look at me and nod your head and silently say “continue,” and so I do, I turn my face, and the man, he kisses me. It’s hesitant and light at first, he’s gingerly proceeding, but when I do not move away, his kiss it deepens and hardens.

  His hand moves down onto my shoulder and he pulls me toward him, and my hand finds his thick arm, and I pull him toward me.

  I kiss him back, and find his tongue and touch it ever so lightly, and I can feel my cheeks on fire and an ache in my belly. Not for the man I’m kissing, even though he is attractive. But it’s because I know you’re watching me and stewing in ferocity.

  And then you are beside me and you’re jerking me away, and I’m pulled to my feet by your power and your strength. You drag me out of the bar, your fingers in my collar, and I look behind me at the man and offer him a smile. He can only return to me a confused and stupid look, and I wave at him, and blow him a kiss, and then you drag me outside.

  You pull me roughly by my collar into a darkened alley. It’s a tiny space between two buildings, and metal piping surrounds us. You push me hard against the brick wall, and the force of it, it shocks me. And then you move in for a kiss, a kiss like no other could be.

  You break the kiss and urgently whisper into my ear. “You’re mine,” you say, “you’re mine,” you say, “don’t you ever forget that!”

  I nod and purr in your ear and your hand dives into your pocket. You retrieve the leash and fasten it once again to my collar.

  “We’re going back to the hotel,” you say with boiling passion. “I’m sorry but we won’t be able to go to the cocktail bar.”

  You tug on my leash and walk quickly away and I am left to follow. Except this time I know where we are going, but still…I must follow.

  And still, I want to follow.

  We walk up to the fancy five star hotel, and burst into the lobby. People are too busy chatting amongst themselves to notice us walk in, even though I am leashed to you.

  Even though I am wearing this collar.

  We cram ourselves into a lift, our backs against the metal box that swifts us upward and upward. I look at you but you do not look at me. Your breathing is rapid and heavy, and I can see that your trousers are tented.

  You are so excited already, and it makes me excited. I bite my lip in anticipation, wondering what is to come.

  We get into our hotel room and you slam the door behind you, and you walk me to the bed, and you tell me, “take off your clothes, but leave the collar,” and you turn your back to me and and go and do something else.

  I undress myself slowly and efficiently, and fold my clothes and place them at the foot of the bed. I stand there naked in front of you with nothing but my collar around my neck. It takes a while for you to notice that I’m already naked, and when you do a smile flickers briefly across your features. It’s wicked, devilish, even a little scary.

  You walk to me and reach past me and gently peel back the covers, and then you take all of the pillows and throw them on the sofa. You say, “lie down,” and so I do, my back flat against the sheet.

  “What are you going to do?” I ask, and you turn to look at me.

  “Be quiet,” you say, “and don’t move,” you add, and you walk away from me, and I lie there, exposed and naked, for what feels like forever.

  But then you return to my great relief, holding something for me, and it takes a moment for my mind to realize what it is.

  In your hand are a bunch of small tea light votive candles, and you place them across my whole body, and look at me and smile.

  “You must stay very still,” you tell me quietly. “I’m about to place a bowl of wine on your lovely belly. If you spill any of the wine, you will be punished, and don’t think for a moment that it won’t be severely.”

  “Okay,” I whisper back to you and you move away from me. You fetch a bowl and fetch the wine and fill it full to the lip. You gently place the bowl of wine atop my naked belly, and then you reach into your pocket and this time you pull out a lighter.

  One by one, you light the candles that adorn my body, and one by one the flickers grow, and the heat begins to penetrate me.

  The candles are scented with lavender, and their aroma fills the room. And so does their heat, and so does their light, and your shadow is cast around the room.

  You watch me for a few more moments while I control my breathing, desperate not to spill the wine, lest I suffer your punishment. And then you reach out and stroke my hair before leaning forward to sip the wine from the bowl until your mouth is full. And then you come toward my face and plant a kiss on my mouth, and I feel the wine flow out of yours and into m
e as you kiss me.

  My whole body stirs at the touch of your lips, and a shiver shoots straight through me. The wine doesn’t spill, but one of the votives does, and I feel the stinging lash of heat from the molten candle wax.

  “Don’t move,” you say, you whisper it, and you look down my body. You pick up the piece of wax that has cooled already. “Did that hurt?” you ask me while looking at the wax. I nod my head in response, it hurt, it burned, it stung. “Then don’t move and you won’t spill any more,” you say before grinning, and I nod my head twice again, determined not to spill any.

  But another votive leaks its liquid heat onto my skin, and I flinch and squirm uncontrollably as the heat starts burning. I try to stay still, but the heat is too much, the votive is not sat flat!

  And then I feel the drop of cool liquid on my belly. The wine has spilled, just a few drops, and it pools around the bowl, and your eyes grow dark, and your expression changes, and you stand up over me.

  “You spilled the wine,” you say at me, and your voice is hard and cold, and I flinch again as the candle wax continues to singe me.

  You stoop down low and remove the bowl of wine from my belly, and then one by one you take the votives off my shaking body. You place them on the bed beside me and look at me once more, and for a moment our eyes stay locked and I know what is in store.

  I swallow hard and close my eyes, and my breathing quickens, and mere moments later I feel the lash of a hot swath of wax. It’s cut across my left breast, right over the nipple, and I open my eyes briefly to see you with another.

  You empty the wax onto my chest and up my collar bones, before taking another votive in your hand and drizzling its contents on my pelvis.

  The wax, it’s wet and hot and thick, and it leaves my skin on fire, and I can’t help but let out a cry of pain, but also of desire. The molten heat dribbles across the dips and curves of my body, leaving in its wake a line of sensation burning and fuzzy.

  I squirm once more as I feel another swath cut into me, and the last votive is emptied onto my naked body.