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3rd Person

"Noa- Sir, I mean sir, I don't believe this is a-," she said cautiously before he interrupted her.

He kissed her cheeks gently and murmured, "I'll never do anything to hurt you." She grinned and gave him permission to place the balls in her entrance. She had never done anything like this before, but she was open to most of his ideas.

"How does it feel?"

"Uh, cold, but great," she guffawed as she began to wiggle her body. The wiggling helped to get her adjusted to the feeling.

"See, I told you to get dressed and let's go," said Noah.

"Mhm and oh sir, you look amazing in that tux," she said with a smile and a well-deserved boost to his ego.

He had just won the mental battle. Bryce was absolutely correct. Hers was the only one whose opinion he actually valued. He wasn't sure which dress she chose, but let's just say he was going to be blown away, if not entranced.

He couldn't stop thinking about how he had lied to her and how he knew she would be broken if she discovered the truth. He was also confused as to why no one had informed him that Alissa was the evening's host. Even blaming Halley wouldn't have sufficed because he knew Halley had no knowledge of the incident in the past. He was smack dab in the center of a nightmare predicament.

"Dix, you've been in there for 30 minutes.... can you hurr- wow, fuck."

Nothing or no one could compare to her beauty. What a coincidence that they ended up matching. Dixie looked really gorgeous. She was dressed in a set from Monique Lluiher's fall collection, which was exquisitely detailed and priced accordingly. It was a formal emerald mermaid lace gown with long sheer trains trailing behind her. The dress hugged every curve on her body, not to mention how well the green contrasted with her skin tone.

When it came to the face card category, Dixie never declined. She was the most stunning individuals in the room. Shane Atillio, one of the top jewelers in the European region, sculpted Dixie's unique jewelry. Her ensemble was just a yes. She was dressed to win. Noah surprised everyone by wearing a custom-made emerald suit with a white fitted dress shirt. They appeared to be a married pair, but it was all a ruse.

He struggled to find the proper adjective as he said, "You look wow." No one was able to capture her beauty.

"Thank you," she murmured hesitantly, her face plastered with a smile. Dixie was blown away by the compliment and felt a sense of awe. This was a crucial time for her to capture.  "Are we all set to go?"

"No, not yet," he continued sternly, "let's go through the rules for tonight."

Dixie cocked her ears and eyes to listen to his next statements.

"There are a lot of affluent, hungry men out there, and I know you aren't a whore, except in our bedroom, but I don't trust them. When I snap my fingers, it implies you're going overboard. When I tap your side, it's time to leave, and if I rub my fingertips across your lips, it implies we should go somewhere private. Is that clear?"

She didn't understand what was going on, but she agreed anyhow. She planned to stay in line as she wanted a reward from him at the end of the night.

"Yes. You've got it. Let's go now."

They got into their car and headed over to the event. They exchanged tender glances and warm smiles. They were genuinely happy to be in each other's company, and Noah thought she was stunning. He would probably put her to greater use if they didn't have anything else to do.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

When they arrived at the party, they greeted the guests and everyone was in shock by Noah's muse on his hip. He had never been seen in public with a woman before, so this was a huge deal. He had never considered bringing a woman anywhere because they had no connection to him and he didn't care about them, but something about Dixie D'Amelio was altering his mind.

Giorjia Meloni, the lovely Prime Minister, jolted him out of his reverie. "It's great to see you and your mistress, Dr. Beck," she said with a cheerful smile. Dixie remarked on how expensive and over-the-top her clothing and makeup were. She is a stunning woman.

"You look magnificent, Madam Prime Minister, and it's great to see you again."

"Can't wait to hear you dazzle the audience with your speech, and yeah, Alissa was looking for you," she said as she walked away. Noah's heart sank at this point. Dixie seemed shocked. She thought he didn't know Alissa, so how could someone he didn't know ask for him? Dixie became increasingly suspicious.

For the remainder of the evening, Dixie was agitated and all she wanted to do was find Halley and talk to her. "Excuse me, sir, is Halley here?" she asked, her voice sad.

"Yes, I believe so, and she's right there." He looked over to the buffet bar and saw her standing. "Are you all right?"

She scowled and walked away, saying, "Yes, I just don't like being lied to, and excuse me, I'm going to say hello to Haley."

On normal terms, she would have been face down and ass up in seconds, but he knew she was hurting but didn't know why or didn't want to accept the reason. He considered following her, but not right now. He had a speech to give in a short amount of time.

"Hey, girl," Halley exclaimed . "Are you all right?"

"Do you think he'd lie to me?"

"No, he adores you, but if he did, it's for a good reason, and it wouldn't be harmful, plus he's about to go up," Halley observed as she sipped her champagne and cocked her gaze to the stage.

"Dixie said, almost as if she had convinced herself, "I guess you're right."

She was just half-heartedly convinced. Although no one lies for "good reason," she was happy for him and pleased to hear his speech.

Noah

I was quite aware that I had screwed up. I should really tell her about Alissa, but it's a difficult situation with a lot of trauma. I went to Bryce while she walked off to Halley. Before I gave this speech, I needed to get a drink; the only thing that could soothe my anxieties was a cold glass of scotch.

"The man of the hour, you're here, but where's your lady?" Bryce asked, greeting him warmly.

"Of course, I'm here, and my lady is having some issues. After I told her I didn't know who Alissa was, the prime minister mentioned her in front of her face."

"Noah. If you keep lying to her, you're going to lose her."

"I understand, but-"

"Doctor Beck, I assume?" A blonde waiter approached us and said, "This drink was sent over here to you."

"Thank you? May I ask by whom?" At the time, I didn't have the time or patience for anyone.

"Mrs. Alissa McLean," she spoke. I took a deep breath and simply thanked her. I wouldn't say I'm terrified of Alissa, but I try to stay away from her whenever possible. She isn't the best person to be in contact with, but things are starting to get serious. I'd have to inform Dixie about her as soon as possible.

"Dick head, there's no way out now. She knows you're here, let's hope she doesn't spot Dixie or Halley. And keep in mind that your sibling is also present." My brother? Dixie and Halley's school's principal? God. Was it a complete disaster tonight? I'm at the same place as the two individuals I hate the most in the world.

"Oh shit! What a fantastic night?" I remarked sarcastically. This night couldn't possibly get much worse, or perhaps that very notion would bring it all to a close. Bryce and I continued talking until I was introduced to give my speech, mercifully by an unknown individual.

"Thank you so much. Good evening, distinguished ladies and gentlemen. My work is well-known among you, but I was instructed to keep it PG."

No One's POV

The audience roared with laughter and gave him warm smiles. Dixie is the one with the biggest grin. If only she had a title or label in his life, she would've looked like a proud girlfriend. She took note of how wonderfully his tuxedo fit him and how sharp and handsome he appeared. She wished his hands were on her throat instead of the podium every time he gripped it tightly.

"This organization has helped tens of thousands of tiny businesses grow into multimillion-dollar enterprises, and this year is no exception. We intend to captivate the minds of the young, elderly, and brave. The majority of you in this building have invested in dungeons and BDSM clubs, and this is one of your most profitable ventures....."

His discourse lasted a few minutes longer and was spellbinding. He pronounced every phrase precisely and never made a grammatical or spelling mistake. The audience was amazed, as they always were. Alissa sat in the background, admiring him. She adored him, and she was head over heels in love with him. Nothing had changed in ten years, but she was the last person on the globe who deserved love from him or anybody else.

Dixie had the largest smile on her face when he finished his remarks. She joined the audience in clapping and cheering. While he was on the podium, his eyes met hers multiple times, and it was the most beautiful thing. Another waiter appeared off the stage and handed him another drink, but this time the message was different.

"You did an incredible job, my love," she quickly spoke, "Can't wait for us to rekindle," and walked over to the bar. He became enraged. He was hot under the collar and enraged with this woman and the waiter. All he wanted was a peaceful night, but life is never that simple.

"Keep your fucking drinks to yourself." He sneered and slapped the drinks on the table, saying, "I'm not thirsty." Bryce was concerned by Noah's rage, but he also understood that he had every right to be.

Noah was angry, and while that meant angry sex for Dixie, Noah's anger wasn't the best or most wanted sight. His rage was a dangerous and explosive combination. When a dominant is confronted with fury, nothing they say or do is considered. Dixie was in for a treat, but it wasn't the kind you'd get on Halloween, the kind no one wanted. The astringent and lively delicacies.

"Bryce, if you'll excuse me, Dixie and I are leaving."

"Let's get going.When we arrive at the house, go straight to the dungeon, and I'm not in the mood for your misbehaving tonight."

"Yes, sir," she said, hesitantly walking away from Halley. Dixie was annoyed. What went wrong? He appeared to be in such good spirits on stage, and then all of a sudden he becomes angry? Her mind was racing, but she wasn't in the mood to further antagonize or irritate him. Her physical well-being hinged on it.

Dixie

The Keggel balls were the first item he removed, and fuck that felt nice. Tonight, there was a distinct level of sadism there, and I wasn't sure if I was prepared for it.

Bondage tape with a gleaming silver finish. Ends of matching nipple clamps include dangling bells. Paddle made of black leather The little, mean metal medical device known as a Wartenberg wheel. Feathers in a pink hue And he's wearing an evil grin. I shiver not because Noah is holding those heinous objects in his hands (except for the last, which he wore on his lips), but because I can already feel the sticky heat of the tape encasing my mouth, the brush of the light feathers against the overly sensitive skin under my arms, and the wheel winding its maddening way along my tender, ticklish soles.

But it's him that makes me tremble, not those inanimate items that my man loves to animate. Noah knows better than I do that he and only he can make me stand still, that he and only he can make me shake with dread and arousal so closely intertwined that I don't know where one begins and the other ends.

My entire body jerks toward these kinky adornments and toward him, the pull so strong that I can't recall a moment when I wasn't at his mercy, even though I know it exists. It was a dull period in my life, and I didn't want to return. Now it's just me and him, and he can use me anyway he wants. Especially when he's angry, he devotes himself completely. He wants my mouth sometimes, my ass, my pussy, my mind occasionally, and sometimes he just wants to be sweet. I never know when something will happen.

Today, I realize it's not about what I want or can do for him; he wants to harm me, so he will, and I'll like it because that's how I react to him. My nipples are immediately feeling the clamps' pressure, a deep heat that seems to sear its way through me and stay there. Noah's smile is cryptic and little, which normally indicates that his mind is devising elaborate schemes to punish me. And I really wanted it.

He's not the type of person who will tell you exactly what you want. You can also do it, but it won't help you as a sub. Or, to be more precise, it serves no purpose for me. Noah gets a strange kind of joy from denying me what I want, only giving in when he knows I'm so enraged by desire that I almost don't want it anymore. Then, without warning, he pours every ounce of sadistic resolve on me.

He's not into the whole "You like to be spanked, so I'll spank you" thing. It's too simple, too uninteresting. I hadn't planned to tell him about my naughtiest fantasies; the ones I'd never told anybody about, not even the men I ask to tie me up and let them have their way with me. As I whispered it across the flickering flames and fine tablecloth and forgotten supper, the very naughty truth made my cheeks boil.

It's not only because he's a genius in every sense of the word, and his mind is too quick for that to be of any interest to him. It's also not the plethora of lovers he's had prior to me on whom he's polished his Dominant talents. It's because he aspires to outperform himself each time. It's important to him. He wants me to feel it within, not just on the delicate surface of my skin, but all the way down to my core.

He wants me to wonder, even for a split second, if he'll be careless—or, worse, careful—and break the flesh as he takes out his knife and strokes it down the swell of my breast. When he says he's coming guests when I'm all trussed up, he wants me to worry if he's really bringing guests, and how many. He wants me to be unsure whether he'll try to get his massive fingers inside my tight or fuck me off on occasion.

Maybe I'm a sucker, but I always fall for it. Maybe I'm just looking for anything to do. However, I squirm in anticipation when I see and hear him removing the duct tape. I'm sure I'll miss the opportunity to yell at him or simply say words like "Yes!" or "Fuck!" or "Please," or "More." He seldom takes away my ability to speak because we are both aware of the verbal intricacies of power play.

He enjoys seeing me salivate, but he isn't a big fan of jokes. He's more likely to put four fingers in my mouth and wait for saliva to flow down my throat. I recall his relaxing my throat and allowing his length to fall all the way down. It was one of the most precious occasions of my life.

This was my first experience with tape, but it was far from his first. As I stare back at him, waiting to see what he'll do to me, I close my mouth and try to close down my thinking a little as well. I enjoy that he solicits my opinion, that he would have placed the tape wherever I requested it, and that I never lie to him. His questions have a way of prying me open, probing areas of me I didn't even realize existed until I'm compelled to respond, and my responses often surprise me.

As it runs over my clinched lips, the tape is very mild, to the point where I don't know how powerful it is until I try to separate them. My other senses are on high alert as I inhale deeply through my nose and watch him. I know he's done with the tape when he sets it down, but he's not done with me.

The clamps come next. I stand there watching as he twists and tugs one nipple; for a little minute, I am a voyeur, witnessing my own body, until the rush of hot pain becomes unbearable. He always knows when it hits me, and I see a little grin burst across his face when it does. He knows he's got me, not because my mouth is taped shut or because my wrists are dutifully arched over my head, not formally tied but locked there by his silent command, or because my legs are spread, but because I really liked what he just did.

I liked the pain that flowed over me and the fire that rushed into my nipple as he tightened the clamp, and I liked it even more when he did it to my second nipple. As I hum against the tape, he whispers, "You were destined to do this, Dix." He dances the pink feather along my neck, teases it against the clamps, and runs it right up against my underarm. I lower my arm, trapping it between my arm and my side, but he only stares at me with a stern stare, and I lift my arm again. This was all his anger. His cruel sadistic plan and I was living for every moment.

He asks the air, "Should I tie your wrists together?" Or maybe someone, but not me. With the tape over my mouth, I've lost my autonomy to him, leaving this question rhetorical. Even if I could, I wouldn't have answered; I'm insolent, but not that insolent. He's probably debating whether he wants me to be able to grab for him or if he wants complete control. Will leaving my arms free jeopardize some component of his plans? Is it excessive to bind my wrists and feet? He's left the decision to me, which is a type of sadism in and of itself.

I studied his moves plus knowledge I got form Halley.

Even though I'm not sure if it's expected, I provide an answer. Even though I'm not sure whether this is the appropriate answer, I nod since I'm never one to turn down the opportunity to squirm, struggle, and feel like I can't get away. I'm aware that it will expose me to tickling, but for a little while, I crave that unique form of torture.

Instead of the tape, I see him reach for the custom-made purple cushioned cuffs that he's a pro at securing around my wrists. He knows how tight he can get them, and he's well aware that I enjoy watching. There's a reason we're not wearing blindfolds tonight; he wants to demonstrate just how sadistic he is. "I don't trust you to keep those gorgeous legs spread, and I'm going to need them wide open," he continues, as if addressing an assistant.

This was a new side to Noah and I was living for it.

I'd like to smile, but I'm unable to do so. Instead, as the matching cuffs are brought out and attached to our custom-made bed, I press my feet further apart and feel the wetness pooling between my legs. So now I'm all his, spread wide, my body in the shape of an upside–down Y, legs open, arms raised above my head. My eyes widen as he grabs the Wartenberg wheel and rolls it up my inner thigh from the rear of my leg. I don't think he would, as it gets closer to my pussy, but you never know. He rolls it over my belly, then between my breasts, bypassing my pussy. He frowns, as if he's assessing something, and then flicks the clamps' ends apart.

I can see something flicker across his head as the fire heats him up and he feels compelled to go further. One advantage of being tied down repeatedly is that you learn to read your partner as well as he can read you. A good sub is a keen observer, and while I have no idea what Noah's plans for me are, I can tell when the rush of power rushes through his veins. He goes out, saying, "Stay there for me." I arch my feet and get a sneaking suspicion that he's going to hurt them. He understands that my feet are holy, sensitive, and off limits...except when he tests them.

As a result, tears build up in my eyes as soon as he returns with the cane. I didn't agree to the cane, but I guess I did by agreeing to let him tie me up in the first place. I know there's a way out, a way for me to thrash, buck, and flail my way out of this and tell him I don't want it. I don't want it, but I'd like to be able to say that I did it. I'd like to let him use my feet so that he can use my lips to infiltrate and conquer when he removes the tape and kisses me.

He places the cane on my bare belly first, tickling my toes as he does so. The dull heat of the clamps on my nipples is nothing compared to what I'm about to experience. I've been on the receiving end of his abuse in the past. I've had back floggings and hot wax treatments, but what about my feet? What was he up to, this man? Tonight, he was unquestionably abrasive.

My feet, on the other hand, are different and extremely sensitive. I can't anticipate the pain, and if I dare to arch my feet within their confines, he will patiently wait for me to pass. I take a breather and wait for him to attack. He taps lightly on the ball of one foot, then the other, and then establishes a pattern that alternates between almost soothing and piercing sting. The tape muffles my shouts, but it does not quiet my tears. It's only two minutes long, but it feels like a lot longer.

After he puts down the cane, my feet start to burn. He untangles each leg, but I keep mine splayed out against the bed. He takes a step forward and slaps my pussy a couple times. My wetness pours toward his hand, prompting him to spank me even harder. He murmurs softly, "I should use the cane right here," which I know isn't what he means. He does spread my pussy lips open with one hand before delivering three severe strikes that sting my lips in the finest way possible. Noah then glides up my body to my breasts, releasing one clamp at a time, the rush of blood returning to my nipples focussing all of my senses into those two places. 

He kisses the inside of each wrist as he undoes my arms. Then he stares at me, and I can only respond with a stare. I should be mute, but as I move my limbs and wait for his next move, I am overcome with emotion. Noah gets in close to my neck and licks it, then blows in the most ticklish spot he can find. As the tape travels with me, my involuntary attempt at laughing aches. He's biting the back of my neck and giving me the hickey of a fifteen-year-old instead of a twenty-two-year-old.

He finishes by asking me a final question: "I'm not sure how to get rid of the tape. If you slap the bed once, it'll be slow; if you slap it twice, it'll be fast." I'm not sure I'm ready to seal my kinky fate yet again, but I smack the bed once more, not quite ready to let our time pass us by. He looks me down with his hazel–colored eyes and gently tears the tape off, slowly enough that I can feel the tiny hairs on my face choose whether to stay with me or go with the tape, can feel the air rush in to meet me, and can feel the pain as it's administered slowly but certainly.

I feel like I've been through a lot, and I'm feeling the aches, stings, and aftereffects all over my body, from my feet to my mouth, with diversions in between. But it doesn't bother me in the least. Even though I can tell it's hard, I don't grab for his cock, and he lets my pussy recuperate for a few minutes. Instead, I savor the tender regions and wrap my arms around him, encircling him. He kisses my tears away and lets me rest against him until he decides to overrun me again.

I had a shaky feeling in my stomach. This was the most engrossing experience I'd ever had. I've never felt such much agony, hunger, or fear. I hadn't entirely recovered from the scenes before, but I didn't say my safe word because he was clearly enraged. I had the option to do so, but I chose not to do so.

All of his rage and pain was directed at me. I sat and took it while I sat there. It was time for aftercare, so he relinquished his position of authority and walked out of the room.

He was preparing after-care for me, but it was deafeningly quiet. Neither of us said anything. He looked after me well, took me out to supper, and then put me to bed. I had no idea who or what had hurt him, but I prayed it wouldn't happen again.