Rules Are Made to Be Broen

As my taxi pulls up, I know I'm in the right place.

The delectable Sam Byron is outside awaiting my arrival. He leans in and pays the fare before I have a chance to protest then opens my door and helps me out.

'Miss Amber', he smiles, 'You look stunning.'

'Thank you, Mr Byron', I reply, taking his hand, finding it hard to disguise how delighted I am to see him as the taxi drives off.

'So, what do you think?' he asks, gesturing to the building with his free arm.

The 'warehouse' is in fact a beautiful four storey building, with attractive red brick work and arched windows. The front entrance has been landscaped with lots of lush greenery and delicate glass lanterns.

'It's gorgeous!' I reply. 'Which floor is yours?'

'All of them!' he replies with a grin, 'Come, I want to show you inside.'

He guides me through the impressive archway and into the main entrance hall. It's utterly beautiful, double height ceiling and bright white walls decked out with hundreds of mismatched vintage picture frames containing photographs, art prints, paintings and other ephemera.

'This', he says, guiding me into a large room off the main hallway, 'is what my aunt would call my "reception hall". Personally, I just wanted plenty of space and somewhere to display all my favourite things.'

It looks as though the whole ground floor has been knocked into one huge room. There's a generous round sofa formation in the middle, a small but well stocked bar area towards the back and the walls are full of more framed art and photos, plus shelves and shelves of iconic collectables and trinkets, curated into various themed collections.

There's a section dedicated to tiny toy cars, a whole case full of retro action figures through the ages, and so much more to look at. It's like a miniature museum, and it's beautiful. I'm drawn to one shelf in particular, full of kitsch and vintage glassware. I spot an original 60's Babycham glass -- just like the one I have on my dresser at home, I smile to myself.

'I had no idea you were such a collector!' I smile at him, 'I love it though.', I add, and I genuinely do. He grins widely at me.

'And over here', he continues, leading me across the stripped wooden floor, 'Is my great glass elevator!' It's exactly that, and very striking. 'It's made entirely from reclaimed vintage components, and what's even better,' he continues, stepping inside, 'is it's two-way glass -- so you can see out, but not in.' He demonstrates his point by effectively 'disappearing' behind the glass panel.

'Impressive!' I reply, quite enjoying this playful new facet to his personality. Much as he's proven to be every inch an accomplished, powerful Dominant, and I don't deny I like that part of him very much, it's nice to see there's a more carefree side to him too.

'And useful, too,' He adds, stepping back out and circling his arms around my waist, 'Because I fully intend to fuck you in there at some point, and I don't want anyone else catching sight of your delicious body.'

He ends his announcement with a firm kiss on my lips and a smack to my bottom. Ah. There's the deviant Dominant I recognise.

I stare at him, open mouthed as pleasure rushes through me.

I hate that I've been craving his touch so badly. He just gazes at me with that infuriating lopsided smile he wears so well when he knows he's being presumptuous. I find my voice at last.

'Who else is likely to be around?' I ask.

'Well, Harvey comes and goes. And my housekeeper might be a bit shocked.'

'Housekeeper?' He nods

'Mrs White -- Harvey's wife.'

Harvey's married? I feel a bit guilty for having written him off as an eternal bachelor who'd sacrificed love to cater to his rich boss' every whim.

'My Aunt insisted -- apparently once I get to work at Byron Enterprises, I'll need the help to keep the place in order. She's visiting her sister while the renovation's been ongoing, but she'll be back soon. She used to work for my parents too, before -- well.' He trails off. I'm wracking my brains for a change of subject to lighten the mood but he beats me to it.

'Drink?' he asks, taking me by the hand and crossing to the bar area. I nod. He helps me onto one of the retro bar stools before heading to the other side and starts throwing bottles and glasses around with his usual easy grace.

I allow myself to gaze at him from behind, entranced by the way his muscles flex beneath his slim fitting t-shirt and how his dark jeans hang on his hips, clinging to his perfect behind.

'Voila!' I'm certain I'm blushing as he turns to face me, placing two perfectly prepared Palomas on the polished bar. I lean forward to take a sip through the straw nearest me.

'Delicious.' My voice is unintentionally breathless.

'My thoughts exactly.' He smiles, watching me intently. I try not to think about how much I'd like him to strip me and take me right here on his bar. I don't care how unprofessional it is, I'm desperate to feel his hands on me again.

'I wanted to thank you, again, for last night.' I start before I get too distracted, 'I don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't been there.'

'It's not a big deal', he deflects casually, 'I'm just glad Ruby wasn't too badly hurt.'

'Me too.' I reply, chickening out of telling him the real reason I'm so glad he was there was that he made me feel so safe when it all felt like chaos. 'And thank you again for the book, too. It was an incredibly thoughtful gift.'

'I'm glad you liked it.' He replies warmly. He takes a long sip of his own cocktail and I scan the collection of shot glasses behind the bar; looking for anything to distract me from staring at his mouth.

'You really do love your vintage trinkets, huh?' I ask, aiming for a safe topic of conversation as I sip probably the best Paloma I've ever had. He nods.

'I do. Life's far too consumable these days; we're too quick to throw things away. I'm a great believer that precious, beautiful things should be looked after; cherished.' He replies, fixing me with an intense gaze again that makes me think I'd very much like to be cherished by this man.

I mentally shake myself back into reality and change the subject again.

'So, Mr Byron, if you just wanted to show off your beautiful new home, why bother making a formal booking?' I ask coquettishly, looking up at him with as much wide-eyed innocence as I can muster.

'I'm so glad you asked Miss Amber.' He replies, rounding the bar and moving toward me with purpose, 'I made the booking because I want to christen my playroom, and I can't think of anyone I'd rather do that with than you.' He kisses me again.

Oh, now you're talking Byron. The ache between my legs turns up a notch.

'I'm very flattered Mr Byron.' I try to keep the lust out of my voice, but I'm pretty sure I fail. I toy with the straw in my glass and take another long sip, trying to get a hold of myself as he sits on the stool next to mine, facing me, his knees grazing mine as he regards me intently.

'I have to admit though, seeing you sitting here, I'm tempted to christen my bar first.' He purrs seductively and my breath catches in my throat as his hand moves up my thigh.

'Well, you're in charge, Mr Byron.' I smile, my voice a breathless whisper before I drain my glass and set it back on the polished surface. He smirks a little and his eyes narrow a fraction as if weighing up his options.

'Another time.' He states, finishing his own drink and standing.

He takes me by the hand, guides me into the glass elevator and inserts a small gold key rather than pressing a button. I look at him quizzically.

'We're going down' he says, with a smile.

Oh. Make that a five-storey building then.

As we reach our destination it becomes very clear why the basement has its own key; to make sure that not just anyone can come down here. Turns out, vintage treasures aren't the only thing that Sam collects.

The elevator doors open out into a large open plan space, decorated beautifully in soft greys and glossy whites.

Against the farthest wall, there's an oversized ornate four poster bed draped in silver grey satin sheets. To the left of it, there's a plush sofa upholstered in a rich charcoal velvet and a matching foot stool.

To the right, stands a beautiful wooden table, stained in a cool slate colour to tie in with the rest of the decor, plus a dark grey high backed leather arm chair with beautifully carved wooden legs.

Behind it, there's a delicate iron work lattice panel, maybe ten feet square, incorporating wall mounted restraints with endless possibilities.

There are two doors on the other side, leading to who knows where, and on the remaining walls, well.

The walls display a different sort of collection altogether.

There are racks full of various different riding crops, floggers, paddles and whips. There's an extensive section devoted entirely to an impressive array of restraints and blindfolds, and there are elegant glass cabinets displaying so many different dildos, clamps, plugs and other toys, they'd make the best stocked sex shop in the world feel inferior.

It occurs to me that Sam's been working with very limited resources at the hotel and our previous meetings were probably just the tip of the iceberg of what he's capable of. I can't wait to experience the rest.

'What do you think?' he asks, coming up from behind me and resting his hands on my hips.

'It's a Dominant's dream come true.' I reply in a whisper.

'No Amber, that would be you.' He breathes against my neck before turning away.

I want to tease him for such a cheesy line, but as I look over my shoulder, I see him place a thick brown envelope on a table by the door and I know that now is not the time for teasing. Not that sort anyway.

His whole demeanour has changed; from carefree and excitable to dangerous and predatory in a heartbeat. This is every inch his playground, and I'm very excited to be part of his game.

'Tell me Amber, how far have you gone with your clients to date?' it sounds like the word 'clients' is unpleasant for him to say. 'Does anything in this room shock you?' he asks; an air of carnal challenging in his voice.

'No Mr Byron. It excites me.' I admit truthfully. A smile flashes across his eyes which are glinting dangerously.

'Good.' He replies, closing the distance between us again, snaking his arms around my waist from behind, 'because I am very much looking forward to spending a great deal of time in here with you, testing your limits and pleasuring you in ways you can only imagine.' His lips graze my shoulder, trailing soft kisses and leaving a rush of anticipation in their wake. 'Shall we begin?'

'Yes please, Sir.' my voice is barely a whisper as he turns me to face him.

He takes a step back to regard me intently. I hear my breath catch in my throat as he pulls his t-shirt off over his head and kicks his shoes to one side. His lean, muscular body is even hotter than I remember.

'Do you consent to submitting to me entirely while we are in this room Amber?' His tone is calm and measured and undeniably arousing.

'Yes, Sir.' I reply with my eyes cast down. I feel my head start to swim with the familiar sensual release that comes with giving my consent and surrendering control.

'What is your safe word?'

'Hardy.'

'Good girl. Now let me take a look at you.' He puts his hands on my shoulders and leads me to stand in front of the bed.

He wanted the 'Real Amber' and he's got her. My hair is as tousled and unkempt as his, though in a messy bun piled high on my head as I remember he specified hair up at our first meeting. I'm wearing a short black strappy dress, with just black silk French knickers underneath and some leopard print heels. He eyes me from head to toe and I demurely bask in his approval.

'I was hoping there'd be no bra, and as ever, you don't disappoint.' He says, moving toward me and pinching my already stiff nipples through the flimsy fabric of my dress. 'I like the dress too, but I think we can get rid of it now. Raise your arms.'

I comply immediately as he takes the hem and pulls it up and over my head in one fluid movement so that I'm standing naked in front of him, save for my sparse panties.

'Very nice.' He growls, circling me, running his hands over my cheeks and spanking each one in turn with the palm of his hand. 'But let's lose these too.' He slides the sheer fabric down over my thighs and I lift each heel in turn so he can remove them, before tucking them into his pocket.

'Who do you belong to Amber?' his voice is calm and measured in my ear, yet it sends shivers through every inch of me.

'I belong to you Mr Byron.' I reply compliantly.

'Good Girl. Now that you've had a good look at my playroom, I think we should give your eyes a rest', his voice becomes a low growl, full of intent as he takes a black satin mask from the wall and covers my eyes.

I love the thrill of being blindfolded. The way the loss of sight heightens every other sense makes what follows so much more tantalising.

'Hold your wrists together in front of you' he commands.

I do as I'm told and feel him attach buttery soft suede cuffs to each of my wrists and pull them above my head. I hear a clink of metal as he secures my wrists to a ring I assume must be suspended from the ceiling.

I'm suddenly thankful for my heels as my body is now extended to its full height, my arms stretched high above me. I can only imagine how much he's enjoying the view of my bare breasts thrust shamelessly forward, completely at his mercy.

'Your nipples look delectable.' His voice is low in my ear, reading my thoughts, his breath hot on my neck as his lips graze my flesh. Then his mouth is gone, as he takes my left nipple roughly between his lips, sucking it hard, while kneading the other firmly between his finger and thumb. My gasp only spurs him on, and I feel his teeth pinching at my soft flesh and his fingers tugging at me harder, twisting and torturing my sensitive little bud, his free hand gripping my ass firmly, immobilising me against him.

Abruptly, he stops. I hear him breathe in, no doubt admiring his handy work as I feel my nipples standing to attention, engorged with arousal. Then I hear him rummaging amongst his toys.

'I want those to stay as hard as they are now. And much as I'd like to keep sucking on them, there's plenty more I want to do to you too, so these will do the job for now.'

Without warning, he clamps both my nipples at once, making me yelp. I can't see what he's using, but they feel cold and hard, metal most likely, not too heavy, but so tight. The painful bite is delicious and goes straight to my pussy; I press my thighs together wantonly. It doesn't go unnoticed.

He slaps my behind, hard, making me gasp.

'Need I remind you, Amber that you are here for my pleasure?'

'I'm sorry Sir, please forgive my impertinence.' I reply contritely.

'Of course, I'll forgive it; after I've punished it.' His voice is almost a whisper in my ear and I resist the urge to clench my thighs tighter together.

'First though, this should help you remember your manners.' I feel him attaching a soft cuff to my left ankle; it feels like suede and I imagine it's a match to the ones on my wrists. 'Open your legs.' I do as I'm told, allowing him to place a spreader bar between my feet and secure my right ankle in the same way.

Slowly he grazes the tips of his fingers up the insides of my legs, from my ankles to my inner thighs and I'm quickly grateful for the cuffs holding my wrists in place as my knees literally go weak at his touch. With my legs spread open, I'm powerless to relieve the growing ache between my thighs, which is only heightened by the fact I have no idea how he plans to discipline me.

'Tell me, Amber', he purrs softly, his voice is further away, and I guess he must be perusing his collection on the wall. 'Do you prefer being paddled or flogged?' I know full well it's a rhetorical question, so I reply

'I enjoy both Sir', because frankly it's true.

'Let's christen this flogger then.' I can hear a smile in his voice and I do my best not to match it. 'I think five strokes will do for now, and I want you to count them, do you understand?' He's behind me again now, trailing the leathery tongues up between my legs, over my stomach and my breasts, giving me a small taste of what's to come.

'Yes Sir.' The first blow falls swiftly on the right cheek of my bottom. It stings and makes my breath catch in my throat. 'One'

The second is a matching swat on my left cheek, the tongues of the flogger lick and bite at the curve of my bottom. 'Two'

I hear the hiss of the leather slicing through the air as the third falls squarely across my ass. 'Three'

The fourth makes me gasp as he deliberately aims lower, just barely grazing my sex. 'Four'

The last blow, between my cheeks and making contact with my wet pussy makes my cry out 'FIVE!' in delicious pleasurable pain.

'Very good.' He comments, 'now where were we?' He murmurs, giving my nipple clamps a brief twist as if reminding himself. 'Of course, I was going to reacquaint myself with the sweet taste of you. And now I've got you spread open; the thought is even more appealing. Remember Amber, if you come without my permission, I will punish you.'

With no further warning, I feel his tongue between my legs, sliding achingly slowly against my wet slit. It takes all my self-control not to thrust my pussy into his face. His hands are on my ass, keeping me still as his tongue gathers pace, darting at my clitoris over and over. I hear myself panting and try to control my breathing, already willing him to tell me to come. I breathe deeply, disciplining myself, giving in to his intentions, trusting his undeniable talent for reading my body.

As I calm myself and embrace the sensations, I feel him push two fingers deep inside me, slowly moving them in deep lazy circles that make me moan softly, almost sending me over the edge. They're quickly gone though, then on their way to my tighter little hole, lubricating it with my own sweet juices. I breathe sharply as I feel his finger gently push its way inside my ass, moving tantalisingly slowly in and out of me.

'I can't wait to fuck this' he growls, 'you're so tight.' I can only whimper in reply; I want everything he wants to give me.

His tongue returns to my clit, along with his lips sucking gently, his teeth just barely grazing, the whole time steadily finger fucking my tightest hole. I flex against my restraints, moaning wantonly now, begging for release. I don't know how much longer I can last.

'How does this feel Amber?' he drawls, alternating between tiny licks and blowing gently on my clit.

'Incredible Sir!' I breathe, tossing my head back in the sheer pleasure of his ministrations. Slowly he starts to increase the pace, lapping steadily along the length of my slit, pausing each time to blow cool air against my clit.

'You taste incredible Amber. So, so sweet' he punctuates the words with gentle sucking nips at my labia, sending a new wave of pleasure to my core.

'Oh, please Sir!' I wail, praying he'll take pity on me,

'I know, I've got you beautiful.' He replies softly, continuing his delectable torture. I'm dripping with my own desire now and he works it to his advantage, using my juices to lubricate a second finger to join the one already in my tightest little hole, making me scream in pleasure.

'That's right Amber, feel it. Let me hear you.' His words spur me on and I wail breathlessly as he continues, pushing my pleasure levels further until I'm nothing but sensation, high on the way he manipulates my body.

I'm starting to feel like I can't take anymore when at last I hear him say

'Come for me Amber.' in between long licks at my dripping slit. Relief rushes through me, followed by my orgasm.