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Olivia walked into the dark room, hating herself for giving into this weakness, yet already feeling more relaxed. Her eyes scanned the room nervously, noticing the man brooding down the end of the bar almost immediately. Sure, it was due to her worked up state, but Olivia thinks she would have noticed him regardless, the way the arms of his shirt were rolled up to expose bulging forearms, how the knot of his tie starting to sag, the way he stared down at the drink melting in front of him. She made her way to the other end of the bar, deliberately keeping her distance.

Tonight was not about making a connection, no matter how much she wanted to feel his - anyone’s - touch. Instead it was about scratching an itch, one that she barely acknowledged and indulged even less frequently. Simply sitting in this club, the room filled with others indulging in pleasures she refused to allow herself, was enough to relax her. Give her a taste of her darkest desires, without letting herself fall off the cliff into indulgence.

Everything about her evening was deliberate and planned down to the tiniest detail. The fake ID in her pocket to protect her identity. The emergency burner bought for tonight only, her real phone left at home. The five blocks she had walked from her apartment to catch the cab, and the three blocks further she had walked to end up in the club. The cash used to buy her first, and only, drink of the evening. Nothing could tie her to this place, these people and their desires. Her desires.

She was so focused on ordering her drink, in a deep, husky tone that was a far cry from her normal voice, that she didn’t notice him settle on the stool next to her. Not touching, or encroaching in her space inappropriately, but closer than strangers should sit, close enough she could feel the warmth radiating off his body, the ghost of his thick thigh next to hers. As he settled onto his seat, she unconsciously lilted towards him, drawn in by the magnetism of his body, the attention he effortlessly demanded.

But she was not going to talk to him, let alone consider the things she knew he wanted. She needed this, but she would not permit herself any more than was necessary. As much relief as his touch would bring, the pleasure his voice and hands could provide, it wasn’t necessary for her survival, and so, she did not permit herself it.

She would allow herself to look, but never touch, and she knew he would not be satisfied with what she could provide. And wasn’t that why she imposed these rules on herself, to prevent anyone from being willing to accept what she was offering, to relegate her to voyeur. Present, but ultimately separate.

Her lips wrapped around the short black straw in her drink, wincing as she consumed the ice cold alcohol too quickly. She felt rather than saw him move, his legs spreading, his foot hooking behind the bar of her chair, his arm sliding over the back of her stool. Her immaculate posture, one of the few things that gave her true inclinations away, ensured he did not touch her, and yet the heat of him felt all encompassing.

Her spine remained straight as Olivia told herself that she hadn’t betrayed her intentions, she had no control over his actions, she had not knowingly drawn him in. And yet, she knew that his eyes had not left her since she walked in. Trailing over her body deliberately, assessing the gait of her walk in her black stilettos, the cut of her silver skirt just the right side of too short, the fall of her top and how it revealed her lack of bra, her nipples prominent since before she entered, the anticipation of tonight and the cold of her walk ensuring they remained hard and visible.

His arm slipped deliberately from the back of her chair, moving gently but commandingly to her shoulders and twisting her body towards him. She allowed herself to be moved, her legs twisting, clenching together, as she felt his strength, answering his silent question as her eyes remained lowered, focused on her drink, fiddling nervously with the straw between her fingers.

They had not spoken a word, to anyone else, let alone to each other, and yet his intentions were clear. Maybe this was a loophole she could allow herself, if she hadn’t asked for it, if she remained passive, then it didn’t count. It wasn’t an indulgence in her weakness, but rather a surrender to his strength.

As Olivia sat rebuking herself for allowing herself more than she ever had before, even if it were just the tease of his touch, she felt him remove his arm. The disappointment filled her despite herself, before returning as liquid heat when his hand settled on her mid thigh after ordering a drink from the bartender. She tensed slightly and then relaxed immediately, his large hand splayed across her thigh, his pinky resting teasingly between her legs. Desperate for him to keep his hand on her, to move his fingers higher, yet fearful of what it would mean, the things that would be revealed about herself, Olivia forced herself to remain still, to relax into his touch.

He took a long drink from his new glass, and then twisted towards her so she was facing him directly, his fingers twitching against her thigh but never relinquishing their grip. His other arm came up, protecting her from the gaze of the curious bartender, who had only ever seen her alone, dismissing the advances of anyone who approached. Olivia closed her eyes, preventing herself from looking at his face, from seeing the intention in his eyes. She felt his hand come up and gently, oh so gently, pull her hair out from the black band around her neck.

The delicate black choker around her neck was a deliberate choice, one that signalled she was here to look and not to be touched. But this man ignored what it meant, or maybe he knew that it was her that placed the necklace around her own neck, he recognised it as what it was, a signal of her desires rather than the claim of another. His thumb reached out, brushing along her neck underneath the choker, and she could not stop the sound that escaped her as he dug into the softness of her throat.

Olivia felt utterly pinned in place, one hand on her throat, the other gripping her thigh. Already this was more than she had ever permitted herself, her current position only experienced in fantasies and daydreams. She knew she should feel uncomfortable or frightened, allowing herself to be in such a position of vulnerability with a man, in this place, and yet, somehow, she felt completely safe here, with him, in this moment.

Recognising her own surrender, Olivia finally allowed herself to open her eyes, her gaze brushing over the hand on her thigh (just as big as she had imagined), over the muscles barely hidden by his tight shirt, over his throat and barely there beard, to his eyes. Olivia felt completely helpless as she looked into his eyes, his desire expressed clearly, looking for its mirror in hers.

Overwhelmed, she started to twist back towards the bar, intending to finish her drink when his hands tightened on her body, preventing her from moving. She felt her body pulse, this show of dominance that she would never tolerate in her normal life, causing her to go weak. When she didn’t try to escape his hold, he leant in towards her ear, pulling her hair away from her neck.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his thumb continuing to stroke her pulse point. He held himself there, mouth close, but not touching, his breath hot and heavy against her. Every part of her felt so attuned to him, and she knew that walking away from his touch would be impossible. Feeling her settle into him, he drew back, grinning predatorily at her. His hands left her body and she made a soft noise of protest, her leg suddenly cold and exposed without his hand. She moved to tug down her skirt from where it had inched up, when he gave a deep chuckle.

“I don’t think so.” Olivia gasped, her hands freezing next to her thighs, her need to cover herself warring with her inability to disobey his instruction. She left her skirt as it was and exhaled deeply, looking at him, waiting for his next direction.

“You’re going to finish your drink, and then you will follow me into the third room down the hall. I will see you there, waiting for me on your knees, in five minutes.” He picked up his drink, swallowed it down and walked away, leaving Olivia there to contemplate his instructions.

This night had quickly gotten away from her, she pondered, as she sat sipping at the remnants of her drink. And then she knew, despite her careful planning, that tonight would not be like the others. She had allowed herself an indulgence too far, hearing his voice, feeling his hands on her, she would be unable to leave without giving herself to him completely.

Olivia waited a minute longer before nervously getting up, leaving cash on the bar to cover both of their drinks. She had never visited one of the private rooms, never allowed herself more than just watching the amorous couples who remained in the main room, yet she knew exactly where he had instructed her to meet him. She had fantasised of finding herself in one of the backrooms, but never allowed herself to wander, afraid the temptation would be too much, that she would be unable to resist.

The third door was slightly open, and she let herself slip through the door, taking in the simple room. Heavy curtains hung across the window above the bed, an innocuous chest of drawers beneath a mirror the only other furniture in the room. Without allowing herself to think about it too much, Olivia moved to the end of the bed, kneeling carefully, resting her arms on her thighs.

It had been a long time since she had allowed herself to go to her knees for anyone, yet she found herself relaxing into the familiar position, her breathing steadying as she closed her eyes. She felt herself drifting, already slightly untethered from time, yet she noticed immediately as he entered, closing the door firmly behind him.

Her face had fallen towards her chest, and she felt his hand under her chin, forcing her to straighten her back and neck, eyes fluttering open to look up at him. His thumb moved upwards, circling her lips before pressing between them. Her lips parted involuntarily and she sucked his thumb into her mouth, tongue swirling delicately as she allowed him deeper into her mouth.

“You’re being so good for me.” He said, allowing his thumb to explore her mouth, fingers remaining on her chin. He shifted forward, resting his other hand possessively on the back of her neck, his grip loose but anchoring her. “I’m a simple man, so if you say ‘No’ or ‘Stop’, we stop, no questions asked. If your mouth is occupied, like it is now, I want you to tap me twice.” Looking up at him, she blinked slowly, before nodding as much as his hands allowed.

“No, baby, try that again.” Confused, Olivia looked up at him, sucking on his fingers while she thought. It had been so long since she had been on her knees for someone, and there was something about him that kept her feeling off balance in the best way. Eventually she reached up and tapped his thigh twice.

“Well done baby, I knew you could work it out.” He smiled down at her, and Olivia felt herself throb, the need that had been slowly building all evening demanding attention. His words were so patronising, and yet she felt their sincerity, could feel his pleasure. Once again she found herself wondering how she had found herself here, on her knees for a man she didn’t know.

Her chain of thought was abruptly ended by his thumb slipping from her mouth. Olivia found herself swaying forward, trying to stay close to him without overbalancing. She watched as he stepped away and rummaged through the chest of drawers, unable to see what he slipped into his pocket. After what felt like hours, he returned to her, slipping his hand into her hair once again and pulling her face towards him.

“I want you to take me out and give me a kiss.” Olivia nodded, reaching her hand towards his zipper. He grabbed her wrist gently and warned, “You can use your hands if you need, but if you do, you won’t get them back until I’m finished.”

He let go of her wrist and Olivia obediently let it fall back into her lap. She leaned forward, her face pressing against his crotch uncoordinatedly as she struggled to find the right position that would allow her access to what she craved most. She stretched up on her knees, and tried to undo his button. Whilst she struggled, her mouth brushing against him as she struggled to grip the button between her lips, he looked down predatorily.

“Come on, baby. I haven’t got all night.” Olivia growled, frustrated at herself. She wasn’t used to failing, but the buttonhole was proving difficult to wrangle the button through. Giving up on the button temporarily, she gripped the zipper between her teeth and tugged it down, feeling the zipper’s vibration echoed in her clit. Mouthing against him through his pants, she thought about giving in to his challenge. Maybe using her hands to unbutton his trousers was a way to give up further control, to satiate a need she had left suppressed, without having to admit what she wanted, what she needed. She tried once more, tugging on the button with her teeth, feeling him tense against her, feeling the button slip slightly through the buttonhole, in the perfect position for her to succeed.

Except now the idea of being restrained further, of giving into him so completely was in her head, and she was desperate to know just how he would take away her hands, how it would feel to lose even more control. If she was going to give into him, into this, then she may as well get everything she could out of the experience.

Olivia let the button slip out from between her teeth, mouthing at him gently, before reaching deliberately up with her right hand, and deftly flicking open the button. She looked up at him and saw a quick smirk flash across his face.

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out handcuffs. Olivia moaned at the sight of them, reminiscent of the pair she carries on the job every day. Except tonight she would be wearing them, restrained for his pleasure, for hers. She held up her wrist, offering it to him, the last of the resistance she entered the club with finally leaving her. He held her wrist gently, his thick fingers briefly encircling her wrist rubbing gently before he secured the first cuff around her wrist. He walked around her body, cuffing her arms together at the small of her back.

“There are consequences for failing, baby.” His words were harsh, his voice losing all gentility as he gestured at her to stand up. Olivia knew she should be embarrassed at her lack of grace as she attempted to stumble to her feet, regretting her choice in shoes. Except how could she regret it, when it meant he grasped her waist to steady her, helping her upright and against him.

“Eager?” He joked, his hand coming up to play with her left breast as his other arm held her against him. They were both still fully dressed, the only outward affectation his unzipped fly, and yet the heat of him, the feeling of his body against hers already felt more intimate than anything she had experienced.

Olivia moaned into his throat as he expertly groped her, alternating plucking and twisting her nipple, manipulating her breast, walking the line of too rough. She stood there limp, allowing him to explore at his leisure, the juxtaposition of the throbbing pain on her left and utter neglect of her right, culminating in an oversensitivity to his touch, simultaneously too much and not enough. She clenched her inner thighs together, trying to get some pressure in yet another place he was neglecting.

“Naughty, naughty.” He kicked her legs apart, abruptly ending the little pleasure she had managed to provide herself, and forcing her further off balance. He kept his leg loosely between hers, denying any friction whilst forcing her to lean on him further while he kept playing with her nipple.

Eventually he tired of playing with her through her shirt, reaching into her top, dragging her tit upwards by her nipple, until it rested at the edge of her top, the little protection it had provided her now gone.

“If I let you go, will you behave?” Olivia nodded, her breath huffing against his neck, hoping he wouldn’t step back, that he would allow her this privacy, to hide her reactions against his body. But once again it felt like he knew her shame, and so he stepped back, fixating on her face, exposing the desire clear on her face, as both hands now came up to play with her tits. But not both of her tits. Only the left.

With both hands now available, he quickly pulled her breast out of her top, and resumed squeezing, playing with her nipple, this time able to do so simultaneously. His eyes remained focused on her face, the way she bit her lower lip to stop the moans from escaping, her harsh breathing, how she avoided eye contact.

“Look at me.” He commanded, and Olivia found herself responding instinctually. But she didn’t hold eye contact, her eyes flittering away just as quickly, focusing on the door behind him instead.

“What are you thinking about, baby? Someone coming in and seeing you like this, all desperate for me? Arms bound, one tit out of your top, barely able to keep yourself upright? I bet you’d like that, you filthy girl.” Olivia moaned at his words, thrusting her chest further into his hands as he teased her. “But tonight you’re mine. Only I get to see you like this.”

His possessive words only served to make her wetter. Olivia shifted, bringing her legs closer together in an attempt to get some friction, too affected to remember the consequences, or lack thereof, of her previous attempt.

“Uh, uh, uh.” His tongue ran over his front teeth as he reprimanded her. “If you can’t be trusted to listen, I’ll give you something else to think about.”

Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a pair of nipple clamps connected by a thin chain. Twisting her left nipple one more time, he released her temporarily, allowing the blood to return, causing a fresh wave of pain to run through her left breast. But it was her right, still tucked away in her top, untouched by his rough hands, unseen by his admiring eyes, unmarked by his movements, that was the focus of her attention.

With his tongue poking out between his teeth, he grasped her left tit once again, attaching the clamp firmly to her nipple. Olivia gasped, then bit her tongue, then gasped again as he put his hand in her hair at the nape of her neck and tugged. Hard.

“Don’t hide your sounds from me, baby.” His voice was harsh yet calm, and Olivia wondered how he had reduced her to a pile of want whilst remaining so unaffected. “I might be denied your eyes, but I will not permit you to hide your pretty little noises from me. Understood?”

He jerked her hair once again, and Olivia hurried to nod, tugging (albeit more gently) at her own hair as she did so. He let go of her hair, but instead of attaching the second clamp, he let go of the chain, instead resting it precariously on the fold of her top. The weight of it was supported for now, but she could feel the second clamp and the chain tugging her nipple down uncomfortably, and knew that if she moved, it would fall increasing the pressure on her nipple.

He stepped back slightly and let go of her fully, leaving her completely untethered for the first time since he had touched her here in this room. Olivia tried to stay still, mindful of the clamp attached to her nipple, but desperate for his touch. She still hadn’t spoken a word, the only rule she had kept since entering the bar. By not talking she could pretend that she was still being passive, that she had not chosen to indulge, that she had not followed him, knelt for him, with the intention of following through. But her need became overpowering, to have his touch be balanced, to give her right tit the attention the left had received, to have his touch elsewhere on her body, to bring her the release she craved.

“Please,” she moaned. His attention snapped back to her immediately, a smug smile overtaking his face. “Please, touch me.”

“Do you think you have earned my touch, baby girl?” He stayed just out of reach, Olivia could feel the ghost of his body against her, and yet there was nothing, only the phantom of his touch, and the touches he refused to give.

“I’ll do anything,” Olivia begged. “Just, make it better. I need your touch, I need to feel you.”

She squirmed, drawing his attention to the increasingly precarious positioning of the chain hanging from her nipple. He stepped forward and brusquely pulled her right breast out of her top with none of the gentle teasing from before. His thumb brushed over her nipple, once, twice, whilst his other hand rested on her waist, anchoring her in place as she swayed, her eyes drifting shut at the friction on her long-neglected right.

Olivia stood completely still, worried that moving would stop him from finally following through with his touch. Her right nipple had stayed hard throughout the evening despite the lack of attention, a true testament to her overwhelming state of arousal. But after just two light brushes over her right nipple he abandoned it, picking up the second clamp instead. Olivia groaned in disappointment, the two light touches doing nothing to recreate the throbbing on her left, and merely serving to highlight the inequality further.

Shaking his head, he expressed his distaste at her wordless complaint, dropping the second clamp and instead giving a quick tap to her left tit. Olivia jumped at the sharp pain, finally causing the chain to fall from where it had been resting. Now with the full weight of the nipple clamps hanging from her nipple, Olivia gritted her teeth, trying to breath through the pain.

He leaned back, enjoying the warring pain and pleasure expressed on her face as she tried to stop the chain’s swinging without her arms. Eventually it stopped swinging, and almost as the weight was becoming too much, he picked up the second clamp once again.

“Can’t do anything the easy way, can you?” He taunted, running the chain behind her neck, before finally attaching the second clamp to her right nipple. The chain was intended to fall between her tits, and so to accommodate the stretch behind her neck, her nipples were pulled sharply upwards as the chain was shortened. The stretch was glorious, and Olivia almost sobbed in gratitude as she finally had some proper stimulation on her right nipple.

She was so distracted by her relief she barely noticed him manoeuvring her over to the chest of drawers. He knocked her off balance, pushing her down against it, her clamped nipples pressing uncomfortably into the hard wood. He tugged her skirt up, breath hitching when he discovered she wasn’t wearing underwear.

Olivia never wore underwear when she allowed herself out on nights like these, it was the one allowance she made to the desires she refused to let herself fulfil. She could sit at the bar, have a drink, and enjoy knowing that she was bare below her short skirt, that one wrong move and she would be exposed. It had always turned her on to imagine what it would be like for someone here to discover her secret, her naughtiness, but with him it only felt inevitable. That she had dressed today, not as a secret for herself, something to turn her on as she remained a voyeur, but a choice made to tease, to draw his attention, to make him touch, feel, possess.

Olivia was jolted back to reality as she felt two fingers enter her, whilst his other hand slid up to finally touch her clit. The speed of his fingers moving in and out of her, the pressure of them scissoring open, a third digit slid in, stretching her further, the right side of painful, made her wetter, and soon she was panting, squirming as she tried to get firmer pressure against her clit.

But he remained deliberate, his fingers lightly circling, teasing around her clit, drawing back whenever she pressed against him more than he wanted to allow. The opposing stimulations only served to make her wetter, causing him, finally, to moan.

Sooner than she expected after his drawn out teasing all evening long, she felt his fingers pull out of her, and heard a loud, wet noise as he sucked his hand clean of her. The head of his penis pressed against her opening and she widened her stance, arching her back, silently entreating him to enter her.

“I should make you wait longer,” he moaned, his penis rocking against her, the pressure enough to make her squirm with pleasure, yet not enough to satiate her desires. “Tease you, as you have teased me. Coming here with that short skirt, your nipples poking out, demanding my attention.”

He thrust into her sharply, one move and suddenly he was inside, stretching her, filling her completely, overwhelmingly. Olivia clenched down on him, encouraging him to move, unhappy with him just resting inside of her. He pulled out, then thrust back in.

“Naughty girl, trying to call the shots even when I have you splayed out like this, your clamped tits hanging out of your top, skirt pulled up so a man you don’t know can fuck into you.” He pushed down on her back, forcing her nipples hard into the chest of drawers, and Olivia moaned at the fresh onslaught of pain in her chest. “Behave, baby, or I won’t let you come.”

She whined in displeasure, but he settled her quickly by hooking a pinky through the chain connecting her nipple clamps at the base of her neck, tugging her tits up sharply with the tiniest curl of his finger. He released the pressure, but left his finger hooked in the chain, resting on the back of her neck, a warm and calming presence.

“I wonder when you’ll work out what that has cost you.” He resumed his thrusting, deliberately adjusting his positioning so that he would only hit her sweet spot on occasion. Still, Olivia moaned underneath him, the pleasure of finally being filled by him, his size and warmth inside her, building her arousal further.

There was something incredibly demeaning about how he had never taken her clothes off, even when he fucked into her, instead leaving her skirt bunched around her waist. Something that made her cheeks burn red and her clit throb, the humiliation of her positioning and dress only serving to further her arousal. He changed his angle, so that he was now hitting the spot that made her moan particularly loud with every thrust.

Olivia clenched tightly around him as she came, her eyes scrunching shut as the power of his thrusts tipped her unexpectedly over the edge. He pulled at the chain, tugging on her nipples once again, and she clenched down on him again, as her orgasm continued to roll through her. Finally she collapsed, going completely limp, allowing him to continue to get himself off inside her, his hands roaming along the dip of her back to explore the cleft of her ass, the fullness of her cheeks, as he pushed himself harder inside of her.

“I’m going to come, baby.” He leaned down, and Olivia felt the full weight of him along her back, returning the pressure to her now tender nipples. “Can you come again for me? Or do you need some help?”

Olivia moaned incoherently, too overcome by sensation to register his question, to notice he was teasing her about the lack of attention to her clit. As his movements became faster, harsher, less refined, he snuck a hand underneath them and began rubbing roughly against her clit. She couldn’t help but try to move away from his touch, too direct, too hard, too much after hours of teasing, but there was nowhere for her to go. And trapped under his body, arms cuffed, nipples clamped, she came again.

He followed her shortly after, leaning down to muffle his cries in her neck, biting down in pleasure as he finally came. He lingered inside of her, drawing out the pleasure for them both for as long as possible, until the oversensitivity became too much. He pulled out of her and Olivia moaned at the loss, feeling empty even as she could still feel him inside of her.

Now that he was outside her, he was no longer touching her, and after hours of his touch commanding her, anchoring her to this reality as he pleasured her, and used her for his pleasure, she felt disoriented, thrown adrift by the absence of his touch.

For the first time that evening, Olivia felt a frisson of fear. That he would leave her here, bent over the chest, skirt around her waist, hands cuffed behind her back, nipples clamped. But he quickly returned, his hands tugging down her skirt, gently uncuffing her wrists. As soon as her hands were free, she stood up, brushing him off, taking the clamps gingerly off her own nipples, pulling her top back up.

“I’ll get us something to drink.” He said, noting how quickly she had pulled herself together. “I’ll be right back, just wait here baby.”

And whilst he was gone, she quickly slipped out of the room, up the stairs, into a cab, not stopping until she was home, safe, alone.

It was the “baby” that did it, a term she had never permitted until his husky voice whispered it in her ear. A petname she would never allow a partner to say, the patronising adoration of it giving her too much of a thrill to ever allow, that brought Olivia back to reality. To face what she had just done, how she had just given in, given up. That she had completely and utterly failed at her tame, uncomplicated evening.

She should have turned around as soon as someone caught her eye, as soon as she saw him. By now she should have learnt some self-awareness, known that starting towards the edge of the cliff she had denied herself for so long could only end in one way. A small taste of what she had craved for so long was never going to be enough, and leaving knowing what it felt to have his eyes on her, with only a suggestion of what his hands, his voice would be like, would, could never have been enough.

But now that she had, what could she do?


The next day Olivia awoke feeling more refreshed and relaxed than she had in a long time. Her spirits were high as she made her way to the 1-6, last night more than relieving any first day nerves. The Special Victims Unit was where she was meant to be, she had spent her entire career working towards it, building towards this moment, a new career, new unit, new partner.

“Hello, I’m your partner, Elliot Stabler,” a familiar deep voice introduced himself. Olivia tensed before she even turned around, knowing that when she did, the man from last night would be standing in front of her.