Dragon__Playing with Fire

 

Playing with Fire

Kenji

 

Hiroko got to Nyomi's right and squared her own shoulders, matching Nyomi's posture and standing beside her the way a general stood beside a soldier about to take their first command.

Hiroko had spent decades in rooms like this—had wielded fire wands, floggers, single-tail whips. Had dominated politicians, surgeons, men who controlled billions and crumbled at her feet. And now Hiroko was giving my Tiger a taste of that same power. Hiroko held three fingers up. "Before you touch him. Three things."

Nyomi nodded.

"One. Your instinct will be to pull away the second the flame meets skin. Don't fight that instinct. It's correct. The first stroke should be quick." She snapped her fingers. "Like that. You're introducing his body to the fire. Letting his nervous system understand what's happening. Think of it as a handshake between his skin and the flame."

Nyomi's grip on the wand steadied. “Okay. A handshake.”

"Yes. Now number two." Hiroko stepped beside the slab and ran her hand an inch above my forearm without touching me. "Feel the heat before you make contact. Hover. The air between the flame and the skin is your safety net. You should feel warmth radiating down before you ever touch. If the heat feels aggressive from an inch away, the wand has too much fuel. Dip again with less alcohol."

"How do I know what aggressive feels like versus normal?"

Hiroko held her own palm near the flame. "Put your free hand here. An inch above where you're about to stroke."

Nyomi held her left hand above my forearm. Close enough to feel the heat from the wand in her right. “Alright. I see what you’re saying.”

"That warmth you feel right now—that's the preview. That's what his skin will feel a half-second before the flame arrives. If that warmth feels like opening an oven door, pull back. If it feels like standing near a fireplace. . ." Hiroko smiled. "Then go for it."

"Fireplace. Got it."

"Three." Hiroko leaned closer to Nyomi. "He's going to make sounds."

I doubt it.

"Men in subspace lose control of their vocal cords before they lose control of anything else. He will groan. He will grunt. He might even whimper." Hiroko glanced at me. The corner of her mouth twitched. "The Dragon will deny the whimpering later, but it will happen."

I frowned.

Dragons don’t whimper.

As if Nyomi heard me, she bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"Do not let his sounds distract you," Hiroko continued. "The sounds are good. They're feedback. A groan means the heat registered. A gasp means it was intense. Silence. . ." Her expression sharpened. ". . .silence is what you watch for. If he goes quiet and his body locks up, you stop and check him. Silence during fire play means the nervous system is overwhelmed."

"Groans good. Silence bad."

"Exactly." Hiroko stepped back and crossed her arms. "One more thing. This is not a rule. This is advice."

Nyomi waited.

"Forget that you're holding fire."

Nyomi raised an eyebrow.

"I'm serious. You've already felt it on your own arm. You know what it does. You know what it doesn't do. So stop thinking about the fire." Hiroko tapped her own collarbone. "Think about his skin. You're not burning him—you're painting him. The wand is a brush. The flame is your medium. His body is the canvas."

Nyomi smiled. “I like that.”

“Good.” She swept her hand over my torso. "Every artist has to stop being afraid of the paint before they can make anything beautiful."

Nyomi looked down at me. At my chest. My stomach. My arms stretched above my head in the restraints.

I watched her jaw set. Watched her shoulders square. Watched her shift her weight forward onto the balls of her feet—the posture of a woman about to move.

"Start with the forearm." Hiroko pointed. "Inside of the arm. Big muscle. Quick stroke. And Nyomi—"

My Tiger looked at her.

"Trust your hand. It already knows what to do."

Nyomi turned back to me. She held the fire wand at her side. The flame crackled and swayed. The smell of alcohol and smoke hung between us.

She didn't hesitate. She brought the flame to my forearm in one clean stroke.

One stroke.

Clean.

Fast.

The flame kissed my skin and pulled away.

OH FUCK!!

Heat detonated across my arm.

Sharp.

Bright.

Electric.

It raced through my nerve endings and hit the base of my skull like a shot of whiskey poured straight into my bloodstream.

MMMMM.

It was pain, pleasure, and hunger all at once, hitting the oldest part of my brain and setting it ablaze.

I clenched my jaw as my hard cock jumped against the leather, straining the fabric some more.

The heat faded slowly and left warmth in its wake.

Nyomi stood over me, and the wand still burned at her side. She looked at my arm and at the skin she'd just touched with flame.

A satisfied smile spread across her face.

“Good.” Hiroko stepped forward.

I groaned.

Hiroko smirked and looked at her. “Well. . .we know how the Dragon feels, but how did that feel for you?"

"Hot." Nyomi turned the wand in her hand and studied the flame at its tip. "But controlled. I could feel the moment it was enough."

Hiroko's eyebrows lifted. "Most people can't feel that on their first pass due to fear.”

“Okay.”

"You felt it because you weren't afraid. Your body was calm enough to listen." Hiroko studied her. "I can teach technique to anyone who walks through my door. I cannot teach someone to be still inside themselves while they hold fire."

Hiroko studied her for a long moment, and then a slow smile spread across her face—the kind a woman only gives when she's been impressed. "So. . .let's move faster than I planned."

Nyomi blinked.

I licked my lips.

Hiroko watched me. "The arms are safe. Thick muscle. But the real session happens here."

She gestured toward my chest, stomach, and ribs. "These are where the nerve endings are dense. Where the heat builds. Where you'll feel him respond the most."

"The rules still hold," Hiroko continued. "The flame moves. But here. . ."

She drew a line in the air above my torso. "You can go slower than you did on the arm. Let the heat travel. Let it bloom."

Nyomi's eyes followed the invisible path. Then dropped to my chest. To the dragon tattoo sprawled across my pecs.

"Can I trace the tattoo?"

Hiroko tilted her head and considered it. "The ink lines are no different than skin. So yes. But the sensation will be more intense for you.”

“Why?”

“Because the visual and the physical will merge. He'll feel the fire and you’ll see it following the dragon. It will take you both deeper."

Nyomi looked at me.

I was already panting. One stroke on my forearm and my chest heaved like I'd run a mile. Sweat gathered in the hollows of my collarbone. My cock pressed thick and aching against the leather.

And what hit her face was the smile of a woman who'd just been handed a map to a man's undoing and intended to use every inch of it.

Naughty Tiger.

"Good." She rolled the wand between her fingers. "I want him deeper."

Fuuuuck.

Hiroko pointed to my right arm. "Do the other arm first. Build the foundation. Then the chest."

Nyomi moved to my right side. “Are you ready, Dragon?”

My chest rose and fell. “Yes, Tora.”

She gave me a longer stroke this time and let the fire travel from my wrist to the crook of my elbow, tracing the vein that ran along the inside of my arm.

Oh my God!

The heat exploded.

A loud, guttural groan ripped from the bottom of my chest.

I bucked my hips off the stone. My cock strained against the leather and I heard it the fabric tear a little.

“Ahh.” I trembled.

Nyomi's gaze dropped to my crotch.

She saw the tear. The dark, wet patch where pre-cum had soaked through. The thick ridge pressing against what was left of the shorts.

She stared. Took her time with it. Let her gaze drag over the swollen mushroomed head straining against the waistband. The vein running the length of the shaft. The damp spot spreading at the tip.

You see what you’re doing to me?

"Nyomi.” Hiroko cleared her throat. “Focus."

My Tiger’s gaze stayed on my cock for two more seconds and then she lifted her chin, rolled her shoulders back, and stood taller.

"His shoulder now." Hiroko gestured. "A longer stroke and. . .let the flame travel down to the bicep."

She licked her lips. “Oh hell yes.”

“Nyomi.” Hiroko frowned.

My Tiger blinked. “Yes?”

“You can’t rush into domspace with this element.”

“Okay. I’ll calm down.”

I grinned through the euphoria.

Then, Nyomi brought the flame to my left shoulder and let it travel. The fire traced a path from my deltoid down through the curve of my bicep. She watched the flame the way a painter watches a brushstroke.

The heat piled on top of everything I was already feeling. Layer on layer. Sensation stacking like bricks inside my body that I couldn't climb over.

I groaned.

She moved to my right shoulder without being told.

Same stroke.

Same confidence.

Same unhurried pace.

Hiroko stepped back and crossed her arms.

I caught it through the haze—the shift in Hiroko's posture. She wasn't instructing anymore. She was observing. Watching Nyomi the way a sensei watches a student who no longer needed correction.

And Hiroko’s gaze was bright, wet at the edges, and full of a pride so fierce it filled the room. "Perfect. Now. . .the chest."

Nyomi Looked down at the dragons sprawling across my pecs. The coiled bodies. The open mouths. The scales that caught the candlelight and rippled dark red to black.

“You’re so sexy.” She brought the flame to the dragon's spine.

And traced it.

God yes.

All I could do was helplessly watch the fire follow the ink across my left pec.

Over the coils.

Through the curve of the dragon's body.

The heat sank through my skin and kept going—past muscle, past bone, into a place I didn't know existed.

“Oh, fuck,” I whimpered and swore the tattoo moved. “Tora. Tora.”

The dragons’ scales rippled under the flame. Their jaws opened wider. Their claws dug deeper. For one second I couldn't tell if she was burning me or waking the creature that lived beneath my skin.

Unable to control myself, I arched off the stone.

My mouth fell open. No sound left it. Just air trapped between my lungs and my teeth. My vision went white at the edges. My fingers splayed above the restraints—palms to the ceiling, shaking.

“Oh God!” I sank deep into this abyss of pleasure.

Hard.

Fast.

Like the floor had dropped out from under the slab and I was falling into warm, dark water.

The room softened at the edges. The candlelight blurred into a golden haze. The crackle of flame, the shift of Hiroko's feet, the pad of Nyomi's steps—all of it muffled.

Distant.

The only thing still sharp was her.

She could have told me the sky was green. I would have believed her.

She could have told me to stop breathing. I would have tried.

"His temperature." Hiroko's voice was now very far away. "Check him."

Nyomi set the wand down on the stone beside my hip, but I wasn’t sure. The flame died against the cold surface. A wisp of smoke curled between us.

She put her hand on my chest.

I moaned. “Fuck.”

Her hand was so cool against my heated skin.

So soft.

I could feel the ridges of her fingerprints against my pec. I rolled my hips. “I want to fuck you right now, Tora.”

Another tear sounded from my shorts, and then to my shock, cool air kissed the base of my cock.

The fabric was done.

Finished.

Giving up the fight.

Hiroko spoke, “Focus, Nyomi.”

“Yes. . .” Nyomi pressed her palm flat over my heartbeat and held it there.

I trembled. “Put your hand on my cock, Tora, and rub it. Make me cum in front of everyone.”

Nyomi parted her lips.

Would she?

Would she give me what I need?

Would she reach down and wrap her fingers around my cock right here, right now, in front of Hiroko, the assistants, and the men in the corners?

Would she grip the shaft and stroke it slow while all of them watched the Dragon leak for his Tiger?

Would she spit on it first?

A thick, wet glob from those pretty lips, landing right on the swollen head and running down the shaft.

Then another glob of spit.

And another.

Until my cock was dripping with her saliva and the room was dead silent.

Would she drop her mouth onto me? Her warm, wet throat swallowing me whole while Hiroko stood three feet away and watched her student devour the Dragon.

Would Hiroko's thighs press together? Would I see it—that subtle shift, the dominatrix losing her composure because the sound of Nyomi gagging on my cock was doing things to her she hadn't expected?

Would the men in the corners go rigid? Jaws clenched. Fists tight. Hard in their pants and terrified to move because looking away from their boss's cock in his woman's mouth was dangerous, but so was looking.

Would Nyomi care about any of them?

Or would she suck me like I was the only man alive?

Sloppy.

Loud.

Saliva running down her chin and pooling at the base of my shaft.

Would she look at me with those wicked eyes while my cock sat heavy on her tongue?

Would I cum so hard I screamed her name?

Hit her face first. White hot, thick ropes painting her cheeks, her lips, her chin.

I groaned so loud the sound bounced off the stone walls and everyone widened their eyes and turned to me.

Hiroko cleared her throat. “How is his heartbeat?”

Nyomi placed two fingers against my neck. "Fast, but steady."

“Put your hand on my cock, Tora. Right now.” I sneered. “I need it. Be my sweet Tiger.  Show them how you take care of the Dragon.”

She blinked.

Would she?