Cassandra panted as her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. Oh, God, I’m really going to do this! He’d left her no choice but to surrender her body, which was yearning for what he’d proposed. “Y-yes, Sir. I’d like that very much. And I’m okay with being restrained, Sir.”
“Thank you for trusting me, Cassandra. I won’t be doing anything to you tonight that’s not on your green or yellow list, but if you’re not comfortable with something you thought you’d like to try, then say the word yellow. I’ll slow down and then we’ll discuss it before moving forward. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.” The green levels of play are things she’d done before or wanted to do without reservations. The yellow ones were activities she was interested in but unsure whether she’d like them or not. Reds were things she had no desire to try.
He moved away from her, and, from the sound of creaking leather, she assumed he’d risen. “Leave the scarf over your eyes and give me your hand.” She lifted her arm until he grasped her hand. “Stand.”
With his help, she got to her feet, and then he turned her until she was facing in the other direction. Without letting go of her hand, he said, “Take four steps forward.”
Once she stopped, he set her hands on a leather-covered piece of equipment—it was probably the spanking bench she’d seen when she’d first walked into the room. A shiver ran down her spine.
“Strip, subbie, and place your clothing on the bench in front of you, neatly folded. Then present for me—feet shoulder-width apart and hands behind your head, elbows back. Leave the blindfold on.”
Her hands shook—not from the embarrassment of undressing in front of Master Ian, but the fact the action would take her one step closer to hopefully achieving what she’d thought was impossible.
As she removed her skirt, bra, thong, slippers, and bowtie, she heard him moving about the room, opening and closing several cabinets and drawers. After she was completely naked and her clothes were folded in a pile in front of her, she spread her feet a little wider and clasped her hands together just above her nape.
“Good girl.” He shuffled about the room, and she tried unsuccessfully to see what he was doing around the edges of the silk scarf. “Take a step forward and climb on the bench.”
Her clothes had been moved away. Master Ian’s hands guided her until she was lying prone on top of the bench, her knees and elbows bent and resting on padded shelves. “Relax, little one.”
“I’m trying to, Sir.”
She heard the ripping of Velcro and felt him bind her right arm down, just above her wrist. Seconds later, the same was done to her left. Both times, he slid his finger under the strap to make certain it wasn’t too tight. She tugged on the restraints, testing them. While her circulation wasn’t being cut off, she also couldn’t pull her hands free. Next, her calves and thighs were bound in a similar fashion. “Let me know if you feel any tingling or pain in your hands or feet.”
“Yes, Sir. They feel fine.”
Finally, two wider straps crossed over her upper and lower back. The only things she could move were her head, hands, and feet, and she could just wiggle her hips a fraction in all directions. Instead of feeling trapped, Cassandra felt free. She couldn’t explain it if she tried, but a sense of Zen flowed over her.
Master Ian’s hand ran up her thigh and over the curve of her ass. She squirmed under his touch.
Smack! His hand had come down hard on her butt check.
“Ouch!” It’d stung, but her response had been more from the unexpected slap and sound than the actual pain.
He growled softly. “Quiet, subbie. From here on, the only words I want to hear from your pretty mouth are ‘yes, Sir’ and ‘no, Sir’ if I ask you a question, or your safewords. Do not move your hips at all. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
His hand resumed its gentle grazing up her back, past her scapulas. The parts of her skin that were exposed rejoiced at his touch. He surprised her when he kneaded her shoulders and neck like a masseur. “Relax, Cassandra. Take a deep breath and let it out slowly . . . good. Again.”
As she started to feel as if she were floating, he rolled something sharp along her upper arm, over her shoulder, and down the exposed areas of her back. Her mind warred with the pleasure/pain she was experiencing. It hurt, but it didn’t.
“This is a Wartenberg wheel—it’s used in sensation play.” The pointy pins rolled over her ass cheek and down her thigh to her knee, before going up the other leg. “Are you still green, subbie?”
“Y-yes, Sir.” She was more than green.
As the wheel rolled up the opposite side of her torso, Master Ian’s other hand dropped between her legs. She gasped when his fingers brushed against her sex. The fact that she couldn’t stop what he was doing to her by pulling away turned her on even more.
“Mmm. You’re getting nice and wet for me. That’s a good start, but you’ll be dripping soon.”
He ran his fingers through her folds before moving further to her clit. The little nub was already swollen, and she couldn’t help it when she bucked her hips—not that they got far. She almost cried out when his hand and the wheel left her body.
“That’s five more, subbie.”
Before she had a chance to think about his words, his hand lit up her backside. Each strike landed on a different area on her ass cheeks and sit spots. After every other one, he held his hand against her skin, and she felt the heat infuse her flesh and spread. The pain was exquisite—something she’d never experienced before in her life. When he reached ten, he didn’t pause before plunging his fingers into her pussy. He’d been right—she was now dripping for him. It was amazing the difference between her past lovers and this dominant man who clearly knew his way around a woman’s body. Her body and mind didn’t even have a chance to process what she wanted him to do next before he was already doing it.
“You were made to be fucked properly, subbie. Those wimps didn’t take the time to read your body’s reactions like I’m doing now. I can feel the walls of your cunt trembling with the need to release all that pent-up sexual frustration. It’s coming soon, I promise.”
His dirty words spun through her mind, and her panting grew harder. She could feel a tightness rising within her, waiting to burst.
She heard something snap and felt cool liquid drip between the crack of her still burning ass cheeks. While two fingers fucked her pussy, a thumb rubbed her clit and another finger played with her little asshole.
“Have you ever been taken back here, subbie?”
The thought of him fucking her ass scared and excited her at the same time. She gripped the padded arms of the bench, trying not to shift her hips away. He hadn’t done anything to harm her, and she still had her safeword. But the need to explode under his touch was far greater than the urge to yell out the word red. From his tone, it was evident Master Ian knew what her answer would be, but like a good sub should, she responded anyway. “No, Sir.”
“Relax your ass. I’m only going to use one finger—nothing more. I want to give the nerves in there a little taste of what it’ll be like when either I or someone else takes you there. With the right preparation, you’ll fucking love it. But for now, just a little pressure. Are you ready for me to send you over the edge?”
Cassandra felt like she was being drawn up into a tornado. Her surroundings, body, and mind were spinning out of control. She couldn’t hold back if she tried. This was it—the orgasm she’d been dreaming of. “Oh, God! Yes, Sir!”
“Then come for me.” He simultaneously thrust into her, pressed down on her clit, and pushed his finger against the tight ring of her anus.
She exploded into a ball of heated passion, followed by wave after wave of pleasure coursing through her. She involuntarily screamed as his fingers drew out her climax, then sought to pull a second one from her body. Cassandra hadn’t thought it was possible, but he managed to do just that. “That’s a good girl—squirting all over my hand.”
His words might’ve made her feel embarrassed if she hadn’t been floating on cloud nine. As her mind buzzed and she gasped for air, all her muscles went lax. The only reasons she didn’t slide off the bench into a puddle of goo were the straps and Master Ian’s hands, which slowed and then stopped. As she descended back to Earth, he gently kissed the back of her head. “Welcome to The Covenant, subbie. I think you’re ready to start playing with the other Doms, hmm?”
5
Present . . .
“Damn it! Where the fuck are they?” Using a pair of hi-tech binoculars, Stefan scanned the vast Gulf of Mexico from the open side door of a Coast Guard Search and Rescue (SAR) helicopter. His team was looking for four souls who’d been aboard a small plane that’d gone down over twenty minutes ago. Air traffic controllers at Tampa International Airport had intercepted the mayday call from the pilot less than a minute before the 2006 four-seater Cessna 172 Skyhawk had disappeared from the radar. It was reported that two young children and their parents had been onboard the plane. Stefan hoped like hell they found them soon, but it was like looking for four eyelashes in a swimming pool. There hadn’t been any signal from an emergency locator transmitter (ELT) so far. While all planes were required by the NTSB—National Transportation Safety Board—to have them, they weren’t one hundred percent reliable. Sometimes they failed to activate, and SAR crews were left struggling to find signs of life in the water like Stefan and his team were now. Several boats and aircraft were also on the way to the last known coordinates, but their helo had gotten there ahead of the rest.
Normally, as a lieutenant commander, Stefan wouldn’t have been up in the air—his promotion last year usually had him running things from the Sector Command Center (SCC) at USCG Sector St. Petersburg now. He was a shift commander for the Incident Management Division, which directed and controlled the response to emergency situations including SAR coordination, pollution incidents, marine casualties, terrorism, natural and terrorist disaster relief, and marine firefighting, among other events. However, today, he’d decided to go up with this crew, observing their training mission out of Clearwater, home to the largest and busiest Air Station in the Coast Guard. There were days he missed being on SAR missions—missed the adrenaline rush—so occasionally he’d head out with one of the teams. A new rescue swimmer (RS), had recently been transferred to their base after graduating from the USCG Aviation Survivalman "A" School and Emergency Medical Technician school. Stefan had been watching as Ensign Darren Jacoby had been put through his paces by Master Chief Josh Graves when the call for a real rescue had come in. Their chopper had been the closest to the area where the aircraft had gone down, so Stefan had ordered the pilots to head toward the coordinates. He then used his headset to contact the operations center to let them know he and the crew were responding.
The rescue was the first thing all day to get Stefan’s mind completely off Cassie—something that had been impossible most days lately. He’d been hoping to see her at the club last night, but she hadn’t been there—probably swamped with schoolwork. He was still at a loss over the fact she’d declined to re-sign their contract three weeks ago. Everything had been going well, or at least he’d thought they’d been. He’d been more than willing to schedule playtime around her shifts at the hospital, classes, and schoolwork. She wasn’t the first sub he’d had a D/s relationship with that’d lasted for more than a few weeks or months, but Stefan had been the one to end all the others.
Hmm. Is that it? Am I upset things didn’t end on my terms for once? Or is there something more to it?
After his shift ended today, he needed to stop by The Covenant and talk to Mitch about which subs were available to help him with the Shibari class. He’d been putting it off, but the class started a week from Monday, and he wanted to practice with his new assistant at least once or twice before then. Unfortunately, he had little desire to use anyone other than Cassie, and that fact was driving him nuts. While he wouldn’t be willing to start another contracted, D/s relationship—not yet—he did need a sub in order to demonstrate to the Doms in the class the proper way to wrap their subs up in ropes. Whoever ended up being his assistant would be compensated for their time by the club’s owners, as Cassie had been during the first class he’d taught earlier in the year. While Stefan had volunteered his time, Mitch Sawyer had insisted the sub be paid since the class was on Monday and Tuesday nights when the club was usually closed.
Cassie had always looked so good with Stefan’s ropes enveloping her, sometimes from head to toe. He would’ve just barely started, but after the second or third knot, she’d already be in subspace. He’d never questioned her need for the ropes, that would’ve been too personal, something he avoided in his relationships over the last few years. Maybe it was for the best that Cass had ended things. He’d gotten too comfortable around her. During the last few months of their contracted relationship, she’d stayed the night at his townhouse after they’d spent an evening playing, one or two times per week. Stefan had awakened more than once on other mornings, reaching for her before realizing she wasn’t there. A full-time relationship wasn’t something he needed or wanted—maybe someday, but right now, his life was devoted to the Guard.
“Commander! Life raft in the water, two o’clock!” yelled the flight mechanic, Ensign Doyle Peters, who was perched next to Stefan, causing him to adjust the direction of his binoculars. Sure enough, there was a bright, yellow raft, with two adults and two children wearing orange life vests and waving wildly at their soon-to-be rescuers. Thank God. There was no sign of the plane, but between the currents it could’ve been caught up in and the amount of time since it’d gone down, Stefan hadn’t expected it to be near its former occupants. As long as they were safe, the plane no longer mattered.
The pilot, Lieutenant Vito LeBlanc, and his female co-pilot, Lieutenant Junior Grade Jodi Ziegler, acknowledged they also saw the raft, and the helo banked in that direction before dropping in altitude. Graves and Jacoby were already prepared to jump from the open side doors of the aircraft as soon as it was low enough. LeBlanc positioned the big bird in a hover over the waves, just far enough away from the raft so it wouldn’t get caught in the rotors’ downdraft. The water was choppy enough already, with the raft rocking back and forth, and they didn’t want to add more to it. Once Peters gave him the hand signal, Graves jumped out, feet first, arms crossed over his chest, a split second before Jacoby did the same. When they hit the water, they slipped under for a moment, then resurfaced and swam toward the raft, using strong strokes and the flippers on their feet. Stefan watched as the highly trained crew did what they did best. Ironically, the operation was similar to what he would’ve observed them doing during the practice run, had it not been interrupted.
Once the rescue swimmers had reached the survivors, the helo gained some altitude and LeBlanc repositioned it directly over the raft. Widening the distance from the water to the aircraft would result in a reduction in the strength of the downdraft, but it also increased the time the survivors would be in midair. It was one of those damned either way actions.
As the hoist line was lowered, Jacoby removed his flippers and climbed into the raft with the family. With the father’s help, he got the little girl, who looked about five years old, into a child-sized harness, while her mother and slightly older brother waited their turns. Graves kept a watchful eye on his new swimmer’s actions. A storm was rolling in, dark clouds blocking out the sun. The wind had picked up, making the waves larger and more frequent, rocking the raft harder, and it took about two minutes for them to get the crying girl ready. It was clear she was terrified, and Stefan’s heart broke for her. Once she was secured in the harness, Jacoby attached her to his own harness before clipping them both onto the hoist line. Looking skyward, he gave Peters a thumbs up. Slowly, the winch lifted them into the air. They maintained a steady pace, and it wasn’t too long before they were level with the floor of the helicopter. Stefan helped the flight mechanic pull them onboard and unhook the girl
from Jacoby so he could head back down for the next person.
Stefan wrapped the wet, shivering, and sobbing girl in a trauma blanket, then buckled her into one of the seats in the rear of the helo. He did his best to comfort her, which was hard to do over the noise of the thundering rotors. But he doubted she would settle down before the rest of her family was brought onboard and they were back on dry land. Five minutes later, he repeated the process with the boy, who yelled that his name was Tommy Fischer and he was seven years old. He also told Stefan his sister’s name was Emma.
Next up was their mother, Ruby. When Stefan tried to put a blanket around her, she threw her arms around him, thanking him profusely. Or at least he thought that’s what she was saying. Between her sobs and the rotors, he couldn’t really hear her. Once he had her secured next to her children, he turned his attention back to the last survivor being brought up. After Mark Fischer and Jacoby were safely onboard, the hoist line descended one more time for Graves.
While Jacoby got Mr. Fischer secured into a seat, Stefan moved back to the open door and watched the master chief make his assent. The storm was almost upon them, with lightening flashing through the sky. The wind was getting even worse, causing Graves to spin faster and sway harder below the helo. They needed to get him onboard fast and head back toward the coast. None of them wanted to be caught in the middle of a thunderstorm if it could be avoided.
Graves was almost level with the door when there was a loud bang and the winch suddenly jolted. The cable he was attached to snapped harshly and then began to unravel. The man’s eyes ballooned as he realized he was about to fall about three or four stories. Stefan dove onto the floor, partially out the door, and grabbed onto Graves’ arm just before he was out of reach. The master chief managed to clasp onto Stefan’s arm at the same time. Not a moment too soon, either, as the cable completely split in two. The only thing keeping Graves from falling and slamming onto the surface of the water like a ton of bricks was Stefan’s grip. A heavy weight crashed onto his legs and hips, and Stefan realized it was Jacoby. The rookie was preventing him from being dragged out of the helo. Peters was hooked onto a safety line and moved out onto the skid to try to grab Graves. Stefan’s strained right arm and shoulder were screaming in pain, but there was no way he was letting go of the other man. The master chief’s gaze met his, pure confidence in his expression that his LC wasn’t going to let him fall. Stefan hoped he wouldn’t fail him.
Knot a Chance: Doms of The Covenant Book 3 Page 4
