by KB Alan
“Yes, Sir.”
“I’ll help you up.” He’d been kneeling in front of her the whole conversation, of course, but he was used to kneeling while working. Not all the time, but enough that the short stretch hadn’t bothered him. He stood and offered her a hand, which she took, though the fire in her cheeks had returned. She’d just remembered she was naked, and he managed not to grin, though he absolutely appreciated the view.
He walked to the little dining table, turned the chair closest to the kitchen around and sat, propping his ankle on his knee. This put him about two feet from the tiny room as she walked into it, with his intention to just sit and watch very clear. She cleared her throat, but said nothing and kept her hands down, though her fingers danced against her thighs.
She went to the cooler on the counter and glanced his way. He nodded at her, and she took a deep breath and tried to focus. The corner of her lip disappeared between her teeth. As she pulled a few items out and moved to the fridge, he let himself enjoy the view. He suspected that she usually wore a bra to hold in her generous breasts, even when lounging at home.
At first, she tried to hold her belly in, but that gave way as she got to work. When she bent over to put the cheese and milk in the fridge, he received a lovely view of her ass, which would look much lovelier when he’d had a chance to pink it up a bit.
It appeared she was pretending he didn’t exist, which didn’t surprise him. And she was hustling, which tempted him to remind her that when her task was done, she wasn’t suddenly going to be allowed clothes, but he kept his mouth shut.
When she finished, she turned toward him and hesitated. He gave it a second, willing to give an instruction, but curious to see what she’d do without one. She walked to him, lip a little red from the worrying she’d give it, and dropped to her knees in front of him, assuming the position he’d given her.
“Very nice, pet.” He put his hand on her head and slid it down to her neck.
Her eyebrows furrowed.
“Not a fan of the nickname? Or is it the touch?”
“I—the nickname, Sir. I guess I would be worried that a nickname would sneak into regular life by accident and be embarrassing to explain. But since this is just a weekend, it’s fine. I don’t mind.”
“Hm.” He’d left his hand on her neck, but now ran it over to cup her shoulder, give it a little squeeze. Nothing sexual, just a grounding. He picked up the rose that he’d set on the table and held it up to her cheek, ran it softly over her lips and down her throat. Twirled it there for a moment, then moved it to her nipple, brushing it over and over as the little nub stiffened and deepened in color.
“What about petal?” he asked. “You have all the different shades of pink, like your rose does.”
She blushed. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
He put the rose back and picked up a simple black Velcro restraint. “Left hand.”
Her breathing increased, her breasts rising and falling in a way that enticed him. He was very much looking forward to some playtime that included her breasts. She held out her left hand and he wrapped the cuff securely, but not tight. They had a thick neoprene lining that would keep her comfortable, while secure.
“Switch.”
She pulled her left hand back as she brought her right forward, and he repeated the process. This one had a quick link on it to attach to the other cuff when he was ready. She watched him as he worked, securing the cuff and testing the fit.
“Stand up, hands on my shoulders. Left foot on the chair.” There was enough space between his knees for her to place her foot on the seat between his thighs. He quickly secured one ankle, then the other, and stood. The last item he’d left on the table was a thin leash. It had a very small clasp, nothing that would bother her against her throat or damage the small lock that closed her collar. Still, her eyes were huge as he snapped it on.
“Hands and knees, you’ll crawl with me. Don’t let the leash get taut, it should be slack at all times.”
He could see that she wasn’t at all sure about this, but she didn’t hesitate. She dropped to her hands and knees and waited for him to move. They crossed from the small dining area next to the kitchen, through the main room of the cabin and into the bedroom. It wasn’t more than twenty feet, but he suspected she found every one of them to be annoying.
“Stand at the head of the bed, there.” She crawled the couple of feet to the queen bed, then stood. Her breathing was fast again, but he was pretty sure it was from indignation, not arousal. But assumptions were bad, so he’d best check. He walked up into her space and ran his hand from between her breasts, down her stomach—which flinched under his touch—to her center. He’d told her to shave herself completely last night, more to give her something concrete to do to prepare herself than for his personal preference. Her skin was smooth and soft, as ordered. He cupped her with his palm, not attempting to open her full lips. Dry.
The bed had four wooden posts. Simple iron headboard and footboard that made geometric shapes between the posts gave him plenty of options for bondage. He took the leash off, threaded it through the headboard, putting the clasp end through the handle and pulling tight. He reattached it to her collar. There wasn’t much give, but as along as she stayed next to the post, the leash didn’t pull.
“Hands behind your back, Petal.” He clipped the cuffs together and surveyed his handiwork. Now she was getting aroused again.
He brushed a soft kiss over her lips, then turned away. It didn’t take long to get the sheets from the closet and make the bed, brushing against her as he tugged them into place in her corner. The little line between her eyes was the only sign of her displeasure.
When he dropped the pillow while trying to get it into the case, her arms jerked, but she stayed quiet. He fluffed the pillows and arranged them against the headboard and nodded. He took a set of towels from the closet and moved them to the bathroom, then grabbed her journal and pen, which she’d set with her clothes next to the front door. When he returned, she was watching the doorway, waiting for him.
Natalie thought it took a while for Noah to return to the bedroom, but had to admit it had probably only been a minute. He had her journal, which he set on the bed. He came and unlocked her wrists.
“Up on the bed.”
He held her elbow and made sure she was able to sit without the leash pulling at her collar. Then he handed her the journal. “I know it’s only been an hour, but I want you to update your thoughts.”
“Yes, Sir.”
She opened the book. He stretched out on the bed next to her and got on his phone. At first she wasn’t sure what to say, but tried to think what had happened since the last entry.
Walking into the house, stripping. Gah, the stripping had been difficult. They’d talked about it, so she knew he’d likely make it a requirement at some point, but she’d sort of thought they’d ease into it. Holy hell, it had been scary to stand in front of him like that. The warm appreciation and approval in his gaze had helped. A little. But then he’d put the real collar on her, one he’d clearly gotten just for her. Or, at least, she assumed orange wasn’t his usual color, and it was her favorite, which she’d told him.
It had brought back some memories. She’d been so freaking excited when David had first put a collar on her. She and Felicity had preened together in the mirror. Looking back, she felt so young, and trying to compare David to Noah was just a joke. David had worked hard to be a Dom. Which, to be fair, maybe Noah had too, at that age.
Now, it seemed effortless. It took only a look from him to make her feel under his control. A touch brought her calm and excitement at once. The collaring had made her forget about being naked in front of him. For a minute. But walking to the kitchen had been nerve-wracking. And then the bastard had just sat there, watching her!
The idea of doing service to a Dom was something they’d talked about, and something she’d assumed she’d be attracted to. Putting their food away should have made her happy. But it had
been irritating and hadn’t made her feel any sense of peace or satisfaction, like she’d thought it would. Okay, well, there’d been a tiny bit of satisfaction at the appreciation in his gaze, but it hadn’t been strong enough to make her stop wishing she could put on a bra and panties, at the least.
Of course, that had quickly morphed to excitement, again, when he’d wrapped the cuffs around her wrists and ankles. Now things were getting started! Only to have the weird feeling of him attaching the leash grow into…what? What had she felt, crawling behind him to the bedroom? It wasn’t shame, exactly. It definitely wasn’t excitement. A little irritation, for sure. Humiliation? Her knees had hurt, her boobs hadn’t felt great. She’d been thankful the floor appeared to be quite clean.
Then he’d made her stand there, unable to move, while he’d made up the bed. That had been almost worse than the kitchen episode. Wasn’t it supposed to be her doing the work? But she’d stood there wrapped in his bonds, leashed to his bed, under his control. So…yeah, she was a mass of confusion right at the moment, which was what she tried to convey in the journal.
She noted how hearing him call her petal made her melt, both from the personal aspect of his selecting the name, and the knowledge that he’d heard her uncertainty, understood it, and come up with an alternative that they both liked. She breathed deeply, feeling the collar at her neck. It wasn’t big, but it was much more substantial than the little deal he’d had her wear in the car. It made her feel like his hand was on her.
It surprised her how easy it was to fall into the rhythm of calling him Sir. All those years ago, it was something she’d had to work at. She was a tiny bit worried she’d screw up and call him that at a family event. It just seemed so natural while they were in scene. She’d have to see if it slipped out when they weren’t playing.
“How are you doing, Petal?”
She blinked her way out of her thoughts and looked over at Noah. Then looked down at the journal and realized she hadn’t written anything for a few minutes. She closed it up and set it and the pen aside.
“All done, Sir. Thank you.”
“What number are you at?”
It took her a second to think what he meant and then to decide on a number. Yeah, what they’d done so far hadn’t revved her up, but that wasn’t the point. And sure, she’d still love some clothes, but maybe being naked would mean they could get to some of the sexy stuff soon. “One, Sir.”
“All right. Do you need a break?”
“No, Sir. Thank you.”
He checked his watch. “I think you can go ahead and make us dinner. The chicken thighs, rice and roasted squash you talked about sound good to me. How about you?”
“Yes, Sir.” The baked chicken was something she’d made a hundred times and could do without thinking too hard, so it sounded great to her.
“All right.” His grin suggested he’d read her mind.
He rolled off the bed and picked up a bag that she hadn’t seen. He put it on the bed and rummaged through it, glancing at her, then back into the bag. He tossed a bottle of lube to her side and showed her an anal plug. It wasn’t big, she was relieved to see.
He came around to her side of the bed and helped her to stand. “Wait here,” he ordered with a wink, since it wasn’t like she could go anywhere.
He was gone less than a minute, returning with her rose. With his gaze on her, he touched the rose to her forehead, then down her nose, pausing so she could inhale its scent again. Then he teased the velvety-soft petals along her lips, under her chin and down her throat.
The bloom circled her breasts, played along the valley for a minute, then he pressed the stem into the sensitive tissue. She gasped. Not from pain, exactly. Although the sharpness was increasing. But these were Noah’s thorns, from her rose, and she closed her eyes to better experience the sensation.
Which is how she missed being ready for him to take one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking gently, caressing with his tongue, all while the thorns pressed into her and the scent of rose embraced her.
“Give me a number, Petal.”
“One, Sir.”
He chuckled, was still doing so as he pulled her other nipple in for the same treatment. He adjusted the stem, marking new territory. His free hand drifted down to her core, teased her pussy just barely, moving some of her wetness around.
When he let go, her nipples were hard points that stabbed toward him, begging for more. He got up from the bed and held out a hand. “Stand here. I don’t want to see that leash pulling.”
She watched as he pulled the bag toward him and removed some leather straps. When he took the key to her collar from his pocket, she had to suppress a whimper. She’d grown used to it so quickly and didn’t want him to take it off yet.
His eyes crinkled, suggesting he was aware of her pout, but he didn’t say anything. He laid the lock and collar on the bed, and picked up the black leather straps. The first piece went around her neck, buckling into place. It was wider than the previous collar, probably an inch, maybe even a little more. From the center of the collar dropped a strap of leather that lay along her cleavage, then another circle that buckled around her back, forming a harness just underneath her breasts.
He stepped back, fingered the fit, then adjusted the buckle to shorten the vertical piece. She wasn’t sure she was going to like this. Already, she could feel her breasts sagging over the strap. Surely this would be much more attractive on a woman with perky breasts. Hers were too big to be contained this way. She felt…floppy.
He fluffed her boobs, plumping them and squeezing a bit, then pressed the red spots where the thorns had poked at her. Under his slightly calloused fingertips, her sensitivity seemed to grow.
Stepping back, he studied her. “Gorgeous.”
The sincerity in his voice went a long way toward making her feel better, though she wondered what she actually looked like. He didn’t give her much time to worry about it.
“Bend over so your cheek is flat on the mattress.”
She did as she was told, her nose an inch from the leash he’d discarded. He ran his hand along her back. “How are your shoulders feeling?”
“Fine, Sir.” She hadn’t thought about them. Now that he mentioned it, she was aware of a tiny bit of strain, but not much.
He picked up the lube and squirted a generous portion between her butt cheeks, then slowly—very, very slowly—worked it along her rim. His finger edged into the opening. “Relax for me.” His other hand picked up the rose and trailed it along her back, teased her nose, slid along her arm. All the while, his finger pressed slowly forward, aided by the slick gel.
Taking a deep breath, she did as he asked, consciously relaxing those muscles. Accepting him inside her. He slid in to the first knuckle. “That’s my girl,” he crooned. He left the rose on her back and moved his free hand to her core, sliding a finger easily into her wetness. The pinch at her ass was about the same as what the thorns had given her breasts, so she relaxed even more. He rewarded her with another finger in her pussy.
Working his finger in and out of her rear, he loosened her up some more, then pulled free. More cool lube, then she felt the hard, and yet soft, of the plug.
“Keep breathing. You’re doing great. What’s your number?”
“One, Sir.”
He brought his fingers, slick with her wetness, to her clit, and circled and tweaked it while he pushed the plug in past the first knob. She was breathing hard now, wishing she could move her hips to direct his fingers. Another knob popped past her resistance. She’d noticed three on the little devils.
He leaned over and sucked a mouthful of her ass cheek between his teeth. She gave a startled squeak and the plug was fully seated. He licked and soothed the spot on her cheek, then kissed her tailbone and wiggled the beast inside her a bit. She’d seen it. Sitting on the bed, it hadn’t looked big at all. Barely wider than his thick finger. Inside, it felt like a flashlight. Okay, not really, but damn.
It wasn’t
uncomfortable, so much as…just weird. Foreign.
“Up you go, Petal.”
He used a hand on her arm to help her stand, which totally changed the feeling of the object inside her. Her instincts were to push it back out again.
“I’m not going to give you a harness, you should be able to hold that in yourself for a little while. If you push it out, you’re just going to have to wash it and I’ll put it in again. Don’t move.”
She heard him go into the bathroom and wash his hands, while she tried not to squirm. He came back in and studied her. “Ready to make dinner?”
Oh, yeah, she’d already forgotten about that. “Yes, Sir.”
He led the way to the kitchen and she was glad she got to walk, instead of crawl, but it felt so weird. She stood in the kitchen and he unhooked the cuffs, then massaged her shoulders as she brought her hands forward. He gave her a little slap on the ass. “Get cookin’, woman.”
She slanted a look at him, but focused on what she needed to do.
Chapter Nine
Noah set up his laptop on the opposite side of the table this time, so he could keep an eye on Nat, but it wouldn’t appear that he was just watching the show. She’d walk a few steps, squeeze her butt cheeks a bit, continue on her way. Her tits were flushed and her forehead was a little damp. He smiled at his computer screen, though he wasn’t really trying to get anything done.
She was looking for a pot, and she bit her lip as she debated bending over or squatting when she found it in the lower cabinet. She tried squatting down, then popped back up, one hand braced on the edge of the counter.
“Need help, subbie?”
“I don’t think so, Sir.”
“Let me know if you do.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
She bent over and retrieved the pan, and continued on. The refrigerator made a noise, the ice in the dispenser tumbling, and she jerked and froze.
