Bonds of Hope

by Lynda Aicher

  She crossed her wrists behind her back.

  There was nothing but silence in the room. Just her thoughts and the overwhelming pounding of her heartbeat in her ears. She was here on her own free will. Her choice to stay.

  She lowered her head and closed her eyes.

  A calm settled around her, flowing downward in a wave that released the tension from her shoulders and spine. She inhaled through her nose, her chest expanding until her lungs were filled then collapsing with her slow exhale.

  The door clicked open.

  Quinn held her pose. There was no doubt about who entered the room. She was aware of him now like there was a physical line connecting them. Three nights attached to him by a leash could do that. But it was more.

  The thump of his boots sounded off his movement toward and around her. The smooth texture of the leather slid over her neck as he slipped the collar on. A warm wave of familiarity and belonging washed through as he locked it. It sunk deep, constricting her chest before easing with another long exhale.

  “Take your hair down.”

  The deep vibration of his command reached out to rumble over her. “Yes, sir.” Keeping her head lowered, she removed the pins holding the tight bun in place at her nape. She resisted the urge to shake the loosened strands freed from their constriction. Instead, she let it fall at will down her shoulders and around her face as she set the small pile of bobby pins on the floor next to her leg.

  The thump of his boots circled her. They stopped inside her line of sight, inches from her knees. Black Doc Martens. Big, bulky. Solid. He ran a hand through her hair and let the strands fall from his fingers when he pulled away. “On the bench, kitten.”

  The gentleness in his voice threw her for a second, but not long enough for him to comment. She rose and went to the equipment. Without being told, she kneeled on the thick pad at the base and stretched out on the padded length of the bench. The vinyl was cool against her chest, but not uncomfortable.

  She hadn’t looked at him yet, and she still didn’t as she placed her hands on the handles and spread her knees until they reached the edge of the pad. The air lapped over her pussy, reminding her that everything was exposed. She was completely on display for him and that was reinforced by the slight decline of the bench, which also increased her vulnerability.

  She closed her eyes and processed her rising excitement that clashed with her continued nerves. Her stomach rolled, tossing around the light dinner she’d forced herself to eat. Her pulse still raced and her skin felt electrified, aware of every move he made.

  He ran his hands down her back, the touch warm and chilling at the same time. He stopped at her bottom, circling before continuing down her legs to her feet. “You’re beautiful.”

  His compliment settled her rising doubt. They were just words, but his tone and touch spoke the truth. There was care in his hands when he strapped her ankles into the cuffs.

  “I’m cuffing you so you can concentrate on the sensations.” He moved to her wrists. “I don’t want you to think about anything except what you’re feeling.” He tested the tightness on her wrist before moving to the other one. “If you want out at any point, use your safe word.”

  “Yes, sir.” The reply was automatic now.

  “Tell me your safe word.”

  “Saffron.”

  “A spice as precious as you,” he murmured before tapping her chin. “Open your eyes, kitten.”

  He was squatting before her and she’d known that, yet seeing him for the first time that night sent a rush of heat straight to her pussy. He’d gone full Dom tonight. A leather harness crossed his bare chest, seeming to showcase the muscles in his arms and pecs. So very yummy. The thought made her smile.

  “What?” he asked, his own grin smoothing away the Dom.

  “You look good,” she answered honestly. She didn’t feel a need to say anything but the truth.

  He chuckled, a low, deep rumble that she loved. “And you’ll look even better with my marks all over you.”

  “I thought I had one already.”

  He circled the faded bruise on her neck, the mark a faint reminder of how their time together had started. “I want to see more.” His eyes darkened impossibly deeper. “These will be for you and me alone.”

  The thought sent another thrill down her spine that had her vagina clenching. He’d barely touched her tonight and she was already primed to come. Once he’d told her she couldn’t come without him, the desire to do just that had seemed to hum at the back of her mind for the rest of the day. Now he was here and she’d get her reward by following his orders.

  “I didn’t come,” she told him since her mind was on it.

  His lips quirked. “Good.” He brushed his thumb over her mouth, his gaze holding on that as she parted her lips. There was heat in his eyes and he licked his own lips when she dared to reach her tongue out to taste his thumb.

  He jerked back and straightened. She sighed and closed her eyes again for a moment. There was no point in watching. It would only increase her worry when there was nothing she could do except use her safe word.

  He moved around her and she tracked his location with a detached focus. In many ways, it was like she was watching the Scene from a distance, a part of her logging what was happening while she floated downward into a tranquil state of acceptance.

  “Tonight is about experimenting,” Marcus said. He smoothed her hair from her back so it hung down the side of the bench. “What do you want to try first?”

  Her mind sputtered. He was asking her? Again? She’d been prepared to simply take what he gave her. Now he wanted her to tell him how to hurt her? The concept didn’t process.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she mumbled. “I’ll let you decide.” That was easier. Let him decide like a Dom was supposed to do.

  “No, Quinn.” The use of her name jarred her out of her stupor. Her eyes flew open to find him watching her. He stood over her, his arms crossed in stern insistence. “You will decide.”

  She wanted to look away but couldn’t. Her breath quickened and the panic rose with the change of events. She didn’t understand his tactics. She’d been prepared for one thing and now he was changing the rules.

  “I don’t want to.” Now she sounded like the petulant diva again. So she topped it off with a sharp, “Sir.”

  “Which is why I want you to.” Marcus didn’t falter in his resolve. His voice remained steady. His emotions banished behind the Dom. “You will decide your fate. Not me.”

  Sadistic bastard. She almost snorted at her thought. Of course he was. The afternoon had lulled her into forgetting that fact. A flash of anger killed her arousal and she closed her eyes just to annoy him. If she didn’t answer him, he’d eventually have to choose. He couldn’t make her speak. Diva rang in her head. Or was it truly brat?

  The silence stretched and she started to fidget. The bench was getting sticky against her skin and her thighs ached from the unaccustomed position. Because she couldn’t move, she suddenly wanted to. Like the orgasm, once she couldn’t do it she wanted to even more. Darn it. She didn’t want to give in, but she suspected that was part of the exercise.

  He was the Dom. She the submissive.

  It was her role to give in to him. To submit to whatever he wanted within her limits. And she hadn’t defined her deciding which tool to use as off limits. It hadn’t even occurred to her to do so, not something this simple. Easy. Yet she was resisting already and they’d only begun.

  Releasing a breath, she thought through the items she’d seen on the cart, then about how different submissives had reacted when she’d seen them in use and her own reaction to seeing them used. Did she go for the scariest first or last?

  “The flogger,” she finally said, her throat dry and raspy. Last was the way to go.

  He didn’t respond, simply moved to the cart then position himself to her side where she couldn’t see him. He stroked his hand down her back again in a soothing action.

  “This i
s a cowhide flogger.” The ends of the leather skittered across her bottom before he swirled them in a circle, the tips giving a light flick on her skin as he did. “This is good for beginners like you. More slap than thud.”

  Before she could process his words, the leather smacked against her butt. She flinched, winced then it came again. Sharper this time, on the other cheek. Then again. It warmed more than stung and the sound was worse than the actual pain. He stopped after a few more hits on her thighs. The heat seemed to shimmer over her skin, hot wherever the straps had struck. Yet it wasn’t as bad as his hand had been the other night.

  “This is elk.” He struck quickly, the leather falling on her left cheek with a thuddy smack. “This will go deeper, stay longer.” He hit her again. The sound of it whacking against her skin seemed to echo in the room. It was solid and...meaty. The pain bloomed and spread through her muscles with each additional strike.

  Oh...God. She squirmed on the bench, instinctively trying to get away from the blows, but there was nowhere for her to go. A warmth built beneath her skin and seeped all the way to her bones then spread.

  “Easy.” He ran a hand over his fresh strikes, his palm cool on her flaming bottom. “Breathe.”

  A gust of trapped air rushed from her lungs in a exhale that was quickly reversed and sucked back in. Her heart was out of control, racing to escape even though it was trapped behind her ribcage. The world was dark and there was no way she could open her eyes to let the light in.

  A softer material was dragged up the back of her leg, over her butt then down the length of her back. “This is deer. It has a lighter impact.”

  The hit struck exactly down the middle of her displayed pussy. She cried out, her legs trying to close to protect the sensitive area. What... He repeated the action, two more hits to a spot that should never, ever be treated so harshly. The pain was quick and sharp, almost like a burn that grew and spread after the initial sting.

  “Why?” She wasn’t sure what she was asking, but it was the word that was in her head.

  He applied one more slap to her pussy before moving to cover her thighs with a series of quick hits up and down both legs. When he stepped back, his breathing was quicker, the sound somehow penetrating the low buzz that had converged in her head.

  There was no distinction anymore. Her entire back end was awash with heat that had upped the temperature of her entire body. Her neck was clammy, her front slick against the bench.

  “Because it’s what I want,” he finally answered her. It was really as simple as that. She had picked the implement, but he was the one deciding how it was used. There was a reverence in his tone when he said, “You really are beautiful, Quinn.”

  She sighed, the unknown tension draining down her arms until she loosened her death grip on the handles. She’d heard those words so many times they no longer meant anything. Usually. From him, now, they were honest and she believed him.

  He smoothed his hands over her again. The contact was firm and it ignited another wave of heat that had her pussy clenching with surprising need. She wanted his touch there. Now. She was aching to feel the pressure of his fingers on that area that was spread and waiting for him. But that was the only place he didn’t go.

  “Please, sir,” she begged. Her voice was weak, needy and completely unlike her.

  He stepped back, removing his hands to leave her feeling abandoned. Wanting.

  “What’s next?” His voice had reverted to the deep, authoritative tone of command.

  Next? Tools. He wanted her to pick the next tool. She mentally shuffled the items in her head. “Crop.” It seemed small, minimal damage. Right?

  He rubbed the long handle of the crop along the crease of her thighs and butt. She whimpered as the lightly abraded handle chaffed her tender skin. He continued the torment, scraping the firm tip across her shoulders and down the ridges of her spine. Suddenly afraid, she tried to shrink away and evade the instrument.

  “Hold still.”

  She froze on command. The crop handle landed across her leg crease in a hard tap that had her tensing in reflex. A soft whine got squeezed in her throat and she breathed through the pain when he hit her in the same spot once again. It was numbing almost. Each new strike blending into the overall pain until her focus was completely on Marcus. On where he would strike next. Little slaps followed as he peppered her shoulders and back with quick, light taps that left small squares of tingling flesh behind.

  She settled into the consistent pattern he was taking down her back, the strikes precise and quick. She was floating in the numbness it brought when a sharp slap connected with her over-sensitive butt cheek. Holy shit. She screamed. It hurt. Really, really, hurt. Stinging, blistering pain that rocked her very ability to stay rational. She clenched her teeth against the blaze that made her eyes water until the tears spilled down her cheeks.

  “Breathe.”

  The low word triggered the response he wanted. She gulped in a breath as the initial shock faded. The spot throbbed, her pulse beating hard and forceful from that single point.

  “One more,” he said.

  “No,” she pleaded and shook her head. She couldn’t do another.

  The second hit landed on the other cheek. The crack of the hit merged with her cry. Her voice was weaker, the pain dulling her ability to process anything.

  The hot lap of his tongue over her pussy was a complete surprise. Unexpected and so damn wonderful she moaned and pushed back for more. The pleasure was as intense as the pain, overwhelming and fierce in a way that she’d never experienced. He spread her lower lips and traced her opening before moving to her clit.

  Yes. God, yes. That was where she wanted him. She panted, the edge of her orgasm building hard and fast through her entire body. Every nerve ending that had simmered in pain switched to pleasure. Her skin tingled, the heat all-consuming.

  He pulled back. “Don’t come.”

  No way. She must have made a sound because he nipped her butt, the little shot of fire bring her back. Her auto response tumbled out. “Please, sir.” She wanted to come so badly. Needed to like she never had before.

  “I own that.” His kisses started at her butt and became a long, slow row of marks up her backbone to her nape. Each kiss was as tender and light as the other tools had been hard and sharp. “You’re mine. Here. Now.” He licked the shell of her ear. The shudder that raked her body passed clear to her fingers and toes. “Give yourself to me, Quinn. Trust me. I won’t harm you. Ever.”

  Somehow, she caught that word. Harm, not hurt. It was different. She wanted to believe him. In him. He’d promised her and she was tired. Her body hurt. Tears fell unchecked from her eyes. “I did,” she mumbled. She’d let herself be tied down and hit. What else did he want?

  “Not this.” His hand circled her bound wrist and squeezed. “Here.” He kissed her temple, his lips lingering to press the heat through her skull. “Let go. I’ll catch you.”

  He would. Somehow she believed that.

  He rolled her nipples between his fingers, the move unexpected yet again. She arched off the bench, running from the burst of zinging pleasure that speared straight to her clenching pussy. That fast, she was back on the edge, needing to come. She’d completely forgotten about her nipples, but now they were all she could think about. He tugged, twisted, played with them both until she whimpered again.

  “How do you feel?” His breath was warm on her ear.

  She said the first thing that came to her mind. “Torn.” He was still right there. Hovering over her, yet only touching her breasts. Every sense begged for his contact.

  “Look at me, Quinn.”

  Could she? Her eyelids lifted, the light causing her to blink. His eyes were dark and intense, almost black to match his hair. There was moisture on his brow and his skin was flushed. So handsome. Strong.

  He really would catch her. He wouldn’t drop her either.

  He ran a hand through her hair to cup the back of her head. His gaze held on he
rs as he leaned in and slowly pressed his lips to hers. It was the most sensual kiss she’d ever received and she simmered with the heat of it. Nothing more than a gentle press—a promise that was spoken in his eyes.

  Her breath caught and her stomach tightened, flipped then dropped. It was so much more than she’d been prepared for.

  “Yes,” she breathed against his mouth. “I’m yours.”

  The fear lifted, her doubt fled and at that moment she tumbled headlong into his offer.

  * * *

  He claimed her then, all of her. Marcus seared his mouth to hers, the gentle switching to desperate in a heartbeat. He took everything she was giving and it wasn’t enough. He thrust his tongue into the heat of her mouth, searching, wanting more.

  She tasted amazing, her submission so intoxicating it was impossible to distance himself. This was Quinn. Not kitten, not a role, but her. Did she know?

  He swallowed every small sound that hummed in her throat. She played with his tongue, taking her own pleasure as he sought out his. Her lips were the softest he’d ever felt, just like her hair. Yet she was still lined with strength. She met his assault and fought with him for more.

  Fuck. Fuck. He fisted her hair in his hand and yanked her head back because he couldn’t pull away on his own. She gasped and her eyes went wide but she didn’t complain. The rush of adrenaline was heady and sure.

  He released his hold on her hair to run a finger down the line of her jaw. “All mine.” His voice was hoarser than he’d expected, dry. He reached down and swatted her ass, the smack merging with her weak cry to heat his blood even more. Her skin was hot to his touch, bright pink and beautiful.

  She’d been brave, taking each strike with minimal complaint. He moved behind her, grabbed the feather tickler and ran it down her back. The goose bumps that followed were rewarding in their own way.

  The need to make her fly was his only focus. He wanted her to truly experience the joy of submitting to him and find the freedom that came with giving over everything.