Salvation

by Jane Henry

  “Sir?” She bites her lip and gives me a sidelong glance.

  “Yes?” God, I love when she calls me that.

  “What happens on that table?” she asks.

  “No exam tables in your books, Chandra?” I know I’m borderline mocking, but I want her afraid.

  She shakes her head, thick dark hair tumbling about her bare shoulders. But the movement makes the clamps swing and she winces a little.

  “Anything I want, babe. Up on the table, lie on your back and spread those knees.”

  This isn’t even my kink, but I’ve seen enough scenes to know how this can go down. I also know it’s something that’s just beyond her comfort zone enough it very well may pull that safeword I want out of her.

  She climbs gingerly on the table, trying not to make the chain swing, but when she’s on her hands and knees, I snap my fingers. She freezes.

  “Sir?”

  “Keep position, Chandra,” I instruct, giving her ass a good crack as a good reminder. I reach for an unopened bottle of lube, and coat the plug. I never thought this was something that would appeal to me and chose it specifically to push her beyond her comfort zone, but when she presents her ass to me, my dick swells. I lick my dry lips and swallow as I approach her.

  “Chest down, baby,” I instruct with a hand on the small of her back. She obeys, hissing when the clamps come in contact with the paper-covered surface of the table. When I circle her tight bud with the lubed tip of the plug, her chest flies off the table, but I remind her to obey with a stinging smack to her ass. She falls back to the table and whimpers.

  “Relax,” I instruct. “I chose the smallest one we have, and you can handle this.”

  I insert the very tip, gently at first, then with more power. I’ve done this enough times I know how to ease it in. She should be good and uncomfortable now. When the plug is fully inserted, I take a moment to admire the way the beautiful jeweled top looks against her dark, soft skin. I’ve stripped her, spanked her, clamped and plugged her. She’s either way out of her comfort zone, nervous with anticipation, or ready to fly. Maybe all of the above.

  “Now on your back,” I tell her. “Be careful.”

  Gingerly, her ass tight with the plug and her nipples taut with the clamps, she gets on her back obediently.

  I want her to safeword, but I can’t help wanting to reward her for this.

  “Such a good girl,” I tell her. Reaching down, I brush the now-damp hair off her forehead and kiss her temple. “I’m taking the clamps off during this scene. Stay still while I do.”

  Removing the clamps is when the real fun begins.

  She trembles, and it pulls at my heart a little, but she needs this from me. When I remove the first clamp, her mouth parts and her eyes go half-lidded with the rush of blood that returns to her abused nipple. I bring my mouth to the punished peak and gently take it between my lips, suckling and licking as the blood flows back.

  “Ahhh,” she says in a strangled cry. I take her mind off her nipples by gliding a hand between her thighs and stroking her soaked folds.

  Releasing one nipple, I remove the second clamp. This time she whimpers but holds position. I give that nipple the same treatment, until her breasts are pink and full, and her lower body trembles with want.

  “Taking good mental notes, I hope,” I quip.

  “So damn good,” she groans. Then her eyes flash. “I can take better notes if you make me come.” I slap her thigh, hard.

  “When I’m good and ready,” I tell her. “You need to remember your place, Chandra. I have some questions for you. Do you ever dabble online? Online kink forums or groups?” I know Marla does, and I wonder if Chandra does, too.

  She frowns at me. Good. Now we’re finally getting somewhere. “That isn’t your business,” she says.

  Instinctively, I pinch her inner thigh, and she lets out a little scream. “Axle!”

  I pinch her again. “That’s sir.”

  “Sir!”

  “Yes?”

  No damn safeword.

  She just glares at me.

  “Don’t give me that look. I asked you a question. Now unless you want a spanking across that pussy of yours, you’ll answer me.”

  Blinking furiously, her eyes dark and stormy, full lips pulled down in a glare, she grates out, “Why do I need to answer you?’

  I’m a man of my word. She’ll learn that.

  I lift my hand and bring it down on her shaved pussy firmly, not enough to injure, but hard enough she’ll remember this. She flinches, but she still doesn’t fucking safeword, just whimpers a little, and now a sheen of arousal gleams on her inner thighs. I’m pushing her hard, and she fucking loves it.

  “Do you or do you not give your real name online?” I ask.

  She clenches her jaw and her eyes shine bright with tears, while at the same time her legs tremble. “Yes,” she finally says.

  I spread her legs and take my place between them. “Don’t ever do that again,” I tell her. “You ever give your real name to an online dom and I’ll take my belt to your ass. There are too many people who’d revel in hurting someone like you.” Beautiful. Trusting. Naive. “Understood?”

  She’s panting and quaking, but she nods her head vigorously. “Yes,” she says. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good girl,” I tell her. Leaning in, I kiss the tender, damp skin between her thighs. “Now for your exam.”

  Chapter Nine

  Chandra

  I knew he had it in him. I knew there was a devious, twisted, salacious mind behind those kind eyes and witty tongue. He kept himself back from me, letting out his inner demons so rarely that I only caught glimpses. I knew he craved feeding me pain and controlling me, and that he held himself back.

  Now, here, while I’m strapped to this table and at his mercy, I can see how he’s embraced the sadist within, and hell I want this.

  I want to hurt, and I’m not sure why. I can’t fathom the idea of random pain, but carefully meted out at the hands of the man I trust is something altogether different.

  My body tingles and pulses beneath him, every nerve a live wire of anticipation, sizzling and snapping with energy. When he drags his silky mouth and rough whiskers along my inner thighs, I moan. He licks and suckles my skin, and my pussy tenses with need. My tortured nipples throb, full and peaked from the punishment and pleasure he’s inflicted.

  Reaching for my ass, he squeezes the punished skin, then he shifts his hand to where he’s plugged me. I feel so damn full. I need to climax.

  “Sir,” I whimper. “Axle.”

  “Your breasts are perfect,” he says, leaning in just to touch his tongue to one peaked bud one at a time. Then he pulls away and continues his inspection. “A beautiful pink pussy that needs to be punished,” he says thoughtfully, while he runs his hand between my legs.

  “Punished?” I ask, my pulse spikes a split second before he slaps my pussy lips, hard. I yelp, and he spanks me again, and again.

  “Yes, punished,” he says, then he reaches for my ass and pinches it before he taps his hand against the plug. I hiss, but he ignores me. “Lay here while I get my tools,” he says.

  I shudder, wondering what he’ll bring. What sort of tools do they use on an exam table?

  What am I doing here? But when he comes back he just has a thin leather flogger in his hand, and what looks like a plastic rod. I cringe looking at them but at the very same time, I feel arousal coat my thighs. This is completely out of my control, and I fucking love that.

  Trust him, I remind myself. Live in the moment.

  “Close your eyes, Chandra,” he instructs, his voice so deep but soft, it reassures me. I obey. “You don’t open them unless I instruct you.”

  I feel him circling me again, then I jump when the soft tickle of the flogger hits my thigh. “Lie still, and let me examine you,” he orders, his voice as sharp as the pain he inflicts. The flogger kisses my thigh, a flurry of tingling smacks that sting and burn but quickly fade to warmth. My in
stinct is to fold my arms across my chest and cover my private parts, but I can’t when I’m restrained like this. I shiver, my skin flaming hot and sensitized with the licks of the flogger’s tongue.

  Then he stops. I catch my breath. I need more. My thighs quiver and my pussy clenches. I need him to touch me.

  I gasp when something cool probes my thighs.

  “Open,” he instructs, underscoring his command with a smack that whooshes through the air and lands on my inner thighs. I yelp when he strikes me again and again. I imagine welts rising along the tender skin of my thighs and want to clench my legs together to protect myself. My heartbeat thunders in my chest, my breath caught in my throat.

  “Axle,” I whisper, pleading, but my words fall on deaf ears. I’m not sure I like this.

  But then the pain is gone, and his woodsy, masculine scent fills me. His heat tingles along my skin, his mouth at my ear. “Open.”

  Trembling, I part my legs. I’m so on edge I can’t control the shaking, but then his strong, rough hands are at my knees, holding me. “Good girl,” he tells me. “Let me kiss it better.”

  His mouth is at the bruised and swollen flesh at my thighs.

  “I wanted to push you to safeword,” he confesses, a note of regret in his voice. “But you won’t, will you?”

  “No,” I whisper. My throat tightens. I want to open my eyes, but I want to obey him even more. “Why would I ever need to safeword with you?”

  “I’m not safe, Chandra.” He brushes my thighs with his lips, soft and sweet, and my head falls back, my eyes squeezing closed tighter. I’m growing accustomed to the low throb between my thighs, and pulse of need. I’m riding it like a high. I can control this. I can take this. I’m strong, and I can do this.

  When he suckles the skin at my thighs, I arch my back. I let out an involuntary whimper, and my mind flashes to our first time together. I remember.

  We’re in his bed, sheets of pristine white tangled around our bodies, and he holds me as if he doesn’t want me to fly away, so close our sweat-slicked skin melds together as one. He’s trembling himself, exercising restraint like a bridled stallion. I can feel the way he wants to claim me with savage, hard thrusts. But it’s my first time, and he doesn’t want to hurt me.

  He took his time ravishing my body, kissing every inch of me until my whole body teemed with need, working his way down with flutters of adoration from my temple to my toes. There isn’t a place on my body that hasn’t been blessed with his mouth, not a place he hasn’t worshipped with his tongue or hands. And now I want him. Now I need him in me, the sudden desperate longing clawing at my chest. I’m a virgin and sex scares me, but now I need him like the sun-parched earth needs rain. I’ll wither and die until he makes me his. Though they would damn us to hell, every single one of them, my heart knows better. My heart knows the truth.

  This is right. This is perfect.

  “I’ll be as gentle as I can,” he whispers in my ear, the deep, tender voice making tears spring to my eyes.

  “Not too gentle,” I whisper, a joke and a plea that makes him chuckle.

  “I love you,” he whispers, as he glides into me. My chest expands with the words and motion, and I clasp my arms around his broad, muscled back.

  “I love you,” I whisper, a delicious friction fusing our bodies together.

  “Chandra,” he says. “Open your eyes.”

  I blink. I forgot for a moment where I was and what we were doing. He’s over me, caging me beneath him, his fierce eyes probing mine.

  “You’re crying.”

  I am?

  And then I’m no longer restrained and he’s pulling me to a sitting position. His gaze hardens. “You should have safeworded,” he chides. “You should’ve goddamned safeworded. I told you to safeword if you needed to.”

  “I didn’t want to,” I say. I need to pull away from him.

  “But you’re overwhelmed,” he says. He stands and drags tortured fingers through his hair, clenching his jaw and pacing in front of me. “You need to learn to safeword.” He pauses his pacing and points a finger at me. “I should punish you for that.”

  “Wait, what?” I say, swiping at my eyes. “How does that make sense?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “You need to learn how to do this right.”

  “Oh, shut up,” I tell him. I’m suddenly furious. “It wasn’t the pain that made me cry, and I’m sorry I did if you’re gonna be a douchebag about it.”

  His brows shoot up so high it’s almost amusing before they furrow in an angry glare.

  “Well this isn’t the little Chandra I knew.”

  “You needed to scene with me to see that?”

  “You stop now,” he says and damn him, he’s sexy when he’s all stern, with the darkened eyes and firm clench of his jaw. “You watch your tone, little girl.” Even when we were younger, he never allowed me to talk back.

  Hell, I loved it, though, and sometimes would get mouthy just to poke the bear. Just to feel his strength.

  But I’m angry now. I was on the cusp of coming, and everything I know about sex leads me to believe it would’ve been freaking epic, but instead, I shed one little tear and now he’s all mad and lecturing me and telling me I should have safeworded.

  “I wasn’t crying because I hurt, okay?”

  He gives me a quizzical look, his lips turned down. “Then why were you crying?”

  “I remembered our first time,” I say. My voice drops to a whisper. “The night I gave you my virginity.”

  He tears his eyes from me and sighs.

  “This was a mistake,” he says. “We shouldn’t have done this.”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  He whips his head to me and his eyes narrow. “And don’t you dare tell me not to dare.”

  I can’t help it. I burst out laughing. With a shake of his head, his own eyes crinkle around the edges and he stalks back to me. Reaching for a tendril of my hair, he wraps it around his finger and tugs.

  “I can tell it’s been way too long since you’ve been spanked.”

  “Um, you spanked me like five minutes ago?”

  He rolls his eyes. “I know. I mean, you’ve gone too long without someone taking you in hand. Not today. Just in general. You need a firm hand.”

  That sends a sweet little shiver through me. “Oh?”

  “You could use it.”

  I shrug. “Maybe I could.”

  We sit in silence and he takes my hand.

  “Are we done, then? Is this you safewording?”

  His eyes flash at me and he squeezes my hands. “A dom doesn’t safeword, honey.”

  “No. But a dom ends a scene and that’s the same thing, isn’t it?”

  “No.”

  He says nothing else.

  I blow out a breath in frustration.

  “You know, I’m sitting here so damn turned on a breath of fresh air would make me come, and you’re just gonna stand there?”

  “We’re taking a break,” he says.

  “Wait, what?”

  He gets to his feet. “You’re not behaving yourself, and naughty little girls don’t get to come.” Reaching down with a frown, he removes my plug. I flush and squirm, it feels so weird, and it definitely stokes my need. Then he’s cleaning me. “Up you go.”

  No one makes me angrier than Noah. But no one is more fierce, more powerful, more determined, and I love that.

  God, I wish I didn’t.

  Tugging me along with him, we walk toward doorway. “Come with me and behave, and I’ll consider letting you climax later.”

  I’m still frustrated and can’t help but mutter, “will just do the damn job myself if you won’t let me.”

  Turning to face me, he captures my jaw in one of his huge hands. His fingers are rough and calloused, and I feel his correction right between my thighs. My eyes are riveted to his.

  “You will not. You agreed to scene with me today, so that sweet little cunt of yours belongs to me unless you safeword. You s
afeword, and this ends. You touch yourself without permission, and I’ll whip your ass.”

  “Ooh,” I say, because I need to make a snarky comment as my heart slams in my chest and he’s turning me on again. “Naughty.”

  He rolls his eyes heavenward before he slaps my ass good and hard. I’m still bare and still sore, so I come up on my toes and squeal. Ignoring my protest, he takes me by the hand and leads me to the door.

  “You see that wall of tools?” he asks.

  “Mhm.” My body’s a live wire of need, and a mere glance makes me want to bend right back over the bench.

  “Keep them in mind, little girl.”

  I war with arousal and curiosity and anger as we exit the dungeon and walk toward his private room. It’s cooler out here, and I shiver, so he pulls me a little closer with an arm around me. He pulls out his cell phone, hits a button, and slides it up to his ear. After a moment of listening, he pockets the phone.

  “Blizzard warning still in effect,” he says.

  “Damn. I wanted to order pizza.”

  He huffs out a mirthless laugh. “After a good dinner one can forgive anybody,” he says. It’s a quote, but I can’t remember from where.

  “I’m rusty,” I tell him, shooting him a quizzical look, and the stern facade cracks for a second when his lips twitch.

  “Oscar Wilde.”

  He gestures for me to come into his room, and I do. I should feel weird, freshly spanked and aroused and naked, and I’m not quite sure why I don’t. I kinda love this.

  “Bed,” he says, snapping his fingers.

  I bite back a retort. I want to scene with him. But I asked for this, so I’ll give it to him.

  I lay down in the bed, and I have to admit, this feels good. I’m tired after all that, totally exhausted. Closing my legs is mildly arousing, but those scenes took the wind right out of me. The heaviness of sleep settles onto me like a weighted blanket, and my eyes go half-lidded.

  “Alright, I’m getting us food. You stay right there and rest,” he says. And before I can ask him what he’s going to get, he’s gone. I listen hard, curious if he’s going outside in this weather, but there’s no way he’s doing that.