Without Restraint

by Angela Knight

  Frank being Frank, she didn’t manage to take him off guard. He knocked aside her strike, pivoted away from her attempt to trip him, and launched his own attack—a cat-quick grab she barely managed to block.

  They circled and dodged, punching, blocking, kicking. She was faster than he was, but he had the advantage of long arms, not to mention the power of that big body. Alex felt a grin of reckless pleasure stretch across her face.

  Until she stepped closer when she should have danced back. A big hand fisted in the fabric of her shirt as he hooked her ankle with his. Then she was falling—sort of. Frank wrapped his arms around her as she went down, his free hand cradling the back of her head. They hit with a meaty thump as he landed on top of her, pinning her thoroughly under his muscled weight. He felt deliciously heavy, thoroughly solid. Very male.

  “I do enjoy dancing with you,” he purred. “Almost as much as I enjoy fucking your brains out.”

  Alex bared her teeth at him as he grabbed one wrist and pinned it to the floor beside her head. “Same to you, Frank.” She strained to break his grip, more for the pleasure of failing than anything else.

  He lifted a dark brow, his grin dangerous. “Is that how you’re supposed to talk to your master?”

  “Top,” she corrected, then pretended to consider the question. Knowing all the while, of course, that she was asking to be punished. “Maybe Dom. But Master?” She grinned, snotty as a thirteen-year-old in a snit. “I don’t think so.”

  “And yet, I seem to remember you calling me ‘Master’ any number of times,” Frank observed, his tone silken. “Mostly when you were trying to talk me into letting you come.”

  “Did I?” Alex blinked, pretending doubt. “Are you sure?”

  “You know I don’t approve of bratting.”

  “I’m bratting?”

  “Definitely. And as I said, I don’t like it.” He tightened his grip on the material of her tee. A quick, hard jerk shredded it like Christmas wrapping paper in a ten-year-old’s grip. “In fact, you could say I strongly disapprove.”

  Excitement tightened low in her belly, but she faked an outraged yelp. “Hey, I liked that shirt!”

  Frank grinned, feral and very male. “I like it better off.” Reaching a free hand beneath her body, he unfastened her bra with a skilled twist of his fingers, then peeled it off her. “And at the moment, it’s what I want that counts.” One black brow rose. “Unless you’d like to use your safeword, of course.”

  Alex pretended to sneer. Her heart was hammering in delighted lust. “I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction.”

  “Oh, believe me, you’re going to give me all kinds of satisfaction, baby.” Releasing her hand for the moment, he went to work on her jeans, unbuttoning, unzipping, dragging them down her thighs and off. She briefly considered fighting, but decided she wanted to be naked for him as much as he wanted to strip her.

  Sitting back on his heels, Frank contemplated her nudity. The fierce glitter in his eyes made her cunt grow slick. Apparently he agreed with her about nudity as her preferred state. His cock hardened as she watched, stretching thick and ready along the line of his jeans zipper.

  Until he dropped on top of her, a warm and welcome weight. He contemplated her bare breasts with wolfish interest, then lowered his head and flicked his tongue over the tight peak of one nipple. Alex caught her breath at the sweet, hot sensation of his mouth on her breast, so incredibly lush. Tilting his head, he admired the curves topped by their eager pink peaks. His free hand stroked over her skin, making her want to moan as she imagined other places he might touch her. His eyes flicked up to meet hers. “Ready to call me ‘Master’ yet?”

  She tried to twist her captured wrist from his hold. “Hardly.”

  Frank smirked. “Give me time. I’m only getting started.” Then he dropped his head again and went to work on her right nipple, suckling and licking by turns. At the same time, he teased her left with thumb and forefinger in delicious little tugs and squeezes.

  She twisted under him, writhing, Her free hand slid up, tried to tangle in his hair, though it was too short for her to get a good grip.

  His head snapped up, pulling free of her attempted hold as he glared fiercely into her eyes. “Did I give you permission to touch me?”

  The arousal tightening her belly gripped tighter, making her gasp.

  His free hand snapped up, fisted in the long hair that spilled around her head. “I asked you a question!”

  “No!” His eyes narrowed, and she corrected herself. “No, sir.”

  The fist tightened, though the pull wasn’t quite savage. “That should be, ‘No, Master.’”

  Alex panted, keenly aware of his hot strength mantling her body. Her instinct was to give him the honorific he wanted, but she didn’t want to spoil his fun with a too-quick surrender. “No, Top.”

  “Oh, you’re pushing it.” If she hadn’t known he’d cut his own arm off rather than hurt her, the deadly snarl in his voice would have scared the hell out of her.

  Frank released her hair and reached into a pocket of his jeans. Before she could cringe, he caught her left nipple, rosy and erect, in the jaws of a clamp.

  The sting was fierce enough to make her gasp. “Dammit, Frank, that hurts!”

  He grinned. “Good.” Ducking his head, he sucked the right nipple until it ached almost as much as the left, then clamped it, too.

  Gunmetal eyes flicked to her face with a Dom’s focused intensity. “What’s your safeword?”

  “Red. Yellow for slow down, green for okay.”

  “Good.” He rose, sitting back on his haunches. Despite the bite of the clamps, she found herself admiring the flex and work of smooth muscle beneath sleek chest hair. One hand still gripping her captured wrist, he rose, pulling her to her feet. For a moment he paused, looking down at her, reading her expression as he dropped the role of Big Bad Dom. “Are you okay?”

  She gave him a reassuring grin. “I’m considerably better than okay.”

  “That’s for damned sure.” Leaning in, careful not to dislodge the clamps, he kissed her. It was a surprisingly sweet kiss, considering the bright sting in her nipples. He tasted her lips, suckling the lower lip, then tracing his tongue over the contours of the upper before stealing inside to explore. Slow, thorough, it was the kind of kiss that made a girl’s knees go weak—even one with Alex’s taste for kink.

  She’d always thought of kink as just fun and games. But that kiss suggested emotions that went deeper than fun and games. Heart deep.

  Soul deep.

  Finally he pulled away and reassumed his big, bad Dom face. “Come along, slave. I’m going to give you exactly what you’ve been begging for.”

  Oh, God, I hope so. She let him drag her toward the stairs she knew led to the house’s bonus room.

  Aka, the dungeon.

  It still looked a bit bare, though there was a table against one wall, his toy bag open on top of it. In the center of the room stood a complicated wooden bench positioned where the light was brightest. Thick red padding covered the seat and armrests.

  “Why, Mistah Top,” she purred in an exaggerated Scarlett O’Hara drawl, “I think you have evil intentions.”

  “Actually, that kind of depends on what you want,” he told her, dropping out of Big Bad Dom character, at least for the moment. “You said when we started these games that you wanted me to use my bullwhip on you. I was thinking tonight might be a good time to try it.”

  She looked up at him, startled. “I thought you said we didn’t know one another well enough.”

  “There are people who’ve been together thirty years without going through as much shit as we have in the past week. I trust you as a partner.” Frank hesitated, then added, “But considering that you’d be on the other end of the whip, you might not feel the same. If you’d rather wait . . .”

  She licked her lips, feeling her heart begin to pound. “No, I’d like to try it.”

  “I don’t intend to play hard enough to mak
e you fly, though if all goes well, I’d be open to trying it next time. Don’t get me wrong—it’ll definitely sting, but not all that much more than the session I gave you a couple of days ago.”

  “That . . . sounds about right.” Excitement flashed through her, a hot and eager craving. She wanted it. The lush climb to arousal as she tested herself against Frank’s whip, the delicious roller-coaster fear that always intensified her desire during a scene instead of blunting it. There was something about balancing on the razor edge of risk that made her feel deliciously alive. Yet somehow he made her feel safe, despite the danger posed by the whip popper breaking the sound barrier. He’d make damn sure she was never in any danger.

  At least physically. When it came to her heart . . . It’s too soon for that, she told herself. Shake it off.

  She’d fallen for Gary fast, too. Or at least, she thought she had. Compared to what she felt for Frank, that relationship hadn’t even been a crush.

  “I’m glad you approve.” He reached out, caught one of the clamps, and opened its jaws. Alex caught her breath as blood flooded the tormented point with a fierce, bright sting. “Or do you?”

  Her eyes drifted closed as she let the sharp sensation spread through her, triggering the sensual rise of need. When she opened them again, she found Frank watching her, his expression hooded, a glitter heating the cool gray of his eyes. One corner of his handsome mouth kicked up. “Yeah, you want it.”

  “Yeah.” Her voice sounded so hoarse, she paused to clear it. “I want it. Want you.”

  “‘Master,’” Frank corrected. “‘I want you, Master.’ You will call me by my title, sub.”

  Alex bared her teeth. “Make me.”

  “Oh, I will.” He sobered. “But if you need to use your safeword, you will damned well use it. When it comes to scenes involving bullwhips, you don’t fuck around. I’ve never injured a sub, and I’m not going to start with you. Got me?”

  “Believe me, I’m no more interested in getting seriously hurt than you are in doing the damage. If I need to safeword, I will.”

  “Good.” He walked over to the table and picked up a coil of braided black. She watched it spill to the floor as he shook it free. Spinning, he sent the whip snapping well clear of her. The crack sounded as loud as a pistol shot in the enclosed space.

  Alex managed not to jump—just. And wondered if her mouth had gotten her in trouble.

  * * *

  His cock hard and throbbing, Frank guided Alex over to the bench and helped her arrange herself along it.

  Cap’s creation was constructed from solid oak, so it wouldn’t collapse or pull apart no matter how the sub struggled. It was designed to support her comfortably on all fours, with padded rests for the arms and shins. There was more padding along the bench’s top for the sub’s belly and hips, and a padded face rest with a hole in the center, something like a massage table headrest. Straps and neoprene cuffs were designed to secure her in place so firmly she’d be unable to move. A wide belt served double duty in keeping her motionless while simultaneously protecting her vulnerable kidneys and spine from any errant whip blows.

  Frank normally wouldn’t strap Alex down so completely. However, he knew a sub’s first time under a bullwhip could provoke involuntary jerks that might land a lash in unintended places. That was how people got hurt.

  Which was why he fastened every strap the bench had, including the one designed to hold her head in the ring-shaped rest. With her head held down, he didn’t have to worry about hitting those delicate facial bones—or worse, her eyes.

  At last he stood back to admire the contrast between the black straps and her redhead’s Celtic-pale skin. “You good? Any claustrophobia?”

  “Green,” Alex said.

  Frank nodded. “If you need to safeword, I expect you to sing out good and loud. The whip makes a lot of noise.”

  “Understood, Top.” He thought he heard her swallow.

  “Top my ass.” Frank smiled a bit wolfishly and walked over to the table, coiling his whip as he went.

  He had no intention of starting with the bullwhip, of course. Alex needed time to warm up, to relax into the sensuality and pleasure of this demanding form of submission. With that in mind, the first whip he chose was the light doeskin flogger he’d used on her before.

  Flogger in hand, Frank paced over to her, pausing a moment to admire the lush curves of her ass, the cheeks spread by her position. At the base of that shadowed cleft, her pussy parted as if begging for his touch, for the cock that jerked in lust at the sight of her.

  Running his index finger in a slow, teasing stroke between those plump lips, he was delighted to find her as deliciously wet as he was hard.

  “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” His index finger found the opening of her sex, slid deep. Pumped in and out. Her hips jerked—or at least tried to. She was too tightly bound to do much.

  Helpless. She was completely helpless. At that thought, his cock pressed hard into his zipper, demanding to be freed. He ignored it. This encounter wasn’t about his dick or his need to spill the contents of his balls into her tight little pussy.

  Or at least, it wasn’t just about that.

  It was about Alex, her fantasies, her need to submit even as she tested him—and herself.

  It was about pushing her to the limits, to that edge where desire and dread met, where fear stoked need into raw lust and the human mind yielded to the animal body. But she needed a little bit more preparation first.

  Frank dropped to his knees, dropped the flogger on the floor, and parted her vaginal lips with his fingers. Leaning in, he paused, breathing in the luscious musk of a woman losing herself to heat. Then he licked a slow stroke from clit to perineum. Not thrusting his tongue inside, but drawing a wet promise the length of her sex.

  A promise of pleasure he fully intended to keep.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  When it came to sending a woman into subspace, Frank didn’t need a bullwhip. He could do it with his mouth. And he definitely knew what he was doing. His tongue danced teasing circles around her clit, then lapped upward in a figure eight around her inner lips, making her jolt in delight.

  He teased her slowly, working every nerve she had until an orgasm hovered just out of reach. Her hips pumped helplessly at the air, aching for the friction she needed to climax.

  Now his fingers got into the act, index and middle finger slipping into her slick pussy, pumping in and out, in and . . .

  Suddenly he was gone, leaving her sex frustratingly empty. Demanding that long, gorgeous cock of his.

  She heard the swish of the flogger the instant before her ass lit up with a scarlet flare of pain. Not that he’d hit her all that hard, but the contrast between the pleasure of a moment before and the pain of the blow intensified the sensation. Both sensations.

  “Call it,” he growled.

  “Green,” she gasped. “Green.”

  “Good,” Frank growled, and proceeded to lay three stinging blows right after that, hard and bright, leaning into them so that even the doeskin lashes carried a bite.

  “Call it!”

  “Green!” Never mind that her voice shook with the need to yowl.

  * * *

  Frank moved to the table, laid the flogger aside, and unzipped his pants. Biting back a groan at the pleasure of freeing his aching cock, he picked up one of the condoms he’d left there and sheathed himself.

  He moved back to the bench and Alex’s delightful ass, now as pink-striped as peppermint candy. She tensed, probably assuming he’d returned with the bullwhip. “Call it,” he ordered.

  “Green!”

  “I think it’s time to reward you for your bravery.” He thrust his sheathed cock deep, enjoying Alex’s gasp at the unexpected pleasure when she’d been anticipating the crack of the whip.

  She was so fucking slick. He drew out, his eyes narrowing at the rich sensation of snug, wet flesh sliding the length of his shaft. And God, the sight of Alex’s pretty
pussy wrapped around his slowly pumping cock. Reaching down, he strummed her clit, savoring her delighted moan.

  But if he kept that up, he’d never be able to finish the scene as he’d promised. And he owed her that. He withdrew, despite the vehement disappointment of his dick.

  “Are you ready?” Stripping off the condom, he zipped his fly. He had no desire to leave his dick sticking out to get hit by an errant swing of the whip.

  She didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I’m ready, Master.”

  Frank grinned, wondering if she’d intended to call him that, or if it had been instinctive. “Then brace yourself, slave.” He turned back to the table, tossed the condom in the trash, and picked up the bullwhip, shaking out the lash for the second time.

  He’d spent uncounted hours practicing the use of the bullwhip. This one had an eight-foot tail, and he’d worked with it until he could put the popper at its tip exactly where he intended.

  Now he gave the whip a hard throw—sending the lash licking out to crack beside Alex’s bare ass, in part to check the distance. The crack echoed in the dungeon’s space. She jerked, but only slightly, obviously controlling her reaction. He smiled in approval of her discipline.

  Then Frank proceeded to test it.

  The lash snapped out, cracking on the curve of the ass already red from his efforts with the flogger. She gasped, and her head jerked, but the strap around it held it still.

  Frank smiled, enjoying this strong woman’s willingness to offer her submission. It was the ultimate gesture of trust—and the ultimate rush.

  Or maybe she really was just testing herself, pursuing the high. He was never sure if Alex wanted him or just how he could make her feel. His smile faded. “Call it.”

  “Green.” Her voice sounded surprisingly steady.

  He nodded, pivoted so his body was at an angle to hers, and went to work, sending the lash to kiss high on the curve of her right cheek. Then her left. Again. And again. The muscles in her thighs, her glutes, flexed as her body instinctively fought the restraints. Despite his doubts about whether she was his submissive or just his fuck buddy, lust flooded him, fierce and sweet. He chose another target on that lovely backside and threw the whip into another perfectly executed snap.