by Unknown
It seemed a bit twisted to want what he wanted more than to serve her own needs. She arched her back, doing her best to improve his view.
That caused his eyes to flicker up to her face oddly. “Good girl,” he said.
Why do those words warm me so?
“This is strange.”
“What’s strange?”
“You, me. Eating a meal like normal people.”
“Normal is strange?”
“No. It’s the way that even when we’re being normal it’s sexy. I know you wouldn’t tell me to kneel here in a diner…” She looked at him, suddenly unsure. “Would you?”
He paused for a moment and she fidgeted. Oh my god, I shouldn’t have given him the idea. He studied her intently as if he were considering it. Then his face broke into a smile. “No. I was tempted to let you go on thinking I might though, because I think you like the erotic tension. But the honest answer is no. I can control myself, I can order you, but I can’t control how strangers in a diner react to something unexpected. To you looking hot and sexy—well, they’ll stare, and maybe if someone gets drunk I’ll have to set him straight, but I can keep you safe as we are. But no, you will not be ordered to kneel here.” He leaned forward. “That doesn’t mean we can’t do protocol here. Or that we can’t work out a right way to sit in a restaurant someday. But it’s our secret.”
“Yes. The tension. That’s it. I don’t know what you’re going to do next. And I hate it. But I also love it.” Why am I telling him this? He can use it against me. Do I want that? She continued on. “The way you suddenly declared we were going out to dinner, when I thought we were— That was totally unexpected, totally frustrating, totally mean—”
“Your tummy rumbled. In a most unladylike fashion.” His eyes twinkled.
“It wasn’t in a ladylike position! And it rumbled after you made the decision.” She sighed. “I’m not supposed to argue with you, am I?”
“There’s a time and a place for it. Are you having fun?”
She blinked. Arguing, fun? She’d always gone for nonconfrontational. But he was right. She felt almost high. It was like struggling in his arms and pounding him on the chest, knowing he was strong enough to overpower her anytime he wanted. “Okay then, let me finish. Where was I?”
“I believe I was being frustrating. And totally mean.”
“You were.” She sighed. “And it was totally hot, that you could just do that. And that you know, and I know, that you can make me want it that badly again. When you want. When it pleases you. I really, really shouldn’t be telling you this.”
He caressed her cheek and her skin came alive. How does he do that with just a touch? No one touched her face like he did, turning it into an erogenous zone. “It is safe with me, Vanessa. I will keep you safe. Promise.”
I could keep myself safe too. But I guess that isn’t what I want. “Thank you, Master.”
He grinned. “Relax and eat your burger.”
She took a bite. And another. Then she looked up at him, curious. “How do you know about this place, anyway?”
“It was recommended by a friend who is a restaurant critic. He told me about the food. He didn’t tell me about the atmosphere.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the atmosphere. Kinda homey.”
“It is. I’m not saying there’s something wrong with it, but I think I would not have had you wear a dress like that to a place like this. Then again, I didn’t know what kind of dress you were going to wear either.”
“I’m out of place. We’re out of place. You’re looking pretty sharp there, yourself.”
“I wanted to have buttons so you could undo them later.”
“Is that it?”
He grinned. “Is if I say so.”
“Do you have buttons on your jeans?”
“One button and a zipper.”
“I get to undo that too, right?” The idea of his cock made her mouth water. She took another bite of her burger in reflexive response. Good, but not the taste she wanted. What is he turning me into? All she knew was that she wanted to melt for him, to sink to her knees and do whatever he wanted. And that wasn’t an appropriate thing to be thinking in a diner.
“I think that would please me very, very much.” He gazed at her speculatively, as if trying to decide something.
“What are you thinking?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know—and she wasn’t sure if that was because it would spoil the surprise or just because she expected it was devious.
“I’m trying to decide whether to let you use your hands or not.”
“On the zipper, or—after?”
“Both.”
She shifted in her seat in response to the extra tingle between her legs, and then regretted it. He certainly noticed and he knew why. But maybe that was all right. Maybe it was okay to be an open book to him. To, as he had said, have the strength to go after what she needed. She ate another bite of hamburger to cover up her smirk.
Hart Wolfe, you are going to be all mine.
“We need to talk,” he said.
“Uh-oh.” Here it comes. About the house.
“If you want to do this, you’re going to have to answer my e-mails. Or tell me you aren’t going to and I won’t send any. If you’re an old-fashioned girl who wants everything face to face, then I can go with that.”
“I want you to send e-mails.” She knew she should have answered or something. But she hadn’t known what to say.
“Then you have to respond when I do.”
“What about if I have a question of you? Do you have to respond, or is that just a one-way, Master and slave sort of thing?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think you’re a slave, Vanessa. We can explore it. I think you are deeply submissive, but not a slave. An independent woman with her own hopes and dreams who would like to please her Master when she’s not making beautiful pottery.”
“You have no idea what my pottery is like, flatterer.”
“Actually, I came by the store one day but you were out. I decided not to ask after you or tell the woman there who I was, but I did most certainly see your pottery. I don’t lie, and I don’t make up things and I don’t flatter. I don’t tell you that you got a position right when you’re an inch off; why would I not tell you the truth about your art?”
“Well, you wouldn’t say it was junk, even if you thought so.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“What would you say?”
“Um…” He looked momentarily lost for words. Score one for me, thought Vanessa. “In this case I would say nothing at all.”
“And if I asked what you thought?”
“I’d admit freely that I know nothing about pottery.” He smiled. “Except that yours is lovely. Since it is.”
She shook her head. “Incorrigible.” She realized the discussion had gotten off-track. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“No, it is not a Master and submissive thing. It’s an ordinary politeness thing, between two people who care about each other. I will answer your e-mails as soon as I can.”
Ugh. He was right, and that made it worse. She’d been rude. “I’m sorry, Hart.” It seemed important to address the apology to the man, not the title.
“You’re forgiven. Now let’s finish our food. I’m hungry…and not in a way a burger can satisfy.”
His words made her squirm. Her breasts felt heavy and her knees weak. Sex with him could be an addiction. “Only if it pleases you, Master.”
He grinned.
She dove into her food. The thought of the caning demo came back in her head. She could confront him about it, but she hated to spoil the moment. A caning wasn’t sex, after all. Maybe she could stand to see him cane someone else, if there weren’t cuddling afterward. Maybe. She’d sent in an application to attend, on her own, the night before, but hadn’t heard back from the organizer.
Maybe I could do it. Only one way to find out.
“Master?”
“Hmm?”
“Would you show me what it’s like to be caned?”
His eyes narrowed, and for a long moment there was silence. He raised his eyebrows. “Why?”
“Well, I’m curious.”
“It doesn’t strike me as the sort of thing you’re into.”
“It’s something you like to do, isn’t it? I want to be the best submissive for you that I can be.” And I don’t want you caning anyone else. Would he cancel the demo if she asked? She wanted to know. And yet, if he would, she thought she could deal with him demonstrating. It was one of those “prove you love me” things that she hated the idea of doing. Not that he’d ever said he loved her.
“It’s something I know how to do well. So if it makes my lover happy, it’s something I like to do. But to you? I don’t really think a caning is for you.”
“Could we try?”
Hart shook his head, clearly bemused. “We could try,” he conceded.
Now that she’d committed herself, the idea of a thin stick marking her backside wasn’t as appealing. It would hurt. “You probably don’t have that stuff with you.”
“I have a lot of gear in the back of my car, actually. I wouldn’t have brought canes for you, but most of my toys are in traveling bags, and the canes are in the same bag as some very gentle deerskin floggers. So in fact I do have canes with me.”
Shit. “Um, great. Back at my place then?”
Again he eyed her curiously. “You don’t have to do this to please me, Vanessa. I don’t know what put this idea in your head, but we can do something else.”
“No. I want to. Will there be marks?”
“There might be. Do you want them?”
“Yes.” And she did. She just didn’t want the pain that went with them.
“Well, that’s straightforward enough.” He smiled, looking a little less suspicious.
She felt a little guilty for fooling him. In a way it was pleasing that he didn’t jump at the idea of caning her, and that he was so aware that it wasn’t likely to be her thing. He knew her and cared enough to know her. Walt had been able to take no for an answer, but she had always gotten the feeling that he expected her to match some ideal in his head and was eternally surprised when she didn’t want to do things that he’d seen other people enjoy in the club. But still, the demo nagged. Why wouldn’t he at least ask me?
“You’re not planning to play with anyone but me, are you?”
He blinked. “That’s a sudden change of subject. But no. I am not.”
She frowned. She wanted to believe him.
“You don’t trust me,” he said. “I know I’ve played with a lot of people in the past. Probably have a reputation for it. But I also don’t lie. Ask around, Vanessa, if you’re uncertain. Ask anyone you want.”
She stared at him for a moment. She knew what he said was true. Hart Wolfe had a reputation for being as hard-nosed about the truth as he was about his S&M. “I believe you. Now we better go home before I chicken out about the caning.” She started to get up. “May I rise?”
“You may.” He chuckled. “And chicken out? You don’t have to do this, love.”
Love. She wondered if he just tossed that off or if it meant something. “But I do,” she murmured. “But I want to,” she said louder.
He put out his arm and she hooked her hand in it. It was warm and comforting. She could try things with him that she could never do with Walt. I can do this.
The drive back home was peaceful. He asked her about her pottery business and what she enjoyed about it, which was an easy subject to warm to. Before she knew it they were pulling into her drive.
“Nice warm night,” he remarked as he helped her out of the car.
“Yes.”
“Have much problem with mosquitoes around here?”
“No.”
He pulled her close and slipped her handbag gently off her shoulder to the ground. She felt his hand at her back and felt him pull down the artfully concealed zipper of her dress. When he let her go, he pulled it off her, leaving her naked in the moonlight. “I like the seclusion of your place,” he said with a smirk. “Display.”
It was true that the neighbors couldn’t see. But there was something anxiety-inducing about being exposed in the open. “What if someone drives up?” Still, she followed directions, adopting the pose, careful where her heels went in the loose gravel.
“Why would anyone drive up?” he asked. “Stay there. I’ll get the canes.” Carrying her dress over one arm, he moved away from her to open the back of his SUV. She missed his touch immediately.
Why did he need more than one? Hopefully he didn’t intend to hit her hard enough to break one. She supposed there had to be different kinds of canes. She just hadn’t thought about it.
He was back at her side in a moment, a heavy sports bag with a strap over his shoulder. His free hand trailed over her breasts, where her nipples were already pebbling. It wasn’t cold, but she was very aware of every little breeze that caressed her bare skin. He’d left her dress in the back and closed it, so she didn’t expect to be getting it back anytime soon.
“Have you ever had sex outside, Vanessa?”
She shook her head. She knew that the trees kept the estate sheltered from view. She didn’t think it was because her parents were concerned about privacy as much as they were anxious to have a home that measured up to the homes of their rich friends in every respect. She occasionally had sat outside in her jammies, secure in the fact no one could see, but never naked. It was still outside. Still, the thought gave her a shiver of excitement.
“I love the idea of being your first. Are you cold?”
“No.” She liked the idea of him being her first too.
“Give me your hands.”
She lowered her hands and presented them. From the bag he pulled out two long lengths of black rope. He made a loop at each wrist, then pulled the rope through the loops and wrapped it around her wrists several times. Using the loops to cinch the cuffs tight, he made sure he could pass a couple of fingers between rope and wrist. He tugged in every direction until he looked satisfied that the rope would neither loosen nor tighten.
He then grabbed the rope and tugged. She picked her way over the gravel. Unlike most men, he seemed to understand the downside of heels and pulled her slowly. He let more slack in the rope and moved to the opposite side of the hood of his SUV. Then, when she turned to face him, he pulled it tight. She reached out across the hood toward him.
“Good girl, perfect. Hold that pose, will you?”
“Only if it pleases you, Master.”
He grinned. He tossed the rope under the car and she felt it against her ankles. He walked around the side and was soon tying the rope around her ankles as well. The tension of the rope, going over the car from her wrists and then back under to her ankles, kept her hard against the hood, which was warm without being uncomfortable.
He tapped the inside of her thighs. She knew what he wanted and spread them until he stopped pressing outward. “Good girl.”
She smiled. She liked being his good girl.
He rolled under the car with the rope left over from her ankles. She winced, but she supposed with jeans and a leather jacket he was well protected from the gravel. After tying the rope from one ankle to the axle, he emerged to tie the other to one of the door handles. She noticed he’d put on latex gloves at some point.
Not closing my legs either. The breeze felt cool against her bare, wet pussy. But now he’s going to cane me. All his talk about sex aside, she knew the pattern. Pain then sex, never the other way around. Toys were foreplay.
Instead she felt his bare hands on her folds, cupping her pussy. He plunged a finger inside, then two. “You seem surprised,” he said.
She wasn’t sure what gave it away. “You had gloves on,” she said, although that was the least of it.
“That was to stop me from getting grease on them, given where I was planning to put them.”
“I assum
ed the cane would come first.”
“You’ll deal with it better if you’re highly aroused.”
“I’m wet.”
“I know.”
She blushed.
“Highly,” he continued. “Meaning on the edge of coming. I can bring you there.”
“You could just let me come,” she suggested.
“I could. But that would make it hurt more.” He found her clit and pressed.
Damn him for having such a perfect touch. His skilled fingers built her arousal quickly. He bumped up against her ass, and she could feel his hardness through the jeans.
“Hard at the thought of caning me?”
“Hard at the sight of you naked bent over my car.”
“Oh.” She blushed again. What if someone did drive up? It was very unlikely, but they’d get an eyeful. That thought just aroused her more. They’d know who she belonged to. The tension in her core ached to be released and just a few more strokes of his fingers could do it. Did he have three fingers inside her now? She’d lost track.
He stopped just as she was about to come. “You’re prepared now.”
“I’m frustrated is what I am. Please.”
“No.” He reached down into his bag, and a moment later she felt something hard and thin tapping across her bottom. A cane. Good god, what have I gotten myself into?
“I never have,” she said.
“I figured.” Tap, tap, tap. It wasn’t bad, but he was just getting her used to it.
Slowly he built up intensity. She looked behind her to see the implement he was using—a thin, slightly curved piece of wood with one end that had been dipped into rubber to make a handle. Rattan, wasn’t that what they liked to make them out of? The taps were farther apart now and they stung a little, and she was disappointed to see that he could do that while barely moving his wrist. She didn’t want to know what it would feel like if he put his back into it. And yet, for a demo, surely he would want to show people the full range?
He put his hand on her back. It was a little soothing—enough that she had the presence of mind to turn her head away before she gritted her teeth. It wasn’t what he was doing, it was what was to come that made her stressed. What she would have to take for him. But she’d do it because it was for him and not for any other reason.
