by Chloe Cox
It made her shiver with fear and delight and tension.
Even his voice had been different. Last night had been…primal. This morning he’d used the Dom voice she’d come to know and love, the voice that resonated so deeply inside her.
She was ready. Wasn’t she?
“Cate!” he said from the other side of the door. “Are you hiding?”
“No,” she said, opening it.
Soren had put on his jeans but nothing else, and Cate allowed herself a long, delicious moment to ogle him. He was even more built than he looked under those t-shirts he wore, his muscles moving gently under that golden skin, dusted with a light layer of blond hair. And she hadn’t had time to notice his tattoos earlier, not in detail—there was a giant ship on his left pec, adrift in a stormy sea, the inky waves drifting down his ribcage and abs. It was beautiful, if not as beautiful as the man himself.
“Why did you put clothes on?” he asked, frowning.
“Just a reflex,” she said, looking down. It was her usual weekend get up, a t-shirt and shorts. “You don’t like it?”
“I like you naked,” he said.
“I like your ink,” she said.
Soren grinned, his blue eyes piercing hers. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for the type before I got to know you,” he said.
“Would you have pegged me for a submissive?”
“From the moment I touched you,” he said.
Cate clenched, but something inside her felt light and beautiful.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered.
“Good,” he said, rubbing his stubbly chin. “That was good, Cate. Now get back over to the bed. In the center, on your knees and naked.”
In the center of the bed, on brand new ivory sheets that he must have changed when she was in the bathroom, lay a single item.
A black blindfold.
Cate shed her clothes as quickly as she could, hopping toward the bed with her shorts around one ankle and her shirt over her head—really, what had she been thinking?—earning that low, deep laugh that she loved to hear, even if it was because she was secretly kind of a goofball. Nobody ever got to see the goofball side of her, and now she was letting it slip. That seemed…important, somehow.
But now was not the time to think about that.
She was staring at the blindfold, suddenly very conscious of how naked she was.
“Now,” he said.
She climbed up on the bed, eying the blindfold. Was she supposed to tie it on herself? That would be awkward. It would slip. What if it slipped? What if—
“Cate.”
She swallowed. She was nervous. She was more nervous than she’d thought. She crawled to the center of the bed on her knees, her heart beating a wild rhythm in her chest, and waited.
“Face the headboard.” She felt his weight on the bed and her breathing quickened. What was he planning?
“Pick up the blindfold,” he said, coming around her side, “and hand it to me.”
Ok. She could manage this. Cate Kennedy could manage handing her Dom—her Dom—an instrument of domination.
She handled it as though it were fragile and precious. She could hear Soren’s smile in what he said next.
“Thank me for it,” he said as he lowered it over her eyes.
“Thank you, Soren,” she said. And she meant it.
She couldn’t see a thing.
It was a heavy black blindfold, meant to completely block out all light, and it worked. She knew if she wore it long enough she might begin to see stars or colored shapes the way she had when she’d closed her eyes as a child as her brain supplied stimulation where none was forthcoming. Her brain in particular was used to having something to do. For the first time she wondered how it might respond—how she might respond—to the absence of everything.
“Can you see?” he asked.
“Not a thing,” she said.
“Good.”
Cate gasped slightly as Soren pulled her hair away from her neck, the sudden touch jolting her, and giving her a preview of what it might be like when she couldn’t see what was coming. Jesus. It was powerful.
Soren kissed her neck, his fingers dancing along her shoulders, down her arms, all the way to her wrists. Every touch brought an answering throb between her legs.
“Put your wrists behind your back,” he said.
For the first time, Cate hesitated. Soren’s touch was gentle, reassuring, but still, she already felt disoriented and out of control because of the blindfold. And she’d only been bound the once, at the club.
“What’s your safeword?” Soren asked.
“Red,” she said.
“Your slow word?”
“Yellow.”
“And what are you?”
Cate licked her lips. “I’m your submissive,” she said.
She thought she detected a pause. Had she answered incorrectly? She’d told the truth. She’d…
“That’s what we’re going to find out, sweetheart,” he said. “This weekend is about submission. You need to understand what it really means to be completely under my control. I want to take you to subspace. I want to give you…”
Subspace? She’d read about it, but…
He stopped. His hands dropped her wrists and started their movements again, light, feathery, brushing her skin in a delicate tease.
“I love the way you feel,” he said, almost to himself.
And then he spanked her, hard.
Cate let out a yelp that turned into a moan, the conflicting sensations overwhelming her with an intensity that she hadn’t known was possible. And that was just one touch, one slap. She panted, trying to keep her bearings.
“I love the way you touch me,” she said.
“I want to give you that,” he said again. “And then I want to take you again, for as long as I want, however I want, whenever I want, just because I want to. Because I can. Because that is my right.”
He reached around and viciously grabbed her breast, dragging another moan from her throat.
Cate tried to catch her breath and bit her lip. She could tell her nipples were already hard as diamonds, and if he tested her again, he’d find her wet.
“But that means you have to let go. You have to really submit. Accept that you’re mine for as long as we’re here.”
“I can do that, sir,” she said.
“We’ll see,” he said.
He brought her hands behind her back. The cuffs he put on her were made of soft leather, and they were just tight enough to remind her of her position without causing any undue pain. Just the feel of them, and the knowledge that she was now defenseless, turned the tension in her core a little higher.
She heard something, then. Rustling. Like he was rearranging pillows. And then something cool and firm against the front of her thighs.
Oh God, not knowing what was happening was driving her wild.
“Spread your legs,” he said. “More. I want full access to that beautiful pussy.”
Soren’s large hand encircled the back of her neck and squeezed, just a little bit. Just enough for Cate to feel the total power he had over her. It made her feel lightheaded, even when she couldn’t see.
“Down,” he said, and he didn’t wait—he pushed her forward, bending her over the thing he’d put in front of her.
It was some kind of firm pillow, something made to support her so she could be bent over in the most accessible way possible with her hands still bound behind her back. Her ass was in the air, her legs spread, her pussy exposed to the cool air. She put her head to the side, resting her cheek on another pillow, and thought about what she must look like. She couldn’t help it, she was a visual person—or she’d thought she was—and she knew she must look obscene.
It was thrilling.
Oh God, what would he do to her?
“Cate,” he said, and she jumped, because somehow he was right by her ear. “Pay attention. From now on, you don’t talk unless it’s to use your safewords. You think too
damn much, sweetheart, and I’m going to fix that right now.”
Cate’s mind went into overdrive, already wanting to speak, to ask questions, even just to have their usual banter, anything at all. She licked her lips and wondered how she was going to get through this. Not being able to speak made it the one thing she wanted to do, and taking away another outlet for her overactive brain left her other senses even more heightened. She was listening now, for anything and everything, for any clue as to what he was doing.
Well, she was listening until he gently lifted her head and put headphones on her.
“These are noise-canceling, top of the line,” he said, lifting one side up. “Are you all right?”
He waited a minute. Then it sounded like he smiled. “You can speak to answer a direct question.”
“Yes,” she breathed. “I think…yes. I’m…I don’t know if I’m scared. I’m something.”
“Yes, you are,” he said, and she felt his large hand on her ass, caressing her. “You are mine, Cate. You see, hear, and feel what I want you to. Mine. And I want to send you to subspace, so you’ll know for sure.”
Know what? She wanted to scream it out as he secured the headphones and she lost her remaining sense. All she had left now was touch, and as her brain refocused she became hyperaware of all the different things touching her body.
And of all the things that might touch her body.
What had he meant? That maybe she didn’t know what she wanted? Maybe that was fair, maybe that was reasonable. She’d never submitted like this before, she’d never…
He touched her and it all stopped.
Cate’s body jerked awake at the stimulus, just a touch on her cheek, her cheek, and it had felt like he’d touched her clit with an industrial-strength vibrator. Her chest heaved under her and her arms strained at her bonds and everything felt alive and wonderfully awake.
She wanted to tell him that.
But he didn’t want her to speak. He wanted her to experience.
Cate licked her lips and took another deep breath.
She was rewarded with another touch, something she felt more prepared for, something that felt rich and deep and intense on her inner thigh. She had no idea what it had been—not his hand, not his finger. So light, so delicate, and yet it had a lit a fire in its wake. It had been sweet as sugar.
Next was the spice.
Something struck the backs of her thighs and she keened, her back arching, her chest heaving. The sharp sensation—a flogger? A crop?—had emptied her head of all remaining thoughts and filled it instead with brilliant, blinding light, receding like a tide to leave only the throbbing pressure between her legs.
She cried out every time he touched her after that. Every soft caress, every sharp blow, every unexpected dip between her legs. Every sensation drove her higher and higher, spiraling up beyond anything she’d thought possible, until she felt like one giant, raw nerve, like she vibrated with the feeling of simply being in the world and knowing she was his.
And then she felt the lube.
Cold, so very cold, and thick, and dropping onto her ass from above. This was the one thing she knew now: He was going to put something in her ass.
She was panting. Her hands opening and closing in ineffectual little fists, her abs contracted, her pussy aching for attention. She felt his finger first, warm and calloused from playing the guitar, familiar by now, circling, applying pressure. It felt so good when he did that. It felt so good that she found herself trying to move with him, her hips betraying her, her body focusing on these new nerves that she’d neglected her whole life.
The first finger he pushed inside her felt impossible, felt wrong, and then it felt amazing.
The second, even better.
Cate had no idea of the noises she was making, hearing only the dull bass of the sounds she made echo in her own head. She had no control over them, either. She had no control over anything.
And when she felt the toy—she assumed a toy; it wasn’t him, it wasn’t a finger—press up against her anus, she tried to stay quiet. Then she felt a slap on her ass and he pushed it in, and she failed.
She felt so full.
It felt fuller than anything she’d experienced so far, so full that it pushed out the thoughts that were threatening to intrude. And when he started to spank her, each and every movement increased the pressure until she thought she would burst.
This was about the time she began to lose her grip on reality.
Not entirely, not wholly, yet. But she truly stopped thinking. She no longer registered experiences or sensation in language, no longer talked to herself, even in her own head. She was riding something, just a chain of sensation, and she had no idea where it was going. She didn’t care, either; that was the weird thing. She wasn’t trying to figure it out.
She just was.
And then he thrust inside her.
She screamed.
His hands on her hips, pulling her back while he thrust forward, driving into her with mercilessly, irresistible strength. His cock inside her, pressing up against the toy, making it too much, nearly too much, until she reached the crest and fell over the edge, screaming her pleasure the whole way down.
At some point he turned the toy on.
It vibrated. Just when Cate had begun to pick up the scattered pieces of her mind, reassembling them into something that might have worked, he turned it on. The vibrations echoed through out her core, rippling out from her center to the very edges of where she thought her body might end, and when Soren began to move inside her again, hitting her as he did so, spanking her, each delicious thrust punctuated by the sting of his hand and the vibrations of the toy, and she was gone.
After that, there was nothing. Just the feeling, much later on, of coming back down from a great height, of feeling the memory of bliss wrap around her like a warm blanket, of utter peace. By that time her hands were no longer bound, and Soren was lifting her up gently, removing the thing beneath her, holding her in his arms.
He picked her up and deposited her between his legs while he leaned against the headboard, his huge body wrapped around her while she dazed in that half-awake, deliriously happy state, and she was so exhausted that it took her way too long to realize: yes.
Yes.
That had been subspace.
And this is what I am.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice hoarse.
Soren kissed her on the forehead. “Anytime.”
Eleven
Holy mother of God, Soren did not expect that. Not only did Cate spend some time in subspace, but she sent him right to topspace, as well. Soaring high, powerful, invulnerable, focused only on her, only on this unimaginable trust that she’d put in him. Only on the things he could make her feel, on the knowledge that he could bring her higher, happier, than she’d ever been before.
Wanting to do it over and over again.
Delirious with it. Fucking delirious. He’d had to pull himself back from it, just barely caught it in time, knowing he needed to look after Cate first. Never in a million goddamn years did he expect to be pulled in with her like that.
He’d held her for so long after he’d managed to feed her that it was early evening now, and he’d done it as much for himself as for her. What happened between them was chemical as much as physical, as much as spiritual, if you wanted to go that way with it, and they both needed care afterwards. He needed to hold her; she needed to be held.
She needed to submit, he needed to dominate. Perfect.
What was getting to him now, as he watched her outside, playing with his crazy dog Desi—matter of fact, how had she gotten Desi to trust her so quickly?—was just how perfect it had been. He knew their physical and mental chemistry was intense, but that didn’t always translate into scene chemistry. This time, it had.
Jesus, it was like he’d been in her mind with her. He’d never…he hadn’t known that was possible. Just being separated from her now felt painful, felt like the beginning
of a fall, which was fucking nuts. Soren would have to watch them both for the drop from both subspace and wherever the fuck he’d been, respectively, and he’d have to watch carefully. This was more than he’d planned for.
Was it too much?
Could he trust that Cate would stay unattached? That she wouldn’t want more from him than he could give?
He watched Cate carefully as she courted Desi outside. Desi was skittish around people, having spent much of his life with a bunch of meth-heads who had treated him like a punching bag. The shelter people told him Desi had been rescued by a cop on a drug raid, and even after the poor little dude had been cleaned up Soren could see the evidence of it. They were going to put him down, said he was hopeless, which only made Soren grit his teeth and demand they give him his dog right fucking now.
It had taken him years to get Desi to trust him, and even now the little dude was wary and startled easily. Soren had never seen him take to anyone the way he’d taken to Cate. Or maybe it was the other way around—Cate was just as skittish, just as wary, but she made the approach carefully. It shouldn’t have worked. It should have sent the dog right under the hedge, barking furiously. And yet she was throwing tennis balls for him.
Well, fuck it. Guess some things just defied logic.
He still had too many things he wanted to bring out of Cate Kennedy. This morning had been the beginning—she’d seen what she was capable of, she’d seen what it could feel like if she let herself be who she truly was. That was a good freaking start. Now Soren just had to show her that the world wouldn’t end if she let people see who she really was under all that armor. Fuck that; he wanted to show her that who she really was was wonderful, through and through.
And he wouldn’t push her, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to know who had taught her to feel this bad about herself. He wanted to know very, very badly. But for now? He’d be content with knowing he had the privilege of being the guy who got to show her different, and he’d be grateful that he’d get to help her. Soren hated the idea of Cate having to fight these battles on her own.
Doing it on your own sucked. He knew from experience.
