He entered her swiftly, his path easy because she was so flipping wet. She held onto the counter, and his powerful thrusts still lifted her to her toes. He pushed on her lower back, making her arch it, and he increased his pace. It felt good, but she kept her task in mind. This was about him. His pleasure was all that mattered. Before too long, she heard his cry and felt hot jets of semen bathing her insides. He collapsed against her, holding her firmly to his front as his cock softened and slipped out.
The oven chimed.
“Dinner is done. Go clean up and grab a towel for your chair. And lose the shirt. I want my sub naked.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Chapter Twelve
Excitement surged through David as he double-checked the tools and toys he’d selected for their scene. It had been far too long since he’d wanted to scene with someone. He’d never understood men who could sleep with any woman that came along. Sure, he’d found many women attractive since he’d first noticed their existence, but the act of sex without the emotional component left him cold.
Similarly, he didn’t care to engage in a BDSM scene with a woman he barely knew. Casual sex wasn’t his thing. The fact that things were moving so quickly with Autumn gave him pause, but not much. The connection he felt with her far surpassed anything he’d imagined possible. His heart had somehow become entangled in this mess, and he was no closer to getting answers about anything from her.
Asking Are you planning a robbery? was definitely a mood-killer. She would have been dressed and out the door before he could explain anything, and even then, the explanation wouldn’t calm her temper. Perhaps having her father’s name would turn up something so that he could avoid asking her altogether.
He sighed. This predicament sucked, though it was stunningly easy to push aside all the unanswered questions when she knelt before him and looked at him with trust and affection in those sexy green eyes.
“Are you all right, Sir?”
He turned toward the sound of her voice to find her kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed. He’d been too lost in thought to hear her come in. She kept her posture perfect, but concern wrinkled her forehead. “Yes, Sugar. Thank you for your concern.”
“If you’re too tired, we can wait until the morning.”
“I’m not tired.” Especially not after seeing her naked body presented so prettily. She was a visual feast, and when he looked at her, he felt as if he’d never eaten in his life. “I’m going to tie you up and flog you first.”
Since this place belonged to his father, it didn’t have a St. Andrew’s cross or anything suitable for tying a woman for flogging purposes. Modification had been needed, and David had no problem nailing four two-by-fours to the inside wall. On the other side, only a luxurious closet would be bothered by the noise. The two-by-fours were secured to the studs and positioned horizontally. Two were higher, shoulder-level and a foot higher, and two were lower, at ankle and knee levels. Each two-by-four had been sanded to silky softness, and he’d sunk heavy duty rings in key positions on each one.
He wanted to put things in her—a plug, dildo, vibrator, beads, or balls. Different materials would bring pleasure, but some would function strictly for torture. Glass—filled with water and chilled like champagne—would be hard and smooth, perfect for tormenting his sub. The bullet he’d used earlier had driven her to two orgasms before he’d stopped playing with the controls. He enjoyed both kinds of penetrating toys. With her in that position, showing him that her body belonged to him, it only made the urge that much harder to put on the back burner. He’d taken out the butt plug, and now he wanted to put a larger one in. But was it too soon? She’d never engaged in anal play, and he wanted her to enjoy it. That meant he had to go slowly. There would be plenty of time to push those boundaries.
“Come here, Sugar.”
She rose and closed the distance.
“How does your ass feel now that the plug is out?”
“Weird, Sir. Empty. If you’d like to try something larger, I think I can handle it.”
He kissed her forehead. “I may play a bit later, but not with something larger at this point. Go stand on the towel in front of the wall.”
She positioned herself facing him. Her feet were shoulder-width apart, but he wanted them wider, so he altered her stance. He secured neoprene cuffs around her wrists, and he put a second pair just above her knees. Then he connected them to a spreader bar. He found that a sub could still close her thighs when a spreader bar was connected to her ankle cuffs. It was a matter of flexibility and how far she could turn her hip and knee joints inward. This way guaranteed she couldn’t shield her pussy, not that Autumn was in the habit of physically misbehaving. Her mouth presented the most problems.
He attached her wrist cuff to the rings that were shoulder height. Her arms were bent at the elbow to relieve the stress on her shoulders—especially the left one. “How is that?”
“Perfect, Sir. I can’t move, and my shoulder can stay in this position for a long time without getting sore.”
“And how are you? Is your inner SAM planning to make an appearance?”
“Not tonight, Sir. I do not feel at all stressed out.” She thought for a moment. “Of course, that could change. If you want me to be mouthy, I can. I’m very good at it. I can start with taunting you about ruining your manicure.”
He shook his head as he chuckled. The manicure thing didn’t bother him. He didn’t get them nearly as often as Dean did. “Thanks, but I’ll pass this time. Tonight is a chance for us to get to know each other’s limits and boundaries. I’m going to warm you up with deerskin, and then I’ll progress to more painful implements.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
The warm up didn’t take long. He used a circular motion to get the blood flowing in her breasts and thighs, and then he switched to a rubber flogger with round falls that tended to band together. This would produce the thuddy sensation to which she’d consented. He lifted one breast in his palm so he could center the hit over her nipple. Large and rosy, they were so responsive.
She gasped and tried to breathe through the pain. He let the feeling dissipate before hitting it again. Subspace wasn’t his goal; he wanted her to be aware of every single stroke. Over and over, he repeated the pattern, alternating breasts when he felt one needed a break. Through it all, she was a trooper. She cried out when the pain became too much to breathe through, and her chest heaved with the exertion.
By the time he stopped, beads of sweat dotted her upper lip and hairline. He blotted them away and looked into her eyes. “What’s your color, Sugar?”
“Green, Sir.”
“Good. You’re doing very well. I’m going to give those luscious boobs a rest, but I’m not finished with them. Do you need ice?”
“No, Sir. I’m okay.”
Her eyes widened at his sinister chuckle. He got the bucket of ice from the desk where he’d put the toys. Her flesh was hot, and the ice was going to be a shock. He held a cube against one nipple.
It took a second, but she gasped. He set the bucket on the table between the bed and the torture wall to free his other hand. Now he held cubes to each breast, pressing them mercilessly against her tender flesh. “Sir, please. It’s too much.”
Because she hadn’t called a color, he ignored her protest. She tried to wiggle away, but she only succeeded in arching her back and pressing the cubes even harder. “Breathe through it,” he counseled. “You can do this.” She complied, and he held the cubes until they melted too much to be of use, and then he ate them.
He slid his cold fingers into her vagina, but her heat neutralized any affect he might have had. The ice cubes were long and thin, the kind made by the automatic ice machine on the refrigerator. He slid one into her pussy. She sucked in a breath.
“Does it hurt?”
“It’s cold, Sir.”
He pushed it deeper, and then he added two more. “Clench, Sugar. Hold these inside until they melt away.”
Her struggle was beau
tiful to witness. Legs spread wide and standing up, she kept them for a lot longer than he thought she would. When they fell out and landed on the towel he’d spread under her, only small shards were left. Relieved, she relaxed, leaning against the wall. Her face was mesmerizing to watch. She held nothing back, and she hid nothing. This woman could not have possibly done the things they suspected.
He kissed her, plundering her mouth with his tongue because he couldn’t help himself. She melted, giving herself to him because it’s what they both wanted. When it ended, he stepped back to survey the perfection before him. Her breasts were still red from the rough use they’d endured from him today, and her nipples made a tempting cherry on top.
Squeezing her areola, he said, “Get ready, Sugar. You’re going to scream.” The clover clamp was an item she’d okayed, but he was ready to remove it if she called yellow. These things had a terrific bite, and they were going to hurt. He eased it on slowly, letting her acclimate to the pressure as best he could, though acclimating was a relative term. She screamed before he let go, and he watched her face for any sign of the wrong kind of distress.
She tried to flail her arms and legs, but he’d secured her well enough. After a minute, she calmed. “Damn, that hurts.”
“Yes, and I get off on your suffering. You do it so beautifully.” He put the second one on with the same gentle care. She didn’t scream, but she did take a little time to adjust to the pain. “Color?”
“Green, Sir.” Her gaze drifted toward the ceiling. “My nipples hurt, but it’s making my pussy really miss hugging your dick.”
That wasn’t in the plan yet. “Sorry, Sugar. Your pussy is going to have to wait.” Her clit was another story. He plugged in the wand vibrator and held it to her clit. The power tool would bring some relief.
“Thank you, Sir.” She moaned, and pretty soon those cute purring noises started deep in her throat. When she was close, he removed the clamps. She shouted as she came, and he kept the wand pressed to her clit. It would hurt, he knew, because she’d be oversensitive after the climax. She squirmed, struggling against it as he forced her to a second orgasm. Tears leaked from her eyes as she looked at him kneeling between her legs. She’d submitted so deeply that she didn’t bother to beg him to stop.
He turned off the wand. “You’re mine, Sugar, and I love playing with this body.” He kissed her again. Yes, it was a reward, but she’d wrapped him so completely around her finger that he couldn’t help but need to feel her lips moving against his.
When he released her, she searched his face, peering deeply into his eyes. “I love you, Sir.”
Stunned, his mouth dropped open. His heart surged to hear the words, but his brain prevented him from replying in kind. Did he love her? Probably. But he didn’t trust her, and that was a problem. He scrambled for a suitable response.
“Don’t,” she said softly, her tear-bright eyes soft with understanding. “Don’t say anything. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Let’s just continue the scene.”
“I’m going to turn you around,” he said. “So I can flog your back.” And so he could gather the wits she’d scattered.
She smiled, the excited kind a sub who was happy in a scene gave. He felt less bad about not replying. Eventually he’d have to address the issue, but that discussion was for a time they were both clothed and on equal footing. He untied her, turned her around, and retied her wrists and knees. Then he removed his shirt. He might not be able to give her the words, but he could get her to subspace. He could at least give her that.
Could she have a near-subspace-induced, drunken episode that was less embarrassing? Who the fuck mutters an I love you the first official weekend in a relationship? This is why she avoided alcohol—because she turned into an idiot when she wasn’t in control of her emotions or tongue. And he’d looked so shocked and confused, like he was trying to figure out how he’d ended up going home from the bar with the crazy woman. She looked so normal, officer. Not at all like a psycho.
Facing the wall was better than facing him if she wanted to get her head back into the scene. He’d already checked her color, and now he started with the deerskin for the warm up. She leaned her forehead against the wall, and the plank of wood was the perfect height to rest her chin. As he changed floggers and began again, she tried to get her brain to stop berating her, but he wasn’t using an implement with enough bite. This one had a pleasant thuddy-sting.
After a while, he paused. “Color, Sugar.”
“Green, Sir. It feels very good, but if you don’t mind, I’m okay with more sting.”
“I can do that. Let’s see what you can handle. I’m going to give you a ball to hold. If you drop it, I’ll stop. It’s a secondary safeword.”
She was familiar with the concept, and she’d used the system before, especially when a gag was in play—only she’d been the Domina. He pressed it to her hand, and she closed her palm around the small, rubber bouncy ball. When he started in with the next flogger, her whole body relaxed into the rhythm. She barely noticed the change in technique, though the technical department in her brain noted that he was using a double Florentine method. Later she’d be impressed. Right now she was in heaven. Her mind floated a little, though it didn’t take flight.
When he undid the snaps and took her down, she answered his questions absent-mindedly and followed his instructions without question. None of this registered as important enough to warrant much attention. The fog began to lift when she was lying on his bed. On her back with the spreader bar still attached to her knees, she stared at the ceiling.
“You have a skylight.”
He chuckled, and she lifted her head to see that he was at a desk gathering items. “Yes.”
“How did I not notice that before?”
“Because it was dark or I was busy blowing your mind.” He dropped the items on the bed, and she noticed the towels and lube he’d already put there. “I’m going to bind your wrists to the spreader bar, but I need to know what your shoulder can handle. I can bind your wrists inside or outside of your knees. You will be putting weight on your shoulders eventually.”
Due to having been stretched out for so long, her shoulder was starting to get a little twinge. She thought about it for a second. “Can you bind them to either side of my left knee? Or would that get in your way?” In that position, when she had to balance weight on her shoulders, her right would take the brunt of it.
“No, it’s fine. Remember to call yellow if you need to, Sugar. I’d hate for a night of kinky sex to land you in the ER. It might end up being reenacted on a reality TV show.” He attached the cuffs to the bar. Then he stood on the bed and threaded a heavy gauge rope through a ring in the ceiling. She watched while he tied one end to the spreader bar, hoisted the bar, and tied it off on the other end.
He’d looped it so that her legs kept it from slipping off. She lay on her back with her wrists and legs bound to a suspended spreader bar. Bared and spread wide, she was unable to move. Excitement zoomed through her veins, fueled by the unknown and a deep trust for this man who had become her Sir.
He sat cross-legged on the bed so that he had a prime view of her assets. She felt his fingers swirling patterns along her labia, teasing from clit to hole with a light pressure that made her crave more. “Your pussy is a lot like you. It has flaps and folds where secret plunder is stored. It’s all here, waiting for me to discover every last bit and cherish it for the precious treasure it is.” He leaned forward to nail her with a promise in his gaze that left her breathless. “It’s my treasure, Sugar. I will defend my right to hoard it for myself.”
“It’s yours, Sir. I give it to you of my own free will.”
He squeezed lube onto his fingers. “You’re already sopping wet. This is for the first dildo. I’m going to see how much you can take. Feel free to scream, but remember to use your safeword if it’s too much.”
With that, he picked up the first dildo. It was neon pink silicone and had an average circumference. He sla
thered lubricant up and down it slowly, like he was masturbating and forcing her to watch. She couldn’t see what other treats he had in store due to the position of her arms. It forced her to wait until he held it up to show her what he planned to put in her pussy.
It penetrated her easily. He moved it around, sliding it in and out leisurely, as if he was measuring how deeply he could push it before the hilt stopped forward progress. He rotated it, both spinning it like it was a screw and using her entrance as a fulcrum while he tested the give of her walls. By the time he finished, she was breathing hard. It had been pleasurable, yet he hadn’t fucked her with it.
The next one was larger than she would have chosen for herself. It would fit with enough lube, but it didn’t look like it would be comfortable. He treated this one to the same prep, and watching him pretend to jack off with a dildo turned out to be an incredibly erotic image. She relaxed to take this one. The head stretched her entrance, and he had to move it around, but it went in without causing pain.
It filled her. It stretched her tender tissues, forcing every bit of her sweet spot to slide along the textured surface. “Holy shit,” she said. “That feels incredible.”
He laughed, the low, melodic sound tickling over her wellbeing. “I’ll keep that in mind for when you’ve earned a reward.”
As with the first one, he didn’t attempt to get her off. He slid it in and out, twisting and rotating to see how much give he could find in her vagina.
The third one was larger. When he held it up, she felt her eyes widen so much that she feared one might pop out. Though it wasn’t as wide as his fist, it was nearly as wide as hers. “Oh, hell no. That will not fit, and if you break my pussy, you can’t use it again for a really long time. Months. Maybe years.”
With a sinister chuckle, he spread the lube on it. He also squirted some into her vagina and used his fingers to massage it into her aroused tissues. “It’ll fit.” He scissored his fingers at her entrance. “You have plenty of elasticity. Trust me.”
Re/Leased (Doms of the FBI Book 5) Page 17
