In the Zone

by Sierra Cartwright

  “I’d rather have a beating, Sir.”

  “And I’d rather have your pussy weeping for an orgasm and you walking around forbidden to touch yourself.” Indeed, he believed it was the only way she’d learn to temper her needs, and she’d actually enjoy subspace more when she got there. He pinched her clit.

  She squealed and arched her spine. She exhaled deeply, then settled against the wood.

  “Do you have something to say?” he prompted.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “You do have some rudimentary manners.”

  “I’ll try to do better, Sir.”

  He moved toward the front of the desk, shoving aside Marcus’s chair. “Unbuckle my belt.” He knew the order wasn’t an easy one to follow.

  She lifted her head and released her grip on the desk.

  “Quickly.”

  She fumbled. Despite his instruction, he really didn’t care if it took her a long time. The sight of her being so obedient, her hair spilling everywhere, was its own reward. “Shall I deduct more stripes?”

  “No, Sir!”

  He grinned, glad she was looking down at his crotch and not up at his face. He didn’t want her to know how much she delighted him.

  Finally the buckle released.

  “Now take off my belt and present it to me.”

  She gave a long, firm tug, her body moving about a bit on the desk. After she’d removed the belt, she folded it in half, and extended her arms toward him.

  He accepted the offering. “Expensive leather was meant for your fine ass, Alani.”

  She didn’t answer, and he didn’t push.

  “You’ll count each stripe aloud and thank me.”

  This time, when she didn’t answer, he dug his hand into her hair, near her scalp, and pulled her head back harshly. “Do I need to repeat myself, Alani?”

  Her eyes were darker than they had been before.

  “No, Sir,” she whispered. “I’ll count each one and thank you, Sir.”

  Interesting. Her tone changed when she was going deeper inside her head, being acquiescent rather than assertive. Step one. At least she wasn’t trying to manipulate him. “Back into position.”

  She gripped the desk again and shifted her hips slightly. Her head was turned to the right, her cheekbone pressed against the sealed wood. He moved behind her. He noticed her cunt was wetter now than it had been. Suddenly he was hungry to sink his cock deep inside her hot pussy.

  It’d been a while since he’d beat a woman. He was methodical in his approach to BDSM. Every hit was intentionally placed; he caused no accidental pain.

  He crossed to one of the chairs she’d moved against the wall. She moved her head, probably hoping to see what he was doing, but he was far enough behind her that he remained out of view.

  He placed the buckle against his palm and then wrapped the belt around his hand once. He flexed his wrist, feeling the familiar responsiveness of the leather.

  He sighted in on a mark on the chair’s arm and swung. The tip of the belt landed in the exact spot he’d chosen.

  Alani murmured.

  Deliberately he paused, letting her anticipation build.

  He changed his stance and his hold on the belt and placed a few more hits, this time with the thick part of it.

  Satisfied he could control his swing, he walked toward her. He turned at a slight angle and then spread his legs for balance.

  She lifted her ass just a bit in a silent invitation. He smiled. Had he instructed her to prepare for the punishment, he would have been pleased. But the little painslut was obviously trying to direct his lash.

  She was in for a surprise.

  “Beg,” he instructed.

  “Please,” she said right away. “I want to feel your belt on my ass, Sir. I want you to beat me, to punish me. Make me cry, Sir, make me hurt.” Then she whispered, “Please. Please, please. I want it.”

  Nathaniel didn’t give either of them any more time to think.

  He landed the first hit hard on the back of her thighs, just above her knees.

  Alani cried out. The leather had to have stung. She was likely not prepared for the strike in that area. Most doms would have gone for the obvious, her upper thighs or her hot, rounded ass.

  He liked delivering the unexpected hit. That he’d added a bite of pain was a double bonus. “I’m waiting, Alani.”

  “One. Thank you, Sir!”

  Before she’d finished expressing her gratitude, he placed another stripe on her right thigh, directly on top of the first. He flicked his wrist so that the tip of the belt provided a wicked bite. He took no break between the strokes, delivering the third to her left leg.

  Her body jerked, and she expelled a breath from between her teeth as she moved back into position.

  “Two and three, Sir.”

  She took a breath. Maybe to regain her composure? Even through the silk of her stockings, he could see that her skin had reddened. A thin, welted line had appeared.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Where would you like the next one?”

  “Sir?”

  “Choose.”

  “Beneath my buttocks, Sir.”

  “What are you being punished for?”

  “For being disrespectful, Sir.”

  He adjusted his stance and obliged her request, striking with an upward motion.

  “Kukae!”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I mean four, thank you, Sir!”

  “That’s better.” He was taking his time, letting her absorb the pain, and not falling into a rhythm that would allow her to reach subspace.

  He waited until her breathing nearly returned to normal. Then he hit her buttocks twice, forming a heated red X across her skin. The sight, accented by the black garters, made his cock throb.

  “Five, six, Sir,” she whispered. “Thank you, Sir.” She exhaled again, this time through her nose. “Thank you, Sir.”

  He repeated the motion with the next two.

  She was silent for a moment, and her breathing was even. She hadn’t counted, hadn’t said thanks.

  Her body looked relaxed. Her grip on the table was loose and easy. Her butt cheeks were unclenched, and her legs were parted. Amazing. She was good. Most subs he knew had to have a pattern of pain to go deep inside their head. She could get there from just a few hits?

  “How are you doing, Alani?” A lovely sheen of sweat covered her exposed skin. “Alani?” He pinched one of her calves.

  “Sir?”

  “Do you need to use your safe word?”

  “No. No, Sir. I’m fine.”

  “Are you comfortable enough?”

  She lifted her head to look at him. She drew her eyebrows together. A scowl had formed between her well-sculptured brows. And her grip tightened on the desk’s edge.

  “Back into position, painslut.”

  She laid her head back down.

  “Please answer the question,” he snapped, his tone unnecessarily harsh.

  “I’m comfortable enough, Sir.”

  “Nothing hurts too bad?”

  “I’m fine, Sir.”

  “Anything you want more of, less of?”

  “Could we just get on with the beating, Sir?”

  He’d succeeded in dragging her back from inside her head. “Indeed.” He shook out his wrist and readjusted the belt, coiling it up a bit. “How many more?”

  Her eyes were open, and she stared sightlessly in the direction of the coat rack. She frowned.

  “You gave me numbers seven and eight. Thank you, Sir. You said I had earned ten. So two more, Sir.”

  “Ask for them.”

  “Please,” she said, closing her eyes. “Please give me two more stripes.”

  “Move toward me as much as you can.”

  She did. Beautiful masochist. Even though he intended to abuse her cunt with the bite of leather, she hungrily asked for it.

  He hadn’t succeeded in making her cry, but her pussy was certain
ly wet.

  She would remember the last two for a long time, he decided. He placed the first, number nine, on top of the first three, just above her knees.

  She yelped.

  Before she settled, he adjusted his swing and caught her pussy with the tip of his belt.

  This time, she screamed.

  He tossed aside the belt, sank to his knees, grabbed her hips and pulled her back until his face was in her raw cunt. He licked her, aware of her moans. He stuck his tongue inside her, and then when she tried to pull away, he yanked her back and sucked hard on her abused clit.

  She screamed.

  “Don’t you dare come,” he snapped, easing back.

  “Sir!”

  He sucked on her hard again.

  Her body jerked, and she slid back toward him. Obviously she’d released her grip. She’d surrendered to her body’s demands.

  “Sir! I need…”

  He continued his assault. She came in a heated gush. He’d never met anyone like her. Resisting the urge to stroke himself off, he moved away and pushed to his feet.

  “Fuck me, Sir?” she begged.

  He wanted nothing more than to be buried in her hot, wet cunt. Not just any woman would do at this point; he wanted her. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough pleasure, and without permission?” His words were chilled. “You’re out of position. You didn’t count. You didn’t express your gratitude, and you came when you were expressly forbidden. Get on your knees.”

  Chapter Three

  The room shifted and spun around her.

  Alani had never had an experience like this.

  The skin behind her knees stung as if seared.

  Her pussy had never hurt worse. Other dominants had beaten her cunt, but not like Master Nathaniel had. He’d only landed one stroke between her legs, but it had been masterful. Her clit had blazed. And then when he’d sucked her, it was as if the fury doubled.

  She was still trembling from the force of her orgasm.

  This man, this dom, unsettled her.

  “On your knees, sub.”

  Her body ached from being stretched across the desk and from where its edge had bitten into her hip bones. She felt bruised from the way Master Nathaniel had gripped her and from the way she’d slammed against the desk from the force of his mouth.

  “Alani, you’re trying my patience.”

  Even though his words were those of a dom, his tone was gentle, with none of his previous urgency.

  Slowly she moved, releasing her grip. She tried to stand, and she lost her balance, stumbling.

  He was there immediately, helping her, supporting her.

  He turned her to face him. She gave in to the unusual temptation to snuggle into his chest.

  That part of BDSM had always eluded her. Most subs she talked to relished aftercare. She’d never wanted to be comforted by a dom. She sometimes allowed a dom to hold her, if that’s what the dom wanted, but it was never something she sought. Generally, she’d rather get onto the next scene. There was more fun in that.

  But honestly, she’d never had an experience like this one.

  She’d endured worse pain.

  She’d had screaming orgasms.

  But no one had exploited her emotional reactions like Master Nathaniel. He’d been deliberate in his use of pain. He’d been an ass and dragged her back from the edge of subspace. He’d made sure she was fully conscious during the scene. The blaze of the orgasm had shocked her and, combining that with his refusal to fuck her, left her off balance. She’d never had a man refuse sex when she offered. Was it something about her?

  She started to pull away, but he tightened his muscular arms around her. She rested her head against his chest and heard the steady thud of his heart. He stroked her hair, and she let him.

  Alani wasn’t sure how long he held her, but her body started to cool as perspiration dried.

  She relaxed, surrendering to his care. She wondered what it might be like to have this all the time, incredible punishment followed by gentle care. She could get used to this, and that frightened her a bit.

  She eased back a little.

  This time, he released her. But instead of letting her flee, he repeated his previous order, “Please kneel.”

  As if either of them believed his words were a request.

  She knelt; her body felt a bit wobbly. The act reignited the burn where he’d hit her on the backs of the legs. No one had ever struck her there, and kukae, his belt had hurt. The man wielded his punishment tool well. He’d returned to the same sensitive spot several times, and she knew the pain would linger for a couple of days.

  “Shoulders back so your chest sticks out. I want your knees as far apart as possible.”

  She did as he instructed. Her hips felt strained, so she moved back slightly.

  “This isn’t about your comfort,” he said. “This is about what I want. Get back where you were.”

  He was relentless. From a punishment to holding her to dominant again, he left her reeling.

  “Put your hands behind your back.”

  She did, realizing it left her exposed and a bit precariously balanced.

  “Tell me about your experience,” he said.

  She looked up at him. He stood a couple of feet away, his powerful legs spread. She could tell, even though his pants were fairly loose, that his cock was hard. So why hadn’t he screwed her?

  He folded his arms across his chest. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows. If he had an eye patch, he’d look like a pirate. “It was a punishment, Sir. And it was effective.”

  “Effective, how?”

  “I will carry your stripes as a reminder to engage more with the club’s clients. I need to remember it’s about them, not about me. Part of being submissive is realizing you need to please your dom, not yourself.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Sir?”

  “I don’t believe you for a minute, Alani.”

  She blinked.

  “You stuck your ass out at me. At least twice during your punishment you tried to manipulate me, topping from the bottom. That’s not at all respectful. You’ll learn to do as you’re told. During a scene with a client, that may be acceptable. Master Richard, for example, happens to appreciate it when your wiggle your ass. Doing so in that case is being respectful. Trying to get me to give you what you want during a punishment isn’t.”

  Damn him. Did he see everything?

  “Jaron will walk you to your car. I’ll call your cell phone when I want you to come back to the club.”

  Her jaw dropped. “What the hell are you talking about, Sir? Am I being fired?”

  “I’m sending you home tonight. And I’m giving you tomorrow off without pay to think about your behavior.”

  Her heart thundered. She’d just endured a beating that emotionally shook her. And his callous disregard was unthinkable, devastating. Tears flooded her eyes, and she furiously blinked them back. Alani Dane did not cry. And she definitely didn’t cry in front of this man.

  “Stay in position,” he warned, moving toward her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

  She wanted to struggle, to get away.

  “This isn’t about what you want,” he reminded her. “This is part of your punishment, your retraining.”

  “How can you be so cruel?” she whispered. After all this, he was going to have the club’s security manager walk her to the parking lot? “Thank you, but I can manage on my own,” she said.

  “You’ll do as you’re told.”

  She gritted her teeth.

  “Any questions?”

  She forced herself to be as polite as possible. And that meant she was on the knife-edge of civility. “Anything you say, Sir.”

  He released his grip. “Stay there.”

  Master Nathaniel left the room. He closed the door, shutting her in.

  She’d never struggled this hard mentally. She wanted to be alone. She wanted him to stay. The paradox perplexed her, and it pissed her of
f.

  She wanted to get up, to run, to tell him to fuck off, to shove his retraining and her job.

  But she remained where she was.

  Her conflicting emotions caused anger to blaze.

  How dare he send her away from the club like this? It wasn’t as if she’d refused to serve one of the patrons. Actually, she would have been in less trouble had she refused to scene with Master Richard in the first place. All she’d done was yawn. She was being sent home to think?

  Despite her fury, she realized Master Nathaniel had reached a place inside her no one else ever had. She was hyperaware of the lingering pain from his well-wielded belt.

  She focused on the pain for a moment. It had been a long time, months or more, since she’d had that kind of intensity during a scene.

  Well, maybe she’d never experienced anything quite like that.

  Over the years, they’d spent little time alone. He couldn’t possibly know her as well as he seemed to. It was as if he read her thoughts, needs, desires, and knew exactly how to treat her.

  She hated it; she liked it.

  What the hell was wrong with her?

  She could walk out. She was capable of collecting her coat and walking to the car.

  She didn’t have to wait here on his whim.

  Yet she stayed where she was…where he’d left her.

  Part of her wanted him to be pleased with her.

  Alani called on everything she’d learned about being a sub to wait patiently. If she had a limits list, being left alone would be on it.

  Her hips ached from the unnatural position, and the room was uncomfortably cold.

  She dragged in a couple of breaths, trying to get her heart rate under control and wondering why he hadn’t fucked her.

  When he’d commanded her to her knees, she could tell he was aroused. He wanted her. She would have happily given him a blowjob. And yet he’d walked away.

  Master Nathaniel reentered the office and closed the door behind him.

  “You may get up,” he told her.

  Her trench coat was draped over his forearm, and he held her purse in one hand. Obviously he’d had Willow use the master key for the lockers. Somehow the oversize leather bag didn’t take away from his masculinity.

  Since she’d been in that uncomfortable kneeling position for so long, it took her a moment to stand. There was nothing beautiful or elegant about her motions, and she hated that.