It took a half second for her to shake her head no.
I moved closer, cupping her cheek and running my thumb below her ear. It was one of her sweet spots, and without conscious thought, her head moved into the caress like I knew it would. “Tonight has no strings. This is about your immediate needs and me taking what I want. It has nothing to do with me coming to your office today. Nod your head if you understand.”
Just a slight movement, but enough.
“Do you want this, Machala?” The first tear fell and her head moved again. I pulled her into my chest. “Good girl.”
Chapter Five
Machala
I had no time to think about strangling Damian. I always knew I was physically as well as mentally weak though I was good at hiding it. Luke took my arm and steered me to the couch. From the corner of my eyes, I saw him scoop up his bag. I knew I would be reacquainted with each and every tool he brought, and my pulse accelerated.
“Bend over the couch. We’re getting this part of your punishment over with first and then we’ll start the real fun. Hands on the back of your head.”
I did as he said, most of my fight gone.
His voice went lower with authority, “Legs wider.” I stepped out another six inches. In that same make-me-wet tone, he continued, “I have a pattern in mind. I won’t be stopping until it’s complete.”
Fuck. I would rather there be a number. But… he knew that. If he stuck to my ass and legs, I was getting out of this easier than usual. A small part of me was disappointed. Extreme pain might give me the solid night’s sleep that I needed so desperately. Also an orgasm, which I needed just as desperately.
He lay two wooden drumsticks on the arm of the couch well within my line of sight, followed by dreadlocks. Fuck, he meant to hurt me, and my disappointment vanished. I’d known nothing about drummers’ implements until Luke. I would swear each one was designed for sadistic pleasure. The dreadlocks were small stainless steel wires braided together and attached to a handle. They were short, and Luke didn’t need to work hard to make the pain they created excruciating.
Next, he pulled out a large glass butt plug. I squirmed when I saw the plug was too large for me. I know he saw because I heard his low, pleased chuckle. He squirted lube on the plug before drizzling more between my ass cheeks. While digging one hand into my hip to hold me in place, he used the head of the plug to push in the lubrication without touching me with his fingers. Just the tip of the damn plug was uncomfortable, the bastard.
“I know this is big, but I anticipate fucking your ass tonight and I want you ready.”
If he would take this damned ball gag out, I would tell him exactly what I thought of his expectations. In the beginning of our relationship it had taken two weeks to prepare me for his cock anally. No one had been near my ass since we broke up.
Saliva ran out the side of the gag, wetting my couch. I had no idea how to explain drool stains to my housekeeper… or blood. Every so often Luke crossed that line just so I knew he could. And because I was crazy, my pussy flooded at the thought of how bad tonight could be.
The plug went in an inch. The forced stretch burned, and tightening my muscles made it worse. From prior experience, I knew fighting increased the pain. It took everything I had to release the air from my lungs and relax.
The bastard hit me hard across one ass cheek with his palm.
“It’s supposed to hurt, girl. This is punishment.”
Fuck, he wanted me fighting. I started to lift up, but he grabbed a large chunk of my hair and jerked my head slightly sideways so he spoke directly into my ear again. “That’s right, the pattern will reach clear to the backs of your knees now. You’re such a delightful, naughty girl. I don’t need an excuse to decorate the front of your beautiful body, but if you keep it up I’d be happy to.” With a last jerk to my hair, he released me so my upper body fell back over the couch.
I sucked in a sharp breath, my mind halfway between struggling like mad or giving in. This was what I craved for the night, but fighting my needs was part of the turn on for me. He pushed on the plug and my inner muscles involuntarily fought the entry. I screamed against the gag—my frustration and anger pouring out. He continued pushing not caring at all about my pain. The plug seated within me and the agonizing stretch diminished. Even with this preparation, I knew taking his cock would hurt.
I looked over my shoulder to see him pick up a drumstick. Sixteen inches of pure torture that had me wetter than I’d been in months. The things this man did with drumsticks were perverted, but that was Luke. I knew he was near me, but I couldn’t help the small jump I gave when his hand touched the middle of my back and pushed my belly farther into the top of the couch. If I’d known I’d be in this position, I would have tested the back for comfort like I had the cushions before I bought the damn thing. The first strike hit my upper ass cheek—hard. I cried out through the ball gag.
“I’m disappointed in you, girl. Hush now, I’ve only started. There’ll be plenty of time for screaming later.”
His words caused a jolt of fear like he knew they would. Only Luke truly saw the real me buried deep inside—the ice queen who hated weakness. I fought submission with everything I had, but at the same time I craved the release it brought. A quandary only Luke seemingly understood.
The drumstick landed an inch down from the first strike, bringing fire. No sound escaped my lips. Luke was right; I could take so much more than this. He methodically worked down one side of my ass to my thigh, each strike precise with the same force. Outside of punishments, he took his time warming me up with a flogger before switching to the sticks or some other torture device. He liked a pattern with the same swelling and redness in each line. He created a variety of different sized designs. On Friday nights, he liked to leave the backs of my legs flawless, only painting my ass. This gave him fresh skin to work on the following day. A virgin canvass, ready for his creation.
Tonight was different. This was no weekend of D/s. This was one night after a string of nothingness that had become my life. Relief swelled through me. I stopped holding back and let the tears flow. I couldn’t help it. I wanted so much more than this or just weekend play. I wanted Luke Isaak to love and claim me as his.
Chapter Six
Nine months ago…
Machala
In the car ride to Winters’ Publishing, Luke had explained his kinks in explicit detail. I was uncomfortable because his driver heard every word. Luke was dropping me at my office. Our arrangement would begin on Friday which was half a week away. I didn’t know if I’d last. I crossed my legs. His eyes took on a gleam that showed he liked making me squirm. Without a qualm, he asked about my limits.
No illegal acts or marks on my arms, lower legs, or face. I wasn’t into feces or gold shower play. Animals were encompassed under the illegal acts, but I made it clear. He didn’t bat an eye, just listened intently. Maybe too intently. I was well aware his dick was rock hard. I fought the need to unzip his pants and suck it to relieve some of his discomfort. A delectable small tear in his jeans to the side of his cock had me licking my lips. I shook my head. Keeping my mind clear when I was around him wouldn’t be easy.
Other than my hard limits, Luke required complete commitment from his weekend fuck and pain slut. Those were his words. I was a wet mess when I exited the car and walked into my office. I spent the remainder of my week working on a few author contracts and searching the Internet for stories on Luke Isaak, better known as Lefty, the Blood Rights’ drummer. The nickname didn’t fit the tanned, muscular, drop dead sexy man with shoulder length hair that I’d met at the restaurant. Of the five band members, he and Rocky were the least visible in the media. There were stories of Krispin Righteous, the lead singer, dating back to his battle with drugs and alcohol. Recently, Matt Mathews and Stephon Cross received more attention because of a rumor about them being in a triad relationship. They were delicious, and if the rumors were true, their girl or boy was very lucky. Rocky, a keyboa
rd player, was shy with a delightful blush anytime reporters asked questions or took his picture which there seemed to be a lot of.
Lefty, or Luke as I preferred, was the mysterious one of the group. He’d told me his bandmates were in the lifestyle, and, not surprisingly, a story here and there on the Internet highlighted a little of their kinky lives. Luke was different, though, and I found very little about him. Even pictures were rare unless he was on stage with the band. My excitement for the coming weekend increased each day until I was a mass of unsatisfied female hormones.
Friday afternoon, Luke’s driver delivered keys to my office along with the alarm code for his home. He handed the small package to Danny and, to my relief, left quickly. I was still uncomfortable with the driver overhearing the conversation from a few days before. I kept the D/s side of my life very quiet. Luke assured me his driver was trustworthy, and I knew through my amateur investigations that Luke liked his privacy as much as I did.
At four o’clock, I left my office and drove to Luke’s home. It was a huge, single story Spanish-style home in the California foothills. Not what I expected for a hard rock drummer. I let myself in, punched in the alarm code, and walked around the inside opening doors and learning the layout. From furniture to artwork, the man had taste, and I liked the minimalist, clean white style. The artwork varied from abstract expressionism in subdued colors to traditional western cowboy. Whoever his interior designer was, they made it work.
The room he assigned me was another surprise. It had a four-poster bed, lovely dark wood furniture, and best of all a private bathroom fit for a princess. A soft, fluffy white robe hung on the back of the door. Luke instructed me to bring clothes for work on Monday only. I placed my personal items in the top bathroom drawer, undergarments in the top drawer of the large dresser, and hung my skirt, blouse, and suit jacket in the empty closet. The sight of the three items hanging in the otherwise empty space had me smiling. As a designer-clothing slut, it was strange to see the near-empty space.
I slowly removed my current business clothes and placed them in my bag. Following Luke’s precise instructions, I walked around his home nude while snooping some more and thinking of his note.
Machala,
My address and alarm code are below.
My bedroom is on the left and the bedroom across the hall from mine is yours.
Except for Monday mornings, you will be naked.
Make yourself something to eat.
Explore and become familiar with the layout of the house.
You may rest if needed.
Be waiting at the front door on your knees.
I will arrive around midnight.
Luke
I was relieved that I would have my own room. This meant fewer complications if my new Dom didn’t hurt me enough to waylay my nightmares. My previous D/s relationships had been more about scheduled play scenes that I used after weeks of sleepless nights and I could no longer take it. I’d attended an occasional weekend play party and one two-week stint in Hawaii that would have been better off at two days. This was my first, part-time, ongoing D/s interaction. It would give me an idea if steady D/s would help my sleep deprivation. We’d agreed to four months. Luke told me it would take a full month to train me to his taste. I had a feeling that the pain to my ass would teach me exactly what Luke required far sooner than a month. The thought had my pussy tingling.
I hoped I could nap, so set my phone alarm for eleven thirty, but I was too nervous to sleep. Luke made it clear in our first car ride that I was not to pleasure myself at any time during the four months we were together unless he gave me permission. I didn’t admit that it was impossible for me to orgasm without extreme pain as a precursor. That didn’t mean I didn’t touch, and that’s what I wanted to do right now. Hell. I refused to give in to my throbbing clit, but it wasn’t easy.
I was Luke’s for weekends only, though he wanted me staying Sunday nights and leaving for work on Mondays from his home. This seemed strange, but he’d told me Monday mornings we would not adhere to the D/s dynamic. He requested I eat breakfast with him before leaving to begin my week.
Everything about Luke was odd. If it wasn’t for Damian’s referral and assurance, I wouldn’t have made it through the first car ride and his list of demands. He said my needs would be met, but he required verbal interaction to stimulate him throughout the weekend. He didn’t want a slave, he wanted D/s companionship with no lasting ties at the end of four months. I wondered if the man had mommy issues and the thought made me smile. There wasn’t a mommy in the country who wouldn’t give their right tit for a weekend with Luke Isaak.
At eleven forty-five, I waited at the front door. An hour later, I stood and stretched my legs and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. The anticipation of his arrival was worse than the aches to my muscles, and I found myself getting angry. This wasn’t a good predicament for a submissive on the first night, and I had my limits. A large, bronze, western wall clock hung directly in my line of sight. I returned to my kneeling position and at ten minutes after one, I heard a vehicle. After several deep breaths, I had myself under control and fell into my quazi-submissive headspace, not that it helped much. All I could think about was him fucking me after the pain. A first for me. The thrilling anticipation of pain was usually where my mind was at this close to a scene. Why was he different?
I looked down when the door opened. I could see only faded jeans and untied athletic shoes as Luke stepped just inside the entryway and stood there for several minutes. He finally closed the door and walked away. I shut my eyes desperately concentrating on slowing my heart rate. This was only part of the scene; I knew he’d be back.
When he returned, he lifted my chin with a wooden dowel. Make that a drumstick by the look of the small rounded end. I glanced up and all my work to calm my nerves went out the window. An unbuttoned blue shirt displayed each line of his muscled abs. His chest was hairless and his small pinpoint nipples drew my attention. I licked my lips and raised my eyes higher. His untamed hair curled at his shoulders. God, his face. His striking looks captured me in the restaurant, but over the past few days, I thought he couldn’t be as gorgeous as I remembered. I was wrong. If I didn’t know about his rock-and-roll career, I’d think he came directly off a Hollywood movie set. I couldn’t begin to describe his Prince Charming features. Only his dark eyes gave away the sadist within. Their memory haunted me and now, their intensity sent chills throughout my body.
“Did you find everything you needed?”
For a moment, his gruff words confused me until I realized he meant throughout his house. “Yes, Sir,” I managed to say.
The corner of his upper lip tilted upward. “Luke. I want you calling me Luke.”
“Yes, Luke.” My heart pounded so hard I knew he must be able to hear it.
“Are you uncomfortable?”
I hesitated, but answered truthfully. “Yes, Luke.”
The drumstick slid up my jaw to the hair just above my ear. “Good, I want you uncomfortable.” He untucked a strand of hair from behind my ear with the end of the stick. “Have you held this position since midnight?”
Shit. “No, Luke.”
Now the corner of his upper lip rose farther. It was a purely evil smile and didn’t bode well for my ass.
“Have you thought about everything I told you in the car?”
Air felt trapped in my lungs, but I forced myself to exhale. “Yes, Luke.”
“Good, then you know I don’t require a reason to hurt you, but I promise punishments will not be fun or end with any satisfaction on your part.”
Inhale. “Yes, Luke.”
“Do you deserve punishment for breaking protocol?”
“If it pleases you, Luke.”
A spark of irritation flashed in his gaze. The stick returned to my chin. “I didn’t ask what pleases me; I asked if you deserve punishment.”
It took everything I had not to turn and run. “Yes, Luke.”
“Did yo
u find my dungeon earlier?”
“Yes, Luke.”
“You will stand and walk to the dungeon to fetch a cane.” He lowered the stick. “Bring it to the dining room and wait on your knees holding the cane out and across your palms.”
I rose, turned, and walked to the dungeon. It surprised me he didn’t want me crawling. Several of my dominant partners liked seeing subs on their hands and knees. I wasn’t about to question Luke’s command. Before he arrived, I spent an hour looking around the dungeon, testing the kinky furniture. There were five canes hanging on the wall. They varied in thickness and I knew each offered a different level of pain. My infraction was small, or at least I thought so. I chose the medium diameter cane.
With the long piece of bamboo in my shaking fingers, I made my way to the dining room and noticed that the chair at the end of the table closest to the kitchen was pulled out. I gave a small sigh of relief. Luke wasn’t making this a mind game for me to figure out where he sat. I took my position, a steady pulse throbbing between my thighs—my clit needy for attention. My body ready for pain.
Luke walked in carrying a plate and glass of water. I watched from the corner of my eye as he sat down his food and ate. After finishing his meal and taking a long drink of water, his voice made me jump.
“Look at me.”
My legs were sore from my previous kneeling and now my arm muscles were screaming to release the cane and relax at my sides. I tried keeping my face expressionless, but have no idea if I succeeded.
The quirk was back in his upper lip. “Why did you choose that cane?”
I inhaled slowly before answering. “I wasn’t sure where my infraction fell on your scale, so went with the one in the middle.”
He gave me an appraising look. “I rarely use the canes and actually prefer my sticks.”
Fuck, I screwed up and it must have shown on my face because Luke threw back his head and laughed. When he finally looked at me, a pleased smile softened the lines of his face. “Place the cane on the floor in front of you.” His voice reminded me of Damian’s and I shivered. Luke enjoyed my panic at thinking I made a mistake. The choice of canes was a test. He’d wanted to know which one I would choose.
Temporary Dom Page 3
