Leather and Grace

by Maggie Ryan

  “You let Laurie choose the implement, that’s not normal, is it?”

  “No, so if you’re thinking along the same lines, don’t.”

  “Oh, I actually wasn’t,” she confessed, wondering why she hadn’t. “I just wonder if that means that you’ve talked to Brody about my request.”

  “It does, and he’s on board. I didn’t give him the full picture, as I wasn’t sure if you intended to fill him in on the final product.”

  “No, I’d love for the painting to be a surprise. I’m not sure how I’m going to explain my presence.”

  “I don’t think you need worry about that. Laurie is a bit of an exhibitionist and will probably be pleased to think she is simply enhancing your lessons in submission.” She wondered at his grin until he continued. “Especially since it is rather apparent that she has done so before.”

  “Oh,” she said and then grinned back. “Instead of considering it as cheating, I decided to think of it as being a proactive student who is dedicated to her education.”

  “That sounds suspiciously like something Laurie would say, leaving out that entire cheating part.”

  “You know her well, don’t you?”

  “I know her well enough to know that she has this wonderful ability to twist things around so that you at least give the situation a bit more thought.” He smiled. “I’m also a man who definitely approves of dedication, and yours was apparent the moment you opened the door that first night. I must say, seeing you wearing heels while you practiced made me proud. And, watching you move flawlessly into position last night… well, let’s just say I definitely noticed.”

  “So you aren’t upset?”

  “No, I’m sure there will be things I’ll be teaching you that Laurie has yet to even consider.”

  She felt her body responding simply from his tone and his words. Hell, she was open to absolutely any lesson this man offered. When the waitress placed a bowl of steaming linguine and clams in front of her, she gave the dish a puzzled look.

  “What’s wrong?” Quentin asked, reaching for the loaf of garlic bread as the waitress walked away.

  “I guess I didn’t expect there to be shells in my food. How am I supposed to eat this?”

  “Here, let me show you.” He plucked one of the black shells from her bowl and grinned at her. “Do you want me to demonstrate how a proper Cajun would eat, or how some delicate little wuss would?”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “Why, sir, since you are one of those Cajuns, I, of course, need to learn how you like to see a woman eat.” Delighted with the sudden flare that sparked in his eyes, she felt her panties dampen.

  “Watch it, little one,” he said, not dropping his glance from hers. “I’m not sure you are quite ready to progress to the lesson on how to slide beneath a table… yet.”

  God, that vision alone made her nipples go rock hard and made her wonder if his cock was doing the same. Blushing, she wondered what he’d do if she decided to prove him wrong. The waitress returning to refill their tea glasses reminded her that they were in a public place. Good lord, was she wired to be an exhibitionist as well? His chuckle had her wondering if he was pondering that same question.

  “This is how we do it,” he said, letting her off the hook as he took another of the shells and used it like a spoon, sliding it beneath the plump clam, detaching it from its hold. He lifted the mussel to her lips and, when she opened them, he tilted the shell so that the clam slid out and onto her tongue.

  After eating it, she smiled. “Wow, that’s really good. I think I’m going to really enjoy playing with my food.”

  “Babe, I promise you aren’t going to enjoy it half as much as I will.” He bent to lightly kiss her and when he leaned away, she wondered what was steaming more… their meals, or the heat that she could feel flooding through her body.

  When he tore off a huge hunk of bread and handed it to her before tearing off another and dipping it into the broth of his court bullion, which he’d explained was a spicy Cajun fish stew, she smiled. If they both ate the bread, generously smeared with a thick garlic layer, well, then neither would have to worry about their breath now would they?

  After she’d eaten all she could, truly enjoying using a shell as a spoon, and making a show of sucking a long linguine noodle off her fork, she giggled when he said he had always loved that scene in Lady and the Tramp where they had shared a spaghetti dinner. Just imagining him watching a classic Disney movie had her going all soft inside. “I love all of them, but my favorite is Beauty and the Beast. There is just something about seeing how he could turn from such a frightening powerful beast into a gentle creature with Belle.”

  Quentin accepted her bowl when she stated she couldn’t eat another bite. “I haven’t seen that one. Maybe we can pull it up on Netflix one night.” She was about to respond how much she’d like that when he continued. “If this Belle is anything like an artist I know, I’m quite anxious to see what she offered that had the power to soothe her savage beast.”

  “I-I’d love that,” she managed, her mind definitely no longer on films.

  ***

  True to his word, after lunch, Quentin took Grace to the gallery. He was rather disappointed to see that the walls that had held her paintings were empty. “Shit, I was hoping that Westing had bigger balls than letting Brooks’ review make him decide to remove your art.”

  “Oh, no,” Grace said. “My show was only for the weekend. Remember, I spent the next day helping remove what didn’t sell? Charles is a wonderful man…”

  “I’m flattered.”

  They both turned to see the gallery owner walking towards them, and Quentin’s respect for the man grew when he pulled Grace into an embrace.

  “Don’t you let that douchebag bother you, my dear. It’s quite obvious that he wrote that ridiculous piece of malice from an entirely different perspective than that of an art critic.”

  “Thank you, Charles,” Grace said. “I just wanted to make sure that the article won’t have a negative impact on you or your gallery.”

  Charles released his hold and smiled. “I’d be quite surprised to learn that anyone who read it isn’t questioning not only his taste but his infantile behavior. It’s quite obvious that not only was your show a success, but that you are smart enough to cut the man off at the… knees?”

  Quentin chuckled and enjoyed Grace’s quick giggle.

  “More importantly, when are you going to have additional pieces to showcase? I know we went over the sales from the show, but since then, I’ve had more calls about commissioning you for both your jewelry as well as requests for photo sessions.” Charles looked about, as if making sure the gallery was as empty of people as it was art before continuing. “I must admit that though I am very well aware of your talent, hearing that George Mathias wishes you to paint his wife… well, my dear, you are well on your way.”

  At her pleased but puzzled look, Quentin said, “Mathias is a bit of a legend in New Orleans. He can make women weep simply by playing his instruments. Hell, I’ve known men to tear up when he plays. George can pull emotion out of a piece of jazz like you can pull it from your art.”

  “It will be nice to meet another man who loves his art,” Grace said. “I’d be thrilled, Charles, but I do have another session planned with a friend of mine.”

  “I believe he would be willing to give you whatever time you need to do the painting as long as you don’t postpone the photo session for too long.”

  “I’ll give him a call and talk to him.”

  Quentin waited while Charles took Grace back to his office to get her the contact information. He grinned, wondering if there would be any way that he could go with her. Not to sit in on the photo session, but just to actually meet the man whom he really respected. He was totally unprepared when she returned and Charles said, “Grace tells me that you are quite the artist yourself, Mr. Doucet. I’d be interested in planning a show around your leather work.”

  Quentin gave her a loo
k and then shook his head. “It’s really more of a hobby than art, Mr. Westing.”

  “Don’t let him fool you. His pieces are not only beautiful, they are quite, shall we say, able to evoke all sorts of emotions? That is what good art should do.”

  Charles nodded. “Absolutely. Anyone can go to the museum to see paintings or pottery crafted hundreds of years ago. They go to galleries to see what is being created in today’s time frame. And, might I add, to be moved by works that evoke emotions that may have lain dormant for years. Just as Miss Hensley’s art is both beautiful and seductive, I fully believe that an exhibit showcasing implements that can both give pain and pleasure would be highly successful. Please tell me that you will at least give it some consideration.”

  Quentin honestly didn’t know what to say. He created his pieces because he hadn’t liked the ones he’d found in other shops or on the net. He’d actually never considered them as art and yet, seeing Keith wielding the whip he’d made, he had to admit that the entire scene had been not only stimulating, it had been artistic and extremely sensual.

  “Thank you, I’ll give it some thought,” he said and after the two men shook hands, he and Grace climbed back onto the motorcycle and returned to the house.

  As they ascended the stairs, she said, “You’re not upset that I shared your art with Charles, are you?”

  “No,” he said, not bothering to even pretend he intended to let her into her own apartment quite yet. “It was just a surprise.” He unlocked his door and escorted her inside. “I am flattered that you consider my hobby anywhere near worthy.”

  “Quentin, it is more than worthy. I agree with everything Charles said about it being able to move people, to evoke emotions…”

  “Good, because it will be quite interesting to see what sort of emotions the heat of your spanked ass can evoke when I put you on your knees between my spread ones.”

  He grinned when her mouth formed a little ‘O’ and her eyes dropped to his crotch, and was pleased to see that he had just given her a surprise as well.

  Chapter Sixteen

  While Beth had played at being a submissive, Quentin had always wondered if she was truly following her heart, or if she was simply willing to assume a role that she knew pushed his buttons. He couldn’t deny that they had shared amazing sex but when it came to discipline, she always balked, and while she did submit, he’d never felt that she wished to relinquish control to that level, reluctantly allowing him to assume a role he’d always considered he needed as part of a truly fulfilling D/s relationship even outside the confines of the club.

  Though he’d never done so before, he felt the irresistible urge to do things differently with Grace. He’d seen the look in her eyes with every instruction given, every new experience, not only during class, but the way her eyes lit up with any innuendo they’d shared, and definitely with anything having to do with spanking. He’d been extremely aware of her responses at both the paddling he’d given her that first night, as well as the flogging the previous evening. This woman was either the most consummate actress he’d ever encountered, or she was a natural submissive who truly desired to allow a Dominant to control her outside either the bedroom or the club. Granted, he’d yet to have her in his bedroom, but God, he’d had her against the door and had felt her come apart in his arms, not once but three times. He’d told her he had no interest in a relationship and yet, with every moment they spent together, the mortar in the wall he’d been building for the past two years was crumbling, and he knew it would only be a matter of time before the stones began to fall from his very soul.

  Holding her hand, he led her not to the sofa where they’d sat earlier, but to a corner across from it. She looked up with surprise on her face, and yet she didn’t attempt to pull her hand away or even to question his intention. Instead, her eyes seemed to burn a bit brighter, and the soft flush that crept up her neck to suffuse her cheeks had his cock twitching.

  “You’ll stand facing the wall and contemplate your behavior. When I call for you, you’ll come to me, ready to confess your transgression.” He saw her tilt her head a bit and he wondered what she was thinking of his instruction, but didn’t ask. They were taking steps towards something that would, if he were as lucky as he suddenly desperately wished he’d be, define their roles. Instead of speaking, he released her hand. When she immediately began to turn towards the wall, he took hold of her arm. “Not yet.”

  He watched her flush turn darker as he unsnapped her jeans and could see her breathing quicken when he lowered the zipper. “Naughty girls who deserve to be punished think better with their bare bottoms on display.” His words were demonstrated as he began to pull her jeans down to her knees. Another twitch of his cock proved how arousing he found it when she drew in a breath and held it as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties. They reached her knees as well, though at a much slower rate. There was just something about baring a woman for punishment that made his own breathing quicken and, at the scent of her arousal, his cock going to full attention.

  Once he was sure she was very aware that he’d noticed not only the damp gusset of her panties, but had inhaled her scent, he moved a step away. “Nose to the wall and keep your hands locked behind you.”

  “O-okay,” she murmured.

  “That’s yes, sir,” he corrected.

  “Yes, sir,” she parroted, but it took him twirling his finger for her to remember what he’d instructed her to do. She took the step past him that was necessary to reach the corner. Though not in heels, she still shuffled a bit, as her clothing at her knees restricted her stride. Once her nose was touching the juncture of the wall, he reached out and patted her bare bottom, loving her little gasp of surprise.

  “That’s my good girl.”

  ***

  Oh my God! Grace thought to herself as she closed her eyes. Not to shut out the paint on the walls, but to attempt to get herself under control. She’d read about ‘corner time’ in countless erotic stories but had never considered that men in today’s age actually still voiced the order. She’d felt her sex moistening when she’d realized their destination, and felt it threatening to flood her underwear when he’d unsnapped her jeans. And, oh sweet lord, the look in his eyes when he ran his fingertips over the damp gusset of her new pink bikini panties before actually inhaling what she knew without a doubt had to be the scent of her arousal, had almost had her coming. How could standing half-naked, nose to the wall, make her feel both like a naughty little girl and so incredibly sexy at the same time?

  “Grace, hands behind your back.”

  “Oh!” She quickly moved her hands to her back, only to feel him guide them so that each palm cupped an elbow. When she felt her jeans begin to slide, she was about to panic when he gave another soft order.

  “Legs apart far enough to keep your clothing in place. Stand up straight and push your naughty little bottom out.”

  She did so, feeling heat move through her body as she wondered what he was thinking about… well, the view. Were his eyes that delicious smoky grey color they’d been when he plunged into her the night before? Feeling another dribble of her own cream, she forced herself from that memory. A girl was probably not put into the corner to think about how wonderful it felt being filled by this man. When she heard a chuckle, and a slightly harder pat landed on her left buttock, she didn’t have to be verbally reminded why she’d been put nose to the wall. Still, it wasn’t until he moved away that she turned her mind to considering her behavior. It took effort to stifle the giggle that threatened to erupt when she wondered what his reaction would be if she turned around and stated that whatever it had been, it was worth it because, hand to God, she’d never been more aroused.

  Honestly, why on earth would those girls in the pages of her books complain about corner time? When she heard Quentin’s voice, it seemed as if she’d only been standing a few seconds, every one of those spent thinking about how arousing it was to be nose to wall, bare butt displayed to the
room. Turning to obey his order to “come to me,” she did give those girls a bit of credit, as walking with her clothing basically hobbling her steps, she felt a bit of embarrassment for the first time since they’d come down. It seemed to take longer to reach the sofa than the time spent facing the wall. When he spread his knees, she automatically stepped between them. Even with him seated and her standing, he seemed to loom over her, and yet she didn’t feel even a modicum of unease. Well, not until he spoke.

  “Tell me why I’m going to spank you.”

  Seriously? Evidently, just like corner time, men actually did ask that question and really, what sort of question was it? Then again, just hearing it had made her tummy do a somersault. Okay, it was a question that made a girl feel even naughtier.

  “I used naughty words?” Oh, geeze Louise, what adult used that phrase instead of simply stating “I cussed?”

  “That’s right. You said several naughty words.”

  His repeating the phrase and another somersault had her realizing that there was far more power in what she now considered ‘spanking foreplay’ than she’d ever imagined.

  “You are an adult, young lady, and an educated one. There is no need for you to lower yourself by using vulgar words, is there?”

  She opened her mouth to ask if the fuck me she’d uttered last night counted towards that vulgarity but managed to catch herself. She also briefly wondered who spanked him when he uttered such words but decided that was not only a ridiculous question, but one he’d consider a moot point, as he was definitely the one in charge. It would surely behoove her to take the safest path, right?

  “Um, no, sir.”

  “That’s correct. I’m going to spank your little bottom so that the next time you feel the desire to spew out filth, you’ll remember that there are consequences for doing so.”

  “Y-yes, sir, I’m sorry.”

  “This is where I could state that you will be sorry, but I believe actions speak louder than words.” She gave a startled squeak as he reached for her arm and guided her down over one knee. Her face was pressed against the cushion next to where he was sitting, her feet remaining on the floor behind her.