Smoking Holt

by Sabrina York

  “And now, if you will, please remove your clothing.”

  Her pulse leapt. “W-what?”

  “There’s something you should know Bella. I require immediate compliance to all my commands. Hesitation will only earn you a punishment.”

  She opened her mouth to respond. To issue some scathing retort, but then snapped it shut. Most likely, snark would earn her a punishment as well.

  And she had agreed to this trial. To see if she liked this. Only to see if she liked this.

  She might as well play by his rules.

  She liked that she had a choice. She could say the word now and go back upstairs and he would probably never mention this little experiment again.

  But she didn’t want to.

  She really didn’t want to.

  She’d fantasized about something like this all her adult life. Fantasized about him. But those fantasies had been locked in her imagination. Locked in the scorching pages on her e-reader where every hero, every Dom, had Holt’s face.

  It scared her to death, taking this step. But she needed to do it.

  Slowly she removed her t-shirt and dropped it on the floor.

  “Fold it, please.”

  His face was tight, hungry, but she sensed in him phenomenal restraint. She bent and retrieved her shirt and folded it neatly.

  It was a novel experience for her.

  She never folded anything.

  “And your jeans.”

  She kicked them off and folded them as well, setting her clothes on a pile on the back of the sofa. She hadn’t bothered to put on her underwear earlier, so she was naked.

  There wasn’t a breeze, but she felt the ambient air stir against her bare skin. She shivered as goose bumps rose.

  He stepped closer. Drifted his fingers over her shoulder, her collarbone, down to her breast. Why this made her tremble, she had no clue. “You are so beautiful Bella. So beautiful.”

  He turned to the pool table and selected one of the items she’d set out. She winced when she got a peek. The halter.

  “Do you know what this is?”

  Not really. She shook her head.

  “Here, then. Let me help you put it on.” He eased the halter around her torso and fit it in place over her breasts. She was preternaturally aware of the scrape of his knuckles as he worked. When he finished adjusting straps and buckling her in, she realized it was a leather bra-like contraption with adjustable cups. He held her gaze and tightened a strap. And another.

  She sucked in a breath as her breasts squeezed into concentric circles, each tighter than the last, until the final ring, around her aureoles where they formed tight points. He thumbed a nipple, then pinched. She winced.

  “Are you okay?” A soft murmur. A soothing rumble.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes Sir.”

  “Y-yes Sir.” She swallowed. Looked down.

  He tipped her chin back up. “I like to see your expression, Bella.” He went back to the table and came back with more straps and she realized, the bra portion was only the half of it. There was also a belt that fit around her waist and around the top of her thighs. She couldn’t imagine what the purpose of it was, but she didn’t ask.

  He stepped back to survey his work. “Nice.” He turned her toward the mirror and she gasped.

  Holy hell. Just that much. Just a few straps and buckles here and there, and she looked like an honest to goodness submissive.

  “See these rings here?” He touched the metal rings along the girdle. “If I was going to restrain your hands, I would fasten them here.” He touched more rings on the halter. “Or here. But I’m not going to restrain your hands.”

  “Y-you’re not?”

  “No. You asked me not to.” He paused. His intent flared between them. “But you are going to restrain your hands.”

  She spun on him, her mouth agape. “What?”

  His smile was sinful. “You’ll see. Now then…” He rummaged through the items and came up with the egg. “This, I think.”

  “That?” she squeaked.

  He ripped open the package without answering and pulled out the oblong vibrator. Deftly, he opened it and fit the batteries in place. When he snapped it shut, the click echoed through the room.

  “Lay on the table, Bella. Here.” He patted the felt.

  She shot him a wary glance, but did not hesitate—she knew better than that—levering up onto the table at one end and lying down. The baize was soft and rough at the same time, teasing her bare skin.

  He readjusted her, pulling her further toward the end, so her ass rested on the lip of the table, her hips at a slight slant.

  “Open your thighs.”

  She closed her eyes and did as he asked. Winced when something cold touched her clit. “Open your eyes Bella.”

  She did. The egg turned on and a ripple of vibration shot through her. She shot up.

  He didn’t need to say anything. His look said it all. Slowly, she laid back down and spread her legs again. This time when he touched her, she didn’t move. She held her muscles tight and willed her body to stay as still as she could.

  He played with her clit for a while, running the smooth head of the egg around and around and then, finally, he slipped it inside. The buzzing became muted. Although she felt every frenetic vibration to her core.

  His grunt echoed in the silence. “You’re wet.”

  “Y-yes Sir.”

  Warmth suffused her at the gratitude she saw in his eyes.

  “Put your arms over your head.”

  She did so, slowly, reveling in the caress of the rough fabric on her back as she moved.

  He rounded the table, his fingers trailing up her thigh, over her mound, along her torso and over her breasts as he passed. “Are you ready to play 8-Ball?”

  She shot him a grin. “I thought we were already playing.”

  The sharp sting at her breast surprised her. She hadn’t noticed him pick up the little crop with the flap. But she felt it. Her whole body lurched. Her pussy clenched on the vibrator and heightened the sensations. Electricity singed through her. She shuddered.

  “Are you talking back?” His voice was harsh.

  “N-no sir.”

  He paused. Dipped his head and kissed the redness on her breast. “Are you okay?” he murmured, gauging.

  He was close, so she didn’t need to say it loudly. “Yes…Sir.” On a breath.

  His tongue shot out and dabbed at his lips. He stared at her, as if poleaxed, then abruptly stood. “Okay. Let’s begin. Open your palms.”

  He arranged her, palms up, and set something heavy and hard in them. It took her a moment to realize he’d set two pool balls in each palm. “Hold on to these. If you drop them, there will be a punishment. Do you understand?”

  “Yes Sir.”

  “This is what I meant when I said you will be restraining your own hands.”

  Holy crap, he was devious. But she could do this.

  However, he wasn’t done yet. He grabbed the cue ball and made his way back to the end of the table.

  “Close your legs.” She brought her knees together until they met an obstruction. Another ball. She clenched it between her legs. “Hold that there. Do not drop it. If you drop it, there will be a punishment. Do you understand?”

  “Y-yes Sir.”

  Okay, that one took some focus.

  “And one more ball.” He held it up for her to see. The 8-Ball. This one he settled on her belly. It wobbled with every breath and because her hips were at an angle, it listed toward her ribs. “Hold it there. Don’t let it fall. If it falls—”

  “I know. I know. If it falls, there will be a punishment.”

  Okay. She should have bit her tongue and just let him finish his stupid little statement, but she was too busy focusing on the stupid balls to remember not to be snarky.

  This time the little flap, the one with the heart-shaped cut out, landed right on her pussy. She flew up into the air and all the balls fell.

&nbs
p; Holt surveyed her with a small pout on his face. Then he tsked. Goddamn it. She hated it when people tsked.

  “Bella, Bella, Bella. What did I say?”

  She tried, very hard, not to roll her eyes. “Punishment.”

  “Punishment.” He tsked again and she wanted to strangle him but she couldn’t. There was probably a punishment for that too.

  He eased her back down on the table and arranged her into position. Patiently, he set the balls back in her hand, the cue ball between her knees and the 8-ball on her belly. He tapped his lips with the flap of that tiny crop, the one that didn’t feel so small when it landed.

  She didn’t like the looks of that.

  “One lash for each ball, Bella.”

  “Wh—” She squeezed her lips shut before the screech came all the way out and her restraint seemed to placate him.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Yes Sir.” A grumble.

  “Hold tight to your balls.” She’d like to hold tight to his… “Okay, count with me, Bella.”

  “Ah!” The first lash fell. You’d think he’d warm up to it, start easy or something, but he didn’t. It landed right on her throbbing nipple. She didn’t lose any balls. But, all of a sudden, her pulse was very pronounced. In her clit. God help her if he decided to land one of those lashes there.

  “Count with me, Bella.”

  “One.” Through gritted teeth.

  The second lash fell on her other nipple. “Two.”

  He paused and she tensed, imagining where he would strike next. Please God. Please not there…

  No.

  On the same nipple, the right nipple—which still stung like hell. “Th-three.”

  The same nipple again! God damn him, it hurt! “Four.”

  She took a breath, checked her balls. Thankfully, they were all still in place, though the one between her knees was slipping a little and the 8-ball on her belly wobbled like mad.

  The lash fell again—on her left nipple. Even though it sent shards of pain and warmth through her, she blew out a breath of relief. She didn’t think she could take it if—

  Without warning, the little flap fell again. And directly over her throbbing clit. She hadn’t been expecting it. She hadn’t been ready. Her legs jerked and while she kept hold of the balls in her hands, the one between her knees slipped free and thudded to the floor. The 8-ball rolled off her belly onto the table as well.

  “Shit.”

  “You’re really not very good at this game, are you Bella?” Amusement laced his tone.

  She levered up on her elbow—careful not to drop her balls. “No fair. That was six, not five.”

  “Really?” Did I hear you count to five?”

  She froze as his words sank in. Shit. She hadn’t. She opened her mouth to make a pithy response. He didn’t allow it.

  “Besides, Bella. There’s no such thing as fair in a game like this. You need to understand that. I’m the Master, and if I think you need another lash, you get another lash. Do you understand?”

  She glared at him mutinously.

  His benign smile annoyed her tremendously.

  “And now, let’s see. You dropped two balls. Two lashes per ball.”

  “Two?” She really should learn to shut up.

  He fixed her with a dark look. “Shall we make it three?”

  “N-no Sir.” With a sigh she flopped back into position.

  Chapter Eight

  She survived the four lashes, remembering to count out each one, and she didn’t drop a single ball. Still, she remained tense when he had finished.

  Her nipples were a little sore and her clit pulsed like the dickens. Still, she was very proud of herself. It was almost a disappointment that he didn’t praise her.

  But that was stupid.

  Wasn’t it?

  When he finished, he turned away. She could hear him rummaging with items over by the cue stand but she didn’t dare lift her head to peek, too afraid she would dislodge the ball on her belly.

  When he came back, he held something behind his back. “Close your eyes, Bella,” he said.

  She did as he asked. And then she waited. Holding her breath. What would he do now?

  The sensation, when she felt it, almost made her leap out of her skin. A rough scrape over one nipple, and then the other.

  Oh. God. He had the baize brush.

  A whimper escaped.

  “Hold still.” A murmur.

  She held her breath as he tormented her with that brush, scraping it over one swollen nipple and then the other. She didn’t wrench away, but it took everything in her to hold still. Her clench on the egg, thrumming away deep inside her, tightened though. It nearly made her crazy.

  Oddly enough, the abrasion of the brush didn’t hurt. Not really. But it sent a scalding heat along every nerve. Though when he skated it down and around her breasts, it tickled. She nearly wrenched away then. Even when he traced her tender underarms, up to her elbow and down again, she was able to maintain control, but it cost her.

  It wasn’t until he teased the brush down her leg, to the bottom of her foot, that she had her next accident. It was a knee jerk reaction. Literally. When those soft bristles danced over her arch, she couldn’t—just couldn’t—stop herself.

  The cue ball, between her knees hit the floor.

  He stopped immediately and picked it up.

  Tsked again.

  She glowered at him, even though she was still supposed to have her eyes closed.

  “Five lashes.”

  Yeah. That horrified her, but not as much as his next move. He spread her knees and stepped between her legs and slid his fingers through the folds of her labia, holding her open. “Here, I think.”

  She sucked in a breath. Let go a little mewl. But said nothing. She lifted her head and watched, stared, as he lifted the little crop. The first one was gentle, almost tender. He looked up at her, waiting.

  She licked her lips. “One.” A croak.

  The second was a little harder. It landed directly on her clit. She winced. The 8-ball wobbled. “T-two.”

  The third actually echoed around the room, in concert with her wail. “Three!”

  The 8-ball fell with the forth. And she lost all the balls with the fifth.

  That was a total of five balls.

  He’d upped the ante with each drop.

  Dear God. How many would it be this time?

  He let her stew, massaging the sting from her aching clit.

  “H-Holt?” Her voice was small. Way too small.

  He stilled. Their gazes locked. “You’ve earned a pretty big punishment, Bella. Do you-do you want to continue?”

  She swallowed. God, he was giving her an out. She could take it. She should…

  “Yes Sir. I want to continue.”

  A muscle bunched in his cheek. His tongue peeped out. His lips trembled.

  And then he regained himself. His persona. His role.

  “All right then. I think it’s time to get serious.”

  She nearly howled.

  “Turn over.”

  He helped her stand—her knees were wobbly—and draped her over the edge of the table. Her breasts, still in the constricting harness, ached and the baize scraped her nipples as she positioned herself. Her mound brushed against the edge of the table.

  He adjusted her. “Hips up a bit. There.” Something cold touched her clit. Shit. The damn 8-ball. He set it between her body and the table. If she released any pressure on it at all, it would fall to the floor. And then what would he do?

  “Got it?”

  “Yes Sir.”

  “Hold it steady.”

  “Yes Sir.”

  He stepped to the other side of the table and stretched out her arms, again, placing balls in her hand. “Hold on tight.”

  “Yes Sir.” Her voice cracked because she saw what he picked up while he was down there. The flogger.

  Shit!

  She tensed as he returned to the foot of the table
. His palm skated over her ass. She shivered, trying not to move, but when she did, the 8-ball rolled against her clit.

  Oh God.

  “Are you ready?” She could tell from his tone, he usually didn’t bother to ask. But he was going easy on her.

  “Y-yes Sir.”

  The lash fell. The sting was excruciating. Also excruciating, the roll of the ball over her clit. She hissed in a breath.

  “Count for me Bella.”

  “One.”

  The vibrator in her cunt, which had been keeping up a nice steady rhythm, slowly but surely driving her closer and closer to orgasm, suddenly stopped. Then started. Then stopped again.

  Then it set up an agonizing uneven cadence. She nearly went out of her mind.

  But there was no time to focus on that. Because the next lash fell.

  “Bella?”

  His voice was sharp, but from far, far away.

  “Two.”

  And another.

  “Three.”

  And another.