“Ow!” One hand flew to her abused ass, the other she slapped against the window that came rushing toward her. She turned to confront the perpetrator. “You’re lucky my nose wasn’t pressed against the glass. You might’ve broken it.”
“No,” Pierce shook his head, “you’re lucky. At least where your nose is concerned. Your ass is another matter. Not obeying me will only add to your punishment.”
“I just—”
He crossed his arms.
She compressed her lips. Why bother? It was clear he wasn’t going to accept any excuses. She’d been given an order and had disobeyed.
She edged around him to get to the bathroom.
He latched on to her arm and maneuvered her back. Grinned. “You don’t really think skirting around me will protect your ass from me, do you?”
“No.”
He released her. “Good. Now, march your tight tush into the bathroom and make yourself ready while I bring in the rest of our stuff.”
She turned, her butt an all-too-easy target. To her surprise, he didn’t so much as tap it.
Rather than relief, she felt disappointment.
“Don’t bother closing the door,” he warned on his way out. “It’s to always remain open.”
Her hand stilled on the brass knob, her shoulders tensing. Seriously! Surely he didn’t mean it. Another step forward and a quick visual scan revealed a very long bank of cabinets with two nice-sized sunken sinks along one wall, a supersized open shower fitted with multiple showerheads along another, and at the far end, another smaller room. Through the partially opened door, Heather caught a glimpse of beige porcelain.
Ha. Ha. Very funny, Mr. Jokester. The man sure was an expert at getting a rise out of her. Determined to get some pretty impressive rises out of him over the ensuing days, she shucked her clothes, kicked them off to the side and made her way to the shower.
Twenty minutes later, according to the slice of tree trunk turned clock embedded into the stone about two feet above the thick slab of natural wood that served as the fireplace’s mantle, Heather curled her legs underneath her and melted into the welcoming softness of the black leather chair. On his third trip from the car, carrying only a small duffle bag, Pierce had paused for what she took as an appreciative glance in her direction and then disappeared up the stairs.
The house pretty much an open floor plan, gave her the chance to admire the flex of jeans-hugged glutes as he took the steps two at a time.
She’d never been in a totally submissive role before. And although she’d read plenty on the subject, she wasn’t sure how much of it applied to Pierce, as he didn’t seem fixed on an exclusive dominant lifestyle. Since there was no way to guess, she was relegated to wait and see what he expected from her. Other than her completely naked and apparently at his disposal.
Not that she minded being naked for him or submissive. There was a freedom in it she’d never realized. Sure, she’d read about the freeing nature of giving yourself totally over to a man’s will, but she’d found it hard to buy into. Until now.
In charge of nearly every aspect of her life since leaving home for college and a skyrocketing career, it was nice. No, it was absolutely wonderful to sit back and let someone else call all the shots. Especially when it was the man she’d spent half a lifetime longing to experience it with. Even as she sat naked and waited, her body shivered with anticipation. To feel his commanding touch all over her body. The impact of those large strong hands on her ass.
Hmmm. Would he even use his hand? A hairbrush? Paddle? Did it matter?
And what other plans did he have for her ass? The imagined possibilities had her juices flowing. Was it any wonder most of the furniture in the house was covered in leather?
She steered her thoughts in another direction, using the time to take in the comfortable room. One and a half stories in height, the stone fireplace and stained glass behind her, the two connecting walls were covered with large recessed panels of thick light cherry three-quarters of the way up, every third panel containing a large crisscross design. The rest of the way up to the cathedral ceiling was sectioned off with glass allowing a flood of sunlight to brighten the space. The two shorter walls flanking the mammoth arched entrance housed an array of smaller recessed panels. No artwork or other adornments in the room, except for the track lighting at various heights and the giant big-screen TV mounted in one corner above a well-stocked bar, its shelves groaning under the weight of top-shelf liquors.
Her contemplation ended when Pierce appeared at the bottom of the stairs. Totally calendar worthy. One hip cocked, wearing nothing but partially unfastened jeans that revealed his navel, he just stood there for long moments.
“Talk about eye candy.” He smiled.
“Ditto!” She smiled back. Without a shirt, his chest appeared wider, his biceps larger, all hard muscle and straining tendons beneath taut, suntanned flesh as he strode over on bare feet.
“Scoot over, babe.”
She uncurled her legs and drew them up to her chest.
He immediately claimed the space she’d made, scooped her up and set her across his lap. “You looked pretty contemplative when I came down. Any chance you were thinking about me?”
She reached up, lightly trailed her nails through his shower-dampened hair. Her express shower on arrival hadn’t included a hair wash since she’d indulged in a longer shower before he’d picked her up that morning.
“I always think about you,” she answered honestly, not about to play any cat-and-mouse games. The stakes were too high.
“Hmmm. Anything in particular? Like my cock being shoved into your sopping pussy?” As he spoke, he trailed his fingertips lightly from the inside of one ankle, up her leg, tracing along her thigh until he reached the top and paused. “Open.” He lodged his hand between her legs in encouragement.
She suppressed a shiver, and knowing timidity was not what this dominating man wanted or expected, Heather spread her legs wide, dropping her outside leg to the hardwood floor.
The approval softening his face was instant proof she’d calculated his preferences right as his gaze lingered between her legs. Waxed and open, nothing was hidden. Not even the fact she was already moist and her labia no doubt puffed from her earlier thoughts of him.
He swirled his index finger around her opening. “You have no idea how exquisite your cunt looks right now. Pale and smooth on the outside. A hint of pink and wetness on the inside. But not as beautiful as it will look in the days to come when you’re bound and spread even wider.” His index finger trailed through her humid folds. “Ready and eager for whatever I want to do. Whatever I ask of you.”
A soft gasp rushed over her lips as enlightenment hit. Every word he spoke was true. She would do anything for him. Her unconditional love for this man, explicit trust and burning need wouldn’t allow for anything less.
His heated gaze rose to meet hers. “Oh yes, brat. Before we leave this place, I plan on testing all your limits. That includes your flexibility.”
Before her comprehension bloomed, he drilled his index finger up inside her, obliterating any thought except how long and wide the digit was. How good it felt. How he seemed to know how to torture her, skimming over sensitive flesh, tripping over her G-spot, but never with enough pressure to take her where she desperately needed to go.
She wiggled in his lap, seeking the firmer pressure he was bent on denying her. Her efforts were rewarded with the addition of a second finger drilling into her wet depths and the press of his hard dick against her backside through the soft denim of his jeans.
She sighed, a low-pitched groan fast on its heels when she realized even with two fingers gliding in and out of her slick channel, he still was capable of skirting the patch of bundled nerves that would take her to orgasm.
When his fingers slipped from her body, she wanted to scream.
“On your feet, bad girl. Time to pay the piper.” He nudged her other leg to the floor.
Heather rose on sha
ky legs without hesitation or complaint. She hadn’t missed the slight edge of sternness that indicated he expected to be obeyed.
He leaned forward slightly and produced a brown leather paddle from his back pocket.
Well, that answered her question about what he’d use.
“We’ll start out small.” He snapped the implement over his palm. The sound loud in the airy space.
Her body involuntarily jerked.
The punishment tool might be fairly little in size, probably no more than twelve inches total with a flexible leather portion attached to a thick round black handle, but no less intimidating. Especially, as she suspected, within the hand of a seasoned user.
Pierce’s smile was predatory as he moved forward on the chair. His muscular thighs forming a perfect bench for her to lie across. She bit her bottom lip. More to stem the flow of anticipation igniting between her legs than any sense of panic. She couldn’t count the times she’d brought herself to orgasm while daydreaming about this exact kind of love play. One of her other diaries was filled with chapter after chapter of her being at Pierce’s mercy, subjected to various forms of sensual torture. Her unguarded ass receiving the brunt of his discipline. On occasion, his expertly wielded smacks landed on her vulnerable exposed pussy.
“Down.”
She lay over his lap and got comfortable. As comfortable as one could get knowing what was coming and having a stiff cock pressing just below her squashed tits, lightly compressing her lungs, taking up precious air space she had the feeling she’d be needing all too soon.
Pierce opened his legs wider, allowing for more stability as she curled one hand around the short sturdy wood leg of the chair, her other hand around his ankle.
The first smack came without a whisper of warning.
“Damn it!” Her shout echoed through the room. Her body arched. But even before he laid the forearm closest to her head across her shoulder blades and steadily pushed her back into position, the fire in her right cheek was already dissipating into a steady heated burn.
“Not a sound. Unless I ask a direct question. As much as I’d love to prolong your punishment, see your creamy ass redden more with every stroke of the paddle, I don’t want you incapable of handling what comes later,” he leaned over, temporarily pinning her and pressed a soft kiss to the middle of her back, “no matter how much you beg me to continue. And have no doubt, brat, you will beg. For more of what I’m about to give you and so much more.”
The next hit landed on the opposite cheek.
She bit her lip, but still a squeak escaped. Shit! That burned like a motherfucker. Followed by yet another rapid spread of heat, trailing off to an inflamed tingle.
“Better, but still not good enough.”
The third fell on the tender flesh at the back of her upper thigh.
Her legs jackknifed up to protect the sensitive area.
He pushed on her calves until her legs straightened. “That happens again and I’ll tie them down.”
Heather stilled. Shocked. Not because he’d turned her off, because the explicit threat had the reverse effect. Warmth flooded her pussy as more fluid flowed. Oh God. She wanted to be tied down. Helpless.
The paddle next landed on the underside of her cheek. Harder. More sting. More heat.
He picked up the pace. Opposite thigh…the underside of the other cheek in rapid succession. Never in the same place twice.
She bit her lip against the fire radiating from where the paddle stung with the ferocity of a frenzied bee.
Just as she was congratulating her ability to hold back any sound, he changed the rhythm, vacillating between fast and slow. Never hitting where she anticipated.
Her breathing became shallow. Rapid. He gave her no time to catch her breath.
At some point, she lost count of the hits, lost the will to predict where the next one would land. All she could do was give over to the exquisite pain, wondrous heat, tentacles of intense pleasure spreading through every nerve ending of her trembling body. Vacuuming back to center in her throbbing pussy.
She hadn’t even realized she’d spread her legs wider until she felt a light smack on her exposed clit. She gasped softly and attempted to close her legs.
To prevent her reflexive action, he hooked the foot closest to him with his and clamped his free hand on the thigh farthest away.
“Definitely tying your sweet ass down next time and however many times after that until you learn not to close yourself off to me. Not in any way.”
He cracked the paddle across the middle of her ass and more lightly onto the back of each thigh.
“Spread for me.”
The whispered command barely broke through the web of sensual euphoria she was wrapped in.
“Now,” he demanded. Firm, steady pressure from the hand on her thigh opened her until her legs quivered from the strain. “Excellent,” he said, shifting his hand to encompass her entire right ass cheek. The light contact of his big palm minutely dissipated the fire he’d so diligently built, but not the radiating pleasure. His fingers gripped her pliant flesh, spread and lifted.
“Beautiful.” A stream of warm breath rolled over her sensually abused flesh and over her swollen sensitized lower lips. She didn’t care what he saw, what she looked like. All she cared about was getting something inside her pussy. It didn’t matter what, as long as it was thick, hard and all the way in. She couldn’t tolerate any teasing. Not now.
The next sensation she felt was a gentle probe at the mouth of her cunt. Not his cock. Not his finger. It felt like leather. No, he wouldn’t. Would he? Of course he would.
She groaned. Levered up on the balls of her feet. “Please, Pierce. Oh God, please.”
Pierce smiled at the sound of her breathy desperation. He’d brought her to this. Made her beg. Would do it again and again.
“What is it you want, babe? Is it more of this?” He shoved the paddle’s handle farther in, adding a little rotation. Stopped.
“No! Damn you. More. I need more.”
Could a man ever look down on a lovelier sight? Heather’s blazing-red ass in the air. Legs quivering under the pressure of keeping them open. Plump, pink flesh, glistening with her sweet juices. He nearly caved. Had to fight his desire to toss the paddle aside and instead of stuffing her with an inanimate object ramming his steel hard dick into her primed cunt.
“You have no idea what the sight of you like this does to me. A less controlled man would do something about it.”
“I don’t care what you do. Just do something. Anything. Please.” The last word was tacked on in a breathy rush.
Pierce grinned at the barely suppressed command in her voice. His demanding little brat had a lot to learn. Were she not new to this, he’d back off now. Punish her for her impudence and excessive talking. Deny her release. But all the wriggling friction against his straining cock was nearly tearing him to pieces. If he didn’t give her what she wanted soon, he’d come in his jeans. And that was absolutely not going to happen.
A steady sure push and he seated the handle all the way in. It was knobbed at the end, thicker, but still nowhere near as big as his dick. Or some of the other toys he planned to use on her in the days to come. But he’d learned long ago that although size did matter, technique was as important. And he was very skilled at applying whatever object found its way into his hands.
“Yes!” Her body arched before partially wilting in relief at finally getting what she’d wanted.
Unfortunately for her, wilting was not what he wanted. He plied the tool with a proficiency born from years of practice until her entire body was strung tight. A beautiful visual for the impending orgasm she was striving toward.
He slowed.
She whimpered.
He had no intension of denying her this time, merely building tension.
When she began shoving back into his strokes, her sharp nails digging into his ankle, her other hand probably wreaking havoc on the chair leg, he increased his strokes, making s
ure to add downward pressure on each withdrawal, aimed at hitting her sweet spot.
When her orgasm hit, her body convulsed. Her raw scream putting every window in the room at risk of shattering. Very well might have if not made of tempered glass.
He kept the handle buried within her depths, her clenching muscles assuring it stayed deeply embedded as he enjoyed the view of her contracting pussy. All the time, thinking how wonderful it would feel to have those muscles contracting around his dick when he was buried deep inside her hot, wet cunt.
When her body sagged against him, he slowly pulled the handle out, enjoying her tiny whimpers as he raked through overly sensitive tissue. Coated with the evidence of her orgasm, at any other time, he would’ve taunted her with the sight, had her suck and lick it clean, maybe even done it himself, but not today. He dropped the paddle to the floor and gently flipped her toward him.
She immediately clamped her legs shut, curled them into her body and burrowed against his chest.
For long, long moments, she didn’t talk and he didn’t encourage conversation. He knew what she was experiencing and was happy to clutch her to his chest. Allow her to enjoy a gradual descent from the fierce orgasm racking her soft curvy body. An expert on female reactions, he doubted she’d ever had an orgasm as intense. He was hell-bent on seeing it was not a singular occurrence. Not even the most intense she’d experience while she belonged to him.
Poor naïve baby. She’d no idea what she’d let herself in for by allowing him carte blanche over her body.
He kissed the top of her head.
Her contented sigh floated over his chest. His nipple tightened. It felt good. She felt damn good. Against his chest. In his arms. More fucking right than anything he could readily remember.
Jesus. He’d have to be careful. Staunchly guard his emotions. If not, his little brat could worm her way into his heart, bore in so deep there’d be no getting her out.
And what a disastrous mistake that would be for a man who was dead set against tying himself to any one female.
Restrained and Willing Page 11
