by Cassie Ryan
She didn’t answer, but a sense of the rightness of his touch soothed her. She was glad he hadn’t said he understood. No one understood unless they’d been through it, and she didn’t want to think about this wonderful man ever having gone through the hell she’d survived.
Oddly, it hadn’t been as difficult to talk about as she’d feared. The pain was still there, but somehow it was muted. She had expected that reliving those memories would be just as painful as living through them the first time, but in a way it almost felt like she was relating the story about someone else, some stranger. Only the churning of remembered dread deep inside her stomach confirmed that it had indeed happened to her.
“Thank you.” She blew out a slow breath, trying to get used to the sensation of being without all of her heavy secrets. “I’ve never told anyone all of that outside of the different CPS agents who came to my school to talk to me. It actually feels good to finally let it out.” She pulled back enough to meet his gaze. “I never thought I’d say this, but thank you for pushing me to tell you.”
Brent’s lips curved into a gentle smile, his handsome face showing compassion and something that for a flash of a second she thought might be…no…it couldn’t be that. It definitely wasn’t love, although there might be the first stirrings of it on her side. She’d seen in Brent’s gaze a deep caring, at the very least.
“I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me.” He smoothed his thumb over the back of her hand in a soothing rhythm. “Now I understand why you have a hard limit about being hit. I won’t abuse that knowledge.”
She returned his smile. She’d let her guard down with him. She’d learned never to share any type of personal information with Diego, especially fears and sensitive spots. But she believed Brent when he said he wouldn’t do the same. If she was wrong, only time would tell.
She sucked in a deep breath, hoping she wasn’t wrong. Please, not about this.
Brent brushed his fingers over her forehead as if he were smoothing away the creases that formed when she frowned. It made her aware of her tense expression, and she forced herself to relax her face and loosen the muscles of her shoulders and neck. It was time to move forward.
“As for now, Master Brent, I think we have more important business to attend to.” She purposely used extra emphasis on his honorific to try to steer the conversation to more comfortable topics. The flash of sexual interest in his deep, blue gaze showed her it had gotten his attention.
He sent her a questioning look, which made her laugh as she’d hoped. “We have this beautiful fruit tart to eat.”
He laughed and then dropped his gaze to the tart. “It’s too bad we don’t have more privacy here. We’ll have to try a restaurant with a little more next time, but not too much.”
Her skin heated at the dark hunger that shone in his eyes.
“What would you do if we had a little more privacy?” she pressed, truly curious.
Brent picked a piece of kiwi off the fruit tart and brushed it against her lips. When she opened her mouth to take it, he pulled it away. “You’ll have to be patient. Believe me, there are wonders that are definitely possible, even here, but I don’t think you’re ready for them yet.” He brushed the kiwi over her lips again, spreading its moisture before lowering his mouth to hers.
He kissed her thoroughly, effectively stealing the sweet juice from her lips and causing her entire body to heat as moisture dampened her panties.
When he pulled back from the kiss her breath was coming in harsh pants. All she wanted at this moment was to have him buried deep inside her. A vivid image of him laying her back on the table, on top of the tart and everything else, to fuck her hard until she screamed his name in front of the waiter and all the other diners sent shivers racing through her.
As if he could smell her arousal, he threaded his fingers through the hair at her nape and took control of her mouth in a rough, thorough invasion. As the sensual assault continued, her nipples puckered hard against the cups of her lacy bra and her clit throbbed.
The sound of a clearing throat broke through her haze of arousal, and Brent’s deep chuckle echoed through her as he slowly broke the kiss and pulled back.
It took her a few long moments to make sense of the situation. When she did, she saw the waiter standing right next to them, looking decidedly uncomfortable. She knew she should feel embarrassed, but she only wished Brent would have ignored the interruption and completed her vivid fantasy right here in front of the world.
“Yes, we’ll take the check. Thank you.”
Brent’s voice brought her the rest of the way back to the present moment and reality. She must have missed the entire exchange between Brent and the waiter to this point. She tried to gather her wits, but the endorphins still raged through her.
Master Brent had awakened her desire, and her body demanded more. Because right now he was Master Brent and not just Brent. Once again in charge of her desires, and she loved it.
“Let’s get back to the Club and we can take care of you before your self-defense class this evening. If I send you to the class this aroused you might end up killing someone.” He smiled, and she forced her lips to curve in response.
At least he recognized how aroused she was and he wasn’t going to leave her this way. Or worse, demand that she not take care of it herself or punish her for even getting wet. She shoved those thoughts away. That was her old life. She needed to bury it and enjoy building this new one.
Master Brent paid the bill and then offered her his hand so she could stand. She was glad for the help—her legs were wobbly and her entire body was busy trying to process all the signals and stimulus of the past hour.
Chapter 15
By the time they reached Club Desire and she’d changed into something more comfortable, Sandra’s body was screaming. Master Brent had taken her back to the room she’d stayed in before, to let her change and freshen up before they headed down to Basement 2.
Not sure what was on the agenda for the day, she slipped on a blue, lacy baby-doll nightie with spaghetti straps. The bottom ruffle tickled the tops of her thighs, flashing the small scrap of material that passed for the matching panties each time she moved.
Master Brent growled deep inside his throat. “I love that color on you, Sandra.”
She turned to find his possessive gaze raking over her. No one would mistake the blatant message of “mine” in his gaze. The knowledge thrilled her and kicked her arousal back into overdrive. “It’s the same color as your eyes.”
His expression darkened with something that made anticipation surge through her. That gaze promised erotic explorations that would leave her boneless with pleasure. And she couldn’t wait.
Master Brent led her down to Basement 2, where only a few people were playing scenes or sitting in the locker room chatting.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised it’s not very busy right now.” She glanced around at the sparsely populated space. Most of the play areas looked like sets for a production that weren’t in use. “It is a Monday afternoon, so most people should still be at work.”
He laughed and continued to guide her around the long, circular hallway to the opposite side of the floor from the locker room. He stopped next to a scene with a bondage bed, a tall spanking bench, and a St. Andrew’s cross, along with several overhead bars and chains to hook D rings into for various purposes and a large blue toy bag lying on a table nearby. A fresh surge of moisture dampened her panties at the thought of what play Master Brent might have in store for her today.
“You’d be surprised when people flock to the Club.” He ran one large finger over her shoulder and down her back nearly to the top globes of her ass. A wave of goose bumps flowed over her, bringing a rush of erotic heat. “There are some Mondays that end up being busier than Friday or Saturday nights.”
She shook her head as her mind finally caught up with the fact that Master Brent was unaware of the erotic maelstrom he’d set off inside her with that simple
touch and was continuing his response to what she had said. If she kept drowning in arousal and pleasure, she might never be able to think straight again. A smile curved her lips at the thought. What a wonderful way to lose her mind.
He ran his hand down the back of her silky nightie and farther to stroke over the sensitive skin of her ass. “Do you trust me to take care of you, Sandra?”
She turned to face him, meeting his gaze and reading the intensity and the anticipation there. “Yes, Master Brent. I do trust you.” She waited for any signal from her body that she didn’t entirely mean that, but none came. Only a sense of rightness and anticipation. She smiled up at him.
He nodded once, his handsome face promising wonderful pleasures she could only guess at. “Take off the nightie and anything else you don’t want ripped off. We’re pretty removed from the main part of the floor, so we should have privacy for our scene.” He caressed her cheek, sending warmth through her as if she’d swallowed a nice, smooth shot of whiskey.
“Step on the stool in front of the spanking bench and bend over it so your ass is in the air and at my mercy, and those beautiful breasts are hanging down on the other side.”
The muscles across her shoulders tightened as instinctive fear sliced through her. It took her a long moment to battle it back and remind herself that this was Master Brent and not Diego. She’d told him she trusted him, and she meant it. Before she could overthink things, she quickly stripped off the nightie and the small thong panties, and squared her shoulders.
Through sheer willpower, she put one foot in front of the other until she was close enough to step up onto the wide stool in front of the spanking bench. The step up brought her high enough so she could bend over the comfortably padded bench that supported her from the crease above her thighs to just under her breasts. Most of the benches she’d seen were lower so the Dom could sit and bend his sub over his knee for spanking or other punishments. These taller ones were usually about penetration or some type of more intense play.
Her breasts hung down over the side and she cupped them, suddenly self-conscious about their size and weight.
Master Brent’s voice sounded from close beside her, making her jump.
“Stretch your arms out in front of you and wrap your hands around the bar.” His voice held quiet confidence, and she thrilled at having all of that intensity trained solely on her.
She raised her head so she could see the bar he’d mentioned and then stretched out her arms so she could wrap her fingers around it. She had to rest her full weight on the bench beneath her to get her hands around the smooth, wooden bar, which left her breasts hanging free. It wasn’t painful or even uncomfortable, but it did leave her feeling very exposed.
Master Brent pulled a length of blue rope from a toy bag nearby. The rope was the same blue as her nightie had been and her pussy clenched at the thought of what he was going to use it for.
She was surprised when he began wrapping the rope around her wrists and then tethering it to the rings that went through the bar. Master Scott had always used soft restraints, which were easier to secure than rope, and Diego had used manacles or pure fear to keep her in place.
“Sandra,” Master Brent said as he secured first one wrist and then the other. “These should be tight but not uncomfortable. They are to keep you from moving or using your hands while the scene is in progress, but there shouldn’t be any pain involved. You need to let me know if they are uncomfortable or painful in any way. You will never be punished for telling me, no matter what it interrupts.” He brushed his fingers over her cheek in a sweet gesture that sent warmth surging through her.
“Remember what I told you. I need to have all of that information so I can choose the best things for both your highest pleasure and your well-being during our scenes.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered without thinking.
Treating Master Brent as her Dom had become second nature in only a few days. It felt so natural, she wondered where she would be right now if he had been her first Dom. She would always appreciate Master Scott for taking on a very insecure and totally inexperienced sub. But going through what she did with Diego after feeling abandoned by Master Scott hadn’t helped her develop as a sub.
She frowned. She knew Master Scott hadn’t had a choice. His job hadn’t given him any. It was relocate or lose his job. But she accepted the fact that she had felt abandoned, and until this moment had even put part of the blame for the entire Diego episode firmly in Master Scott’s lap. She realized in a quick flash of insight that in a way she had kept hoping Master Scott would rush back and “save” her from Diego, which was why she had waited as long as she had to run.
In hindsight, after all she’d been through, both the good and the bad, she was surprised she was here in another dungeon. Not only comfortable with a very strong Dom, but also excited to be exactly where she was.
Master Brent interrupted her thoughts when his large hand closed over her ankle. She jumped, and he smoothed his hand down the back of her calf.
“Stay with me, Sandra. Keep your focus on the here and now. Because of your previous experiences, it’s always going to be a temptation to think about the past and compare it with now. I know it’s difficult, but keep your thoughts on enjoying every second of what’s going on in the current moment.”
He pressed a kiss against the back of her calf and she gasped. “Let the pleasure build through you. Our scenes start when I meet you in the locker room. From that moment forward you are mine until the completion of aftercare. And I am yours.”
Master Brent’s words thrilled her. She liked the thought of him being hers until aftercare was completed, and she also liked the thought of belonging to him for that duration, although she wouldn’t mind it being longer.
He skimmed his palm up the back of her other thigh, and she sighed as his lightly callused hand skittered sensations along her nerve endings that shot straight up her legs and settled between her thighs.
“Do you want to keep these sandals on for the scene? It won’t matter to me either way, but if you thrash or squirm you might lose one or both, and we won’t be stopping the scene to put them back on.”
Since she could bet she would be thrashing and squirming, she said, “Off, sir.” She slid her toes out of the sandals, and Master Brent took them and replaced each foot against the stool, which was lined with slightly ribbed hard rubber. For traction, she supposed, which made her smile. But it wasn’t uncomfortable against her bare feet.
Master Brent applied pressure against the inside of her calves and she widened her stance for him until he slid what felt like a spreader bar between her ankles and then wrapped more rope around her ankles to secure her to the bar and keep her legs apart. In this position, she was truly vulnerable and open to anything Master Brent wanted to do to her.
She waited for the instinctive fear or dread, but only a swift wave of arousal and anticipation washed over her.
“Are you all right, Sandra?” Master Brent rubbed his hand over one ass cheek while he waited for her answer.
“Yes, sir. I feel a bit exposed and vulnerable, but it’s exciting.”
Master Brent traced his fingers down the backs of her thighs, making her gasp. “I’m glad. But we’re far from done.”
He walked around the table toward his bag and pulled out some kind of small plastic bottle. Lube? She heard the slight pop of the bottle being opened, and then a musky scent laced with vanilla and some type of citrus filled her senses.
Before she could ask about it, she heard the sound of Master Brent rubbing his hands together briskly and then felt his hot touch against her bare ass.
She sucked in a breath so fast that it hissed between her teeth. His hands against her skin felt divine. It wasn’t quite so much a massage as it was him rubbing the smooth oil into her skin. Blood rushed to everywhere he touched, making those areas more sensitive. As he stroked and kneaded her ass, she craved more sensation there and arched into his touch, wordlessly beggin
g for more. No matter how much he gave her, she wanted even more.
She couldn’t believe she was even contemplating asking him, but then she opened her mouth and let it spill out. “Master Brent?”
“Yes?” His voice held a note of amusement, which made her suspicious.
“I…Would you mind trying some basic swatting?”
Master Brent made a pleased-sounding rumble in his throat a second before she felt a firm swat on her ass where he’d been massaging. The swat stung, but then those sensations radiated out, joining the fire of her building arousal. She closed her eyes and raised her ass as much as her position would allow.
She was immediately rewarded with another swat. This time the intense new sensory input made her clit throb, and she whimpered again before blowing out a long breath.
“You said Master Scott had started to introduce you to some basic swatting and flogging, if I remember correctly.” Master Brent laid one warm hand on her hip. “But you seemed to flinch on the dungeon floor when you heard the sounds associated with those. Are you all right?”
She nodded. “I didn’t like it at all when Master Scott tried to introduce it. I think I had too many hang-ups about my past, and I couldn’t see being excited about physical punishment of any kind. But now…”
Master Brent swatted her again and she raised her ass as much as she could.
“Now I think you’re finally starting to understand why people come to enjoy impact play. It’s just another form of sensation for the body. That slight sting triggers the body to release endorphins, which feel good but also feed into the arousal already building.” He swatted her again and she gave in to a long moan.
She really needed to come, but she knew Master Brent was far from done with her. She didn’t want to miss one second of what he had planned for her, so she tried to breathe through the tight frustrations of her body’s demands. Master Brent’s large, hot hands still rubbing the wonderful-smelling oil into the sensitive skin of her ass wasn’t helping her calm the raging need.
