Nobody's Perfect

by Kallypso Masters

  But Damián's hot gaze had zeroed in on her bare chest with a look of appreciation—and lust. Her nipples grew erect again remembering the intensity of his gaze. He'd seen her body's response to his interest, but he hadn't commented on it or touched her, for which she was grateful.

  Too late, she'd remembered the cuts on her arm and looked around hoping no one had noticed. Adam had seen them; his look of pity had mortified her. She didn't want anyone to feel sorry for her.

  "Do you trust me, Savita?"

  Her focus returned to Damián and the medical room. She did trust him, more and more each day. He hadn't taken her beyond her hard limits, although he'd certainly discovered things that probably would have been high on her limit list if she'd known they existed.

  Like exposing her body in public. Who would have thought he'd ask her to do that? He took great joy, it seemed, in shattering her inhibitions before she'd even had a chance to formulate in her head that they were inhibitions. Over the last week, he'd had a session with her every day, some in private and some, like today, a mix of public and private.

  At least she hoped this part would be private. She looked toward the door and saw a curtained window. Would he open the curtains and allow club members to watch? She shuddered.

  Some of the scenes this past week had been more silly than intense, like when he had restrained her on a St. Andrew's cross and fed her. The man seriously had an obsession about getting her to gain weight. But that scene and all of the others only served to deepen the level of trust growing toward him.

  Not to mention that he made her melt a little more after each scene when he'd hold her in his lap, secure within his arms, and just make her feel cherished and safe. Sometimes they talked about the scene, but more often than not, they just cuddled.

  She liked aftercare best of all.

  "I asked you a direct question. Do you trust me?"

  Why did he keep asking? What test did he plan to put her through next?

  "Yes, Sir…I trust you more than any man I've known."

  He patted her butt, which he did often now, as if claiming his territory, even when they weren't in a scene. "I'll take the qualifier, for now."

  She smiled, feeling warmth spread throughout her body as he praised her. She'd discovered an inner source of strength inside herself since she'd been training with Damián. But whenever she told him she was afraid of everything, he always reminded her about her core strength and courage and how it had come to the fore many times over the years as she'd faced so many frightening and daunting situations.

  Yes, she realized she'd been building on that strength all her life. She just hadn't acknowledged it or unleashed its maximum potential. But, as Damián continued to stretch her boundaries and encourage her to draw from that source deep within, he made her believe she was strong, that she could face anything.

  She looked at the gynecological table again as he bent down and pulled out the step stool from inside the foot of the table. He stood and faced her.

  "Give me your right hand."

  Surely she hadn't hesitated long enough for his scowl. He could read her like a map. She placed her smaller hand in his strong, warm one. When he squeezed her hand reassuringly, she smiled.

  Damián ran two fingers inside each of the wrist cuffs he'd placed on her earlier. He'd already checked the fit. Maybe he was distracted. Or nervous. His being nervous made her a little more so, as well.

  She'd become a bundle of nerves when he'd taken command of her in the great room. She'd barely gotten through half of what was becoming her drink—"Sex on the Beach"—with each sip, she'd remembered their special day at the beach playing out in great carnal detail.

  Occasionally, in brief snaps of time, she got the feeling she was Savannah, experiencing what Damián had done as he'd made love to her many times that day. She remembered his hands on her body, his tongue on her…

  "How does that feel?"

  She blinked, eventually realizing he was talking about the cuffs, not her... Focus, Savi.

  "Still good, Sir."

  "Maintain your focus. You will remain in the moment during this scene."

  "Yes, Sir."

  Damián was so serious. The air sizzled between them, alerting her that he had planned a play scene beyond the baby-step ones they'd done this past week. Until tonight, they'd only played in private, mostly because they'd had to make sure someone could watch Mari. Everyone they knew who could babysit was connected to the club's activities. But Angelina was back in town visiting Karla this weekend—avoiding Marc and the club, of course—so Angelina and Mari had gone over to Damián's apartment to "play in the kitchen," as they put it.

  "Now, strip off the jeans."

  Savi blinked. Once again, she'd strayed from the scene. So much for great focus. As she unbuttoned and unzipped the jeans, she recalled how Damián had explained discipline to her the other day. He'd drilled her about training her mind to stay in the moment but also wanted to keep her mind on the play scene at hand. Twice in the past few minutes she'd let herself stray from focusing on Damián. She needed to work harder at keeping discipline, keeping focus.

  Savi wriggled out of the jeans. She'd noticed lately that her jeans were getting tighter. Damián and Adam both insisted that she eat more. At this rate, she'd need to move up to a bigger size if she wanted to be able to breathe and bend over.

  She placed her hand on the table, crinkling the paper as she pulled one pants leg off, then the other. She hadn't worn panties. Damián had instructed her not to when he'd told her how to dress for this evening. Thank God he hadn't made her strip totally in the great room. But she hadn't noticed anyone else totally naked there, either. A few had worn skimpy fetish…

  Focus.

  "That's my girl."

  He smiled and reached into the small duffel bag where he kept his "toys," as he called them. He pulled out several lengths of chain and two cuffs, longer and more narrow than wrist cuffs. They were too big for her arms. He motioned for her to get up on the table and she did so, turning to face him and sit down. He placed one of her hands in his and wrapped his other around her back, guiding her into the desired position on the table. The paper-covered vinyl was cold against her back, and her nipples puckered even more.

  Without hesitation, he took one of the chains, pulled her arms above her head, and restrained her wrists to a point somewhere at that end of the table. She tried to move her hands, but couldn't budge. Walking to the side of the table, he took one of the cuffs, unbuckled it, and wrapped it around her left thigh like a miniature belt. Taking another length of chain, he looped one end through the thigh cuff's D-ring and doubled it. He tugged on the chain until her leg raised into the air, bent at the knee. Her foot dangled free.

  The cool air assaulted her privates as he threaded the chain through something metallic on the side of the gyno table. Savi's heart pounded as adrenaline pumped into her system.

  Breathe.

  Her lungs constricted, making it impossible to follow her own instruction. He walked around the table and strapped the other cuff onto her right thigh, applying a separate chain. When he began to raise her leg in a similar fashion, full-blown panic set in.

  "Sir, permission to speak!" The words came out in a rush, without thought.

  Damián's hand movements stopped, and he turned toward her face. He leaned closer, his hand firmly stroking her head from her temple to around the curl of her ear. "What is it, Savita? Does something hurt, feel numb?"

  She shook her head and cleared her throat. "You remember my hard limit, right?"

  "I never forget a bottom's limits. Why do you ask?"

  "Well, you're about to open my…open me up, and I wasn't sure if you remembered."

  "I remember." He smiled. "Trust me, querida. I do not plan to touch your pussy…until you give me permission."

  Until? That would never happen. But she didn't want this to happen either.

  Savi's heart pounded. If he splayed her open like this, he'd be able
to see what she'd hidden—what she wanted to remain hidden.

  "Sir, I have a new limit!"

  He frowned. "What limit would that be?"

  "You can't look."

  "I can't look at what?"

  "My…" He insisted she call it by its vulgar name, but she was in enough trouble already for interrupting his scene, so she would just say it. "My…pussy."

  He smiled. "I see. Well, this might present some challenges to the scene I have planned for you, Savita." He thought a moment, as if solving a math problem, then grinned. "But a Top needs to be resourceful. Very well. I will not look, but that requires that I chain you to the table a little differently. Are you ready to proceed?"

  She couldn't form the words and merely nodded.

  Without further delay, he moved back to the head of the table and unchained her arms. After he released her right hand and laid it across her abdomen, he rechained the other above her head. Returning to the duffel bag, she heard more chains rattle as he pulled them free of the bag. He also took a bundle of soft-looking rope out and laid it on her chest.

  When he didn't do anything further with her thigh, she relaxed a bit. Instead, he went back to the toy bag and pulled out more rope, as thin as macramé cord but softer than the scratchy rope holding up her planters.

  "Normally, on this table, I would restrain you with the leather belt across your belly, but I want to minimize the amount of metal coming into contact with your body. I'm going to lace you instead."

  "Lace?"

  The glare he gave her told her she'd spoken when she wasn't supposed to. Still, what difference could it make if he used rope or something metallic? Unless…

  Electricity!

  No. Damián wouldn't use that vile wand-like thing on her. He'd have to know how terrifying it would be, even if all he knew about her experience with the implement was the way the sadists had used it in the hotel penthouse. But memories of Lyle using the electric wand to brand her…

  Sweat broke out on her forehead, but Damián didn't seem to notice her distress. He knotted the rope to several anchor points up and down each side of the table and soon he had the rope crisscrossed between her breasts and another rope across her abdomen. She tried to raise her torso and hips up but couldn't move.

  "Deep breath, querida. I want to make sure it's not too tight."

  When she didn't respond fast enough, he tweaked her nipple. She drew a shaky breath, and he smiled

  "That's my girl."

  Her nipple engorged, causing heat to diffuse into her face. When he pulled her left thigh up and outward, spreading her open even farther, she tried to fight him by pushing her leg down.

  He stopped, but her leg remained in the air, cradled by his hand behind her thigh, just above the knee. "What is it? Have I hurt you?"

  Savi shook her head.

  "What's going on then?"

  That's what she wanted to know. "Please, Sir. Tell me what you're going to do."

  "You need to trust me, Savita."

  She gave him a feeble nod. "I'm trying."

  "Have I ever gone beyond your hard limits?"

  "No. Thank you, Sir. But—why do I have to be on this kind of table?" The only reason she could think of was to be splayed open. She shuddered.

  "It's not for you to ask, but because I want you to remain calm at this point, I'll explain. I'm going to bring back some of those bad memories you released last week—from the time you were tortured in the penthouse."

  She remembered having her legs raised, spread open, and restrained to the headboard—ropes, quirt, electricity. As much as she hated those things, the implements weren't the reason for her distress at all.

  He smiled and reached out with his free hand to stroke her cheek. "You've come a long way in a short time, Savi. Don't bail on me now. This is an important test of your trust in me."

  "I do trust you." Mostly. "I just don't like being restrained like this."

  "I thought we were beyond your fear of restraints."

  He'd restrained her in other ways many times, but he'd never splayed her open. How to explain the actual problem? "I mean with my legs spread open like this. Promise you won't touch or look at my…pussy?" She still blushed when she referred to her private area that way.

  He sighed. "Will you trust me to remember your limits, Savita, and fully surrender your body to me?"

  Surrender.

  "I trust you, Sir. I'll try, but..."

  Damián bent his head to her face and pressed his lips hard against hers in another show of possession. She thought he might cover her mouth and steal her breath away again, but he kissed her briefly, stood, and reached down to tweak her nipple. Harder this time.

  The sadists had used Shibari rope-tying techniques on her breasts, coiling the bindings tightly at the base of each. The exposed tips of her breasts had become swollen and hypersensitive, which she noticed whenever one of them reached out to twist her nipple.

  Savi blinked back to the present. She wasn't in the penthouse. She was with Damián. She wished he would stop touching her like that, though.

  As if he'd read her thought, he frowned. "Whose nipple, Savi?"

  She sighed. "Yours, Sir."

  Trust him completely. Submit.

  Drawn into his warm, chocolate-colored eyes, she relaxed her leg into his hand. "My body is yours, Sir."

  "Thank you, querida, for your most precious submission."

  Not waiting for her to change her mind, he lifted her thigh higher in the air and outward, then grabbed the chain dangling from the D-ring on the thigh cuff and clamped it to the side of the table. He had fully exposed her pussy and ass to his view. All he had to do was move to the end of the table. How could he not look?

  How could he not see her shame?

  He stroked her hair. "Relax, bebé. Trust me. I'm restraining you like this so I can make sure you can't move and won't get hurt."

  How could she relax when he was so close to discovering—?

  Hurt?

  "Now, for a little improvisation." Damián glanced up at her and smiled. "Give me your hand, Savi."

  She lifted her unrestrained hand off her belly and extended it to him. He picked up the bundle of rope he'd laid between her breasts earlier, warm from her body heat, and shook it loose. Similar to the claw design Adam had used, he entwined the rope just above her wrist and ran it down and in between each of her fingers. With the end, he fashioned a thick knot and carefully positioned it over the palm pad between her middle and index fingers. He released her hand. What did he have in mind?

  She didn't have long to wonder.

  "Touch your breasts."

  "Wha—?" Remembering that he hadn't asked her a direct question, she quirked her head, leaving the question unfinished but clear.

  He glared at her. "I. Said. Touch your breasts. I want you to pull on your nipples, pleasure yourself as you do when you're alone."

  She'd never touched herself like that.

  When she remained frozen, Damián went to the bag and pulled out the quirt. "Savi. Are you willfully ignoring an order from your Top?"

  Memories of how the quirt had made her inner thighs raw all those years ago made her insides quiver. She tentatively slid her hand up her abdomen to her left breast and took the nipple between her thumb and index finger. She squeezed and rolled it the way Damián sometimes did, not sure exactly how she was supposed to do this.

  "Pull your nipple away from your body."

  Her gaze remained riveted on Damián. She pulled the nipple taut, stretching her breast upward.

  "Release it."

  She let go, and her breast regained it's natural shape.

  "Again."

  Savi licked her suddenly dry lips, and Damián's gaze zeroed in on her mouth. She pulled at her nipple again and released it, imagining he was the one pulling on it with his fingers—or teeth. She grew warmer but still didn't truly feel anything. What did he want her to feel? Damián's breathing quickened, became shallower. The knowledge that
he was getting turned on by watching her sent a tremor through her body. No one had ever asked her to pleasure herself before, much less watched her do so.

  "Breathe, Savita." Damián's stern command reminded her to take a breath, but her heart pounded so loudly in her ears she couldn't keep her mind on her breathing. She needed to calm herself down. If he gave another command, she wouldn't be able to hear it.

  I can't do this.

  Damián set the quirt across her belly and stood between her legs. Her hand froze before she realized he was standing too close to see the thing she most wanted to hide.

  "Look at me, Savi."

  She locked gazes with him.

  "What do you feel?"

  "Nothing, Sir. I feel numb."

  He nodded and roughly scraped his blunt fingernails against the skin on the backs of her legs, raising gooseflesh wherever he touched. Her skin tingled.

  "Roll your nipple."

  She complied.

  "Harder."

  When she applied more pressure, his fingertips rounded her hips and scraped her butt cheeks. A jolt of electricity shot through her breast to her privates. Her eyes opened wider. She'd felt that! Damián's gaze drifted from her face to the nipple she wasn't even touching, which was becoming erect. He smiled and looked into her eyes, but remained true to his word. He didn't look at or touch her pussy.

  Damián's fingernails continued to abrade the skin on her thighs and butt. She held her breath, but he always drew away before touching her pussy.

  She relaxed.

  Reaching for the loose end of the rope tied to her wrist and hand, Damián tugged slowly and drew her hand down toward him. She released her nipple when she couldn't stand for it to stretch any further. Slowly, her hand crossed her abdomen, skimming over the ropes he'd used to lace her to the table. She provided some resistance as he drew her hand over her mons, but the displeasure on his face caused her to relent.

  Seconds later, the palm of her hand lay splayed over her mons. He made adjustments to the rope tethered at the lower end until the knot on her palm pressed firmly against her pussy lips, just over her clit. Savi tried to pull her hand away once more, but he answered her movement by tying the rope more taut at the lower end of the table. She had nowhere to go.