Push (Bound #1)

by Olivia R. Keane

  “Spread your legs for me, please.” She complied, spreading them shoulder-width apart, but he wasn’t satisfied with that. Declan wedged his foot between hers and spread her legs farther still. “Now bend over the couch.”

  “But …” She cut the complaint short as Declan gripped her shoulder. She bent over as he had directed, and now her pussy was at open view to him. He couldn’t help but stare. It was beautiful, the best possible shade of dark pink.

  He picked up the paddle and rubbed it against the bare flesh of her ass. “I want you to count for me, Charlotte.”

  “Yes, Master.” Her voice was shaky in response.

  He brought the paddle down hard against her flesh.

  SMACK!

  She squealed, “One!”

  “One, what Charlotte?”

  SMACK!

  “One, Master!”

  “Technically that was two, but yes.” He couldn’t help but smile. He drew back once again.

  SMACK!

  “Three, Master!” she cried out.

  He continued on, and she dutifully counted off every number with “‘Master.” They made it to fifteen, and then Declan carefully inspected her ass to make sure he wasn’t causing more pain than necessary. The paleness of her ass had given way to a wonderful scarlet and purple hued canvas. Declan set the paddle down and caressed both globes of tender flesh, listening for her quiet gasp. He knew the blindfold was masking Charlotte’s tears, and he knew she hated this, but her body betrayed her.

  “Ahhh, what do we have here?” He chuckled. “Looks like someone is rather enjoying their punishment instead of learning from it.” He clicked his tongue in mock despair as he walked over to his desk, returning with a rather large ginger root and a small kitchen knife. He placed them on the edge of the couch that Charlotte was laying over and removed her blindfold.

  “Here’s your next set of instructions, my good girl.” He placed his hand gently on the small of her back. “Don’t move. That’s all.”

  Charlotte looked at him quizzically and nodded. He reached behind her and smacked her tender derriere, making her squeal in surprise. “Yes, Master.” Declan smiled. He seemed to have successfully jogged her memory with that little spank.

  “Good girl.” Declan sat back on the couch, picking up the ginger root and the knife. He carefully cut a chunk off before holding it up for her to see. “Now, Charlotte. For the next portion of your punishment, I’m going to insert this in your ass. Do you know what it is? It is important that you be appraised of all foreign objects that are going to make their way into your body. Don’t you?”

  “It smells familiar. Is it ginger, Master?” Her brow furrowed in confusion.

  “Yes, very good, Charlotte.” Declan smiled. “Common kitchen spice as you know. But what you may not know is it is also a common torture device.” At that moment, all color drained from Charlotte’s cheeks. Her eyes grew bigger revealing her trepidation.

  “Once again, do not move or I will be forced to tie you down. Do I make myself quite clear, Charlotte?”

  “Yes, Master, I understand.” She nodded quietly.

  “Excellent.” Declan stood and walked behind Charlotte. She kept her head facing forward. He picked up the ginger and spread her ass cheeks apart before carefully pushing the ginger inside her. Once it was inside, Declan came back around and sat on the couch in front of her, smiling as he waited for the fiery pain to invade her senses.

  “Oh my God! Owww! What the hell is this, Master?” she screamed out in pain. “Take it out. Please. Please, Master! ’I’ll do anything, just please get this out of me.”

  “Shush, pet. Remember your rules. All in good time.” Declan watched as she squirmed, trying to abide by his last rule of remaining still, but the pain the ginger gave off was making it a nearly impossible task. “Just another moment or two, my pet.” He listened to her screams and rewarded her with a smile each time the screams turned into moans of pleasure. “You see Charlotte. Ginger is a good torture item, as you are quickly learning, but it is also a powerful aphrodisiac. You can be in excruciating pain one moment, and the next be begging me to fuck you.” He leaned closer so he would be face to face with her. Her moans were intensifying as she bucked her hips against the couch trying to find quiet relief from the painful pleasure the ginger was providing. “Do you want to be fucked, Charlotte?” he whispered. “Would you like to be given at least some relief?”

  She nodded, and then spoke through her moans. “Yes … Master.”

  Declan smiled. She was broken. Now for the next part of the phase. He rose from the couch, walked behind her, and gently touched the ginger root, pushing it further inside her. She cried out in pain.

  With his free hand, Declan reached down to her pussy, and gently rubbed her swollen clit. Her screaming transformed into a moan of pure bliss. He removed his finger quickly. Declan assaulted her clit once more, but a little longer this time, drawing her moans out. He removed it, sensing her closeness. He bent over her ass, pressing his growing hard-on against her thighs, as he asked, “Do you want to come, Charlotte?”

  She nodded furiously. He slapped her ass, leaving a hand mark. “Rule number one, Charlotte,” he spoke to her as his brushed his fingers against her clit once more.

  “Yes, Master,” she screamed.

  “Beg for it,” he commanded. He began to tease her. He placed his finger on her clit for a moment, and then withdrew it just as quickly. He repeated this until she couldn’t take it any longer.

  “Please, please Master. Let me come, please,” she called out in complete anguish. “I need to come so badly, Master. Please stop teasing me!”

  ***

  He ignored her plea for release. His hands slid over her, and she flinched as he traced the warm marks the paddle left in its wake. Declan removed the ginger root and quickly turned her over onto her back on the couch, sliding into her with a smooth, harsh thrust. The cool fabric of the cushions was welcome relief to the burning welts from the paddle. Her legs were up over his shoulders, his gaze locked on hers. As he rode her hard, never breaking the stare, she began to cry. She clutched his forearms tightly, almost afraid to let go. Charlie’s ascent to orgasm began again, and her rhythm quickened. Her breathing had changed, bringing Declan to utter one word. “No.”

  Charlie swallowed, trembling, and the moment passed. The rising pleasure she felt ebbed away into nothing more than a soft tremor, no more ecstatic than the minor pleasure she felt from his gentle caress in her hair during a tender moment. She was shocked at his denial of her pleasure. Declan’s form of Mastery had so far been lush and generous, but today was about punishment, not pleasure.

  “Who do you belong to?”

  She shuddered around him. “You, Master.”

  “Who protects you, fucks you, owns you?”

  “You, Master.”

  “Good girl,” Declan acknowledged between rough thrusts. The pleasure of hearing those words became an ecstasy all its own. His pace quickened, and she felt him as he came, his concentration on her gaze never wavering.

  Afterward, he sat Charlie on the edge of the bed, and he massaged some soothing cream into her wounded flesh. Declan ran his hands over her delicately, careful not to hurt her tender spots. He brushed her hair until it was dry as though she were a fragile, precious doll. He picked her up and tenderly placed her into his bed. She took comfort in knowing there would be other orgasms, full and overwhelming on other nights, pleasures untold that they would experience together. Tonight though, it was necessary to withhold. It was necessary for him to bring her to this place where she was primal, female, and submissive. Tamed.

  As she drifted off to sleep snuggled close to her Master, Charlie heard him whisper, “Here endeth the lesson.”

  Chapter Nine

  Charlie was a bundle of nerves as she pulled up to Ann Taylor on Sunday. This could go one of two ways. If I’m lucky, I’m walking into an episode of “Say Yes to the Dress.” If I’m not I’m heading into Maid of Honor hell a
nd an afternoon that would make an episode of “Bridezillas” pale in comparison. She shuddered at the thought and took another sip of her latte. With Mikki, one could never tell if it would be smooth sailing or the perfect storm. She nursed what was left of her Starbucks and decided it was more likely the latter given that Mikki had chosen a wedding date near Christmas. Visions of tacky plaid bow ties in green and red, poinsettia bouquets, and bridesmaid dresses in red and green velvet danced through her head.

  Trying to free her brain from the clutches of the Nightmare Before Christmas that would most likely be Mikki and Aaron’s nuptials, the knocking against the window startled her.

  “Are you going to sit in there all day and daydream? Come on, we’ve got a dress to try on. Move it!” Mikki shouted through the passenger window of Charlie’s car.

  Damn, Bridezilla it is. Charlie blew an errant tendril of hair out of her face and exited the car.

  “Keep your panties on, Mikki. I’m early. We have time. They aren’t going to give the dress away. Chill!”

  “Whatev!” Mikki dragged her sister by the arm into the store and led her back to the dressing rooms.

  Charlotte carefully unzipped the garment bag hanging on the back of the dressing room door and whispered a silent prayer to no one in particular. There had to be some sort of prayer to ward off horrible bridesmaids dresses, didn’t there? She slipped her hand in and much to her shock discovered the softest silk. Charlie carefully removed the beautiful dark cranberry creation.

  She quickly did her hair into a braid and slipped into the gown. It had a single twist shoulder strap that lent itself to an enticing, flowing silk gown with gorgeous shirred detail. Remembering Declan’s direction, she quickly snapped a selfie in the dressing room mirror and sent it off to him. He responded almost immediately.

  Declan: You look stunning. Dinner at 8?

  Charlie: Yes, Master, as your heart desires.

  She exited out into the main dressing area to find Mikki.

  “Oh, Charlie,” Mikki spoke through soft sobs. “It’s perfect!”

  “You really outdid yourself this time, Mik.”

  “Well you know I had to find something that would conceal all of your curves.”

  “That’s really so thoughtful of you.” Charlotte bit her tongue. She wanted to tell her where she could shove the dress, but decorum dictated she let the bride have her say. She walked back into the dressing room, confident that the only person whose opinion mattered was Declan’s.

  As she was placing the dress back into the garment bag, her phone vibrated in her jean pocket. She smiled thinking about what sorts of delicious torture Declan had in store for her later that evening. She was standing there in her bra and panties when Mikki opened the dressing room door. “Oh God!” Mikki shrieked.

  ***

  Charlie’s key’s clattered against the cherry of the sideboard in the hallway, the first noise to break the silence between her and Mikki. They didn’t say a word the entire drive home. Charlie avoided her big sister’s eyes; she avoided them in the dressing room, out on the sidewalk, in the car, and now she still avoided them.

  Kicking off her Vans, Charlie kept her back to Mikki, and then left her in the hall as she moved through to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

  “Are we not going to talk about it then?” Mikki asked quietly, following Charlie in.

  Charlie looked over her shoulder at Mikki, feigning ignorance. “Talk about what, exactly?”

  Mikki gave her a look of exasperation. “About the fact that your backside looks like someone took a two by four to it. What the hell happened?”

  Charlie couldn’t help it, she burst out in a fit of laughter.

  “Charlie! Seriously! What is going on? Did he do this to you?”

  The laughter vanished from Charlie’s lips. “Declan paddled me last night. He wanted to. I wanted him to. It was sort of a ‘funishment’.”

  “You can’t let him do this to you, Charlie.” Mikki grabbed a bag of peas from the freezer.

  “Its fine, Mik. I know what I am doing.”

  “I think you don’t and I—”

  “Mikki.” Charlie whirled around, her nerves shredded. “Just stop. Okay? Please. I don’t really want to talk about all of this with you.”

  Mikki looked like a chubby kid who didn’t get seconds on birthday cake. “But—Fine,” she sighed, tossing the bag of peas at Charlie.

  In an effort to maintain diplomacy, Charlie took the bag, setting it on the seat of her kitchen chair and sitting atop them, wincing at the sudden chill against her bottom. “So what was up with you and Aaron this morning? You looked like you were going to skewer his liver and serve it to him for breakfast.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it!”

  Yeah right. “Mik …”

  Mikki’s dark eyes narrowed unhappily. “Oh shut it! Of course, I want to talk about it! Frick, how do you keep everything in so well? How do you do it?” She pouted. “It’s absolutely impossible for me.”

  Charlie grinned and shook her head. “Not for me.”

  Mikki stuck her tongue out at Charlie and slumped in the chair across the table from her baby sister. “I’m beat. Today’s been exhausting.”

  “Hence the bitchy?”

  “What? I’m not bitchy.”

  “You’re a teensy bit bitchy.” Charlie held her thumb and index finger apart in the air.

  “Well, you’d be too if you had a wedding to plan all by yourself!”

  Charlie shifted in her chair, adjusting the Green Giant ice pack, wondering if she needed to check out that boxing class in preparation for kicking one future brother-in-law’s ass. “What happened, Sis?”

  “He’s not being helpful at all.” Mikki grimaced, eyeing Charlie sadly. “He keeps saying he wants to be involved, but he’s not.”

  “I did notice that he looked bored out of his mind at the bakery this morning.”

  “Bored? Oh, he’s fine with tasting the cakes, he just doesn’t want to fork any money over to actually buy one. Says we can’t afford it, and I called him out on it.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “Oh, some lecture about how marriage lasts a lifetime and I was behaving like a petulant child for wanting to spend a lifetime’s worth of money in one day. He said if I stopped acting like a spoiled brat, he’d stop acting disinterested and distant.”

  Aaron was good. Charlie laughed dryly. “Wow, nice job on side-stepping things, huh?”

  “Well, you do know all about avoidance,” Mikki grumped.

  Charlie snorted. “Okay, put your claws away.”

  Mikki groaned. “Oh God, Charlie, I’m sorry. I’m being such a brat today.”

  “I find it to be one of your more endearing qualities, that and your ability to hunt down a killer shoe sale.” Charlie shook her head and giggled. “You’re certifiable, do you know that?”

  “And you’re crazy.” Mikki stood up. “But, I love you anyway.” She grabbed a bottle of Green Machine from the fridge. “I’ve got to head out to yoga. Maybe you can help me talk some sense into Aaron later.”

  “Sure thing, Mik,” Charlie answered.

  “Oh, and Charlie? Go to the salon and have them try that updo I was telling you about. Your hair is out of control if it’s down.”

  “Um yeah, I’ll get right on that.”

  ***

  Later that evening, Charlie stepped into the bathroom of the restaurant to dab some water on a wine stain. She’d been clumsy with her wine and ended up with a few drops on her blouse. Declan had met her at Tin Angel and they had grabbed a bite to eat.

  When she emerged from the ladies’ room, she made her way toward Declan who stood in front of the bank of elevators. He stood there with a casual grace, his hands in his pockets, his charcoal gray suit straining in all the best possible ways, reminding her of his rock hard body. He turned to face her. Damn. She walked toward him trying like hell to remain steady on her heels, savoring the look of pure carnal desire on his
face.

  She could focus on nothing else as she passed by the long, elegant bar and the ’restaurant’s patrons, but a face in the crowd caught her attention. Charlie stopped in her tracks, suddenly gripped by an all-consuming panic that sucked the sound from the overcrowded space. Her heartbeat ratcheted out of control. An icy pain pushed its way through her, seizing her body.

  Charlie steadied herself on the wall beside her, seemingly unable to move forward while the face of the man she recognized turned in her direction as if he sensed her watching him.

  Dressed in a tailored suit, he looked like anyone else waiting for a table, but Charlie knew better. After a few seconds, his face twisted into a smile as recognition dawned. He remembered her. After four years of looking over her shoulder, never knowing when she might see him again, she had come to believe she never would. He was a ghost, a memory so excruciating that Charlie had spent years trying to convince herself that he had never existed. Yet here he was, a living nightmare come back to haunt her. Charlie vaguely remembered hearing Declan call her name before he was at her side, taking her by the arm. He came into focus and she tried in vain to mask the fear that plagued her.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, his face lined with concern.

  “Nothing.” Charlie caught his hand, pulling him into the open elevator.

  ***

  Returning to the warmth of Declan’s new home, Charlie made herself at home at the bar. She filled a lowball glass to the brim with ice and some amber liquor from one of the bottles in Declan’s collection. Charlie sank into the sofa and pressed the cool glass against her forehead, trying to freeze out the frenzied thoughts that had taken over. She wanted to banish them, to forget they ever existed. She wanted to wash them away. Charlie took a gulp from her glass to hasten them on their journey.