“If in the future I decide to share you—with anyone—you’ve already agreed to this. Haven’t you? If you want to change the terms, let me know now. I won’t have you trying to top from your position. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master, I understand. I don’t want to change anything.” The thought of him sharing her with someone other than Ariyel Esmund had not really entered her mind. But now, the idea of being shared with a stranger for the fact alone that it would please Creed actually excited her. But Creed was right to have punished her because while maybe she hadn’t said as much, she’d tried to control something that wasn’t hers to control. “I-I’m sorry, Master. I was wrong.” He did know what she needed and she shouldn’t have questioned his motivations. After Ariyel she realized perhaps that was the reason she’d become fearful. But Creed was right—he wasn’t Ariyel. Ariyel hadn’t possessed the same sort of strength that Creed had. Ren had recognized that very soon after being introduced to Creed.
Master released her hair. She breathed a sigh of relief.
“You’re forgiven. Now, take me into your mouth and suck me to climax.”
Eagerly, she reached for his fly, unzipped his pants, and drew him out. He was hard, his cockhead purplish and engorged, his slit pronounced as she sucked him into her mouth. She used her hands, her lips, her tongue in the manner he liked. He kneaded her head as she worked him, sucked and licked, her hands at his thighs, then cupping his heavy balls. And then he came, spurting into her mouth. Again, his hands clutched at her hair.
She felt she had pleased him. And his pleasure, like a healing rain drenching her, filled her with joy. She replaced his softening prick back inside his pants and zipped up his pants.
He sat back down in the chair and pulled her onto his lap. She cuddled against him. He stroked her ass, which sent a whole different range of sensations through her. She leaned her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes.
“Master,” she murmured. “I love you.”
“I have no plans to send you away, Ren,” he said softly. “The thing with Kyle is a job offer, nothing more than that. I thought it would please you.” He pulled her closer.
Tears spurted in her eyes again. She buried her face into his shirt. Tears of happiness, not pain. He did care for her and she snuggled close, his arms wrapped tighter around her. She sighed with contentment.
It was a long time later she finally eased away. She returned to her knees on the floor, her mind quieted, her body relaxed, though her ass burned from the paddling. She put her hands behind her back and bowed her head. Creed leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead and then he got up, picked up his jacket and quietly left her apartment.
She knelt there on the floor, her dress bunched up around her waist, her ass hot. She slid her legs apart and reached down to finger her pussy. Her lips were puffy, her clit stiff. She fingered the ring. With her other hand she reached back to stroke the heat of her ass. And then she came—without permission. But it was so very good.
When she slipped between the covers of her bed that night, she couldn’t help smiling. Creed was everything she could have wanted in a lover. He had a way of taking her to the edge and back, of making her feel loved and desired, of challenging her to lose control—to him—and yet to take control of her own life in the world at large. He also helped her to know how and when to yield to the demands of her life.
Sleep came easily as she considered what new challenges the next day would bring her way.
* * *
Ren dressed carefully for her first day at her new job. She was nervous. It had been a long time since she’d worked, though she’d kept up-to-date on the aspects of her career, it was more than a year since she’d been employed in an accounting capacity, and now she was going to be getting back into the stream of life once again.
She didn’t choose beige; she didn’t choose black. The suit was red wool, no blouse beneath, with the suit jacket tapered snugly. As Creed preferred, no panties or bra. She did wear a red satin garter belt and a pair of flesh colored silky stockings—not pantyhose. Her high heels were tricolor—white, red, and slender braids of gold. No, Creed hadn’t chosen her business attire, but Ren knew she’d certainly chosen her clothing with his tastes in mind. Which had become hers as well.
When she walked into Kyle Monahan’s spacious office that overlooked the skyline of New York the view rather took her breath away. This was certainly an influential man’s office, with panoramic windows making the office seem even bigger and airy.
A tall, slender man, with blond hair and hazel eyes, today he was dressed in a form-fitting navy blue suit. He stood and then waved to a chair in front of his magnificent ebony and glass executive desk. A modern sort of a man from the look of the high-tech equipment on the desk and placed about the room.
“Have a seat, Ren. Would you like some coffee? Tea?”
She sat carefully, still nervous. She demurely crossed her legs at the ankles. Hands clasped together in her lap.
“No, but thank you.”
Kyle eyed her appreciatively. “Creed thinks very highly of you. And I trust in his judgment. I hope you’ll be happy here. It’s a demanding job. I’m a demanding employer. We expect your loyalty and you’ll be paid well for your best performance and dedication. Creed does say that you will live up to expectations without question.”
“That was very kind of him to recommend me so highly.” She felt herself coloring at the thought of Creed’s high praise. But she had to wonder exactly how lengthy and detailed the conversation may have been between the two men.
“He told me everything,” Kyle said as though reading her mind, which in and of itself made her slightly uncomfortable. “We belong to the same club and have dinner now and again. And my company has a contract with his for ongoing surveillance work.”
“Everything,” she echoed. She tried not to show her uncertainty at what was or might be expected. Kyle Monahan made her feel vulnerable and in some way exposed.
“You needn’t worry. I just wanted you to know, there’s no reason for you to hide your relationship or your preferred lifestyle from me. Here at work we maintain the utmost professionalism. What happens after hours does not flood over into business. I hope you can appreciate that and understand the need for those boundaries.”
“Of course, Mr. Monahan,” she responded with what she hoped was just the right level of respect.
He smiled. And the smile did have a way of making him look even more handsome, his eyes twinkling and flirtatious. In a far different way than Creed. Although she found she much preferred dark, bottomless eyes and strong, almost cruel, lips.
“I’m not going to lie, I’ve expressed an interest in learning more about you, one might say. I’m in discussions with Creed on that more personal matter. I thought you should be aware of the situation. He will have the ultimate say, as the nature of your relationship warrants, but I wanted you to know before you decide whether you want the auditor position.”
“I-I appreciate your honesty.” She inhaled deeply, and then released the breath. She looked Kyle Monahan in the eyes. “I will abide by whatever Creed decides. But, Mr. Monahan, if I’m to take this position in your company, it will be on a professional basis. Nothing outside of work will interfere with that professionalism. And unless and until Creed agrees otherwise, I won’t be topped by someone else under any conditions.”
Kyle nodded, an element of respect in his gaze. “Understood perfectly.”
“One other thing.” She stood. “I belong to Creed. Whatever happens outside of work will be to please him. I’m not looking for…another Dom.”
“Understood.” He got up from his chair. “I like your directness. I’ll take you down to personnel so they can get your paperwork started. I have a feeling you’re going to make a very good fit with the company, Ms. Noletta.”
Four weeks later nothing further had been said concerning that private conversation the first day and Ren had taken on her responsibilities at
the company with enthusiasm, some evenings working late into the night in order to bring herself up to speed. She didn’t see much of Kyle Monahan after that first day, and perhaps that was for the best. She didn’t doubt that at some point in the future that might change, at least on a more personal level. But for now, she felt empowered with her job, her apartment, her life.
She did not regret her decision to take the job. Her life was falling into place exactly in a way that she could only have ever dreamed possible. And she doubted that it would have happened without Creed’s guidance. More and more she loved him for the things he didn’t do as for the things he did. There was no doubt the man owned her heart and soul. And she could not regret that either.
* * *
Secret Lives. She was learning that Creed was a very secretive and private man. He was also keenly observant. When he was in town, evenings were spent in the city at Ren’s apartment. But the late nights when he drove her out to his home in Westchester, their scenes were always so much more intense. On rare occasion he would fix a late dinner for her that was worthy of any five-star restaurant in New York. Perhaps one day she would see his fabulous house in daylight, but so far that hadn’t happened. One day perhaps he’d take her there without blindfolding her first. One day she might make the trip less concentrated on the buzzing in her pussy created by the vibrator and trying not to come, and more on the sounds and smells beyond the interior of the car as they traveled along the highway.
Legs spread, skirt scrunched up, hands resting on her bare legs, a low primitive drum-pulsing, sensual playlist on the stereo system, and by the time they reached their destination, she was so hot she could have cared less how they got there. With Creed, every moment in his company was a sensual adventure.
Like it had been for Ariyel, the cologne Creed wore was a very distinct mark of the man. Masculine, earthy, elemental, dangerous. So very much indicative of Creed. She loved his smell. Dark hair, dark eyes, a hunter in every aspect of his demeanor. She loved the danger of him. And, there were moments—the right moments—when he could be gentle as well.
He was mysterious because his work demanded it. Surveillance, tracking, and other unspoken things of missions that, just by the very nature of not understanding completely, excited her just as the man himself did. He was everything she could have hoped for in a lover—masterful and seductive; intelligent and skilled.
* * *
Food for Thought. Tonight Creed surprised her. He’d prepared dinner for her, an elegant feast of tender rosemary chicken, succulent honey-drenched baby carrots, wild rice, and a rich cherry cheesecake for dessert. The wine was a chilled white chardonnay from his cellar.
“I’ll be leaving in the morning. I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone,” he said.
“You never tell me where you’re going. What you do is very secretive isn’t it? Very dangerous.” She picked at the chicken, snagged one of the carrots and cut it into tiny pieces.
Like everything else, Creed was very deliberate and controlled when he ate. He cut things very precisely as though he possessed a comfortable, almost surgical skill with a knife. He chewed slowly as though savoring each bite. He picked up his glass and took a deep swallow of the wine. With a quiet, yet deliberate motion, he set the glass back on the table.
“It’s for your own protection, Ren. You don’t want to know the details of what I do. That’s the only way I can keep you—and keep you safe. Is dinner to your liking?”
Obviously, the conversation about his upcoming trip was closed. She tried to force her thoughts away from the fact he was leaving again, and turned toward the dinner and taking some comfort from the fact that he was with her tonight. And she planned to make the best of the evening.
After dinner, he gave her time in the guest bathroom with the hand-detailed gold and white wallpaper, luxuriously accessorized for guests, to prepare. Ren wondered about those guests, but then her attention was caught by something else—a silver rectangular gift box tied with a wide silver ribbon, setting on the counter in the bathroom in front of the antique oval mirror. She gasped with pleasure when she opened it. Inside was a short black satin robe with black roses embroidered around the hem and cuffs, and a pair of elegant, silk, black-and-silver stilettos, also embroidered with a matching design. They appeared to mirror her tattoo startlingly well.
She removed her beige heels, slipped out of the jade green business suit, unhooked and rolled down her beige stockings and removed them. She unfastened her light green satin garter belt, then folded all the garments neatly and set them inside one of the inset cupboards. When she finished her preparations, she donned the robe, tied the belt, then slipped on the heels. After one more glance in the mirror, she left the spacious bathroom.
Creed eyed her appreciatively when she entered the living room. He sat in a forest green winged-back chair in front of the fireplace. When he saw her, he set aside his snifter of cognac and rose to his feet.
“When I saw the robe in the shop, I knew you had to have it,” he said as she moved toward him and knelt down. “And then I found the heels at another shop not far away.” He placed a hand on top of her head. He smoothed it over her hair.
“Thank you, Sir. They’re perfect.”
He placed a hand beneath her chin and tilted her head back. His black eyes bore into her. “I enjoy shopping for you,” he murmured. “I enjoy it very much. I enjoy fantasizing about how you’ll look in the clothes I choose for you. Or how you’ll respond to the toys I discover. What I’ll do to you, and how you’ll scream with pleasure when I’ve made you come. Again and again. Just as you’ll do tonight.”
Then he leaned down to kiss her quite thoroughly, and possessively, leaving her breathless, but still yearning for more.
He brought her to her feet, then guided her through the hallways and down to his dungeon. It was a room with black walls and black-light tracking at ceiling and floor to illuminate it. There was an array of equipment, including the suspension bar. Ren was never as aware of her surroundings as when she was in Creed’s private dungeon. Her trust in Creed was never more evident as when she was hanging from the suspension rack.
She looked toward the wall displaying implements for chastisement and pleasure. She noted the horse, a cross, and, of course, the simple bed with iron head and baseboards, hung with matching chains and manacles. Which would he choose tonight?
She stripped off the robe and he took it from her and hung it from a hook near the door. He led her to the suspension apparatus. She felt no fear. Ren trusted him implicitly.
“Tonight, we’ll see if we can turn something distasteful into something quite pleasant and in fact make you yearn to repeat the experience again and again. We’ll begin with a bit of sensory deprivation. Do you have a problem with that, Ren?”
She bowed her head. “Whatever you wish, Master.” She was excited. He had never failed to challenge her, to excite her, to please her. But she couldn’t deny there was a hint of fear of the unknown tingeing her excitement. That always magnified the experience. Ren had provided him with a list of things she feared, and things she loved; things she hated and things she enjoyed. Which would he challenge her with tonight?
He placed his hand at her lower spine and guided her forward. His bare hand, so warm. Calluses, a mark of the man unafraid of hard work. As he positioned her and bound her, she glanced at the wall, at the whips, the ropes, the chains. She wondered which of the whips he’d use tonight. Suddenly, every nerve ending seemed to fire on high alert. Every inch of her skin felt so very sensitive in anticipation of what array of sensations she would experience.
He carefully inserted the candy-apple-red ball between her lips and gagged her. Then he placed the leather blindfold over her eyes, shutting out any sort of light. He removed the slender leather collar and replaced it with something wider, forcing her chin up. She heard the jangle of chains as he snapped them onto the collar. One moment of panic set in as the chains were drawn taut, immobilizing her head. A heightened
awareness had her heart pumping faster, her breaths increasing. And then he added the earplugs, and everything went silent. He placed something small in her hand—a signal device—a panic button. Her silent safe word.
She was so aware now, as with her sense of touch, she tried to reach for him. Then he cranked the apparatus, drawing her up, her legs pulled wide, and for one second she felt like she was flying through the air. She felt the pressure on her arms, in her thighs, even in her pussy and her ass.
It was a stretched and confined sensation. At first her mind fought, but then he was there, stroking her, petting her until finally she calmed. He removed first one shoe, then the other, stroking over her soles with his fingertips. At first she tensed. How was it that just by removing her shoes, she suddenly felt so vulnerable? As he massaged her feet, her ankles, her calves, slowly she relaxed. She submitted. And then the touch was gone. She hung there, open and vulnerable, trapped inside a silent, blinded world. Completely at his mercy. Except she had the panic button. She stroked her thumb across the button. Her safety net. But she didn’t want it. She wanted to be his, at his mercy, pliable, shaped and molded by his will alone. She wanted to show him how strong she could be. For him.
It seemed she waited for a long time, hung suspended there, with nothing but her own thoughts to keep her company. A calm state of mind did not always come easily to her, especially after a day at work, but Creed always helped her with the transition from outside world—sights and sounds and stimuli—to…this. The position she was in lulled her, and her mind quieted after a long, busy day at work.
Ren wasn’t certain how long she hung there, but there came a point when it didn’t matter. She flew, and she was joyous, she was strong, and at the same time weightless. It was a perfect moment, so, so perfect. She could have come right then and there. The moment was rapturous.
Black Leather and New Boundaries Page 3
