by Palmer, Dee
“I am just doing what I’m told Bethany and I can’t have you slipping through my fingers again. I need this job, so yes, I think it’s necessary. I think it’s safest.” He nods to himself, happy I think with his justification. The lift smoothly pulls to a stop, which in mere seconds has reached the twenty ninth floor and he motions for me to step out. I turn to face him.
“Safest for whom?” I whisper to the closing doors.
“Shit Bethany what did you do?” Colin’s hushed voice makes me turn again. He is walking briskly from his desk along the corridor. He peeps around my body and his eyes are wide at the sight of the cuffs. “Shit!” He whispers again and takes my elbow and leads me along toward Daniels office. It is then I notice that the other offices are empty and there are no other people on this floor. In fact it is eerily quiet.
“Extended lunch hour?” I quip with a casualness I’m not feeling.
“Ha, you’re funny! No he’s closed this floor and I’m to escort you to his office and then leave for the day.” His voice is conspiratorially quiet.
I swallow loudly. I don’t have my phone and I don’t know anyone’s number by heart anymore, who does? Everything is stored on my phone. Shit. I let out a puff because there is fuck all I can do about it now. “Right, well if you are the last person to see me alive, tell my best friend that’s the last time I take her advice.” I nudge him lightly but with my arms secured behind my back I am a little off balance and stumble. Too late to catch me Colin watches as I skid along the carpet and pick up a fierce carpet burn on my right knee, the sting is sharp and makes me squeal. “Owww Oh that stings like a bitch!” Colin helps me up with kind words and I clamp my jaw tight as the pain fires brightly from its origin. Colin pauses for a moment of sympathy while I compose myself but only for a moment, he then opens Daniels door and tilts his head for me to enter. He is not coming in and he is going to leave me, alone.
“Take care Bethany and I’d be very surprised if I’m the last person to see you alive.” He smiles and winks.
My light laugh is more nervous now. “Ohhh well that’s a comfort, you being very surprised. I guess I’ve got nothing to worry about then?”
“I didn’t say that now did I?” He winks again and closes the door.
I get a sudden rush of Déjà vu, standing bound, nervous with my heart racing. I look around, his desk is the same, the seating area the same. The only indication that my desk was ever in the corner is the slight indentations in the rug. You wouldn’t notice them if you didn’t know to look. There is no sight or sound as to the whereabouts of Daniel so I go to take the seat opposite his desk. I have to sit straight because of the position of my arms and now I am having to raise my lower leg as the carpet burn actually broke the skin and is seeping tiny droplets of blood down my shin. I must sit for at least ten minutes when I hear some noise come from Daniels private bathroom behind his desk. I thought there was only one entrance to that room, but maybe not or maybe he has been in there the whole time. The sound is muffled but I can definitely hear the shower now. Great, I’ll just sit here, bleeding and uncomfortable while he takes a shower.
I know this waiting is all part of his dominance and desire for control and as much as it pisses me off I can’t deny that it is effective. I can feel subtle changes in my body with every passing minute. My breath is shallow, my skin tingles and little hairs raise on my neck and arms and dammit if I need to shift again, adjusting my position to ease the building pull and tightening between my legs. Finally, after what felt like days the door flush against the panelling behind his desk slides open and Daniel steps into the room. Holy shit I’m in trouble. I tuck my legs beneath the chair and sit up, lifting my chin trying my hardest to hold on to the residual anger and hurt; a daunting task given the image before me. His slow steps toward me only emphasise the flex and ripple of his abdomen. His shirt is open and his chest is dotted with droplets of water that escaped the towel he is currently dragging through is damp hair. His suit trousers hang loosely from his narrow hips and he is bare foot and silent walking up to me. He stops directly in front. His face, as expected gives nothing away but his eyes are dark and whether he is angry or not, I can’t deny their fierce implacable heat. My throat is dry and I struggle to stop my breath from catching opting to hold it instead, biting my lips as I do.
He chuckles and strokes his finger up my throat and tips my chin up. Not that I had taken my eyes off him but he is now holding me so I don’t move. “God I fucking love the way your body responds to me.” He licks his full lips and I can’t help my breath escape on a whimper but I quickly check myself and pull back enough to free myself from his finger hold.
“Don’t flatter yourself. That’s just biology, my body reacting to an attractive male, involuntary and unwelcome, I assure you. I am pretty sure my body had a similar reaction when Jason dragged me into that empty office earlier.” It’s brief but I notice his shock. “Animal instincts, it’s just a shame my body is not so discerning or selective but I’m working on it.” I narrow my eyes and keep my tone harsh, my words clipped. He smiles and leans forward his lips at my neck; his whispered breath kisses my sensitive skin.
“Mmmm.” He traces his long finger down my throat and over the swell of my breasts, his thumb joining to pinch the hard peaked nipple beneath my blouse causing a shooting blissful pain to ignite deep inside. I pant out a shocked breath. “And how is that working out for you?” His tongue scorches as he licks a path from just below my neck to my collarbone and dammit if I don’t lean to give him access. My skin is alive and I shiver from tip to toe.
Ignoring the smugness that is now settled on his face I rattle my cuffs breaking the intense exchange from disintegrating further out of my control. “Are these really necessary?” I snap.
His voice is deep and serious. “For what I have in mind, they are absolutely necessary.”
“Daniel.” My voice is a little higher pitched than I was hoping but I am on edge and trying to sound deadly serious. “I don’t know what you think you are going to do, but you’re not. I came here for answers, that’s all, answers. You can’t make me do anything regardless of the cuffs. I didn’t come here to fuck!” I sound much braver than I am feeling.
He growls and I can see the tension in his jaw. “But that’s the problem isn’t it. I can’t be near you without wanting you.” He quickly corrects himself. “Without wanting to fuck you.” He stands back and rakes his hand through his hair, his voice is hard and accusatory. “Regardless of what you want Miss Thorne, you broke in to my office, you assaulted me and you made some slanderous accusations all in front of witnesses. I am not inclined to give you what you want without some exchange, but . . .” he steps again to me and pulls me up holding me tight against his hard body and hot erection, like a branding iron it presses into my thigh. My neck tilts back to see the desire in his eyes. I don’t fool myself that this is anything other than lust. His expression is dark and determined, and his focus and goal is crystal clear. “You do, however, have an impression of me that I do feel inclined to correct, after I get what I want.”
“What is it you want?” My voice is barely a whisper and it is only his strong arms holding me upright. My body is trembling and I can hardly breathe I’m so confused.
“I want you to be a good little sub for me.” His voice has a desperate edge. “I want Lola.” I can feel him hold his breath waiting my reply. I am speechless, turned-on, confused, turned-on, angry, and turned-on. Maybe it’s because our last time together I didn’t know was the last time, maybe because this close I can’t think straight and every fibre in my body craves him. Or maybe because if this is going to be a purely physical act, as Lola, I can at least, protect Bethany’s emotional heart. I don’t trust my voice not to betray my fragile state so I nod. I can see his shoulders relax and he holds me at arm’s length his eyes hungrily explore my body but widen in shock.
“Shit! You’re bleeding. What have you done, are you all right? Sit down.” His panic and concern is
a sharp contrast from his aloof, impersonal demands as my Dominant. It’s just what I don’t need. He gently eases me into the chair but stops pushing me back when he realises my cuffed arms would prevent that.
“It’s just a carpet burn, I tripped outside. It just kept bleeding but it’s dried now. It looks worse than it is.” I shrug because it looks bad but I know it will clean up Ok.
“Fuck it looks like you’ve been in a slasher movie. Stay there let me clean you up.” His voice is gentle and I can’t stand it.
“Don’t!” My voice is sharp and catches as I swallow a painful lump.
“Don’t what?” His brows knit and his voice deepens.
“Don’t be nice.” I can feel my eyes prickle and he shakes his head lightly, pushes up but leans in to whisper.
“I’m a liar, a thief, coward and an arsehole, remember?” He nibbles my earlobe sending a million shivers racing over my skin. “I’m not nice.” He walks back toward his bathroom and doesn’t hear me breathe out.
“You were nice to me.” I can feel the trickle of tears and am frustrated I can’t wipe them dry. I need to stop, focus and play my part. My starring role as Lola, The Good Sub. I cough and say much louder. “And a son of a bitch, don’t forget you’re a son of a bitch too.”
He stands at the door his face a dark scowl, holding a small bowl. He steps toward me and crouches low on his haunches just in front of me. “I’m not likely to forget that.” His voice is gruff but his eyes hold sadness in the brief look he flashes before his mask slips back and he is again unreadable. He squeezes some cotton wool dry and starts to clean the dried blood from my leg. He takes his time with warm soothing strokes along my shin and tender gentle massages with his other hand along my calve. I let my eyes drift close and relax in to his touch so much so that I am unaware he has stopped until he coughs. My eyes snap to his and he raises a curious brow and is suppressing a grin.
“Sorry.” I gush and I can feel my cheeks heat.
“Please don’t. I love it when you blush.” He shakes his head replacing that gentle tone with a sterner reprimand. “It’s not bad but you should take more care.”
I want to laugh bitterly and tell him that, yes that’s what I need to take care of, tripping and scraping my knee but not to worry about the huge fucking hole he’s ripped in my chest. I decide to just bite my lip and fix my best death stare. I don’t need to give him any ammunition to destroy me further. I just need to be more like him, impassive, hard and take my pleasure where I can and right now, I believe I’m owed big time. I lift my chin and meet his heated gaze, his eyes are liquid lust. He carefully removes his belt, deliberately dragging it through the loops in his suit trousers at a tortuously slow pace, his intentions implicit. I lick my dry lips, the pain in my chest soon to be replaced with a more diverting type of pain. My core is liquid heat, I can see from the bulge in his trousers and the drape of his belt that our next exchange is not going to be all about pleasure.
DANIEL SMOOTHES THE long leather strap of his belt through his fingers, winding it around each palm and pulling it tight before he releases it and repeats the movement. Never taking his dark stare from me he places the belt on the desk and motions with a sharp nod and a curling of his fingers for me to stand. My legs feel heavy and unstable but my automatic response is to obey. I pivot and pull myself to stand in front of him. Every move he makes is slow and deliberate, the silence is palpable, the tension explosive. He walks round me and I follow him with my eyes. He shakes his head and makes a disapproving grumble.
“Tsk tsk eyes down sub, now I know I trained you better than that. Or perhaps this about your desire to be reminded?” He sweeps my hair from around my neck and scoops it over one shoulder. His fingers barely touching my skin but the raw heat instantly burns where they skim. I breathe heavily through my nose, lower my eyes but otherwise hold perfectly still. He strokes his warm strong hands over my shoulders, down my arms to my joined hands. “Good girl.” He surprises me when he unlocks the cuffs and pockets them. He then turns me to face him but I keep my eyes down, now looking at his bare feet. He takes my wrists and uses his thumbs to gently rub circles all along the faint pink line where the cuffs have been. His strong hands move up my arms and to my shoulders, taking his time to ease the stiffness. I find I all too easily relax into his masterful massage. I don’t understand what he’s doing but I don’t understand what I’m doing either so I sigh and drift into a sensual haze where his fingertips banish my numbness and bring me back to life.
“Strip.” His deep voice sends a chill across my skin. He steps away to give me room. He sits on the edge of his desk but fixes me with a lust filled stare that is so intense I feel it pierce right through me. It’s unsettling and I am glad I only risked a glimpse but now keep my eyes fixed to the floor. With trembling fingers and an unsteady breath I start to pull at my clothes. I hear him draw a sharp breath when I am finally left standing in my bra and panties. His voice husky and hard, a warning. “If I have to repeat myself, it’s just going to add to your punishment.” I shiver once more but quickly reach around to unclip my bra and step out of my panties. My body is flushed with a million prickles dancing on my skin, my breath now rapid shallow pants and there is no hiding how turned on I am, not now. “Mmm.” He hums with satisfaction and stands so close all I can feel is heat, his smell is intoxicating; sweet and spice and it makes my mouth dry. He snakes his arms around my waist, again pulling me tight against his arousal. His hands gripping the cheeks firmly of my bottom, squeezing and scraping his fingernails along the soft skin. “I do struggle with this perfect skin, so delicate, so flawless and my desire to mark it.” He draws in a ragged breath. “It’s a paradox.”
I can’t help scoff. “You don’t seem to struggle that hard.” He laughs loudly and twists me in his arms.
“Oh good.” He drawls. “More reasons to mark this beautiful backside. Please. . . . continue.” His breath heats my neck with his softly spoken ominous words. He takes my hands in one of his and loops something softer but just as restrictive as the cuffs, firmly around my wrists. “You are right of course. I don’t struggle too hard and do you know why that is?” He threads his fingers into my hair from my neck gathering a handful and pulling sharply causing a shot of pain and a gasp of breath to escape my mouth. He is waiting for an answer.
“No Sir.” I need to remember to speak not just mouth off.
“Because it’s what you need. It’s what I want but it’s what you need. The pain helps doesn’t it?” His whisper against my ear is thick with sensual menace. He squeezes my hair, pinching to the point of constant pain.
“Yes Sir.” I gasp pushing into his grip. He hasn’t said my name, he hasn’t called me Lola and I wonder who he is talking too because as Lola the ‘good little sub’ pain is a by-product of the game. But for me it’s much more. In fact he is spot on, I do need the pain. It does help because, even, if only for a brief moment, it makes me forget. I may not understand it but I embrace it and welcome the respite, the release and the reward. He seems to sense a shift in me and stiffens pulling away but grabs the top of my arm and walks me toward the seating area. The back of the sofa is hip height and wide and he pushes me over, my head falling over so I am not quite doubled up but my tummy is curled over the soft cushions and my bottom is completely exposed. “Don’t move.” I roll my eyes at this because from this angle and with my hands tied behind my back; I would have to have stomach muscles of steel to lift myself upright and my stomach muscles are more a sponge consistency since I haven’t been to a Krav class in ages.
I do turn my face to see he has picked up his belt and is striding back with purpose. I close my eyes and savour the building desire and driving need swirling like a cyclone deep inside. I can feel the material of his trousers brush against my legs and his hand smoothly strokes the top of my thighs and bottom. His palm feels hot on my sensitive skin but I am instantly chilled all over resulting in an unexpected full body shiver. “Oh baby, you are so fucking ready for thi
s.” I hear the swish in the air strangely simultaneous to the smack and unbelievable sting on my cheek. Fuck! I push my head hard into the deep soft cushion and scream; pleased the desperate howl is muffled to a more acceptable cry. Oh my God that hurts. Again, swish, slap and again and again. I can feel the welts rise and my skin tingle and burn. My breathing is so rapid I can see light spots drift over my closed lids as the strikes continue to rain down, not in the same spot but not so far apart either. My whole backside and thighs are on fire. I will my muscles to relax and I feel a wave of calmness engulf me. I am encased in a blanket of raging heat, it’s comforting and diverting. All I feel is warm and floaty.
The sound of the belt hitting the floor has my consciousness peak back to this strange reality. I jump as I feel his long fingers trace between the crack of my cheeks, avoiding the burning skin but sweeping down into my sensitive sodden folds. His fingers slide and glide through my slickness and I can’t prevent the involuntary roll of my hips back to try and gain more connection. He moans a dark throaty sound and continues his leisurely intimate movements. “You know I always underestimate your talent for enduring administered punishment. How could I forget how stubborn you are, but still . . .” He presses his thumbs firmly over my clit and I shudder, “It’s not the only form of punishment is it?” I whimper as he moves his thumb in delicious circles.
I bite my lips together and push back against his hand as he slips a second finger inside me, swirling and curling against the sweetest soft spot. Instantly my core clenches and I can feel the spasms take control just as he stops all movement. His other hand presses me firmer onto the sofa so I can’t move or wriggle against his hand for the necessary friction. A small pathetic cry escapes my throat but not my mouth as my contracting muscles ebb, along with my ill-fated orgasm. Again and again he brings me frayed and panting to within a whisper of ultimate pleasure. My body is racked and exhausted, a sheen of perspiration coating every inch and once more I bite back my begging words, drawing on my last fragments of strength. He growls as he stops once more. “Something you want to say baby?” His guttural tone is feral but I can hear the frustration in his voice and it gives me a boost to my inner strength. My body is limp, taking everything he is giving me and stoically enduring everything he denies but as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out, swirling his thumb and pressing too lightly I clench hard trying to prevent the tell-tale ripple of muscles signalling the very start of my journey to oblivion. A sign he is more than familiar with. His fingers continue a merciless slow torture and I can’t hold a moment longer; I exhale, relax and grind hard and quickly into his surprised grip. It’s enough, that tiny extra friction that he has denied me for what seems like endless hours is mine and I fall. I free fall screaming and trembling, my hips buck, my spine arches, a gravity defying feet and against every tired muscle in my body I quake.
