Cuffed & Collared

by Samantha Cayto

  “Of course, I came for you.” She moved to the other ankle. A sob almost burst out. She ruthlessly shoved it down. Kyle needed her to be strong right now. She could break down into a puddle of goo later.

  Standing, she reached for one of his wrists. “I’m sorry it took me so long to figure out where you were and who had you.”

  “No, this is all my fault.” His breathing was so labored, she wanted to cover his mouth to silence him. “You were right. I shouldn’t have played at detective. I was so fucking arrogant, I put us both in danger.”

  When she freed his other wrist, he sagged against her. She helped him slide to his knees in a controlled fall. “No more talking, now, boyo. When you’re all better, we’ll set some ground rules.” She ran her fingers through his sweaty hair. “I need to put you on a short leash.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he murmured and smiled wearily at her. His gaze shifted to a point behind her, and his eyes went wide. “Regan!”

  Her world tilted suddenly, Kyle’s body slamming into hers, sending them both sprawling. Her shoulder clipped the wooden frame, but she ignored the pain. She understood what was happening even before she saw Mindy swaying on unsteady feet, the knife in her hand, slashing clumsily toward them. Regan freed her gun just as Kyle rolled away so as to not block her. The shot she fired hit Mindy square in the chest. This time, when the killer went down, Regan was sure she wouldn’t be getting up again.

  Regan curled her arms around Kyle’s limp body. The effort to move out of range of the knife had sent him over the edge into oblivion, and she didn’t think that was such a bad thing. Part of her wished she could join him, but there was work still to be done. It would be a long night. Sirens wailed in the distance, a door banged open somewhere in the house.

  “Regan?”

  “Up here, JoJo!”

  Regan wrapped her arms around Kyle, needing to hold him until she had to let him go. He stirred and mumbled something in an anxious tone. She hugged him tighter.

  “Shh, it’s okay. I have you.” She kissed the top of his head. “We have each other.”

  Epilogue

  “Sorry, I’m a bit early,” Regan said as Kyle opened his door.

  “You’re kidding, right?” He swung the door shut. “Let me get that for you.” He grabbed the bag she was carrying.

  Regan walked inside Kyle’s beautiful home that she felt comfortable in after so many weeks of dating. She recognized the classical music playing softly in the background. Hanging out with Kyle was giving her a great appreciation of culture she would have sneered at not long ago.

  “You’ve had time to eat?” she asked.

  Having fully recovered from his ordeal with Mindy, Kyle was back to work full time. Regan encouraged him to eat as soon as he got home at night instead of waiting for her. She may not have another serial killer case, but regular old murder was still unfortunately a frequent occurrence in a big city like Boston. Most nights she was lucky to arrive at his place before nine.

  Putting down the bag, Kyle raked her with eyes already burning with passion. “I’m ready for you, make no mistake, Mistress Regan. Can I get you anything?”

  Regan had thought about the need for alcohol this night. “What do you have in the way of whisky?”

  “I have several different single malt scotches.”

  Of course, the good stuff. “Pour me about two fingers of whatever one you like best.” It was more for him than her anyway.

  “Yes, ma’am.” She watched him walk to a bar in the corner of his living room. “Is the music to your liking?”

  Regan wandered around a bit, nerves making her antsy. “It’s fine. Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons, isn’t it?”

  He handed her a squat cut crystal glass of amber liquid. “That’s right.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I’m learning from you.”

  “Only fair, given what you’ve taught me.”

  They had really been teaching each other, exploring the BDSM lifestyle and trying on the limits of a Domme/sub relationship outside the bedroom. In the aftermath of Kyle’s torture, she’d wanted to eliminate the pain aspect of their relationship, but Kyle had insisted on continuing it after he’d healed. He didn’t want something so pleasurable between them to be ruined by the twisted mind of Thomas Johnstone, who had, as near as they could tell, murdered not just his father and the three men in Boston, but Mindy Fortensky, Dr. Molvado and perhaps some number of men in Haiti and Africa. They were still trying to piece it all together.

  Regan and Kyle had also discussed long and hard the limits of their relationship and the difference between consensual discipline and abuse. They were in a good place now with their relationship. So good in fact that Regan wanted to up their level of play to a place that had always intrigued and aroused her. She hoped Kyle would be willing to explore this new boundary.

  She smiled at him over the rim of her glass as she took a long swallow of the fiery drink. “I have a new lesson in mind for tonight. Take my bag, go into your bedroom and strip down.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said deliberately, his eyes boring into hers for a second before he did as she commanded.

  Watching him walk away and admiring the sight, Regan took another sip of her drink and relished the warm sting of the scotch sliding down her throat. Dutch courage it might be, but by God, it was great stuff. Kyle Ramsey was a man who settled for nothing less than the best. She could see it in his home, his possessions, his career, and his bearing. If he was going to put himself in her care, then she owed it to him to be the best Domme she could be. What she was about to do to him was the ultimate domination. Stopping at any other level of play would be second best, and that wouldn’t do.

  Regan followed Kyle with a sense of mission. When she arrived at his bedroom, however, her doubts came creeping back. Seeing him sitting naked on the side of his bed, watching her, waiting for her next command, she realized she needed to do this right. He had to be as fulfilled by this experience as she hoped to be. That meant taking it nice and slow and easy.

  She sauntered toward him and handed him the glass. “Sit back against the head board and hold this for me.”

  Kyle did as he was told, resting the glass against his thigh right next to his hard-on. He kept his gaze on her, and she reciprocated while taking off her clothes. She hadn’t worn anything special. Underneath her jeans and T-shirt was a lacy bra and panty set. Not her every day wear, yet nothing too provocative. She stopped there, intending to bring him to the brink gradually.

  She got up on the bed and swung her legs over his lap. His free hand curled into a fist, and she assumed he did that to resist the urge to touch her. “Good boy, Kyle,” she praised. “No touching unless I give you permission.”

  “I hope you’ll give me that permission soon, Mistress.”

  She shook her head while taking the glass from him. “It’s not your job to worry about things like that, Kyle. Remember, what you want is unimportant. We’re here to please me. Concentrate on doing what makes me happy.”

  So saying, she leaned forward and took his lips in a gentle kiss. It was little more than a pressing of soft flesh against soft flesh. She pulled back and saw Kyle struggle not to follow her with his mouth. His lips remained parted, and his breathing became more rapid. She kept her eyes on him while taking another sip of the scotch. Once more, the liquid burned a path down her throat. A warm relaxation was starting to spread throughout her, too.

  She took yet another sip and leaned forward again, keeping the scotch in her mouth. When her lips met Kyle’s, she used her free hand to clasp the hair on the back of his head and angle him so that her face was over his. He opened his mouth wider to let her in, knowing what she was going to do. It was tricky, but she managed to feed him the drink without spilling it. He swallowed it, and his tongue met hers to play. She allowed this bit of aggressiveness for a few seconds before breaking the kiss.

  She repeated the process again and again until there was only one swallow left in the glass.
Sitting back on his lap, she studied him and was pleased to see a languid look in his eye that did nothing to diminish the desire he radiated toward her. His cock was still rock-hard, too, proof that he hadn’t had so much to drink that he was losing interest. With her forefinger, she slid up the side of his erection and was gratified to see his eyes go even darker with passion.

  Regan tossed back the last of the scotch before putting the glass on the side table. As with before, she didn’t swallow, only this time, she didn’t feed it to Kyle. Instead, she wiggled down his legs until she could bend forward to his cock. She took the hard length in her mouth, letting the liquid dribble out at the same time. She sucked in as much of him as she could and pulled back up again, licking the scotch as she did so.

  Kyle grunted and groaned, and his hips flexed up. His hands fisted the bedcovers below him, and his breath hissed in. Regan lavished more attention on his cock, sucking and licking, trying to achieve the perfect balance of arousal and relaxation she could in her lover. When she gauged he had had enough, she sat up and swung her leg over to get off him.

  “Slide down and turn over onto your stomach, Kyle, but don’t hump the bed,” she ordered with a smile.

  His mistress’ order, issued in a tone that was part seductress, part drill sergeant, shot more blood into Kyle’s already straining dick. God, the effect she had on him only grew with time.

  For a while, after the night when he’d endured the killer’s grotesque parody of the Domme/sub relationship, he feared he’d been ruined for this. He’d insisted to Regan that he was fine continuing, but he’d known a few moments when panic threatened to swamp him. Stubborn pride and total trust in Regan had given him the strength to suppress the fear and submerge himself in the play. His marvelous mistress had reclaimed him from the horror, and each time they played, she took him soaring to greater heights of pleasure and peace.

  Something was different about tonight, however. She was upping the game and a frisson of concern and excitement shot up his spine. Still, he gave no more than a second of thought to what might be coming, complying immediately with the order. He turned his head toward her, watching and waiting for the next order.

  Regan ran her hand down to the small of his back and caressed the slope of his ass. He knew instantly it was the part of him she was really after tonight. He drew a quick breath before consciously relaxing again. As terrifying as the thought of her taking him down there was, his desire to please her was far stronger.

  She slapped her palm against the globes he worked hard to keep firm. As punishment went, it was a love tap, one she repeated several times on each cheek. In between the slaps, she squeezed the flesh and pushed and pulled. Being spanked was old hat, and he focused on the delicious heat spreading across his backside. When she deemed him sufficiently warmed, his mistress stopped, resting her thumb in the crease of his ass. He tensed immediately despite his resolve not to.

  “Easy,” she admonished and hummed in encouragement when he relaxed beneath her fingers again. “Now, Kyle, listen up.” She stared at him, and he stared back. “I’m going to start playing with you. Up ‘til now, I’ve been warming you up, keeping you aroused while using the scotch to relax you a bit.” She leaned toward his face. “Are you aroused and relaxed, Kyle?”

  He nodded, pleased to be able to reassure her.

  “Good, because it’s going to get intense, and I’m not going to tie you down. I’m going to trust you to keep it together and do what I tell you. Can I count on your doing that?”

  “Yes, Mistress.” His voice was low and thick with passion. He meant what he said, though. He could do this for her, would do this for her.

  “Good. Very good. And remember to use the safeword if you want me to stop what I’m doing, if it gets too intense for you.”

  “I’ll never say that word.” He hadn’t yet, not even when Mindy had been whaling on him. But no, he wasn’t going to go there, not now, not when he was safely under Regan’s control.

  “We’ll see.”

  Regan let go of him and, gripping the bottom of her bra with crossed hands, she pulled it over her head and tossed it on the floor. He watched her every move, and the reward for his controlled behavior so far, was her pinching her nipples with thumbs and forefingers. She rolled them into hard points. He parted his lips with the desperate and sudden need to latch onto those nipples and suck. She pumped her hips toward his face in obvious pleasure at her own touch. The muscles in Kyle’s shoulders twitched, his eyes riveted on her crotch. As a bonus, she released one nipple and slid her hand, palm open, down her front to cup her mons. Now, he wanted his mouth there. He fought the urge to lunge at her.

  “I want to fuck you very badly, Kyle,” she confessed.

  He growled a response even as his hole clenched.

  She squeezed her folds through her panties and arched her back. Her other hand still tweaked her nipple. “Shall I fuck you now, Kyle?”

  “Yes, please,” he begged.

  Christ, he didn’t even know what he was asking for. Instinct warned him to safeword the idea away. A stronger need to please his mistress overrode it. He clamped his lips shut.

  Regan stripped off her panties before bending over the side of the bed and retrieving something from her bag. Kyle’s eyes widened when he saw that it was lube, yet he said nothing. Regan scooted to his side once more and straddled the nearest leg. Her knee wedged up against his ass cheeks, and she sat back on her heels.

  This was where it started getting serious. But this was Regan, and he had to trust that she wouldn’t do anything he couldn’t handle. Despite the scotch humming in his veins, taking the edge off, his heart raced with excitement, anticipation, and some trepidation. Closing his eyes, he focused on the sounds she made, the snick of the cap of the bottle, a squirt of the lubricant popping past an air bubble.

  Something, the lube probably, bounced on the bed beside his hip right before her hand caressed one of his ass cheeks.

  “Relax, boy-o.” Easy for her to say, he thought as she pulled at his flesh to expose his hole. The tip of a wet finger pressed against the puckered ring and stayed there, not trying to enter, not yet. Still, he tensed. He couldn’t help it. The finger remained in place, undaunted by his reaction, and made small circles. All the while, she murmured encouraging words.

  “That’s it. You’re okay, my brave boy. Breathe, Kyle. Relax and breathe. I won’t hurt you.”

  She kept up a steady stream of soothing words, all the while gently stroking and teasing his hole. He found it easy to obey her and relax into the touch. She released him long enough to put more lubricant on her finger and resumed the caress. Then, just as he got used to that simple touch, she slid the tip of the finger inside. Kyle jerked, again unable to suppress the reaction.

  Regan slapped his ass back down, and he was grateful for the correction. She could do nothing about the way his hole squeezed her finger, however, and neither could he. His natural aversion to having anything inside him was too strong to override. He tried to push her out even as he fought to accept the minor invasion.

  “Do you have something to say to me, Kyle?”

  He understood she was waiting to see if he would safeword. He could do it, too, even claim he was still rattled by his recent torture. She would understand. She would be disappointed but wouldn’t show it or try to guilt trip him. The problem was, he’d be disappointed in himself. He wanted to do this for her. He could take it because it would make her happy.

  “No, ma’am.” His voice sounded strained even to his own ears. His fingers clutched at the covers.

  “Relax,” she ordered, then leaned over and licked her tongue up his flank.

  Kyle shivered at the touch, and clever girl, she’d done it to distract him as she inserted her finger farther. His flesh quivered, but he otherwise managed to remain quiet.

  She wiggled her finger around in blatant exploration. And then she proved more clever still by brushing against his prostate. She stroked it carefully, and he re
warded her with a startled gasp of pleasure bursting from his lips. Other than his doctor, no one had ever touched him there before, and certainly no one had ever done it in an effort to arouse. He’d heard it could be pleasurable, but he hadn’t realized how electrifying it would be. It was like being goosed by a live wire. With each stroke, he quivered and writhed, his cock straining for release between his body and the sheet.

  “That’s it, boy-o. Feels good, doesn’t it? See how, when you allow me to make the decisions, I won’t disappoint you.”

  Hearing the words, Kyle let go of the last vestiges of concern. Regan was right. He knew she’d take good care of him. His complacency emboldened her to continue. She spent a few more minutes letting him get accustomed to her one finger before sliding it out and replacing it with her slightly thicker thumb. The larger digit caused a slight burn as it stretched his hole more. She stroked repeatedly, then moved on to two fingers, and once more there was a burn, a low level of pain that helped to increase his pleasure more than diminish it. She was careful to go slowly and wait until he was compliant. His muscles relaxed even more beneath her touch, his breathing became heavier, and his hole stopped squeezing the invaders.

  He wasn’t the only one turned-on by her control. She was wet against his leg where her body still straddled his and her breath came fast and hard over the small of his back. This mild invasion wasn’t the end game, of course. She wanted to fuck him. And when she pulled her two fingers out, he knew the time had come.

  As Regan moved to the edge of the bed, Kyle opened his eyes to slits in order to watch her. His eyes widened for a second as she pulled a strap-on out of the bag she had brought. Although the fake cock was no bigger than Kyle himself, he figured it was going to hurt some going in. Her preparation would help, but it wouldn’t be enough. If he could stand the pain and allow himself to enjoy the stimulation, she would have truly conquered him.