She relaxed her tongue and did as he said, inhaling through the gag and blowing into the tissue, grateful he didn't make her force it out and have it run down her face, as she knew some Doms preferred. He wiped the saliva running down her chin with another tissue, and kissed her on the forehead.
"I'll move out of the way so you can watch the hourglass. This is for your third orgasm."
The tears flowed as she watched, no way to safeword, no way to escape the debilitating pain. The minute contained an eternity, and as the sand at long last reached the base of the glass for the final time, he added weights on her nipples and clit, and pumped her butt plug two more times. He removed the gag first, and she wailed as she felt a yank on her nipples and then fire as the blood rushed back into them. Her scream went up several octaves as the clamp on her clit was also jerked off.
The valve on the plug was released most of the way and he freed the rope holding it to her hair. He let her leg down and then, finally, the winch hummed to life and her shoulders got a little relief. He put his arm around her as the slack allowed her to stand, disengaging the hook and walking her to a wooden chair, sitting her on it sideways so he could remove the armbinder.
When he'd unlaced it, he gently helped slowly bring her arms around front, resituating her in the chair so she straddled it, facing the back, and massaged her neck and shoulders, manipulating the muscles and ligaments, soothing her. He moved his hands to the tops of her arms, working his way to the front of her shoulders. She whimpered in pain and he said, “I know, but let me help make it better."
"The plug, Sir. Can it come out now, please?"
"Not just yet.” He talked as he continued kneading her muscles with his fingers. “I'm planning to fuck you there in a few minutes—once I pamper you a little—and you, my dear, will show me what you've learned by not coming. If you can manage to hold off you'll get a reward. However, if you have an orgasm, you'll endure another minute of pain."
She felt panic rising. “I can't take another minute of that, Sir."
"Then I suggest you not come."
He worked on her in silence for at least five minutes before he said, “Okay, pet, move your arms around, tell me how they feel."
"A few twinges, but it's much better, Sir. Thank you."
"I'll take mercy on your clit and nipples and put you in a position where nothing will touch them. Come with me, please."
He walked her to a bar situated between supports, and pointed to two raised areas on the floor at the base of it.
"Put your feet on the platforms and bend over the bar, please."
She felt awkward with her feet so far apart. The risers were only about six inches tall, but as she bent over the bar she realized her ass was at the perfect height for him to fuck. He attached her ankle cuffs to the platforms, and her wrist cuffs to the base of the supports holding the bar.
Upside down, she watched him put a condom on and apply lube. He stepped to her and, without warning, pulled the plug and entered her, all at once.
She screamed at the unexpected entrance; she'd thought she was horny, but she wasn't aroused enough, and she felt violated—an unwelcome invasion. There was no pain; the plug had opened her, but the fucking motion was triggering the feeling of needing to go to the bathroom, and when lust had control those sensations were overridden.
She was about to complain when she realized she was in no danger of coming, and wondered if he'd orchestrated it this way on purpose. He could have worked her up, gotten her crazy with desire, and had her fighting not to climax.
His tempo increased and he slammed into her, his hands on the bar beside her hips, using it as leverage to thrust in, and push away, only to plunge in again.
His callous treatment sent her arousal into overdrive as fire rushed through her veins and flooded her body, and she fought to keep from careening over the edge. She began chanting, “Oh, god. Oh god. Oh god,” over and over, hanging on by her toenails. She willed her body not to respond, remembering the pain of the clamps and the armband and the inflatable plug, the interminable time it took the sand to fall, but the memory only shot more heat into her.
Thankfully, Zach slammed into her one last time and held, and Dana managed to keep from spilling over into an orgasm—but it was a narrow escape.
Zach leaned on the bar a few minutes, breathing hard, before standing and sliding out. He disposed of the condom and returned, releasing her feet first, then her hands, talking as he wrapped his arm around her and steered them to the bondage table.
"You have a reward coming—your choice of the vibrating rabbit with the swirling beads, or my hand in a glove with lots of lube. I may choose to finger you, or work towards fisting you, or actually fist you. Same with the rabbit, I'll decide when you've had enough, not you. However, you won't have to ask for permission to come, you'll only need to let me know you're coming at least two seconds before you do."
She normally liked the rabbit, but the idea of anything touching her clit right now was... no.
"Your hand, Sir."
He nodded and helped her onto the table, quickly binding her knees near her shoulders, and her hands to her waist cincher so she could reach her clit with the tips of her fingers. He gave her permission to play with herself, but she was bruised from the clamps and doubted she'd want to.
As it turned out, he put lots of lube around her clit and she massaged the base of it as he gradually worked more and more of his fingers into her.
She lost track of time, and of the number of orgasms she had, but he didn't fist her. He came close, but insisted on a cool-down period before their twenty-four hours ended at nine o'clock.
"You can have an extra hour, Sir."
He shook his head. “I agreed I wouldn't let you make these kinds of decisions when you're this turned on. We stop at nine, pet."
She kept her eyes closed, remembering to tell him before she came, and let the orgasms rumble around inside of her. Some were sharp and intense; others were relaxed and easy. She jerked her eyes open as his cock slid into her and he smiled, meeting her gaze, “Ah, there you are. You can still come when you want, just warn me."
His movements were slow and easy, and when he leaned down to kiss her, she touched his stomach with her fingers, stroking him, and he stopped moving long enough to release her hands.
She wrapped her arms around him, skating her fingertips across his back and down his arms as his hips leisurely rose and fell, making love to her this time, with his body, his eyes, his mouth. He trembled as she ran her hands up his arms, down his chest, circling his nipples.
He braced on his elbows above her as his languid rhythm rocked her heart and overwhelmed her with feelings that threatened to consume her. His gaze grew more intense and he said, “I love you, Dana.” His voice broke as he said the last syllable; a strained gasp that finished her—drawing her heart out of her chest and into his control.
Leaning forward, he took her mouth in a kiss that devoured her and made thought impossible. She was still reeling when he raised his head and picked up his pace, and nothing existed but the feel of him sliding in and out, his lips on her neck, her breasts—his tongue gently caressing her sore nipples, giving them a hint of pain.
Suction on her nipples, way more than a hint of pain.
"I'm going to... I'm going to... I'm coming, Sir!"
Her body erupted into ravenous flames, but he didn't slow down, didn't speed up—just let her orgasm take her where it wanted as he slid in and out, rubbing her g-spot with purpose, driving her crazy.
Eons later, as she was floating down from her climax, she felt a hand on her cheek and opened her eyes to his intense gaze, his brilliant blue irises capturing her, mesmerizing her, and her mouth spoke without checking in with her brain.
"I love you, too. Sir."
Her heart caught and her breath stopped as she realized what she'd said, and in the same instant, recognized it as true. She loved him.
He kissed her again, his mouth demanding, a h
int of violence, and she moved her hips harder into his, arching into him, needing more. She wasn't sure when he'd freed her legs, but she used them now to try to gain additional friction. He pulled away from the kiss, his voice strained as he fought for control.
"This is still part of your reward—gentle or rough—what do you need?"
"Oh, god. Rough, please Sir."
He shifted his weight, reaching down and grabbing her legs, pushing them up her body and trapping them with his arms, pressing until her knees were beside her head.
"Thank goodness, I need to claim you. Reach for the headboard and hang on. Don't let go."
She wrapped her fingers around the scrollwork, braced her palms against the strong metal, and held on for dear life as Zach pounded her. She gasped for air with each violent plunge as he took her, claimed her with a pounding voraciousness. His eyes were a fierce blue as his gaze dared her to keep contact, to show him her soul as he shredded through every wall she'd built around her heart.
When she thought she'd die at the intensity of it, he ordered her to come. She went wild from the pleasure shooting through her—bucking under him, pushing up, meeting him stroke for stroke even as he held her legs down, forcing them deep into the soft mattress as he continued the relentless storming of her body with his cock, and the assault on her heart with his beautiful blue eyes.
Just as her orgasm began to fade, allowing her to finally breathe once more, there was another order. “Again, Dana. Come. Don't stop, I want to feel you spasming around my cock. You don't have permission to stop coming."
Her body flamed into another climax, her abs working hard to jerk her hips up to meet his thrusts, her internal walls jerking and shuddering around his cock.
She lost track of how many times he made her come before the last one worked its way through her. When he finally slammed into her for the last time and held, he looked into her eyes as he came, searing something deep inside of her, welding their destinies together.
At ten minutes to nine they were still in bed, relaxing in each other's arms, cuddled together.
"Sir, I'm not ready for this to end."
"Mmmm, I'm not either, but we agreed on a time and I promised you I wouldn't let you make decisions when you're in submissive mode. Our food should be delivered at 9:15, we'll get dressed at nine, set the table, and we'll eat like civilized human beings."
"You know, Mr. Bossy, if you're ending it at nine you don't get to dictate what happens anymore.” She paused, throwing a quick, “Sir,” on the end, just for good measure.
He chuckled. “When the time arrives I'll ask if you've got a better idea."
She remained quiet, luxuriating in the feel of his arms around her until she heard the chimes begin, signaling the top of the hour.
She pulled from his arms first, figuring it'd be better for her to move away than to feel empty as he pulled back.
"Hey, hold on a sec. I need a kiss, please."
Dana hesitated, decided if he didn't want to Top her right now, maybe she shouldn't be the well-mannered sub he was expecting. She turned back to him and threw her leg over his hips, sliding down and rubbing her cheek to his, skimming her lips over his forehead, teasing her way to his mouth. She felt his heart beating under hers as she ground into him and used her lips, her tongue, and finally her teeth to seduce. She still wanted him, like a drug she couldn't get enough of.
He let her have control a few minutes, but when she pulled his bottom lip between hers and ran her tongue over it he took command—flipping them over and kissing her, his mouth hungry, voracious.
She couldn't help it, laughter spilled out of her mid-kiss, and he pulled back and grinned with her, kissing the top of her nose and saying, “Come on, let's get dressed."
"Can I...” She stopped, rephrased. “I'm going to take a quick shower first. Should I do that in your bathroom or the other one?"
"Mine,” he said firmly. Lifting off her and rolling to the side. “I've reached a few decisions, and we're going to have some lengthy conversations once I'm sure you're out of your submissive mindset."
He stood and helped her out of bed as she said, “A shower and clothes should go a long ways towards making that happen."
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Five
* * * *
Zach ordered food from Dana's favorite diner—good solid country cooking. He insisted they not talk of their past twenty-four hours, or of anything having to do with power exchange, until after dinner. Dana had argued he wasn't the boss right now, but he'd pointed out they needed some distance from the scene before returning to it. Knowing he was right, she began asking him how his latest work was going.
When they finally made it to the scrumptious Death by Chocolate cake, she put her foot down. “Dinner's over, this is dessert. I'm not signing the contract tomorrow."
He looked up sharply, his eyes showing hurt and she immediately realized how it must have sounded. She rushed to finish, “It's not enough. I need more, and I'm pretty sure you do, too."
His shoulders visibly relaxed, and she felt bad she'd hurt him for even a few seconds. “I'm sorry I said it like that, I should've worded it better."
He shook his head. “No, it's okay. You just caught me off guard. What did you want to add?"
"I have no idea; I only know it's not enough."
"I was planning to wait until tomorrow to raise this, but I've made some decisions. I intend to bring back the contractors, have them strip the other bathroom. I want everything out—toilet, vanity, shower, floor—all of it, gone. I'd like you to redo it, and the other closet, however you wish."
She tried to speak but he held up a hand and continued. “All of the fabrics and accessories in your bedroom can be transferred to the master suite here, and your armoire will replace mine. Other than saying no pink and no bright yellow, I'll leave the wall color entirely up to you. I'd prefer we keep the Frederick bed, but if you're attached to yours we can move it in and transfer mine elsewhere. Pick whatever room in the house you want for your office—with the exception of the playroom, my office, and my workshop—and do what you feel is necessary to make it yours."
Interrupting this time, whether he wanted her to or not, she said, “You're asking me to move in? Or telling me I'm going to?"
He smiled. “At this point, I'll beg if it'll make it happen."
Her stomach did a series of flip-flops, but she worked to keep her face composed. She took a bite of chocolate cake, shuddered at the richness. “I get the feeling you aren't done with your demands."
"Not by a long shot. I want to set a wedding date, a tentative wedding date, for one year from today, the anniversary of the first time we said we loved each other. We won't tell anyone, so there'll be no pressure. Six months from now we'll decide if it's what we want. If it is, we'll make the announcement and begin making plans. Do you want a big wedding or a small affair?"
She shook her head; he was going too fast. “I can't answer that."
"What can you answer? Will you move in with me?"
Yes. No. She had no idea. “Can I sleep on it?"
"Of course you can."
She let out a shaky breath. She loved him, and she didn't want to go home, but was she ready to move in? “I'm glad you asked today. I don't make major decisions without sleeping on them. If you'd waited until tomorrow, it would've been Monday before I'd given an answer."
He smirked. “In that case, maybe we need to renegotiate the contract today, so you can sign it tomorrow."
She reached for her wine glass and changed her mind—not after the cake. She took a long drink of water and looked at him, the knowledge of what she wanted hitting her like a fist and stealing her breath. He'd claimed her—heart, mind, body, and soul; and she fiercely wanted to belong to him.
"I still need to sleep on it, but...” She stopped, stood, and stepped to him, attempting a graceful drop to her knees beside his chair, but her legs were wobbly and she knew it had to show.
&nb
sp; She folded her arms behind her back and looked up, her eyes meeting his. “I want to offer myself to you, twenty-four/seven, for everything except my finances and anything related to work.” She held his gaze and repeated, “Everything, Zach."
He turned sideways in his chair, shifted so she was between his legs, and gently touched her cheek with his hand.
"If you still want to give me this offer tomorrow, I'll accept it. If you change your mind, we'll figure out the boundaries needed for both of us to feel comfortable."
When Dana awakened the next day Zach wasn't in bed. She brushed her teeth and hair, surprised she'd slept until nine. They'd turned in around eleven o'clock, and she'd been asleep soon after—the night and day of sex having apparently worn her out more than she'd realized, even with all the naps.
She donned jeans and a short sleeved thin sweater and returned to the bathroom to apply some make-up before going in search of him, following the clacking sounds of the keyboard to his office, where he was furiously typing, still in his pajama bottoms, and shirtless.
Leaning against the doorframe, she watched, mesmerized as his fingers flew over the keys, his eyes on the screen. He'd occasionally pause and hit the backspace multiple times, as if he were thumping it into submission, then begin typing ninety miles a minute again.
He looked up, smiling as his eyes met hers. “You're up; I wanted to let you sleep in this morning to recover from yesterday. How do you feel?"
"Like a new person. How are you? How long have you been up?"
He shrugged. “Couple of hours. I have a proposition for you—how about we get dressed and go to Cracker Barrel for breakfast, then take my laptop and your tablet to a neutral spot so we can try to hammer out a contract. Somewhere public, so we'll finish it without getting otherwise occupied, but where no one can hear us."
She thought a moment, trying to think of a place close to Cracker Barrel that fit his terms. “We can take a blanket out to Heritage Park, find a nice shady spot. There's enough people running around we'll have to behave, but if we're over on the other side of the bocce court no one should hear our conversation."
Safewords: Davenport and Chiffon Page 5
