What's Her Secret?

by Geraldine O'Hara, Natalie Dae, Nichelle Gregory, Crissy Smith, Lisabet Sarai

  He raised one hand to cup the side of my face, and I leaned in to it, the heat from his palm welcome on my chilled skin. The weather had been spiteful lately, all cold, harsh winds and bitter frosts, heralding a meaner winter to come. A stout wind blew, catching the long strands of sable fake fur on my coat collar. They tickled my neck, reminding me of how Jaska’s fingertips felt when he brushed them over my skin, so lightly it was as though he’d barely touched me at all. He had a habit of doing that, teasing with his lips, his fingers, his cock, until I begged for him to stroke me roughly, penetrate me hard.

  “You look beautiful. That coat suits you. Red, like your hair.” He smiled, looking at me as though I was a delicate flower. “And I’ve missed you.”

  How did I ever get so lucky?

  “I’ve missed you too, Sir. More than usual.”

  “That’s good to hear. You’re cold,” he said. “You’ve been waiting outside too long.”

  I blushed. “I was ready ten minutes before you were due. I couldn’t wait inside any longer, Sir.”

  “Perhaps I should have told you I’d be here in fifteen minutes, like I’d wanted to.”

  “Perhaps.” I smiled, laughed a little, staring into those gray-flecked eyes and wanting to do nothing more than just that. Stare. Be taken in by them. Held spellbound.

  The breeze attacked me again, nipped at my face, but I didn’t care. Nothing mattered except Jaska and being here with him.

  “Much as I don’t want to leave this pavement, Lori, I don’t want you getting colder.”

  He lowered his hand from my face, and the loss struck me acutely. He stepped back, and I felt abandoned, then chastised myself for being ridiculous. He was only two or so inches away. I could reach out and pull him back to me if I had a mind. And I had a mind.

  “Come,” he said, taking my elbow—and my decision—in his hand and guiding me closer to the door. He opened it then let me go, gesturing that I get inside.

  As I settled myself in the plush interior, I watched him walk back to his door then climb in. His usual scent—Diesel aftershave—was mixed with that unmistakable aroma of him being outside in the cold. It wafted over me, and I breathed it in, wanting to imprint that smell in my head so that when I experienced it again my mind would always be transported to here, our first day as a proper couple.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, reaching out to place one hand on my thigh.

  The contact sent flashes of want through me.

  “Absolutely fine, thank you, Sir.”

  “Good. I’m not pushing you too fast, taking you to my house?”

  “No, Sir.” I smiled at him to show he had nothing to worry about. “I’ve often imagined it, what it’s like, how I’d feel to be asked there.”

  “And how do you feel?”

  “Very lucky. And like it isn’t really happening.”

  He leaned across and touched his forehead to my temple. “It’s happening, pet. But don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m the same man I was when we met. Something happened over the past eight months, and I’ve found it more difficult to maintain my usual persona. This change, it will take some getting used to.”

  His breaths were warm on my neck and each exhale ruffled the fur of my coat, much like that breeze had done. Except the resulting tickle was welcome, and I found myself wishing it was his tongue ghosting over my skin. My heart rate picked up speed, and along with a fierce beating of my clit that matched my pulse, my nipples perked.

  “I’m struggling even more than I was earlier, Sir.”

  He pulled back, studied me as I stared out of the windscreen at my street—red-brick houses under a drab, gray sky with black-tinged clouds that promised rain.

  “I’ll take you now, then,” he said. “You mustn’t get too uncomfortable. I won’t have that.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  I turned to him, looked at him as he curved one hand over the gearstick, the other around the steering wheel at the two o’clock position. Those hands, those square-ended fingers, always had the ability to touch me in a way that had me trembling with need. And those fingers, they’d been in my mouth, my cunt, my arse, on my nipples, my clit, and had drifted up and down my wet folds. They’d delivered stinging slaps to my buttocks, and he’d dug the nails in when taking me from behind, him gripping my hips as he drove in and out of me, hard and fast and so relentless I’d felt faint more than once.

  I couldn’t hold back. “I love you, Sir. Really love you.”

  He let out a shaky breath and turned his head so he faced me. “Christ. You have no idea what hearing that means to me. You’re my everything, I want you to know that. I don’t want you to ever forget it either. What I do with you, what I’ve done with you…it’s been such a pleasure.” He paused and frowned. “You’re shivering. Are you still cold?”

  “Not now, Sir. I just need.”

  “Then you will get. As we drive, tell me what you’ve been thinking. Tell me what you want.”

  He focused on the road and peeled away from the curb, not fast enough for my liking. I wanted to be at his house now, in a dungeon I’d never seen but one I knew I would love. I wanted his hands on me, his cock in me, his hot breaths hitting my nipple a second before he sucked it into his mouth then bit it, giving me that pleasure-pain I craved.

  “I was thinking of how much I want you, Sir.”

  “Go on.”

  “Of how you feel when you touch me—of how it makes me feel. Everything you do when we’re together is so bloody wonderful I have a hard time accepting it really happens. This, something like us and what we share, I didn’t think it would happen to me. I never thought you’d feel the same. You were always so in control that up until last night I hadn’t any idea of how you felt. How did you hide it?”

  “The same way you did, Lori. We played our roles and kept our feelings secret. But last night”—he paused to take a hard right, the turn tight and needing his full attention—“when you walked into the club, I saw how another Dom looked at you, and it made me realize—made me fully admit it to myself, in fact—how I would feel if I let you go. How seeing you with another man would affect me.” He glanced across and smiled somewhat awkwardly, as though admitting such things was a complicated task. “I had to see how you felt before we proceeded further. I knew that if we saw our year out, it would only make matters worse when the time came for me to let you go.”

  I reached out and rested my hand on his thigh then stared through the passenger window at the countryside, the trees and hedgerows becoming blurred due to our speed. “I had no idea.”

  “It hit me hard, pet. You hit me hard.”

  “We were good at keeping our roles, our secrets, weren’t we?”

  “We were. No more, though.”

  “No, no more.” I smiled to myself. “Sir.”

  Chapter Three

  His house came into view just as the heavens opened. Fat droplets of rain splattered onto the windscreen then dribbled down, meandering rivulets that reminded me of mini streams. He switched the wipers on then turned into his long, horseshoe-shaped driveway, reducing his speed as the rain pattered with more force. From what I could make out in the spaces between the arcs of the wiper, he did indeed have plenty of money. I didn’t feel especially excited by it, more that this was a part of who he was and I wanted to get to know every aspect.

  Unlike my red-brick semi-detached, Jaska’s home was Cotswold stone, its façade rendered a deep gray now that it was wet. The roof, complete with two chimneys, one at either end, was tall, as though it had been extended upwards at some point. The space up there was definitely used for more than an attic where cardboard boxes usually gathered dust and things that had gone out of fashion were safely hidden away. There were windows amid the tiles, large ones, as tall as a person by my reckoning, bigger than those of the actual house.

  Jaska pulled to a stop and cut the engine. “Wait here for a moment, pet.”

  He held up one hand, finger pointing north, a
s if to make his request clearer. He got out of the car, dashing across soaked gravel, then up the steps to his double-wide oak front door. Sliding his key in the lock, he glanced back at me and held his finger high again. ‘One minute,’ I imagined he would have said. ‘I’ll be back in one minute.’

  He disappeared inside then came back out, opening a large umbrella as he made his way to my side of the car. He held it partway over the roof and opened the door, offering me his hand. I took it and stepped out, inordinately pleased with his gentlemanly act. With the car secured by him pressing his key fob, I slid my arm into the crook of his. We made a run for the house, a clap of thunder giving me more speed, our laughter drowned out by the sounds of a storm that seemed intent on raging for some time to come.

  Inside, I stood on a huge mint green, cream and peach Oriental rug, unable to stop myself worrying about the rain from my shoes making it messy. I slid them off, held them up and looked at Jaska, hoping my expression went some way to easing my rudeness.

  “The rug?” he asked, waving one hand. “It’s just a rug.” He slotted the closed umbrella into a wooden stand beside the front door then held my elbow. “Let me take your shoes and coat.”

  I handed my shoes over. His fingers brushed mine, and we stared at one another for what seemed the longest time. I laughed to break the intensity of it, then undid the buttons of my coat and slipped it off. He took it and quickly turned away to hang it in a cupboard.

  “Your clothes,” he said. “Remove them.”

  There was no question that I wouldn’t. I doubted anyone else would be here to see me—he would never have asked me otherwise. The idea of being shown around his home while I was naked and he was dressed in a suit was sharply arousing. I didn’t hesitate and took my dress off, allowing it to fall to the floor. I stood in my black thong and bra, aware of his keen gaze, of the heat that seemed to come from it. With deliberate slowness, I eased my thong down my legs then stepped out of them one foot at a time then toeing them away. I reached back to unclasp my bra, watching him all the while as he watched me. He didn’t take his attention from my face, but he’d be seeing my breasts spring free in his peripheral, seeing that the hairs on my cunt were wet where I was so ready for him. My bra joined my thong, and I held my hands clasped in front of me, waiting for his next instruction.

  “You’re so wonderful, Lori.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Every bit of you. There’s nothing I don’t love.”

  “I feel the same way about you, Sir.”

  “I had planned to show you around, but I can’t do that now. As you said you were earlier, I’m struggling.”

  I lowered my gaze to look at his crotch. There were no immediate signs of his excitement, but I hadn’t really expected any. He had amazing self-control in that department, and I envied him being able to hide what he was feeling. I hadn’t been so fortunate. My cunt was wet and my nipples were hard, the sight there for him to see.

  “What do you have in mind then, Sir?”

  He quirked his eyebrows. “Straight to the dungeon. I can’t wait for you to see it, to be the first and only woman to spend time with me in it.”

  I widened my eyes in shock. I’d assumed he’d brought all his subs here at some point, that many women had been chained, tied with ropes or silk, struck with floggers, whips, cat-o’-nine-tails and tawses. I sucked in a breath at that last one. A tawse was something he’d yet to use on me, a secret desire I’d kept from him, one I’d intended to reveal on our last Friday so that I’d go out of his life with a bang and enough red streaks on my buttocks and across the backs of my legs to last me well into the following week. I’d planned to ask him to hit me hard and fast, be relentless in his delivery and not ask if I was all right or if I needed him to stop. I wanted to push myself to breaking point, where my safe word crested over my tongue, ready to be spilled out at any moment.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

  “No, Sir, everything’s fine.”

  “But you gasped.”

  “Oh, that. It’s something I thought of, that’s all. Something I want you to do to me. In your dungeon. Providing you have the toy I want.”

  “I have every toy imaginable, Lori. I bought them all with you in mind.”

  To know each toy was new, never used on another, gave me comfort and a glow of being unique, that he’d thought of my feelings. I shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d always considered how I might feel in every respect.

  “Will you take me to see them now, Sir?” I asked, eager to view his special room and everything it contained. To begin play and be used in whatever way he chose while in there. To come hard—so hard that I lost my breath and the ability to think.

  He drew me to him, trapping my clasped hands between us. His cock stirred against one of my arms, and I smiled as I rested my cheek to his chest and listened to his heart as it pattered, the throb of it loud in my ear, the beat dull.

  “I’ll take you to see anything you want,” he said. “Anything at all.”

  His body warmth filtered into me, and he lowered one hand to settle it at the base of my spine, spreading his fingers as though he wanted to touch as much of me as possible. That glow came again, but this time it was of feeling wanted, cherished and safe inside his embrace. Nothing bad could touch me here, like this.

  I lifted my head to look up at him. He stared down with those depthless eyes of his, light from above reflected on their surfaces, a slash of illumination streaking across each one. I could see myself in them too—no detail, just the outline of my hair and face—and wondered if he saw himself in mine.

  “We need to go,” he said. “You can probably feel that we need to go.”

  He’d grown harder, his cock nudging into my arm. I nodded and allowed him to take the lead. He let me go then headed for a set of oak stairs. I followed him up, not keeping my head bent as I usually did but eyeing his backside and loving how it moved. I swallowed words that had rushed into my head—I want to touch your arse, Sir—and at the top busied myself with looking down a long landing.

  He turned left and walked on, me trailing him until we reached a door at the end to the right. He opened it to reveal a normal set of stairs that were covered in deep green carpet and glanced at me.

  “Would you like to go first?” he asked.

  “No, thank you, Sir. I want you to have the pleasure of showing me rather than me going inside and you missing my reaction.”

  “Good girl.”

  He took the stairs and again I followed, turning right on a small landing then going up farther. A door was at the top, and he opened it, reached inside to switch on a light, then stood on the threshold, his size filling the frame. I still had three steps to go, and I looked up at him as he stared down at me, and marveled at the sight of him. The light rendered him a silhouette, although I could just make out his features in the shadows swathing his face.

  “I hope you like it, pet.”

  “I’m sure I will, Sir,” I said. “If it’s something you designed, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

  He went farther inside and propped the door open with his backside, waiting for me to join him. I did, standing next to him and getting my first glimpse of his dungeon.

  It wasn’t what I’d been expecting.

  The windows I’d seen on the roof as we’d drawn up in the car were here and, as I’d suspected, bigger than a person. The view went on for miles—miles of countryside shrouded in the dreary cloak of the storm, individual elements blurred, what with the glass being smeared with rain. A streak of lightning flashed across the sky followed by a bout of thunder, and to stop myself thinking about my usual fear of storms, I concentrated on the room itself.

  He’d thought of everything. A St Andrews in one corner, rows upon rows of toys hanging from hooks on the walls, a large bed with crisp white sheets and a fluffy quilt, a chaise upholstered in a light blue Victorian print, a whipping post, chains hanging from the ceiling, steel rings
attached to the walls…oh, everything we had used before and some things we hadn’t.

  I gave the toys a closer inspection, and yes, there it was, a tawse with its two brown leather tongues, hanging rigid, obviously never used. It shined from being so new, and I experienced another stomach roll as thoughts of him striking me with it flitted through my mind.

  “Do you like what you see, sub?”

  I dragged my gaze from the tawse and looked at him. Dear God, he appeared on edge, worried about my reaction.

  “I love it—absolutely love it,” I whispered. “It’s perfect for us.”

  Concern melted from his face, replaced with relief.

  “You even remembered the bed, the cover, I mean.” I stared at it.

  “We had always said the one in our room at the club was so impersonal.” He huffed out a laugh. “Rubber sheets. Understandable, given the amount of use the rooms get, but hardly good for nurturing you after you’d been to subspace or comfortable enough for when I apply salve. No, this bed…I wanted it to be perfect. Somewhere we could also sleep after play. To just be together.”

  His thoughtfulness got to me, and I cleared my throat of the sudden lump that had formed.

  Before I could dwell on it further, he said, “So you’ve been keeping a secret from me. Would you care to tell me what it is?”

  I snapped my head from the bed to the tawse. He followed my gaze and half closed his eyes as though it would help him to know which of the toys I wanted. A small smile played about his lips, and I had the urge to kiss it away, to press myself to him and have him enfold me in his arms.

  I fought it and won.

  “There are only two things up there that we haven’t tried,” he said, turning to face me. “The studded paddle and the tawse. Which one is it that intrigues you?”