DutyBoundARe

by Sidney Bristol

  “You shouldn’t have gone out without telling me.” Mathieu’s voice boomed in the too-quiet space. She hadn’t realized how much noise was shut out until he spoke and filled it.

  “I thought Odalia had.” She turned partially to face him and whatever strength had come back to her knees vanished. The sight of him, this close, turned her to putty. Whatever he asked of her, she knew she would do. For him.

  Mathieu stepped closer, invading her space, crowding her backward. “It doesn’t matter what Odalia does. She is Jacques’. You are mine.”

  A shiver stole down her spine. She knew he was still being caveman-like, driving home his dominance and while part of her liked it—she didn’t belong to him. Not really. She licked her lips and soaked up his nearness.

  “Sorry, I didn’t know that was what you expected of me, but to be fair, you did toss me out. How was I supposed to know everything. . .”

  “I did not toss you out. I did it for you. Everything changed.”

  “Because we had sex?”

  He stared at her for a moment. “Yes.”

  Lie.

  There was something else, probably something she didn’t want to know. Perhaps he was realizing he was still in love with Amanda or the extent of his baggage? Maybe it was something else. She had no way of crawling inside his head and finding out. The sex probably played into it a lot. They’d upended the bag of rules and tossed them out in one go.

  “Go sit over there.” He gestured at a padded bench next to the cross.

  She was tempted to refuse him, but didn’t see the point. Her heels clicked on the floor as she crossed to the bench and sat down, crossing her legs and letting the leopard print heel dangle from her toes.

  Mathieu paced to the other side of the room and turned to face her. There was an energy about him tonight, something tightly coiled and dangerous.

  “We still need to renegotiate.” He had his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. The black t-shirt stretched tight over his chest. She could see the outline of his pectorals, the hard line of his abdominals. God he was hot.

  She shrugged. “Same limits as before, except now sex isn’t a limit. Or do you want that in play still?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “There is no play without sex now.”

  Warmth curled through her stomach and her panties grew damp. Hell yes she wanted to have sex with him again. Over and over. With or without the kink.

  “I agree. Anything else?”

  His gaze had dropped to the carpet, seeing something there that was hidden to her gaze. “I don’t want to—to hurt you.”

  That was unexpected. She blinked a few times, waiting for him to expound on the statement. “I don’t believe that you would hurt me unless it was with my consent, and even then that’s not about pain.”

  “No, I mean. . .fuck, I don’t know what I mean.”

  She rose and crossed the room, coming to a stop when their bodies almost touched. She cupped his face, bringing his gaze from the floor to her. There was an inner turmoil there. Something he tried to hide, but there weren’t enough walls between them now to hide everything. Whatever it was, she wouldn’t push him to share with her.

  “You wouldn’t intentionally hurt me. It’s not like you. It’s not who you are.” She rubbed her palm back and forth along his jaw. The day-old stubble scraped her skin, but she liked it.

  Lisette pushed up to her tiptoes and brushed her lips across his, once, twice. He erupted into motion, digging one hand into her curls, tugging her head to tilt while the other snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against him. She grasped the front of his shirt, her squeak of surprise muffled by their joined mouths. He spun them and pushed her up onto the narrow top beam of the spanking bench.

  Though he used force, it wasn’t violent, proving her words true. His tongue slipped past her lips, teasing her. She moaned, wanting him inside her in every way possible. His tongue, his hands and cock. Every bit of him she could get—she wanted.

  chapter Seventeen

  Change

  Snick.

  Lisette blinked as something cold circled her wrist. She glanced down and grinned.

  “Handcuffs?” she asked.

  “Time to graduate from the soft stuff.” He used the other loop to guide her, twisting her until she slid off the bench, pivoted and faced the bench. “You don’t want to add anything else to our negotiations? This is your last chance.”

  “Positive.” She set her knees on one side of the bench and stretched over the top. The padded peak of the bench hit her stomach if she braced her hands on the other side.

  He knelt on the other side and attached the cuff to the underside of the bench. There was very little give to her bonds, which thrilled her.

  Mathieu pushed her hair back out of her eyes and twisted her head to the side, kissing her with such fierce passion her toes curled.

  “Pleasure first.” His voice rasped out, rough around the edges.

  He stood and moved out of sight. She could follow his movements if she listened to his footsteps, but he didn’t go far. His hands slid over her back, down her hips and ass. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of him.

  She felt the displacement of air whisper across her skin the moment before something slapped across her bottom. She yelped in surprise as the gentle, thuddy toy left nothing but pleasant warmth in its wake. If she had to guess, it was some sort of broad leather paddle or crop. Mathieu coasted one hand over her skin while he peppered her ass and thighs with light blows, warming her up. She pushed back, leaning into him for more.

  A moan escaped her lips. Here, in this house, she didn’t have to be quiet. She moaned again, the sound rising from deep in her throat. The rhythm faltered and she heard Mathieu mutter an expletive.

  He leaned against her, his pelvis to her pussy. She could feel his erection through his jeans. He could fuck her here, like this, and she wouldn’t protest. She moved her hips, stroking him and herself. He gripped her hips, stilling the motion by force alone. Was that his teeth grinding she could hear?

  He pulled her panties down to her knees and she dug her nails into the bench.

  Hell yes!

  She felt his fingers brush over her folds before plunging knuckles-deep into her pussy.

  “Oh yes,” she muttered, her muscles going lax as she draped over the bench, gripping the edge to hold on.

  “You are so damn wet.”

  “Yeah.” He did that to her.

  He pumped her, in and out, curling his fingers as he went. She tried to move with him, but he pressed down on her lower back with his other hand. The order was clear. He was the conductor of her pleasure tonight. She could hear her whimpers, felt her chest shudder, but couldn’t control it. Her awareness narrowed to this thing growing between them, their connection and the way he made her feel. It was the most singularly unique subspace experience she’d ever encountered.

  Slap.

  She yelped at the unexpected tap on her ass, not quite a spanking but hard enough to feel the vibrations straight to her pussy.

  “Oh yes, please,” she murmured.

  “What was that?”

  “Yes, please, Sir,” she said louder.

  He followed her request up with another tap to her other cheek.

  “Mm, thank you, Sir.”

  Yes, that was his teeth she heard grinding.

  Mathieu continued to stroke her inner walls, but now he varied it with a smack to her ass. She squeezed her muscles tight around him, feeling the passage of his knuckles more intensely. He flicked her clit and she groaned.

  Lisette slid her free hand between her chest and the bench, pinching one then the other of her distended nipples between her fingers.

  So good.

  “What are you doing?” He dug his hand into her hair and bent her head back.

  She grinned and pushed the demi-cup down to expose her breast. She watched his face as she rolled the peak between
her fingers, enjoying the way his cheeks sunk in.

  “Can’t give you an inch of freedom.” He slid his fingers out of her pussy, wiping them on her thighs.

  She whimpered at the loss of him, but couldn’t deny that she craved this. What they did together. She grinned even as he produced another set of handcuffs and secured her other hand to the bench.

  He crouched in front of her, gaze narrowed. “You aren’t sorry at all?”

  “For this?” She strained toward him, but he remained just out of reach. “Never.”

  “Hm.” His gaze dropped to her breasts plumped between her arms.

  Mathieu traced the lace still covering her other breast, following the scalloped edge with his finger, back and forth. She tried and failed to hold her breath.

  Couldn’t he put a girl out of her misery?

  As if he heard her thoughts, he pulled the demi-cup down, exposing her other breast. With both on display, he captured her nipples between his fingers and squeezed. She moaned and arched her back as the pressure grew, rising to the threshold of pleasure and pain. He rolled the peaks and she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut.

  “You’re very responsive tonight, aren’t you?” he said low.

  “Uh-huh.”

  Mathieu released her nipples and in two strides had circled the bench once more. He delivered a hard thwack across both cheeks, rocking her forward. She yelped as she was shoved forward, scrambling to hold onto the edge and tensing as she expected the bench to tip. Her heart raced with a sudden image of her toppling over, attached to this thing. Adrenaline flooded her system.

  Except. The bench didn’t move. Not one bit.

  “Answer. Me.” Mathieu punctuated each word with a blow to her bottom, one on either side. Hard enough she felt each all the way to her bones. Her skin grew warm and each pass of his hand elicited more emotion. The adrenaline had her sensitized to the brush of air. His spankings were a lightning bolt.

  “Yes, Sir,” she almost yelled.

  Wait—what was the question?

  He didn’t reissue it, he just kept spanking her. Her ass. Her thighs.

  His hand lightly patted her pussy and her vision burst with stars. She knew she was going to break a nail digging into the bench and she couldn’t care less. The sensation reverberated through her body, and she wished he’d do it again. She wanted to wiggle her hips, feel him inside of her.

  Lisette was vaguely aware of the noise she was making—but did she care? Not in this lifetime. Her throat felt raw though and her muscles exhausted. She slumped over the bench, letting it hold all of her weight as she sucked down deep breaths of air, waiting for another blow that never came.

  Mathieu crouched in front of her. Funny, because she hadn’t heard him move. She blinked at him as he pushed her hair out of her face, brows drawn down into a line and his lips pursed. He did that when he was perplexed or thinking about something. Or was that how he looked when he was horny? She couldn’t really recall right now.

  She leaned into the hand holding her hair, hungry for his contact.

  “Drink.” He put a straw to her lips that dipped into a bottle of water.

  She did as he asked, sucking it down greedily. Her throat was parched to the point that the water almost hurt.

  “Was I screaming?” she asked.

  “Like a banshee.” Mathieu chuckled.

  “Oh. Okay. I do that.”

  He laughed harder and smoothed her hair back until he held all of it in a tail. Her eyelids lowered as his fingers dug through the strands, massaging her scalp and pulling just enough for it to register.

  Mathieu bumped her chin with his knuckles, lifting her face just a bit. She held her breath as he closed the distance and gently kissed her. It was the barest brush of skin, and yet she felt it to her toes. She strained toward him, but he remained just out of reach.

  “Mathieu.” She wasn’t the type to beg for things, but with him all the rules went out the window. With him, she’d do anything he asked of her.

  “What?”

  “Kiss me. Please? Sir?” Her lips curled around the last word, smiling. The word had weight. Meaning to each of them. For her, it was possessing a piece of him, even if just for this moment. Here and now, he was hers. Her Sir.

  What did it mean to him?

  Her subspaced mind wanted to supply all the answers. That when she called him Sir, he felt it. He owned her. That maybe, just maybe, he loved her back. For these precious moments together, she could live in that reality.

  Mathieu studied her for a moment, and for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what he was thinking. Cool air skittered over her heated skin and she broke out in gooseflesh.

  “Mathieu.” She drew his name out for several extra beats.

  He kissed her forehead, giving her what she’d asked for—just not how she intended.

  He rose, releasing her hair to fall around her face, cutting off her sight, but he didn’t move away. She leaned dangerously forward off the bench, and her cheek came into contact with denim.

  “You want my cock?”

  “Yes, Sir.” That was one question she didn’t have to think about.

  “Fuck,” he muttered and stepped away from her.

  A little part of her was glad she had this kind of effect on him, because he certainly had her all messed up. It was satisfying to know this was a two-way street.

  Metal jangled, but she couldn’t see through her hair what he was doing. The next moment, Mathieu was back. He unlocked the cuffs where they attached to the bench, but left them around her wrist. He grasped the chains in one hand and guided her to stand, steadying her with the other and muttering little encouragements to her.

  Her legs had the consistency of rubber, but she was able to stand, leaning heavily on him. Or maybe she did that because she wanted to. At this point it didn’t make much difference.

  She laid her head against his shoulder. His heart pounded under her ear and she heard his deep chuckle even louder this way.

  “Oh no, bebelle, we aren’t finished yet.” He held her at arm’s length, one side of his mouth hitched up and his gaze half-hooded.

  Lisette smiled back.

  He went to a knee and urged her to step out of her panties that were around her ankles. As he stood, he brought the black silk up and off, leaving her naked. For the breath of a second her nerves rattled, but he’d seen her naked before.

  “Come on.” He took the handcuffs once more and led her across the room to the St. Andrew’s cross, with its X-shaped beams and brass rings. He guided her to face the wood and placed her hands over the metal attachments, leaving the handcuffs dangling. “Don’t make me need to use these.”

  She knew he meant the handcuffs. It was a dare, and she did like to play games. She kept her hands in place and twisted to watch him over her shoulder, curious about what came next.

  Mathieu pulled a big bag she recognized from his closet out from under the bench she’d sat on briefly. He set it on top of the bench and flipped it open. She could tell he’d shuffled the toys around, things had moved, there were some more leather items.

  He selected two floggers and slid them out of their nylon sleeves. The bigger, longer flogger she remembered from their very first scene. The second was red and dark brown, shorter with fewer tails.

  She bit her lip and rested her forehead on the wood, soaking up the coolness and relying on her other senses. The only sound she could hear was an occasional faint thump from somewhere else in the house, Mathieu’s movements, the clank of the handcuffs and the whoosh of the flogger tails through the air. She could smell the leather, and something spicy. Maybe a fragrance left in the room? The wood warmed under her touch, while the handcuffs remained a bit cold. Her wrists were sore, and no doubt would be for a little while.

  Thwack. Thwack.

  Lisette yelped and danced in place as first the thuddy flogger followed by the stingy one licked across her shoulders.


  “I told you to stay in place this time,” Mathieu said.

  “I am,” she got out between panting breaths.

  The floggers whistled through the air. She tensed, not knowing where they would land. The first hit her outer right thigh, the next her left. The blows kept coming, from the right and left, but never the same flogger on the side as before. She was thrown off balance by the weight of the thuddy one and jumped at the touch of the stingy one. She danced from foot to foot, holding onto the cross, but unable to remain still.

  Smack!

  The stingy flogger hit her just below the ribs, in that evil, most ticklish of places. She yelped and spun away, until her back was pressed against the wall and she only gripped the cross with one hand.

  She stared, wide-eyed at Mathieu, panting. The way he stared at her, she knew she was in trouble, but couldn’t recall why. What rule had she broken? Subspace muddled her thoughts until all she did was feel, and right now she was aroused, the more potent of emotions rising to the top.

  “I told you to stay put.” Mathieu dropped the floggers with a thud onto the carpet.

  “Sorry, Sir.”

  He crossed the few feet between them and grasped her left wrist, where she was still clinging to the cross. He roughly guided her to take three stumbling steps sideways. She didn’t fall. Wouldn’t. But that didn’t mean he’d let her off the hook.

  He raised her left arm and ran the other end of her handcuffs through the brass ring, locking it in place and repeated it with her right hand. He leaned into her just enough for their bodies to brush, for her to feel him from knee to shoulder.

  She nuzzled his neck, kissing the hollow at the base of his throat.

  Mathieu backed up, his hard gaze sweeping over her. She felt it as if it was a physical caress, arching her back and bending her knee just a bit. Her insides quaked, wondering what came next.