“Good. I want you to count. ‘One, Sir, two, Sir . . . Like that.”
“Okay . . . Sir.” As a second thought, she added, “How many?”
He didn’t answer right away, making her wonder if sometimes Doms didn’t plan everything out and just winged it. “Ten,” he finally said.
That wasn’t so bad. She could take ten.
The first blow stung a burning path across her ass, making her yell and go up on her toes. She hadn’t expected it yet. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d be hitting her harder because of the pants. By the deep sting right across the center of both cheeks, she’d guess there’d be a nice big red welt. Fuck. And she had to do ten of these?
“Kate,” he warned.
“Uh. One, Sir.”
The belt whistled through the air, then whap!
Her entire world narrowed to a hyperawareness of every nerve ending in her posterior.
She whimpered. “Two, Sir.”
Whack.
“Ow!” She kicked out a leg and wiggled. This was awful—why did some women like it? “Three, Sir.”
Another landed right on top of the last one, and she squealed.
Punishment officially sucked. “Banner.” It was a whispered plea, but she wasn’t sure for what.
He stopped and for a silly moment, she thought it might be over. The belt fell onto the couch next to where she rested her hands. Relief swept through her, and she exhaled loudly.
“Don’t think I’m done, little one. You’ll get the full ten.”
Fingers edged under her waistband, and she panicked. “No!” She put her hand back to stop him.
He froze. “I’m just checking your skin.”
She thought he might wrestle the pants down, but he didn’t. He just waited. For her safeword? “What if I used my safeword during a punishment? Would you stop?”
“Of course. But if you deserved a punishment, and the one I chose was a hard limit for you, I’d have to think of a different one that matched the infraction. A D/s relationship is based on the Dominant being dominant. The submissive doesn’t get to decide whether they get punished or not. There are consequences for bad behavior.”
That made sense. She’d tested him and deserved every lick she got. It should have filled her with dread, but for some reason it didn’t.
“Are you going to let me check your marks so we can continue?” He paused. “Or are we done for the night?”
She didn’t want to be done, but she didn’t exactly want to finish the next six strokes either. She’d be disappointing herself if she made him stop and it wasn’t really that bad, especially not with her clit throbbing so hard she thought she might die if she didn’t orgasm soon. Leaving to go home and use her vibrator was an option. God, she’d get off in the car or maybe on her way out the door, she was so turned on.
But, no. She needed to finish this.
“Okay.” She placed her hand back on the couch and let him slowly draw her pants down.
Cool air hit her skin, reminding her of the dampness between her legs. Hopefully, he wouldn’t notice. He ran his fingertips over her, the alternating tickle and soreness telling her where the biggest welts were. She let out a whimper when he pushed on them, but she wasn’t sure if it was because it hurt or turned her on.
Her cheeks grew hot when she realized she was bent over, pants down, while he stared at her ass. Again. They’d done worse last weekend but this felt different, more intrusive because he was studying marks he’d made on her. His marks. On her body.
Fuck. Why did she like this so much?
A moment later, he pulled her pants back up. She shouldn’t have been disappointed, but she was. She refused to think about what she’d actually wanted him to do. The belt disappeared from her line of vision. She tensed up, preparing for the blow, wanting it at the same time as dreading it. She was so messed up. Did everyone into kink feel this way?
Thwack.
She squealed and rocked forward on the couch. Oh crap. What number were they on?
Maybe he wouldn’t notice.
“That’s five,” he reminded her.
“Oh. Sorry, Sir.”
“Keep going.”
As she counted the next five, her voice got higher each time, and she was on her tippy toes by the end. Her ass felt like it was on fire in big wide streaks. She wanted to look in the mirror, to see the way his belt marks looked on her skin. Was it as sexy as it was in the photos she’d seen online?
Unsure of what to do next, she remained bent over, waiting for his instruction. Behind her, she heard signs that Banner was putting his belt back on.
“Mmm,” he purred. “Good girl.”
“What?”
“You didn’t move.” He took her arm and stood her up to face him. “I’m impressed.”
Embarrassed, but mostly horny, she kept her gaze on the ground and muttered, “I can be good, Sir.”
“Look at me.”
She lifted her eyes.
“Are you okay?”
Was she? Her knees were wobbly, and she could feel every mark of the belt as if it had burned into her flesh, but her clit was throbbing so hard she’d probably faint if he didn’t fuck her soon.
“I’m incredibly horny, Sir.” It surprised her to admit it. Apparently, pain made her tongue loose.
A wicked grin settled on his face. “Are you?”
She nodded, although she didn’t like feeling mocked.
“Good. That usually makes submissives more biddable. Let’s try this again.” He walked her to where they’d been standing before he’d stopped to belt her. “Bend over and grab your ankles.”
This time she didn’t balk. With a sigh, she slowly turned around and did as he said, despite the embarrassment. At least she was clothed.
He smoothed his hand down her back then squeezed both globes of her ass, making her groan. Hadn’t he already inspected there enough?
Boldly, as if he owned her, he ran his palms up the sides of her thighs. She felt like a horse being assessed for breeding or something. She let out a breath of air which blew her hair away from her face.
“Bored?” he asked, still poking and groping her.
“A little. Looking at the floor is only so interesting.”
“Stand up.”
When she did, she got woozy from the head rush.
He steadied her with a hand on her elbow. Once she nodded that she was fine, he continued his work. Hand under her chin, he tipped her head up and studied her face, then her ears and neck. She fought the urge to spout sarcastic comments, but she had no desire to earn another belting. At least not while her ass was still throbbing.
His movements were gruff at times, gentle at others. When he pushed her hair from her face, he was tender about it. Then he shoved his hand between her legs.
She hissed in a breath and tried not to move, even though her body was desperate for more. In about half a second he found her clit and rubbed it. The thin fabric didn’t provide her with any protection from the sensation.
“You’re wet.”
You don’t say, Master Investigator. It took her a moment to get control of her tongue. “Yes, Sir. I think you know why, Sir.”
He smirked. Cocky bastard.
Just when she was about to grind up against his hand, he withdrew it.
Ugh! “Are we done yet?” She tried not to sound whiny, but she couldn’t take much more of this. Not without making a serious attempt at jumping his bones. And that would end up with them both naked and in bed together again, which she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do.
“We’re done when I say we’re done,” he answered. “As a Dom, it’s my right to inspect my property anytime and anyplace I want to. The kitchen in the middle of dinner. A deserted hallway at your best friend’s wedding. In the dungeon—”
“Dungeon?” He couldn’t possibly have a real dungeon.
“Yes. Subs are definitely inspected in my dungeon.”
“Like, a for-real, legit dungeon?
Here, in your house?”
His answering smile was wicked. “Yes, but I’m not sure you’re ready to see it.”
She scoffed, then narrowed her eyes. Who was he to tell her what she was ready for? That was a challenge if she’d ever heard one. “I’m not scared. I want to see it.”
“How did I know you’d say that?” He sighed, then turned on his heel. “Follow me, then, brave girl.”
When she stepped in line with him, he stopped. “Ah, ah. A sub walks behind her Dom. Eyes down unless he tells her otherwise.”
She sputtered for a moment. “But . . . but what if I walk into something?”
“You have to keep an eye on what’s happening around you, but you don’t have to rubberneck to do that. I’ll make sure you don’t bump into anything. It’s a Dom’s job to protect his sub. She’s his greatest treasure, remember.”
“The greatest treasure part sounds pretty good.”
He laughed. “So you just want to be spoiled without giving your Dom anything in return?”
She shrugged. “When you say it like that . . .”
Still laughing, he turned toward the hallway and said, “Come on, princess. Let’s see how brave you really are.”
With a sigh, she followed behind him, keeping her gaze on the floor, trusting him to steer her around obstacles and stairwells. They padded down the corridor then he stopped in front of a door.
Purposefully, she bumped into his back, just to make a point.
He turned, and she could feel the heat of his glare, even as she stared at the floor. “You can lift your head, Trouble.”
She did and felt some satisfaction in that. God, she really was trouble. Maybe submission wasn’t her thing after all.
When she looked up at his face, his sinister expression made her wither. At the same time, a tingling rushed to her pussy. She clenched her thighs together, hoping for a miniorgasm. When he looked at her like that—as if she were the entire focus of his attention, as if he not only owned her but desired her—something switched on inside her. And it wasn’t just her libido. It was as if she suddenly cared about everything and anything he thought, felt, wanted, needed. She was not only in tune but desperate to please him. There was also a hopeless affection growing deep down, where she couldn’t seem to uproot it. But, why? They weren’t even together. Why did this weird switch in her brain flip only for him? More importantly, how could she get it to turn off so she could keep some control? Right now, it felt like it was slowly slipping through her fingers.
After he opened the door and flipped on a light, he crooked a finger at her.
She paused, unable to make her body follow him. She’d been so confident a moment ago. Now, her courage had abandoned her.
His brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m scared,” she blurted.
He turned to face her fully, his eyes a mixture of amusement and concern. “Now you’re scared? What are you afraid of? I promise there are no rats or skeletons in there.”
She swallowed hard. “I’m scared of the way you make me feel.” Why was she telling him this?
He took a step closer, so close she could feel the heat from his body against hers. “And how do I make you feel?”
“Like I’m losing control.” It was barely a whisper, but she knew he’d heard. She stared at his chest, avoiding the disappointment probably written on his face.
“That’s the point.”
“I don’t like it.”
“No.” He put his finger under her chin to tilt her head up, then gazed into her eyes. “You love it.”
Chapter 8
If the glare had been meant to turn him to stone, her superpower only worked on his dick. At this point, keeping her training impersonal was an act. She’d completely charmed him.
How many times had he played with women at clubs and walked away without it becoming sexual? He couldn’t guess. But with Kate, he had to keep pushing away thoughts of how good she felt beneath him and how she was his, even though she tried to fight it. Or the helpless way she moaned when she came. How soft her skin was . . .
“You think I love losing control?” Her brow had lowered in a way that would have made a lesser man quail. Luckily for her, he knew who was in charge.
“Yes.”
“Well, I guess it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out if I’m here to become more submissive.”
“No, I meant that you love losing control to me, specifically.” He turned and walked into his dungeon, counting on her to follow out of spite now. Her courage was unlikely to fail her if she wanted to get the last word.
“Shit.”
She’d followed him in, but whatever she was going to say was interrupted when she caught sight of the room.
“What?”
“I didn’t expect it to be this . . .”
“This, what?”
“I don’t know. Classy? I’ve only ever heard about grungy basement dungeons—like the public one Janine goes to.”
He smiled. “Well, usually people’s private dungeons reflect their personal tastes. I don’t have fantasies about taking my subs in back alleyways or in cold warehouses. The one in town is designed for people who want their BDSM raw and edgy. Everything here was designed to please myself.”
“It actually looks like you had this place professionally decorated.” She ran her fingers over the fabric that swagged over the large four poster bed.
“Thank you.”
“Did you do it all yourself?”
“Yes. I was an artist.”
Her mouth quirked. “Was? You’re not anymore?”
Banner tried to think of the last time he’d picked up a pencil or paintbrush, but for the past six months the closest he’d come was doodling on the minutes at business meetings. He had a loft for one passion and a basement dungeon for the other. Meanwhile, although most people would consider them his hobbies, they were more real and important to him than what he did at the office every day. That was mostly a paycheck and a way to keep his family from starving.
“So where are all of the whips and chains and stuff? I mean, this looks mostly like a vanilla bedroom, albeit with some extra furniture.”
“Well, you know what that padded coffee table can be used for now.”
Her cheeks turned pink, and he thought of how obedient she’d been for him by the end of his inspection. Not tapping into that today was an exquisite kind of torture. All of the wasted potential frustrated a deep part of him. This cat-and-mouse situation they had going on couldn’t continue. He couldn’t keep training a woman he liked this much while knowing she was going to someone else. If Ambrose or Konstantin took her on he might be able to handle it. But seeing her collared to one of his best friends would be rough too. He kept waiting for her laugh to be annoying, or for her to chew with her mouth open, or anything he could cling to that would make her less desirable. Instead, her stubbornness and coltish awkwardness were endearing. Maybe they’d wear on him with time.
“The table also converts.” He slid a drawer out of the side to show her it was a padded place to kneel, which worked well as a spanking bench. The decorative loops on either side of the table were at the right height and position to attach cuffs in case his guest was reluctant about being punished.
She stared at the thing wide-eyed, as though it had turned into a venomous snake. Considering how recently she’d been disciplined, he could understand her reaction.
“The rest of the room has other features that make this a functional dungeon. And because I redid this entire room, it’s quite soundproof when the door’s closed.”
“You could . . . lock a girl up down here, and no one would know.” She shivered, then jumped as he traced a path up the back of her neck, from the collar of her T-shirt into her hair. Her eyes closed, and her lips parted slightly.
“I only let good girls who want to play with me in here.”
Her lips twisted in a wry smile. “Oh, and am I part of that exclusive club now?”
The words he left unsaid seemed apparent to her. She was looking up at him, her eyes docile, the softness of her mouth doing crazy things to his imagination.
He kissed her, unable to resist the temptation, but made it more of a tease than a kiss—over before it had begun, and featherlight.
As he stepped back, she followed, looking for more. She was the one who wanted to keep her clothes on. She didn’t want sex, or so she insisted. There was no way in hell he was initiating anything.
His dick was disgusted with him for being a gentleman.
“So, what makes you think that I love losing control, especially to you?” The tilt of her head and the tone challenged him for dominance. Always testing.
“It’s all in the quality of your screams when you come for me, and the fact that you called me Master. Twice.”
Her face crimson, she sputtered, hunting for words. The right ones came to her, eventually. “I’ll admit that you’re good in bed, but that doesn’t mean I love losing control to you. The words are just words. They slipped out. It happens. You’re just lucky I didn’t accidentally call you William or Rob instead.”
“So you always come that hard?”
She frowned. “I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”
“In other words, no.”
“You can choose to believe what you want, but I’m not feeding your ego anymore today.” She pursed her lips. If someone Googled the word “arrogant,” there’d be a picture of Kate making that face.
Sassy little bitch.
A wave of sexual aggression took him by surprise, but he caught himself before he even twitched a finger. He wanted to make her scream for mercy, beg for cock. He wanted to do any number of things she wasn’t ready for yet.
Instead, he shut his eyes and thought about swirls of paint, quiet blues in shades that soothed his soul.
When he opened his eyes again, Kate was looking less certain of herself.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from.” She actually looked ashamed.
Finding Master Right Page 12
