by Dace Everan
* * * *
Sam ran his finger along the cross. The fun he had had with this cross… He pressed his lips together. It would have to go. Blain said she would never be able to take the restraints. He glanced back at Jazz. “This, too,” he called.
Jazz raised a brow. “Are you sure, Sam? You can keep it for appearance sake,” he offered. He had seen how well Sam worked with the cross. The man was going to miss the piece of equipment.
Sam nodded. “Take it away,” he ordered. He had rerigged the swing. She would be able to handle it. The spanking bench had been given extra cushioning. He would test his theories of the soft flogger on her ass. He had seen his handprint on her ass. He had squeezed rather hard and thought he would have woken her, but she had only whimpered in her sleep, followed by a grinding of her hips. She wasn’t totally breakable.
He was sure there were things he could do to her that she never thought he could. He didn’t need to whip her to get off, not how she must think. The women he had played with required that kind of play. It was their way to get off. He just happened to enjoy handling a whip every once in a while. He looked over the assortment of whips. He would keep them for show’s sake. He could never bring himself to use them on her flesh, not with the repercussions of his actions.
Blain had put in a request that he not actually have sex with Paula. Blain had also told him that every part of her body was tender. Not just the skin he saw. That had torn at Sam’s heart. She was that fragile?
* * * *
Paula inhaled a deep breath and looked at the house. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be doing this. It could end badly. Three weeks had passed and he had not come to her. Lila had said he was giving her time to absorb everything.
She looked at the box sitting in the passenger seat and swallowed nervously. She had wanted to dress in it and then come over, but she wasn’t sure she could actually do this. She might chicken out and she would hate for him to have to take her to the hospital dressed in the little piece of silk.
Sam watched her sit in the car, grip the wheel, ungrasp it, move to come in, stop, and then grip the wheel again. He went to the back deck and waited. Would she come up the back way? Either way, the front door was unlocked for her. He hoped she would feel comfortable enough to just walk into his home.
Paula reached for the knob, gaze turning to the back gate. She pulled her hand back and turned on her heel. She settled on the first step, removed her shoes, balanced them on the box, and went through the gate. She loved the feel of the hardened dirt on the bare soles of her feet.
She made her way through the weaving path, coming to a stop at the sight of him sitting on the bottom step of the stairs that led to his home.
She swallowed any fear and went to him. Sam stayed sitting when she approached. “I don’t know if I can do this, Sam,” she whispered.
He nodded, patting his lap. Paula set the box down and sat in his lap, his arms embracing her close. He nuzzled her neck.
Paula sighed. He had shaved. Soft, smooth skin rubbed against her neck. Soft, warm, smooth skin, she corrected herself. Sam smiled as she grasped his forearms.
“I promise I won’t hurt you, Paula,” he whispered.
The statement shook her. As soft as his words were, they slammed into her.
“You have to let me know how you feel,” he whispered.
Paula nodded. She could do that…she was sure she could. She had the biggest mouth of the south. If she didn’t like something, she was usually the first to utter some bullshit line.
Sam hooked a finger under her chin and made her look at him. “We don’t have to do anything. I want you to be comfortable with the idea of it before we even attempt.”
Paula licked her lips, followed by a nervous biting of her lower lip.
Sam smiled. “Beautiful lips, Paula,” he whispered.
Her mouth fell open and her thighs clenched. Sam grinned, lips brushing hers. Paula melted, a whimper escaping her. She tilted her head, allowing him more access. Sam took it. His tongue swept in her mouth and her body shivered. His grip tightened and Paula moaned. Sam pulled his mouth away and assessed her. “You’re feeling better?” he asked.
She nodded. “No prickles, no faintness.” She looked down at herself. “Not nauseous…I can do twenty push-ups.”
Sam smiled at that. “Is that how you assess your wellbeing?”
Paula nodded. “I…yeah,” she answered quietly.
Sam nodded. Good. He didn’t want a repeat of the last time she was here. “Paula.” She looked at him, a questioning look on her face. “I need to know you trust me.”
Paula nodded. “I do. I’ve seen how you are. You won’t hurt me.”
Sam’s smile widened. “You trust your body with me?” he asked.
Paula was hesitant. The last time she had trusted someone with her body, he had left her bleeding. She furrowed her brows.
Sam nodded. “We’ll have to fix that.”
Paula shook her head. “No, I do! I just…I…” She clamped her mouth shut.
Sam kissed her temple. “You need to share, pet. I will never be able to bring you to the place I want to if you don’t share.”
Paula slumped. “I can’t have sex,” she blurted.
Sam laughed. It was deep and rumbled in his chest. “Yes, you can. You just need to adjust to it first,” he corrected her.
Paula looked at him. He acted like it was an adjustment issue. She was sure it was a lot more than that! She shook her head. “No, I tried! I know what my body can handle,” she uttered.
Sam nodded. “All right, then. You tell me what your body can handle and then we’ll work from there.”
Paula turned a bright red. She didn’t want to talk sex with Sam.
Sam smiled, patting her hip. “Up, woman. Getting chilly out here,” he ordered.
Paula followed Sam into the house. He led her through the kitchen, past his living room, past the staircase that led to the upper rooms, and proceeded down the hall.
She peeked in every room they passed, the first room an office, a bathroom, then another office-looking room. She stopped and had to look. She entered and saw the huge drafting table. Her eyes widened. She crossed over, forgetting he had been leading her somewhere.
Sam stood in the doorway, watching her. She flipped through his papers, eyes wide. “Oh my fucking God…” she whispered, head darting up, looking at the framed work of the comic he had been working on.
She whipped around. “You’re a friggen’ cartoonist!” she uttered.
Sam nodded.
She looked at the drafting table then the papers she had so carelessly flipped through. “Oh God, I’m sorry, Sam. I shouldn’t have touched that.”
Sam chuckled. “I don’t mind.”
Chapter Eight
Sam led her to his bedroom at the back of the house. Paula took in the whole room. “Wow, you’re a wood bed guy?” she asked, crossing to the bed, hands touching the thick, heavy wood.
Sam’s lips twitched in a smile. “Yeah, wood bed guy,” he murmured.
Paula frowned, looking over the bed. Four posts, heavy, thick posts. The telltale hooks where he would hook… Oh, goodness. Her pussy fluttered.
She flipped up the bed skirt and saw the riggings for more restraints. Her eyes widened. She put the box on the bed and went to another corner, her mind fascinated. Each corner had the restraints.
Sam watched her as she assessed his bed. She eventually ended up kneeling, ass in the air, the bed skirt held up as she peered at the mechanics of his rigging under the bed. “Holy hell, Samuel, serious work done under here.” She pulled on the restraints and frowned. “Are these resistance bands?” she asked, pulling, releasing, and pulling again.
She let the thing retract and glared at him as a horrible thought entered her mind. “I am not sleeping here!” She scrambled to her feet.
Sam raised a brow. “Why?” he asked, looking the bed over. He found nothing wrong with it.
Paula sco
ffed. “How many women have you had here? Oh my god. Am I just another notch on your bedpost!” Images of many women screaming while in the throes of passion with him flew through her mind as he lay perched between their silken thighs hammering into them… Oh fuck, he wouldn’t hammer, he would stroke every inch he could with that massive weapon between his legs.
Sam chuckled. “Trust me, no woman has been in this bed. I reserve that kind of play for upstairs. If women stay overnight in this house, it’s usually my sister or mother and they prefer the top floor.”
Paula harrumphed. “I’m supposed to believe you?” she grumbled.
Sam nodded. “Yes,” he answered easily, removing his shirt.
Paula stared at his chest. Her mind went blank, fighting to remember what she was glaring about. She was glaring still. She could feel her forehead getting permanent wrinkles.
Sam smirked. “Paula, the bed is mine. I do not share it with every woman I bring here. Those women are looking for something else than sleeping in my bed.”
Paula’s gaze darted to his. “And you think I’m only looking to sleep in your bed!” she barked.
Sam’s smirk grew. There was the fiery Paula he loved. Whoa! He washed the epiphany away. He would have to deal with that later. He needed to focus on the now. “Oh, you are, but I don’t feel like bruising your flesh and putting you in the hospital for no reason. There are others ways to give you what you want,” he assured, crossing to her and flipping the buttons of her blouse open one by one. He not once touched her flesh.
Paula stepped away from him. Sam raised a questioning brow. Paula grunted, face scrunching in uncertainty.
Sam caressed her cheek. “Paula?”
She rolled her eyes. “I bruise from my clothes,” she mumbled. She’d learned throughout her life that her condition seemed to be ruled by her emotional state. When she was happy and carefree, there was little pain. When she was anxious or upset, she experienced pain. The doctors, and there had been many, had diagnosed her with many different diseases. Hyperadrenalism to adrenal gland hyperfunction. With every diagnosis came a new treatment and when those treatments failed, it was on to the next possible disease. When she was a teen, she had asked her father to stop taking her to doctors. She was tired of being poked with needles and all the questions that each new doctor would ask her. Tired of all the treatments. All she knew was the happier she was, the better she felt. The worse she felt or the more nervous she was, the worse her body handled her condition. And right now she was anxious.
Sam’s brow furrowed just for a second. He let her blouse fall from her pale shoulders and it fluttered to the floor behind her. He tucked a finger under her bra strap and eased it over her round shoulder. Thick eyebrows rose at the single bruise line from her strap. “Hmm…should get you a job where you can just stand around naked all day,” he decided, nodding as if he had the perfect job for her.
Paula laughed. “I would faint, dolt. You never noticed how many breaks I was allowed,” she grumbled, taking another step away from him.
Sam pressed his lips together. “You need to stop backing away from me, Paula,” he ordered, voice full of authority.
Paula notched her chin. “No, I can take as many steps as I want. Shit, I can put my shirt back on and leave if I want,” she reminded him. Sam’s hand fell and Paula’s heart followed it.
Sam nodded. “Yes, you can…or you can let go and trust me enough not to hurt you, Paula.”
Paula considered him for a long moment. He had taken care of her for a week and knew her body well already. Knew she had a ticklish spot on her hip. Knew her breasts were extremely sensitive, that the rim of her pants left angry red welts on her hips. She stepped back toward him.
He smiled, loosening the other shoulder strap from her shoulder. “Take it off,” he ordered.
Paula grimaced. He was going to make her undress herself? Her eyes dared meet his gaze. He had an expectant look any man in the club would have when giving an order. Of course, she could say no and he wouldn’t be able to punish her for it, whatsoever. She lifted her chin and defiance flashed in her eyes.
Sam chuckled at her audacity to disobey him. “Don’t think I won’t punish you, woman,” he threatened.
It touched her everywhere. Her hands reached back.
“Slower,” he ordered.
She inhaled a sharp breath, defiance flashing in her eyes. Did he not know she didn’t like being bossed around?
He raised a brow, daring her to challenge him. She complied. He smiled as it slid from her, landing at their feet. He reached out, his finger feather-soft as he caressed her nipple. It stood at a tight peak. Her gaze went heavenward before she closed her eyes.
“Look at me, Paula,” he ordered.
It took a second, but she did. Her lip trembled at the lust-filled look in his eyes. She recognised that look. She had seen men struggle to hold themselves back, even the more experienced Doms when they had that special little sub in their grasp. How the particular Dom wanted to pound into his submissive, give her every little want their body asked for… Of course, they wouldn’t. Those Doms would make sure to push their pets to their limits before giving them their final conquest…themselves. How many times she had wished for that? A Dom to come into her life, push her to her limits, let her feel what passion was supposed to be like.
Sam cupped her breast, his head dipping, kissing the underside. Paula’s knees nearly buckled. She grasped his shoulders to steady herself. Never had a man had the thought to kiss her there. She whimpered. It was the most moving kiss she had ever experienced. Tears welled in her eyes. Sam would take care of her. She was sure of it.
Sam moved around her, his lips caressing the continuous bruise her bra had left behind on her creamy flesh. His hand grazed across her naked belly, deftly undoing the clasp that held her pants together. His tongue jutted out and licked her lobe, and the shiver he got in response gratified him.
Paula caught her breath and cleared her throat when she felt the slight chill on her legs, her pussy. She peeked down, eyes widening. How the hell had he undressed her?
Sam smiled, holding his hand out to her. She looked at his hand. She bit her lip, lifting her hand to his. She placed it palm-down. His mouth lifted at one corner. She groaned. She had done it wrong. She flipped her hand palm-up.
He nodded, leading her to the bed. “Up, lay down on your back in the middle,” he ordered.
Paula did as she was told. She felt like an awkward naked lady crawling across his bed. Oh yeah, she was! Her cheeks flushed at the thought that he was probably assessing her ass as she crawled across. She peeked back at him. He was looking at her. His gaze met hers. Her heart fluttered faster. Shit, she was going to have a heart attack. If her skin didn’t bruise and get all sensitive, she would have a friggen’ heart attack.
Sam caught the panic in her eyes. “Stop thinking, Paula,” he ordered. She gave a slight nod and lay back, shifting till she was comfortable, a smile coming to her lips. His bed was soft. Her fingers caressed the fabric. Suede?
“A special deerskin, I made,” Sam informed her.
She looked at him. He was holding restraints. Her heart pounded faster. He was actually going to tie her up!
Sam took hold of her hand. “I’m assuming no one has ever restrained you.” He hummed, wrapping the soft fabric around her wrists. She shook her head, watching as he looped an intricate knot.
He eased her arm above her head. “Does it bother you to be in this position?” he asked, holding her arm above her head toward the headboard.
She relaxed and closed her eyes. Her arm felt heavy, but there was no pain. She shook her head. “It’s fine,” she murmured.
Sam smiled, nodding, making the same loop around her other wrist. His thumbs caressed the insides of her wrists as he raised both arms together. “This?” he asked.
Paula repeated her relaxing technique, shaking her head. “Good,” she confirmed.
Sam nodded, hooking her to the headboard. “If at
any time that starts to aggravate you, you tell me,” he ordered.
She nodded, licking her lips. Maybe she should have taken another shot just in case?
Sam caressed her cheek. “When you want this to stop, you tell me,” he ordered.
She nodded, eyes meeting his. “Shouldn’t we have a word?” she asked.
He smiled. “I was going to just go with ‘get the fucking things off, you…’” He frowned. “What’s the name you always call me?” he asked.
Paula couldn’t help but smile. There were lots of names she called him. “Asshole,” she squeaked.
He chuckled, backing off the bed, nodding. “‘Kay, we’ll go with that one tonight.”
Paula furrowed her brows. That was not what she expected. She knew they had safe words. Shit, he was babying her, letting her get away with things no other would. He would ruin the whole experience for her if he held back too much.
Sam’s hand circled her ankle. “Pick a word, Paula,” he ordered.
She looked at him, watching as he looped another restraint around her ankle, sliding her leg till it was near the corner post. She tried to swallow. Her throat was all of a sudden dry. Oh God, he was going to spread her legs and see her pussy. She tried to pull her leg back and caught his angry look. She froze. “Ice cream,” she blurted.
Sam smiled. “You calling me that now?” he asked.
She looked at his hand still holding her ankle, the softness now in his gray eyes. Oh goodness, they shimmered with the blue and looked magical. She shook her head. “No,” she managed.
Sam nodded, restraining her other ankle and spreading her till her pussy was open to him. He stood at the base of the bed, arms stretched out, hands wrapped around the posts.
Paula admired him. He was very broad and long armed to do that and still look as cool and calm as he did. Her eyes devoured him while his devoured her. She smiled at the bulge in his pants. Her eyes darted to his. He was smirking at her. He had caught her staring at the outline of his rigid cock.
