by Linda Barlow
She shook her head, thinking no one had ever asked her that before.
"And you've never been raped or abused, right?"
She was startled by this question. "Raped?" Derek hadn't raped her. The assault she'd endured from him hadn't been sexual. "No."
"I don't want to embarrass you, but sometimes BDSM can trigger submissives who've suffered abuse in the past. It's one of those questions doms have to ask."
"Makes sense," she said, feeling a little anxious. Diana had said the same thing. But she didn't want to think about what Derek had done. Not now. She was going to have to work herself up to it first.
His stare was intent. Did he know she was hiding something? She met his eyes and smiled, and after a moment, he smiled back.
"One of the things I like about kink is that partners are forced to communicate," he said. "That doesn't always happen during conventional sex. It can be hard to talk about certain things."
She decided they'd been serious long enough. "So we can talk about anything, sexwise?"
"Absolutely."
"Then it's okay, for example, for me to tell you, not there, but a half an inch to the left? You won't be insulted?"
"Not in the slightest, although I might have to stop and mark the spot on my little Good Boyfriend Google map."
She burst out laughing. Stephen extended his hand and gently cupped her chin for a moment. She turned her face slightly and kissed his fingers. "Don't worry about anything," he said. "We're going to laugh a lot and have fun."
Chapter 16
His bedroom was beautiful at night. The huge windows had a magnificent view of the sea. The moon was higher now over Cape Cod Bay, silvering the black water and slanting its light into the dark corners of his room.
"Don't stare at it. It'll make you crazy."
"A lunatic?" she smiled. "As in the old folk legends?"
He was stripping off his T-shirt. The sight of his naked, muscled chest sent new waves of desire coursing through her.
"Yes, look at me, bathed in moonlight every night and wrapped in a fantasy world most of my waking hours." He caught one of her wrists and pulled her to him. His hands slid underneath her top, seeking her breasts. In an instant he was cupping them, molding them, his thumbs flicking back and forth over her nipples, which hardened to sensitive peaks. "All writers are a little crazy. Don't you know that?"
She giggled, but her laughter was choked off by a surge of lust as he lifted her top and pulled it over her head, exposing her breasts to the moonlight and his eyes. After a long, passionate gaze that made her tingle with anticipation, he bent his head and began sucking one of her nipples until she writhed in his arms, her legs so weak with longing that she could hardly stand.
"Stephen," she murmured, encouraging him to increase the pace of his lovemaking. Her nails lightly traced a path down the flesh of his stomach to the belt of his jeans.
"So. Tonight you're going to do what I tell you to do."
"Is this where things start getting kinky?"
He chuckled. "Yup." His teeth closed on the nipple, bearing down gently. She moaned and arched against him, feeling with a thrill the ridge of his aroused penis through the barrier of denim.
"I'm yours to command."
He released her and stepped back a foot or so. "Strip off the rest of your clothes."
She was suddenly conscious of the enormous uncurtained window. "Can we close the drapes?"
"No. We're facing the ocean. No one'll see you."
"Maybe there's somebody out there in a boat—"
"Do it," he growled.
He did the giving orders thing well—there was something very sexy about that harsh tone he used, something that indicated he would brook no denial. It propelled her into the fantasy world where he was the master and she was willing to follow orders, a world that, without the erotic excitement she was feeling now, she might have resented. Her entire body was moist and hot, and there was an ache between her legs. Drawing a deep breath, she unsnapped her jeans and slid out of them as sensuously as she could. Stephen whistled appreciatively when he saw her long, slender legs, and her soft hips, covered only by a brief pair of bikini panties.
"Keep going."
Grinning, she pulled down her panties and stepped out of them. "Sexy lady," he whispered. His eyes moved slowly over her nakedness, making her feel worshiped, like a pagan goddess. "The moon is caressing your body, making me jealous."
He stripped away his own jeans, and she saw that he wasn't wearing underwear. He stood before her, naked and ready to fuck her, his lanky body as tense and hard as rock.
He stalked over to the bed, tugging her after him with a firm grip on one wrist. With a jerk he pulled off the heavy bedspread. "Lie down," he commanded, pushing her onto the thick mattress. It felt warm beneath her bare skin, and seemed to adjust to her curves. "Turn over," he added before she could get too comfortable.
She rolled obediently onto her stomach. As she did so, he caught one of her arms, then the other, and pulled them behind her back so her wrists were crossing each other. "Hold your arms like that. I’m not going to bind your wrists just now, but I want you to pretend that I have. Your hands are locked behind you, and you can't free them."
"Pretend handcuffs? Am I going to get a pretend spanking, too?"
He swatted her ass with his hand, but not hard. It felt good. And hot. "If you make me laugh you'll get a real one."
"Threats, threats."
The mattress shifted as he straddled her, his knees on either side of her hips. He bent forward, crouching over her so she could feel his twitching cock against her ass. She wriggled against him, and she felt his breath quicken. He was acting cool and calm, but she knew he was just as aroused as she was. She felt him kiss her on the back of her neck. She shifted a bit, trying to adjust her position.
The hands behind her back thing was something she was not used to. She felt as though she had to arch her spine, and this pressed her breasts hard against the mattress. It was a bit uncomfortable, but he must know that. If this was some sort of test, she was determined not to fail.
He grabbed a large hunk of her hair in his fist and pulled her head up and back, increasing the arch in her spine and the pressure on her breasts. He pressed his mouth against her ear while she squirmed a bit under him, trying to get comfortable. "Now listen. Since you've done your homework on the internet…"
"Homework!"
"You know now that there are all sorts of things that kinky people do. There are all sorts of games that we play, and all sorts of esoteric props and equipment we use."
"Most of which appear to be made of leather."
"Right. I like some of that stuff, but I don't need any of it. I don't need to tie you, although I will. I don't need to restrain you, although I will. You will hold whatever position I put you in not because you're bound or compelled to, but because of the pleasure you will find in it. And because by doing so, you will give me pleasure. Do you understand?"
His voice was low and husky, and his breath was warm and humid against her skin. She nodded. He pulled her head back harder, which hurt a bit.
"You're to answer me 'yes, Master. No, Master,' although I don't want to hear the word no from you unless you're also ready to say, 'please punish me, Master.'"
She was surprised to find that this made her hot. "Yes, Master," she murmured, trying it on for size. Damn. She was getting more and more excited.
"Good girl. Remember to say 'red,' if you need me to stop."
"What if you can't stop?"
He was running one of his fingers down the middle of her spine, causing shivers. "No matter what happens, if you use your safeword, I will stop. That's a promise."
Too bad I didn't have a safeword when Derek was attacking me, she thought. If only there had been a word to make that stop.
"Your skin is so silky," he said, caressing her. He explored her back with the tips of his fingers, then with his lips. As his mouth moved gently along her backbone, del
ighting her with several feathery kisses, he murmured against her, "There's something you haven't told me."
She tensed slightly. There were several things she hadn't told him.
"How many other men are there? Boyfriends, friends with benefits, hookups, etc.?"
She was vaguely annoyed by the question. "Am I acting as if there's anyone else?"
"All I know is that you've been divorced for a while. Some people go a little wild after a divorce. I'm trying to assess the competition."
"There isn't any. This is me going wild."
"You're a beautiful, sexy woman, with brains and wit and laughter. I'd expect the men to be lining up, hoping for a chance with you."
"Nope. Your only competition, Master, is battery powered."
He snorted a laugh. "Hmmm, what can I do that a vibrator can't? Let's see. Put your arms out to the sides. Like a T formation. Palms flat on the mattress."
She did it. It was a strange feeling—like bondage, except there were no restraints. The bed was so large that there was plenty of room even if he wanted to spread her out as far as her limbs could go.
He resumed massaging and caressing her back. He stroked with a force that pressed her deep into the mattress, then moved back up along her spine. His hands danced delicately over her upper back. He gathered up her thick skein of hair and spread it up over her head to expose the sensitive nape of her neck to his tantalizing fingers. His head came down, and his tongue explored her ear and the side of her throat. His fingers trailed along her sides as the heels of his hands applied the pressure, and when they reached her rib cage, she could feel his fingertips teasing the sides of her breasts.
"You have a beautiful back. I'm looking forward to marking it with my whips."
Whoa. She wasn't sure whether to moan with lust or beg him not to. The moan won. He had her breasts in his hands now and he plucked on both of her nipples. She had learned last weekend that he loved to be rough with her breasts...and that she liked it when he tortured her that way.
He pinched both nipples, doing it hard enough to hurt, but what she felt was good pain. He was quite the expert at dishing out good pain. She could tell from the jerks of his cock against her ass that every time he pinched or twisted her nipples and felt her react, his own excitement surged.
"Nipple clamps, I think," he mused. "I would love to strike your breasts with a riding crop, but that's a little too intense for a beginner. But I think you can handle a pair of nipple clamps with a slender chain between them for me to tug on."
She could hear herself panting as she imagined this. That would certainly hurt. Why did she hope he would do it?
He withdrew his hands and gripped her hips from behind. He raised her slightly and slid a pillow underneath her hips, moving her body with his usual authority.
He's going to take me from behind, she thought, wishing he'd take her somehow because her sex was aching with need. She usually didn't like the rear entry much, since she couldn't see her partner. She'd always thought it was a bit demeaning.
But there was something deliciously wicked about this. He was totally in control. There was little she could do unless she moved her arms, which he had forbidden. She could hear her own rapid breathing, and the thump thump of her heart.
Stephen continued to torment her by circling instead of touching her sex. She arched her spine, trying to find him, and he laughed softly. "Spread your legs. No, wider." When that still wasn't wide enough to suit him, he slapped her ass and pressed her thighs even farther apart. He bent over her, in a curl, to breathe again into her ear, "When I give you an order, you will obey me instantly, love, or it'll be heavy discipline for you."
Heavy discipline? Whips and paddles? God, why didn't this scare the shit out of her? Why was her pussy weeping with twisted desire?
His fingers found her, probed her, and retreated. She cried out softly in protest. It was getting harder to keep her arms and hands still. She ached to touch him, and she was beginning to feel the strain of holding the position.
His fingers returned, slipping between her folds while she arched and twisted beneath him. He placed the flat of his other hand between her shoulder blades and pressed her breasts harder against the mattress, while her hips remained raised against the pillow. "Spread your legs a little more, and then hold your body still."
"Oh my god, I don't think I can."
"You will," he said in that hard tone he acquired at a certain point in his arousal cycle. Bad Boy was in control, she thought, laughing a little. One finger parted her and plunged inside, and her laugh turned into a moan. "Lift your hips a bit, but don't move them otherwise.…."
"Stephen…" Her voice rose in a plea as he continued to tease her.
When he relented and reached a little farther, probing her clit with his damp finger, she disregarded his instructions and ground her hips against his hand. He gave her another swat on the behind, harder this time. "I told you not to move."
"I can't help it, Master."
"I enjoy making it difficult for you." He rubbed her ass where he had swatted her and kissed the spot. "But I want your obedience anyway. It's all about endurance and control."
"I endure, you control?"
"Yep." He gave her another slap on the ass, a lot harder. She felt a hard edge of pain, and then a burning. But it was not exactly a bad feeling. "Does it bother you when I strike you like that?"
"No, it's okay." she said, thankful that it really was okay. "I kinda like it."
He was kneading her ass now, which felt wonderful. His body was smooth and hard, and she knew from the slight movements he was making against her that he was very turned on. When was he was going to enter her? Had he put on a condom yet? She didn't think so. She wished he'd hurry up….her belly was churning with lust.
"Have you read anything about predicament bondage?"
"Um, no?"
"When you go home, look it up. Interesting exploration of control and endurance. Here's an example—turn over on your back."
She flipped over a little awkwardly. He was looming over her, not giving her much room to maneuver. When she saw his hard-boned face, his eyes intent, his mouth a slash in his dark face, she felt another surge of desire, liquid and hot.
She reached up to caress him, wanting to touch him and return some of the pleasure he had been giving her. She cupped his cheek, feeling the rough slide of his stubble against her palm and fingertips. He hadn't shaved, and it looked good on him.
He smiled and captured her hand, bringing her palm to his lips. He licked her, then bit down, just a little. His dick looked enormous, and he was stroking it absently, seeming to be less concerned with his own feelings than with hers.
"I want you inside me, Stephen."
"Not yet. Stretch your arms up over your head. Now try lifting your heels up, off the mattress, and hold your legs about a foot in the air."
She did it, and immediately felt the strain. "Are you implying that I need to work my stomach muscles?"
He chuckled. "No." His caressed her belly with a gentle hand. "I love your stomach muscles. How long can you keep your legs in that position, do you think?"
"Not that long."
"You can let them down. Now imagine this: there's a hook in the ceiling with a rope going through it. Right about there." He pointed upward to a spot that would be over her belly if there were a hook in the ceiling. There wasn't. He began playing with her breasts again. "You're wearing clamps on your nipples." He pinched one, and then the other. "The clamps are attached to thin chains, which are themselves attached to one end of the rope that drops down from the ceiling. When I pull on the other end of the rope, which feeds into the ring, the tension on your nipples is increased."
"Okay," she said, envisioning this.
"Now the second part: you have leather cuffs on your ankles." One of his hands slipped between her legs and began stroking her labia as he spoke. "They are bound together and attached to the other end of the rope that comes down from the ceiling
. That rope can slide through the ring, one way or the other. Your legs can be jerked upward or let down by means of that rope."
His thumb rubbed her clit, making her moan as her excitement mounted to an almost unbearable level.
"I have you lift your legs about a foot off the mattress and then I tighten the rope so you are forced to keep your legs in the air. You can lower them when they get tired, but if you do, the rope slides through the ceiling ring and the slack vanishes from the other end. The other end, you'll remember, is attached to your nipple clamps."
As he said this, his other hand pinched and pulled on her nipple, making her squirm. "Keeping your legs elevated will soon make your muscles tremble and ache. But lowering your legs to rest those tired muscles puts agonizing tension on your breasts. So you have to choose your discomfort, both of which are cruel. Thus, predicament bondage."
During this explanation, he had continued to stimulate her clit, and she was now desperate for release. The bizarre predicament he had described had made the problem that much worse. She wasn't sure why the idea of this sensual torture thrilled her, but there was no denying that it did.
"Stephen," she whimpered. "I need you to fuck me."
He grinned, delighted at the way she was responding to him. "You are so kinky, Professor."
She rolled her eyes at him. Arching her spine, she ground her pelvis into his hand, and then reached down to find his cock. She brushed her thumb lightly over the tip. "I'm sure there are predicaments I could use on you, too."
"So disrespectful," he chided. "Didn't I tell you to keep your arms over your head? It's a good thing I'm going easy on you tonight."
"You only ordered me to put my arms up. You didn't say I had to keep them there."
Stephen chuckled, but soon he heard himself echoing her groans as she grasped him hard and started to stroke. He leapt at her touch. God, it felt so good, and so far everything was very promising. He'd pushed her a bit, but she hadn't freaked.
"You’re beautiful," she said. "I mean, most men aren’t beautiful exactly, but you—your face, your body, your muscles, your cock—" she explored up and down the shaft. "You’re perfect. Really."
