by Amy Valenti
He didn't stop sponging the ink from my body, but he ran his free hand over my hip. “Punishment's over, Faye. You're forgiven."
I drew in a shaking breath, wishing I could believe him.
"I ignored the signs, Sir! I knew you weren't happy, and there were like five hundred times that I coulda stopped—"
He immediately set down the sponge, enfolding me in his arms again.
"Remember that safe word you asked me for? I could have used it."
"But you're—” I bit down on the rest of the sentence—I was already in enough trouble.
Amused, he tugged a lock of my hair. “Go on."
Sighing, I stared at his shoulder, unable to meet his eyes. “Too stubborn to safe word, Sir."
Pierce shrugged. “Too stubborn to submit, as well—but I did."
"I made you do it."
"And I'm responsible for my own choices."
He fixed me with a gaze that was as much an order for me to stop being so hard on myself as concerned affection.
"When you submit to me, who do you hold more responsible for keeping tabs on your mental state—me, or you?"
I wanted to protest, but decided to play along for now.
"Me."
"And do you expect me to stop before you safe word when you're in two minds about a scene?"
Two minds? But that would mean...
"No,” I said softly. “When you say ‘two minds'—"
He ignored me, putting a finger to my lips.
"Then what do you expect from me in a scene, safety-wise?"
"To know how to use the equipment safely. To be sober and calm. Not to do me permanent damage. To stop when I safe word or when you think I can't take it.” The list fell effortlessly from my lips—our roles were well-defined.
"And did you at any point think you were going to do me permanent damage, or that I couldn't take it?” he asked, running his fingers through my hair.
That moment flashed through my mind again.
"For a second,” I confessed, biting my lip. “Right before you gave in. I shoulda backed down, Sir. Before you got that angry."
"Because, of course, you're psychic and you knew I would get to that point,” Pierce said dryly. “You were being punished for putting me in that situation, little tease, not for being a bad Domme. And if you doubt that, I suggest you call Santoro and see if he has any complaints."
I might have been a little insecure right then, but I knew my scenes with Santoro had been well within his limits. With a long look at Pierce to make sure he really didn't hold me responsible, I let him guide me back into my previous position on the bed and resume cleaning the ink from my skin.
* * * *
Finally, Pierce dropped the sponge into the bowl of now-murky water and dried his hands, then helped me to sit up. I tilted my head to meet his lips, smiling a little as he kissed my nose instead.
"How're you feeling, little tease?” He watched me carefully, and I shrugged, knowing it was futile to lie to him.
"Wrung out, Sir.” It seemed to be the best description—like every droplet of overconfidence had been twisted and squeezed from my body. Subdued, I sat quietly, staring at my hands and waiting for Pierce's reaction.
He brushed a strand of hair out of my eyes, his touch gentle. “Hey."
I looked up at him, and he held my gaze, captivating me. “Why are you having such a tough time letting this one go?"
"I...” It was a good question. Usually when a punishment was over I felt absolved of my transgressions. It took me a couple of seconds to pin down the correct response.
"I guess it's because I enjoyed it. I mean, I know I shouldn't have done it, and I won't again, but I loved..."
I trailed off, not wanting to dig myself into a deeper hole. Better not to admit how much I'd enjoyed watching him lose control, hearing him beg for release.
"I feel bad because... When I think of that night, only a small part of me regrets it. And I know that will disappoint you."
"Ah...” Pierce murmured to himself, nodding. A slight smile pulled at the corners of his lips, and I gave an internal sigh of relief that he hadn't taken the admission badly.
Motioning for me to get comfortable on the bed, he stretched out beside me and drew me close. I rested my head on his chest, soothed by the steady beat of his heart and the rhythmic movements of his fingers stroking through my hair.
After a couple of minutes, he began to speak. “No one knows better than you that I'm not submissive by nature. Can't stand feeling helpless. Hate giving up control of a situation."
I must have tensed up a little, because he kissed the top of my head reassuringly.
"Relax, Faye. Punishment's over."
Biting my lip, I nodded and waited for him to continue. He didn't open up like this often, and I was always curious to know what went on in his mind.
"I had a safe word that night. Should've used it right from the start, before you began the scene. But I was too proud to go back on my word, so I let you go ahead. It was... irresponsible of me."
Surprised, I lifted my head to stare at him. This was as close to an apology as Pierce got, and it didn't happen often.
"I shouldn't have suggested it."
"Oh, I didn't say you were blameless,” he told me, arching an eyebrow, and I grinned, dropping my head onto his chest again. “You're right. You shouldn't have. But we've taken care of that, and it won't happen again."
It made me wistful to hear the words, but I knew where the line lay, and I knew not to cross it again.
"I didn't expect to get out of my depth. I knew you were good with Santoro, but I never thought you could take me to the same level. But you did, and you were careful and considerate."
I frowned up at him, confused. “But you looked like you were gonna break. I mean—"
He kissed me gently, silencing me. “And I gave in to you because you knew that. Because you were ready to step back if you needed to."
A glow of pride warmed me, and I curled a little closer to him. “So what you're saying is—"
"Don't feel bad that you enjoyed it, because you weren't the only one."
I exhaled slowly, and it seemed as though the remaining guilt I'd been hanging on to was expelled from my chest with my breath. Feeling lighter, I cast a playful glance at Pierce.
"Oh, really?"
Laughing under his breath, he reached over to the nightstand and picked up the pen he'd used to write on me before.
"Really."
Uncapping the pen, he wrote a new word on my left arm, where the word insolent had been before he'd washed it away.
"This is for asking for my safe word."
Responsible, my skin now read, and I realised I could get to like this new game of Describe-the-Tease.
"This is for the outfit you were wearing..."
Breathtaking replaced arrogant. I had kinda rocked the stockings-and-heels look, it was true...
"For managing to keep the attitude up the whole way through,” he told me, a smile playing about his lips.
Where he'd written brat an hour ago, he now scrawled focussed.
"For contrasting pain and pleasure."
Bitch became balanced.
"For the aftercare..."
Affectionate, he wrote over the ghost of the word harlot, and I smiled a little, remembering his assertion that he couldn't think straight. I loved it when my Sir let himself be vulnerable around me.
"For watching for warning signs,” he told me, writing cautious just below affectionate, on skin that he previously hadn't marked. He obviously had a plan for the rest of our little labelling session, and he was getting the reassurances out of the way before he went for the rest.
"For letting me taste you..."
He replaced cocktease with hedonist.
Gotta agree with that one.
"For giving me permission to taunt you.” Somehow I'd known he'd appreciate that one.
Watching him substitute the word generous for his earlier
assessment, greedy, I gave a tiny shiver, remembering the way he'd used the opportunity to remind me of my place.
"For giving me an amazing show while you touched yourself...” I blushed, just a little, when he raised an eyebrow at me.
Seductress was definitely a more complimentary word than slut, though the way I remembered it, it had been more slutty than seductive.
"For giving me head very, very capably..."
Whore became skilful. With every word he wrote, he turned me on more, calling each memory back to the forefront of my mind. He'd been so frustrated, so desperate for me to finish him off...
Pierce tapped the end of the pen against the skin of my lower abdomen, where he'd made me write his final word. I couldn't help it—every time I remembered him breathing it against my lips, I went to a decidedly X-rated place.
"You remember what was written here, don't you?” he asked, his voice soft.
"Yes, Sir,” I whispered, trying not to writhe against the bed.
"Does it get you wet, little tease?"
Oh, god, he was really enjoying this... Feeling a little self-conscious, I nodded.
"Hmm. A new fetish to add to the list, huh?"
It affected me so much—partly because it had been so out of character for Pierce to use it, but mostly because I knew he'd been out of his mind with sexual frustration when he'd said it. Just remembering the way he'd chosen to use it a second time for its effect on me, right when I was ready to come, made me so hot and wet for him I could hardly stand it.
With a tiny whimper of pleasure, I watched him ink the exact same word onto my skin, bold and clear.
Cunt
Once he had, he set the pen down and got up from the bed.
"Wanna guess what that one's for?"
It was an effort to get my thoughts straight.
"For making you come, Sir?"
Shaking his head, he turned to the drawer where he kept his restraints.
"I haven't dealt with that one yet. Try again."
I thought about it, and when I remembered his appreciative expression, the truth slotted into place.
"For loving that I made you say it, Sir."
I could sense his approval when he returned to the side of the bed with my wrist cuffs. He held them up in my line of sight, giving me a couple of seconds to safe word, and I kept silent, reassuring him I wanted him to use them.
Nodding slightly, he motioned for me to sit up, then fastened a leather strip around each of my wrists. Clipping them together behind my neck, he spoke again. “Good call, little tease. Are you smart enough to figure out why I'm done with the pen?"
He already knew I knew the answer—he just wanted to make me say it.
"Because you want revenge, Sir."
"I do. And writing on you isn't the revenge I had in mind. You know the saying ‘an eye for an eye'? Seems appropriate here, don't you think?"
Tugging me so I sat on the edge of the bed with my feet on the floor, Pierce helped me to lean back into a horizontal position, with my hands still secured behind my neck. Before he'd even settled on the floor between my legs, his breath lightly tickling my inner thighs, my brain made the connection—he was planning on drawing this out for a while.
Pierce began by softly kissing my inner thighs, travelling upwards with painstaking slowness and switching from one leg to the other as he neared his destination. Without thinking, I tested the restraints around my wrists, giving a tiny, conflicted whimper when I found them secure. On one hand I was happy to be tied, but on the other, I knew I'd be cursing it by the time he was halfway through.
He rained kisses over the area between my navel and my clit, deliberately veering off course to nuzzle my hipbone before returning. By the time he gently pressed his lips where I wanted them, I was biting back a torrent of pleas, and one escaped when he trailed off after a few seconds.
With a soft laugh, he ran a finger between my legs, gathering moisture along the way before moving to rest his fingertip at my entrance. Aching for him, I tilted my hips, moaning appreciatively as he pushed a little way into me.
"Sir..."
He curled his finger briefly up against my sweet spot before pulling away entirely, but I forgot the momentary disappointment when he leaned in to taste me. He began an unhurried reclaiming of the area with his tongue, driving me to distraction with every flick against my clit, gradually nudging me closer and closer to oblivion...
I squeezed my eyes shut, pulling at my wrist cuffs, then twisting my hands into my hair and trying to ready myself for what I knew was coming. When he added his fingers to the game, though, my body's instincts took over and my muscles coiled tighter by the second, my breath seizing in desperate gasps.
By the time he started to make good on his threat for revenge, I'd forgotten his intention, writhing and pushing against his fingers and tongue, all my focus on the release I knew was fast approaching—
Oh God, oh God, oh fuck, what?
Completely disorientated by the sudden absence of Pierce's touch, I whimpered a protest. He was standing over me, obviously turned on but holding back for the sake of the scene. The slight smile on his face was the perfect final touch to the intensity of his gaze, and my trembling, aching body cried out for him in sync with my racing pulse.
"Yeah, you're looking real dominant there, little tease,” he said dryly, and the Domme within me narrowed her eyes in response, even though I was completely at his mercy.
He saw it, and raised an eyebrow in a challenge. “You wanna put me in my place, you have five seconds."
I couldn't even sit up unaided, and he knew it. Even if I could have, I wasn't stupid enough to try, after the past hour's punishment. Once the seconds had ticked past, he roughly pulled me to my feet, then down onto my knees on the floor. He turned dismissively and walked from the room, leaving me like that without explanation or apology. And the submissive within me rejoiced and despaired at the same time.
I knew he expected me to stay put, but I couldn't stay in this position—I felt too exposed for comfort, a guitar string that had been plucked and left to vibrate. Keeping my bound hands behind my neck, I leant forward so my head and elbows touched the floor, taking slow, deep breaths to try to calm the unfulfilled desire within me.
I was a little calmer when I heard Pierce return, and as he tapped the top of my head, signalling for me to uncurl, I sat upright again. He crouched beside me, offering me a glass of water complete with a drinking straw.
Obediently, I leant forward to take a drink, sighing softly as the liquid soothed my dry mouth.
Too much gasping and moaning really dehydrates a girl
The glass was almost empty by the time I had finished.
"Thank you, Sir,” I murmured, and he stood again, first putting down the water, then casually stripping off his shirt, letting it fall within my line of sight.
Pulling me to my feet, he pressed his body against mine, letting the hard planes of his chest rub against my breasts.
"Any objection to being tied down?"
I knew the devious things he could do with ropes—I wasn't sure if it was a police thing or a Dom thing, but he could truss me up more quickly and securely than any other top I'd had, in a variety of different positions. Though I loved being tied by him in most circumstances, this time I got the feeling that whichever way I answered, I was going to regret it in some way.
On one hand, part of me baulked at not being able to move while he kept me on edge, the way I'd tormented him. On the other, I knew once I got to a certain point, I'd forget to keep still and only end up with more of the same to endure, or worse—nothing at all.
He sensed my hesitation and, with a brief kiss, reminded me, “You still get to safe word out of this, little tease. No repercussions for that."
"I know, Sir.” Taking a deep breath, I nodded. “Tie me."
Within five minutes, I was lying diagonally across the bed, my thighs spread and the soles of my feet resting on the mattress. Each ankle was tied
to the wrist on the same side and rope securely anchored each bent knee to a bedpost—the top right post for my right wrist and ankle, the bottom left post for the other side. Those ropes ensured that even if I attempted to escape Pierce's touches by drawing my thighs together, my knees were unable to meet.
He watched me tug against the bindings, examining his handiwork with a small smile.
"Comfortable?"
I nodded, and he took his time settling back between my legs, first leaning over me to kiss me with a gentleness that made me tremble. He moved down to my neck, teasing the sensitive pulse point there with his tongue, and with a soft sigh I tilted my head to give him better access.
His touch was feather-light against my nipples—I felt the effect mostly between my thighs, rather than registering his fingertips. The pleasure was a bearable tickle, almost relaxing, and I drifted on it with a purr of encouragement. A tiny voice at the back of my mind tried to remind me this was only the beginning, but I ignored it in favour of the immediacy of the moment.
When he nuzzled my stomach, planting soft kisses there, I realised he must have shaved while I was in the kitchen—there was no trace of stubble on his face to irritate my flesh. I arched a little, enjoying the sensation of his skin against mine, and he moved lower, tracing his lips to the dip between my thigh and my pelvic bone. I was tied so my legs were bent, and he bypassed my tingling labia to kiss and nip his way up to my knee, bringing himself into a sitting position.
My breath caught sharply when he slid his fingers back down my leg, over my clit for an instant, before skimming across the soaked skin around it.
"Sir..."
He eased a finger inside me, allowing me to push against his hand to draw him in deeper.
"Did I give you permission to speak?"
Some days I could get away with it, but today wasn't one of them. I shut up fast, biting back a plea for him to take me hard and fast. He added a second finger, keeping the strokes slow and maddeningly teasing, but letting me control the angle—up to a certain point. He brushed his thumb against my clit every now and then—not enough to take me all the way, but the sensation was delicious all the same.
When I was trembling against him, my eyes and fists squeezed tightly shut in anticipation of the orgasm I craved so badly, he murmured, “Look at me, little tease..."
