Bind

by Sierra Cartwright

  Galvanized, she crossed to the center of the room and knelt. She settled in, this time with her gaze cast down. Having her head back would make it all but impossible not to look at him.

  She pulled her shoulders back and rested her hands, palms upturned, on her thighs. The entire time, he’d been silent, but she was conscious of him standing over her.

  “Even better than I could have hoped,” he said.

  Lara took a breath to school her thoughts.

  He allowed the time and distance to stretch. And she took her cue from him. Her heart beat faster than normal, and her breaths were shallow, but she forced herself to wait.

  She heard him moving things around and the sound of something being dragged across the floor. The spanking bench, maybe? She was almost glad she couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing. Then she remembered what he’d said about fear. The images her imagination was supplying were probably much worse than anything he would actually do to her.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking.” Though he’d spoken softly, the words seemed to reverberate.

  “I’m trying not to.”

  “And?”

  “It’s working, but only a little. I’m wondering what you’re doing. Feeling a little apprehension, then I’m reminding myself that I have words I can use and that I’ve liked everything we’ve done. And some of those things I would have said I didn’t want to do.” She paused. ”There’s a tiny amount of curiosity mixed in, too.”

  “Stand and come to me.”

  She didn’t rise as elegantly as she would have liked. No doubt he intended for her to get plenty more practice. If he had his way, he’d have years to school her.

  His eyebrows were furrowed. She’d noticed that he did that when he was intent or thoughtful. It unnerved her to realize he watched every single one of her moves.

  She took a few steps and stopped in front of him, aware of their height difference, how much bigger he was.

  He took the whip handle and put it beneath her chin. In response, she shuddered.

  “I want to get you better acquainted with my single tail.”

  Despite her intention to be calm, she looked at it. She wasn’t a fool. He’d only used it on her twice. One had been a tease. The second had been harsher. And she’d heard the way he cracked it. The thing was an extension of him, and he could wield it any way he chose. “I’d ask what you had in mind, but the answer may scare me.”

  “I will promise you’ll like the experience. And I promise you’ll feel it. A sting, maybe a burn. If you’re lucky, you’ll have a few marks when we go to dinner.”

  “Lucky?” she repeated, her voice coming out as a squeal.

  “It’s my hope that you’ll learn to like my marks, savor them, even.”

  “Again, as I keep telling you, Mr. Donovan, you have the wrong woman.”

  “Do I? Is that why your breathing is so shallow?”

  She glanced down, severing their gazes. He seemed to look too deeply into her, all the way to her heart, her mind.

  He moved the hilt of the whip, tracing it down the column of her neck and pausing at the hollow of her throat.

  This man, her future husband, made it impossible to hide. She reached up and held onto his wrists.

  “I think, Ms. Bertrand, that you please me immensely.”

  After she released her grip, he drew the handle lower, between her breasts, she pictured him tracing the same path with his cock. She shuddered, and her nipples hardened. As he ignited something that had been latent within her, intimacy was created. Connor made her feel as if she were the only one who mattered to him.

  He made circles around her breasts then continued past her belly button, arrowing toward her pelvis.

  For a moment, she forgot to breathe entirely.

  He angled the hilt against her pussy, parting her labia, teasing her clit.

  No matter what she said, her body wasn’t capable of lying to him. She was already moist.

  Easily, he slid the handle back and forth, making her tingle.

  “Tell me again how I have the wrong woman.”

  She moaned as he increased the friction.

  “That’s it.” He eased a tiny bit of the handle inside her.

  “Oh, God.” She closed her eyes.

  “Do you want it?”

  She reached for his shoulders.

  “Tell me,” he said, voice harsher.

  “Yes… Please, Sir. Please.”

  He drove her wild, fucking her with the handle, plunging it in and out, making her squirm, drawing it back out so he could play with her clit, talking to her, encouraging her.

  She leaned into him, rising onto her toes in silent plea.

  “Such heat. I can smell your arousal, little Lara.”

  “Con-nor!” His name emerged as two distinct syllables. The things he was doing to her became her entire world.

  “Come for me, Lara. Do it now.”

  She was lost.

  The orgasm crashed over her, and her legs lost the ability to hold her up. As always, he was there, offering support, wrapping her up.

  When her brain function returned to normal, Lara realized she was clinging to him, holding on to fistfuls of his shirt.

  He had her head cradled and a palm pressed against the small of her back.

  “I’m not sure what happens to me,” she admitted.

  “Connection,” he said. Then he smiled as he stroked her arm. “And I think that ends the conversation as to whether I have the right woman or not.”

  She tried to pull away, but he only tightened his grip.

  “Be easy.”

  She exhaled.

  “Relax.” His words were gentle with reassurance and patience. “Stop thinking.”

  Slowly, she nodded.

  He continued to offer his strength until she totally relaxed in his arms. She curled into his chest and uncurled her fists.

  “Yeah. That’s it.”

  She’d never had a man so in tune with her. The feeling amazed her.

  “When you’re ready, go over to the bench,” he instructed.

  Lara stayed where she was for a little longer then followed his directions. He’d placed it near a wall, probably to give himself ample room to swing the whip. The taller section faced her.

  Cuffs dangled from either side of the metal frame, one set close to the floor, the other at the far side of the bench.

  He came up behind her and laid the whip on the lower platform, where she could see it. Her pussy juices were still on the handle.

  “When we were at your house and I was preparing to spank your pussy, I told you that you were being tied by my will.”

  She turned her head to look at him.

  “I wanted to make you feel more secure, to build trust. Mentally that can be more difficult than being restrained because you need to make a conscious effort to remain in place. When you’re tied, you’re free to struggle, to pull. There’s a certain freedom in it.”

  “Sounds contradictory.” Everything about this journey was more complex than she might have imagined.

  “Your right hand, please.”

  In less than thirty seconds, he had both of her hands restrained to the far side of the bench, forcing her body into a small stretch. Even though she knew she couldn’t pull away, some sort of doubting instinct made her test them.

  “Ankles next.”

  That made her much more nervous.

  He crouched to fasten her into the second set of cuffs.

  “What are your safe words?”

  “Crap and oh fuck?”

  “Lara,” he warned.

  Judging from the near-growl in his voice, he obviously had little appreciation for her sense of fear-based humor. “Yellow and red, Sir.”

  She waited for him to pick up the whip but he didn’t. Instead he rubbed her thighs and buttocks, starting slowly then becoming more vigorous.

  He spanked her then, and with each touch, tension left her body.

  “How are you
doing?”

  “Good.” Unbelievably, she started to settle in. Just days ago, she wouldn’t have believed this to be possible.

  “I wish you could see yourself as I see you. I adore the sight of you, tied in your submission.”

  His words made her damp.

  After a few more targeted hits, he crouched next to her.

  She turned her head toward him.

  “This won’t be like last night. More intense. More prolonged.”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll be watching you the whole time. And I want you to stay with me. Count it out.”

  “Is there a number we’re going to?”

  “Twenty, if you can tolerate it.” He picked up the whip and stood.

  Instinctively she pulled on the restraints and tried to get more comfortable.

  “I’d tell you to stay still, but you look so hot like that. Feel free to move. I want to see you dance for my single tail.”

  The first few were a sensual feast. His pressure was light, like a leather caress.

  “How many is that?”

  “Four,” she replied. Two on each of her ass cheeks.

  He brought the whip forward and let it snap against her right thigh. She swallowed a scream. This is for beginners?

  “How many?” he demanded.

  “Five.” Then she remembered… “Sir.”

  “Much better.”

  She heard him take a step, then he stroked a hand between her legs.

  “I might have lied when I said I only want you in here once a week,” he said. “I love beating you.”

  He moved away and struck each of her upper thighs.

  They were somewhat harder, and she swayed a little. “Six and seven, Sir.”

  “Beautiful. Come back to neutral when you can.”

  She realized he was giving her time to absorb each stroke, to be lost in her thoughts. Once the pain receded, a warm glow replaced it. And she felt ready to continue. A few seconds later, she got back into position.

  The next three were dizzying, this time somewhat lower on her legs, alternating sides, and the third landed somewhere in the middle. “W-w-ow.” She forced out a jagged breath. “Eight, nine, ten,” she said, eventually remembering.

  He dragged a thumb across each tiny bite, reigniting the pain.

  “Cruel and unusual, Sir.”

  “You’ll remember them more.”

  As if she’d ever forget anything they shared. She was responding to Connor more than she had any man, ever. The idea of finding another lover after him was daunting.

  “Ask me to continue.”

  In that moment, she realized what was happening. She wasn’t simply enduring this. She wanted it. Him. His whip. “Please. I want more. Sir.”

  “The pleasure is mine.”

  He marked her, just above the area he’d scorched. “Eleven.” She gasped. Then he moved to the other side. “Twelve, Sir.”

  Methodically, he continued, placing each about an inch above the last. They were biting, burning. “Thirteen. Fourteen.” She’d lost count. “Fifteen? Sir?”

  “Stop counting,” he told her. “Simply surrender.”

  The next stole her breath.

  Then he caught the inside of her thigh and she screamed.

  “I’m waiting to hear you say yellow if you don’t want me to continue,” he said.

  She didn’t give it to him. She wanted this. Instead, she struggled back into the correct position.

  She felt him at her pussy, his fingers, his mouth.

  The pain drove the arousal to stunning new heights. Combined with the way he’d denied her earlier, she wanted to crawl out of her own skin.

  She pulled against the restraints, trying to push her hips back so she could force him to lick more of her pussy.

  With a small laugh, he moved away.

  The ankle cuffs made it impossible for her to close her legs to assuage the throbbing demand.

  He continued the beating. Sensations merged, desire and anguish becoming one. His stripes went higher, until he’d covered her ass. He was no longer gentle, and she loved it.

  When she knew she could take no more, he tossed the whip onto the bench.

  Then he fingered her pussy, and she felt his fingers get slicker. Before she realized what was happening, he withdrew, moved back and slowly pushed one of them into her ass.

  She froze.

  “Go with it,” he suggested.

  He fondled her with his other hand, sliding a thumb against her clit. He overwhelmed her, slipping in and out of her pussy while he simultaneously finger-fucked her ass.

  She trembled, fighting against the restraints and needing them for reassurance and balance. “This…”

  “The reward.”

  “I’d do anything for this,” she confessed.

  He continued the relentless drive. Then she felt him turn a finger slightly to find her G-spot.

  “Fuck.”

  “Yes.”

  He pushed against that sensitive spot inside her and her whole body convulsed in response. She screamed his name.

  Connor continued his assault until she collapsed forward and dropped her head.

  He placed a light kiss on her bare shoulder then eased his fingers out of her, “Give me one second. I’m not going away.”

  She heard him wiping his hands. She’d barely noticed that he’d gone before he returned to her and unfastened her wrists.

  Her legs were slightly cramped, and he rubbed them gently after he released them. “Tell me you brought a miniskirt or short dress for dinner tonight?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “We can go buy you something. I want to see those bite marks from my whip.”

  He helped her to sit on the top platform of the bench. Against the vinyl, she felt the marks. A chill went through her, and she rubbed her arms.

  Connor unbuttoned his shirt and stripped it off so he could put it around her shoulders. She snuggled into its comfort. The feeling didn’t just come from the warmth, she realized. It was also because the shirt bore his scent.

  The sight of him half-naked made her mouth water. She knew he worked out, but she hadn’t expected his abs to be so well defined. There wasn’t a trace of excess weight on him, reminding her of how disciplined he was in every area of his life.

  It terrified her how much she was attracted to him, how much she wanted his possession. She wasn’t sure why he was waiting to take her to bed. Maybe to build her anticipation, making sure she didn’t feel rushed? At any rate, she was getting restless. She couldn’t take her gaze off him. “Tell me you’re not saving yourself for marriage,” she said.

  He grinned. “No chance. I fully intend to fuck you tonight, Lara. Be thinking about it.”

  Now she wasn’t sure she could think about anything else.

  “Can you walk in the shoes you brought?”

  “Not far. But I have a pair of sandals, too.”

  “Let’s get cleaned up and head out. There’s a boutique just down the street.”

  She scowled. “You were serious about something short?”

  “I always mean what I say.” He looked at her purposefully.

  She’d never gone shopping with a man before. Then again, she hadn’t done a lot of the things that he demanded from her.

  He wiped down the bench then the hilt of the whip before putting it away. “Shall we?”

  Connor stepped aside and allowed her to pass. As she was walking, he pinched her butt.

  She squealed, stopped, turned and glared. “You may not joke, but you’re an awful torment. I bet your siblings have stories about you.”

  “I couldn’t have been a better big brother. They nominated me for awards.”

  “I bet.”

  He grinned beatifically.

  In the master suite, she cleaned up then dressed again before slipping into sandals.

  He dressed in khakis and a golf shirt with the Donovan Worldwide logo on it.

  “I’m not sure wh
ether you look like we’re going on a yacht or whether you’re going to quote a moving job for someone.”

  “I’m warning you, Lara,” he said. But he shook his head. “You know, maybe it’s not a bad idea. We should have Nathan look at acquiring a moving company. You can be our first client and make Mrs. Fuhrman look like a psychic.”

  “I’m not moving.”

  “Soaker tub,” he said, adjusting his collar in the mirror.

  She met his gaze in the glass. His eyes were frosty, serious. Mesmerizing.

  “I’ve already told you I intend to have your total submissive surrender. I will do anything to ensure I get it.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Try it on.”

  “It will barely cover my ass,” Lara protested.

  “My point entirely.” He smiled. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

  She walked over to a nearby mirror and held the tiny dress in front of her.

  It was black, clingy, plunging, skimpy. The triumvirate of cock-swelling perfection.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  He merely lifted an eyebrow.

  “Connor, there’s no way that this will work for me.”

  He said nothing. Over the years, he’d found that to be a solid technique. But with her, it was even more effective. She sorted through options quicker than average people. In his experience, she arrived at the right decisions.

  “Fine.” She turned back to face him. “I’ll try it on, but I’m already telling you it will look terrible. My butt…”

  “A lot of women would pay for a world-class behind like that.”

  “I think you’re just horny.”

  “You’ve got me there. Doesn’t mean I’m wrong, though.”

  “I want a couple of other things, too.”

  “That’s fine.” He moved to another section of the rack.

  “You could sit on that chair over there. It’s for aggrieved husbands and…friends.” She pointed to a plush chair cleverly situated near some jewelry.

  “Which I’m neither. I’m a highly sexed almost-fiancé. They help with the shopping.”

  “Is it possible for you to be more annoying?”

  “Lara, darling, I haven’t started yet.” He selected a slinky thing in red. “Reminds me of your suit that first day.”

  “It’s nothing like it,” she protested.

  “I want to see it on you.”