by Anthology
Caness blinked and ran her tongue around her lips. Fucking sexy. Very deliberately he moved his dick away from his zipper and watched her follow the action.
“You do that to me, pet. Right. If you want to freshen up, I’ll show you to the room and en-suite you can use. I hope we can then read over your limit list and take things from there. So, if you’re happy for us to carry on, may I suggest you put on the clothes I leave out for you? Which means when you come down, we’re in Sir and sub mode. Ready to scene as and how I think fit. With, of course, your get out clause to safe word. I’ll say here and now if you agree to be my sub, be it for one night or longer, pet, it will be a sexual partnership. If you agree to sub. If it’s not to your taste or interest, wear whatever you chose. I’ll still look after you through this monsoon. We can play dominoes.”
He watched her deliberate with interest, and honestly had no idea what her answer would be. Oh, he’d thought she was going to sub sooner or later, but was he moving too fast?
“I’m shit at dominoes. I prefer snap.”
Was that a positive or a negative comment? With Caness he had no idea.
The rain hit the windows with such force they rattled and he moved swiftly to shut the curtains. “I’d shower now, pet, whilst we still have electricity. I’ll sort out the emergency generator, and candles, and such.”
Caness dipped her head in acknowledgement. “That sounds great.” She didn’t say what part of his speech she referred to. “Lead on, MacDuff.”
* * *
Patrick whistled as he checked the generator was set up and ready to click in as soon as it was needed. Which, he judged, by the way the lights flickered wouldn’t be long. Luckily, he remembered monsoon time from when he’d lived in Hong Kong before, and it had been one of the first things he’d sorted out. That and his playroom. He’d bet there wasn’t many people knew about the specialist firm who fitted out BDSM dungeons in your home. He turned on the oil heater in the redesignated maids room, just in case they did use it, and made his way back upstairs. The house was well insulated, warm and cozy, and with the curtains closed you could almost imagine the weather was nowhere as crazy as it was.
Almost. The howl of the wind and the noise of the heavy rain thundering down still impinged, but not as much as it could.
He didn’t expect Caness to be waiting for him in the lounge and he wasn’t disappointed. He judged it would take her a while to warm up and then decide which of the outfits he’d left out for her to choose from, if any. The noise of running water from the shower vied with the noise of the running water from the skies. If he didn’t want to be aware of when Caness came back downstairs, he would have put some music on.
Instead, as he moved into the kitchen and made coffee, Patrick made sure he listened for the sound of Caness approaching. He had no intention of offering her alcohol or indulging himself until he knew they were definitely not going to play, so it was coffee, tea or water. If she didn’t want to take things further, he wanted to hear her say, not assume one way or another. Meanwhile coffee and soup—home made, not from a tin—was a good, easy, and swift snack to produce, even if he had to use his small gas cooker to heat it.
Patrick shook his head in mock reproof at himself. When he was growing up, all his mum had to cook on was a two ring stove, nothing else, and he learned all he knew about good quality and tasty cooking from her. He was getting soft.
In his mind maybe, but hopefully not in his body. His cock certainly wasn’t getting soft. The distant noises from the floor above had his imagination and libido going into overdrive. He turned the soup off and picked up her limit sheets. He’d look them over whilst he waited for her.
One caught his attention immediately. Next to wax play, she’d ticked soft, crossed it out and ticked no limit instead, and in the boxes he’d asked on one to five how interested are you, five being most, she’d marked five. Nipple clamps got a soft limit but only a two. He wondered why? Hopefully he’d have a chance to find out.
The wax level really was a pre-cum inducing statement. He’d have a stain on his suit trousers if he wasn’t careful, and that would be a difficult one to explain to his dry cleaners.
“Oh, my sub indicated she’d love for some wax play, and the thought of dripping hot wax on her beautiful soft skin, and tracing patterns in wax on her breasts and cunt almost made me come there and then.” Of all the things he loved, wax play was far and away his favorite form of BDSM pleasure.
The sound of a door shutting and then footsteps on the plain wooden, open tread stairs, brought him back to the here and now. He checked the coffee pot was perking properly and returned to the lounge just as her bare feet came into view on one of the treads of the stairs, followed by long legs clad in…
Clad in what?
Get a grip, Lim. Bare feet, it goes without saying bare legs. His dick twitched as more of her appeared as she came further down the stairs.
Up until then, Patrick had always pooh-oohed the idea that your heart could miss a beat. Now he knew it could. Blood rushed to his groin and his prick rubbed against his zipper so hard it hurt. Uncaring whether she saw or not, he reached under the waistband of his trousers and adjusted the angle, just so he didn’t get any more of the wrong sort of pain.
Pink? A tiny glimpse of floaty pink silk appeared.
She’s wearing the pink. Oh shit, fuck, and thank the lord for small mercies. It was a wet dream in the making. Patrick looked at the stairs and realized that Caness was walking slowly on purpose. If it was to tease and get him randy it worked. If it were for any other reason, he’d sort that out pretty damned quick.
“May I suggest, pet, you get your ass down here on the double. Because If I have to come and help you, we’ll not make it off the stairs. I have a fantasy in my mind here. One where I tie you to the newel post and fuck your ass.”
Her gasp was everything he could hope for.
“Maybe not yet, Sir.” One bare foot waggled in the air, and the fuck me now, red nail varnish on her toes twinkled in the light, calling to him. “I’ll say yellow for that.”
He chuckled. She had an answer for everything. “Sassy sub, pet. Even so, wiggle your tush as well as your toes and come here.” He put every ounce of authority he had in his tone without raising his voice. “You really wouldn’t want me to have to come and get you.”
Although I really wish you would.
Evidently her inner sub responded with alacrity, because more pink silk appeared and then her hand could be seen on the banister, fingernails in the innocent, iridescent shade he’d noticed earlier. Such a contrast to her toes, it was enough to make even a patient man desire to get his dick out and use it. Patrick wasn’t noted for his patience.
“Yes, Sir.”
Did her response add up to submission? Even if it was just for that night? Patrick leaned back against the long dining table—the perfect length on which to torture a subbie—with his arms folded and watched as more of her body, and her attire was revealed. It was so bloody hard not to let his breath out in one long whoosh, as the waistband of the short skirt showed, with a flash of naked pussy. No hair no panties. Perfect. Then a delightful flash of naked midriff. What had she chosen to wear on top?
He’d left out a strappy barely-cover-your-breast cut off vest, which would be decent as long as she stood up straight and didn’t move round too much. Plus a peek-a-boo bra, an ordinary T-shirt, and a plain but see-through black blouse, which was in fact a lot more arousing than anything else. As an afterthought, one he wondered now if he should have bothered with, he’d put a nipple chain on the bed next to the clothes. It had been more to tease her than anything. Maybe he should have left a box of candles and said chose your color?
Now he wanted to do that, even more so since he’d read her limits.
Sheer black material came into view. He’d forgotten how tall she was, and how short that blouse. The vest wouldn’t have covered half as much as he thought.
“If this is the prelude to play, Sir
,” she said in a humorous tone, “I can hardy wait to finds out what else you have in mind.”
The lights flickered and went off and Caness yelped. “If that’s supposed to help, let me tell you, oh master of the elements, it doesn’t. How can I find my Sir and do all that’s proper if I don’t know where he is?”
Patrick couldn’t help it. He laughed out loud. “It does seem to conspire against us doesn’t it? Stand still, I’ll light some candles and then I’ll go and get the generator running.”
5
Caness took a deep breath. Come on, I can do it. I want to. Now’s my chance. Courage and be a sub. Hell, he might not want me again. I might not want him again. It’s now or never.
“Do we need the generator, Sir?’ she asked softly. Her voice was a lot huskier than she meant it to be. She couldn’t do husky and sultry on purpose if she tried. She coughed nervously and tried to clear her throat. “I wondered if candles might just be all the accessories we need.” Was that too bratty and not sub like? Surely a sub is submissive, and gives herself to her Sir to let him take care of her and do as he wishes, not a doormat. If it’s a doormat he wants he should have gone to the hardware shop or Sham Shui Po market.
A match flared and the room became brighter. The contrast between the pools of light from the flickering candles Patrick had lit, and the dark recesses of the room where the brightness didn’t reach, was stark. And, Caness decided, exciting. Everyday articles and furniture took on new meaning and shapes twisted and changed. She could almost imagine the long sideboard as a spanking bench, and the ornate carved chair a St Andrews Cross. As the light grew, the shadows danced and changed and the furniture retook its normal guise. Her pussy stayed wet and throbbing.
Patrick blew the match out, picked up a candle in an ornate silver candlestick, and walked over to where she waited, several steps up from the floor, with her arms folded over her boobs. No need to show him everything, not yet.
“Elucidate, pet.”
So it seemed she hadn’t done the wrong thing. That was a relief. Caness dipped her head and then looked him in the eyes.
God, that blue is mesmeric. He could hypnotize her into doing almost anything if she stared at them for long.
“Well, Sir, I want to play, I guess you do as well, or I wouldn’t be here dressed as I am.” She bowed her head once more, to show him deference. To try to put across the fact she wasn’t being bratty, just stating her case. “I’m ready, Sir.”
He got hold of her hand and the action took her arms away from her breasts.
This time there was no mistaking Patrick’s deep indrawn breath, or the pleasure reflected in his eyes. “Well, well what have we here? You like a little pain, pet? Let me oblige.” He bent his head and laved each nipple in turn, before he grazed the hard nubs with his teeth. Then he tugged on the silver chain that circled both her nipples and joined her breasts together.
The little pain was no such thing. It was short, sharp, and bloody hurt. Caness bit her lip, and he tugged harder. How on Earth she managed not to shoot her fist into his stomach she wasn’t sure. She’d thought he’d be pleased to see her ready and with the nipple chain on, especially as he’d left it out before he’d read her limit sheets. It was a new direction for her, and one she’d thought long and hard about before she decided to try it. The idea intrigued her, but she’d only given it two because she honestly had no idea if it would work. In fact when she’d attached it and discovered it did circle her nipples and make them stand out so well, she’d wanted to touch herself. Make herself come before she showed him how she looked. One thing had stopped her. The words she’d read in so many books. The ones where the Dom would say, “Your climax belongs to me, pet.” The words that made her wet as she wondered just how you could hold back a climax. But never had she thought he could increase the pain it gave her. Oh god. What if pain isn’t my thing? She couldn’t help it. Her breathing sped up and she moaned in panic and bit her lip again, harder than before.
“No lip biting, pet.” His voice filled her, sent signals to her brain that he was there for her, and to help her. “You want this. Come on now, breathe through it. Embrace the sting, it’s your friend. You want to feel it, let it fill you. Remember you can stop this whenever you want. But do you want to? Don’t you want to see what happens next? Learn how to fly and all from one little tug.” He increased the pressure oh so gently. “Else why put it on? Eh, pet.”
“I…” She shook her head not knowing how to put her feelings into words.
“Color.” He snapped the word out and broke through her haze of pain.
“Col…” She opened her mouth to say red. Surely it had to be, it had to stop so she could say, “Okay, no more. It’s not my kink let’s try something else.” Surely?
“Green.”
Green? Where did that come from? Probably from the sweet hazy sense of something so indefinable it made her soar. She wanted more. How that had happened Caness had no idea, and at that point didn’t much care. She craved that sting, wanted it. Harder sharper, more intense.
“Green? Are you sure?” The sting increased as Patrick tugged on the chain. “Be sure, because if you say green I’m going to bring you to the edge and not let you fly. Not yet.”
“Yes, green.” Even in her aroused state she could hear the confirmation in her voice. “Please, Sir.”
Patrick laughed softly. “Oh, my pet is ready to go further, is she? Well, let’s see.” He let go of the chain and took a step back. He held her upright by one hand on her shoulder and very slowly looked her up and down.
Caness moaned her disappointment.
His eyes narrowed. “Did you say something?”
She gulped. “No, Sir.”
“Good, because I’m sure your lists said no gagging. From now on it’s silence unless you safe word, or I say otherwise. If something is bothering you, put your hand up in the air, or of that’s not possible say, ‘Please, Sir’.”
* * *
Patrick waited with bated breath to see what her response would be. In all honesty he wanted to shackle her, fuck her five ways to Friday, and then turn her over and do it all again, but that time in her ass.
Slowly, Lim, let her get used to it all.
“Nod if you agree, pet.”
His cock almost split his trousers when she grinned and nodded.
“Then, I think we’ll take it nice and slowly and try a little wax play. A little decoration on your breasts and tummy to start off with.”
Her eyes widened and he could see the heat that flared in them. Patrick chuckled. “But I do think you’d feel a lot comfier naked now. First though, I need to get out of this suit and put on something more in fitting with a scene.” She nodded vigorously and he laughed. “And less likely to get spoiled when my pre-cum decides to get in on the act and make its presence known.”
Caness took a deep breath. The action swelled her breasts, which with the chain swinging from them was such a fucking turn on. Patrick had a hard job not to unzip his trousers, take his cock out, and fist himself hard and fast. Only immense control born of years of experience stopped him. He would wait. The pain in his dick would help him to concentrate on Caness, which was as it should be.
Her skin had the soft sheen of arousal coating it. Her lips were slightly parted and her eyes had the haze of desire clouding them.
As she let her breath out in a long silent whoosh, Patrick gave in to temptation and stroked her from her collarbone, and placed his curved hand over her breasts. “These are mine, pet. And this.” He cupped her mound over the pelmet of a skirt. That would come off in a second, he hoped. “This is mine.” He ran his other hand over the globes of her ass and teased her dark hole over her skirt, letting the silky material caress the opening. “As is this. In fact, your body is mine unless you say otherwise. Oh, and in case you were wondering. Your climax? Very definitely mine. So I’ll have to ask you once more: are you happy to give yourself to me, body and soul whilst we scene?”
Her ey
es widened, and he flicked each nipple in turn. “This is one of those occasions where I’ve asked you a question, which you need to answer, pet. So color?”
She blinked. “Oh, er yes. Um green.”
Patrick shook his head in mock annoyance. “Um green is a new one on me. Anywhere near green as in good to go green?”
“Definitely, Sir. All green.”
He nodded and walked across to the patio doors and opened the curtains. He checked the long rope handholds were where he wanted them, and grinned to himself. Torturing a subbie this way was so much fun.
It was totally dark outside, with no lights showing. “Then get out of those clothes and stand facing the outside, just in front of the window. You see these the handholds?”
She nodded somewhat warily.
“Grab them. I’ll change the tension when I get back. There are markers on the window surround for you feet. I’d like you using them all for when I come back. Naked of course. When we play, unless I say otherwise, you’ll be naked.”
He watched as she processed what he’d asked her to do. Caness swallowed and put her hand in the air. He’d thought she’d do that. He let the silence stretch until she wriggled her toes into the carpet.
“Yes, pet?”
She cleared her throat. “Stand naked in front of the window? Where anyone could see?”
“It’s black rain and we’ve no electricity,” Patrick pointed out. “Anyone who is stupid enough to be outside in this will be too concerned with their own safety and welfare to get their rocks off looking up at you spread-eagled in the window as arousing and luscious as the view will be.”
She bit her lip, realized what she was doing, and stopped suddenly. “But it might come back on.”
“So it might,” he agreed. “Does that mean you’re safe-wording out?”
This time the silence lasted longer.
“Caness?”
There was not a chance he was going to tell her it was one way glass and although she could see out, no one could see in.
