Handcuffed by Her Hero

by Angel Payne

  “They just slipped,” she stammered. “I’m so sorry.”

  “They’re just dishes.” The angry blades in his retort weren’t intentional. He didn’t care about the goddamn dishes. It incensed him that she thought, even for a second, that he would. “Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then what’s wrong?” He went to her, skirting the shattered china. As soon as he touched her shoulder, dread sliced his gut again. “Christ. You’re not okay. You’re shaking like a—” He stopped himself. Awareness blared through his brain, hot and intense. “Shit. You don’t have your medication, do you? You went to the club straight from Sally’s. You thought you’d be going home.”

  “I don’t need my medication.” She squeaked the words before lifting her head a few inches. “Where are your clothes?”

  He reached around her and slammed the faucet off. Since the suds were nearing the lip of the sink, a line of them stuck to the underside of his arm. “I just got out of the shower.”

  “And look.” A manic giggle spurted off her lips. “Now you’re all soapy again.” Inside another second, the laughter turned to a sad moan. She sucked in a choppy breath as she stared at the bubbles dripping off his triceps. “Holy crap, Zeke. Your arms are really nice.”

  “Thanks. Are you sure—”

  “I should get something to clean that stuff up.” She turned away, sliding along the counter until she was clear from him.

  “Uh-uh.” By instinct or by necessity, his Dom baritone broke free. He took one step to recover the three she’d taken away from him. “You’re going to scoot your ass to the other room and realign your chakras again, or whatever the hell you need to do, while I figure out a way to contact Sally and have her call in a prescription for you.”

  She shoved against his chest, making his eyebrows jump. “I don’t need the damn medicine.”

  He followed her stomping journey into the living room. “Really? Because you’re weaving like a goose on acid, honey.”

  “I don’t need the medicine.”

  He unfurled a threatening snarl. “Rayna—”

  “I don’t need the medicine.”

  She whirled back toward him, now raising her face fully. He stumbled back a step from the force of the sight. Huge tears welled in her gaze. Her eyebrows bunched in torment. Her lips battled each other as if disagreeing on how to hold back emotions that seemed a living beast inside her. She tore him apart with that stare. Reduced him to the same raw need with which she stared at him.

  “I—don’t need—the medicine.” The whispers came out between her quaking steps back toward him. When she came close enough to touch him again, she bowed her head. “I need…”

  She slid to her knees.

  Then dropped her forehead against his feet.

  “I need this,” she rasped. “Please, Zeke. I know you’re not signing on for forever…but as long as I can have this from you, I need this.”

  He was pretty damn sure he stopped breathing. But as long as his eyes kept working, he’d be good to go. He couldn’t get enough of this sight. He’d certainly commanded a few submissives to honor him in this way before, but none had ever offered their surrender so willingly, so openly, so perfectly.

  The significance of her action pierced him like a dagger in a bull’s-eye.

  Rayna Chestain was a submissive. And she was discovering it right in front of him. Discovering it, welcoming it, and honoring it with every exquisite inch of her body and every generous shred of her soul.

  And then giving it. To him. A former street rat who used this dynamic as therapy for his fucked-up past and a constructive purge for his current demons. A guy with an office that was lined in jungle wallpaper and sported mud carpeting. A trained killer who could wield an M4 as well as a flogger. A Dom would didn’t deserve her—

  But sure as hell wasn’t going to turn his back on her now. Just as he’d freed her from Kier all those years ago, he’d release her from the assholes that violated her mind now. And dear fuck, he’d love every minute of it.

  He found his breath. Pulled it in with steady intent. Only after that did he direct, “Rayna, lift your head.” He tugged a finger under her chin. “All the way. Look at me.”

  Tears tracked down her cheeks. He traced one with the pad of a thumb and spoke directly from his heart. “You move me, little bird…in so many ways. Do you know that?” When her face crumpled as if she’d cry again, he pressed on, “Are you sure this is what you want? Rayna, I’m not going to drench this in any sugar. Now that I’ve had your submission once, I’ll want more.” To emphasize that, he tunneled his fingers into her hair and pulled hard. Her head fell back, letting him see all the depths in the magical lakes that lived in her eyes. “I’ll push limits. Are you ready to let me do that?”

  She swallowed. Then smiled. “If you don’t, I already have a few bratty one-liners ready to zing free.”

  He didn’t try to control his responding grin. “Well, all right, honey. Let’s get started, then.”

  “Thank you, Sir. Oh!”

  Her exclamation coincided with the brutal tug he gave on her head to pull her back to her feet. Once she was balanced again, he let her go—and dropped his towel.

  “Oh.” Her repetition carried half the volume but twice the astonishment of the first. “Oh, my,” she murmured, her lips parting as she took in his erection.

  “Eyes up here, bird.” Z directed it while pushing up the bottom of her chin. He gave the command out of necessity as much as respect to the dynamic. Her spill had only diminished his hardness by half, and she seemed damn determined to make up the gap with her worshipful stare. At this rate, he’d barely have her tied down before needing to give her a thorough dose of his hard, thrusting religion.

  “That’s probably a good idea, Sir. I don’t do well with being deprived of sweets I long to lick.”

  “Fuck,” he muttered.

  “Told you,” she quipped.

  “For the record, that wasn’t bratty. That was teasing.”

  She gave an impish shrug. “What’s the difference?”

  “I punish teases worse than I punish brats.”

  Her lips pursed. “But why is it teasing if follow-through is intended?”

  His cock ached deeper, and visibly jerked. Rayna curled a victorious smirk.

  “Now you’re being a brat.”

  He didn’t wait for her to form a comeback. It was time to claim control and he did just that. With one yank, he hauled her up against him. In the same motion, he crashed his lips over hers. He wasn’t gentle about a second of it, making her accept the full assault of his tongue, his teeth, his breath, his passion as he rammed his shaft against her warm, soft stomach. She moaned from the contact, slipping her hands up to his neck. Z didn’t let them stay there for long. He seized both her wrists and rammed them behind her back, making her realize what kind of submission he expected from her…craved from her.

  Many minutes later, he pulled up from her lips. She looked at him through half-lidded eyes, though her arousal blazed from every emerald speck of them. Her mouth was red and luscious as a pomegranate from his treatment, driving caveman-style triumph into every inch of his dick.

  “You intoxicate me, brat,” he growled. “And I’m getting more drunk by the second.”

  Rayna bit her bottom lip. “Then maybe you’d better let me drive.”

  He let her have a wry tug of his brows for that—for a second. It covered the time it took for him to secure both hands into the neckline of his Henley. The baggy fit ensured that his fingers scraped her breasts as he did. The sneak preview didn’t matter. As soon as he tore the shirt down the middle, her full, naked peaks were all his to gaze at, anyway. And goddamn, what a view.

  “Don’t think so, subbie,” he finally charged, hurling the torn shirt across the room. “That took care of the shirt. As for those panties,” –he flicked a finger toward the bathroom— “adorable but not needed. You can get rid of them in there w
hile you grab the toys. After you’ve got them, deliver them to me without a word. From now on, the only thing out of your lips is ‘Yes, Sir,’ ‘No, Sir,’ your safe word, or direct responses to my questions. No reprieves tonight.”

  She looked him like he’d just spoken Swahili. “Toys?” she blurted. “What do you mean by toys? And how did—ahhh!”

  He made her chop off the question with her own scream, reacting to the bare-handed smack he delivered to the center of her ass. “When I said ‘from now on,’ I meant it, honey.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She rubbed her ass as she walked away, looking pretty damn cute about it. His soul soared from the giddy pleasure of inciting her ire—and her obedience.

  As she disappeared into the bathroom, Z moved quickly to the handyman’s bin outside the slider to the deck. The temps had dropped exponentially since sunset but he welcomed the blast of chilled air on his naked skin, assisting to bring the heat in his blood under control. He wasn’t going to rush this. He planned to watch her writhe and moan and climax for him for quite a while before he let his cock explode deep inside her.

  The zip ties were exactly where he’d left them this morning. He’d taken them up to the bedroom last night, but she’d been so responsive and beautiful, his initial plan had gone to tatters. That wasn’t going to happen now. He couldn’t wait to see her bound for him.

  After a full minute passed, he shot a puzzled look at the bathroom door. “Ray-bird?” he called. “Everything okay?”

  The door opened slowly. She emerged at a similar speed. The saucy demeanor was erased from her face. She kept looking to the pile in her hands—paddle, spanker, flogger, clamps—as if she carried an armed IED. A mix of worry and reverence defined her face, confirming to Zeke that he’d made the right call in sending her in after the implements. Five minutes ago, she’d been pretty lippy. Five minutes ago, he wasn’t sure she comprehended everything he had planned for her. He was fairly certain that wasn’t the case now.

  “Thank you,” he murmured when she handed over the pile.

  “You’re welcome,” she whispered. “Sir.”

  He rubbed the side of her neck, coaxing her to look back up to him. “Are you a little more clear about how tonight’s going to play out?”

  She took a measured pause before responding. “Yes, Sir.”

  “I’m going to use these on you, Rayna. I’m going to make your skin turn pink then red, until you scream and feel like you’re going to lose your mind. And then you will lose your mind.” He squeezed on her nape. “So are you still ready to submit to me?”

  “Oh yes, Sir.”

  He couldn’t help his open grin at her eagerness. His pleasure radiated back to her, provoking a breathtaking blush that started in her face then progressed down through her neck and chest, and into the tips of her sweet, perfect tits.

  The time for dawdling was really over.

  He dropped his hold to her hand. Guided her over to the big pine dining table. They’d shared macaroni and cheese here a few hours ago. Now the feast was going to be her body, and he officially declared himself the world’s luckiest glutton.

  He kicked out the chair that bracketed the end of the table and set the toys on it. With both hands freed, he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her onto the table. He half expected her to start firing the one-liners again, a nervous tic common to nearly all fresh subbies, but she watched him now in respectful silence, keeping her hands on the table at her sides…letting him gorge on the sight of her nude perfection.

  He didn’t use the term lightly. Good God, her body had everything he loved. That gorgeous slope of a neck he could suck and bite for days…firm, gently-rounded shoulders…breasts that were the ideal stop between tiny and huge…a curving paradise of a waist atop hips and thighs that were muscular by necessity, and more than able to handle him fucking her at his fullest passion.

  He frantically grounded the fireworks of that thought’s resulting fantasy. It was too late to do anything about the effects it had on his cock, which jutted more at his wide-eyed subbie. Damn, he loved how she looked at him, as if every time she beheld his body, it was the first time.

  He smiled in cocky pride.

  Rayna smiled shyly back.

  “You ready?” he asked softly. After she nodded, he picked up the two leather cuffs then ordered her with quiet directive, “Wrists.” Less than a minute later, with the bands of black now attached, she formed a sight that reminded him of why he loved Domination. Pale skin and dark leather. Spirited eyes and silent patience. An imp’s smile on a goddess’s body. All his to command, conquer, and pleasure.

  “Perfect,” he told her, savoring the glittering joy he set free in her eyes. “Now lay back all the way for me, honey. Keep your ass close to the edge of the table, though. When you’re comfortable, raise your arms toward the table corners over your head.”

  She complied, trembling a little, which amped his arousal by another sharp notch. He welcomed the torment of it, knowing the suffering would have its surcease when he buried himself inside her and gave over to her body’s hot, tight magic.

  Soon. Very soon.

  As she complied with his order, he moved around to the other end of the table. Once there, he secured a set of cable ties around the top of each table leg then started looping more ties together to form chains that connected to the O rings on her cuffs. As he worked, the only sounds she emitted were soft but shaky breaths. Fuck yes. He savored many things about this process, but this moment was one of his favorites. The special twilight between vanilla normality and dark fantasy…where hidden desires became fiery reality…where man and woman became Dominant and submissive.

  He slipped assessing fingers under her cuffs. Her own fingers were curled around their tops. Her circulation looked good. He dropped his examination to her face. The color there was beautiful, too. Her eyes were bright and adoring. Her cheeks were stained with a perfect flush. He smiled down at her. “Nothing’s too tight?”

  “No, Sir,” she murmured. “It feels good.”

  “Excellent.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He could see her disappointment about not getting the kiss on the lips again, but he needed a few clicks of emotional distance from her right now. If he fused his mouth with hers again, especially in her bound state, God only knew what would tumble out of his soul and go instantly AWOL on him.

  He stepped to the opposite end of the table. As he’d asked, Rayna had kept her bottom close to the edge. Her legs hung over the side now. He spread them apart and shifted himself between them. Though he told himself not to do it, his gaze strayed to the perfect pink bloom at the center of her body. He pressed a thumb to its center, already moist and shimmering with her excitement.

  “Oh!” she cried out. “Ohhhh, Sir…”

  “A little aroused, honey?”

  “Yes!” She gasped and writhed. “Damn it, yes!”

  “You want more?”

  “Oh God, yes!”

  “Then you’ll have to earn it.” He withdrew his finger in order to push her legs farther apart. Much farther. “Sounds fair, right?”

  “Y-yes.” She frantically licked her lips as she tilted her head, clearly trying to figure out what he was doing. Zeke curled a serene smirk as he joined more zip ties together to circle her legs just below her knees. Before he did anything else, he stopped and met her gaze with his own.

  “How bad do you want to earn it, bird?”

  She huffed. “Are you serious? Can’t you see the evidence right in front—ahhhh!”

  Her shriek was adorable. Zeke treasured the sound, making a vow to swat her mound a few more times just so he could hear it. Right now, he had a point to make. “I can see every drop of hot, shiny arousal in your beautiful pussy, honey. But seeing it and hearing it are two different things, aren’t they? I’m going to ask again and give you the benefit of responding properly, because I’m feeling nice tonight. Once more…how bad do you want to earn more strokes on your clit?”

 
She rolled her head straight again, her breasts tight and heaving with her fast gasps. “Really bad, Sir. Please tell me what I need to do.”

  He caressed her outer thighs to show her his pleasure in her confession. After a few moments of that, he charged, “Show me how far your legs will spread, yoga girl.”

  She complied at once—and fulfilled his wildest expectations in the doing. As he’d hoped, she was flexible enough that her calves met the edges of the table just before each corner.

  “That’s a very good start.” He injected a smile to his tone while fastening more zip tie chains that connected her calves to the table’s front legs. Her body became an open wonderland to map with his own special markings. Holy shit, just thinking about the tracks he was going to give her flesh…

  His cock quaked. He gave his balls a harsh squeeze to keep himself contained—though picking up the nipple clamps pretty much canceled the benefits of the effort. He couldn’t wait to see her breasts captured by them.

  He walked around to stand close to her face again. Yeah, she’d begged him hard for this, but wanting it and getting it were two different things. The check-in was key, especially because of what he had planned for her next. And after that, too. And maybe after that…

  He hovered directly above her so she could see the serious intent of his query. “How does it feel now, bird? You still okay?”

  To his delight, her eyes were still twinkling. She actually curled a little grin at him. “I still feel very good, Sir.”

  Z smiled back before letting his hands fall to both of her breasts. Though her areolas were puckered already, they compressed tighter for his fingers as he rolled her rosy tips into erect red pebbles. “Yes,” he said with a wicked smirk, “you do feel good. But ‘good’ can be defined a number of ways.”

  Her eyes went wide as he pulled the clamps into her view. She swallowed and looked back at him, wetting her lips again. Yeah, so much for trying to squeeze his balls now. She was beyond beautiful and he was beyond hard.