by Yvette Hines
Holiday in Handcuffs
(Stir Sticks & Stilettos)
Yvette Hines
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission by the author.
Holiday in Handcuffs
Copyright © 2012, Yvette Hines
Proof Editing: Bernadette Shane
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Series Note:
I hope you enjoy another short story edition of the “Stir Sticks & Stilettos” series. These little nuggets of erotic shorts are meant to excite you, at the same time, give you a little happiness at the end. Stay tuned for the next stories to follow.
Curiosity cannot kill a woman, but it may lead her to the dark desires of her heart.
“I could make you come in one session of spanking.”
Who is the man talking to?
I turned my head to the side and stared into the sexiest, most intense hazel eyes I’d ever seen. Hazel eyes, short light-brown hair with enough gray at his temples and wisdom in his eyes to make me think of Robert Redford, but the heart-stopping looks and body brought to mind Channing Tatum. This man appeared to be possibly mid- to late-thirties. Oh, hell, he’s looking at me.
He can’t be talking to me. However, I was the only one within earshot. I was standing in the archway of the door, while everyone else was in the room before me.
“I’m sorry. I think you have me mistaken with someone else.”
The intensity in his gaze didn’t decrease as one corner of his lips lifted in a semi-smile. “I don’t think so.”
“I do.” I stepped away from him, leaving the room where I was observing a woman bent over a bench with her bare ass in the air facing the whole room being spanked with a flat paddle. I started down the hall toward one of the other rooms on that floor of the house. A house painted charcoal gray with red trim on the outside.
I was only here at the bondage and dominance mansion because my best friend didn’t want to come here alone.
Just having moved to Charlotte from Texas, Adrienne, or Tigger as she was called in the ‘scene,’ didn’t want to come to Greenville alone. Tigger was in some kind of online fetish community and she’d been given information about this place. My friend contacted the Domme that was lead co-owner of the house and was given permission and directions to visit on their play night at Bondage Seekers.
Now, here I am on New Year’s Eve.
I should not have decided to come with Adrienne. But, I wanted her to be safe. That’s what I kept telling myself. Now, my friend was tied to some post outside while one guy was pouring hot wax over her recently caned ass and another monitoring the clamps on her nipples. I knew Tigger was in heaven with the two men, but for me…I’d seen enough. I’d always been a one-man kind of woman and wasn’t into exhibition.
Not to mention, I had a demanding enough job that kept me in the public eye. Including the fact too many people counted on me to stay in control, take charge and keep everything in order. I didn’t have time to let go. It was easy for Adrienne. By day she was a physical therapist. A lot more flexible than being a lawyer.
I continued down the hall, smelling a combination of oils, leather and disinfectant. All secondary to the scent of sweat and aroused bodies.
The arousal scent was the part that got me. Mainly, because even though Tigger would tell me repeatedly how often a submissive climaxed during a session, I still didn’t believe her. How could anyone come from pain? “That there was a point that it became an all-consuming pleasure,” as Tigger would say in her Texas accent.
Truly, so far the shocker of the night was the slick feeling of my own thighs. The light throbbing of my clit. It had to be all the nudity, male and female. Who could be aroused in such an atmosphere?
This wasn’t my thing.
Passing a few rooms, I wandered into one that had a big wooden X in the center of it with cuffs on all ends. Around me, on the walls, various kinds of instruments and whips hung off nails and hooks. There also stood a cabinet against one wall with many drawers. I could only imagine what types of things were inside.
I felt hot and overwhelmed at the same time. Over the years, I’d heard Adrienne talking about how it felt to submit to a man dominating her, but I couldn’t understand it. I couldn’t visualize what she had meant until I’d come here tonight.
Seeing the woman in the other room, I understood now.
“I observed you during the last session.”
It was him again. Just the sound of his voice had heat racing along my spine and my nipples pulling tight. Taking a deep breath I slowly turned. He was leaning against the doorjamb about eight feet away from me. I took a moment to really observe him. Tall, sexy and dressed in a burgundy t-shirt and black jeans, he drew the eye. The cotton material of his t-shirt pulled at his broad shoulders, conforming to his chest.
I could see this man was in great physical shape. He wasn’t football-player big, but he’d give a basketball player a run for his money. I was five eleven out of shoes and he was still at least three inches taller than me in my heels. It would have been foolish for me to deny that my heart tripped a few beats just looking at him.
“Did you now?”
“You couldn’t keep from watching. I saw you leave, and return twice.”
I folded my arms over my chest and shifted my weight so my hip was jutted to the side. “Is watching a crime here?”
His eyebrow rose slowly, arching high above one of his eyes making him appear intense, serious. I couldn’t help swallowing. If I were in a cartoon, I’m sure there would have been a gulping sound effect added.
“No crime.” He entered the room and moved to the other side of the big X. “Did you like what you saw?”
Oh, hell, here was the real question. Trying to avoid admitting to him or myself what I was feeling, I shrugged a shoulder.
“A shrug is not an answer.” There was just enough bite in his voice to make me lift my chin.
Is this guy admonishing me? It was on the tip of my tongue to give him a smart ass comment. However, for a reason I couldn’t explain, I resisted the urge.
“I don’t know.” I glanced away from those eyes of his that seemed to be penetrating, knowing.
He took a step around the front of the wooden structure. “I think you do. You’re just afraid of your response.”
I moved around the back of the equipment. We seemed to be in some type of slow chase or dance.
“How do you know? You don’t even know me.” I lifted my chin, daring him to contradict me.
Pausing, he was now on the opposite side of the X, with me across from him once again. “I don’t have to know you personally to read the telltale signs.”
Shit. What signs? Was I giving off some neon light of ignorance? Possibly an Easy Target sign on my back? Licking my lips, I stared at him. “Signs?”
His gaze tracked the movement of my tongue before he raised his eyes to mine again—hazel met brown.
“That’s one.” He continue
d as if I didn’t know what he was referring to. “The way you keep licking your lips and swallowing.”
“Maybe I’m thirsty.”
“How do you explain the rapid beating of your heart?”
When his gaze dropped to my neck, I slapped my hand against my throat to cover the evidence of my pulse. The only problem was that I could feel the fast tapping of my pulse against my fingers. Not that I needed that to make me aware, because the pounding in my chest was clue enough.
“This is all new to me. I’m nervous. It’s not everyday in my world people are getting whipped.”
“I’ll give you that. However, can you tell me that none of your lovers or boyfriends has ever spanked you during sex?”
When did he get so close? At some point he’d closed the distance between us and I didn’t even realize it. Now he was standing before me. Too close. Not because I thought he would grab me and string me up on some device, but because I was finding it hard to breathe with his nearness. It wasn’t just his imposing presence, but his scent was driving me to distraction. Warm and woodsy with a hint of mint on his breath.
“I think that’s a little too personal to ask on a first meeting.” I didn’t step away, not wanting him to think he was making me uncomfortable. However, I turned to the side, giving myself a little breathing room.
His chuckle was deep, rough and filled with too much confidence. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“You’re choice.” I tossed out.
There went that damn eyebrow of his again. Like he didn’t like my flippant tone.
Tough. I eyed him down, challenging him to correct me. In my career I was a force to be reckoned with and few wanted to come up against me.
“Are you wet?”
I stopped breathing. My mouth opened then closed. Touché. I gave him this round. I’d never been around a man that was so bold, confident and commanding.
As the silence stretched between us, his eyes darkened.
Concentrating, I exhaled. “What’s the point of this?”
Being defensive was a lot easier than admitting to this man or myself how soaked my panties were from watching the woman being taken through her paces.
“Let me ask you a simpler question. Why are you at Bondage Seekers?” He moved away, going to the instruments on the wall and lightly touching each tool, one at a time. However, regardless of what his body was doing, his gaze never left mine, as if he were searching for something in me.
Watching him, I said, “My friend is in the lifestyle.”
“And?” His feet stopped, but his hands stroked along the length of a whip.
“And that’s it.”
“I believe my question was why did you come here.”
This man was frustrating. I wanted to stomp my foot into the floor, but I restrained myself. “I told you already.”
“What you told me is something about your friend, nothing about your personal motivation. If she is in the lifestyle she could have come alone or with someone else in the lifestyle, another friend...”
I didn’t want to tell him he was correct. Stephanie, our friend from college only lived twenty minutes from Greenville and could have met Adrienne here. Stephanie was wild and courageous enough that she would have come in a blink with Adrienne. Probably had a great time, too. Instead, I’d told Adrienne I’d come with her. I did put her off for almost a month before I let her pick a date to visit.
“I don—”
“Yes, you do.” He cut me off as he moved on to the next item, a leather paddle. “Don’t try and figure out a perfect answer in your head, listen to your body.”
My body? What was it with this man? “What do you mean?”
“I can only assume that your friend didn’t allow you to come here completely ignorant of what goes on. Over the years she must have told you about what goes on in the community—sessions and scenes. Things that have happened to her during play.”
“Yes…and?”
Pausing again, he brushed his fingers through the multiple straps of what Adrienne had told me was called a flogger. The same thing the man had used on the woman I’d watched. My heart kicked up and I found myself following this man’s hand movement.
Smiling, he lifted the flogger off the hook and moved toward me. “How did you respond when she’d talk about her experiences?” He leaned toward me, the flogger held between our bodies, and whispered, “Did your body start to tingle in the same areas she discussed? Your nipples tighten? Your body become warm?”
I was finding it hard to breathe. My head was spinning at his seductive words. I had been more captivated by Adrienne’s stories than I’d ever shared with my friends. Over the years, I’d found myself asking Adrienne about the events of different her outings. Every Saturday afternoon I’d find time to call Adrienne in Texas and ask her about what happened on her Friday play night.
“Tell me, did you imagine yourself doing the things she did?”
“No.” The word broke from my mouth as I took a step back from him and the item he held. Telling him the truth I continued, “Tigger’s stories were…interesting. I’m not sure why I wanted to know. However, my friend is a little more adventurous and her tolerance for pain is pretty high. I never saw myself doing the things she did.”
Using the handle of the flogger, he touched the curve of my shoulder and dragged it down my arm, caressing me with it. “But, you did in the other room.”
My gaze snapped to his.
“Bingo.” Cocky was the only way to describe the grin on his face.
I wanted to deny his words. Tell him that I was disgusted by what I had seen or that it was nothing more than a simple reaction as one would have when watching a porno. But, my lips wouldn’t form the words.
“What if I did?”
He didn’t answer me, instead he handed me the flogger.
I took it. I was surprised at the heft, but also at the softness of the wide blue leather straps. I’d seen them online in many colors. As Adrienne talked about different items over the phone, I’d sit before my computer and pull them up; look at them. Secretly.
“Tell me. What stops you from trying a session?”
Fear. “I don’t like pain.”
“That’s subjective. An experienced Dom knows where to start with a sub not to turn them off and build their tolerance from there.”
My fingers were idly stroking the leads of the flogger. “Are you experienced?”
What difference does it make? My mind screamed. But, I admitted, this man fascinated me. Somehow he’d made me feel comfortable around him. He seemed patient and controlled in a non-threatening manner.
“Yes. I’ve been in the lifestyle for twelve years.”
Wow. Besides my job, which I’d been doing for nine years, I’d never been committed to anything for that long.
“Other than the supposed pain?”
I laughed. “Supposed. Okay, I’ll give you that since I’ve never tried it.”
He smiled. “I like your laugh.”
“Thank you.” Pondering his question, I said, “I’ll admit I enjoyed being able to see the woman getting spanked first hand, but I don’t like people to watch me.” Glancing away, I admitted, “I never even allowed my last boyfriend, who I’d dated for four years, to video tape us. It just felt like other people eyes on me.”
“That’s understandable. Unless I’m instructing I prefer the intimacy shared between a sub and myself.”
I wasn’t sure why hearing him say that lifted my heart some, but it did. Maybe it was because I was holding the flogger in my hand and I couldn’t help but thinking about him wielding it. On someone else of course.
“I thought all in the lifestyle liked to be on display?”
“Some. Not all.”
I handed him the tool back and didn’t miss the electric current that passed between our fingers at the mere touch.
“What’s your name?”
“Um.” Most people there used names that kept their anonymity. Saying m
y name is Nevea LaBaun wouldn’t do.
What should I tell him? This wasn’t like being at the club and some ‘no game’ guy asked me and I blurt out Shelia or Candy. Both I had used in the past. This seemed a little more sincere.
“I’m assuming since this is not your environment, you never considered you’d be anything but a fly on the wall, so you never considered what you wanted to go by.”
My cheeks heated at being read so easily by this man. “Correct.”
Tilting his head, he eyed me for a moment. “How about Velvet?”
I felt the pinch of my brows. “I don’t understand the connection. How’d you decide that?”
Giving a side smile, his hazel eyes brightened as he explained, “Well, it was between that and Jessica.”
“Simpson?” I was offended.
“No. Rabbit. Because you’re more than a little skittish. To be honest Jessica Rabbit came to my mind because you’re a beautiful African American woman with a body that could inspire any artist.”
Hearing his words made my body feel warm. “But.”
“I feel it is best for me to explain later.”
“Suit yourself.” Curiosity was gnawing at me.
“I’m Bolt. Dom Bolt.”
I was sort of getting the hang of how the naming business went. “Let me guess. Because you’re quick as lightening,” I said using a tone television always used when describing the attributes of a superhero.
A bark of laughter erupted from him as he angled his head back. “Yes. But, only when it matters. I’ve been known to take a bottom to subspace without long drawn out sessions.”
“Subspace?” I thought I’d heard Adrienne talk about this before but I couldn’t fully grasp what she meant.
His expression became serious again as he said, “Separation of mind and being. When a sub no longer is solely focused on what is being done, they feel and in the deep feeling they lose themselves to everything else around them.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, just as I never knew what to say to Adrienne when she shared her experience.
