Trust Me: A BDSM Romance

by Cate Bellerose

  “Are you ready for more?”

  Her eyes widen, though it’s not clear whether it’s in excitement or apprehension. Maybe a little of both. “I guess so? I can’t say I’m not a little scared.”

  I pull a handkerchief from my pocket and open it to reveal what I’ve kept hidden inside. It’s a small plastic egg, pink and smooth. I hand it to her. “Put this in.”

  “What?” She eyes it curiously.

  I glance around. “Quick, while no one’s looking. Or are you trying to tell me that sitting around without panties on doesn’t have you excited enough for it?”

  “You’re insane.”

  “And you’re mine.”

  She shudders briefly at the words. Words I couldn’t hold back. Not being able to get in trouble while in public was a bullshit idea. It only makes it that much more exciting. But it won’t go too far. It can’t. I have to get her home after this, and we’re taking a cab. No opportunity, no trouble. And then I’ll go home and let the fantasy of how things could’ve gone play through my dreams all night.

  After a furtive look around, she quickly slips a hand under her skirt. Her eyes close briefly as she settles, and she returns her hand to the table, wiggling the fingers at me to show that she did it. There’s just a hint of wetness glistening at the tips, and immediately I realize that I’ve put myself in a position where it wouldn’t be wise for me to get up from the table for a while.

  “I can’t believe you brought something like that with you.”

  “All part of your therapy.”

  “Yeah, right.” She wiggles a bit in her seat. “Your techniques are certainly creative.”

  “You have no idea.” Slipping my hand into my jacket pocket, I slightly twist a knob on the little black remote I’ve got there. The expression on her face makes it very obvious at exactly which moment the vibration kicks in.

  “Oh. It’s—” She bites her lower lip and stares at me in shock. “Did you—”

  I shrug. “Perhaps.” I’ve barely turned it on. Enough vibration to be distracting, but no more. At least not yet.

  Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath and looks like she’s trying to center herself. She whispers, “How long are you going to leave it on?”

  “We’ll see. Until it suits me to turn it off.” I gesture at the table. “You should eat before your food gets cold.”

  “Easy for you to say,” she grumbles.

  I grin. “What was that? Turn it up, you said?” I reach for my pocket while looking her right in her terrified eyes.

  “No, no, I’ll eat. Thank you.”

  Picking up my knife and fork, I stab a piece of meat so tender it nearly falls right off the bone and cut it off. “You know, I should’ve known better than to order a saucy dish when I’m wearing a suit. You thought the spilled marinara was bad…” I pat my other pocket, the one with her panties in it.

  A shiver runs through her, and she closes her eyes while breathing in through her cute nose. Something must’ve hit the right spot there for a moment. “You’re so bad.”

  “Just you wait.” I smile and try to eat without getting sauce all over my shirt.

  15

  Miranda

  The vibration just doesn’t stop. Constantly buzzing, low-key, but enough to keep me wiggling in my seat. It’s not quite touching where I need it, so I keep trying to nudge the infuriating little egg to where it should be.

  I’m pretty sure the food is delicious, but I barely taste it, I’m so focused on the sensations surging from between my legs. It’s funny. I’ve had (guilty) fantasies about play like this for years, but I never thought it’d ever actually happen to me. And now that it is, I’m terrified that someone is going to realize what’s going on and call us out on it. I glance around at the tables nearest us, but either I’m hiding it better than I think, or everyone’s so involved with their own dinners and conversation that they don’t seem to notice anything.

  As if he’s reading my mind, Keegan murmurs softly, “People are at their core pretty egotistical. Unless you make a disturbingly loud fuss, they’re not going to notice that you can’t sit still while I’m tormenting you.” He grins, like that’s supposed to be a positive. I suppose that in his world it is.

  And he’s not completely wrong. I’m so wet I’m worried the egg is going to slip right back out if I don’t keep squeezing. Talk about incentive to keep up with your Kegels. If Mom wasn’t there, I’d drag him home with me, because I’m so ready. He can take his ethics and shove them up his ass. Hell, if my Googling has taught me anything, prostate stimulation should only enhance things for him anyway.

  I only barely make it through dinner. We talk, but I don’t really remember much of it. I’m pretty sure that somewhere about halfway through he sped up the vibrations, but maybe I’m just getting oversensitive. At least we’re close to the end, because if he expects to take me out dancing or anything crazy like that, he can forget it. I’d fall over.

  Keegan scoops up the last of the sauce and risotto from his plate with a piece of focaccia, then sits back with his hands over his stomach. “Fuck, that was good. How was yours?”

  My bowl is still half full. I take another forkful to double check the taste. “It’s good. Sorry, I’m a little distracted.”

  He laughs. “Not too distracted, I hope. I wouldn’t want you starving on my account.”

  I roll my eyes. It’s nice that he’s not one of those guys that judges every calorie I eat, but in spite of his games, I’m in no danger of starving. “No, I’m full. It was a pretty big portion. Maybe I should get a doggy bag.”

  “I’ll ask the waitress to box it up. Ready for dessert?”

  “Oh, I don’t think I could eat another—”

  “There’s always room for a little gelato.” That mischievous smirk tells me two things: one, it’s not up for debate, and two, I’m not done with the commands yet. This time the shiver isn’t from the little vibrator.

  I bow my head. “Yes, Sir.”

  He reaches over the table and squeezes my hand at that. “Listen, I know you’re new to this. If it’s too much, you can stop anytime. Especially out here in public, with no warning, I don’t demand the same type of obedience I do in the playroom.”

  Like it wasn’t hot enough in here already. Thinking about the playroom makes me feel like someone just cranked the thermostat.

  “We’re just experimenting with different sorts of games, but I hope you’re enjoying yourself. I don’t want you to feel pressured, especially in an open environment like this.”

  I nod. I didn’t really think that he would be mad if I’d said no, or refused to do anything he asked, but it’s nice to get that confirmation. But, crazy as this is, and as frustrated I’m getting, I’m enjoying myself too. The attention, the danger. The fact that I’m finally daring to play the way I’ve fantasized about. Somehow, Keegan has won my trust, and I’m only too willing to let him have his way with me.

  “I’m okay, Sir.”

  He squeezes my hand again, obviously pleased with my response.

  The way he smiles, laughs, and now touches me, makes this date feel real, if it ever wasn’t to begin with. At a distance, it’s easy enough to agree that it’s not right for us to be together, and potentially illegal to boot, but up close, all those concerns fade into the background so easily.

  And I find myself not caring.

  Our dinner is cleared away, and Keegan skips the dessert menu, directly requesting a couple of bowls of gelato. One raspberry and one vanilla.

  I grin over at him. “I’m surprised you like anything vanilla.”

  He shrugs. “What can I say? It tastes good.”

  After a couple of minutes, the waitress is back with a couple of well-filled bowls. In addition to the gelato, there’s a heaping bowl of fresh raspberries as well. It looks delicious. As soon as she’s out of earshot, I look up at Keegan. “Man, everything’s big here.”

  His face contorts like he’s biting his tongue, holding back a com
ment.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” I comment dryly while picking up my spoon.

  “I didn’t say anything,” he protests.

  “You didn’t have to.”

  He laughs, and after a minute, I’m laughing too. It makes my core go tighter around the egg, intensifying the sensations and I gasp. When I get my senses back under control, I wag my finger at him. “Stop making me laugh.”

  “Not if I can help it.” Picking up his dessert spoon, he scoops up a dollop of vanilla, captures a raspberry, and then leans towards me. “Open up.”

  “Wait, what?” I glance around, but no one’s watching. “You’re going to feed me?”

  He just waits, the gelato thick on his spoon. I don’t even have to ask if I’m blushing or not, since suddenly my face is as hot as my core. It’s embarrassing, and just a little demeaning, and I have to figure out how I feel about that. Unbelievably, the simple act of opening my mouth for a spoonful of Italian ice cream is harder than anything he’s put me through so far.

  I mean, yeah, I’ve got the egg in me so this should be no big deal, right? It’s not even so much kinky as it is public. He wants to feed me in front of all these people, making my submission obvious. My guilt and shame senses are tingling. I strongly suspect that when I’m looking back at tonight, this is going to haunt me. But I do it anyway.

  Leaning towards him, I open my mouth and let him put a ridiculously rich and delicious spoonful in my mouth, the sweetness augmented by the tartness of the raspberry. Closing my lips around it, I look him right in the eyes and pull back, trying to make it as sexy as possible. From the fire that flares up in his eyes, I think I succeeded.

  “Mmm,” I moan, letting it coat my mouth in cool sweetness before swallowing. “That is really good. You should try some too,” I venture while reaching for my own spoon.

  Keegan laughs. “I’m doing the feeding here. At least this time.” He takes a spoonful of the vanilla, with a raspberry, just like he served me. “Fuck, that is good. It’s giving me some ideas for things to do that I can’t do here. We’ll just have to—”

  He breaks off.

  Evidently, I’m not the only one forgetting about ethics and restrictions and whatever reluctance we might have about this thing growing between us. I can’t tell if this date was a great idea or just the ultimate exercise in frustration, but I’ll enjoy while I’ve got it. Even if it goes no further, I’m having a great time.

  Resigned, I nod at him. “I know. Sir.”

  Eyeing me dangerously, he takes another scoop, half raspberry, half vanilla. “Here.”

  Again, I let him feed it to me, pulling the delicious dessert off the spoon with my lips. After the mouthful slides coolly down my throat, I ask, “Are you really planning to feed me all of it? Sir?”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “I have a proposal instead.” He reaches into his pocket and the vibration stops. As frustrating as it was, now I miss it. “I need you totally with me for this.”

  “Oh?”

  “I know your mother is waiting at home—”

  “Oh, don’t say that. I’m having a good time. I swear.” Knowing that the evening is nearing its end makes me dread going home all the more.

  He nods, his expression serious as the grave. “Good. Come home with me.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll make sure you get home at a reasonable hour, but it’s only nine fifteen. Come home with me, and I’ll have you back by one, two tops.” He takes my hand with both of his over the table, and squeezes. The depth of need in his eyes looks out of place on such a dominant man, but that makes it all the more poignant. “I know all the reasons this is a bad idea, but I can’t fucking take it. I need you alone with me. I think we’re both aware that this has gone way beyond any pretense at exposure therapy.”

  “I…”

  “Please.” Just that. A single word that puts the whole ball in my court.

  It’s up to me. I can go home with a good conscience, pretending that nothing serious happened. I’d regret it. I know I would. How would I feel about going home with him? What’s he going to do to me? Would I regret that?

  His hands are so warm, and I don’t ever want him to let go. The way he looks at me, that naked desire—is my answer really in question?

  “Yes.”

  A cautious smile spreads across his face. He flags down our waitress to get the check and five minutes later, we’re in the back of a cab heading to his place, me tightly wrapped up in his arms and him kissing the top of my head.

  Hopefully I made the right decision.

  16

  Keegan

  Well, I’ve now officially crossed just about every line laid down by the rules of ethical behavior for psychologists. Or I’m about to. I never understood why people would risk their license before, but here I am, standing on the brink of a professional meltdown. Am I insane?

  Instinctively, I squeeze Miranda tighter. I’ve probably gone off the deep end, but she drives me so crazy. All I can think about is her, and how I want her to be mine. Need her to be mine. Forget limiting our sessions to the office, I’ll stop seeing her there at all. Anything we do from here out has to be purely private between me and Miranda.

  Fuck, I should’ve ended the professional end of our relationship long ago, when I realized how fucking attracted I am to her. She’s perfect. Funny, sexy, and just the right brand of submissive to drive me crazy. I need her in my life, and I think I can do good things for her.

  I want what’s best for her, to help her find the courage she needs to jump into the lifestyle with both feet. It’s what she wants and I can help her.

  Running my fingers through her hair, I marvel at its silky texture. She moans softly, pressing her face against my chest, as if she’s trying to get closer to my heart.

  Fuck, baby, you’re already there.

  The cab slows down and pulls over in front of my building. There’s still time to stop this. To do the right thing and send her home, then break off contact, at least until she’s worked through her remaining issues. I could find someone to refer her to, but while I’m sure they could talk about her family issues, I can’t fucking imagine anyone else who can do this as well as I can. Guide her into a healthy relationship with BDSM.

  The simple answer is I’d want to kill anyone else that tried.

  But this has to be her choice, too.

  Putting my curled index finger under her chin, I make her look up at me. The way her deep blue eyes bore into me, shining with excitement makes me want to kiss her instead of talk. I draw a breath, the sweet scent of her perfume tickling my nose. I almost don’t ask at all, but I need to be sure, for her to be sure. There are no takebacks.

  “Miranda, you don’t have to do this. I want you to be sure. I’m your therapist, and that can make your feelings for me… complicated. If you’re unsure at all, tell me now, because once we cross this line, we could be in a lot of trouble.”

  She nods. “I know. I googled it when I felt where we might be heading. I’m sure, but what about you? You’d be risking a lot. Does this feel right to you?”

  “There’s nothing I want more than to take you upstairs right now. Fuck everything else.”

  Licking her lips, she distracts me for a moment as I track the slow, sinewy movement of her tongue. And here I’m supposed to be the one in charge.

  With a little nod, she seals our fate. “Let’s do it.”

  The driver clears his throat. “Before you kids go off to do… whatever it is that you’re getting ready to do, you still owe me eighteen fifty.”

  Oh Jesus Christ. When Miranda’s here, everything fades away, easily forgotten. I laugh with a touch of embarrassment. “Yeah, of course. Here you go, keep the change.” I hand him twenty-five bucks before popping the door.

  “Thank you. You two have fun now.”

  Miranda laughs as I pull her out of the door behind me. “We will,” she calls over her shoulder before pushing the door shut. We’re up the steps
to the front door before the car’s even back out in traffic.

  We take the elevator to the top floor, barely able to keep from stripping each other naked on the way up. Her ass is just too tempting, especially since I know there’s nothing under her skirt. By the time we’re outside my door, we’re both breathing heavily and it takes a few tries to get the key in the lock.

  As soon as we’re inside, I slam the door behind me. Miranda doesn’t even have time to take her coat off before I have her up against the wall and press my lips against hers. Now that we’re finally doing this, I can’t wait any fucking longer. I’m thirsting and she’s my oasis.

  Capturing her hands in mine, I pull them above her head and pin her wrists against the wall. She draws a sharp breath before I lean back in to trap her lower lip between my teeth. I press the length of my body against hers. My cock’s aching in my pants, and I want her to feel it. To know how badly I want her.

  Letting her lip slip, I trail kisses down her neck and onto her throat as she tilts her head back against the wall, exposing herself to me. I feel wild, like an animal, taking little bites at her pale skin. She moans in response, deep in her throat, and presses against me as much as she can while pinned by my body.

  I’ve got to have her.

  Stepping back, reluctant to break physical contact with her for even a second, I pull her with me by her wrists. She can get the grand tour later, but for now all we need is my bedroom.

  “I don’t think I can wait long enough to set up for a scene,” I murmur while pulling her coat off and dropping it on the floor. “I’ve got to have you now.”

  Her hands are already at my pants, fiddling with my zipper as she shakes her head. “That’s fine,” she responds breathlessly.

  Miranda gets my pants open, and then I’m pulling up at her clingy shirt. She raises her arms to help me, and as it comes off, her breasts bounce temptingly free, held only in place by a lacy black bra. I’ve still got the shirt in my hand, and inspiration strikes.