Trust Me: A BDSM Romance

by Cate Bellerose

  Somehow, he manages to keep his features completely even, but there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Are you all right?”

  I nod, swallow and concentrate. “Yes, Dr. York. I’m sorry.”

  “Excellent. You really are an exemplary client.”

  I smile, and even if the compliment is just part of the fun, my cheeks heat anyway. Probably as much in anticipation as from his words. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “I’ve been reading up on your case, and apparently there’s an experimental treatment that comes highly recommended. It’s newly developed in Europe, so it’s not well known here yet.”

  “That sounds… fascinating, Dr. York. Do you think it’ll help me?” I ask dramatically, clasping my hands together.

  It’s his turn to bite his lip, but he covers it up by getting up from behind his desk and waving me over. “Face the desk, Miss Larson, and put your hands down flat on the top.”

  “I don’t quite understand how this will help,” I note, but turn around to do as he says.

  “It will come clear in time. Just relax and let me do my work.”

  “Yes, Dr. York.”

  Then his hands land on my hips. “Steady now, Miss Larson.”

  “What are you doing?”

  He softly caresses my ass through the tight skirt. “Just trust me. It’s all part of the experimental treatment.”

  “Doctor, I don’t think—”

  “Shh. You don’t have to.” Little by little, he works my skirt up my thighs. “I’m the professional here, remember?”

  I spin quickly, pushing my skirt back down. “This is hardly appropriate!” I snap, heart pumping in spite of the lighthearted atmosphere.

  He grabs my hands, putting them behind my back so easily and quickly that don’t have a chance to even think about resisting. When he pulls me right up against him, I’m so close I can smell him, dripping with masculinity. His voice drops to a growl. “Come now, Miss Larson. You’re not going to make this difficult, are you?”

  Trying to wriggle out of his grip is like trying to escape a steel trap. Keegan’s so much bigger and stronger than me that it’d be scary if I didn’t trust him. “Doctor, if you think I’ll just let you take liberties with me—”

  He laughs. “A fighter, huh? I like that. I like that very much.” Keeping me easily corralled with one hand, he opens a desk drawer and pulls out a bundle of ropes.

  “Doctor!”

  The desk is narrow enough that when he bends me over, the edge is right at my waist on one side, and my arms and head hang off the other. A moment later, my wrists are secured to the desk’s legs, and once that’s done, attaching my legs the same way on the other side is a cinch. I tug at them, but I’m not going anywhere.

  “Doctor!” I gasp, my helplessness real, even if the scenario isn’t.

  “See, now that’s much better. You look beautiful trussed up like this, Miss Larson.”

  “What kind of treatment is this? Release me!”

  His hand comes down on my ass, caressing it boldly through the skirt. “This is for your own good,” he observes. “Please, Doctor. Let me go.”

  He pulls back and smacks my ass hard, the sound bouncing off the walls of the bedroom. I shriek in surprise.

  “It would behoove you to behave, my dear Miss Larson. I hold all the cards here.” He’s caressing again, but he might strike again at any moment. “I would hate to have to gag such a beautiful voice as yours.”

  I swallow. Do I want a gag? There are other apartments in this building so someone could hear us, I guess, but I decide against it, at least for now. I’m having fun with our dialogue, even if it’s like a terrible scene out of Mad Men. “I’ll behave, Doctor.” I submit, letting my head drop.

  “Very good.” He pulls my skirt up again, and this time there isn’t anything I can do about it. Soon my panties are exposed, his fingers exploring me through the black silk.

  I can’t quite hold back a little moan when his fingers trace the outline of my folds. “Doctor, that’s—”

  “—exactly what you need,” he finishes my sentence for me. He rubs a little harder, and despite being supposed to pretend I don’t want his advances, I press my ass back at him instead, something he doesn’t fail to notice. “You may think this isn’t right, but your body is under no such illusion. That’s why this therapy is so effective.”

  He comes around the desk and crouches, putting his face on level with mine. I have to crane my neck to look up at him, though, at least until he wraps his hand in my hair, undoing my bun so he can get a good grip on it. With a tug, he gets me in just the right position to kiss me firmly.

  True to my role, I pinch my lips shut and try to deny him, difficult as it is. He’s already got me going so hot that I want to open for him, let him run his tongue into my mouth, but I’m not supposed like this. Or at least not act like it.

  Fuck it.

  I kiss him back, letting my passion flow into him, catching his lip between my teeth and nipping at him. He pulls back a moment and I expect to be reprimanded for breaking character, but then he’s back at me. Our tongues play, and even though the edge of the desk digs into my hips and my scalp aches from the way he’s pulling it, I wouldn’t stop this kiss for the world.

  “I knew you’d come around.” He smirks at me, and I feel like he’s laughing at my inability to stay in character.

  “I’m sorry, Doctor, but you kiss like a god.”

  His smirk goes to a full-on grin at that. “That’s right. And I’m going to show you some other things I do like a god as well.”

  “I can’t wait.” Two of us can play at the smirking game.

  He stands, letting go of my hair. I slump with relief, but then he’s back behind me, his hard hand impacting on my ass. “Don’t forget who’s in control here.”

  “Oh, Doctor, you’re so forceful,” I gush.

  He laughs and slaps my ass again. I’m going to feel those in the morning. There’s not much protection in my panties. “You’re feisty, Miss Larson. Perhaps a good spanking will put you in your place. Naughty clients get exactly what they deserve.”

  I can almost hear him stop breathing, as he prepares for my response.

  I wait a moment, then shake my head. Nothing. After three months of ramping up our play, and working in whichever keywords we could think of that might be triggers, I seem to be rid of them. Exposure therapy, pretty much as planned, funnily enough, but we started slow and now the words don’t phase me. It’s so freeing.

  “Pay attention, Miss Larson!” The flat of his palm impacts firmly on my ass, eliciting a grunt from me as he drives me into the table. “We don’t tolerate naughty girls at my office.”

  I shake my head. “No, Sir. I’m sorry, Dr. York.”

  “That’s right.” He chuckles, followed by the sound of one of his drawers opening. Tied down where I am, I have no way to see what he’s doing. There’s rattling, as if he’s pulling something out, and then two very distinct snip, snip sounds. Scissors?

  “What are you—”

  “You’re overdressed, Miss Larson. And silly me, I seem to have made it very difficult for you to take your clothes off normally.” He snips the scissors again. “But this is at least as much fun.”

  “Wait, you’re not actually going to…” I trail off as cold steel slides along the inside of my thigh, giving me chills and raising nervous goosebumps.

  “Hmm, where should I start?”

  At least now I know why he insisted that I get a new outfit for tonight, but to not spend a lot of money on it. Fortunately my clothes are mostly second hand, but I didn’t realize this was going to be the night he made good on his threat.

  If I did, I would’ve worn different underwear. Those aren’t used. “Can you—” I’m interrupted by the first cut, which goes clean through my panties and leaving nothing protecting my pussy from his touch, or whatever else he chooses to do. “Those were expensive!” I yelp.

  He slaps my ass again, sending tingly
sparks shooting in all directions from where he most definitely left a bright red hand print. “Bill me later.” Then another snip along my right leg, and the panties fall off completely. It’s not like he hasn’t seen me like this before, but I feel incredibly exposed.

  So what’s next? My skirt? My blouse? But no, there’s the clank of the scissors landing on the desk next to me, and then his mouth is between my legs and I forget all about my ruined panties. He flicks his tongue deftly between my folds, making me arch my back and grind against him in my effort to get my clit in position.

  He obliges, licking like he’s trying to get to the chewy center of my lollipop. I shiver and moan, squirming as surges of pure pleasure rush through me, all centered on that sensitive little button that he’s swirling his tongue around.

  “Oh! Kee—Dr. York! Please! I’m not that kind of girl,” I cry out, not even sure if the play makes sense anymore. I’m pretty sure I showed him exactly what kind of girl I was when I pressed my pussy against his face. But I’m making an effort.

  He just laughs, which sends another set of vibrations charging through me. His tongue goes wild, and then I’m past the point of putting together words, meaningful or not.

  Putting his thumb to good use, he slips it inside me, forcefully thrusting it in imitation of what I’m sure is coming next while maintaining a solid grip on my ass with the rest of his hand. I fuck back at him, egging him on. “Please,” I moan.

  His attack intensifies, licking me harder and faster, until I start to shake, frustrated by my bonds and my inability to do anything other than receive. And then it happens, starting like a faint rumble in my ears that builds and builds until my orgasm washes over me like an avalanche, dragging me along with it.

  Do I scream? I’m not even sure, but I think so. If his neighbors didn’t already know that we’re having sex, they definitely do now. I strain against the ropes as my whole body goes taut, a bow string aching for release, but just getting drawn further and further, until I finally collapse back on the desk, all strength gone out of me.

  “See? I knew you were that kind of girl.” His face is hidden, but the cocky tone in his voice is quite clear.

  “Yes, Sir. You’re right, Dr. York,” I pant out, too exhausted to put much energy into my acting.

  “At least make an effort, Miss Larson,” he says sternly, adding a firm swat to my bottom for good measure.

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  I didn’t hear him pick the scissors off the table, but I definitely feel the cold of the steel sliding underneath my blouse. He works methodically, snipping from my waist and all the way up through the collar, and then down each sleeve. Then, with a couple of yanks, my bare skin presses against the hard desk, the remains of my blouse gone. It makes me feel vulnerable, even more than just being tied up does. He’s not just controlling me, he’s taking ownership of me down to my own clothes. Making me his, one deft cut at a time.

  “You have a beautiful back,” he says, sliding the blunt edge of the scissor-blade right down my spine. I shiver, feeling goosebumps chasing the trail he draws.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “I don’t like how this breaks up the elegant arch of it, though.” He pulls my bra strap and snaps it against my back. Not very hard, but enough to sting.

  No point arguing. I already know what his reply will be. “Yes, Doctor.”

  Two snips release the shoulder straps, and then one more next to the hooks frees it completely. I mourn the lacy bra for a moment, but I’m too turned on to let it bother me. He’s promised to replace it, and as anyone who finds a sexy bra with an actual comfortable fit, I know exactly where to get more. With a quick tug, he pulls the bra out from underneath and throws it aside, leaving me in only my skirt and heels.

  His hot hands come down to rest on my shoulder blades. “I think I’ll leave the rest. You look delightfully sexy right now, I hope you know that.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” I whisper, followed by a surprised, “Oh!” when something hard and fleshy bumps against my folds. I thought I was done, but my body has other plans, moving on its own to press my hips back and capture him inside me.

  Keegan evades me, rotating and flexing his hips so that his hard cock rubs against me everywhere but exactly where I want it. “Don’t be greedy, Miss Larson,” he chides, and I really couldn’t care less.

  I want him in me, now!

  He laughs at my desperate attempts, bumping against the insides of my thighs, rubbing across my clit and even pressing ever so lightly against my asshole. Maybe someday, but that’s not what I want right now.

  And then I get him. Or he lets me, but it amounts to the same thing. The tip of him is nestled between my folds and just so barely caught at my entrance. I try to push back to get him further inside, but I’m at the limits of my bondage.

  “Sir, please.”

  “Oh, naughty, naughty. Did you really think it’d be that easy to lure me in?” He chuckles behind me, and starts to push in and out with tiny strokes, only just barely slipping inside before pulling back out. It feels nice enough, but it’s in no way satisfying. I want him, and I want all of him. Then he stops, poised right at my entrance. “Tell me you’re mine.”

  “I’m yours, Sir.”

  “Tell me you’ll do anything I want.”

  “Anything, Sir. Absolutely anything you want. I belong to you.”

  “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” he sighs contently, then drives his hips forwards, filling me in one long stroke. I groan happily.

  His weight presses me into the desk, his hips drive him deep, and tied in place I can’t stop him as he uses me, fucking hard or slowly stroking exactly as he pleases. And it pleases me to be that person for him, to know that he can use me to take his pleasure. Sometimes it’s enough to sweetly make love, or even be in charge every once in a while, but times like these, I love being his toy, his little plaything.

  Especially because it comes with plenty of pleasure for me, too. When he made me come, it was amazing, and the feel of his thick cock plowing in and out drives me crazy, even when it’s all on his terms. It takes two. I clench and press my ass up against him as well as I can as he fills me over and over.

  “Miranda,” he groans hoarsely into my ear. “I fucking love you.” Then he drives deep one last time, his hips pressing hard against my ass while he comes, filling me with his heat. Closing my eyes tightly, I grind against him, willing him to stay where he is for as long as possible.

  When he slumps over me with a low, satisfied moan, I can’t help but tease. “Dr. York, I hardly think that we’re on a first name basis. That would be wholly inappropriate as doctor and client.”

  He chuckles, and I can feel it all the way in me, my sensitive flesh tickled by the movement. “You’re absolutely correct, Miss Larson. I lost my head for a moment. I beg your pardon.”

  God, he sounds so serious. So much for keeping my straight face any longer. I lose it in a fit of the giggles, my stomach flexing uncomfortably into the edge of the desk.

  Keegan hisses, “Jesus, when you laugh like that, it’s squeezing me all over.” He wraps his hands around my hips to get me to lie still, but it totally doesn’t work, and then suddenly he’s laughing too, and it spirals as we vibrate each other. At least until his cock, which had been softening, starts to firm up again.

  “Again?” It’s not a complaint.

  He starts laughing again, and pulls away. “Sorry, not quite yet. Rain check?”

  I pout for a moment when he slips out, but the edge of the desk is starting to get uncomfortable so he’s probably right. “Yeah, that sounds good. Maybe we could do something crazy and use the bed for a change.”

  With a “Hah!” he sets to untying me, starting with my ankles and finally freeing my wrists. He gives me a hand so I can get back on my feet, then pulls me against him into a torrid kiss that makes me tingle all the way down to my toes.

  I come up for air, legs wrapped around him and my hard nipples brushing against h
is chest hair. “Is it rain check time yet?”

  His cock twitches against me, but Keegan just smiles and wraps his fingers in my hair. “It’ll have to wait. We’re supposed to meet Amber and Eric at the club in forty-five minutes.”

  I sigh dramatically, but I suppose he’s right. “Fine. But I might just drag you off into one of the rooms, just so you know.”

  “I’m already looking forward to it,” he says with a laugh. “I still haven’t had a chance to try those candles on you.”

  I shiver at the thought, but I’m smiling on my way to the shower.

  “Save a little water for me, okay?”

  “You could come in with me, you know.”

  “Then we’ll definitely never make it on time.”

  He’s right, again. Frustratingly so, but I guess I can’t complain too much. Cranking the water to steaming hot, I do my best to get clean, only to get dirty again later. At least if all goes as planned.

  31

  Miranda

  “So you’re cured?” Amber leans forward, putting her weight on her knees while staring at me with big eyes. Eric shares the black leather couch with her, but he’s reclining with his arms resting on the back. Up in the club’s bar area, we’re sheltered from the loud music blasting over the dance floor downstairs, making it possible to talk. At least when Amber isn’t constantly interjecting with questions.

  “It’s not like it’s a disease. There are things that still make me anxious.” I shrug at my excitable friend. “I’m always going to be affected by my childhood, obviously. But I’ve come a long way with Keegan and Doctor Wendy, and I can play now without episodes like… well, you know.”

  Eric, lovingly stroking his wife’s back, frowns. “Yeah, that was rough. I’m glad we were there and Amber could help.” He glances at Keegan, “No offense, man.”

  Keegan shakes his head. “None taken. I’m glad you guys were there too. Just then, I wasn’t who Miranda needed.”

  Amber grins and takes a sip of water. “I’m so glad you two worked things out. I mean, obviously, I knew from the start that you guys would be perfect together, but it sure took you long enough to get there.”