by BJ Wane
“Tell me, just so I’m clear,” he murmured, running his lips up the side of her neck as he inched further inside her pussy, “you said anything except harsh pain, correct?”
“Yes, yes… please,” she gasped, thrusting her pelvis into his hands again.
“So, sex with a virtual stranger isn’t a problem?” he taunted, circling her clit with one thumb while stroking the soft tissues lining her inner muscles with the other. He almost chuckled as she jerked with a harsh, indrawn breath. Was she wondering if he suspected her true identity, or just remembering the last time he had her naked and writhing?
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Leslie speculated about pleading a case of lust induced insanity to rationalize why she’d accepted Master Kurt’s invitation without telling him who she was. Did that last question mean he recognized her, or was it just a teasing innuendo, like it sounded? Either way, she needed to decide fast – say red or answer him. As he pulled his hands away from her, the loss of his touch left her desperate for more, settling the decision.
“This is a safe club, and you wouldn’t be a Master here if I couldn’t trust you.”
“That is true, so how about we get to know each other better by testing your boundaries? Close your eyes and keep them shut.”
Leslie noticed Master Grayson taking over as monitor as Master Kurt reached into his back pocket for the spiked pinwheel that had sent a ripple of unease crawling under her skin upon first seeing it. Obeying his order, she lowered her lids and found a measure of comfort in shutting off her vision. She enjoyed the heat and discomfort from a spanking and the sting from the snap of a flogger, but had never experienced the sharp, needle-like pricks from one of the medical instruments some liked to play with. Holding her breath, she braced for that deeper pain but he surprised her by lightly rolling the pointed wheel down the ticklish underside of her raised right arm. Instead of pressing the sharp spikes into her skin, the slow glide scraped just enough to titillate and arouse an ache for more.
“Not so bad, is it?” he asked, his breath warm against her neck as he switched to her other arm.
“No, at least not yet.” He was a Dom, so, while she trusted him with her safety, she wasn’t foolish enough to think those light caresses were all he had in mind for her. His amused voice confirmed her suspicions.
“Smart girl, at least in some areas.” Cupping her breast with his free hand, he brushed a thumb across her nipple.
Leslie could sense his black eyes on her as Master Kurt scraped the pinwheel over the fleshy underside of her other breast next, applying more pressure as his nail scratched across her nipple. She squeezed her eyes to keep from opening them against the sudden tiny pricks of pain that elicited a spurt of cream between her legs. His deep, throaty chuckle in her ear sent shivers up and down her writhing body, a response she could remember all too clearly from the last time they were together.
“I think you like this little toy. I know I do. Or, maybe it’s how you respond, no matter what I do that I’m enjoying so much.” Satisfaction laced his voice as he rolled the tormenting toy down her waist, his other hand sliding from her breast around her back and down to her butt.
A cry spilled from her mouth as a stinging swat heated her right cheek the same time those sharp points pressed into the sensitive flesh above her pubis. Leslie rocked her hips against the dual attack, unsure whether she was embracing the discomfort or fighting against it. “Sir, please,” she whispered, her thighs tensing with the graze of those rough fingertips between her buttocks, over her anus and down to her wet slit. She was so close to that lovely zone where nothing mattered but the pleasure taking over her body and mind; to being in that comforting place where she could briefly forget the cruel death of a decent man for no other reason than two privileged teens getting their kicks. For weeks she’d been aching for that temporary reprieve from what witnessing that heartbreaking scene had cost her, and Master Kurt was proving as good at taking over her senses as she remembered.
“Please, what, sweetheart? More of this?” Another smack seared her left cheek. “Or this?” He rolled the pinwheel up and down her inner thigh, leaving a trail of throbbing pinpricks behind, the unpleasant pain quickly morphing into pulsing pleasure. “Or maybe you’re ready for more of this.” One finger pressed up inside her pussy, her inner muscles clamping around the invading digit in a desperate attempt to hold him there.
“I don’t know,” Leslie admitted, wishing he would just get her off in silence. The constant questioning kept her on edge as much as keeping her eyes closed and trying to guess where he would go next.
“Then let’s try an easier question.” Kurt tugged on her clit and bit her nipple as he asked, “What do you do for a living?”
The question took Leslie by surprise, pulling her back from the building euphoria for a moment. They hadn’t exchanged any personal information about each other that night and she figured it wouldn’t hurt to reveal one personal tidbit, especially if it got her closer to orgasm. “I teach grade school, second grade.”
“I can picture you doing that, and your students loving you.” He deepened his voice, inserting more demand as he raked the spikes across one buttock and thrust up into her. “Are you going to tell me where we’ve met before?”
Leslie’s eyes flew open, her heart leaping into her throat as her buttocks clenched and her pussy spasmed. The hazy fog of arousal lifted enough for her to worry and frown at him as she insisted, “I told you, we haven’t met here before.”
Dropping the pinwheel, Master Kurt gripped her butt cheek. “Anywhere else?” Two blows in rapid succession inflamed her buttocks as he stretched her sheath by adding two more fingers, his thrusts abrading her swollen, needy clit.
Shaking her head against the onslaught, she gasped, “No!” and closed her eyes again, afraid he would see the truth behind the lie.
Disappointment swamped Kurt after hoping Leslie would come clean about her identity. How could she think he wouldn’t remember her? He remembered everything; her body was just as soft and receptive to his touch and commands, her expressions and voice just as desperate and needy, her blue eyes just as sad behind the swirling, dilated arousal. There were some things the mask and wig couldn’t disguise.
He had wanted to fuck her again, ached to slide his throbbing cock into the slick wet heat clutching at his fingers, but given her continued subterfuge, he would refrain. He couldn’t leave her hurting though. If it was only a physical release she was needing, he could easily walk away as punishment for her lies. But her obvious emotional pain tugged at him, just like the night she’d gotten drunk as a means to cope with whatever issues were plaguing her. Later, he intended to delve into what it was about this one woman that pulled at him more than any other, but right now he had a duty, and a desire to ease the emotional strain etched on her face and clouding her eyes.
“Then there’s no reason to leave you hanging, is there, sweetheart?” He had the pleasure of seeing her blanch before he set up a rhythm alternating deep thrusts inside her quivering pussy with hip-jarring smacks on her soft buttocks. The velvet soft muscles gripped his fingers as he jabbed deep enough to bring her to her toes while her ass turned hot under his hand. The swat he delivered as he pulled his fingers back drew a whimpering cry and pushed her pelvis forward to press against his palm. Three more times he plunged inside her liquid heat, rasping the swollen tissues of her clit and convulsing pussy while caressing her warmed buttocks and then withdrawing and landing a blistering spank on the bouncing globes.
“Yes, God, please, yes,” she mewled over and over, her perspiration-slick body undulating in the restraints as he plundered and smacked until she convulsed with a spate of cream and tight clutches around his pummeling fingers. Laying her head back, her cry rent the space around them, drew heads and grins and had Kurt’s own heart aching at the sobbing relief in her strident voice.
By the time he brought her down from the exultant high and released her to fall into his arms, he knew he
wasn’t done with her. It was more than curiosity at this point that made him decide to find the answers to what made her tick, what prodded her into taking a stranger home one night and then lie to a Master weeks later. He accepted the subbie blanket Grayson handed him without a word, wrapped it around her quivering body and held her close while the tremors still running through her body slowly eased and her breathing returned to normal. When they did, he leaned back and nudged her chin up with two fingers.
Kurt waited for Leslie’s eyes to clear and focus on him, but as soon as she came to her senses, she pulled back, both physically and mentally.
“I… thank you, Sir. I have a long drive home, so I think I should go now.”
He wasn’t surprised at her withdrawal, in fact had been expecting it. “Let me help you dress and walk you out, then.” He released her to pick up her dress and panties.
“I can do it, I don’t need help,” she insisted, her voice husky.
“I’m sure you can and that you don’t, but you’re getting my help anyway. If you argue, you’ll find your ass over a spanking bench.” He smirked, reached around and patted her hot butt. “Think you’ll like getting a few strokes of my belt in the next few minutes?”
Her jaw went taut and those blue eyes behind the mask flared with irritation, but her pouty nipples tightened and goosebumps popped up along her arms, the two responses at odds with each other. “No, Sir, I don’t think I would.”
“That’s what I thought.” She might enjoy a session with his belt some other time, but he could tell she was done for tonight.
Leslie dressed quickly, as if eager to be on her way, or to get away from him, Kurt wasn’t sure which. By the time he took her hand and escorted her out to her car, he decided to send her off with something to think about before they met again. And, they would meet up again. Opening her car door, he waited until she slid behind the wheel and looked up at him, reaching for the handle.
Leaning down, he gave her a quick, hard kiss before backing up, saying, “See you soon, Leslie.” He shut the door and strolled back inside, grinning from the shock on her pale face.
Chapter 6
Leslie spent all day Sunday reeling from Kurt’s admission of knowing her true identity last night. She awoke with the effects of that scene still lingering, the soreness where he’d pressed the pinwheel hardest and the tenderness of her butt every time she sat down. It wasn’t the hardest spanking she’d ever received, but the most memorable as it had contributed to another intense climax. The heights she’d reached with him were beyond her imagination; nothing had felt that good and because of that, she was still shaken today. How one man managed to get such a tight grip on her in one night and maintain that hold for weeks until they met up again she couldn’t understand, let alone ever thought possible. And now she was left wondering and worrying what he meant by ‘seeing her again’. Maybe it had been naïve to believe he wouldn’t see through her disguise, but how was she to know he would remember a one-night stand weeks later?
Putting on music, Leslie went through the routine of cleaning her apartment even though it didn’t need it. With it being just her living in the small space, it didn’t get dirty enough to do a thorough cleaning every week, but it was a habit she’d gotten into when she’d owned a house in Reno and the mindless tasks were a way to unwind from the hours she’d spent at the club.
The one good thing she could attribute to being uprooted from her home and given a new identity was the freedom she’d gained to explore the BDSM lifestyle that had intrigued her for years. She could never get up the nerve to attend a beginner’s night at one of the clubs in Reno, fearing those closest to her would find out and turn judgmental. Here, she wasn’t close enough to anyone to worry about what they thought of her. Once she’d discovered the stress-relief benefits of sexual submission, she joined the club and prayed wind of her involvement never reached the ears of her co-workers at school. It wasn’t until her introduction to alternative sex and her embracement of her submissive side that she’d felt a kinship with other regular members at The Barn, and eventually grown to crave more from those limited relationships.
Leslie ran the vacuum around the couch, her mind conjuring up the image of her lying under Kurt, her body bowing to his demands as she writhed in the pleasure he’d proven so good at unleashing both that night and last night. In the weeks since she’d invited him home with her, she had failed to find an answer as to why she couldn’t put him and that night out of her mind. Now she found herself questioning how she could have been so stupid as to risk indulging in another scene thinking he wouldn’t remember her.
“It doesn’t matter,” she muttered, stowing the vacuum in the hall closet. If she stayed away from the club, she wouldn’t see him again, and that would be that. Her stomach cramped at the thought of once again giving up the only social and sexual outlet she’d allowed herself in the last three years. But what choice did she have? Master Kurt would demand answers and explanations if she returned next week, and she didn’t have any to give him, not without revealing her enrollment in the Witness Protection program. That was the one thing Detective Reynolds had drilled into her as he and Agent Summers laid out the details of her relocation – never reveal her real name or the circumstances that had forced her to change it. In this day and age of advanced technology and computer savvy techs willing to do anything for the right amount of money, it was too easy for Edwin Glascott to use his wealth and influence to track her down, not to mention to hire someone to do his dirty work for him.
The break-in at her house following the trial was solved, but there was no mistaking the threat when a car drove by the next day, the driver taking aim and shooting as soon as she’d opened her front door. Leslie still broke out in a cold sweat when she recalled the loud report of gun fire and her neighbor’s painful exclamation and shocked face as the eighty-something man’s arm was grazed. Even though the injury was superficial, it forced her hand into accepting witness protection. There was no way she’d risk someone else’s safety, or her own.
Leslie finished lunch and then booted up her computer to go over the week’s lesson plans, hoping work would keep her from thinking about a black-eyed cowboy who could turn her into a hot mess of longing with just one searing look. She managed to get finished in an hour, making a note of which students still needed help in some areas, and then spent an hour in the apartment complex’s gym, working out the last of the soreness from her physical exertion last night. Two months abstinence from the club activities left her out of shape for the intense scene Master Kurt put her through.
Returning to her apartment, she allowed a satisfied smile to curve her lips as she admitted the orgasms he’d wrung from her were worth the discomfort after weeks of inaction. As soon as she shut and locked the door behind her, her phone rang and she dug it out of her bag. Her throat went dry upon seeing Detective Reynolds’ name displayed and well-remembered ripples of misgiving trickled through her. Once a month, Agent Cathy Summers from the Witness Protection program checked in with her, but she hadn’t heard from the detective in charge of Alessandro Carmichael’s murder since right before she was flown to Montana.
Leaning against the door for support, she pressed the button to answer. “Detective. It’s been a while.”
“Yes, and I’m sorry to contact you out of the blue like this, but I wanted to be the one to tell you the Glascott brothers were in a knife fight at the prison last night. Jason was killed and Jake is in critical condition along with two other inmates. None of them are expected to make it,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of worry.
Leslie closed her eyes as she recalled the Glascotts’ cold faces right before Jake shot Alessandro in the head. She didn’t understand why her abdomen tightened with guilt or why her heart turned over in sympathy for how their young lives ended. They were evil, neither showing an ounce of remorse for the horrible act they’d committed, just nerve-racking hatred toward her in the courtroom.
“I’m sorry. Yo
u don’t think I should be happy about this, do you?”
“No, but I’m giving you a heads-up. Edwin Glascott is on a rampage. He’s been fighting tooth and nail to get both boys’ convictions overturned or, barring that, a new trial. I want you to be aware of what’s going on. You’re safe where you’re at as long as you don’t tell anyone who you really are.”
“I haven’t. I’d say pass on my condolences, but I don’t think that would go over well with the family. Thank you for letting me know.”
He hesitated then said, “Take care, Leslie, and remember, you did the right thing, a good thing.”
“Yeah, I’ll do that.” Leslie hung up, wishing doing the right thing wasn’t always so damn hard.
Kurt leaned his forearms on the top rail of the corral, chewing on a blade of straw as he watched the mustang pace back and forth along the opposite side. The stallion couldn’t understand why he was confined when there was all that open space for him to run and enjoy. He figured the animal had suffered worse than being penned up and hoped six months from now, the horse would know he only had his best interest at heart. It would take at least that long to put the weight back on him. For the next few weeks, his plan, other than nutrition, was to simply get the mustang used to his presence and let him know no one here would hurt him.
In time, he would discover what made the stallion tick, just as he was determined to unearth what had driven Leslie to invite a stranger home with her and prompted her to lie about her identity last night. Her eyes portrayed the same desperate need as the stallion’s, the look irresistibly sucking him in in both cases even though he was still pissed about Leslie’s deliberate subterfuge. She might think she had a good reason for it, but as far as he was concerned, no rationalization was good enough for lying to a Dom. He could forgive her that infraction if he could learn the cause for her behavior. Like most dominant men, he was a sucker for a woman with needs, whether they were physical or emotional, it didn’t seem to matter.
