He shifted his legs slightly so they hemmed her in a bit more, truly caging her there, and waited.
And slowly, beautifully, she began to move her hands between her legs, finding her slick flesh and moving her fingers through her folds to find her clit and the piercing that marked it.
Conrad reached out and fit his hand to her cheek again. Caressing her as she caressed yourself, yes. But also holding her there where he wanted her, with her face exposed to him.
He knew the precise moment she realized that. That he was keeping her face tipped up like that so he could see every glimmer of emotion, thought, anything at all, as it moved across her face.
And he could hear how slick she was, how wet, as her hands moved. It was quiet in this room and the sounds she made were greedy, rude, insistent. She rocked her palm into her pussy, very much the way he had the other day, her gaze fastened to him.
He liked the fine tremor he could feel build in her, and the way she moved quicker, with more confidence, as she went. He thought about that hot little clit ring and how it must be helping her get there as she worked.
And what he could do with it, in time.
Again, everything was quiet save the sound of her breath and her pussy. Her face got brighter, redder.
And he waited, watching her for the signs. The way her lips parted. The way she began to strain a bit, and then stiffened.
“You have my permission to come,” he told her, his voice low and commanding.
Right as she was on the edge.
He heard the stutter in her breath, the little cry, and then she threw herself over.
And he held her there between his legs, naked and kneeling at his feet, as she came for him. She shook and she bucked, and through all her shaking apart she tried her best to keep her eyes glued to him.
As if she dared not look away.
“Beautiful,” he said, his voice rougher than it should have been.
Because she was getting to him. She’d already gotten to him, but her willingness to submit was making his cock pulse and, far more worrying, his chest feel tight.
But he would deal with that later.
He stood, pulling her with him, and he loved how pliable she was. Supple and close to stumbling, really, though she didn’t. Quite. He turned her, so he could guide her with his hand wrapped around the back of her neck, and propelled her to an archway that led into a little alcove. Inside the alcove there were some bookshelves, a window overlooking the garden, a sturdy bench, and directly in front of the archway, a giant antique mirror tilted back against the wall.
Conrad saw her eyeing the bench, still fighting to catch her breath. He stood her there in the archway, waiting for her eyes to lift from that bench to the mirror. He met her gaze.
“You come beautifully,” he told her. “Thank me for allowing you the privilege, please.”
“Thank you,” she said, and he could hear the confusion in her voice, the pleasure and the wonder, the worry in the dark need.
“Thank you, who?”
Her eyes widened almost comically. “Sir,” she said in a hurry. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
He left her standing there and watched her in the mirror as he went into the alcove, opening up the bench to pull out the toys he wanted. He watched her fight to stay balanced and upright. She looked around the room, but only for a moment before directing her gaze back to him. And then keeping it there.
Something in him shifted at that. Because he’d forgotten what it was like to be looked at with so much...awe. Better still, they weren’t in a club, so there was no question that this was any kind of performance for the evening. Rory really was focused entirely on him.
His cock ached.
He had what he needed, so he walked around her to make her more nervous, then set about putting it all together. Briskly, as if the naked girl in the middle of it all hardly signified.
Conrad loved the way she watched him, as if she couldn’t decide if she was terrified or delighted.
Particularly when he attached his chains to the subtle eye hooks at the top of the arch. He let them drop, so he could watch her reaction at the clattering sound they made against the floor.
She had just come, but he could see her flush with a new arousal. Her nipples, soft after her climax, hardened again. And she was naked for him, so he could enjoy everything from the way her hair moved against her back to the ubiquitous tattoos she had, one behind her left shoulder and another on her leg.
If she was his, he would ink her soft, light brown skin with designs of his choosing. He could almost see the tattoo he would insist upon, stretching up one side and wrapping beneath one breast.
Then Conrad shook his head, because she wasn’t his. He wouldn’t be tattooing her. He didn’t know where such a thought had come from.
“I’m going to restrain you in a few different ways,” he told her, severely. “And sometimes the idea of bondage is quite different from the reality. That makes it a good time to think about your safewords. Tell me what they are.”
She looked as if she might come out of her skin.
“Um. Green if everything is good. Yellow if I need a pause. Red to stop.” Her eyes widened when his brow rose. “Sir.”
“Very good.”
He went to her neck first, buckling a play collar around it, a sturdy, stiff leather to help give her the sensation of his hand there. Sure enough, she responded immediately. He felt her go distinctly pliant, and her eyes took on that glassy sheen he wanted.
“Okay?” he asked, moving his hand as he studied her face, down the sweet length of her spine to the intriguing curve of her ass.
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
And while she was concentrating on having a binding around her neck, he picked up a pair of cuffs and moved behind her, letting his hands travel down the length of her arms before securing her wrists in the small of her back.
“Stand straight, please,” he told her, with just enough edge to make her jolt before she obeyed.
He pulled her elbows toward each other until she arched her back. “This is how I want you to stand. I like the curve here.” He smoothed his palm along it. “I like that it raises your breasts and puts all of your beautiful body on display for my pleasure.”
Conrad gathered her hair in one hand, and began to twist it into a smooth, glossy rope. Then he pulled back when it was good and tight so she tipped backward, her head resting against his shoulder. Then he held her there before him.
“Look in the mirror,” he ordered her.
He liked the image himself. Rory was bound with a thick black collar around her neck. She wore nothing else but the flush on her skin and lovely goose bumps to mark the way. He watched her, pleased at the contrast they made in the mirror. He was all in black, his sternest look on his face, and she was melting, trembling, lost in that exquisite distress that he adored.
She was such a little thing, particularly in her bare feet, slender and curvy at once. He liked how lush her hips were and the way they flared. And when he trailed a hand down her side, where he could see that tattoo if he squinted, he cupped her breast and the little sigh she let out arrowed straight through him. Heating him up almost to the boiling point.
Soon, he promised himself.
“Now I’m going to make it interesting,” he said. “Because I think you like a little pain with your pleasure. But then, whether you do or don’t, I do. You want to please me, don’t you, Rory?”
He watched her in the mirror. And the way her eyes were on him, only him, even as her body trembled.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” He pulled out the clamps he’d put in his pocket, and held them so she could see them. “These are vicious. And effective. You’ll see what I mean.”
Conrad let her hair fall, then moved around in front of her. T
hen he enjoyed himself. He played with her breasts, watching the expression on her face change as she felt the way the cuffs and the collar restrained her. He grabbed a handful of her ass, gripping her hard so she went up on her toes. And he slid a demanding finger through her folds, to confirm that she was molten hot and ready, to play with that clit and his favorite piercing, and to watch her eyes go dark.
But then he returned to her breasts, holding up each one in turn, and playing with her nipples. Stimulating them, roughly, to see what she would do.
What she did was dance a bit into his touch, and then let out a shaky sort of moan when he bent his head and pulled one nipple deep into his mouth. And sucked.
He felt her react. He felt a kind of lightning shoot through her, and while she was still making a little noise, he fixed the clamp to her nipple.
Rory didn’t disappoint him. She howled and bucked, but she was cuffed and he had a hold of her. While she was protesting, he bent his head, sucked her other nipple deep and then clamped it the same.
He waited for her to safeword out, but she didn’t.
Conrad was unduly proud.
Then he stood back and watched her deal with it. Her pulse beat in her throat. Her breath was harsh, wild, and she looked shocked. He suspected her head was swimming, every breath a jagged reminder of her submission.
“Breathe,” he advised her, with certainty. “The more you hold your breath, the worse it is.”
“I thought you’d never experienced it,” she snapped at him, furiously.
All he did was stare at her, his gaze dark, one brow raised.
And she...quailed. “I didn’t... I’m sorry... I just...”
“With every syllable you utter, you’re making it worse,” he said with a soft menace that he could see go through her like a cattle prod. “Safeword or be silent. Those are your choices.”
She wisely chose to be silent. Conrad eyed the placement of the clamps critically, then moved around behind her so he could grip her cuffed wrists, making sure his grip jostled her breasts so the clamps would remind her they were there.
Rory hissed at the sensation.
“Actions have consequences,” he told her, his face and voice severe. “If I ask you to do something and you disobey me, that would normally simply...be life. People will do and say whatever they like, after all. But this is a scene. You and I have decided that I have the authority over your surrender.”
Her lips were parted, her eyes gloriously bright, as she gazed back at him with beautiful apprehension.
“And you may not understand this now, Rory, but I’m going to tell you the real truth about how to choose dominants to match your submission. It’s not how they make you come, because the truth is, anyone can do that. You just did it yourself.”
He leaned in close and put his mouth at her ear. “The true measure of a man, in particular a dominant, is how he enforces the agreed upon boundaries. If I allow you to break my rules, how would you respect me enough to truly surrender yourself to me?”
Conrad ran his teeth over the tattoo on her shoulder, pleased when goose bumps followed and her whole body heated up. “If I permit your disobedience, that gives you the power and if you wanted the power, you wouldn’t be submitting in the first place. If you didn’t crave discipline, your body wouldn’t react the way it does under the circumstances.” He reached down and stroked his way between her legs, tugging gently on her piercing until she made a rich little sound of need. “And your body is already an addict, Rory.”
He propelled her forward, then turned, sitting down on the bench and tipping her over his lap. He knew how out of control this must have felt for her, and yet he was distinctly controlling her at the same time. Because her hands were caught behind her back, and her breasts would feel extra full and aching with the clamps on. He hung her over his knee so that gravity tugged on her breasts and intensified that sensation and she had no choice but to stay where he put her.
Completely in his hands.
Conrad smoothed a hand over her round pert ass. “You told me you’ve never been spanked, and I’m afraid that you will find this quite painful. I want you to remember, that’s the point.”
She stiffened and kicked a little. He moved a leg over both of hers, to trap her into place, and he could feel her fight that.
“Yellow,” she cried out.
“Are you telling me to pause because you’re actually overwhelmed, Rory?” he asked her, his hand on her ass no longer moving. He went still, but he kept her where she was. “Or because you’re apprehensive?”
“I don’t... I don’t want to be spanked.”
His hand trailed over her ass again, while his other one held her hands against the small of her back to remind her that he was the one keeping her there. Right where he wanted her.
“I’ll give you points for honesty.” And somehow, he kept from laughing at her predicament. “But is this about what you want or about what I want?”
“I don’t know.” She sounded fierce and furious. “Something about boundaries and discipline and whether or not I’ll respect you. I feel like I respect you enough already.”
“You’re attracted to me,” he agreed. “Drawn to me, even. But respect? I don’t think so.”
“But—”
“Enough talking.” He traced his way down the dark furrow of her ass and beneath, the hungry wet clench of her pussy. “You feel wet and needy to me, Rory. Are you still yellow?”
He felt her fight, and then submit. He felt the shudder go through her and then she relaxed against him, and he thought he had never wanted another woman more.
“I’m green, Sir,” she whispered.
Conrad rewarded her by tracing his finger through her wetness, circling around her desperate clit. Then he returned to the task at hand.
“I’m going to spank you five times.” He kept his voice appropriately stern and authoritative. “Because you’re brand-new, I’m going easy on you with this low, paltry number. You may thank me.”
“Thank you,” she gritted out, not sounding remotely thankful.
He bit back a grin. If there was anything on this earth better than a grumpy submissive trying to prepare herself for a punishment she both wanted and hated, he didn’t know what it was.
He gripped her ass, hard. “Pardon? Thank you, who?”
“Sir,” she wheezed.
He began to rub her, then, roughly, covering both ass cheeks as he got her blood moving.
“I want you to count, Rory. If you lose count, I’ll start over. After each blow, you will say ‘one, thank you, Sir. Two, thank you, Sir.’ And so on. Do you understand?”
She was wriggling, slightly. He could see her shiver, then flush. And her ass was already reddening beneath the rough treatment he was giving it, which made him imagine how lovely it would look with a few handprints.
He could feel his own elevated pulse in his cock, but that was part of the fun.
“Yes, Sir,” Rory whispered.
“You can make all the noise you want,” he assured her. “That, too, is a gift. No matter how much it hurts, or how much you scream, you will still count. Is that understood?”
“Y...yes, S—”
And before she could really finish that sentence, he spanked her.
Hard.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HE ACTUALLY HIT HER.
Spanked her.
And it hurt like hell.
Rory jerked in his hold, though it was pointless. He was holding her bound hands against her back, pressing her down into his knee. And his leg was over her feet, so she couldn’t kick.
Pain exploded through her like a bright, sharp wave.
And when she jerked, those horrible clamps bit hard into her nipples, so she was strung out somewhere between the pain in her breasts and the sharper, hotter pain in her butt.
For a narrow, impossible length of time that could easily have been forever, everything was pain. Everything was that endless, encompassing wave, washing through her, over her—
This was awful. What was she doing? Why the hell had she not only gone out of her way to make this happen, but had enthusiastically participated—
“Was that a free one?” came his cool, maddening voice from above. “Just practice? Or are you counting?”
Rory wanted to kill him. Her eyes were blurry with pain and fury, and she opened her mouth to tell him exactly what she thought of him. But his hand was on her ass. Right where he’d spanked her, and it hurt, but then again, there was something else threaded in there beneath the pressure of his palm.
She took a breath instead of swearing at him, and when she did, she could feel all the same things she already did. That bright, painful place where he’d spanked her. The teeth of those clamps making her nipples feel hot and glaring, but also...him.
That big hand, hot against her ass. His strong thighs beneath her, and the leg holding her in place. The fact of his clothing against her nakedness, adding to it all, making her skin feel even more sensitive.
And that was different, somehow, to think about him. To feel him, and that impossibly gorgeous body of his, so hard and toned. It didn’t change the pain, or make it better, but it made it bearable.
“One, thank you, Sir,” she managed to get out, though her voice was choked.
“Next time louder, please,” he said, as if he was a professor somewhere, asking for a different font size on a boring paper.
That struck her as ridiculous. Though really, no more ridiculous than the fact she was naked and trussed up like a turkey, and not because she’d been kidnapped or taken against her will—no. This was worse.
She had chosen to be here. And just now, she’d reinforced that choice.
For some reason, that made something in her seem to yawn open, then. Wide and dizzying.
And almost unutterably raw.
Smack.
He hit the other cheek, and it was the same. Worse, almost.
That bright bloom of sharpness, the awful burn of it. Rory knew better than to jerk the way she had before, but she did it anyway. And it had the same result, so she yelped in reaction, not sure what to do in all that confusion of pains. Should she try to move away from that slap or away from the persistent ache in her nipples?
Tempt Me Page 10
