by Lily Harlem
Imogen didn’t reply. She couldn’t imagine what it must feel like.
Tara was hit again, the opposite buttock this time. She flung her head back and arched her spine. The skin on her rear rippled and shook.
Several more hits rained down, all landing on the roundest sections of her ass cheeks and creating ear-splitting cracks that echoed around the quiet room.
After a few minutes, and when Tara’s skin glowed ruby red, her master set down the paddle. He kneeled behind her and, spreading his fingers wide, he caressed her thighs, her buttocks, and her lower back. It was as though he was admiring his handiwork and was fascinated by the results.
Tara sagged, allowing the cross to hold her.
Imogen’s heart was beating fast. She pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and wondered what was going to happen next.
Tara’s master pulled something from his pocket.
Imogen tipped her head to try to see around him, get a glimpse of what it was.
Kane’s arm shifted on her shoulder. He ran his hand to her neck and stroked the collar.
Imogen glanced at him.
He was staring straight at her.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly. “With this?”
“The collar?”
He smiled, just a little. “It suits you. What I meant was watching this scene. It’s not over yet.”
The collar suited her? “Er, yes. I’m fine.”
“It’s what she wants.”
Imogen nodded and tore her gaze from Kane. She didn’t know what was happening now, but Tara’s master was busy behind her on his hands and knees.
“What’s happening?” Imogen asked quietly.
“He’s inserting a butt plug.”
“A butt plug?” Imogen turned to Kane, her eyes wide.
“It’s what she wants. It’s what she likes.”
“Oh…” Damn. Imogen wished she didn’t seem so naive but she’d never used or even seen a butt plug before. Yet here she was, witnessing one being inserted.
“Anal play is common here,” Kane said, moving his finger from the collar to the base of Imogen’s neck. “The sensations add to the experience.”
Tara groaned and let her head fall back, so that she was gazing at the ceiling. Her long dark hair swayed down her spine, swishing over her skin. Her fists were clenched and when one groan ended, another began.
It certainly seemed like the butt plug was enhancing Tara’s experience.
Her master stood. He picked up the paddle and slapped each of Tara’s buttocks hard and fast.
Tara cried out. Her ass clenched.
“See now, when he hits, she can’t help but react by contracting her internal muscles,” Kane said. “That means the plug will press on all those little sweet spots high inside. She’ll want to come really soon.”
“Oh, God,” Imogen murmured. She’d found that she’d clenched her own buttocks, her pussy muscles too.
Kane slid his finger from her nape across to her shoulder, the one nearest him. He drew a circle then stroked down her arm.
A shiver of longing went through Imogen. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was longing for, but Kane was definitely at the heart of the need building in her.
Tara’s master moved to the front of the cross.
Imogen could see his face now. A slick of sweat sat on his hairless head and his lips were pressed tight, as though he was determined in his mission.
He kissed Tara again, hard, and delved one hand between her legs.
Tara bucked and writhed but couldn’t move far. Her skin glowed and when she arched her back, the base of the plug, a large sapphire jewel, was visible.
“Now what’s happening?” Imogen asked.
Kane leaned a little closer. “He’s going to make her come.”
His breath washed over Imogen’s shoulder and seemed to trickle down to her nipples.
Damn, she was so turned on just watching this. She’d never thought she would be. But Kane at her side—not businesslike, efficient Kane, but seductive, mysterious, sexy Kane—had her wanting sex in a way she never had before.
She swallowed, resisted squirming, and blew out a breath through pursed lips.
The master was working his sub with his hand, fingering her and stimulating her clit.
“More, more, please, Sir,” Tara cried.
Her master reached behind her, gripped her poor marked ass and squeezed.
She howled and thrust forward then backward. “Yes, yes.” Her body trembled and shook. A glistening moisture appeared between her legs as she came.
“Oh…” Imogen said on a sigh.
Kane placed his hand on her cheek and turned her to face him. He didn’t speak, just stared into her eyes.
Imogen blinked rapidly. The whoosh of her pulse in her ears swirled with Tara’s cries of release.
Kane frowned, his lips a tight straight line.
Imogen felt as though he was looking into her soul, into the very heart of her desires. In that moment, she didn’t think she could hide anything from him.
She didn’t want to.
She’d just learned that she wanted more, that she wouldn’t be satisfied until she’d explored why watching a flogging and a spanking had turned her on so much. The need to know how it would feel to have Kane strap her down and make her come was almost overwhelming.
“Good girl,” he said. “That’s it. Embrace it.”
“Embrace what?”
“Every aspect of your sexuality. It is the only true way to exist.”
She nodded.
“I didn’t make a mistake bringing you here, did I?”
“No.”
“You understand what you’ve seen?”
“Not all of it, but I want to know more.”
“You’re curious?”
“Yes.”
“Then we have achieved what I hoped we would tonight.”
“We have?”
“Absolutely.” He released her face and glanced at his watch. “We should go now. That’s enough for your first visit.”
Chapter Eight
The hotel suite was silent as Imogen stepped in. She paused and watched Kane remove his tuxedo jacket and rest it on the back of the sofa. He’d changed from the black velvet one as they’d left the club, explaining that it was Sub Space rules that gold star jackets remained on the premises.
She glanced toward her bedroom, then over at the room Kane had used to shower and change. The place was so huge, so extravagant, but right now she’d happily be in a small, standard room with only one bed so there’d be no question about them sharing. Because if she didn’t get some relief soon from the frustration growing deep in her belly she was sure she’d go mad.
All the way back in the limo she’d thought about what she’d seen—the spanking, the pale female skin turning red, the men pleasing their women, mastering them, wringing sublime orgasms from them.
She imagined Kane there. In that role. Performing, satisfying his urges, sating his desires. But she didn’t think of the women he was with, she only saw herself there, bent over for him, legs spread for him, her arms reaching for him.
She kept her focus on him now as he turned up the cuffs on his shirt, three neat rolls on each sleeve. He did it in that controlled way of moving he had, unhurried, very precise. The low lights created heavy shadows on his features and in the vertical creases on his shirt. Behind him, through the huge windows, New York twinkled and seemed to create a glow for him to bask in. Halo-like—but she now knew that he was no angel.
Imogen shifted on her heels. Her feet were aching a little. The flesh between her legs was aching a lot.
“Please, allow me,” Kane said. He dropped to one knee.
“Kane?”
He took her left foot in his hand. “Your feet are starting to complain, I’m sure. These boots are new.”
“Er, yes.” Imogen rested her hand on his shoulder, absorbing the hardness of his body beneath the material of his shirt. “A b
it.”
Very gently, Kane wriggled the shoe section of the boot then slowly, oh so slowly, slid it off, revealing her leg. Once that boot was set aside, he repeated the process with the other one.
He stood, uncurling his spine and smoothing the material at his groin.
Imogen watched him straighten. He was once again taller than her and she felt small in her bare feet next to him.
“I’m sure the senior partners at Coutts would have a fit to see one of their most valued clients on his knees removing my boots,” she said.
“Coutts’ senior partners are a million miles away,” Kane said. He reached behind his neck and undid his bow tie. It slid from beneath the collar and he tossed it aside so it landed next to his jacket.
“Yes, I suppose they are.”
“Everyone and everything is a million miles away.” He spoke in a low, husky whisper. “There’s only us, Imogen. Nothing else exists at this moment in time.”
“I like that thought.” She pulled in a deep breath. The dress suddenly felt tight and restrictive. “I like it a lot.”
“It’s that blankness many subs strive for,” he said, glancing at her breasts as they pushed forward with her breaths, the lace of the corset straining. “They enjoy letting go of all responsibility, and only the physical existing. Real life worries fade away. It’s a break from normality and the daily grind. It’s a place that calls to them.”
Imogen remembered the willing surrender of the women at the club, at the total lack of control and the awe-inspiring trust they had in the men playing their bodies like fine instruments. “I think I can understand that now.” She reached for her collar. Standing so close to Kane with him looking at her with such intensity was making her hot, as was thinking of the club. She had the urge to fidget, though didn’t dare risk breaking the spell.
“Please,” he said. “Leave that on. For a little while longer.”
“The collar?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” She took hold of the top bow that held the front of her outfit together. He wanted the collar on, but would he object to her removing the dress? She didn’t think so, but she couldn’t be sure—predictability didn’t go on Kane Ward’s résumé.
But she’d take the chance. For the sake of her sanity, she’d offer him what she thought he wanted, hoped he needed. Even if it meant her ass cheeks got a beating—which didn’t sound like a wholly unpleasant option, even if it was a bit scary.
She tugged and the ribbon slid free.
Kane shut his eyes. His lashes cast shadows on his cheeks.
For a few seconds she thought he would stay that way but then he opened his eyes and stared straight at her. He tipped his chin upward. His expression was stern.
Her heart rate skittered, but Imogen continued to pull the lace, threading it through the eyelets. The dress relaxed around her breasts, and air washed over her cleavage as it was revealed.
“Imogen,” Kane said breathily, with a slight frown marring his brow.
“What?” she asked. Damn, was she reading this all wrong? Well, it was too late now, the dress was coming off. Another few tugs and the straps would slip down her arms and it would pool at the floor around her feet.
“I want you,” he said hoarsely.
He did. Thank God.
“And I want you.” She paused. “And if you need to bend me over, tie me up, hit my backside to get off, then I’m willing to try it.” She would, right now, for him. If it was what he needed.
He reached for her face, his fingers gentle on her cheeks. “Baby,” he whispered, his lips hovering over hers. “I have my kinks, no doubt about that, but not tonight. Not this first time with you.”
She held onto his forearms.
He was tense, the muscles and tendons taut and sinewy.
“But I thought—” she started.
“You thought wrong.” He touched his mouth to hers. It was a gentle, respectful kiss, no tongue, just lips pressing together. He pulled back a fraction and stared into her eyes.
“I did.” She curled her toes on the carpet and was aware of the dress slipping until the straps caught halfway down her upper arms. “I thought wrong?”
“Yes. Because sometimes…” He glanced downward, at her breasts partly exposed now by the gape in her outfit.
“Because what?”
“Because sometimes vanilla is the best flavor.” He slid his touch from her face to her shoulders, then to her arms. “Sometimes vanilla is the only flavor that will do, Imogen.”
“Vanilla?”
“No spanking, no bondage. Just us.”
She let out a breath she hadn’t known had trapped itself in her throat. “Okay.” She could handle that. Maybe it would be for the best. This time at least.
She released his arms and allowed the straps to fall. The entire dress landed on the floor. She kicked it aside, aware of her naked breasts swaying as she moved.
He rubbed the tip of his finger over his left eyebrow and stared down at her. He pressed his teeth into his bottom lip.
Imogen forced herself still. All the times she’d fantasized about Kane she’d never envisioned this moment. Wearing nothing but a pair of tiny black knickers in a top-class suite in New York hadn’t entered her imagination. Nor had the thought that he’d be into bondage and floggers.
Yet now it couldn’t be more perfect.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. “Even more so than I thought possible.”
Her nipples were tight, hard peaks and the tiny hairs on her arms prickled. A warmth went through her at his words—he thought she was beautiful.
“Turn around,” he said.
She did as he’d asked. Her line of sight settled on a huge bunch of lilac and cream flowers on a dresser.
“So perfect,” he said quietly. “Your skin. It’s flawless.” He cupped her buttocks. His hands were big and hot and his fingertips sank into the lower curve.
He came closer, his chest touching her back as he drifted his hands over the waistband of her knickers. “Give me strength,” he murmured against the angle of her neck.
“For what?” she asked, reaching up and resting her hand on his stubbled cheek.
“To not take you to the edge tonight.”
“Do whatever you want to me, Kane.” Had she really just said that? To a master from Sub Space. Was she insane?
“I think you should retract that offer immediately.” He kissed her neck, then gave it a sharp bite.
“Ow.” She jumped within his arms.
“Shh, just be careful what you say to me. I’m a mere mortal after all.”
She wriggled a little within his hold and his erection strained at the top rise of her buttocks. “But maybe I could handle it.”
“Maybe you could, maybe you couldn’t. But tonight is not about that, it’s about us.” He kissed down her neck and slipped his caress up her stomach to her breasts. He held their weighty underside and flicked his thumbs over her nipples. “This has been too long a wait.”
Imogen groaned and pressed her palms over his knuckles. She’d been on the edge for what felt like hours and now she needed more, so much more. “I agree, it’s been a long day.”
“I’m not talking about today.” He kissed up her neck, to the shell of her ear.
“You’re not?”
“No, I’ve been waiting for this for months. Waiting to get my hands on you, touch you, learn everything about you.”
She shut her eyes and let those words settle. Damn, it was exactly how she felt too. “Kane.”
“Yes?”
“Fuck me.”
He chuckled and grazed his teeth over her earlobe. “I always knew there was a bad girl in there.”
“Yes, well, I think you’ve tempted her out to play.” Her voice was breathy.
Suddenly he spun her to face him.
She gasped. Her chest mashed against his shirt and his cock strained at her belly as he pulled her close.
“Be careful, baby, you’re playin
g with a dom.” He rammed his mouth down on hers. His tongue probed between her lips, and as he slanted his head to get a better angle it went deeper, sweeping into her mouth.
Imogen clung to his shoulders and gave as good as she got. She’d been waiting so long for this kiss. This hot, hard, desperate kiss with Kane. The man of her fantasies, the man who was now holding her as if he would never let go.
He stooped and cupped her ass.
Imogen was lifted into the air. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms about his neck. She clung to him. Their kiss didn’t break as he strode toward her bedroom.
The thin strip of material covering her pussy was damp and pressing onto Kane’s clothing. She wanted him naked. So many times she’d imagined his bare torso, and now here she was with barely a stitch on and he was fully dressed. She reached for the top fastened button on his shirt and one-handedly undid it. Time to rectify the situation.
He kept on walking as she undid the next and the next. Once in the bedroom, he tipped her onto the bed. He hovered over her, trapped by her legs still curled about his waist. She pulled at the material on his shirt and yanked it from the waistband of his trousers. With another tug she had it up his back and sliding over his head.
Finally she had a chance to admire Kane’s body. Even though the room was in semi-darkness, she could see that his skin was tanned and his pecs and abs defined. He had a good coating of body hair, which she’d expected as he was so dark and his facial stubble so thick. What she hadn’t expected were three small tattoos just below his right collarbone—small stars, like the ones on his jacket at the club.
She slid her hands over him, caught his nipples beneath her fingers, then smoothed round to his shoulders.
He released a small moan. “Imogen.”
“Mmm?”
“While I still have some rational thought in my head, I should ask…” He paused and looked down at her breasts.
“What?”
“Should I? Do I need to wear a condom?” He glanced back up at her face. “I’m clean.”
It hadn’t been what she’d been expecting him to ask. She let her legs slip from the tight grip she had on his waist. “I, er… no. I had a full check a few months ago.”
