Bind (11 page)

Before she expected it, he entered.

In response, she moaned. If this was punishment…

He began to finger-fuck her. She rose up but was careful not to let her legs close. Then she felt him push his thumb against her clit. The pressure was unbearably wonderful. “Mmm,” she said.

“Do you like this, my responsive little Lara?”

“So, so much,” she said, feeling an orgasm beginning.

But instead of driving her to completion, he pulled back then slapped her right buttock, hard.

She yelped.

Almost right away, the pain receded. Then it vanished when he pushed his finger back into her. The orgasm began to unfurl again. “Yes…”

He kept one hand between her legs but slapped her left ass cheek with the other.

The shocking sting added to the throbbing in her pussy.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “Tell me what you want.”

She shoved her pussy backward, wordlessly asking for more. “An orgasm.”

“An orgasm,
Sir
,” he coached.

“Yes! An orgasm, Sir.”

“Ask.”

She locked her knees for a moment as she fought for rational thought. “Please. Please, may I have an orgasm? Sir?”

“Have you earned it yet?” He spanked her right cheek again.

The orgasm started to burn in her. “More. Please.”

“Beg,” he told her.

“Please, will you spank me? Please will you give me an orgasm, Sir?”

“Absolutely perfect responses, little Lara,” he approved.

He smacked her left cheek, and he kept the punishment going, slapping the right side of her ass five times in quick succession before moving back to the left. “I…”

“Come when you’re ready,” he said.

He continued to rain the blows on her bare skin, and the climax gathered force.

“I want your juices all over me,” he told her.

His words, the small amount of pain, the way he ground his thumb against her, the speed with which he fingered her all combined to make her thighs tremble.

She cried out, choking on a sob as she thrust her hips back, demanding he go deeper, harder, and he gave her what she needed.

The orgasm plowed into her with a force she’d never experienced. She screamed out his name as she came, her pussy clenching.

He stayed there, saying things quietly, words that were so far away that she couldn’t make them out.

It took her a long time to return to reality and start breathing normally again.

Eventually he moved, picking her up, then he turned to sit on the bench with her on his lap.

Lara rested her cheek on his chest while he stroked her hair, brushing back her confounding, curly tendrils.

“I enjoyed that,” he said.

“I bet you did,” she agreed. She moved so she could look at him. “It’s not your ass that’s sore.”

“True.” He raised a finger to his mouth and licked her juices from it.

She’d never seen anything as shockingly erotic. It made her needy all over again.

“You survived your first punishment.”

“Are they all like that?”

“Depends on the infraction,” he said. “I told you I want the punishment to fit the crime. Your infraction was wanting to touch me, so I forced you to keep your hands on the bench. But you won’t always get an orgasm with a punishment. In fact, most times you won’t. I’ll want you to think about what you did.” He put his hand in her hair and pulled her head back a little. “You have one promise from me. You will never, ever be punished when either of us are angry. You’ll always know the reason as we will have talked about it ahead of time, and you will have agreed to it. At times, you may get to choose it.”

“I actually don’t intend to be punished ever again.” Even as she said it, she wriggled around on his lap, aware of the scratchy denim of his jeans and the tenderness of her skin.

“Would you like to see the playroom?”

“If you wish, Sir.”

He helped her to stand. A little embarrassed, she straightened her dress and reached for her underwear.

“Leave them. I like knowing you’re still damp, and I’m hoping your dress keeps reminding you of the handprints on your buttocks.”

“Diabolical.”

“Never underestimate that trait,” he warned, and she knew she’d do well to heed the words.

He led her to the playroom.

“Feel free to touch and hold anything.”

“I’m not sure I’m that brave.” She wandered around. A slender chest of drawers was pushed against one wall. Despite the fact there were no windows, the space seemed light and airy. The wooden floor was polished and, as she expected, all of the items in the room were obsessively organized.

“What is that?” she pointed to an odd-looking contraption in the corner. It had two different pads, set at different heights. It was covered in red vinyl, and the metal stand was painted a glossy black.

“Spanking bench.”

“It looks like a chair.” She considered it. “Of sorts.”

“It’s a versatile piece. The knobs on the side allow the back platform to be adjusted by about a foot and the lower portion can be unlocked so it folds down. Eyehooks allow the Dom to bind a sub in any number of ways. You can kneel on the bottom part and be secured to the top. I can have you stand and grab the top. From the opposite side, you can be fastened to the lower end so that you’re bent over more. I can even make it all the same height. The possibilities are almost endless.”

She realized he’d started out by talking about the spanking bench in general terms. But then he’d become more specific. Instead of discussing how a Dom restrained a sub, now he was being explicit about what he expected from her. “This place seems pretty kinky for a man who says he’s only looking for a submissive to show him respect.”

“I did say I enjoyed kinky sex,” he reminded her, his eyes dancing with a devilment that made her shiver.

“You did.” A number of floggers hung on the walls, along with other scary-looking implements of pain.

“You indicated you’d had some experience with a flogger.”

“It didn’t look quite like those. It was shorter, not as…” She searched for the right word. “Sturdy. Less expensive, maybe?” She doubted it had even been made of leather. Even from a few feet away, there was no mistaking the scent of these. “I’m not really sure what everything else is. Some, I can guess.”
The cane, for example.

He took down a coiled piece of leather. It was black, braided and fearsome.

“This is a single tail,” he said. “It’s a type of whip.”

“Looks like something out of an action-adventure movie.” She stared, fascinated. “Do you carry it when you go looking for the Holy Grail?”

“This whip does know how to get to the bottom of things. It’s particularly attracted to smart-asses.”

She hadn’t seen this side of him, a ferocious scowl softened by an easy tone. It made him more complex, more real, approachable. “You know, I kind of like that image,” she teased.
Maybe a little too much.
“I can see you as a dashing moving hero.
Sir
Indiana Jones, perhaps?” Damn if all of this didn’t add to his appeal, not that she needed any more reasons to be attracted to him.

“Let’s see if I can be as accurate with it as Indy was, shall we?” He shook out the single tail.

She took a step back, her laughter dying. He still looked dashing, but more than a smidgeon of intimidation had been mixed in. The whip portion had to be several feet long. “I promise to behave.”

“Like most things, it can be gentle or it can sting, depending. This one in particular is meant for beginners. For you.”

“It never occurred to me that there would be different kinds.”

“Some I would probably never use on you. I’d enjoy it if you asked for a session with it.”

“Until you, Mr. Donovan, I had thought I was at least a little adventurous.”

“Your choice.”

She was curious. Very much. And scared.

He waited.

“One?” she suggested.

“How would you like it?”

“I feel like I’m at a bar ordering a drink.”

“A brush of the tip? A crack?”

That suggestion made her clench her buttocks. “The first. Just a brush.”

“Let’s go over there, where there’s more room.”

Nerves and a swarm of excitement collided in her belly.

“I’m going to have a couple of practice strokes. Go ahead and sit on the spanking bench and watch.”

Lara recognized how smart he was. Letting her be a voyeur, getting her accustomed to his space in a nonthreatening way.

Since she wasn’t sure exactly sure how to sit on the thing, she chose the lower platform. The padding was surprisingly thick and firm. As she got comfortable, she couldn’t banish images of herself over it, face up, face down. In all her wild scenarios he’d immobilized her. Even though she’d had an orgasm a few minutes ago, she started to get aroused again.

He brought out a towel from one of the drawers and hung it from a hook secured to the wall, presumably as a target. Then he turned his body at a slight angle, put one foot forward, held the whip over his shoulder. A moment later, he brought it forward in a single gentle motion. The stroke landed right in the middle of the towel.

She stared, fascinated.

He turned and repeated the process, using his backhand.

“That sounded…quiet.” Not what she expected.

“You wanted the Hollywood version?”

Imagining him as the rakish hero, she said, “Yes.”

He turned to use his forehand again. This time, he cracked the whip.

She gasped, even though it had been nowhere near her. “Okay. That was scary.”

“It’s all in the touch, the force. Precision. Control.”

“That’s a word that suits you. Is that the way you run your life?”

“You could say that. Now bring that sweet rear of yours over here.”

“I might have changed my mind.”

He lowered his head a little and regarded her. With the look and using no words, he called her out as a coward, someone who wouldn’t do more than put a little toe into the water.

“Okay,” she said. “But just the brush part.” She stood. “You promise?”

“Lara.”

That uncompromising note galvanized her and she moved into the middle of the room.

“Your choice. You can get on all fours or lean up against the wall with your hands above you. Or you can bend over. I recommend one of the first two options because you’re more likely to stay in place. And I want your dress out of the way.”

“All fours,” she said.

She got into position and pulled up her dress. She felt scandalously exposed with her bare rear and still-damp pussy.

“Which cheek?”

“Left.” Backhand. Theoretically a weaker stroke.

“And the correct answer is…?”

Oh my God.
“Whichever you prefer, Sir.” She looked over her shoulder. “Does that earn me a punishment?”

“It does. One stroke on each ass cheek.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said miserably. She brought her head back to neutral and looked at the floor.

The first landed on her left buttock. A brush, something sensual that she barely felt. He followed it by a stroke on her right side. It bit and made her gasp. But it reignited her arousal.

“How was that?”

She hesitated. He’d left her hungry for more. But she was reluctant to reveal that she’d liked it. “Better than I imagined.”

He rubbed a thumb over each place he’d landed the strokes then said, “You can get back up.”

She accepted his hand.

Her dress fell back into place, and she rubbed her right butt cheek through the material.

He coiled up the whip and rehung it on the wall. It didn’t surprise her that he retrieved the towel, folded it and returned it to its rightful place.

Control was definitely the correct word to define his personality.

“These are crops.” He pointed to the far side, continuing his earlier conversation as if he hadn’t just delivered two exquisite lashes that made her mind spin. “This is a spanker.” He took it down and offered it to her.

At first glance it looked like a leather paddle. But he showed her it was actually two different pieces. “This one, you may actually like.”

Which meant there could be others she wouldn’t.

“This weekend, we can experiment with anything you choose. In fact, we can use all of them if you’re up for it.”

She couldn’t breathe.

“Spend Saturday with me. We’ll have some instructional time followed by a nice dinner, like a normal date, be seen in public together so that the announcement of our marriage will seems more realistic.”

“If it happens.”

“My lawyer is drawing up the prenuptial. I assume you’ve spoken to yours?”

“I was waiting until tomorrow.” She shook her head. “I mean, until after we’d been alone.” He, on the other hand, had known or at least suspected she’d respond well to him. Lara supposed she should be heartened by his confidence, but she was feeling slightly out of control and had been since the moment she’d walked into his office with her proposal. She’d had no idea what she was getting into.

“That’s fine. You can expect mine tomorrow, and you can make any amendments, have your lawyer review it and send it back.”

“Of course.” She reminded herself they were talking about a business transaction. But that was difficult to remember with the way her buttocks still burned. She’d felt the impact of his single tail and she was staring at countless other instruments of torture.

“This…”

He waited.

Lara was beginning to realize what a strength his silence could be. It forced someone else to speak, gave him the opportunity to think, respond and strategize. She vowed to learn from him.

Time stretched, and she wondered what kind of commitment he was demanding from her. He’d said Dominance was part of his personality, and this underscored it. “How often would we use this room?”

“Daily.”

Her heart stopped. “Are you serious?”

“No.” He grinned.

She closed her eyes to regroup.

“I anticipate we would use it often. At least once a week.”

Which meant, even if they were only married a year, fifty-two times. “You expect a lot.”

“I want you to be clear about what I will demand from you.”

“I think I’ve seen enough.”