Brat and Master (9 page)

“Do you object to being called my toy, Amanda?”

Her heart sped up. “No.” She hesitated, then decided she’d better admit it. “That was hot. Like when you told him I was yours.”

“One final question. Did you set that up to make me jealous?”

She shook her head and bit her lip.

“Tell me,” he said, putting his hand under her chin and tilting it up until she met his gaze.

“He was a former lover. We had a falling out, but he wanted to get back together, I guess. I was telling him no.”

“Thank you.” He let go of her chin and turned her slightly away, sliding his right arm up from her waist until his hand cupped her breast. There was nothing subtle about the gesture, and they were in full view of half the club. Vincent was probably still watching. She closed her eyes because she didn’t want to know, and relaxed into it. Normally, it was the kind of thing that ticked her off, even from play partners. Scenes belonged on the furniture, and she liked knowing where they began and ended. He was claiming her, in front of everyone, even if only for the night. Telling people he could touch her where he pleased. She didn’t mind at all, especially if Blackie got the message. Scenes were one thing. Right now, for one night, she wanted to belong to anyone.

“I look forward to playing with my toy,” he whispered.

She purred and leaned against him, arching and letting her head loll backward against his shoulder. He rubbed his thumb against her nipple through the fabric. He rested his other hand against the top of her stockings, then slid it upward to bare thigh. His fingers were fractions of an inch away from her pussy. She knew he would find her wet and willing, even if he wanted to finger her right there. Even if he wanted to bend her over the rail and fuck her. She relished being his toy.

“You’re in a very submissive mood, aren’t you? Turns me on, you know.” He moved more squarely behind her, and she felt physical evidence of his arousal against her backside. He guided her forward until she was against the rail. The rail came just below her chest, and she realized her fantasy of being fucked while bent over it was impractical; it was too high. They didn’t, after all, want people falling.

He lifted his lower hand, and her dress went fluttering until it fell down again. He cupped both her breasts, and his thumbs drew little circles around her nipples, willing her peaks to hardness. They responded eagerly to his touch, tightening, lengthening, tingling.

“My toy responds very nicely,” he murmured into her ear, his voice low and rich, with a hint of roughness behind the velvety softness.

“Thank you, Sir. I’m glad you are pleased.” She turned her head and smiled at him. He caught her lips in a kiss that started out soft and nibbly. Then he put his hand on the back of her head and pulled her against him, taking her breath away.

“Damn, you’re a good kisser,” he told her.

“Me?” His kiss had left her weak in the knees.

“You.” But when he said it, his face clouded over in a way she couldn’t figure out. Being a good kisser was a positive thing, wasn’t it? Yet it didn’t seem to make him happy.

“Let’s go see if we can find a cross,” he said. “I’ll get my bag.” He pulled her gently from the rail and then turned. His “bag” turned out to be a small metal suitcase, resting against the wall not far from where Blackie had accosted her.

“Best place for a cross is the dungeon room. They probably have two in there now, since they don’t have one set up in the middle.”

He smiled at her, but it was more politeness than warmth. The heat that she’d felt moments before seemed to have gone completely.

What did I do wrong?

A SIMPLE SCENE had been all Jeremy was after. He’d been urged into more that morning in the park, and he needed to keep his head clear. The thing with Amanda wasn’t about romance. It was about kink. He ought to be able to keep the difference straight.

But something had flipped when he’d seen the big man put his hands on Amanda. It had been foolish to physically confront him—he needed to protect his fingers, and he didn’t doubt the man could have broken them to shake his grasp—but he couldn’t help it.
I was being protective, that’s all.
But he knew it was more than that. He was possessive too. That was why he’d grabbed Amanda afterward, fondled her in front of everyone, and kissed her until his lips bruised. He’d been staking a claim he had no right to. He had wanted a fling, a distraction, not a relationship.

He already felt he didn’t want to let Amanda go.

He wasn’t going to douse those feelings by kissing her. He owed her a good time, but he needed to maintain some distance. A simple scene with her strapped to a cross would do the trick nicely. He walked toward the dungeon, trusting her to follow. The
click clack
of her heels on the shiny wooden floor was confirmation.

There were indeed two St. Andrew’s crosses in the dungeon room, as well as shackles on the wall, a table that resembled a rack, and another small table that held safer sex supplies: condoms, lube, dental dams, and gloves. One of the crosses was unoccupied. The other had a naked, athletically built young man strapped to it. His top, a bigger, older man, was flogging his back with hard, deliberate overhand strokes, using a big mop of a flogger. The swings looked vicious, but the flogger appeared to be a soft one. The technique was about as far from Amanda’s beautiful patterns in the air as one could get, but it was still effective, as the young man’s moans indicated. He saw Amanda move to get a peek at the sub’s front, and chuckled.

He walked to the empty cross, which was set up so as to face the other way from the one the men were using, and was slightly off line so that Jeremy wouldn’t be backing up into the other top. Amanda came with him.

“So,” said Jeremy, quietly enough that the men wouldn’t be disturbed, “was he hard?”

Amanda blushed. “Yes. Did you mind me looking?”

He shook his head, wondering if he was being completely honest. Cheri had been so devoted, so focused on him that he couldn’t imagine her path deviating to look. He’d always wondered if that was entirely healthy. It seemed to work for her. But Amanda was not Cheri, and he couldn’t treat her the same.

“Whatcha thinking?” asked Amanda. “Um, Sir.”

He pulled her into his arms. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes for what I have in mind.”

“Hmm. Should we negotiate that? I look much better with them on.”

“I’ll tell you what. If I agree, I’ll let you get dressed again.” He found the zipper on the back and walked his fingers up until he reached the top. Then he pulled the zipper down and pushed the dress off her shoulders. To his delight, that was all it took to have it fall to the floor. He backed off a moment to take in the sight of Amanda in lingerie. Her pinkish-tan nipples were visible through the sparse lace of her bra.

She blushed.

“So, can I put it back on now?” she asked.

“Not a chance.” He liked her thighs too, with the black lines of suspenders cutting across the pale flesh. “Take your panties off for me.”

She nodded and slipped them down. He noticed she’d attached the suspenders underneath her underwear to make it possible without messing with the clasps. He was surprised, however, by the sight of blonde curls that didn’t match her dark hair. The black lines of the garter belt framed her mound beautifully. His cock hardened. He wanted to bend her over the table in the other corner of the room and fuck her hard.

She caught him staring. “You approve of what you see, Sir?”

“I do. Why do you dye your hair?”

“It was black and pink. This was the color my hairdresser thought would look the most natural after she took that out.”

He grinned. Black and pink sounded interesting too. “Why’d you change?”

“I’m job hunting.”

“Ahh. What do you do?”

“I train people how to use business software.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. That wasn’t it, but it fit. She was obviously smart, and the skills she’d shown when doing her demos on negotiation and on flogging showed that she was a natural trainer. Personally, he thought his attention would be held better by a woman with pink hair, but he understood that wasn’t the way everyone’s mind worked. “I bet you’re good at your job.”

“I am.”

No demure false humility. He grinned.

“That’s not all I’m good at.” Amanda winked, and it sent a shiver down his spine. His cock got harder. Achingly hard. He needed a distraction.

“Turn and face the cross,” he said.

She turned, wiggled her ass, and followed directions. She spread her legs and arms to match the X, which looked exquisite. Her skin looked perfect against the dark wood of the cross.

He tore his gaze from her for a moment to open his bag. He pulled out several lengths of black nylon rope, which he’d pulled the cores out of to produce a hollow and more flexible material. He found the rope held the knots better without the core too. He bent down and wrapped it around her right ankle several times, finished it with a bowline knot, and made sure he could slip a finger between the rope and her ankle so that she’d have adequate circulation. He attached it to the O-ring that was conveniently located on the cross for the purpose.

“You know,” said Amanda. “When I met you, I was sure I’d have to teach you how to do things like that.” She grinned. “And here you are, an expert. Your rope even feels lovely.” She wiggled her ankle.

“Glad you approve. I’m not an expert, though. I’ve just listened to a few.” He’d given her some range of motion. It was almost impossible to avoid, without turning her foot and tying her ankle directly to the cross. But no matter how much she wiggled, the knot wouldn’t tighten or come undone. He moved over to give her other ankle the same treatment.

She sighed when he was done.

He straightened. “You like rope?” he asked softly.

“Love it,” she whispered. “Will there be more?”

“Yes. I don’t want you thrashing around.”

“Oh, I’ll be good— Um, wait, no, I won’t. You better tie me tight.” She giggled.

Ha laughed. “You really are a brat, aren’t you?”

“So I’ve been told, Sir.”

He unsnapped her bra. It was pretty from the front, but the line of black in the back didn’t do anything for him, and it was going to get in the way of his flogging. He lifted it up, and she lowered her hands to help him get it off, then returned them to position.

As lovely as she looked with her hands outstretched, it was hard work for the heart to pump blood to overcome that much gravity, and he didn’t want to risk her hands getting numb. He pressed his chest to her back, careful not to rub his cock against her bottom—friction would only make him more frustrated. Then he moved her wrists into the position he wanted, with her arms wrapped around the cross, hugging it, and her wrists parallel to each other a few inches apart. “Hold that pose.”

“Yes, Sir.” Her voice had dropped a fifth, taking on a huskier, sexy quality. His cock ached at her tone. She really seemed to enjoy being tied.

There were a lot of ways that were quicker to bind someone into position than to tie knots. Velcro cuffs were remarkably fast and held much better than he had expected the first time he’d seen them in action. Fur-lined leather cuffs with buckles worked too. But part of what he liked about rope was the way it took time and built the anticipation.

There was only a small space between the cross and the wall, but he could fit in it. He wedged himself in and held the rope to her wrists, but was distracted by the sight of her small breasts squished together by the arms of the cross. Her nipples stood out, and he was reminded of the way he’d teased her and felt them beneath the fabric. But if he started playing with them now, he wouldn’t get finished. He wrapped rope around her wrists, careful not to wrap them so tightly that it would pull her wrists together. He noticed she kept the tension too, which made it easier. “You’ve had this done to you before.”

“I have. I’ve done it a few times too.”

He grinned, recalling her comment about how she’d thought she’d have to teach him how to bind ankles. “It’s sexy you know that stuff.”

“You want me to tie you sometime?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Sorry, I’m not a switch. I love learning, but being a bottom doesn’t do anything for me.”

“Me neither.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I mean being a top doesn’t. But I do like knowing whatever I need to, to be useful. Sometimes doms want a helper.”

He finished wrapping the rope around her wrists. Now he wrapped the ends the other way, around the multiple strands that stretched between her arms. That pinched the rope, bringing her wrists closer together, while still providing enough separation that her arms didn’t touch. If the wrists were tied so that they touched, it was much easier to get free. And Amanda was enough of a brat to try to get loose, even though she probably didn’t want to. Good, tight bondage was more fun for both of them.

He tied the ends off and slipped a couple of fingers under the rope near each wrist to make sure it was snug but not so tight they’d cause problems. He moved back around to the other side. She turned her head so she could keep looking at him.

“I can still wiggle some.” Amanda demonstrated, but in truth, she couldn’t wiggle much. She could turn from side to side a few inches, and then her arms hit the frame. She could move her ass a little more.

He was still reflecting on what she had said about wanting to be useful. Maybe she was putting herself in the best possible light, but it was a very submissive impulse. He thought she meant it too. She wanted to serve, despite her brattiness. Despite her confidence, her obvious strength, and her ability to swing a flogger. Cheri had almost cultivated her weakness. Amanda didn’t. He wondered if she had any idea how attractive that made her.

Yet she was obviously an experienced player and had been in the club for a long time. If she’d wanted a steady dom, she’d have had one. He was safe. He could play with her and not worry about having a relationship beyond two people who could have fun together.

He bit his lip.
So why doesn’t that make me happy?