Dominion Trust Series - Vol.1 (84 page)

With an exultant grin, he took the stairs two at a time, every second away from her like an eternity.

He needed his Kirsten, and he needed her now.

* * *

S
he wondered why he hadn’t come up right after her. She’d had visions of him chasing her up the stairs, hounding her, tearing at her clothes, that voice of his that she loved so much rumbling at her ear. But he hadn’t.

Kneeling there, the silence of the house crowded all around her, the very air seeming to still against her skin. A bead of sweat ran down the trough of her spine, despite the coolness of the air conditioning. She leaned up a little, folding her arms under her head on the bedspread. The carpet was soft under her knees, but somehow the position was more comforting, as if pillowing her head on her arms helped her think, helped her process all that had happened, and all that she hoped might yet happen.

This can’t work, Kirsten. And that’s entirely the point.

Dammit, no! There had to be a way. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen!

“You’re being a selfish bitch, don’t ya think?” she whispered. “This isn’t about you anymore.”

She remembered the final approach that afternoon, the bump and whine below her feet of the landing gear lowering, the soft almost inaudible buzz of anticipation and fear that she still felt every time landing approached. She’d distracted herself with thinking about seeing her handsome Keihl again, being home, soaking in her own tub with a glass of wine.

And that had brought her up short. No more wine for her!

She smiled against the fine down on her forearm. She’d adapt to that. But she remembered the next thought she’d had too, and it had made her frown bitterly.

Keihl. The Game. What happened now?

As they’d begun the descent, she’d buckled her seatbelt, stroking the slight curve of her belly that she hadn’t remembered feeling before, and thought about it all. What could they do? To her mind, many more doors were closing than were opening. And that would be okay in the end — nothing was more important than that little person growing in her belly. Her baby. Their baby.

It was that thought that both comforted and dismayed her — both then on that bumpy final approach, and now kneeling naked against the bed — for it spoke the truth of things, the inescapable facts.

There was still time though — and she intended to make the most of it. There was still a chance — maybe — to explore yet more, to learn more about herself, and to learn how deep those desires, those fantasies, those drives really went. She could only guess, but she knew that if she had help — Keihl’s help — she’d get there.

And no matter how much it scared her, no matter how much it made her shudder in dread and anticipation, she couldn’t wait.

A hand touched her back and she yelped.

“Little nervous?”

Keihl dropped to a knee beside her, leaning an elbow on the bedspread, the mattress moving under his weight. His hand drew soft circles over the flesh of her upper back, fingers playing with the locks of her hair spread over her shoulders.

“A lot nervous, apparently,” she said, lowering her head back to her arms. “What took you so long?”

He watched her for a moment, then stood, moving her hair off her back to fall over her far shoulder, the locks tickling one of her already hard nipples.

“I’m going to say a few things, and I want you to listen. Can you do that for me?”

“The Game?”

It was an absurd question, but somehow she needed to ask it, as if saying the words gave her permission to unlock that door within herself, a door into a fun house room of pain and pleasure, terror and delight.

“It’s about The Game, yes.”

About?

“We can’t do it anymore, can we?” The words physically hurt her as they left her lips.

There was pause, then his hand stroked her back once more, a finger tracing the line of each shoulder blade, the skin of her arms tightening in gooseflesh. “I didn’t say that, did I?”

“But it’s true,” she murmured, lips brushing against her arm. “The baby. Everything.”

“We have to make … changes. Which is what I want to talk to you about.”

“You do?” She’d expected him to just cut everything off, and just as certainly she knew she’d agree to it. But this was something else. What was he up to?

“This is something we both need to decide. On what we do from here on out.”

“I thought… I don’t know what I thought.” She turned, but his hand clamped on her shoulder.

“What are you doing, Kirsten?”

“I — getting up?”

“Don’t move until I tell you to.”

Heat pooled between her naked thighs at the cool steel in his voice. “Um, okay.”

“What was that?” Heat bloomed across her ass as the smack rang out, and she yelped. “Try again, dear.”

“Sir. Okay,
Sir
.”

“That’s better.”

“I thought we weren’t… ?”

His hand relinquished its hold on her shoulder, the fingers gentle again, stroking through her hair. “I don’t want to stop. But certain things can’t go on. I think you know what they are.”

“No spankings. No… pain, I guess?”

“I wouldn’t put it quite that way.”

“How would you put it then?” She swallowed, tensing. “Sir.”

He chuckled somewhere behind her. “Good catch.”

She’d assumed it would have to be that way, yet he’d just smacked her ass as hard as ever, her cheek still throbbing with it. She had no doubt his hand print was reddening on her ass as they spoke. Wouldn’t that be what had to stop?

Please, no.

“To be honest, I’m not sure yet. Some Domly guy, right? He doesn’t know.”

At least some of the regret she heard in his voice was genuine — and it made her want to hug him.

“Not knowing the answer doesn’t mean you’re weak. Quite the opposite, actually.”

She wished she could turn around and look up into those dark eyes of his, to show how proud of him she was. But that would mean moving — which he’d prohibited — and
that
fact made her want to turn around and take his cock down her throat.

Where the fuck did that come from, slut?

The thought surprised her nearly as much as it aroused her, a trickle of moisture slipping from between the lips of her sex.

His hand tapped her back. “Sit back. Ass on your heels.”

She obeyed instantly, dropping her hands to her lap, keeping her eyes down, her breath coming fast and hard now. This was what she loved — the gruff, demanding Keihl that she only got to see during The Game. The same Keihl she longed to see a lot more of.

He slipped in front of her, the fabric of his slacks brushing against her hair a moment, then he sat down on the bed, his legs spread to either side of her. A finger lifted her chin, and she met his brilliant, dark eyes. Her nipples pebbled immediately into hard stones. His jaw was clenched, lips a thin line, his gaze as hard as the rest of him.

“We’re going to play things by ear, Kirsten. One thing I do know is that right now, this early, there’s no issue, really.” His fingertip stroked her trembling lips, and she pressed a kiss to it, making him beam. “But what I don’t know, I’m going to find out.”

“You could… talk to someone.”

The name almost passed her lips, but she didn’t want to push him. There was still unease there — dangerous ground, for now, though she still wasn’t entirely sure why.

Oh you’ve got a pretty good idea why, don’t you?

It wasn’t time for that though, not yet.

“I could talk to him — I’m assuming you mean Tom — but I’m not sure I want to. Maybe. My concern though, is you. I’m going to make damn sure I don’t do something stupid that might put you or the kid in danger.”

The way he said “the kid” made her smile. It was endearing. It was exactly the kind of thing Keihl would say.

“I’ll agree to whatever you want, Keihl… but.” She looked down, letting her hands drift up to grasp the leg of his slacks, rubbing the smooth fabric between her fingers. “I’m not broken.”

“And I intend to keep it that way.” His eyes flashed. “But first it’s time for that punishment, isn’t it?”

Kirsten’s breath froze. “P-punishment?”

“Your little tease downstairs. You didn’t think I’d let that slide, did you, dear?”

Oh thank God.

“No, Sir.”

He reached down and took both her nipples between his fingers, pulling up gently. “Are your tits sore?”

Kirsten’s mouth went dry, the maddening gentle squeezes of his fingers arrowing pleasure from her nipples down to her clit.

“Not… too sore. They were a lot worse the first couple weeks.”

“Good.” He pinched both nipples firmly, the pain drawing a high pitched sound from deep in Kirsten’s throat. “Clasp your hands behind your back. Shoulders back. Present these tits.”

She clasped her own elbows, pulling her shoulders back slowly, her cheeks flaming hot as his gaze dropped to her breasts.

Keihl unbuckled his belt, pulling the black leather through each loop, his gaze never leaving the vulnerable globes of her now heaving breasts. Was he really going to… ?

“This is for that smart ass of yours. Later.” He set the belt on the mattress next to him, where her nervous gaze could easily see it, reminding her of what was to come.

He reached out, cupping the weight of her breast in his palm, lifting it up as if in offering. He squeezed it firmly. “Does that hurt?”

“N-no. Sir.”

His gave her a quick smile, a flash of teeth, then he brought his other hand down onto her breast, the sound of the slap shocking her more than the pain.

“Now?”

“A little.”

Truthfully, had he done that the first couple weeks after conception, she’d have shrieked. Her breasts had been so sore, even putting on a bra had hurt. Now, there was some soreness under the areolas, but other than that she just had slightly tingly nipples. Oh, and the fact that they were almost constantly hard.

His palm cracked down again, harder, and she grunted, pain flaring now.

“Got your attention with that one, didn’t I?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Her clit felt like it was about ten times its normal size, each throb of pain in her breast seemingly directly connected to that sensitive bundle of nerves.

He spanked her breast twice more, the blows thuddy and stinging, then dropped her now throbbing breast, only to lift the other, and subject it to the same treatment.

She jerked as he spanked it three times in quick succession, then sat back, his gaze appraising his handiwork.

“Not too bad,” he said, seemingly to himself, as if Kirsten’s opinion or even acknowledgment weren’t even important. “I’d punish them more, but I need to make sure what’s safe. Still… “

He leaned forward again, and slapped her breasts side to side, left to right, then back again, and she turned her head, eyes closed. Those definitely hurt, as the heavy globes swayed and bounced under the blows, the aching flaring within them again.

“Hurting?”

“Yes, Sir.” She bit off a quiet sob. It confused her that despite the pain, her nipples had tightened to hard little bullets, as if begging for more attention.

His palm cracked against each breast in turn with a loud slap, lifting each one on the blow to bounce and sway on her chest. She moaned loudly, her eyes burning, the tears threatening now. What was happening to her?

“Hurting a lot?”

“Yes… Sir.” A tear escaped then, running down her cheek, and she broke position to flick it away with her thumb.

She didn’t understand what was going on. Yes, Keihl was slapping her breasts around, but he wasn’t hurting her that badly, and though she tried mightily to ignore it, each painful throb of her spanked breasts made her clit swell even larger, made the lips of her sex slicken with moisture. Even now she could tell he was going very easy on her. Judging by the desperate bulge she saw between his thighs, even doing that was testing his self-control. So why was she crying?

He frowned, then slid down to a knee between her and the bed. “Give me your hands.”

She clasped them in his, grateful not to have them behind her back anymore, the position making her feel impossibly vulnerable.

He noted the hard nipples, circling them with agile fingertips. “I’m surprised. I thought they’d hide from your punishment. They’re doing anything but, aren’t they?”

She dropped her head, the heat blazing across her cheeks.

“Does being punished… turn you on? Do you like having your breasts punished?”

No! Yes! Fuck.

“Answer me,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, a warning.

“I don’t know, Sir.” She looked up at him through the fringe of her hair, needing that illusion of being hidden from his gaze. “Maybe.”

His hand dropped between her thighs, and she gasped as his fingers stroked through the soft, wet lips of her sex.

“I’d call this a whole lot more than ‘maybe’, Kirsten.” He held up glistening fingers, her scent strong on the air. “You’re almost dripping.”