Knots (Club Imperial Book 4) (25 page)

She pushed the cart to the side and hit the ‘stop’ button on the panel. She slammed him against the wall, and saw him wince as his shoulder hit wrong. He might not be able to move it, but he could feel the hit. “You have no place in my discipline, Chas. None. You are trying to assert a power over me that you don’t have. The only reason I’ve agreed to the fucking farce is for my sister. I’ve already told you that. If you
ever
hit me—or Hannah—again, I will remove your balls and feed them to you. Don’t believe me? All I did was a simple move to paralyze you. Imagine what I could do if we weren’t standing in fifteen by fifteen box.”

“You are completely out of control, you little bitch.”

“You know I am,” Cece answered. She hit the resume button. “Watch your ass with Saundra, Chas. She will chew you up and spit you out, like she did with Everett.”

“How would you know? Fucking him?”

Cece snorted. “Rumors fly both ways, asshole.” The door opened for her floor and she grabbed the cart, wheeling it out into the hallway. She turned to see Chas standing in the middle of the car. She waited until the doors started to slide closed, and flipped him the middle finger.

She heard the elevator start to descend, and let out a sob, leaning against the wall. Gathering herself, she pushed the cart to the bathroom and popped inside. The smack was bright red and hand shaped.
God, he’d hit so hard!
She really hoped it wasn’t going to leave a bruise—she didn’t need to try and explain that to anyone. It would involve showing too many cards she hid in her hand.

Cece slumped and let herself sob. Chas was not the same kid from when they were younger. She didn’t know what was going on. Forcing her into a marriage, slapping her. What else was on his menu?

There was no way out of this. Chas had guessed at hers and Everett’s relationship. She wondered if he suspected she was a Domme. Or worse that he had rung the information from Hannah. Cece needed to move Hannah out of that house, as soon as possible. She couldn’t bear to think of her fragile little sister under the purview of that…
monster.

Taking a deep breath, she collected herself and wiped away the tears. This was no way to act. This was not her. Checking the mirror she found her makeup was still relatively acceptable, save the mascara and eyeliner. Wiping it off, Cece patted her face with the damp cloth to help her feel a little cooler and collected.

She had a job to do here, and she’d get it done. Then tonight, she’d have marvelous, unbridled filthy sex with Everett. And tomorrow, she would work on moving Hannah out of that house in to her cottage. She pulled out her phone to make a note about guardianship, and found a text message waiting.

Mistress
.

Cece smiled. The sting of the slap was already fading. She was going to have a long night.

She planned to enjoy every moment of it.

John waited, as promised.

He was just as delicious as she remembered, and even better, he’d brought everything she’d asked for.

JS
: Mistress. I would request an off-site with you today. I have missed your touch and your ropes.

Prima Dusty
: This evening?

JS
: Whatever would be convenient for you, mistress.

Prima Dusty
: I have a previous engagement at 9.

JS
: I would be happy to take whatever hours you can spare before that.

Prima Dusty
: I’m afraid I’m in an awkward situation, as I have nothing I would need.

JS
: I will bring everything.

Cece’s eyebrows rose at that, and her body tingled at the memories of his selections and supplies.

Prima Dusty
: The room will be paid for and under Dusty Rose Milan. I will be at the hotel at 5:15. Be ready.

JS
: Thank you, mistress.

While Cece knew this was going to have be cut off before it became a habit, John was still that enigma that she craved. There wasn’t much about him she knew, nor much she didn’t like. And to find him there in the room, kneeling, naked and ready was mark against her giving this up.

“Good evening, Mister Smith.” She dropped her purse and brief case just inside the door.

“Good evening, Mistress.”

Cece circled around him, checking the room. He had the hood on again, and while Cece wanted to ask him to take off, she knew that would get her nowhere. There was a large duffle bag at the foot of the bed, looking like regular traveler’s bag. “What do you have in here?”

“Toys, mistress. Implements and aids.”

Taken back, Cece pulled the zipper open to see what he had. She was in no way disappointed by what was inside: ropes, whips, floggers, plugs, beads, chains, ties—both Velcro and zip. There was lube and at least 3 different kinds of condoms. The best part about the whole bag was that it was organized. There was a custom insert to hold everything in place. Nothing jingled or clanged when Cece pushed it.

John Smith was no amateur.

“This is wonderful,” Cece praised, sitting on the bed. “Before we get started, though, I have some bad news, Mister Smith. I’m afraid I’m going to have decline any future engagements with you outside of the club. A situation has arisen that puts too many people at risk with these tristes. Make no mistake, I very much enjoy our meetings. But I do not wish to risk anyone’s life, and that’s what will happen if these continue.”

“I must admit, mistress, I am disappointed. I have just discovered your wonderful talents. But I understand. One has to make hard decisions when it comes to our lifestyle.”

“Indeed, we do,” Cece said, standing and walking around the well-defined torso that he presented to her. “Let’s begin then, shall we?” She stood behind him and leaned down to his mask. “Will we need the condoms, Mister Smith?”

“Please, mistress,” he breathed.

She hummed in agreement. “Very good. Stay where you are for just a moment. I’ll need to choose some items for us to play with.” Cece quickly shucked her outer clothes, folding them on the chair. She was quietly glad that she had worn the tiny thong that day; it helped to give her a more typical Domme look that she had. The bra and garters were her Tuesday favorites.

She left the shoes on.

Cece sorted out a few lengths of rope on to the bed and pulled the covers off, stripping the bed down to the bottom sheet. She quickly jury-rigged the bed with a few ropes for a tie down. She pulled the Wartenburg wheel out of his bag and knelt behind him.

“Your body is amazing, John.” Cece put the wheel down for just a moment. She ran her hands up his back, over the bunched muscles, drawing her nails down the sinews, peaks and valleys of the canvas he was. She was spellbound by him, once again. She picked up the wheel and ran it gently down his spine, without real pressure. His shiver was accompanied by a small groan of pleasure, and Cece knew he was enjoying it. She traced the same path again, with more pressure knowing that it pricked at the skin. The little pricks from the sharp points did more to stimulate the skin than just about anything else. They awoke the cells that lay just below the surface and were still raw and tender—and yet did not draw any blood.

His sucking breath of delight ignited her. This was her reward. The sounds and sights of pleasure visited up another being. The sensation of sex as they tripped through her, and rose and swirled in her partner. She trailed her one hand behind the wheel as she teased him, and started to revv up his body. His shivers and sounds were of the utmost importance; they told her where he was in his head space and if she was doing well or poorly with stimulating him.

Cece knelt up and grabbed the rope, while still teasing him with the little needles on the wheel. “How do you feel about breath play?”

He gasped, and it wasn’t the good kind of gasp. “The throat is a hard limit, mistress.”

She dropped the rope and the wheel and put her hands on his arms. Pressing gently, she answered, “I understand, John. No breath play that involves the throat.” She didn’t want him to lose to the space he was in and needed to reassure him she would not push that limit. She ran her hands over the muscles of his arms, to the defined valleys of his back again and then down to his ass.

What a fine ass…
“Mmm. I think we’ll do a little paddling.”

This time, the gasp was the kind she wanted. “Please, mistress.”

Cece stroked the dimple at the top of ass. “First, we’ll get you in some rope. I want to see the tracks in your skin when I take you out of it.”

“Yes, mistress.” His voice was heady again.

Cece grabbed the rope again, and reaching around his waist, she pulled it around his body. She tied the only single, true knot that she used—which she always untied when she was done. If there was a true knot, it was not kinbaku.

Cece commanded him now, though. “Stand.”

His ass rippled with the motion and she gave into the urge to nibble on one of the firm globes. She felt him shiver at the gentle brush of his teeth on his skin.
Oh, I could do that all night! Just nibble on his body
watch him react
. She still didn’t understand what it was about this man that had her wanting to possess him completely.

She trailed the rope up his thigh, between his legs and back around. Cece made sure that her hand brushed against his sac. He tried not to react, but he couldn’t hold back and Cece—still kneeling at eye level to those firm cheeks—smacked him hard on each. “Control your reactions, John.”

“Yes, mistress, I just find you so wonderful.”

“Flattery will get you spanked, John.” Cece smiled to herself.

Making quick work of the ropes, she flowed them through her fingers and twisted them around his body in a sensual dance, pulling and tucking and spinning them into a woven masterpiece. John’s legs, waist, chest, and arms were criss-crossed and spun in the black rope he had brought. It was a marvelous contrast to the pale skin he boasted. His arms were bound together in an intricate weave, disallowing him to pull them apart, but allowing him to reach and stretch.

And he was completely in sub-space at that point. Cece could see the bliss throughout his whole body, relaxed and pleased, taking in every sensation of her hands over his body. She had moved him back to kneeling half way through her patterns and now his head was bowed. Slowly, so that she didn’t pull him out of his comfortable space, she trailed her hand to his shoulder.

“John.”

“Mmm, green mistress. So green.”

“Good boy.” The praise was genuine. She had very few clients who were able to drop into subspace so willingly or easily. “Lean forward on your elbows. I’ve changed my mind. We’re going to use the flogger.”

“Thank you, mistress.” He complied with her directions and placed his forearms on the floor. The wonderful ass she’d been caressing and nibbling on for the past hour was presented in a neat package, waiting for her attention.

The flogger was better for this. Not as hard as the paddle, and when wielded correctly, just as effective. John was in too wonderful a place for Cece to want to pull him out of it. She stood and carefully took a few warm up swings on the bed, and then a few very light warm ups on his ass.

“How many would you like John?”

“Just six mistress, please. Very hard.”

“You’ll get ten, four as warm up.”

“Yes, mistress.”

The flogger had a lot of thud to it, Cece could feel that on her warm ups. The first of the ten against his skin was hard, though she could go much harder. The intake of breath let her know that she was on the right track and with the next hit, she put more into it. John gasped again and hissed a quiet, “yessss” between his teeth.

The fifth was the real testament to her abilities, and she let the flogger fly hard. He yelped, loudly, and let it turn into a groan of desire.

At the sound of his groan, Cece’s own desire fired in her blood, starting to make its way through her. She let the flogger fly again, again, again—relishing each of his gasps, yelps and groans. They were musical to her and a reassurance that he wanted this as much as she was enjoying it. Just before the last two hits, Cece leaned down and caressed his now bright red and warmed ass. She relished the feel of him and leaned to his ear again.

“You’re not allowed to come,” she whispered. “I want your come for myself, I want to feel that inside me. Do you understand, John?”

“Yes, mistress.” His voice was strained. He was going to have trouble hold back his climax. She wouldn’t tell him, but if he came, she’d forgive him. It would give her the chance to make his cock hard again.

The flogger flew and flew again, and to her great delight John did not let his climax take him, and held on. Cece felt he deserved a reward for that, quickly rolled him to his back and swallowed his throbbing dick in one motion. He bucked and cried out, not expecting her lips around his shaft, but she wanted to taste him, to tame him. She swirled her tongue around his head, gathering, savoring the pre-cum that leaked out. He twitched and shook, and stated plainly, “I can’t stop it.”

Cece pulled her lips off him only long enough to answer. “Don’t.”

He came in the next instant, jetting into her mouth, thick ropes of come she gladly swallowed, memorizing his taste, the feel of his cock in her mouth, the heat of his climax against her tongue. He did his best not to scream or yell, and Cece was pleased.

She released his now semi-flaccid dick and massaged the thigh muscles she knew were exhausted. She glanced to see his face—forgetting for just the moment that he was hooded and she couldn’t see his expression. His body language spoke for him: skin flushed red, chest heaving, and his shaft already rising for another round of amazing sex play with her.

This was what she loved. This was where she wanted to be.

*  *  *

Hurriedly adjusting her skirt as she ran from the car to the hotel, Cece cursed herself. She had spent entirely too much time with John. Nearly four hours of marvelous playtime that was making her late for her last night with Everett.

There was no reason she was so attracted to John. He wouldn’t even give her his real name. But he was so damn perfectly submissive. He wanted everything she could give him. And she, clearly, enjoyed giving.

This time, she’d come close to kissing him. That was one of her rules she didn’t really like to break. There were three people she’d kissed during play: Don, Everett and Killian—and Killian didn’t really count because they were just straight up fucking each other like wild rabbits.

If she saw John again, she might cross that line.

Untying him had been nearly as much fun as tying him up. She loved to see the impressions of the rope in his skin. It was one of so many things she liked about the lifestyle, about being a nawashi. Watching the skin reveal the impressions the rope made. Tracks made from the binding of silk and jute and nylon.

Cece smiled to herself as the elevator took her to the floor where Everett was waiting. Jute. He’d never been bound like that before, and it was prickly rope. If he liked that, she’d get the sisal, and maybe think about a touch of itching powder. It caused an amazingly small touch of pain when used correctly, and now that they were moving into the masochistic part of his personality, she had a lot of tricks for that.

She stopped.
Damn
. Cece wasn’t going to get to enjoy that part of him because this was their last night. This was the last time she’d get to see him, get to tie him up. It pained her, there was no doubt about that. She didn’t want to give him up. He was fun. But she had to think of Hannah.

Fine then.
She’d let his next mistress know where they’d left off. She’d make sure Everett got to enjoy every part of the person he really was and was discovering himself to be. She resumed the walk down the hall to the room she’d booked, as usual. Her stomach fluttered.

So much sex.

So much fun…

She slipped the card into the door, pushing it open. The room seemed to be painted red, and smelled oddly coppery. Taking a few steps into the room, things only started to feel even worse. Something was wrong…