Love Beat (14 page)

In this I can only receive and endure.

The thought is deeply satisfying and somehow startlingly, scarily hot.

But as I walk slowly across the room, I discover its other, darker secret. The straps pull so tightly that any movement presses into me, intimate and arousing, especially when I bend over.

The prospect of punishment just got interesting.

He orders me to stand facing him in the middle of the room and looks me over, his gaze nakedly hungry. For the first time I notice a riding crop lying on the cushion beside him. Absently he picks it up and flexes it between his hands.

“Today I want to see how flexible you are. You trained as a dancer. So I’d like you to show me some poses. We might use them later in the dungeon.”

Quietly he directs me into some poses, tapping my limbs with the end of the crop to underline his instruction. I feel even more like an animal. The thought of the crop, more than the actual feel of it, is very frightening. It gives every pose an urgency I never got from simple
barre
exercises or the frown of the ballet master.

I try harder than ever to please him. The poses become exciting bordering on extreme. I lean right down, with my legs apart and my head touching the floor, or spread my legs wide and lean back, thrusting my breasts high in the air, or stoop low with my arms pulled back high over my head.

I’m instructed to stretch and bend to the limits of my ability then, when the pose is reached, to hold it for minutes at a time while he casually strolls about taking one or two shots with a small digital camera.

I soon become absorbed in the moves and the shapes, my body a willing and graceful tool. Up until now, some of his commands have been difficult to obey and hard to understand. But for me, this is as easy as breathing.

The whole exercise might be
barre
practice, but with one massive difference—the cruel straps. They constrain my lower body, pressing and pulling at my private places in astonishing ways, and soon I’m pulsing with heat, my belly on fire, the throb between my legs sending flaring arousal through me with every move.

My efforts seem to arouse him too
.
His breathing grows labored. As he moves around me, I see from the bulge in his jeans that he’s becoming very erect.

At last I’m too tired to hold a pose for long. As my muscles quiver and I grow shaky, he stands in front of me and begins slowly to undo his zip. I glance up with alarm to see him smiling down at me, his eyes dark, his expression intent.

“You’ve done well. You’re very beautiful.”

The praise is brief. As his erection springs free, he guides it toward my face. “Take it in your mouth. Show me what you can do. Put your hands behind your back and spread your legs wide.”

I’m already on my knees for an extreme pose on the floor, leaning on one knee with one leg pointing vertically high into the air.

Now I relax my thigh, kneel up and shuffle my legs apart.

“Farther.”

He sounds stern, remote.
I don’t play at this.

I shuffle farther apart as heat flares between my legs. I’ve been burning down there for over an hour. If only he’d touch me, stroke me—anything to end this torment. Eagerly I lean up to reach him, thrilling to the salty taste of his erection. Forbidden to touch, I have a sudden urge to stroke it, squeeze its silky stiffness, make it swell and twitch.

Instead it’s me who’s twitchy.
Swelling too, maybe
. But I can’t touch down there, either.

He thrusts lightly, shifting his angle so his cock tilts into my mouth. I swirl my tongue around the broad glans then lunge forward, letting it fill my mouth. I suck hard and lap gently, teasing him with my tongue.

As he hauls in a juddering breath, I lunge again and begin to fellate him, riding his length softly at first, taking just short journeys along his shaft before pulling back to lick the tip and tease the ridged, hot gristle with the soft inner edges of my lips.

Soon he begins to tense, the tendons in his neck standing out like rods, his breath coming in ragged bursts. I take him deeper, feeling the pressure build between my widely splayed thighs as the straps continue to work their magic.

It would be impossible, I think between thrusts, for me to come, surely, without his touch, without any stimulation…

“Harder. Faster.” I hear him growl low in his throat then his hands grip my head, guiding me and speeding me up. I tense my body and stretch my neck, feeling the straps of my harness haul just a tiny bit tighter.

I’m so close…

At that moment he pulls free of my mouth and stands before me, his erection purple, gleaming and glossy with my saliva, only seconds from completion.

“Stand up and turn around.”

Shakily I do it, my breath coming in shallow pants. Desire courses through me at the extra pressure of the straps from the sudden movement.

I hear the rip of foil and after a second’s pause, he takes firm hold of my hips. “Now bend low. I want your head on the floor, your arms up. “

It’s one of the most extreme positions. Normally I’d reach it easily, but my muscles are tired now and my shoulders ache. With an effort I obey, and as I achieve it, I feel the head of his erection push at my opening, teasing, probing, filling me with longing but infuriatingly poised.

As if from a long way away, I hear him speak, his voice husky. “Now I’m going to fuck you. While I do it, you can come. I can see you’re close. You’re very swollen. But you must do it in absolute silence.”

At that moment he surges into me with a grunt and begins to thrust in long, heavy strokes that fill me with glorious heat, over and over. Again and again he pounds into me until I think I’ll explode from the pressure. At each thrust, the straps tighten almost unbearably, their sweet strength pulling me closer and closer to the edge. And as he stills and judders I come at last, my belly convulsing with wave after wave of pleasure.

I clench my teeth, longing to cry out with the glory of it, but mindful of his stern command, I groan deep in my throat and fight for control.

My spasms overwhelm him, as I know they must, and with a mighty groan he comes too, holding me tightly against him, his flies and his hot, muscled abdomen hard against my tender, exposed bottom.

Time stands still as we stand locked together, and at last he releases me. Slowly I straighten up and feel him turn me round to face him. He takes me in his arms, his eyes bright with some deep emotion. He runs his hand over my forehead to wipe the damp hair away from my face.

His breathing’s still unsteady, and I feel his heart thump close to mine as he draws me close and finds my lips. For a long time he holds me in a deep, searching kiss then draws away and gazes down into my eyes.

“Thank you, sub. That was magnificent. You’ve done well this afternoon. We’ll run a bath now then our session will be done.”

* * * *

“I’d sooner take it off.” I lean back against him, letting the water swirl around me. Speech is a new luxury.

With twenty minutes of my session left, he insisted I keep my harness on in the bath. The upside is that I still feel the thrill of his control. The downside—or maybe it’s an upside too, I’ve yet to decide—is that in the water, the straps tighten and my arousal’s swiftly building again.

Does he know this?
I daren’t ask, but his amused expression hints that he’s all too aware of the effect it’s having.

I feel his lips on the back of my neck, light but hot. “Patience. It stays on till we finish.”

He holds up a large towel for me as I step carefully out. As he pats me dry, I feel once more the link between us forged in the tower, before it was so brutally snapped apart by his fury over the paperwork.

I gaze up at him dreamily, lulled into contented, endorphin-led peace. “What about my punishment? Are we doing that now?”

He glances at me in surprise, a new gleam in his eyes a sudden warning that I might regret this. “Later, maybe. In the dungeon we could try out some whips.”

His tone’s calm, matter-of-fact, like we’re discussing hairclips.

I suppress a shiver.

“For now, we’ll try something else.” He’s eyeing me calmly, his eyes dark with lust.

I sense an air of excitement about him, but his next words baffle me.

“I think it’s time I showed you some jewelry.”

Chapter Eleven

“
Jewelry
?” I’m dumbfounded.

Cade throws open the tall doors of an ornate mahogany cabinet. From inside, small spotlights blaze into life. I blink, dazzled by the glare of silver and precious stones that spills out from the shelves.

I take a deep breath.

You don’t see these in the high street.

Each piece is a finely wrought work of art. What’s more, the brilliance of the stones tells me I’m looking at real gems. But they’re not necklaces and earrings and they’re not simply for adornment. They’re lewd and they’re cruel.

This jewelry has a purpose. There are nipple clamps, cock rings, dildos.

At the center of the display is a metal harness clasped around a dummy torso. Unlike the leather device I’m wearing with its strict rectangles and tight straps, this is graceful and elegant, a confection of silver leaves, the delicate fronds curved and clasping like living fingers. Some of the fronds curl upward to enhance the breasts and some slant down into the creases of the thighs, intimate, searching.

It glints seductively but I’ve been wearing the farm-hand version all day, and I get instantly what it’s for and what it does. A tell-tale throb down below warns me another part of me gets it too.

He’s watching my reaction closely, his eyes full of heat. “Restraint jewelry. Each piece is tailored for
a certain body part. The fitting is crucial.”

“It looks very uncomfortable.”

“That’s rather the point.” He grins. “It has to be bent to fit. The points of the fronds can be angled to tease or torment the sub’s most intimate places—at the direction of her Dom or to her own taste.”

I swallow. This stuff’s also meant to control. There are collars, cuffs, anklets, all with that little bit extra—a spike or two here, a carefully placed stud there.

Cruel jewels.

“Is it expensive?”

“Diamonds set in platinum and white gold or silver, so yes. The links, clasps and chains are made of steel. They start at about five hundred dollars for that adjustable cock ring, for instance. The largest piece here is around ten thousand.”

I gasp. “Who pays that kind of money?”

He grins. “All kinds of people, with money to spare and quirky tastes. The harness is already sold. I’m arranging a fitting this week. My lawyer, Jo, wants it for her partner, Eileen. She’s one of the stars in the film.”

“The little redhead?”

He nods. “That’s the one. She and Jo have been dating for a year now. But don’t let on. It’s still a secret. Jo’s planning it for their anniversary.”

I gaze at the cabinet, both fascinated and appalled. “But…where did you get them?”

“I design them.”

I stare at him. “
You
? But they’re…astonishing. You’re an artist as well as a song-writer?”

His nostrils flare with a hint of disdain. “I’m no songwriter. I just jotted some ideas on a pad and somebody with real talent turned it into a hit. This is the same. I sketch an idea then a design team and a group of highly-skilled craftsmen turn it into a valuable work of art. Tonight I want to see the harness in action. So you can model it for me. Lose the towel.”

I let it slide to the floor and shiver in the damp, taut straps of the harness. “Can I take this off now?”

His eyes darken. “Your fourth day of training and you still don’t get it? I tell you what to wear, and when to wear it. I put it on you, and I take it off. And you don’t ask. You wait to be told.”

He leans down and kisses me on the lips, parting mine slightly with his tongue, sending a tremor all through me. He whispers, his lips brushing mine. “And we just agreed to new rules. So from now on, no talking. We’re still in session. Got that?”

His fingers slide round my shoulders and unfasten the harness. As it peels away, I flex my body, relishing my sudden freedom. The straps were chafing a little, especially now that they’re wet.

But he knows that. And it comes to me in a flash of understanding that he finds this idea arousing—
as arousing as I found it to wear
.

Restraint
.
The idea and the feeling are both new to me. They’ll take some getting used to.

As if to underline my thought, I feel a trickle of moisture creep down the inside of my thigh. His eyes are burning into mine like he’s guessed. He knows me so well. He’s an expert at this…

“The harness first.” He lifts the gleaming metal replacement away from its velvet-covered mount. The silver makes a faint tinkling sound as he flexes it in his fingers.

He passes it around my body. I shiver as the unforgiving metal fronds slip into place. The leaves press upward against my breasts—pushing them high—and curl in at the waist. The fronds penetrate deep between my legs and with a few tweaks of the leaves, he bends them into shape along my soft slit, forcing and opening me, leaving me exposed and needy. At my back, the silver leaves snake deep between the cheeks of my bottom, pulling me open.

I feel shamefully exposed. Heat burns deep in my belly.

As he curves the metal around me, he keeps his gaze fixed on my face, easing the metal when I wince, smoothing it when I relax, checking all the time for my reaction.

At last he stands back and eyes me with a gleam. “Look at yourself.”

An exotic elfin figure stares back at me from the mirror. The silver has warmed up now and fits so well I’m only aware of it when I move, the taut, rigid leaves holding me in a firm, sensuous clasp. Every move teases and pinches, a persistent questing pressure that’s impossible to escape.

He makes me walk a few steps then slips his fingers between my legs. Forbidden to speak, I mew in lustful distress as heat flares again.

He smiles slowly. “You’re very wet. The thrill of restraint—interesting, no? You can speak now.”