Nobody's Hero (17 page)

“Well, no. It’s boring as fantasies go.”

“Tell me.”

She glanced over at his desk, ignoring the
photos of Joni. “I think it would be really hot to have sex on a
desk like this.” Her fingers stroking the smooth wooden surface of
his desk gave him a raging woody now. “Maybe even to be spanked—”
She looked up at him and clarified herself. “Not too hard; just for
fun.”

He chuckled at her stipulations, then caught
himself. “Your Master decides how hard and how long, kitten,
whether it’s playtime or punishment time.” He felt her grow stiff
in his arms. Both of them needed to blow off some steam tonight.
That she’d shared the fantasy with him was enough for him to know
she needed to experience it. Now.

“Stand up.”

She did as he instructed without hesitation,
but he noticed the hem of the robe she wore shaking as she stood
before him.

“Strip.”

Karla let the robe glide down her arms. Her
erect nipples, no doubt still sensitive from their nipple-clamp
play in the great room last night, called out to him, but he fought
the urge to touch them yet. Clearly, she was as turned on as he
was. He stood and began removing items from the top of the desk—his
laptop, photo frames, desk blotter. No, he’d leave the blotter.
Probably part of the fantasy. He walked to the corner of the room
and picked up his leather toy bag, where he’d left it last
night.

“Give me your wrists.”

She held her slender wrists out in front of
him, and he cuffed each one before reaching back into the bag to
pull out four utilitarian cuffs and an equal number of chains,
laying them on the blotter. She flinched. Well, he’d let her think
he planned to use the chains on her backside for a bit. A little
fear and anticipation would heighten the senses and her responses
to what he would be doing to her body. He pulled out two more
padded cuffs like the ones on her wrists and worked his way around
the desk, bending to attach of the utilitarian ones to each of the
legs. When he stood, he noticed Karla’s gaze hadn’t left the chains
and her eyes were as wide as saucers.

Fantasy time. He sat back down in his chair.
“Miss Paxton. I’d like you to take a memo.”

Her gaze tore away from the chains and
settled on him. He watched her pupils dilate, and his dick throbbed
seeing her fear mixed with excitement.

“Y-yes, Sir.” She looked around, as if to
find a steno pad, then back at him, a question in her eyes.

“Don’t tell me you came in here again without
your pad and pen.”

She paused only a moment, before she clicked
into the fantasy with him. “I’m s-sorry, Sir, but I’m afraid I
did.”

“If this were the first time, I think we
could just forget it. But this isn’t the first time, is it, Miss
Paxton?”

“N-no, Sir.”

“What should I do about this latest
infraction, so you won’t forget next time?”

Her gaze returned to the chains, then back at
him. A pleading look besieged him. He was afraid she’d back down
from the fantasy, instead she raised her chin a bit—showing him the
old Karla was still inside there somewhere—and squared her
shoulders.

“I need to be spanked, Sir.”

He looked down to see her nipples grow even
larger, more erect. Her breathing became shallow and her lips
parted slightly. She certainly seemed turned on and ready for the
next phase. Just to keep her in the dark a little longer, he needed
to play with her head a bit more. Standing, he reached into his toy
bag and pulled out a man’s silk tie.

“Turn around.”

She glanced at the tie, then presented him
with her curvy backside. He held each end and reached around,
securing the tie tightly around her eyes and head. “How does that
feel?”

“Fine, Mr. Montague.”

He grinned. She was getting fully into the
fantasy now. “Good girl.” He smacked her ass lightly, and she
squeaked. So sensitive. Was she sure she knew what she’d gotten
herself into? Well, they’d both find out soon enough.

* * *

Her ass stung where he’d smacked her.
Oh,
dear Lord
. If it stung from a light smack, what on earth was
she going to be feeling when he used those chains on her? This
wasn’t quite the fantasy she had in mind. Just a bare-handed
spanking is what the bosses used on the secretaries in any of the
fantasies she’d ever seen or read about.

Leave it to Master Adam and his BDSM kink to
ramp things up. But she wouldn’t turn back now. Adam knew how she
felt about extreme pain—didn’t he? And she still could safeword, if
it got too intense. But it was just a fantasy. Just for fun. Surely
she wouldn’t have to worry about a safeword. Of course, she
supposed everything was just for fun with Adam. He didn’t have to
be on the receiving end of the pain. Ever.

“Lie face down on the desk.” She heard the
rattle of the chains as they hit something softer, then felt his
hand on her arm and back, steering her toward what she hoped was
the desk. “Bend over.”
Trust him.
She leaned forward until
she would have fallen on her face, but one hand remained steady and
supportive on her arm with the other just below her breasts as he
eased her down onto the cold, hard surface. Her nipples bunched,
but the blood thrumming through her veins left the rest of her
feeling anything but cold.

He adjusted her backside to where her hip
joints were right at the edge of the desk and tapped at the insides
of each of her ankles, indicating she should spread her legs open.
The vulnerability of the position left her shaking, but needy.

Adam won’t harm you.
True. But why did
he have to choose to beat her with chains?

His hands glided over her ass and down the
backs of her thighs to her knees, then shifted to her inner thighs
and came back up until his right hand slid inside her intimate vee
and stroked her pussy.

“So wet for me, Miss Paxton.” She smiled.
Master Adam was pleased. “Did I give you permission to get
wet?”

Oh, no
. She was in trouble
again
.

“Answer me.”

To hell with it. She was supposed to be
honest. “No, Sir. But I’ve dreamed about this for months, and
I…can’t help myself.”
Oh, no!
She was mixing fantasy with
reality. In July, when she’d come to Denver and inadvertently wound
up auditioning at his sex club, she hadn’t even known about this
part of his life. Of course, in their years of letter-writing, he
continued to think of her as a sixteen-year-old kid, which she had
been when they’d first met.

Since he’d held her in his lap on the
loveseat in this very room, she’d dreamed about being taken by Adam
on his desk. But in her virginal fantasies, she wasn’t cuffed and
lying face down on the desk—and there most definitely weren’t any
chains.

He removed his finger. The heat of his body
warmed her, even though he was no longer touching her. When his
fingers entered her pussy swiftly and without warning, she gasped,
raising herself onto her tiptoes, then settled back against his
hand as he pumped in and out of her pussy. She moaned.

“Silence. Don’t move.”

Karla nodded. She’d said enough, as it was.
His fingers continued to fill her, pull out, then fill her again.
She felt primed and ready for anything he dished out. An image of
Master Adam’s penis taking her in this position caused her clit to
throb. She moaned again.

Smack.

The sharp sting of the palm of his free hand
against her left ass cheek caused her to jump, pulling up and away
from his fingers. His fingers didn’t enter her again. Fighting the
urge to groan, she wiggled her ass.
Touch me again, Sir
.

Smack.

“Do. Not. Move.”

Ka-thunk
.

His firm hand grasped her left ankle and
pushed it further out. She heard Velcro and something cold around
her ankle. He slipped a finger inside the cuff. “How’s that? Too
tight?”

“No, Sir. It’s fine.”

He did the same with her right ankle and she
felt so open, exposed, vulnerable. Thank God she did hip exercises
or he might have torn her apart at this angle.

The rattle of the chains put her senses on
full alert.
Oh, dear Lord
. She felt the cold metal against
her back as he ran one of them down the valley of her spine. By the
time it reached the curve of her ass, the metal was no longer cold.
Her hips tilted up to embrace it.

“Do you like the feel of the chains on your
ass, Miss Paxton?”

Direct question. Answer him.

“Um, yes, Sir. Well, like this, anyway.
It’s…exciting.”

He chuckled. “Good to know.”

What would he do with that information? She
didn’t think she wanted to know. The man had a diabolical mind when
it came to making a woman beg. Making her needy. She hoped she
didn’t sound as needy as she felt. She was too vulnerable to him
already.

The chains rattled, and she heard a click.
Then he touched the cuff on her left leg and she heard another
click.
Damn him!
The chains were just for restraining her to
the desk. But her annoyance soon turned to relief. Her body turned
to mush on the desk as she sank against the wood. He was just
messing with her head.

He made quick work of restraining her right
ankle to the desk, then picked up more chains and moved to the
other end of the desk. “Hands open. Palms down.” She did as he
instructed and felt the tug of her right arm as he attached a
length of chain to the wrist cuff. He pulled it until her hand was
outstretched.
Oh, God
. Did her sweaty palm just squeak
against the desk? The chains rattled, and she heard another click.
She pulled and found no give in her arm.

“Is that too tight?”

“N-no, Sir.” Not yet.

“Tell me if your arms hurt or get numb.”

He restrained her other arm similarly, then
she heard him digging through his leather bag again. What other
means of torture did he have hiding inside there?

“Tell me again, Miss Paxton. Why are you
needing a spanking?”

“Because I forgot my pad and pen, Sir.”

“You remember your safeword?”

Oh, no! He wouldn’t spank her hard enough to
need it would he?

“Miss Paxton?”

“Y-yes, Sir. Red, Sir.”

“If you use it, the safeword will only apply
to this scene, not our TPE arrangement.”

Relief flooded her, and she relaxed.

He brushed his hand over her butt and
gooseflesh rose in his wake. “I think five swats will suffice in
getting you to remember your duties next time, Miss Paxton. Count
them for me.”

Five smacks of his hand didn’t sound so bad.
He’d already smacked her a few times. Definitely do-able.

Swat!

Oh, God, no!
That wasn’t his hand.
Whatever he’d swatted her with stung like a wasp, the burning
increasing as the cool air hit her. He was blowing on her ass
cheek? Oh, what had she gotten herself into?

“Miss Paxton.”

“I’m sorry, Sir. One!”

“Faster next time.”

Swat!

This time the paddle or whatever it was
smacked her other cheek. “Two, Sir!” Her ass was burning after only
two swats.
Dear Lord
. This wasn’t the fantasy she had in
mind.

Swat!

“Three, Sir!” She clenched her hands.

“Hands flat on the desk.”

She complied as quickly as she could force
her fingers to open.

Swat!

“Ow! I mean, four, Sir!” Her voice sounded
ragged and tears wet the tie. More cool air blew over her burning
butt and the rising gooseflesh just made the stinging even worse.
Sadistic bastard
.

Swat!

“Jesus!” The last blow landed against her
pussy lips and her erect clit.
Oh, God
. How could she be
excited by this kind of pain?
Count, Miss Paxton!
“Oh, five,
Sir!”

“Good girl.”

Relief flooded her that she’d pleased him—and
that they were finished, causing a strange mixture of a sob and a
giggle to escape from her raw throat. It was over. She waited for
him to remove the cuffs and chains.

Waited in vain. Instead, she heard a familiar
foil packet being torn. He wouldn’t. Not like this! She felt his
warm, hard penis pressing against the cleft of her pussy, rubbing
up and down from her pussy hole to her swollen and sore clit. Yes,
he would.

She squirmed, not sure whether she wanted to
get away from him or line him up better. When he bobbed his
erection repeatedly against her clit, teasing it to become even
more erect, she knew the answer. “Oh, yes, Sir! Right there!” She
gasped for breath.
More.
She needed more of him. “Please,
Sir. I need you inside me.”

“I will determine what you need, kitten.”

She groaned. How could he work her up to this
and leave her hanging—like a rag doll over his desk? He continued
to tease her clit. Holding her right hip, he lowered his penis to
her pussy hole.
Yes. Please, Master!

He pressed inside her then pulled out. She
whimpered. Needy. Not caring. “Please, Master.”

“Please what, kitten.”

She drew a ragged breath that did nothing to
fill her starving lungs. “I need you, Master.”

He took hold of her hips and drove himself
deeply inside her. “Oh, God, yes!” He pulled her hair until he
lifted her head off the desk. Her clit throbbed for more, her mons
slamming against the edge of the desk providing torturous stimulus.
She was being battered and rammed. So rough. Oh, God. She loved
it.

“More, Sir.”

What had gotten into her? She couldn’t hold
back the build-up of emotion. His love-making was raw, gritty,
elemental. And she was begging for more. Luckily, he gave her what
she asked for. His fingertips dug into her right butt cheek, still
sore from the paddling, and he bent over her, biting her shoulder.
The pain and pleasure mixed, and her clit felt as if it were about
to explode.