Not Safe for Work (19 page)

The sounds he made…

God.

The sounds.

A soft whimper here. A growled curse there. Cuffs rattling and giving away every time he jumped or clenched his fists. Sometimes he took slow, deep breaths. Other times he gasped. Held it. Held it longer. Slowly released or blew it out all at once.

The chain between the handcuffs pulled as tight as it would go. Muscles and veins stood out on his forearms. I couldn’t quite see his knuckles as he gripped handfuls of the comforter, but I’d have bet money they were blanched. His breathing was uneven, ragged, sometimes deep, sometimes shallow. Everything about him—the sight of him, the sounds he made—was unspeakably sexy, and tonight he was mine, all mine, to fuck and tease, and—

To hell with it. I couldn’t concentrate on anything except fucking him.

I dropped the wheel on the bed again and held his hips. “Oh my God. I love the way you look like this.” I rocked my hips a little faster. “I love the way you look anyway, but this is just…” I ran out of breath as I watched my dick slide all the way inside him. “Unreal.”

A low, throaty moan escaped his lips. He sounded like he’d tried to say something, but then his muscles were trembling and he was pressing his forehead into the sheets, and all that came out was another moan.

I slid the heels of my hands up to his shoulders. “Feel good?”

No words came this time either, but the meaning came across loud and clear. I gripped his shoulders, squeezed my eyes shut and rode him good and hard. Every time my hips hit his ass, the impact jolted his whole body and rattled the chains between his wrists and at his ankles, driving it home that he was bound, immobile, at my mercy, submitting to me completely and loving every second of it.

“I want you to come,” I panted. “Come for me.”

Rick swore under his breath. His hips rocked in time with my thrusts, rhythmically tightening him around me, and maybe he was trying to push himself over the edge by fucking against the bed while I fucked him from behind—all I knew was he was hauling me over that edge with him.

“Come,” I growled. “Fucking—”

“
Oh God!
” He jerked beneath me, his ass impossibly tight, and…

And that was it. One second, I was holding back and giving orders and trying to get as deep inside him as he’d take me, and the next, I was buried to the hilt, the whole world pulsing in time with my orgasm.

I rested my forehead between his shoulder blades. Carefully, I pulled out, and we both gasped as my cock slid free.

“Holy fuck,” he slurred.

“My sentiments exactly.” I kissed his spine. “D-don’t move. Just gonna get rid of the condom, and then I’ll untie you.”

“’Kay.”

If he’d tried to stand and take a step with the spreader bar, he’d have wound up flat on his face, and as I tried to move, I realized I wasn’t in much better shape. My feet could move independently, but every bone had turned to rubber. My equilibrium was fucked. Even my hands didn’t quite know how to accomplish a simple task like taking off a condom, tying it and tossing it into the trash. Somehow, I figured it out.

Despite the trembling in my legs, I knelt beside him and took off the cuffs around his ankles. I set the bar on the bed so he wouldn’t trip over it, and then freed his wrists.

With a hand around his arm, I helped him upright. “Slow,” I said. “Don’t want you blacking out on me.”

He laughed, sounding almost drunk. “I think I’m okay.”

“Still.” I wrapped my arms around him and lifted myself up enough to kiss him lightly. “Feel better than before?”

“Much.”

“Good. Let’s grab a shower, and then we can relax for a while.”

* * * * *

After we’d showered off all the sweat and lube, we pulled each other close in the middle of my bed and lay there quietly for a while. I thought he might fall asleep. A few times, I nearly drifted off myself.

We both stayed awake, though.

This was one of the best parts of playing with a sub—lying together, quietly letting the dust settle while he rested in my arms. After an intense scene, demanding things of him while I overwhelmed his senses, we both needed this, and I always loved it.

Tonight, I made sure to be especially affectionate with him—stroking his hair, holding him, caressing his skin—to ward off any aftermath of the hiccup at the club. No matter how much I tried to persuade him that this evening hadn’t been a failure in the sense he thought it was, that I wasn’t angry at him and I didn’t think less of him as a sub, nothing would get that point across like making sure he had what he needed now.

Eventually, he broke the silence. “You really don’t like being called a sadist, do you?”

“Well, you’re not a masochist, are you?”

His lips quirked. “Okay, fair point.”

“I mean, strictly speaking, I suppose I am. But whenever I’ve put it out there that I’m a sadist, I draw a much different crowd of subs than if I say I’m not a sadist. The one crowd wants to be tortured well beyond what’s fun for me, and the other…not so much.”

“That makes sense. And if I’ve called myself a masochist, it’s more or less the same.”

“Labels aside, we seem to be on the same page about what’s enjoyable and how much is too much.” I grimaced. “Even if it still winds up being too much sometimes.”

“It happens.” He put his hand over the top of mine in the middle of my chest. “And I’m not kidding when I say thank you for what you did tonight. That scene could’ve gone south in a hurry, but it didn’t.”

I absently stroked his hair. “There’s no way in hell I was letting you freak out. Not on my watch.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“Maybe tying you completely wasn’t the way we should’ve gone for your first time at a place like that, though.” I rubbed the side of his hand with my thumb. “In which case, I’m sorry. I should’ve taken it slower.”

“No.” He turned toward me. “It’s a learning curve. You’re still learning my limits, and maybe so am I.” He squeezed gently. “To be honest, if I got anything out of tonight, it’s the reinforcement that you’ll err on the side of caution. Maybe it was frustrating for both of us, but it’s good to know.”

I turned my hand over beneath his and laced our fingers together. “I’ll always err on the side of making sure you’re safe. Physically and mentally.”

“I know. I didn’t have any doubt before, but after tonight…” He smiled and leaned in for a brief kiss. Settling back on the pillow, he said, “This evening didn’t exactly go as planned, but in the long run, maybe it’s for the better.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

He half shrugged. “I didn’t either until after you brought me back to earth and helped me clear my head.” He paused. “And actually, the more I think about how tonight went and how much you did everything right to keep me from freaking out during or crashing after…” His eyes lost focus. “Tomorrow night…”

I ran the backs of my fingers down his arm. “Tomorrow night…?”

He took a breath. Locking eyes with me, he said, “I want to try hot wax.”

My heart skipped, and my hand twitched on his arm. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “I think I’m ready.”

“You think you’re—”

“I know I am.” He raised his eyebrows. “If you’re ready to go there.”

I regarded him silently.
Was
he ready? Was
I
ready?

“You know it’s painful, right?”

“Of course.” He grinned. “I heard that sub tonight.”

“True. And you know even if you safe-word and we stop, it won’t stop hurting right away?”

“Absolutely.”

Still, I hesitated, but as I remembered the look on his face while we’d watched the scene tonight, I broke out in goose bumps. Though I was uncertain, the fact remained that if it turned out he wasn’t ready, we could always stop. Tonight had proven we could bounce back after a scene ended abruptly.

Above all, it was what he wanted. And what was the purpose of a Dom if not to be the safe, trusted, responsible partner who existed to give the submissive what he wanted?

“All right.” I kissed his forehead. “Tomorrow night, you’re on.”

Rick just shivered.

Chapter Twenty-Five

When Rick came back the next day, there was no sign of what had happened at the club. His eyes were clear, his smile was as bright as always. Back to normal, by all appearances.

Just to be safe, though…

As I pulled some bottled water from the fridge, I said, “How are you doing as far as last night goes?”

“I was still a bit wired over it when we went to bed, but after I slept on it…” He shrugged. “Amazing what a night of sleep can do for something like that.”

“Good point.” I handed him one of the bottles. “It’s still something to keep in mind, but it sounds like you’re pretty well past it. Isn’t like you were way into subspace and then freaked out.”

He shuddered. “Yeah. And I’m… I mean, it was frustrating at the time, but I’m glad you stopped when you did.”

I set my unopened water on the counter and wrapped my arms around him. “If there’s
any
question, I’d rather stop a scene than push through. There’s nothing that says we can’t start one after we’ve stopped.”

“I know. And I’m definitely in a good space tonight. Whatever you want…just say the word.”

I ran my fingers through his hair. “Well, as it happens, I want you tied up and hard, because I’ve got some candles with your name all over them.”

Rick gulped and nodded. “Where?”

“You know exactly where.”

Without another word between us, we grabbed our water and went down into the basement.

I flicked on the light.

Rick’s gaze immediately went to the array of equipment I’d set up in the middle of the room. He did a double take, and his lips parted. “Oh God.”

He’d probably expected some of this. The table. The pile of candles beside the steaming Crock-Pot, which I hadn’t bothered to hide like the Dom at the club had.

He probably hadn’t expected
everything
that was set up, though.

“What’s wrong, Rick?” I rested a hand on top of the sex machine I’d tormented him with before. “Did you think we were
only
doing hot wax tonight?”

He gulped. “Fuck…”

“Pretty much, yeah. Now strip.”

Though he still regarded the machine warily, he obeyed, peeling off his shirt.

While he undressed, I adjusted the table he’d be tied to. It was usually set up for someone lying on their back but could be configured to accommodate a person on his hands and knees. That way he could be tied in that position but had enough padding and support to keep from getting fatigued. Which meant we could go for a
long
time if I wanted to.

And since the hot wax would pull the hair out of his chest and stomach, I wanted his back exposed instead.

I faced him and grinned. Everything was exposed now. He watched me with wide eyes, standing there naked against the backdrop of my home dungeon.

Oh, Rick. You are all mine tonight.

I somehow kept myself from licking my chops and patted the table. “Hands and knees.”

He eyed the table, probably trying to work out how he was supposed to get on it. He figured it out quickly enough, though, and climbed on. Excellent—his ass was in the air, at just the right height for the machine to fuck him while I tormented him. His shins and forearms rested on pads that would keep them comfortable, and also
happened
to conveniently position them perfectly for a bastard Dom to come along and tie them down. Good thing that bastard Dom had a few coils of rope handy.

I took my time tying him down. I didn’t say a word the whole time either. Instead, I let his surroundings sink in. The relative quiet of the dungeon. The faint smell of hot, melted wax. The sex machine sitting behind him, silent and still, ready to fuck him senseless.

“Feel all right?” I secured the last rope, this one around his arm. “Nothing numb or tingling?”

He gulped. “I’m good.”

“Then let’s get started, shall we?”

He turned a bit, looking up at me with round eyes.
We haven’t started yet?

I chuckled, patted his shoulder and moved to the other side of the table. First things first—the machine.

I put plenty of lube on the toy and also on him, and slid it into him a few times to make sure he was good and relaxed. Then I reattached it to the machine, positioned it, and turned it on.

The motor whirred to life. The arm started moving, slowly at first, and then faster as I cranked it up, and Rick moaned as the toy moved in and out of him.

“Feel good?” I asked.

“Mmhmm.”

“Straight answers, Rick,” I said sharply.

“Yes. Yes, it feels… Feels good.”

“Much better.” I patted his leg.

While the machine kept going, I moved to the Crock-Pot and stirred the thick, white liquid with the long-handled ladle. That setup was well within Rick’s view when he turned his head, and he watched me, eyes fixed on the ladle as his fingers kneaded the armrests.

I dipped the ladle in and raised it, watching his gaze, and as I turned it and let the wax fall back into the pot, he shuddered.

“Ready?” I asked.

He licked his lips and nodded. “Ready.”

I stirred the wax a little more and then scooped some out. Carefully holding it several inches above his skin, I turned the ladle and drizzled the wax across the back of his shoulder.

He hissed, his muscles twitching beneath the liquid.

“That hurt?” I asked.

“Of course it fucking hurts.” He forced out a breath.

I turned up the machine. As it fucked him faster, he swore softly, his head falling forward and his arms trembling beneath him.

“Let’s try that again,” I said. “Does the wax hurt?”

He inhaled slowly. “Yes. It hurts.”

“Much better.”

I didn’t slow the machine down, though.

With the wax again, I started at the base of his neck and drew a single line of liquid heat downward. His spine bowed, and as I neared his lower back, he whimpered, ass cheeks clenching and thigh muscles tensing. All his focus had to have been concentrated there, between the hot wax I was pooling at the base of his spine and the toy continuing to pound his well-fucked ass.

I dipped the ladle and moved to his shoulders. As soon as the wax hit, he grunted, every muscle in his torso tensing so hard, some of the dried wax cracked and popped off his skin.

“W-wait. The…” He tensed, pulling in a sharp breath that made my stomach clench.

“Easy, Rick.” I touched his shoulder. “Are you using your safe word?”

“N-no. The machine. Too much.”

Without hesitation, I turned the machine down and then off. “Better?”

He nodded.

“Do you want me to remove it completely?”

“No. No, this is…” He rocked back and forth just slightly, still fucking himself on the stationary toy. “Is good.”

“We can stop if—”

“Please don’t stop.”

I picked up the ladle again. “Tell me your safe word.”

“Red.”

“And you’re not using it now?”

“No.”

“Good.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled. The tension in his muscles—what wasn’t hidden beneath the layer of wax—started to ease.

So I poured some more on and let his whimpers give me goose bumps all over again.

As much as I enjoyed the exhibitionist aspect of clubs like the one we’d tried to attend, there was something to be said for having him like this. Alone, contained within one room with the rest of the world locked outside. In here, every cry, every whispered curse, every catch of his breath, was for me and me alone to hear.

After a while, a thick layer had formed on top of his back and shoulders. I put the ladle back in the pot and, with a butter knife that was deliberately kept cold, scraped the wax off his skin. He gasped and twitched beneath the cold metal, and swore when the wax grabbed an errant hair.

“Just be glad I’m doing this on your back.” I laughed. “Maybe if I ever want to punish you, I should put wax on your chest.”

A strangled sound escaped his lips.

“Relax.” I peeled another piece of wax off the groove of his spine. “You’d have to fuck up pretty hard for me to wax your chest.”

“That’s—damn it!—encouraging.”

I laughed. “It’ll teach you to behave, won’t it?”

He wisely didn’t even try to mutter anything under his breath.

I removed the last piece of wax, and I ran my hand over his newly exposed flesh. “There. Now I can start all over again.”

“Oh fuck.” He released a heavy sigh.

“You want me to stop?”

“No. Just…” He rolled his shoulders as much as his position allowed. “It’s intense.”

“As it should be.” I dipped the ladle again. “It’s supposed to be.” The wax hit just below his shoulder blade, and the throaty cry he released damn near made me come right then and there. I poured more on. He whimpered. Fuck yes.

I drew lines all over his back. Swirls. Switchbacks. Sometimes he hissed, sometimes he just recoiled. Other times, his muscles twitched, but he moaned so quietly it was barely audible. By the time I’d covered his back in wax again, his skin was gleaming with sweat, and the ends of his hair were damp and curling.

I put the ladle back in the pot, and this time, left it there. Touching his shoulder, I said, “You did well. Did you enjoy it?”

“Intense,” he murmured. “Yeah.”

I smiled and squeezed his shoulder. He may not have been a masochist per se, but he was no wimp.

I shut off the Crock-Pot and started removing the wax from his skin again. This time, he barely responded. The occasional soft moan, but that was it. He was probably floating on a cloud of endorphins right then. Maybe not all the way into subspace, but damned close.

I carefully slid the toy free, and he moaned, letting his head fall forward.

“You okay?” I asked.

Rick nodded. “Just…a lot.”

I rubbed a hand up and down his side. “That’s the idea. Not in pain or anything?”

“No. I’m good.”

I untied his feet, then his hands. Making sure to keep a firm grip on his arm, I helped him up off the table, but then encouraged him to sit on its edge.

“We’re done.” I handed him his water and kissed his cheek. “Relax for a minute, and then we’ll go upstairs.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. For the scene? For the reprieve? Didn’t matter. His gratitude made my heart flutter as much as his submission did.

We stayed like that for a while, drinking some water and catching our breath until he was steady on his feet. Then I guided him up the stairs, leaving our clothes in the dungeon. Eventually, I’d go back down, clean up the room, retrieve our clothes. For now, my focus was on him and helping him onto the bed.

“How do you feel?” I asked as I settled in beside him.

“Good.” He rested his head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry about earlier. With the machine. It—”

“No, don’t be.” I kissed the top of his head and held him closer. “The whole point is to overwhelm your senses, and there’s a very fine line between too much and
too much
. I fully expect you to tell me if we’re on the wrong side of that line. It’s bound to happen, especially now while we’re still finding each other’s limits. Getting to know each other.”

“It’s weird to think about, isn’t it?”

“How do you mean?”

“That we’re still figuring all this out.” He lifted himself up onto his elbow. “I keep forgetting that we only started doing this recently.”

“Me too, now that you mention it.” I kissed him, drawing it out for a moment but not deepening it.

He looked in my eyes again. “It’s funny. Most Doms I’ve played with before, it’s a slow process. But with you…” He lost focus for a moment. “With you, it’s easy.”

“It’s easy with you too. There’s still a learning curve, and there’s bound to be bumps in the road, but…”

He nodded. He started to speak but yawned instead. “Sorry. Jesus.”

“Tired?”

“Exhausted.” He smiled sleepily. “In a good way, though.”

“I should hope so.” I kissed his forehead. “Go ahead and sleep for a while if you need to. I’m not going anywhere.”

He smiled, eyes sliding closed.

And in minutes, he was asleep again.

He was right. It
was
easy. Even as we worked out the limits, which sometimes meant hitting those limits and needing to back off, it was never awkward or unpleasant. This relationship’s learning curve was probably the easiest I’d ever been on.

Well, there was no telling where it was going, but I liked where it was right now.