Unrestrained (13 page)

The first strike was a lick of fire across her hindquarters. The last time she’d had her backside blistered, she’d been a child. Since being well behaved was the result of such prudently administered corporal punishment, it had rarely been required. The burn made her jump, her nerves scream in shock. Her brain demanded that she move away, turn, stop him. Instead, she dug her fingers into the carpet. “One.”

Then came the next, and the next. The pain intensified. When she began to squirm on strike five, he put his hand on her back, pressing her to the cushion, showing how easily he could hold her down. She was panting, tears swimming in her eyes. “It hurts . . . hurts.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet it does. It’s making your ass a beautiful shade of red. Keep counting. Six to go. Was that extra two minutes worth it? The climax?”

Oh God, no. It had been a tiny, pitiful thing next to this. To deliver the last strokes, he banded an arm around her waist to keep her backside in the air and her body in place. She was struggling involuntarily now, but his powerful grip held her fast.

“Nine.”
God . . .
“Ten!”

The tears had spilled forth, and she was hooked to the carpet like a cat with claws. When the last blow landed, it had all become one fiery burn across her buttocks. He kept that strong arm around her as she sniffled. He steadied her, a warning that he was about to let go and he expected her to hold the position he’d mandated. When he released her, he moved behind her. Putting his hands on her buttocks, he settled his thumbs in the crease between labia and the pocket of her thigh. With no preamble, he dropped to a knee behind her and closed his mouth over her sex.

Her pussy was juicy as a peach slice, and when his tongue thrust inside of her, she came apart. He gripped her hips, holding her in place even though she was wheelbarrowing on the other side of the footrest, bleating and screaming as his relentless sucking and flicking of her clit catapulted her to a hard, fast climax. One far more intense than her infraction and far more desirable, because it was him making it happen.

She scrabbled for purchase on the carpet. He kept suckling her past the aftershocks, when she was jerking from the sensitivity, but he didn’t stop until he was good and ready, even when she was making pleading noises in her throat. It wasn’t until she quieted, accepting the crazy mix of discomfort and pleasure as part of her punishment, that he stopped.

He eased her down so she was draped limply on the footrest. The unease and emotional turmoil she’d felt since he’d arrived had mostly vanished. Was it possible her agitated state had been as much about violent arousal as uncertain feelings? His punishment and the cleverness of his mouth seemed to have cut her concern about the latter tenfold.

He drew her to an upright position on her knees, brought her to her feet. She was unsteady, but it didn’t matter. Shouldering the bag he’d brought from the kitchen, he scooped her up in his arms. “That takes care of your punishment. Now let’s get to your session.”

W
hat?
He was going to kill her, and she’d let him. Out of pure gratitude, she wouldn’t leave a single clue to betray him to the authorities. She really should have reminded Lynn where she kept the original copy of her will. Thank goodness she hadn’t adopted that dog she’d seen at the local ASPCA. The terrier mix had been a mop of hair, with soft brown eyes that promised she’d be the perfect companion, a warm body sharing the bed. Athena had instead found her a wonderful home with a family. Since she was going to expire from the things Dale was doing to her tonight, she was glad she hadn’t put that poor dog through the stress of such a temporary home.

Temporary. She’d assumed this arrangement with Dale was a temporary matter, something he kept gently—and sometimes not so gently—reminding her couldn’t be defined. She couldn’t help it, though. From bittersweet experience, she knew all things had a beginning and end, and when those experiences were wonderful, one always wished for a wider span between the two points. There was no way to brace for the loss, but it was human nature to try anyway.

Dale’s skills, however, could draw the excruciating and the pleasurable out on the same rubber band, so the mind was torn between
please stop
and
never stop
. She was caught between in a way that ensured she’d never use her safe word, no matter how strenuously she was stretched between the two points.

He carried her through the house to her reading nook. He’d turned at the appropriate points so her head or feet were protected as they moved through doorways. Now he reached under her and turned the latch of the sunporch, stepping right out into the gardens with her unclothed. There were no neighbors within viewing distance of course. It was just . . . she’d never been naked outside.

He didn’t let her down until they reached
The Choice
. “Turn and face the griffin. Reach above you, see if you can grab the crest of his wings.”

To do that, she had to lean full against the creature, put her forehead against its throat. Even then, she had to strain for the crest, going onto her toes. Dale came and pressed against her back to adjust her grip lower, on the slope of the wing edges. Now she was flat on her feet, but she was still stretched out. She wanted him to keep the heated strength of his body against her like that, but of course he stepped back.

“You’re going to be here awhile. I don’t want to put too much stress on your ankles or shoulders.”

Dale gripped her hair then, using that hold to lift her upper body away from the griffin and reach around her, put his fingers on the metal. When she glanced down, she saw he was testing those metal feathers, verifying they were smooth and not sharp. His questing hand was close enough that his wrist and the heel of his hand brushed her nipple, the curve of her breast. While the contact might be incidental, that, combined with the knee-weakening clasp on her hair, sent a frisson of arousal through a body that should still be depleted by her last climax. Maybe the newness of the situation, the excitement of it, was refueling her faster. Or Dale alone had that effect on her, him exercising his Mastery over her.

He returned her to a full lean against the griffin, readjusting her hands on the wings once more so her arms were stretched as far as they could go without taking her off her heels. The griffin’s chest rounded out her back, and the ridges of the feathers were a cool friction against tender skin.

Leaving her in that position, he went to his bag, unzipping it. Since he was in her field of vision, she saw him withdraw a coil of rope. Unwrapping the end from the figure eight coil, he shook it out in a deft move. Then he returned to her side and began tying her to the statue.

He moved with harrowing efficiency, binding her wrists with a knot that didn’t slip, winding the rope around the griffin and her, eventually cinching her firmly to the mythical beast in a series of cross ties and knots he lined up on either side of her spine.

It took a while and, as he did it, her body reacted as if he was stimulating her in a much more intimate way. The restraint was turning her on, every incremental restriction making her breath shorter, her heart pound, her flesh heat. She wanted him to keep tying her endlessly, more tightly. The more immobile and helpless he rendered her, the more aroused she became.
Oh God.
No wonder Roy had loved it when she tied him up. It held a euphoria all its own.

Dale left her backside free of encumbrance, but pulled the ropes through her legs, positioning a rough, titillating knot right against her clit before he split the rope around her labia, putting further pressure there. It increased when he began wrapping her thighs. Whatever he did pulled her legs open another inch or two, which made her grip on the wings more of a stretch, providing a feeling of suspension, even though she stayed on the ground. He brought her ankles up close to the statue, gripping her ass in one hand to guide her into a more severe C-curve over the griffin’s chest.

He knew his rope suspension techniques well, because the way he’d tied her, her shoulders weren’t bearing her weight. The rope harness over her back, hips and thighs had formed a cradle, as if she was a baby bird in a closefitting sling against the griffin’s puffed chest, her knees pressed against its lower abdomen. If he cut her loose right now, she’d fall, because she was no longer in a sturdy right angle with the ground. The sense of once again being simultaneously off balance and at his mercy was overwhelming.

He hadn’t spoken throughout, and neither had she. She’d never felt such a complete lack of need to speak. The way his hands moved over her body held all her attention. As well as his even breath, the way he stopped at different times to study her face, gauge her reaction. When he tested tightness, the angle of the ropes, the stress on her joints, the functional task felt remarkably erotic. Arousal trickled down her thigh, and it wasn’t from her last climax.

He put away the excess line. When he returned to her, he cupped her bottom once more, making her moan as he squeezed her hard enough the belt marks throbbed, then he stroked them.

“I like knowing your ass will be tender tomorrow because of this. You’ll have a lot of muscles hurting you haven’t used this way before. I’ll enjoy thinking about that, too. I’m going to leave you instructions to deal with it. A hot bath tonight, a couple aspirin. You’ll rub a liniment I give you into your arms and hips. Do you have someone who can help you do that?”

She shook her head. “I can manage.”

“I’ll come by in the morning and do it.”

“You . . . could stay.”

Her earlier impulsive state had obviously been exacerbated by the climax, her aroused state. She’d babble anything right now, but the idea of him in a bed with her was irresistible. But not her bed. Not yet.

“Not yet.” He echoed her thought, which gave her a pang of uncertainty and disappointment both, but her body’s intense reaction to her bondage didn’t let it gain much traction. He gripped her hair anew, tilting her head back so she was gazing up into his unsmiling face, those piercing eyes. “Too soon. I’m not him, Athena.”

A pang of mortification speared her. Seeing it, he shook his head, taking her chin in firm fingers. “What did I tell you? Are you acting within my control?”

She nodded, then remembered.
Damn it
. “Yes. Yes sir.”

She was relieved he didn’t put his hand on his belt, but he might be the type of Master who’d store such infractions away, pull them out at a later time. “Then why are you embarrassed? When I first arrived, what were you thinking, sitting on that fussy little sofa in front of the door? You looked like you were about to bolt.”

“I was. I thought I might lock the door, run upstairs. Then I wondered what you’d do.”

“What did you imagine me doing?”

She couldn’t help flushing a deeper rose at that. His fingers tightened in her hair. “You’ll answer me immediately when I ask a question, Athena. No hesitation, no thinking the answer through.”

“I imagined you kicking in the door, following me upstairs and . . . pushing me down on the bed to . . . punish me.”

His eyes glowed in a way that made her ache. God, she wanted that mouth on her. Her body tensed, feeling every line of the ropes holding her to the griffin. The sculpture had been cool when he first placed her against it. Now her inflamed flesh had warmed the metal.

“If I’d done that, I’d owe you a door tomorrow. And that looks like a pretty damn expensive door.”

“What . . . would you have done?”

He stroked her hair, traced her lips. She parted them, eager to feel him on the moist inside of her mouth. He obliged her, sliding his forefinger partly inside, and she sucked on it. His gaze darkened as her tongue flicked against it.

“You’d like to be on your knees, servicing your Master’s cock, wouldn’t you?”

She nodded, hoping she’d be excused from saying “Yes sir” since his finger was in her mouth. She expected the look on her face gave him the answer, regardless.

“We’ll see whether you deserve that. I wouldn’t have kicked the door down, Athena. I would have sat on the porch, waited until you came back down. You would have gone upstairs, turned in circles, been scared, but then you would have come back down to me, because you’d know I was the one who could make it better, make that tornado happening in your head die down, get still again. Though before I did that, I probably would have tipped you over my knee and given you a sound spanking for making me wait.”

He gave her that half smile again, the one that didn’t dilute the truth of his words at all. He enjoyed giving out pain as part of pleasure. When he’d helped her up from the footrest, his cock had been a thick bar straining against denim. The way he had her tied right now, her face pressed close to the griffin’s neck, she couldn’t dip her head enough to see, but from his total attention, the way he touched her, it was obvious he was still stirred up that way.

“Time to explore these limits of yours.”

He left her, going back to the bag. She heard him rummaging, heard the unsettling clang of metal, then a rustling. When he returned, he stayed behind her, but then he deprived her of any sight at all, sliding a blindfold over her eyes. “You’re mine to look at,” he said shortly. “But you have to earn the right to look at me.”

“Yes sir.” She liked how he said “mine.” She wanted to wrap herself around it like a dragon guarding treasure. She knew what was happening to her, because she’d seen it happen to other subs. They might come in nervous, jittery, overly chatty. Then their Master or Mistress would start to bind them, and with every cuff wrapped or rope cinched, that negative tension would start to leave their bodies, their expressions getting both more vacant and focused . . . vacant of anything but their total focus on their Dom. When the physical chains were put upon them, the mental chains they wore outside the club dropped away.

Maybe she hadn’t expected it to happen to her so much the same, or so easily, but she’d always been a submissive. Now that her subconscious had released that news flash to the rest of her mind, every cell was embracing this. They’d just been waiting for her to make the step into that room. No, not a room. An endless amusement park, or a quiet meadow on the planes of Paradise where she could simply . . . be.

She thought of how she’d struggled with this throughout the week, her conscious mind clinging to the paradigm she’d always had. Would it return in full force when she was untied? She was starting to understand how someone could have a split personality.

His hand dropped, sliding between her thighs, tugging on the knot over her clit. She whimpered, hands opening and closing in the bonds. When his fingers furrowed between her labia, she tensed; she couldn’t help it. Every woman felt trepidation when a man first started probing her more tender crevices. Would he know how to do it right? Would he thrust his fingers in too fast or at the wrong angle? She had no way of stopping him except by calling out the safe word, and doing it before he even tried wasn’t very sensible.

She needn’t have worried. He eased in slowly, feeling his way, and she was so slick with arousal he burrowed into her cunt like he’d been there before. He withdrew, then slid back in again, setting a slow rhythm, emulating coitus. Her hips shifted, jerked, tried to move with his movements despite her restriction.

“Good. Hot and eager. You’re ready for this.”

When his fingers came out this time, the blunt head of an inanimate object replaced them. She had no time to worry about it, because he eased it in as smoothly as he had his digits, despite the fact it was a much thicker dildo that stretched her out as it pushed in deep. She’d used her vibrator inside herself periodically, and now she was glad she’d done so, else her channel would have been much tighter from lack of use.

As the dildo reached a certain depth, another piece, a smaller shaft, pressed against her anal rim. His fingers parted her buttocks, allowing it access. It didn’t go inside, merely putting delicious pressure on that sensitive ring. He slid his hand to her front, then down her abdomen to adjust another curved piece over her clit. He tucked it beneath the rope knot, the soft gel of the device pressing into that nerve bundle. A series of straps were used to keep all of it in place, and when he tightened them, she moaned, rocking forward. He popped her buttock, a hard smack on one of the belt marks. The pain startled her.

“No moving until I give you permission.” He wasn’t messing around. It was his way or else. “Just feel it, Athena.”

She nodded quickly. She’d be still. Still as a mouse. But it was so hard. She was quivering all over, and a fine sweat had broken out on her limbs. Another hard smack made her yelp. “
Yes sir
.”

“God, you have no idea how fucking gorgeous you look. Maybe I’ll sit on that bench over there and jack off, make you my personal pinup fantasy.”

A noise of protest was on her lips before she could stop it, and he seized her hair again, his heated breath against her lips. “You don’t like that, Athena. Why not?”

“I want . . . to see you. And you said, if I was good, I could do that . . . for you.”