Wanting Wilder (12 page)

He lifted out a pink ball gag and set it on the accent table next to the cuffs. “Go stand under the chains, facing away from me.”

She centered herself under the chains she assumed would be used to bind her wrists. He didn’t come immediately. The crinkling of plastic packages continued for a few more moments. Random thuds and short, sharp sounds indicated things being arranged on the table. She resisted the temptation to turn around to see what he was doing. He was doing this for her. Misbehavior would give him adequate reason to send her to her room without the promised beating.

A giggle bubbled in her throat, but she swallowed it down, making a strangled sound in the process. For some reason, she always got the giggles at the beginning of a scene. The show of nerves had annoyed the hell out of her last Dom. She hoped Sir hadn’t been paying close attention, or if he had, she hoped he didn’t misconstrue the reason for her inappropriate laughter. It hadn’t been a problem when she’d been with him before.

Two hot palms seared her lower back. She jumped and refrained from whirling to face him through sheer force of will. “Nervous?”

She cleared her throat. “Yes, Sir.”

“You should be.”

Having expected him to issue reassurances about following her limits and honoring her safe word, she was caught off guard. The giggles began.

He smacked her ass so hard it forced her forward one step, but it also silenced her. “Yes, you definitely get a gag.” With a firm grip of her hips, he pulled her back into position. The velvety interior of the cuffs caressed her skin. He secured them tightly around her wrists and ankles.

Next he placed a stiff collar around her neck. It forced her chin high, curving the back of her neck so that her vertebrae could better absorb the motion of the imminent impact play.

She expected him to secure her wrists to the chain, but he added an extra step. Sliding a long pole through the loops attached to her wrist cuffs and collar, he immobilized her arms so they extended out to each side. He attached the bar to the chains.

Lastly he fashioned a rope harness, winding it just over and under her breasts and looping it between her legs before he also attached it to the chains. It would help her stay vertical, especially because he bound her ankles and knees together. She could sag or pass out, and the pressure wouldn’t be borne by the collar around her neck.

He came around to the front, surveying the way he’d bound her with a critical eye. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her. Did he see the artful knots or the strategic and functional placement of the ropes? Was she just another submissive whose skin would bear the marks of his attention?

Did he notice her face or see her soul hiding in her eyes, or did he just see a willing body? Lydia pushed aside her doubts and focused on the scene to come. Her mind would soon be in a peaceful place only accessible through the right kinds of pain.

At last his gaze met hers. Half of his mouth lifted in a smirk. “Bondage suits you, Pet. Ready to scream?”

Due to the collar, she couldn’t nod. “Yes, Sir.”

He held the ball gag against her lips. Though she would have opened for it, he squeezed the pressure points on her jaw, forcing it open before shoving the pink ball into her mouth. Excitement coiled low in her belly at the way he coerced her to bend to his will. She moaned, already on her way to bliss.

Then he looked into her eyes and captured her attention, pulling it away from the growing desire she felt. “No blindfold. I want to see your eyes. Blink once if you understand, twice if you don’t.” She blinked, but his gaze had shifted to her hand. He arranged her thumb and forefinger into an O shape. “That’s the signal for Oasis. You do that, and I’ll stop. Blink once if you understand.”

She blinked again.

“Wiggle your fingers and toes.”

The safety check marked a responsible Dom, but Lydia resented him a little for it. Part of her yearned for a wild, rough, completely uninhibited experience where considerations for safety and comfort were thrown completely out the window. If he did that, she would be able to hate him, and that would help her get over him.

He said something under his breath and disappeared behind her. The living room was long and narrow. Banks of floor-to-ceiling windows flanked a fireplace that divided the homey part of the room from the high-class dungeon part of the room. Lydia ignored the windows that pretty much looked out onto a wall of trees. In the daytime, the window had shown a cornucopia of fall colors. Right now, the light reflecting against the glass turned it to smoky mirrors.

She wanted him to start the flogging immediately, but she should have known he wouldn’t. Wilder was very much into taking his time. He began with his fingertips on her skin. He traced them across all the flesh that would soon feel the bite. She exhaled and relaxed, surrendering to his timetable. Thought she didn’t want it to happen, her pussy responded to his tender touches. After far too long, he severed contact and stepped away.

Air stirred near her backside a second before the flogger cracked sharply against her skin. The sound was worse than the bite, but she expected him to begin slowly. Heat traveled along the length of each leather fall, waves of calm that soothed her nerves and sent excitement pulsing between her legs.

Sensation moved up her back and down her thighs to heat her calves. By the time he made it around to her front, she needed to rely on the ropes to help her trembling muscles hold her upright. He whipped the fronts of her thighs and skated over her mons and stomach, causing pleasant warmth to permeate from every inch of her skin.

Though his eyes belied his intention, she still jerked when the falls licked the tender sides of her breasts. She moaned loudly, the sound muted by her gag. He paused briefly, studying her eyes and checking to see if she was signaling with her hand. This kind of attention ramped up her libido like nothing else, but she didn’t attempt to limit his access. Perhaps one of her limits might have dictated he avoid her breasts, but she honestly couldn’t remember.

Where the ends of the falls landed on her nipples, they stung like a pinch or a clamp. Lydia lifted her hips, tilting them up, begging to feel the sharp caress there. Too bad he’d tied her legs together. Too bad she’d banned that kind of contact.

By the time he disappeared around her again, the beginning stages of subspace had started to manifest. She recognized the subtle disconnect that preceded the floaty feelings. The individual stripes of sting on her body merged to radiate as one continuous ball of heat.

Liquid fire lashed her right and left calves in quick succession. She shouted as loud as she could, completely uninhibited because she wore a gag. The molten slashes moved up her legs, hitting the fleshy parts of her body so quickly she couldn’t register one before he delivered another.

Darkness, blessed and free, pressed into her mind. Lydia fell headfirst, embracing the bliss of nothingness.

THOSE DELICIOUS SHOUTS morphed to low moans that eventually ceased altogether. Wilder recognized the moment she gave herself over to subspace. Her entire body relaxed, slumping so that the sling he’d fashioned provided the support her legs no longer gave.

He hadn’t yet used the thicker cane she’d set out. With her firmly in subspace, that cane wouldn’t see any action tonight. He came to a stop in front of her, admiring the swell of her breasts and the way the ropes above and below accented them. While he’d turned her back to a beautiful ruddy shade, crisscrossed with darker stripes from the cane, her natural endowments were far more beautiful than any artificial additions.

He laughed softly, amused to find himself drawn more to her body than to what he did to it. “Pet, how are you doing?”

As he expected, she didn’t do more than open her eyes and stare at him with a blank expression. He removed her gag and tossed it to the table against the wall behind her. She wouldn’t need it anymore tonight.

Then he untied her legs. He didn’t know how quickly she’d recover, but he wanted her to have the use of her legs. Next, he slid the stiff pole out from the loops attached to the cuffs on her wrists and collar.

A vague consciousness, evidenced by the fact she didn’t collapse, had returned to Lydia by the time he freed her from the harness. He lifted her into his arms, and she smiled at him, bliss lightening her eyes almost to hazel. Glory, but he wanted to kiss her.

He could have prevented her from falling so far into subspace. When he whipped her perfect, plump breasts, he could have leaned in and teased them with his mouth. He could have sucked, alternating hard and soft pulls. His tongue darted out of his mouth, begging for the chance to touch her now.

Even if she had given permission, he couldn’t fuck her in this condition. He would have had to keep her on the edge during the scene, watching to make sure she didn’t slide this far into that mindless place subs so enjoyed. Then he could have taken her to his bed and slid his aching cock into her warm, waiting channel.

He carried her to her bed, rubbed some athletic ointment over the places where she would most likely hurt tomorrow, and tucked the covers around her sleeping form. Most of the marks he’d left would fade by morning.

Then he took a cold, cold shower that did nothing to dampen his desire for the beautiful woman in the next room who didn’t want anything more than a temporary Dom. Hell, who was he kidding? She didn’t even really want a temporary Dom.

* * * *

Sounds from the kitchen penetrated the haze of sleep that still gripped Wilder’s brain. He stared at the ceiling. Despite his raging hard-on, he’d had no problem falling asleep the night before. Intense sessions always left him exhausted. He sat up and rotated his shoulders, one at a time, stretching the muscles he knew would be a little sore.

He hadn’t whipped anyone in months.

Fighting the urge to lie back down and close his eyes, he dragged himself from the bed and headed toward the kitchen. He felt battered. He’d check her body to make sure the welts were healing correctly, and then he’d head back to bed.

Bright light streamed through the big windows in the living room, blinding him with early-morning brilliance. He made it to the kitchen, where he plopped down on a chair and put his head on the cold tabletop.

She cupped her delicate little hand around his, wrapping his fingers around a hot mug. The welcoming coffee scent tickled his nose and invigorated his senses. He grunted thanks. She ran her hand up his bicep and squeezed his shoulder.

He expected her to return to the chemist’s set of pots and pans she had littering the stove top, but she came around behind him and kneaded his shoulders. He groaned when she hit a particularly sore spot. She stopped there and worked the muscle, chasing away the knot.

By the time she finished, the last vestiges of sleep had faded from his mind. She returned to cooking. He sipped his coffee and watched her luscious body move about the kitchen.

She wore pink yoga pants and a loose shirt. He could only imagine how sensitive her skin must be underneath those flowing, soft clothes. Going a step further, he recalled the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips, and how she had moaned and arched under his body as he’d buried himself deep.

He was going to need another cold shower and another session with his hand. Watching someone make breakfast wasn’t supposed to be erotic, yet he couldn’t help but assign wanton intentions to her every movement. Even when she set a steaming plate of gourmet breakfast food in front of him, he admired the sexy way her arm curved and her breasts heaved. He didn’t recognize the food, but it smelled divine, so he dug in and did his best to ignore the woman sitting across the table. If she so much as touched her lips with her tongue, he’d be on top of her.

“I’d like to go to work today.”

Wilder took stock of his plate, noting that she’d waited until he was halfway finished with his food before making her request. He shook his head, the possessive need to keep her close winning despite the voice of reason shouting that she did need to go to work today. Other than giving himself perverse pleasure, he had no reason to deny her request.

People she’d met the night before, especially his mother, would expect to see her. They would want to reintroduce themselves, check out her office as she unpacked, bring her gifts.

Before she could mount a protest, he forced his rusty voice to give a reason. “I owe you a punishment.”

“Yes, Sir. Of course. I meant afterward.”

He grunted again, suddenly aware of how Neanderthal he must sound and hating the lack of culture he displayed. “Perhaps. We’ll discuss it after.”

Her irises darkened, and he knew she was gathering patience and more persuasive arguments.

Preempting anything she could say, he snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor next to his chair. “Strip down so I can check your skin.”

She blushed, a dark rose staining her cheeks as she stared at her plate and refused to look at him. “I’m fine, Sir. I checked this morning.”

Wilder grinned. “That’s four, Pet.”

Now she looked at him. “That’s three, Sir. I refuse to accept a punishment for something that was your fault.” She threw her fork on her plate and made ready to storm off.

He leaped up and grabbed her by the arms. She resisted, and he was glad. He needed to concentrate on something besides the way her body felt pressed against his and the heavenly mixture of strawberries and baby powder that overrode his senses when she was close.

She fought him, struggling against his hold, but she didn’t kick at him, though her legs were free. He lifted her easily, banded his arms around her arms and chest, and hauled her into the living room.

The large, white cube that served as a coffee table was too art deco for his tastes, but it did make a great place to tie a submissive, especially a bratty one who needed to learn to respect her Dom.

He forced her down to the tabletop and held her torso there with a hand firmly planted between her shoulder blades. He needed both hands free to tie her up, but she wasn’t in the mood to make things easy. No matter. He could work with this.