“This space is fantastic. I take it this wasn’t part of the original cottage?”
“No,” Hailey acknowledged. “My dad tore down this wall for my yoga studio. He’s very handy around the house. He understood my need for a sense of space and light when I practice yoga. The windows are heavy duty insulated, though, since Vermont winters can be pretty intense.”
Ronan nodded. His eye was drawn to the back wall, upon which were hung three large photographs, each simply framed in black, the frames spaced equidistant along the wall. He stepped closer to examine the photos. They were black-and-white, except for the rope, which had been tinted a bright, blood red when the photos were developed. The female model in the pictures was a slender woman with long hair and large, dark eyes that stared hauntingly into the camera.
She was naked, save for the red ropes, which were artfully knotted around her body in the geometric patterns and designs typical of classic Shibari rope bondage. In one of the poses, the model was standing upright in an empty room, arms behind her back, the red rope covering her torso in an intricate series of knots. In the second, the rope was wound into her long, dark hair, which was tied to a beam above her head, forcing her onto tiptoe. The third photograph was taken outside. The woman was suspended upside down from a tree, her feet and legs bound together, her body crisscrossed with the red rope, her hair streaming downward to sweep the ground.
Ronan turned to Hailey, who stood just behind him. “These are amazing,” he said, awestruck. “Where did you get these?”
“I took them,” Hailey said matter-of-factly. “I’ve always enjoyed photography. I have a friend in town who’s a photojournalist. We barter—she takes yoga classes in exchange for letting me use her darkroom whenever I want. The model was an acquaintance of mine I met when I was trying to explore the scene on my own a few years back. She and her partner are heavily into Japanese rope bondage and they put on shows at a club in Burlington. They were looking for someone discreet to do a photo session, and they allowed me to keep a few of the negatives for myself.” She shrugged and smiled. “It was fun, except I was jealous. I wanted to be the one getting tied up.” Her smiled lifted into a grin.
“Your wish is my command, my lady,” Ronan said with a mock bow and a return grin. “Seriously, though, you are quite a talented photographer. I love what you did with the rope color. Do you have other work?”
“I do,” Hailey replied. “Though it’s mostly just honey bees and hummingbirds. A few bunny rabbits. I don’t usually do people, but I made an exception for her.”
“Well, you have quite an artist’s eye, Hailey. I’m very impressed.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Hailey beamed happily. Ronan turned to take in the rest of the room. “This is an amazing space. I see a lot of potential for this room, as these photos suggest.” He moved closer to her and placed a finger lightly beneath her chin, lifting her face to his. “I know some Shibari, slave girl. You would be beautiful bound like that model. Is this room solely for yoga or…” He let the sentence hang, his finger still beneath her chin.
“It’s for whatever pleases you, Sir,” she whispered, her pupils dilating and her lips parting as she stared into his eyes.
He took her face into his hands and dipped his head to kiss her. Since he’d invited her into his bed, despite all the insanity of the past twenty-four hours, something had shifted between them. They were still Master and slave, yes, but there was more at play now—a deepening to the relationship he hoped wasn’t just on his side.
As he kissed her, he slipped the straps of her dress down her shoulders, pushing at the fabric of her light dress until her lovely high breasts were revealed. Letting go of her mouth, he ducked to capture one of her nipples with his teeth. He bit lightly, and then a little harder, loving the swell of her engorging nipple against his tongue, and the sensual breathy sigh in her throat.
He pushed her gently to the ground, angling her so they were on the thick, soft yoga mat. He pulled at her dress, dragging it from her body. With his permission, she had worn underwear during the flight, and he yanked these aside as well.
He knelt up between her legs, pushing them open, and leaned down to inhale her spicy sweetness. She started to close her legs. “Oh, Sir, you don’t have to. I mean—”
He stopped her with a finger to her lips. “I do what I want. I take what I want, slave Hailey. I want this. It is mine, is it not?”
Her cheeks were flushed, her dark blue eyes bright. Slowly she nodded, letting her thighs fall open. “Yes, Sir. Excuse me, Sir. I forgot myself for a moment.”
“You did,” Ronan agreed. “You will be punished later. For now, however, I want to taste you.” He leaned forward and snaked his tongue along her already-slick labia and circled her clit. As he licked and suckled her cunt, her moans of ecstasy fueled his passion. He didn’t stop until she cried out, “Please, Sir, oh god, please! May I come, Sir, oh! May I please, please come?”
“You may.” She shuddered and moaned as he held her fast. He kissed the insides of her thighs with a hundred tiny kisses as she lay, legs akimbo, face and throat flushed with orgasm, chest heaving. When she finally stilled, he leaned back on his haunches, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and waited.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. He rubbed the front of his jeans. “I’m in need of attention now, slave girl,” he said, his stern tone belied by his smile.
“Oh, yes, Sir, right away, Sir!” Hailey scrambled to her knees. Ronan stood in front of her and put his hands on his hips, watching as she unzipped his fly and pulled his jeans and underwear down to his knees. She took his cock hungrily into her mouth, her hands stroking and cupping his balls as she licked and sucked him to perfection. It might have been minutes, but it felt more like seconds before he was ready to spurt. He gripped the sides of her head and rammed his shaft deeply into her throat, the power of his position as thrilling as the feel of her silky lips and tongue on his cock. He held her that way until he’d spilled every drop.
Finally letting her go, he stared down at her, a strange almost painful combination of lust and love twisting through him like a blade.
“Thank you, Sir,” she said softly.
“Thank you, slave girl,” he replied. He pulled up his jeans and extended a hand, helping Hailey to her feet. He drew her into his arms and kissed her. “You please me,” he said softly into her ear. He realized he hadn’t given the whole mystery girl viral video crap they’d left back in California a single thought since they’d stepped foot inside Hailey’s peaceful little cottage. “And this place pleases me,” he added. “Thank you for inviting me here. I do appreciate it.”
He let her go. She smiled at him. “You’re very welcome. To tell you the truth, I hadn’t realized how much I missed being here until now. It’s good to be home. Oh!” she said suddenly. “I haven’t given you the full tour yet. Would you like to see out back? There’s a workshop out there you might want to check out. Some of the stuff in there is really old. It belonged to my grandpa.”
“Sure,” Ronan agreed. “I’d love to see it.”
Hailey reached for her dress, and then looked up at Ronan for permission. He nodded. “You can put that back on—for now.”
He followed her into the small kitchen and out onto a wrap-around back porch. Off to the side of the property was another stone structure about the size of a large shed. They walked to it, and Hailey pushed open the unlocked door. Though the room had two small, high windows, it still needed the overhead light that she flicked on with a switch just inside the door.
Ronan took in the space, transported by the sight of it to another time and place, before the world had known he existed, when he was just a simple carpenter trying to make a living with his hands and his back. Something eased inside him as he looked around the room—a tightly coiled wire of tension at his core slowly unspooling.
“Wow, some of this stuff is from the turn of the last century,” he said, not trying to hide the awe he felt. It was c
lear the person who had kept this workshop had loved and cherished his equipment.
Though coated with dust, every tool was in its place. A foot-powered grindstone stood like a Paleolithic bicycle in the middle of the floor, complete with a stone wheel and an iron seat. Nearby stood an anvil. There was a bench with several vises waiting in a row, and a paint locker filled with cans of paint and stain neatly lined and labeled. On the pegboard wall were carpenter’s tools, each hung within its drawn outline. There were hammers, sledges, wooden and rubber mauls, hatchets, axes, screwdrivers, chisels, hacksaws, keyhole saws, pulp saws, rip and crosscut saws. In the corner stood rakes, hoes, shovels and even an old scythe. Along the top of the workbench there was a shelf of capped and labeled mason jars filled with nails, wood screws, bolts, rivets, brads and tacks.
“This is amazing,” Ronan said, turning to Hailey, his face splitting into a smile so wide it hurt his cheeks.
Hailey laughed. “You look so happy, Sir. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy before. I’m thinking what yoga is for me, carpentry is for you.”
“I’m thinking you’re right,” Ronan agreed, feeling warm to his bones. He reached for her and pulled her into his arms. Hailey came willingly, lifting her face sweetly for a kiss.
But after a moment, she pulled away. “Come on,” she said, an unmistakable touch of coquetry in her grin that Ronan found quite intoxicating. “I want to show you my favorite spot by the creek.” Without waiting for his answer, she stepped outside and looked over her shoulder at him, her smile flung backward like a handful of flowers.
Chapter 10
Ronan stepped outside and reached for Hailey’s hand. It slipped neatly into his grip, her fingers curling around his as if they’d been cast together in the same mold. They moved down a well-worn path. As they approached the creek, the sound of the water tumbling over the stones calmed Hailey.
“I can see why you love it here,” Ronan said. “I haven’t felt this relaxed in ages.”
It was an unusually warm day even for July, the temperatures edging into the high eighties, the air more humid than what Ronan was no doubt used to from his years in California. She led him a few yards down to a flat clearing by the water, stopping beneath a cluster of trees that canopied the space in a latticework of leaves and branches. Ronan started to sit.
“Wait,” Hailey said. “Let me get the blanket.”
“The blanket?” Ronan turned toward her with a questioning glance.
“Yeah. My grandfather used to fish down here. My dad and brother too. I don’t fish, but I kept the gear here, I guess for old time’s sake. I have my own supplies here, too.” Hailey moved to the large wooden storage bin that her grandfather had built back when he and her grandmother had been newlyweds. The key was in the padlock, which served to keep out curious raccoons and the occasional bear who might meander down this way from the woods.
She opened the lock and lifted the heavy lid, which still rose smoothly on its old but solid hinges. Reaching in, she pulled out a large plastic container and set it on the ground beside the bin. She removed the lid and took out the faded old quilt, along with two bottles of water and a vacuum-sealed packet of dried fruit and nuts.
Ronan helped her spread the blanket over the wild grass, and they sat side-by-side, facing the water. Hailey handed Ronan a bottle of water. She tore open the snack bag and set it between them.
“I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” Ronan said as he munched between sips of water. “That meal on the plane is just a distant memory. I’ll need to build my strength back up so I can punish you properly for your infraction back in the yoga room.” He flashed a grin in her direction as he reached casually for another handful of fruit.
“Oh.” Hailey brought a hand to her mouth, feeling heat move over her cheeks at his reminder, while her nipples perked perversely against her dress.
Ronan laughed. “You thought I forgot, huh?” He shook his head, the smile falling away. He glanced around the glade. “Is this private? No neighbors?”
“No neighbors, Sir. It’s very secluded. No one comes back here.”
Ronan nodded. “Good. We need to reestablish some guidelines. Stand up, slave Hailey. Strip and present yourself for inspection.” His blade of a stare pinned her to the spot. “Now,” he added softly, though there was iron beneath the word.
Hailey’s heart slipped into a higher gear, the blood revving in her veins. She rose to a standing position and slipped her sandals from her feet. She pushed at the straps of her dress and let it slide silkily down her body. Lifting her arms, she laced her fingers behind her neck and elongated her spine to an at-attention position, back arched, breasts thrust forward, legs shoulder-width apart.
Ronan pushed himself to his feet and moved closer. “Offer your cunt,” he commanded.
Hailey rolled her hips forward, tilting her sex upward. Ronan reached for her mons, cupping and gripping her. His fingers stroked roughly along her labia, one digit pressing inside. “Why do you need to be punished, slave girl?”
Hailey drew in a quick breath, the usual dichotomy at war inside her. She hated to be punished. Or more accurately, she hated to engage in the kind of behavior that led to punishment—the resistance, the lack of grace, the failure to perform to her Master’s dictate—and the humiliation that followed with the knowledge she had let him down. Yet at the same time she craved the attention and focus that were part and parcel of a punishment. Her natural instinct was to not only accept, but to embrace, the justly meted discipline.
“I resisted you, Sir.”
“Be more specific.”
“I closed my legs to you, Sir. I protested that you didn’t have to do something, instead of simply obeying. I forgot my place as your slave and your possession, Sir.”
“That I didn’t have to do something,” Ronan echoed. “Be more specific. Tell me precisely what it was you didn’t want me to do.”
How like Master Ronan to hone in on what was difficult for her. She realized she both loved and hated him for this. She willed away the blush threatening to wash over her cheeks. “I didn’t want you to lick my pussy, Sir.”
He withdrew his hand from between her legs. Stepping back, he reached for her breasts, first cupping them in his palms, then gripping her nipples between thumbs and forefingers. He twisted, gradually increasing the pressure until she winced. “Why didn’t you want that, slave? Think before you answer and speak with honesty. I want to understand.”
Hailey’s nipples were throbbing, her cunt spasming with need, in spite of the recent orgasm. She couldn’t stop the quiet but audible moan that escaped her lips as she stared up into her Master’s eyes, which glittered with an inner fire of their own. Startled by the intensity of his gaze, she looked away.
Finally he released the pressure on her nipples, and Hailey’s mind cleared enough to formulate a response. She looked again into his handsome face. “I love to serve, Sir, but I sometimes have a hard time receiving.”
“I understand. Go on.” Though the lust still shone in his eyes, so, too, did the compassion, and Hailey fell a little more in love at that moment.
Pushing the feeling aside, she forced herself to focus on what she needed to say. She understood being an erotic slave meant more than just giving one’s body. The heart and mind had to follow as well. “I guess it’s easier to give. You don’t put yourself out there in the same way. It’s less, um”—she paused as she struggled for the word—”vulnerable.” Again he nodded his understanding. Still in her at-attention pose, Hailey continued, “I’ve never felt entirely comfortable allowing a man, especially a Dom, to lick my pussy and bring me to orgasm in that way. It feels so—so greedy, I guess. So solely about my own pleasure to the exclusion of my Master’s.”
“You don’t believe this act provides pleasure for a man? For a Master?”
“I—I guess not really, Sir.” Hailey blew out a breath, and then admitted something she hadn’t even thought about for years, at least not consciou
sly. “My first boyfriend, Chris, he told me…” She swallowed hard, the words dying in her throat. Blinking back sudden tears of shame she hadn’t realized she still carried, she looked down at her feet.
“Hailey.” Ronan’s tone was gentle. Using a finger, her lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “Stand at ease, arms at your sides. I can see something is troubling you. Something important. I want to hear this—to understand it. Hold nothing back. If it helps you, consider this part of your punishment.”
Hailey nodded. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” She dropped her arms and let her mantra envelop her: Serenity. Peace. Submission. Grace. Calmed, she continued, “I was seventeen, a senior in high school. Something of a late bloomer, I guess. Chris was the most gorgeous guy in school. He was on the football team, typical jock, not my type at all, but he asked me out, and I said yes. We went out a few times, and I guess I was flattered more than anything else. It was weird but cool to be suddenly popular, even if the attention was just reflected.
“Anyway, we made out in the back of his truck a few times after going to the movies or whatever, and he was kind of dominant, though he wasn’t actively into the scene or anything. I mean, neither was I, of course, but I had all the fantasies, all the hardwiring of a submissive and sexual masochist, even back then.
“It must have been the third or fourth time we were making out, and he said he wanted me to suck him off. To that point all we’d done was some heavy petting. I wasn’t ready, even though most the girls in my class had progressed way beyond that. I said no, which pissed him off. He said, okay, if I wouldn’t do that, I had to at least let him see me naked. Fully naked, as a way to make up for being frigid—his term.”
“Hah!” Ronan interjected. “What an ass.”
Hailey nodded her agreement. “Of course, in retrospect I should have told him to go fuck himself. But I was insecure and still star-struck by his popularity, and his choosing me for whatever reason, so I went along with it. We went to this secluded place after school one day, and I stripped for him and propped myself against the car door.
Beyond the Compound: The Compound Trilogy - Book 2 Page 13