by Sherri Hayes
“How are you feeling?” I asked as I soaped up her right arm.
“Okay.” Her voice wasn’t as dreamy as it had been earlier.
“Are you sore anywhere?”
“My breasts are a little sore.”
I chuckled. “Yes, well, I do love your breasts.” To prove my point, I gave her right breast a gentle squeeze.
Her only response was to arch her back a little, pushing her breast against my hand.
As much as I would love to continue to play with her, we did need to talk. “How did it feel to be secured to the cross? Did you have any flashbacks?”
She rubbed her hand down my leg. “I didn’t have any flashbacks.”
Most people would go on to the next question, but I knew Brianna. And she knew me. I wanted more than a single confirmation that she hadn’t had any flashbacks.
It took a while, but I waited her out as she gathered her thoughts. “When you started touching me . . . I forgot where I was . . . what I was tied to.” She turned so she could look at me. “That’s good, right?”
I gave her a quick kiss. “That’s very good. It’s what I’d hoped.”
She nodded. “Ian’s cuffs were metal.”
Her captor liked metal. From what she’d told me, his playroom sounded as if it had been modeled after a medieval dungeon.
I circled both of her wrists with my fingers, and then lifted them over our heads until her hands were at the back of my head. “I prefer leather.”
The new position arched her back, bringing her breasts out of the water. I took the soap, lathered my hands, and began working my way down her chest. As I rinsed the soap from her body, it was tempting to lean down and suck one of her nipples into my mouth. I didn’t, though. This was about taking care of Brianna. Bringing her down from her high.
I finished washing her, intentionally making it nonsexual, and then helped her out of the bathtub. After drying off, we both brushed our teeth. She didn’t say anything when I handed her toothbrush to her along with the toothpaste. We stood at the double sinks brushing our teeth, looking like any normal couple getting ready for bed.
Once she’d finished brushing her teeth, I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. The cross still loomed in the corner and I saw her gaze fall on it almost immediately upon us entering. I also felt her grip on my neck tighten. She may have gotten over the first hurdle, but it wasn’t over yet. When I touched her, the memories faded into the background. That was certainly a good thing. But it didn’t mean the bad memories went away. “It’s going to stay there for a while.”
She pressed her lips together but didn’t say anything as I tucked her into bed.
Lowering the lights, I got in bed next to her and pulled her against my chest. I kissed the top of her hair, breathing in her scent. “I’m right here. Get some sleep.”
“Sir?”
“Yes, love?”
She hesitated. “Thank you.”
I tightened my hold on her and tucked her head under my chin. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
A few minutes later, I heard her breathing change and knew she’d fallen asleep. It was only then I allowed my eyes to close so I could allow sleep to claim me.
Chapter 18
Brianna
Stephan was true to his word. For the next week, we played with the cross in some way almost every night. And even when we didn’t, it was there, in our bedroom. I could pretend I didn’t know why even the sight of it caused me unease, but it would be a lie. Ian had chained me to a lot of things, but the Saint Andrew’s Cross had been one of his favorites.
And now, every time I walked into our bedroom it was there. At first, I tried to ignore it, but Stephan wouldn’t let me.
By the time week two rolled around, I was getting better. Seeing it didn’t send my pulse racing and my palms sweating in fear. We were making progress and I was grateful. He was so patient with me, and I knew how lucky I was.
It was Wednesday, and that meant it was time for me to make my weekly trip upstairs to the playroom. I hadn’t had a panic attack since he’d moved the cross downstairs, but that didn’t mean the time I spent in the attic had been easy. Every time I stepped foot in that room, I was at a six or seven.
I’d spent the morning doing some more driving in our yard. I was getting more confident and we’d began talking about leaving the security of our lawn and giving the road a try. While I was anxious, I was fairly certain I could do it. At least, near our house. I didn’t think I was ready to tackle traffic in the city.
But I didn’t need to. Not yet, anyway. All I needed to be able to do was drive from here to the school and back. We had four months before the class started. Four months to work through my issues.
Blowing out a loud breath, I pushed aside my thoughts on driving and returned my attention to the closed door in front of me. I was stalling. It happened every time. But no matter how long I stood outside the door, it didn’t change what was on the other side.
I reached for the handle and turned it, pushing the door open. As always, the scent of leather hit me first as I walked into the room. It was overcast today, so there was no sunlight streaming into the room. The room felt smaller—more closed in.
The space where the cross used to be looked empty. Everything in this room had its place, so to have something so big missing, it was noticeable. I went over to where it had been and turned to look at the room from that perspective. There was a small table to my left. It was empty, but I knew from experience that’s where he would lay out whatever tools . . . toys . . . he would use.
To my right was what Stephan had called a spanking bench. It was leather, too. I didn’t remember Ian having anything like that, which is why it didn’t scare me like the cross or a lot of the implements.
Last week I decided that I’d try to pick up at least one thing each time I came into the room. It’s what I’d done with any of the toys Stephan brought down to use on me. He’d always let me touch them first and he would explain what he would do with it and how it would feel.
But there were certain things he hadn’t used on me. A lot of things. My gaze fell on three crops he had hanging in a row. One was about the length of my arm and had a piece of leather about four inches long. The one beside it was a little shorter and had a wider, more triangular shaped piece of leather. The third was much shorter and the end was shaped like a heart.
I was pretty sure the middle one was what he’d used on me several years ago to prove that it was the person, not the object, that decided whether an item was used for pain or pleasure. It had been a hard lesson for me and one I still struggled with. My head understood the difference, but sometimes the fear overrode everything else.
Before I could stop myself, I picked up the medium sized crop. It was lighter than I’d thought it would be. The leather was smooth yet stiff, even though I was able to bend it back and forth.
The longer I held it, the more curious I became. Holding my breath, I hit the side of the table with the leather end.
I jumped a little at the sound it made, but I did it again. Ian hadn’t been all that fond of crops. That didn’t really make the prospect of being hit by one any more appealing.
The more I thought about it, however, the more I wanted to know what it felt like. I’d liked it when Stephan had spanked me. Did that mean I’d like the crop, too?
I didn’t know.
As I went to return the crop to its place on the wall, I stopped. I wouldn’t know if I didn’t try. So, before I could talk myself out of it, I left the playroom with the crop in hand.
Stephan was still in his study and I could hear him talking to someone. He and Josh had been working on a fundraiser of some sort. They were trying to find something that would work with the theme of Helping Hands but would also reach the donors Josh was looking for.
I was happy he was able to work again. Not because I didn’t like having his full attention, but because I knew he missed it. Stephan needed to use his talents to hel
p people. More people than just me.
The crop felt heavy in my hand as I carried it down the stairs and into our bedroom. My gaze drifted to the Saint Andrew’s Cross as it always did, and then landed on the bed. When Stephan and I had first explored rope, he’d told me that when I was ready for him to tie me up to leave the rope on the bed for him.
My hands shaking, I placed the crop on the mattress and raced out of the room.
As I began preparing dinner, I argued with myself as to whether to go and remove the crop. I could take it upstairs or put it in the closet or even under the bed. By leaving it on the bed, Stephan would know what it meant.
I still hadn’t decided by the time Stephan came downstairs. He strolled into the kitchen and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Spaghetti?”
“And meatballs.” My voice was higher pitched than normal, and he noticed.
Stephan took the spoon I was using to stir the sauce out of my hand and turned me to face him. “What’s wrong? Did you have another panic attack when you were in the playroom?”
“No.”
He frowned. “Then what is it?”
“I . . .”
He waited.
“I took one of the crops from your playroom and . . . I put it on the end of our bed.”
His eyes searched mine. “Do you wish to remove it from the bed?”
I swallowed. Did I?
“No,” I whispered.
He held my gaze for a long moment, and then nodded. “I’ll set the table.”
I took a deep breath, and then released it. There. I did it. Now it was in Stephan’s hands. His decision.
Ten minutes later, we were sitting at the table having dinner. As I twirled spaghetti on my fork, Stephan skimmed through my latest diary entry. We were supposed to go next week to try on our dresses. Our actual dresses this time. The ones they’d ordered for us. That meant Bridget would be there along with the other bridesmaid I hadn’t met yet. I was really hoping she wasn’t another Bridget. I wasn’t sure I could deal with two of them. I wasn’t even sure I could deal with one.
“I’ve met Lily’s other bridesmaid, Tess, once before. I think you’ll like her,” Stephan said after he’d closed my journal and went back to his food.
“I hope so.”
After dinner, we cleaned up, and then went into the living room. We sat in his chair and watched another wedding movie. I loved romantic comedies, but some of the movies we’d been watching were over the top. Tonight, we watched a movie called Wedding Crashers. It was funny, but I wasn’t sure it was all that helpful in preparing me for Lily’s wedding.
“I think I watched that one in college,” Stephan said as he turned the television off.
“You watched a lot of movies in college.”
He grinned. “Yes, I did.”
I snuggled against him. “How did your conversation with Josh go today?”
“We’re making progress. I think we’re going with a masquerade theme. And if it goes well, it can be an annual event.”
We talked a little more about the fundraiser they were planning, and then he tapped my hip letting me know he wanted me to stand. He hadn’t said anything more about the crop, so I had no idea if he’d be using it on me tonight or not. As we made our way into our bedroom, he gave me no clue as to how we’d be spending the rest of our evening. I pressed my lips together and waited to see what would happen next.
Stephan
My gaze fell on the crop lying on the end of the bed as soon as we entered the bedroom. I was glad it wasn’t the smallest in my collection as that one had more of a sting than the others.
Since she’d told me what she’d done, I’d been thinking over my options for the evening. We’d been working on getting her used to the cross, and we’d made great progress, but I wasn’t sure she was ready to be tied to it while I introduced something new. I always tried to make these first-time experiences positive for her.
I began removing her clothes, beginning with her shirt. It was a flimsy thing that tied in the front. I took my time making sure to brush my fingers against her breasts and sides as I parted the fabric and slid it down her arms.
She wore a red bra that matched the shirt she’d been wearing. I could already see the hard tips of her nipples pushing against the lace that confined them. Reaching behind her, I unhooked her bra and peeled it from her body, letting it fall to the floor.
Bringing my hand up, I held the weight of her breast, rubbing my thumb back and forth over her nipple. She closed her eyes and parted her lips as I continued to touch her. Seeing the tip of her tongue peek out from between her lips was something I couldn’t resist. I closed the distance between us and covered her mouth with mine.
It was a kiss meant to tease. I ran my tongue over her lips before plunging it inside, only to remove it again and kiss her with only my lips. It was a dance. A dance of lips and tongues in order to have her wanting more.
She swayed toward me, seeking. “Patience, my pet.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and her gaze met mine.
I grinned at the glazed look in her eyes.
Brianna’s shorts were next. It was one of the great things about summer. I snapped the button on them, pulled down the zipper, and pushed them off her hips. They pooled at her ankles, stopped by the shoes she was wearing.
I knelt before her and removed her shoes and socks, then helped her step out of her shorts. The red panties she wore were the next to disappear. I hooked my fingers into the sides and shimmied them down her legs.
Brianna had been naked before me many times. She didn’t get embarrassed or uncomfortable about it anymore. I took a moment to look my fill, admiring the soft curve of her hips and how her nipples were a little darker than her areolas.
Before I tossed my plans out the window and threw her on the bed, I turned and picked up the crop. When I faced her again, I saw her eyes widen a little and her breathing pick up. She remained still though, waiting.
I circled her once with the crop resting in my palm. The next time around, I extended it to trail along her skin, letting her get used to the feel of the leather. I did this several times, moving the crop lower with each pass. “What number, Brianna?”
“Three, Sir.”
“You’re doing very well.” I ran the crop between her legs, rubbing it up and down her slit. “Are you wet?”
“Yes, Sir.”
When I removed the crop from between her legs, the evidence was there in front of me. She might be nervous about the new toy, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t aroused. My girl was as kinky as I was.
“Spread your legs for me.”
She widened her stance. I’d thought about having her kneel, but I thought this might be better for our first time.
Making my way around her again, I always kept the crop in contact with some part of her . When I reached her breast, I flicked my wrist.
She gasped.
I watched her closely, making sure she was still with me. She was. And if anything, I noticed signs of enjoyment instead of anxiety. Her lips had parted again, and her eyes were half closed.
The next time around, I flicked her other nipple and got a similar reaction. “Did you like that, pet?”
“Yes, Sir.”
We continued the dance for a while and each time I went around her, I used the crop on a different area. By the time I got to the inside of her legs, they were glistening with her arousal. This time I snapped the crop against the inside of one thigh, and then the other in rapid succession.
She sucked in a breath.
If I got that kind of reaction from the inside of her thighs, I was curious as to the reaction I would get when I used it on her clit. I ran the crop along her slit once more, lingering over her clit. Then I flicked my wrist.
Her eyes popped open as did her mouth.
“Did you like that, Brianna?”
She swallowed and her chest rose and fell rapidly. I knew those signs well, but I wanted to hear her say it. “Yes, Si
r.”
“Would you like me to do it again?”
Brianna nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
I grabbed the back of her head and crushed her mouth to mine. By the time I stepped back, she was breathing hard and her gaze was heavy again. That was good because I planned on making her come using the crop.
Not letting her rest, I repositioned the crop over her clit and began a series of strikes. With every one she made a little noise that had my cock straining against my pants, begging to get out. Eventually, I saw her legs begin to tremble and I was concerned she wouldn’t be able to hold herself up since she wasn’t attached to the cross or anything else.
With that in mind, I threw the crop on the bed and pulled her against me. I positioned my hand over her pussy, thrust two fingers inside her, and began a steady rhythm against her clit with the heel of my hand. “Come for me, sweetheart.”
She held onto my shoulders and I captured her lips with mine. It didn’t take long before I felt her begin to unravel. Her nails dug into my shoulders as her pussy pulsed against my fingers. I swallowed her cries as she came, letting her ride out her orgasm.
I extracted my fingers as the tension in her body eased. Guiding her to the bed, I picked her up and laid her down on top of it. She gazed up at me as I removed my clothing and joined her on the bed.
Hovering over her, I caressed the side of her face. “Are you all right, love?”
“Yes, Sir. I feel floaty.”
I chuckled. She was so cute when she was like this, all soft and pliable.
Placing a soft kiss on her lips, I balanced myself on one elbow and positioned myself at her entrance with the other. I gave her no warning before I pushed my way inside. It didn’t matter. Her pussy welcomed me, gripping me tight as if it wanted to hold me there forever.
Our joining didn’t last long. I was worked up from playing. While I could have drawn it out, I didn’t want to. I wanted to watch her come again first, though.