The Drake Restrained Compete Collection: Part 1 - 4 (The Drake Series Book 7)

by Lund, S. E.

  Finally, she gave in and relaxed against me. “Oh, all right. But I don’t have to enjoy it.”

  “Of course you’ll enjoy it. Have I ever failed to make you enjoy what I do?”

  She shook her head and then squinted at me. “I’ll come by, but I can’t promise you anything.”

  “I promise you that you’ll be glad if you do. No regrets, Kate. No regrets.”

  She sighed and went through the door, but I stopped her before she closed it and kissed her quickly, squeezing her butt when I did.

  “No arguments and no regrets.”

  Then she was gone and I was alone again until Tuesday.

  Monday, I met Lara for lunch and found her in the back where she usually sat, looking impeccable. I ordered a BLT and an orange juice and took a seat across from her after our customary exchange of kisses.

  “You’re looking pretty happy,” she said and glanced at me, a smile on her face.

  “Have you been talking to Kate?”

  She shook her head and forked her salad. “Not a word. How are things?”

  “Things,” I said and scooted my chair a bit closer to the table, “are going along swimmingly.”

  “Do tell.”

  I smiled. “I’m going really slowly with her,” I said, thinking of our nights together. “I’ve restrained her using rope and cuffs and a few spreader bars. She seems to enjoy it.”

  “Good,” Lara said and took a drink of her coffee. “I thought she was submissive. And I thought you two would get along well, considering you’re both well-educated and come from well-off families.”

  “You didn’t know we knew each other before hand, did you?” I said and frowned at her.

  “What?” she said and made a mock face of affront. “Me? Do something as underhanded as that? Never.” She laughed. “No, Drake. I had no idea you two knew each other. I was as surprised as you both were. It’s just one of those happy coincidences that happen now and then.”

  I nodded, not sure if I really believed it, but if she did know, she wasn’t going to tell me. I would have liked to push her a bit, but I’d known Lara for a long time. There was no way she’d give it up if she didn’t want to. She was a defense lawyer and had a great poker face. Not to mention a will of steel.

  We ate the rest of our lunch, talking about work and careers and holidays. Then it was time for me to get back to the hospital. I paid my bill and waited for her to do so as well.

  “You really like this girl, don’t you?” she said, her briefcase in hand, her eyes narrowed.

  I considered. Yes. I did really like Kate.

  “She spends the night,” I said, offering Lara a piece of personal info I knew she was searching for.

  She smiled and shook her head. “Drake Morgan…”

  “Don’t go getting all excited,” I said quickly. “I don’t like her leaving so late and taking a taxi home, and she won’t let me drive her home in case this friend of hers sees us together. I’m protecting my reputation. That’s all.”

  “Yeah, sure, Drake. Tell me another one.”

  “That’s all, Lara,” I said as firmly as I could.

  But even I knew I was lying.

  I kissed her cheek and was out the door before she could say anything more, but I found myself smiling at the same time.

  On Tuesday, I took some time off in the afternoon so I could prepare for Kate’s arrival and night with me. I’d been thinking all weekend what I could do to lighten the mood. I was determined to make her come while she was with me, even if she really wouldn’t let me fuck her. First, I was going to get her a bit tipsy. Not too tipsy, because I wanted her responsive to me, but enough to relax her and loosen her inhibitions.

  I was passing by Northern Cycle on my way home and saw a sign about used football and hockey equipment and that gave me an idea… She said her period made her a hellcat? I’d buy some football equipment as a joke and greet her at the door with it on. I wanted her to laugh, to relax and to have fun. I didn’t want her dreading the evening and the experience so I stopped off and bought some shoulder, elbow and knee pads, an old helmet, and a cup and jock strap. I also stopped at a nearby liquor store and bought a good bottle of wine, hoping that it would both help with her cramps and relax her.

  So it was with a lot of humor that I poured myself a shot of Anisovaya and put on the football equipment, waiting for her arrival sometime after seven. She texted me when she arrived and I stood in the doorway, grinning like an idiot, waiting for her to walk up the stairs and open the door.

  "Oh my God," she said, covering her mouth with a hand, laughing.

  "I thought I'd be prepared for a hellcat," I said, mumbling around the mouthpiece. I spit it out. "You don't look too hard to handle."

  "You are so bad," she said, laughing as she removed her coat and boots.

  I went to her and embraced her. It was awkward because of the bulky equipment, but by then I was laughing really hard, trying to kiss her but unable to because of the helmet. Finally, I just held her, enjoying the playful expression on her face and the fact she seemed completely disarmed by my stunt.

  "You’re not going to keep that on, are you?" she asked, and pulled at a shoulder pad that had come out of place.

  "I don't know," I said, still laughing. "Kinda feels a bit kinky. You could get some pompoms. Shake your booty a bit…" I grinned, imagining her in a little cheerleader costume. "Maybe I'll keep them on just until I see how hellish you are."

  "What's that?" she asked, pointing to the wine.

  "A nice pinot noir," I said, a bit more in control. "Red wine is good for menstrual cramps. Helps stop the prostaglandins that cause your cramping." I leaned down but couldn’t get close because of the face guard. "I'm going to get you good and drunk,” I whispered, “and then I’m going to fuck you."

  She stepped backwards, trying to escape my arms. "You said you wouldn't, Drake. I'm holding you to that."

  I let her go and started to peel equipment off so that I was in my casual clothes, a white button down shirt opened at the neck and untucked, over a pair of faded jeans.

  "I said I wouldn’t if you really didn't want me to, but," I said, pulling her into my arms and putting on a fake German accent, "Ve have vays to make you vant me to…"

  "You are a dirty, conniving bastard," she said and sidled away from me when I tried to prevent her escape. "I have a headache and can't drink wine."

  "Just had a shower, so not dirty. My father was definitely married to my mother when I was conceived, so not a bastard. I am not conniving. I am calculating. I plan. I analyze a problem, breaking it down into its component parts, then I solve each problem so I can have the outcome that I want."

  She finally escaped and ran away, but I chased her, lunging at her, grabbing her.

  "I want to fuck you,” I said. “As to your headache, an orgasm will help you with that."

  "Drake!" she said, trying to avoid my grasp.

  "Kate," I said, my tone chiding. "I said I want to fuck you. You're resistant because of out-dated sense of bodily modesty that is entirely inappropriate in a D/s relationship. I must break down your resistance. How better to do so than to get you good and drunk?"

  "Why are you doing this?" she said, trying to keep me away, slapping my hands away only half-playfully. "Why are you pushing me?"

  "That's what I do, Kate. You know this,” I said, now serious. “You signed the agreement. There wasn't any clause that said you wouldn’t fuck me when you had your period."

  "I didn’t think there had to be." She stood there, her eyes closed, her hands fisted. From the sound of her voice, I knew she was close to tears, despite how playful I was being.

  "Kate," I said and put my arms around her, enveloping her in my embrace. "Just trust me…"

  "You can't even go one week without sex?"

  "There's no reason to," I said, keeping my voice soft, pressing my lips at her ear. "I don't want to go a week without fucking you. You wait. It will be so good for you. You'll have
a nice orgasm and you'll feel so much better. I promise…"

  "I won't be able to enjoy it."

  "Let's have a bet," I said and pulled back, touching her bottom lip with my thumb. "You don't enjoy it, and I have to fuck you twice in your favorite position next time. You enjoy it and I get to fuck you twice any position I want."

  "That sounds like a win-win for you," she said, smiling reluctantly. "No bets."

  I laughed as I pulled her into the living room and made her sit on the couch while I poured us each a glass of wine.

  "That's because you know you'll lose. How are you feeling? I mean your cramps?"

  "I took some Tylenol. It doesn't do much."

  "You need something different – ibuprofen's best." Then I motioned to her glass. "Drink that all down. You need the alcohol to dull your cramps."

  She took a big gulp of wine as if she was hoping to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible. "So you prefer old music," she said when she finished swallowing. I could tell she wasn’t a big wine drinker from the way she squinted when she tasted it.

  "Yes, there's more than enough great music from the sixties and early seventies,” I said, amused by her nerves. I’d have to really try to calm her down. Loosen her up. “My dad was a collector and has thousands of albums."

  "What's your absolute favorite piece of all time?"

  "Drink it all down." I motioned to the glass again. "I want you silly drunk and giggling."

  "You must have a favorite," she said, as if she was deliberately trying to distract me from the events of the evening.

  I shook my head, refusing to let her take control. "Drink up. No more delaying, Kate."

  She exhaled in frustration and drank down the rest of the glass of wine. "I'm a really cheap drunk," she said, smiling a bit. "I get drunk very quickly. No tolerance for alcohol."

  "Good." I poured more wine into her empty glass. "Drink that down as well."

  She took a sip. "You aren't drinking."

  "This is just for show." I held the glass up. "I have to stay sober so I can have my way with you." I wagged my eyebrows.

  "I don’t want to do this," she said, pouting. "Why are you making me?"

  "When we're in scene, it's not about what you want, Katherine. It's about what I want. I want you. Tonight. I've been hard all day waiting for you." I took her hand and placed it on my erection. She closed her eyes, but she squeezed me all the same.

  "How can you stand to have sex with a woman when she's bleeding?"

  "I'm a surgeon, Kate. A little blood doesn't scare me."

  "It's gross."

  "Oh, Ms. Bennet," I said, smiling and pressing her down so that her wine almost spilled. "You don't know what gross is. You could never be gross. You are an entirely delicious morsel of womanflesh and I can't wait to partake of your delights."

  "You’re going to make me spill," she said, trying hard to keep me distracted, but I wasn’t going to let her gain the upper hand.

  "Drink up." I took the glass and moved it and her hand closer to her mouth. "Drink it all."

  She did, squinting once more. "You are so bossy."

  "I am," I said and grinned, nuzzling her neck. "You love it." I couldn’t wait to see her drunk. I wanted to see her lose control and be unable to fight me, or perhaps, not want to any longer.

  "It'll be so messy," she said, closing her eyes as I pushed her sweater down and playfully bit her shoulder. "I'll be horrified."

  "Kate," I said and took her chin in my hand. "Have you ever fucked during your period?"

  She shook her head, her cheeks starting to get pink from the wine.

  "No? Don't tell me how you'll feel. I'll tell you. You'll be orgasmic and won't notice the blood. In fact, think of the blood, what little there will be of it, as extra lube. I'm big. You're deliciously small and tight. I can use all the help I can get."

  She sighed. "It really doesn't bother you?"

  I grabbed her hand and held it against my erection once more. "Does this feel as if it bothers me? Believe me, Kate. It really doesn't bother me."

  "Is this a kink of yours?"

  "No, it’s not a kink. It's just not a deterrent." I poured even more wine into her glass and motioned for her to drink up. She complied without much hesitation.

  "Oh, fuck it," she said, leaning back. "Whatever."

  "Don't you whatever me, Ms. Bennet,” I said, biting back a smile, “or I'll have to smack your round little ass."

  She closed her eyes and smiled. "Promises, promises…"

  I succeeded beyond my wildest dreams. Kate had enough wine so that she didn’t care any longer. To keep her focused on her bodily sensations and not on any blood, I tied a blindfold around her eyes. She laughed as I ran a bath and tried to maneuver her into it without her falling and cracking her head. Then I washed her carefully, my fingers lingering on her clit, trying to arouse her. There was very little blood, and what little there was had no effect on my ability to enjoy myself.

  She had a very intense orgasm while I fucked her from behind, my fingers on her clit. Even she admitted that she felt better afterwards. I didn't remove the blindfold until she was completely cleaned off. When I did, I kissed her warmly.

  "See?" I said, running my thumb over her bottom lip. "That was good, wasn't it?"

  She nodded. "I didn’t call you Master once," she said, smiling, her words a bit slurred from the wine.

  "You're drunk. I made allowances."

  Kate went to the bathroom to fix herself up and then came out dressed in the black lace nightie I loved so much. I pulled her into the living room and put some music on the sound system. It was an old vinyl record from the sixties, of course, but rather than my usual Brit Invasion, I played something soft and mellow—something I thought would be more to her taste. The Turtles, “You Showed Me.” We sat together on the couch, her on my lap of course, her arms around my neck. She rested her head in the crook of my neck, and honestly, I didn’t think I’d been happier in years.

  "I should go home now," she said, yawning. "I'll call a taxi."

  "You're not going home drunk," I said, shaking my head. "You'll stay here with me."

  "I really shouldn't," she said, frowning. "What if…" She hesitated for a moment. "What if this person tries to come by my place and I'm not there?"

  "Shh," I said and squeezed her. "No arguments. I bought some eggs and spinach and some nice feta cheese. We'll have what my dad called a 'hangover omelet' in the morning, to fight the one I know you're going to have."

  She sighed and gave in. I kissed her cheek and then got up and put another album on the old turntable. One of my favorites, by a British artist who had acclaim among the critics but had never really won popular acclaim.

  "Who is this?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

  "Nick Drake," I said. "This one's called “River Man.” I like it because the guitar's in 5/4 time and in standard tuning. I play it with the band. My dad named me after him."

  She listened for a moment and I realized that I was lucky in having Kate for a sub. She loved music. Maybe not my music in particular, but she appreciated it more than your average person.

  "What's it about?"

  "Can't say for sure," I said, examining the album cover. "He's dead and didn't say. From what I read, it's supposedly about Wordsworth's poem, 'The Idiot Boy,' which is about a mother with a mentally disabled son, but I think it's about Hesse's book, Siddhartha. It's really just the feel of the piece and the guitar I like."

  "There are scratches," she said. "You don’t mind? Don't they have re-mastered versions?"

  I listened. It was impossible to avoid hearing the odd scratch or occasional hiss.

  "Sure," I said but shook my head. "Real vinyl enthusiasts like the sound better. It has a certain quality that can't be caught in digital. I don’t mind a few scratches to hear the original. This is a really rare album. I paid a lot for it."

  "You don’t like any modern music?"

  I sat beside her, my arm a
round her shoulders. "I like some," I said. "But you’re one to talk about liking old music. How old's Gorecki's piece?"

  "Seventies."

  "Touché,” I said and smiled. "What do you like? Anything modern?"

  She lifted one shoulder in a shrug, taking a small sip of wine. "Some. Mostly classical. Don't ask me why."

  "Your absolute favorite piece of music ever? Besides Gorecki?"

  She took in a deep breath. "Barber's ‘Adagio.’"

  "That sounds familiar. Where have I heard that?"

  "It was in the movie Platoon. I saw it with my dad and it upset him so much. One of the few times I saw him with tears in his eyes."

  "Oh, yes." I frowned for a moment, remembering that movie. Very realistic, according to one of my father’s war buddies who went and then left before the end because he found it too upsetting. "I remember that movie. My father wouldn’t go. Said the Hollywood capitalists were glorifying war or something." I said nothing for a moment, running my hand over her hair. "What else? What's next?"

  "After Barber?" she said and frowned. "Not much better, I'm afraid. Music from Master and Commander. “Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis” by Vaughn Williams."

  "I saw that. What piece?"

  "The one that played during the scene when they have to cut the young man loose and let him drown."

  I nodded. "I remember that." I said nothing for a moment, thinking of the music she loved. It was all sad, morose, funereal. "Gorecki. Barber. Williams. Awfully depressing music you like."

  "It makes me actually feel something."

  "Yes, but incredible sadness…"

  "It's better to feel sadness than nothing at all."

  I turned to her, surprised at this admission. "You don't feel anything unless it's sad?"

  "Not for a long time. Not after my mother died."

  I stared at her, taking her in, this woman beside me who was Kate, Katherine, so affected by her experiences. She was so sensitive. Part of my mind felt caution for someone with such a sensitive nature could be easily damaged by a careless word or deed. The other part of me relished her sensitive nature and guilelessness. She couldn’t lie well. Her emotions were right there on her face and in her body. I could get so much out of her…