R.S.V.P.

by Madeleine Oh

  “Why did you bring me that flogger?” he asked

  “You asked me to.”

  “Why?”

  She took a deep breath. “You’re going to use it on me, and…” Her voice petered out.

  There was no letup. “And what, Jane?”

  “You say I’ll enjoy it but I’m not entirely sure I believe that!” It came out in a rush.

  The mouth below the dark mask smiled. “You doubt my word, Jane?”

  “I doubt myself!” Was that it? If so, why was she standing here in this odd room? With the vast bed, the enormous chair by the wall and a couple of other unusual bits of furniture, one of which looked like the vaulting horse she remembered from gym lessons in her school days. To say nothing about the table by the bed covered with things she didn’t want to look at and the shuttered windows blocking out the light. Wall sconces and candles around the room, gave an eerie, flickering light. She used to think candlelight romantic. She wasn’t sure anymore.

  “Jane, love!”

  Alan crossed the room and drew her into his arms, holding her tight against his chest as he kissed the top of her head. “Doubt me, Jane. Doubt my ability to satisfy you. Doubt the sun rising or the night falling, but never doubt yourself. You’re my dream come true. Haven’t I told you that before?”

  “Frequently.”

  “Believe me.” It would be hard not to. “We’re made for each other, two halves of the whole. I need you to obey me, every bit as much as you yearn to submit.”

  Was he right? Did it matter? Not now at least. “I’m still scared.”

  “I know.” He should get thumped for his smugness—or should he? “A little bit of fear all adds to the fun.” Alan tilted up her face and dropped a soft kiss on her mouth. “Did you bring the plug?” Jane nodded and reached into her pocket. His hand closed over hers. “We won’t need that for a little while.” Never, she hoped, but at least it was out of sight, for a few seconds. He put the plug down on the small table. Right next to a tube of lubricant and a bottle of massage oil. “While we’re at it, give me the flogger.”

  Dropping it on the bed, he took her hand. “Still scared?”

  “I think I’m beyond scared at this point! I’ve given up worrying.” Not entirely true, but it sounded like a brilliant idea.

  “You can stop me, Jane. Don’t ever forget that.” He brushed the side of her face with his hand. “I won’t ever harm you. Do you believe me?”

  “Yes!” She did, utterly.

  “Good. Time we started. Take off that dressing gown and lie face down on the bed. Now!”

  The last came as an order. Her hands fumbled with the belt. He’d tied a damn tight knot, but she got it open and the robe off her shoulders. “Where shall I put it?”

  “On that hook over there.” He indicated a large black iron hook halfway up the wall. Somehow, she suspected it wasn’t designed to hold clothes. It was far too sturdy, and there were too many of them at odd heights.

  No point in dwelling on their use. Face down on the bed, Alan had said.

  She crossed the floor, her bare feet sinking into the soft pile of the carpet. Hesitating just a moment at the foot of the vast mattress, Jane climbed up on the bed. The sheets were fine cotton—soft, sleek and sensual. They’d be lovely for sleeping in, if and when she got the chance.

  She stretched out, the expensive cotton feeling gorgeous against her skin. She relaxed, or at least tried to, and waited.

  His hands closed over her ankles. “Over to the side a bit. I want to be able to reach all of you.” Alan tugged her towards him, and to the right. “Much better. Now, Jane, I want to try this without restraining you. I’ll tie you down tomorrow, I think, but for now. Just lie there, and don’t say a word, whatever I do, understand?”

  She lifted her head and nodded, pleased she’d not made that mistake.

  “Brilliant, darling.” His hand trailed down her spine, his fingertips brushing her skin. “Keep still.”

  She sensed he moved, but not away. A heady, spicy scent filled the room as something cool ran down her spine. She closed her eyes to better savor the sexy scent as he spread the oil over her shoulders. He had magic hands, kneading her flesh, smoothing over her skin, covering her back, butt and legs with the perfumed oil.

  Lying still and letting him do what he wanted was no hardship. Jane relaxed under his touch as muscle by muscle, he eased out the knots and tension. She lost track of time. When he finished, she was loose and relaxed, and utterly contented.

  “Feels nice, doesn’t it?” Lifting her head to nod was an effort.

  “It feels like heaven!”

  “Good, now grab this.” He handed her a loop of heavy rope, tied to the head of the bed. “Keep hold of it, don’t let go. If you do, I’ll tie you down.”

  Her cunt tightened. What now?

  “Want to ask anything, love?”

  “Yes!” Damn, she’d forgotten to nod.

  “That’s okay. What’s the worry?”

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  “I’m giving you a taste of the flogger. If you can’t stand it, just let go.”

  “But you just said, if I didn’t, you’d tie me down!”

  “Then don’t let go, Jane. You’re nicely loose, stay that way, and by the way, don’t you dare climax!”

  As if she was likely to in the middle of getting flogged!

  She grabbed the rope and waited.

  His hand came down first, stroking her bum, caressing the curve of her hip and trailing up her back.

  He kissed her shoulder.

  A sweet shiver rippled through her as the soft tails of the flogger trailed down her spine. Jane sighed. ‘That feels wonderful!”

  “Not so bad is it?”

  Bad? It was glorious! This time, her sigh dragged out as the flogger caressed her shoulders. Her entire body came alive. Nerve endings she never knew she possessed, responded to the kiss of soft suede. And she’d worried so much. Jane smiled into the pillow—she was limp, warm and utterly content.

  The tresses snaked down her back again.

  “You like this?”

  “I love it!”

  “Then try this, my love!” The flogger came down harder. Not enough to sting, just a sweet tingle as the ends hit her shoulders, and a wonderful caress as they trailed down to her thighs.

  Again and again it descended, and again and again the strange, sweet pleasure thrilled her. Jane tightened her hold on the rope as her neck arched off the bed. “I can’t keep still!”

  It was impossible. She wanted her entire body to feel, to respond to the wild thrills coursing through her.

  “So I see.” The tresses came down again, teasing the insides of the thighs. Her hips jerked. “Yes,” Alan said. “Time you rolled over, sweetheart.”

  It took a few moments for her sensation-fogged mind to understand. When she did, she let go of the rope and rolled on her back. Every stimulated inch of her skin warmed even more as her sensitized flesh brushed the sheet. She looked up at Alan. He stood on the bed, looming over her. What caught her attention wasn’t the black mask or the flogger hanging loose from his right hand, but his cock—hard, aroused and aimed straight at her.

  She licked her lips, the deep warmth in her cunt increasing to a gentle throb at the very obvious proof of his arousal.

  “Not yet, Jane,” he said. “Patience! You’ll get to suck me, but not until I’m ready.”

  “You look pretty damn ready to me!”

  The eyes behind the mask glinted, “That’s no way for a submissive to address her master. I think you need to try harder!”

  Comments about how hard he was obviously weren’t in order. She smiled up at him, her eyes taking in the stern set of his mouth below the dark mask. “What next?”

  “What’s next is you grab the rope again.”

  Easier said than done lying on her back. She felt around the pillow behind her until her fingers closed over the rope.

  “Good! Ready to feel my fl
ogger on your lovely breasts?”

  She heard herself swallow. Her pulse throbbed in her ears. Damp pooled between her thighs. “I’m ready.” She took a deep breath. “For whatever you want to do to me.” The words sent a wild thrill right down to her cunt. What was this he did to her? Why did she want, no, need this?

  “Close your eyes.”

  Her lids blocked out the sight of his beautiful nakedness, but not the image seared in her brain. The flogger never came down. It came up, caressing between her thighs, up over her pussy, tickling her belly, stroking her breasts like a hundred loving fingers.

  She’d been so worried and this was sheer and utter pleasure. At the back of her mind, she knew the same tresses that caressed could also sting, but for now, she lost herself in the sheer thrill of the sweet stimulation and the unfamiliar emotions flooding her mind.

  Every inch of her body tingled. It was as if she were coming alive, losing herself, finding her real self, forging a bond with Alan as he wielded and she received.

  Jane heard sighs, moans and whimpers like distant echoes inside her head. She was wrapped in a cocoon of sensation. Sensation that built and swelled, growing like a wild possession, spreading across her skin and gathering hot, wet and pulsating between her legs. Her hips rocked, sighs became moans. “Alan, Alan,” she muttered, unsure what she was asking, not knowing what she needed.

  He knew.

  “Righto, love!” There was a clunk as something hit the floor. His hands were on her hips, raising her to him. Jane arched her back in anticipation, and then he was hard, hot and firm in her softness. He plunged deep and Jane cried out, a wordless greeting, a joyous welcome as he drove home.

  He paused.

  She waited, suspended between sensation and pleasure, until he moved. His cock withdrew, returning with force and wild power. He worked her with a sweet, loving rhythm, as if marking her deep inside, taking her with him to the heights. She was climbing, her mind and body one with his. Following his lead until she came, screaming her climax to the world, throwing her head back and arching her spine as a wild crescendo of joy broke across her consciousness. She’d have sagged, worn and spent on the mattress, but he didn’t allow it. He held her to him, clasping her hips with his warm hands as he took her higher, dragging her into the wildest, fiercest climax she’d ever known. It wasn’t a climax, but a chorus of them. Her body reached, soared, flew in a thousand directions as he held her there by his presence, by his hard cock sealing her heart and possessing her body.

  When Alan finally withdrew and lowered her to the mattress, she was limp, sweaty and utterly satiated. He lay beside her, leaning over her, reaching over her head where her hands seemed fused to the rope. He eased her fingers open. “You held this too damn tight.”

  “You told me not to let go.”

  He kissed her fingers one by one. “I did, didn’t I? My mistake. We’ll arrange things better next time.”

  “Better?” That seemed impossible. Her cunt still rippled with the fading sensations of her multiple climaxes.

  “Better and better,” he promised as he kissed her cheek, and wrapped his arms around her.

  Chapter Seven

  She must have slept. The light in the room had changed. How long had she been out? She was rested, but her body still thrummed with the sensations of Alan’s cock driving deep. She’d dreaded that flogger, but with it he’d given her the climax of her life. The rest couldn’t be as bad as she feared.

  Jane shut her eyes, snuggling under the covers to concentrate on her sensitized body. Her skin still tingled in a few places, but best of all was the sweet thrill deep inside. It was as if Alan had touched her very being.

  As she lay there, aromas of cooking wafted upstairs. She was hungry and thirsty. Throwing off the duvet, she sat up, turning so her feet touched the floor, looking around for a dressing gown or T-shirt before remembering Alan’s prohibition on clothes. She hoped he wasn’t planning on eating in the garden.

  As she walked into the kitchen, Alan looked up from the stove and smiled. She grinned back. “Hello.”

  “Hello, beautiful.” He crossed the room to her, drawing her close so her breasts rubbed the soft cotton of his shirt and his thigh eased between hers. “My love,” he whispered into her hair. Jane clung to him, wrapping her arms around him, aching to recapture the incredible closeness of their lovemaking. “You’re alright?” he asked.

  She looked up at him, glad he was no longer wearing the mask, and nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt better.”

  His face lit with sheer joy. “You mean it?”

  The anxiety in his voice astonished her. Alan doubting himself was hard to credit, but… “Alan, you’ve always been a wonderful lover, but this afternoon was phenomenal. I can still feel you inside me and…”

  His mouth came down, hot and ardent, stealing her last words, jumbling her thoughts. She gave up trying to think, let her need drive her response and kissed him back. “It was good then?” he asked, as he lifted his mouth. “I wanted that fuck to be wonderful, and needed to see if you were what I thought you are.”

  “What did you think I am?” Did she really what to know? Yes!

  “Sexy, passionate, fantastic in bed and gloriously submissive.”

  “Thanks for the compliments of the first three—but where did you get the submissive bit?”

  He dropped a soft kiss on her forehead. “Don’t look so affronted. You are truly submissive. I suspected so when I first met you, got inklings of it the past few weeks and this afternoon proved it.”

  “What exactly do you mean?” She’d backed away. Did she want to be close to him if he thought she was the doormat sort?

  “I’m not insulting you. It’s a compliment, Jane. This afternoon, you did submit. You gave over control. That takes courage and strength, not weakness. By handing control to me, you had, by your own admission, the best climax in your life, and I got the thrill of dominating you. We’re made for each other, Jane. Think about it.”

  She obviously was thinking. Alan repressed a smile as her brow creased and her eyes clouded with confusion and uncertainty. He’d set her thinking. It was now up to her to sort it out.

  He stepped close and kissed her, brushing her lips gently. She responded immediately. Sweet Jane just couldn’t help herself. Mind you, he was pretty much in the same state. “Have a seat while I finish cooking.” He pulled over a stool. “Want a glass of wine?”

  “Thank you.”

  He reached for a glass and poured from the bottle he’d opened earlier. “Here.” He indulged himself by letting his fingers touch hers. She felt the connection too. He saw it in the flush of her cheeks and her hesitation in taking the glass. He turned away, half-afraid she’d read all he felt in his eyes and go running. Hell! He was almost ready to run himself. He scraped the onions to one side of the pan and threw in chopped red and green peppers, stirring briskly, as he pondered Jane Winston and what she did to him.

  He’d never had it this bad. Ever. He wanted her with a need that hurt. It went deeper than the sex and he certainly agreed with her on that being phenomenal. While she was close, he felt happy. Silly, simple, grin-makingly happy and he wanted to stay that way.

  “What are you cooking?”

  Took him a good twenty seconds to filter her words through his hormones. Looking over his shoulder, he couldn’t keep himself from smiling. How many men had the sexiest woman in creation sitting naked in their kitchen on a Friday evening? “Beef in garlic sauce, with extra onions and peppers.”

  “You remembered.”

  “Of course.” Hell! Even her sighs were sexy.

  “What about pudding?”

  “How about whipped cream off your luscious breasts?”

  The idea appealed, if the glint in her eyes was anything to go by, but she pursed her mouth up, shaking her head. “I’m going to have trouble licking my own breasts, perhaps I’d better put some on your cock!”

  He laughed aloud. She was wonderful! “Think yo
u should, do you?”

  “As long as you don’t mind, and something tells me you won’t.”

  Time to reestablish who was running this show. “I certainly won’t, but you will be on your knees with your hands tied behind you when it happens.” He let her think about that while he stirred the pan. It was cooking nicely. And Jane, with a bit of luck, was stewing deliciously.

  When he glanced back, she was sipping her wine. She looked him in the eye. “You’re really serious about this ‘I dominate, you submit’ business aren’t you?”

  “Definitely. Jane, I like to dominate the women I love, and I love you.” She stared, jaw gaping, as he turned back and reached for the thin slices of seasoned beef. “Won’t be long now,” he said. “Do me a favor and light the candles on the table.” And while she was at it she’d see exactly what he’d done with the butt plug. He bet she’d never seen one in a butter dish before.

  “Is this thing purely ornamental?”

  Would she ever cease to surprise him? Or was she masking worry with sauciness? “You mean the anal plug, Jane? No, it’s certainly not ornamental. I planned on pushing it up your arse this afternoon but decided one new experience at a time was enough, and you responded so well to the flogger.”

  Bless her, she was scarlet.

  “You really go for this, don’t you?”

  “Don’t you too?”

  She went dead silent for ages. Had he pushed too hard?

  “I’m not sure, Alan. I’m really not.”

  Damn! He had pushed too hard. “Don’t sweat it, Jane and don’t forget, you can stop it any time. Be a love and hold the plates for me while I dish up the food.”

  That much he’d managed perfectly—rice fluffy and firm, the meat cooked just to the point, veggies still crisp, and the sauce delicious, even if it had come out of a jar.

  He poured Jane another glass of wine, the last she was getting. He wanted her relaxed but still completely aware.