by L. A. Witt
Movement turned my head, and I looked up as Master Greg leaned in through the door.
He raised his eyebrows, mouthing, Everything okay?
I gave him a thumbs-up and nodded.
He returned the thumbs-up, then slipped back into the hallway.
After several minutes, Rick’s breathing had, in fact, fallen into sync with mine. When he reached up to brush some sweat from his temple, his hand wasn’t shaking this time.
“Doing better?”
He nodded. “I think so. Yeah.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t…” He shook his head. “Just got a little overwhelmed, I guess.”
“It’s okay. It happens.” I kissed his forehead. “Hell, I’ve had to safe-word out of a scene because I dropped a spreader bar on my foot and couldn’t focus.”
A quiet laugh burst out of him, and he met my gaze. “Seriously?”
“Yep. My own damn fault for being barefoot, but…”
“Something tells me ‘red’ wasn’t the most colorful thing you said when that happened.”
“No, definitely not.” I rolled my eyes. “My partner thought it was hilarious.”
Rick grimaced. “Considering how you punished me after I snickered at you during a meeting…”
“Trust me—she didn’t do it again.”
“I don’t doubt that.” He closed his eyes for a moment, and then met mine. “Is that why you wear steel-toed boots when you scene?”
“It’s…part of it.” I glanced down at them. “That, and I just like them.”
“I can see why. You look hot in them.”
He grinned, and my muscles relaxed a little. His sense of humor was coming back, and he was smiling, so we were out of the woods as far as freaking out or having a panic attack.
“Feeling better now?” I asked.
“Yeah. I… Thank you. Maybe I did need to stop after all.” His cheeks colored.
“It’s okay. This stuff happens some—”
“I’d like to try again.”
“We will. But tonight, we should—”
“No. Tonight.” He met my gaze, his eyes pleading. “I need this, Jon. Especially tonight.”
I hesitated, but then cupped his cheek. “Listen, I don’t want to push you too hard, but I don’t want tonight to end on a sour note either. So why don’t we go back to my place? Where it’s just us, and it’s quiet.”
He sighed, shoulders still slumped, and nodded again. “Okay.”
“Trust me.”
“I do.”
I kissed him once more and then helped him to his feet. He was steady, but I wrapped my arm around his waist anyway. “Your extra shirt is in the backpack. Get dressed, and I’ll pack everything else up. Then we’ll head home.”
“Okay.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
He was quiet on the way home, and I’d expected as much. A sub from my past had once explained that even when there was no way anyone could’ve made it through the scene, there’s a sense of failure that comes from crying uncle. As if they’ve raised the white flag and let their Dom down.
I didn’t know if it was better or worse that I’d called time before he could. If he’d have felt better pushing himself until he absolutely couldn’t take anymore, or if it was a relief that I’d stopped the scene before we’d reached that point. Maybe he could have recovered and collected himself. Maybe the panic had just been a fleeting thing, one that would pass. Maybe I’d overreacted.
Still, I didn’t regret the choice I’d made. I loved pushing subs to their limit, but not if it meant sending them into a full-on panic attack. I’d made that mistake with a sub before.
“No, I can handle it.”
“You can use your safe word.”
“I’m…I’m fine. Please. Keep…”
I shuddered at the memory. As her Dom, it had been my responsibility to take control and determine that, no, she wasn’t fine, and, no, we weren’t going to continue. One freak-out and several hours of aftercare later, we’d both calmed down, and she’d never held it against me. But that was the night I’d decided, once and for all, that I’d take a disappointed sub over a traumatized one any day.
As I pulled onto the freeway off-ramp, I touched Rick’s leg. “You all right?”
“Yeah.” He put his hand over mine. “Wasn’t quite how I pictured tonight, though.”
“It’s okay. It happens.”
“I know, but…” He sighed, gazing out the window. “We’d barely done a thing. I mean, I was okay being tied, and then…I suddenly wasn’t. What the fuck?”
“It’s fight or flight. Something must’ve triggered that, and when that happens, but you can’t fight or fly, things can go downhill pretty fast.”
Rick was quiet for a moment. Eventually, he nodded. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense. I don’t even know what triggered it.”
“Seemed like the noise from the other areas startled you.”
“That…” He shook his head. “I guess. It’s kind of foggy now.”
“That happens too.” I squeezed his thigh gently. “We’ll take it easy for the rest of the night. Doesn’t mean we can’t play, but I do want to back off a little.”
“What does that mean? I mean, back off…how much?”
Yeah, Jon. How much?
My heart thumped in my chest. “Let’s start with getting back to the house.” I patted his leg. “We can regroup a bit, see how we’re both feeling, and go from there.”
“Okay.”
Neither of us spoke for the rest of the drive. The whole way, I analyzed and reanalyzed everything that had happened tonight, weighing the risk of another freak-out against the possibility of my sub feeling let down. Or worse, my sub feeling like he’d failed me. That I’d withheld the dominance he needed out of disappointment. Rationally, Rick would understand what I did and why. But things like that could still burrow under the skin and stay there.
He seemed to be in a good state now. Annoyed with himself. Frustrated that the scene hadn’t gone as planned. And I knew what it was like to need an outlet. If submission was how he blew off steam—and God knew the CEO of a rapidly growing property development company was under a tremendous amount of pressure—then I wanted to give it to him. Question, was how did I balance that with not overdoing it and adding to what had happened earlier?
I pulled into the garage, and we walked inside. When I flicked on the hall light, I turned toward him, fully intending to suggest we pour ourselves some coffee and talk things through.
But I stopped. I stopped, and I stared at him. Because now that I could see him, the hunger in his eyes was palpable.
I chewed the inside of my cheek. “You need this tonight, don’t you?”
“Very much.” He moistened his lips. “Honestly, I think it was just the club that got to me. The people, all the sounds…” He gestured sharply. “I guess it was just too much. But yes, I need this. I need to shut everything out and…”
“Fly?”
“Yeah,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Fly.”
I studied him. “Promise me something.”
“What?”
“The first sign of trouble, even if you just need to scratch an itch or something, you safe-word. We can always start again, but tonight, I want you to err on the side of using your safe word.”
Rick nodded. “Okay. Yeah, I will.”
I rested a hand on his hip. “And you’re absolutely sure about this?” I caressed his cheek with my free hand. “We can always pick up tomorrow night.”
“I’m sure. The crowd… That was a bit much. But I still want to do this with you.”
“I also don’t want anything I do tonight to seem like punishment for earlier. Like if I’m fucking with you or if there’s pain.”
He smiled and clasped his hand over mine. He turned his head, kissed my palm, and murmured, “None of that is punishment to me.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.” He met my gaze,
and his smile made my knees shake. “I know when you’re punishing me and when you’re not.” Rick cupped my face in both hands and kissed me. More assertive than perhaps a submissive should have kissed his Dom, but given the way things had played out tonight, I didn’t push back. I wrapped my arms around him and let him kiss me.
As we pulled apart, he whispered. “Was that…was that out of line?”
“Not tonight it wasn’t.” I kissed him lightly, and then let him go. “But starting now, you’re going to do as you’re told, and not make a move unless I tell you to.”
He straightened, almost like a soldier snapping to attention.
I slid my hand over the front of his pants. “Understand?”
Rick gulped. “Yes. Understood.”
“Good. All right, let’s do this.” I put my hands on his shoulders and locked eyes with him. “Go upstairs and wait in my bedroom.”
He nodded. “Okay. And…thank you.”
I kissed him once more. “You’re welcome. Go.”
He started up the stairs, and I went down to the basement. In the dungeon, I flicked on the lights. The familiar room was eerily silent compared to the dull hum of activity at the mansion. No cracks of leather against flesh. No cries of pain, pleasure or anything in between.
I didn’t want to leave Rick alone for long upstairs, but I paused to take a few breaths and collect myself. I needed my A-game on even more than earlier. That one freak-out could’ve been the end of it, or it might’ve left him raw and vulnerable, ready to unravel at the first sign of uncertainty. Rick didn’t seem brittle, but a Dom couldn’t be too careful.
Collected and composed, I grabbed a few things from the cabinets and drawers, stuffed them into a duffel bag so they were easier to carry, and then went back up to my bedroom.
Just as I knew he’d be, he was completely undressed and waiting. I dropped the duffle bag on the floor and pulled his naked body to me and kissed him deeply.
This was a familiar environment. A safe one. There was nobody here but us. Nothing to startle or distract him. If he had any inkling that I was disappointed in him, or that tonight had made me want him any less, I had every intention of disabusing him of that notion.
I broke the kiss and met his gaze. “Ready?”
“Very,” he whispered.
I kissed him once more and then let him go. Without a word, I picked up the duffel bag. I unzipped it, and Rick watched as I laid its contents across the foot of the bed—a black spreader bar. A pair of handcuffs. The Wartenberg wheel I’d tortured him with before.
“Still want to do this?” I asked.
He met my gaze. “Oh yeah.”
Sweet Jesus…
I resisted the urge to clear my throat and let it show that I was even a little bit off balance. “I’m not going to keep you on your knees, because I don’t want you to be in pain.” I pointed toward the bed. “Instead, you’re going to bend over the mattress.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay. Just…anywhere?”
“Wherever is comfortable.”
He stepped up to the side and, as ordered, leaned over it.
“Good,” I said. “Now stretch your arms out in front of you.”
He obeyed, and I leaned across the mattress from the other side and snapped the cuffs around his wrists. I guided his thumb to the safety catch. “You remember how to work these?”
He pressed the catch, and the cuff released.
“Good.” I closed it again. Then I picked up the spreader bar. The chains attached to the leather cuffs clinked, and Rick pulled in a deep breath.
Without speaking, I came around the bed to where he was standing. “Once this is on, do not try to stand up or take a step. Understood?”
He nodded, his chin hissing against the comforter. “Understood.”
I knelt and positioned the spreader bar between his feet and fastened it to each of his ankles, all the while keeping a close eye on him in case of even the faintest hint of panic. He stayed still and calm, though. His breathing was steady. Even. I gave him another thirty seconds or so to get used to the bar, to panic if he was going to, and he remained perfectly composed.
I rose, biting back a grunt. Stupid knee. “How do you feel?”
He glanced at the cuffs. Shifted his hips a little. Tested the spreader bar with one foot, then the other. “Like I’m not going anywhere any time soon.”
“What a coincidence.” I slapped his ass. “You’re not.”
He bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut. He might’ve cursed, but I couldn’t be sure. Not that it mattered—he’d be doing plenty of that in a moment.
I absently flipped the Wartenberg wheel’s handle between my fingers. Where to start, where to start? Last time we’d played with the wheel, he’d been on his back. This time, a whole new canvas was exposed—his back, his shoulders, his ass. So many sensitive places. So many places he wouldn’t be expecting it.
Finally, I touched it to the middle of his thigh, just below his ass cheek.
And just as I’d hoped, he almost jumped out of his skin.
“Fuck!” Cuffs clinked. The bed creaked. He took a few sharp breaths. “Shit…”
I chuckled softly. As he started to settle again, I rolled the wheel downward. He grunted, his hamstrings visibly tensing and his toes pressing into the carpet.
I lifted it off his skin and didn’t move or make a sound until he’d started relaxing again. Then I rolled it across the back of his knee.
He cursed again. Grinning, I ran the wheel up his other thigh. Then, as slowly as humanly possible, I rolled the wheel along the crack of his ass. Then across the small of his back. Then all…the way…up…his spine.
The wheel crested the base of his neck, and he swore into the comforter.
“Doing all right?” I asked.
He grumbled something, but quickly added, “I’m good.”
Lightly trailing the wheel along his armpit, I asked, “Not being a smartass, are you?”
“No!” He flinched away from the wheel but couldn’t really go anywhere, especially since I followed. “Thought…you weren’t a sadist.”
“I’m not.” I ran my fingertip along the path I’d just traced. “I don’t get off on causing you pain. I get off on fucking with your senses. Sometimes that means pain. Sometimes”—I ran my fingertip along the path I’d just traced, making him gasp—“it doesn’t.”
I ran it lightly down the back of his thigh. “This doesn’t hurt, though, does it?”
“No. Not…not really.”
“Then I’m not causing you pain, therefore…not a sadist.”
“Semantics.”
I brought the wheel up and, as gently as possible, rolled it along his balls. He gasped, his whole body tensing, and I asked, “You really want to argue semantics?”
“Not a sadist. Got it.”
“That’s what I thought.” Still, I teased his balls with the wheel for no other reason than that I loved the way he choked on his breath.
“There is nothing hotter than having you like this.” I slowly rolled the wheel over his ass cheek, right along his crack. “Totally immobile, and totally compliant.” With my free hand, I adjusted the front of my pants. Goddamn, but he was a turn-on. “You like this?”
He exhaled. “L-love it.”
“Even when I do this?” I rolled the wheel down the side of his hip.
He grunted again and nodded. “Yes. Even…even when you do that.”
And there was no way I could resist fucking him when he was like this.
I set the wheel aside. As quickly as I could, I stripped off my clothes. Then I pulled a condom and some lube from the nightstand. He craned his neck a little to look over his shoulder, and our eyes met right when I tore the condom wrapped with my teeth.
Mouthing a silent curse, he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the mattress again.
“Your decision.” I started rolling on the condom. “Fingers first, or just go straight to fucking you.”
; “Fuck me,” he murmured. “Please fuck me.”
“So polite. I love that.”
His answer did more than turn me on. Perhaps without knowing it, he’d let me know he was relaxed enough mentally to at least assume he’d be relaxed physically. If I met much resistance, I could always go back to gently stretching him with my fingers until he yielded to me.
As expected, he was tight, especially without being stretched first, but he pushed back and leaned against me, and when the head pressed past the tight ring, he moaned, and it was a sound made of pure pleasure. I withdrew, then breached him again.
“God.” His shoulders quivered and his fingers curled around the covers. He groaned as he took my cock deeper.
“And just think,” I said through my teeth. “No blindfold, but you still can’t see if I’m going to use this.”
I picked up the Wartenberg wheel, letting it clink enough for him to hear, and he muttered, “Fuck…”
Grinning, I kept fucking him, but didn’t touch him with the wheel. The effect was exactly what I’d hoped for—he twitched and wriggled, probably anticipating the spiny touch, but with no idea when or where it would finally come. If it would come.
Yes, Rick. I can fuck you and fuck with your mind at the same time.
I picked the most random place I could—a couple of inches below his rib cage—and touched the wheel there. Just as I’d hoped, he recoiled and groaned, and we were off—rolling the wheel all over his torso and hips while my cock moved in and out of his ass.
The sounds he made…
God.
The sounds.
A soft whimper here. A growled curse there. Cuffs rattling and giving away every time he jumped or clenched his fists. Sometimes he took slow, deep breaths. Other times he gasped. Held it. Held it longer. Slowly released or blew it out all at once.
The chain between the handcuffs pulled as tight as it would go. Muscles and veins stood out on his forearms. I couldn’t quite see his knuckles as he gripped handfuls of the comforter, but I’d have bet money they were blanched. His breathing was uneven, ragged, sometimes deep, sometimes shallow. Everything about him—the sight of him, the sounds he made—was unspeakably sexy, and tonight he was mine, all mine, to fuck and tease, and—