Bonds of Courage

by Lynda Aicher

  The carpeting was soft under her heels and the comfortable couch had been selected for the hours spent watching games and the rare movie. The back walls were painted a dark brown, which made the space seem cozy and countered the bank of windows that included a walkout to a brick patio. The bottom level had been built into a small hill, so from the front, no one knew it was there.

  She sat on the couch and waited for him to do the same. “Better?” She didn’t bother to hide the hint of sarcasm in her voice. In truth, she liked her subs to be at ease with her, but Holden was crossing her boundaries once again.

  She could still end it. Either of them could at any time.

  His smile was full, the boyish good looks showing through. “Yes, Mistress. Thank you.”

  Oh, he thought he’d won something. Not for long.

  “I’m only your Mistress when we’re in the playroom.” The Mistress tripped her Domme notes but also reminded her that the hockey player shouldn’t be here. She set the papers next to her to keep from crumpling them into a ball. “You don’t need to call me that otherwise.”

  “But I like calling you Mistress.”

  “And I like calling you Mr. Hauke.”

  He chuckled softly and gave her a nod. “Vanessa then. Does that work?”

  Not really, but Ms. Delcour was too formal. V? No, that was for family. Mistress V was for the club. So it came down to her given name. The one used by both friends and associates. “Sure.” She shuffled through the papers, more as a distraction than need. “By what you’ve marked, it looks like you’re interested in a range of BDSM play that mostly involves bondage, submission and levels of masochism. Public displays are out. Humiliation and degradation are also a no. All edge play activities are hard stops. But sex in all forms between us is okay.” She looked up. “You’re sure about that?”

  “With you, yes.” He rested his forearms on his thighs and clasped his hands in a comfortable pose. The position stretched his T-shirt across his shoulders and had his biceps bulging in a display of strength.

  “I’ll remember that.” She ignored the rush of heat that simmered through her. “The write-in area is blank.” She handed the last page back to him. “You should add a few things. For one, I’m guessing you don’t want marks that would raise questions in the locker room. Right?”

  “Wow. Yeah.” He shuddered and quickly scribbled that down.

  “Kneeling should also be on your hard limits list.” She flicked through the pages, found the one that had it marked as okay and handed it over. “You have an injury that is aggravated by kneeling. There are other ways to show your submission that don’t require that.”

  He frowned. “But it doesn’t bother me that much. It just gets stiff after having the weight on it.”

  “Are you willing to risk it? What if a Domme leaves you kneeling for an hour or more? Could you handle that and still skate the next day?” She waited until he gave a small head shake. She hadn’t thought so. “Always be upfront with the person you’re playing with. Do you think we want to permanently hurt someone? We don’t. In fact, I’d feel like complete shit if I did anything that caused you pain that you didn’t want.”

  He hung his head, her chastisement received. “Sorry.” He looked up. “I didn’t think of it that way.”

  “Now you know.” She crossed her legs. “Are there any other injuries that I should know about? Your shoulders or wrists? Elbows? An old sprain that acts up? Anything at all?”

  He sat back and gave it some thought, which she appreciated. His frame consumed almost an entire cushion on the couch. His thighs stretched the denim tight and he wasn’t wearing skinny jeans. Not even close. Just the thought of him trying to force his solid legs into the thin-cut denim had her smirking.

  He lifted his head from where it rested on the back of the couch. “What?”

  She’d tried to contain her chuckle, but a small laugh slipped out anyway. “I was just picturing you in skinny jeans.”

  His faced bunched into a grimace of horror. “I marked dressing up as a no. I classify skinny jeans as falling into that category.”

  “Agreed,” she conceded before getting back to business. “Any other injuries I should know about?”

  “Not right now, but that changes weekly.” He resumed his earlier position with his arms braced on his legs. “It depends on the game and how physical they are each week.”

  She nodded. “Then you’ll update me before each session.”

  “All right,” he said. “Anything else?”

  “Safewords.”

  His smile spread into a wide grin that had his eyes flashing. “Still Chihuahua.”

  She was able to suppress her smile that time. “That’s a full stop on whatever we’re doing. No questions, no repercussions. Understood?” He nodded. “Is yellow okay for slow down when you need to pause or take a break?”

  “That’s fine.” He straightened, stretching his back. “What about you? Any limits or things I should know?”

  His asking showed he was learning. “Take my rules home and memorize them. My limits align with yours, but never assume anything. If you have a question, ask me. I’ll do the same. If something changes, tell me.” She picked up the papers and stood. “And never forget my most important rule. What we do doesn’t leave the playroom. Ever. I have no doubt we’ll see each other at the rink or other Glaciers events, but we’ll act no differently than we did before.”

  He rose, and she maintained eye contact the whole time until she was looking up at him. “Understood. But...” He wet his lips. “We will be different. I don’t know how good I’ll be at hiding the changes.”

  “Then learn. You’ve hidden your desires for years. This should be no different. I know what’s said behind my back. The locker-room smack-talk isn’t so secret. I will not be a conquest for you to flaunt.”

  He reared back, scowling. “Where’d that come from? I’d never do that.”

  Unfortunately, she had too much experience in the sports world to expect anything less. “You won’t get the chance either.” No one ever would. She spun away and headed toward her playroom. “By the way, we’re not exclusive. Fuck who you want.”

  A crisp “Good to know” floated to her. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but the little sinking in her stomach wasn’t it.

  She unlocked the playroom door and tucked the key back into her bra. She stepped to the side, waiting for him to enter before she flicked the light switch on. He stopped, his mouth parting as his gaze swept the room.

  It wasn’t fancy or extremely extensive, but it suited her needs. The tile floor was polished to a shine beneath the various equipment positioned around the space. Some were on locking wheels, while others were bolted into place. A variety of trade tools hung on the wall, but most were stored in the closed cabinets that lined the wall to the right.

  He rolled his shoulders, swallowed, then turned to her. “What do you want, Mistress?”

  Her half smile was out before she could stop it. They were in her room, and the use of her title pleased her. It was right. She took a deep breath, absorbing the scent of the leather, the tang of disinfectant and the slightly damp smell that was always there when the room had been closed up for a while.

  This was her space—one hundred percent.

  She closed the door, the soft click like a Pavlovian signal to her. His soft moan hummed into her, drawing her deeper.

  “You will present to me whenever we enter this room.” Her voice automatically lowered with the shift in her mind-set. “You will stand, feet shoulder-width apart.” She tapped the inside of his thigh until his stance widened. “Hands behind your back.” She pulled his arms behind him and had him clasp one of his wrists. “Eyes lowered.” She smoothed her palm across his chest, pressing on each shoulder to keep them back before tilting his chin down.

/>   Stepping back, she admired him. Even fully dressed, he was fine. There was a pride in his stance that spoke to her. He might be submitting to her here, but it wasn’t his natural inclination in life. It made his gift even more special.

  “Drop your pants.” Her command sliced through the room exactly as she wanted it to. The delicious rush of power pulsed through her when he moved his hands to the button of his jeans, no hesitation or questions.

  Her palms itched to touch him. Tease him.

  He pushed his jeans and underwear to his knees then straightened, resuming his position, and she took a moment to appreciate him.

  His hair had fallen forward to brush across his forehead and his shirt hung low enough to cover the top half of his flaccid penis. It made an interesting peekaboo effect with the rounded tip where it dipped below the hem. A smattering of dark hair picked up about midway down his solid thighs to cover his legs.

  Oh, this was off to a promising start. But...

  She turned away to retrieve the item she wanted from one of the cabinets. The drawer slid open easily to reveal her collection of chastity devices. She glanced over her shoulder, assessing before selecting the stainless steel one that was heavy in her palm but not excessive—less than half a pound. It was perfect for his first true experience at submission.

  Keeping it hidden in her palm, she strolled back to him, a smile playing on her lips. “Do you know what this is?”

  He looked up, and she opened her hand to show him the chastity device. His inhale was short and sharp, but otherwise, he didn’t react. “Is that a cock cage?” His voice stayed flat as his gaze shot between her and the device. “Mistress.”

  “Yes.” She moved closer so he could see it better. “I want you to wear it.”

  He swallowed, studied the device then slowly nodded. “If it pleases you, Mistress.”

  It was the right answer, but would it stay the same after she put it on? His shoulders had tensed, hunching forward, telling her he wasn’t fully on board with her plan. But he’d agreed anyway.

  She grabbed a bottle of lotion. “Hold out your hand.” She squirted a dab into his palm when he did. “Rub that around the base of your cock and scrotum, but don’t get hard.”

  His chest expanded with a deep inhale, but he did as directed. The mechanical way he completed the job had her smirking once again. He was trying hard to please her and that was all she really required as a Domme.

  When he finished, she moved in. She unlocked the device and separated the solid metal tube from the ring. “Hold this, please.”

  He took the tube, flipping it around to inspect it as she set the lock and key aside. “Mistress?”

  “Yes?”

  “How long do you want me to wear this?”

  She’d expected the hesitancy in his voice. “Until eight tomorrow night.”

  His brows flew up. “I’m staying here then?”

  She smiled. “No.”

  He quickly scanned from the steel tube in his hand to his cock as he contemplated twenty-four hours in a chastity device. She waited a moment, the tension building before reaching for him.

  “I thought you were only my Mistress while we were in this room.”

  She froze, her hand inches from him. To his credit, he hadn’t flinched. Based on the lack of challenge in his voice, she could tell he was seeking clarification. He had her, though. She’d set down the rules to keep her boundaries and now she was pushing him outside of them before they’d really started.

  “I am.” She focused on his blue eyes, noting how they’d darkened. “And as your Mistress right now, this pleases me.”

  If he agreed, then she’d know how serious he was about submitting to her. She still didn’t trust his intent or his commitment. But then, if they were just playing, commitment wasn’t a requirement, which could be the real reason he didn’t want a contract.

  He bowed his head, hands going behind his back. “Yes, Mistress.”

  And he’d called her bluff. She’d thought for sure he’d safeword and they’d be done. Instead of getting sex, she was denying him, and he was okay with that. The rise of adrenaline in her system had her pulse racing at a rate she usually only felt while in the middle of an intense Scene.

  “When was the last time you had an orgasm?” She snapped out the question.

  He swallowed. “This morning. In the shower.”

  She bit her tongue to keep from asking if he’d been alone. She usually didn’t care. It wasn’t her business. “This won’t be comfortable going on.” She held up the silver ring. “But it shouldn’t hurt. Tell me if it does.”

  Maneuvering his scrotum and then his penis through the inch-and-a-half ring involved a lot of flesh squishing, but he held still until it firmly circled the base of his cock and balls.

  “The tube.” She waved her fingers, and he placed the steel penis tube in her palm. That slid on with relative ease. Once the pins were aligned, she slipped the lock in and turned the key to keep it all in place.

  His breathing had increased, the air rushing out of his nostrils in audible bursts. She stepped back to admire her work. The silver cage hung from his groin in a shiny display of her power over him. She tucked the key into her bra, pressing on it to absorb the rush that raced through her.

  “Does it feel okay?”

  He was staring at the ceiling now, low breaths being pushed through pursed lips. “Yes, Mistress.” The gritty control in his answer said something else.

  “Then dress,” she said. If he wasn’t speaking up, then she wasn’t babying him.

  She returned to the cabinet while he did up his pants. She waited until he was done adjusting himself before she handed him the next item. “Use this to clean the inside of the tube in the morning and before you return.” It was a basic plastic bottle with a long nozzle that would fit into the hole at the base of the tube. After he took it, she continued, “I know you don’t have ice time on Saturday, but I would recommend limiting your callisthenic workout and sticking to weights. Do you have any questions?”

  He looked to her, a mix of confusion and desire in his eyes. He worked his lower lip between his teeth, the indecision so clear she found herself silently saying a small prayer, which froze her in place. She was purposely testing him, but she wanted him to succeed.

  That meant on some level, she truly wanted him as her submissive.

  “No, Mistress.”

  Her admission to herself was timed with his soft reply. The double impact twisted a raw nerve that dug at her chest. It didn’t matter though. He’d see only what she wanted him to see.

  “Then we’re done.” Her crisp tone matched her movements as she exited the playroom and led him to the front door.

  The cool evening air was refreshing on her flushed skin when she stepped onto the porch. Darkness had descended, but it was still light enough to see. She stared at nothing and everything as her gaze passed over her perfect lawn and the empty street beyond.

  “Can I ask you a question now?”

  The deep rumble of his voice tumbled over her to leave a bevy of goose bumps down her arms and a knot in her chest. She turned to him with a practiced smile. “Always.”

  His face was solemn, his voice intimate. “Does doing this make you happy?”

  Her frown was instantaneous. She’d never thought of it that way before. Being a Domme felt good, but more than anything it was simply a part of who she was. A dimension she fed when the need arose. But happy?

  “Yes,” she lied.

  He reached out and traced a gentle line down the edge of her jaw. The rush of tingles that sprouted over her skin shouldn’t have felt so good. The mimicked move that she’d done to him at the restaurant was a clear ploy she wasn’t falling for. Yet the loss of his touch had the knot in her chest constricting.

  “
Someday, I hope that’s true.”

  His words echoed in her mind as he headed to his car. She stood there long after the rumble of his engine died in the distance. Long after the sky darkened, leaving only the outline of the trees for her to stare at. Long after she shivered from the cold that emanated from deep within her.

  Chapter Nine

  Holden jerked awake. The pressing pain in his groin seared through the fog of sleep in the next second. Son of a bitch. He curled up on his side, his hand automatically going to his dick. The hard touch of steel was an instant reminder of why his fucking erection felt like it was being squeezed by a vise. But worse than that, his balls were about ready to explode.

  What the fuck?

  The overall sensation was so close to being nailed in the nuts that he flailed a hand around behind him to ensure he was alone. A glance at the clock showed it was three o’clock in the fucking morning, and he had a goddamn boner trapped in a cock cage.

  Holy fuck. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to find a way to lie to ease the pain. The ring surrounding the base of his cock and balls felt like it’d been heated under a flame. It was burning the skin and choking the hell out of the erection he had no control over. Shit.

  So much for chastity devices completely preventing erections. Jesus.

  He flopped to his stomach, but quickly discovered lying on it was worse. He could actually feel the blood rushing to his dick, making his erection grow. Oh, fuck no.

  Rolling back to his side, he shifted around until he finally found a way to rest everything on his upper thigh, which took some of the weight off and eased the pain a bit. He gripped the headboard rails over his head, closed his eyes and focused on breathing. Slow in and out. The same long breaths he used to center himself.

  After what seemed like two fucking hours later, the biting sensation lessened around his scrotum as his cock softened. His dick receded from where it’d been squashed against the end of the tube, and the whole device finally lowered to where it was once again tolerable.

  The intensity of the experience had his skin damp and his mind numb. He blew out a long breath and dug his fingers into his hair. He lay there for a while, absorbing the rush of sensation. He was exhausted and oddly sated. There was a strange element of pride that he’d managed the pain. For her.