by Maren Smith
Walker wasn’t really an aftercare kind of guy and he made sure everyone he played with knew that. At the CCC, his usual routine if a submissive required a little extra was to escort her to the nearest bed or sofa, lay her down, cover her over, and then bring her water and a piece of chocolate. Sometimes, if she was extra sniffly, he’d stroke her hair and tell her she was a good girl. Most of the submissives he knew enjoyed that. But, and he was very careful to make sure everybody knew this right from the start, if she needed more than that, then she’d better bring someone with her who could provide it, because Walker did not.
Walker played with a lot of submissives at the CCC. Not one of them was someone he wanted to get intimate with, and there was no greater intimacy than lying down beside a weepy and emotionally vulnerable woman and comforting her while she came down out of subspace. Hearts got lost that way. Hell, he’d found that out the hard way back in L.A. almost five years ago and that decision had promptly led to one good year of marriage followed by three horrible ones. In another two months, he’d be celebrating the anniversary of his divorce. He did not want to do that by making the same mistake twice. Since coming back to Big Banks, that had not been a problem. To be honest, it hadn’t even been a temptation.
Until last week with Rylee and her hot little bottom perched upon his knee, with those tear-filled mahogany eyes of her gazing up at him, begging for release from whatever guilty little secret she was holding onto. Even with dark circles under her eyes because she hadn’t slept and her bottom lip swollen a little because she’d bit, chewed, and worried it throughout the long night, even then Walker had been taken in by the prettiness of her. Funny, how he hadn’t noticed before. But then, Rylee was a watcher. He didn’t pay much attention to the watchers, and she’d never come up to ask for a spot on his dance card.
She still hadn’t asked, but tonight was going to be a whole different kind of party night at the CCC. His dance card was just as full as ever, too, but he only had one partner’s pleasure to concern himself with. Tonight, all he had to think about was Rylee. And, of course, that rather singular list of wants and limits that she’d sent him, as per his request, just last night. That entire conversation was the reason he hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything all day. She’d had spanking underlined, bolded, italicized, and that was it for activities. Well, he’d already told her she wasn’t going to get that, not without doing three little things first.
What else do you want to do? he’d texted back.
Whatever, had been her reply.
“Oh, no, no, no,” he’d muttered under his breath. Lying on his back in bed, the lights out and the TV off because he knew he was supposed to get up early tomorrow, his thumbs had moved rapidly over the keypad of his phone as he replied, Be specific. He wasn’t an emoji man, but he even sent a frowny face, because he wanted her to take this seriously. He had dozens of interests above and beyond just impact. She wasn’t a newbie. She’d been a member of the CCC for longer than he’d been back in Big Banks, so he knew she was familiar with other activities. That she seemed incapable of thinking beyond that specific one meant either she didn’t have any other interests or she was just so mired under the weight of her own secret guilt that she couldn’t think beyond what she needed to give her relief.
What are your limits? he’d sent next and then both tsked and laughed when she replied, I don’t have any.
“Fine.” He rolled his shoulders, popped his neck, and got downright nasty. So, it’s okay if I lay you out on the floor the minute you get there and pee all over you?
Thirty seconds later, she sent back, All right, I have one limit. He was halfway into typing out his next response when she added, Two limits. Number one and number two.
Chuckling, Walker deleted out his unsent text. “All right,” he breathed. “Let’s make a list.”
They texted until one in the morning and Walker covered everything.
Where can I touch you? he’d sent, and then for almost ten full minutes lay with a low pulse of arousal throbbing in the base of his cock as he waited for her reply. He could imagine her lying in bed somewhere on the other side of this tiny town, propped up on soft pillows, chewing on her bottom lip and thinking out loud, “Where do you want to touch me?”
Dealer’s choice? she finally replied.
Nipple clamps okay?
Yes.
Can I strip you naked?
Several minutes passed. Yes.
His cock was definitely throbbing now and, though he wasn’t fully erect, he was getting there. Can I tie you up?
Yes, please.
His overactive imagination had read that in Rylee’s tone, coupled with a breathy sigh.
Can I fuck you? Walker typed next, then deleted that. “Try not to be a creeper,” he told himself, rolling his shoulders as he struggled to swallow his body’s unexpected reaction. This was unusual for him. He wasn’t the type of guy who did a lot of sexting. This was his first in that regard, so no wonder he was getting hard. Say you disobey during the course of the evening, do you object to being punished for it?
Her response was immediate. No.
“Yeah, I can do more than paddle your ass,” Walker told his phone, and unless she did what he’d already told her—confess, apologize, and then ask him for the correction she deserved—then she wouldn’t be getting spanked by him again. Not any time soon, anyway.
Ginger plug, he suggested.
What is that?
Google it.
A good five minutes later, she texted back. Seriously?
Is that a yes or a no?
It was at least another minute before she sent back, Okay, yes. I think.
Punishments aren’t supposed to be fun, he reminded, glad she couldn’t see him grinning. That he was going to pack enough ginger root for at least one good plug was pretty much a given at that point. Anal?
Anal what? was her response and again, he could all but hear the growing trepidation with which she was texting.
Butt plug, he spelled out. Can I insert things inside you?
Nothing that’s not supposed to be.
“Not supposed to be.” He studied his phone before cautiously texting, Like what?
Car batteries. Houseplants. Broomstick. Nothing that wasn’t made to be inserted or perverted.
“You haven’t put my cock on that list,” he warned his phone. He waited, but she didn’t add it. Neither did he. He probably should have, but there went that creeper vibe again. Orgasm punishments?
Orgasms aren’t punishments. I know everyone says they are, but I just don’t see it.
The low throb of his pulse was beating now throughout all the parts of him. He could feel it not just in his now high-standing cock, but in the pit of his belly, in his chest, in the heated pulse of every vein he owned. “Challenge accepted,” he promised, then wrote, Orgasm control and denial?
Her response was slow in coming. Yes.
Was that reluctance, or…
Where are your fingers right now? he asked.
Right now? On my phone.
Where were they before that?
Her answer was a very long time in coming. In my panties.
Walker stared at that until his screen timed out. Turning his phone back on, he texted, If you’re wearing anything right now, take it off. Lie down on your stomach, legs together. You may use your fingers, but only your fingers. You may come one time. After that, you may not come again until after our date. After this, from now until then, your orgasms belong to me. Good night, Rylee.
He shut off his phone, because if he didn’t, he was going to get out of bed, drive all the way back to her house, let himself in to her bedroom, shedding his clothes every step of the way, and then dedicate himself for the rest of the night to breaking her headboard.
So much for sleeping easily or well. So much for getting that fire lit this morning, too. So much, in fact, for the half a dozen little concentration errors he’d made all day long, and so much for his ability t
o take a simple shower without his cock responding to the trickling caress of the falling water as if it were Rylee’s fingers caressing their hesitant way down his length.
Turning again, this time to face the spray, Walker braced his hands on the white tile wall. Please, don’t let me fuck up tonight. He needed to be cautious. He needed to be careful. He needed to see all the hard-to-spot lines before he crossed them, and when it was over, Rylee could walk away from the experience lighter, freer, with nothing but good memories and good thoughts regarding the Date-A-Dom she had purchased.
“If you use up all the hot water, so help me, I will kill you!” Declan shouted through the closed bathroom door. “You’re not the only one who smells like you’ve been camping for three days!”
Opening his eyes, Walker looked first at the ceiling, then at his erection, and then shut the water off. He got out. He got dressed. He should have used cold water or, at the very least, he should have rubbed one out before leaving the bathroom, but something already told him it wouldn’t make a difference. Unless Rylee become a completely different person from the one he had thus far met, Walker knew the next twenty-four hours were going to test him unlike any he’d ever encountered.
* * *
Walker drove up the long and winding road to the CCC, where he had arranged to meet Rylee. He’d offered to drive her up, but she had refused. Eager as he was to start sharing her company, intellectually, he understood it. She wanted to have her car with her in case he turned out to be a wacko or things got too uncomfortable. She was thinking ahead. That was good. He really ought to do that too, but the problem was, he couldn’t get their conversation out of his head. He couldn’t stop thinking about whether or not she’d done as he’d told her, stripping out of her clothes, rolling onto her stomach, putting her hands between her legs, and bringing herself to orgasm in, unbeknownst to her, his favorite fucking position.
Stop thinking about it, he told himself. Get into your headspace.
The trees just ahead thinned as he turned the next corner. They parted, revealing the shimmering silver paint of a sensible economy car already parked under the sprawling branches of an old, warped tree. The rest of the lot was vacant. He was surprised she didn’t park closer to the door. Her vehicle was empty, but since he had the CCC door key in his pocket, he knew she wasn’t waiting for him in the house.
Sure enough, as he headed up the walkway toward the patio, Walker spotted Rylee sitting on the stone frame of the flower bed that ran the entire backside of the house. She had her eyes closed. She seemed to be taking deep breaths; he’d been doing that enough himself today. Just seeing her though, it was like a jolt of lightning shooting up his back and out through his veins.
He could do this, he calmed himself. It was okay to want to fuck her this badly. He was a red-blooded American male, and it had been a while. In fact, he could count on one hand the number of sexual encounters he’d indulged in since moving back to Big Banks. Regardless, it was perfectly normal for any guy to get a raging hard-on at the thought of spending the next twenty-four hours with an attractive, sexually submissive woman like Rylee. He just had to keep from getting too intimate with her, that was all. If he could do that, then the next few hours would pass like a dream and they would both come through the experience to the other side feeling sated, happy, and content.
Walker managed to hang on to that singular thought right up until Rylee looked his way, and then he saw her blush. Her whole face flamed hot, turning a shade of pink that absolutely was not a trick of the setting sunlight, bouncing off the rippling surface of the lake or filtering down through the massive evergreen boughs above them. She shifted where she sat, as if she were still suffering under the effects of the spanking he’d given her last week. Or maybe what she was shifting under was the lingering pulse from the playfulness of her own fingers last night. His fingers, really. His fingers, his command.
Had she come? That bolt of lightning shook though him again, but he made himself calm, he made himself settle. He made himself shut off his car, get his play bag out of the back, and walk—no, stroll—all the way up the cobblestones until he was within reach of her.
“Ready for tonight?” he asked, as if his mouth weren’t watering and his hands weren’t shaking just a bit from the anticipation of what would come just as soon as he dug the key from his pocket and opened the door for her.
“I think so.” Rylee fell into step as he led the way inside.
“Do you have a safeword picked out or are we going to use the CCC’s?” His voice echoed a little. He’d never been inside the CCC’s Crystal Cabin when it was completely void of people before. It felt incredibly empty.
Incredibly intimate.
He was going to have to be so very careful.
“I don’t know.” Her voice trembled a little and her hands were clasped so tightly, she looked white-knuckled in prayer. “The CCC’s, I guess. Tried and true.”
“Red, it is.” He didn’t catch her arm. Catch implied speed and taking her by force or surprise. Walker didn’t want to use speed for this. He moved slowly, giving her plenty of time to recognize what he was about to do as he slipped his fingers around her arm and drew her far enough inside for him to close the door. She was watching when he locked it. She blushed to the roots of her dark hair all over again and clasped her hands tighter, visibly fighting herself not to back away when he slipped the strap of his play bag off his shoulder and set it on the floor. “Look at me, Rylee.”
Her small breasts were rising and falling much quicker than normal. He could see the peaks of both mouth-watering nipples pushing back against the confines of her bra and shirt. Before this weekend was over, all he wanted was to feel them pushing back against the teasing force of his tongue. She raised her eyes to his.
“Do you remember what you said to me in your dining room?”
“I said you were the dom,” she said, her voice lilting hopefully until it came out sounding more like a question.
“And before that?” he pressed, not wanting to be cruel. Simply making a point.
She bit her bottom lip. “I said I was going to make all the decisions.”
“Because you wanted to be in charge,” he added, just so they both were on the same page.
“But I said you could be the dom,” she pressed, blushing that much brighter, even cringing a little bit.
“Because you wanted to be in charge,” Walker repeated, stressing each of the words he found most problematic. “Do you feel like you’re in charge right now, Rylee?”
He loved her name. He loved the way it tasted when he said it, how it sounded in the emptiness of this huge lake house. He loved even more that she shook her head.
“No,” she all but whispered. She unclasped her hands and hugged herself instead. She was definitely shaking and, damn, if every instinct inside him wasn’t begging him to turn her around, push her up against the wall, and let her feel the nip of his teeth and the heat of his lips as he kissed the back of her neck. Then again, as he unfastened her pants and pushed them down off her hips, so he could slide his hands between her trembling legs and fill his palms with the warm, wet heat he gripped there.
“For the next twenty-four hours, who’s in charge here?”
“You are.” She really did whisper that time. He didn’t hear it so much as he read it on her trembling lips. One more like that and he was going to push her up against the wall, and God forgive him for what he’d do to her once he got her there.
“Are you ready to obey?”
She nodded, shaky consent at first, but growing stronger. Then she looked at him, and what thin grip on his own self-restraint that he’d managed to keep thus far slipped. He actually took a solid step toward her before he snapped a firmer leash on his escaping self-control. The dark pools of her gorgeous eyes got bigger as she tipped her head back, staring all the way up at him. She was almost a foot shorter than he was. Something that would make no difference at all, once she was bent over the foot of his bed
, with a spreader bar holding her ankles wide apart and his grip on her hips pinning her ass down as he rode her.
Yeah, but not in an intimate way, right?
Right.
He was an idiot, and he was in way over his head. But even while drowning, let it not be said he ever did anything halfway. “Take off your clothes for me, Rylee.”
Her breath caught; so did his. Her nipples beneath the thin veil of her shirt thrust out to him all the harder; his hand ached to feel them digging into his palm as he cupped and squeezed. There was wanting in her eyes and he could see it easily, right until she dropped her gaze to the floor and then unfolded her hugging arms and silently, obediently stripped out of her clothes.
With each article she removed, it wasn’t just her skin or her obedience that he was seeing. It was his own destruction. He would not be leaving here the same man he was right now. That should have scared the shit out of him.
Somehow, it only made him want her more.
Chapter Four
Rylee stuffed her socks into her shoes and handed them to Walker, who tucked them into the corner behind the door. Shucking out of her jeans in front of him was far worse than having to bend herself over his knee back in her dining room. She avoided touching his fingers when she handed her pants over. Folding them neatly, he set them on her shoes.
“I’m not taking these away from you,” Walker said, as he turned to watch her play with the hem of her shirt. “They’re going to be right here when it comes times to get dressed again, or if you need to safeword.”
“It’s going to get cold,” she said, shivering. But that was a lie. She wasn’t cold, she was… anticipating. And it felt weird to be doing this, in this place where she had watched so many parties taking place around her. Her gaze drifted to the bathroom just down the hall. The same bathroom where ‘it’ had happened. She quickly looked away.