by Maren Smith
She would surely explode from the tension. Speech remained impossible, but her moans coordinated with her wiggling failure to lose her dress. Slipping her hands under his t-shirt revealed his velvety soft skin, consuming her entire focus, and she hungrily searched for more.
“Whoa, slow down there, little girl,” laughed Declan. “I’m still the top in this relationship, and I’ll decide when we move forward. Let’s just make sure we’re all set. You agree to my control. You’ll take clamps, paddles, leather, my palm, and restraints. We’ll stop at a little redness and you want to be taken to a release you’ll remember. One more question… will you take my cock in your most private of places?”
A tiny bit of wetness released between her legs, and Claire groaned. “Fuck, yes. Can we just get on with this already? I’m… I’m about to die over here.”
“Little girl, the first thing we need to establish is which one of us is the dom… and it isn’t you.”
Declan moved from the chair to turn off the television, and a deafening silence settled around the already tense room. The sounds of her own breathing became louder than a chainsaw, and he slipped his t-shirt over his head. Hardened, flat abs joined his already familiar biceps, framed by tight jeans snuggled around a firm ass and amplified by a worn leather belt that now carried a whole new purpose. There was no hint of a grin on his stern face.
Claire moaned a second time under a tiny spasm of release. He arched an eyebrow as though he’d guessed that he’d brought her a small climax with his words alone. She couldn’t imagine what he could do to her once he started to play.
Chapter Four
He moved her to the couch without a word. Pinning her wrists above her head, he kissed the side of her neck with a soft, velvety touch, slowly and methodically moving downward until he reached the place where the red strap of her sundress hit her shoulder. Slightly callused hands left a warm trail along her over-sensitized skin. She pulled against her restrained wrists, but he tightened his grip, leaving a small indentation in her skin. Given no options, she pressed her thighs together as tightly as she could, whimpering, “Please, can we just…”
“Please, what?” His voice remained at a whisper. “Shall I teach you your first lesson? There’s a proper way to address a dom.”
Failure to answer would mean she’d have to live forever with the deep ache that burned her clit to a painful nub, but using full, communicative sentences remained difficult. He rolled her slightly to her side and slid the tight dress over her bottom to expose her lacy black thong, tracing the pattern of the flowing rose tattoo decorating the small of her back. His hand slid further down her writhing body until he cupped her backside with full, powerful grasps, but it still wasn’t enough. Her entire soul demanded something deeper. Something meaningful.
She tried to twist away from him, and his palm left her ass only to be reapplied with an unexpected spank to burn her skin. The pain quickly subsided to leave in its wake a welcome tingling in the shape of his handprint, but she didn’t have a chance to fully register the experience before he repeated his performance on her opposite cheek.
“Sir,” he said quietly. “As a submissive, you’ll call me sir when we’re playing. Do you understand?”
She’d understood her role from the moment she’d met him. “Sir… I… yes, sir.”
Alternating at will between gentle and harsh, he covered her bottom with the deliciously stinging spanks, reaching every available space from her thick, creamy globes to a more sensitive place where her thighs met the curves of her now-glowing cheeks. Each bite of skin-to-skin contact reverberated throughout her core to coordinate with a growing wetness trickling inexplicably into her soft folds. Between attacks, he kneaded her muscles to engrain the growing warmth into her flesh, to alert her mind to another layer of untapped need, but his spanking never exceeded her comfort zone. Instead of fear or trepidation, she arched her back to encourage his movement, her dress working its way further up her belly.
His free hand unzipped her dress, and the shimmery fabric slipped off her shoulder until it exposed a single creamy white breast contrasting sharply with the bright red clothing. The air temperature chilled her overheated body, bringing the nipple to a rigid peak. He took it between his fingers to deliver a sharp pinch and something malfunctioned in her body, the effect registering in her swollen clit as well as her sensitive breast.
“You liked that, didn’t you?” He continued to speak softly, slipping her out of her dress. “Look at that beautiful ass. You are amazing.”
Finally freed from her clothing, her lithe, nude body crackled under a firestorm of energy. Her erogenous zones pounded with every touch, but the restraints to her wrists kept her a willing victim. His kiss came unexpectedly, and he explored her mouth with a demanding force. A desperate need to get him inside of her with anything… anywhere… took over, and she bit slightly on his lower lip, earning his disapproving growl.
“I do the biting,” he scolded. “Behave yourself or this won’t be nearly as gentle.”
Gentle became a relative term. Her already reddened bottom wiggled against the rough fabric of the couch, reminding her of the consequences for any lack of cooperation. She lowered her eyes in submission, but had to fight the urge to bite his ear when he closed his hot mouth over her breast, scraping his teeth across the still rigid nipple.
“Come up here, little girl,” he said, lifting her onto his lap. With her wrists freed, she greedily explored his hardened abs and rock-like biceps with a hunger that surprised her. His tone made her quiver with a frightening mix of anxiety and desire. “When you’re waiting for me, you’ll put your arms above your head unless you want me to tie you there. I want to see all of you.”
Confident that compliance was the only path to end the pressure that continuously, relentlessly built inside of her, she obeyed, but the promise of a physical restraint was mystifyingly tempting. The idea of being in his control, tied or handcuffed, to be a toy waiting to be pleased, was too powerful, and she grabbed his hair to pull him closer.
She was unprepared for his chilly response. “Do you know what topping from the bottom means? It’s a naughty trick submissives play when they think they’re going to control a scene. Let’s show you how this is really done.”
Standing her on her own two feet, he moved to a cabinet by the side of the television and returned with several long ropes already attached to four individual leather cuffs. With a tingle of excitement, she waited while he cuffed each of her wrists then he stood on the couch to run the ropes through a pair of small eyebolts in the ceiling. With a quick tug, her arms were no longer capable of controlling any scene, her aroused nipples vulnerably exposed. Slipping her out of her panties, he added an extra tingling touch across her still-sensitive bottom then through the neatly trimmed hairs on her folds before fastening the other set of cuffs to her ankles. A long bar was attached, effectively keeping her open to his exploration.
Fully restrained, panic rose in inexplicable proportion to her growing wet response. The very important safeword suddenly became vital to her decision-making process, and it moved to the tip of her tongue when he arched his eyebrow with a small frown. “Do you know how stunning you look right now? I know you’re nervous, but you can trust me. I’ll stop anytime you call it. Do you remember your word?”
His ability to read her deepest thoughts and fears continued to amaze her, but the reinforcement was exactly what she needed to continue. She nodded. “I’m fine, sir.”
Tied to the ceiling with her secrets exposed, he explored her curves at will, but it soon became apparent that only the thick ropes attached to studs and hardware could defeat her primal attempts to break free. With each touch, an invisible line was drawn across her body as every nerve ending, every emotion, and every ounce of self-awareness she possessed followed his movement. His amazing shoulders and biceps, still tantalizingly out of reach, taunted her as her climax came closer.
“This is what control is all about. You’r
e here to please me. If you’re a good little girl and do as you’re told, I’ll let you come, but you need to let me have my fun first.”
With a foreboding frown, Declan slid his worn brown belt out of his jeans, and she quivered with more than a little fear. “Relax,” he said, tickling her thighs with the soft leather. “You can trust me, little girl.”
Trust was an easy gift when a girl was fully clothed, but trussed and exposed in the presence of a dominant male in a BDSM scene made it much more difficult. Claire panicked. “No… No… I can’t do this.”
“I’m not hearing your safeword, baby,” he whispered as the leather tapped more firmly along her inner thighs, inching closer to her swollen clit. She tried to twist away, but the gentle touch was instantly replaced with his belt applied solidly across her bottom. “Stop fighting me,” he snapped.
Her desperate writhing continued until his leather was simultaneously applied across both of her bottom cheeks with a second, harder snap, leaving another stinging outline. She cried out with a mixture of angst and confusion, the fiery, volcanic pressure almost defeating her, but she used every ounce of self-control she had to force her submission. “I’ll be good. I promise. Please, please, just fix this, sir.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” he said with a grin. His large, powerful hand covered her pussy to deliver a slow, steady manipulation of her labia until he snaked his middle finger between the folds to find her clit. Pulling and pinching the tiny bundle of nerves, he sparked an erotic trail to her wet ache, and her breath broke into slow, steady pants matching the rhythm of her hips.
Indecision written across his face, he waited for a long second before pulling a condom out of his wallet and shucking his jeans. Confronted with his blissful nudity, Claire silently cursed the restraints that kept her from exploring his hardened body. His shaft was beautiful, at full erection, glistening with a tiny bead of wetness already at the tip. Her mouth watered, and she continued her fight to escape.
The leather’s third correction to her bottom caught her by surprise, and it only took a single stroke to return her to a state of submission. “Behave, little one. Or I’ll have you take me in your mouth or your ass, and you’ll be left like this. It will take hours for you to lose this arousal. Do you want me in your pussy?”
With her legs already spread and her willing scent filling the room, she nodded, but when the end of his cock touched her swollen clit to invent a new definition of pleasure-filled pain, she moaned with a wiggle of her hips that she couldn’t stop. One hand firmly settled at the small of her back, their skin became one, his shaft slid down her wetness, igniting every nerve in its path, his other hand returning to her pussy, his middle finger working the bundle of nerves under a burst of fire. The deep, burning spasms morphed into rolling waves of pleasure, but as the welcome release filled her soul, he entered her with a hard thrust and she cried out under the force of his invasion. Pure, unfiltered gratification consumed her body, and her muscles spasmed around his cock in a vain effort to hold him in place.
Instead, he pulled out before entering a second time. Not as intense, her orgasm continued to deliver a welcome pleasure, but her overstimulated clit rebelled with a tight, painful ache. “I… I… please. I can’t do anymore.”
In and out, he slid through a river of her own desires. When he thrust his cock deeper than she’d ever thought possible, her clit shuddered with relief, and she threw her head back to let him fuck her. His breathing increased and soft moans escaped him as he grabbed her ass with both hands. At the moment of his explosion, he pushed into her with an unexpected force, and she felt his pleasure correspond with another powerful orgasm of her own.
He waited a long few seconds to regain his breath before either of them could move. Releasing her from his ropes, he gently laid her on the couch before he collapsed his large frame next to hers. His smooth skin contrasted strongly with his hardened muscles, wetness still coating her thighs, and the musky scent of their arousal surrounding their naked bodies.
She lay next to him, listening to the sound of his heartbeat return to normal before she spoke. “That… that was amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that before. Thank you.”
Declan rolled them both over until she rested on top of him. She’d never felt so safe and comforted as he brushed the hair out of her eyes. “You might never have done this before, but you’re amazing. I should be thanking you.”
Not sure what to say, Claire nodded, but her weekend regrets took on a new focus as a jealous image of Claudia and Declan came to her imagination. She buried her head deeper into his chest and sank into his strong-armed hold.
Chapter Five
Reluctant to give up her warmth, he snuggled her a little closer until her breathing grew steady and her lips parted slightly in slumber. Content to just watch, he brushed the hair away from her face, remembering the dark hints of chocolate brown in her eyes and the tiny smile turning at the corners of her mouth. He’d had no intention of using his cock during their first scene, but the simple spanking had quickly turned into something much more meaningful as her gorgeous, writhing body responded beautifully to his control. This little thing was a natural submissive: genial, energetic, and possessing the perfect combination of anxiety and enthusiasm.
When the long shadows crept into the room to signal the coming sunset, her stomach gave a tiny grumble. She roused herself slowly, rubbing her eyes with a sleepy frown. “Wow, I’m sorry I fell asleep,” she murmured in her soft, soothing voice with that adorable pink blush decorating her cheeks. “I didn’t sleep well last night. I guess I was pretty excited about the weekend. I’ve been awake since five.”
“I’ll make sure you do a little better with sleeping tonight. I think Sophie would be upset if I damaged you. Come on…” He stood her on the floor. “It’s after six, and you barely touched the chili. Let’s get you something to eat.”
After pulling on his jeans, he slipped his big t-shirt over her head. “I like sharing with you. Besides, this makes it a lot easier to find that pretty little ass of yours.” He landed a quick smack to her bare bottom, and the sharp crack coincided with her adorable giggles as they walked hand in hand back to the kitchen, their bare feet padding against the honey-colored hardwood floors.
While the thick Alfredo pasta dish was heating up, he cut some fresh bread and made a salad, and she wandered the kitchen until she stopped in front of the small wine fridge tucked in the corner of the lower cabinets. “Go ahead and pick a bottle,” he said with a nod. “We limit the alcohol intake around here since people who drink can’t make consensual decisions, but the members are pretty good at policing themselves, otherwise, they don’t last. There’s a wine collection in the basement with a few restrictions, but everything in the kitchen is common property. There should be at least one bottle of a New York chardonnay that’s pretty good.”
He filled an oversized tray with food and wine, and they moved to the living room where the floor-to-ceiling southwestern exposure promised a spectacular sunset. It only took a few minutes to get the open fireplace roaring, bringing a comforting heat to the elegant room.
“I should get somebody to cook for me every day,” she groaned as she took her first bite of the creamy, rich sauce. “I love to eat, but I honestly hate to cook.”
“I guess I don’t really hate cooking.” Declan took his own bite. “It can be kind of therapeutic, but I mostly stick to meat and vegetables to feed a bunch of truckies, so it really isn’t hard. I did make an Alfredo sauce for the guys at the station once, and nobody complained.”
She looked a little suspicious. “I thought you said you only knew how to make hamburgers and eggs?”
“Somebody pays attention.” He laughed, taking a sip from his wineglass. The amber liquid was smooth and hinted at a touch of vanilla, combining perfectly with the thick pasta sauce. “I guess maybe I can do a little better than hamburgers, but I’m still not complaining about letting the restaurant do the cooking for us.”
Side by side on the oversized sectional, he couldn’t help but lean in for a quick nibble on her neck. She responded by snuggling into his chest and taking deep breaths. With her eyes closed, she teased, “You smell a little like smoke. Do all firefighters have that as an aftershave, or something?”
“I was on a job this morning. I’m not sure I even notice anymore.” Burying his head in her hair, he added, “You don’t smell like smoke. You smell like… lavender.”
“I’ve never met a fireman before. Did you always want to be one?”
“I’m sure I thought about it when I was a kid,” he answered with a shrug. “I think everybody has had a firefighter fantasy at some point, but no, it wasn’t my lifelong focus. When I got the football scholarship in Missoula, I was planning on something in the medical field, maybe a graduate degree in physical therapy. But then I met Walt here at the club, and the first time he took me to the station, I was hooked. He arranged for the training, gave me a place to stay until I got the job, and I never went back to Buffalo.”
“Buffalo?” she asked with a grin. “A Bills fan?”
He leaned back with a quizzical look. “Yeah,” he admitted with a little warning tone. “And who’s your team?”
“Sorry, buddy. I’m a Patriots fan the whole way. One of us has to pick a winner.”
Her giggling self was pulled across his knee to receive his dissatisfaction in the form of a few sharp smacks on her bottom. “Honestly? A Patriots fan? That could be a game changer, little girl.”