He paced the floor before harnessing the energy and forced himself to fill the sink and wash the dishes.
The feminine scent of her seemed to linger. He’d enjoyed last night’s demonstration at the club, then the way she’d been so perfect back here. More than he thought he would, he’d liked waking up next to her and sliding his hard dick into her hot cunt. He’d appreciated the way she’d opened up to him. But he didn’t fool himself. What they had was sex, sadism, and masochism with a little dash of forced submission. Nothing more. She’d made that abundantly clear.
His cock appreciated that, even if his ego didn’t.
His cell phone vibrated on the counter, and he scowled. A call at seven o’clock on Sunday morning meant only one thing. He checked the display, confirming the caller identification.
His boss.
So much for R & R.
So much for time with the lovely little sub in his bathroom.
Chapter Ten
Alani debated what to do. She’d taken the hated enema and then a quick shower before wrapping herself in a big, fluffy white towel.
The man was a contradiction. His furnishings were sparse but high-end, and the few items he kept around were luxurious rather than utilitarian.
She found a blow-dryer under the sink. Since he kept his hair close-cut, she doubted he had much use for the beauty appliance, so she figured someone must have left it there. She told herself it didn’t matter. He could have a dozen women—subs—who spent the night, and it didn’t change a thing. The two of them didn’t have a relationship. He could fuck whoever he wanted.
But she was lying to herself.
She gritted her teeth against the unaccustomed and unwelcome feeling of jealousy. Determinedly she finger-combed her hair as she dried it.
After she was done, she retracted the cord and put the blow-dryer back.
She heard the rich tones of Master Nathaniel’s voice coming from the kitchen. Since she didn’t hear any other voices, she assumed he was on the phone and that he didn’t have visitors.
She could, and probably should wait for him, naked, in the bedroom.
But she wasn’t particularly burdened with the need to mind her own business, despite the fact he’d given specific instructions to meet him in the bedroom.
She walked toward the kitchen, and as she got closer dropped to her knees and crawled the rest of the way.
He raised his brow in acknowledgment when she entered the kitchen, but he continued his conversation. A furrow was buried between his brows, and his shoulder blades were drawn together tightly. Whatever the call was about, it obviously wasn’t good.
She knelt up in the middle of the room, spreading her thighs far apart.
Deliberately hoping to distract him, she sucked her index finger into her mouth. She was very much aware of him watching her.
She moved her damp finger across her clit.
He turned his back to her. “Yeah,” he said, ignoring her. “I understand.” He listened for a few more seconds before ending the call.
He put his phone on the counter, then faced her. He folded his arms across his chest before saying, “Finish what you started.”
“Sir?”
He rested his hips against the countertop. “Masturbate. Hump your hand. I want to see you move and writhe and get into it. Give me a show.”
Now she was embarrassed. It was one thing to touch herself just to get his attention; it was another to behave so wantonly in the middle of his kitchen.
“You took an enema?”
“Yes, Sir. I did.”
“Good.” He nodded. “Then also finger-fuck your ass.”
Her ass?
“Get it ready for me.”
She’d never played with her own hole. He was a master at shocking her. No matter what she tried to get the upper hand, he was ahead of her. She’d been hoping to distract him, to make him want her, but he seemed all but disinterested.
“Now!”
She played with her pussy with her right hand, and she drew some of the moisture toward her ass to use as lubrication. She twisted awkwardly so that she could work her ass and her pussy at the same time.
Kukae. This was more difficult than she could have imagined. She felt awkward rather than sensual as he watched her play with her rear.
She closed her eyes, trying to find a rhythm.
“Better,” he said.
His approval made her try harder. She desperately wanted to please this man.
“I said I wanted a show, Alani. Give it to me.”
She gyrated her hips; she played with her breasts. She tossed her hair over her shoulder. She closed her eyes and moaned, pretending Master Nathaniel were touching her.
She surrendered to the only thing that mattered, pleasing her dom.
“Do not come,” he told her.
“Yes, Sir.” Of course, now that he’d told her that, an orgasm began to build. She jerked her hips reflexively. Her clit became a hardened little nub. She rubbed it frantically. She worked a finger in and out of her anal whorl. She wanted…
“Stop.”
Exhaling in frustration, dragged back to reality, she dropped her hands to her sides. She kept her gaze downcast. Her entire body throbbed. She wanted, needed release. He had to have known what he’d done to her. Curse him a dozen times.
“Did you crawl all the way here from the bedroom?”
“What?”
His abrupt change made her blink. She’d been on the verge of a powerful orgasm, and her blood still pounded. He wanted to talk about whether she’d walked or crawled from the bedroom?
With infinite patience, as if he were setting a trap, he asked, “Did you get on your hands and knees in the bedroom and crawl to the kitchen? Or did you crawl from the hallway?”
She thought fast. Had he seen her? Did he know, one way or the other? Should she tell the truth? Or could she manage to lie to him without betraying herself?
“A lie will ultimately be found out, Alani.”
She had no idea how he’d know, but he watched her reactions intently. She didn’t doubt his statement. “No,” she admitted. “I walked most of the way, Sir.”
“Because I wouldn’t know the difference. Because you thought it would be okay to be disobedient? No harm, no foul?”
“Correct, Sir,” she said, the earlier flutter of arousal being replaced with tendrils of fear. His face was unreadable, but his body language was fierce, as if he were restraining his power and reactions.
“I appreciate the fact you told the truth. That will make your punishment less severe.”
“Punishment, Sir?”
“I don’t like being manipulated, Alani.”
“Sir?”
“You should have waited for me. Even if you had come to the kitchen, you should have entered quietly and in the proper position instead of playing with yourself like a naughty, horny slut.”
“Sir, I am a naughty, horny slut.” In a whisper, she added, “But only for you.” She noticed he was becoming aroused. His dick pressed against his jeans. She might be in trouble, and maybe she’d earn a spanking, and that was what she really wanted. “I was only trying to distract you. Your call seemed as if it were bothering you.”
He dropped his arms. “What I want,” he said, “is for you to behave as a proper submissive. Crawl unless given permission to walk.”
She winced. It had seemed pointless to crawl across the house, but he was right—she wasn’t behaving as a proper submissive.
“Put your hands behind your back.”
After she complied, he added, “Stay exactly where you are. I mean exactly. Do not kneel back.”
He pushed away from the counter and walked past her. She exhaled a shaky little breath. The man confounded her. Her pussy was still damp; her nipples were hard. She wanted to be touched.
Her knees grew tired. Her muscles became fatigued. Even though the heater cycled, her skin felt chilled. How long did he plan to leave her here?
She wished he’d just practice corporal punishment. Leaving her alone like this was torture.
She scowled and considered grabbing her clothes and calling a taxi.
But she didn’t.
Ultimately, she realized, she wanted to be a sub, and not just any sub—his sub. She wanted to be handled the way he handled her, treated the uncompromising way he treated her. Under his tutelage, she relaxed, settled down.
She heard sounds of his movement but had no idea what he was doing.
She stayed in position. On the clock, she watched the seconds drag into minutes. She’d been there, behaving, for almost a quarter of an hour when he finally returned.
“Get on all fours.”
He spoke quietly but firmly. There was no arguing with the command in his voice.
He moved her hair to one side, and she felt him fasten a collar around her neck. She momentarily stiffened in surprise. But then she sighed with relief, realizing this represented nothing more than his brand of bondage.
“We’re going into the guest room. Back toward the master but turn right where you’d turn left. You’re going to crawl.”
He crouched in front of her. He held up a leash. “Just so you don’t forget in future,” he said.
She swallowed. More than any man she’d been with, he made sure the punishment fit the crime.
He attached the leash to her collar. She blushed from embarrassment.
He moved back behind her and slapped her right flank. “Move.”
She was hyperaware of her movements as she crawled toward the back bedroom. The lead was fairly long, and he allowed all the slack to be taken out before following her.
“You’ll remember to crawl in future, unless given permission to do otherwise?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Being on hands and knees was horribly uncomfortable, and she was hoping his words meant she could stand, but obviously, he was just reinforcing his rules.
Once she was in the bedroom, she gaped.
The space had been converted into a playroom.
The floors were a highly glossed wood.
A spanking bench dominated the middle of the floor. A St. Andrew’s cross was pushed to one side. Dozens of items were affixed to the wall, from bondage paraphernalia to gags and plugs, to whips, canes, and floggers.
It was a masochist’s dream.
There were only a few other things in the room, hooks attached to the ceilings and walls, a small table, and an uncomfortable looking high-backed wooden chair.
“Up on the spanking bench,” he said before she could take it all in.
He continued, “I want your torso on the top rail, your knees on the side rails, and I want your ass sticking out so I can fuck your hole hard.”
Getting into position took several attempts, and she wasn’t nearly as graceful as she would have liked. Once she was situated, she pressed her upper body against the padded rail. She turned her head to the right so she could see his wall of torture.
He adjusted the side rails so that her legs were unnaturally high. The position was awkward, leaving her private area more exposed. She watched him select a cane. He whipped it through the air a couple of times and smacked it lightly against his calf.
She clenched her butt cheeks in fear.
“Ass higher,” he said, turning back to her.
She tried again.
He crossed to her and laid a stripe across the tops of her thighs. She screamed, but she arched her back and thrust her rear out.
“Better,” he said. “Hold that position.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and willed the pain away. She breathed deeply, and she consciously uncurled her hands.
The pain had been exquisite, nothing at all like her previous experiences. She was sure he’d chosen it purposefully to prove she could trust him.
He replaced the cane—thank God—and grabbed four fabric cuffs.
“I’m going to secure you to the bench,” he said. “Tightly.”
“Yes, Sir.” She’d been attached to crosses and benches before but never like this. He pulled each arm as far as possible and attached her cuffs to small metal hooks built into the bench. Most of her doms just spread her as far as comfortable. This position made it difficult to take a deep breath.
He secured her knees to the rails and secured her ankles to the front of the bench so that she couldn’t pull back.
“Scared?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Louder.”
“Yes, Sir. I’m scared.”
“You should be.” He removed the collar and leash. “This will be a punishment beating. Tell me why you’re receiving it.”
“Sir, I interrupted your call. I walked when I should have crawled. I didn’t wait quietly.”
“You touched yourself without permission.”
“I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t know that was forbidden.”
“You most certainly did know. We talked about it after the demo at the club. Your cunt belongs to me. When you’re with me, you will touch yourself when I give you permission. Likely it will be because I want you to masturbate for me or my guests.” He slapped her ass hard.
She yelped. “Yes, Sir. I understand.”
“We can negotiate what happens when we’re apart. But you need permission to go against my will.”
God he turned her on. She loved how implacable he was. Despite her misgivings, fears, and insistence that she wasn’t a submissive, she was falling for him. The thought terrified her.
He turned back to the wall, and she watched him shamelessly. He selected several things, including a gag and placed them on the small tabletop.
He brought over a strap for her to look at.
“Do you know what this is?”
“A strop, Sir?” She frowned. It wasn’t made of leather as she expected. She’d never seen anything quite like this.
“It’s a strop, yes. But it’s made of rubber, rather than leather. Fair warning, subs either hate it or like it. There’s no in between. It’s directional. It’s more vicious than leather. You’re such a painslut, I’m inclined to believe you’ll like it.”
“Uhm, where are you going to use it?”
“On your pussy.”
She felt the blood drain from her face. The black rubber strop was about a quarter inch wide, fifteen inches long, thin, and threatening.
“I only intend to hit you with it after you’re properly warmed up. Using it first would immediately put an end the session. I intend to give you three strokes with it, no more. The first will likely shock you. The second will be intolerable. The third will crush you. It’s meant as punishment for you touching the cunt that belongs to me, especially since you were trying to manipulate me. It’s meant as discipline, as a reminder that you’re not allowed to masturbate without permission. Unless you use your safe word, I intend to enjoy every moment of punishing you with it,” he said. “Your choice.”
He was a bit of a bastard.
If he’d simply used it, she wouldn’t have objected. But he was intentionally building the anticipation and her fear. “I want to try it.”
“All three? Or just one?”
“Three. Please don’t stop, Sir.”
“Brave girl.”
He took out a large squirt bottle filled with lube. “I intend to punish you for misbehaving. And because you’ll like it. I am going to fuck your hot pussy and your tiny little ass.”
Truthfully, she was ready. Maybe not for the anal part, but she definitely wanted him. It was as if their earlier sex had merely been an appetizer. She wanted the entire meal.
“You’re nice and clean?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“No embarrassment,” he warned, “otherwise I’ll shove an enema nozzle up your ass and fill you until you beg for mercy, and I’ll watch while you expel it.”
Adding weight to his threat, he opened a cupboard and took out an old-fashioned hot water bottle. It would hold at least four or five times more liquid
than the disposable one. She flinched. “Ah, no embarrassment, Sir,” she promised. “My ass is nice and clean. Shall I show you?”
“That was quick.”
“I am a fast learner, Sir.”
“Indeed.” He replaced the scary-looking bottle. “Blindfolds are not on your limits list?”
“No, Sir. I like them.” They allowed her to get more lost in a scene. Having no distractions, like his naked chest or tight buns or the whips he wanted to use, would enable her to surrender to the moment more completely. She found it also made her sense of hearing more acute, and it allowed her to feel the pain more keenly.
“Tune into my voice,” he told her as he secured a blindfold. “I’ll talk to you. I won’t leave you alone in this room. Talk to me, Alani, if you need to.”
He stroked his fingers down her spine. She splayed her fingers. “You’re so erotic, Sir. That’s a turn-on.”
He massaged her buttocks, and then he lightly slapped her half a dozen times. “Your ass gets so red. I may have to take a photograph of it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You’d like that?”
“Yes,” she admitted. The idea appealed to the exhibitionist in her. Somehow the blindfold made it easier to be honest about her baser desires.
“I have a camera in the other room.”
“I’ll be all right if you hurry.” She regulated her breathing. Being left alone was a bit unnerving. She tried not to freak out.
“Breathe, Alani!” he called.
She smiled and relaxed, allowing the bench to take more of her weight.
“I’m proud of you,” he said a few seconds later.
She heard the snap of a shutter several times. He moved her hair, repositioned her, clicked a few more times, then there was silence.
“Beautiful,” he said. “They’re good shots. Sometime, we’ll set up a video camera.”
The idea of having video of him fucking her turned her on. “If I can watch you masturbate to it, Sir.”
“I’m going to keep you permanently bound and blindfolded,” he said.
He rubbed her buttocks and her thighs vigorously. She relaxed. He repeatedly smacked her rear, increasing the pressure, changing the location, hitting only a small area and then a larger one. She became lost in a maelstrom of sensation.
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