“So when they said you were supposed to orient me, they didn’t mean you’d show me where the staff lounge is located.”
Technically he was the head of security for Oasis. That meant protecting their extensive and cutting-edge systems programs. He delved into the minute details of anyone and everyone who wanted to be associated with Oasis to make sure whoever worked for Oasis was properly vetted. He was one of four security specialists. Micah had vetted Lydia and designed the protocols for this wish. Even though he hadn’t formally introduced them—Micah had hooked up with a woman that weekend—the bastard knew he’d never quite gotten over Lydia.
He should have known she would jump on a plane a day early. She liked to be the person who knew everything before anything happened. He aimed to make her comfortable with trusting her coworkers, starting with him. Whatever had happened in Fort Lauderdale was firmly in the past, and it needed to stay there.
“I will show you around this place eventually.”
The tension didn’t ease from her shoulders. He’d likely have to force her, kicking and screaming, to relax. “So I have to have sex with you or I can’t have this job.”
Wilder narrowed his eyes. It bothered him that so many people thought sex was the whole point of BDSM. Even when it was about sex, it wasn’t about sex. It was about trust, listening, and connecting on an intimate level. He thought Lydia understood. All those years ago, she had understood. “You did not specify sex as part of your fantasy.”
Her eyes, deep pools of caramel, widened, and a blush colored her butterscotch skin with ruddy undertones. He pinpointed the exact moment she recalled what she had specified in her survey. “I don’t… I can’t…” She shook her head and didn’t attempt to finish her thought.
“Give it a day. If that goes well, give it another. Take it one day at a time, just like anything else. I’m not asking for the rest of your life. I’m asking that you understand what it means to have your deepest, darkest wishes come true.”
She lifted her gaze, and he locked on to it, doing his damnedest to hold her there until she could gather her courage.
Or perhaps she had the courage, but she objected to having him for her Dom. Wilder decided to offer her an out. “Would you prefer another Dom? I can see if Micah is available. He’s due back in town tonight.” It would serve the bastard right for insisting Wilder lead her orientation.
But Lydia didn’t seem to like that option. He watched her resolve strengthen, and he knew he’d made the right call. The tip of her tongue darted out, poking at the corner of her mouth. “No. It’s just an orientation. You’ll do. Can we unpack the office first? I won’t be able to think of anything else until it’s organized.”
Wilder shook his head. She hadn’t earned the right to request anything, and he couldn’t let her gain control of the situation. “It’ll stay this way until I say you can unpack. From now on, you belong to me. You’ll do what I say, when I say, and how I say.”
She swallowed. “Or I’ll be punished?”
He let loose with a lazy grin. “Sir.”
She tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips.
Gesturing toward her, he issued a prompt. “Or I’ll be punished, Sir.” She had to say it; otherwise he could do nothing. It was her permission to begin again.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Finally she nodded. “Or I’ll be punished, Sir?”
“Yes, Pet. You will be punished.” He took one step closer. She didn’t move, not even to drop her gaze. That was something different too. Years ago, she had responded so well to his every command. It looked like she had picked up some bad habits. He’d have to break those. “Link your hands together behind your back and look at a point just in front of your feet.”
Her arms trembled, he noted, as she moved to comply with his order. She was no novice, but her posture and position had grown sloppy. He spanned his hand across her stomach to push her hips back. If she stood like that for any length of time, her lower back would become sore. Next he attended to her shoulders, urging them back so that her breasts thrust forward.
She bristled under his touch. Though she didn’t lift her gaze, she resisted his efforts to correct her posture.
He delivered one warning smack to her ass. The sound cracked loud in the silence of the room. She pressed her lips together, struggling to hold something inside. He didn’t know whether she had a retort or if she was fighting her response to the discipline. “Proper posture is both attractive and good for the bones.”
“Permission to speak, Sir?”
His lip twitched as he fought the need to chuckle at her military tone. He responded in kind. “Granted.”
“You said there would be no touching.”
In the paperwork, he had specified, in accordance with the limits of her wish, that there would be no sex. “I said there would be no intercourse. There will be touching. Lots of it. You belong to me. You are my pet. I will touch you however and whenever I wish.” He trailed his fingertips down her neck and between her breasts, enjoying the feel of her silk blouse and imagining the smoothness of her bare skin. To her credit, she didn’t flinch. “No part of you is off-limits to my hands.”
His lips and his cock were another story. She’d banned all kissing and sexual contact. The part of him that had been relieved she didn’t expect sex began to bristle at that restriction. Knowing she didn’t want to have sex with nameless, faceless strangers had made him feel better. Now that he stood close enough to breathe in the light, fruity scent of her perfume and how it mingled with the distinct aroma of her skin and hair, he wanted to be free of those limits. It’s me. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?
“I’m going to punish you, Pet. I’m going to strip you down and lay stripes across this luscious body. Arriving early is just as rude as arriving late. I don’t tolerate rudeness.”
LYDIA CLENCHED THE muscles in her ass and thighs, trying to suppress the shudder evoked by his promise. Part of her wanted the discipline, and part of her feared it. For the first time in her life, she thought about the inconvenience she had caused by showing up early. Wilder had been assigned to train her, but he’d expected to begin on Monday. She’d drawn him away from whatever plans he had this weekend, perhaps a family dinner or a date.
He worked the buttons of her blouse efficiently, his fingertips never once coming into contact with her skin. “Lift your arms above your head.”
She followed the order, but she couldn’t help but wonder at it. Her question was answered when he slid the material up her arms and used it to bind her wrists together. The fabric was irrevocably wrinkled. When she dressed to leave the building, everyone would see her dishabille.
He followed suit with her bra, and then he took a step back. She didn’t need to lift her gaze to know he was looking at her half-naked body.
The temperature in the room seemed both too warm and too cold. Heat suffused her skin, radiating from inside, and cool air from the HVAC system circulated, making her nipples pebble to sharp points.
She expected him to lay his hands on her, to pinch her nipples, perhaps twist and pull until she cried out. Once, he had known pain play on her breasts drove her insane. Perhaps she should have made touching her breasts a hard limit, but after she’d banned penetration of any kind, she’d felt a little uptight adding another restriction. She hadn’t wanted anyone to think she was a prude, but she also hadn’t thought they would try to deliver someone who would make good on a wish she hadn’t made.
Wilder circled around behind her. She didn’t labor under the illusion that her breasts were safe. His touch scraped just above the waist of her skirt. Then she heard the zipper and felt the tension of the material release. It dropped to the floor. He bent down and lifted her legs, one at a time, and removed her skirt completely. He draped it over the back of a leather chair, taking care to smooth it out.
Her pale peach cotton briefs were next. She’d dressed for comfort, not seduction. They fell to her ankles, exposing h
er completely to his icy gaze. She expected his cold stare to steal her body heat, but she found herself growing even warmer instead.
He ran his hands over her hips and down her thighs. “You’re very beautiful, Pet. You’re going to look even better by the time I finish punishing you.”
His honeyed tone sent a shock of excitement coursing through her system. She craved a firm hand. She craved being bound and whipped. Truthfully she craved more, but she’d long ago realized that some desires were just memories destined to fill lonely nights. Now that Wilder was back in her life, could she dare to hope for more?
Probably not. He’d agreed to this fantasy knowing she had banned sex. Besides, he didn’t even remember her.
“Bend over the desk. Keep your arms above your head.”
Her panties were still around her ankles. She reasoned he wanted them to remain there; otherwise he would have removed them. Hobbled, she took awkward, mincing steps until she reached her desk. The file folder with the scenario rules inside lay there, mocking her for having had the time to read them thoroughly and not doing so. She’d merely scanned them. The rest of the time had been spent staring at his picture.
She lowered her torso over the desk and curled her fingers around the edge on the opposite side. She didn’t know what implement he planned to use, but his promise implied she’d be left with marks. He hadn’t brought anything into the room with him, and he wasn’t wearing a belt, so she deduced he meant to spank her.
She concentrated on the coolness of the wood pressing against her breasts and belly. As she waited for Wilder to commence with the spanking, the surface of the desk warmed with her body heat. She turned her head to the side and rested her cheek on the smooth grain.
That vantage let her watch Wilder cross the room and open a cabinet to the left of the miniature kitchen. She couldn’t see what was inside, but she recognized the flogger he extracted. Her office came equipped with everything. She’d have to take a closer look to see if there were retractable hooks in the ceiling or ropes or chains hiding anywhere.
Of course, that would have to wait until whenever Wilder cleared her to assume her responsibilities in the office.
He returned, and she braced herself to feel the sting of the lash. The falls tickled the back of her calf. The specter of the imminent sting hovered so close, something she both craved and dreaded. Lydia hated this part of the game, where he made her wait and wait until she felt like she would scream if he didn’t begin. But she knew how good it could be, how good Wilder could make it, and she wanted it so badly. How could she both implicitly trust Wilder and harbor resentment toward the person wielding the whip?
Chapter Four
Wilder watched her wonderfully expressive face. Fear competed with longing, the emotions playing out like a movie. He trailed the ends of the cat up one thigh, across her lovely heart-shaped ass, and down her other thigh. She shivered and set her jaw with a determined slant.
With the flick of his wrist, he licked the cat against a spot high on her thigh. She whimpered, a cute, sexy sound, but she didn’t otherwise move or make noise. He repeated the move on her other thigh, and she lifted her ass a little higher in offering.
The scanty information she’d provided on her survey indicated she liked being whipped, spanked, bound, and gagged—all the things she’d loved when she was with him. She didn’t love blindfolds, and she didn’t particularly want an orgasm. Wilder liked it that way. He had come to the conclusion that orgasms were personal, an expression of closeness between two people. And they were no longer close. Given her lack of recognition, he wondered if they’d ever been close, or if it had all been an illusion.
He warmed her up first, getting her skin used to the feel of the cat before he would deliver the last set of strokes, the ones that would leave delicious red stripes across her skin for a few hours.
She cried out with the first one, but she did a beautiful job of keeping still. He gave her six more, waiting between each one so she could enjoy the sweetness of the sting or call her safe word if she felt the need.
“Stand up and put your clothes back on.”
She planted her hands on the table and pushed her torso up. He noted the trembling in her shoulders with a brief frown. He’d concentrated on whipping her ass and thighs. A few strokes had landed on her calves, but he hadn’t spent much time there. He had to relearn her limits and where she was most sensitive. She had skipped any questions that had to do with her calves, and he didn’t remember whether she liked attention there or not.
He helped unwind her bra and shirt from her wrists. By the time she buttoned her blouse, her hands no longer trembled. She hazarded nervous glances in his direction every few seconds, and he realized she wasn’t nervous about being disciplined. She was nervous about him.
Trust would take time to build. Rebuild. Damn. How long could he let this farce continue before it drove him insane?
LYDIA PULLED UP her panties without peeking to see if Sir approved or not. She didn’t think she would be able to go through with it if he took her underwear away. While she didn’t have an objection to going commando, she didn’t want to do it when she was under the control of a Dom, especially one who made her wet with remembered heat.
She finished dressing and turned to find him holding a bullwhip. The soft brown leather whip didn’t give her pause. She’d never had one used on her, and she could admit to a certain curiosity about whether she’d be able to take that kind of pain.
But she didn’t expect he would whip her with it.
“Hold out your wrists.”
She offered her wrists, and he tied the end of the whip around them, binding them tightly together. Next he looped it around her neck, forcing her to hold her wrists between her breasts.
It didn’t stop there. He shoved the thick handle, probably plastic wrapped with leather, down the front of her skirt. She sucked in a breath when he reached under her skirt, praying he wasn’t planning to use it as a dildo. The thing had way too much girth to fit without using a lot of lube. She was wet, but not that wet.
But he just brought it between her legs and out the waist at the back of her skirt. She didn’t have to wonder at his intention for too long. As he pulled it tight, the hard leather separated her pussy lips and ass cheeks, making her almost wish he’d removed her panties. In no time, they’d be soaked and wadded in uncomfortable locations.
He grabbed her purse from where she’d left it on top of her desk and hung it around her neck. From the rhythm of the motions behind her, she figured he was wrapping the rest of the whip’s long tail around the handle.
“Let’s go home.” The handle pressed into her back, urging her forward.
He marched her to the elevator. It wasn’t so bad. She liked how he took charge. Even the improvised leash made her feel more like his pet and less like an assignment.
That changed the moment they stepped from the elevator. Eva smiled at Wilder and winked at Lydia. “Good afternoon, Mr. Burke. Will we see you tomorrow?”
Lydia looked back at Wilder. His face remained impassive. “Doubtful. Go ahead and lock up. It’s beautiful outside. Nobody should be working today.”
She led the way, whip handle guiding her direction, to his Jeep. He helped her into the passenger seat, draped the handle over her shoulder so that it rested in her lap, and secured her seat belt.
Gazing over his shoulder at the building, she watched Eva and Pete leave. “Did you just give them the rest of the day off?”
Sir shut her door and came around to the driver’s side. He started the car. “They were only there in case you showed up early. According to your former employers, you have a history of doing things like that. On one hand, it makes you the perfect Oasis employee. On the other hand, being that obsessed with the details means you need some balance in your life.”
She tugged at the bonds around her wrists, a tentative test, and eyed him speculatively. “You sound equally obsessed with the details, yet they chose you to provid
e balance for me? Take control from the control freak? Did you pull the short stick to end up with this job?”
The staccato rhythm of his thumb tapping against the steering wheel filled the silence. Lydia never traveled in a car without the radio turned on. It either helped drown out her thoughts or it distracted her from the doubts that tended to plague her mind. Those doubts could turn her downright bitchy in her attempt to hide her insecurities.
“I chose you. You’ll find all wish fulfillment at Oasis to be completely voluntary. Nobody is coerced. Quite the opposite. Even after someone volunteers, they still have to go through the matching process to get approval from a committee. You were difficult to match because you left over half the survey blank and you didn’t specify a wish.”
Because she didn’t have a wish. She didn’t want to fall in love or even find a Dom. Though she was submissive and she liked discipline, living under someone’s thumb didn’t appeal to her in the least. She’d both been there and done that, and the experience had been singularly unsatisfying.
“I don’t have a wish. I’m not looking for a Dom or a sex partner.”
“You made the no-sex part clear in your survey.” He turned his head and grinned at her. “At least you know I’m not here to sleep with you. Hopefully, when this ends, we’ll have established some kind of friendship.”
His response did more to set alarm bells ringing in her head than it did to allay her fears. Deep down, she wanted him to want to sleep with her. But first she wanted him to remember having already slept with her. Then her feelings vacillated in the other direction. What if he remembered, but it didn’t mean the same thing to him that it had meant to her? She couldn’t face that kind of rejection. This lack of recognition was much better. Wasn’t it?
Wanting Wilder (Safe Word: Oasis) Page 4