SAFE IN THE privacy of that spacious shower stall in the master bathroom, Lydia slid her finger over her clit and moaned. Watching Wilder’s muscles bunch and strain as he lifted weights and worked the machines had tested her limits, especially after he’d left her wanting the night before. If he’d dragged her to the floor the moment they arrived back in the apartment and ripped off her clothes, her hard limits would have been the last thing on her mind.
She imagined it now as she rubbed harder and inched her way toward climax. Passion would heat his eyes, melting that icy blue and transforming it to smoke. The wall of indifference would drop. He’d growl and nip at the sensitive place at the juncture of her neck and collarbone.
She remembered their first date, how romantic he’d been, and how he’d thrilled her when he turned dominant.
* * * *
8 years earlier
“Kneel at the foot of the bed.” Wilder pointed to a spot on the floor, expectation simmering through his command.
“Yes, Sir.” Just as it had the night before, his voice activated a place deep inside Lydia. Now that she was aware of it, this intrinsic piece of herself fell into place, a fact that could neither be subverted nor denied.
She knelt and waited.
He moved about the room. She heard the sounds, evidence of his activities, but she didn’t know what each noise meant. At dinner, he had explained that, while kneeling, she was to look at a point a foot or so in front of her unless he told her to look elsewhere. It limited her field of vision, a sort of blindfold for beginners. She didn’t want to disappoint him, especially not their first time together.
“Stand. Feet shoulder width apart. Hands by your sides.”
The urge to look around the room pressed close, but she forced her attention to him. It wasn’t difficult. Wilder’s confidence and presence demanded it. To her right, in the periphery of her vision, she could see the bed. Raw lumber rose from each corner near the bed, following the places where posts would go.
Wilder fanned his fingers along her jaw, cupping her face in a display that managed to be both tender and primal. He followed up with a kiss that matched. Her heartbeat synchronized with his, and by the time he pulled away, her entire body buzzed with awareness. She swayed forward, following him.
He chuckled and pushed her back into position. “Stay there, Lydia.”
She straightened her spine and took a deep breath.
Wilder circled her body. His predatory action heightened the tension in the room. The need to submit to his power seized her hard. All semblance of resistance fell away. With her whole heart and soul, she wanted to make him happy. She wanted to play whatever games he devised. She wanted to pass whatever tests he administered.
He drew a finger along her shoulder, caressing the bare skin her halter revealed. He spent some time worshipping her with these light touches full of promises unspoken. She trembled under the tender onslaught. With a soft tug, he released the knot holding the tie that kept her top from slipping. Now only the tightness of the material and the swell of her breasts stopped it from falling. She took a deep breath, and it inched downward.
His forays grew serious as he stopped teasing her with featherlight touches. He pressed his palms to her skin and burrowed under her shirt. He gripped her breasts, kneading and pressing until her shirt had fallen to her waist. Then he rubbed lightly, grazing his palms over her nipples.
Delicious sensations wended through her senses as he played with her body. Soon she was naked, and she had no clear memory of her clothing falling away. Every inch of her skin was awake, clamoring for his attention. She whimpered, pleading for more without saying a word.
She yelped when he pinched her nipple hard.
Then he was in front of her. He tangled his hand in the hair at the nape and pulled. She experimented with resistance and was rewarded with a series of tingles that shot directly to her pussy. The scent of her arousal grew stronger.
He released her hair. “No, Lydia. If you fight me, I will punish you. I will not tolerate disobedience like that. My will is your will.”
“Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.” The idea of a punishment both terrified and thrilled her. Would it be like it was in the club? Though she’d been wearing clothes, he’d brought her to climax.
As if he could read her mind, he shook his head. “You won’t enjoy punishment, my sweet. Submissives who misbehave aren’t allowed to orgasm. I know you’re new to this, and I don’t mind teaching you the rules, but I’ll only tell you something once.”
Lydia was absurdly grateful for that. She didn’t like when instructions were repeated. It seemed demeaning, like whoever was giving orders expected her not to understand the first time. As an intelligent woman, she appreciated this level of respect.
“Yes, Sir.” She couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t happen again. If she disobeyed, it would be on purpose. Of course, she would have to get up some more courage in order to go against his orders. She wasn’t yet that brave.
“Lie in the center of the bed.” With a sweep of his hand, he indicated that he wanted her head at the top and her feet at the bottom.
She carefully centered her body on the bed. He removed the pillows from the bed and stacked them on a nearby chair. When he returned, he had a coil of thick rope in his hand. Her heart beat faster at the sight, and more moisture rushed to her pussy.
“I’m going to bind you, Lydia. You won’t be able to move at all. You’ll be spread open and vulnerable, mine to use as I want.” As he spoke, his gaze roamed her face, and she knew he studied her reaction. No man had ever taken such an interest in her before. Sure, they’d rendered her emotionally vulnerable and used her as they wanted, but she didn’t get the sense that Wilder wanted to use her for his pleasure as much as he wanted to use her for her pleasure.
For the first time in her life, she felt that being with a man was more about her than about him. It was a dizzying understanding, one that she hadn’t expected when she agreed to this kind of power exchange.
He waited next to the bed silently. With a start, she realized he was waiting for her to respond. In a weird way, he was asking permission.
She nodded slowly, already feeling a little as if she were floating. “Yours, Sir. To use as you want.” Perhaps it was ill-advised to surrender this much power to someone she’d known for barely twenty-four hours, but it felt so right, and she desperately didn’t want him to stop. If he did, she would fall to her knees and beg for more.
He rewarded her with an indulgent smile. It promised all sorts of decadent things, and she fought not to squirm. She didn’t want him to think she was resisting. He ran his fingertips over her rib cage. She flinched and hoped he wasn’t into tickling. She didn’t find it sexy.
But he didn’t linger there. He seemed to note her sensitivity as he continued up her side and lifted her arm. He wound one end of the rope around her wrist and arm, tying it off in a beautiful, complicated pattern she couldn’t hope to replicate without practice.
When he finished, he looped the rope around one of the vertical two-by-fours of the frame he had created. Lacking any degree of urgency, he repeated the pattern of action until her arms and legs were bound to each corner. She lay there, spread-eagled, open and vulnerable, just as he had promised.
He stood by the side of the bed, visually checking the knots. “Pull on them as hard as you can.”
She hadn’t planned to resist at all. To her, the ropes represented a reminder to keep from moving, not an actual restriction. But she wasn’t about to disobey a direct order. She grasped the lines in both hands and pulled with all her might, but she wasn’t able to budge. She thought she might have some leeway to move her arms an inch or two to either side, but she couldn’t. Tugging with her legs proved the same thing.
“They’re secure, Sir.”
He frowned and rounded the bed, studying the rope around her ankle. “I know they’re secure. Pull this leg again. Hard as you can.”
Wondering what he was l
ooking for, she gave a mighty tug. The rope tightened around her ankle, a built-in punishment. He adjusted the ropes, and the pressure eased.
“The purpose of tying you up is to restrict your movement, not to cut off your blood flow. If you feel like you’re going numb or cold anywhere, especially your hands and feet, use the safe word.” He made an adjustment to the rope around her other ankle. “I’ll fix the problem, and then we can return to playing.”
It was good to know he wouldn’t get upset with her for interrupting the scene in order to communicate a problem. His attention to detail made her feel even more secure with her decision. “Thank you, Sir.”
He grinned and ran his palm up the inside of her leg. He didn’t stop until two fingers were buried deep in her cunt. Lydia started at the curious feeling. He wasn’t kissing her or touching her body. His weight didn’t press down on her, making her feel surrounded and safe. The only place he touched was the inside of her vagina.
She felt his fingers moving around, massaging and searching, stretching her tissues, perhaps judging how much she could take. When he found her sweet spot, he startled a kittenish squeak from her throat. She lifted her hips to invite him closer, but her body was too spread and securely tied. Some muscles tensed with the effort, but she wasn’t able to move her body at all, not even to cant her pelvis.
The helplessness of her position came crashing down on her. In the club, she’d been bound, but hundreds of people had been watching, and she’d been fully clothed. Here she was naked and alone with a man she barely knew. It was the most exciting rush she’d ever felt. Cream flooded between her legs.
He withdrew his fingers and held them up. Light from the two lamps in the room glistened from her juices. He studied them, a satisfied smile teasing at the corners of his lips, and locked gazes with her. “I really like it that you’re wet like this for me.”
Bringing his fingers closer to his nose, he inhaled. Shades of pure pleasure washed over his face. He closed his eyes and licked his fingers. She watched as he savored every bit. When his eyelids lifted, his blue eyes had darkened with predatory intent.
He climbed onto the bed and settled between her legs. He didn’t bother with a preliminary teasing. This was and wasn’t about her desires. She liked the incongruity and the lack of control she had over it. Sir wanted more of a taste, and he was going to take it. Though she was already spread open, he pulled her pussy lips apart as far as they would go. She’d never felt so exposed.
Then his face disappeared. He slurped and swallowed in a greedy, ill-mannered way that would have had her closing her legs and pushing him away if he’d left that option. Because he hadn’t, she relaxed and surrendered to his will.
Small stings marked the places he bit, and her pussy hummed where he moaned. Soon she forgot about anything but the molten heat rioting on her tender tissues. She wasn’t close to orgasm, which she suspected was his intent. After last night, he had to know she needed more friction and an edge of pain.
She whimpered and begged. “Please, Sir. Oh please!” She wanted him to add his fingers, to fuck her hard that way, but she knew better than to ask.
He withdrew anyway. She lifted her head to watch him back away. He crossed his arms and leaned against the dresser. He didn’t look upset, only thoughtful. She didn’t dare to say anything because she couldn’t fathom what he might be thinking.
Then he disappeared through the door next to the dresser. She heard water running. When he returned, she saw that he’d washed her juices from his face. He picked a bag up from the floor and put it on the dresser.
He unzipped it and rummaged around inside. “The flogger feels different through your clothes than it does on bare skin.”
The flogger hadn’t just fallen on areas covered by her clothes. Her shoulders and upper thighs had been bared to that leather caress. That was the feeling she chased now. “I know, Sir.”
“I’m going to gag you.”
This also wasn’t news. They’d discussed this at dinner. He’d been amused when he recounted how loud she’d been the night before. If they’d been in a place where a screaming woman wouldn’t raise suspicion, he would welcome the sounds of her ecstasy. “Yes, Sir.”
He unwrapped something and discarded the package. Then he disappeared back into the bathroom. More water ran. When he returned, the ball of the gag was still wet. He’d washed it. “Open up, slave.”
She opened her mouth, and he popped it in. Then he lifted her head and secured the straps.
A ball gag didn’t feel like she thought it would feel. She’d played before with men who used a necktie or a piece of cloth. It tasted bad and eventually stunk. The ball gag didn’t have those flaws, not that it tasted great, but it didn’t allow her to close her mouth at all. The ball that blocked the sound caused her to salivate. If she didn’t constantly swallow, she would drool. Not sexy, but he had to know that. Right?
“Let’s review. Show me your safe sign.”
He didn’t seem to notice her discomfort. Or maybe he didn’t care. She flashed the O sign at him with her thumb and forefinger.
He nodded, and one side of his mouth lifted in a slow grin. “Perfect. You’re quite a beautiful woman, Lydia.” He stripped out of his shirt. “Lying there, unable to move, completely at my mercy. That bright pink ball parting your luscious lips. God, that’s so hot. Your pussy is so dark and swollen from my kisses. I can’t wait to see what you look like after my flogger is finished showing you the same affection.”
Apparently she was wrong. She had found the gag uncomfortable and unappealing, but the way he looked at her made her reconsider that judgment. Perhaps it didn’t look as ridiculous as it felt. He turned back to rummage in his bag.
Either way, concern about the gag slipped from her thoughts as she took in the muscles rippling in his back. He extracted a flogger from his bag. It didn’t have as many falls as the one he’d used the night before, and they were shorter. However, when he resumed facing her, she found she was too busy ogling his naked chest to pay it much mind.
He followed the line of her gaze. Then his eyelids fell to half-mast, and he flashed a sultry bedroom smile. “Good girls get to play after they’ve pleased their Master. Do you want to please me?”
She nodded furiously and tried to make a positive sound, but the gag proved effective in muffling her words.
The temperature in the room seemed to rise with that promise. He leaned down, bent over the bed, and drew her nipple into his mouth. Sucking hard, he rolled his tongue across the sensitive peak. It hurt, and flames sparked from his mouth straight to her pussy. She tried to cry out, but all that emerged was a muffled mewling sound.
He pulled harder. She tried to arch closer, but she didn’t have enough strength to move the ropes. They dug into her wrists and ankles until she stopped fighting.
Then he switched breasts. Back and forth, he tortured those hard little nubs until they softened, submitting to his will.
He kissed a path up her neck and bit her earlobe. “Beautiful. Simply beautiful.”
When he stepped back, he raised the hand holding the flogger. He trailed the falls over her skin. She trembled, aching to feel the bite and dreading it at the same time. Excitement and anxiety built until little begging noises squeaked out from behind the ball. If she hadn’t been gagged, she would have begged eloquently.
Finally he took pity on her. The first lick fell on her inner thigh. He established a rhythm right away, and he moved around the bed as he worked a path up one side of her body and down the other. He whipped her thighs, her stomach, her breasts. She was amazed he didn’t even come close to hitting her face. Wind from the falls breezed up her neck and across her chin, but nothing hit where he didn’t intend it to.
Her skin burned. Need and desire thrummed through her system. She tried to arch and writhe, but the ropes did their job. Because she had no real desire to resist, she relaxed into it and let the pleasure happen where Sir dictated it should happen.
He mov
ed to the bottom of the bed, concentrating the strokes on her pussy. Spikes of pain burst, ebbing and flowing with the beat he set. She screamed, begging for more with every ounce of her muffled breath.
Time slowed, and she became mesmerized by the picture of him swinging the whip. She found the simple figure eight of his pattern arresting. He was a thing of exquisite grace and masculine beauty. She wanted to fall at his feet and worship him, not only for the way he made her feel and for showing her how good it was to be his submissive, but for introducing her to submission. For the first time in her life, she felt whole.
“Come for me.”
She knew she was close, but when he gave the order, her entire being obeyed. In a torrent of heat, she came. Cream gushed from her pussy, soaking the leather falls.
He stripped out of his jeans, not stopping to give her a chance to look as much as she would like, and slid a condom on. Then he was on top of her, surrounding her body with his. Without bothering to kiss or caress, he thrust into her soaked pussy, hard and fast. He crushed her with his weight and fucked her with his cock. She wanted to hold him, to wrap her legs around him, but she couldn’t move. At that moment, she was merely a vessel for his pleasure, and she reveled in being able to give him this, especially after what he had given to her.
She let loose another muffled scream as a second orgasm broke. Her pussy throbbed, and she lost the ability to tense her muscles. She no longer pulled against the ropes. She lay there, completely relaxed, and gave herself over to him.
He pounded into her several more times before he went stiff. His mouth formed silent letters as he climaxed, and then he collapsed on top of her.
* * * *
Present day
She held on to the image of him thrusting into her and the feel of his fingers digging into her thighs. Orgasm washed over her, weakening her knees so that she had to lean against the cold tiles of the shower wall. He hadn’t ended the scene after he came. He hadn’t ended it until much, much later. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of her back then. He had behaved as if she meant something to him.
Wanting Wilder (Safe Word: Oasis) Page 7