Fantasy time. He sat back down in his chair. “Miss Paxton. I’d like you to take a memo.”
Her gaze tore away from the chains and settled on him. He watched her pupils dilate, and his dick throbbed seeing her fear mixed with excitement.
“Y-yes, Sir.” She looked around, as if to find a steno pad, then back at him, a question in her eyes.
“Don’t tell me you came in here again without your pad and pen.”
She paused only a moment, before she clicked into the fantasy with him. “I’m s-sorry, Sir, but I’m afraid I did.”
“If this were the first time, I think we could just forget it. But this isn’t the first time, is it, Miss Paxton?”
“N-no, Sir.”
“What should I do about this latest infraction, so you won’t forget next time?”
Her gaze returned to the chains, then back at him. A pleading look besieged him. He was afraid she’d back down from the fantasy, instead she raised her chin a bit—showing him the old Karla was still inside there somewhere—and squared her shoulders.
“I need to be spanked, Sir.”
He looked down to see her nipples grow even larger, more erect. Her breathing became shallow and her lips parted slightly. She certainly seemed turned on and ready for the next phase. Just to keep her in the dark a little longer, he needed to play with her head a bit more. Standing, he reached into his toy bag and pulled out a man’s silk tie.
“Turn around.”
She glanced at the tie, then presented him with her curvy backside. He held each end and reached around, securing the tie tightly around her eyes and head. “How does that feel?”
“Fine, Mr. Montague.”
He grinned. She was getting fully into the fantasy now. “Good girl.” He smacked her ass lightly, and she squeaked. So sensitive. Was she sure she knew what she’d gotten herself into? Well, they’d both find out soon enough.
* * *
Her ass stung where he’d smacked her. Oh, dear Lord. If it stung from a light smack, what on earth was she going to be feeling when he used those chains on her? This wasn’t quite the fantasy she had in mind. Just a bare-handed spanking is what the bosses used on the secretaries in any of the fantasies she’d ever seen or read about.
Leave it to Master Adam and his BDSM kink to ramp things up. But she wouldn’t turn back now. Adam knew how she felt about extreme pain—didn’t he? And she still could safeword, if it got too intense. But it was just a fantasy. Just for fun. Surely she wouldn’t have to worry about a safeword. Of course, she supposed everything was just for fun with Adam. He didn’t have to be on the receiving end of the pain. Ever.
“Lie face down on the desk.” She heard the rattle of the chains as they hit something softer, then felt his hand on her arm and back, steering her toward what she hoped was the desk. “Bend over.” Trust him. She leaned forward until she would have fallen on her face, but one hand remained steady and supportive on her arm with the other just below her breasts as he eased her down onto the cold, hard surface. Her nipples bunched, but the blood thrumming through her veins left the rest of her feeling anything but cold.
He adjusted her backside to where her hip joints were right at the edge of the desk and tapped at the insides of each of her ankles, indicating she should spread her legs open. The vulnerability of the position left her shaking, but needy.
Adam won’t harm you. True. But why did he have to choose to beat her with chains?
His hands glided over her ass and down the backs of her thighs to her knees, then shifted to her inner thighs and came back up until his right hand slid inside her intimate vee and stroked her pussy.
“So wet for me, Miss Paxton.” She smiled. Master Adam was pleased. “Did I give you permission to get wet?”
Oh, no. She was in trouble again.
“Answer me.”
To hell with it. She was supposed to be honest. “No, Sir. But I’ve dreamed about this for months, and I…can’t help myself.” Oh, no! She was mixing fantasy with reality. In July, when she’d come to Denver and inadvertently wound up auditioning at his sex club, she hadn’t even known about this part of his life. Of course, in their years of letter-writing, he continued to think of her as a sixteen-year-old kid, which she had been when they’d first met.
Since he’d held her in his lap on the loveseat in this very room, she’d dreamed about being taken by Adam on his desk. But in her virginal fantasies, she wasn’t cuffed and lying face down on the desk—and there most definitely weren’t any chains.
He removed his finger. The heat of his body warmed her, even though he was no longer touching her. When his fingers entered her pussy swiftly and without warning, she gasped, raising herself onto her tiptoes, then settled back against his hand as he pumped in and out of her pussy. She moaned.
“Silence. Don’t move.”
Karla nodded. She’d said enough, as it was. His fingers continued to fill her, pull out, then fill her again. She felt primed and ready for anything he dished out. An image of Master Adam’s penis taking her in this position caused her clit to throb. She moaned again.
Smack.
The sharp sting of the palm of his free hand against her left ass cheek caused her to jump, pulling up and away from his fingers. His fingers didn’t enter her again. Fighting the urge to groan, she wiggled her ass. Touch me again, Sir.
Smack.
“Do. Not. Move.”
Ka-thunk.
His firm hand grasped her left ankle and pushed it further out. She heard Velcro and something cold around her ankle. He slipped a finger inside the cuff. “How’s that? Too tight?”
“No, Sir. It’s fine.”
He did the same with her right ankle and she felt so open, exposed, vulnerable. Thank God she did hip exercises or he might have torn her apart at this angle.
The rattle of the chains put her senses on full alert. Oh, dear Lord. She felt the cold metal against her back as he ran one of them down the valley of her spine. By the time it reached the curve of her ass, the metal was no longer cold. Her hips tilted up to embrace it.
“Do you like the feel of the chains on your ass, Miss Paxton?”
Direct question. Answer him.
“Um, yes, Sir. Well, like this, anyway. It’s…exciting.”
He chuckled. “Good to know.”
What would he do with that information? She didn’t think she wanted to know. The man had a diabolical mind when it came to making a woman beg. Making her needy. She hoped she didn’t sound as needy as she felt. She was too vulnerable to him already.
The chains rattled, and she heard a click. Then he touched the cuff on her left leg and she heard another click. Damn him! The chains were just for restraining her to the desk. But her annoyance soon turned to relief. Her body turned to mush on the desk as she sank against the wood. He was just messing with her head.
He made quick work of restraining her right ankle to the desk, then picked up more chains and moved to the other end of the desk. “Hands open. Palms down.” She did as he instructed and felt the tug of her right arm as he attached a length of chain to the wrist cuff. He pulled it until her hand was outstretched. Oh, God. Did her sweaty palm just squeak against the desk? The chains rattled, and she heard another click. She pulled and found no give in her arm.
“Is that too tight?”
“N-no, Sir.” Not yet.
“Tell me if your arms hurt or get numb.”
He restrained her other arm similarly, then she heard him digging through his leather bag again. What other means of torture did he have hiding inside there?
“Tell me again, Miss Paxton. Why are you needing a spanking?”
“Because I forgot my pad and pen, Sir.”
“You remember your safeword?”
Oh, no! He wouldn’t spank her hard enough to need it would he?
“Miss Paxton?”
“Y-yes, Sir. Red, Sir.”
“If you use it, the safeword will only apply to this scene, not our TPE arra
ngement.”
Relief flooded her, and she relaxed.
He brushed his hand over her butt and gooseflesh rose in his wake. “I think five swats will suffice in getting you to remember your duties next time, Miss Paxton. Count them for me.”
Five smacks of his hand didn’t sound so bad. He’d already smacked her a few times. Definitely do-able.
Swat!
Oh, God, no! That wasn’t his hand. Whatever he’d swatted her with stung like a wasp, the burning increasing as the cool air hit her. He was blowing on her ass cheek? Oh, what had she gotten herself into?
“Miss Paxton.”
“I’m sorry, Sir. One!”
“Faster next time.”
Swat!
This time the paddle or whatever it was smacked her other cheek. “Two, Sir!” Her ass was burning after only two swats. Dear Lord. This wasn’t the fantasy she had in mind.
Swat!
“Three, Sir!” She clenched her hands.
“Hands flat on the desk.”
She complied as quickly as she could force her fingers to open.
Swat!
“Ow! I mean, four, Sir!” Her voice sounded ragged and tears wet the tie. More cool air blew over her burning butt and the rising gooseflesh just made the stinging even worse. Sadistic bastard.
Swat!
“Jesus!” The last blow landed against her pussy lips and her erect clit. Oh, God. How could she be excited by this kind of pain? Count, Miss Paxton! “Oh, five, Sir!”
“Good girl.”
Relief flooded her that she’d pleased him—and that they were finished, causing a strange mixture of a sob and a giggle to escape from her raw throat. It was over. She waited for him to remove the cuffs and chains.
Waited in vain. Instead, she heard a familiar foil packet being torn. He wouldn’t. Not like this! She felt his warm, hard penis pressing against the cleft of her pussy, rubbing up and down from her pussy hole to her swollen and sore clit. Yes, he would.
She squirmed, not sure whether she wanted to get away from him or line him up better. When he bobbed his erection repeatedly against her clit, teasing it to become even more erect, she knew the answer. “Oh, yes, Sir! Right there!” She gasped for breath. More. She needed more of him. “Please, Sir. I need you inside me.”
“I will determine what you need, kitten.”
She groaned. How could he work her up to this and leave her hanging—like a rag doll over his desk? He continued to tease her clit. Holding her right hip, he lowered his penis to her pussy hole. Yes. Please, Master!
He pressed inside her then pulled out. She whimpered. Needy. Not caring. “Please, Master.”
“Please what, kitten.”
She drew a ragged breath that did nothing to fill her starving lungs. “I need you, Master.”
He took hold of her hips and drove himself deeply inside her. “Oh, God, yes!” He pulled her hair until he lifted her head off the desk. Her clit throbbed for more, her mons slamming against the edge of the desk providing torturous stimulus. She was being battered and rammed. So rough. Oh, God. She loved it.
“More, Sir.”
What had gotten into her? She couldn’t hold back the build-up of emotion. His love-making was raw, gritty, elemental. And she was begging for more. Luckily, he gave her what she asked for. His fingertips dug into her right butt cheek, still sore from the paddling, and he bent over her, biting her shoulder. The pain and pleasure mixed, and her clit felt as if it were about to explode.
“God, Karla. You feel so fucking good.”
Yes, I do! “So do you, Sir! Fuck me harder.” Oh. My. God. I didn’t just say that. Then all thought left her mind as he pounded her to an earth-shattering orgasm. She screamed, something incoherent, her vaginal muscles clenching against his hard penis.
“Come with me, kitten.”
“Yesss, Sirrrrrr! Oh, please. Oh, God. Ohhhhhhhhhh!”
His earthy grunt and the pulsing of his penis deep inside her told her he’d joined her, and she hurtled over the cliff with Adam holding tightly onto her.
Chapter Eight
Adam woke in the middle of the night to find himself spooned against Karla, his arm wrapped around her waist. He should have taken things a lot more slowly with her, but having her close like this was even better than having sex with her.
Not that he didn't enjoy the sex. Her initial enthusiasm for had led him to forget she’d been a virgin until less than two days ago. He’d pushed her too far, too fast, but when was the last time he’d dealt with a virgin and newbie sub in one person?
Joni.
Karla moaned in her sleep, waking with a start. “It’s okay, kitten. I have you.” Her hand came to rest over his, as if to reassure herself he was there. Then she curled into him further and promptly went back to sleep. God, he’d forgotten how nice it was to hold a woman like this. Too fucking long. He hadn’t even realized he’d missed that, until he had Karla in his bed. In his arms.
In his life.
A sense of contentment spread over him. He hadn’t felt that in a long time either.
He must have dozed again, because he woke to find two sparkling blue eyes staring up at him from the pillow beside him. She smiled. “Good morning, Sir.” Her breathy greeting sent his dick to throbbing. Damned morning woodies.
He reached up to smooth a loose strand of hair from her face. She didn’t notice his stiffie, thank God, because he wasn’t touching her there. “Good morning, beautiful.”
Her hand came up to stroke his cheek and he heard the scratch of his whiskers against her fingertips. She reached up to rub a finger against his temple. He throbbed for her. How could such an innocent gesture set his little head off like that?
“I’ll be right back.”
He took care of his needs in the bathroom and returned to set and light the fireplace to chase away the morning chill in the room. Karla padded into the bathroom, her long t-shirt doing nothing to hide her long, sexy legs.
He tossed a bigger log on the fire. Was he ready for winter to set in? In a couples weeks, he’d be in Minnesota for his annual visit. Most years, he looked forward to going back to visit Joni’s mom and spend some time at his wife’s grave on their anniversary. This year, he dreaded the trip. For one reason, Marge was downsizing—moving to an apartment—and had told him to be prepared to do something with the stuff Joni had left. He’d put off dealing with that huge box in the closet for five years, since he’d retired from the Corps.
He stood up, walked around the bed, and sat on the edge, waiting for Karla. When she came back, her erect nipples bounced under her long t-shirt as she walked. He tried not to notice. Yeah, how’s that working for you, jarhead? Maybe they were stimulated from the cold. The room sure felt warm enough to him now, though.
She smiled down at him and he reached for the hem of her t-shirt, making sure she wouldn’t be sitting on it when he pulled her into the cradle between his thighs. So right.
She giggled. Damn her. He scooted back from the edge of the bed to put more space between them. He placed his hands on her shoulders, figuring that would be a safe place to touch her. Soon, his hands drifted down and he lifted her t-shirt and began removing it, watching her arms go up without having to tell her to do so.
“Relax now.” He took her long black curls and pushed them out of his way to cascade over her left shoulder. He tried to keep his touch firm, but gentle, as he began to knead the knotted muscles in both shoulders. God, her muscles were bunched up again.
She moaned as if in pain.
“You’ll feel better once we get the kinks out.”
“I thought it was all about the kinks, Sir.” She giggled and he fought the urge to pull his brat’s hair and throw her onto the bed underneath him. Damn it.
Karla’s pale skin felt like satin in his hands, as he massaged her neck and shoulders. He couldn’t keep himself from bending forward and pressing his lips against her shoulder blade any more than he could have denied himself water in Iraq. He kissed
the hollow of her neck. Air hissed from her lungs, making him aware of his scratchy five-o’clock shadow. But her head lolled to the side and she moaned again, definitely not from pain. He took her submission as an invitation for him to trail more kisses along the column of her long, slim neck, then nibbled on the fleshy part of her shoulder.
“Oh, Master. Keep doing that.”
“Are you telling your Master what to do, kitten?”
She tensed again and he regretted teasing her. Hell, he wanted to know what she liked, what she wanted. He let his hands glide down her arms, pulling her tighter against his chest. Her eyelashes fanned just above her cheekbones and her head lay against his shoulder. He reached around to cup both of her high, firm breasts in his hands. He’d loved clamping and binding her tits and nipples. He gently rolled each between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed, then twisted.
“Oh, God!”
Her breathy gasp and the arching of her chest toward his hands told him all he needed to know.
“Tell me what you need, kitten.” He nuzzled her neck as his right hand ventured south until he cupped her Venus mound and his middle finger stroked her wet slit. Her pelvis tilted to allow him access, but he waited for her to say the words.
She moaned in frustration.
“Tell me, kitten.”
“I need you, Sir.”
“You need me to what?” He could feel the heat rise from her face.
“I need you to…make love to me, Sir.”
What Adam had in mind had nothing to do with love; her romantic words made him feel a little guilty. Sure, he had intense feelings for her, but he’d never been able to love anyone. He needed to keep things on the level with her, keep her from entertaining any fairy-tale notions.
“Your Master plans to fuck you hard and fast again, kitten. Are you ready for that?”
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