by Kelly Alexis
He staggered to his feet and had to focus to get across the room and to the bed. She hurried ahead of him and pulled back the bedspread and sheet, and he practically fell across the bed when he reached it.
"Undress me, sub," he commanded.
She untied his shoes and slipped them and his socks off. He felt her lift up each shoulder so she could take off his jacket and his shirt. As soon as she let him go, he collapsed on his back. He was barely aware of her unbuckling his belt and pulling off his pants. Extreme exhaustion overwhelmed him, and he closed his eyes. He didn't want to waste their time sleeping, but he simply couldn't manage to stay awake. A nap. That's all he needed. An hour or two, and he would be wide awake and ready to move on to the next step. He yawned and felt himself drifting off.
She sat on a chair by the bed, watching him sleep. Tonight, had been the worst time of her life. How could anyone be so oblivious? Somehow, she had thought that this would be the night he would remember her. He had looked so handsome in his dark suit, and she knew she had looked good in the borrowed dress.
It had annoyed her that he had left the collar and leash on. What went on in the Master Suite was one thing, but to flaunt it in public was another thing entirely. She knew this was all a fantasy, but he was just too much into the role of King. He'd even ordered her meal without asking her what she wanted. And it had been chicken!
The whole day had been a disappointment. She didn't know if it was typical Dom behavior, but she would prefer more mutual satisfaction. Maybe it was just the difference between what men and women deemed as desirable.
For a minute after dinner, she had thought they were going to have a real conversation. Would she have admitted who she was? Probably not. His attitude didn't encourage intimacy.
There was much about him that she found attractive. Of course, physically, he was amazing—gorgeous, physically fit, and hung like a bull. But as much as she enjoyed the sex, she loved it even more when he smiled that sexy little crooked grin. Maybe the fact that she knew the truth about his identity made it more difficult for her to accept him as her Dom. The dichotomy of him being a serious doctor and a sexy dominant was difficult for her to digest. She was very attracted to the scientist on a completely different level than the sexuality he'd introduced her to this weekend.
She had seen a different side of him at the Halloween party. He had been charming and laughed often. Except for the painful fact that he didn't remember their brief encounter, she had wanted to get to know him better. Well, now, she knew him better than she would ever have imagined. There were things she loved and things she loathed. The thoughtless sex with her tied to the bed and the embarrassment of being treated like a pet at dinner weighed heavily on her mind.
That, and the fact that he still didn't remember her. That was a wound deeper than anything else he had done. Was she that forgettable?
He was still lying on his back on top of the covers, snoring. His cock that had given her so many great orgasms lay limp on his leg, still impressive at rest. There was a lot she enjoyed about being a sub. She had learned a few valuable lessons about herself, mainly that there could be pleasure in letting someone else take the lead and just sitting back and enjoying herself. Plus, it wasn't all bad to be told what to do, as long as her own feelings were taken into account.
She didn't know Adam's personal history. But it was obvious he had even more control issues than she did. Maybe it would be a good idea for him to relax and let someone else call the shots. As she picked at her meal earlier, a plan had formed in her mind. She wasn't sure she could pull it off, but it would be beneficial to both of them if it worked out. He had unwittingly played into her scheme when they got back to the room, and now, here she was, watching him sleep. Whitney smiled as she formulated the next step. He would be mad as hell when he woke up. But he would thank her later, if he didn't kill her first.
Chapter 8
"What the fuck!" Adam roared and jerked at the leather cuffs that had him spread-eagled on his back on the bed. "Unfasten these now, sub."
"Not going to happen," she answered. "Oh, and you might have noticed, we've undergone a role reversal. You can refer to me as Mistress from now on."
He turned his head and saw that she was sitting next to the bed, calmly eating pancakes from the room service cart.
"You were sleeping so soundly, I ordered breakfast for both of us. If you're a good boy, I'll let you have some after I finish." She flashed a brilliant smile at him and popped a piece of bacon in her mouth. "These are delicious when they're warm. But then, you already know that, don't you?"
He went through another frantic round of jerking at the bonds around his wrists and ankles. She had used the leather cuffs that fastened with Velcro, so he couldn't slip out of them.
This was all wrong. He was supposed to be in control. He was the Dom, and she was the sub. Fuck, it was his game, and she was screwing it up.
"You can't steal my adventure, sub."
She looked at him without comment and took another bite of pancake.
"Remove these fucking cuffs, bitch!" Adam's low-pitched voice was more of a growl.
"First," she said calmly, "I did not give you permission to speak, and second, Dr. King, I didn't steal anything from you. I just made a little switch. Changes are good, don't you think?"
"Switch? Fuck you…" His voice trailed off and he frowned. "Dr. King? How the hell did you know that?"
"Again, you do not have my permission to speak," she responded without changing her expression. "When and if you do, clearly, I'm not your sub anymore, and I've never been your bitch, Doctor."
"Let me talk to Blake," he demanded. "This is not the experience he arranged."
"Actually, it is. You were supposed to learn how to respect other people and not always be the boss."
"That's bullshit!"
"Remember the class you were supposed to have taken yesterday? The one your company paid for? You know, the real reason for your stay here? I'm sure they wouldn't be pleased that you converted their training class fees into staying in the Master Suite." She continued eating as she talked, barely glancing in his direction.
He had to admit that she had a point. He was already in the doghouse at work. This would do nothing to help his position with the company. As he had told Joshua, yesterday, they couldn't fire him, but they could take away his hospital and research privileges. They had a state-of-the-art facility, and he loved working there, if only for his access to the lab. Even though he had plenty of money from the purchase of his patent, it wouldn't be enough to set up anything even close to what he had with them.
Shit, she had him. He had no doubt she already knew that. He watched her, his expression stony.
She finished her plate of pancakes and wiped her full lips on her napkin. "Hungry?"
He decided to give her the silent treatment. But as she stood up, all rebellious thoughts fled his mind. Now that he wasn't focused on getting loose, he realized his caterpillar had undergone an amazing metamorphosis. She was no longer the meek, vulnerable sub. In its place was… He shook his head in disbelief. What the fuck was she wearing?
Gone was the blonde wig. Her own natural honey brown hair framed her face and flipped under just past her shoulders. She had on a small, black leather outfit, barely more than a few strategically-placed straps, connected by round silver rings and buckles. Two straps came over her shoulders and crossed her breasts, covering just her nipples, and allowing unobstructed side boob views. The straps continued down to her crotch, narrowing and framing her vagina before running up her crack in the back. The vital spots were covered, but she had never looked sexier. He couldn't stop looking at those long, shapely legs that stretched for a mile down to her fuck-me red heels.
He licked his lips, suddenly very hungry, but not for the pancakes. He could do nothing to hide the rise of his cock from its sleeping position to one of intense interest. Of course, it didn't go unnoticed.
A Mona Lisa smile touched her lips, not
quite amused, but clearly pleased. "I know this was not what you expected, but why don't you let me show you how good it can feel to be dominated but not owned. Trust the process," she repeated the phrase that he had told her. She spread butter on the other stack of pancakes, cut them into bite-sized morsels and doused them in syrup. Then she picked up the plate, a fork and a napkin and climbed up on the bed. She placed the plate on his chest and straddled him, settling down so that his cock was between her legs, blocked by her costume but nestled against her warm flesh. She speared a bite of pancake and held it toward him.
He wanted to turn away, but he was distracted by how good the leather felt brushing against his cock every time she moved. He wasn't sold on this change of plans, but for the moment, he didn't object to her continuing. He opened his mouth and took the bite, then another and another. She fed him patiently, wiping his mouth gently when a drop of syrup fell off the fork.
When his plate was clean, she leaned forward and licked around his lips. He lifted his mouth and tried to capture hers in a kiss, but she sat back and flashed that annoying little half-smile then moved off the bed entirely.
Oh, God, the view of her backside, almost bare except for the strap up her ass that split to run over her shoulders. His dick jumped in response, and he tried to distract his mind. Think of puppies or kittens or dinosaurs or that stupid Notebook movie—anything to take away his erection. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction of controlling him.
She put the plate on the cart and pushed it into the other room. He heard the door open, and she pushed it into the hallway, shut the door and returned to the bedroom. He watched as she walked to the chest, opened a drawer and made a selection. Then she strolled to the rack on the wall and selected a small leather whip.
She set what looked like a jar on the nightstand. She reached into the drawer and pulled out a lighter, which she used to light the candle in the jar.
"What's that for?" He gave another futile try to twist out of the cuffs as he spoke, his gaze darting between her face, the candle and the whip.
"Shhh…remember you're not supposed to talk? Right, sub?" She smacked the whip into the palm of her hand and smiled at him.
Adam glanced nervously at the candle as she picked it up and rotated it in her hand so that the melted wax flowed freely inside the jar.
"Look at me," she commanded. She stood beside the bed and held her arms out at her sides.
He studied her, letting his gaze trail from the top of her head to her leather-clad pussy that was just above the height of the mattress.
"What's my name?"
His brain scrambled for an answer. Clearly, she didn't like 'sub' or 'bitch'. He'd already gone there and got reprimanded. "Mistress?" he asked tentatively.
"What's my real name?"
He tried to think. Had he ever seen her name on any of the documents? It had probably been there, but he hadn't read any of the parts except how far he could go as her Dom. Had Blake mentioned it? Had she? But if he'd heard it, he didn't remember it. That obviously had her pretty pissed off.
"I don't know," he finally admitted.
"Wrong answer."
Adam shook his head from side to side, and he couldn't stop glancing at the candle and the flame. He felt beads of sweat break out on his forehead. "Sorry."
"Maybe a hint would help?"
"I don't know. Honestly, please believe me, I don't know your name."
"Do you like word games? How about a quick game of Words with Doms? It's sort of like Words with Friends, but with a twist." She giggled. "I just made it up."
He strained against his shackles. "What the fuck? Are you crazy?"
"No, not at all. Remember that I let you do anything you wanted to me, and I never used my safe word. By the way what's your safe word, Dr. King?"
Adam's eyes focused on the ceiling before answering. "I hadn't planned on having one."
"Excellent. You are so much farther along than I was at this point. Your trust in me is amazing!"
"Mustang," he rushed to add. "My safe word is Mustang. Like the car."
She shook her head. "I'm so sorry, Doctor. Too late. You should have come up with one before the collaring ceremony." She smiled. "Oh, right. You were sleeping. But you should be okay. Trust me, Doctor, and just relax. You shouldn't feel a thing."
He hadn't even realized until that moment that the collar she had been wearing was now buckled around his neck. What had she put in his Red Bull? "Did you put something in my drink last night?"
"I may have added a splash or two of Vodka."
"Ah ha! You planned this mutiny!"
"Of course, I did." She leveled an accusing look at him. "You don't have a high opinion of female intelligence, do you?"
"Not really. I've never met any woman who challenged me."
She looked pointedly at the restraints holding him in place. Her eyebrows arched eloquently.
Sullenly, he refused to admit the obvious. "You tried to kill me."
"I did not! I just needed you to relax enough so I could show you the advantages of submission without degradation." She dropped the whip between his legs so that the hard handle landed on his stomach and the dozens of thin leather strips gently slapped against his genitals. "Hold on to that."
As if he could, with his hands shackled.
She picked up the candle. "I had time on my hands last night after I tied you down, so I checked out the toy cabinet and found this candle. Interesting how the wax melts, but it doesn't get very hot. And not painful, especially for a strong man like yourself."
"Well then, use it on yourself if it's so damn safe!" he declared.
She considered that, for a moment, then pushed aside the leather straps on her breasts, releasing her nipples. She lifted the jar and dribbled a small circle on each white mound. Although she didn't even flinch, her nipples hardened, showing pleasure, not pain. "See?"
Adam moistened his lips but didn't comment as his gaze shot from her tits to the candle she was holding.
"Here's the first letter." She carefully and slowly began just above his right nipple and angled down, then up, down again, and finally, she backed up to finish above his left nipple. "There!"
Adam struggled to lift up enough so he could see what she had written on his chest. "M? Mary, Melissa, Megan…uh..." He paused as he tried to think of more names starting with M.
She picked up the whip and lightly slapped his dick with the soft leather strips.
"Wait!" he yelled as he pressed backward into the mattress. "Wait? I'm thinking." He watched her closely as his brain flipped through his rolodex of every woman he'd ever met. Somehow, he sensed, this was not the first time he had encountered the lovely but terrifying woman standing next to the bed. He'd heard the stories about a woman scorned, but fuck if he could remember ever having met her before.
"Think outside the box, Dr. King."
"W!" he exclaimed, but that didn't really help. There were fewer names starting with a W in his memory than those with an M.
She smacked the strands across the palm of her hand as she stared at him with declining patience.
"Are you going to tell me the answer?" he asked.
"No, I don't think I will. But I am going to show you how it feels to be properly dominated." Again, she smiled, that mysterious insider smirk that said she knew something he didn't. "I want to make certain that you'll never forget me again."
Again? That confirmed his suspicions but didn't help. Probably a Tequila moment. "Okay, you win. You've had your fun. Now let me loose."
"I don't think so. My fantasy was for the whole weekend, and I've got about twenty-four hours left."
She peeled the wax off of her boobs and dropped it into the candle jar, then blew out the flame.
What weird hell did she have in mind next? Adam tried again to pull out of his shackles while she went back to the rack.
When she returned with the same red nipple clamps he had used on her, he panicked. Surely, she wasn't going to… H
e didn't even have time to finish that thought before she pinched the first one open and closed it around one of his small masculine nipples.
"Ouch!" he exclaimed.
"Don't be such a baby," she chided. "It hurts a little at first, but you'll get used to it, and then you'll like it." She clamped the second one on his other nipple.
"I will never like this," he grumbled.
She rewarded him with a thump on one of the clamps.
Electrical jolts shot through him, and his penis stiffened. Shit, it did feel good.
"Do that again," he pleaded.
"Silence, sub," she demanded. But she complied by thumping the other clamp.
"I have to say one more thing," he said.
"Wow, you really don't know how to obey orders, do you?"
"I need to pee."
She reached next to the bed and picked up an empty trash can and put it between his legs.
"I can't pee like that."
"Why not?"
"You're watching, and I'm too hard."
"Sounds like a personal problem to me." She adjusted the trash can so his penis was inside. "It's ready to go when you are."
The irony wasn't lost on him as she stood patiently and watched him. It was unnerving and uncomfortable, but his penis finally cooperated, and he peed into the trashcan.
"Can you shake it?"
She tried to hide a grin. "Really? You're asking me to shake your dick for you?"
He held up his manacled hands. "Clearly, I can't."
She leaned over and gingerly shook his penis, sending drops of urine into the can. "All done?"
"I think so."
She carried the can into the bathroom and dumped it in the toilet. He heard the sound of her washing it out and a flush. She returned and stopped by the chest on the way. "How are those nipples, sub?"
"Can I talk now?"
"Only when I ask you questions. And keep it to yes or no whenever possible." She held up a long black ostrich feather. "Are you ticklish?"