Boss

by Sierra Cartwright

  Kelsey reached into the bottom of the bag and pulled out the paddle. She put it in his outstretched hand, with the word slut facing up.

  “Thank you. Are you ready?”

  She shook her head. “I need a few minutes.”

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “Maybe a brain with circuits that don’t get fried when I look at you.” Part of her couldn’t believe she’d said that aloud.

  “Maybe we can get a two-for-one deal.”

  In that moment, she realized she was in danger of falling for this man. Not in a small way, but in a total, complete, unrecoverable way.

  She mentally shook herself.

  Falling in love with Nathan Donovan wouldn’t be stupid. It would be beyond stupid. Monumentally disastrous. He was dynamic, powerful, ruthless, single-minded in his pursuit of his goals…until he achieved them. Then he moved on. Even with Donovan Logistics, he wouldn’t be there forever. He was already considering taking over a company in Dallas.

  He was everything she didn’t want in a man, and he’d never given any indication that he was open to anything more than BDSM and sex with his assistant. Ending their intimate relationship after Saturday was going to be difficult enough. She couldn’t imagine how she’d manage if she let it go on for weeks or months.

  It made much more sense for her to focus on her career and her life goals. She told herself to enjoy their time together and not think beyond the moment. As if that were possible with the way he stood so close that they breathed the same air.

  He left the room, and she took a few minutes to freshen up. Since he’d said she could dress as she liked, she’d hadn’t changed from her post-workout outfit.

  Before she was completely finished brushing her hair, he returned. He still held the paddle and tapped the thick part of it against the side of his leg.

  Unsettled, she put down the brush.

  “Ready?”

  As she would ever be.

  On the way to what she presumed was the playroom, he paused to show her his office.

  Though the room was uncluttered and contained few personal effects, his college diploma hung from a wall next to the window. He had a treadmill and an exercise bike. A television was mounted from the ceiling and appeared to be on a swivel so he could move the screen.

  Two notebook computers, each with the Bonds logo emblazoned on the closed top, sat in the middle of the glossy desktop. His watch and cell phone were nearby, along with a number of electronic chargers, looking a bit like long, thin snakes where they protruded from the cutout in the desk’s surface.

  A whiteboard took up most of the space on one wall. The words Donovan Worldwide were stenciled at the top. Other Donovan interests were listed, and she saw that Newman Inland Marine had a line leading up to Donovan Logistics.

  Some company names she recognized, others she didn’t. There were lines drawn from a few, linking them to others. A couple of others were circled. One had been crossed out. “Is this your strategy board?”

  “Yeah. It helps to have it all laid out visually.”

  “Why are some of the names circled?” she asked, appreciating the glimpse of the man he was at home. He was consistent, she realized, no matter where he was.

  “Those companies are in play, meaning our research tells us they could be vulnerable to takeover, logical acquisitions for existing Donovan businesses.” He shrugged. “Or it means they’ve approached us and we have begun preliminary investigations.”

  “There are quite a few of them.” She noticed that a line divided US holdings from those overseas. Until now, she hadn’t considered just how vast the family’s interests were. “Do you travel a lot?”

  “We generally bring our C-level leaders to Texas rather than us going to them. But I do when it’s unavoidable.”

  “This is where you spend most of your time,” she guessed. It was a place he could exercise his brain and his body at the same time. It was more lived-in than the rest of the house, but that didn’t mean much. The man was meticulously organized.

  “Too much, my sister tells me.”

  “So you don’t take time to enjoy the back yard?”

  “Was its resemblance to a jungle your first clue?” he asked.

  “I’d spend most of the day outside if I lived here.” With the foliage, he was sure to have birds, dragonflies, bees, green anoles. She could snap the camera shutter for hours without leaving the premises.

  He tapped the paddle against his calf. “Shall we?”

  All of a sudden, she noticed how warm she was, despite the chilled air whispering over her skin. As she walked behind him, the intrusion from the butt plug seemed magnified.

  At the end of the hallway, he pushed the door open and stepped aside. “Welcome to my playroom, Kelsey. Have a look around.”

  Feeling edgy, filled with trepidation from the unknown, she squared her shoulders and walked past him.

  Not surprising her, the room was decorated sparsely. The floor was a rich, reddish hardwood. The walls were painted a contrasting gray, much like his office at Donovan Logistics. Rather than the blinds she expected, the window was covered by a blackout shade.

  As promised, he had a spanking bench, and it was covered in smooth black marine vinyl. Sturdy O-rings protruded from several locations, and he’d attached cuffs to some of them. A number of mirrors hung from the walls. No matter where she looked, she saw reflections of herself and Nathan, with his forbidding countenance.

  The granite countertop appeared to match those in the kitchen. He’d spread a white towel across the top, and she saw her collar and leash alongside the nipple clamps.

  A violet-colored yoga mat lay on the floor, and there was a large armoire which, she figured, probably held his equipment.

  He placed her paddle on the counter then faced her with the collar in his hands. “Remain in place and lift your hair.”

  Gaze focused on him, she did so and watched him close the distance between them.

  She loved it when he stood so close that she was able to inhale his scent.

  He buckled the strip of leather into place then stood there for a moment, looking at her.

  “This is something I won’t get tired of seeing.” His voice was hoarse.

  Kelsey let her hair fall over her shoulders and down her back.

  “There’s a flogger hanging behind those doors.” He nodded toward the piece of furniture.

  “Yes, Sir,” she said, unsure what to say and having no choice but to rely on intuition to guide her.

  “Bring it to me. Present it to me.”

  She didn’t know exactly what he meant. In books, the Dom sometimes expected the sub to kneel, sometimes just hand it over. “On my knees, Sir? Standing? Bowed before you?”

  “Excellent,” he whispered.

  His approval made heat lance through her. She realized his instruction had been a test. Would she have the courage to admit what she didn’t know and ask for his guidance?

  “Head on the floor,” he said.

  She went to the masculine piece of furniture and opened the doors.

  Breath chilled her lungs. He had all sorts of stuff hanging from hooks—floggers, whips and two paddles. One was carved from thick wood and had a capital D burned into it. The other was much thinner, crafted from a lighter-colored wood, and it had rows of holes marching across the surface. Either of them, she was sure, would hurt considerably more than hers. He had a couple of other implements on the shelves that she’d never seen and couldn’t name.

  “It’s the short one on the far left,” he said from across the room. “Golden colored.”

  He had several there. One was black, intimidatingly long with at least thirty strands. There was a red one that appeared to be made from rubber. Kelsey picked up the one she thought he meant. It was about twelve inches long, and the thick strands were soft and supple, but it was still daunting. “Is this correct, Sir?” She turned toward him.

  “It is.”

  Schooling her mind
and her racing thoughts, she took a few steps toward him then stopped. Her pulse fluttering, she lowered herself to her knees then went lower still, until her forehead was pressed to the hardwood. Kelsey stretched her arms in out in front of her, palms together and facing up with the handle of the flogger across them.

  Since her eyes were closed, she relied on her other senses. The sound of his footfall seemed to echo throughout the room and inside her head, reminding her of her submission.

  Then… Nothing but the whisper from the air conditioner.

  He allowed the tension to stretch and grow, and it took all her concentration to remain in position.

  Eventually she felt him lift the flogger from her hands.

  “Very, very nice. I couldn’t have wanted anything more.” He went quiet for a moment. “Look at me.”

  Through barely opened eyelids and with her forehead a scant few inches off the floor, she tipped back her head.

  He was crouched in front of her, his legs spread.

  She met his gaze. “Sir?”

  “When you’re ready, sub, strip. Stack your clothes in the bottom drawer of the armoire, then put on the nipple clamps I’ve laid out for you here…” He pointed toward the countertop. “Then position yourself over the spanking bench.”

  She waited, unable to respond.

  “When you do, I want you to tell me how many times I should use my flogger on you.”

  Kelsey squeezed her legs together and felt the plug shift.

  “And when we agree on that answer, I’ll do exactly that.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “Once we’re done and you can’t take any more, you’re going to ask me to sear your ass with the paddle. I want you, me—both of us—to know that you’re my slut. And I want you to be proud of that.”

  She shifted, already needy.

  “Do you understand me, Kelsey?”

  “Yes. Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, Sir.”

  She forced her gaze up.

  “And then, my obedient submissive, you’re going to beg me to fuck you.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The reality of having Kelsey in his playroom surpassed his fantasies.

  He stood near the countertop and watched her take off her clothes. Her hands didn’t shake as badly as they had a couple of days ago, meaning she was gaining confidence, perhaps relying on him and his direction to guide her. Fucking heady stuff.

  As he’d instructed, she placed her clothes in the bottom drawer, and she tucked her shoes out of the way.

  She walked toward him, her bare feet silent on the floor. Though he loved the sight of a woman in high heels, there was something about her being completely nude that made her appear more submissive.

  He continued to study her as she picked up the clamps and put them in place. She winced and moaned softly. Other than a scream, he couldn’t imagine a more appealing sound. “Wait.”

  She stayed where she was, and he fisted the chain and tugged up, forcing her onto tiptoes.

  Kelsey rewarded him with a small, satisfying yelp.

  “You are so damn sexy.”

  “Thank you, Nathan.”

  After he released her, she followed his instructions and went toward the spanking bench.

  “Climb up,” he said. “Lie on your stomach. Your elbows and knees go on the rails.”

  It took her several seconds to get herself situated, and she gingerly moved her upper body a few times as she flattened her breasts and clamps against the surface. Her ass was prominently displayed, and he saw the hilt of the butt plug.

  Damn. “Such a beautiful picture.” He walked around her, trailing his fingers down her spine to soothe her. “Comfortable?”

  “Not in the least, Sir.”

  “Good.” He checked to ensure her position didn’t put undue stress on any part of her body. Then he fastened her ankles into place. “I can’t stop thinking about your world-class ass, Kelsey.” He pinched the fleshy part of one of her buttocks. “And these dimples…?” He pressed a fingertip into the small indentations near the base of her spine. “Fucking hot.”

  She squirmed, and he put a hand between her shoulders to keep her still.

  He checked her position and decided she’d be able to move too much. “Stretch out a little more,” he told her. He moved the wrist cuffs down to another O-ring then secured her in place.

  Kelsey tested the bonds, and they held her firm.

  “Much better.” And the position had the added benefit of thrusting her ass just a little higher in the air.

  She cocked her head to look at him, and he brushed her hair back from her face.

  “How many times should I use the flogger on you?”

  “I’ve never felt it before, so I don’t know how bad it will hurt.”

  “Some night, we’ll do it for fifteen minutes or more, half an hour, maybe.”

  Her eyes went wide. “That’s not possible.”

  “On the contrary. Depending how hard the hits are and where I place them, it’s an achievable feat.”

  “There are certain events I’m not planning to get a medal in, Mr. Donovan. I’ll settle for a participation ribbon.”

  Ms. Kelsey Lane sounded so prim and proper that he grinned. “Standing is a better position for a real flogging, and you’ll get that at the club, either on the Punishment Pole or St. Andrew’s cross. This is going to be more sensual than anything.”

  She pressed her lips together.

  “I’m waiting for an answer,” he reminded her.

  “Two dozen? Is that a lot?”

  “Quadruple that.”

  “You’ve lost your mind, Sir.”

  In response, he trailed the leather throngs down her back, and little goosebumps danced across her arms.

  He gave her a couple of sensual hits, and her body remained stiff. He did a couple more.

  “I might like that.” Her hips swayed from side to side.

  “Give me your number?” He continued to caress her with the flogger, warming up her body.

  “Four dozen.”

  “Six,” he countered.

  “Five,” she said.

  Brave girl. He’d been willing to settle for three, not that he’d ever tell her that.

  He played with her butt plug, mostly to catch her off guard. He gave it a couple of quick twists, making her clench her buttocks.

  “That thing makes me feel so full,” she said.

  “It will be more so when my cock is in your cunt.” He rubbed her body all over until he saw her sink deeper into the upholstery. “That’s it. Let it take your weight.”

  She rested her cheek against the vinyl.

  “Excellent.” He began to work the flogger back and forth over her thighs and buttocks, then with much less force over her back and shoulders.

  When he got to the first dozen, he saw her unfurl a finger from her fist.

  “How are you doing?”

  “This feels…”

  He continued to flog her.

  After the second dozen, she unfurled another finger.

  “Feels?” he prompted.

  “Stingy.” She turned her head to the other side. “I had no idea.” She sighed deeply, extending a third finger and letting her body become even more pliant.

  Now that she was ready, he increased the force of the flogging, landing each hit with more force, moving her body around.

  “My God…” She added a fourth finger, and she moved her hips, silently seeking more.

  Her body was pink, glowing, and she began to thrash her head, making a mess of her hair. Though he often separated BDSM from sex, his dick was hard, throbbing, insistent. He’d never had this kind of reaction to a woman, never wanted to spend this much time together. Being with her at work was powerful, but nowhere close to enough. “Where are we?” he asked.

  “Five?” she guessed. “But I want to keep going.”

  The request stunned him, pleased him. “A few more,” he agreed, not wanting to give her too much the
first time. He landed a few between her legs on her upper thighs. And she squealed when he caught her pussy lips with the tips of a couple of strands.

  The last few, he landed in the sweet spot area, hoping the sensation would radiate through her.

  He looped the handle over one of the O-rings and rubbed her.

  “That was incredible.” She stretched her neck. “I’m relaxed and edgy at the same time.”

  “Good. Ready for me to use your paddle?”

  She tightened her body before visibly exhaling. “Yes.”

  “What word is on it?”

  She was quiet for so long that he wasn’t sure she was going to answer. “Slut,” she whispered.

  “A little louder?” he encouraged.

  “Do I have to?” She pulled against the restraints, but then said, “Slut.”

  “What kind of slut?”

  She turned her head to the side, and he was there, meeting her gaze, being sure she knew she was safe.

  “A fuck slut, Sir,” she said.

  “Whose? Whose, Kelsey?”

  She closed her eyes momentarily then looked at him. “Yours, Sir. Your fuck slut.”

  He kissed the side of her neck. “Yeah. Only mine.”

  “Please,” she said, evidently remembering his earlier instruction. “Sear my ass with it.”

  He picked up the paddle and returned to her. He placed it on her flesh, exactly where he wanted it then he pulled his arm back and laid it on her with full force, marking her with the word.

  The slap reverberated in the room, underplayed by her yelp.

  He traced the outline of the word while he still could. It would fade in minutes, maybe sooner.

  He released her wrists first and he massaged her skin and shoulders. “The minute you move, the clamps may feel worse.”

  “I believe you.”

  He unfastened her ankles. “Can I help you?” He offered an arm for stability, but she pushed herself onto her knees.

  She gasped as the chain dropped.

  “I’ll get them right off,” he said. He helped her to sit on top of the bench and she shifted her weight to avoid the plug. Nathan removed the clamps, toying with her nipples until her breathing returned to normal. “How was your first flogging?”

  “Uhm…” She raked her hair back from her forehead. “We can do that any time.”