Red Hots

by Hines, Yvette

  You waited on her before you ate.

  Feeling even more divided and angry at himself for the conflicting thoughts, he moved to his refrigerator once in the kitchen and barked, “Sit down at the bar, Song Sparrow, with your hands folded in your lap.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She rushed out, evidence that the fierceness of his command had startled her. First her feet patted on the bare stone floor then the legs of the chair tapped a few times while she moved it in place and became silent once she was in it.

  He wouldn’t allow himself to feel like shit for his tone. No. I’m a Dom, she is my sub. Period.

  Hell, it wasn’t like he was taking his anger out on her physically. Damn it. He took several deep breaths while gathering the meat, cheese, tomatoes, lettuce, Kosher pickle spears, mustard and mayo and crushed red peppers for his. He recalled that she didn’t enjoy spice on her food.

  In a few moments, he turned and placed his armload on the island where she sat on the other side, her back rod straight exactly as he’d ordered. The smile was now gone and she studied him with an apprehensive gaze.

  Shit. Shit. Fucking shit. He’d enjoyed the light of expectation in her eyes and the pleased look on her face, but there was no going back now he knew, Kindle had assumed her role.

  Getting plates and two tall glasses from his cabinet, he then grabbed a knife and the sandwich rolls from the bread bin before he returned to the gray marble-topped island.

  “Are you allergic to any of these ingredients or have a dislike of anything besides the peppers?”

  “No, Sir.” Her voice was cold, almost professional.

  He hated hearing it in his house, but he didn’t comment on it.

  With a sharp nod, he went back to his stainless steel refrigerator and filled the glasses with chipped ice and water from the door. “Drink this glass before we eat. I need to make sure you’re not dehydrated for tonight’s session.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Exhaling slowly between parted lips, he began to prepare the food. He allowed the silence to stretch between them while he put the sandwiches together, but it grated along his nerves. He wasn’t even completely sure why. As long as he had been a Dominant, he was more than used to the silence of a submissive. Usually he preferred it to keep his mental distance while he designed a session they would engage in.

  But, Kindle was different. He felt different. That scared the living shit out of him.

  Analyze it later, he instructed himself.

  With the food ready and the supplies put away, he walked around the four-person island in the middle of his kitchen and set her plate before her. “Please, eat. I hope you enjoy it.”

  “Thank you, Sir. I’m sure I will.” Reaching up, she picked up a half of the sandwich and bit into it.

  Not wanting to stand there and stare at her mouth, he returned to his own plate still sitting across from her.

  Raising one half of his, he bit into it and relished the spicy peppers and acidity of the tomatoes striking his taste buds.

  “It’s very good, if I may say, Sir.” A twinkle of light was back in her brown eyes, but nothing close to the glow from earlier.

  “You may.” After they both had consumed their first half, he asked, “Talk to me about your day.”

  Lifting her pickle, she nibbled on one end. “I’m sure you don’t want to be bored with the details, Sir.”

  “I want to hear about it.” Assessing her features, he could still see the evidence of how her day had worn on her. “I believe you may need to talk about it, Song Sparrow.”

  Averting her gaze, she took two more bites of her sandwich and didn’t respond. He could have ordered her to talk, but a part of him wanted her to willingly trust him. A risky emotion, but he allowed it to rest low in the corner of his heart.

  “It was tough. A lot tougher than I expected it to be,” she began, her words coming out crisp and cool, as if she were attempting to separate herself from the tale.

  “Because of the victim’s testimony?” He’d seen bits and pieces of the news correspondence about the little girl, Kristy Martin, the single survivor of the sick murdering bastard, being in court today telling her story to the judge and jury. No cameras had been allowed in the room. He commended Kindle, for ensuring the child was kept hidden even from the vultures swarming the courthouse, and every person involved in the case, for never once had a picture of the innocent child been revealed.

  “Yes and no, Sir.” She hadn’t lifted her second half. She held her pickle in her hand but instead of raising it to her mouth, she seemed to mindlessly slide it back and forth through the small pool of its juice on her plate. This idle action was not like Kindle.

  It caused him to set his own sandwich down and give her his full attention.

  “I had arranged for her to go early in the proceedings. Mostly because I wanted the jury to have her voice and her image seared into their conscious as they heard all the other witnesses and evidence surrounding the case. I’d heard her tell the story repeatedly. Training her to speak up, not shy away from the details associated with my questions. I coached her magnificently, Sir.”

  “You’re an excellent attorney, I’m sure you did.” When her gaze met his, he saw the shadows there…not fear but more like some kind of disquieted cloud resting above Kindle or on her shoulders. This case was shaking her core and seeing that effect caused a knot of fear to form in his gut. He shouldn’t be this connected to a temporary sub, didn’t want to be bound emotionally to a woman who could not be his. But the feeling was there just the same. “What happened in that courtroom, today?”

  He almost called her Kindle, making this even more personal, but he didn’t.

  “Nothing and everything.” She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaled deeply and breathed.

  She struggled with something. He witnessed several emotions warring along her features. When her gaze met his again he saw it, just a sliver of water riding the lower lids of her eyes. Kindle’s outer shell of strength was rock solid. The soft emotion struck him deep in his core. The urge to round the structure between them and wrap his arms around her and give her his support was almost overwhelming. Clutching the counter he stood his ground and remained silent.

  “Sir, it was almost too much to bear. However, I had no right to be feeling the way I did when Kristy was being so resilient and courageous.”

  “How did you feel?” he prompted, as if Kindle was on trial and he was her attorney leading her through the paces of an incident.

  “Sad, angry…scared.” The last word came out so strained he knew that if Kindle had been a weaker woman she would have bailed then and allowed the tears to flow, but she held them back.

  “For her?” he held her gaze, visually apprehending her and not allowing her to look away, or push the pain to the side.

  She shook her head. “No, Sir. For me. Am I really the lawyer for this case? Can I do right by this little girl? What if something goes wrong? He gets off? They taught us in law school to never make promises. We have to believe that justice will prevail. Will it? Often it doesn’t.” The words tumbled on top of each other like clowns falling from a too small car where they’d finally been freed.

  The quaking timbre of her voice echoed around the room, filling the space with her self-doubt. Even as she spoke, her free hand was fisted on the counter, balling tighter and tighter to the point her knuckles had become lighter.

  Circumventing the barrier between them, he didn’t stop until he was standing at her side. He could not hug her now, could not allow the emotions she held tethered to be released, but he could give her something she needed more. His skills.

  She had to focus, pull herself together to make it through this trial.

  “Song Sparrow, stand up,” he commanded. His voice was just as firm as earlier when they’d entered the kitchen, but this time he was in control of his own emotions, his mind clear with one purpose, help Kindle.

  Rising immediately, he saw her chest rise and fall as a breath shud
dered through her.

  “Go to the living room, undress, put your clothing on the hanger with your coat. When you are finished, meet me in the playroom.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She confirmed her understanding.

  Not waiting for her to leave, he began cleaning up the kitchen.

  By the time he picked up his plate, she was gone. While he wrapped up and put away both sandwiches, his hands were calm, steady and his movements were sure. Being a Dom was who he was. He had never really been a good boyfriend, not even to his ex-girlfriend. Most likely, the reason Naomi, Firefly, had found it so easy to take a job across country and leave what they had. To leave him.

  With the kitchen put back to rights, he crossed the distance to the playroom. He’d already unlocked the door while he had waited on Kindle to arrive earlier. Once within, he saw her standing in the center of the room, her back to the door, facing the bench with her hands relaxed at her side.

  He allowed himself a moment to take in the lines of her form. She truly did have an excellently crafted body for play. Broad, rounded feminine shoulders, a delicate spine, narrow waist and enough ass—high and plump—to bring any Dom calling. She was his. At least for now, but he was still more than grateful.

  “Raise your arms, Song Sparrow, and spread your legs shoulder-width apart.” He watched her comply with his request.

  Stepping to her, he reached up and unlatched cuffs on a bar above her head. He wasn’t even sure that Kindle had realized she was standing beneath it. When he bound one wrist with the sturdy, padded leather, he heard her gasp of surprise and saw her tilt her head back briefly to look up then fix her gaze forward again.

  With the other wrist secured, he went to his cabinet for ankle cuffs and returned to stoop before her and fasten them to her. He then connected the short inside ankle chains to the steel loop bolted to the floor. In this position, he could smell the sweet musk of Kindle’s sex. It wasn’t permeating the air, letting him know she wasn’t fully aroused. Yet. If she responded to tonight’s session as she had Sunday’s, he knew she’d be ready to orgasm by the time he was done. However, he had a surprise for her.

  He slid his hand up along her body, avoiding contact with her sex and continuing a path between her breasts until he could cup her cheek. “Tonight I will introduce you to a flogger.”

  He’d intended to use the paddle, however, she was too emotional for the intensity of the scene he’d thought out. So, he would give her an outlet for those emotions.

  “Are you familiar with one, Song Sparrow?”

  Her forehead furrowed between her perfectly arched eyebrows. She frowned and asked, “Is it similar to what Indiana Jones carries, Sir?”

  He stroked his thumb over her chin. “No, that’s a single-tail whip. This is different. I will show it to you before we begin, let you feel it.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” Her voice was steadier now.

  “Before we get started, do you recall the matter of the panty situation yesterday?”

  She licked her lips. “You mean when you came to my office, Sir?”

  “More importantly, the reason I had to come to your office. Your avoidance and disobedience, Song Sparrow.” Still caressing her gently, he felt the tremor that ran through her body.

  “Yes, Sir.” The quiver was back in her voice, but there were no shadows in her eyes that accompanied it this time.

  “Because of your defiance you will not be brought to an orgasm tonight when our session is complete. Nor are you allowed to climax at any point during our play. Do you understand?”

  She exhaled. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Do not defy me in this, Song Sparrow,” he ordered.

  “I won’t, Sir.”

  He slipped his hand down the side of her neck, back between her full breasts until he was able to sweep under one swell and cup the firm, silken mound. Holding her gaze, he watched the russet golden-brown orbs darken as he circled the mahogany tip with his thumb repeatedly—evidence of her pleasure. When the peak was erect and her body quivered expectantly beneath his touch, he pinched her nipple.

  She hissed and rose up on her toes.

  Still squeezing it, he tugged the point until she began to whimper and sigh then he released her. He wanted her turned on, even before they began—her body primed and racing up toward the peak of release. When she wasn’t allowed the satisfaction of completion her body would surely crave, then she would truly understand the consequences of disobedience.

  Moving away from her, he went to the hooks along the wall and selected a green, medium-length, wide lead leather flogger. It was one that would give a loud thump but not a high sting. Kindle as a newbie would be able to tolerate it.

  Holding it in his right hand, he crossed back to her. Standing before her, he held it up high by the handle with the straps dangling toward the floor. “This is a flogger,” he began. “Usually at women’s naughty or bachelorette parties they have the fake, short keychain versions of them in black leather. Have you seen one before?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her russet gaze was becoming more golden than brown, a show of her heightening desire.

  He enjoyed knowing that he was not the only one aroused. Just being around Kindle had his body responding in such a way. Like a trained monkey, his cock saw her and began rising with full expectation of slipping inside her wet heat, but that wasn’t going to happen. He was bound and determined that he would keep those two ends of their relationship untied. Regardless of the fact they’d crossed, looped, knotted and joined extremely successfully the last time.

  It was not going to happen. He was strong enough to fight it. Besides, tonight she needed to experience the strokes of his discipline skills, not those of his hard cock.

  Stepping closer to her, he brushed the tails along her body, allowing her to feel the softness of the leather. This flogger, like all of his tools, was cared for, treated and used often. Similar to a bike rider’s favorite pair of kid gloves, the leather was supple and like butter on the skin, malleable.

  Keeping silent, he continued to caress her breasts, belly and thighs and onto her feet. When he made his journey back upward, he noted the swelling and glistening of Kindle’s pussy lips between her parted thighs. She was too damn sensual for her own good. For their own good.

  During the end of a scene, when a Dom recognized a high arousal level it wasn’t uncommon for him to complete the session with designated strikes with the flogger on the sub’s sex until they came. The blows would be more like firm taps and didn’t carry anywhere near the strength that was worked over the other appropriate areas, larger muscle groups of the body, due to the sensitivity of the area. However, the sting generally was precise and strong enough to take the submissive over the edge. This session would not end that way for Kindle tonight. If she were truly his sub, she would have become used to such a treat and would be more forlorn to not get it. She would understand clearly how she had fucked up with her disobedience. Hopefully, their time together would allow him an opportunity to give her the pleasurable experience.

  For now, he needed to get started with giving her what she came to him for, focus and stress relief.

  He brought the leads over her breasts one more time before stepping back.

  Kindle’s eyes were closed now, their color sealed off from him. He missed the beauty of them. He could have ordered her to open her eyes, but that would be fulfilling his need. Right now, he needed her centering herself in the moment, connecting with the tool and him as her dominant.

  Placing his hand between her breasts, he pressed the flat of his palm against her. He didn’t move, but stood there feeling each of her heartbeats as they pounded against him. Kindle’s heart continued a face pace, but it was steady, not erratic or racing out of control.

  “Breathe, Song Sparrow.” He guided her through a few breaths, keeping his tone low and even, but controlled. As she followed his guidance, he lowered his hand. Stepping around her, he still talked to her. He instructed her about her breathing as he took hold
of the leads again and caressed her from shoulders to heels and back again.

  Resting a hand on her shoulder, he allowed his touch to flow over her muscles, touching every groove, slope and valley. He noted that the tone of her ass was no longer a dark rosy color as it had been the last time he’d seen it. She’d carried his mark on her for at least a couple days and the sting too.

  Smiling, he thought about the new marks he would leave on her skin tonight. Not dark as the paddle would have left, but welts this time across her lovely, firm ass.

  “Are you injured or hurt anywhere?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Breathe. Remember the importance of keeping yourself relaxed, Song Sparrow.” He stood behind her, his hand slowly moving from one ass cheek to the other as he spoke. “Don’t tense up or try to expect the hits, just breathe and accept them.”

  Silence stretched the seconds into minutes.

  “Do you trust me and submit yourself to my dominance tonight, Song Sparrow?”

  Still touching her, he could feel her body settle back slightly into his hand as if she was mentally giving herself over to his hands.

  “Yes, Sir.” Her response was clear and unremitting.

  Removing his hand, he stepped back, angling himself at a forty-five degree angle to her body. He flexed his right hand around the handle and ran the fingers of his left hand through the end of the flogger—recognizing it as an extension of himself.

  “Inhale,” he commanded to both her and him. Bouncing his right shoulder up and down, he allowed it to hang loose, relaxed.

  “Exhale.” He watched the subtle fall of her shoulders, her lowering a little as she dipped her chin slightly. All signs she was settling in, preparing for the session.

  He gave her a few more breathing directives as he zeroed all his attention on the areas of her form he would strike, keeping away from her ribs, kidneys and the back of her knees—dangerous and sensitive areas.

  Falling silent, he inhaled, raising the flogger. He exhaled and brought the tails down at an angle over her ass, lightly. The strike was enough for her to feel it, but packed very little steam. It was meant for him to get his distance together and familiarize himself with her body, and warm her flesh.