The fact of her nudity had slipped her mind, but now awareness returned. She sipped her cider and studied him over the rim of the glass. He’d shed his jacket, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt. His shirtsleeves were rolled up as well. Despite the casual nature suggested by his attire, he exuded strength and confidence.
At last, she mustered enough courage to be direct. “As long as I’m the only sex slave there. I understand that training me doesn’t mean you’ll stop seeing your other submissives.” Though she wished it did. “I mostly have tame fantasies, I guess. Honestly, I don’t know what I’ll like. I think about being overpowered and held down. Spanked. Having my hair pulled.” In her fantasies, he was always the one topping her. “I’ve messed around, but I’ve never done any of those things with a Dom, so I don’t know if I’ll like the reality of it.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “So you’re asking me to show you different things to see what you’ll like and what you won’t?”
“Yes. I’d like that. Master.”
He grinned to acknowledge her belated use of his title, and she realized he didn’t mean for her to constantly use it, not in conversation. As a response to an order, especially when she was on her knees, but not all the time.
“Let’s start with the fact that I don’t deal with more than one submissive at a time. Then we’ll discuss punishment.”
Her heart beat faster at that admission, and his mention of punishment nearly sent her over the edge. She knew she had a couple coming, but that didn’t mean she relished them. It seemed she wasn’t one of those women who enjoyed the idea of being punished. Mostly she hated that she’d let him down with her rude behavior.
“Generally,” he continued as if he hadn’t noticed the heightening of her anxiety, “I want an apology, an admission of your mistake.”
That got her attention. She’d expected him to start with something a little violent, like a spanking, or something humiliating, like forcing her to lick his shoes. She’d have to draw a line before they got to that point. There was no way in hell she’d lick his shoes. That just wasn’t sanitary. She waited for him to continue, to drop the bomb, but he didn’t.
An apology from a submissive should be delivered on her knees. She slid from her chair and knelt next to him, her head bowed because she didn’t know if she could just apologize or if she had to wait for him to recognize her. She opted for the latter choice.
The silence weighed heavily on her nerves, and she struggled to keep her spine straight. From the corner of her eye, she saw his hand move closer. He touched her hair, smoothing it back from her face.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry for turning my back on you and for hesitating when you gave an order. Please forgive me, Master.” The apology was heartfelt. Katrina absolutely hated when anyone was upset with her. While she thrived on debate and argument in her professional life, she detested any kind of disagreement in her personal life.
“You’re forgiven. Now finish your dinner. After we clean this mess, we’re going to play.”
Anticipation tingled between her thighs. She’d wanted him to play with her for so long, and his lack of response didn’t exactly make her feel sexy or desirable. However, a quick glance at his lap as she shifted to return to her chair revealed that his nonchalant demeanor was a false front.
They finished eating, and then they split the cleanup duties in the kitchen. As she dried her hands on a dish towel, she heard the chimes that indicated the buttons being pushed to start her dishwasher. And then he caged her against the counter with her back to him.
Warmth radiated from his body, and the strength of his presence put every nerve ending on alert. She’d always responded to his physicality, to the authority he commanded with his every look, his every move. She felt the flutter of his lips on the back of her shoulder, and she closed her eyes to luxuriate in his attention.
“Tonight you’re going to practice following directions. It won’t be easy. You’re going to have to trust me.”
She trusted Keith. It was Master she didn’t know so well. “Yes, Master.”
He smoothed his hand over the length of her hair, down her back, and stopped on her hip. “You’ll find some things painful or uncomfortable, perhaps embarrassing or humiliating. I want you to take as much as you can. I’ll help you. Only call yellow or red when it gets to be too much. Do you understand?”
The hand on her hip didn’t mitigate the unease he caused with his warning. She kept reminding herself that she wanted this. She wanted this with Keith. Thank goodness he’d agreed to initiate her into this world. She didn’t think she would have been able to go through with it if she’d been with Dustin. “Yes, Master.”
He placed his hands on the fronts of her thighs, a light touch full of energy that zapped the strength from her knees. She leaned against him, and he didn’t stop her. Slowly he moved up her body, exploring her skin. Pausing long enough to glide his fingertips over the short, trimmed hair at her pubic mound, he left her wanting a more thorough investigation.
The journey continued over her stomach and ribs. At last he cupped her breasts. She wanted to reach behind her to wrap her arms around his neck, but he hadn’t instructed her to move, so she gripped the dish towel tightly. Her nipples had pebbled an hour ago, standing at attention to beg for his touch. Her breasts were small but sensitive. He flicked his thumbs over her nipples, and she felt it all the way to her core. A whimpering sound purred in the back of her throat, and she fought the urge to lean all her weight against him.
For several long moments, he teased the rocklike peaks. Then he pinched them lightly between his thumbs and forefingers. “Have you ever worn clamps?”
Katrina shook her head. Sometimes she didn’t even like to have her breasts touched for too long. “I think they’re too sensitive.”
Behind her, his laugh rumbled against her back. “Oh, my precious Kitty Kat, that’s what makes it fun. We’ll start light and work our way to something with more bite.”
Then he pinched them viciously, squeezing hard. She cried out and arched, trying to relieve the pressure, but it didn’t work. He kept up the torment, ignoring—or perhaps delighting in—evidence of her pain.
“Breathe, Kat. Inhale. Exhale.”
She forced herself to follow his orders. Concentrating on her breathing did make it easier to bear, but she stopped fighting it.
“Beautiful. Now let go of that dish towel before you tear it in half.”
She looked down at the soft, absorbent fabric twisted in her hands. It took some effort, which further took her mind away from the pain he caused, but she managed to release it.
“Keep breathing. Relax against me. Perfect. Now tell me what you feel.”
She took her time in analyzing the sensation. Something about this kind of agony slowed her mental processes. “It doesn’t hurt as bad when I breathe.”
“I know. Tell me what you feel, not what you don’t feel.” His voice sounded low in her consciousness, and she had no choice but to follow the hypnotic quality of it.
Another deep breath. His hands moved with her chest. “It’s starting to feel good. Weird good. It’s traveling down my arms.”
“What else?”
She wanted to shake her head, to refuse to tell him about the heat it sent straight to her core. It was like her nipple had a direct link to her pussy, only she’d never pushed the button hard enough to make the connection.
He squeezed harder, sending fresh waves throbbing through her system. She gasped loudly. “Answer me.”
“My…my… Between my legs.” A week ago, she never would have thought she’d be talking to him about anything happening between her legs while he tormented her nipples.
“Is your cunt wet, Kitty Kat? Just from this?”
She hated that word, but she forced herself to get over it. “Yes, Master.”
“Say it. Tell me your cunt is wet.”
Katrina licked her lips. The rapidity of her b
reathing had more to do with the things he wanted her to say than the things he was doing. When she at last forced it out, she could barely hear what she said. “My cunt is wet, Master.”
“Is your cunt wet for me?”
More often than you could possibly know. “Yes, Master.”
He increased the pressure, which she found amazing. She was sure her nipples were flattened by now. “Say it, slave.”
“My cunt is wet for you, Master.”
He eased the pressure until she was free, and she sighed. Some of her energy drained away, yet a new sense of liquidity and acquiescence suffused her limbs. She thought he might explore her pussy next, but he turned her around with a gentle tug on her hip.
She faced him, and heat crept up her neck. For some reason, she could take his attention when she wasn’t looking at him, but facing him was different. Looking at him forced her to remember that she’d fantasized about this man for years, and he’d never once indicated reciprocal feelings. Even all those years ago when he’d kissed her, she’d been stunned to her toes, but he had only looked amused.
He drew his fingertips along her cheeks, and then he feathered them into her hair at her temples. The firm set of his lips softened, as did the steel in his eyes. That small evidence of affection did pleasant things to her stomach. “Last chance to back out before we start.”
She didn’t want an escape, not after all she’d gone through for this chance. “I’ve been naked for the past hour, Master. We’ve already begun.”
He closed his eyes. That pleasant feeling turned a little cold. He’d better not be having second thoughts. If he walked out her door, she didn’t know if she would recover.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
She half snorted and half laughed at his admission. “Yes, you do. You want to tie me up too. You get off on it.”
His answering laugh contained no mirth. Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead to hers. “I’m a bastard, Kat. I’ll ask for everything from you, but I won’t give much in return. I want you to understand that I’ll never be the kind of man you deserve to have. Eyes wide open. I am who I am. You can’t change me.”
Though he hadn’t instructed her to move, she couldn’t resist cupping his face. He seemed so lost and vulnerable. It tugged at her heart and brought out her need to provide comfort, to salve the wounds with her embrace, her kisses, and her submission. She’d caught glimpses of this side of him, of his deep unhappiness, and she knew where it originated. He was a better man than he gave himself credit for being.
“I don’t want to change you.”
He slid his hands back and tightened them in her hair. At the same time, he captured her lips in a punishing kiss, mashing his mouth against hers. He stabbed his tongue inside, and she was lost. This wasn’t a kiss in which she could participate. He filled her senses, mastering her, turning her into a receptacle for his harsh affection. With a heartfelt moan, she softened into him, accepting what he needed to give.
She liked this far more than she’d thought she would. Now she knew she wasn’t doing this just to show Keith she could be the woman he wanted. Submission was in her heart where he was concerned. She liked his roughness, and she looked forward to learning all the ways he would introduce her to more wicked and wanton activities.
Abruptly he broke the kiss and stepped back. She teetered to maintain her balance, groping for the counter to aid her attempt. He steadied her with a quick hand on her rib cage. The heat of his palm left an indelible print on her skin, a promise that warmed her inside and out.
“Hands and knees. Crawl to the chair across from the sofa.”
Katrina had never crawled in her life. Even as a child, she’d learned to walk first. Though he’d warned her, she still found his command shocking. Lowering to her knees, she realized exactly how undignified this would appear.
She wondered if he liked the power inherent in making her do something unseemly, or if he just liked the unobstructed view of her pussy. Either way, the bit of submission he’d coaxed from her with that kiss hadn’t subsided. She felt like she belonged to him, and that acceptance overrode her reservations. Acutely aware of his gaze, she sank to all fours and crawled to the chair.
“Stand up.”
Facing the empty chair, she stood.
“Hands behind your neck. Link your fingers together.”
She felt the magnetism of his proximity and swayed back in response. He halted her movement with a hand on her back. Wordlessly he adjusted her posture, pushing at her shoulders and pulling her elbows until they were at right angles to her head. Then, with the toe of his shoe on her instep, he nudged her feet apart. Moisture rushed to her pussy as she complied.
The position exposed her like nothing else. With her breasts thrust forward and her legs spread wide, she could think of nothing but belonging to him. At long last, she was his possession.
“Memorize how this feels, slave. When I tell you to stand, I want you in this exact position. When it’s time to kneel, you’ll put your arms behind your neck like this, and your knees will be spread wider than your shoulders. You are allowed to hide nothing from me. This body belongs to me alone. Say it.”
“This body belongs to you, Master.” Her voice sounded rusty, as though she hadn’t spoken in a long time. In truth, she hadn’t. The woman standing in her living room was the woman she hadn’t yet met.
He ran his palms over every inch from her ankles to her neck. The caress made her acutely conscious of the wetness soaking the insides of her thighs, the only place he neglected to touch. When he came to stand in front of her, he ended his forays by washing his hands over her face. There was nothing tentative or reverent in his demeanor. His expression and his rough caress were strictly proprietary.
“Keep your eyes open.”
She hadn’t realized she’d closed them. She popped them open to find him regarding her fiercely. For the first time, she recognized his fear. He wanted her to enjoy this, and he was afraid she wouldn’t. She’d always known that being dominant was an integral part of who he was. She’d never known how much of his soul he showed with that stoic mask, just as she’d never understood how much of himself he’d hidden from them all.
“Yes, Master.”
He disappeared from her field of vision. A thunk sounded on her oak coffee table. Though she didn’t dare turn around to look, she guessed that he’d retrieved the bag she’d noticed next to the stairs earlier. Rummaging sounds set her nerves on edge. She knew he would want to engage in impact play, but she didn’t think he would leap right in and use a crop on a novice. The waiting made her short of breath.
When he again stood in front of her, he held a small chain that terminated in modified tweezers. Rubber covered the ends. He dipped his head and sucked her left nipple into his mouth. Pain from his sudden, violent onslaught mingled with the inferno of his mouth. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, and she cried out. It took all her strength not to pull away.
After a few moments, the sensation morphed, as it had before, and bloomed. Her cry turned to a moan, and she thrust her breast closer in offering. A sharp crack rent the air, and a hot sting on her backside brought her out of the cloud of ecstasy that had enveloped her mind. He’d smacked her ass. Not hard, just loud enough to get her attention.
“Don’t move. Breathe through it. Maintain control. I guarantee you won’t like the lessons on controlling your responses.” His hot breath brushed against her wet flesh.
“I’m sorry, Master.” Not too sorry, though. She heard the pleasure in his voice. He liked her reaction, even if he didn’t approve of the way she expressed her enjoyment. She was also hyperaware of the warmth spreading through the skin on her ass.
He pinched her nipple and pulled it until she gasped. Then he slid the tweezer around it. Nipple clamps. She’d heard of them, but she’d never seen them. She hadn’t thought they’d look or feel so benign. As he adjusted a screw and the thing squeezed her tender flesh, she adjusted her opinion. She
opened her mouth with the intention of telling him that it hurt, but he beat her to the punch. “Breathe. You can take it.”
It had worked before, so she concentrated on inhaling and exhaling. Simple steps, but it required her full concentration, especially when he subjected her right nipple to the same torture. When he finished, he stepped back.
She looked down to check out his handiwork, and what she saw definitely made her pause. Her nipples were distended and engorged. They tingled and throbbed. The clamps cut into her flesh, but the pain was receding. Or she was just getting used to the sensation.
Lust darkened his eyes, and his gaze moved over her body, stopping again and again at her breasts. She thought he might close the short distance between their bodies, drag her to him for a ravaging kiss, but he took a step back and sank into her armchair. She stood before him, panting with desire and fighting the urge to rip his clothes off.
“Straddle me.” His voice came out strong and steady, almost fierce.
Katrina did as she was told, but she didn’t get her hopes up. The smooth fabric of his pants skimmed against the sensitive flesh on the insides of her knees and her inner thighs as she positioned herself on top of his fully clothed body.
Beginning at her bent knees, he slid his hands up her thighs. He altered his angle when he made it to her hips, and he gripped her ass briefly before continuing up her body. Though she enjoyed the sensations evoked by his touch, she watched him. She watched how the steel in his eyes softened as he looked at her. For the first time, she saw flickers of peace and hope replace the perpetual remoteness.
She gasped when his thumbs came into contact with her nipples. Fire flared and singed a path to her core. Molten cream wet her pussy, and she smelled her arousal. Keith’s nostrils flared, and that fragile bit of vulnerability disappeared, supplanted by satisfaction.
“Nice. Very responsive. Master likes when his slave hides nothing.” He winced at something. It was a slight movement, something she would have missed if she hadn’t been watching him so intently.
Re/Paired (Doms of the FBI Book 2) Page 7