Spy

by Julia Sykes

  Fear and lust churned in my belly. The idea of Ian acting as my Master made my pussy heat up, but the stakes were high.

  Trust him.

  Lust won out. “I can do that. I can be your slave.” I barely recognized the husky tone as my own.

  His eyes flared, but he schooled his features too quickly for me to interpret it. Did he desire me as well, or was he still angry with me?

  “We’ll start your training tomorrow,” he said, his voice clipped.

  Training. My clit pulsed. Despite everything, I couldn’t wait for him to act as my Master. The memories of how he had dominated my body sent a shiver dancing over my skin. I longed for him to touch me again, but one glance at his dark expression let me know it wasn’t going to happen tonight.

  The wait was going to be pure torture.

  * * * * *

  “What are we doing here?” I asked as Ian pulled into the parking lot outside Dusk. “Isn’t it closed?” We’d only just finished lunch. The club shouldn’t open for another six hours, at least.

  “I called this morning and booked a private room for the afternoon.” Ian didn’t look over at me. His knuckles were white around the steering wheel. If anything, his tension had only grown worse overnight.

  I tried to ignore the hurt that caused. My body was thrumming with excitement over the prospect of experiencing another BDSM scene with him, but he seemed to dread it.

  No. It was more than dread; he was furious.

  “Are you mad at me?” My insecurities rose up, threatening my stability.

  He blinked and met my gaze for the first time in hours. “No.”

  “You seem angry.”

  He blew out a breath. “I am. But not with you. I hate that I’ve put you in this position. And I hate those fuckers for wanting to look at you. I don’t want you anywhere near them.”

  “But you said we don’t have a choice,” I reasoned.

  “No. We don’t.”

  A long moment passed, and he didn’t say anything else.

  “Um, should we go in?” I asked tentatively.

  “I guess we have to.”

  The resignation in his voice made my chest squeeze. I reached out and covered his hand with mine.

  “I want you to know that I’m okay with this,” I said with an edge of pleading. “I want to do this.”

  He shook his head, but he didn’t move away from me. “You’re not trained to be in the field.”

  “Isn’t that why we’re here? So you can train me?” My mouth went dry around the words, and my pulse sped up. The prospect still got me hot, despite his emotional distance.

  Something more than anger stirred in his deep blue eyes, something darker. “Yes.”

  He broke from my gaze, abruptly opening his door to get out of the car. I’d barely gotten my seatbelt unbuckled before he was opening mine for me. His body curved around mine as he ushered me toward the club entrance, further reassuring me that my protection was his top priority.

  Mark, the bartender, was waiting to let us into Dusk. He greeted Ian and winked at me.

  “We’ll be here for two hours,” Ian ground out. “We won’t need any assistance.”

  Mark shrugged. “I’ll just be prepping the club for tonight. I won’t bother you.”

  “Good. We’ll be in the dungeon.”

  My insides quivered at the reminder of the dark, devious room where Ian had fucked me for the first time. I wondered how far he would take me this time.

  As he led me through the empty bar, my mind fell into a decidedly wicked fantasy involving Ian’s sweat-slicked body sliding along mine. I had less than a minute to indulge in it before we reached the dungeon, and my imaginary setting solidified to reality.

  “Are you comfortable taking off your clothes?” he asked as he shut the door firmly behind us. “This will work better if you’re not covered up.”

  “I…” It took me a moment to process the question. He still hadn’t seen me completely naked, despite the fact that I’d been physically intimate with him. “Yes,” I finally managed. “I’m okay with that.”

  “Good. I want you to strip down to your underwear. Leave your bra and panties on.”

  I grasped the hem of my shirt and quickly pulled it over my head before sliding my jeans down my legs. When I’d stepped out of them along with my flats, I reached back for the clasp on my bra.

  He instantly closed the distance between us, his hand snaking behind me to grasp my wrist.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded.

  “You said this will be better if I’m not covered up. I don’t mind being naked around you.”

  He tilted his head back, and imposing shadows pooled beneath his cheekbones. He seemed to grow even taller, looming over me. Heat rolled off his body, scorching my skin everywhere we touched. I suddenly felt small and shockingly vulnerable in his firm hold.

  “I gave you and order. I told you to leave your bra and panties on.” His voice deepened, rumbling across my flesh before sinking inside me. “You will obey me without question. Do you understand?”

  “Y-yes,” I stammered, thoroughly intimidated and more than a little turned on. I was suddenly grateful that he’d allowed me to maintain some of my modesty. It felt as though his sapphire eyes were stripping me down to my soul, and there was nowhere for me to hide. I didn’t have any choice but to give myself to him, to surrender control. I ceded it eagerly, longing for the peace I’d found in our power exchange.

  His lips twitched up at the corners in smug satisfaction. My clit pulsed.

  “Yes, Master,” he corrected me. “I want to hear you say it.”

  “Yes, Master.” His new title came out on a needy whisper. It felt right on my tongue.

  His smirk deepened, his earlier tension melting away as he was swept up in our intense connection.

  “That’s good, pet. You’ll call me Master from now on.”

  “Pet?” I wasn’t sure I exactly disliked the term, but I wasn’t accustomed to it.

  He blinked, sobering slightly. “I can’t call you Lissa around the anarchists. They’ll expect me to treat you as my slave, not a woman I respect. But I can’t bring myself to call you slave, so I’ve settled on a compromise. I rather like pet. You and I will know it’s not meant to be demeaning.”

  I rolled that around in my mind for a moment, and found that I liked the sound of it, too. Pet was an endearment, not an insult.

  “Okay,” I agreed. “I like it.”

  His pleased smile returned. I stared at the cocky curve of his lips. Without realizing what I was doing, I went up on my tiptoes and pressed my mouth to his.

  He grabbed my free wrist and pinned it at the small of my back, trapping both my arms behind me. His other hand came up to grip my jaw, holding me back. He scowled down at me, and I found myself thoroughly under his power again. I shuddered and went utterly still.

  “You will not touch me. That’s your most important rule. And you will obey my rules.”

  “That’s not fair,” I protested weakly.

  He grimaced. “It’s not supposed to be fair. You’re supposed to be my slave.”

  That no longer sounded as sexy as it had before. “I want to be able to touch you. I want you to touch me.”

  His smile was grim. “That second part won’t be a problem. I will touch you whenever, and however, I want.”

  “This doesn’t sound like we’re pretending anymore.” My voice was high with nervousness, but my body burned at his proprietary words. “I do have rights.”

  “Yes, you do. That’s why you have safe words. You won’t be able to say them around the anarchists, but I want you to use them with me whenever you’re feeling at all uncomfortable. I need to know how far I can push you without hurting you, physically or emotionally.”

  “Oh.” The sense of security I found in Ian’s arms returned. Of course he would never hurt me.

  Ian will protect you, my little inner voice reassured me.

  Yes, I agreed.


  He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Is that all you have to say?” Frustration creased his features. “You’re far too calm about all this.”

  Using his grip on my jaw, he turned my face gently, as though he could read my mind if he just studied me closely enough. The lines around his eyes deepened with perplexity.

  “Why?” he asked. “You’re willing to put your life in my hands, and you don’t seem scared at all. Why?”

  “Would you rather I broke down crying?” I challenged. “I want to help. And I trust you.”

  His lips twisted in a small frown, but after a moment he nodded. “I’m glad. We have to be able to trust each other if this is going to work. That’s why your safe words are essential. You have to know I’ll stop if you need me to, and I have to know that you’ll be honest with me about your needs. I’m not a mind reader. We have to communicate so we can understand one another completely. That’s the foundation of any good D/s relationship.”

  “I can do that,” I assured him.

  Earn his trust. If I proved I could use my safe words when I needed to, he would trust me. Once that happened, he might finally let his walls down.

  He stared at me quizzically for a moment longer before stepping back from me. Most of his heat receded, but he kept his grip on one of my wrists. He led me forward, and my breath caught in my throat when I saw where he was taking me: the St. Andrew’s Cross. I’d only seen them used in my internet research. The thought of Ian restraining me, of being at his mercy, made my inner muscles flutter with desire.

  When I was facing the cross, he stepped behind me. Having him so close but out of my sight made every inch of my skin crackle in anticipation.

  His large hands skimmed down my arms, spreading heat across my flesh. It rippled through me, making its way down to my sex. My panties grew damp with my arousal. I heard him inhale deeply, and his low, approving rumble rolled through me.

  He gently grasped my wrists and directed my hands above my head, arranging them so they mirrored the lines of the cross. He pressed my left wrist against the cold metal, silently instructing me to keep it there. His attention turned to my other hand.

  The first kiss of supple leather against my skin elicited a small whimper from deep in my chest. The cuff tightened, encircling my wrist before he buckled it in place. He quickly secured my other arm as well.

  I tugged against the restraints, testing them. The short chains that attached the cuffs to the cross jangled against the metal, and they held firm.

  My mind cleared, every thought falling away. Every thought except for those centered on Ian. I was completely under his power, helpless to resist anything he wanted to do to me. There was no need to fight or to worry; either would be a pointless endeavor.

  I let out a long breath as my entire body relaxed, my head dropping back against Ian’s shoulder. His fingers touched my collarbone and began to trace a slow, burning trail down my abdomen. He paused when he reached the upper edge of my panties, his fingertips playing along the line of them.

  “Please,” I panted, trying to rock my hips up into him. But it was impossible with the position he’d put me in.

  He withdrew his touch.

  “No,” he calmly refused. “You need to learn that I’m your Master. I control your pleasure. And your pain.”

  I stiffened. “Pain?”

  He stroked a calming hand down my back. “Yes, pet. We’re going to find out just how much you can take. I’m going to push you until you use your safe word. But I’m warning you now to use it carefully. This is an exercise in trust. Don’t be scared.”

  His fingers curled around my waist, squeezing slightly. His light touches kept my body hot for him, distracting me from my nervousness. I craved his touch more than I feared the pain he promised.

  I sucked in a shaky breath. “What’s my safe word?”

  He pressed a tender kiss against my shoulder. “You’ll say red if you need everything to stop. Use yellow if you need a break.” His hot breath teased across my sensitive nape, further distracting me from any fear I might have felt.

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  He nipped at my neck, and I gasped.

  “I’m going to flog you, pet. If you relax into the sensation, I think you’ll enjoy it. You’re a natural submissive. You get off on the release. This should feel good.”

  His warmth left me abruptly. I craned my head back, searching for him. He crossed to the wall of impact play instruments and selected a medium-weight flogger with thick, purple falls.

  “Eyes forward,” he instructed when he caught me looking.

  I instantly obeyed, turning to stare at the red-painted wall. His footsteps echoed through the dungeon as he approached me again. Then silence fell. Long seconds passed, and he said nothing. My breathing came in sharp pants, and my muscles tensed. I tugged against my restraints.

  The flogger cut through the air with a heavy whoosh just before it slapped against my ass. Pain followed immediately after, the sting fierce enough to make my eyes water.

  “Be still,” he ordered.

  I laid my palms against the beams of the cross, determined to stay in place. I wouldn’t struggle again.

  “Good girl.”

  His praise elicited a warm glow inside me that rivaled the heat of the burn on my ass.

  Fresh pain lashed at me with the second blow. I cried out, and my fingers curled around the cross in an effort to hold still. Everything in me told me to try to fight my way free, to escape the sting of the flogger.

  “Use your safe word if it’s too much,” he reminded me as the third hit landed.

  I gritted my teeth. He’d told me not to use it until I reached my limit, and I knew I could handle more, even if it wasn’t pleasant. I’d taken worse while practicing Krav Maga. And while the hits stung, they weren’t hard enough to bruise.

  Then the tips of the falls raked across my upper thigh, and I shrieked out my pain. Ian had said I might enjoy this. He’d been wrong.

  “Yellow!” I shouted.

  His strong arm immediately wrapped around my waist, holding me tightly as his fingers stroked the place he’d hurt. I hissed as the sting increased, but he didn’t stop.

  “You’re okay.” His voice was low and calm. “I’ve got you. Breathe.”

  I drew in a ragged breath, holding it for a few seconds before releasing it slowly. The familiar practice helped center me.

  “That’s it. Again.”

  Following his command helped me relax further. So long as he was in control, I didn’t have to worry. Suddenly, my skin began to tingle where he caressed my thigh. The burning sensation abated, and my nerve endings sparked to life. I pressed back into him, inviting more. He kept up his maddeningly gentle pressure, teasing so close to my desire-slicked pussy.

  “I’m very proud of you, pet. We’re going to try again, but I’ll warm you up this time. I want you to enjoy this. Are you ready for more?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  His hand cracked across my thigh. The heat of the blow licked at my wet entrance. “Address me properly.”

  “Yes, Master.” I moaned the words. Somehow, the pain was turning into something more interesting, more erotic. His harsh treatment tempered by tender touches was messing with my mind. I feel deeper into him, my whole world centering on him. I ached for him to touch me, however he wanted.

  He controlled my pleasure, my pain; my body and mind. I gave him everything.

  When the flogger hit me again, it was a gentle slap. There was no real pain, only a slight thudding sensation. A twin blow landed on my opposite cheek. Two more identical hits came in quick succession. I relaxed against the cross, reassured that the pain was over.

  Ian picked up a regular, hypnotic rhythm. As time passed, I barely registered that the weight of the blows slowly increased. My skin began to tingle, starting at my abused flesh and spreading out to my fingers and toes.

  A harsh hit landed, and I cried out at the sudden shock of pain. Another fell. I
shrieked and tugged against the cuffs that held me, instinctively trying to fight.

  But I was powerless to stop him. As soon as I recognized that, I surrendered, giving him everything. All thought fell away, and I became a purely physical being. The release sent me flying higher than I ever could have imagined. Ecstasy soared through my veins, reaching into my mind to flood all my senses with pleasure. It was more than simply erotic; my entire being sang with bliss. All awareness of pain receded, and each hit of the flogger was a sweet caress. I stopped crying out, and my breathing turned deep and even as I sagged against the cross.

  I was barely aware that the blows stopped. My restraints were released, and I fell back against Ian’s hard chest. While everything remained foggy and pleasant, I was hyper-aware of his scent, of the feel of his strong muscles cushioning my body as he lifted me up and held me tightly against him. I closed my eyes and breathed him in.

  He murmured something sweet and soothing, but I didn’t process the words. His fingertips traced the lines of my cheekbones, my jaw, my lips. I sank into him, reveling in the release I found in my submission to my Master.

  Chapter 6

  Ian

  I smothered my grunt of pleasure as I came in my hand, the hot water of the shower cascading over me. I pressed my palm to the faded blue tile wall, breathing hard. It had taken everything in me to keep from grabbing Lissa’s reddened ass and sinking into her wet heat. I’d been able to smell her intense arousal as I flogged her, and her little tormented cries had made my dick ache.

  At least I’d controlled myself this time. Unlike our other encounters, every move I’d made had been carefully planned¸ deliberately designed to draw out her submission and bring her pleasure.

  The knowledge that I could master my need softened the sharpest edges of my guilt. What I was doing to her was wrong. I was using her, putting her in danger. And she threw herself into it without hesitation. Because she trusted me.

  I shook my head. I still didn’t understand how that was possible. She was too sweet, too giving. I didn’t deserve her unquestioning devotion.