Malcolm's Promise: A Re/Bound Story (Doms of the FBI)

by Michele Zurlo

  He chuckled at her audacity. It was one of the things he loved about her. “Feels like you’re topping from the bottom.”

  “I’m willing to do whatever makes you happy, Master.” Having straddled this line frequently, Darcy raced to explain herself. “You said you missed me, and you did a session with the single tail before you left, so it’s not like you left me high and dry. If you wish to whip me, then I welcome the pain. If you wish to torture me, then I welcome the torment. If you wish to fuck me, then I welcome the ways in which you can use my body. If you wish for me to make iced tea, I will happily serve it to you on my knees.”

  Damn, but his heart was bursting with adoration for his beautiful submissive. He kissed her shoulder and released her cuffs. “I love you, sweetheart, and I want to torture you for a while.”

  With her ankles and wrists free, she knelt before him. “Thank you, Master.”

  “For?”

  “Everything. The spanking, the orgasm, the caning, for loving me and caring for me. I love you so much.”

  She might not be thanking him later, but she needed a reminder about exactly how much she belonged to him, and he aimed to show her. “You’re going to ride me. I want you to come three times before I do. If you fail, I’m going to put the chastity belt with the remote control dildo on you. I’ll torment you all afternoon, and this evening, I’ll tie you up and force as many climaxes out of you as I decide I want.” Forced orgasm was one of the most effective ways he’d found to tap into the depth of her submission.

  Color drained from her face, and she blinked hard, digesting his plan. He could almost feel the wheels turning in her brain. She was primed, so the first orgasm would happen relatively quickly. The second would take some time, and she typically needed a significant amount of help to reach the third. He had no plans to help her along by pinching or slapping a welt. On the contrary, he planned to make the second orgasm so large she might not be able to recover well enough to continue. That is, if he didn’t climax first.

  “You’re not going to try to hold out, are you?” The tentative quality to her question told him that she already knew the answer.

  “Nope.”

  Once she would have pouted against the lack of fairness of his terms, but she’d learned the hard way that when he altered the deal, it only became less fair. “I don’t suppose you want to start off by licking my pussy?”

  This time he laughed. The noise boomed through the soundproof room. He shed his pants, strode across the room to the bed—his bed from before he’d met Darcy—and got comfortable. “Come on, sweetheart. Make me hard so you can hop on.” Darcy, naked and on her knees, was an arousing sight, so she didn’t have to do more than breathe on him to get him ready.

  She crawled across the floor, the weights on her nipple clamps swaying as she went, and climbed onto the bed. Glancing at his cock, she smiled. “Looks like you’re ready to me.”

  He crooked a finger. “Kiss me.”

  “Gladly.” She started slow, grazing her lips over his with light, teasing strokes, but that didn’t last long. Passion exploded, and she got serious. He let her control it as long as he could resist seizing power, but the moment she slid her tongue into his mouth, it was all over. He reversed the polarity of power and took what he wanted. Her entire being softened, relaxing into submission—the place she preferred to be.

  Her hands explored his body, finding the magic spots starved for her attention. All too soon, she closed her hand around his cock, her firm grasp testing his readiness. She grinned into the kiss as she guided him into her hot wetness. She rocked on him, and from the position of her hand, he knew she was also stimulating her clit.

  He broke the kiss, and she sat back for a better angle. Staring at the place where their bodies joined and seeing her fingers moving back and forth over her little nub was a powerful aphrodisiac. “Well played, sweetheart, but that move might backfire. It’s so fucking hot to watch you touch yourself.”

  Her walls fluttered with the beginnings of her first climax. The flogging and caning had taken her to the edge, and she fell into the chasm with a soft cry. She threw her head back and sank her nails into his chest. The little minx knew a bit of pain would make it take longer for him to orgasm.

  Two could play at that game. Once she found a good rhythm that would take her to her second climax, he slapped her ass, centering his blow over her welts. “Oh, Master, yes. That feels so good.” She fucked him faster and harder. This one was going to rob her of her senses. He loved watching her come apart. So close to his own climax, he knew that this was going to be it. He was going to win, and he’d get to spend the rest of the day tormenting her.

  The weights on the clamps swung wildly, and as he felt her pussy walls convulse, he removed her clamps. The sudden pain from blood rushing back to those twin points only heightened her experience. Her movements became erratic, her breathing louder and labored, and expletives poured forth on a wave of orgasmic bliss. Her walls tightened around his cock, wringing a climax that made his vision go white. He was vaguely aware of her collapsing on top of him, and he made sure to catch her.

  Darcy’s whole body trembled, and Master’s arms tightened around her. He played his fingertips up and down her back, soothing away the worst of it. She cried, letting loose all the stress and anger she’d been forced to bottle up for the past week. Really, the first week hadn’t been difficult. In addition to Malcolm’s parents, her sister Amy was great about coming over to play with Colin for a few hours every other day so Darcy could work. Her friend Layla had come over several times as well.

  Being without Malcolm left a hole that made her feel hollow and alone. Going to bed without him every night took the greatest toll on her psyche, and she had frequently found sleep elusive. When he was home, his presence soothed her. Just having him nearby made everything seem much easier to handle. With him behind her, she felt like she could accomplish anything. Without him, she felt like she was floundering, whether or not she actually was.

  She burrowed closer, though she was already plastered against him.

  “Sweetheart, you know, it’s normal to feel depressed after having a baby.”

  “It’s not that.” She sniffled as her tears dried up. “Both my doctor and your mother have talked to me about post-partum depression. And while I’ve felt a little sad now and again, I’m mostly fine.”

  Sensing his frown, she lifted her head to look at him. He pushed a matted strand of hair away from her face. “I’d like to think I have the magic cure for all your problems, but I know I don’t. Perhaps you should talk to someone? I know of a few lifestyle-friendly therapists.”

  Flopping over to lay on her back next to him, she heaved a dramatic sigh. Being married to an agent—which meant she frequently came second to his job—was the problem. When they’d met, she’d been his target, and so she’d fallen for him when she’d been his primary focus. Once the case had closed, he’d moved on, and she’d been relegated to second place. While she didn’t question his love, she did wonder about the long-term viability of their relationship. “I’ll think about it.”

  The baby monitor, heretofore quiet, crackled to life. Darcy sprang to her feet and grabbed her clothes. She had standing permission to suspend protocol when Colin needed her. Malcolm dressed as well. “I’ll get Colin. Put some salve on the welts on your butt. I’ll check them tonight to make sure they’re healing normally.”

  Her ass felt fantastic, and though she didn’t want to put anything on them that would mute the feeling, she followed Master’s order. When she arrived in the kitchen, she found Colin in a bouncy seat on the table and Malcolm zipping around as he prepared items for the Legato secret recipe spaghetti sauce. She loved the fact that he liked to cook. Even if he’d sucked at it, which he didn’t, she’d eat it because someone else made it.

  “Sweetheart, did you put on the chastity belt?”

  She’d forgotten about his terms. Normally he did the honors when it came to putting it on her. “
No.”

  Colin flapped his arms and worked out a few sounds. Malcolm grinned at his son. “Is that so? Tell me more.” Glancing at Darcy, the grin didn’t fade. “For not remembering, make sure to use the largest size butt plug attachment as well. Go. Get it done. Bring me the remote and the key.”

  She went back downstairs. The largest plug was too large to become forgettable. Most of the time when he made her wear a plug for an extended length of time, she soon forgot it was there. “Lots of lube,” she mumbled. The deed was quickly accomplished, and she made it back to Malcolm before he’d finished stirring all the ingredients into the pot.

  “How did it go?”

  “It’s not as much fun when I have to do it myself.” She set the remote and key on the counter and picked Colin up. His face split with a huge smile. “Is my little man hungry?”

  “He might be getting there.” The vibrator pulsed to life with burst coming every six seconds. She hadn’t noticed Mal picking up the remote. “You can feed him while you make a phone call.”

  She pulled out a chair and sat, though it wasn’t all that comfortable, with Colin on her lap. “Are you sure about this? I don’t want you to marry me just because we have a kid together. I want you to be sure.”

  He frowned into his sauce. “I’m sure. Are you having second thoughts?”

  “Not second thoughts, just…reservations.”

  The pulsing stopped. He put the pot on simmer, and then he took the seat across from her. Those deep brown pools regarded her soberly. “What kind of reservations?”

  “Your job comes first.”

  To his credit, he didn’t sigh or look away. He’d known from the beginning that she hated cops, and he’d made her fall for him anyway. “I have a responsibility to keep this country safe. Sometimes that gets in the way of my responsibilities as a Master, father, and, hopefully, husband.”

  Harsh feelings burned in her heart. “I know. And I feel selfish for being jealous of your job. I want to come first, and I’m not sure how to reconcile that with the reality of our life together. I’m trying, Mal, but right now there are more days I wish you were still Theo than not.”

  Theo had been the name he’d used undercover when he’d introduced himself for the first time. Malcolm folded his hands on the table, and she felt suddenly like she was about to be interrogated. “This is who I am, Darcy. It’s never going to change. I move heaven and earth to be here when you need me. I’ve never been late when we’ve had plans, and I’ve only cancelled twice for work. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you last night. I wish I could say it won’t happen again, but I’d be lying. I can only promise to make it up to you when I return. Marriage isn’t easy, and being the wife of an agent is doubly hard. But you’re equal to the task, sweetheart. You’ve proved that many times.”

  It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but she appreciated his honesty. He’d sworn never to lie to her again, and he was keeping that promise. She nodded, accepting his reassurances. “I’m holding you to that promise.”

  He came to her side of the table, bent down, and kissed her tenderly. “I want to make other promises to you—vows. Legal ones that say you’re mine and I’m yours, and symbolic ones that say I’m your Master and you’re my submissive. But more than that, I want you to want it too. Darcy, if you don’t want to marry me, please tell me.”

  Twin tears leaked from her eyes. He was so damn romantic. She caressed his cheek. “I want to marry you. I want all the same things you want.”

  The vibrator pulsed to life, and he regarded her with affection. “Glad to hear it. And don’t think I’m going to go easy on you today.”

  This validation meant even more to her than his romantic promise. It meant he would follow through because they both wanted and needed it. Her smile returned. “I know you won’t.”

  Sneak Peak at Re/Defined (Doms of the FBI 4)

  Did she want steak or lasagna, or did she want to let Jordan tie her up and do things that belonged to the mysterious Sensory Play category? Amy frowned as she lined up her shot for the sixteenth hole. He was putting no pressure on her at all. After they’d finished their ice cream, he hadn’t brought it up. She felt his touch on her hip, pushing it into alignment to improve her aim. Relaxing, she let him correct her stance. “Thanks.”

  “You’re getting better. By the end of the course, you’ll have it down.”

  It had occurred to her that she could continue doing it wrong just so he’d keep touching her, but then, she reasoned, he’d eventually give up, and she’d still be doing it wrong. She hit the ball a little too hard, and it sailed past the cup. “Darn.”

  “Not bad. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You came close, and that’s an improvement.” He lined up his shot and sank it neatly.

  “Would we negotiate everything beforehand? Plan out every detail?”

  “No.” He didn’t pretend to not know she’d changed the topic. “If you had any experience, then yes, we could do that. For this, I’d try a few different things so you could decide what you do and don’t like.”

  She thought about that as she tapped her ball into the cup. “What if I don’t like it?”

  He retrieved their balls. “You’re familiar with the concept of safewords.”

  She didn’t have the sense he’d asked a question, more that he wanted her to explain what she knew. “I know the stoplight system. Red halts everything. Yellow pauses the scene for communication, adjustments, and bathroom breaks.” Once she’d come to accept that the BDSM lifestyle wasn’t a form of abuse, her sister had opened up about many of nitty-gritty details. And she’d heard the guys talk about being dominant. They took the safety precaution aspects of it very seriously.

  “So you’ll have safewords. I’ll be talking to you a lot so you’ll know you’re not alone.”

  It hadn’t occurred to her that he would leave her alone when she was in a vulnerable position. She set her ball on the tee, lined up the shot, and took a swing. It rounded the bank perfectly, bounced twice from the edges of the narrowed curve that linked the two parts of this tricky hole together, avoided the waterfall, and went straight into the cup. Her draw dropped. She looked at Jordan, her eyes so wide she felt they might pop out. “You saw that, right?”

  He wore a wide grin. “Your stance was perfect.”

  Dropping her putter, she clapped her hands over her heart. “A hole in one. I never thought I’d be able to do that.”

  He hugged her with one arm and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You can do anything you set your mind to, little one.”

  “Yes.” She didn’t necessarily agree with him, but she was no longer talking about her amazing feat. “I want to try it with you.”

  “All right. Let’s finish this, and then I’ll take you to my place.”

  She’d never been to his place. It made sense that they’d go to his apartment because that’s where his equipment would be located. The drive took a little time because he lived two counties away. They mostly chatted about movies and television shows. She figured he wanted to keep the conversation light to put her at ease.

  His apartment was exactly like Jamie had described—pristine and sanitary. Amy chalked that up to his modern décor. There was too much shiny metal and not enough color. It could use some fabric and softness to make it homey. Normally she wouldn’t judge anybody’s home, but this seemed so unlike Jordan. Standing there in a black fitted shirt and worn jeans, his face scruffy from a day’s growth, he didn’t seem to fit. The lack of color was him, but the sharpness of the furniture reminded her that perhaps she didn’t know him all that well.

  “What do you think?”

  “It’s clean.” She wasn’t going to say anything critical, not to a guy who was planning to tie her up.

  He frowned. “You don’t like it.”

  “It’s fine. I just pictured your place with more leather, and maybe framed photos of your family on the walls.”

  He gestured to the sofa. It was the kind with an exposed metal
frame and thin cushions for the seat and back. “It’s more comfortable than it looks. Take off your dress and sit down.”

  She hadn’t expected him to say that. She looked at her bright yellow sundress, the only spot of real color in the room. “You want me to get undressed? In here?”

  “I need to do a few things before we can begin. If you need to freshen up, the bathroom is the down the hall, first door on the left. When I return, I expect to see that you’ve followed orders.”

  Orders. His tone had shifted, becoming harder and more commanding. This was definitely his Dom tone. A shiver of anticipation ran up her spine. Finally, being with a Dom seemed right. “Should I call you Sir or something?”

  “Let’s hold off on titles for now.” He disappeared down the hall.

  Amy made use of the bathroom. She combed her fingers through her hair and redid her ponytail, and then she checked to make sure she didn’t have anything weird going on with the parts of her skin that would be exposed. Standing in front of the mirror wearing only her bra and underwear was a sobering experience. Though she’d worn her prettiest, laciest underthings, there was no way Jordan was interested in her as anything more than a friend. With a sigh, she hung her dress on a hook on the back of the door. He found her a few minutes later perched on the edge of the sofa, which was surprisingly comfortable, without her dress.

  He sat down next to her, but he leaned back and stretched his arm along the back. “What’s your color?”

  She stared at her hands, folded neatly on her lap, and hoped he hadn’t meant for her to be completely naked. “Green.”

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