BDSM Connections - The Complete 4 Novel Series

by Claire Thompson

  Closing her eyes again, she imagined herself jogging along the shoreline of an ocean, her bare feet gripping the smooth, cool sand as she ran. Soon she would reach her destination, her head held high.

  Her daydream was interrupted when her left calf seized suddenly in a charley horse. Without meaning to, she slammed down on both feet. A spiral of pain shot through her sex as it grated hard against the unforgiving wood. She cried out in pain, tears filling her eyes.

  “Five more minutes.” Taggart had risen from the chair and stood close to her now, his hand resting lightly on her back. “Can you do it, or do I need to let you down?”

  Blowing out a breath, Rylee willed her still cramping calf to relax. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, but her resolve hadn’t weakened. Taggart’s hand on her back centered her.

  She could do this.

  She licked her lips, tasting the salty tang of her sweat as she lifted slowly to the balls of her feet. She turned to Taggart.

  “I can do it, Sir,” she breathed.

  Taggart again wiped her tears away. He searched her face with his probing gaze and then nodded.

  Again Rylee closed her eyes. She was back on the beach, sprinting along the sand as if her heels had wings, the finish line in sight. She was in the zone. She was going to make it.

  Breathe in, breathe out. Don’t fight the pain. Embrace it.

  “Time’s up,” Taggart said softly, his voice in her ear startling her. “The punishment is over.”

  The pressure eased away as he lowered the ropes, removing the sticky, hard board from between her legs. Without its support, Rylee’s exhausted legs crumpled beneath her.

  But Taggart caught her before she fell and scooped her into his strong arms. He carried her in long, easy strides toward the recovery couch, as if she weighed nothing.

  “You did it,” he whispered into her ear as he settled against the cushions, cradling her in his lap. “You made me proud.”

  Chapter 11

  Taggart shifted on the couch, gently positioning Rylee on her back against the cushions as he got to his feet. She lay watching him, her cheeks flushed and still damp with sweat and tears, her tousled hair falling over her face.

  Leaning down, he pushed back her hair and tucked it behind her ears. “You need some aftercare, Rylee. Just lie there and rest while I get a few things.”

  As he moved toward the supply counter, he wondered if she had noticed the shift from R to Rylee, his signal that they were no longer in an active scene.

  Opening a cabinet, he removed a tube of cooling Arnica gel, two washcloths and a hand towel. He dropped the washcloths in the sink at the end of the counter and turned on the tap.

  Reaching beneath the counter, he opened the mini refrigerator and took out a bottle of water and, from the small freezer compartment, a gel icepack. He turned off the tap and squeezed the excess water from the washcloths.

  Placing the items on a small plastic tray, he returned to Rylee, who hadn’t moved. She was staring into the middle distance, apparently lost in a daydream, because she startled a little as he set down the tray.

  She smiled as she focused on his face. “I did it,” she whispered.

  Taggart crouched beside her. “You did,” he agreed. “Thirty minutes on the straddle board is not easy. You handled your punishment with grace, and now we move forward.”

  He dabbed at Rylee’s face and neck with one of the cool, damp washcloths. Folding it in half, he draped it over Rylee’s eyes. “Lie still and relax while I take care of you,” he said, bending down to kiss her cheek.

  Rylee sighed in response, her body fully relaxed.

  Taggart placed his hands on her thighs and gently spread her legs to examine her groin area. Her vulva was dark red, though he didn’t detect any tears or cuts in the delicate flesh. There was some evidence of bruising already visible on her inner thighs, and the skin of her perineum and asshole looked scraped and irritated.

  She stiffened as the damp cloth touched her flesh, but then relaxed again. He washed the area with the second washcloth, making sure to use a light touch. He patted her dry with the hand towel and then daubed the healing salve over her abraded flesh.

  Rylee flinched a little as the cool gel made contact with her skin but otherwise remained still.

  Finally, he placed the icepack against her labia. This time she half sat up, the washcloth falling from her eyes as she exclaimed, “Hey, that’s freezing.”

  “I know, but it’s good for you,” Taggart said, holding the icepack in place. “It will help minimize any swelling or bruising.”

  He held out the bottle of water. “Drink this and then you can have a hot bath, if you’d like.”

  Rylee took the bottle and drank deeply from it. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I would love a bath,” she said. “But I honestly don’t know if I have the strength to walk up the stairs right now.”

  “That’s fine. You rest here a minute. Keep the pack in place and finish your water. I’ll run up and draw the bath.”

  He took the stairs two at a time and moved quickly through the bedroom to the bathroom. Crouching by the tub, he placed the plug in the drain and turned on the hot water. He found a bag of Epsom salts in the closet and brought that, along with a large bath towel, to the tub. After adding a healthy amount of the crystals to the bath water, he tested the temperature, added some cold water. Satisfied, he left the bathroom to return to his sub girl.

  His sub girl.

  He had to grin at himself. Jumping the gun a little, aren’t we, Fitzgerald? he chided himself. True, he was intent on introducing her to the power of submission, but they’d only known each other a few days. The connection was definitely intense between them, stronger than any he’d had with a woman, especially so soon after meeting her, but she wasn’t his.

  Not yet.

  Whoa.

  Where had that come from? If he wasn’t careful, he’d be saying the L word next, a word he’d seen tossed around all too often in his life, though he had yet to grasp its meaning.

  As he entered the bedroom, the flash drive on the table caught his eye, reminding him he had yet to watch it and send Jordan the okay to move forward. He made a mental note to amend the situation as he hurried out of the room and down the stairs.

  Rylee was lying as he had left her, the icepack tucked between her legs, the empty water bottle in her hand, her eyes closed. They opened as he entered the room.

  “Hi,” she said, her smile at once coquettish and shy, making her look both very young and sexy as hell.

  “Hi,” Taggart replied, an almost fierce tenderness moving through him. What was happening to him?

  Approaching her, he said, “Can you sit up? Can you walk?”

  Rylee pushed herself upright and swung her feet over the side of the couch. She stood on wobbly legs.

  Taggart reached out to steady her, gripping her upper arm as she regained her equilibrium.

  “Do you need me to carry you upstairs?”

  She regarded him with a dimpled grin. “I know you’re strong, Tag, but I don’t want to give you a hernia. I can walk. I’m fine, if a little sore.”

  Just the same, Taggart kept his hand on her arm as they moved together through the house toward the stairs. He put his arm around her waist to give her additional support as they climbed the stairs.

  When they entered the bathroom, the tub was nearly full, the mirror over the sink fogged with steam. Taggart helped Rylee into the water, keeping his hand on her arm until she had settled herself.

  She leaned against the rounded back of the deep tub and sighed happily. “Heaven,” she breathed. Resting her head against the rim, she closed her eyes.

  Taggart turned off the taps, save for a dribble of the hot water to keep the water level up. “Take your time,” he said. “There’s a towel beside the tub, and I’ll be within earshot in the bedroom. I’ll come back in a few minutes to check on you.”

  Her eyes still closed, Rylee nodded. “Thank yo
u, Sir,” she said softly.

  Taggart smiled at her usage of the term. Though not required at the moment, he found he liked it nonetheless.

  In the bedroom, he sat on one of the chairs beneath the window and reached for his laptop. Settling it on his knees, he opened the lid and turned it on. Once it was booted up, he inserted the flash drive into the USB hub.

  The three-minute video did a good job of interspersing snippets of the whip making process and a good overview of his inventory with scenes including Marco bound to the cross and Rylee suspended in chains. It was an excellent tease and he was pleased with the results.

  He hit the pause button and set the computer on the table. Returning to the bathroom, he stuck his head in the door.

  Rylee was sprawled in the tub, her eyes still closed, a smile on her lips.

  “Hey there,” Taggart said softly. “Everything okay in here?”

  Rylee opened her eyes and turned her head toward him. “Everything is wonderful,” she said.

  “Okay. Take your time.”

  He returned to the laptop, taking it once more onto his knees. He clicked on the second video, this time fast forwarding until he found what he was looking for.

  Though the image of Rylee’s face in the mirror had been blurred out in editing, the moment he’d remembered so well had been captured for the camera, evident to anyone who knew what he was looking at.

  He backed up the video again, this time watching the whole scene of Rylee’s flogging. It was odd to see himself in action, and a part of him noted his stance and technique, making mental notes of what he’d done well, and where he could use some improvement. But mostly he just admired the chained, naked young woman in the video, his cock hardening with each thuddy stroke of the flogger against her smooth skin.

  When the scene ended, he hit the pause button and backed it up to about a minute prior to that crucial moment just before Jordan had stopped the action.

  When he returned to the bathroom, Rylee was leaning toward the faucets, in the process of pulling the plug from the tub. She turned at the sound of his footsteps.

  “I feel so relaxed and refreshed. I’m ready to get out now.”

  As she stood, Taggart handed her the bath towel.

  Her skin was pink from the hot water, her hair wet at the tips. His cock, erect from the video, throbbed as he watched her dry her body. She started to wrap the towel around herself, but a shake of Taggart’s head stopped her.

  “Hang the towel over the side of the tub,” he said. “Then come into the bedroom. There’s something I want to show you.”

  Rylee obeyed and followed him out of the bathroom.

  He gestured toward the bed. “I was watching the videos Jordan made while you were taking your bath. There’s something I want to show you.”

  Rylee settled herself on the bed. Taggart, the laptop in tow, joined her.

  They sat up against the pillows, legs extended, the laptop between them. Taggart hit the play button and the video sprang to life. Rylee’s breathy, sexy cries were interspersed with the delicious swish and crack of leather against flesh.

  “Oh,” Rylee said softly, her eyes riveted to the small screen.

  As the scene approached its end, Taggart said, “There. Watch what happens.”

  They both watched in silence. Rylee, who had been dancing and twisting as the flogger’s pace and force had intensified, relaxed suddenly, her muscles going limp, her head falling back.

  The scene ended, seguing into a shot panning the various floggers in Taggart’s inventory.

  He clicked the pause button and turned to Rylee.

  “You were about to fly,” he said softly. “I could have taken you further. I could have taken you all the way.”

  Rylee wrinkled her brow and bit her lower lip. “All the way where?”

  “I could have made you fly—taken you over that edge where pleasure and pain truly meld.” He turned to regard her, adding, “I could have given you that uniquely submissive, out-of-body experience where you’re”—he paused, trying to think how he’d heard it described in the past—“floating, deeply at peace in spite of—no—because of what’s happening to you.”

  She looked dubious. “I don’t know,” she said musingly. “I’ve heard about that concept of flying, but I’m not sure I know what it is.”

  Taggart was surprised, even shocked, to think this incredibly responsive, deeply masochistic woman had never achieved what he regarded as the ultimate submissive experience.

  She must have seen his surprise in his face, because she hurried on, “I get what it is to enter an altered headspace, but I wouldn’t call that an out-of-body experience. I think it’s really just a release of endorphins.” She shrugged and then laughed. “Shit, that happens to me after a really intense Jiu Jitsu session or a swimming competition. Not to get too technical, but isn’t it really nothing more than your brain releasing chemicals to reduce your perception of pain?”

  Taggart was quiet as he thought about this. It was true—he had never personally flown, given that he wasn’t on the receiving end of the erotic torture that led to the experience. But he had definitely witnessed and even experienced the process himself in a way, especially when the emotional connection was there.

  “I’m not sure it’s something I can explain to you,” he said finally. “I’ll just have to take you there.”

  ~*~

  Rylee’s wrists were tied with rope, her arms suspended overhead. Watching in the full-length mirror in front of her, she could see Taggart behind her. He had set up a small table on which he now placed a flogger, a single-tail whip and a thick leather paddle that resembled a large spatula.

  As she watched him, he pulled his black T-shirt over his head to reveal his broad, strong torso. Though Rylee’s cunt was still sore from the straddle board, her clit pulsed at the sight of him. He looked good in his jeans, his legs long and muscular, a sexy bulge at his crotch. His feet were bare.

  Earlier she’d fallen into a light doze as they lay together on the bed, and afterward they’d had sandwiches in the kitchen, Taggart again feeding her as she knelt obediently on the cushion by his chair.

  If anyone had told her she’d get off on being fed like a baby, she’d have told them they were nuts. But whatever it was that happened between them when she knelt up, naked, waiting for him to place a morsel of food on her tongue, it was anything but babyish. In fact, it was thrilling in a quiet, deeply sensual way.

  It wasn’t that she felt helpless, precisely, but more like claimed, and, though again it surprised her to admit it, she loved the feeling as long as it was Taggart doing the claiming.

  She was skeptical but intrigued at his insistence that he would make her fly. In the brief time she’d been with Taggart, her body, her mind, and yes, even her heart had reacted in ways she had never experienced. Was she in fact a submissive, those feelings dormant inside of her until “the right man” came along to awaken them? Or was there something more basic at work?

  Was she, for the first time, falling in love?

  Taggart picked up something from the table and came around in front of Rylee. “For this session, R, I’m going to take you through several levels of pain. We will start with the flogger and move from that to the whip and from there to the paddle. These clover clamps will add a nice dimension to the process.”

  He held up the clamps for Rylee to see, causing her nipples to instantly stiffen. “Only your wrists are bound, your legs free. Your submissive task during this session is to remain still and silent, keeping your body and mind as relaxed and receptive to the process as possible. Keep your feet flat on the floor. You will not scream or cry out.”

  He took hold of her right nipple and closed the tight, unforgiving clamp over it.

  Rylee winced as pain rocketed through her nerve endings.

  He clamped the left nipple and lifted the long chain. “To help you keep quiet, you will hold this chain between your teeth.” He pushed the cold metal into her mouth and R
ylee took it obediently in her teeth. The resulting tension in the chain tugged painfully at her nipples.

  Staring into her eyes, Taggart brought his hand to her throat and gripped hard just below her jaw.

  Rylee’s heart, already pumping from the erotic pain at her breasts and the rope around her wrists, jerked into overdrive.

  “Prepare to suffer. I’m going to take you further than you’ve ever gone before.”

  The pressure was building behind her face, her windpipe blocked by his grip.

  All at once, he released his hold on her throat and took a step back.

  Rylee nearly dropped the chain as she automatically sucked in a breath. Using her tongue, she managed to pull the metal links farther back into her mouth, determined to obey her Dom’s every command.

  Taggart returned to stand behind her. He picked up the beautiful flogger he’d used on her during the demo video. She was pleased to see he hadn’t sold it at the BDSM event.

  The flogging was sensual, the leather swishing like a lover’s fingers over her back, ass and thighs. As her skin began to warm, he struck harder, delivering a sweet sting that traveled directly to her pussy.

  Coming around in front of her, he brushed her breasts with the flogger’s many soft tails. While the stroke was not hard, the contact with her clamped nipples was immediate and intense.

  Despite his admonition to remain silent, Rylee gasped around the chain, again nearly dropping it.

  “Flow with the pain,” Taggart urged, his eyes boring into hers. “Draw on your submissive strength. We’re only just beginning.”

  He flogged her stomach, her groin and the fronts of her thighs until her skin was tingling and pink.

  By keeping her focus on his face, Rylee somehow managed to remain still and relatively silent, save for the sound of her heavy breathing around the chain in her mouth.

  Finally he lowered the flogger and cupped her cheek in his large hand. Though his eyes were blazing with lust, his smile was gentle, his voice soft. “You’re doing well, R. You’re ready for the next level.”