What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 7)

by Lexi Buchanan

  “Do you like the feel of the collar?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Yes, what?” she asked with a warning tone. He was pushing her, wanting to get punished.

  He hesitated for a moment. “Yes, Mistress?”

  “Did you forget so quickly?” She swatted him on his ass, and he jumped.

  “Sorry, Mistress.” He wasn’t sorry. He liked pain. Good, she liked giving it.

  “I will call you Romeo tonight. And if you trust me, I can take you to places of pleasure and pain you’ve never experienced before. But the pain is only to intensify the pleasure, never to harm and never to go beyond what you can handle.” He nodded. Not using his real name helped to keep him in the fantasy. “I’ll give you a safe word to let me know when we’ve gone too far. Jupiter is your safe word. Repeat it to me, Romeo.”

  “My safe word is Jupiter, Mistress.”

  “Good. If you need me to slow down or ask me a question because you’re unsure of something, you’ll say yellow. Understand?”

  He nodded.

  “What is your caution word?” she demanded.

  “Yellow, Mistress. May I ask a question?”

  “Yes, Romeo.”

  “How long do I have with you?”

  She hooked her fingers under his chin and raised his head. “Our time together will be over when I say it’s over. Or when you call your safe word.”

  He nodded, eyes wide.

  “I don’t want you to come too soon, because then our session would be over too soon. So I have something I’d like you to wear.” She released his chin and walked over to the table and picked up the device. Test number one. This would tell her how much he was willing to trust her.

  As she approached him with the device in her hand, she watched for his response. He stared at it and cringed.

  “Ever wear one of these before?” She held up a contraption called the Gates of Hell for him to see. He knew what it was by his expression. Behind him, the first lady had a slight smile.

  He shook his head. “No, Mistress. It looks painful.”

  “Not as painful as you may think. But you will have to concentrate on keeping yourself from getting too hard, or it will become painful.”

  A series of five metal rings were evenly spaced and held together by a strip of leather. “Hands at your side.”

  He complied. She took his cock in hand and slid the rings down his semi-hard shaft. The first ring pressed at the base, and the top ring encircled the crown of his cock. “Doesn’t that look hot,” Faith said with a seductive tone. “Turn him toward me so I can get a good look.”

  Melissa placed her hands on her sub’s shoulders and guided him slowly around. Now Faith could see, and those who were watching could, too. “He does look hot, doesn’t he?”

  Romeo’s cock twitched and swelled against the rings.

  “Don’t get too excited. If it does become painful, let me know. I won’t promise to remove it, but I want to know.” Melissa walked him toward a piece of furniture, a spanking bench. “Kneel for me.”

  He did. She stretched his arms out on the armrests while stroking his shoulders and back. “Comfortable?”

  “Yes, Mistress.” She picked up a bottle of scented oil from the table, poured a few drops into her hand and rubbed her hands together.

  “When Faith had you to tea, you said you wanted to experience the feel of a flogger on your skin.”

  “Yes, Mistress.” His body vibrated on the bench, and he gripped the armrest.

  “How about a cane?”

  He didn’t answer for a long time.

  “Romeo, when I ask you a question, I expect an answer.”

  “I don’t know about the cane, Mistress. But if it pleases you.” He lowered his head and voice, which told her a lot about how he felt about the cane. Part of being a good Domme was being able to read body language.

  “We’ll use the cane as punishment.”

  “Yes, Mistress. I’ll try to please you so I won’t need to be punished.”

  She massaged the oil into his shoulders. He trembled beneath her touch. Slowly, she moved down to his back, buttocks and thighs. He sighed, and she could feel the muscles relaxing, his breathing slow. When she used the flogger on him, she’d have less of a chance of breaking the skin.

  Melissa put the oil down, then stood in front of her sub. “You like the boots, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Mistress.” She noticed him moving his ass when he answered.

  “What would you like to do to these boots?”

  “Mistress, I would like to lick them or kiss them if it would please you.”

  She waved over the first lady. “And what about my assistant’s shoes? Aren’t they pretty? Would you like to lick her toes, too?”

  Faith wore a pair of red five-inch platform peek-toed heels.

  “Yes, Mistress.” He breathed heavy now and groaned.

  “Is your cock getting too hard?”

  “I’m trying to be good, Mistress.”

  She put her hand under his chin. “The cane will be punishment. Licking boots and toes will be a reward, later. For now, you must look straight ahead at that mural of Niagara Falls.”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  She chose a flogger with knotted thongs. This would be especially painful and guaranteed a response and marks. Quite a few bruises. She needed a number of marks to show. She worked across his shoulders, watching him flinch with each strike but not making a sound. As the skin became rosy, she moved down to his buttocks and then his thighs. He cried out when she struck his ass and thighs. She stopped and stroked his back, gently running her nails over his skin until he shivered.

  “How are you doing, Romeo? Is it too hard?”

  “Not yet. I like it. I like pleasing you, Mistress.”

  “Good answer.” She increased the intensity, and Romeo whimpered and moaned with each strike.

  She continued to strike him over and over, not hitting the same place twice but working up into a fevered rhythm. Red marks rose on his skin, but she was careful not to break the skin. He was a bit of a masochist. If she kept the rhythm up, he might drift into subspace. In this altered state, a submissive reached a level of extreme comfort and acceptance, physically and emotionally. If she wasn’t careful, she could go beyond his limits, even harm him, while in this state. That would please her audience.

  “Hmmm. Ahhh,” he moaned and slumped on the bench but kept his head up. His eyes looked a bit glazed. He was getting close.

  She stopped for a moment, checking him and admiring the network of red lines across his back, buttocks and thighs. “Want me to stop?” she asked.

  He hesitated.

  “I asked you a question. I expect an answer.”

  “If I say yes, will you punish me?”

  “I will punish you for not answering or lying to me. Have you had enough?” she asked, raising her voice.

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “I don’t think so. I think we’re just getting started.” She picked up a paddle and held it against his ass. “Do you think you could handle a few whacks?”

  He breathed rapidly again. “Oh yes.” She whacked him hard, but not too hard, on one buttock. She didn’t want to finish him off too soon. He cried out and sounded angry.

  Then she smacked the other side. He mumbled something under his breath but kept looking at the mural.

  “Did you say something?”

  “No, Mistress.” The purpose wasn’t to hurt him as much as she could. Well, in a way it was. She wanted to push him to surrender to her. Right now, he was enjoying the pain and showing off his ability to withstand it. That was defiance, not what she was going for. She wanted an exchange of power, respect.

  “Get up. Over to the cross.” She stood alongside him, making sure he was steady on his feet. If he was going into subspace, he might stagger like a drunk. He was a little wobbly but okay. She purposely walked him around, displaying him in clear view for their hidden audience. Faith gav
e her a slight nod of approval.

  When she brought him up to the St. Andrew’s Cross positioned in the center of the room, he immediately leaned, face-forward, without instruction, arms wrapped around the juncture and legs stretched out, resting against the thick wooden planks.

  Melissa didn’t even need to strap his wrists and legs to the cross with leather restraints. He was quite a willing participant. This time, she took two floggers, one in each hand, and rapidly struck him in a Florentine fashion like a pinwheel.

  After several minutes, Romeo moaned, pleaded for more, then begged her to stop, but didn’t call out the safe word. He slumped against the cross, knees buckling. Moaning and mumbling to himself, he was gone, far into subspace. Melissa felt she couldn’t and shouldn’t go any further. She glanced back at Faith.

  The first lady drew a slow slashing motion across her neck, making an inconspicuous “cut” motion. The signal that the session was done.

  “Okay, Romeo. I’m going to get you down now.” The first lady pushed a chair over while Melissa helped him step away from the cross. The two women guided their sub into the chair. He stumbled and swayed, barely able to hold himself up. “Here, let me get this off.” Melissa slid the Gates of Hell off his cock. Romeo sucked in a breath as if in pain for a moment. Then she took off the collar.

  “Did I come?” he asked.

  Melissa giggled. She saw no sign that he had and found it interesting that he was so far into subspace that he didn’t know himself. “Yes, you were wonderful. Here, have some water, and we’ll help you get dressed. Someone will take you back to your hotel.”

  Unlike Alana, who liked to see their victim’s reaction, Melissa didn’t want to be anywhere around Rutu when he heard the news.

  Chapter Seven

  Zoe’s old townhouse in Georgetown felt more like home than his own place. She lived on a quiet street, had nice neighbors she actually knew and had a backyard. The only thing missing was the picket fence and a man mowing the lawn.

  “Mrs. Snyder won’t complain about you waking her up this late?” Jason yawned as she rang Mrs. Snyder’s doorbell. A mixture of exhaustion and guilt weighed him down. As much as he wanted to tell her about how she got the job and what she was in for, it was late and they were both exhausted.

  “How long have you been up?” she asked him.

  He checked his watch. “About thirty hours. Even my hair is exhausted.” He yawned again. Damn, he still wanted her bad.

  Zoe knocked on the door. “Mrs. Snyder? Beth? It’s Zoe.”

  The door swung open, and an attractive woman in her seventies blinked up at the two of them. She eyed Jason suspiciously. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, this is my coworker, Jason. I’m so sorry to wake you, but we got involved in a late project, and my keys are at the White House. Can I have my spare?”

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” She studied Jason again.

  “Yes.” Zoe laughed a little. “Jason’s an old friend.”

  “Oh.” Mrs. Snyder smiled and nodded as if she got the inside joke. “I’ve got it right here. I let Dexter out around six and gave him his food.” She retrieved the key on a table by the door and handed it to her.

  “Thank you,” Zoe said. “Sorry to wake you.”

  “Enjoy your evening,” the woman said with a smirk as she closed the door.

  “My way of breaking in,” Zoe said.

  “Nice neighbor. Guess I’ll be going.” The lack of sleep was quickly catching up to him.

  “No, you’re staying here. You’re not driving across town at this hour. I don’t want to hear about you falling asleep and getting into an accident.”

  “Hmmm. You want me to stay? I think I’m getting my second wind.” He grinned as she unlocked the door.

  She play-punched him in the arm. The moment she opened the door, Dexter was there to greet her and Jason. He jumped up on her, offering licks to her hands and face, then looked at Jason cautiously for a few seconds then, deciding he was a friend, leaped onto him as well.

  “Dexter, down,” Zoe ordered. The pooch half-listened. “Push him down if he keeps jumping, I haven’t been home much to work with him.”

  “Down, Dexter,” Jason said with a firm tone, and the dog sat instantly and looked up at him, anticipating the next order.

  Zoe rolled her eyes. “Terrific. My dog takes orders from a stranger. He’ll make a great watchdog.”

  Jason laughed. “He’ll be fine. He’s still a puppy. Once he has a hundred pounds behind him, no stranger will come into his domain without facing consequences.”

  Jason followed her inside with Dexter at his heels. Zoe flicked on a Tiffany lamp on an end table, placing the room in a soft glow. The place was spotless, with simple traditional furnishings, hardwood floors, and lots of stained woodwork.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” She opened the back door and let the dog out.

  “I’m good.” He examined the fireplace in the living room. “Does it work?”

  “Yes, wood-burning.”

  “Great.” He took a breath. This was probably a bad time for spilling guts. “I guess I owe you an explanation.”

  “For tonight?”

  He shrugged. “That and for why I left Langley without telling you.”

  She sat on the sofa and put her feet up on her coffee table. For a neat freak, that was an odd thing to do. “At first I thought you went on a mission that ran into some complications, then I heard you left or were reassigned. Later, Big D said you left but gave no details. Typical. I figured you lost interest.”

  He sat next to her on the sofa and took her hand. “That wasn’t quite right. I did get reassigned. But I should’ve contacted you. I wanted to. I got involved in a complicated project and was sent overseas right away.”

  “It’s late. Let’s talk about this another time.” She got up and let Dexter inside. He got a drink of water from his bowl, then curled up on his doggy pillow in the living room.

  “Okay. We’ll talk about it later.” Jason patted her thigh.

  She got up and walked into the other room, her bedroom, he assumed, and closed the door.

  Crap. That was that. He deserved it. What did he expect? That she’d forgive him and jump right in the sack? At least the sofa felt comfortable. He took off his shirt, pulled a throw blanket from the back of the sofa, and stretched out. Dexter hopped onto the couch and curled around his legs. He considered pushing him off, but the dog looked at him with soulful brown eyes. “Okay, I don’t know the rules, so just this once.” The dog gave a loud sigh.

  Zoe dug through her dresser drawer, looking for her sexy lingerie, the black lace shift with red ribbons running through it. The cups barely covered her breasts and made her look two cup sizes larger, thanks to a little padding and underwire. She left her scarf on the dresser. Jason was the one person who understood and either didn’t see the scar, or ignored it. She loved him for that.

  Was she a fool getting involved with him again? Feeling his body and his response in the hidden passageway was more than she could resist. There always had been amazing heat between them, and for what was going on in that secret passage, she knew he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  Details could come later. They were adults. They could enjoy each other’s company if they wanted. If a relationship was meant to be, they could work it out.

  She knew he cared, had really cared for her once. They’d worked on a few dangerous missions. You learn a lot about a person during a crisis, even someone who was trained to deal with crisis situations.

  The first one had been in Israel. They’d been gathering intel on arms dealers. One of the dealers left his grandmother sitting in a chair near a flower vendor as a lookout. Zoe was to take photos of the people coming and going from the building, not approach. The building was under renovation and empty except for construction workers. But when a contractor’s truck blocked her view, she decided to go inside. When the grandmother noticed Zoe enter a building, she ale
rted her grandson. Jason almost blew his cover, and the mission, to rescue her before the men got to her.

  He shouldn’t have returned to the scene. He’d had the intel he needed even without her photos. The information was too important and the risk too great, but he risked his life anyway.

  The incident in Turkey had been even worse. That nightmare she’d rather forget. Months later, he’d left Langley without a word. All this time, he was working Secret Service.

  Had another woman stepped in? Or another mission? Or had he lost interest? If that was the case, she would walk away. Either way, she’d survive and put it behind her. Right now, she wanted him. Every cell in her body was hot for him. She didn’t care what he did or who he’d been with. Her pussy was soaked, her nipples hard and sensitive. In those secret passages, he’d worked her up, and now she needed a release.

  Leaving her bedroom, she walked into the living room where Jason lay on the sofa, asleep, snoring softly. Months ago, that hard body had made love to her in the most exotic places. Dexter was also asleep at his feet. He wasn’t supposed to be on the couch, but she didn’t want to disturb Jason. Her body reacted to Jason’s nearness, but she didn’t have the heart to wake him. Fuck.

  She drew the throw blanket over his chest, turned out the lights, went back into her room and went to bed.

  The next morning she woke to the smell of bacon and coffee. Rolling over, she glanced at her clock. 8:55 a.m. They’d gotten to bed after three. She climbed out of bed and made a quick stop in her bathroom. As she suspected, makeup had left dark smudges under her eyes, and her hair looked and felt like a bale of hay stomped on by a horse.

  After running a comb through her hair and quickly brushing her teeth, she wrapped herself in a silk robe and headed for the kitchen. “Something smells good.”

  He stood at the stove, barefoot, shirtless and wearing only his trousers. Dexter sat on the floor munching on something. She assumed a slice of bacon. Jason knew how to win him over.

  “Morning,” he said over his shoulder as he continued cooking the eggs.

  Her insides thrummed, ached for him all over again. She marched straight for the coffeepot and poured two mugs.