Drew’s room was an enormous space with floor to ceiling windows that showcased Central Park and provided the perfect frame for Strawberry Fields, now dark and shadowy against the night sky. The furniture was heavy, dark and masculine. A four-poster bed of steel sat as the centerpiece, accented with crisp linens in hues of blue and gray, all appointed in the finest cottons and fabrics that money could buy.
Unable to fight her fascination with this side of his life, she looked around. A dark Basquiat painting—an obtuse depiction of a tormented young man’s mind—hung just above the bed. Another equally disturbing work from Keith Haring, a graffiti rendering of a man with X marking the spot for his heart, covered the far wall. Drew’s tastes in art clearly reflected his shattered soul within—discorded and tangled in a web of tumult.
So soothing yet conflicting, Maxine thought, much like the man who slept in that bed every night.
Although this room was a gallery of sorts, providing her glimpses into that dark world of which Drew refused to revisit for the moment, what captured Maxine’s focus was the display of implements he’d arranged on the bed. A flogger. A whip. And a paddle with holes carved deep into the thick wood.
Fuckballs.
When he caught her in his arms, Maxine held her breath. She knew there would be no kisses—at least for the moment—but she didn't need them.
He searched her eyes, exploring for any traces of doubt, only to find a vivid eagerness that only enhanced her innocence. “Do you trust me enough to play for a little while?”
“Yes,” she heaved readily. “Yes, Sir, I do...”
“You're submitting to me tonight freely, Maxine?”
“I am, Sir...”
Satisfaction, with more than a hint of tenderness, eased into his smile. “Now, we're still taking this slowly, and I've been honest with you as we've gone along so far,” he reminded her. “This time, it's going to hurt.”
Her mind raced back to the so-called toys he’d left on the bed so purposefully for her to see, to touch, and to examine. “I understand that, Sir...”
“And your safewords are...”
Maxine interrupted him, so anxious to impress. “Green, yellow and red...”
Dipping his head, he closed his mouth over her breast, still covered by her blouse, and bit down deep into her nipple. Flinching against him, Maxine cried out.
“Green...yellow...and red...Sir...”
Suckling gently in reward for correcting her mistake, he murmured, “Good girl...” he said. “But don't ever interrupt me in here, understand?”
“Yes...” She closed her eyes and wavered in his arms. “...Sir...”
Releasing her but still standing close enough to ensure that she didn't stumble and fall on her own two feet, Drew said, “I want you to undress now. And I want you to kneel by the bed, on the floor, with your head down. Just like that very first night we met. Remember that, Maxine? When I put you down on your hands and knees on your living room floor?”
His careful instruction throughout their first week together had finally come full circle. She’d begun to understand that everything Drew did to her and for her served a greater purpose. Even with her lack of knowledge of kink, she’d enjoyed that first foray into obedience immensely. At the time, she didn’t understand her arousal, but now, she truly felt as if she were beginning to grow just a tiny bit comfortable with what he expected from her.
“Oh, yes, Sir…”
In truth, Maxine couldn't wait to rip off her little blouse. Her breasts were so sensitive, ready to be plucked again after his tender torture in the kitchen. In one swift movement, she lifted the shirt over her head, then tossed it on the floor, ready to tackle her jeans. Fumbling with the button, Maxine struggled to keep herself from tumbling over, then tugged at the zipper. Wiggling her hips, she allowed the denim to shimmy down her legs and kicked at her feet almost violently as she stepped out of them.
She stood for a moment, enjoying the look of gnawing need on his face, but turned immediately when Drew pointed his finger toward the floor.
Carefully, she bent down, her knees scraping against the silk carpet, and dutifully dropped her head. She could feel Drew's hands on her back, pushing her further so that her breasts were flat against her thighs. She lifted her bottom just slightly—exposed for his viewing—as her locks of silky hair fanned out over her back.
“Your jeans are soaked, Maxine. So much laundry to do with you around...” She could hear his steps around the room, wondering what he was doing. “And just like a child—you didn't pick up your clothes once again...”
“I'm sorry, Sir...” Maxine stirred at his reference to the previous evening when her dress, bra, and panties disappeared to the floor.
“Why do you think I was pointing?” However, he answered his own question. “To direct you to your task at hand. I expect you to be neat when we play. You’ll pick up your clothes herein.”
“Yes, Sir…”
“So what the hell am I going to do with you, Maxine?” Drew muttered. Maxine could feel him near again, but still couldn't see him from her vantage point. “I know you're new to all of this, but training you is certainly going to a Herculean effort on my part...”
He was walking again, and once more, Maxine became aware of the heights to which her senses could climb when one was impaired. There were some rattling noises, a scratch against the wall. Perhaps he'd fetched an implement from his impressive collection on display to use upon her in play.
All the while, she wiggled her behind, so anxious to discover what he planned to do to her next.
“Still yourself, Maxine,” he ordered, and she could feel the gentle stroke of something soft, almost feathery, against her bottom. “Otherwise, I may have to restrain you again...”
The soft caresses of whatever he wielded in his grip glided up her back, tickled her shoulders, and then swept down so delicately again, as Drew continued to disparage. “Sometimes, I think you're going to do such an excellent job as my submissive,” he began, “but you really seem to enjoy testing the waters with me. That sassy little mouth. The defiance. The inability to control yourself...”
As he sat down on the bed, his legs right next to a kneeling Maxine, Drew ordered, “Get up now.”
She had to rely on the bed to brace herself as she pushed upward, then stood beside him. Maxine's eyes locked on the leather flogger in his hand.
“Before I punish you, I want you to be aware of everything you've done to displease me since just this morning...”
“Yes, Sir...”
“I thought we’d gone through all of your misdeeds last night, but you just can’t seem to behave, can you?”
“Apparently, not, Sir…” Oh, please be a kind one tonight, she thought. Her eyes followed every movement of that flogger he continued to wield as if she were watching a tennis match.
“Now, remember what you did when we were in the kitchen this morning?” he questioned but didn't give her the chance to respond. “You shook your bare little ass at me. And do you know why that's an infraction, Maxine?”
“Because...” she struggled with her words. “Because it...because when I do it...it turns you on, Sir...”
“So you already knew this,” he said, waving the flogger, “...and yet you did it just to toy with me...”
“I'm sorry, Sir...”
“Oh, we'll see how sorry you'll be in a minute here,” he retorted. “That mouth alone is worth a full punishment…”
“But you like it when I swear, Sir,” she insisted. “You told me…”
“It’s not the swearing, little one,” he said. “It’s the pouting and the insistence and the whining that’s your downfall. Submissives should be grateful at all times. And I’m starting to think that you don’t appreciate your Master enough here.”
“But I do, Sir…”
“Insistence. Again,” he murmured, circling around her again and dragging the leather strands over her belly button just to tickle her. “We need to work on this.
I won’t tolerate a mouthy plaything—no matter how fucking cute you are.”
“I’ll try harder, Sir,” she sniffled.
While she had no intentions of crying, there was just something so demoralizing yet tantalizing about standing in front of him without a stitch of clothing, listening to him rattle off the list of her transgressions. Once again, Drew had drawn her in, coercing her to play this role of the scolded submissive...and Maxine couldn't resist performing accordingly.
“I also don't appreciate interruptions,” he continued. “Like this morning—again—when I was trying to order breakfast for you. What the fuck were you thinking snapping at my boxer shorts?”
“I just thought…I didn’t…I wanted to…”
“Hush,” he warned, raising his index finger. “Proper manners, Maxine. If you're going to be my submissive, you need to have some respect for me. You've been cutting me off since we walked into this room. Now stand still and pay attention.”
The assault of his wicked words upon her senses made it so very difficult for Maxine to stand at all. Fuck, she wanted him. “Yes, Sir.”
“And let's not forget that little scene outside the bedroom door just now,” he reminded her. “If you pulled something like that when we were at play, you could be hurt. I take your safety very seriously, and you need to do the same. Are you listening to me?”
“Yes,” she squeaked. “Yes, Sir...”
“I hope so,” he snapped. “And one last thing here…”
“Yes, Sir?”
As he caught her chin in his fingers, he held the flogger right against her face, the leather pressed against her cheek. “Don’t you ever dare try to spank me again…”
“No, Sir…” her lips quivered as her body began to sink on her wobbly knees. “No, Sir, never again…”
He released her rather suddenly, took his seat on the bed, and then said, “Now, I want you over my knees. And we're going to discuss the consequences.”
The thrill that trickled up her spine as she crawled across the strength of his thighs sent shivers through her entire body. She squirmed against him as he patted her bottom, fingers kneading and massaging.
“I'm going to spank you, but I'm going easy on you tonight—just twenty cracks in total.” Maxine never felt so small as she did at that moment, draped over Drew's lap. “Usually, you can expect five cracks for every misdeed.”
“With the flogger?” she asked—begged.
“Absolutely not tonight. That's too much for right now,” he said, prompting Maxine's simper. “What? My hand isn't good enough for you?”
“Your hand is fine, Sir,” she managed, still wiggling as his fingers continued their dance over her skin. Although she was so lost in lust, she did take note that he kept his promise. He communicated his needs and ascertained her comfort level. Had she refused him, Maxine knew he would have stopped.
“Again, I'll suspend the rule for tonight, and you can come when you need to, but expect some lessons in control very soon,” he warned. “Right now, you need to remain very still—” His sigh surged with frustration. “—and you must use your safewords if you're in distress. If it's red, we stop immediately. Got it?”
“Yes, Sir!”
Without warning, Drew's hand cracked against her bare bottom, scorching a hot sting over her skin as the sound echoed through the quiet room.
“Oww...” Maxine wailed, reeling more from shock than pain.
After waiting a moment just to determine her initial reaction, he spanked her again, then once more, scattering his strikes to give her entire backside a pink glow and eliciting a guttural moan from her with every whack. By the time he'd smacked her five times, she was writhing in his lap.
Drew stopped. “How are we doing?”
Maxine was so thankful that he'd taken a break, even if it was just for a moment, that she heaved with relief. She needed these seconds of absolute stillness just to regain a scrap of control.
Pressing her breasts, her nipples—so tender and raw from over-stimulation—into his thigh, she whimpered, “I'm fine...I mean...green. Green, Sir...”
“Good girl...”
From Maxine's vantage point, she couldn't see the delighted smile on Drew's lips. He cracked her again, alternating with the sweet caress of his palms circling around the imprint of his hands all over her tender pale skin. Over and over he continued with his careful balance of pain and tenderness, inching her closer and closer to the edge with every strike.
“Ten…” he said, slowing his hands once more to caress. “Color?”
“Green, Sir,” she said. “Green…”
Maxine had been trying so hard to prove to him that she could contain herself—exert some of that self-control of which Drew preached and practiced so often—but she was so desperate for release.
Shaking, kicking and wiggling on his lap as he struck his fifteenth blow, she shouted, “I'm coming, Drew...”
“That's it, little one...” He stopped once more, breathing ragged, as his fingers gripped her hips so tightly to break any potential fall. “Let it go for me...let it go...”
When she came, so fast and sharp, she gasped with every shudder that claimed her, shocked by the savagery of her own need. Maxine never imagined that the possibilities could seem so limitless for her own pleasure—that she could plunge into a state of ecstasy through her own pain.
“Love it when you come so hard like that,” he muttered in encouragement. “You can’t fucking stop, can you? Like a little machine…and all I have to do is press the button. You just love being spanked, don’t you? Don’t you, little one?”
“Yes…yes…Sir…” she managed. “Oww, coming…”
After Maxine had relaxed enough to focus on her punishment again, he continued to spank her through twenty swats, each crack intensifying the electric aftershocks of her orgasm. As she cried out once more with his final blow, Drew leaned over and kissed the top of her head.
“You did well,” he rasped, his erection reminding her of his own needs with the zipper of his jeans scratching against her side. “So proud of you, little one.”
Drew's hands were so smooth, soothing over her bare red bottom. The contrast from the tickle of his touch over her sore, bruised skin brought yet another sensation to the forefront of her sexual consciousness. Every single second with him was a thrilling new experience, eliciting responses that she never knew she was capable of feeling.
“Thank you,” her tiny voice echoed, “Kind Sir...”
“You are most welcome,” he said, his lips skimming over her ass where he’d just spanked her. “This is how I enjoy you most, Maxine. Compliant. And grateful. Remember that.”
“Yes, Sir…compliant…grateful…”
“Are you ready for a little more?”
He could see her grin widen. “More spanking?”
“No, Maxine,” he said. “More sexing…”
“Please, Drew, please, yes,” she moaned. She’d been needing him since he pulled out of her the night before. “I mean…Sir…please, Sir…”
The bed had already been turned down. As Drew eased Maxine up onto the soft sheets, she moved to rest on her back, but he wrapped his hands around her waist, guiding her to her stomach.
“What...are you...”
“I want to see your little pink ass while I have you...” Maxine could hear the rough tug of his zipper, the rip of the condom wrapper, and the throaty roar of the groan that reverberated from his lips. “Come quickly, Maxine... because I'm taking you fast...”
With one swift shove, he filled her—so taut and so deep that Maxine thought he might lift her off the bed with a single thrust of his hips. Just as he had the night before, he held her waist, synching her rhythm with his own.
As promised, he carried her with him on a feverish mission, pushing and pulsing—forcing Maxine to keep up. With every stroke, she could feel the lingering embers of her last climax building anew, burning deep within to uncover a new core of sensation. So rough and unyieldi
ng, he rushed her along, exploring her so deeply that she could have sworn that she could feel his thrusts within her belly.
Yet she couldn't get enough of him and met him at every pulsating challenge. His tenderness left her satisfied to the greatest degree, but his feral side spiraled Maxine to such depths of pleasure that left her sore, raw, trembling—and begging for more.
Just as quickly, his fingers found their way between her legs to toy with her clit, exaggerating the pleasure that nearly burbled over inside her. Plucking and pulling, he could feel her tighten around him.
“Now or never, little one...” his words were almost brutal against her ear.
“Yes...now...” Maxine cried, clawing at the sheets and pounding her tiny fists against the mattress, releasing her needs, her fulfillment—herself—to Drew and to him alone.
“Fuck...” he muttered, ravaging her in those final seconds of his all-consuming release. “So fucking perfect…so fucking beautiful...”
“Drew...” she breathed, as he collapsed against her with a groan borne of both relief and despair. “Oh, Drew...”
Within seconds, the mercury shifted yet again, as their shallow breaths slowly became one. His lips passed along her neck and swept over her shoulders before caressing sweetly down her spine. Drew knew he could have stayed inside her forever and a day, but he also had some responsibilities to take care of, and carefully pulled away.
As Maxine slowly recovered, she never felt so exhausted yet appeased, her limbs languid as the tremors settled beneath her skin. Her exhaustion-heavy eyelids closed, and she settled into the calm after the storm.
“Lift your head, little one,” Drew caressed her cheek and slipped a pillow beneath her when he returned to Maxine in bed. “Just rest and let me take care of you...”
Stretching out, she sighed, then hugged the pillow, murmuring, “Mmm...”
“Are you cold?” he asked. “Do you need a blanket?”
“Not at all, Sir,” Maxine whispered.
“So, how was your first official play session?” His lips returned to their exploration—trailing each rib, every vertebra, all the way down to the small of her back.
WRAPPED: The Manhattan Bound Series, Book Two Page 6