Kyra chuckled but her eyes looked serious. Maybe even annoyed. Drew wondered what nerve he’d hit, but he didn’t have to wonder long. “Why is it abuse when a woman’s on top, but a bit of fun when it’s you?”
Ah, so that was it. “It isn’t. It’s abuse when it’s abuse, no matter who does it. And frankly, male submissives are more likely to use that word to describe what they want, and maybe that means their use of the word is wrong. For everyone, there is a line not to be crossed, and maybe that’s when it becomes abuse, but I do know that a lot of what other people do crosses my lines for myself. There are things I won’t do. And as much as I’d like not to judge other people’s kink, there are some things I won’t condone.” He opened the door for her but she hesitated. It was pitch-black inside, so that was understandable. He went in ahead of her, found the light switch to the right of the door and flicked the lights on. There was a hum as power surged through the overhead fluorescents. He’d always tuned out the sound in a crowd of people but it seemed loud now. He made a mental note to tell Ken to have the ballasts checked sometime.
It didn’t seem to bother Kyra, who stepped in as soon as the room was illuminated. Drew shut the door behind her, and locked it.
“What sort of things wouldn’t you do?” she asked.
He chuckled. “Lots of things. Jump from an airplane without a parachute. But that’s not what you meant.” He considered it, aware she was watching him. Was she interested for her book, or simply because she wanted to be reassured about the answer? “Some stuff is plain gross. And I won’t do verbal abuse. There’s that word again. If someone submits to me, I treasure that, and I’m not going to tell them that they’re sinful or somehow any less because of their desires. And I won’t do anything that I wouldn’t be willing to have done to me.”
“Well, some things are physically impossible to do to you, and I’ve already experienced you doing some of them to me.” Kyra grinned at him.
“Point.” He led her into the main room of the club. Without a party going on, the whole place looked even bigger than it normally did.
“You are only a man, after all,” Kyra said. She withdrew her hand from his, giggled, and took off at a run. Not toward the exit, but across the big, empty floor in the middle.
He shook his head, grinned, heaved his bag and sent it skidding across the floor toward where he intended to play with her, and then gave chase. She ran around a spanking bench, then hid behind an X-frame, and no doubt would dart whichever way he didn’t go around. He knew he’d get her in the long run. If he didn’t miss his guess, she was catching her breath even now, and he ran 10Ks four times a year. He thought about faking one way and catching her when she ran the other, but she seemed to be having fun. So he lumbered to the left. As expected she ran the other way. Most of the tables and chairs had been put away to the sides, so she couldn’t use those. She dodged around the sofa near the middle of the room, grabbed a hitching post as she went past to help her make a tight turn along the far wall, and ran until she got behind a waxing table.
Not willing to appear to be fooled by the same trick twice, he went straight through the middle this time, jumping up on the spanking bench and grabbing for her. She ducked and ran along to her right along the wall, toward the swing. Right near his toy bag.
Perfect. He put on a burst of speed and caught her around the waist. “I’ve got you now.”
She struggled for a fraction of a second before relaxing back in his arms. “So you do. What are you going to do with me?”
“First, I’m going to rip your clothes off.”
She leaned back and smiled at him, breathing hard. “Would you like me to scream?”
“Only if you want to.” He took hold of one side of the collar of her blouse and yanked down and away. The buttons popped in rapid succession, and only one of them came off entirely. Drew made note of where it rolled. He’d sew it on later, if she wanted him to.
“Eek,” she murmured softly.
He undid her bra and cupped her breasts. Running around had cooled his ardor, but now his cock was swelling again. Her breasts were soft and heavy in his hands. He felt her nipples harden against his palm. He didn’t think his hands were cold.
“Mmmmm, Master,” she purred, leaning back into him. “Am I a bad girl for running like that?”
“No. It was fun. It is fun.”
“I was kind of wondering if maybe I needed to be punished.” She looked up at him.
“And what did you decide?”
“That it isn’t my decision.”
“Maybe you need to be rewarded for being fun and letting me catch you.” Let, my foot. He was sure she was running full tilt from the way she had been catching her breath. But she seemed to have recovered now.
“Hmmm. What would I get if I was being punished?”
“A spanking.”
“And for a reward?”
He grinned. “A spanking.”
She twisted in his grasp and he decided to let her, although his arms still encircled her. The friction of her body against his was delicious. “So what’s the difference?” she asked.
He laughed. “You’re learning.” He picked her up and over his shoulder. Her long hair brushed against his back and her feet kicked in front of him. “I wouldn’t struggle if I were you, you’re not getting free, and if I dropped you it would probably hurt.” He set her against the swing. It wasn’t designed primarily for someone to be ass-skyward in it, but he knew it would work well enough. He placed her so her stomach was against the “seat”, which was about three times as wide as a child’s swing. Her breasts dangled over one edge, nicely available to him. He attached her wrists to the cuffs above and her ankles to the cuffs below. Her legs were spread that way and her pussy was visible over the edge of the seat. Lovely. She had to arch her back to get comfortable with the way the cuffs were placed, but he didn’t expect her to have any trouble for the short time he was going to keep her in that position.
Still, he asked. Better safe than sorry. “You okay?”
“Yes.” As an afterthought, “Sir.”
Now why did I want her to say Master, instead? Habit carried him forward, so he didn’t linger on it. He couldn’t afford to get lost in his own headspace when he had a lovely lady like Kyra at his mercy and needing his attention. “If at any time any part of you feels numb or tingly, you let me know, okay? Especially your extremities, your hands and your feet.”
“Yes Sir.”
Did the words represent pulling back for her? Or did she remember what he wanted to be called and was trying to please him? He didn’t know. She’d say her safe word if she really wanted to pull back, he supposed. “You remember your safe word?”
Kyra nodded and shivered. “Yes Sir.”
“Cold?” He massaged her ass, warming it up.
“Anxious. It actually feels, um, rather warm in here.”
“Thank goodness it’s summer. On the other hand, in the winter I wouldn’t take you here alone. The place needs a crowd to keep it warm.” He leaned forward, nestling the bulge in his jeans in the crack of her ass and spreading his body over her back. The swing naturally moved her forward. He reached around, cupped her nice, full breasts, and pulled her back. She’d get her spanking. It would have to wait for a few minutes, because he had a devilish urge he wanted to make sure she was ready for.
He stroked the peaks of her breasts, teasing them to hardness. Her areolas bunched up and felt deliciously bumpy to his fingertips, a sharp contrast with the smoothness of the skin around them. She purred. All the while he flexed and straightened his knees, swinging her back and forth softly. When his fingers closed in around her nipples and squeezed, she jumped, the chains that held the swing clanking at the sudden movement. The weight of his torso held her in place.
“Good or bad, Kyra?”
“Bad! Well, good. I—”
He gave her a moment to finish, and let her go only when it was clear she wasn’t going to. The little moan of disappoi
ntment told him what he wanted to know.
He gave Kyra a small push to send her rocking and then took a couple of steps, grabbing the strap of his bag and pulling it closer. It might look like an innocent Redskins sports bag, but inside was a collection of sensation toys ranging from the gentle to the intense. Some were homemade, some were bought from craftspeople in the scene, and some were perfectly normal objects that most people never had a sexual thought about, like a horse’s grooming brush or a bunch of tiny clothespins on a string. But the bag was well organized, like his kitchen. He knew the importance of being able to lay his hands on exactly what he wanted when he wanted it.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get your spanking.” He pushed her with his hip, knowing how important some kind of touch was, and he wanted to stall for a few seconds. His hands were busy rubbing a length of chain with two little tweezer clamps on each end. Even on a hot day, metal could feel quite cold, and that wasn’t the sensation he was after.
“I wasn’t worried!” she insisted. Her voice held a humor to it he appreciated. He’d never been fond of subs that spent all their time cowering and mewling. But Kyra had as much spirit as anyone he’d met. More. And given how recently she’d thought that people like him were simply evil, she showed extraordinary courage in tackling the feelings she now felt.
He leaned over her again from behind, his body covering hers, and reached around with his hands. Caressing her left breast with his fingers, he was delighted to find its peak still hard and ready to be clamped.
“Sir, I’m feeling a tingling,” Kyra said, her voice calm, trusting and undistressed.
Shit. He noted the fact that she trusted him to take care of it in the back of his mind, but he got off her and moved quickly to the cuffs her wrists were tied to as the most likely suspect even as he asked her, “Where?”
“My nipples.” She giggled.
She knows full well what she’s done, and I really should punish her for it. Safety is serious business. He’d been really worried about her, and she’d made a joke of it. On one level, he could accept that it was funny. But his desire to make sure Kyra was safe was too intense for him to laugh. The little wench was grinning from ear to ear too.
“Very funny, Kyra,” he said when he thought he could keep his voice even. “And don’t think I don’t see the humor. But I’m very serious about your safety, and I expect you to be serious about it too. A tingling in your hands or feet could mean that your blood supply wasn’t flowing to those parts properly, and that could be very dangerous if not seen to.” The nipple clamps were in his fist still and she hadn’t seen them since the bag was behind her when he got them. He could use them as punishment this time, but then she’d have a hard time accepting them as pleasurable if they ever wanted to use them again. And he did want to play with her again. Which meant that he couldn’t let things be. He couldn’t keep her safe all by himself; he needed her cooperation.
He knelt down in front of her and showed her the chain and the clamps. “These are for your tingling nipples. Trust me, they’ll stay tingling for a bit. You’ll need the distraction.”
She blinked. “I’m sorry. I-I couldn’t resist.”
She grimaced as he attached the clamps, adjusting the rubber-tipped tweezer ends around each tender bud. He tightened them enough to be sure they’d stay on, but not any tighter.
“Take a breath, love.”
She breathed in deeply.
“Do they feel okay?” He brushed back the lock of hair that had fallen in front of her face.
“Yes, Master. Thank you.”
He opened his mouth to correct her, but didn’t. “I want you to remember to never give a false alarm again. If any top you ever have takes you less than seriously when you tell him there’s a problem because you’ve joked about it—well, you know about the story of the boy who called wolf, I’m sure.” The thought of any other top playing with her made him tighten inside. Since when did I become jealous? Still, if the emotion made him look more fierce, that was all to the best.
She nodded, her eyes shining with uncried tears. She squeezed them shut, then opened them again. “I’m sorry, Master. I don’t know—I hope I’ll remember.”
“You will. I won’t spank you for a punishment. We’ve already established that’s a reward.” He knew where Ken kept some canes in a bucket in the corner, and he knew Ken kept them clean. Ken wouldn’t mind if he borrowed one, but he’d pay Ken for it instead. He’d only used one once, a long time ago, when he was trying out different things. He never thought he’d try one again. “Six of the best,” as the British said, was more intense than he wanted to dish out to anyone. “Do you accept that I have a right and responsibility to punish you? If you don’t, all you have to do is say your safe word and I’ll drive you back home.”
She stared at him, hesitating. “Yes, Master,” she said at last, the tears flowing now. He wanted nothing more than to give her a hug. “How will I be punished?”
“Three strokes with a cane,” he said grimly.
She winced as if she’d been struck by the first blow already and hung her head. He waited. Had he pushed it too far? Was he going to lose her? But he couldn’t let it go, either. He could only imagine what she was thinking, wondering if he was like the stereotype she’d imagined Doms to be when he’d first met her. Wondering if she trusted him. Wondering if she ought to save herself the pain. The worst thing was not knowing what was going on in her head. He couldn’t even see her face for a clue.
“Yes, Master,” she said at last.
“Good girl,” he said, ruffling her hair, feeling the gesture hopelessly inadequate for the trust she’d showed in him. He got up and took a step toward the corner.
“Master?”
He stopped and turned to look at her. “Yes?”
She raised her head and looked at him. “I won’t ever have another top. So don’t do this to teach me a lesson for anyone else. But if you do it to teach me a lesson for how to be with you, I accept it completely.”
It wasn’t quite “will you keep me?” but it was damn close. He ought to go back and give her a spanking, or perhaps let her go. He wasn’t going to enjoy using the cane on her. She wasn’t going to enjoy it either. He was acting as if she were his slave. Someone permanent. He barely trusted himself to speak.
“Understood.” He walked across the floor to get a cane.
Chapter Eight
Kyra stared after Drew’s broad back. To say that the clamps would keep her nipples tingling was an understatement. If she didn’t manage to stay absolutely still, the swing started swaying, and that set the chain swinging as well, which pulled on her nipples and turned the tingling into sparks of fire. She didn’t know whether she loved it or hated it, but she was sure it was one of the two.
When she was in high school, a kid she knew had pulled the fire alarm to get out of a test. It was great fun, standing outdoors on a fine spring day, watching the fire trucks arrive and the firemen run in with their axes and gear trying to find out what was wrong. They probably knew that the odds were better than fifty-fifty that it was a prank, but of course no one took any chances with a thousand school children.
Later that night, on the news, there was a story about a house that caught fire about five miles away, and a man who’d died inside before the firemen could save him. She didn’t know whether the fire trucks that were at her school would have been there, instead, or if they had been whether they could have helped. But it ran through her mind every time there was a fire drill after that. I, of all people, should have known better than to poke fun at his precautions, or to find pleasure in knowing I could make him jump.
She didn’t feel much better about using the incident to let her put him on the spot. But she’d meant what she said. She couldn’t pretend it was research for the book, and she wasn’t going to hunt for someone else when he was done with her. And he’d made perfectly clear he would be done with her. I want at least one more chance. Please. Let me show you I can make you
happy.
He came back holding a slender stick of wood not quite two feet long. It didn’t look like much. If it had a feather on it, it would have looked like a wand for some kid at Hogwarts. He came to a stop a few inches in front of her. “What are you thinking?”
She was tempted to lie and make up something about how scary the cane looked, but she told him the truth. She couldn’t help what thoughts came to her.
“Your mind works in interesting ways, Kyra.” He moved around her and she couldn’t see him anymore. She wondered if he smiled the moment he was out of sight. Somehow she doubted it. She felt what had to be the cane resting across her ass.
“Do you wish to use your safe word?”
“No.”
“Very well.” His voice was cold, and she couldn’t tell if he was angry or simply pushing his emotions down.
When he lifted the cane, she felt suddenly alone. Time slowed down while she anticipated how it might feel. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
She felt his hand on her back and it was as if the tension in her flowed away through his hand. There was a moment’s peace, and then the cane hit.
Pain blossomed on her rear in a thin fiery line, pain that bled around the edges and shut out all other senses. A second later, she didn’t know if she’d screamed or taken it in silence, she only wished the pain would go away. It ebbed, but changed from fire to intense ache. The rattling of the chains that held the swing opened her to the fact that the rest of the world hadn’t disappeared. Her breasts still ached from the clamps. That was something to focus on. The little chain between the clips swung back and forth in response to the motion of the swing, tugging on her rhythmically. She tried to push her chest forward, whether to intensify the sensation or to alleviate it she wasn’t sure. A dull warmth stole down from her chest and settled in her core.
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