My god. I’m wet.
“Do you wish to use your safe word?”
“No!” She was surprised at the vehemence in her voice. She didn’t want the pain. The clamps might be turning her on, but the cane sure wasn’t. But she wasn’t going to give in. She didn’t ever want to fail him, not ever again.
This time the stinging line was higher up, but still on soft and giving flesh. She shrieked, clutching the chains next to her hands for dear life. Fuck, that hurts! She tried to focus on her breasts, but it helped only a little. She didn’t know if she could take another. Please don’t ask me about my safe word.
He didn’t. The third strike didn’t feel nearly as bad. Maybe it simply blended into all the other sensations, but it felt as if he’d pulled back. She heard the cane clatter to the floor. The next thing she felt was his arms around her, awkwardly because of the chains of the swing.
“Don’t ever do that again.” His words were scolding but his voice was heavy with emotion.
“No, Master. Thank you.” Tears were streaming down her face and her ass hurt like hell. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was thanking him for, but somehow it seemed the right thing to say. He’d taken no pleasure in beating her, sadistic or otherwise. He’d been concerned about her safety, and willing to have her hate him in order to teach her to take it seriously. She wished she could hold him back.
“I’ll get you down,” he said, letting go of her and reaching for a cuff.
“Please don’t.” She wondered if she was out of line. He was supposed to be in charge, after all.
He stopped. “Why?”
“I’m—” She broke off, trying to understand it herself. I’m horny. It seemed so very wrong, to want to be fucked at a time like that. And from the huskiness in his voice, she suspected it hadn’t been an easy thing for him to cane her. She glanced at his crotch and saw no trace of the bulge that had been there before. He definitely hadn’t gotten off on it. She didn’t think she had, either. But her pussy was soaking wet and wanted contact. Wanted fucking. “I want to please you.”
“You please me fine.” He moved in front of her, crouching, one hand stroking her cheek, the other playing with her hair. A faint smile appeared on his lips.
“Use me, Master.” Her pussy ached more as she said the words. She wanted him inside her, driving deep toward her womb. She’d thought to say fuck me, but somehow leaving it up to him made her even hotter. “However you like.”
He kissed her hard, tilting her head back, forcing her to arch her back. The chain pulled on her breasts as his tongue invaded her mouth. His lips were rough on hers. She responded eagerly, tongue wrestling with him, feeling her face get hot. She held back a whimper when at last he drew away. But she couldn’t hold back her smile when he stood and she saw the hard ridge of his cock shaping the front of his pants again.
He moved around her, out of her view once more. She let her head hang down; she could see his legs move, upside down, from there.
She felt his fingers on her pussy, sliding between her nether lips. “You’re wet,” he said, sliding two fingers inside her.
“Yes.” There was no point in not admitting it. It was embarrassing, but even that was hot. He’d feel her wherever he wanted to.
“The caning turned you on?” His fingers stopped moving and a mixture of disbelief and maybe even disappointment filled his voice.
“No.” As much as she wanted him to approve, she knew it wasn’t true either. “The cane was just pain.”
“The clamps, then.” His fingers slid again, in deep and then almost out again. He reached his other hand around to cup a breast, his top finger below the aching peak.
“No. Maybe a little. Just—to surrender to you. To let you decide whether to punish me, and how to punish me. To let you decide how to use me. To let you do as you wish. I’m all yours. Master.”
“Oh.”
She hadn’t thought she’d ever surprise him into speechlessness, but he was silent for a long time. His hands caressed and teased her, and she closed her eyes to soak it all in.
He broke the silence. “I want to make love to you. I want to feel your pussy tighten around me when you come.” His hands ceased their fondling and left her body. She felt the cuff around one ankle loosen and her leg fell as he released her.
She didn’t know why he was setting her free to do that, but if he wanted to, that was his call. She hoped she’d feel his touch soon, but she hadn’t been lying. To give control over to him felt wonderful. It turned her on. And she knew, deep down, that as long as he had control, nothing bad would happen to her.
He released her other ankle and then her wrists and lifted her. “This may hurt your bottom a little.”
“What will?”
He rolled her over as if she was weightless to him and set her back down in the swing. He was right. The feel of the leather seat stung, reminding her where each stripe had been laid, even the third one. Deftly he cuffed her wrists and ankles above her head again. The way the swing was constructed it would have been impossible to close her legs even if she wanted to.
He took the time to take off his clothes, standing naked and beautiful in front of her. Even standing against the backdrop of the huge room, he looked big. If she had to stand naked in such a large place, she knew her confidence would be shot, but he didn’t look the slightest bit concerned. Certainly his cock didn’t, jutting out, long and thick. Her mouth watered. “Please.”
He grinned, and for a moment she thought he was going to make her beg for it. She knew she would too. But he unrolled a condom over his cock from the foil wrapper he had palmed in his hand. She’d never thought rubbers were sexy before watching his meaty fist pull one over his big cock. She pulled at the cuffs, wanting the hand to be her hand, and yet somehow there was something very intimate about watching him do it too.
He stepped forward between her legs and his cock nudged the entrance of her pussy for a moment. The delicately balanced swing carried her an inch away, and then back, until she could feel him again. It was sweet torture. His hand settled around her hips after a few times and pulled her toward him. His cock slid inside, stretching her. She bit her lip to stop a moan, and it came out as a whimper.
He let her go and pushed forward with his hips. She felt her butt pushed against the leather. The chain from the clamps jostled against her belly. Then she moved, and felt him sliding out of her. What was so special about sex in a swing, anyway? It kept propelling her away from him.
And then she swung back, her pussy filling with his cock again. This time she moaned aloud. He grinned, thrusting inside her, moving in a rhythm felt and mimicked by the chains above her. She could barely move her own hips in response, and when she did it only made the pain of the stripes worse, but the swing did her work for her. He was in control. She couldn’t close her legs, couldn’t stop from moving back against his thrusts. She never thought that being out of control could feel so good. She felt a wave rise deep inside her core and build inexorably.
The stinging in her ass each time he pushed into her, the ache in her breasts, the stretching of her pussy, the way his pubic bone bumped against her clit with each swing—or was it her bumping him—was suddenly too much. She screamed in pleasure as her pussy squeezed tightly around his cock. Her jerking body rattled the chains. For a moment she felt as if she was floating in some way beyond the swing’s imitation of weightlessness. She waited to come crashing back, for the little post-orgasmic letdown, and it didn’t come. He was still inside her, still thrusting, stretching, and she was still climbing higher, as if another release was in store.
“This will smart,” he said softly. His voice was tender, but it wasn’t an apology, just a statement. It barely registered. He unclipped the clamps and blood flowed back into her aching peaks, and smart didn’t cover half of it. It was as if the numb nerves had suddenly awakened, and fire spread from the two peaks. He bent over her, kissing one wetly and then the other, and the pain didn’t so much subside as it
was transformed into something more sensuous and deeply sexual. One more thrust sent her over the edge again. Her moan turned into a laugh, and as she threw her head back she felt a tear run back across her temple.
He jerked and her body moved with it. A low grunt followed by a moan escaped his lips. She felt him twitch and pulse inside her, and with her eyes closed she could see his cum spurting out of him. Her muscles tightened and she squeezed him instinctively, milking his cock with her pussy. It’s only natural that I should want as much of this man’s seed in me as I can get. Dimly she remembered the condom, and the remembrance of him putting it on made her shudder again in an echo of her orgasms. It was ever so sensible. Sense be damned. She could want whatever she wanted, there, helpless, cuffed, in his control. He would take care of the sensible part. She could let her instincts run wild. And her instincts loved the fact that he had come inside her.
“You’re incredible.”
She heard him but it was as if he was talking from a distance. Such a sweet thing to say. I am, aren’t I? She’d never felt incredible before. She felt him pull out, was dimly aware of him discreetly disposing of the condom. His warm body pressed against hers as he undid the cuffs binding her to the swing, and when she was free she fell into his strong arms. Maybe I ought to respond. Later.
He sat down with her, cradling her in his arms. She felt warm and safe, even naked in a huge room. She shifted her weight so that her ass was in the air. It stung, pressed against his thigh, and while she didn’t mind the reminder, she didn’t want it to continue. He had cared enough about her safety to want to make sure she never forgot, and she didn’t think she ever would. Of all the reasons to hurt, she couldn’t think of a better one. “I love you too, Master.”
He blinked. “I didn’t say anything.”
She smiled. “You didn’t have to.”
She could hear footsteps. Someone was in the room with them. Had they seen everything? She shocked herself by deciding it didn’t matter. Her back was to them. But whoever it was, their timing sucked. They could see where the cane hit still, she was sure.
“Not now, Ken,” Drew said, not looking up.
“You lousy mother fucker.” The voice was strange and angry. She didn’t think it was Ken, although she thought she might have heard it somewhere before. “And you whore. Bad enough when you beat up on pussies who want it, but you let him do that to you? I’m going to kick his ass.”
She twisted around to look. It definitely wasn’t Ken. It was the man who’d been waiting outside the door when she’d first left, who’d asked her about his wife. The stalker. He was wearing a dark blue business suit with a bright red tie, but he still looked nasty. How did he get in?
“Who the hell are you?” asked Drew. She thought he was going to drop her and put his guard up to defend himself against the obviously angry man, but he turned instead and set her down so that she wasn’t between the two men. It was chivalrous, protective, and stupid. After Drew set her down a kick to the head sent him sprawling.
She looked up to give the stalker a piece of her mind, but he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at Drew, and that made her stop for a moment. She got to her feet. She didn’t know what she could do to slow him down, but she’d grab him and hang on for dear life if it gave Drew a chance to get himself together.
Drew wasn’t moving.
Shit.
The stalker took a step toward Drew and a realization struck Kyra. He’d only seen her from the back. What had he said when she first saw him? That his wife looked like her. That had to be it. “I’m not your wife, you idiot!” She grabbed his shoulder, but it didn’t even slow him down.
Suddenly Drew moved, pushing up with his hands and one leg, sweeping his assailant’s feet out from under him with the other. Kyra let go as the man went sprawling. Drew got to his feet and like that, the tables were turned. The stalker was on the ground, looking up. Drew’s big hands were clenched in two dangerous-looking fists. The man on the ground took a look at them and for the first time focused on Kyra.
“You’re not my wife,” he said.
“No shit, Sherlock.” She wished she had her clothes on, but she wasn’t about to turn her back on the two men to go get them. Drew might need her.
The man grinned sheepishly. “Hey, no harm, no foul. Sorry, man. Thought she was someone else. You’ve got a nice piece of ass there, do whatever you like to her, none of my business.” He started to scramble to his feet and Drew put his hand on the man’s shoulder and pushed him back down.
“Hey, I said I was sorry.”
“You’re the guy who is stalking Mary Beth,” Drew said. It was a statement, not a question.
“My wife, yeah. A man has a right to care when his wife is fucking other men, you know?”
“Ex-wife.”
“Still married in the eyes of God.”
“That interested in seeing God? I can get you there quickly.”
Uh-oh. This isn’t going well. It’s not self-defense anymore, not with the man on the floor.
“Hey. I’m sorry man, please.” There was terror in the man’s eyes, and Kyra almost felt sorry for him. Almost. The important thing was to cool Drew down before he got a murder rap. She put her hand on his shoulder, hoping the touch would help.
Drew didn’t seem to notice. “Let me tell you this, very clearly. If you touch Mary Beth, or anyone connected with this club, ever—if I even see you around this place, ever again—I’m going to give you a beating you’ll never forget. Is that what you want? Do you get off on that, huh, boy?”
“Uh. No.”
“No what?”
The man looked blank for a moment. “No, um, Master?”
Drew looked nauseated. “Get the hell out of here. Now. Before I change my mind. And never, ever come back.”
Mary Beth’s ex got to his feet and ran. Drew stood there staring after him until he heard the door shut. Then he turned and gathered Kyra up in his arms. “Sorry about that, love.”
“You’re sorry? I’m sorry.”
“I guess you look a bit like Mary Beth, maybe,” said Drew doubtfully. “But what the hell. He must have had the place staked out. But dressed like that? I guess he had someone else staking it out for him. Maybe someone with just a photo to go on, a private detective or something who gave him a call when he saw us go in. Dunno how he got in but that lock Ken has is a piece of crap.”
“Are you okay?” That kick to the head had looked nasty. Obviously, Drew had been playing possum, waiting for the man to turn his back or make the wrong move, but he’d been kicked hard enough to make both her and the stalker fall for it.
He winced. “It hurts a bit,” he admitted. “Doesn’t seem fair I didn’t give him as good as I got. But I don’t think he’ll be back here anymore. Not bothering you or Mary Beth.”
“I thought you were going to kill him for a moment there.”
Drew chuckled. “Just make him think I might. Sometimes being thought a reprobate is an advantage. People don’t know what you’re capable of, and they think the worst.”
Kyra relaxed in his arms. It hadn’t fit, actually. Although getting kicked in the head could bring out the temper in anyone. “I don’t think he would have bothered me anymore anyway.”
“Didn’t cost me anything extra to keep him out of Mary Beth’s hair at the same time.”
“Is she a good friend?”
He shook his head. “No. But—well, in a way, everyone who comes here regularly is kind of family, y’know? Nobody else is going to look after us, if we don’t look after each other.”
“And who looks after you?”
He didn’t seem to have anything to say to that.
She wiggled out of his grasp and he let her. She moved to his side and then kissed the back of his head, where he’d been hit. It was right at the base of his skull and it was swelling. He winced at the touch of her lips.
“That light a touch shouldn’t—” she started to say.
“It’s nothing.
”
“Nothing, my foot. Sit down.”
“I’m perfectly capable of—”
“Sit down.”
He sat down, groaned, and looked up at her. “Now who’s acting like a Domme?” he asked.
“We’re not playing that game anymore. You can be my Master any other time you like, but—right now, we’re playing doctor.”
He smiled wryly. “Hello, nurse!” he said, waggling his eyebrows. And wincing again.
That didn’t look good at all. She knelt in front of him and held his eyelids open. His pupils looked big to her. Bigger than they should be, she was sure. “Stay there,” she told him.
She walked over to where she’d left her clothes and pulled her cell phone from her purse.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting an ambulance,” said Kyra. She dialed 9-1-1.
“I don’t need an ambulance.”
Kyra nodded. “I really hope you’re right. Now shush.” She explained the situation and the address to the woman on the phone.
“We’re naked,” Drew pointed out.
Kyra shook her head. “See, you’re not even thinking straight. This is DC. We could get dressed ten times before they get an ambulance here.”
Drew groaned. “Get me my clothes.”
She smiled. “I can do better than that.” She picked up his clothes, walked over, and held his shirt open for him behind his back. She lifted his right arm and put it in the sleeve.
“I can dress myself,” said Drew, but he didn’t move to stop her.
“Of course you can. But what’s the point in having a slave if she doesn’t take care of you?”
The fact that he didn’t correct her made her even more worried.
Chapter Nine
Drew’s head ached and he felt vaguely like throwing up. But it seemed worth peeking at the world so he blinked. The first thing he saw was Kyra’s concerned face. What was she doing here? Not that he knew where here was. He stared. “Kyra.”
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