by Amy Valenti
"I think so, Sir."
He smiled, and there was as much relief in it as there was hunger. “I'll come by your place when we're done for the day."
I nodded, and he leaned in to kiss my cheek, changing course at the last moment to nip at my earlobe. The pain was mild but glorious, and I bit back a plea for more as he withdrew completely.
"Good job,” he murmured, and then he was gone. I stared after him, still not a hundred per cent sure I hadn't imagined the conversation. That...was intense.
* * * *
It was around nine when Pierce called up to my apartment. I let him in with a tiny smile, trying to quell my nervousness. “Rough few days, huh?"
"That'd be an understatement.” He followed the scent of fresh coffee to my kitchen, helping himself as he had for the past four or five years.
Nothing new about that.
I waited for him to sit, knowing our dynamic had changed enough that I shouldn't fall into my usual habits. When he'd chosen his spot on the couch, I acted on instinct, kneeling at his feet and glancing up to take in his reaction.
Nodding approval, he took a sip of coffee, then set the mug aside. Something in his ice-blue gaze heated, and I tried to keep a straight face as I lowered my eyes.
It didn't fool him, and I could hear the answering smile in his voice. “Questions, Faye?"
I had that one all planned out. “What happens now?"
It was a tactically-worded question, and it put the ball squarely in Pierce's court. He hesitated for a moment, then said slowly, “Laura said a few things...that we need to talk about."
"I know,” I said, my voice emerging almost too quiet for him to hear it.
We stared at each other, neither of us willing to speak. The words Laura had spoken hovered in the air between us—intangible, invisible memories, yet with enough presence to leave us both mute. When Pierce finally broke the silence, he was as evasive as I was. “Any of it not true?"
...she'll never be yours. She's just too sadistic...
"Some. You?"
He hadn't been expecting that. Though he was already completely focussed on me, his gaze sharpened still further. “Tell me."
"She said I was too sadistic to submit to you."
He leant forward, tilting up my chin with a firm touch. “I don't doubt you have a sadistic streak."
"How about you? Masochism?” It would have been so easy to let myself fall completely under his spell. The submissive mindset was within easy reach, but I wouldn't go all the way there...not until this conversation was through.
Pierce tugged a lock of my hair—a reprimand. “That's not on offer."
I hadn't been expecting any other answer. “Anything Laura said about you not true? I mean, aside from that you set her brother up?"
She'd thrown more at him than she had at me, including an incredibly personal moment between them. At least when she'd described the way I topped, she hadn't singled out a specific example.
His expression was a little guarded—after all that had happened, he still wasn't totally sure how I'd react.
"No, little tease."
A better submissive would probably have lowered her head, waited for his orders and obeyed them.
Screw that.
I'd already overheard him telling Laura obedience wasn't as important to him as other things.
I'd been sitting on my heels, but now I rose to my knees again, slipping a hand to the back of his neck and kissing him. There was a breathless moment before he reacted, but then he took control, his answering kiss growing in intensity when I moaned encouragement against his lips.
He gripped my shoulders firmly, pressing down to force me back onto the floor in front of him, and the gesture was all it took. I closed my eyes, resting my head against his knee and waiting for his first command, anticipation heightening my senses.
Pierce
Looking down at the expectant, smiling woman at my feet, I ran my fingers gently down her face. She was ready for my orders, my touch and everything beyond.
"On your feet. Hands behind your back."
She obeyed, standing straight and lacing her fingers behind her. I figured her head would be clearer if she was standing, and it needed to be, for this.
"Give me the basics of what I need to know, as you'd expect it from your submissives."
Faye listed a few limits and boundaries, none of which surprised me. By the time she'd finished telling me she had no injuries or illnesses that I was unaware of, and had given me her safe word—'chemistry'—I almost had our first scene mapped out in my mind.
She fell quiet, and I got to my feet, stepping into her personal space and making no attempt to hide the slow path of my gaze down her body. “I don't mind a little resistance—so long as you know I will put you back down where you belong, little tease. You want a full-on resistance scene, we discuss that beforehand. Clear?"
"Clear, Sir,” she murmured, her voice lower and more husky than I'd ever heard it. Her bedroom voice...and it just so happened I had one to go with it.
"Strip down as far as your underwear."
She drew a slightly shaky breath, her eyes cast down. Then a flicker of mischief crossed her face, and she nodded.
Taking her time, she pulled off her shirt, exposing the pale, smooth skin of her abdomen before turning her back to remove the garment entirely. I'd expected her to be wearing a bra, and the sight of her naked back sent a jolt of fresh adrenaline through my system.
Faye looked over her shoulder at me, eyes wide with feigned innocence, and I filled in the unspoken words.
Am I wearing less underwear than you expected, Sir?
Part of me wanted to order her to face me, but I was too curious to see how she'd handle the rest of my command. Instead, I raised an expectant eyebrow, and she continued, undoing her pants and pushing them down over her hips.
She took it slow, letting me admire the toned, smooth flesh of her ass—a perfect canvas for me to redden with spanks and bruise with paddles. The view was obstructed only by the mostly-transparent lace of her thong, and I couldn't help but shake my head in appreciation.
Faye let the pants slip down towards the floor. She didn't really need to bend over much to shake the fabric free of her legs, but she did it anyway, letting me admire her for a few seconds longer.
As soon as she straightened, I moved in close, pressing against her back and resting my hands lightly on her hips. “Think you've earned your new name yet, little tease?” I breathed against her neck.
"Working on it, Sir.” She leant back against me and I trailed my fingers up her ribs, enjoying the way she squirmed at the tickling touch. When my thumbs brushed the undersides of her breasts, I stopped for just long enough to draw a whimper from her throat before continuing.
"Or maybe you're the tease..."
Laughing softly, I rolled her nipples between my fingers. “Haven't even started yet. I could torment you for hours, and I'd enjoy it."
Then again, the way she was shifting against me was definitely testing my willpower, and she could feel it getting to me.
Time to change the pace.
"Show me your toys."
As soon as I let my hands drop, she turned toward the bedroom. I followed her, stopping only long enough to take the collar I'd brought with me out of my pocket. We might be using her equipment, but she'd be wearing my collar while we did.
Her toys were in the ottoman at the foot of her bed, and once I'd surveyed the room, which was decorated in rich, warm hues, I told her, “Kneel."
At my command, she sank to her knees. It had quickened my pulse when she'd done it out in the living room—the sight was even more powerful now she was barely clothed.
Crouching in front of her, I tilted up her chin with a finger, then brought the collar into her line of sight. “Any problem with wearing this in-scene?"
Seeming captivated by the idea, she shook her head slowly. “No problem at all, Sir."
"Take off the necklace."
It took only a few seconds for me to fasten the strip of black leather, dragging the straps through the twin silver buckles. Once it was secured in place, I tugged gently on it, staking my claim on her with one whispered word in her ear—"Mine."
Faye
Wearing Pierce's collar was something I'd fantasised about for years, but this...it was different. It didn't fill me with wild, orgasmic delight or send my mind into a submissive haze.
It was like a part of me had been calmed or tamed—like something I'd mislaid was back with me.
It was real, and it was powerful. And his kiss sealed the deal—possessive, firm and confidently seductive. Before I could get too into it, though, he drew away and began to rifle through my toy chest.
He pulled out wrist cuffs, fleece-lined leather for comfort, though his police-issue handcuffs must have been close by. I wondered how many times he'd used them in situations like this.
"Kneel on the bed. Hold on to the headboard with both hands and spread your legs, little tease."
Blushing a little, I knelt up in the middle of the mattress, knees apart, and leant forward to curl my fingers around the wrought iron of my headboard.
"More.” Pierce sat casually on the edge of the bed, looking me over, and I closed my eyes in titillating self-consciousness as I widened the space between my knees.
He cuffed my wrists to the headboard, his fingers practised against the leather and metal. Then he sat back again, satisfied.
"Now I know your fetishes, let's talk about mine. We'll explore them over time...but let's start with this one."
He took a small tube of something out of his pocket, uncapping it and holding it close enough to my nose that I could smell it.
Menthol.
"Sir...” He hadn't even used it yet, but my imagination offered up enough predictions to set me squirming. I didn't know whether I was asking him for it, or pleading for him not to go there.
Pierce set the tube down on the bed, then leaned over to leave a trail of teasing kisses over my abdomen, gradually working his way south. Supporting himself on one elbow, he lay across the bed, slowly caressing my clit with his tongue.
I bit back a moan of encouragement, but wow—the man had some serious technique. My spread legs trembled, threatening to give out and leave me sitting on my heels—which would not make Pierce happy.
He drew back, sitting up and substituting his fingers for his tongue, watching me writhe and sigh. Then he squeezed a little of the mentholated hand moisturiser onto one fingertip, and I closed my eyes, waiting for the inevitable.
He rubbed it into my skin, starting at the outer edges and moving gradually inwards. For a moment, I didn't feel anything, then a cool tingle began to creep across the area.
"Please,” I begged, just as he coated my clit with moisturiser. “Sir—"
He sat back with a tiny smile...and the menthol kicked in, a cold, mild burn that shocked the breath from my lungs and sent a wave of intense want through me.
"You have permission to come, little tease. If you can."
As long as my hands were tied, I didn't have a chance. I gave a quick tug at my bonds, just in case, but it was wishful thinking. And I got the feeling he wouldn't let me close my legs enough to generate any kind of friction...
"I need your help, Sir."
Pierce laughed softly. “I know that."
While I groaned with frustrated resignation, tingling and trembling and completely helpless, he shrugged out of his shirt and returned to my toy chest. Ignoring me.
I watched him over my shoulder, hoping the visual stimulation along with the menthol would be enough. My fingers twitched with the urge to reach out and run my hands over his shoulders, down his chest and abs. I'd always thought he was seriously attractive, but seeing him with his shirt off, with those cool, phantom caresses between my thighs... I'd never wanted anyone this much, ever.
And it still didn't help me over the edge. Damn him!
With a whimper, I rested my forehead against the headboard, closing my eyes. Letting memories run through my mind, searching for something strong enough to make me come... Please, something, anything...
My thoughts lingered on his smile, his scent, the feel of his lips on mine, his hands on my breasts...
Argh! Nothing helps. I need more, more, more...
The many smooth tails of a suede flogger struck my ass, hardly enough to hurt, but the touch sent an extra jolt between my thighs. Gasping incoherently, I waited for the next blow, but he drew it out too long.
"Sir... please..."
"What, little tease?” His amusement was palpable.
"Hit me again, Sir?"
He did, again and again and again, alternating strikes between the left and right side, building slowly to an agonising crescendo. I was almost sobbing with pain and desire when he paused, and when he flicked the tails of the flogger up between my legs, against my clit, I cried out sharply.
So close...
Pierce stopped, and I bit down on the babbled pleas that wanted to come, listening intently for any sign of his next move.
He repeated his last strike, the blow lighter than the ones against my ass and thighs, but a hundred times more delicious. The moan tore from my lips, raw with need.
"Sir..."
"Ask, little tease.” His voice was a low growl, now. Was he hard for me, ready to drive inside me, to fuck me harder than I'd ever been fucked before?
"Again... Please..."
He did, and I clutched the headboard tighter, not trusting my trembling legs to support me.
"Mmmm..."
"Ask."
"Harder, Sir..."
The next blow was almost enough, and I bit my lip, shaking with pain and mentholated pleasure.
"Ask."
"Don't stop, Sir, please—"
His strikes came faster now—one, two, oh God, three, four—
And finally I unravelled. Strong pulses pulled the entire fabric of my existence apart and left me in tangled threads, collapsed on the bed, my hands still tethered above my head.
Pierce joined me, unclipping the cuffs from the headboard and easing me horizontal. His naked skin seared mine, and wow, when had he taken off his pants? But I didn't care, didn't care, just wanted him inside me, my arms and legs around him and his breath against my neck and his cock right there—
He was good, so good, and even after all that build-up, he was still holding off, ordering me to come before he did, his fingers digging into my skin. His hands still had menthol residue on them, and he reached down between us to find my clit again, rubbing fast and light and oh, my God—
I came hard, digging my fingers into his shoulders, my cries muffled by his brief, savage kiss before he followed me over the edge.
We lay together, relearning how to breathe, and damn it, I was so tired, but the menthol was starting to drive me crazy again...
"Sir?"
He tugged on my collar with a faint smile. “Hmm?"
"Permission to wash this stuff off before I ride you into an early grave?"
Pierce laughed softly. “That good, huh?"
"Yeah, but I can't move..."
He wouldn't leave me like this...would he?
He stroked a finger up and down my side, teasing me, before nodding. “C'mon, little tease. Shower...then coffee."
I stumbled towards the bathroom, and a couple of minutes into my shower Pierce joined me, pulling me into his arms.
The shower spray hit my face when I looked up at him, and he pulled me out of its way gently, bringing his lips down to mine in a kiss of contented affirmation. The warm water ran over our bodies, washing away any lingering doubts that we belonged together.
* * * *
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Chapter Tw
o
Owned
Pierce
"Try to get free."
Obediently, Faye writhed on the bed, tugging at the handcuffs that restrained her wrists and the silk scarves I'd used to tie her ankles to the bedposts.
"Can't, Sir,” she said, half smiling, half apprehensive, as if she was unsure whether the response would lead to reward or punishment. Hell, with Faye, the punishment usually was the reward.
I didn't keep her in suspense. “Good."
When I brought the riding crop up into her line of sight, her eyes widened and she bit her lip, a shiver of anticipation thrilling through her body. I paused for a second, giving her time to back out if she needed to, making no attempt to hide the way my eyes swept over every part of her.
"Are you ready?"
She swallowed hard, her eyes on the crop. Shaking a tendril of damp hair from her cheek before answering, she nodded, her words just barely whispered.
"Yes, Sir."
The way she submitted, unquestioning, to my authority made me want to throw aside the crop right then. I needed to be inside her, needed to hear her beg for release, needed to lose control completely. But not yet. The scene had yet to be played out.
Faye looked from the crop to my face, and from the slight upward quirk of her eyebrow I could tell she'd caught on to my train of thought.
"Or we could just...” she said softly, shifting seductively against the mattress.
Snapped back into my role, I stared her out until she stilled and broke eye contact.
A flicker of amusement remained in her voice as she conceded, “I'm sorry, Sir. I was outta line."
"You're damn right,” I said, and without warning cracked the crop down onto her breast, just below the nipple.
She yelled with combined pleasure and pain, attempting to suppress the grin on her face.
I paused to let the blow register, knowing she was hardly even trying to be properly submissive. Most of the time, she let it wash over her, sinking so far into the state that it took time for her to come back from it. Tonight she was in a playful mood of a completely different kind—cheerfully insolent and willing to take all the punishment I could meter out. I already knew she'd let me whip her until she was sore all over, then defy me for just a little longer, setting her tolerance for pain against my willingness to give it.