Caught in the Middle

by Kira Barker

  “Floggers seldom do more than just redden the skin. Paddles, either, unless you really go to town on someone with a heavier paddle, like a wooden one. If you want welts and bruises, canes are your thing. Even if you try not to mark someone up, it often happens accidentally once you do more than just lightly tap their ass with them.”

  “Why would anyone want that?”

  Simon’s brows drew together, a sure hint of annoyance.

  “Don’t diss what you haven’t tried. You were clearly into getting flogged and paddled today, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you’d really dig a thorough caning.”

  The thought made me shudder, and not just because it scared the hell out of me, yet irritation made my tone sharper than I’d intended.

  “Do you always have to be such a nitpicker? I meant why would anyone want welts on their asses?”

  He gave a noncommittal grunt that might have been an apology. I sincerely doubted it, but at least his frown disappeared.

  “Souvenir? As a badge of honor? That’s at least how I’ve always felt about my own welts. There’s something deeply satisfying to touch or see them later and think, ‘damn, that was insane, and I did it anyway.’”

  On second thought, that sounded a lot like the warmth radiating from my butt already felt to me. Grimacing, I brought my hands to my breasts, idly touching my still-aching nipples. By now they were the part of my body that was in the most acute pain, but I had to admit that even my own, light touch made me kind of horny.

  “That was evil, just so you know,” I tartly informed him.

  “What, making you hurt yourself just so I’d stop hurting you?”

  “Not telling me just how fucking much the clamps will hurt when they come off. But yeah, that, too.”

  Simon shrugged my accusation off.

  “I did warn you, but I doubt you would have believed me otherwise. Some things you simply have to feel for yourself to believe.”

  It was kind of funny how he kept staring at my tits until I folded my hands over the affected areas, and he didn’t look even the least bit guilty. For whatever reason, that was really reassuring.

  “All in all, did you have a good time? The fact that you came twice makes it easy to guess that you did, but I still feel obliged to ask. You know that you can always veto anything you didn’t like.”

  “Three times.”

  “Hm?”

  Catching my lower lip between my teeth, I tried not to smile too openly.

  “You said I came twice. It was three times. You missed the first, I guess.”

  Simon cocked his head as if he was considering where exactly he was going to pinch me now, and I stealthily started inching my butt away from him.

  “When?”

  That single word was a lot closer to a sharply barked order than an inquiry. I didn’t know if that made me horny, or annoyed.

  “Just when you stopped finger fucking me. I really didn’t see it coming, and it wasn’t that earth shattering. It kind of just happened?”

  Pursing his lips, he was still considering, but then gave a brief jerk with his chin.

  “Doesn’t matter. At least now I know what I’ll be doing the next time we’re up here.”

  “That sounds rather ominous,” I pointed out.

  “Better if I tell you to be afraid, oh so very afraid?”

  “Nope,” I laughed, but couldn’t feel a little intimidated nevertheless. “And can I veto whatever you’re talking about? You just said I can veto anything.”

  Simon’s sanguine grin left me none the wiser.

  “Trust me, you don’t want to veto that. You might hate me somewhat in the middle, but in the end you’ll be quite satisfied. Unless, of course, you keep making a habit out of trying to sneak orgasms by me. This is your last warning. Next time, I will punish you, and that will go down with a lot more sobbing and howling than you did today.”

  I considered that, but there wasn’t really much to consider—not really.

  “I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better next time.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. You will.”

  And for whatever reason, that sounded like the real threat.

  “Anything else you want to talk about, or are you ready to hit the shower now? I certainly wouldn’t mind cleaning up, and I’m not the one who has snot, drool, and lube smeared all over my body.”

  “You say the sweetest things,” I huffed, then straightened, making it off the bench on my third try. “Shit, I’m getting old!”

  “That will be much worse when you get up in the morning, or, in your case, evening,” he assured me.

  Grinning back, I started making my way toward the door. Simon followed me after picking up his pants and T-shirt from where they’d ended up on the floor underneath the bench.

  “Don’t laugh too much at me now, but I only just noticed that you’re naked.”

  I got a snort out of him, but he didn’t look too surprised, and thankfully not hurt. I doubted that I could have said something similar to Jack without getting at least a pouty frown in return.

  “You looked kind of out of it when I had the lengthy go at you with the paddle. I figured I should bring things to a close soon, so I used the time it took you to shake off your shock to undress. You know, the part before I finger fucked you and you came without permission. Again. And I don’t really like to fuck wearing clothes. Feels kind of weird to me.”

  That reminded me of something.

  “Yeah, about that. Did you have to tear me out of that trance so harshly? You could just have started fucking me there without giving me a heart attack and possible leather bottom.”

  Simon’s grin could only be described as evil.

  “Sadist, remember? If there’s a chance that I can make you scream, I will always take it. You better get used to that quickly.”

  As strange as that still sounded to me, I really didn’t think we would have any problems on that front, even if part of me wanted to protest. Instead, I gave him a private little smile, then turned back around and padded over to the door, a cozy feeling of accomplishment leaving goose bumps all over my body.

  Chapter 8

  The last time I’d really needed a shower in this house, the guys had graciously let me take it on my own, but now Simon practically plastered himself to me as soon as we hit the bathroom. I raised my brows at him questioningly, but he just shrugged as he stepped into the admittedly large enough stall behind me.

  “Be a dear and indulge me, will you?”

  “Have you suddenly decided to be British?”

  Instead of answering, he turned on the faucet, and any and all protest I might have harbored before died as soon as his fingers dug deftly into the knotted up muscles of my upper back. Who was I to protest when he was happy to throw in a massage on top of crazy, wild sex?

  Things got a little weird when eventually his fingers started to stray—no surprise that they not so accidentally found my breasts, although I wasn’t sure if he just intended to grope me, or tried to make me jump—and downright awkward when I turned around to confront him and found his face way too close to mine for any definition of friend zone on the planet.

  I stared at his lips, almost mesmerized, then licked my own as I tried to decide what to do. That in itself was strange enough, but it got worse when he just kept waiting, studying my face.

  “Okay, am I the only one who’s kind of out of options here right now?”

  “I don’t think that a decided lack of options is the problem,” he pointed out, then smiled. It was a really nice, cute smile, the kind that begged to be kissed away, and so at odds with what we’d been up to until a couple of minutes ago.

  “What is, then?”

  The urge to take a step back and cross my arms over my breasts—and maybe cradle them protectively, because my nipples were really fucking sensitive right now—was strong, but it was simply too nice to stand so close to him, almost touching but not quite.

  “I think that you’re
desperately trying to return to a well-established comfort zone that isn’t there anymore.”

  Cryptic as it sounded, it was fitting. Smiling slightly, I gave a hint of a nod in agreement.

  “Honestly, I’ve never been in a situation where I just had sex with someone and didn’t know whether it was okay to kiss him, or not.”

  Not surprisingly, his smile widened into a grin.

  “Being a typical guy here, I’ll never protest you trying to kiss me, particularly not after we’ve had sex.”

  It was an opening that my body yearned to take, but I knew that it wouldn’t just stay at fooling around. For whatever reason, I really didn’t feel up to that. Not physically, even with my posterior region still indecisive whether it should be declared a war zone or not I was sure that a quickie in the shower would be fun, but mentally.

  “Do you ever feel a little lost after a scene?”

  Now that smile turned knowing.

  “Why do you think I’m here?”

  His reply made a weight I hadn’t known was there drop from my chest, but I had no intention of letting this conversation slip into too serious a territory.

  “Because you’re a gropy bastard?”

  “That too,” he admitted, chuckling softly, while his eyes never strayed from my face. “But I’ve been exactly where you are, on more than one occasion, and if I can help you get out of any possible funk before you drive head-first into a black hole of self-doubt, I will.”

  “Aren’t you being a little melodramatic here?”

  Simon shrugged.

  “I’m making good money with melodrama. You can’t expect me to drop that just because we’re having a moment here.”

  “No? Too bad. But just for clarification, melodramatic expressions are not a requirement?”

  “They might soon be if you keep sneaking orgasms by me,” he pointed out.

  “Ah, burn!” I cried, then did take that step back, but mostly to let the warm spray of the shower hit my back and hair. “But then I guess corporeal punishment doesn’t really work well on someone who digs pain?”

  I’d expected him to shrug, but his expression turned serious instead.

  “I personally don’t really believe in punishment. If you disappoint me, my disappointment should be what makes you want to do better next time, not some menial task I have you do, or getting a hard spanking. But then, I’m biased. Most people tackle the issue differently.”

  His words made me feel a little guilty, but then my mind latched onto what he’d actually said.

  “Biased how?”

  “Bad experience,” he replied, then switched places with me as I reached for the shampoo bottle. “My first Mistress only ever hurt me when I screwed up. Not the best position to put a sub in, when on top of being frantic because they disappointed you they feel even worse because your punishment feels like the fucking best thing that ever happened to them.”

  “Sounds like a communication problem,” I pointed out.

  Simon nodded.

  “A massive one. She wasn’t exactly a bad Domme, but even after years of experience she was incapable of figuring out that we were a horrible match, almost polar opposites. Things got really bad, and we broke it off just in time before I could turn my back on all things devious forever. But I guess what I’m trying to say here is that if you need me in whatever capacity, I’m here. That’s as much part of my job as the rest. And sometimes I need a couple of minutes to unwind myself. So, again, indulge me.”

  Lathering up my hair, I might have enjoyed watching water cascade down his naked body a little more than I probably should have, but I felt absolutely no remorse.

  “So you had a rocky start,” I noted, trying to bring the conversation back to the previous topic.

  “In the end, it’s probably Jack’s fault that we’re now standing here, with my left arm a little tired and your ass still a healthy, red glow.”

  I rolled my eyes at his moment of self-pity.

  “What does Jack, of all people, have to do with that?”

  Simon made an almost pensive face, although his grin ruined the effect.

  “After a week, he got tired of my moping, so he went out, found another Domme, and dragged me to her, kicking and screaming. I don’t think that without his incentive I’d have met Beth, or met her before my budding neurosis had bloomed into a full-blown chip on my shoulder.”

  “Are you being melodramatic again, or do you mean literally?”

  “Psychology is full of figures of speech.”

  “I meant the kicking and screaming part. Sheesh.”

  His mouth twisted, faintly amused.

  “There was dragging and loud arguing involved. I don’t think I actually kicked him, but to my never-ending mortification I have to admit that a lot of sulking was involved on my part, as Beth never fails to remind me.”

  “The new Domme, I presume?”

  He nodded.

  “She’s great. Very down to earth, no nonsense. I’m sure you’ll get along well if you ever cross paths. I haven’t decided yet if that aspect excites me or scares me to death.”

  “Why? Because she has dirt on you like few other people? Or are you afraid that I won’t accept your authority if I meet the woman who made you kneel at her feet?”

  “And lick them, too, if you’re curious,” he informed me, smirking. “And you already don’t treat me with anything even close to respect, but I intend to keep working on that. She’s great, but some people have problems with her ‘in your face’ approach to pretty much everything. But she wouldn’t put up with your bullshit, so if you ever meet her, don’t set yourself up to get your ass kicked.”

  “Duly noted.” Bumping Simon out of the way with my hip, I reclaimed the spray of water, setting to the task of rinsing the suds out of my hair. “And, as usual, we got sidetracked. It’s nice that you’re here to lend comfort and a shoulder to cry on, but I’m not exactly plagued by second thoughts. We still haven’t settled on where we draw the line between being friends and those extra spicy benefits.”

  “Never had to define that before,” he mused, and shrugged. “That you even want to define it makes me guess that you’re not comfortable with getting too casual, so I’d say that unless we actively set out to do anything, we’ll keep our hands to ourselves? Although considering how touchy-feely you and Jack get sometimes, I’m not sure how well that will work.”

  “I don’t think I’ll have problems with Jack in that aspect.”

  At least I hoped that was the truth. I hadn’t seen him for more than a couple of minutes since then, but the few texts we’d exchanged hadn’t exactly made me want to jump his bones. Maybe that should have made me feel guilty now, but Jack was Jack, and what we had had always been special. Not that getting tied up, flogged, and fucked wasn’t special, but it was definitely different, and just as it was typical for me and Simon that we had to hash things out first, I was sure that they would just flow harmoniously with Jack.

  It seemed a little suspicious that Simon didn’t reply, but once I reemerged from the spray, I found him leaning casually against the tiled wall, keeping his distance. Part of me wanted to kick myself for shoving that space between us that felt fake somehow, but going back on what I’d agreed to a minute later seemed too hypocritical even for my newly supercharged libido. It still would have been nice to have someone to soap up my back while I waited for the conditioner to do its magic, but asking now felt too much like a taunt.

  “Anything about the scene you still want to talk about?”

  He broke the silence before I could. Thinking about it for a second, I shook my head.

  “Nope. But should that change, I’ll let you know later.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Really anytime? You know that I don’t believe in conventional work schedules.” Or the hospital didn’t.

  “Anytime,” he repeated, smiling. “I’ll even pick up when I masturbate, as you very well know.”

  “Oh, how could I forget!”r />
  With that, he left me to my own devices, which was probably for the best, else the temptation might have gotten too strong too soon.

  Five hours of sleep had never felt so inadequate.

  After Simon and I had both gotten dry and dressed again, I’d hung out another hour or so, idly chatting about stuff with him, but the extra dose of physical exhaustion I’d gotten had soon overcome what alertness the endorphin rush had lent me. Before long I’d been presented with the danger of dozing off mid-sentence, so I’d taken my leave before that could happen. Again.

  Years of missing regular meals because of one more emergency surgery had taught me to be religious about eating breakfast, but today I barely had time to wolf down a bowl of leftovers that was bordering on possible health hazards before Marcy ushered me out the door, both of us running a little late for our shifts already. It was nice to get a chance to catch up with her, which didn’t happen too often, but I instantly rued it when I plunked down onto a rare empty seat on the train and immediately shot up again when my ass reacted negatively to the contact. Marcy grinned but held her tongue, very paranoia-inducingly so. It became clear what she had in mind when we made it into the hospital via the ER entrance, and she asked me in front of the entire staff if she should bring me one of those donut pillows for my obviously sore ass.

  “Slater, you’re late,” my boss cut through her giggling and grinning minions, and I’d seldom been that happy to get barked at. “I couldn’t give less of a shit about your sex life, but I do give a shit about my patients, so you’d better be scrubbed in and ready in ten—we have three ambulances en route.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I shouted after her, already picking up speed to ditch my stuff in the locker room. For the first time, I was glad that I spent my working hours mostly on my feet than sitting down, though.

  It took a couple of days for the rumors to die down, but I was too swamped with work to care. It would have been great to set up a repeat performance of last weekend that Saturday, but I had already let myself be talked into working those three shifts back to back instead; I simply couldn’t say no to Zoe when she straight out told me that the ER was understaffed, and she expected me to pick up the slack everyone else had created. With anyone other than her I would have felt like a boot licker, but I doubted that working my ass off beyond the call of duty was what she saw as an attempt to gain her favor. I simply did what was necessary, as was my job, in her creed. Then the new week started with all the usual insanity, and it was Friday already by the time I could catch enough of a breather to call Simon.