Doms of Dark Haven 2: Western Night

by Sierra Cartwright, Belinda McBride,

  He sighed, his hand stroking her hair gently. “The pain makes you hotter, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she said with difficulty. The unstoppable fog of sensation was rolling right over her thoughts.

  “Why the hell does watching you take the pain make me hot too?” he muttered. He pulled a wooden paddle from the bag and moved behind her. “I’d make you count, but I’m simply going to continue until I think we’re both ready to quit, so there’s no point, is there?”

  Oh. My. God. She’d never been this needy before. Everything inside her shook. The way he treated her, watched her, commanded her, seemed to pull at something deep in her pelvis, an invisible leash of control. No wonder Xavier had said she’d been playacting.

  He kneaded her bottom, and his abrasive palms sent goose bumps up her skin. “You have a gorgeous ass, baby. Soft and round.” When his fingers slid between her legs, up and over her clit, as if to remind her of how aroused she was, she groaned. And groaned again when he took his hand away.

  Something cool and solid rubbed the skin on her ass. The paddle. He gave her several tiny painless pats like a baby hammering on the floor.

  What kind of a spanking was that? Disappointment cooling her excitement, she glanced over her shoulder at him.

  The muscles in his face were rigid, his jaw set. The cords stood out on the hand gripping the paddle. His erection was very obvious. He saw her looking. His gaze moved over her slowly, and then a corner of his lip turned up. “All right, baby.”

  He hesitated for a long moment and swung. No baby pat this time; it stung…stung so good. She moaned as the shock blew straight into pleasure. She lowered her head and gave a happy moan.

  He grunted as if he’d been the one to get hit, and then settled in. Slowly the blows grew harder. The pressure in her lower half tightened as the stinging changed to burning, and she edged closer to coming.

  He stopped to rub his palm over her bottom, soothing the pain. His finger slid between her folds. “You’re wet, Summer.” He cupped her chin and turned her head toward him. “And in need of more,” he said slowly, and his thumb stroked along her jaw. His eyes darkened. “All right, then.”

  He released her and stepped back. “These are for being rude to Simon and Xavier.” The next five were hard enough to bring tears to her eyes. Each jerk of her body made her breasts swing and the clamps bite, sending more sensation streaming through her body.

  Her head spun as her surroundings faded.

  All her weight leaned on the bench. Nothing mattered anymore except the next slap of the paddle, the burning between her legs, the tugging on her nipples. Sensation after sensation.

  He paused and ran his fingers between her folds, turning slick with her wetness. “Fuck, you really love this. I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” he said just loud enough for her to hear. His slow stroking over her clit increased the fire until the whole area felt like one exquisitely exposed nerve.

  When he moved his hand, she groaned. She’d been so close.

  He returned to swatting her, light, then hard, from no pain to slaps that sounded horrible and resounded through her body. Between blows, the clamps teased her throbbing nipples, shooting electricity in a constant stream to her pussy.

  Closer. Hit me. Touch me… Her back arched, and her butt pushed up, waiting…

  He stopped—the bastard stopped. He squeezed her bottom, making her squeak as the burn increased. With his other hand, he stroked her pussy, the sure touches turning her clit back to a throbbing hardness.

  “Please,” she whimpered, hips wiggling uncontrollably. She wanted to put her thighs together, to rub herself, to do something, but her legs were restrained apart, her hands secured. She could do nothing. “More.”

  “You’ll get more…but it’ll be my way, not yours.” He resumed spanking her. Each blow forceful, one cheek, the other, and one against the lower curve of her butt. Pain ripped into raw sensation with every slap, first the shock, then the burning, then a wave of pleasure. Her hips rocked back after each as if to beg for more. The humming pulse in her ears grew louder than her moans.

  He moved his position forward a step. His free hand brushed down her stomach to settle over her pussy, so that each time he hit her bottom, his finger rubbed directly over her clit.

  She keened, her body turning rigid as the pressure inside skyrocketed upward, coiling…

  He swatted her ass mercilessly, and the burning pain mingled with the excruciating pleasure of his finger sliding down the side of her clit. Another cruel slap of the wooden paddle. His finger stopped.

  “Oh God, oh God, oh God.”

  The next swat didn’t come…didn’t come…and then he stroked ever so slowly over the very top of her clit. Her muscles tensed as everything coiled inside.

  The paddle struck.

  Pain ripped into her; his finger pressed down on the nub of nerves, and it felt as if a tightly wound ball in her groin exploded. Her insides spasmed, sending sensations blazing through her in fiery bursts of pleasure. Her spine arched. His hands closed on her hips, restraining her, as she bucked in place.

  He abandoned her clit to press two fingers over her entrance, then thrust them inside her, hard and fast.

  The shock sent her over again. “Nooooo.”

  He laughed, caressing her stinging bottom. “Oh yes, Summer. God, look at you.” His jeans rubbed against her leg, the pressure of his thighs comforting as she shook in his grasp. Sweat covered her body, and her heart hammered hard enough to break through her ribs.

  “The way you got off…” He stroked her for a minute, letting her catch her breath, murmuring quiet compliments about the pleasure she’d given him, about sharing her response with him.

  His words reassured her. Why did an orgasm make her feel as if she’d opened herself to someone she didn’t know? But she didn’t know him, did she? The surge of affection, of need for him to hold her, was false, not true at all.

  Emotions twisting, she pulled on the restraints, needing to get free, to get up. To get gone. Only, he’d want his turn now, and…

  “Shhh.” To her surprise, he took her face between his big hands and kissed her, not hungrily as she expected, but sweetly, his lips firm, sure, enticing her to want more. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

  She sighed when he let her go, and somehow the aching, fearful sensation had eased.

  “Better,” he murmured. “Now hold on, baby. I’ve seen what clamps do.” He stepped in front of the bench and removed the clamp from her left breast.

  Blood rushed into her nipple, bringing a searing whip of pain. She gasped, pulling back from him.

  “One more.” He took the other clamp off, and God, it burned and hurt. Tears filled her eyes, and she jerked frantically at the restraints holding her arms behind her back.

  “Easy, Summer.” He unclipped her wrists, and then detached the spreader bar, leaving all the cuffs on.

  She held her fingers against her breasts as the fiery pain lessened. How’d she manage to forget how much worse clamps felt coming off than going on?

  After a minute or two, a tolerable throbbing replaced the burning. She sighed and realized he stood nearby, keeping an eye on her. Okay, time to play fair. She glanced at his jeans and the very large bulge in front. “Perhaps I can do something in return?”

  “Maybe later.” He pulled a soft, thin blanket from the toy bag and wrapped it around her. “Let me clean up a bit. I’m sure they have cleaning supplies.”

  “I can help.” To her surprise, her legs wobbled. Then again, she’d never come so hard before. Taking a minute to get stable, she looked around. Near the center of the room, Simon and Xavier talked quietly and watched the scenes. Xavier’s dark gaze met hers, and a faint smile appeared on his hard face.

  Had he set her up with Virgil deliberately?

  Unsettled, she secured her blanket, got the spray bottle and paper towels and wiped down the equipment while Virgil put everything away.

  Might as well get dres
sed, she thought, and found her clothes. When she started to unfasten the blanket, he gave a deep laugh. “Not so fast, blondie.” He set the clothing in her hands and scooped her up, making her head spin.

  “Put me down.”

  “Nope.” He held her snuggled to his bare chest, tipping her up so he could rub his cheek against hers. “I like carrying you.”

  He had a clean, crisp masculine scent with hints of soap and an outdoorsy aftershave. Unable to resist, she ran her fingers through his sandy-colored hair. A conservative, short cut—why was she not surprised? Soft, thick, and straight, like the fur on Mark’s Siberian husky, and much more fun to play with. His cheek creased as if he enjoyed her hands on him.

  She liked them there too.

  He found an isolated spot, dropped the toy bag beside the chair, and tossed her clothes on it, then sat down.

  Her tender bottom hit his hard thighs, and she winced. When he settled her on his lap rather than having her kneel, she tensed. She only sat on laps for spankings. “Sir, please, I don’t want a spanking.”

  “Good,” he said easily. “I think I’m done beating on your ass for tonight…unless you annoy me.” His brows drew together. “First you figure I want sex, then that I’ll spank you. Summer, don’t you ever talk to your doms after a scene?”

  “Uh. Not a lot.”

  “Whose fault that you don’t?” He didn’t sound as if he were blaming her…or the men. Just curious.

  “Well, it’s not like I get all emotional or anything. I usually leave afterward.”

  “So your doms don’t have the chance.” He remained silent for a minute. “One of the nicer things with this BDSM business is the way it forces—or should force—people to talk. I never realized how much I assumed about a partner’s perceptions until I started to ask questions. So we’re gonna have a chat now, baby.”

  She stared at him. He wasn’t joking. She’d seen couples sitting around after scenes but figured the subs had felt needy. “I’m not upset. I mean, we don’t have to talk.”

  “Yeah, we do.” He rubbed his thick knuckles over her cheek. “Damn, you’re soft. I have trouble keeping my hands off you.”

  Okay, serious melty stuff.

  “What did you like about our scene?” he asked.

  She flushed.

  His hand that had been so gentle closed on her jaw and kept her from looking away.

  “Uh. Everything?”

  He snorted. “That’s useful. You like breast clamps. Could I have made them tighter?” As if to illustrate, he moved his hand under the blanket and fondled her breast. When he pinched the nipple, she stiffened at the rush of pain—and pleasure.

  “Answer me.”

  “I thought they were too tight at first, but then they were okay.” She stopped and sighed when he raised his eyebrow for her to continue. “I liked the paddle, and I guess you could have hit harder, only I…”

  He simply gazed at her, not laughing, not unhappy, just listening intently…and watching her. She looked down at her hands and admitted, “I’ve never come so hard before or felt so…” Fulfilled. “It was wonderful.” When one of her buddies got her off during a scene, it felt like a pleasant burp. Satisfying enough, but she’d still have a hollow feeling—like receiving presents yet being alone at Christmas.

  Firm fingers lifted her chin back up. “Simon knows you, so I figure you’ve played in Dark Haven before. What was the difference from other scenes?”

  “How come I haven’t seen you before?”

  “I don’t live here.” He repeated, “What was the difference?”

  He deserved the truth. “You pushed me.” She stopped.

  One cocked eyebrow was the response she got. More.

  She exhaled and admitted, “You made me take it. I didn’t get a choice, and I don’t… It’s different if I don’t have any control.” And he’d calmed her fears somehow. His overwhelming self-confidence and authority and that easy humor had gotten to her. God, she liked him.

  Then again, experience said she’d proven lousy at differentiating a good man from a bad man. Really, she needed to go home now. A shrill scream from a nearby scene sent a chill through her, topping off her resolution.

  She tried to slide off his lap, but his hand curved over her hip securing her in place. “Stay put, little sub,” he growled. “What I’m hearing is that you like being pushed…if you feel safe. You like pain to some extent—having your ass paddled and nipple clamps on, and you liked getting off.”

  It sounded terrible when said out loud. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He kissed her nose. “Considering I’ve had my hands all over you and my fingers inside you, how can talking embarrass you?”

  She felt her face flame.

  “A modest sub who likes to play in public. Interesting.” He didn’t grin often…but when he did, it was devastating. “You have any questions in turn?”

  Her body had focused on the way he’d said, “my fingers inside you,” and the memory of how that felt; her brain couldn’t concentrate on anything else.

  “All right, I’ll answer anyway. I didn’t think I would, but I enjoyed beating on your ass. I enjoyed playing with you and getting you off. And I’d like to do more.” His finger rubbed over her lips, parted them, and slipped inside.

  Thick. Calloused. She swirled her tongue around it and sucked, delighted at how his eyes heated.

  “I don’t want to make love to you in front of all these people, Summer. Come back to my hotel, and we’ll play there.”

  The unexpected request—and surge of fear—tightened her muscles, and she pushed his hand away. “No. I never play anywhere but here. Ever.”

  “Ever,” he repeated. “Does this have something to do with the bad experience Simon mentioned?”

  She stiffened. “I won’t talk about it.”

  “Uh-huh, that would be a yes.” He shifted her closer, making it impossible for her to sit upright. “You’re almost as easy to read as my little cousin.”

  “I need to go now.”

  “Woman, you’re going to give me a complex if you keep trying to run away.” His voice turned hard. “Sit. Still.”

  Oh God. Why did he have to have such a willpower-destroying, subterranean baritone?

  “You had fun—wonderful fun. And you like me.” He paused and waited for her nod. “So although you don’t want to go anywhere with me, you’d probably like to continue?”

  Chapter Four

  Virgil waited, striving for patience. Around them, the dungeon pulsed with activity. The atmosphere had grown darker, more serious. Much of the fancy submissive clothing had disappeared; many of the subs were naked.

  Seconds ticked away before the little sub nodded again. Satisfaction rolled through Virgil. In his younger days, he’d enjoyed so many women that his father had been disgusted, but he’d learned a few lessons. He damned well knew when a woman felt something for him, and Summer did. They’d had a connection before he’d spanked her, and it had grown stronger. He hadn’t realized that would happen. Pain and sex—he had a lot to learn if he continued.

  But she trusted him, at least to a degree, this wary little sub who reminded him of a skittish filly, and he had a feeling she didn’t trust many men, except maybe the ineffectual dom she’d hung out with earlier. What had happened to her in the past? “If I asked you out to dinner, would you go with me?”

  “No.”

  Now that just hurt. “Do you date at all?”

  “Not doms.”

  Obviously some bastard dom had been to blame. No dating? He traced the tiny freckles on her cheeks with a finger. Well, he wasn’t looking to start a relationship anyway, especially with someone who lived hours from Bear Flat. He’d come here only for this one night. Tomorrow he’d head home, finish working out the plans for a greenhouse off the barn, and be back at work on Monday. He’d probably never see this little, sweet woman again.

  The thought sent a pang of regret through him and increased his resolve to s
pend time with her now. “All right, then. I want more, and so do you, but you don’t want to leave here. Am I hitting all the bases?”

  “Yes.” She had a seductively melodic voice, not low or husky, but…a little furry, as if she were purring. She could probably read a phone book and get a guy off.

  “Then we’ll stay put and play some more. Can we find somewhere here a tad more private?”

  She bit her lip, which he’d noticed meant she was nervous. And between his kisses and her nervousness, her mouth was swollen. Tempting. He pulled her up and kissed her gently, then took his turn at nibbling on her lower lip. Soft. Velvety. Warm. Seductive as hell. Unable to resist, he took her mouth hard, plunging in and possessing. His cock thickened with his need to plunge into her pussy the same way.

  What else would she let him do? What did he want to do?

  Fuck, he wanted to do everything…

  Her arms were around his neck when he pulled back, and her eyes were hot, dazed with desire. Why did she have to feel so right? “Find us somewhere to play, Summer. Now.”

  She blinked. “Maybe one of the theme rooms? They have windows, but we wouldn’t be on display like this.”

  “That’ll do.”

  He set her on her feet, and she hesitated. “You won’t gag me, right?”

  What the hell had that bastard dom done? “No, baby, I won’t.” He held his hand out, pleased when she set her hand in his. She didn’t have an artist’s long, slender fingers. Her fingers were short, her hand designed for work. He approved.

  On the far end of the dungeon, Summer stopped in front of a door and checked the window. “It’s empty.”

  An actual room with a door. Amazing. “Seems private enough.”

  “Weeell.” She flushed and pointed to small holes in the wall. “It’s the Victorian theme room, so it has peepholes for voyeurs.”

  Jesus. “Let’s take a look.” He opened the door and guided her in. Eighteen-hundreds’ brothel style. The flowery wallpaper in dark reds blended with deeply colored Oriental carpets. The four-poster bed held definite possibilities, especially with chains hooked up in the canopy frame. The wall sconces put out a soft yellow light. The bed curtains looked promising at first, but they'd been anchored to the posts so a person couldn’t pull them around the mattress. Not that much privacy.