Jon pressed his hand to the small of her back. “Push back a little further,” he ordered.
She leaned into her ties and arched her body, trying desperately to reach the position he wanted.
“Good,” he said, nodding as he stepped around her.
He adjusted the pressure of the nipple clamps and she breathed in sharply when they dug a little harder into the sensitive flesh of her breasts, sending jolts of electricity through her whole body.
God, she so wanted him to fuck her again!
“Quiet,” he said, “or I’ll have to gag you.”
Catherine tried to keep absolutely still while Jon circled around her again. Not that she would mind being gagged, but, first and foremost, she desperately wanted to please Jon. She heard him move over to the bed. That’s where his toy box was, she remembered. An excited shudder ran through her body at the thought of him using that huge, black rubber dildo on her.
When he returned, she gasped. It wasn’t the dildo. Instead, he was running a mean-looking black leather flogger through his hands.
“Are you ready for your punishment?”
Catherine wanted to shake her head. No!
Jon must have seen her hesitate. He waited patiently, still running the flogger through his hands. After a moment, he put the flogger on the floor and stepped directly in front of her.
“Would you like to use your safeword, Catherine?” he asked, cupping her cheek in his hand very softly.
Catherine leaned her cheek into his gentle touch for a second, then shook her head determinedly. “No.” She wanted this. She wanted him to take control over her body— completely.
“Good.” Jon nodded. He lowered himself onto his haunches and looked at her intently. “I’ll wait until you’re ready to accept your punishment.”
Catherine nodded tentatively. “I’m ready, Sir.”
“Ask for it.”
She hesitated.
“Catherine?” he prompted.
“Please, Sir, will you punish your sub for disobeying your orders?” The words had come easily to her lips. She had spoken them before, countless times, so often in fact that they had lost their meaning before. As she spoke them again now, running the familiar words through her head, they suddenly felt right again. Catherine could have wept with relief and joy.
Jon picked up the flogger and walked around her, carefully adjusting her position again. “You will receive four lashes with the flogger, but I will warm you up with my hands first. Tell me to start.”
Catherine’s forced herself to speak. “Please start when you are ready, Sir.”
Slap. The first blow landed on her right buttock. It was relatively mild compared to what she was used to, but it still stung and she had to struggle to hold her awkward position.
He made her wait for the second blow.
Catherine held her breath expectantly. When the blow came, it was a just a tiny bit harder than the first, warming up her left buttock. There was a rush of heat but she managed to hold still. The third one was a surprise, though. He slapped her hard across both cheeks and she gave a little gasp.
“Hold still,” he warned. “One more before I use the flogger.”
Again she had to wait for the blow. She wished he would get on with it, hoped he would hit her across her cheeks as before and knew he would probably not. Her mind was playing games with her.
Suddenly, she couldn’t bear to wait any longer. “Please, Sir,” she whispered, and he hit her hard, directly on her swollen pussy lips. Catherine screamed when intense pleasure-pain spread out from the sensitive flesh. It was breathtaking.
Jon stroked her pussy, steadying her as tiny shocks ran through her body.
“Warm enough?” he asked.
She took a deep breath and nodded, unable to speak yet.
He smiled and raised the flogger.
“Count,” he said.
“One.” Catherine gasped as the first blow landed on her already hot arse cheeks. She cringed but managed to regain her position immediately.
Her muscles tensed in anticipation of the second blow.
Nothing happened.
Catherine’s tension eased a little.
From the corner of her eye she could see Jon raise the flogger and she stiffened again. He lowered his hand.
“Not until you relax,” he said.
Catherine tried to unclench her muscles—not an easy feat in her suspended position. She counted backwards from ten to one, breathing deeply as she had practiced a thousand times. It worked. Jon raised the flogger for the third time and a warm, intense calm ran through her body.
The second blow hit her left buttock.
“Two,” she heard a voice say. Was she still counting? It was as if she were looking at her own suspended body from a distance. The sensation of the flogger colliding with her flesh was intense but not unpleasant.
The third blow hit her lower, across the backs of her legs.
“Three,” she said. She was floating now, carried on a wave of intermingling sensations of pain and pleasure. It was a very comforting feeling.
Jon stepped closer to run the thick end of the flogger between her pussy lips. He pushed the handle inside her wet passage and an orgasm began to build inside her.
“How many, Catherine?”
“Three.” Her voice was tense with need.
“Good girl. Where would you like the last one?”
“Wherever you wish, Sir.” It was so wonderfully easy to relinquish control to him.
He withdrew the flogger and raised it again. When the fourth blow came it was comparatively light but expertly aimed, stroking through her hot, wet cleft, avoiding her throbbing clit by a mere fraction of an inch. Catherine cried out and almost lost her balance. She climaxed hard, her body shaking with intense pleasure-pain.
“Four,” Jon said as he released her hands and caught her shuddering body in his arms. “Did you enjoy that?”
Catherine leaned against him. Too weak to answer for the moment, she could only manage a nod. He drew her closer for a kiss.
“Good,” he said against her mouth. “We’ll definitely have to do that again sometime. But not right now. My God, woman, you don’t know what you’re doing to me. You made me so hard I nearly came in my pants.”
Catherine gasped as he threw her over his shoulder to carry her to the bed.
Chapter Four
Catherine looked up from the file she was reading when her colleague, Greg, walked into her office and dropped a blue cardboard box on her desk. “Someone just left this for you,” he said, shrugging and then walking out again.
The box was small—not much larger than a CD case, although a bit thicker. Catherine picked it up and shook it. It rattled. She had a fairly good idea who it might be from. She thought of Jon, an involuntary grin spreading across her face. The last week had been breathtakingly wonderful. Jon had surprised her with his tenderness and the way he seemed to always know what she needed. She was quickly becoming addicted to him.
Catherine had stayed for the rest of the weekend. They had played until they were both panting with exertion, and had then crawled onto the bed and made love until they’d fallen asleep, sated and exhausted, in each other’s arms. Jon had a true gift for taking her to the limits of her control and then pushing her over the edge. The difference from Markus—and there were whole worlds between the two Doms—was that Jon did it with subtle control and overwhelming pleasure rather than pain and humiliation. Jon was incredibly self-assured in his role as a Dominant. He didn’t need to dole out punishments to make her submit to him. When he punished her—and he had done so on several occasions—it was because they both enjoyed the experience. Catherine felt warm all over just remembering how his tantalising combination of pain and pleasure had kept her on the edge, then sent her over into orgasm after wonderful orgasm.
After a weekend of mind-blowing sex and very little sleep, Jon had made her coffee and brought her fresh rolls and jam for breakfast on Monday morn
ing. He had surprised her by handing her a neatly folded pile of freshly laundered clothes. As she had been naked for the greater part of the weekend, she hadn’t realised that he must have had the drycleaners pick up her clothes and deliver them back in time for her to wear on Monday morning. Jon had also insisted on driving her to the office, and Catherine was sure she had never felt so well cared for in all her life. She hadn’t been at work for more than two hours before Jon called to tell her he missed her and would she consider spending the night with him. Catherine had agreed, and he had picked her up after work and driven her round to her flat to get some of her clothes for her to wear the next day. This had established a pattern they had followed for the next few days. They spent a glorious night together, then Jon made them breakfast and drove her to work in the morning only to call or email later. She eagerly jumped at the possibility to spend the night with him every time the invitation was issued. On Wednesday, she packed a small suitcase with some clothes and took along her laptop so she didn’t have to return to the campus accommodation for the next few days.
Today was Thursday, and she had known Jon for exactly one week. And what a week it had been! They would need to celebrate their first week anniversary, she thought. Catherine smiled and opened the box. Apparently Jon had had the same idea and had bought her a present.
Catherine gasped as she stared down at the collar. It was made of soft black leather and had a beautifully wrought silver clasp that could be secured with a tiny silver padlock. Of course, she knew what this meant, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready for this step. Could she become Jon’s sub on a permanent basis? Did she dare?
She lifted the collar out of the box and ran it between her fingers. The material had a smooth texture and it warmed quickly to her touch. Catherine had to fight the impulse to put it on right there in her office in broad daylight. She imagined Jon’s hands fastening the collar around her neck and securing it with the silver padlock. The thought aroused her. Instant moisture gathered in her pussy and she wanted to touch herself, run her hands over her body as Jon would after putting his collar on her. Her free hand began to stroke her breast almost of its own volition. The nipple puckered under the thin material of her blouse and bra. She ran her hand further down her body and moaned, pressing her thighs together in desperate need.
Catherine snapped out of her erotic fantasy when she heard someone walk past her open office door. What was she doing, for God’s sake? She hastily grabbed for the box to put the collar back in. It tipped and she saw the plain, cream-coloured card at the bottom. Turning it over, she read.
Catherine, I want you to wear this and nothing else when I come to pick you up from your office at nine o’clock sharp tonight. Wait for me kneeling in the middle of your office as you did the last time. I am very much looking forward to playing with you and making love to you tonight. Jon.
Catherine smiled to herself in anticipation as she put the card and the collar back into the box and slid it into her desk drawer. Tonight, she thought. She would wear his collar tonight and think about everything else tomorrow.
* * * *
Tonight, Jon thought, while rummaging through his toy box in search of the silver nipple clamps with the tiny bells. He had put quite some effort into planning this evening. He had bought expensive Italian espresso beans, which were waiting to be ground in his shiny new coffee grinder. The champagne was chilled. He had spent half the morning preparing fresh pasta and three different vegetarian sauces. Jon enjoyed cooking for Catherine. He liked to cook and she seemed to really appreciate his efforts. To his mind, this didn’t undermine his authority as a Dom. He didn’t need the added authority of being a Master over his household slave and he had always been more interested in exploring the kinky sex part of the BDSM lifestyle than in the personal servitude of a sub. That was one of the reasons why he had taken to playing with strangers from the clubs rather than making the effort to train a live-in sub. It was different with Catherine, though. He wouldn’t mind having her around him all the time. Not scrubbing his floors and cleaning his toilet, mind. He paid a cleaner to do those things. Jon was thinking of Catherine in a number of much more intimate positions. And the thoughts were making him hard.
He smoothed his hands over the new silky black sheets on his bed and set out the special massage oil on the bedside table. This stuff was guaranteed to drive her crazy. Jon chuckled as he dug the nipple clamps out of the toy box and set them next to the inconspicuous black bottle. He had tried the oil out on himself once and it had kept him up bursting with need all night. He was really looking forward to rubbing it into Catherine’s cunt and maybe her arsehole too. The thought made his cock throb. Later, he told himself, adjusting his bulging erection through his jeans.
Jon took a quick shower and pulled on a jacket over his usual outfit of black jeans and T-shirt, then checked the bedroom again. There were dark red rose petals on the bed and in a bowl by the bathtub, their scent heavy in the air. Candles were placed strategically around the room, just waiting to be lit. Everything was ready. He fervently hoped that Catherine was ready for this too. He had great expectations for tonight—and not just for the great sex he had planned for them. Tonight he would ask her to become his. He wanted to make their relationship permanent, wanted her to move in with him—not as his sub but as something more, something he didn’t have a word for yet. He sighed. Considering her past, it wouldn’t be easy to convince her, he suspected.
Jon left his flat and walked over to the garage. It was half past seven, ample time for the drive across town, even through the sluggish early evening traffic. Greg had found the perfect spot for him in a car park only two houses down from his office building, and when Jon steered the Saab into the empty space an hour later, he smiled at the thought of Greg’s eagerness to help him win Catherine. Maybe he was trying to make up for accidentally making her submit to him? He must remember to thank Greg again for that, maybe get Tiffany a new pair of nipple clamps to please him with.
Jon glanced at his wristwatch. Twenty-five minutes to nine. He brushed some fluff from the passenger seat in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture, then picked up the box with the floor-length black latex coat he had bought for Catherine. She would look marvellous in this, and even more marvellous when he slid it off her naked body. He opened the lid and ran his fingers over the sleek material, then dropped the empty box on the backseat and folded the coat over his arm. At five minutes to nine, he slipped out of the car and started to walk towards Catherine’s office. So what if he was a couple of minutes early? He had left strict instructions with Greg to leave the doors of the building and the office suite unlocked so he could let himself in. Maybe, if he was lucky, he could watch Catherine prepare herself. He would really like to watch her put on his collar.
* * * *
Catherine ran her fingers over the smooth material again. She had put the collar on as soon as the last of her colleagues had left the office. She had no idea how it looked on her, because she hadn’t dared to go check in the mirror. She was too scared of the emotions she might see reflected in her own eyes.
At a quarter to nine, she couldn’t stand the growing tension any longer. Sighing nervously, she got up and began to take off her clothes. She draped her sensible, knee-length grey skirt and white blouse over the arm of her chair then removed her bra and put it on top. When she stepped out of her panties she thought she heard a rustle in the hallway and whirled around, but nobody was there.
With her pulse still beating in her ears, Catherine knelt in the middle of her office and fixed her gaze on the floor. She would not look up until Jon told her so. This was part of the game the two of them played, and she would stick to the rules. Tonight was an important point in their relationship, and she wanted to please him more than anything in the world.
Catherine’s already frantic pulse picked up another notch as she heard a muffled footstep from the hall. She quickly adjusted her position. A shiver of anticipation ran down her spine.
/> Then the unthinkable happened.
“Hullo, Catherine,” a male voice said.
It sounded familiar but it wasn’t Jon’s. She snapped her head up in disbelief.
“Markus,” she gasped, her voice hoarse with panic. Cold fear flooded her, pinning her in place. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t even breathe right.
“Yeees,” Markus said, drawing the word out in his peculiar accent. He grinned. “I see you have been expecting me. Isn’t it just like old times? You kneel on the floor and wait to serve me?”
Catherine shuddered involuntarily when he took a step closer. Still paralysed with fear, she still managed to shrink back and cover her breasts with her arms. She didn’t want him to touch her; didn’t want him to look at her. She had to get out of here. Shouldn’t Jon be here already? What was the time? How could this be happening to her?
Markus took another step towards her. Catherine tried to scramble away from him, but he grabbed her hair, pulling hard to make her meet his gaze.
“Oh no you don’t!” he snapped. “Look at me, you damned bitch. Do you know how much it has cost me to trace you to New York and now here? A fortune! But you will not get away this time. You will come home with me.” He wrapped her long hair around his hand and shook her violently.
Catherine’s teeth were chattering, her whole body shaking with fear and rage.
She wasn’t going back, never again.
Markus tried to drag her to her feet. She struggled against him but he didn’t loosen his grip on her hair.
“Put on your clothes!” he barked and shoved her roughly towards the desk.
Desperate with panic, she made a lunge for the scissors in her desk drawer, but Markus was both quicker and stronger. He caught her arm and twisted it until she dropped them.
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