And she trusted him.
That’s how people die, in this lifestyle.
Aaron’s voice again. She rejected it with everything she had and turned her attention to the sweet guy behind her, who was reaching around to unbutton her shorts. By the time he’d pulled them down to her ankles, she was longing for his touch, or for him to task her with pleasing him in some way.
“Feet up.” When she lifted one foot, then the other, Ed whipped the shorts away. He ran his hands up the backs of her thighs, stopping with his hands just below her ass. She wore boy-cut lace panties, and he seemed to appreciate them because he kept stroking where the lace stopped and skin began.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he confessed.
“Well, if it were me, I’d start with a butt grab. But I’m pretty direct. Fondling works, too.”
She felt his laughter, a swoosh of hot breath against her hip, just before his lips grazed over her skin. “Take your shirt off, wench.”
“Wench? Seriously?”
He hauled off and smacked her on one butt cheek, startling her in the best way. “Yes, seriously. Take your shirt off.”
She obliged, while he spanked her on the other side too, then pulled her underwear down so he could place his hands over the marks he’d made. He squeezed, letting his fingers dig in, until she squirmed and winced.
Like hell he doesn’t know what he’s doing.
“Bra, too. Your ass is gorgeous, have I mentioned that?”
“It’s not as good for a girl’s as yours is for a guy’s,” she contested. And earned a fresh set of spanks for her trouble.
“Just move it upstairs, wench, before I make you fetch me a tankard of ale.”
“You’re so medieval when you’re topping.”
She led the way upstairs, trying not to appear too eager. Ed followed and ushered her into his bedroom, bypassing the light switch and walking to the window instead. When he adjusted the blinds, the streetlight near the window illuminated the room in atmospheric bands of light.
“The bedspread your mom got you for Christmas?” It was brown and gold brocade, in sort of a filigree pattern. It looked exactly like she’d expected. The set appeared to include a matching bedskirt, shams, and decorative throw pillow.
“Yeah. Hang on.” He swept the whole mess off the bed onto the floor, leaving behind only the sheets and one pillow in a normal pillowcase that must have been hiding somewhere under the rest. “Okay. Middle of the bed. On your back. Oh, and I borrowed some stuff from Ivan. He explained it all very thoroughly before he let me take it.”
She positioned herself on the bed, but she wanted to stop and applaud. Ed wasn’t exactly topping but he was trying, and it was so cute it made her effervescent with delight.
It remained cute while he was carefully and oh-so-conscientiously securing her to his brass headboard and footboard with borrowed leather cuffs and lengths of chain. It got significantly less cute, however, when he procured a big mesh bag from under the bed.
A big mesh bag full of wooden clothespins. Beth recognized Ivan’s color coding system, which ran from purple paint for the loosest and least painful clips up through the rainbow to red for the clips you never wanted to touch your person.
“When you mentioned this yesterday I got curious and did some research. I think I’ll start with these sort of cobalt blue ones.”
Cobalt blue on her breasts, it turned out. Ed nipped the first one on near her armpit, then frowned when it popped off. She was seconds from advising him how to get it to stay when he figured it out for himself, pinching a fold of skin between his fingers and pressing the clip around as much flesh as it would hold. His gaze flicked toward her face, unsure, and Beth held her breath until he continued.
He placed the clips in two horribly ironic smile-shaped arcs, armpit to breastbone on each side, skirting just under her nipples which were painfully hard before he even got started. By the time he clipped the last blue pin to the skin of her left breast, Beth was pretty sure gentle, vanilla Ed had a heretofore unexplored sadistic streak. He watched her face closely as he added each new piece of pain to the mix, and when she cried out or cursed, he smiled as if he’d just discovered something wonderful. The same charming, boyish Ed smile, but in this context it was the evil smile of a child who’d just discovered the sick fascination of frying ants with a magnifying glass.
He selected the bright green clips for her abdomen, ranking them in two rows from her ribs to her groin. She wanted to be stoic, to suffer in silence as long as possible the way she had always done, but that didn’t last long. The clips were wicked, and she started whimpering once he reached the skin next to her navel.
“Go ahead and make noise. I like it. Tell me to go to hell if you want.”
Oh, dear God. She experimented, her voice a squeaky rasp. “Okay. Go to hell.”
“There, see? Nothing bad happened. Well, except for this.” He fastened another clip.
“Oh, fuck you for that. Ow!”
“Hehe. There’s a reason I chained you to the bed before I pulled out the bag. For the record, I can’t believe you’re letting me do this to you. This is awesome.”
“Did Ivan explain to you about power exch—gaah, motherfucker!”
Ed held up a yellow clip, grinning. “I ran out of the green ones. Yeah, he did. He just called it power exchange, though, without the motherfucker part. I didn’t really get it until now, though.”
She breathed out all the way and forced herself to relax, to find the pure sensation within the pain. That was the magic, the trick to it all, taking the pain and turning into pleasure. Banter was fun, but it wasn’t what she was used to and it kept her from finding her way into warm, fuzzy subspace where pain became an abstract concept.
Ed flicked one of the clips on her boob, pulling her back to the surface. “Talk to me, wench. I’m almost done with these. You know where I’m headed, right?”
There was really only one logical destination. “Pretty sure I do, yep.”
“What do you think? More yellow? Or kick it up to orange? I’m thinking orange.”
“I’m thinking you should consider whether you want those orange clips near your testicles some time.”
“Pfft. They can’t be all that bad.” He spread his finger and thumb and blithely opened one of the orange pins. “See, it’s just a clothespin, owwwwww, ouch, fuck!” He flung the offending clip across the room and eyed Beth with new respect. “Yellow it is.”
But Ed was a sneaky fucker. When he finished the clips on her belly, he reached under the bed again and brought up a batch of yellow clips already strung together. He was going to run a zipper of clips along her cunt.
“I fucking hate you, man.”
“But not spearmint hate.”
“Not quite. Dammit!”
These felt tighter, stiffer than the other yellow clips, although Beth knew location was everything. The first pair of clips pinning her outer labia open tugged at her clit hood, too, making her wet even as the pain brought tears to her eyes.
“You need a second?”
Beth nodded, trying to breathe into it some more. That effort was shot to hell when Ed stroked her clit gently with his forefinger, massaging until she couldn’t help but squirm despite the way it made her feel the clips even more keenly. She couldn’t come like this, but she could get close enough to drive her insane. Lust goggles firmly in place, she looked up at Ed—her torturer, her potential savior—and saw a sex god.
Ed the sex god nearly lost his sole worshiper when he started clipping her pussy open again.
* * *
Once the last clip was in place, Ed slid off the bed and stood up to admire his handiwork. Beth was splayed out on his bed like a kinky wet dream he’d never dared to dream. The brightly colored clothespins highlighted her shape, the subtle arc of her small breasts and the taut beauty of her stomach. The delicate pinks and dusky roses of her pussy and the glistening arousal she couldn’t even attempt to hide from him. Her face w
as flushed almost as pink, and the blush extended down to her chest. Her lips parted as she tried to manage the pain with breathing, and her eyes had grown glassy and vague.
Ivan had said many incomprehensible things to Ed earlier that evening, before the game started. One was that Beth was a tough sub and “suffered beautifully.” Now, Ed got it. This was beautiful, the way she looked, and also the fact that she was giving this suffering to him like a gift. He hadn’t ever thought of himself as particularly dominant before, but he got the power exchange part now. He appreciated the meaning in Beth’s submission. As a bonus, he also found it hot beyond belief to see her submit to this, to take this pain because he’d told her to. Her trust was an aphrodisiac, and the more evil stuff he did, the more trust she had to employ. It was a self-perpetuating cycle of hotness. He hadn’t been this hard since...well, since Beth had tied him to the chair and fucked him silly.
Taking his clothes off, he speculated aloud. “I really don’t know about this D/s stuff. I’m not either one, and I love doing this with you but I don’t know that I’m really a switch either. I think I’m just generally kinky as fuck. I like it all. Is that a thing?”
“Purists would say no, I suspect. But it’s like you gluing your Lego. You have to do what works for you.”
“You’re slurring a little. You’re not shocky, are you?”
“Don’t think so. I just want you to touch me again. Please?”
As if he could resist that entreaty. He took up his place on the bed and stroked like he had before, with one attentive finger. This time he used the other hand to advantage, spreading her slick juices up and down the opening he’d exposed, teasing his fingertips in and out. Finally he gave her the length of one finger, working it in slowly and pressing more firmly on her clit. Beth gasped and came, cursing softly as she trembled her way back down.
“Fuck, I needed that.”
“I need you.”
He could only do so much without the clothespins poking him or springing free, so he teased the first inch or so of his cock inside her and held himself there for a long moment.
“You’re fixing to yank that fucker off, aren’t you? Bastard.”
“I am. Try not to wake the whole street up, wench.” He gathered the string that ran through the clips, testing the tension until he was sure he could do this in one quick move. “On one. Then I’ll fuck your brains out.”
They counted down together. “Five...four...three...two...”
“Fuuuuck!”
“One.”
Ed tossed the string of clips away and thrust his cock as deep as he could go, until his belly brushed against the clips on Beth’s abdomen and he was forced to shift his angle.
She’s going to think I have zero stamina. It made no difference, though. He was too hot to slow down, too keyed up to pace himself. She felt too good, spasming around him in another orgasm a few minutes later. Ed followed her, coming so hard and long he saw stars.
Finally, shaking, he pulled out and levered himself over her in an awkward pushup, kissing her gently.
“I apologize in advance. I hear these things hurt like a son-of-a-bitch when they come off.”
She opened one sleepy, sated eye and contemplated him for a second before closing it again and muttering, “Motherfucker.”
To Ed, it sounded like love.
* * *
The call came at two in the morning, as such calls typically do. Beth fumbled for her cell phone, disoriented in the dark and unfamiliar room, until she remembered she’d put it on one of Ed’s nightstands.
“H’lo?”
“Is this Elizabeth Adamson?”
“Um. Yeah.” She rubbed her hand over her face, hoping to stir herself into some semblance of coherence.
“Ms. Adamson, I’m calling from the ER at Memorial Hermann in the medical center. We have a Mr. Aaron Kruger here, and you’re listed several places as his emergency contact and next of kin.”
“Oh my God. Is he okay? What happened?”
“Beth?” Ed sat up, knuckling the sleep from his eyes. “Is everything okay? Jesus, what time is it?”
“Mr. Kruger will be fine, but he’s being admitted overnight as soon as we can find him a room. He was brought in earlier this evening with a tibial fracture, but we’d just gotten a pretty severe multicar accident in so he had to wait for several hours before they could set it. Between all the pain medication, and his heart condition, the doctor thought it was best to keep him until tomorrow. He wouldn’t let us call anyone for the longest time,” the woman said, irritation trumping her professionalism for a moment. “Honestly I’m not sure I’d call it consent right now, because he’s pretty out of it. But he’s started asking for you and he’ll probably be here in the ER for at least another hour.”
“I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. Of course I’ll be there. God, what an idiot, why didn’t he just—wait, he has a heart condition?”
“Uh...”
“Look, never mind. Just tell him I’m on my way.”
She ended the call and turned to Ed. “Aaron broke his leg. I guess he never thought to change his emergency contact info on his insurance. He doesn’t have anyone else here, any family or anything.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah. I’d better go. It seems like the nice thing to do.”
“Of course. Do you want me to come with you?”
Poor Ed. He sounded as though he’d rather have spikes driven under his nails, but she knew he’d come if she asked. “Nah. I mean it’s just down the street. The most onerous part will be waiting for the guy to return my car from valet parking after I’m done.”
“Good, I was going to insist you use the valet parking instead of going into the parking garage. Okay, well at least I can help you find your clothes.”
“Deal.”
“If you don’t end up staying for long, you could come back here for the rest of the night.”
She grinned, even though he probably couldn’t see it in the dark. “Also a deal.”
Chapter Ten
Beth didn’t make it back to Ed’s place that night. She barely made it to her Thursday afternoon class, after driving Aaron home and making sure he was comfortably and safely set up. Aaron wasn’t happy about her being there—in a rare period of relative lucidity, he had tried to find out the name of the nurse who’d contacted her—but ultimately he needed the help too badly to refuse.
They’d sent him home with serious painkillers, the kind that were known to have devastated many celebrity reputations and more than one small rural town. A nondrinker who typically refused even something as innocuous as acetaminophen, Aaron had no tolerance for or experience with intoxication. And he had nobody else in town to take care of him, no family or friends close enough to ask for a favor like that. Only Beth. When she wasn’t in class, she stayed with him, and when he was awake he talked a lot to try to distract himself from the pain. Under the influence, he said things he never would have sober. He was also whiny and fretful, like a sick child.
“I love you. You know, right? You know I always loved you.”
“How would I have known that? Keep that pillow under your knee, you need the extra support.”
“Well, can I have another one for my back? I want to sit up.”
“I’ll get one of the extra ones from the guest room.” She fetched a pillow, and food and drinks. She helped him to and from the restroom when he was wobbly on his crutches.
“I got you a ring and everything. You want to see the ring? It’s upstairs on my dresser.”
“No, thank you. I don’t need to see the ring. I’m sorry you went to that much trouble, but I did tell you.”
“I wanted it to be a grand gesture,” he mumbled, eyes drooping. “Sweep you off your feet. But I suck at that...all that kinda shit.”
When he fell asleep a few minutes later, she stole upstairs to look at the ring. It sat in its velvet box, which was open and gathering dust. Aaron must not have had the cleaning servic
e back in since he returned from his trip.
The ring was beautiful. She couldn’t fault his taste, and he obviously knew her own fairly well. The band was engraved with a beaded line and encrusted with diamonds, a perfect setting for the gorgeous center gem with its halo of smaller stones. It looked vintage, or maybe very well-made retro. It looked expensive.
In that way, it matched Aaron’s lifestyle. His lavishly updated forties-era house in West University. His wardrobe, mostly low-key clothes in subtle colors and fabrics that looked and felt like money. She had helped host dinner parties here in the past, playing the role of future faculty wife, even though she never expected to be one. She knew the house inside and out. But Aaron had never invited her to live here, not really. He hadn’t declared his love, or asked for her hand, or been remotely romantic. Not until it was too late. If he really was in love with her, he must be hopelessly broken because he had the worst way of showing love she’d ever encountered.
For years Beth had assumed it was a Dominant thing, that emotional distance. Eventually she’d met enough other Doms to know it was just something about Aaron. His upbringing, perhaps, by a series of nannies who treated him like a young prince and parents who rarely held him accountable for anything. He was smart and appealing, and he faked being a grown-up well, so well he seemed to have fooled himself. He had a job, was respected in his field and among his kinky peers, but deep down he was still a dilettante playboy. Beth felt a pang for him, that he seemed to be figuring this out only now, in middle age, when his life was probably more than half over.
Possibly a lot more than half over, she corrected herself. While he was in London, apparently, his previously insignificant mitral valve prolapse had worsened after a sinus infection led to a severe bout of bacterial endocarditis. He’d spent weeks in the hospital, and now his valve showed signs of damage and a decrease in function.
The Principle of Desire (The Science of Temptation) Page 9