In His Cuffs

by Sierra Cartwright

  The main room of the house’s dungeon also had a number of people gathered around. A kneeling sub was attached to a ring on the wall. A couple waited for beverages in front of the bar, and servers moved through the space, carrying bottles of water and more trays filled with delicacies.

  Master Damien walked over to talk to them. “I see Maggie has agreed to play with you.”

  The house owner looked at her, rather than David. She knew Master Damien was checking on her, giving her an out. “I did, Sir,” she told him.

  “He’ll make you cry,” Master Damien warned.

  She hazarded a quick glance at her Dom for the evening.

  David shrugged. “It has happened once or twice.”

  “As you know, Sir,” she said to Master Damien, “I don’t cry.”

  “I’m afraid you might have just issued a challenge,” Master Damien said with a quick grin.

  This man was an enigma to her. Although she saw him every time she came to the Den, she knew very little about him. Sometimes he wore a suit, other times he was much more casual in jeans and a T-shirt. Tonight he wore slacks and a black lightweight sweater.

  On occasion, she’d seen him with his hair pulled back and secured with a thin strip of leather. Tonight it was loose, with the ends curled against his collar.

  Rumours about him were rampant. The only thing people were pretty sure about was the fact he lived in seclusion. She’d heard he had another job and spent some time at the Den, but didn’t call it home. Everything beyond that was wild speculation. He’d either had a sub who’d shattered his soul or he was heartless to begin with and had never allowed anyone close.

  All she knew was that she appreciated the way he ran the house. Nothing happened here without Gregorio or Master Damien knowing about it. Some of the playrooms had an exposed wall in case the players wanted to be seen. Other places had doors for privacy, but even then, there were windows so that someone could periodically check on the sub’s safety.

  To her knowledge, no one had ever witnessed Master Damien participating in a scene. Maggie knew she wasn’t the only one who’d wanted to play with him.

  “Is there a private room available?” David asked.

  “First door on the right.”

  David wound up the leash again, bringing her in close. “I’d like you to keep your hands behind your back,” he reminded her.

  She immediately did as requested, but he continued to regard her. “Yes, Mr Tomlinson,” she said. While she was accustomed to having Master Damien look in on her scenes, being corrected in front of him embarrassed her. She looked at the floor, wishing it would open up so she could disappear.

  “Let me know if you need anything,” Master Damien said.

  “Thank you,” David replied, answering for both of them.

  She felt a tug on her leash. It had the effect of yanking her out of her musings and refocusing her on her submission. She forgot about herself and her feelings as she followed him down the hallway.

  Once he had led her to the room and the reality of what they were about to do set in, the first tendrils of nerves rippled through her.

  From her numerous visits, the room was familiar. Each of the play spaces had similarities—they were all stocked with cuffs and various spanking implements. But each room also catered to a different form of play. This one had a table that resembled something out of a doctor’s office, but not exactly. There appeared to be a cradle for her head, so that she could safely be situated facedown. In that way, it looked more like something a massage therapist would use.

  Like a table in a doctor’s office, it had a small shelf that could be slid back, leaving her bottom hanging suspended. How much pressure she’d be under would depend entirely on how he secured her. There were attachments that could be extended for her heels. She had no idea how he intended to use the piece of furniture, but the numerous possibilities intrigued her as much as they made her anxious.

  He closed the door behind them.

  She knew the walls had been soundproofed. It could be disconcerting to others to overhear screaming, and when she was the one screaming, she liked having some privacy. Since the Den also served as a studio for exclusive video shoots, keeping down outside noise was important. Despite the extensive efforts, the walls still seemed to softly vibrate from Evan C’s band.

  David detached her leash. “Please kneel while I set up the room.” He pointed to a spot on the floor.

  The instruction at least was expected, something familiar in the oddness of sceneing with him.

  He stood still while she lowered herself in position.

  Maggie rarely played with the same man twice. There was something about the thrill of the unknown with a new Dom. The fact she knew David, but in a different context, enhanced her excitement and apprehension.

  Since he hadn’t instructed otherwise, she watched him hang the leash from a hook in the wall before placing his bag on the countertop. He unzipped it and pulled out several condoms—he hadn’t been joking when he’d said he wanted to fuck her.

  He laid out various sized cuffs, likely some for her wrists and others for her ankles. He pulled out a tawse, a paddle and three different floggers, each crafted from different coloured leather. The strands varied in thickness. Her mouth watered as she wondered which he’d select and if she’d ever get to try them all.

  She knew him to be organised, and he never went home for the evening without putting away each pen, pencil and piece of paper. He arranged every item on the counter, with nothing touching. She hoped that precision extended to the way he would deal with her.

  There were other items she couldn’t see without craning her neck, and that would be bad form.

  She did see him take out a bottle of water before he placed his bag on the floor and turned back to her.

  Those dratted nerves returned, double time.

  Without speaking, he picked up a chair and moved it close to where she knelt.

  After sitting, he finally shattered the quiet by telling her, “Please stand and remove all your clothes.” He offered his hand to help her up.

  His grip was strong, firm, reassuring. Their bodies were close, and the setting pulsed with intimacy.

  He released her, and she drew her shirt over her head.

  “Purple?” he asked. “Another surprise. I’m betting the panties match the bra.”

  “Why would you guess that, Mr Tomlinson?”

  “The bra isn’t as risqué as I expected. Therefore I figured you bought a matched set.”

  He was right.

  She dropped the shirt to the floor before unzipping the skirt and wriggling out of it. Maggie felt as if she were doing a striptease for him.

  “Very nice,” he said as he swept his gaze down her body, taking in her thong, stockings and garter belt.

  Now she was doubly glad she’d made the purchases.

  She stepped away from the skirt.

  “Do you dress this way at work?”

  “You’ll never know, Mr Tomlinson.”

  The air seemed to hum with a sudden electrical current, like she’d felt in lightning storms on high mountain peaks. She hadn’t meant it to sound like a challenge, but it had come out that way.

  “Please continue,” he said into the seething tension.

  The first few minutes with a new Dom always made her uneasy, until she slid into the place where nothing interfered with her thought process, where doubts buckled beneath the heartbeat of instinct.

  Aware of his scrutiny, she reached behind her and unhooked the bra clasp before drawing the straps down her arms. Still looking at him, she dropped the lacy lingerie and pulled her shoulders back.

  He tapped his forefingers together. “You have gorgeous breasts,” he said. “How sensitive are your nipples?”

  “Not very,” she replied. Beneath his scrutiny and the room’s overhead fan, they began to bead. “When I masturbate, I need a lot of stimulation, so I put clamps on them.”

  “And would you like
me to put a pair on you this evening?”

  “If it pleases you, Sir. I mean, yes, please, Mr Tomlinson.”

  “I understand why you’re the company’s lead salesperson,” he said with a slight nod of respect. “You’re highly adaptable. This side of you that wants to please must be helpful in business development. It seems sincere.”

  “Thank you for saying so.”

  “You could try it when you enter my office.”

  “And you could release me from that employment contract.”

  “Without your talents, World Wide Now stands to lose a significant amount of sales revenue. If you opened a competing business or moved to one of our competitors, it could be up to forty per cent. So the answer is no.”

  The argument was a familiar one. If she were honest, she’d admit he was right. Their customers liked her. Her mother was the firm’s creative talent, though. She had an eye for web branding, from actual design to implementation. Together they made a hell of a team, and customers were loyal to her mother, often returning for additional campaigns.

  David stood and crossed to the counter. “Tweezers or clovers?”

  “Clovers. That way you can tug on them and they’ll stay in place,” she said. “Please.”

  He selected a pair and tested the pressure on his little finger before discarding them in favour of a second set.

  “Are those harder or lighter than the previous ones?” she asked.

  “Harder.”

  Her pussy moistened. She waited with infinite patience for him to return.

  “Offer your breasts to me.”

  For a moment, she looked at the clamps. A chain ran between them, and they hung from his index finger. Then she met his gaze, as if he’d urged her to look at him.

  At work, he insisted on having his way. In this private room with just the two of them, her naked and vulnerable, him bare-chested and in charge, she saw him in a new way. There was a quiet, observant intensity in his blue eyes. He was listening to and respecting her every wish, changing his style to suit her while still asserting his will. That would make him an even better Dom. And she was looking forward to it.

  Obediently she cupped her breasts, drawing them up and together. “Please, Mr Tomlinson, will you put the clamps on me?”

  “It will be my pleasure.”

  The first touch of her boss’s fingers on her skin sent shockwaves through her.

  Before tonight, she would have said she’d never allow him to touch her. Now she was all but begging him to.

  He played with her nipples, his touch extra light. She moaned, wanting more.

  “I’ll set the pace,” he told her.

  “Yes, Mr Tomlinson.” Unable to help herself, she swayed towards him.

  “So needy.”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  He pinched her nipples then released the tips, only to grasp them again and roll the swollen peaks between his thumbs and forefingers.

  “Oh, thank you. Thank you.”

  “Lovely manners you have, little one.”

  With her curves, she wasn’t accustomed to being called little. Near him, she did feel small. He could tuck her under his chin and hold her close…not that she wanted him to, she told herself.

  Most men gave her nipples a few perfunctory tugs, but he turned this torment into an art form.

  He responded to her unspoken demand by increasing the pressure, making her nipples fully erect.

  “Now they’re ready. Keep holding your breasts,” he instructed.

  He let her go only long enough to take hold of her right nipple, extend it and affix the rubber tip.

  “Ah!” She sucked in a breath.

  “More than you thought?”

  “Yes,” she admitted.

  “Can you bear it?”

  The shock of it had already begun to fade as he took hold of her left nipple and stroked it, distracting her. “I’m fine, Mr Tomlinson,” she said finally.

  “You have expressive features. I’ll have to watch you more carefully when we’re together outside of here.”

  “I’m better at hiding my thoughts when I’m not aroused sexually,” she told him. Before she was mentally prepared, he attached the second clamp, compressing her nipple.

  She closed her eyes.

  “At some point, I may add weights to them,” he told her when she had centred herself and looked at him again.

  “If it pleases you,” she said.

  “I’ll give you a few more moments to adjust before I amuse myself with your tits.” He took his seat again. “When you’re ready, remove the rest of your clothes.”

  She worked down the ankle straps of her platform shoes then kicked them aside. The movement caused the clamps to sway, so she moved a bit slower.

  “Beautiful,” he approved. “Nothing pleases me more than this.”

  “Mr Tomlinson?”

  “Your femininity. Your graceful motions.”

  Under his scrutiny, she removed the panties. She stood before him in nothing but the garter belt and black stockings.

  “Nicely groomed,” he said.

  From his tone, she couldn’t tell whether he approved of her shaving or not. She settled for saying, “Yes.”

  “I like my subs completely naked so I can see every red mark. Remove the rest of your lingerie if you please, Ms Carpenter, so we can get on with it.”

  She released each clasp and rolled down her stockings, one at a time, again taking care to minimise extra movements. Then she unfastened the hook behind her waist. She allowed the last of her garments to pool on the floor.

  Under the scrutiny of his intense gaze, she fought the onslaught of nerves that urged her to cover herself.

  “Very pretty,” he said.

  His tone sounded so sincere she believed him. Either that, or he was a skilled Dominant who knew how to put a sub at ease. It didn’t matter. She gained confidence from his compliment.

  “Turn all the way around. Slowly.”

  When she faced him again, he nodded in apparent satisfaction.

  “As I’ve been fantasising about it, we’re going to start with an old-fashioned over-the-knee spanking. But first…”

  He stood again and retrieved some substantial-looking weights.

  She reminded herself she’d given tacit agreement, but that didn’t stop her from swallowing deeply as he approached her.

  “I don’t mind tears,” he reminded her.

  “Do you have onions in your pockets, Mr Tomlinson? That’s the only way you’ll see me cry.”

  “Defiant until the end, are you?”

  Instead of immediately attaching them, he squeezed her breasts. Heat shot through her.

  “I’m going to stroke your pussy.”

  Since he hadn’t instructed her to part her legs or move, she stayed where she was. He plumped one of her breasts while he slid a finger between her labia. She felt herself becoming slicker as he masterfully coaxed a response from her.

  “Could you come from just this?”

  “I… I imagine I could, Mr Tomlinson.” She wondered if he’d experiment, but he stopped and lowered his hand.

  “I want you more aroused when I let you come.”

  “Of course, Sir.” She’d been with enough Doms to know that some preferred she wait. Others enjoyed making her come multiple times. In case the evening didn’t go as well as she hoped, she’d packed her trusty vibrator in her overnight bag.

  “Ready for the weights?”

  “Yes, Mr Tomlinson.”

  He grinned at her. “I do like the way that sounds.”

  “Don’t get accustomed to it past this evening. At work I’m going to start calling you David.”

  “Cheekiness earns you extra spankings.”

  “I’m not afraid.”

  His smile faded, and once again he was all stern and fierce. Part of her knew she shouldn’t torment him, that it was akin to pulling a tiger’s tail, but this side of her boss intrigued her. At work, she didn’t dare answer
back. Her mother’s future hung in the balance. But here… There was a certain freedom in being on footing that they both understood, that had rules. If things felt out of control, she could use her safe word. The truth was, for her, the dynamic they had elsewhere enhanced the scene, adding an air of danger.

  Dispassionately, he added the weights. She did a little dance as her nipples were dragged downwards.

  “Damn, that’s beautiful,” he said.

  “It hurts.”

  “When you’re a bit more aroused, you’ll forget about it,” he promised.

  Though she knew he was right and she often moved from one set to another at home, having him in charge seemed to magnify the experience. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth.

  “Would you like to use your slow word in order to have me remove them?”

  Maggie considered his question. She liked being pushed past what she thought she could endure. The pressure was tolerable, and she suspected it would enhance her spanking. And she knew it was one more experience she could relive while she masturbated during the coming weeks. Some things that she had disliked at the time added memorable detail to her fantasies. “Thank you for asking, Mr Tomlinson. I’m fine.”

  He fisted the chain and drew her onto her toes. She gasped for air, but damn, it turned her on as well.

  “You’re a perfect princess,” he told her.

  She closed her eyes, willing herself to surrender rather than struggle against the pain.

  Suddenly he released his grip, but he captured her shoulders to steady her as she balanced again on her bare feet.

  When she looked at him, she saw his gaze was intent, focused on her face. He had apparently been honest earlier when he’d said he would watch and enjoy her suffering.

  Of all the Doms on the planet, she would never have expected to want to please him. But the look of approval in his deep, thoughtful eyes sent a shiver of submissive recognition through her.

  “Now for that spanking.”

  He took her wrist and drew her with him to the chair. He sat. Her mouth dried. She could ask for a drink of water, but she knew it wouldn’t help. She was parched from the sudden onslaught of trepidation, nothing more. For a moment, just a moment, she wondered if she’d been smart to goad him earlier. Now she was having second thoughts about exposing her buttocks to a man who obviously relished the idea of reddening her skin.