Bound to the Bad Boy

by Molly Ann Wishlade

  Megan nodded. “If you would like to show me, Master.”

  “I have a few surprises here for you too, which I’m sure you’ll like. You remember that club we used to attend?”

  “Yes. Club Castille.” Of course she remembered. They had gone there more than once and it had been thrilling, terrifying, and incredible.

  “Well I used their décor as inspiration for one of the rooms when I built this place. It’s entirely devoted to The Scene. What do you think about that?”

  “It sounds amazing.”

  “Oh it is.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Let me show you.”

  As he guided her through the hallway towards the back of the house, Megan savored the warmth of his hand and the proximity of his strong, toned body. More than anything right now, she wanted him to lift her into his arms and wrap her legs around his waist. She wanted him to kiss her full on the mouth and to explore her with his tongue. Then she wanted his big, hard cock inside her, stretching her and filling her until her eyes watered and her body was wracked with the sweet, intense orgasms that she knew he could give. He could fuck her against the wall, on the deep steps of the staircase, or even on the cool, hard wooden floorboards. Anywhere.

  Just fuck me.

  But that would come.

  If she waited.

  And in the meantime, she would enjoy whatever attention he was prepared to lavish upon her.

  Chapter Three

  Megan admired the open plan layout of the ground floor of Matt’s house. To the right of the hallway was a spacious and light-filled lounge, with a large black leather couch and comfy, reclining chair. The huge window looked out on the front yard and the long driveway, shaded either side by tall, ancient trees. On the wall above an open fireplace hung a huge TV with surround speakers.

  “I don’t really get the time to watch much on it,” Matt explained, “but when I do it’s as good as the cinema.”

  Megan smiled, picturing snuggling up to him on the comfy sofa in the evenings. Despite their d/s roles, they had experienced all of the regular aspects of a relationship too. But without the nagging doubts and insecurities that came with most relationships. They knew what they had, what they wanted from each other and it worked for them.

  Had worked.

  But when she’d gone off to college, she’d seen a different type of life and believed that she needed to be free of Matt. She had even wondered if what they’d had together was in some way abnormal. Unusual. She had questioned the very foundations of their love and that in turn had caused it to crumble. She swallowed her tears. Blinked away her grief. It would not do to dwell on the past right now.

  Let it go.

  I don’t think I can.

  Matt placed his hand in the small of her back and guided her through the lounge area and around to what appeared to be a music room. His prize guitars were displayed on stands, including his battered old acoustic. The one he had played to serenade her when they were just teenagers. He had played songs by the Eagles, the Beatles and Guns ‘N’ Roses and Megan had fallen in love with his easy charm, his confidence, and his talent.

  French doors led out onto a wooden deck and a large expanse of lawn. Beyond that, Megan could make out the fast flowing river that ran the length of the small town like an ever-present life force, a reminder that life moved on and took you with it if you let it.

  “It’s beautiful. Really beautiful,” she whispered then turned to look at Matt. His profile took her breath away. From his dark hair and eyebrows to his sun kissed skin, he was even more gorgeous than she remembered. Getting older had matured him like a fine wine. At twenty-seven, adult masculinity now replaced what had once been the sharp beauty and softness of teenage youth. His chest was now so wide, and his shoulders, so muscular. She was overwhelmed by the urge to be wrapped in his arms once again.

  To feel safe, reassured, certain of what life would bring and of who she was. With Matt, she had been clear about herself. Away from Matt, she had floundered in the uncertainty of life and society, never quite sure what people wanted or expected of her. It was extremely lonely. Just like her childhood had been. Yet she had blundered on, determined to find a life for herself without the handsome biker at her side.

  And for what? Because she was a coward. Because she thought that it would be better to be alone than to be an old lady to a vice chairman.

  “Come.” He reached for her hand and led her deeper into the house.

  They walked beneath the staircase and through to a large dining room, equipped with a gothic style mahogany table that would seat twenty people with ease.

  “You entertain much, Master?”

  He grinned then shook his head. “Created the perfect house, but it needs the right woman to make it a home.” The intensity of his gaze startled her and she looked away. Was she the right woman? Should she be here, living this life and entertaining their friends and family with him? At his side? His charter, their old ladies and their children? A smile played on her lips. The evenings they could have together, wrapped up in that bubble of warmth and safety that belonging to a motorcycle club had offered.

  The fun. The laughter. The love.

  Grief hovered like a rain cloud.

  She had given it all up. Could she ever win it back? And did she want to? Could she be the Megan she once was or did life just keep on moving, pushing you from one event to the next, sometimes drowning you in its swell, preventing you from taking a much needed breath or from gathering your thoughts?

  When she had given Matt up, she had thought it was for the best. But she wondered now if she had been thinking straight. At the time, she’d believed that her head was clearer than it had ever been. That time and space away from her sweetheart had given her freedom to carve out a normal life. Whatever normal was. Perhaps it was her unconventional childhood that had led her to yearn for what other people seemed to have. Plain. Boring. Regular. Nine to five. So she had tossed Matt aside like a pair of old boots, never intending on seeing him again. She knew she would weaken in his presence. And so she had stayed away, hoping that not seeing him or hearing his voice would make leaving him easier. Hoping in vain.

  Just off the dining room was the biggest kitchen she had ever seen. Shiny black surfaces reflected her naked body everywhere she looked and her footsteps echoed as she walked across the red tiled floor. At the center was a large island equipped with knife blocks, olive wood chopping boards and a double stainless steel sink with taps.

  Matt had thought of everything. The downstairs was perfect. Spotless. But empty.

  It was waiting for a couple. A family. A life to be lived within its walls.

  She thought of Matt rattling around here all alone and her heart swelled with remembered affection. Though he had always been her protector, her strength, her world, she had been important to him. She knew that. She had tried to push it away, to sweep the memories of it out of her heart as she tried to divorce herself from her feelings for him but being here, being so close to him in the beautiful home that he had created, now brought it all to the surface once more.

  Matt had needed her as she had needed him.

  And she had abandoned him. But for what?

  “One more thing.” Matt gestured at a door at the far end of the kitchen. “Before we go upstairs, I want to show you what else I made.”

  She followed him through the door.

  ****

  Matt led Megan through a short corridor then he stood back to allow her to walk into the room before him. The room he had built and filled with her in mind.

  He hoped that it wasn’t too much for her. He was torn between wanting to see her reaction, to know if she still wanted to play and fearing that she might be frightened away, never to return.

  But he had to know. Theirs had never been a vanilla relationship. It had progressed from active and vigorous intercourse to some light bondage and spankings then into a fully-fledged d/s affair during the first year of their relationship. Their tastes and
enthusiasm had matched and whilst, as Dom, he had been the instigator in many ways, Megan had never held back. She was always keen to explore further. To be more. To blossom under his tutelage.

  Much of it had been natural to him, and some of it had emerged from his reading and some from his own early trips to the clubs where BDSM practices were celebrated. He had scened with others, both male and female, and found early on that he preferred to be the Dominant and that he preferred to be with a female sub. It was part of his make-up, part of his DNA to be in charge. In control. He was proud and strong as an alpha of a wolf pack. As Vice President of the Cherub Chapter of the Night Warriors, it was essential to be a strong leader. And he was. A leader of men. A leader in the bedroom. A leader in the dungeon.

  Megan had been a perfect student, a perfect sub. That was why her transformation when she had gone to college had come as such a shock. Even though it had not happened overnight. During her home visits to Cherub, she had been as keen as always to indulge in their d/s activities. At first. But her visits had become less frequent. Her enthusiasm for submission had dwindled. He had seen the devotion seep from her eyes like a dying flame.

  And then she had called him. To break his heart in two.

  He had considered chasing after her, begging her to reconsider, even forcing her on his motorbike and bringing her home. But it would have been wrong. All relationships were about give and take. For any relationship to work, the two people involved had to respect each other and to love each other. With a Dom and a sub, it was the same. But there was a power exchange involved too. Only that exchange had to be built on trust and consent. He couldn’t effectively lift Megan onto his bike and carry her off if she didn’t want him to do so.

  And he had sensed that she didn’t want him to.

  So he had given her space. A week. A few months.

  Then life had chosen to punch him in the guts and he’d been sent down for life. Six months he’d endured in the hell known as a correction facility. For a crime he didn’t commit. Nevertheless, it had given him quality time for reflection and he had come to terms with the realization that perhaps Megan did not want to be an old lady. Or a sub… not his sub, anyway.

  So he had let go. Tried to let go, anyhow.

  Following his release from jail, he had forged ahead and built the house, equipped it with everything that they had once discussed. Then waited. Even though he had told himself and his charter that he wasn’t waiting. Not for Megan. Just taking some time to get things back on track.

  Yet he had never, ever brought another woman back here.

  The room was as it had once been. For her and her alone. Clean, fresh, new.

  Megan’s.

  “This is all for you.” There. It was out.

  “For me?” Her eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted. He perused her naked form. His boner was still pressing hard against denim. Even though he’d tried to ignore it. Megan made him so hard.

  “For you. Nothing in here has been used. It’s all ready at your disposal.”

  He watched as she wandered around the room. She stroked the spanking horse that had a prime position in the center of the wooden floor. She ran a hand over the various vibrators and dildos that neatly lined up on the dresser in the corner. She turned her back to the St Andrew’s cross that was fixed upon the far wall and she moaned as she slipped her wrists through the leather restraints. She looked so sexy there against the cross with her legs parted and her arms outstretched. Just how he had known she would. He wanted to rush over and tighten the restraints, to locate the nipple clamps and then take her into sub-space with a sound pussy flogging.

  But he had to be sure that it was what she wanted. Matt wanted Megan back in his life for good, not just for a night. He couldn’t deny it when she was here in the room he had designed for her. So he had to take things slowly. Begin from the beginning with a few reminders. Like the denied orgasm.

  Build her up. Warm her up. Then win her over.

  If he was lucky.

  And if he weren’t, if she definitely didn’t want to return to Cherub and to him, then he would make the most of tonight. Treasure every minute of it so that he had something to keep him going in the long empty days and nights ahead.

  “Are you hungry, sub?”

  She looked up, as if suddenly aware that he was there.

  “I guess I could eat.”

  “Come on, then.” He held out a hand.

  “But don’t you want to . . .?” She glanced around the room then back at him. Was that disappointment in her eyes?

  “I do. But all in good time.”

  She walked towards him, her breasts wobbling invitingly. How those massive tits teased him. He steeled himself, curling his hands into fists at his sides. He must stay strong now in order to reap the rewards later. But some contact, a kiss, would be acceptable now. Surely?

  He pulled her into his arms before he could talk himself out of it, and ran his hands over her back then down to cup her curvy buttocks. He squeezed them and pulled her close so that his erection pressed into her cunt. She sighed as the zip of his jeans met her tender, sensitive flesh. Then he kissed her. Long, slow, deep. Breathing her in. Tasting her. Their hearts beating next to each other, as one.

  Megan was home.

  My Megan. My sub.

  He just hoped that he could persuade her to stay.

  Chapter Four

  Megan followed Matt back into the kitchen. Her head swam and she tingled all over after the kiss they had just shared. She had longed for more, for him to suggest they try out some of the implements in the room or even just have a good old-fashioned fuck, but he had kissed her like he never wanted to let go.

  And that had been that. Nothing else. Not even another fingering of her pulsing pussy.

  She could cry with frustration and need.

  But she knew better.

  A good sub did not beg or insist. She did as she was told. Allowed her Dom to lead her, to please her, to do as he wished.

  And she found that in spite of the passing of time and their separation, she still trusted her Dom. She had to have faith in his decisions and to allow him to do what was right by them both. She felt some of the tension in her shoulders slip away. It was nice to be taken care of again. To have a man who made the decisions with her at the forefront of his mind. Giving him the power to do that was enjoyable, and she let herself slide into the feeling as she would into a Jacuzzi. The hot bubbles met her skin and slipped along it, popping up to the surface, each one carrying away another small particle of her uncertainty.

  She leaned against the counter as Matt fished around in the giant silver fridge. He brought out a bottle of white wine, a bowl of strawberries and a squirt can of whipped cream. She smiled at his wicked expression.

  “Master?”

  “Sub.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “How about we whip ourselves up some strawberries and cream and wash it down with a cool, crisp Pinot Grigio?” He shook the can to illustrate his meaning.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  She walked towards him and he placed everything on the counter.

  “Turn around.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  Megan turned to face the central island. Matt took hold of her hips and pulled her towards him then bent her over so that her breasts brushed against the edge of the cool black marble. She sucked in a breath at the shocking sensation as it brushed her tender nipples. Then he stuck a foot between her legs and nudged them further apart.

  “What’s your color, sub?”

  “Green.”

  “Good.”

  He rubbed a hand over her buttocks and upper thighs.

  “And now?”

  “Still green, Master, and I have been a naughty girl.” Her stomach flipped with excitement. They had played with food before and whipped cream was one of her favorites. It usually involved her being whipped into a frenzy, then used as a human bowl.

  She gripped
the edge of the counter.

  “Oh, you have been a naughty little sub.” Matt’s deep voice resounded through her body, tightening her nipples into stiff peaks and tickling her pussy. “You’ve spent far too long away from me.”

  “I have, Master… I’m so naughty.”

  “What should I do to my naughty little sub?” Matt was checking. She realized that now. He wanted to know if she was prepared to go ahead. Before they had split, over four years ago, he hadn’t needed to check so thoroughly because they had been so in tune. But this was like new again and she respected him making sure. It showed that he cared. In no way was he abusing his position as Dom.

  “If it pleases you, Master, you should spank me.” There. She’d said it. Would he do it? Sometimes he had done it to warm her up, to excite her and himself but sometimes he had led her to expect it then declined. Either way could be a form of punishment, depending on her mood.

  Now, right now, she wanted to feel the heat of his hand upon her bare ass.

  “I think I will spank you. To remind you what you’ve been missing and to punish you for leaving me for so long.”

  “Please, Master,” she begged. “Punish me.” She bit her lip.

  The room fell silent.

  She waited. Her pussy clenched with longing and her skin burned to be touched.

  Then it came.

  The first hard slap ministered to her right cheek. Hard enough to tingle but not hard enough to really hurt.

  “Oh, Master… more, please, more.”

  He slapped her again, on the left cheek. Megan steadied herself with her hands and wriggled her bottom.

  Please touch me…

  She sighed when the next slap caught her pussy from behind. The sting on her lower lips made her throb with lust, and her inner muscles tightened with the onset of orgasm. Just a few more.

  He administered another resounding slap that caught both her cheeks together.

  “What color are you now, sub?”

  “Green… SO green.”

  “Do you deserve more?”

  “If you think I do, Master.”