“Oh, well, we’re very impressive.” I nudged her with my arm.
But she wasn’t playing around. She half-turned, her wet hands still safely confined in the boundary of the sink. “I’m talking about you, Sophie. Not about Neil, or his money.”
“Oh.” I could take praise from my friends, from Neil, from total strangers, even, without a second thought. But my mom’s approval was harder to accept. Maybe because I wanted it so bad. So, I shrugged it off, like it was nothing to me. “Well, you know me. I love to party.”
“No, you don’t. You’ve never been a party girl.” Mom still studied me, her brows drawn together though her mouth smiled. “But there you were, keeping an eye on the food and the drinks, chatting with people. You were so poised and sure of yourself.”
“Okay, Mom,” I started to protest, because laughing her off would have been easier than just taking the compliment.
“No, I’m serious. You’re suddenly this adult that I’ve never noticed before.” She rolled her eyes at herself and went back to washing the glasses. “I know I didn’t see her when she came home for Christmas.”
“Well, that’s kind of my fault.” If I was an adult, all of a sudden, I had to accept some responsibility. “I should have been real with you about Neil and me, and I wasn’t. It wasn’t fair to expect you to deal with your shock and not express any of it.”
“That’s true.” She went quiet for a moment. “I know I reacted…badly. To your engagement.”
“You’ve been reacting badly for a while, Mom,” I pointed out dryly.
She pursed her lips and pretended she hadn’t heard me. “I would still be happier if you were marrying someone…”
“Twenty years younger?”
“More like you,” she finished dryly. “The two of you have nothing in common, you’re from different generations, your backgrounds are…very different. But I don’t know. The more time I spend with the two of you, the more I see two adults in a relationship together. Before, I was seeing my little girl and a man who was inappropriately older, who was probably taking advantage of her.”
“And, now, how do you see him?” I took a glass from her and dried it.
She considered a little longer than I would have liked. “Now, I see him as an inappropriately older man who loves my daughter and wants to make her happy. I can’t find a lot of fault in that.”
“Well, he does make me happy.” I shrugged a little. “If I were in your position, maybe I would be the same way.”
“I doubt it. You’re way more liberal than anyone could have expected you’d turn out.” Mom’s lips twisted in a wry smirk. She nodded toward the door. “Go on, go to bed. It’s been a long night.”
It was going to be a lot longer, but I think she must have suspected that, from the way she looked like she’d swallowed something yucky.
I leaned against the counter with one hand. “You should go to bed, too. Seriously, can you just enjoy living in a place where people do stuff for you, for a change?”
“I don’t want to get used to it, because it will suck when I go home.” But she folded the dishrag and rinsed her hands with glasses still in the sink.
My heart tugged in my chest. Mom hadn’t been with us that long, but now that she was here, I liked it. Not the comments on my weight or my relationship, or the way I was forced into the role of peacekeeper whenever she and my fiancé were in the same room, but after nearly a decade of not-quite-annual visits and brief phone calls, I wanted my mom back.
“You don’t have to go, you know.” I hoped I didn’t sound desperate or anything for her to stay. “I mean, your daughter is a billionaire, now. You might want to consider taking advantage of that.”
“Oh, Sophie, I don’t know.” She shook her head. “What about your grandmother? What about the rest of the family?”
“There’s no reason you couldn’t see them as often as you wanted. We’ve got a jet.” It wouldn’t be the same as living so close she could check in on her mom every day, but it was better than if she’d moved to the east coast on her own salary. “Just think about it, okay? While you’re waiting to hear from the insurance people.”
“Okay. I’ll think about it,” she conceded reluctantly. To change the subject, she covered a fake yawn with the back of her hand. “You’re right. I should go to bed. Do you work tomorrow?”
“Sadly, yes. Do you want to go into the city for the day? I think Neil is going to be at the track, so it’ll be boring around here.”
“Right, because Neil and I hang out together when you’re not here,” she said. It’s so weird to hear your own voice coming out of your mother’s mouth. She shook her head. “No, I’ve got stuff I want to do. You’ve got Netflix, for god’s sake. What more could I need?”
“You laugh, but Netflix is a gift from the gods.” I finally gave up and headed for the door. “Maybe you should spend tomorrow Googling for a hobby.”
“Good idea.” She pretended to consider. “Maybe I’ll take up knitting.”
I snorted. My mom is so not crafty. “Well, as long as you give up cleaning before the cleaning lady gets here, I’ll be happy.”
I took my earrings off as I walked down the hallway, so I didn’t immediately see that the bedroom door was open. When I looked up, the low light that spilled out gave me flutters in my stomach. I wanted to run to get down the hall faster, but I forced myself to slow my steps. With each one, I let go a little more. I wasn’t worried about my mom. I wasn’t worried about Ian and Gena, or Stephen’s book, or work or anything. By the time I closed the door behind me, my mind shed every thought that wasn’t of Neil, of Sir, and my desire to please him.
He’d repurposed some of the candles from the living room to light our bedroom. When I entered, he emerged from the closet shirtless and barefoot, a pair of padded wrist cuffs in his hands. A spreader bar already lay across the bed, cushioned in the duvet like a ring in a jewelry box.
Neil didn’t look at me as he crossed to toss the shackles on the bed. “Go and get your collar, Sophie.”
“Yes, Sir,” I said automatically, and a little thrill shot through me, like it did every time. I dropped my earrings on a table in the dressing room as I headed to the safe, where I punched in the totally immature four-digit code Neil used for everything and removed the velvet drawstring bag inside. My fingers parted the opening reverently and brushed over the cool metal. Bringing Sir my collar set off a dark pulse in my chest. My breathing slowed and deepened as I slipped the collar free. I didn’t put it on; he liked to do that himself.
His back was turned when I came back, but that didn’t take away the languid sway of my hips, or the decadent slowness with which I sank to my knees. I rested the collar on my upraised palms and kept my gaze on the floor. I didn’t make a sound to alert him. He knew I was there.
It took him a long time to acknowledge me. Waiting was its own kind of torture; I heard the soft clink of the cuffs and wondered if he’d fastened them to the discreet under-mattress loops, or just intended to leave my bound arms loose. I hadn’t seen a paddle, or the wand vibe that he loved to torture me with. The absence of these things heightened my anticipation.
“You’re breathing rather hard, Sophie.”
My arms ached from holding my pose. “Yes, Sir.”
“You’re wondering what we’re going to do tonight?” The brush of his feet on the carpet stopped. “Would you like to know, tonight?”
I hardly ever wanted to know. A slow grin crossed my face. “Surprise me, Sir.”
“Look at me.”
I raised my eyes to his. I couldn’t disguise my giddy excitement. He seemed to be struggling to maintain his firm, intimidating demeanor, as well. He took my collar from my hands. “Stand up.”
I rose and shivered as he fit the metal band around my neck. The clasp closed, and my indrawn breath pulled a tight line from my groin to my chest. He trailed one finger along the line of the collar then down to my shoulder to brush back my hair. “You have the most beaut
iful smile. Let me have a taste.”
I knew the lip gloss would work.
He tilted my face up with two fingers and slowly lowered his mouth to mine. The wet slide of his tongue sent hot pulses to flood my pussy and engorge my clit. My chest rose; I wanted to put my arms around him, but he hadn’t invited me.
He raised his head, uttering a soft, short moan as our lips parted. During a scene, he was so controlled that any suggestion of the effect I had on him struck me like lightning.
“Happy birthday, Sir,” I told him, risking the consequences of speaking out of turn.
“Thank you, Sophie.” He motioned to the bed. “Go. I want you bent over.”
I walked to the bed slowly, with a deliberate sway to my hips. My tight dress fit every curve. I wished I could see the rear view. When I bent over, the bottom of the skirt just barely covered my ass. I turned my head and rubbed my cheek against the thick down comforter.
Neil knelt behind me. “Spread your legs, darling. There’s a good girl.”
I giggled and did as he commanded. He took my ankle in both of his big hands and nudged me to raise my foot. He slid off my pump then repeated the action on the other side. I squirmed a little. I couldn’t help it.
“Stay still,” he warned me, sliding both hands over my calf, up my thigh, under my skirt. The fingers of one hand dug into my ass,while the other skimmed between my legs. The tip of his thumb pushed under my panties and found my slit. The gentle brush across my labia slicked the fluid evidence of my arousal over my skin. I shivered at the touch; I hadn’t realized how much I had ached for him all night.
His thumb penetrated me with the slightest pressure. “Do you remember earlier, when I said you looked good enough to eat?”
“Yes, Sir,” I breathed as he pushed my skirt up.
His hands closed over my hips. He rolled my panties down my legs and rubbed his cheek against my ass. “I am going to eat you, Sophie. I’m going to restrain you and take as much of that delicious cunt as I want. Until you’re begging me to stop. Until you’re begging for my cock.”
“Oh yes, Sir.” I stepped out of my panties and widened my stance to allow him better access to my pussy.
He pressed a kiss to the round curve of one cheek before he stood and stepped away from me. “I think some birthday spankings are in order, however.”
“It’s not my birthday, Sir,” I reminded him with a little wiggle. “But I suppose—”
I heard the crack of his bare hand against my ass before I felt it, and I jumped on the balls of my feet.
“Marks or no marks?” He rubbed his palm over my flaming skin.
I caught my bottom lip between my teeth to subdue my moan. “Marks. Please, Sir.”
He sat beside me on the bed and patted his lap. “Come on.”
I straightened and he reached for me, steadying me as I lay over his lap and adjusted so that the brunt of my weight wasn’t on my ribs. Stroking a fingertip down my spine, he said, “Oh. Just one more thing I forgot.”
He reached past my head for something. I squinted through the hair falling in my face to watch him pull on one black leather glove.
“Ohhh,” I whispered, and caught my bottom lip between my teeth.
“What do you think?” he asked, smoothing circles over my ass through my dress.
I thought of the first time we’d had sex at the W and about his gloved hands as he walked through the door to find me fingering myself on the sofa. He’d stood in front of me, taking those gloves off by loosening one finger at a time, while I’d lain there helpless in my desire.
“I think you’re…very creative, Sir,” I managed, when what I really wanted to say was, “Spank me, spank me, spank me, Sir.” If I tried to boss him around, I wouldn’t be getting far tonight.
He pulled the other glove on, the wriggling of his fingers making the leather creak. “That’s a yes, then?”
“Yes, Sir.” Now, I couldn’t help myself. “Please spank me, Sir. I’ve been a very good girl.”
His leather-covered palm connected with my backside, and I gasped a little “ah!” of excitement. The impact tingled all the way down to my toes, and I flexed them deliciously.
This was the point of the night when the pain I would receive was a delightful promise. It wouldn’t be long now and I’d be hating and loving every intense second, but the first few slaps were like gentle foreplay.
Well, maybe not gentle. He jerked my dress up to my waist and really let his hand fly on the next one, hitting me so hard that my body rocked. I would have spilled off his lap if he didn’t have me held captive by a hand at my waist.
I took a deep breath as he stroked the cool leather over the burning handprint he’d no doubt left on my aching ass. He landed another blow in the same spot, and I gritted my teeth.
Inexperienced Doms sometimes hit the same spot over and over out of ignorance. They just didn’t think of the fact that, if they moved their strikes around, playtime could last a lot longer. When Neil did it, though, it was always on purpose. I’d asked him for marks; he was going to make me suffer for each one.
The next slap landed across the super painful zone where my buttock and my thigh met in a crease. I hadn’t been expecting it—I knew better than to try to guess where he’d strike next—and I yelped. One of the benefits of having a huge house is that you don’t have to worry about noise from other rooms. The way this place was insulated, every room was practically a recording studio. Still, I made a conscious effort to be silent on the next hard smacks.
“You’re tense,” Neil growled in admonishment. The glove scraped a searing kiss across my burning skin before he struck me again. “And distracted.” The next one was harder. “And you’re letting trivial concerns intrude.” Two smacks, so hard I couldn’t help the cry I made.
“Up,” he commanded, helping me to my feet. He stood and steadied me with a hand that lingered at my waist as he moved past. “Wait here.”
Without the warmth of him pressed to me, I noticed how cool the room was. The air held enough chill that my raw ass definitely felt it, and I shivered.
Neil went to his side of the bed and picked up the remote control to turn on the built-in sound system. Neil had an entire playlist devoted to our scenes. He preferred music with a dark, slinky beat. When Gotye’s “Hearts a Mess” filled the air, my cunt clenched; we’d fucked to the song so many times before, it was like a Pavlovian response.
Music could do for submission what it does for studying. I instantly focused, even the movement of the air alerting me to his presence behind me. When he came back to the bed and sat, I sank gratefully into my former position.
The distraction worked. I slipped so easily into my submissive state of mind that I was content to lay there and take slap after stinging slap. Some blows were hard, driving the pain deep into the muscle. Others were almost gentle, and delayed so long that the pain was in the waiting.
The leather cracked against my flesh again and again; he was rarely this rough with a barehanded spanking. The gloves certainly gave his palm some protection. But wearing them seemed to help him achieve a distance that he couldn’t when we usually played. It almost hurt worse than the paddle.
Tears streamed down my face, and my chest ached with the sobs that would have crushed me if most of my weight hadn’t been supported on the bed. I gasped and cried and pleaded until I was near the breaking point. The moment I thought I couldn’t take anymore, he finished with one sharp slap and urged me to sit up. I cried out at that pain, too. I had no idea how long we’d been at it; a half hour at least. The slightest pressure burned.
“Stand up. Turn around.” His hands skated over the smooth surface of the dress as I turned, and he reached up to pull the zipper down. “Let’s take this off.”’
I wriggled out of the dress, and my bottom lip trembled at the cold.
With excruciating tenderness, he pulled me down again and cradled me against his warm, naked chest. I leaned my head against his shoulder, my eyes sti
ll leaking tears, my nose running. He held me, pulling off his gloves to stroke my hair back from my face, and murmured, “Check in, Sophie.”
“Green, Sir,” I assured him between sniffles. “Can we stop and get me some aloe, though?”
He kissed my forehead. “We certainly may.” He went to the bathroom and returned with the tube of green goo. “Bend over.”
I leaned over the bed and braced myself for the cool touch of the gel. I still jumped a little when it touched my skin. In my mind, I saw each enflamed ridge of the handprints Neil had left on me as he smoothed the gel over the welts.
“Better?” he asked gently.
“Yeah. We can go on when you’re ready.” I didn’t need to tell him that we were done with the spanking part. He would have taken the hint.
He went to the bathroom to put away the aloe and wash his hands. When he returned, he was fully back in Dom mode. “Stand up.”
I straightened, and he turned my shoulders, cueing my body to follow. I stood in front of him, close enough that our toes were touching. Without looking up to meet his eyes, our height difference left me staring straight at his collarbones.
“Well, now that we’ve moved on from that bit of business,” he said, pointing to the gloves still lying on the bed. “I think we can get to the part you’ve been looking forward to.”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as he traced a damp lock of hair that had plastered itself to my neck. I licked my lips in anticipation of him licking another, similar part of me. “I was looking forward to everything, Sir.”
He made a sound too brief to be a chuckle, but I could tell he was pleased with the answer all the same. He reached past me, his body tantalizingly close to mine, and lifted the black leather cuffs. “Lie on your back, across the bed.”
I sat, gasping at the pressure against my too-aware welted and bruised skin. I scooted back carefully.
Neil leaned over me, his chest hair brushing the desperate peaks of my nipples as he fastened the soft leather cuffs around my wrists. They attached by a chain to a discreet metal loop soldered to the bed frame and kept my arms stretched high above my head. I fought the urge to lift my hips and rub myself against the front of his trousers, but my hips shifted, anyway.
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