“That was my inspiration really.” He circled me slowly, his hands in his pockets. “Go on, have a look in the other rooms.
Another salon had been transformed into a gorgeous eighteenth-century bedroom, with a canopied bed. Where there might have been elaborate scenes painted in a real palace, the oval frames and curved ceiling above were mirrored, reflecting and multiplying us above our heads. I imagined seeing myself spread out, shackled to the bed with the golden cuffs that dangled from their anchors on the scrollwork headboard.
There was a recamier, a narrow, backless sofa with padded, curled arms on either side, like the one he’d tormented me on in the hotel suite in France. Only, that one had been powdered blue silk. I trailed my hands across the white leather.
Neil stepped close behind me and caught my hips, pulling me back. He put his lips to my ear and said, his voice low and husky, “It will be far easier to clean, after you’ve been tied to it, pleading and gushing and screaming in frustration.”
“Oh, fuck,” I whispered, trembling.
A tall armoire held a selection of sex toys that rivaled some stores I’d shopped at—and I’d shopped at Babes in Toyland. I gasped and touched a soft leather harness dangling from a hook. “Is this a strap-on?” I heard the excitement in my voice. “Oh my gosh, is this for what I think it’s for?”
“I thought we might give it a try sometime. What do you think?” He flushed above his collar.
“I think I can’t wait to fuck you in the ass,” I blurted, startling myself into a fit of giggles.
He grinned. “And I suspect there is a certain red-head you might like to try it out on, if she’s amenable.”
My pussy flooded at the thought, but in my fantasy, our roles were reversed; I imagined her above me, pushing a thick, long dildo into me with a stroke of her hips. I squeezed my internal muscles with every step we took to the next room. It was a bathroom, with a large, white oval tub, a modern vessel in the middle of the floor. Beyond was a barrier-free walk in shower with nine heads and a detachable one on a long hose. There were shackles there, too, and I didn’t have to wonder what Neil planned to do with them. Tormenting me with water was something he particularly enjoyed.
A toilet and sink stood behind their own partition, and a basket of condoms, dental dams, and gloves sat on the counter. So, it was clear that he expected we would bring guests here.
The final room was thoughtful and practical, a small kitchenette stocked with simple necessities like protein bars, electrolyte replacement tablets, bottled water, blankets, comfortable robes and pajamas, and various pain relief supplies. It was basically the anti-sub-drop room.
“This place is…amazing.” I stepped close and slid my palms up the front of his crisp white shirt. “Why is this room the one that turns me on the most?”
“Because you get off on being cared for.” He leaned down to kiss me, and I melted against him. He was right, I did get off on being cared for. I lived for the torment, the extreme pleasure and brutal pain, the loss of control. Through all of that, he showed me love, but the care he gave me after sealed it in my heart.
My mouth parted beneath his, and he supported me with a hand at the small of my back. I held onto his upper arms, my fingers sinking into the muscle there. What was it about his arms that made me want to bite into his biceps like they were apples? The fact that they were now legally bound to me? Was it a sense of pride in ownership?
The thought made me giggle, and he lifted his head to smile down at me. “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
“I am. And I assume I’m going to be enjoying myself further tonight? Sir?”
He took a step back. “I think we’re both physically exhausted and emotionally spent. And you know what that can lead to.”
“I do.” On a night like tonight, with my emotions running high and my energy dipping low, I could sub drop so hard, all the aloe and fuzzy PJs in the world wouldn’t help. I could do emotional, and I could do tired, but after a couple of bad experiences, we’d found that I couldn’t do both.
But this was like having someone hand you a bowl of candy then take it away without letting you taste any.
“Maybe…” I tried for cute wheedling right off the bat. “Maybe we could just do a little something?”
He smirked down at me. “I didn’t say we weren’t going to have sex. It would be a waste of a perfectly good ‘boner pill’, as you would put it, if we did not.”
I rolled my eyes. “Just nothing too hardcore. I get it.”
“I do have something…special planned for us tonight.” He slipped into the low, dangerous tone he used as my Sir, and my panties flooded. He lifted my chin with one crooked index finger. “I don’t have to go hard to prove that I possess you.”
My breath skated across my parted lips as he gazed down at me. I saw a dim reflection of myself in the green-gold depths of his eyes. He released me and turned away, walking to the door. “Sophie, come.”
If you keep talking like that, I will. You won’t even have to touch me.
I followed him to the octagonal center room. Though I usually kept my eyes downcast during play, I couldn’t help my longing glance at the tall metal frame. Neil was right; we were both too tired to go wild. But it wouldn’t hurt to fantasize and plan for the future.
“Stand still. Hands at your sides. Keep your eyes on the floor.”
I obeyed automatically.
He moved away, and I kept my gaze trained on the veins in the marble. I imagined them as my veins, blood and desire coursing through them. Then, I thought of the veins on the backs of Neil’s hands, the thick blue lines beneath the thin skin of his wrists. The ridges of them along the shaft of his penis.
It was difficult to stay still.
The first light tones of a baroque harpsichord piece filled the room. The slow, haunting pace of the music was spritely and moody all at once. There was a delicious darkness to it that made my nipples bead inside my bra.
Neil moved behind me. With one hand on my hip, he slowly drew a strap of my dress down. “Turn around.”
He stood so close that when I turned, all I saw was the crisp white of his shirtfront.
“Take off your dress.” Exhaustion made his voice lower and huskier than usual. It sounded the way whiskey made me feel, rough and burning warm. He brushed the backs of his curled fingers down my cheek. “Look at me while you do it.”
I lifted my head and found myself pinned by my Sir’s dark gaze. My cunt clenched as I slipped the other thin strap from my shoulder. I moved languidly, because I knew it would please him. And pleasing my Sir, especially on a night like this, filled me with such an urgent lust I swore I would combust. I rolled the dress down—over my breasts, over my hips—to puddle on the floor at my feet. I stood before him in my strapless gold satin bra and matching thong, the cool night air in the room chilling my skin.
“You’re cold,” he said, his voice full of concern. “Here.”
I watched him retrieve his tuxedo jacket from the chair he’d left it on. He draped it around my shoulders, pushing me down with gentle pressure to kneel on the floor atop my crumpled dress.
Though I hadn’t been invited to, I wrapped my arms around his thigh, clinging to him as I looked earnestly up at him and asked, “May I please suck your cock, Sir?”
The body part in question moved against his left thigh, a growing ridge beneath his pants. He palmed the back of my head with one big hand, but said, “No. Not yet. I haven’t given you the rest of your gift. Stay there.”
He left me alone so long that the marble floor warmed beneath my knees. I kept my eyes downcast and listened to the echo from his shoes as he returned. Every part of me reached out to him, though physically I wouldn’t dare. It was my place to kneel and wait, and I knew my place. By the time he stood directly in front of me, the polished toes of his glossy black shoes mere inches from my knees, my panties were plastered to my vulva.
“Look up.”
I raised my eyes.
The artificial candlelight flickered on the gleaming metal and sparkling diamonds of my collar. He unfastened the clasp and tilted it toward me. “Read what it says.”
There, engraved in the formerly unmarked surface inside the shining platinum, were words that made my cunt tighten on frustrated emptiness. I licked my lips. My voice trembled as I read, “Property of Neil Elwood.”
“And what does that mean, Sophie?”
I wanted to speak without tears in my voice. It was a losing battle. “It means that I belong to you, Sir. Every part of me is for you to command. To touch. To fuck. To hurt.”
He tilted my face up with two fingers, pinning me with his intense gaze. “You knew that already.”
“I did.” I closed my eyes and a tear slipped down my cheek. “But it says ‘Neil Elwood.’ It doesn’t say ‘Leif.’ It doesn’t say ‘Sir.’” There was a reason for that, a reason that made my heart as tight and achy as the rest of my body. “It means…this is between us. Not between Sophie and her Sir. Not between Chloe and Leif.”
His thumb skimmed over my cheek. “It means that you are mine. My only sub. There will never be another.”
My chest hitched, but it took a moment to realize I was crying from the sheer joy of the moment. We had pledged our love as husband and wife in front of our friends and family, but this vow went deeper. No one saw my collar, apart from Neil and me. No one knew the depths of my submission to him, or knew him as their Dom. What was between us in our roles as Dominant and submissive would always be our most sacred, secret vow.
“Lift your hair,” he murmured. My hands trembled as I did, and when the cold band of the collar touched my throat, I held my breath until the clasp locked into place. Then, he stepped back, turned away, and ordered, “Follow me.”
He hadn’t told me to get up, so I crawled behind him on my hands and knees, the jacket falling from my back, leaving me exposed. He paused and turned, leaning down to run his fingertips from the small of my back over the round curve of my ass, following the line of my thong as it slipped between my cheeks.
“You dropped something,” he said. “Go and pick it up.”
I rose onto my knees, and he made an admonishing noise.
“I didn’t tell you to use your hands.”
Oh my sweet fuck, he was going to make me carry his jacket with my mouth. It was so perverted and degrading. I squeezed my thighs together and stifled a moan at the anticipation that weighed heavy in my pelvis. When I turned, he got a good look at my ass in my thong. I could feel his stare and practically feel the need radiating from him.
One of the things I find amusing about Dominance and submission is, no matter how much power Neil has over me, I hold his desire in the palm of my hand. While he got off on controlling me, ultimately, he wanted to fuck me. He wasn’t good at denying himself sexual pleasure. He’d only punished me by withholding intercourse a handful of times, and both of those punishments had turned into rewards when he gave in and took me up against a wall or bent over some piece of furniture in the middle of the next day.
Tugging the jacket along with my teeth was tricky business. If I placed a hand or a knee wrong, I pulled the coat from my mouth and, with it, a trickle of humiliating drool. I wondered if it was such a great idea to be smearing saliva, makeup, and floor all over a very expensive tuxedo jacket, but it wasn’t my place to say. Besides, I didn’t want to stop.
Neil led me into the bedroom and halted at the end of the impossibly huge canopy bed. I still held the jacket in my teeth, and he leaned down to take it from me, brushing his fingertips across my cheek. “Good girl. Your knees must be aching by now.”
“They are, Sir.” Though I hadn’t realized the extent of my discomfort until he’d mentioned it.
“Stand up.” He offered me his hand, and I took it. The warmth of his palm against mine made me long for his touch, to have him pressed to me, bare skin to bare skin. The contact was too achingly brief. He released me and went to the head of the bed, took one of the plush cushions,then tossed it unceremoniously on the floor. He snapped his fingers and pointed to it. “That should help ease the pain.”
I dropped to my knees, breathless, and licked my lips as Sir stood in front of me with his hand on his fly. He unzipped with one hand and caught my wrist with the other. He guided my fingers inside his pants, to curl around his hardening length.
“You want to suck my cock.” It wasn’t an order. It was plainspoken truth. “I can hear you begging silently with every breath.”
The flesh beneath my fingers grew firmer.
“Beg me, Sophie. Out loud.” He pushed my hand away and parted his fly, pulling his penis from his boxer briefs. He held it in front of my face with one hand, the head tantalizingly close. He had to feel my rushed breathing against his skin. He had to know that a simple flick of my tongue over my lips would wet us both.
“Beg to suck my cock.”
My body was already pleading with him. My gaze transfixed on the object of my desire, I whispered. “Please, Sir. Please let me suck your cock.”
He took a step back. That simple scrape of his shoe against the marble, the shushing threat of denial, broke me. I threw myself forward, clinging to him, rasping, “Please!”
His laugh held a dark potential that shivered through me. Every time we were together like this, even if we did things we’d done a hundred times before, it felt like something new and dangerous.
“I was only teasing,” he said, sinking his hands in the hair at the back of my head. He gripped it close to my scalp, pulling without hurting. “You don’t think I would withhold on our wedding night?”
“I don’t know, Sir.” My lips were so close to the head of his cock that my lips brushed it when I spoke.
He tightened his grasp on my hair and forced his erection into my mouth. Though not much force was required. I opened, obedient and hungry to please him, and moaned in relief when he hit the back of my throat. He jerked my head back by my hair then slammed me forward again. I gagged and sputtered, and my thighs clenched. I wanted to touch myself so badly, but it wasn’t like I could ask with ten inches of cock rammed down my throat. So, I whimpered and rocked and hoped he would understand my frustrated noises.
And, like the sexual psychic that he is, he ordered, “Touch yourself, Sophie.”
I wriggled my thighs apart and reached eagerly between, rubbing my clit with two fingers while he fucked my face. My throat would be sore in the morning.
He reached down with his free hand to stroke his fingers down my jaw. “Look at you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so beautiful as you do now.”
My stomach fluttered. I could think of a thousand times I probably looked more beautiful—the exhaustion of our wedding day was certainly not doing anything for my under-eye situation—but I knew exactly how he felt. This wasn’t the most daring we’d ever been together. He wasn’t out to shock me tonight. But everything felt different. The weight of the collar around my neck was nothing compared to the weight of the words inscribed inside it. I truly did belong to him. Now that it was official, I saw that with deeper clarity. I was meant to be with him. From that first, shuddering orgasm he’d given me as I’d lain over his lap in a hotel room eight years ago to the moment we’d stepped into this building, he’d been my Dom. I just hadn’t realized it back then. I hadn’t even consciously known that it was something I would want; I’d just naively asked him to spank me.
Approaching him in that airport had been the first impulsive thing I’d done in my adult life, and it was the best decision I’d ever made.
My fingers sped up, and I gasped around his cock as his thrusts gained speed. My shoulders tensed, and I rose up a bit on my knees. I heard Sir admonish, “Sophie, do not come!” but it was far too late to stop. I moaned in relief and dismay. I was never, ever supposed to come without his permission, and definitely not against his direct orders.
He pulled out, and a torrent of drool burbled out of my mouth. I gulped down air and accidentally sw
allowed spit, coughed, and covered my mouth.
“Are you all right?” Neil asked as he tucked himself away and zipped his fly.
I met his eyes and nodded, dropping the pretense as he had for the moment. “I’m fine.”
“You won’t be when I’m done with you,” he warned. “Stand up.”
Unsteady on my legs, as they had fallen asleep, I was a little slow getting up. He grabbed me and hauled me over to the bed, pushing me off my feet and onto the silk duvet. He grabbed the front of my bra and jerked it hard. I spent major money to get quality lingerie, so it took some force to wreck the hook and eye closures on the back, but the whole thing flew off to land, ruined, on the bed beside me.
I should have specified no ripping tonight. I really liked that bra.
“Take off those panties,” he ordered, and, wanting to preserve them, I moved fast to do as I was told. I pushed them down my legs, and he caught them at my knees, whipping them down the rest of the way and throwing them to the floor.
“Stay put.” The cuffs of his shirt were already unfastened, and he popped each button down his shirtfront one-handed as he gazed down at me. “Did you ask for permission to come?”
“No, Sir.” I watched his hand as it traveled down his chest. Silver and dark curls of hair covered the skin revealed with each undone button.
“Normally, I would say that you deserved some denial-based punishment.” He tossed the shirt to the floor. He kicked his shoes off. “But, in the interest of brevity, I think it will have to be a spanking tonight.”
The low light gleamed on his shoulders, his biceps, his arms. My gaze fell to his hands, his big hands that could grab me and restrain me and dig into my flesh in unbridled possession, and I grew wetter.
He sat beside me on the bed, and I moved to lie over his lap, but he stopped me and slid back to recline on the pillows. “Come here.”
I got to my knees on the bed and crawled toward him. This time, I didn’t presume. I let him position me between his legs, so that I lay back against his chest. He hooked my legs over his and spread them then placed a hand on the inside of each of my thighs.
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