"Sit on the edge of the bed," Duncan instructed, walking up behind her.
Startled, she turned around and found him wearing only black shorts, the bulge of his rampant cock clearly outlined.
"Sit on the edge of the bed," he repeated. "Drop your eyes and stretch out your arms."
Keeping her gaze to the floor, she did as he directed, and her heart racing, she watched his feet take the last few steps towards her. He stopped, ran his fingertips down her arm leaving goosebumps in their wake, then reaching past her, he picked up the leather manacles. As he slipped the first around her wrist and buckled it closed, she felt her thumping heart skip. When he added the second, a warm flood washed between her legs.
"Close your eyes."
She paused, then lifted her gaze to stare at him for one last second, wanting to memorize how he looked in the candle's flickering light before squeezing them shut. Her breathing had quickened, and as the soft foam pressed against her cheekbones, she almost smiled. She loved being blindfolded.
"I've changed my mind. You'll be paddled first for being so willful," he whispered, his lips against her ear. "Then you'll meet the thick, leather tongues of my flogger."
A surge of energy fired through her body, and as he brought her to her feet, for a moment she couldn't find her balance, but his arm moved around her waist and he guided her forward.
"I don't believe we need this," Duncan muttered, tugging off the towel. "Are you ready?"
"Yes, Sir," she said with a quiver, though not sure she was.
"I'm going to raise your arms and attach your wrists to the rope."
Though she felt oddly removed from the reality of what was happening, when he finished securing the cuffs, she could hear the sound of the rope sliding across the wood above her head, the tinkle of the chrome rings on the cuffs where they touched, and Duncan's measured breathing directly behind her. The paddle and flogger were about to punish her backside. Taking a deep breath, she anxiously waited.
* * * * * * * * * *
When Brittany's arms were above her head and almost straight, Duncan wound the rope around the leg of the heavy dresser against the wall, securing it with a slip knot. His implements sat on top, including a pair of nipple clamps and a glass of ice. Picking up the oval-shaped paddle, he stepped behind her and lightly tapped it on her cheeks.
"Brittany, are you listening?"
"Yes, Sir."
"These are your rules. You will not speak without permission. If you feel faint or distressed, your safe word is red. Clear?"
"Yes, Sir. My safe word is red."
"You may wriggle and you may cry out, but no shrill screaming. Do you have any questions?"
"No, Sir."
"Open your mouth."
She parted her lips, and he placed the paddle's leather handle between her teeth.
"Bite down, and don't let go."
As she bit into the soft leather, he smoothed his hand over her bottom, then landed a hot slap, quickly followed by another. Falling into an easy rhythm, his palm bouncing unrelentingly across her backside, he knew she'd find a strange solace in the leather handle between her teeth.
"Nicely warmed up," he muttered. "I'll take the paddle now."
Wiping the handle on the towel she'd worn from the bathroom, he began fondling her breasts.
"I nicknamed you Bratty Brittany because you truly can behave like a spoiled brat," he declared, tweaking her nipples. "I have no issue with you wandering the house, but to open drawers? No! That crosses a line and deserves the appropriate punishment. Do you agree?"
"Yes, Sir."
"You sound sorry."
"I am, Sir."
"Are you sorry because you got caught, or sorry for being a nosy parker?"
"Being a nosy parker. I felt guilty, Sir. That's why I confessed."
"My paddle will spank away your guilt. If you hadn't told me, you'd get a dozen swats, not the six you're about to receive."
"Thank you, Sir."
"After each swat you'll say, I deserve another, Sir. I was a naughty nosy parker," he instructed, sliding the paddle over her cheeks. "Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Are you ready?"
"Ooh, yes, Sir."
He delivered the first smack, adding enough force to offer a biting sting.
"Ow, ow. I deserve another, Sir, I was a naughty nosy parker."
"I agree," he said sternly, landing the paddle on her opposite cheek.
"Ow! I deserve another, Sir, I was a naughty nosy parker."
"You certainly do deserve another. Going through my drawers! Shameful!"
As the hard swat landed on top of the first, she stamped her feet and let out a squeal.
"Permission to speak, Sir?"
"Do you deserve another?"
"Yes, Sir."
Duncan had to smile. It was not the first time a misbehaving female had attempted to pause her discipline by asking permission to speak. He struck the paddle harder, evoking another stamp of her feet.
"Ooh, ow, I deserve another, Sir, I was a naughty nosy parker."
"And what happens to nosy parkers, Brittany?"
"They're punished, Sir."
Dispatching the paddle with an upward flick of his wrist, he whisked it against her sit spot. She wriggled as she wailed, but quickly blurted out the phrase,
"I deserve another, Sir, I was a naughty nosy parker."
"I'm not sure that was sincere," he said slowly. "You were in a hurry and want this to be over. Say it again, and mean it. "
Brittany cringed. There was no fooling him.
"I deserve another, Sir," she repeated. "I was a naughty nosy parker."
Moving to her opposite side, he snapped the leather paddle upwards and caught the bottom of her cheek. She let out a howl, then a deep groan.
"A well punished bottom, that's what your snooping cost you, and now I'll leave you to suffer through that hot sting. I'll be back in a few minutes."
"Permission to speak, Sir?"
"Very well."
"Thank you, Sir," she mewled. "It was very wrong of me, and I'm glad of the discipline."
Her softly spoken words touched him, and moving his arms around her, he dropped his lips to her neck.
"What a good girl," he crooned, kissing and nuzzling the sensitive skin. "Are you saying you learned your lesson?"
"I did, Sir, I really did, and I'll never give in to temptation like that again."
Moving his hands to her scorched behind, he began to rub away the burn.
"I wasn't going to do this for a few minutes, but I believe you're truly sorry," he said tenderly.
As she felt herself melt against him, she wanted to whisper the three magic words, but she couldn't quite get there.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Leaving with a whispered promise to return with a surprise, he had brought back a glass of ice. Taking a cube and sliding it over Brittany's burning bottom, though writhing as she gasped in shock, the soothing chill evoked a grateful moan.
"Precious girl," he whispered, softly sucking her neck as he slipped his fingers into her pussy. "You are positively dripping."
Moving another ice cube across her breasts making her catch her breath, he popped it into his mouth and sank his lips around her nipples. To the sound of her utterances of surprise and pleasure, he drew in her puckered cherry tips, sucking and twirling the cube until it completely dissolved.
"I have another surprise for you," he whispered, pinching her nipples in quick succession. "Don't go anywhere."
She let out a strange bleating sound as he quickly retrieved the clamps, and holding her tit flesh firmly in his hand, he placed the first at the base of her nipple and slowly released.
"Ooh, Sir, Sir…" she panted urgently. "Please, Sir, what is that?"
"I should scold you for speaking without permission, but I know you're devoid of thought right now," he murmured, moving on to her second b
reast to repeat the process.
She moaned loudly, and he knew she was aching for his touch between her legs. Answering her unspoken plea, he cupped her sex, then slid his middle finger deep inside her drenched pussy. As she let out a cry of joyous relief, he began thrusting it in and out and thumbing her clit.
"Sir, Sir, I'm close," she panted, writhing against his hand. "Please, Sir, may I come? Please, Sir?"
"You reached your orgasm so quickly," he remarked, withdrawing his hand. "How have you survived without this in your life?"
"Sir, I don't know."
But her frantic, impassioned reaction had fired his own fever. Pulling off his boxers, he tossed them aside, then stepped back to savor the exquisite sight. Her luscious body shone in the glow of the candles, drips of water glistened where the ice had melted, and he could glimpse the erotic dew between her thighs. He softly stroked himself, but only for a moment.
The flogger beckoned.
Retrieving it from the dresser, he draped the long, leather straps over her shoulder, letting them slink across her breasts, then moving to her side, he glided them away and lightly flicked them against her bottom. Hearing a short gasp, he flicked them again, but with a little more energy, but the third time he swung his arm, her soft wail filled the room. To his utter joy, she thrust out her backside for more. Raising the flogger, he swished the tongues through the air, delivering them across the center of her cheeks. He waited for the wail, the cry, the moan, but she was silent. Worried, he moved quickly to her side.
"Brittany?"
"Please," she whispered, "please don't stop, Sir, I beg you."
Her ardent plea sent fresh energy coursing through his loins. Clutching her hair, he jerked it back, and sinking his lips on her mouth, he kissed her with dark, rabid hunger.
"My precious girl," he growled as he broke away. "You fill me with fire. I want to devour every inch of you."
Stepping back and lifting the flogger, he snapped it against her bottom. Her deep howl echoed through the dimly lit room. Walking slowly from side to side, flashing the flogger every few seconds, her yowls transformed into a single sound, changing in pitch and volume but never ceasing. When he finally lowered the whip and stepped behind her, smoothing his palm over her radiating backside, he placed his mouth against her ear.
"Talk to me."
"I...feel...weak...I need you."
Thrusting his fingers into her pussy, he was met with an avalanche of moisture, and a long, deep moan.
It was time.
Moving in front of her, he held her breast and opened the first clamp. She whimpered. Gently rubbing the bud to relieve the sharp pain, he moved to its twin, but as he took it between his fingers, she bleated out an odd whimpering sound.
"What is it?"
"They hurt, but the hurt feels so good."
"How have you lived without this?" he asked again. "You poor, starving girl."
"I don't know. I've been so frustrated for so long. I never thought…"
She stopped short, swallowing hard. He knew she was fighting a swell of emotion. Her call had finally been answered, and not only was she filled with relief and gratitude, he guessed she probably couldn't believe it, perhaps even afraid to.
"I'm here now," he murmured, slipping off the blindfold. "Look at me. The lonely hours of frustration are over."
Their eyes met, glimmering in the candles' flickering flames.
Time stood still.
His fingers clutched her hair.
"Dammit, Brittany," he muttered, a deep frown crossing his brow, then dove his mouth on hers.
Smoldering feelings surged to the surface, and their urgent kiss expressed what lived in their hearts. Swept up in the all-consuming moment, their tongues danced, their muffled moans echoed through the room, until longing to hold her properly, he broke away to unbuckle her shackles.
"Make sure you lower your arms very slowly," he warned, but she fell against him, and immediately scooping her up, he carried her to the bed, placing her on her stomach. "Are your shoulders cramping?" he asked, gently kneading them.
"No, Sir, but your massage feels amazing."
Little by little he moved her arms to her sides, all the while rubbing her muscles to make sure they didn't spasm.
"Please, hug me," she suddenly begged. "I need you to hug me."
Stretching alongside her, he was about to hold her when she abruptly shifted to her side and placed a hand at the back of his neck. Pulling him into a kiss, she clung to him, pressing her body against his.
"Please, Duncan," she begged breathlessly, gazing up at him, "please make love to me?"
Moving her on her back, he quickly sheathed his engorged member, rested on top of her, and allowed his cock to find its way into her hot, wet channel. He stayed buried for a moment, relishing the feel of her, then began thrusting with slow, strong, powerful strokes. Their gaze locked, her fingers were digging into his arms, and as he accelerated, she let out a fervent wail.
"I'm there! Please say yes."
"Yes."
The single word was all he could manage as his explosive climax shuddered through his loins. Groaning in unison, the convulsions gushed through them until the last spasm waned. His flaccid member slipping out, he fell next to her, utterly drained.
* * * * * * * * * *
Brittany hadn't felt him roll off her body.
Brittany was somewhere else.
Brittany was soaring.
She was floating high above the Earth in a magical world.
The mountains were purple and pink, and covered with a shimmering golden haze.
"Come back to me, precious girl."
Though she could hear the voice of her beloved Duncan, she didn't want to leave the serene, mystical heaven, but she could feel his hands stroking her body, and his lips kissing her face and neck. She tried to blink, but her eyes were so very heavy, then without warning, they popped open.
"There you are," he purred. "You had me worried for a minute."
"I was in the most amazing place. It was like a dream, but it wasn't a dream."
"You were in subspace. I promise I'll explain everything to you in the morning, but now you need to sleep."
"I do," she murmured, "I'm so tired."
Pulling the covers over them, he hugged her into his chest and let out a heavy sigh.
"What was it Bogart said in Casablanca?" he muttered softly. "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine. Brittany Carter, of all the ships cruising all the oceans of the world, you walked onto mine."
* * * * * * * * * *
She wasn't sure what stirred her from the deepest sleep she'd ever known, but as Brittany slowly pulled herself awake, she became aware of Duncan's hand on her shoulder. Rolling on her back, she found him standing beside the bed.
"You've been out of it all morning," he said, leaning down and giving her a hug.
"That was the best sleep I've ever had in my life, and I don't think it was because I was recovering from jet lag."
"I don't think so either. I've brought you a cup of tea, and toast with marmalade."
"That sounds divine. What time is it?"
"Almost ten-thirty. That's why I woke you. If you want to go out, you need to start getting ready."
"I definitely want to go out," she replied, slowly sitting up and letting out a yawn.
"Then drink your tea. I found another jumper, and a pair of black slacks still in their dry cleaning bag. I dug out a parka as well. They're Catherine's. She has a few things in the spare room in case she stays over. I've left them on the chair next to your suitcase."
"She won't mind me borrowing them?" Brittany asked, reaching for the tea cup on the nightstand.
"Of course not, Catherine's a peach. I can't wait for you to meet her."
"Last night was like an amazing dream."
"You were incredible."
"Me? I didn't do anything.
"
"You did everything, more than I ever expected."
"You'll have to explain that."
"I will, but right now I have to make a couple of calls. Come down when you're ready, but try not to take too long."
Kissing her gently, he headed downstairs to his study.
Though he had no desire to make the call, he needed to contact Nigel Chamberlain, his Head of Chambers. Being a Q.C., Duncan carried a great deal of responsibility, and Nigel would be waiting to hear from him. Picking up his landline, Duncan reluctantly punched in the number.
"Good to have you home," Nigel began. "I trust you're ready to jump back into the fray."
"Absolutely," Duncan lied.
"We can expect you tomorrow, I trust. Booted and suited and ready for bear."
"Yes, Nigel, of course."
"Excellent. I'll see you for breakfast at the club around eight-thirty."
"I may be meeting with a new client," Duncan said hastily, thinking on his feet.
"That's what I like to hear. Who is he?"
"A referral. I don't know much myself at this point."
"Then I'll see you in chambers."
"Yes, you will, Nigel. Goodbye."
Putting down the receiver, Duncan stared at the phone. He'd just told a blatant lie to his Head of Chambers. Standing up, he thrust his hands in his pockets and began to pace.
"That tea and toast hit the spot," Brittany declared.
Looking up, he saw her standing in the doorway dressed in the forest green, turtleneck sweater, black slacks, and her long hair falling around her shoulders. She took his breath away.
"Wow, you are beautiful, Brittany. Huh. I like that. Beautiful Brittany, your good twin."
WET 2: London: A Steamy Holiday Romance Page 5