by Lily Harlem
“I don’t know.” That was the honest answer. “Wouldn’t it take a long time to do and then undo?”
“Yes, but what’s the rush? If she’s enjoying her master’s attention and he’s enjoying the art of shibari, then it works for both.”
“And when she’s like that? Tied up. Then what?”
“Well, then he can do whatever he wants to her.”
Imogen looked at the photograph again. She couldn’t imagine being tied like that. Which didn’t mean she wouldn’t try it; she just couldn’t picture herself in that position.
“You’d be so beautiful in rope,” Kane said, touching his lips to her cheek. “Perhaps one day… soon I’ll get to see your pale skin bound by my ropes and your breasts squeezed like that.”
“Perhaps.” She shifted. Her outfit was so tight it was almost like being bound now. She liked it, though, it was sexy, and knowing the zips could be undone and her body exposed added to the thrill.
“Come on,” Kane said, “this way.”
He led her into the drinks area. It was quiet and still, the bar shiny and clear of glasses. The cushions on the chairs were all neat and straight and several candles, in small jars, sent flickers up the walls and over the ceiling.
“Give me a twirl,” he said, holding her at arm’s length. “Let me get a proper look at this. You were secretive back in the apartment, putting that coat straight over the top.”
She smiled and did as he’d asked, rolling her hips as she walked in a circle, her high heels clicking on the hard floor.
“That’s definitely not one for the office,” he said. He stepped closer. “It would be better like this, though.” He reached for the zipper that circled around her right breast. He undid it, slowly, the material peeling away from the rest of the outfit. Once it was detached, he dropped it on a nearby table and studied Imogen’s naked breast protruding from the gap.
Her nipple was tight and erect.
He reached for the other zipper and repeated his actions.
Now she had both breasts exposed. He’d been right to hire the place exclusively—she wouldn’t have been comfortable like this, especially without the mask.
“It’s stunning,” he said, skimming his hands down her waist and over her hips. “You’re stunning.” He pursed his lips and blew out a breath. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
“I’m happy to be here.” She adored seeing desire in his eyes; it was rich and reflected her own longing.
He took both her nipples and rolled them between his fingers and thumbs. “We have to make the most of our time.”
“Yes,” she managed.
“Every moment with you is precious.”
She felt the same. What they had was special—scary exciting sexy special.
He released her nipples and reached into the pocket of his trousers. “Will you wear this again?” He withdrew the collar.
“If you want me to.”
“Yes, very much so. It completes the look.” He paused. “Plus, it means you’ve submitted to me, your master, and I have control. When you wear this, you’re mine.”
Imogen didn’t think Kane needed collars to have control over her, or anyone else, but she’d wear it because he wanted her to. Also, it did feel nice around her neck; the symbolism of it warmed her. She liked being his… a lot.
She held up her hair and turned.
Gently, he slipped it on, then checked that it wasn’t too tight by sliding a finger between the leather and her throat. “So damn sexy,” he murmured against her ear. “Come on, let’s go through to the playroom.”
She released her hair and it swished down her back. She then allowed him to lead her through the metal mesh curtain into the room they’d watched the scenes in the night before.
Again the lights were dim, but each cubicle was lit, highlighting the bench, the cross, a table with stirrups, and a cage. It seemed strange without an audience, as if the equipment was sleeping somehow.
She could still smell sex, even though the large room was empty. Arousal and lust seemed to linger in the air, giving it a rich, musky scent.
Kane left her side and walked to the first cubicle. In it was a large black wheel with about a two-meter diameter. He spun it. “Do you fancy this?” he asked. “Being attached, ankles and wrists, and spun?”
“Er, I’m not sure that I do. I get seasick…” It didn’t appeal to Imogen. Where was the fun in being spun like a fairground ride?
“It is very popular with some submissives.” He frowned a little.
“I’m sure. But not me.” She folded her arms, but changed her mind when she remembered her naked breasts.
“I think you’re forgetting something.” He frowned.
“What?”
“What, Sir.” His frown deepened.
“Sorry, Sir.” But she still didn’t fancy the wheel.
“Remember to address me correctly when you’re wearing the collar,” he said, moving to the next cubicle.
Imogen walked with him.
“How about this?” He lifted the lid on a wire cage. “Would you like it in here? Bound and waiting for me?”
“No, I bloody wouldn’t!” Was he mad? How was a cage sexy?
“I won’t tell you again.” He dropped the lid with a crash.
“What?”
“What, Sir!” His voice was loud and echoed around the cubicle.
“I’m sorry, Sir. But it will always be no because how is a cage fun?”
“For some it is an expression of their total obedience and trust in their master.” He tilted his chin and studied her. “That is what you need to understand.”
Imogen held his gaze. She was curious about spanking and submission and even bondage and anal sex, but going in a cage like an animal—it wasn’t for her.
“Touch that collar about your neck,” he said.
She did as he’d asked.
“Remember what it means, remember what I told you earlier. When you’re wearing that, I am Sir and you only look at me when given permission.”
She held his stare for a moment, unable to hide defiance, then dropped her gaze to the floor. “Yes… Sir,” she mumbled.
He walked up to her, his footsteps heavy on the floor.
He came close, so close she could feel his body heat on her naked breasts.
“Be careful,” he said.
Imogen bit on her bottom lip. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
He stepped away.
She watched him move into another cubicle. This one contained what appeared to be a board that a person could be strapped onto.
Kane released a lever and pushed the top of the board. The whole thing tipped, completely, so that if anyone had been on it they’d be upside down.
“What the…?” she murmured, wondering how a head rush could be erotic.
“This,” Kane said, “is very popular and you shouldn’t rule it out until you’ve tried it.”
“Jesus, you want me to have a headache all night? That’s hardly going to be conducive to sexy times.” As she’d spoken she knew full well she’d been out of line. Not only had she not tagged Sir onto the end, she’d stared right at him.
He pressed his lips together and his chest expanded. In ten big strides he was beside her.
Suddenly, Imogen found herself in exactly the position she’d just scorned—inverted.
He’d tipped her over his knee as he’d sat hastily on the nearest sofa.
“Hey,” she gasped, the world turning upside down and her hair falling over her face and sweeping onto the floor. “What…?”
“I gave you plenty of warning,” he said, clamping her legs between his and pressing between her shoulder blades.
A hard whack landed on her ass, then another and another.
“What the…? Ow…” She squirmed and tried to protect her ass with her hands.
He pushed them away and continued to rain slaps over her leather-clad buttocks.
It hurt. It hurt like hell. The sharp s
ting of each connection raced over her skin, the material seeming to smart against her.
“Get off,” she said, pushing at the floor. It was no good, she was well and truly trapped by his powerful thighs.
“This is what… happens when subs… disrespect their masters,” he said, the words huffing out between slaps.
“Kane!” She tried to twist to no avail. Her ass was on fire. “It hurts, fuck…” And the humiliation of being upended like a naughty toddler, Jesus. She screwed up her eyes and again pushed at the floor.
“Keep still,” he said.
“Kane, stop it… ow.”
Tears began to swell behind her closed lids. This wasn’t fun, it hurt. It wasn’t what she’d expected. There was nothing sensual about it. She was hot, dizzy, her tight outfit was suffocating her. “Kane!”
He increased the speed of the slaps, the sound ringing through her ears the way it was scorching over her buttocks. Breathing was getting difficult; a sob burst upward and came out as a yelp.
“Get off…” she gasped again, wincing at an extra hard slap. “Fuck! Get off.” She clenched her fists. “Westminster Abbey… Westminster fucking Abbey, all right? Get off.”
The slapping stopped. Between one heartbeat and the next she was righted and half-sat, half-laid onto the sofa.
“Fuck,” he said. His cheeks were flushed. He was staring straight at her.
“What the hell was that…?” Imogen snapped, shuffling backward until her shoulders hit the arm of the seat.
“I’m sorry,” he said, shoving his hand through his hair and shaking his head.
“Yeah, well… at least now I know the safe word works.”
“It will always work.” He moved closer, crawled up the sofa, then spread himself over her. “I’m sorry to have made you have to use it.”
Imogen looked at his face. There was anxiety there, and sorrow. She hated seeing sadness in his eyes. “What the hell was that all about, though?” Her buttocks were tingling like crazy; it was though a swarm of bees had stung them.
“You disobeyed me,” he said softly.
“No, I didn’t.”
“I wanted to know which piece of equipment you were keen to try and you were dismissive of everything I showed you.” He pushed a lock of hair that had become stuck to her damp cheek. “And you kept forgetting to call me Sir.”
“So that’s what I get? Tipped over and spanked like a toddler?”
“Not like a child, Imogen, like a submissive who has stepped out of line.”
“But I thought the spanking was for fun, when playing in a scene.”
“What do you think the D stands for in BDSM?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t know all the rules either. You need to remember that.”
“I’m teaching you the rules.” He paused. “D stands for Discipline, Imogen. When you’re wearing my collar and you don’t behave, it is my responsibility to discipline you. I am your dominant, another word that starts with D incidentally, and it is up to me to keep you in line.”
“But I’m a grown woman, I don’t need you to spank me for misbehaving. And I don’t think you should get to decide if I have misbehaved.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. We’re both adults.” Imogen shut her eyes. Maybe this wasn’t for her after all. Perhaps she’d been wrong to think she could try on Kane’s kink and it would fit.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, his chest touching her naked breasts.
“I’m thinking that’s not for me, the spanking for being… naughty. I hold down an important job, make big decisions, it’s too… humiliating.”
“So you didn’t like it one bit?”
“Not like that, no. I didn’t. The reason for it was all wrong in my mind.”
He studied her. His cock was erect and nudged at her thigh. “I’m sorry. I pushed too far.”
“You just did what you do here, in your world. But it’s not mine.”
He glanced away.
A nugget of fear landed in Imogen’s mind. Was this it? They weren’t compatible. Would he tell her it was time to leave and whatever was growing between them would be crushed?
“Kane,” she pressed her palm to his cheek, “give me a chance, this is all moving so fast. This time last week I wouldn’t have entertained wearing an outfit like this, or coming to a place where live sex was the entertainment, but I’m here. I’m giving it a go. I’m trying.”
He looked back down at her. “And I’m glad you are. Really glad.”
She smiled gently. “And I certainly wouldn’t have… earlier…”
“What? You wouldn’t have what earlier?”
She hesitated then, “Swallowed your cum.”
He raised his eyebrows. “I’m honored.”
“So you should be.” She giggled and a flush rose up her neck to her face.
He kissed her hot cheek. “You’re blushing.”
“I know. It’s not under my control.”
“Now you know how I feel… with you.”
“Maybe I’m not a very good submissive.”
He dropped his weight over her a little more, settling his legs between hers. “I think you’re a fine submissive. This is all my fault and I feel ashamed to be a dom of my status to have got it so wrong.”
“Kane, I—”
“I took it too fast, I was greedy.”
“But you stopped when I needed you to.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine.”
He sighed. “I wanted you to experience everything, I still do. But now I know it’s one step at a time.”
“So let’s move to the next step.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Imogen’s pussy dampened—feeling his cock, even through their clothing, was a big turn-on. “It was too much, too fast,” she said. “I wasn’t prepared for it. I had no idea you’d do that to me, like that. I thought I’d be on the cross when you spanked me.”
“So you’ve visualized it, in your head?”
“Yes. Of course.” She tried to look nonchalant about her fantasy. About the thoughts that had swam through her mind when she’d had a quiet moment.
He smiled. “Then all is not lost.”
“I hope not.” Was it going to be all right? Yes, it was. Kane was an understanding, patient man, caring too. She wanted it to work between them, really she did.
He brushed his lips over hers. “Would you be willing? Now?”
She swallowed, heat continuing to flame over her face and her ass. “Willing for what?”
“Well, if it’s the cross that’s caught your attention, I needn’t bother trying to sell you cages, wheels, and inversion tables.”
“Yes,” she said quietly and looking straight into his eyes. She had to be honest about what she wanted. He’d been honest, he’d laid his desires out on the table for her to see. “It’s the cross.”
He smiled, an I-got-what-I-wanted smile, and kissed her, his tongue stroking over hers and his mouth moving in a sensual dance.
Imogen ran her hands through his hair and down his back. This was more like it, kissing and cuddling, a hot man between her legs. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to take discipline from a man, but sensual spanking, pain with arousal, that was a whole different ball game.
Chapter Thirteen
Kane kissed her gently and sweetly for a long time. He ducked his head and suckled her nipples, teasing them to tight points with laps of his tongue and his hot mouth. He bit them too, just a little, just enough to make her squirm and gasp.
Eventually, he stood and looked down at her, the outline of his erection visible through his clothing.
“If you’re willing,” he said, pulling his shirt from the waistband of his trousers. “I’d like to strip you, harness you to the cross, and then show you how pain can mix with pleasure to produce outstanding orgasms.”
“What an offer.” Imogen watched as he peeled off his shirt, revealing his broad,
taut chest and his defined abs.
“It’s an offer I don’t put on the table very often,” he said, tossing the shirt next to a large red blanket.
“And why is that?” Imogen sat. Her buttocks were still tingling.
“Because I’ve found that the last few years I’ve become very selective about who I want to play with.”
“And why is that… Sir?” Imogen touched her collar.
He smiled. “Because I want to connect emotionally, not just physically, when I play now.” He took hold of the zipper at the front of her outfit and slid it down to her navel.
The material gaped and loosened around her breasts.
“I want to connect with you,” he whispered. “I want to get into your head, not just your body. I want to find out everything about you, even things you don’t know.”
A tremble ran up her spine. She wanted him to find out everything too. Take her to these places he’d promised.
“Yes,” she said. “I want that too, Sir.”
He pulled the zipper down to her crotch then kept on going, sliding it through her legs. “Stand.”
She did.
He stepped around her and tugged the zipper upward from the other side, exposing the cleft of her ass.
Her pussy quivered and she was aware of dampness on her intimate folds.
Kane slipped his hand beneath the material and smoothed over her hot skin. “It will be perfect,” he said. “Trust me.”
“I do.”
“So let’s get started.” He gripped the top of the outfit and eased it down her shoulders.
She helped the clinging fabric on its way and soon stood naked before him.
He smiled and took her hand, steered her to the cubicle with the free-standing cross.
She stared at the dark, polished wood as they approached. The manacles were made of black leather and had small silver chains. The center of the cross was padded and there was a small soft mat at its base.
“Like this,” he said, moving in behind her. He clasped her right hand and lifted it up to the wrist harness.