by EM BROWN
“I control it with this remote.” He demonstrated by adjusting the intensity, and she realized the original setting had been relatively low. “If it looks like you’re about to come, I’ll back it down.”
He demonstrated again by bringing the vibration back down to a gentle hum.
“What if you don’t turn it down in time?” she challenged.
“You’ll have to hold it. And if you don’t, you better think of a damn good punishment for yourself later.”
She glared at him through the blindfold.
“Don’t give me that look, pet,” he warned.
She wanted to snap back, “I’m not your pet!”
As if responding to her thoughts, he nudged the setting up. She bit back a moan.
“I’ll try my best, Master,” she muttered.
“Good, pet.”
He stepped back to view her from head to toe. Walking over to a dresser, he pulled out a red ball gag with nipple clamps dangling from it.
“Open your mouth,” he instructed.
“Why?”
“For the ball gag.”
She frowned. “Is that really necessary?”
“No,” he replied, “but it’ll be a pretty ornament on you.”
“But how am I going to say my safety word if I’m gagged?”
“You won’t need your safety word.”
“How can you be sure?”
“If you can take last night, you can handle this.”
He pressed the ball gag to her mouth. She pursed her lips, but then parted them without protest. He stuffed the ball into her mouth and secured the gag about her head, then adjusted the length of the chain linking the gag to the nipple clamps before clipping them to her nipples.
“I’ve got to prepare for my meeting now,” he told her. “Since you opted not to go, you can just hang out here for a while.”
She heard his footsteps retreat. The door closed. She was alone with the vibrator.
CHAPTER FOUR
As Ben dressed for his meeting, he kept an eye on his mobile, which had an app that displayed the feed from the video camera in the playroom. He could monitor Kimani this way and see her every squirm. She tugged at the cuffs and tried to wriggle away from the vibrator, but he had taped it securely.
Picking up the remote, he increased the intensity a little. She groaned and pulled harder at the cuffs. A good sub would know to take it, not try to escape her predicament.
After getting dressed in a button-down shirt and slacks, he went into the kitchen to pour himself more water and took a call from the lobbyist hired to provide political consulting on the waterfront development. Beth, an extremely slender woman of middle age, arrived during his call with a load of purchases that required the help of two assistants to bring up.
“You texted that you wanted clothes for a few days,” she explained when he had finished his call. “You didn’t specify what you did or didn’t need.”
“You didn’t have to clear out Monica’s store,” he said, alternating his gaze between Beth and checking on Kimani.
“She was happy to give you a variety of items. The hard part was getting this.” Beth pulled out a blue and gold Warriors t-shirt with a scoop neck. “I woke Greg up with my call. He opened the store in his pajamas.”
“Who’s Greg?”
“He’s the owner of the sporting goods store at the Ashton property. Good thing we didn’t raise his rent when his lease renewed, or he might not have been so accommodating.”
Ben looked over the many shopping bags and garment bags. “You certainly delivered.”
She smiled. “I have to say it was one of my more fun assignments.”
He didn’t usually like to involve employees in personal affairs, but he knew Beth could get the job done like no one else. And even though he could tell she would have liked an explanation for the shopping request, she knew better than to ask.
She did, however, glance around, perhaps hoping to spot the person she had shopped for. Ben wasn’t about to tell her that the intended recipient was tied up in his playroom with a vibrator jammed between her legs.
“Do you want me to lay everything out?”
“Sure.”
He checked on his app to see how Kimani was doing. When Beth was done, he said, “Thank you. That’s all I need for now.”
If she was disappointed, she hid it. “Are you coming by the office today?”
“Not likely.”
She nodded. “I’ll only call you if it’s an emergency, which there won’t be any.”
He half expected her to wink at him. She motioned for her two assistants to follow her out the door.
After she’d left, he looked back at the livestream app. Kimani had stopped wriggling and had tensed her body from top to bottom. He reached for the remote on the counter and turned the vibrator down. She sighed in relief. But given what he had in mind, she might prefer to have come against his wishes.
As he finished his glass of water, he watched her struggle to keep her orgasm at bay. Even at a low intensity, the vibrator was having its intended effect.
On him, too. His erection pressed against his clothes. She was so bloody hot with her curvy hips and smooth belly. That ball gag looked marvelous on her, too. He wanted to cancel the meeting with Dawson and spend the day fucking her and making her come a hundred different ways.
When it looked like she was having a tough time again, he went into the playroom. Like a fish on a hook, she wriggled sporadically in one direction, then another. He turned off the vibrator and watched as her brow slowly smoothed, her chest heaving as she drew air in carefully, as if the wrong breath might set off an orgasm. A bit of drool trickled past the ball gag. It was fucking sexy.
Ignoring the warmth flaring in his body, he unwrapped the bondage tape and removed the vibrator. She shivered. He wanted to touch her and feel her wet arousal on his fingers, but he wasn’t sure he could stop if he started.
Setting aside the tape and vibrator, he took her ankles and attached each to opposite cuffs at the bottom of the bondage frame, stretching her legs.
Now came the wicked part.
From the dresser, he pulled out a steel chastity belt with rubber trim. This one was adjustable and had cost nearly a thousand dollars, which was nowhere near the twenty thousand dollars someone had paid South African goldsmith Uwe Koetter to create one with pearl and gold.
Ben hadn’t used this particular chastity belt on anyone before, and he was excited that Kimani would be breaking it in. He adjusted the crotch strap to match her size. She jumped when he fit the belt over her hips. Unlike many chastity belts, the plates on this one didn’t extend over the arse. Instead, the back mimicked a thong with an opening at the anus.
Knowing by now what was happening, she shook her head and made protesting sounds against the ball gag. She struggled but the cuffs held her in place. He locked the belt, then removed the nipple clamps and ball gag. The blindfold came off last.
“Since you won’t be coming to the meeting, you get to wear this while I’m gone,” he explained as he rubbed the crotch strap. She could grind her pussy against rock and not feel a thing. “Wouldn’t want you getting off without me.”
Nothing but pure mortification radiated from her eyes “You’re leaving me tied here? What if I need to pee?!”
“I’m going to release you. And there are a few holes down here to allow urine to pass through.”
“And how am I going to wipe myself?”
“You’ll have to drip dry.”
She returned a look of disgust. “How long am I to wear this thing?”
“Until I get back.”
“When will that be?”
“At least two hours.”
She looked crestfallen.
“Change your mind about the meeting?” he asked, not sure if he hoped she would or not. He wanted her company, but he was also excited for her to wear the belt.
“No,” she said with surprising resolution. “I’ll wear the belt.
”
“You sure?”
She looked away and grumbled, “Yes, I’m sure.”
He undid the cuffs from her ankles and wrist. “You can get dressed now. The clothes are out in the living area.”
She stared down at the chastity belt, still in a little bit of shock. “You’ve had this thing cleaned before, right?”
“Consider yourself special. You’re the first one in it.”
It looked incredible on her.
“Lucky me,” she mumbled as she headed, slightly uncertain in her steps, toward the door.
Unable to resist, he grabbed her and pulled her back to him. Her body slammed into his. He crushed his mouth to hers and cupped a buttock, groped her breasts, caressed the small of her back, then gripped the back of her head, holding her in place as his lips and tongue sought her arousal. She ground her pelvis against him and grunted in frustration. The chastity belt was working.
Abruptly, he let her go. She moaned. Her body seemed confused. He guided her out of the playroom and into the living room.
“Your assistant did some serious shopping,” she said, looking at all the offerings. As he expected they would, her eyes lit up upon seeing the Golden State Warriors shirt.
“That’s more my style,” she said, walking past the haute couture to take the basketball shirt. She put it on. Her breasts were perky enough that she didn’t need a bra, though her hardened nipples poked at the fabric. “I could just wear the shorts I have with this.”
“Don’t let the clothes go to waste,” he said. “I’m not sending them back.”
She raised a brow at him. “If you didn’t want that problem, you shouldn’t have bought the clothes.”
He could have acknowledged the truth of what she said, but he was the Dom here, so it didn’t matter. He stood in front of her and fingered the small heart-shaped padlock. “Maybe you want me to stick some Ben Wa balls in you before we put the chastity belt back on?”
She sucked in her breath. No doubt he was coming across as a prick, but he met her glare with a cool stare, daring her to disobey.
She backed down, looked over the options, probably looking for what would go most comfortably with the chastity belt, and grabbed an athletic skirt.
Bataar arrived just after she had slipped on the skirt.
“I need you to drive me to a meeting,” Ben told him, tossing him a set of keys. He turned to Kimani. “Wong is at your disposal.”
“Your driver?” she replied.
“You’d said you wanted to get your hair done.”
She perked up. “Really?”
“Just don’t take the whole day.”
Thanks to his undergraduate years at Howard, he knew that getting weaves could easily take eight to nine hours. He remembered waiting for a date because her hair wasn’t done yet, falling asleep on her sofa, and waking up two hours later to find she was still getting her hair worked on.
“Wong has a mobile if you need to make a call,” he added. “And he can take you to breakfast if you want. Or help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”
“Thanks,” she said.
Hearing her appreciation made him feel less of an asshole. He wondered how else he could please her. He would have expected a woman to drool over the clothes from Monica’s boutique, nothing of which would have a price of less than half a grand, yet Kimani had gravitated to the shirt that probably cost a mere thirty dollars.
“I decided to look into this Jake Whitehurst,” said Bataar. “He was suspended for three days his junior year in high school.”
“Totally not surprising,” Kimani muttered.
Ben wasn’t impressed in the least. “You’re seriously worried about a suspension from high school? If you’re going off school records, you have more to worry about from me.”
“The kid he was accused of bullying committed suicide,” Bataar continued.
“Really?” Kimani moved closer to Bataar. “Were there any charges?”
“It’s not against the law to be an asshole,” Ben supplied.
“If it were, I wonder how many years you’d get? Fifteen to life?”
Bataar’s eyebrows shot up. He suppressed a chuckle by coughing.
Ben gave her a cautionary stare. Careful, pet, I’ve got more than a chastity belt up my sleeve.
She got the message and turned to Bataar. “You find anything else on Jake?”
“Not so far,” Bataar answered. “You expecting more?”
“Yes and no. He’s not dumb, so he wouldn’t be advertising his misdeeds. I could have told you he was a bully, and I’ve known him all of three days. He’s also a racist. Not the kind that parades around with white hoods—”
“Jason is one of his best friends,” Ben said.
“His racism is more subtle, but when push comes to shove, his true colors show. He’s bad news.”
“He’s an irresponsible prick with small dick syndrome. That doesn’t make him a sociopath.”
“Are you defending the guy?”
“I think Bataar has better things to do with his time than investigate a racist asshole.”
She shook her head. “I disagree. He’s capable of hurting someone.”
“What makes you say that?” Bataar asked
Kimani seemed to pick her words carefully. “It’s not just what he does, it’s how he does it.”
“It’s hard to know when it’s just roleplaying. He happens to be a prick as a Dom, too.”
She glanced at Bataar, who didn’t blink as he was fully aware of his boss’ proclivities.
“I just have a sense,” she stated.
“A sense. Like women’s intuition?”
She lifted her chin. “Something like that.”
“You might get further if you have some evidence. Like a bruise.”
She touched her cheek. Because he hadn’t been there, Ben couldn’t say if Jake had acted out of a violent tendency or overzealousness.
“This Whitehurst guy hit you?” Bataar asked.
She stared at Ben. “Maybe he was just ‘roleplaying.’”
Bataar turned to Ben for more elucidation, but Ben just said, “We should get going.”
Turning to Kimani, he said, “Be good.”
She bristled. “You, too.”
He stared at her. Maybe she was being insolent because she didn’t like being spoken to like that in front of Bataar.
Sensing the tension, Bataar said, “I’ll get the car started.”
With Bataar gone, Ben walked over to Kimani. Jake had derided him for making a soft impression, and Ben wondered if the prat might not be right. He allowed Kimani a lot more leeway than he normally gave his subs, though most of his subs didn’t have the defiant streak that Kimani had.
But it was also deliberate. He was curious to see her full reaction.
He chuckled to himself, then gripped the back of her neck to pull her to him. “By all means, keep that up, pet. I can’t wait to hear what you come up with for your punishment.”
CHAPTER FIVE
There was no winning against this guy, Kimani thought to herself. Especially when his every touch created chaos with her nerves. His firm, slightly uncomfortable hold on her neck caused her adrenaline to spike.
His gaze dropped to her mouth and he seemed to contemplate kissing her. She half wished he would. Instead, he released her. Taking out his wallet, he pulled out several hundreds and handed them to her.
“You don’t have to use any of it,” he said before she could protest. “ But how are you going to pay your stylist?”
He had a point. “Thank you. I promise I’ll pay you back.”
“Of course you will.”
His eyes glimmered and she found it difficult to swallow. A monetary payment wasn’t what he expected.
Only after he had left was she able to breathe normally. She had looked forward to the opportunity to gather her thoughts without the distraction of Ben, but thanks to the chastity belt, she probably wouldn’t be able to keep him out of her
mind. Her body still hummed from being brought to the verge of coming, only to have the orgasm denied. And she had done her best to fight it. Now there was no way to get herself off.
With a frustrated grunt, she went into the kitchen and looked around for breakfast options. She found a banana and contemplated what she would do with her free time. She could go see Sam. But not at the Tribune offices, if she was getting there via Ben’s driver. She could swing by her apartment to get her own clothes. Marissa was visiting her folks down in Southern California, so she wouldn’t have to bump into her roommate and explain why she was wearing a designer skirt. Whereas Kimani shopped at TJ Maxx and couldn’t tell if something came from Neiman Marcus or JCPenny, Marissa had a nose for all things fashion.
“Miss Montana?” asked Wong, knocking on the door.
She let in the small older man.
“Can I take you somewhere, Miss?”
She almost suggested a coffee shop, but then she remembered the chastity belt. If she had to, she would go without drinking anything for as long as possible. Catching her reflection in the mirror, she decided she would definitely get her hair done first.
“You want an appointment now?” Keisha asked over the phone when Kimani called her using Wong’s cell.
“I need braids stat. I don’t have time to fuss about my hair.”
“Girl, I’d love to help you out, but I got an appointment at ten this morning.”
Kimani thought about the money Ben had given her. “I’ll pay your client a hundred bucks to reschedule her appointment. And I’ll double your payment if you can do it in just a few hours.”
“Damn, why the hurry?”
“I’m working on something. It’s hard to explain. Can you help me?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Twenty minutes later, Kimani was seated in a chair at Keisha’s house in Visitacion Valley. Coffee in hand but still dressed in her pajamas, Keisha had recruited her younger sister Tara to help out.
“You want microbraids done in just a few hours?” Keisha asked with her hands on her hips.
“Well, whatever you think you can do,” Kimani answered.
“You want me to sew in some color?”