In the Den (10 page)

“I’m not a masochist,” Catrina warned him. She turned to face him once she was in the room, several feet away from the torture device.

“Not yet,” he said.

Her knees went weak. “Damien…”

“I was teasing you,” he said softly. “I won’t do it again.”

She appreciated that.

He turned away to close the door.

It made a tiny
snick
as it sealed, and her heart pounded loudly in her ears.

“It has no lock,” he said as if he’d read her fear.

She knew that. For the protection of subs, few doors at the Den had locks. But she’d momentarily forgotten that.

Damn. The mindfuck that happened when she submitted obliterated her rational thought.

“Milady, I’ll never ask you to do something that will cause you bodily harm.”

She glanced over her shoulder.

“I’ll release you anytime. You have a safe word.”

Which meant he intended, at some point, to affix her to the blessed thing.

Catrina was learning that her thought process was more dangerous than anything he could do to her.

“We’ll go as slow as you need.”

She noticed he hadn’t offered a different room. No. Instead, he was enforcing his will in subtle, inexorable ways. And she was drawn into his spell.

He took hold of her shoulders.

At the table, he’d run his thumb pad over her wrist, back and forth, as well as in small circles, helping keep her calm. Until tonight, she’d never fully comprehended the power of a Dom’s touch.

Sure, she rubbed her boys’ heads, ruffled their hair, ran a finger down their cheekbones, stroked their cocks to the point of distraction and even imprisoned their faces so she could make eye contact. This, though, was different. His intention was to form a bond that drew her closer to him, deeper under his spell.

“What would you like me to call you?” he asked.

She hadn’t thought about it. Her mother referred to her as ‘my Cat’. Some of her closest friends had nicknamed her Trina. Clients and friends used her given name. “Catrina is fine.”

“Do you object to me calling you Milady?”

She tilted her chin and met his gaze. “As long as you’re not saying it in way that mocks me.”

“If you think I would ever do anything like that, Catrina, you don’t know me.”

His voice was tight. A pulse ticked in his temple. She’d never seen that happen before. The Damien she knew was calm, never ruffled. But she’d unintentionally pissed him off. And she was glad. It told her he respected her.

“I know how much this took for you. I will never underestimate it, and I will always appreciate it. Your being here, what you’re offering me, is a gift. I will cherish it. And you,” he replied, his voice soft and all the more forceful because of it.

She glanced away, but she felt his gaze on her. Relenting, she looked back at him. “Thank you,” she said simply.

Even if the words were as difficult as the concept was foreign, respect went two ways. “How should I address you?”

“Damien is fine. I prefer Sir.”

She sank her teeth into her lower lip as she nodded.

“Master is a term of great respect. I do not demand it. If you feel I deserve it, if you get to that point, then I’d be honored. But I do not expect it.”

Catrina nodded. Common courtesy, she understood, as did he. But acknowledging someone as her master? Verbally admitting capitulation by calling him Sir? Not likely.

“Please strip.” He spread his legs and waited.

Since she’d been naked for him one other time, this should be easy enough.

She removed the clip and the weight of her hair spilled down her back. Then she grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it upwards, over her head. He held out a hand for both items.

“Black shelf bra. Nice choice.”

“Thank you.”

He regarded her.

“Thank you, Damien.”

“You make some classy choices, Milady,” he said, taking in her stacked heels, garter belt, stockings and a wisp of fabric that counted as panties. “Completely naked.”

She shook off her shoes, leaving them tipped over on the floor. Catrina took her time unfastening the clasps then rolling down the stockings.

When he growled impatiently, she hurriedly removed the rest.

“I might keep you in nun’s clothing,” he said. “It might be the only way I survive this. You have curves in all the right places, Milady.”

Nervousness ebbed away.

He gathered up everything and placed it on the counter.

“Would you like to know what we’re going to do?” he asked when he returned. “Or would you rather it be a surprise?”

Every word he uttered had power. “Surprise me,” she replied. Knowing what was coming might build fear.

He nodded. “Over the spindle.”

“I was afraid that was coming.”

“Are you flexible enough to be on your back?”

“I think so.”

He helped her into place.

The equipment was big enough that the stretch was more comfortable than she’d expected.

“Make sure everything’s okay before I attach you.”

Her hair fell down behind her. And if she didn’t try to lift her head, her neck didn’t hurt. That had its own disadvantages. It made it harder to see what he was doing.

Her feet didn’t quite reach the floor, but her calves rested against the wood, supporting her lower body.

“Arms back,” he said, crouching near her.

“Maybe I should have said I couldn’t do this position.”

“You would have wondered what you were missing.”

“It’s a little unnerving to think how well you know me already.”

“Milady, your expression gives away everything.”

He secured her to ties she hadn’t before noticed. Keeping a close eye on her, he tightened the bonds. “Your movement is nicely restricted?”

She tested their strength. “Yes, Damien.”

After placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, he stood.

The gentleness of it undid her.

“For my security, I’m going to fasten your ankles.”

Her legs were parted, which meant her pussy was exposed to him.

Now that she was helpless, her pulse raced. Damien was fully dressed in street wear, not even club attire.

She wished she could see him better, but being facedown would have been worse.

Since her vision was restricted, her hearing seemed more attuned than usual. His footfall echoed, and she guessed he was walking toward the counter. For a condom? “Are you going to fuck me?” she asked.

“Do you want me to?”

“If it’s part of the scene.”

He said nothing.

The sound of a squeak indicated he’d opened a cupboard door. His expensive shoes ricocheted off the room’s tile floor as he returned to her.

“I like to look at you, my pretty little submissive.”

She opened her mouth to protest but then closed it again. Right now, she was assuming that role.

“That’s right,” he said. “
My
pretty little sub.”

Though she knew what he expected her to say, she couldn’t respond.

“You know I can do anything I want to you.”

Catrina closed her eyes. For a few seconds, she considered using the house safe word, but the panic receded. He could only do what she wanted. That was the magic of the power exchange. Being on this end was deliriously thrilling.

“I’ve been thinking about your nipples, wondering how much tension puts you on that edge between pleasure and unendurable pain. Have you ever had them clamped?”

“No.”

“Then we’ll start with some tweezers.”

“I thought I told you I didn’t want to know what you would be doing to me,” she said wryly.

“Your wish is my command.”

A few moments later, he was standing above her, legs parted. She was looking up at him, scant inches from his crotch. Suddenly she wished he were naked.

He took hold of her right breast.

She closed her eyes.

He toyed with her, plumping it. When she moaned, he increased the pressure. When she whimpered a little, he decreased it. She drew a grateful breath, but he repeated the squeeze. Before she could yelp, he’d backed off again. His touch was light as he skimmed his fingers toward her nipple.

For a moment, he did nothing.

Then he touched her ever so gently. “Good?”

“It is.”

“And this?” He increased the intensity of the pinch.

“Fine,” she responded.

He tugged.

She arched toward him as much as her bonds would allow.

“You’re okay with quite a bit of pressure, it seems.”

“I like that.” As much as she hated to admit it, he was right about so many things, including the fact it had been a long time since a man had been focused solely on pleasing her.

“It turns you on?”

“It does,” she admitted.

“Makes your pussy wet?”

She wondered if he could smell her. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, Damien.”

“And both nipples together?” He pinched and pulled and rolled them between his thumbs and forefingers.

“God, yes!”

“Would you like to come already?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” She tried to lift her hips, silently begging him to bring her off.

“I think it will be more intense if you wait.”

“I don’t want to wait,” she protested. She tried to meet his gaze, but he was infuriatingly focused elsewhere.

“You’ll be okay,” he said, his tone reassuring in a way that did nothing to lessen her dismay.

He leaned over and affixed the clamps.

“Damn!”

He adjusted the pressure.

“The tighter I make them, the hotter you seem to get.”

“Damn you,” she said. “I want an orgasm.”

“Oh, Milady, you’ll get more than one.”

Her clit felt swollen, and her whole body tingled.

“If I’d had any idea how you’d react to me, I’d have tied you up and dragged you in here weeks ago.”

“You’ve got me now,” she said, barely able to form the words. “Make it worth my while.”

“Gutsy words, Milady.” He chuckled.

Damien continued to master her as he chose, not how she wanted. That realization magnified the experience so much more.

He crossed to the far side of the room, leaving her helpless, aching, wanting.

Before she was ready, she felt leather strands hit her belly. She gasped.

“Red is definitely your color.”

He beat her, criss-crossing her tummy, her breasts, flicking at the rubber tips that gripped her nipples. He didn’t vary the impact much, and that silently let her know what to expect.

Damien took a step back then made bigger motions, now hitting her pussy. She yelped each time one of the broad strands caught her most tender flesh. She felt scalded from the inside out.

“I can’t… I can’t…” She thrashed her head.

He continued until her teeth chattered.

Nothing seemed to exist beyond the thunder of her heart, the ragged sounds of her breath and the reality of his leather caress.

If he were her sub, she’d grab hold of his head and drag him between her legs, compelling him to eat her until she came with a scream.

But movement was impossible, and she could no longer think.

“That’s it. Let go.”

Of what?

He seemed to be everywhere, and when he squeezed one of her breasts while flicking at her cunt, she understood.

Instead of straining against the bonds, desperate to get her needs met, she relaxed instead. She allowed the smooth wood to take all her weight.

“Excellent.”

She closed her eyes. When each blow landed, she breathed into it.

Instead of wanting the scene to be over, she could continue forever.

Sound receded. Nothing existed but the moment, the sensation of him slapping her with the flogger and its delicious stinging pain.

Then, suddenly, she became aware of…nothing.

Before she could react, Damien licked her pussy.

Sensation flooded her. She screamed as she came.

But he didn’t stop.

He reached up to flick her nipples where the clamps seized them.

He licked and sucked, fucking her with his tongue, conquering her.

“Damn. Damn, damn, damn!” She came again and again.

He lifted his head and gave her cunt a few sharp slaps with his hand, then laved away the hurt.

Impossibly, she orgasmed again.

She’d rarely had multiple climaxes, preferring instead, to savor one and recover from it. And the only time she’d had more than one, she’d been masturbating with one of the world’s most powerful vibrators.

“I want you for myself,” he said.

She wasn’t sure she could endure anything else.

“You’re perfect, Catrina.”

He loosened her legs then cautioned, “Move slow.” He rubbed her skin, bringing some circulation back.

“Mmm.” She figured this counted as aftercare. And she liked it enough to make sure she spent a little extra time with her subs in future. The high after a scene like that was stunning, and the figurative distance to the ground was vast. A slow descent was better than a fast one.

He loosened the nipple clamps by slow measures so the blood didn’t rush back in with debilitating speed. He caressed her breasts then sucked the tips, easing her pain.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Take your time,” he instructed as he unfastened her wrists. “I’ll help you to sit up.”

She winced as she moved. Even in that short length of time, her shoulders had stiffened.

He stood at the side of the spindle. She expected him to offer a hand, but instead he supported her head and back as she wriggled forward.

“Stay there,” he said when she was sitting. He made little circles on her shoulders to help loosen the stiffness.

Even without her saying a word, he seemed to know what she needed.

“Your body is a lovely shade of red.”

“It feels well used.”

“Not quite,” he said. He helped her to stand and held her so close she felt his erection, inhaled the scent of his crisp masculinity. His arms were both strong and gentle. A tiny part of her brain betrayed her, whispering that it was okay to lean on him and drink the comfort he offered.

She pulled away from him before she could give in.

“Time for part two of your lesson.”

“I hope it’s as good as this one. I hate to be disappointed.”