For the Sub (19 page)

“The research society thanks you,” Mame said.

“And so do I,” Brandy added.

“You have to wear a kilt to the game,” he told her.

“Sir, I’d do anything for you.”

“Told you she’s a keeper,” Mame said, moving off with no apparent loss of energy.

“That was a joke,” he clarified when they were in the elevator.

“What was?”

“The kilt. I’m not letting you out in public dressed like that.”

“I could wear white stockings with it.”

“Put me out of my misery.”

“Here?” she asked, sliding her hand towards his crotch. “Now?”

“Good God, no.”

“Just thought I’d ask, Sir.”

When they returned to the room, she finished what she’d started. She unfastened his belt and trousers, then said, “Commando, Sir?” before sliding to her knees and taking his cock into her warm mouth.

She sucked him off, and he had her head trapped between his palms.

After their shared shower, he licked her cunt until she screamed, then she fell asleep in his arms.

When he awoke in the middle of the night, he pulled her against him.

When dawn lit the mountains, she was still there. Because of her breathing, he knew she was awake. “Go home with me?”

“I’d love to, Sir.”

They joined a jubilant Mame for breakfast and coffee.

“Congratulations on a successful event,” Brandy said. “I’ll be sure to email you with those suggestions so you can keep some momentum going.”

“Do you mind just going ahead and doing the work? My assistant can give you logins and whatnot. I emailed her your information and told her to get you the attendee list and the donor list. You’ll also get a list of all the winners. I’ll leave you two to sort it all out. I’ve decided to take a trip to Belize for a little R & R,” she said. Grinning, she added, “With Truex Williams.”

“Isn’t that a little sudden?”

“Spur of the moment.”

Niles sat back and drummed his fingers on the table. “Truex Williams is thirty years younger than you are. At least.”

“Thirty-five. But who’s counting? But at least he can keep up with me and none of the old farts my age can. I need some good loving,” she said. “From a man who can keep it up all night.”

“Bleach! I need bleach for my ears.” Niles groaned. “Too much information.”

“Pish. Like you two didn’t go at it like rabbits last night.” Over the rim of her mimosa, Mame regarded Brandy.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, ma’am.” Brandy poured a splash of cream into her coffee. “I went upstairs and fell asleep.”

Mame nodded then wagged a finger at Niles. “This one’s definitely a keeper.”

He was beginning to think the same thing.

After Mame had excused herself, he and Brandy packed their bags. She followed him to his loft, which wasn’t more than two miles away. He directed her to his garage while he parked under the carport.

“I had no idea you were so close. We could have stayed here,” she said.

“I wanted to spoil you.”

“I appreciate it.”

His place was wide open, industrial-looking with exposed brick and duct work. It was constructed from light wood, stainless steel, tall windows, lots of stunning lighting and not much else.

“No artwork, Sir?”

“I’ve never gotten around to it.”

“No photographs? Mementos? I gather you didn’t live here with your wife?”

“My aunt isn’t the only one who’s nosy.”

“You can always refuse to answer or put your tongue in my mouth to shut me up,” she said lightly, though her brows were drawn together.

He didn’t respond right away, and she walked towards the window, her back to him.

“This must be difficult for you,” he said. She obviously wanted to get to know him better, and she had that right. But when she asked questions, she was treading on uncertain ground. “It’s not easy for me, either.” He joined her at the window. “I’m not accustomed to talking about it, about her.” Wryly, he added, “Most people have respected that. Except you and Aunt Mame.”

“Sorry, Sir. I guess you could order me not to mention her again, and I will honour that. But I think that changes our dynamic, puts boundaries around it. In that case, I understand where you’re coming from.”

He took her by the shoulders and drew her towards him. “I wouldn’t have invited you to my place if I had wanted to keep you out of my personal life.”

“Then you’ll have to put up with my inquisitiveness.”

“I suppose I will.”

“Is it a hardship, Sir?”

“At times, yes,” he admitted. He used both of his hands to brush hair back from her face. “But you’re worth it.”

“Thank you.”

“And no, I never lived here with Eleanor.”

“It’s obvious. Not to be insulting, but your space doesn’t have a woman’s touch. It seems as if you hired someone, or you looked online and picked out a style from a home magazine and ordered everything they suggested.”

He was a man accustomed to being in charge, confident. But he let her go and shifted uncomfortably. “You’re right. I hired someone. I never saw this place before I bought it. My real estate agent put our house on the market, arranged for the sale of all our personal belongings and found me this loft. You’re the first person to visit me here.”

She curled her hand into his T-shirt. “Shall we make some memories?”

In his bedroom, they did.

* * * *

He took her to dinner at a loud place on the Sixteenth Street Mall. They sat on the patio, drank ridiculously large beers from glasses that resembled fishbowls and watched people pass by. “Did you make arrangements for someone to take care of the Hess Zoo?”

“Thank you, yes. I called my neighbour while you were in the shower earlier.” She took a drink, needing both hands to lift it up. “Thank you for the concern. I’m free until mid-morning then I have to get back in time to go to work at the Den.”

He nodded, feeling more uncomfortable with that idea than he might have imagined. He wanted Brandy on her knees, but greeting him. He didn’t have the right to ask that of her, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t tempted.

“There’s a store in Larimer Square I’d like to stop in on the way back, if you don’t mind?”

“Anything in particular you’re looking for?”

“Candles. For your place, Sir. Unless that’s too presumptuous?”

“Not at all.”

After dinner, they walked back up the mall, dodging pedestrians and stopping to watch a woman who created charcoal caricatures in less than two minutes.

“I want one of us,” Brandy said.

“Are you serious?”

“Do you ever do anything spontaneous?”

“No.”

“You do now, Sir,” she said, taking a twenty dollar bill out of her wallet.

The artist directed Brandy to sit on a stool, and he stood behind her.

With a few dozen, economic yet bold strokes and blurring the lines with the heel of her hand, the woman created a portrait that captured his expression—happier than it had been in years, and yet pensive at the same time.

The piece of paper rolled, wrapped in a rubber band and safely tucked inside her purse, they headed for the shop in Larimer Square.

She picked out a couple of candles, one that smelt like vanilla, the other unscented. After selecting two glass holders for them, they strolled back towards his LoDo loft.

At home, she placed one on the table and the other on the vanity of the master bathroom.

“They make your place feel more lived in,” she said, returning to him.

He was in the kitchen slicing a lime for the glasses of sparkling mineral water that he’d just poured. His loft was as sparse as hers was cluttered. He hadn’t noticed how sterile his was until now.

Niles laid down the knife on the cutting board.

“Oh, oh, Sir.” She clutched her hands in front of her.

“What?” he asked.

“You have that look.”

“What look?”

“The one where you’re going to ravish me.”

“If I hadn’t been planning that before, I am now.” He pulled her against him. “Open your mouth,” he said. “I’ve wanted to taste you all afternoon.” He sought out her tongue. At first he was as easy-going as he had been on the dance floor last night. But always, where she was concerned, carnality unfurled inside him.

She responded in kind, reaching around him, moaning, granting him deeper access.

All of a sudden, it was about far more than the kiss. It was about them, about how she reacted to him.

He was with subs all the time, and this interaction was beyond that. Though she never overstepped his unspoken boundaries, she pushed him in ways no one else did. He liked that about her, even as it frustrated him. She tasted of sunshine and laughter, but that was undercut by the danger she presented. This supple submissive made him question everything he’d promised himself. The idea he wanted her around for more than just a day conflicted with his sworn promise to never fall in love again. Still, the way she felt in his arms left him thinking about tomorrow. “Damn,” he said as he ended the kiss. “We should make out more often.”

“Is that what that was?” she asked from the protective sphere of his arms.

“Having sex with clothes on?”

“That’s what it felt like to me.” He left her long enough to lower the blinds. “I love your breasts.”

“They’re for you, Sir.”

“Damn fucking right,” he said. “Now get that shirt off.”

She took hold of the hem and tugged the material up over her head and dropped it on the floor. The bra quickly followed as did her panties, jeans and platform sandals. Then she was standing in front of him in her necklace and nothing else. It looked beautiful against her creamy skin.

“Crawl to the guest room,” he ordered. “First door on the right. I want to watch your ass.”

“My pleasure, Sir.”

The little vixen took her time lowering herself to the floor, and he couldn’t look away. With an exaggerated sway of her hips, she preceded him down the hall. He followed, captivated, seduced, wondering who was the one being mastered.

Though he had never scened in his home, this week he’d bought a few things with the intention of hosting her.

Because he knew she’d like it, he’d installed a hook in the ceiling and purchased a thuddy flogger. “I want to secure you by your hair,” he told her.

“Yes, please,” she said from her place on her knees.

While she was totally different than Eleanor had been, he loved her responses. She hadn’t become a sub because it was something he wanted. She’d been one when they met. “I love that you embrace your submissiveness.”

“Not everyone has appreciated that, Sir. Thank you.”

He gathered her hair and placed a band at the top to make a ponytail. Niles placed an additional band midway down and a final one at the bottom to keep it secure. Though he’d done this several times for video, there was nothing perfunctory about his motions. In fact, it seemed deeply meaningful to him. Her deep, steady breaths added to the atmosphere. “Stand please.”

Keeping her eyes downcast, she did so.

“Raise your arms.” He cuffed her hands to his overhead hook.

Her breaths became farther apart as she turned herself over to his ministrations and settled in with trust.

He secured her hair to the cuffs with a hemp rope and a square knot.

She made a soft sound of approval.

“You like this,” he observed.

“I do, Sir.”

He was aware that her body was getting warmer. Niles forced himself to focus, something that wasn’t usually an issue for him. He treated each scene like the job it had become. And now, he was remembering how reverent the act was when two people had a relationship outside of the dominance. “I told you previously your breasts need to be marked.”

“I love having them whipped, Sir. By you.”

“Legs farther apart, sub.”

She followed his instruction and that changed her stance, putting more weight on her hair and wrists, pulling her head back. It exposed her neck more and made it less likely he’d catch her face with a strand.

Niles opened a drawer and pulled out a flogger. He held it up in front of her, and she kissed the handle.

With slow, gentle blows, he smacked her with the leather. As she closed her eyes and began to moan, he struck harder, no longer moving over her torso but concentrating on her breasts.

“Mark them, Sir,” she pleaded.

He changed the tempo, hitting harder and harder.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Taking a break, Niles fingered her wet pussy. It amazed him how quickly she responded to him. She began to jerk against him, and he gave her nipples a vicious twist.

“W-want to come, Sir.”

“Wait.” Seeing her desperate attempt to squeeze her thighs together for some relief, he snapped, “Keep those legs apart.”

In her bondage, Brandy sagged even farther forward.

“That’s a gorgeous sub.”

Timing was a crucial part of each scene.

He started over, working until he had her moaning. He slapped her pussy with the leather thongs and her movements pulled on her hair.

“This is wonderful, Sir.”

She didn’t endure, she enjoyed.

Now that her body was warm, glowing, relaxed, he beat her breasts in earnest, stinging with the leather tips and with the impact of the broadside of the strands.

“My nipples.…more.”

“Whatever you want.” This was trickier, and he adjusted his position for precision. He beat her nipples and her breasts, varying the location, speed and amount of pain he delivered.

Her cries became whimpers then moans then something so much more…surrendered bliss.

He released his knot and cuffs, seemingly without her noticing. She hadn’t moved her legs or tried to sneak an orgasm. Instead, she’d given herself to him without question. Telling her how pleased he was with her, he rubbed her arms to restore circulation then pulled out the bands that held her hair. He finger-combed it, but the strands remained kinked. An outward, but private sign of her submission.

“If it pleases you, Sir, I’d love to fuck.”

He drew her towards the master bedroom, and he paused in front of a full-length mirror. Their gazes met and locked in the reflection and he traced one of the marks that temporarily marred her breast.