His Little Tart (12 page)

she cried out.

Constance watched, transfixed, as Diego switched between the various tools. Soft and fuzzy, scratchy, prickly, he alternated the sensations the brunette felt, moving around her body seemingly randomly, paying attention to both the traditionally erogenous zones and everywhere else in turn. As he did so, Aidan knew, he was creating connections until everywhere he touched would feel erotic to the woman he was with.

“That’s beautiful, in a way. I thought he was so scary.”

He is, Aidan wanted to say. But Diego took good care of his subs. And unlike Aidan, Diego was looking for the one woman who would complete him, a sub he could

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live with for the rest of his life. Maybe this brunette was the one, and Diego wouldn’t be interested in Constance.

Aidan moved behind Constance again and rested his hands on her legs, just below the hem of her dress. She needed to see this, obviously. And he was going to take advantage of her interest. Gradually, he caressed her thighs, higher and higher. He was rewarded by a catch in her breath and a small sigh that unmistakably signaled her arousal. He kissed her neck and inhaled, enjoying the sweet tangerine smell of her hair mixed with her womanly scent.

“Are you lifting my dress intentionally, Sir?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She leaned against him, and he was surprised at how relaxed she was. “Then there’s nothing I can do about it, is there?”

“No, little tart.”

He stroked her thighs, not quite reaching her pussy. He only lifted her dress an inch or two; it would still barely cover her private parts. Her resistance was gone, and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe being in the company of other half-dressed or undressed people made her less inhibited, but he suspected it was more than that. She was falling deeper into submission, submission to
him
, and he craved that.

His cock ached as it pressed against the crease of her ass. She moved her hips, grinding against him. It was so tempting to lift her dress higher, slip his fingers inside her and tease her clit until she begged to be fucked. The feeling would be exquisite for him, just what he loved—a woman surrendering to him and her passions, and a tight pussy around his cock. But he held back. He remembered her shyness after sex in the woods, and he didn’t want to push her someplace she’d regret. He needed to know more about her so that he didn’t do anything that would leave an emotional scar.

“May I turn to face you, Sir?”

“You may.” She’d seen all she needed to of Diego and his sub, he thought. He wanted her full attention now.

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She twisted in his arms. She kissed him greedily, and he held her close, crushing her body against his. “Sir,” she whispered.

“Tell me about your fantasies.”

She blushed. “There’s not much to tell.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“Well, they’ve never really involved all of this. No leather, no cuffs, no whips. Not even any ice cream or chocolate fondue or bits of fur and toothbrushes. Although I suppose that might change. I’ve gotten very curious.”

He gave her a light pat on her bottom and then indulged himself by squeezing it.

She really did have a great ass. “I didn’t ask you what they weren’t. I asked you what they are.”

She looked at him and blinked several times. He could tell the gears were grinding in her head.

“Don’t figure out how to say it in a way that sounds good. Just tell me,” he told her.

“Just being held. No, that’s not right. Being held
down.
Not being given choices.

Being ravished. Feeling a man’s lust and being overpowered by it, by him.” She frowned. “But I don’t—”

“You don’t
really
want to have no choice,” he finished.

“No.”

“Which is why we have safe words.”

“It’s fine when I’m just fantasizing. When I get to pick what I have no choice about. When I get to choose who it is that overpowers me. But Sir, I think I would be very happy if it were you.”

Those words were impossible to resist. But he had promised to let her experience one more thing, and he was going to do that before he satisfied his lust. “I’ll ravish you—in private, if you feel safe. On one condition.”

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She giggled. “Now, those words were never in any of my fantasies. Sir.”

“Nonetheless.”

“In private would be wonderful. What’s the condition?”

“First, you experience the flogger.” He wanted her consent.

She raised her eyebrows. “Why, Sir?”

“Because it’s an important part of your kinky education.”

Her eyes danced. “Just looking out for my interests?” she mocked.

He picked her up, pulled up her dress, and swatted her hard on the behind. He’d accept a few missing Sirs, but he was doing her no favors if he let her get away with backtalk.

“Sir!” she yelled.

He set her back on the ground. She pulled her hem down and then rubbed her ass gingerly through the vinyl. “Ouch.”

“Darling, I’ll do my very best to be honest with you. And if I said it’s for your education, then it’s not all about me. I’ll enjoy it, but not half as much as I’ll enjoy plunging my hard cock into your sweet pussy. It’s been aching ever since we’ve gotten in the room, in spite of the fucking we did earlier. Got it?”

She gulped. “Yes, Sir.”

“Now lucky us, there’s a free cross. I’ll tie you up nice and tight and give you your first flogging. And if I don’t get any more sass, you’ll probably enjoy it.” He’d intended to get her to say yes to the flogging, but the mood had shifted with her smart-assed reply. Her confessions of semiconsensual fantasies probably had something to do with it too, unlocking a part of him he normally kept well in check. He detected in what she said a desire to be pushed. Now he was content as long as she didn’t say her safe word.

He grabbed his bag and walked toward the St. Andrew’s cross. He heard her bare feet behind him as she followed.

“Yes, Sir.”

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Music to his ears.

He stopped when he reached the cross, dropped his bag, and turned to face her.

She looked up at him. He pulled the zipper down on her dress and pushed it over her hips and off. Her mouth went wide with shock. She pulled one arm over her breasts and used her other hand to cover her crotch.

He pulled her over to the cross and stretched out her wrists. The cross faced the wall, and while there was space so that a dom could play with his sub from both sides, no one would have a perfect front-on view of Constance. The arms of the cross would provide her some cover as well, but he’d have to work fast to stop her from overthinking it.

“But, Sir, everyone will see me naked.”

The “Sir” stopped her from getting another swat. “Keep your arms up where I put them,” he said. He quickly got out Velcro cuffs—they were faster than rope—and wrapped them around her wrists, using rope to tie them in turn to the eyebolts set in the upper arms of the X.

“Why can’t I have my dress on?”

“Because it’s not your choice.”

“I could safe word.”

“You could, darling. And if you have to, do. But don’t ever use it as a threat, because that’s not what it’s for. Say it or don’t.”

He didn’t wait for an answer but reached down to get a soft deerskin flogger. He had two in his bag; the other was made of buffalo hide and much heavier to swing or to feel. He was pretty sure it was staying put. The one was all he’d need for a novice.

He brushed it against her back, letting her feel the tails without the force of impact. She didn’t say her safe word. She didn’t say a thing.

He began.

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THE WOOD WAS cool against her skin. That was what Constance noticed first. If she stood on her toes, she could convince herself that the intersection of the two wooden bars covered her pussy, so she tried to stretch as much as she could. She’d been startled by his sudden reaction to her remark, but she supposed she had been smarting off. She didn’t trust herself to open her mouth again. All sorts of emotions warred within her—anger at him for his abrupt change of pace and the way he picked her up and swatted her, and worse, removed her clothes without warning in such a very public place, and desire from the fact that he was taking charge. Her pussy was wet, but it was all she could do to stop her fists from clenching.

The first stroke of the flogger brushed across her back. He had to have been holding back —she suspected he could sting her more if he whacked her with a towel. It reassured her. He wasn’t angry or out of control. This wasn’t punishment, like the swat had been. She relaxed against the frame, which was tilted slightly forward so she could lean her weight on it. She closed her eyes and focused on the sensation of the flogger. It was better than thinking about the fact that she was naked in a room full of people.

The first dozen blows landed on her back as he slowly built up intensity. Then a couple on her bottom, sending shivers up her spine. There was a huge difference, as far as she was concerned. The ones on her back felt good, almost like a deep massage. On her butt, on the other hand, the tails of the flogger stung and carried an erotic charge that caused her pussy to tingle. He nudged her calves with his foot until she spread her legs farther apart, and she was aware of how exposed her pussy was if he decided to stroke upward with the flogger. Surely she was too sensitive there for that kind of treatment. She hoped he agreed. But she found peace in knowing he was in control. He seemed to know what he was doing.

He returned to her back, leaving her frustrated. This time, he swung harder, making her gasp with every other blow. To her surprise, she discovered she could take it. He gave her a mixture of sting and thud, of sharpness and ache. But the stings faded quickly, and the ache had a way of spreading through her body, feeling more like need

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than like pain. Her nipples bunched tighter with each stroke of the leather, and when he moved back to her ass, her pussy wept. She hoped no one could see. She scrunched her eyes tight. If anyone was looking, she really didn’t want to know.

His hand rested on her back as he flicked the tails against her backside, and as the strokes got harder, his fingers drifted downward. She stopped bracing for each touch of the tails as they started to blend together in her head. She was only barely aware they had stopped when his hand slipped between her legs, his fingers penetrating her silky folds. She moaned when he withdrew and began whipping her again, the tips of his flogger getting ever closer to her aching and engorged pussy.

She wanted his fingers back, but she didn’t want him to stop flogging her. She wanted both. She moved against the cross and found it was impossible to get any useful friction against it. She was vaguely aware that she probably looked like a total slut writhing under the lash. She didn’t care anymore. The room and the presence of others, even though she could hear their moans and whispers, were an abstraction now. All that mattered was what she could touch, and what touched her. The cuffs, the cross, the flogger, and his hands. And then even those seemed to fade away, as if she’d floated off on a cloud and the slapping of the flogger against her ass was mere background music to her reverie.

She fell into his arms, at last. He must have uncuffed her, must have stopped whipping her at some point. Her body had never felt so soft, so flexible, so relaxed. He kissed her cheek and carried her. She wanted to see him, but she didn’t want to break the spell by opening her eyes. Slowly she became more aware of the specifics of her own body. She still ached for his touch. She was still wet. His fingers moved inside her, and pressure started to build behind her clit, begging for release.

“Please,” she said. It felt strange to talk.

“Hush, love, almost there.”

I
am
almost there.
She gritted her teeth in frustration when he withdrew his fingers and opened her eyes to find herself in the hall between the dungeon and the Allisons’

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living room. There were doors all along both sides of the hall, and he stopped at one.

He twisted the knob, and pushed the door open with his foot as he clasped his hand to her bottom again. He carried her into the room and thrust his fingers inside her again, this time rubbing his thumb against her clit.

She came as the door swung closed. She thrashed in his arms, and he managed somehow to get her safely to the bed. He cradled her, moving his thumb skillfully and curling his fingers up inside her, extending her pleasure. She gasped, trying to catch her breath. He bit her neck, and the sharp pain brought everything she’d done back into focus. Thank God they were alone when she came, but everything else had happened in front of everyone. She ought to feel horribly ashamed.

But she didn’t. She could do those things, because he made her. And she had the courage to let him.

“I can’t wait any longer,” he murmured. “Or at least I really don’t want to.”

She smiled at him.

He lifted her off his lap and set her down on the bed, facedown. Her muscles didn’t want to do anything, and he seemed to know that, positioning her knees under her, pulling her ass skyward. He moved behind her, unzipped, and pulled out his cock.

In seconds, he had a condom wrapper ripped and the rubber rolled over his shaft; no slow show this time. He plunged into her, taking her in one quick thrust and filling her completely.