House Call (Hideaway) (2 page)

Amusement
sparked in his eyes before he brought himself back under control. ‘Have you
sustained any injuries since we last saw each other?’

‘No,’
she said. What did he want to know that for?

‘Sam.
Stand still.’

She hadn’t realized she was edging away from him. ‘What are you
going to do?’ she said.

He crossed his arms, biceps bulging. ‘What do you
need
me
to do, Samantha?’

She swallowed. ‘I know you said you wouldn’t force me to do
anything, but… sometimes…’ Did she
really
want to ask for this?

‘Sweetheart, I think I know what you’re getting at, but I want you
to say it.’

‘I might need you to help me…’ Oh, God. ‘Forget it.’ She backed
away.

He followed. ‘No.
Stay right there.
’

She stopped, a bolt of arousal going straight between her legs.
Shit.

‘You might need me to help you
what
, sweetheart?’

‘To… take away the element of choice.’

He watched her carefully. ‘You want me to take the decisions out
of your hands?’

She nodded.

‘I can do that. If you’re sure. And if you’re not, I expect you to
tell me. Deal?’

She nodded. ‘Deal.’

‘If we get anywhere near your triggers, you safeword immediately,
is that understood?’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘I may be rough with you.’

She lifted her eyes. ‘Yes, please, Sir.’

The warmth of his smile reached his eyes, and he gave a short nod.
One hand twisted strongly but carefully into the scruff of her t-shirt, while
the other took a fistful of the back of her shorts. He hauled her over to the
sofa. ‘Bare yourself. Shorts and panties halfway down your thighs.’

She tried to turn off her brain, and did as she was told.

‘Good,’ he said. ‘Now I want you face down.’

*

Everything
that he’d seen and done to her before notwithstanding, her face burned with
embarrassment as she lay down before him.

He
straddled her backwards, seating nearly his full weight on her back, and gave a
satisfied sigh. Her t-shirt was a little long, and he pushed it up so that her
ass was completely uncovered. ‘That’s better.’

Sam
swore, and tried to buck him off, pushing to see if he’d be as good as his
word.

Of
course he was.

He
spanked her, hard, and she let out an impressive string of curses, trying to
ease the shock and pain of it.

‘Language,’
he growled.

‘Get
off me, Sir!’ she gritted out.

He
spanked her several more times, even harder than before. This time, the searing
pain built until it literally took her breath away. She screwed her eyes shut,
and pushed her hands into the gaps in the sofa cushions, willing the burning to
subside.

‘One
more word out of you, and you won’t be sitting down for a week,’ he snapped.
‘Got it?’

‘Think
that ship has sailed, Sir,’ she said. His hand came down to press against her
tender ass. She hissed, and braced for another blow.

‘You
sassing me, now, as well as lying?’

‘No,
Sir.’

‘What
do you say?’

‘I’m
sorry, Sir.’

‘Are
you?’ he said, doubtfully. ‘Prove it by being a good little patient now.’

His
weight shifted. He set his backpack down on the back of her knees, and opened
it. After rustling around a bit, he put the backpack on the floor. She heard
him pulling on a pair of latex gloves.

He
touched her ass, and she flinched.

‘Fight
me, and you’ll regret it,’ he said. He parted her buttocks, and slid a long,
lubricated thermometer deep into her rectum.

Oh,
yes. She had missed this. He pulled the instrument almost all the way out, and
reinserted it.

Yes.
She
shifted beneath him, trying to open her legs, frustrated by the clothes that
prevented it.

‘Keep
still. I
am
going to examine you, sweetheart, because you need to be
well to take the punishment I have in mind, and you actually did feel warm when
I felt your forehead.’

‘But…
you spanked me already.’

‘That
wasn’t your punishment. The next time you so much as
think
of lying to
me, you’re going to remember this night, and think again.’

He
twisted the thermometer, the delicious, wet friction drawing a needy whimper
from her.

‘Sir…’

‘Quiet.’

She
lay helpless beneath him as he tormented her. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have
just one more night with him. She could take the pain that would come later in
exchange for the pleasure that she could have now; something to carry her
through the lonely days ahead.

‘Why
are you doing this?’ she said.

There
was a pause, and then he said, ‘Because I care about you.’

For
a moment, she forgot to breathe. ‘You do?’ He did? How much? And…
how?
Like a client he enjoyed working with? Like a friend? Like a… lover?

‘Yes,
I do. That’s long enough for your temperature to register,’ he said. ‘Push it
out.’

Well,
that was a little embarrassing. ‘Why don’t you take it out?’ she said.

‘Sir,’
he
corrected.

‘I
like it where it is,’ she said,
‘Sir.’
She knew she was reacting a
little to the fact that he’d changed the subject so abruptly.

‘
Now,
Sam.’

‘Just
a little longer.’

She
felt him grasp the instrument, and then let out a cry of pain as a single, powerful
spank detonated on her throbbing right ass cheek. He let go of the instrument
once the pain had passed and she wasn’t clenching so tightly.

‘Push
it out,’ he repeated calmly, one fingertip running ominously over her
sensitized skin, his tone making it clear that this could get very bad indeed.

She
tensed her muscles, and the slippery instrument began to move, then fell out of
her body and landed on her thighs.

‘Do
you like that, Sir?’ she said. She knew she was taking a
big
risk by
allowing her embarrassment to manifest in aggression, but well, there it was.

There
was a momentary pause, and then he spoke.

‘I
think you actually want to know the answer to that question,’ he said. ‘And if
you’d asked it politely, I’d have told you why there are times when I may
command you to eject something from your body. I’d have tried to describe how I
feel while I watch you struggle to obey, and I might even have shown you the
effect all of this has on me. As it is…’ He shrugged, retrieved the thermometer
from between her bound legs, and read it as she closed her eyes in frustration,
unsure who she was more exasperated with; him, or herself.

‘Hmph,’
he said, stripping off the gloves.

‘Huh?’

‘Your
temperature’s normal.’ He leaned down, fussed with the bag back where she
couldn’t see it, and then his weight lifted off her. ‘Turn onto your back.’

She
did, hissing with pain as he sat back down on her legs.

He
frowned, and lifted himself up a little. ‘Am I hurting you?’

‘No,’
she panted. ‘The… the spanking.’

He
nodded, and smiled as he settled his weight back onto her. ‘Consider it a
lesson in cause and effect. One I’m sure you’ve learned by now. Which leads me
to wonder why you’re testing me. I have a theory, but we’ll see.’

She
started to sit up, and he pushed her right back down. She glared at him.

He
looked at her carefully, his hand still splayed across her breastbone. ‘Are you
frightened?’

Yes.
‘No.’

He
frowned. ‘More lies.’ He sighed. ‘What I don’t understand is,
why?
’

‘I’m
fine,’ she said. ‘Please continue, Sir.’

He
rolled his eyes. ‘Before this night is over, you’re going to tell me what the
hell is going on with you.’

‘Did
an evening course with the CIA, did you, Sir?’

Oh,
that was the wrong thing to say.

His
gaze could have burned a hole right through her, but he kept his temper, which,
considering he had her pinned beneath him, was probably a good thing.

‘Anytime
you need to stop, we stop,’ he said. What’s your safeword going to be?’ He
reached into the backpack and pulled out a tongue depressor and penlight.

‘Ocean.’
The word fell from her lips, sealing her agreement to allow this to continue.

‘Ocean
it is. Open your mouth.’

She
did, gagging as he checked her throat, squinting as he checked her pupils.

‘Sorry.’
He probed gently at her glands. ‘That’s fine.’ Without warning, he took hold of
the hem of her t-shirt and folded it back up over her chest. Instinctively, her
hands rose to cover herself. He pressed them down beside her. ‘Hands at your
sides.’ He took a stethoscope from the backpack and put the earbuds in his
ears.

Sam
picked up the metal disc and spoke into it. ‘I’m fine, Sir.’

He
looked at her steadily for a moment, then reached into the bag again, and
pulled out a short, stubby black dildo. Then a complicated-looking tangle of black
leather straps. He pushed the dildo through an opening in the harness. ‘Open
your mouth.’

‘No,
Sir, I’m sorry –’ She clamped her mouth shut as he brought the gag to her lips.

‘Since
you won’t be able to say your safeword, if you need to stop, tap me three
times.’

He
pinched her nose shut, and it wasn’t long before she had to gasp for breath.
The thick, rubbery phallus slid in over her tongue, and the harness was buckled
at the back of her head. She gagged, and began to panic.

‘Stop.’
He crossed her arms over her chest and held her down. ‘Calm down, and you’ll
find you can breathe perfectly well.’

Short,
violent gasps escaped around the edges of the gag, her eyes watering as she
fought to bring herself under control.

‘That’s
it,’ he soothed. ‘Just relax, and breathe with me.
In
,’ he took a
breath.
‘Out.’
He exhaled, watching to see that she followed suit.
‘Good. Again.
In…
’

When
she was finally able to focus on him, he gave her a nod of approval.

‘Good
girl,’ he said, his fingers pressing firmly into the pulse point in her wrist.
‘Better now?’

She
nodded. There was no other living soul who could call her a ‘good girl’ and not
instantly rouse her inner feminist. But the possessive, matter-of-fact way that
he said it bore no trace of condescension. It was an endearment uniquely suited
to, and a reminder of, her situation. And she liked it. God help her, she
liked
it.

Though
if he ever tried to pull that when they weren’t doing… well,
this
, he’d
regret it.

‘
If
I may have your attention,’ he growled.

She
looked up into his burning gaze. ‘Sorry,’ she tried, and failed, to say.

‘Suck
it,’ he said.

She
glared at him. Wasn’t it enough that she had to have the damn thing in her
mouth?

He
pushed one big hand down between her legs, cupping her, while a single finger
burrowed inward, rubbing and teasing. ‘Suck it, Samantha. I can feel how wet
you are.’

She
shook her head.

He
opened his jeans one-handed, and freed his cock. It was hard. Ready. Glistening
at the tip. Beautiful. And she wanted it. Oh,
how
she wanted it. Wanted
him
.

‘Please,’
she garbled.

‘Sorry,
didn’t quite catch that.’

She
rolled her eyes. Bastard. Slowly, he ran his hand up and down the length of his
erection, squeezing. His breath caught. She sucked reflexively on the rubber
penis. Water spurted from the tip. She moaned and struggled to swallow, wishing
it was his cock in there, his taste on her tongue.

He
leaned over her, holding her down with one hand on her chest, his other hand
still moving busily over her clit. Suddenly he altered the angle of his wrist.
Two fingers pushed way up into her vagina, massaged, and began a slow, probing
retreat.

An
incoherent noise exploded from her.

He
rubbed her hard,
right there.

She
thrust her hips up to meet his hand, the gag muffling her cry.

But
his fingers were already pulling out, the wet sound they made as they left her
body a testament to his mastery over her responses. ‘No. I still don’t know why
you’re testing me, and until I do, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to come.’