In His Cuffs (6 page)

He continued with her calves, knees and the fronts of her thighs, flicking his wrist and alternating on each of her legs. He skipped over her pussy and went straight for her stomach.

“Mr Tomlinson,” she protested.

“In due time,” he promised.

“Fuck,” she said.

As much as possible, since there was no support for her bottom and she was partially suspended, she tilted her pelvis, as if that would change his mind.

“You’re submitting to my pleasure,” he reminded her.

“I thought we were getting to an orgasm.”

“You’re not nearly ready enough,” he said.

She gritted her teeth.

“You’re adorable when you’re mad,” he said.

“I am not adorable,” she insisted.

He lashed her belly.

She cried out. But at least he’d silenced her argument.

“You’ve got a perfect body,” he told her. He loved her softness. He knew she watched her weight, and he’d seen her refuse the pastries that people brought into the office. From what he’d observed, she allowed herself the luxury of an unpronounceable frothy coffee drink only on Fridays. “Made for beatings and sex,” he added.

“I—”

“That’s my opinion and, at the moment, the only one that matters. Say, ‘Yes, Mr Tomlinson’.”

She pursed her lips.

He withheld the lash. “Say it.”

Her exhalation was anything but agreeable or feminine. “Yes, Mr Tomlinson.”

He immediately resumed his attention.

She relaxed her body again, an outward sign of her submission in a way that was considerably more meaningful than any mere words would ever be.

In submission, he’d learnt actions should be more carefully regarded than what was said. People lied all the time, small untruths mainly, as they tried to spare others from hurt or hide their own feelings. In that regard, he supposed, a scene wasn’t much different from any other area of life. Employees and associates, even professionals he hired, often told him what they thought he wanted to hear. But gestures revealed what lay beneath the veneer.

When she either accepted defeat or claimed victory, her entire being lost its tension.

Keeping her off guard, he switched up his pattern. After whipping her ribs, he flogged her arms and shoulders.

“Sir is driving me mad,” she said, her voice a whisper.

“Is that right?” he asked unconcernedly. At his own pace, he moved over her collarbone then down her chest.

“I want…”

“Tell me,” he said. He knew what she was going to say, it was obvious, but still, he liked to hear the words.

“Attention.”

“I’ll make sure I give you everything you can take,” he promised.

“On my breasts, Mr Tomlinson. And my pussy. I’m getting horny.”

He wished he hadn’t asked. Pre-cum leaked from his cockhead. He wanted to give her everything she desired and it took considerable focus to continue on his planned path. The longer he took, the more aroused she would be.

Finally he reached her breasts. He wanted to leave marks that she would see when she dressed for work on Monday.

Her nipples were still hard. He caught the tips and areolas with the very edge of the leather, flicking his wrist quickly to brutally bite at the flesh.

She screamed over and over, thrashing her head.

“Good,” he said. “Very good. Give me all of your emotions.” He adjusted the grip on the handle of the flogger so he could hit her with the broad sides of the leather strands rather than with the tips.

She cried out when he caught the underside of her creamy flesh, but she continued to arch towards him rather than trying to escape.

David took great care with her, ensuring all pain was deliberately inflicted.

She rewarded his efforts with tiny moans punctuated with screams.

Without warning her, he let the strands fall on her pussy.

“Yes.
Damn.
Yes.”

He blazed across her inner thighs and her pussy, giving her no quarter as each piece of leather fell, bit, caressed. He liked the way her most private part was exposed with no way for her to pull away even when he stopped holding back.

Within a minute or two, her breathing settled into a regular pattern. Everything he dished up, she hungrily accepted. “Pain slut,” he said.

“More, more, more,” she chanted.

Her wild abandon had earned her an orgasm.

He rubbed the flogger’s handle between her slick folds as he swiftly entered her pussy with two fingers.

“I want to come,” she said.

“Beg.” He decreased the pressure, giving her just enough to keep her on edge but not enough to kick her over it.

“Oh, God, please. Please, Mr Tomlinson, for all that is holy, let me fucking come.”

“That’s not exactly what I had in mind, Ms Carpenter.”

She struggled for purchase. After gasping a couple of times, she said, “Please, Mr Tomlinson, I’m begging you. Please let me come.”

Much better
. He finger-fucked her hard as he stimulated her clitoris.

“Sir? Please. Mr Tomlinson.”

He saw her whole body shake as she fought to obey him and suppress the imminent orgasm. He’d known her for months, and he wondered if he’d been blind. She was perfect in her responses. “Come,” he instructed. “Come
now.
”

Maggie moved against him faster and faster, and he responded to her silent demands, pushing harder, finding her G-spot and pressing against it.

Her body became racked with tremors and she screamed out her orgasm.

He continued his motions until she shivered a bit. He eased the handle away from her and slowly withdrew from her heated cunt.

She blew out a breath and pulled against the restraints.

“You’re a very sexy woman, Maggie.” He walked around to the top of the table, keeping a hand on her at all times in reassurance. Her body was pink, with several deep red patches. He turned her head so that she faced him as he stood next to her. “That was one,” he said. “Think you’re up for more?”

“Are you challenging me now, Mr Tomlinson?” she asked quietly.

“Not at all.”

She raised a sceptical eyebrow.

“Okay,” he admitted. “Perhaps.”

“Give me your best, Mr Tomlinson. I can take it.”

He grinned. This was the Maggie he knew, the Maggie he respected and admired. She was so unlike any sub he’d been involved with. Of course he knew tough-minded businesswomen, a few athletes, even a politician. Yet Maggie’s exterior, combined with her complex and demanding vulnerability, ensnared him. “I’d like to leave you restrained.”

“If it pleases you, Mr Tomlinson.”

“I need to know if your body is able to tolerate the stress.”

“I’m not uncomfortable.”

“In that case…” Satisfied she was all right mentally as well as physically, he donned a condom and fetched the clamps again.

Her eyes had widened and she tracked his every move.

He removed the weights before saying, “You’ve had enough of a break, I think.”

“I’m sure you know best, Mr Tomlinson.”

“How is it that no one has beaten you for your impudent tone?”

She gave an impish smile. “There’s been no need as I’m always sincere.”

“Honest, too.”

“You have a beautiful cock, Mr Tomlinson.”

Her statement caught him off guard.

“I hadn’t really noticed you were naked until now,” she added.

Her scrutiny made him harder.

“Are you going to fuck me with it? Surely you’re not going to let that erection go to waste?”

“Sub—”

“I could suck it for you, Sir.”

“That’s one way to shut you up.”

“It’s effective, too,” she agreed.

The mechanics of that were difficult, but not impossible. He held her head in one palm and brought her closer to him. It stretched her neck, but she didn’t protest. Instead, she stuck out her tongue, seeking his cock. With his free hand, he stroked his shaft. Then he guided it towards her mouth.

She pressed her tongue against the underneath of his cock and opened wide to accept him. He noticed she’d closed her eyes and was making little sounds of pleasure. He’d had his dick sucked dozens, maybe hundreds of times, and he enjoyed it more when he knew his sub was into it.

She took him as deep as she could with the awkward position, and she strained against her cuffs, trying to use her hands. The image combined with the sensation of her tongue and suction of her mouth was almost enough to make him spill.

When she slid up, he squeezed her jaw and withdrew his cock. “Not so fast.”

“But, Mr Tomlinson, I was enjoying that, and I want—”

“Quiet,” he instructed. “This is about what I want.”

She looked at him, but she closed her mouth.

“Smart princess,” he said.

Maggie snapped her teeth together.

“That was a little disrespectful,” he warned her.

“Of course you’re right, Mr Tomlinson. I’m sorry.”

Though she might have used the right words, she’d chosen the wrong tone. And she glared at him rather than looking away to express her contrition. And with the basic training she’d had, no doubt she knew the difference.

He crouched next to her, dug a hand into her hair and yanked her head back.

Her eyes widened from the pain.

“If you have something you want to discuss, say so. But I won’t tolerate that type of behaviour either here or outside the Den.” He chose his next words deliberately to emphasise the differences in their stations as well as his displeasure. “Am I clear, sub?”

“Crystal, Mr Tomlinson.”

He loosened his grip on her hair.

“I object to you being condescending with the princess comment.”

“Thank you for saying what’s on your mind.” He traced the pad of his thumb across her cheekbone. Keeping his voice soft and gentle, he said, “I was not being condescending, Maggie. It was simply an acknowledgement that I recognised your compliance and that you’d chosen the correct path. I liked the way you were sucking my dick, and I appreciate that you would have continued. But I have a scene in mind and that was not part of it. I should hope you know me well enough to know I respect you and your brain. Here, I need you to trust me.”

She blinked. “I…”

“Communicate with me, Maggie, all times, about all things. I will forgive your mockery this once, but with the warning that next time, retribution will be swift.”

She shuddered.

“Any further questions?”

“No, Sir, Mr Tomlinson.”

“Then tell me you understand what I said.”

“I should communicate with you. Sarcasm has no place between us, and you will punish me if I use it again.”

“Perfect,” he said. “You agree to that stipulation?”

“I do, Sir.”

“Then we’re clear.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Her sincerity undid him. “I accept your apology,” he said. By slow measures, he released his tight grip on her hair. He also dropped his other hand so that he wasn’t touching her and influencing her decision when he asked, “Shall we continue?”

She bit into her lower lip, appearing thoughtful.

A few seconds passed without her responding. Finally she spoke. “I’d like to.”

David debated his next action, aware of his responsibilities to her, to them, to the scene. Tension lingered in the atmosphere, and he knew she needed to feel forgiven and emotionally safe. “Do you need me to loosen or remove any of your cuffs?”

“No, Mr Tomlinson.”

As he stood, he placed a kiss on her forehead.

She inhaled and held the breath.

“How do you feel about butt plugs?”

She was forced to exhale so she could answer. “Sir?”

He kept a careful eye on her as he crossed to the counter. Seeing he had her attention, he held up a rather large glass plug.

“Yikes,” she said.

He had no intention of starting her with that one, but she didn’t need to know that. She just needed to slip back into the correct state of mind before he touched her sexually again. “Do you object to me using it on you?”

“I am okay with anal, Mr Tomlinson. That just seems a bit extreme.”

“And if it’s my pleasure?”

For a moment, she was silent. When she spoke, her voice was soft and a bit uncertain. “Then I will do whatever you ask.”

He believed her. Since she said she had some experience, he settled on one that was medium sized. Made from surgical grade stainless steel, this was one of his favourites—it had a circle on the end that he could place his finger through and move it as he desired.

“I’ll make sure you’re prepared first.”

“Sir is too kind.”

“I presume you’ll be appreciative?”

“Most certainly, Mr Tomlinson.”

After coating his forefinger with lubricant, he returned to her. He pressed his finger against her tightest hole. “Open up,” he told her while easing in as far as his first knuckle. He withdrew then re-entered, stretching her as he went. “Relax, pet.”

He knew that wasn’t necessarily easy as there was no support beneath her hips. But it also prevented her from pulling away.

After several strokes, he sank his finger all the way inside and wiggled it about a bit to stretch her.

She exhaled softly. “Mmm,” she said.

“That sounds like pleasure.”

“It is. I’m ready for more if it suits you, Mr Tomlinson.”

“You are into this.” She had warned him that she would ask for more rather than using a safe word.

“I don’t get to scene as often as I would like, so I want to enjoy every moment.”

“Anything to ensure your satisfaction,” he told her. He crossed to the counter, rinsed his hands then rolled on a condom before liberally dousing the plug with lube.

In the few seconds he was gone, he heard her slight movements as she adjusted her body against her restraints. She seemed somewhat restless with his absence. He wasn’t sure why that delighted him so much, but it did. Perhaps it was because of her independent, self-confident air. Regardless, she silently communicated her need of his dominance, and every male instinct responded.

She stiffened when he placed the tip at the entrance to her anus.

“That’s cold,” she protested.

“Shall I warm it for you next time, princess?”

“Whatever you desire, Sir,” she responded.