Close Cover Google, page 13
part #68 of Masters and Mercenaries Series
She held her hands up as though letting go of the argument. “I understand that I am somehow surrounded by crazy, freaky overly protective men.”
He needed to make something plain to her. He wasn’t her brother. Not even close. He took her by the shoulders and got into her space, so close that she had to tilt her head up to look at him. “Your brother is overly protective, and maybe I can be considered that, too, but this is me being stupid and overly possessive. It’s not a pretty thing to be, but I can’t deny it. I know we’ve got an end date, but I can’t stand the thought of that pretty boy putting his hands on you.”
She groaned. “He’s the pretty boy? Let me get you a mirror, Sir, because it’s obvious you have no idea what pretty is.”
Her smart mouth did something for him. “Get in there and I would like to see a proper greeting for your Dom before we get to the night’s fun.”
She stepped back, her head bowing in perfect submission. It was all play because that chèrie bowed to no one and nothing she didn’t choose to bow to, and it would only work as long as she believed she was being treated fairly.
Like the queen she was.
She walked into the room, her heels clacking along the floor. He watched as she disappeared into what they liked to call the blue room. It had been painted shades of midnight blue, even the ceiling, to give the illusion that the sub was suspended by ropes that stretched up into the night sky, as though the night itself could hold and cradle the submissive close. All theater, of course. It would be him and his ropes keeping Lisa secure and ready for pleasure.
He entered the room and Lisa was in slave pose, on her knees, head down.
That was when he realized he wasn’t the only person in the room.
A woman was suspended a few feet off a red pad on the floor. She was elaborately tied, her torso held in place and one leg pulled up behind her. There was rope threaded between her toes and wrapped around her foot causing her foot to curve. She lay in place, breathing steadily, as if remaining still would save her. It was obvious the sub had found a fairly comfortable position. However, eventually she would have to try to stretch, and then she’d be trapped, the tension of the rope forcing that leg higher and torturing her foot.
Predicament bondage. He only knew one couple who played that way on a regular basis. Predicament bondage put the submissive between a rock and a hard place. No matter what happened, the submissive would end up in a tortured position, often having to choose between two bad outcomes. It took a sadist to come up with the scenario and a masochist to find it fun.
He kept quiet, holding a hand out to indicate Lisa should do the same. They might have to find another space.
Kai looked up and smiled. “Hey, you two. Come on in. There’s plenty of room.”
“Hi, Kai,” he said, finding the Dom sitting in the shadows, watching his sub. “Kori, you’re looking lovely tonight.”
Kai stood up, his mouth curling in a slightly evil smile. “I think I’ve finally figured out what to do when I want her to stop talking. If she moves even an inch, the rope around her foot tightens. Doesn’t she look pretty all perfectly silent?”
Without moving another muscle, Kori’s right hand middle finger came out.
“Love you, too, babe,” Kai replied with a chuckle. “Hey, Lisa. Good to see you back. Kori says, hey, too. You know, if you want in on this we could tie them up in such a way that they have to decide between giving themselves pain or forcing their partners to take it. It’s a fun game, man.”
He looked over and Lisa’s eyes were wider than he’d ever seen. “I don’t think my girl’s quite ready for that level of kink. We’re just going to tie her up real nice, suspend her so she knows she’s helpless, and then make her scream. Is that going to disrupt your scene?”
“Not at all. We’ve got a bet going. If she makes it an hour like this, I have to adopt another dog, so dear god man, make your sub scream. Any help I can get. We’ve already got two and one’s a chewer. Like he chews on everything, but she insists that number three is going to be a perfect angel.”
“You go, Kori. Get that puppy,” Lisa said, her voice positive but low.
He frowned her way. “I’m sorry. Did I give you permission to speak? This is my space, ma crevette. This is where I rule.”
He’d given her his most intimidating voice, but she simply shrugged, her eyes focused on the floor. “You didn’t say I couldn’t talk.”
“Master Kai, maybe I should rethink.” He moved around her, breathing in her beauty. She was so damn gorgeous. She was always gorgeous, but like this, she was damn near perfect. “I should rethink what I said though. It wasn’t perfectly true. This is our space. This is the space where we can drop our daily roles and find that other part of ourselves. When we walk into this room, I want you silent unless I ask a specific question. Would you like to take off your clothes or do you want to do this with the corset on? I assure you I can make it work.”
“Naked works for me. I told you, Master Remy, that I have some exhibitionist in me.”
“Have you ever watched me scene?” He thought he knew the answer to that, but he wanted to see if she would reply honestly. He moved to her back, reaching down to let the laces of the corset out.
“It was my hobby while I was here, Sir. I think I caught most of your scenes. I’m surprised you came back here. There are hard points on the stage you usually use.”
“I wanted some intimacy this time,” he replied. “I don’t want a huge crowd because like Kai here, I’d like to let my freak flag fly, and there are things I like to do when I hold a sub dear that I don’t on a simple scene partner.”
Like fuck her silly. He didn’t mind having sex in the club, but he wanted more intimacy with her. And then there was his other kink.
“Ow. Ow. Fuck you, Kai,” Kori said.
“I believe my lovely wife is making those hand gestures because she wants to know if you would like us to find another spot,” Kai said. “Yes, keep it up, love. The rope is doing its job nicely. Your poor foot. I could help you, you know.”
“You were here first,” Remy replied. “And what I’m going to do won’t bother you. Now if Big Tag was here, I’d gag him.” He didn’t do this often, though the words flowed through his head every time he picked up a length of rope. He wanted to do it with her. He wanted to give her the words that flowed like an easy river. “You have a safe word. Will you promise me to use it if I scare you?”
“I promise, but I don’t frighten easily and I’ve waited for this,” she whispered. “For a long time.”
He eased the corset off her. “I’ve waited forever to see your skin. To make it my canvas. I won’t use paint. I’m not an artist whose strokes hang in a gallery. There is no immortality in my work. It takes this flesh and binds it.”
He’d prepped the rope he would use and called the dungeon monitor, who seemed to have properly set up his scene.
He dropped the length of jute in front of her. “This is my only artistry. My one talent. To bind my chèrie in rope worthy of her, to hold her close so she knows each wrap of my rope is a manifestation of my affection, my need. Can you accept my gift?”
She looked up and tears were already in her eyes. She nodded slowly.
He reached down. “I don’t mean to make you cry.”
“Don’t you dare stop. If I only get a few weeks, I want all of you. I want this part. You let me feel it all. You don’t hold anything back on me. I want it all and I definitely want those words. I used to watch you and you would take your hair down. I waited for that moment because that was the moment you took control.”
“I cut my hair because I had to have surgery,” he explained as he began to wind the rope around her torso. “I’ll grow it back out and it wasn’t a huge deal. I’ve got a metal plate in my head from an injury.”
“What?”
“Hush, this is my time. In my head, this is a lush dance. In my mind, this is art.”
She went still, her obvious trust in him allowing him to find that place again.
“You think I’m hard in this place, this top space, but this is where I find peace.” He worked the rope, the ties perfectly familiar, his fingers moving almost without his brain. The muscle memory took over, knowing where to go as he concentrated on her. On how the rope looked against her skin, how it would leave an indention he could touch and kiss for an hour after. “This is where I let go, allowing my body to serve yours, my mind flowing like that river, gently easing everything out to sea.”
He started in on her breasts, working the rope around each sweet mound. “My rope binds you to me, reminds you that I am the one who touches you, brings you to the ultimate pleasure. My rope binds me to you, reminds me that this connection, the one that flows through each wrap and binding, comes only from this soul I wind myself around. For I am in this rope, in every tie, every inch that caresses you. This rope is the touch of my hand, the loving touch of my mouth and tongue, the offering of my body to yours.”
He let the words flow as he worked his rope. He spoke of her beauty, his affection and need for her, all the while winding the rope around her body, showcasing her breasts and preparing her for more. She wanted the full experience? He could give it to her. He would let her feel it all.
Not every scene had to be hardcore. For Remy, D/s was about having a spot where he could open himself up, allow himself to be as vulnerable as the submissive he was about to suspend. He’d been looking for the right sub, the one who would relax him enough to allow him to be exactly who he was without self-consciousness or fear.
“You look perfect with my rope your only clothing, nothing between us. Do you want to fly, ma chèrie? Because I will take you there,” he said as he tied off the last rope that would connect her to the rope he would suspend her with. He’d attached it carefully, her safety his highest concern. It was attached at two points on her “flight suit,” forming a triangle that would hold her up and let her float.
“Yes. I want to fly,” she said, her voice tremulous.
He pulled on the rope and she was in the air, her lovely body hanging and dependent on his craftsmanship. He pulled her up so she was roughly at the height of his chest. He could reach down and touch her, caressing her skin through the ropes. She was facing up, unable to see what he would do to her, only able to hear his voice. “My ropes leave marks, tiny indentions to prove I was here, but they will fade to memory. No, my mark will not stay on this perfect skin because I would leave no scars to mar you. But remember the feeling, remember the care when you are alone. When I am far from you, remember how I lavished you with affection, with worship.”
He sighed, a blissful but bittersweet breath. He could smell her arousal and see the way she relaxed, giving over to the experience. He looked up at her, at the beautiful way her luscious cheeks pressed against the rope. She was safe and secure, and he’d done this for her. He reached up, letting his fingertips trace along her body, skimming from flesh to rope and back again, loving the shudder that went through her body.
“I have worked this rope a thousand times before, and yet this one is new. This one is fresh, and I want to hold it, too. I want the marks on my skin, to make them indelible so I do not ever forget this first night. This first night, one of a handful I will spend with you. One of a handful of nights, of scenes that will feed my soul for the rest of my life. Looking at my angel, flying. Not free for now, but safe and warmed and cared for in my ropes.”
He finished the poem that ran through his head by going on his toes and managing to capture her lips with his. He knew some of his counterparts would tease him for the poetry that he sometimes wrote down but mostly left in his head, but those words were as much a part of him as the way he fought or how he did his job. He accepted them, used them when he needed to.
How many times over the next forty years would he form words in his brain that spoke of her? He forced the thought out of his mind. He had to live in the now when it came to her. This whole damn night before he’d taken her in here had been walking a tightrope. He’d planned on talking to Will in the locker room, but he’d missed the man and then he’d been sure Will was going to out him. Not that he was doing anything wrong. The relationship was real and the job was real, and the fact that he was involved in both didn’t make either less important.
“How do you feel?” He meant the question to come out in a patient tone, but he kind of ended up growling the words her way. There was something about the words playing through his head that made him anxious.
“I feel good, Master Remy. I like suspension, but I wish your hands were on me,” she whispered. “I like this, but I like being close to you more.”
The words in his head started to shift from pretty poetry about emotions to something more primal, dirtier, and yet still very much how he felt. “For some subs, this is what they want. They want to sit here in suspension and float for a while. Others, well, they want things a little different.”
“I want whatever gets your hands on me. Please. But nothing, I mean nothing, ever made me feel as close to you as your words. It was beautiful. I never heard you talk like that during a scene. Were you quiet about it with the others?”
Oh, she needed to understand. “I’ve never done that in a scene. The words run through my head, but I never shared them with a sub. And honestly, what would have come out of my mouth with other subs had nothing to do with the things you make me feel. All my life these words have run through my head, but I never felt like I had to say them until tonight.”
“If you don’t fuck me hard, I’m going to die because I’ve never wanted a man in my life the way I want you. I want the poet and the Dom and the, god, I want the dirty, filthy lover I can’t get enough of. You say you’ve never done that before. Don’t you stop now. Give me all your dirty words, too. I want them.”
He let his hands find her breasts. He’d bound them tight to make sure she would feel them, be deeply aware of them. “This is the sweetest fruit there is, your feminine beauty. Never have I seen anything I wanted more. I worship here.” He tweaked her breasts before moving under her. He had to shift her slightly to get those pretty nipples in his mouth, but he moved back and forth, licking and sucking them. “These buds are the softest flowers…” He stopped because his head was suddenly filled with words he couldn’t speak.
I see children here.
I see life here.
I see future here.
He stepped back, desire churning inside him, but there was more. He knew what lust felt like, what pure molten sex felt like when it rolled through his body in a volcanic state. This was something more. He wanted her but more than her body. He wanted her soul, her future, every ounce of love she had to give. It wouldn’t last. The love inside her would grow and multiply as she grew their children. As her body bore their future, she would love more. Her love would be endless, growing forth from their children and grandchildren and sparking beyond.
This woman had been made for him.
He couldn’t tell her that. Those words were caught, strangled by his past because he couldn’t give her what she deserved. All he could offer her was hard work for years, an entire community that depended on him, responsibility after responsibility.
He could love her, but he didn’t deserve her.
He moved to the rope that held her up. She was too high. He’d wanted her to feel suspended, but in order to join her, he had to lower her down.
God, wasn’t that a metaphor for their relationship? To have her, he had to drag her down. He had to bring her low. She deserved the world and he could only give her a dive bar in flyover country.
But he could give her this now.
He eased the rope down, lowering her to the perfect height. He could see the look on her face, trusting and relaxed, as though she knew he would give her everything she needed. He would give her what she needed tonight. She needed a Dom who was crazy for her. He would show her.
“This body is mine. Its beauty infuses me with light, makes me strong. This gift is more than I deserve, but I will give you, mon ange, a gift of my own.” His hands went to the ties of his leathers, opening them with ease and releasing his cock. He stepped between her legs. He’d tied her thighs apart for just this moment.
His cock strained as desire pounded through his system. Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew they’d drawn a crowd, but he couldn’t care about that. They’d been perfectly silent so he ignored them. He stroked his cock, getting ready to roll the condom on. “Pleasure is my gift, but more I want comfort for you. Physical comfort in the form of my cock, my ropes, the warmth of my hands on your skin. Soul comfort that comes from knowing my whole being is here in this moment with you and I would be nowhere else.” He rubbed his now sheathed cock against the heat of her pussy. She was wet and ready, and he could see how her fingers curled around the rope, seeking balance. “I worry I will come back to this place, this night, this moment when we are together again and again, that I will stay caught here. It’s all I can hope for—to be young and yours forever.”
He stroked inside her, words failing him. All that mattered now was giving her what she needed. He thrust in and pulled back out, going slow at first so he could feel every inch of the slide of his cock against the delicate but strong muscles milking him inside her. He wanted to stay here, right in this moment. The world could end right this moment and he would be perfectly happy.
But the world didn’t work that way. The moment lengthened, time moving forward, and he couldn’t hold out forever. He stroked into her, moving faster and faster, finding the rhythm that sent them both over the edge. He felt the moment she came, her body tensing around his, clamping down hard and causing him to fall with her.
Pleasure hit his brain like a runaway train, making his eyes roll back as his body took over, pulsing out and thrusting in until he’d given up everything he had.
