Caught Up In You 4: The Point of No Return (Edgeplay) (8 page)

 Connor doesn’t hesitate to snatch the paper up. He moves to the side of the fireplace and press on what looked to be a stone, but slides back to reveal a safe. Punching in the combination quickly I hear a hiss and the door pops open. Stowing the consent form in the safe he relocks it and turns to face me.

 “Come here.”

 Chilled to the bone, I gladly move closer towards the fire, hoping the radiant warmth will ease me.

 Wrapping a finger beneath my chin, Connor tips my head back. “You’re mine, now Baily. No matter what he does, how he tries to fuck it up, I will always come for you. Do you understand?”

 My heart is thudding so hard against my ribcage I’m sure it’ll break free any second, just to be closer to him. “Yes.”

 He raises an eyebrow and I hastily tag on, “Sir.”

 A ghost of a smile crosses his face but departs quickly. “Let’s go.”

 Casting a longing look at the bearskin rug I follow him out into the hall and down the back stairs into the basement. My nipples are so hard they could cut glass, partly from the cold air, but mostly from anticipation of what’s to come. I wish he’d rebundled me in the blanket before taking me wherever he’s going.

 This portion of the basement is on the opposite side from the wine cellar and Connor’s workout room. I’m surprised when a blast of warmth hits me. He must have finished this room recently.

 When he flicks the overhead lights on, I gasp, stunned by the display. He’s been busy creating this little dungeon. I don’t know what else to call it. There’s an X shape on the wall with metal cuffs dangling from it. Some sort of swing suspended in the middle of the room. A bench padded in black leather with a stand of paddles in various sizes lined up conveniently next to it. Chains coming out of the floor. Shackles hanging by the door. Coiled whips nestled beside a chest filled with Connor alone knows what.

  It’s a room meant to inflict pain. To torture.

 And I’d just given him permission to do it.

 
Chapter Six

 “
T
ell me what you did wrong.” Connor leads me to the bench.

 My mind is blank, my pulse racing as I stare down at the smooth leather covering. It’s about waist high on me. My mouth is dry and my tongue darts out as I imagine all kinds of crazy scenarios. I look back to Connor and blink. What’s the question again?

 “You didn’t wait for me to play,” he prompts. “You made that video hoping to get my attention. Well you have it now, Baily. My complete and undivided focus.”

 “I’m sorry,” I whisper. The sincerity is genuine. My eyes are fixed on the rows and rows of paddles. Why so many? Surly one could do the same job as the next.

 “Baily, look at me.”

 I can’t tear my eyes away from the gleam of varnished wood. That will hurt like hell on my already sore backside.

 Gripping my chin, he forces me to look at him. “Remember you trust me.”

 I nod, but my gaze wanders back to the paddles. I just want to get this over with.

 Connor sighs. “Lie down on your back.”

 Surly he isn’t going to hit my front half with one of those things?

 “Stop thinking and do as I say,” he barks.

 Startled, I jump to comply. The leather is smooth against my back. The bench is too narrow for me to place my arms comfortably at my sides. After a moment’s struggle I wrap them around my torso.

 Connor shakes his head. “Let your hands dangle over the sides and scoot down a bit.”

 My ass is practically hanging off the edge but I do as he commands. Cool metal caresses my fingertips on either side of the bench.

 Crouching down, Connor straightens my left arm and snaps the cuff into place, chaining me to the bench. Reflexively I pull, trying to free myself but the metal bites into my wrist. I can’t seem to catch my breath, my lungs aren’t working right.

 He studies my face and when I close my eyes he feathers a kiss over my parted lips. A small puff of air escapes, the only sign of my surprise at his gentle caress.

 “Remember that you trust me,” he murmurs before chaining the other arm. His hand rest gently on my forehead, as though checking me for a fever.

 I do. Trusting him may be my downfall but I’m not going to stop now. His surety instills me with confidence. I focus on taking one breath at a time and force my eyelids up.

 “Good girl.” His praise warms my heart, dispels some of the tension. At least until he moves toward the mystery chest. I struggle to sit up but am held firmly in place by the bench. The thing in his hand looks like some kind of workout gismo, two elastic style straps, almost like bungee cords attached to a ball in the middle.

 He approaches me and holds it out for my examination. “This is a ball gag. Open your mouth.”

 Panic swells like a wave seconds before it breaks. If he gags me, I can’t use my safeword. Why would he want that, unless it’s to keep me from screaming? “Permission to speak,” my voice is high, reedy.

 Connor shakes his head slowly. “Denied. I’ve been too lenient with you already. Take your punishment as it comes. Open your mouth.”

 My jaw is clamped down tight, my teeth locked together. I’m half an inch away from a total freak out. This is way too much, too far beyond my wildest imaginings. My eyes burn because I’m fighting tears. Even with my lids squeezed shut one escapes.

 Gentle fingers stroke my jaw, massaging me. My lips part slightly and his descend over mine in a sweet caress. He lingers, licking at my lips. Coaxing me open. The hand caressing my face moves down, along my jaw, over my shoulder, leaving a wake of heat until he reaches my breasts. His calloused palms feels amazing on my chilled flesh, his fingers expertly working the tip, turning me on. I gasp for breath and he inserts the gag, though he doesn’t fasten it.

 The tang of rubber fills my mouth, sharp, foreign but not totally unpleasant. I struggle for a moment, ready to spit it out but my eyes catch his. Ever watchful, his eyes are trained carefully, checking for how much I can handle. Connor won’t push too far, too fast, no matter how angry I made him. He might not do what I expect, but he won’t do anything to really injure or scare me.

  He’s got this, I can trust him.  

 A slight nod, as though he’s reading my mind. “Lift your head.”

 I do and he fastens the gag, keeping it in place.

 Moving to the edge of the bench, I hear a scraping sound. I lift my head to see what’s going on. Metal poles extend out of the bottom of the bench, forming a V at the end. Surprise barely registers as he guides my left foot to one of the newly erected poles and tethers it there with a Velcro strap.

 His eyes go to mine. “All right?”

 My head bobs in affirmation. It’s odd, the more he confines me, the freer I feel. He’s choreographing this scene and I’m just a prop, not responsible for anything but being used however he sees fit.

 The other leg gets trussed up like the first. Connor surveys my naked body, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Beautiful,” he whispers, his hands skimming down the backs of my bear legs.  

 I shiver under his touch, reveling in the way he explores every dip and hollow. Even though his caresses are slow and soft, an undercurrent of need grips me tightly. I forget the awkward position, don’t mind that my pussy and ass are complexly vulnerable to whatever he intends. As far as reprimand goes, being restrained for Connor’s exploration is divine.

 “I’m a firm believer in making the punishment fit the crime.” He says, still stroking over my skin. “I did enjoy that little video. Twice on the trip back here.”

 My eyes go wide as his meaning sinks in. He liked the video, it turned him on, made him come. So then why am I being punished?

 His navy irises are almost completely swallowed by his dilated pupils as he surveys his territory. “You overstepped your authority. What goes into your body and when, that’s my call. Nod if you understand.”

 My head bobs. I’m not sure I agree with his edict, but I’m in no position to fight it either.  

 “It’s important Baily, very important you understand. Your pleasure is mine to cultivate, to reap when I see fit. Wasting orgasms out of spite is childish, selfish and undermines my authority. Only with my permission, do you understand?”

 My heart is beating erratically. This is a hell of a demand, he wants to be part of every orgasm I have from now until the end of time. Somehow that makes a marriage proposal seem almost trivial in comparison.

 And I want it too, I realize with our eyes locked. I want him to make me come every day for the rest of my life, because he pleasures me in such a way that it transcends physical release and makes me feel beautiful, special. Desired. Why go back to just a quick little tingle when an ocean of possibility is mine for the taking?

 A lifetime of commitment seemed the perfect answer to a lifetime of need.

 He’s watching me, waiting for an answer. I nod slowly, trying to telegraph with my eyes that I get it now, that I understand.

 He nods once too, our physical communication holding more weight than words ever could. Teaching into his pocket he withdraws his phone. I scowl, wondering who he could possibly be calling.

 “Your expressiveness is so easy to read. I told you already, I want the punishment to fit the crime. A video for a video. A lack of orgasm for the one you stole.” Setting the phone on the paddle rack he says, “Whatever happens, you are not allowed to come.”

 Is he serious? It’s not like I can help it. Especially when he kneels down between my split thighs, letting his hot breath fall on my soaked flesh. I shiver in anticipation but his mouth deters, landing instead on my inner thigh, teeth sinking into the flesh there, not hard enough to break skin, but he’s definitely leaving his mark.

 Nipping almost playfully he works to the back, pausing periodically to hold me again. My sex clenches with each grip of his teeth. The source of controversy, the plug is locked tight in my ass. The rhythm of his teeth, the stroke of his tongue over my captured flesh coils my need even tighter. The pain is sharp, but not unbearable, the scorching heat left by his mouth no match for the burning ache in my sex.

 Everything’s bared to him, and he takes shameless advantage, biting my thighs and butt until I’m squirming,. A quick slap on my crease and an order to hold still makes my sex gush. Who would have ever thought this would be erotic?

 “So greedy, this little cunt.” Using his thumbs he spreads my folds wide, baring my soaked sex to him. I try to squirm away but with my limbs pinned there’s nowhere to go. He nibbles right along the juncture of my leg. “So drenched with sweet juices. Begging me to have a taste.”

 The hot, wet swipe of his tongue from my perineum up to my clit has me gasping against my gag. The touch is bold, delving deeply into my secret heart, dragging perfectly. Zig zagging his way down to my opening, he thrusts his tongue in deep.

 It’s there, the release so close I can practically taste it. But his orders are clear in my head.
Don’t come
. I repeat those two words over and over as he fucks me with his tongue, hard and fast, the way he knows I like it. My rear passage clamps down on the plug and my feminine muscles swell under his ministrations, the tissues filled with blood, the nerves awake and fully primed.

 My whole body trembles as he lashes my clit and I’m afraid I’ll break, that I’ll let him down again, when he pulls back, covering my mound with his hand as though holding me together.