Accidental Slave (14 page)

They looked at each other. A tendril of a smile curled up Cole’s lips and Elizabeth found hers twitching in response. They both began to laugh, and, catching each other’s eye, laughed harder still until Elizabeth doubled over, holding her sides, tears spilling down her cheeks. Even while a part of her knew this was just an emotional release valve, it felt good to let it out and she let herself go. They collapsed together on the sofa, the laughter finally sputtering into hiccups and sighs.

Cole was sprawled against the sofa, his long, strong legs out straight in front of him, his hands clasped easily over his flat stomach. “I can’t remember when I laughed that hard,” he remarked after a moment of comfortable, easy silence.

“Me neither,” Elizabeth answered, wiping her eyes with her fingers. Cole at once pulled out a starched white handkerchief from his back pocket. Who carried a handkerchief in this day and age? Nevertheless, she took it, smiling at him as she dabbed at her eyes.

“Coffee,” Cole announced, sitting up straight. “I need a cup. How about you?”

“That would be great. And if you’re hungry, those bagels had just come out of the oven when I picked them up. They’re from my favorite neighborhood bakery.”

“Sounds delicious. Come on into the kitchen and we’ll have ourselves a feast.”

Elizabeth wasn’t surprised the see the kitchen, which was easily three times the size of hers, had been equipped with all the latest stainless steel appliances. The countertops were granite, the flooring thick planks of dark hardwood, the cabinets with glass doors, revealing fine china and stemware inside.

While Cole busied himself at the coffeemaker, he turned toward her. “There’s cream cheese and butter in the ‘fridge. Help yourself. Oh, and if you wouldn’t mind, you can pull out the cream too.”

Elizabeth set the items on the table, feeling more relaxed and at ease than she had in ages.

The shared laughter had brought them closer, somehow, than hours of talking could have.

Despite the persistent niggling worry about Gary and that whole sordid business, she was happy.

Soon Cole brought a hot pot of coffee to the table, along with two ceramic mugs. He poured them each a cup, returned the pot to the warmer and sat down across from her. They each helped themselves to a bagel and ate quietly for a while. The coffee was hot and delicious and she sipped it, thinking how much better it tasted than the store brand she bought and used in her ancient coffeemaker. Or was it just because she was with him?

She glanced up at him, sensing a subtle shift in the mood between them. He was watching her with those dark eyes, the heavy lids giving him a sleepy, sensual look. “You came back, Elizabeth and I’m so glad. But I want you to understand, I need you to understand that I’m not looking for a vanilla relationship. At least, not ultimately. I want something deeper, something more fulfilling. I want to teach you to submit—to surrender not only to me, but your deepest, most secret desires.”

“I’m—I’m not sure what you mean,” Elizabeth faltered, her heart skipping a beat.

“Let me ask you this. Have you ever found a man who made you feel the way I did yesterday? Who made your heart pound, who made your breath catch, who made you wet and aching after just one kiss?”

Elizabeth, startled by these blunt questions, hid her embarrassment with a retort. “You’re pretty sure of yourself, huh? God’s gift and all that? What makes you think you were that good?”

“Oh, I don’t. Please don’t misunderstand me. I’m not that good. I’m nothing special, not on my own. No—it was
us
, Elizabeth. You and me. Together we can find what each of us has been looking for. Give it a chance—take a risk. Give
us
a chance.”

“I haven’t been looking for anything.” Even as she said the words, she knew she was lying.

The few men she’d cared about or tried to care about over the years went parading past in her head, each one coming up woefully short when compared to this dynamic, compelling, sexy man.

“I want you,” he whispered fervently. She could feel his power like a live thing descend over her. She realized with sudden clarity she wasn’t attracted to him in spite of his talk of D/s and the erotic submission, but because of it.

She met his burning gaze head on. “I want you,” she replied, barely hearing her own words over the beating of her heart.

“Never, huh? Not even a playful swatting?”

“They wouldn’t have dared.” Elizabeth jutted her chin forward. Cole laughed and she found herself laughing with him. They’d spent a pleasant morning chatting over bagels and coffee, moving to sit outside on Cole’s terrace and enjoy the warm morning sun.

For a while it was “first date” talk, getting to know about each other’s lives and backgrounds, and discussing the current events of the day. In addition to being sexually attracted, Elizabeth found herself genuinely liking this kind, engaging man who, despite his obvious wealth and good looks, didn’t seem to take himself too seriously.

They’d moved back inside as the sun rose higher, glinting through the haze of the Manhattan skyline on what was shaping up to be a muggy August day. The mood had subtly shifted as they settled side-by-side on the sofa where, the evening before, he’d pinned her wrists over her head and kissed her as if he’d owned her.

At Cole’s question if she’d ever had a proper spanking, she immediately and vehemently denied it, but couldn’t deny the sudden sharp increase in the tempo of her heartbeat.

Cole regarded her appraisingly. “I imagine you’re a bit more than most men can handle.

Beautiful, successful, smart, sexually defended.”

“What? Sexually what?”

“Defended. Protected. Forgive me for presuming, but something tells me you’ve yet to be with a man who could get past that defense. Break down the armor that keeps you safe, but also keeps you shielded from the intensity of experience a passionate, mature woman deserves.”

“I’ve had serious relationships.” Elizabeth knew she sounded defensive.

“And you’re not with them now, are you? I doubt it was they who left you, am I right? They lost you, because they didn’t understand what you need or how to reach past your natural reserve to meet those needs.”

“And you’re going to tell me you’re the man to meet those needs, huh?” Her tone was flippant as she tried to compensate for the blush she knew was rising to her cheeks.

“I’d like to be.” His tone was gentle, unassuming, and yet there was no doubting the power behind it. Everything about him seemed to radiate power, albeit understated and restrained. She could easily imagine his persevering in the business world, getting what he wanted not with bluster and arrogance, but with a certain understood authority. He was the kind of man one instinctively wanted to obey.

He moved closer, dropping his hand to her bare thigh, slipping his fingers just beneath the silky fabric of her dress. His touch instantly alerted all her nerve endings. Gently he stroked her skin.

“Sensation,” he offered, “occurs along a spectrum. From the lightest touch—” his fingers moved feather-soft along her flesh, “—to more intense contact. You’d be surprised how you can be taught to experience what you might have one time defined as pain, as simply a more intense sensation. A spanking is an excellent way to begin.”

“Why would I want to begin? Why should I
want
to redefine sensations, as you call them?”

“Because,” his voice was low, and as he spoke he slid his hand farther up her thigh until his fingers touched the silky panties that covered her mons. She jumped at his touch. She was wet, she knew she was, and her pussy tingled and ached. “…you need this. You’re longing to give up control on some level in your life. You need someone strong to share your secrets and let you experience your deepest longings in a safe, sensual environment.”

“No…” she tried to protest, though something inside her yielded at his words. Elizabeth Martin never gave up control. Never…oh, his fingers were slipping beneath the panties. She knew she should stop him, deny whatever it was he was saying about her. She wasn’t a sub girl just because he wanted her to be…no, oh God, she was slippery wet. Strong fingers slid upward, finding and catching her clit, making her gasp. Her head fell back and he leaned over her, his hand buried at her sex, his lips meeting hers.

“Yes,” he murmured, before kissing her. “Yes.”

It felt good, so good, to have someone touching her, stroking her. He did it just right, too, not too hard and too fast like some guys, who thought their enthusiasm should make up for their lack of finesse. She moaned, pushing back against his hand, desperate for his touch.

Quickly, too quickly, he brought her to the brink of orgasm, his mouth still against hers, his tongue in her mouth flickering in tandem with his fingers at her sex. Literally seconds before she came, he pulled away.

Flustered and frustrated, she urged, “No, don’t stop. I was so close. Please…”

“You have to earn it, sweet Elizabeth.”

She opened her eyes, not entirely processing his words, her focus still on her pussy and the not-quite-achieved orgasm. “What?”

“That’s right. I’ll let you come, but first you will earn it with a small spanking. An introduction to the redefining of pleasure and pain.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Then he gathered her in his arms and pulled her up and over onto his lap.

“Hey,” she protested weakly, but she didn’t fight him. He was going to
spank
her. The strangest thing was, instead of being furious or indignant, her pussy throbbed at the thought, though the idea frightened her.

“You’re not going to hurt me?” Her voice trembled.

“I will never harm you. You will learn that pleasure and pain are subjective terms that have no specific meaning in a D/s relationship. I’ll teach you. You’ll see. You’ll know. Trust me.”

He pressed her down against his lap. Still hovering on the edge of climax, she rubbed her pussy against his thigh, aware she was acting like a slut, too hot to care. He flipped up the back of her dress. “You’re perfect,” he murmured. He stroked her ass, his touch light but firm.

His erection poked hard against her pubic bone. What was she doing—a grown woman, permitting herself to be placed over a man’s knee for a spanking? It was crazy.

But her pussy didn’t seem to agree. It was wet and throbbing, and she felt so needy she almost began to hump his thigh. She was distracted by a sudden, light swat to her behind. She jerked against him. He placed a hand firmly on the small of her back and swatted her again.

“Relax against me. Experience the sensations. Turn off your mind, if you can.” She tried to obey him. Her ass was tingling and she realized she was holding her breath, waiting for the next swat. He was smoothing the flesh and then he struck her, harder this time. The sound of his palm against her ass resounded in the air.

It stung a little. It was the sound more than anything that made her yelp. He stroked her again, but kept one hand firmly on the small of her back, holding her in place. Again the palm came down, this time harder, catching both cheeks with the blow.

Elizabeth jerked and squirmed against him. “You’re doing great,” he insisted, still holding her down. “Just a little more. Let me take you a short way down the path you need to be on.”

He sounded like some Buddhist philosopher, but she was distracted from his words by a series of hard, stinging blows landing with force on each cheek, making tears spring to her eyes.

“Hey! You’re hurting me.”

He ignored her, continuing to smack her several more times. She jerked beneath him, finally twisting over onto her back. Her dress had ridden up her thighs, exposing her panties. Without missing a beat, Cole pressed her thighs apart.

With deft fingers, he slipped past the silk. “You’re soaked,” he informed her, his eyes glinting. It felt too good to stop him, too good to protest, resist, pretend she wasn’t more turned on than she’d ever been in her life.

“Oh,” she whispered, elongating the vowel with a breathy sigh.

It took only seconds to send her careening into a scorching, trembling, dizzying climax. She bucked and shuddered beneath his fingers, all trace of modesty gone as she took her pleasure.

Afterwards she lay inert, her head lolling to the side, her heart thumping wildly. He smoothed the hair away from her face. Slowly she opened her eyes. He was watching her with those dark, dangerous eyes, as if he knew the secrets of her soul.

She felt, she realized, amazing. Better than amazing. Terrific. Incredible. She sat up and reached out to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He pulled her up into his lap and buried his face against her neck. “You see?” he whispered. “I knew it. You were born for this.”

She didn’t respond, except by holding him tightly. She wanted to feel him inside her. She wanted him to make love to her. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was he was so certain she was born for, but she knew if it involved him, she was ready to find out.

He stood, holding her in his arms as if she weighed no more than a child. With a long, confident stride, he carried her from the room and down the long hallway to the master bedroom.

~*~

Cole couldn’t remember wanting another woman as much as he wanted Elizabeth. He laid her on the bed, forcing his lust under control for the moment, resisting a nearly overwhelming impulse to rip her clothing from her body and plunge himself into her.

He was relieved in a way that she’d squirmed away from his spanking, because each time she’d jerked against his lap, rubbing his erection in the process, he’d nearly come. He couldn’t wait to properly restrain her and introduce her to the fierce, delicious passion of erotic suffering.

Mentally he shook his head.

Slow down, Pearson, slow way the fuck down. Give her all the time she needs.

Thus reminded, he kicked off his boots and lay beside her, still fully clothed. He took her into his arms and they kissed a while. She pulled back from him and reached toward his chest, where she began to unbutton his shirt. He let her, his cock straining in his jeans.