Accidental Slave (21 page)

Her ass was turning a lovely shade of red, his handprint landing white and darkening rapidly as the blood moved below the surface of her smooth, perfect skin. She began to whimper, her hands again clenched. He tapped a fist and she opened her fingers.

He continued to spank her, aware she was nearing the limit of what she could tolerate, or rather what she thought she could tolerate. “
Twenty-three
,” she cried suddenly. “Oh, Jesus. I can’t do it.”

She rolled away from him, covering her ass with her hands. He rolled her back to her stomach and gripped her wrists, pulling her arms up over her head. She jerked against his grip, but he held her fast.

“Of course you can, silly girl. Only seven left. You do know, if you stop a spanking before it’s done, we have to start over. Do you want to start over?”

“No,” came her small voice.

“No, I didn’t think so. So just relax and take what’s due you. You earned this. You deserve it. You need it. Don’t you?”

There was a long pause. He let her wrists go. If she still protested, he would stop. She didn’t move her hands from over her head, but left them lying against the pillows. “Yes.” Her voice was now a whisper.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I need this.”

He grinned broadly, hugely pleased at this unexpected capitulation. He had expected her to say she deserved it. To say she needed it implied more, so much more. He cupped his palm and smacked her ass seven more times in rapid, stinging succession. Elizabeth whimpered and tensed, but didn’t otherwise resist him.

He bent over her and gently kissed the tender flesh, turning his cheek to feel its heat. She moaned. “I’m so proud of you.” He meant it. He kissed her again, his lips trailing down toward the back of her thigh.

He brought a hand between her legs, pressing them apart. He touched her pussy with the tip of one finger. Despite the sting of the spanking, or, dare he hope, because of it, she was wet and swollen. This time her moan was more ardent, and she spread her legs farther of her own accord.

He pushed her onto her back. Crouching between her legs, he licked along her outer labia, savoring the spicy-sweet taste of her. She gasped with pleasure as his tongue sought and found her clit, hard as a pebble beneath its hood. Lightly he teased her with his tongue, while sliding a finger into the tight wetness he would soon claim with his cock.

Later he would talk to her and help her process her reaction to the spanking but for now he would just adore her, licking and teasing her until he drove her to the edge of ecstasy. In short order he did just that. She was panting and moaning, writhing against him. “Oh, oh, oh,” she cried, her orgasm seconds away.

He pulled away and rolled from the bed. Her eyes flew open. “Don’t stop. Don’t,
please
, let me come.” She was imploring.

He pulled off his clothing and hurled them away, reaching to the night table for a condom, which he quickly rolled onto his straining cock. He stared down at her, loving the sight of her, the smell of her, the sound of her pleading for him. “Take off your blouse and bra.” She obeyed quickly, lying back down, her breasts tipped with dark red, distended nipples. He fell heavily onto her, grabbing her wrists and pulling them taut over her head.

Maneuvering himself between her thighs, he plunged into her impossibly hot, tight cunt and groaned with pleasure. She at once began to buck beneath him, writhing and gasping. “Yes,
yes
,”

she cried. He could feel the heat from her spanked ass against his balls as he moved inside her.

It wasn’t long before her body began to shudder in a long, convulsive climax. He released her wrists and wrapped his arms around her, savoring the clasp of her wet, satin pussy milking his cock. A moment later he, too, climaxed, the sound of her breathy cries pushing him over the precipice.

Once his heart slowed a little, he rolled onto his side, his cock still inside her, pulling her along with him into his arms. She nuzzled against his chest in that disarmingly sweet way she had. He stroked her hair.

“That was amazing.” There was wonder in her voice.

“You took that spanking pretty well. I wasn’t easy on you.”

“It was amazing,” she repeated. “I mean, yeah, it hurt.” She pulled back to look up at him with a rueful grin. “But I don’t know how to explain it. It was just so…hot. Sensual. I felt, I don’t know, so
alive
.”

“That was just a taste of what we can share, if you’re really serious about exploring D/s together.”

“I am. I want to. I want more.” She gave a small laugh. “I can’t even believe I’m talking like this. If you’d asked me a month ago, I’d have laughed in your face. I mean, I was clueless. I thought the scene was the crap Gary is apparently into—violence for its own sake, subjugating a woman just because you can—you know, abusive stuff. I totally didn’t get it before. And then, reading about it online and stuff, that’s been really interesting and eye-opening. And I love when you hold me down when we make love—the masterful aspect of it, the sense of sensual helplessness.” She paused, thoughtfully rubbing her ass.

“But today. I mean, I know it was supposed to be a
punishment
.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “But it was so much more than that. I really felt like I was letting go. For the first time in my life, I was relinquishing something, but in a good way. I was…”

“Submitting,” he offered.

“I want to see the dungeon.”

“The what?”

Elizabeth, lying naked and sexually sated in Cole’s huge bed, lifted herself on an elbow.

“Your dungeon. You know, the room you told me about, filled with whips and chains and all that stuff.” In the six weeks she’d known him, he’d never offered to show her the room, and up until that moment, she hadn't asked.

“Ah, you mean the playroom. I think of it as a place for erotic play, though I suppose dungeon is apt enough.” He caught her with his dark, piercing gaze and her heart skipped a beat.

“Well, I want to see it,” she persisted.

“Why?” He stroked her breast, tweaking a nipple to punctuate his question.

“Just to see.” His fingers sent a shiver of desire directly from her nipple to her pussy. “Just curious.”

“All right.” Cole swung his legs over the side of the bed. She watched him, admiring his broad, strong back. Though they’d just made love, her body stirred. He pulled on a pair of jeans, not bothering with underwear or a shirt.

Elizabeth climbed out of the bed and moved toward her pile of clothing but Cole stopped her. “No. I want you naked. Subs aren’t permitted to wear clothing in my playroom.”

She opened her mouth, barely managing to stifle a small gasp. Subs, in the plural. Of course she knew he’d had women there. He’d told her himself. Was she just another in a series of pretend slaves?

He was watching her in that way he had, as if her thoughts and feelings were scrolling across her face. “I’m not sure you’re ready, Elizabeth. Not for the playroom. Remember, if I take you there, it won’t be for casual play. I don’t want that with you.”

“I didn’t say I want to
do
anything. I just want to look. Can’t a girl look?” An image she’d seen online, of Slave Anna bound at a wooden cross, her body bathed in sweat and covered in welts from a cane, flashed into her mind’s eye. She swallowed, a finger of fear drawing down her spine. No, she didn’t want that. She just wanted to look.

“Okay. I’ll show you. But the rule stands—you’ll stay naked.” She licked her lips and nodded, aware his words and his authoritative tone, not to mention his gorgeous body, had all conspired to make her pussy wet and tingly.

He walked to his bureau and slipped a key ring into his pocket. “Let’s go.” He led her past the guest bedroom to a door at the end of the hall. Her heart was pattering as she watched him unlock it. Beyond the door was a short, narrow staircase.

She followed him up the stairs, which opened onto a large, windowless room. When Cole flicked on the lights, she gasped as she tried to take it all in. Having spent a number of hours on various BDSM sites online, she knew what she was looking at, but seeing it for real, knowing it belonged to Cole, knowing he had used it, was something else again.

Set along one wall was a padded bondage table complete with stirrups, a black cross shaped like an X and what looked like a vaulting horse, also padded with black leather. In one corner, huge eye bolts had been affixed into a concrete beam in the ceiling. A suspension swing hung from two of them. Leather restraints dangled from two more. One wall was entirely covered in mirrors. The rest were hung with a vast array of cuffs and shackles, ropes of varying lengths and textures, floggers, paddles, crops, straps, slappers, canes and whips.

“Wow.” She was barely aware she had spoken aloud.

“You like it?” Cole grinned wickedly. “No one goes in here without my express permission.

My housekeeper has never seen the inside. She thinks I have a safe and keep important documents for my business in here and I let her think it.”

His voice lowered, its cadence seductive. “The walls are soundproofed.” He touched her bare shoulder, sliding his fingers toward her throat.

Elizabeth’s breath quickened and she stepped away from him, swallowing hard. He let his hand fall. “Seen enough?”

“What’s that?” She pointed toward a large box-shaped item on the floor by the mirror. It was covered with a black sheet.

“Ah, that.” Cole advanced into the room. Elizabeth remained by the door. He plucked off the sheet, revealing a large steel dog cage, its door padlocked shut. “I call it the puppy cage. I only use that for serious infractions. A willful breaking of the rules. In my experience, it’s a sub’s greatest punishment—to be isolated and left alone. Far worse than a whipping.”

She stared at the cage, unable to stop the vision of herself locked inside, a prisoner in a soundproofed room. “You—” Her mouth was dry, her voice hoarse when she tried to speak. She cleared her throat and tried again. “You actually use that? I mean, for real?”

“Only on very naughty girls.” He laughed and moved toward her, taking her in his arms. He kissed the top of her head. “I think you’ve seen enough. Let’s go back to bed. Or would you like to soak in the hot tub?”

She allowed him to lead her away, though she couldn’t resist a last look at the room. The setup was incredible. What would it be like to be bound to that cross, to feel leather tresses striking her ass, her breasts….

She had told Cole about Slave Anna and her testimonials. She hadn't admitted her own strong reaction to a site she’d recently found where women were being trained as submissive sex slaves. Of course it wasn’t real, she knew that, but she’d been riveted to the video clips, at once fascinated and horrified as she watched them bound and whipped for their Masters’ pleasure.

She had tried to tell herself she wasn’t interested in that sort of thing. Cole’s brand of gentle dominance was much more to her taste. But what did she really know of Cole and his tastes?

This dungeon wasn’t the place of a casual player. He’d put a lot of time and money into building and stocking it, that was clear.

How many women had he used there, cuffed and spread, eager for the whip, the cane, his kiss? She followed him wordlessly back to the bedroom, distracted by her thoughts. They returned to the bed, Cole slipping out of his jeans to lie naked beside her.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he observed.

“I might want…to try it.” She couldn’t bring herself to say what she really wanted.

“Try what?” Damn it, why wouldn’t he read her mind?

She tried again, embarrassed to be so tongue-tied and decidedly unused to it. “Um…You know. The stuff. In the playroom. Maybe try…something.”

To her annoyed surprise, he shook his head. “No. Sorry. You’re not ready.”

“How do you know?” she retorted hotly.

He grinned sardonically at her, though his eyes were kind. “Well, for one thing, you can’t even say what it is you want. Being chained to a cross and flogged is a far cry from a sensual spanking. Don’t get me wrong, I love the exploration we’re doing and I’m very willing to go as far as you’re ready to go—when the time comes. It’s not here yet, that’s all. Trust me. If I took you in there now and gave you what you think you want, you’d freak out. Don’t forget, just a month ago, you were horrified by the whole scene. Whips and chains, sadistic abuse of women, perversion….”

“That’s because I didn’t know any better,” she snapped. “And who are you to tell me what I’m ready for? You don’t own me.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized their import. His smile fell away, his eyes hooding. “No. Not yet.”

~*~

Elizabeth glanced anxiously at her watch. It was already seven-fifteen and Cole had asked her to meet him for celebratory drinks at seven-thirty. He’d called her earlier that afternoon, excited to have just closed an important real estate deal he’d been working on for several months. It made her feel warm and happy that she was who he called with his good news. She’d assured him she would be there—no problem.

Tonight she’d promised herself she’d be gone by six, home in time to shower and change into something sexy before she met Cole at the Plaza. Now she’d just have to shoot over there in her work clothes and sensible pumps.

Inwardly she sighed—there was no helping it. When Gene Mueller, their prime candidate to replace Gary, had called back, agreeing to a second interview, she’d had to seize the moment. He was going to be out of town the next week, and she wanted to strike while the iron was hot, since he was up and away the best candidate they’d seen so far for the job. She hadn't bargained on his getting stuck behind an accident in the Holland Tunnel and being two hours late for the interview.

Art was holding forth about what the company had to offer the guy, should he come onboard. They all three knew it was a done deal at this point. They wanted him and he wanted them. Still, there was a certain rhythm and ritual to the interview process, and Art was making the most of it. Elizabeth tried to control her impatience, reminding herself the clients Mueller would bring with him were worth plenty, even if he never produced another campaign.