Blue Desire (10 page)

“Yes or no, Katrina.”
He was still using her full name. No
one called her that except her mother—and Brett.

He
was still waiting.

“Yes,
Sir,” she said at last. She felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off her
shoulders simply by saying the words. She’d been fiercely independent, since
she’d moved from LA, and with Cindy, it was always clear that Kat had to be in
charge. Now she could let go.

“Good.
Your safe word for tonight is ‘blue.’ Can you remember that?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Now
then, you said it doesn’t feel as tight as you expected?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“That’s
because I haven’t tightened it yet.” He moved behind her and traced his hand
down the middle of her back. The back edges of the corset were still a few
inches from each other, and his finger landed on bare skin, except where
interrupted by lacing.

He
took the lengths that were hanging down to her legs and pulled the ends
forward, wrapping one loop around her waist in each direction and then holding
them in front of her tummy. “Hold these tightly until I take them from you.”

She
did so.

Then
he worked on the lace in back. Deftly, he pulled first at the top, then at the
bottom,
then
took the loops she held from her and
pulled them tighter to take up the slack. It squeezed her middle, but it wasn’t
uncomfortable exactly. He handed the loops back to her and started again.
Top, bottom, middle.

She
took a deep breath, or tried to, and nearly let go of the loops. She could
breathe fine, as long as she breathed normally, but the fact that she couldn’t
expand her lungs the whole way made her panic for a moment. He took the loops
from her and held them and her, his arms around her waist, his now stubbly chin
against the back of her neck.
“Easy, darling.
You can
breathe, but don’t panic. We don’t have to make it any tighter than this. I
could even loosen it if you need me to. Just breathe easy.” After he spoke, he
synched his breath with hers. She could hear the air coming and going from him
and knew he was right. She had to relax and trust him.

“Please,”
she said.

“Please
what?”

“Please
I’d like to see what it feels like to have it a little tighter.”

He
didn’t question her desire but tightened, again working in little bits.
Top, bottom, middle.

She’d
never felt anything quite like it before. It was like being tied up in a way,
except her limbs were completely free to move. Still, the hard “bones” of the
corset held her captive, shaping her body, squeezing her. They were as
unforgiving as any tightly tied rope or chain. The corset was snug against her
hips. It was like a vise around her waist, and her tits felt as if they were
being grabbed and compressed by silk hands. She sneaked a peek downward, and
her eyes went wide. She’d never seen her breasts look so big before. They
didn’t just look huge; they looked firm, almost as if they’d pop if a pin was
stuck in them. She wanted to see the expression in Brett’s face as he looked at
them, but there were two problems. One, he was probably used to that particular
look, even if it would make most men drool, and the second was that he was
behind her and couldn’t see.

Well, if he’s used
it, I’ll have to make it more over the top.
So to speak
.
She already knew she couldn’t sing
like this, so what the hell. “Tighter,” she said.

“No,
I think that’s about as far as I want to take you right now.”

She
turned her head sharply. He raised his eyebrows inquiringly. Did she detect
some amusement there too? She started to argue with him, and realized she’d
gotten so wrapped up in the sensations she’d forgotten he was supposed to be in
charge.

“May
I ask why?”

“You
may.”

She
thought he was being a smart aleck for a moment, and then she realized he was
giving her a chance to ask politely. “Why, Sir?”

“Because you were short of breath earlier.
There’s a skill
here, and it’s not a horribly complicated one, of taking shallow breaths often
enough to get plenty of oxygen. If you were practiced at it, yes, the corset
could be tighter.
By a little less than an inch.”
She
could feel his hand on her back, and she wasn’t sure whether it was touching
any skin or not, because her senses were confused.
“Although
I like this look on you.
You have a very nice back, and the line of skin
you’re showing between the laces is sexy. There. All tied up. Come with me.” He
took her hand and led her toward the bedroom.

Standing
still was one thing. Walking was another. She had no choice but to keep her
back straight while she walked, and that was far stranger than she thought it
would be. Concentrating on her posture distracted her from her breathing. This
time she didn’t panic, and returned to taking shallow breaths. She didn’t even
have time to think about why he was taking her to his bedroom, although when
she saw the four-poster king-size bed, unmade but not disheveled, she thought
she had an idea. Was he going to want to have sex with her while she was
wearing this thing? The idea turned her on, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able
to breathe, and she certainly wouldn’t be flexible.

She
looked about his bedroom. Clothes were stuffed in a hamper, not strewn around
the floor, which put him one up on most men she knew. There was a big oak
dresser in a well-cared-for old-fashioned style with scrolling on the bottom
and a nightstand that matched it. It was very different from the furniture Kat
had stuffed in storage back in LA, which was all sharp corners and modern.

He
led her to a floor-length wall mirror, not the bed. She looked at herself. She
was fascinated because it didn’t look like her in some ways. Her waist wasn’t
that small, for one thing. The corset didn’t make her look thin, exactly, but
the outward curve of a soft belly had been replaced by the inward curve of an
hourglass. And her boobs looked pretty good from straight on too, although as
tall as he was, his angle was probably more like hers. She cared very much what
they looked like for him, and she found that curious. She knew she wasn’t in
perfect shape, but she was only a few pounds overweight, and at least some of
her fat was in the right places. She’d always thought she was “good enough,”
and if a man wasn’t satisfied without how she looked, it was his problem. Now,
however, she wanted to look fantastic.

Brett
gave her a hand mirror he must have gotten from the dresser and gently nudged
her shoulder to get her to turn. She used it to look at her back, as he no
doubt intended. As he’d said, the back panels of the corset were within an inch
of each other, the space between crisscrossed by black lines. The narrow band
of flesh between had been compressed, so there was a kind of cleavage line
running down her back. She wouldn’t have thought that would be attractive. It
was fat being squished, after all, and back fat wasn’t sexy. But it also
revealed something of how tightly the corset bound her. Again she wanted him to
pull it even tighter, to squeeze her waist in. If the panels were all the way
together, would that mean her waist would have to be made a whole inch smaller?
She supposed it must.

This is addictive
. The only thing she
didn’t like was how the black vinyl skirt looked with the blue silk. With what
she was wearing before, it looked edgy. Now it looked cheap and inadequate. She
should be wearing a long blue skirt—or just lacy blue panties. She handed him
back the mirror.

“You
like it,” Brett said.

“I
love it,” she gushed. She held back the Sir at the very last moment. She couldn’t
afford the corset, but she didn’t want him to give it to her or have him feel
like she was trying to get him to.

“It
suits you. The color brings out the best in your eyes.” He leaned down to kiss
her. She tilted her head to meet his lips and was disappointed in the briefness
of the kiss. His lips brushed hers. She wanted his tongue. She wanted his arms
around her.

She
hadn’t felt this way for a very long time. She hadn’t wanted to admit to
herself how much she missed it.

“You
want more?” he asked.

“Yes.”
She hadn’t intended to whisper, but that’s how it came out.

He
put his hands on her waist and leaned closer. She wondered if the corset could
squeeze her enough that his fingers could touch, but only for a moment. Then
his lips touched hers again. She met his tongue with hers as his mouth covered
her open, hungry mouth completely. She’d never felt a kiss quite like it: deep,
possessing,
breathtaking
.

Literally.
She wasn’t getting enough oxygen. She
had it down before, but now she couldn’t quite keep up. Naturally, she breathed
deeper to compensate. Her lungs didn’t expand enough for that. He shifted his
hands slightly, one moving to her back. He had to be aware she was having
trouble, but the kiss was going to last as long as he chose to have it happen. She
couldn’t say her safe word, not with his tongue in her mouth. She reached up
and put one hand on his shoulders—she couldn’t reach his chest because it was
pressed against hers, and her other hand still awkwardly held a mirror—and got
ready to push.

And
then she relaxed. He was in charge. He’d taken care of her when she had told
him to lace the corset tighter. He would stop before she passed out or anything
like that. In the meanwhile his tongue felt so damn good.

He
smiled knowingly at her when he pulled back at last. “Easy breaths,” he
murmured to her. “It takes some getting used to.”

I’d love to get used
to it
.
If she’d been in a position to pay for the corset, she would have felt so much
better saying it. Instead she nodded and caught her breath.

He
traced the globes of her breasts where they bulged over her
bustline
.
“You like the way it looks, don’t you?” he asked her.

“Do
you?”

He
didn’t answer but met her gaze and held it until she realized what she’d done.
“Yes, Sir, I like the way it looks. Does it please you, Sir?”

He
grinned. “It pleases me very much.”

She
was glad she’d told the truth. Being honest with a
dom
was like learning to breathe in the corset. You
had to learn that you were okay and safe doing it. If you didn’t, you might
panic, and in the process, make things worse.
I’m never going to lie to him again
. She wanted it to be true, but
even as she thought it, she wondered. She hadn’t felt safe telling to whole
truth to anyone for a long time.

“I
think we need to make some changes, though.” He reached down to the zipper on
her skirt and unzipped it. He must have found the zipper before, because he
didn’t waste any time searching for it. She’d thought it was nicely concealed.
He had to push the skirt over her hips, but then it dropped to the floor. She
was glad to get rid of it. He’d already seen her practically naked anyway, and
while she’d sometimes delighted in wearing clashing clothes onstage to shock,
the vinyl had been plain wrong. She kicked her skirt to the side. He gripped
the cheeks of her backside with both hands and gave them a squeeze, and she
felt her pussy getting warmer in response.

He
moved his hands up to her waist and gently turned her around. She wondered why,
and then thought he might spank her. She wasn’t sure how that was going to
work, with her back held straight and nothing to hold on to.

Instead,
he slid his hand downward and dipped it into her panties. In the mirror she
could see him, looking over her shoulder, and that meant he could see the front
of her in it too. His hand brushed through her curls and then slipped across
her wetness.

“Thought
I might find you a little wet,” he murmured.

She
didn’t think it was just a little. And she didn’t think he’d had any doubts,
either. She moved her hips, pressing against his hand.

“You’re
an eager slut, aren’t you?”

She
was now. She didn’t even feel she could take umbrage at the word he used, given
the way she felt.
“Yes, Sir.”
It felt strangely good
to admit it.

“You
came twice the other night. Do you think you deserve another?” He dipped his
finger into her pussy.

Deserve?
Hell with deserve; it was about desire. “Please, Sir.”

“Not
right now, my little kitty. I intend to have you wait a while. Tonight, in
fact, I intend to come first.” He moved his hand, and she thought he was taking
it out of her panties for a moment, but he applied his slickened fingers to her
clit. He moved them in a slow, circular motion that built up the tension in her
core.

You’re not going to
come first if you keep doing that.

“When
you came to the club, you just wanted release, didn’t you?
Some
kink and an orgasm or two.
You’d convinced yourself that was all you
wanted.”