His (11 page)

He nearly let go, but the other man's harsh, "Keep it up," kept him in place. By his count, she cascaded through at least three more orgasms, and maybe a fourth, before her husband disengaged from her, slipped off his gloves and immediately came up to her head to release her.

Daniel found himself feeling foolish with his hands still on her, so he retreated to the living room as the woman he had personally molested was taken away.

When his host reappeared, it was with a somewhat tight smile on his face, but then that was to be expected. It was a tight situation. Neither man had experienced any sort of relief, and there were two huge tents being pitched in that lovely big living room. "She'll sleep now," he said somewhat awkwardly.

Daniel extended his hand. "As always, it was an honor."

"Thank you for coming, old friend. We'll have you over to the house for dinner."

As much as he wanted to, Daniel couldn't keep himself from asking, "Dinner and something like I just witnessed?"

Apparently he couldn't quite hide his eagerness, because he was very heartily laughed at. "You old pervert. I thought you didn't get into this kind of stuff? Yes, more of the same, if that's what you want."

They shook hands again, and Daniel went to pilot his private chopper to a reasonably nearby tourist destination and his own room, and his own blessed relief.

The master of the household he'd just left, however, puttered a bit around the place, cleaning things up and rolling the trunk of treasures back to the end of their bed. It was still earlyish in their honeymoon, and there was still a lot more to come.

He checked his email - thanks to the satellite hookup he'd had installed - then made his way to their bedroom, where he spent the next few hours drifting into sleep. He'd not had his own pleasure, but she'd been so exhausted and so tried by what he'd required from her that he couldn't quite bring himself to make her accommodate him that way, too, so he waited until just before dawn. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon and spill yellowness through their wide open sliders when he turned to her.

She was just beginning to stir when he rolled onto her and slipped his arms beneath her knees, tucking them over his shoulders. Even when they made love, he preferred that she be as helpless as possible, that she be as vulnerable as he could make her without ropes and chains. He sank his throbbing, aching self into her deep, in one sure stroke that drove her into the mattress, as a hand reached down to cup the bottom he'd so thoroughly roasted the evening before.

Raina loved being awakened this way, with him inside her, especially when neither of them had to get up and go to work. She put her arms up, her hands by her head, the way he liked her to, willingly surrendering herself to him, offering her body up to him for his pleasure, silently signaling her willingness to accept whatever he decided to do to her.

The sight of her like that took him over the edge right there. He never got over the contrast within her, that he knew Daniel had just experienced the smallest taste of last night. That this incredible woman would simply place herself so trustingly into his hands, into his care, when she knew that a significant part of that care involved imparting tremendous amount of pain for her, and also required that she do just what she was doing right now - complete and utter surrender to him, his will, his decisions for her, giving him total control of every aspect of her.

His scream of ecstasy was at least as loud as hers had been last night. In completely controlling her, he lost complete control of himself. He pumped himself into her violently, giving no quarter, not holding back in the least as his powerful body completely overwhelmed her more petite one in an orgy of raw, naked lust.

When they finally came back from their honeymoon, they could not have been more rested or happier. They had spent all that time together and were extremely compatible, much, apparently, to the press and the public's surprise. Happy couples were boring copy, so the press coverage of their marriage and honeymoon died down quickly, and they were both very thankful of that.

On their first night back, they didn't do a thing, but each of them had full schedules starting the next day. Despite how vibrant and healthy she was when they got back, though, within three weeks she was flat on her back with some sort of strange flu. He had his personal physician come and look her over, and was very careful to mention over the phone exactly where they'd been over the past month and a half, just in case it was something exotic.

It turned out just to be a case of the grip. He cut her a lot of slack because she was sick, and because he hated to see her that way. He generally wasn't permissive with her in the least. He held fast to her rules, even when it wasn't convenient for himself and it didn't really seem to be what she wanted.

But she got sick so seldom, and this thing seemed to take such a hold on her, that he simply spent most of his time nursing her, and anything but getting her well flew right out the window, as it should have. Now, he could just as easily have hired someone to take care of her, but he honestly couldn't imagine doing that. When she started to get really sick, right after he'd called his doc, he got on the horn to his secretary at home and told her to rearrange his appointments for at least the next ten days. Then he called her secretary and told her to do the same thing for Raina, over his wife's weak protests.

He missed a board meeting so that he could stay home and care for her, not that he minded in the least.

That invisible line in their relationship came into play at times like this - that line that was drawn where he no longer had power over what she did, and although it was usually not that blurred, he put his foot down when it came to her health. She was so sick that she was losing weight, and she really didn't have it to lose. He wasn't going to let her out of his sight until he was sure that she was going to be okay, and that overrode anything work wise for either of them, as far as he was concerned, and it still came down to the fact that she'd entrusted herself to him, and he was the final authority on everything regarding her life - especially matters of health.

The fact was, though, that she was almost as bad a patient as he was, and he rapidly expended all of the mercy he was going to allow her once she started to get better. His doctor had told her that it really just had to work its way through her system, although he had given her a shot of phenergan, he'd also left a prescription for it, and he'd managed to convince the doc without too much effort that since she couldn't seem to keep much down, that the script should be for suppositories rather than pills. He'd also asked for as many extra as the doctor could spare.

So, every four hours he would go to the fridge and get two out, along with a fresh pair of gloves. It was strange to actually have medical permission to do things to her that he'd already been doing for the past two years, but he also appreciated the irony of how well it fit into their lifestyle.

Raina quickly became very cranky at this treatment, to a certain extent because it was less adult than his usual methods. There was no leather involved, there was no bondage, there was no punishment... yet. The first time he did it, he caught her unaware and thus had the advantage. But this time she gave him a jaundiced look when he approached her with medicine and gloves in hand, and tried as best she could in her sick and weakened state to crab her way across the bed, well away from him, and using her newfound ability to say, "No!", since she was too sick for him to punish her for it.

He was frowned down at her in a distinctly paternal manner that was almost as bad as his usual frown. "Raina, stop."

Despite how horrid she felt, she recognized that tone down deep in her bones - and her bottom - and did as she was told. But she didn't come towards him.

He could see that rebellion in her eyes, and thought, not for the first time, that she must've been a handful of a child. But it was the woman who was lying there about as far away from him as she could, when he held the key to her feeling better in his hand, just because she didn't like the fact that he had chosen a distinctly submissive method of delivery for said medicine.

Chapter Eight

But her childish petulance wasn't his problem. He leaned over and wrapped a long arm around her legs, dragging her towards him. She didn't quite have the nerve to fight him out and out, but she certainly wasn't cooperating, either. He, for one, didn't see what all the fuss was about, really. The suppositories were extremely small in consideration of what other things he'd plied that opening with over the past several weeks, but with the fuss she put up as he pulled her over his lap, you would have thought that he was going to kill her. She was crying and whining and moaning and saying "no" enough to more than make up for the restriction she'd been put under about it.

It was the tears that got to him more so than anything else. She wasn't a weepy woman - unless, perhaps he was holding the cane in his hand. But he steeled himself and pushed the bottoms of the only pair of pajamas she owned down to just below the full curves of her cheeks. She'd gone through various permutations of chills and fever - for which he'd also been taking her temperature every four hours, rectally, of course, with the same fussiness in evidence - and he'd had to rummage through her closet in order to locate them while she'd been literally shaking the bed with shivers behind him.

He had to admit, it was a damned cute picture, to see that luscious bottom framed by the hem of the top of her pajamas and the elastic waist of the bottoms as it clung lovingly to the tops of her thighs. He didn't want to undress her any more than that because he didn't want to set of those awful chills again. Instead, he donned the gloves he'd brought, not forgetting that eloquent snap around each wrist, unwrapped the first little white bullet from its protective foil, and opened those rounded pillows to expose his target.

For someone who was, he knew, absolutely exhausted, she certainly could wiggle enough, until he gave her a warning, "Raina," drawing out her name as if he was speaking to a six year old rather than his submissive wife.

Of course, he didn't just give her the suppository. He had to press his finger well up inside her, to make sure that she wasn't going to be able to just pop it back out. That was what she seemed to object to the most, not that it deterred him in the least.

When he was finished, he rolled her back into what had become her most comfortable position - on her side, in an almost fetal position. He made sure that she had a bowl within reach if she needed it, but she'd been very stubborn even when she was extremely weak, and had always gotten up and gone into the bathroom rather than just be sick in bed, which is what he would have preferred. He'd gotten up each and very time to go in there and hold her and help her and, if she couldn't quite stand the idea of a toothbrush in her mouth yet, then to hand her a mouthwash rinse that would help get that awful taste out of her mouth.

At one point, while they were waiting for the doctor, she'd lain there, curled around the toilet, with her feverish head pressed to the cold, cool porcelain, and whispered, "Just shoot me now, please."

His level of alarm about how she was feeling ratcheted up to an astronomical level. If he hadn't already called his doctor, he would have bundled her up and taken her to the Emergency Room. As it was, he soaked every towel he could get his hands on in cold water and simply lay them around and on her, hoping that evaporative cooling would help.

It took the lion's share of two weeks for her to start to feel human again, and he made her stand down for nearly all of it. He didn't allow her to even look at a piece of paper from work for ten whole days, and even then, when she finally coerced him into letting her try to get back into the swing of things, he allowed her secretary to come to see her, but only for an hour the first day, two hours the second day, and so on, and he was entirely unrepentant about it.

Raina was feeling quite a bit better and also feeling her oats a bit more than he was going to tolerate, whining loudly that that was nowhere near enough time to do what she needed to do.

He had gotten right into her face and asked her fierce scowl as she avidly avoided his eyes, "Would you prefer that I said you couldn't see her at all until next week? Because that's where you're headed, besides earning yourself a punishment for arguing that I'm going to give you on Wednesday of next week, if I'm sure you're fully recovered. Write it down with a star."

Sighing as loudly as she dared, Raina reached into her nightstand for her Punishment Book. It was something he'd created himself and had published at a vanity publisher online. It had a place for the date, the offense, and a number of stars - the more stars, the worse the punishment. It didn't get too much use, because there wasn't often a need for them to delay punishments. But occasionally he was going somewhere, or he was already gone and couldn't get to it in as timely fashion as he would like, so he made her write it down. And it was also her responsibility to remind him on Wednesday evening if there was an entry in the book, that she was due a correction. Raina knew that he would think long and hard at that time as to whether or not to actually go through with it, and that would depend completely on how well she felt.

That next Wednesday, she joined him in their bed at ten, which was the time he required that she retire - not sleep; that was eleven - but at least come to bed. "Sir?" she said, as he readied himself for bed. "I have a punishment coming this evening."