In Flight (38 page)

I stared at him for long minutes, my mind having a hard time processing what he was saying, when I was conflicted about so much of what he’d revealed.
 

 
He wanted a relationship?
 
What the hell did he mean by that?
 
I shook myself, trying to focus on the issue at hand.
 

“What if I’m never ready to be locked in?”

He gave me an almost sinister smile.
 
“I will endeavor to convince you.”
 

He began to unbutton the rest of my shirt.
 
I didn’t stop him, just stared at my collar, my mind racing.
 

He stripped me with quick sure motions until I was only in stockings and garters.
 
He watched me for a long time in the mirror, wearing just that, but eventually stripped those off too.
 
He tugged off my watch and even my small stud earrings.
 
My first instinct when standing completely nude in front of him was to cover myself with my hands, but I stifled the urge with effort.
 
I knew it wouldn’t please him, and my overpowering urge to please him had only grown during our short, tempestuous acquaintance…
 

He reached into a drawer and pulled out a tiny scrap of see-through black cloth.
 
He wrapped it around my hips, fastening it with a tiny silver chain.
 
It fit perfectly, sitting right below my waist, as though I’d been measured for it.
 
It seemed to show as much as it concealed, every curve clearly visible beneath it, but James seemed very pleased with the results, his eyes positively glowing as he stared at me.
 

I assumed by it’s ready location in the drawer that it was some sort of submissive uniform for him.
 
God only knew how many women he had dressed in just this way.
 
I tried my best not to think about that.
 

He pulled something out of his pocket.
 
It just looked like a lovely silver chain at first, but I saw the little clamps as he straightened the chain into a smooth line.
 
He used a tiny clip on the chain to fasten it to the hoop in my collar.
 

I gasped.
 

He wrapped it through the hoop several times until there was just enough of the chain left to reach my nipples with the clamps.
 
He fastened them, his eyes hooded, while my breath grew rough in agitation.
 
It looked like a sort of obscene halter top of metal.
 
With a slave collar…
 

He smoothed my errant hairs into the chignon at my nape.
 
He couldn’t seem to stop touching me.
 
He stroked my shoulders and my waist and hips, but his fingers always found their way back to my breasts.
 
He was tweaking the clamps until I could hardly stand the wait.
 

“If you enjoy the clamps, you should be well suited to the piercings.
 
The clamps actually apply more pressure than the piercings, after the initial pain.”
 
He continued to play with my tortured nipples, tugging until I moaned.
 

He pulled me by the hoop at my neck through his room and to the elevator.
 
I could feel every step and pull in my achy breasts.
 
I trailed after him, barefoot and nearly naked, him fully clothed in one of his mouth-watering suits.
 
I looked back at his bed longingly.
 

“I want you to take me on your bed,” I told him, a strange note of a plea in my voice.
 
It just looked so perfect, and I was suddenly so needy.
 

“I will, Love.
 
But, first things first, ” he said, pulling me into the elevator the second it opened.

The elevator began to move, descending smoothly.
 

“How far down does this thing go?”
 
I asked him, after it seemed like we had gone impossibly far.
 

“Just four floors.”
 
The elevator finally stopped, opening slowly.
 

James tugged me out.
 
“Welcome to the 4
th
floor, Bianca.”
 

We entered a plain gray hallway first.
 
The floor was smooth gray wood.
 
It was clean and flawless, but starkly monotone.
 

It feels like a dungeon
, I thought with a shiver.
 

We passed by two rooms before we entered the door at the end of the hall.
 
I wanted to ask what the other rooms were, but I was suddenly terrified, my mind running wild with strange possibilities, feeling transported into another century.
 
For all I know, he could have other women in them.
 

The thought stopped me, and James had to tug harder to get me to follow him this time.
 

“This is not the place to be obstinate, Bianca.”
 

“Yes, Mr. Cavendish,” I said, a tremor in my voice.
 

What was the worst that could happen?
I asked myself, trying to talk myself out of my sudden, disproportionate terror.
 

He positioned me in front of him, giving me a full view of the huge, dark gray room that he’d led me to.
 
He waited patiently, giving me time to process what I was seeing.
 

It was indeed a playground.
 
It was a BDSM wet dream, from what I understood of what I saw.
 
Chains, whips, shackles.
 
Various torturous looking devices were set up in stations around the room.
 

My attention seemed to focus first on some sort of swing to my right.
 
It was a series of leather straps and metal that fascinated me.
 
I shifted towards it without thinking.
 

James followed my gaze and my movement.
 
“So you like the swing?
 
We can start with that.
 
Since it’s your first time on the 4
th
floor, I’ll let you pick.
 
I’m feeling generous today.”
   

“Are you going to punish me?” I asked, my voice breathless.
 

He just tsked at me, pulling me towards the swing.
 
“If you disobey me in here, I
will
punish you.
 
Until then, consider this just a lesson.
 
Do you understand?”
 

“Yes, Mr. Cavendish.”
     

He positioned me just in front of the swing.
 

“Don’t move,” he ordered, grabbing my wrist and fastening it with a thick leather cuff.
 
He pulled it tight with it’s belt loop fastenings.
 
He tested it to be certain it was nice and snug.
 
The material touching my wrist was soft as down, whereas the leather on the outside of the cuff looked stiff and unyielding.
 
He fastened my other wrist with sure, economical movements.
 
He placed my hands around a metal bar above my head.
 

“Lift yourself,” he ordered.
 

I did, and he settled thick supportive straps against my lower back and my ass.
 
He knelt down to my ankles, and I watched him fasten similar leather restraints to the ones at my wrists there.
 
He cinched restraints just above my knees, as well, though they were a softer, more pliable material.
 
The area just above my elbows got the same treatment.
 

He straightened, then began to adjust all of the straps above me.
 
He seemed to know exactly what he wanted, his hands moving from one to the next with no hesitation.
 

Finally, he stepped back, shrugging out of his suit jacket and loosening his tie impatiently.
 

“Let go of the bar,” he ordered.
 

I hesitated, feeling as though I would just spin to the floor if I did so.
 

“Now,” he barked.
 

I hesitated just a fraction longer, but let go.
 
I felt weightless as I fell back.
 
The straps caught me in a strangely light embrace, the strap against my back and butt more comfortable than I would have imagined.
 

My arms were suspended nearly even with my shoulders.
 
My back was arched, displaying my chest and stomach decadently.
 
My legs were splayed wide, my sex exposed.
 

I tried to close my legs, at least a little, but it was impossible.
 
The ropes held them tight.
 

James approached me, placing my feet into soft stirrups that parted my legs impossibly wider.
 

I whimpered low in my throat.
 

He just pulled at my nipple clamps lightly before stepping away.
 

I saw him unbuttoning his dress shirt impatiently as he strode behind me.
 
I tried to turn my head to watch him, but I was suspended too tightly for that.
 
I thought this must be what a fly felt like when it was caught fast in a spider’s web.
 

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Mr. Wonderful

I couldn’t tell where he went from my prone position, but it sounded like he’d gone to the other end of the room.
 

He was gone for several agonizing minutes before I felt him behind me, stepping close enough for his now bared chest to brush my back.
 

“Just a taste.
 
For not trusting me when I told you to let go,” he whispered in my ear before adjusting the strap at my ass until my backside was fully exposed to him.
 

Something slapped against me hard enough to make my eyes sting with tears.
 
He repeated the action twice before he readjusted the support strap until my butt was again covered, and my sex was exposed.
 

He circled around until I could see him again.
 
He was shirtless and shoeless now, but his slacks remained on, his erection straining against his fly.
 
The expensive cloth against his perfect, bare skin made his muscular physique even more starkly apparent, his muscles bulging as he folded his arms and stood, legs apart, just looking at me.
 

His eyes were hungry, but so stern.
 

He held a rectangular paddle in his hand casually.
 
It reminded me of the kind they used to say were used at schools for punishment, though this one was black.
 

He walked between my parted thighs.
 
He bent and kissed my forehead.
 

“Exquisite,” he said against my skin, then pulled back.
 

I writhed, becoming impossibly impatient in my need for his physical contact.
 
He placed a hand on my inner thigh, just shy of my cleft.
 
It was torturous, watching that hand touching just above where I needed it.
 
The flesh beneath his hand quivered.
 

In a flash, he slapped my other thigh with the paddle just hard enough to sting.
 

He took a step back, grabbing my wrist and giving the swing a hard shove, sending me spinning in circles until I was dizzy.
 
I gave an embarrassing little scream of surprised distress.
 

He stopped my spinning with a hand on my wrist, and he was suddenly between my legs, thrusting into me in a smooth but brutal motion.
 
His hands kneaded the flesh of my breast around the nipple clamps firmly.
 
Those were our only two points of contact.
 
Cock to cunt, and hands to breasts.
 

He thrust in and out, only a half a dozen slow strokes, before he pulled out of me, stepping back and spinning me again.
 

 
He was stepping between my legs as I came to a halt, right onto his well aimed cock.
 
He gave me a longer taste this time before pulling out.
 
My head had just stopped spinning when he whirled me again.
 

He stopped me with a grip on my ankle this time, and thrust into me harder, working in and out like a jackhammer.
 
He massaged my clit with one hand, the other getting rough with the clamp that held my nipple.
 

“Come, now,” he ordered, and it worked, as it always did.
 

I came with a scream, my head thrown back.
 

He pulled out, flipping me around before my walls were even done clenching in orgasm.

He had me repositioned, face down, ass up, in a blink.
 
He worked in slowly, and I shivered around him, still having little aftershocks.
 

“Fuck,” he cursed.
 
“Those little clenches are gonna make me come.”
 

“Yes,” I sobbed.
 
“Come.”
 

He slapped my ass, thrusting agonizingly slowly inside of me.
 

“I won’t come until I’ve shown you more of the delights this little swing has to offer.”
 
He wrenched out of me, sending me spinning again.
 

I whimpered.
 

He jolted into me hard when I stopped this time, moving with a purpose now.
 
He reached around me, his talented fingers collaborating to bring me to my next release.