No Strings Attached (13 page)

He lifted my arm, closing the leather cuff around my wrist before doing the same thing to the other one. He squeezed my fingers, offered a nod of approval when they weren't cold, then worked on cuffing my ankles.

“I smell you,” he said as I pulled against my restraints, which kept me from touching myself or getting any closer to him than he wanted me to. “A little eager tonight, aren't we?” Behind me, he wrapped one hand around my waist, and I moaned when he parted my pussy lips with the other one. “Look at that—you're already wet. I bet I could slide in right now, couldn't I?”

I nodded.

“Oh, but you'd enjoy that too much, and I'm not quite ready yet.”

I can help you get ready.
Not hung up like this I couldn't. I whimpered, seeking his warmth when he pulled away from me.

He came around in front of me, standing in the small gap between the wall and the cross. “You know what this is, don't you?” He held up the ball gag and smiled. “But it isn't meant to silence you, now is it?”

I shook my head. “No, Sir.”

It was something Thayre had brought up shortly after practice a few weeks ago. I not only censored myself when it came to explicit language, I damn near held my breath long enough to pass out to keep from screaming. The ball gag had holes it in, and was meant to keep my mouth open so I could breathe. No doubt we'd be testing the sound barrier again.

Thayre circled me. Walked behind me and, very carefully, put the ball gag in place. It wasn't uncomfortable, and if it weren't for the occasional drooling on my part, it wouldn't have been bad at all. Still, I had yet to get used to screaming—to letting go, but I was close.

He covered my eyes with the blindfold, not that it would matter in a few minutes. Once he started the rhythm of leather on my back, my eyes would close on their own.

“Are you okay?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Are you uncomfortable?”

Shook my head.

“You'll let me know if you need me to stop, won't you?”

Nodded again.

He handed me a tennis ball, which I was expected to drop in place of a safe word if I ever needed to. I held it tight, and listening to Thayre's footsteps, I focused on where he was in the room. For a long, anxious moment, he didn't move at all. I tried to sense him mentally, but aside from the cuffs around my ankles and wrists, I couldn't be sure of much else.

I exhaled as he let the tails of the flogger slide over my collarbone. My shoulders. My chest. He drew it away from me, and I arched my back, waiting, begging for him to strike me. He did, but barely, the tails of the flogger feeling more like a breath of wind than anything else.

I growled around my frustration and bit at the ball gag.
Fucking hit me.
I needed to feel the sting. The rush of endorphins. The burning pain of flesh that had been hit one too many times.

The tails whisked past my right shoulder. Hit my left hard enough for it to have the millisecond of a bite before fading again. I wrapped my free hand around the chain connecting that cuff to the cross, straining against it as Thayre struck me again, as gently as before.

Come on!

I fisted my hands. Gripped at the tennis ball. By now, my shoulders were probably a very light shade of pink, but all Thayre's strikes did was frustrate me. I wanted to escape. To fly higher. To lose myself under wave after wave of pain-filled bliss.

The tails struck me again. Harder. Faster. I bowed my head. Closed my eyes. And as the hint of euphoria tingled at the front of my mind, I let go of everything but that tennis ball. The last thing I wanted—needed—was to drop the ball and for the entire scene to end much too soon.

Right on the cusp of falling into subspace, I focused on the ball. On the sting of skin. On nothing at all. The room fell silent. And every time the tails of the flogger hit my back, I felt them a little less. Craved them even more.

Then, all at once, tails clawed at my shoulders, so hard they forced tears into my eyes. I moaned. Whimpered when the feeling stopped. Somewhere in my mind, I knew Thayre hadn't let up on the flogging, but I couldn't feel a damned thing. Instead, the gentle thud of what may have been leather sent jolts of electricity to my clit.

I cried out. Let my head drop. Relied on the cuffs around my wrists to hold me up as my knees threatened to buckle under my weightlessness. Time slowed, lurched, then stopped completely.

Lips cooler than my skin kissed the side of my neck, forcing me to draw in a breath that was as cold and stung my lungs as much as the flogger had done to my back.

Fingers pinched at my nipples. Tugged and pulled on them until the hint of pain drew a groan out of me.

Thayre then parted my pussy lips, moaning against my ear. “You're fucking soaked. You little pain slut.”

I wanted more. To feel everything and nothing at all. I couldn't speak, and I didn't dare let go of that damned ball.

He'd flogged me long and hard enough to send me into subspace, but not nearly enough to keep me there. No doubt this session had left my back pink, but whatever marks the tails had made would likely be gone by morning. He'd only ever flogged me hard enough to break the skin once, and while I'd asked he do it again, so long as we were practicing twice a week, he wouldn't allow it.

“I don't like the idea of you being too stiff and sore to play,”
he explained when I first asked him about it. And his need for a first violinist was far too great for either of us to give into my submission. My wants, or my needs.

“Moyra.”

I blinked, even though I still couldn't see. Cocked my head to the side to show him I was listening.

“I asked you if you'd like me to fuck you.”

Oh god, yes. Please, fuck me. Please.
I nodded the best I could. Pulled at the cuffs that, right now, were the only things holding me up.

He circled my clit with his fingertips. Parted my pussy lips.

Placed both hands on my hips and thrust deep inside. My eyes flew open, but I couldn't see a damned thing. I gasped. Tried to cry out, but my breath was lost somewhere behind the ball gag, deep within my lungs.

I moaned each time he hit my G-spot, and as I did, his thrusts became more frequent. Fluid while increasing their tempo every. Damn. Time.

“That's a good girl. Let it all out. Sing for me, Songbird. Sing.”

I bit the gag. Moaned. My legs and arms shook.

Sweat cooled my skin, but inside I was burning up. Fire on my clit. Along my spine. Deep within me. Thayre shortened his strokes. It felt as though he wasn't moving at all.

Sharp nails bit into my hips, sending bits of electricity all through me like a Tesla coil.

He removed my gag the same moment I let go of the tennis ball. Whether or not he took it as a safe word was lost to me. I don't think I'd ever come so hard and fast. My mind was all over the place, and yet, nowhere at all. I was floating. Sinking. Turning sideways as the pressure around my wrists and ankles released.

I want to say I was moving, carried off somewhere, but hell if I could open my eyes let alone draw a breath.

Something soft and warm hugged my shoulders, but once something cool hit the palm of my hand, I opened my eyes. Thayre was beside me, holding on to a water bottle until I could hold it myself.

I hadn't realized I was thirsty until the first drop of moisture hit my tongue. I drank over three-quarters of the bottle, then handed it to Thayre.

He put the cap on, then disrobed me. “Go on and lie on your stomach so I can treat your back.”

I nodded, then lay face down on the massage table. Rolling my shoulders again, I could feel some stiffness in the muscles of my back. I probably didn't need any cream, but Thayre never let me walk away without a thorough massage.

He covered my hips and legs with the robe he had removed earlier, to keep me warm as he massaged my shoulders. No doubt the endorphins would wear off soon, and when they did, I'd be a shivering mess. But in the meantime, I rested my head on my arms and let him work.

The click of a bottle held my attention long enough to hear him warm the oil in his hands. The moment his palms hit my skin, I was in heaven. I had yet to return from orbit, and at least right now, endorphins aside, it would be a slow descent.

“I put my notice in at Kimber's,” I said after a while, mentally following the up and down sweep of his oil-slicked hands on my back.

“Oh?” Thayre's voice strained as he worked out a knot under my right shoulder blade. “You think that's wise?”

I was about to shrug but thought better of it. “I gave Jay a month to find a replacement. That will leave me open a few weeks before Webster. As it is right now, between working his insane hours and practice, I can't seem to get enough sleep.”

“I noticed.” When I didn't respond, he continued. “You're restless when you do sleep.”

“Sorry.”

“Don't be. I'm usually awake anyway. Too much going on in my head.”

I drew in a deep breath, smiling from the eucalyptus and spearmint Thayre was spreading all over my tired muscles. I lifted my head to glance over my shoulder. “I have enough saved up for now. Jay never would've given me the time off for Webster anyway. May as well concentrate on my music and worry about finding a better, less taxing job once we return from New York.”

“You mean so long as you need one.”

“Yeah.”

Thayre had spoken to me more than once about staying with the orchestra full-time, but until I saw how things panned out once we returned from New York, I decided to focus on the possibility of needing something aside from my music. And as far as my submission was concerned, at least once we finished playing, I'd rather not have to choose between subbing for Thayre or playing in front of hundreds of strangers.

But it might pay well.

And that's what I was worried about.

“Relax,” Thayre said, pressing on my shoulder until I took a breath and, as directed, stopped thinking of anything else.

Rest now. Worry later.

I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep.

S
treetlights changed and crosswalks chirped as Thayre and I made our way farther into town. As it was the first dry weekend in close to a month, everyone was out and about, crowding the sidewalks while stopping outside the smaller Mom and Pop shops to see what sales were going on. But those weren't the only festivities happening today.

“Want to check out some of the booths?” Thayre asked, lacing his fingers with mine.

I smiled and glanced far ahead. While I couldn't see what crafters lined the streets, my ears could definitely hear the musicians who had been lucky enough to fit the registration fee and get a spot along one of the sidewalks.

“Who in their right mind would come into town on a day like today and not check everything out?” I asked, pulling Thayre alongside me as I weaved between clusters of patrons who had stopped in the middle of the street. Fortunately, the local law officials always closed up the roads in town during
The Best Days of Summer,
but it was still crowded. “So long as we avoid the south side of town, I'm all for it.”

“Kimber's?” Thayre asked, offering me a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah.”

“You never said how things went on Thursday.”

“I know, and it's not important. He belittled me the entire time I was there. No way in hell he's getting me to stay by playing nice. I mean, even if I did, I know what's to come—more hours, piss-poor pay and absolutely no respect for dropping the rest of my life to do his bidding.”

“Hey, at least now you can have a nice weekend off, right?”

I drew in a deep breath and closed my eyes, leaving Thayre to lead me to the corner before he stopped. One day off a week would've been more than enough, but having an entire weekend off while spending the following week practicing with Thayre and the others? I couldn't ask for more.

Loud voices bustled past us and, with a gentle squeeze of his hand, Thayre led me down the line. The air may have been warm but God, I'd missed this. The sun on my face. The gentle breeze on my bare skin.

“Which way do you want to go first?” Thayre asked, forcing me to open my eyes. “Looks like there's some sea glass over there. Or, if you want, we can try one of the three dozen or so jewelry booths.”

I laughed, then looked along the way. But it wasn't what caught my eye that drew me to our left. It was the music. “This way.”

Thayre frowned and craned his neck to see what had piqued my interest. “Soaps and lavender?”

I shook my head. “Don't you hear that?”

He shielded his eyes from the sun and started to search the balconies above us for the source, but the closer we got, the lower to the ground it sounded. “There.” He nodded to something less than a block away on our right. “Is that Tabby?”

And she wasn't alone, either. With a little more haste than before, Thayre and I passed booth after booth of homemade candles, fresh bread, cookies and flower arrangements.

A little out of breath, I gawked at Tabby and her small group of strings as they played my song. She'd been practicing with us the last few weeks, but Thayre and I hadn't realized how good she'd gotten until we found ourselves standing right in front of her, outside practice and on the streets. I fell into the familiar melody, the same scales I used on my violin, only much deeper because of the cello Tabby had in front of her.

She'd drawn quite the crowd as well. Wearing a Transcendence t-shirt, she also had a stack of flyers on the ground in front of her along with a number of CDs. Those who didn't have time to listen to the music still made their way over to her, put a few coins in a jar, then took a flyer and one of her CDs.

Without even stopping, she'd smile and move on to the next piece.

I glanced at Thayre. “Ten bucks says I know what's on those CDs.”

Thayre nodded, but he didn't look mad. In fact, he smiled. “Damn if she isn't what we need.”

“But I thought we already had her in the orchestra.”

“We do, as a cellist but...” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Imagine the interest she's drummed up by playing out here this morning.”