Undercover Submission (12 page)

Kennedy swallowed her fear and moved further into the house. “Are you here?”

“Yes.” That one word sent shivers up her spine.

“Where are you?” She stopped in the hallway, wondering if she should go toward the small source of light, or try to find a switch that would provide more light.

“I’m in here, where I’ve waited for you since regaining my strength.”

Regaining his strength? She moved toward the light into a large living area. Cedric reclined on a leather couch, his head propped up on pillows as if he’d been ill. His clothing made her catch her breath. Tight leather pants encased his muscled thighs. He wore a tunic trimmed with fur much like that on her outfit. A wide leather belt held it in place. Thigh-high boots completed the outfit.

“Hello, Isolde. You’ve taken a while to get here.”

She closed her eyes and sighed in pleasure. Tristan and Isolde: at first enemies as he took her to meet her betrothed, the king, then lovers after she’d nursed him back to health 96 Melinda Barron

from a possible poisoning. Such a tragic ending, though, with him dying as she raced to his side.

“Tristan.” She stepped closer, then knelt down next to him. “Are you well?”

“Better now that you are here.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Tell me, Isolde, what are you thinking right now?”

Did she dare say it? Isolde would tell Tristan she loved him, that she wanted to be with him always, despite the fact she was to marry the king. Should she stay in character, like he’d wanted her to do the night of the first party, or should she answer as Kennedy?

“I was worried about you, Tristan. Very worried.”

“Were you? And why is that?”

“Because I did not want you to die.”

His eyes softened just a little. “And why would that matter? I mean nothing to you, right? You care nothing for me, or what happens to my body.”

“That is not true.” This was her chance. Speaking as Isolde she could tell Cedric, as Tristan, how she felt, how she’d made a horrible mistake and she hoped he would forgive her and give her a second chance.

“I do care.” Her hands shook and he clasped them tighter. “Cedric, I -- Tristan, I --”

Her words stuck in her throat as her pulse rate skyrocketed.

“Yes, Isolde?” His gentle tone encouraged her and she put her head on his chest, her eyes gazing away from him.

“I was wrong about you. Forgive me.”

“Look at me.” Cedric’s demanding tone had returned. She turned her head toward him, a shy smile on her face.

“Say it again; this time I want to hear it from Kennedy.”

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Having said it once, even if it was from Isolde, the second time around brought no fear.

She had nothing to fear from Cedric. Why hadn’t she thought about that a month ago?

“I was wrong. I listened to my fear instead of my heart. I’m sorry.” She watched his eyes carefully, expecting to see triumph. Instead, all she saw was happiness, a deep-seated emotion that made his handsome face glow.

“Over and done. And now, Tristan would like to thank the lovely Isolde for nursing him back to health. And he knows just what she likes.”

“Does he?” Kennedy sat back on her heels, anticipation about events to come mixing with the knowledge that she’d done it, she’d opened herself up to something she wanted and, though she was still nervous, she wouldn’t back down now.

“Oh yes.” He stood so quickly she reeled back. “Someone likes it rough, don’t they, my little submissive?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You expected to be spanked last weekend, so I intend to see that it gets done, now.”

Heat rushed through her as he licked his lips as if she were a morsel of food. “Stand up.”

When she was on her feet, she put her hands behind her back and lowered her head.

“Very nice.” He cupped her neck and put pressure on her until she tilted back. “What would my beautiful girl like tonight? Tell me.”

“A whipping, Master.” Her body tightened at the idea and he moved his hand to her shoulder, lightly squeezing.

“Maybe. Maybe not. What else?”

“Anything my Master desires.” When she said the words this time, they went straight through to her core, their meaning sinking into every inch of her body. Tears sprang to her eyes, and the look of concern that popped onto his face warmed her even more.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because I’m happy and because I was such an idiot.”

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They examined each other, their gazes intent. Then he leaned over and claimed her lips, effectively telling her she was his. She knew now that no matter what she said, whether or not she had doubts, he would be able to talk her into the proper headspace, make her realize they belonged together.

“Take off that dress.” She made quick work of the button on the back of the bodice, then turned to him.

“You’ll have to unzip me, Master, if you please.” As the clothing loosened she let it drop, grateful she hadn’t worn any underwear.

“What a naughty girl. Did you want to be bare under your dress, with the possibility of anyone seeing you?”

“I wanted to be bare for you, Master.”

The look on his face said he didn’t believe her, and she wondered if it was play or real.

His profession could prove to be a problem, since she wouldn’t always know if she was seeing Cedric or a part he was playing.

“Get down on your hands and knees and follow me.” She crawled behind him as he walked up the stairs. This sort of thing was what she missed the most. Following orders ramped up her excitement like nothing ever had before she’d learned about submission, or since.

At the top of the stairs he turned left, opening a door that led to yet another set of stairs. He flipped on the light before climbing up, and she knew this had to be the turret and his playroom. Or did he have another playroom in the other turret? Was one for whipping, the other for something else? Did they have the same types of toys? She couldn’t wait to find out.

He waited at the top of the stairs for her, pointing for her to enter before him. As she passed, by he smacked her bottom for “being slow.”

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A medical chair set in the middle of the room and Kennedy’s heart froze. This one was padded and had legs that looked like they could be spread apart, then lowered or raised as the Master saw fit. She’d never been in one before. A few subs at the clubs Jack took her to expounded on their virtues, saying how much fun it was to be strapped into one and examined.

“Up.”

She obeyed without question, nervous yet excited.

“Bind your legs.” There was something embarrassing about binding yourself, especially while your Master watched. The leather straps fit perfectly around her ankles, and when both were secured, she sat back.

Cedric came up and pushed the legs apart, spreading her wide open for him to see.

Then he inched each leg up so that she was bent at the knee.

“Arms to your side.” He strapped her arms down, then pressed a button and the chair lay flat so that she was on her back.

Cedric leaned over and stroked her forehead. “Tell me again what your safe word is.”

“Tiger, my Master.”

“You’re such a good girl.”

“Thank you, Master.” He patted her head, then moved away. “Look at the ceiling, nothing else.”

He was taking off his clothes now. The belt loop clattered as it hit the floor. She imagined the shirt landing on top of it.

Kennedy focused on the ceiling as she waited, the sounds of opening drawers filling the silence. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth, in an effort to stay calm. When he touched her shoulder, she pulled against her bonds.

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“Easy. I know it’s been a while, so nothing too heavy tonight. Well, maybe.” A stinging sensation hit just above her left breast and Kennedy moaned, then she closed her eyes as realization hit.

Pinwheels. She’d never been a big fan of the little toys, which could cause a great deal of pain.

She jumped when he ran it over her hard nipple, and he abandoned it and walked to the wall, coming back with a riding bat, which he swung against her nipple. “No moving. No talking. No noise. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master Cedric.” She saw him out of the corner of her eye, still wearing the leather pants and thigh-high boots. He looked sinfully delicious. He put the bat in front of her mouth and pushed.

“Open.” She took it inside like a horse bit, and he nodded in approval. “Just hold it like a good slave girl until I need it again.”

The pinwheel was back now, rolling over one breast and then the other, its sharp teeth biting into her sensitive nipples and catching on her rings, pulling them down. She groaned against the bit and he pushed down harder, the teeth right on her nipple.

“Did I say quiet?”

“Yes, Master,” she mumbled around the bit.

“When I say that, I mean absolutely quiet. No noise at all.” He rolled the metal back and forth and the burn in her nipple intensified. “I believe you understand now.”

“Yes, Master.” Kennedy stared at the ceiling again as the metal roamed her body, moving over breasts and arms and hips, the pace and intensity varying.

“There’s an interesting club in town where we can go. When I’m masked, no one knows who I am. Of course, after your photo appears with mine, we’ll have to make sure you wear a mask, too.”

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He ran the pinwheel over her mons, and even the biting pain couldn’t replace the pleasure she felt at his words. He ran the wheel over her outer labia quickly, changing directions and intensity until Kennedy thought she would burst.

She settled her head against the back of the chair, closing her eyes, and concentrating on the sensations, on the bite of the wheel that would soon turn into intense pleasure. She was with her Master, the man who would care for her, pleasure her, command things of her that would bring them both satisfaction. She could give herself to him completely, with no reservations at all.

Her body felt light, the nip of the wheel still there, now turning into that wonderful mixture of pleasure and pain. He spread her labia and dipped the wheel into her folds, rolling it over her tender insides.

It was coming now, that space she’d been at only a few times before. Everything disappeared except for her Master, herself, and the way he worked her body. The wheel ran over her clit, pressing down and an airy feeling surrounded Kennedy.

She stifled a moan, loving the “good slave girl,” he whispered. He kept the wheel on her clit, gliding it back and forth until Kennedy thought she would scream. She stayed silent, her body tingling with sensation.

“Come for me. Come hard for your Master.” The wheel pulled on her slave ring and Kennedy soared, her body pulsing with energy as he pressed the little instrument of torture harder into her. Pinpricks of pain hit her toes and fingers as she came back down.

Cedric’s fingers were on her clit now, stroking gently. He leaned up and took the bat from her mouth.

“Who are you?”

“Your slave girl, Master Cedric.”

“That’s right. All mine, to do with as I please.”

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“Yes, Master.” Her voice sounded as if it were coming from someone else, someone who was floating alongside her.

“And what will you do, slave girl?”

“Anything you want, Master.” Her mind vaguely registered the tearing of a condom package. She turned a heavy gaze his way to watch him lower his pants enough to free his cock. He sheathed it, then slid it up and down her wet folds before stepping back and plunging inside her. She arched against her bonds as he pulled her hips down, slamming his cock into her with such force, she yelled out.

He pumped her hard, his thrusts hitting in all the right spots. He pushed on her knees, which pulled on her bonds. She was right on the edge again, ready to soar along with him.

When he groaned and thrust harder, she knew he’d come. She could feel his cock pulsing inside her, her walls gripping him tightly.

“Fuck me running,” he said, collapsing so that his head rested on her stomach. “That’s the first time reality has ever beat a fantasy.”

He stood and shook his head, then pressed the wheel into her clit with such force she came bucking against it as the sharp prongs hit her over and over.

Kennedy tried to pull her mind away from her throbbing clit, off the wheel that still rested against it as if it would attack again. This was so much better than fantasy.

“Master?”

“Yes, slave?”

“Don’t send me away again.”

He looked down at her, a smile tugging at his lips. “What do the three couples we’ve acted out have in common?”

“Nothing.” She frowned at him.

“No, baby, there’s something. Think about it long and hard, and give me your answer next Saturday evening.”

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Tears burned her eyes. “Does that mean I have to leave?”

“No, you’re not going anywhere. You just gave yourself to me, and I’m keeping you.

We do have one more scene to act out, one more little tableau that will strengthen the bond we have right now.”

“Party or no party, you’re no longer a resident of Toffer’s guesthouse. You live here now, with your Master.”

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Absolutely nothing! Bless Grace for giving me the whole week off Personal to-do list:

Go to the house and pack up clothes (Of cour e s , what do I really need? Master likes me

naked)

Continue research on what the three couples in our scenes have in common Orgasm precisely at ten, noon, and two

Be ready for the costume delivery man at three sharp Party at Grace and Toffer’s house at nine, be dressed at eight sharp Kennedy had only done one thing on her list today and that was to come at ten and noon. She still had the two o’clock orgasm to go. Having set times to masturbate was a little strange, but her Master demanded it, and she would follow his directions. The “to-do list”