A Firm Hand: 2 (Bound to You) (6 page)

“You’re proud. You like being looked at. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t dye your hair in such obnoxious colors or frequent the clubs you do. The fact that you’re pierced also makes me think you enjoy a fair amount of pain.”

She’d never looked at it that way before and supposed he was right. Well give the man a cookie for being so perceptive. “Say I were to agree to this…arrangement, how would it work?”

He appeared to be considering her as he took careful bites of his salad. She realized he would answer her when he was ready, and not one second before. He’d make her wait. When he finished eating, he wiped his mouth with his napkin then folded it back into his lap. “When you’re in this house, you belong to me,” he began in the authoritative tone he sometimes used at work, the very one that made her all shivery inside. “What you do on your own time is your business, but I don’t want you going to the clubs anymore or fucking anyone else. Understood?”

“Will you be fucking anyone else?”

“No. I won’t be fucking anyone but you. Have you been tested?”

“Yes. I should have the results sometime this week.”

“Very good. I’d like to see you a couple nights a week. I handle the schedule at Donovan’s so that won’t be a problem. We’ll see how it goes from there.”

“I’ll need Wednesday evenings free. I have art class.” Talking about their relationship as if they were penciling in doctor’s appointments was unnerving.

“I wasn’t aware you’re an artist.”

“I wouldn’t consider myself an artist, per se. It’s really just a hobby.” Next to Kandinsky, she was a kindergartner playing with finger-paint.

“Okay then, Wednesday evenings will be yours, but Mondays and Thursdays you’re mine. As for what we do while you’re here, it won’t be what you’re used to. I don’t care for scenes that are planned to death, lengthy negotiations or fancy bondage contraptions. I do what I want when it suits me and you’ll submit and obey or you’ll be punished. It’s really not that complicated.”

Sure it isn’t.
Nothing about Brian was simple, of that she was absolutely certain.

“Shouldn’t I have a safeword?” She had no idea what he would demand of her. They didn’t know one another well enough to know where each other’s boundaries were. She would feel better if she were allowed a way to put a stop to things if they became too intense for her to deal with.

“Smart girl.” He nodded in approval. “Did you have one in mind?”

“I’ve always used the standard red.”

“Oh you can do better than that.”

“You’re the Dominant. It’s your job to make the decisions. Why don’t you pick the damn safeword?” She was pushing him and she knew it. This was not a good way to begin their relationship, but she needed to know that he would take her in hand when she was out of line. If he wasn’t able to do that she would never feel truly submissive to him. She was too strong-willed to kneel for just anyone.

“You are so lucky we haven’t really begun yet,
you little fucking brat
. You want a safeword?
I quit
, that will be your safeword. I have a feeling it’s one you won’t use lightly despite your little act of defiance the other night.”

A flush spread over her at his humiliating choice. He was right. It was one she wouldn’t be eager to use. He’d issued her a dare, a challenge.
If you use your safeword you’ll be quitting.
Clever bastard.
And
he’d called her a fucking brat. A few harsh words delivered in a ruthless voice and she was ready to bend over the table like a slut and beg him to take her. Yes, Brian was definitely dominant enough.

“Now eat your salad,” he ordered.

Not knowing what else to do, she complied. They finished the first course in silence, tension humming between them as if it were an electrical current. Chris cleared their plates then brought out the main dish. He explained it was pan-seared sea bass accompanied by a light wine sauce, spinach, capers and tiny currant tomatoes that were no bigger than pearls. The presentation was so creative it was a shame she had to eat it, but it smelled too divine not to.

The first bite was pure pleasure—sweet and tart, savory and salty all wrapped up in one forkful. “Oh my god. This is amazing. Does he always cook like this?”

“Not every day. Chris likes to show off. Wait until he brings out dessert. He lives for the excuse to make sweets.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “I think it’s because he secretly makes a double batch and devours it when he thinks I’m not paying attention.”

The mental picture of the proper house manager sneaking around eating decadent desserts made her laugh. It was obvious Brian thought of Chris as more than an employee. For some reason that made her relax a little. Maybe he was human after all, and not the reptile he wanted everyone to think he was.

As soon as they finished the main course, Chris removed the remnants of their meal then served them a
demitasse
of fragrant espresso. Dessert was bite-sized, orange-flavored cakes that had been soaked in sweet cream and drizzled with bitter chocolate sauce. They sat in the center of flat, frosted-glass plates as if they were jewels on display. Her mouth watered at the sight.

Brian picked one up with his fingers. “Open.”

She did. He placed the rich dessert on her tongue, smearing a bit of chocolate on her lower lip as he pulled away. The melding of flavors was as sinful as the look in Brian’s eyes. She licked the sauce from her lips, not wanting to waste any of it, and yes, to tease him. The intimacy of the moment was not lost on her. Pretending they were on a date would have been so easy, but that’s not what they were about.

“Tell me about your art.”

She frowned. “Why do you want to know? Aren’t you the one who said you wanted this to be strictly D/s?”

His face lost the softness that had been there a second ago. He was all business now. She’d just pushed him too far.

This evening wasn’t going quite as he’d planned. His little rebel was testing him every bit as much as he was testing her. He had to put a stop to it before she got the wrong idea about what type of Dominant he was. She needed to learn that he was the one in control.

The bright-red hair was a bit of a shock. He was sure it was what she’d intended. Frankly, he didn’t give a shit what color she dyed it as long as she came to him ready and willing to submit. He’d wanted to ease her into this, treat her gently at first, given the rough start they’d had. Her caustic attitude had cured him of that notion.

At the moment she looked as though she expected to be taught a lesson. A tiny wrinkle had formed between her brows. She was gorgeous in her distress. Her desire evident in the way her eyes clouded with lust every time he used a firm voice with her. He’d seen glimpses of it at work in the past. She was better at hiding it then. Now she was on the verge of opening up. She just needed a little push to get her there.

“Do you want to do this, Genevieve? Submit to me? Let me take control? Because it sounds to me as if you don’t.”

“No, I mean yes, I do. I just…I’m sorry.” Her gaze dropped to her lap.

“Look at me.” He lifted her chin using his thumb and forefinger, gently forcing her gaze to his. He saw shame reflected there. Interesting. She had no problem exposing herself, but a sharp reprimand and there it was written all over her face. “When I talk to you, I want you to look at me.” He released her.

She nodded, holding his gaze.

“I realize the beginning will be somewhat of a learning process. I’ll need to determine where your limits are, just like you’ll need to learn what I expect of you. For instance, I’ll thank you to leave it to me to decide how dominance is defined in this relationship. When I ask you a question, I expect you to answer it, not with a question, but with the truth. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Good girl.” He got up from the table and stood behind her. Leaning over, he pressed his cheek against hers, catching a hint of her shampoo. He inhaled, savoring her clean, summery scent. She held very still, frozen except for her shallow breaths and faint tremble.

“If you’re going to fight me every step of the way, you’re going to have one very bruised ass.”

Slowly, he unfastened the remaining buttons on her sweater, removed it then laid it gently over one of the other chairs. He returned his attention to Genevieve, running his fingers along her stomach and across her ribs. She was small, but lacked the sense of fragility she should have had for her size. He supposed it was her strong personality that made her seem somehow bigger, taller than she really was.

When he reached up and cupped her breasts, she gasped, arching the tiniest bit into his touch. He’d intended to wait to fuck her, give her time to settle into their relationship, but he was feeling entirely too selfish for that. He wanted her now. But first she needed to be punished for her insolent mouth.

“Stand up please.”

She scooted her chair back and stood, tentatively twisting to look at him. Her eyes searched his as if she were trying to discover what he was going to do to her.

He moved the chair out of the way. “Turn around.”

She did as she was told, her movements jerky and unsure. When he unzipped the back of her skirt, she craned her neck and looked over her shoulder. “What about Chris?”

“If I want him to come and watch, I’ll call for him.” Chris was never a participant in his sexual exploits, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of the things his employer liked to do to women. He was paid well for his care, efficiency and silence, but Genevieve didn’t know that.

The strangled, throaty sound that escaped her made him smile. She was headstrong, but she would learn. He yanked her skirt past her hips and let it pool at her feet.
Christ.
She’d worn black lace-top, thigh-high stockings and the tiniest matching panties. The sight of her nearly undid him. He had to get a hold of himself before he lost control and fucked her, fumbling and sloppy on the dining room table like an amateur.

“Spread your feet apart and bend over the table.”

Carefully, she stepped out of her skirt, nudging it aside, then started to push her dessert plate out of the way.

“Did I ask you to do that?”

She hesitated. “No Sir.”

“Leave it. Go on, bend over the table.”

She stood there for a moment with her head down, likely looking at the chocolate sauce he’d just ordered her to lie in.

“If you’re worried about the lingerie, I’ll replace it.” Hell, he’d buy her a set in every color so she could wear them just for him.

With a sigh of resignation, she bent over the table and placed her perfect, pierced breasts right in her dessert plate. Good girl. She knew enough not to press her hips against the table. If she had, each blow would have jabbed her hipbones painfully into the edge.

He trailed the tips of his fingers along her spine, loving the way she shivered beneath his touch. There was something so lovely, so erotic about a woman’s back, the vulnerability of it, the way it curved. He lowered her lacy panties, leaving them around her thighs, exposing her shapely ass. She had the most beautiful skin, perfect and unmarred. Not a trace of bruise from her last punishment. She was a blank canvas, waiting for him to paint her in hues of red.

He forced himself to take his time unbuckling his belt. As he yanked it through the loops, she made a sound halfway between a moan and a whimper. So she liked the belt, did she? Good. He had other implements—paddles, crops, quirts, a cane or two, but he’d always had special affection for the belt.

“I’m feeling generous tonight,” he said as he doubled the leather. The weight of it felt good in his hands. “I think I’ll give you twenty. On second thought, twenty-five. I distinctly remember someone saying they liked odd numbers.”

She groaned and laid her cheek against the table.

“Count for me,” he told her as he gave her the first stroke, not too hard, but enough to sting. He watched as color bloomed across her skin. Beautiful.

“One.”

He lashed her again, a little lower than the first. “Louder.”

“Two.”

“Good girl.” The third blow landed at the tender place where the curve of her ass met her thighs.

“Three.”

After the next two strokes, her bottom was a nice, even pink. She counted the lashes in a vaguely bored tone. Well, now that she was a little warmed up, he’d see if he couldn’t elicit some distress from her. He landed the next stroke hard and fast across the fleshy part of her ass.

“Six.” Her hands fluttered across the table, knocking silverware aside.

The next four he gave were fast and hard, not allowing her time to count in between. The way she whimpered and danced around as she tried to cope with the pain made his cock ruthlessly hard. He paused for a few breaths, unsure if they were for her to collect herself, or for him to do the same.

“How many is that?”

“Ten,” she gasped.

He lashed her again. The loud crack it made across her flesh told him it was a good one. She cried out and her hands flew back, covering her welted bottom. Pure reflex, he was sure, but that wouldn’t do at all.

“Since you aren’t able to keep them out of the way, I’ll do it for you this time.” He grasped both of her hands in his left one and pinned them against the small of her back. “In the future, you’ll have to learn to discipline yourself or I’ll restrain you.” He was eager to see her trussed up and at his mercy, but it was too soon for heavy bondage. They needed to be more comfortable with one another for that.

He continued with the rest of the strokes, striking her again and again until she shrieked from the pain. He hadn’t taken it easy on her, but it was hardly the worst punishment she’d have to endure. She managed to yell out the last count in a thin, pained voice. He paused to catch his breath, allowing the belt to slip from his fingers. The
clunk
it made as it hit the floor barely registered. He was too enthralled.

God, he’d missed the eroticism of meting out discipline. Short scenes with temporary submissives didn’t offer the same appeal. There was no sense of ownership in them. He didn’t completely own Genevieve yet, not the way he wanted to. She would have to trust him for that to happen. She would, given time. For now her willingness was enough. He knew submission wasn’t something that came easily for her, and that made it that much sweeter.

He caressed her heated, swollen flesh with a rough hand. She trembled, hissing and gasping as he stroked her. The feel of her, the texture of the abused skin, the way she clenched and shifted to avoid his touch were exquisite. He trailed a finger along the cleft of her ass and down to her slit. Finding her slick with arousal, he inserted a finger into her hungry pussy, enjoying the way she moaned for him. He probed deeper and feathered another finger across her clit. Her knees wobbled as she tried to grind against his hand.

“Horny little slut.” He withdrew from her dripping cunt and gave her a slap on her tender ass.

She groaned in frustration.

He liked her this way, lusty from pain, shaky with need. It was a struggle to hold himself at bay even for another moment. He wanted to feel his cock deep inside her, but he wouldn’t—couldn’t at this point without ramming away at her like some wild animal. He wasn’t sure why he cared to extend her a measure of tenderness for their first time, and he was too damn horny to spend precious seconds examining why he felt that way.

He helped her up, steadying her as she centered herself. When she seemed to have her bearings, he turned her to face him, smiling at the chocolate sauce smeared across her chest. “I have another rule for you.” He leaned in and licked some from between her breasts. “You’re not to come without permission.
Ever.
”

“Oh come on. That’s so unfair.”

He straightened so he could look into her eyes and convey how serious he was about this. He wasn’t into controlling only her pain, but also her pleasure, something she needed to understand. “You better watch that tone or you’ll be extremely frustrated along with having a sore ass.”

Her eyes widened with alarm. “I’m sorry. I’ll behave, I promise.”

“I just bet you will,” he murmured as he dipped down to taste more of her delectable skin mingled with the bitter chocolate. Hungry now, and unable to continue her torment without inflicting it upon himself as well, he shoved her against the wall. She gave a startled gasp. He devoured her with his mouth, searching out every drop of chocolate. He sucked her sticky, sweet nipples through the lace of her bra, loving the unique texture as much as he hated the barrier.

She moaned, thrusting her breasts against him. When she ran her fingers through his hair, attempting to pull him against her, he grabbed her wrists and pressed them flat against the wall by her shoulders. He would direct the pace. Given his shaky grasp on control, he couldn’t afford to allow her any leeway. She would push him over the edge and he couldn’t have that.

She let out another frustrated groan, pressing her pelvis against his aching erection. He bit her nipple hard enough to make her cry out.

“Be still.”

Defeated, she sighed, but did as she was told. He kissed her then, for her effort, for the lovely way she offered herself and simply because he couldn’t stand not to any longer. She met his hunger with her own, kissing him fiercely.

He couldn’t take it. He needed to be inside her. He released her hands and put some space between them. “Bra and panties off now. Leave the stockings.”

“Yes Sir.” She kicked off her shoes and scrambled to remove the flimsy lace.

“Hands back on the wall.”

Arms splayed out, wearing nothing but stockings and nipple rings, she was beautiful. He unfastened his pants and released his swollen cock. The way she licked her lips as her gaze followed his hands almost made him come right then. He fished a condom from his pocket, tore it open and quickly rolled it on. She snapped her gaze to his with mild accusation. The look he gave her in return was a warning and a promise. Wisely, she kept her mouth shut.