Chains and Canes (5 page)

Daniel clenched the too-soft couch before lifting his shoulders in a shrug.

“I thought not.” Remy pointed to the cushions in front of Daniel. “Pose,
chère
. You have your orders.”

She did it automatically while infusing every movement with grace. Sexiness. Some might attribute it to her perfection as a dancer. Daniel knew better. She was more than a dancer. Brighter. More intense in her highs and lows and all the elegance of life in between.

She didn’t falter when she got to the couch that separated her from Daniel. He’d become so wrapped up in watching her that he’d almost forgotten Remy. Almost.

“That’s it. Kneel, Naya girl. I want you touching your man. Put your hands on top of Daniel’s. Then don’t move.”

Chapter Five

Naya gripped Daniel’s hands and found the shine of his intense eyes. He’d never let anything happen to her. Protector and lover and best friend. He was six-foot-two and a former college rugby champion—a man of strength and resolve. Remy might not be what they expected, or what she needed. Fine. Daniel would throw him down the elevator shaft rather than let him do Naya real harm.

Professional Dominas took the needs of their clients very seriously. A stranger, though? A male stranger? They should’ve thought each other out of their minds. Completely
loco
. Instead, Remy had given her the ultimate insurance policy by bringing Daniel into their play. She smiled and saw her anticipation reflected in his expression.

Although the first strikes would hurt like hell, she had no fear. The pain was a barrier, something to overcome before the pleasure took over.

The sound of the belt buckle settled in the primal place in her brain. Remy moved alongside her on the couch and used both hands to lift her T-shirt. Leather tickled her skin. She breathed deeply and centered herself. Daniel. Blue eyes.

“Pretty skin,
chère
.” Remy petted light touches down her spine. “But we can’t have this bra clasp in the way. Only good pain,
non
?”

She nodded. “Yes, Sir. Good pain.”

“There’s a girl.”

Unfamiliar fingers deftly released the clasp of her bra. He pushed the silk and satin up until it bunched with the T-shirt. He didn’t strip her. Just a back and a belt. For modesty alone, she liked the oddly businesslike quality of the evening. He may as well have been one of the Dominas.

Except, come morning, she would be working with this man. Dancing with him again.

The leather brushed her ribs. She tightened her grip on Daniel’s untiring hands.

A telltale whistle of air was her only warning. No more preparation. No more softness.

The doubled-over belt struck her flat across the center of her back. She flinched and gasped, but she didn’t cry out. That was the sweet spot. Maybe fewer nerves there. Maybe just the way she was built. That place midway between ass and nape was
good
, even with the first startling blow.

“You really have done this before,” Remy said, almost to himself.

“Yes, Sir. And so have you.”

“Hush now so we can have some fun.”

The second blow was just as hard, like a punch rather than a whip strike. Thick. The wide leather dissipated the sensation and spread it across her skin while making her chest thump hollowly. Her bones protected her. Her skin burned.

Remy wasn’t a dumb man, and he certainly wasn’t passive. Those two hits showed him what she already knew: her sweet spot was safe territory. He could inflict real pain there eventually, but it would take repetition. Repetition meant the possibility of breaking the skin. She fantasized about that on occasion, which had prompted Daniel’s rules about needles and blood play. He protected her from herself in so many ways.

The next strikes were quick. Four in a row. All different places. She sucked them in and held on to the outburst of shock until he finished the set. A gasping groan of collected pain. Another flurry followed. Six, maybe seven. Again she held in the anguish until the belt stilled. She cried out.

Remy didn’t stop for long. She had more to expel from her lungs, more fire, but he layered it on. She lost count. Strikes blasted up and down her back. She stared dead on at Daniel until that gorgeous, rhythmic assault forced her eyes to close. She needed to be alone with the ache.

Her cries became moans, long and low and blending one into the next. She arched up toward the source of her hurt.

Remy gave her another respite. He surprised her by running his palms over her flaming skin. His touch was almost as hot. A shudder and another moan, of pure relief this time, had her arching even more. She wanted his soothing strokes. The calm before another storm.

Daniel gave her hands a shake and a squeeze. “Naya, let me see your eyes.”

She pried her lids open and found her bright beacon. Why hadn’t they done this before, with Daniel taking part? She loved being face-to-face with him, when he could breathe her air and hold her steady. Excitement was mixed with his usual concern. That concern meant he would always share her greed for this sort of treatment, even though he’d never be able to provide it.

Remy, though…

The belt whipped down. Naya craned her neck on a surprised shriek. He chose a swath of skin along her back and aimed true, true, true for three smacks in a row. She squirmed to escape that burning echo. He grabbed her around her torso so that the hair of his forearm prickled the undersides of her breasts. Another shudder overcame her even before the next round, when he held her captive and flayed her in that same tender spot.

She was crying. Dimly, she knew that. It wasn’t the big release she strove for. This was like foreplay, when everything felt good and right and on its way. Her eyes were simply leaking. The explosion she craved was gathering in her brain.

Over her rough breathing, she heard Daniel’s quick respiration. More than that—she
felt
Remy’s. His chest had locked taut against her side. He panted with the same telling pulse of her lungs.

She was making him sweat, making his chest heave. She was exciting him.

Fuck, yes.

Remy yanked her head back by her hair. “Open your mouth.”

She did as commanded, floating now, a little bit gone. Even pain was beautiful. He shoved the flat leather of the belt into her mouth.

“Bite. Hold that.”

She indulged in sinking her teeth into something so resilient. Remy released her hair and pushed the damp strands down either side of her neck, parting them to bare as much of her back as possible.

“No, not good enough.” Again, he seemed to be talking to himself. He had a vision of what needed to happen. Naya adored that idea. “Daniel, strip her top and bra.”

She expected Daniel to protest. Remy was still a stranger, still a man, still an amateur who apparently liked smacking on willing women. But he was doing it so well. She could see the satisfaction building in her fiancé just as fiercely as she could feel her own.

Daniel shook free of her tight grip, which made her bite even harder on the belt. Something to ground her. He stretched her arms until they rested on his shoulders, then he stripped the T-shirt over her head and off. The bra followed. He leaned forward until their cheeks touched. Trembling lips kissed her tears, then he licked them away.

“Where are you, angel?”

“Good.”

“Hmm?”

“Good place.” She had to enunciate carefully to be understood around the belt, but she didn’t want to give up her prize.

Remy stopped in what he’d been doing—namely, undressing her from the waist down. “You’re lovin’ this now, girl.”

“Yes, Sir.” That was easier to say, and it was all that needed said.

“Then time to get serious.”

She pushed her forehead against Daniel’s and chanted a quiet, “Yes, yes, yes.”

Cool air swished across her ass and upper thighs. When Remy had stripped her completely, she curled her toes as a token glimmer of embarrassment. She loved her body, but she’d never been bared in the middle of a session, when she couldn’t tell up from down. Pros liked her naked first. Simple and uncomplicated.

It wasn’t uncomplicated when Remy trailed a hand up her calf and inner thigh. “Moment of truth, you two. I wanna know how wet she is.”

Daniel pulled back. He flicked his gaze between her and Remy. Two, three times. “She answers, not me.”

“Agreed,” Remy said simply. “Belt out.”

Catching Naya’s chin in his strong hand, Daniel accepted the belt from between her teeth. “You want him to touch you?”

“Yes.” The swiftness of her answer made them both blink. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.” A different color burned in his eyes, as if they could shine with red fire at the same time. His nostrils flared. The muscle along his jaw worked in a tight pattern. Clench. Release. Funny, she could see so much when she was up so high. She’d never seen him so aroused.

Happy for her? Yes.

Satisfied that she was getting what she wanted? Yes.

So eager that he was practically vibrating, or that he might grant Remy any permission? It had never been like this.

Oh, damn.
Damn.

Whose idea was it to put the crazy endorphin-high pain sub in charge of so much power?

“We pay Dominas,” she said at last, throat scratchy. “Remy needs a reward too.”

The Cajun’s hand tightened on her upper thigh, and she heard the hitch in his breathing. She’d caught him off-guard. The smile she shared with Daniel was one of triumph. Together they’d gotten under his skin.

Dominas were never set off-guard. If they were, they never showed it. This was more…powerful. Organic and intertwined.

Remy slid his fingers up with renewed control and assurance. His touch was silk on silk when he slipped two fingers between her pussy lips. He made a purring sound of approval that reverberated around her and through her. She’d taken all he wanted to give, and now her body’s response pleased him. She liked pleasing him.

And she liked calling him Sir.

Dangerous,
warned that voice again.

Remy knocked that harbinger away when he slipped his middle finger inside. He wasn’t a battering ram. He was a thief, stealing what was left of her mind. Slow and patient and sinful.

Her eyes still leaked a little. Her back still burned. She was conscious on a technical level. Everything else about her world glowed. Pulses of pretty. Pulses of just right. They matched Remy’s finger, in and out, as if he could catch her by surprise and tease her into coming. Her body clenched on the idea.

He chuckled, withdrew, and eased toward where she and Daniel had nestled their lips together.

“Taste her,” he said.

Naya would’ve responded to that commanding tone without question, but it was another thing entirely to see Daniel back up, lift his eyes, and slowly—God, what was she watching?—slowly part his lips. He sucked Remy’s glistening finger into his mouth. There was challenge in his upward stare, but pleasure and curiosity and almost…acceptance. Naya chanced her own look up at Remy’s face.

Oh, he looked like a god. Hovering over them. Looming. His chest lifted on a gusty inhale. His biceps tightened visibly as Daniel licked him clean.

He jerked back, grabbed the belt, latched an arm around Naya’s torso. She had no time to switch gears. Softness and intrigued surprise gave way to searing shots of pain across her ass and upper thighs. He shifted his arm with each flick so that the rounded loop of leather hit one cheek, then the other. One thigh, then the other.

Naya kicked her feet where they stuck out from the edge of the couch. He leaned over and slapped her soles. She yelped, struggled.

“Still. Now.”

Of course she complied. It was who she was. How she was wired. In honor of the right voice, she had no choice but to obey.

Body. Still. Now.

Her mind was another matter. From some unknowable place in her brain, she hit the moment when everything was so fucking funny. Uncontrolled giggles must’ve seemed a strange contrast to cheeks streaked with tears. For Naya, it was glorious. Up and down. Pain and pleasure. Crying and laughing.

“Just like that,” she hiccupped on another wave of giggles. “Still. Now. Domly Dom voice.
Acho
, and look what I did. Like a puppet. No, like a light switch. On and on and on because it fucking hurts. You get that? No. Not you two. But then off. No pain.
Mira.
And then off. Don’t move. Ta-da. Cuz normal people like their asses blistered by a belt.”

She kicked her heels again, gratified to see Daniel’s amusement reflected in his wide smile. “Bye-bye,” he whispered.

“Bye-bye,” she said in return.

Because, oh, she was flying.

She felt that weightlessness even more when Remy released his hold. Those tickling arm hairs brushed along her lower breasts, which made her giggle harder. She sounded demented. Loved. It.
Oh
.

“You think this is funny, girl?”

“You don’t?” She tucked her mouth against the sofa’s back and gasped against the cool material. The heat from her mouth was moist. Finding the strength, she lifted her heavy head. She was floating, but her body wouldn’t behave. Solidly earthbound. “Because it’s ridiculous and beautiful.”

She never knew what hit her.

Pain so sharp that it cut through the rainbow haze of her pleasure. The crack of leather landed square on her lower back where he’d repeated the most strokes, done the most damage.

“You wanted this,” he growled. “And now you’re laughing?”

He hit her again.

“No, no. Fuck…
yellow
, I guess. Time-out.” She twisted away until her sore skin pushed against the armrest. “You don’t get it. I need to laugh. Just as much as I need the pain.”

Chapter Six

Remy jerked the belt behind his own ass, as if taking it out of sight would take it out of mind. No such luck. He hadn’t tripped into safe-word territory, but it was plain he’d missed some cue. He froze before he accidentally tipped over a hidden barrier he didn’t understand. Yellow was bad enough, though he reminded himself this was why half-measures existed. To keep from irreparable harm.