Kyle’s Bargain (18 page)

Meg remained quiet for a moment, giving him the opportunity
to continue. He didn’t, though. She wondered what he wasn’t telling her, but it
left her mind when he said, “We’re both invited to dinner with my family this
Saturday.”

Meg’s breath caught in her throat. Meeting family was a big
step in a relationship. But… “I get the impression your family may not welcome
me with open arms.”

Kyle nodded. “I’m sorry about it, but yes. Rita kind of
soured them on my taste in women. And…” He took a sip of wine. “My mother has
someone else in mind who’d she’d like me to hook up with. Someone she considers
more ‘suitable’.”

“You don’t think she’d suit you?”

“If she’s someone my mother approves of, I very much doubt
it. In any case I’ve already found someone
I
approve of, and I don’t
need anyone else, thank you.”

A flame erupted inside her, sending heat to her face, but
also lighting up everything and making her heart feel as if someone had poured
champagne directly into it. The joy lasted for a couple of minutes until it met
the freeze of her worry about Laurie’s reactions and how to handle the demands
of both people.

She didn’t realize it showed on her face until he said, “Now
you
’re looking worried.”

“Just not sure if I can handle everything. But we’ll work it
out. Tell me about your family so I know what I’m getting into.”

He grinned and shook his head, recognizing his own ploy used
against him, but he didn’t argue it. “Mostly it’s a pretty ordinary family with
most of the usual family issues. Interfering parents who think they know how to
run my life better than I do, two younger sisters who think I’m totally perfect
except when they don’t like the advice I’m giving them.”

“Will I get to meet all of them?”

“Eventually, but not this Saturday, unless the parental
units have something planned they haven’t informed me about. Possible but not
likely. My birthday isn’t until next November, and even then they don’t do much
in the way of surprise parties. Anyway, my sister MaryAnn lives in Richmond
with her husband and daughter. The youngest, Angela, is doing graduate work in
biochemistry at UVA. Every now and again she peeks out of her ivory tower and
deigns to join the real world, but it isn’t often. It’s too bad they won’t be
there. This is likely to be a bit of a challenge.”

“Can I expect active hostility, insidious sarcasm or just a
few biting comments here and there?”

“All of the above, most likely. But my mother will be polite
about it and she’ll keep my father under control.”

“I guess that’s some kind of relief. And I don’t go in
completely unarmed.”

“No, I think this should be interesting.”

They finished dinner and left the restaurant. On the drive
to his place, Kyle said, “Suppose we try out that idea you had about
submission. Say an hour this evening?”

“I… All right. But what about those boundaries?”

“Right. First thing is that you have a safe word, something
you say when you really can’t handle something I’m doing and want it to stop.
People usually make it something simple and easy to remember, like ‘red’ as in
red light.”

“Okay. Why do I need it?”

“Because in some cases Masters like to push the limits of
what a sub can handle and that’s a guarantee he’ll know when she’s at the line
and won’t go over it. And some subs like to be vocal and moan and groan and
protest, but that doesn’t always mean they really want it to stop.”

“Makes sense. Red. Red light. I can handle that.”

“What can’t you handle?” Kyle asked.

“I’m not sure. I haven’t explored this very much. Oh well.
One thing I know I can’t handle. Being a public spectacle, like those people at
the club. Not for me.”

“You mean Charles and Cilla?”

“No. What they did was basically private, just a few of us
there. No, I meant in the game room.”

“Oh. Okay. What about what Charles and Cilla demonstrated?”

“Most of that I could handle. Might even want to handle,
although I’m not sure I’m ready to take quite as much as Cilla could.”

“She’s been doing it a lot longer,” he agreed. “Anything
else?”

“Not that I can think of right now. There may be some
things…”

“That’s what the safe word is for,” he reminded her.

“Right.”

Fortunately they pulled into his driveway before she had
time to work up too bad a case of nerves. Still, the butterflies were doing
nosedives in her clenching stomach by the time they got inside. Their activity
grew more frenzied when they reached the living room, and Kyle said, “Wait
here,” as he disappeared down the hall.

He returned moments later. As he approached her, he pulled a
six-inch-long jeweler’s box from behind his back and held it out. A gold
elastic band stretched around the box both the long way and the short, forming
a cross on its top.

Meg took it from him and looked up to meet his smiling gaze.

“Go ahead,” he urged as she hesitated in pulling off the
band.

Because her hands shook, she fumbled with it for a couple of
seconds before she hooked a finger under the band and pulled it away. When she
pried up the lid, a spark of gold glittered in layers of cotton. Meg gasped as
her brain finally got around what she saw. A necklace of elaborate, lacy gold
links lay there.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Would you accept it as a collar?” he asked.

“Like the one Cilla had from Charles?”

“Sort of. That was just a temporary one. This is too, but we
have more of an ongoing relationship, so it seemed more appropriate.”

She smiled at him and picked it up from the box. “Actually,
I think Cilla and Charles have a deeper relationship than either of them is
willing to admit. But, yes, I’ll accept it as your collar. The thing is, it’s
so pretty I may want to wear it at other times.” She stretched up to kiss him.

“We can discuss the terms of that later.”

She nodded. “Help me put it on?”

He fastened the clasp for her. It wasn’t heavy but she felt
its weight anyway. The metal was cool initially but warmed against her skin.

“You agree that for the next hour you’re mine completely and
will do whatever I order?” he asked.

“Yes,” she answered. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Start by taking your clothes off. Leave the
necklace.”

“Right here?” She glanced at the windows off to the left
that looked out at the street. It wasn’t a busy street but…

He saw her concern and went over to shut the curtains.
“Right here.”

Meg nodded. She’d agreed to obey him and it wasn’t as if she
hadn’t stripped for him before. Why should it be harder to do in the living
room than in the bedroom? Maybe because he would remain dressed? She took off
her clothes, feeling the heat rising to engulf her face and spread down to her
chest. He simply stood and watched, expression unchanging and stern as she did
so.

Once she’d removed everything but the necklace and her
earrings, which he said could remain as well, she stood in front of him, nude.
It took an effort to stand up straight, to keep from putting hands over her
breasts and groin.

He studied her for a few minutes with an intensity that
stirred both embarrassment and arousal. “Go in the kitchen and make coffee for
us. You know where the decaf is?”

“Yes.” She turned that way but paused as she remembered to
add, “Sir.”

The corner of his mouth just crooked. “Go.”

He followed her into the kitchen but took a seat at the
table, watching as she set up the coffeemaker and got out the mugs, spoons,
sugar and cream. He didn’t say anything until she’d poured the coffee and
brought everything over to the table.

“Sit.”

Meg sat and waited for the next command.

“Fix your coffee and drink,” he said.

Meg wondered what this was all about as they sipped their
coffee in silence. She’d only promised surrender of herself for an hour. Twenty
minutes of that was gone already and he showed no sign of wanting to hurry
things along.

“You’re puzzled about what’s going on, aren’t you?”

Was this a test or a trap? She answered hesitantly, “Yes,
Sir.”

“There is a point to this. Can you guess what it is?”

Light dawned. Of course. “Submission isn’t just about sex?”

“Right,” he answered. “Submission isn’t just a sexual game.
It’s about the nature of a relationship. It’s about one person trusting the
other enough to surrender control to him. Or her. It usually comes down to sex
because that’s kind of an ultimate surrender in itself, but not always. A lot
of the time it’s about discipline and punishment because that’s also an
ultimate surrender, but it doesn’t have to be.”

Meg nodded. “This is what you want from me?”

“Sometimes. Not all the time, but some of the time. It’s the
way I’m built. And the way you’re built too, I think. There’s a need for this.
But we’re not done. This was just the first step.”

She waited for him to continue.

He drained his cup, and said, “Finish your coffee.”

Meg again did as he ordered, taking a long drink that took
her down to the dregs.

When she set the cup down, he said, “Up to now I’ve punished
you according to our agreement for your criminal behavior. Tonight I’m going to
punish you purely for my own pleasure. That’s another aspect of your submission
to me. I don’t need a reason beyond that.” He studied her with a stern
expression. “Is there anything you wish to say?”

She had to swallow the lump in her throat and tell the
revived butterflies to keep it down. “Your wish is my command?”

“Being snarky will get you extra punishment,” he warned.

“I’m sorry, Master. Forgive me?”

“After you’ve had your discipline. Let’s go downstairs. I
don’t think you’ve visited my game room yet.”

“No, Master.”

She followed him down the steps to the basement, wondering
what “game room” might mean. It startled her to discover it meant just what it
said. Half of his full basement had been carpeted, paneled and fitted out with
a bar, pool table, card table, leather sofa, end tables and a television. One
end formed a workout area with a treadmill, a rack of free weights and a couple
of exercise benches.

Kyle nodded toward the couch. “Lean over the end and stretch
your arms out as far as you can. Get your bottom nice and high.”

Her head swam with a dizzying mix of excitement,
anticipation and fear. This was what she wanted, wasn’t it? The thing she’d
been secretly wishing for, fantasizing about for so long? Why hadn’t she
realized it would be just as terrifying as it was exciting?

Meg moved stiffly as she forced her frozen limbs to carry
her to the sofa and draped herself over its wide, padded arm. The dark brown
leather felt cool, slick and soft against her skin. Kyle went to a closet
tucked under the stairs while she did so and returned moments later carrying a
pair of instruments. One looked like a leather paddle with holes punched down
the length of it while the other appeared to be a flogger. Her stomach lurched
again when he approached and stood over her, dropping the flogger on the coffee
table.

“You understand that this is purely a reminder that for this
time you’re mine and I can do what I want. This is a gift to me from you. You
have the safe word should it go beyond what you can bear. Otherwise, I’ll
ignore your begging and pleading and cries and wiggling. I’ll stop when it
suits me. You understand?”

It took an effort to get anything past the lump in her
throat. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good.”

Meg closed her eyes when he raised the paddle. The whizzing
noise preceded the crack of leather striking her bottom. The shock of contact
flashed through her with a jolt followed almost immediately by a burning sting.
The second strike wasn’t much harder and she was more ready for it, but it
still set of a ribbon of fire across both cheeks. She wondered how much of this
she could take. As much as he could dish out? She doubted it.

A dozen strokes later, when she began to moan and wriggle,
she doubted it even more. Her bottom throbbed and burned with a deep heat that
ignited in sparkles and fire each time the paddle struck again. But the blaze
of it soaked into her, radiating from her bottom into her womb and her pussy,
which swelled and grew damp. Still the burn became uncomfortable and each
stroke made the fire hotter.

Just when she didn’t think she could take any more, he
stopped. She breathed a sigh of relief and reached back to rub her bottom. It
felt hot and rough, but already the sting was fading.

“Did I give you permission to touch yourself?” he asked.

Startled, she froze. “No, Sir.” She dragged her hands away.

“I’ll let it go this time since you didn’t know. Next time,
though, you’ll be punished for it.”

She drew in a deep breath and let it out on a sigh. “Thank
you, Sir.”

“We’re not done yet, though.” He picked up the flogger and
got in position.

The multiple, slender tails of the flogger produced a
completely different sensation from the paddle. Each one bit into the flesh
with a tiny snap and burn. Individually they were barely noticeable, but together
they created a wild tingle that added up rapidly.

And each little sting blazed a bright trail into her core.
After just a few strokes she moaned and squirmed. It wasn’t from pain, though.
Every one of those tiny stings turned into a strange, hot flash of pleasure,
each one making her tenser, needier, more desperate for release than the one
before.

Meg wriggled franticly, pressing her belly into the arm of
the sofa and trying to rub her pussy against the leather. She was so hot, so
tense, so close to a release that wouldn’t quite come, even when another slash
of the flogger set off a new round of flashing pain-pleasure. The heat bubbled
all through her veins, making even her toes and fingertips feel full and
supersensitive. The pressure inside threatened to explode yet ironically
refused to allow that satisfaction. Her breath heaved like a bellows.