Naughty Bits Part III: Bound to Please (9 page)

At her silence, he touched her chin. “I know you feel like I’m infringing on your sense of choice when I state something like that, so I’ll make it a question.”

“Versus a statement of the obvious?” She gave him a narrow look, and he chuckled.

“Let’s pretend I’m asking it as a question, to save me from a possible dose of female silent treatment. You made your choice, didn’t you?”

As she wrestled with her answer, he slid a finger along her collarbone, hooked her bra strap. With gentle pressure, he brought her back up onto her knees, bent and put an arm around her waist, sliding her and the cushion closer so she was between his knees, one of those effortless shifts using his upper body strength that made her stomach tilt pleasantly. In this position, she could settle her palms on his thighs to balance herself there, and she did so.

“When you made that decision and came to me, wanting to kneel at my feet, it took all I could do not to send them packing right then. Everything in me said ‘
mine
.’”

The look in his eyes, the way her heart leaped at his words, told her the only thing she was struggling with was her pride. Yet the possible truth made her want to skitter away like a rabbit. He laid a hand over hers on his knee, holding her in place.

“I don’t want it to scare you away, Madison. Until you say it back, and truly mean it, want it with all your heart, then it’s not any obligation on you, you understand? We’re each responsible for our own feelings, no matter how much they overlap or tangle.”

“I want to believe you. I just have a deficit of trust in . . . everything.”

“Do you want me to help you with that?”

She swallowed at what she saw in his gaze. Promise, threat. Change. “Yes. But I’m scared. A little bit in some ways, a lot in others.”

His expression became tender, making that twist in her chest even tauter. She expected it was a unique look for him, one he didn’t often bestow on a woman. Else he’d have a line of groupies outside his front door every morning. “I know the feeling.”

“Nothing scares you.”

“Spiders make me scream like a girl when they jump out from between the boxes in the storeroom. Troy has to do the catch and release.”

“Liar.” She aimed a punch at his midriff, which he blocked, capturing both her hands and bringing her to her feet. Molding his palms over her buttocks, he drew her up against him.

“Why, Miss Fine. You’re wearing a thong. That’s as much against school regulations as Troy not wearing any underwear at all. When an authority figure breaks the rules, their punishment is twice as severe.”

Fun and games. He would start her off with fun and games, understanding how she liked to role-play. All she had to do was take the bait, with full knowledge that he’d ultimately take her far beyond the amusement park, into the dark workings beneath it.

She held his gaze, the two of them caught in that stasis, waiting for her decision. Then she lowered her gaze, plucked at a button of his shirt as she gave him a coy glance through her lashes. “Is there anything I can do to get out of it . . . Superintendent?”

“Are you offering me a bribe, Miss Fine?” His disapproving look made her toes curl. He was really good at this. She wondered if he’d done role-playing as a child as well. Pirates, Captain Kirk, cowboys.

“A sexual favor, actually.” She moistened her lips, glanced down significantly. “I have excellent oral communication skills. I’ve heard you have a rather large . . . need in that department.”

“Rumors get exaggerated.” His eyes danced, but then they lost all humor, his mouth firming. “But as tempting as your favors might be, your behavior requires punishment. You won’t manipulate me, Miss Fine.”

Rising from the chair, he took her arm, accentuating the difference in height and weight with that one shift. He drew her over to something that looked like a wooden pup tent. The six-inch-wide padded spine was flanked and supported by polished planks. Buckled cuffs were mounted on tracks, spaced horizontally along the planks.

The potential of such a piece filled her mind as he turned her to face him. Yet when she glimpsed his face, she realized he’d turned her back to the equipment to make it clear she had only one focus in this room. Him. Her Master.

Before she expected or could brace herself against the act, he’d laid hold of the neckline of her shirt and jerked. One strong movement ripped it open down the front, sending buttons scattering. She choked on a gasp but he didn’t even pause, smoothly pulling it off her shoulders and down to her elbows, so her arms were caught against her body.

He could become intimidating in such a breathtaking way, so quickly. His gaze coursed over the lace bra, the way her breasts were displayed in the cups. When he caressed them, a plea hummed in her throat, but he wasn’t done undressing her. He stripped away the skirt and thong beneath so she was standing before him, her lower half naked. With him fully dressed, it only highlighted the power difference. She’d had a sense of that in the Catholic schoolgirl uniform on movie night, him in his sports coat and jeans, but after everything else tonight, the feeling was even more pronounced.

He lifted her, making her straddle the beam. The slick vinyl cover pressed against wet, swollen tissues. Rows of golden tacks held down the vinyl, their rounded heads providing bumps of friction against her pussy, her clit.

Capturing her throat with one strong hand, he held her immobile for a demanding, heated invasion of her mouth with his. When she automatically reached for him, trying to clutch his arms for balance, he broke the kiss.

“Hands behind your back. You haven’t earned the right to touch me.”

She did it, arms trembling as her fingers clung to one another. He resumed the kiss, taking his time with it, but there was nothing leisurely about it. He lashed at her tongue, demanded she open even wider with the pressure of his lips. If she’d been standing, her knees would have buckled. He put his other palm against her back, and he’d placed her close enough to the end of the sawhorse her breasts were against his chest. Her legs weren’t long enough to reach to the bottom of the tent piece, so they dangled, her calves brushing the empty cuffs.

As he kissed her, he found the back fastener of her bra under the torn shirt and released it. Then he pushed the shirt off her shoulders, took the bra away, all without breaking that hot, wet connection. He lifted her again, his arm a line of heat against her bare skin as he slid her back on the beam, pressing her down on her stomach. Her body lay along its length, her cheek resting against the six-inch expanse of vinyl. He reached beneath her, making her wetter as he gripped her breasts and adjusted them so her cleavage was widened, the inside curves of her breasts against the planks on either side.

He cuffed her ankles and just above each of her calves so her legs were drawn up into a bent angle against the surface of the planks. Pulling her hips to the back edge of the beam put her pussy in a highly exposed—and accessible—position. He adjusted her wrists and elbows like he had her knees and ankles, only in the opposite direction, so her upper arms were clear of her breasts, giving him clear access to them. She realized she looked somewhat like a jockey riding a racehorse running full out. Her heart was racing like one.

Being vulnerable and helpless to Logan shot her arousal up to a level that eclipsed even the most intense climax she’d had before she’d met him. When he took advantage of her helpless position, bending over her to take a solid grip of her breasts on either side, she gasped and moaned as he fondled her nipples, squeezed the curves. He pushed himself against her exposed cunt, rubbing his steel cock beneath his jeans over the moist lips, making her twitch and squirm, trying to rub back. He drew back before she could get any measure of pleasure out of that.

“Already hot and slick. I think it’s a good thing I recognized you as a discipline problem, Miss Fine. Your shameless teasing corrupts innocent, hormonal boys like Troy.”

Because she couldn’t resist the impudent eye roll, she won a firm, sharp slap that made her buttocks wobble and her hands ball in the cuffs. “Every time I strike,” he said, “I expect you to say ‘I’m a bad girl, sir.’ If I don’t feel certain you mean it, I’m going to use something that hurts more.”

He struck again, harder, and she yelped. “I’m a bad girl, sir.”

And again. “I’m a bad girl, sir.”

And again.

“You’re just not repentant enough, Miss Fine.” He moved to his workbench, rummaged through it, came forth with a wooden dowel. “This should help.”

“Please . . .”

“Not one of the words we discussed.” He brought the dowel against her hindquarters again, and fuck, it definitely hurt more. She wondered if the ruler she’d used on Troy’s flesh was comparable to this. Then Logan hit her again and she realized she hadn’t obeyed his command.

“I’m a bad girl, sir!”

He kept doing it, and she kept saying it. It was supposed to be a game, right? So why was it, every time she said it, every time he made it more painful, more emphatic, a lump grew thicker in her throat? And she didn’t want him to stop, even though it hurt like hell. There was a moment of
Oh, fuck, please stop
, followed by
No, don’t stop. Don’t stop
 . . . Then the really crazy one:
Make it hurt more.
Until she was begging for mercy.

Somewhere along the way, she wasn’t saying she was a bad girl. Not exactly.

“I’m a bad . . . I’m bad . . . bad . . .”

Things started to unfold in her mind. Alice dying. Leroy leaving. Every time a man had walked away because she’d failed him. Actually not so much him at all. Herself. She’d failed herself. Over and over and over again. Because she couldn’t figure out how to get it right.

I’m so bad . . . I failed . . . I was wrong . . . I’m sorry. Sorry . . .

She was saying the words whether he was striking her or not. When he switched from the dowel back to his hand, every impact resounded through her like the bell of a church. It vibrated through her feet, her chest, a call to salvation, to redemption, to damnation, regret and unforgivable sin.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry . . .”

She remembered holding her sister’s thin hand as life slipped from her, and now Madison was crying, her fingers clutched into fists in the cuffs. Her heart clenched up the same way. And yet, as he punished her, her sex was as wet as her eyes. If he were a magician and had sawed her in half, she couldn’t be more divided.

She was lifting into his strikes, because she craved his hand more than the dowel, his heated palm smarting against her flesh. He paused, and she heard his belt being unbuckled. Was he going to hit her with his belt? Given the power and strength he had in his hand, the idea made her quake . . . and yearn. She could use her safe word. She could, even if saying Alice’s name right now might literally tear her heart open to bleed out inside the rest of her body. But she wanted this, wanted all the punishment he could dish out. She wanted to immerse herself in the pain of redemption and paying for her sins, for the hope that on the other side of it she could come out clean. Deserving of love.

He didn’t use his belt, but a weapon far more potent. He leaned over her, rough jaw brushing her cheek. “You aren’t bad, Madison. Just lost. We all get lost.”

A sob choked her, and he pressed his jaw harder against her, making an incoherent, soothing noise. “I’m going to fuck you now, make it all better. Would you like that?”

She nodded, feeling the scratch of his five o’clock shadow against her fairer skin. She needed him to make it all better.

“Then ask me.”

“Please . . .” She swallowed, tasted the salt of her tears. “Please, Master. I need you . . . I need you.”

She was supposed to say “Please fuck me,” but that was all she could get out. Fortunately, Logan seemed to realize it meant the same thing.

She was vaguely aware of the ripping noise of a condom. Then the head of his cock was against her cunt, spread and flushed for him, the juices sucking him in so that she let out a deep, shuddering sigh as he slid into her, worked his way deeper, all the way to the hilt, so his thighs were pressing against the back of hers. He hadn’t taken his jeans all the way off. He was still wearing everything, underscoring her nakedness, his total control of her and the situation.

She dug her fingers into the polished wood beneath her, her eyes closing so her wet lashes fanned her cheeks. He didn’t move, didn’t start to thrust as her quivering tissues anticipated. Instead, he laid his body over hers and gripped her wrists above the cuffs, his fingers tangling with hers. With a muffled sob, she clung to them so hard she was afraid she might hurt him, but he didn’t draw back. Instead, he placed a long kiss on her nape, bared because her hair had slipped down over either side of her neck. Then another kiss on the top bump of her spine. Each touch of his mouth was full of quiet meaning that broke her open further.

“Logan . . .”

“Sssh. I’m here, Madison. I’ll always be here. Long as you want and need me.”

At this entirely raw moment, she couldn’t imagine needing anyone more. The depth of her feelings frightened her. She’d thought herself head over heels in love before, had torn herself open for lovers, removed all shields so she’d had no defenses when a lover thrust the steel of rejection through her. She’d
sworn
she’d never do that again. Sworn it in heart’s blood. Meant it so much she’d sacrificed her relationship with the one person she’d always loved soul-deep. Alice.

She trembled. “Please start moving, Logan. Make the thoughts go away.”

“You don’t have to be afraid of them.” He surrounded her, held her. “I won’t let them tear you apart.”

“I’m afraid they’ll ruin this. Please?”

“Beg, and maybe I will.” He shifted, a push deeper, and her tissues convulsed around him, making her moan. His fingers were still tangled with hers, and she was able to move her head, put her mouth on them, her lips parted so her teeth cut against his knuckles.

“Please, Master. Please . . . fuck me. Make me forget.”

“I’d rather make you forgive. But one step at a time.” Slowly, he straightened above her, moving his hands from her wrists to her back, sliding down either side of her spine so she didn’t feel the loss of his weight, his heat, so keenly. Putting both hands on her hips, he withdrew just as gradually, then pushed back in the same way.