No Strings Attached (17 page)

“I could've restrained you,” he said against my ear, smiling into my neck when he parted my pussy lips with his fingers, the ice cube or both. “But you may have gotten the wrong idea.”

I let my head rest against his shoulder as he thrust two fingers inside me. My body shook on its own, and I lowered onto my hands and knees.

Thayre pulled my hair. “Did I say to get on all fours?”

I forced myself up on my knees. My teeth chattered. “No, Sir.”

Then, in a gentler voice, Thayre said, “Are you uncomfortable?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Can you stay on your knees a while longer, or do you want to change positions?”

I straightened my back. Leaned to one side, then the other. “I should be okay, Sir.”

“Let me know if that changes.”

I bobbed my head and closed my eyes, giving in to the electricity that sparked from his fingertips on my clit. I thrust at him as he quickened the pace, breathing hard through my nose as I forgot all about the ice cube.

Thayre reached his free hand around me, pinching my nipple until it hardened from his touch. The fingers on my slit slowed, then stopped. I swallowed hard as that same chain from before jingled behind me.

Something cold touched my breast. “You know what this is, don't you?” Thayre asked, twisting at my hard nipple before closing the clamp around it.

I screwed my eyes tight from the momentary pain.
Breathe, Moyra. Remember to breathe.
I did, with a little effort.

Inhale.

Thayre's fingers pinched the other nipple.

Exhale.

He kissed behind my ear.

Inhale-exhale hard.

He closed the second clamp, letting go of the chain between them so it hung from my breasts. “Doing okay?”

I nodded.

“Get on all fours.”

Thankful for the rest, I pressed my palms into the wood and widened my stance, thrusting at Thayre when I sensed him getting close to me.

Using one finger, he pulled on the chain enough to make me squirm. “I bet you’re tight. In fact, I know you are, and do you know why that is?”

I trembled. Shook my head. “No, Sir.”

“Because of this.” He tugged on the chain again. Harder this time, sending bolts of electric flame up and down my spine. “And this.” He pulled on my hair so I was looking up at the ceiling.

I whimpered. Moaned as he pressed his lips to mine. Nearly screamed as he thrust inside me. He released my hair, and I bowed my head between my arms. He'd released the chain connected to my breasts, but every time he pumped into me, my body rocked, and as it did, the chain tugged on my breasts to keep them tingling and my body aching for more. More pleasure. More pain. More
Thayre.

I clawed at the floor. Winced from the odd texture under my nails. And Thayre thrust faster. Harder. Grunted and grabbed my hips.

“Play with yourself.”

Steadying myself on one arm, I circled my clit with my fingers. Pressed harder. Fucked my hand faster as the first tremors of my orgasm threatened to tear me apart.
Not yet, Moyra. For fuck's sake, not yet.
Not until Thayre was ready. While I was free to climax whenever I wanted, going at the same time gave me more of a rush than when I finished alone.

“Faster,” I begged, my legs shaking beneath us.

Thayre didn't ask me how close I was, and by now, he probably knew. Between the pain-pleasure searing on my breasts, my hardening clit and the heated desire of my pussy, I wasn't going to last.

He dug his fingers into my hips, and, using long strokes, thrusts into me as deep as he could. His hot breath hit against my shoulders, his moans causing my clit to throb with as much need for my release as his own.

I pushed back. Tightened my Kegels. Held my breath. But as white sparks crowded my vision, Thayre sent me tumbling over the edge. I gasped and came, and as the euphoria passed, the pain of the clamps on my breasts grounded me.

“Sir, may I?”

“Remove them,” Thayre grunted. Thrust again.

Wincing at the very real pain that was to come, I inhaled, exhaling with a strangled gasp as I removed the first clamp. Thayre's breath caught, and timing his thrusts with the removal of the second clamp, he came fast and hard. Hugged an arm around my middle. Slumped over me until we'd both had the chance to catch our breath.

“Don't,” I whimpered as he reached for my breasts.

“Still sore?” Thayre asked, kissing the nape of my neck as he withdrew, more than likely shuddering from the sensitivity of his now spent cock.

I sat on the floor and watched him as he disposed of the condom, accepting his hand when he offered it to me. Once I was on my feet, I joined him over on the spare bed, climbing under the blankets and in his arms as we both tasted each other's lips. The salt of sweat met my tongue, and I ran my fingers through his damp hair.

“Looks like we might need another shower,” I said, pressing my forehead against his own.

He took a breath and held me close. “After a nap.”

I smiled, and, with Thayre's body warm against mine, I closed my eyes. With our bodies more than spent for the time being, and given the long days we'd had, the need for rest quickly honed in on us. And before I could give it another thought, I was thrust into dreaming of what was, what is and what I may become.
Sub. Violinist. Musician and lover.
I wanted it all.

C
hair legs screeched across the stage on the other side of the curtain, and as the clamor of voices rose from a handful of people to dozens, then hundreds, my heart skipped a beat. I took a breath, eased myself back into a normal pattern, but it only lasted so long until my heart palpitated again. It was my first big show, but looking at the other musicians, they seemed as nervous as I was.

Tabby busied herself by tuning her cello for what may have been the twentieth time—even though we both knew it was at the perfect setting. Still, because of the viral videos of us playing in town a few weeks ago, her anxiety was as ramped up as mine was.

Thayre seemed unusually calm. All through practice, he'd been wound tighter than the rest of us, but either he somehow had released the tension on his own, or he put his game face on. It had to be the latter. No way in hell he wasn't nervous. Not when we expected a full house, and not when we were playing Webster-freaking-Hall.

Speak of the devil. I forced a smile as Thayre stepped toward us, the expression on his face being one I couldn't comprehend. “Okay, folks. This is the real deal, but we need to change our plans a bit. The stage in front of the curtain has only so much room, and unless you want to be bumping elbows, we're going to have to get creative.” He waved to someone offstage, directing a cart of folding chairs into the middle of us. “We'll have to set up some chairs here as well and play with the curtain open. No backdrops. That said, you'll still have your normal seating arrangements, but you might be farther to the back.”

We nodded, and Thayre went to, I assumed, the front of the stage to keep his eye on the audience.

Behind the curtain and already on stage, cases clicked opened. Folding chairs were rearranged as everyone else settled into their seats. Sheet music shuffled. Stands clunked on the floor. We were just about ready, but I hadn't taken out my violin yet. My hands were clammy as I worked on the silver locks. I'd played the violin Thayre had gotten for me ever since the night I'd brought it home.

In fact, it had taken quite the beating, but it hadn't run the full marathon yet.
Almost there.
It just had to last me until the end of the night.
No problem.

I opened the case, but my violin wasn't the only thing inside. Nestled between my violin and bow was an envelope and beside it an elaborate band of steel.
A collar.
The size and shape were unmistakable, and while it was nowhere near the cheap-ass collar Bret had given me, I'd seen others like it. Careful as to not alert anyone of the mysterious gifts, I glanced over my shoulder, then opened the envelope.

I promised you'd never have to choose, and now you don't have to. Wear this, and be proud of who you are. You may have found your way into Transcendence due to my loss of a violinist, but you've always had my heart. Always.

Your adoring Master,

Thayer

The stupid grin on my face would surely give me away, but the one person who approached me was the author of the letter.

Thayre stepped up behind me and kissed the side of my neck. “Do you like it?”

I wiped the tears from my eyes, then turned to face him. “You have no idea. Thank you.”

“We'll keep it in your case until later, but once we're alone...” He finished the sentence with a lift of his eyebrows and a grin on his face.

I shivered. The collar might not have been around my neck, but I couldn't help dropping my gaze. “It's perfect, Thayre.”

He kissed my forehead, then lifted my chin. “Don't bow your head. Tonight is your night. Go on and get ready. I'll lock this up and join you onstage. It's about time the world got to see the amazing Songbird you are.”

And then he was gone, possibly to get the crowd ready for the orchestra. I touched my neck and imagined the weight I might find there once the show was over.
You need to survive this first.

After testing my violin, I lined up my chair with the center of the stage and faced the closed curtain. Thayre would be back soon to plug in a few of the instruments, but for now, the vibrations of the instruments as we warmed up was enough for me.

Even using the entire stage, it was going to be tight. I pushed my chair off to one side. I'd played on my feet before, and standing was probably a lot better than sitting down. The strings sat to either side of me. The middle back was a jumble of horns and percussion. And then there were the few added toys Thayre had brought along with him—a large keyboard and sound system much like the one in his studio.

We'd already passed our sound check and rehearsal an hour before, but doing so only made this evening more real. The audience beyond the curtain clapped, and a low tenor of a voice spoke into the mic.
Our opening act.
And as it started, Transcendence quieted.
This is it.

No more bathroom breaks. No chickening out. I stepped over to my duffle and pulled out a water bottle, tucking it under my arm to transport it to the front of the stage as soon as the curtain was drawn

The stage opened up, and after blinking at the blue spotlights, I set my bottle down and got into place in front of Thayre. The other players kept to their seats, and as we waited for Thayre to finish introducing us, I did my best not to faint in the middle of the stage. The lights were warm. Tolerable, but just barely.

Thayre faced us, nodding to someone at the back to turn on the trance beats.  He directed us into the first song with the gentle flick of his baton. One melody after another, we played. After the third song, I bent over to take a sip from my water bottle before returning to our music. Against my doubts and fears, my violin played like a dream. The notes were as smooth as when I'd practiced at home. I rolled my shoulders back, lifted my gaze and smiled right at the audience. My fear of screwing up was gone. There were no more doubts. All that mattered was the here and now—standing on stage, playing
my
violin.

The music took over, and I fell into the beat with everyone else. Strobe lights that left me half-blind flickered on and off as the strong thrumming of bass rumbled under our feet. It was so different than practicing at home. We had a great open space in front of us, and even though half the orchestra was made up of stringed instruments, our music carried.

My hearing would be long gone by morning, but I didn't care. Our audience quieted during the softer notes, then cheered on the higher ones. Groups clustered in the balconies high above, and soon, the flashing of cell phones joined the artificial strobe lighting.

Dizzy from the added lights, I focused on Thayre's floating baton as he kept every one of us in line and the music under control. A chill made its way up my spine when an image of Thayre holding a flogger crossed my mind.
Not now.

The baton solidified again, and I fell back into the music. The chords and bridges got us from one song to the other. Thayre had worked mercilessly to get our songs to meld together. The overall beat had changed since I first started playing with him, but it made our performance better. No one in the audience would notice.

Until everything stopped. Thayre dropped his arms to his sides, shoved his baton into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and made his way toward the orchestra. We had one last song to play, so why was he stopping now?

He approached the stage, glanced at me, then directed his attention to the audience. “Before we leave this evening, there's a very special song we want to play. It was written by our very own Songbird, Moyra, and is simply titled
Flight.
We hope you enjoy it, and we'll talk more after the show.”

Oh God.
Thayre had said something about showing everyone who our Songbird was, but I didn't think—

“You ready?” Thayre asked, stepping beside me with Angie in his arms.

I frowned, puzzled as to why he was up on stage with me and not—

“Moyra?”

I swallowed. And after drawing a breath, I played. Lights danced across the Ballroom floor. Screens on cell phones lit up, and I didn't doubt most of them were recording us the same way the passersby had done in town.

Give them something they'll remember,
Thayre's eyes said as he played along with me.

I inclined my head, and with more nerves than before, I stepped up to the mic, leaving Thayre and everyone else to take a backseat as I sung the lyrics to
Flight
for the very first time since Thayre first heard them.

Right before me

I was too blind to see

All the damage you've done to us

The damage done to me.

Blinded by your lust

Fueled by your control

You took my trust