Somebody's Angel (#5 in a Military Romance / BDSM Romance series) (Rescue Me) (19 page)

Merda
. So fucking sexy. Marc’s cock stirred to life.

“Now the pants. Fold them neatly, just like they showed you in the Navy, and place them on the chair.”

He’d always been conscientious about putting his things away, even before his Navy training. He sat on the bed to remove his shoes and socks. Standing again, his gaze still on her, he unzipped his pants, removing them.

Marc placed his slacks and shirt, neatly folded, on the chair and turned to face her.

“The boxer briefs, too.”

When his hard-on sprang free of the black skivvies, she licked her lips. He almost ordered her to suck him dry, but that wasn’t his role tonight. Something niggled at the back of his brain, but he couldn’t determine if this was a new uneasiness or just more of the same as he submitted to Angelina for the first time.

He’d better get some action tonight after all of this. The need to bury his cock deep inside her pussy intensified. Maybe he found her little Domme performance stimulating in some way. It certainly might be the diversion he needed from his dark thoughts lately.

If she was going to play the Dominant, though, he’d make sure she did so correctly.

“I don’t recall negotiating the terms of this scene.”

A glimpse of uncertainty crossed her face before she regained composure. “Because we haven’t gotten that far yet, boy. Don’t think or anticipate; that’s my job. Now, name your hard limits.”

“Being topped.”

She sighed. “Acting like a brat will get you nothing except punishment.
What
are your hard limits, boy?”

Admitting any weakness to her didn’t sit well with him. He paused a moment, soon realizing he would have to take this seriously. The woman meant business.

She narrowed her eyelids.

“Paddling.”

“Any specific implement?”

“All of them.”

Welcome to the world of the Dominant, pet.
Subs didn’t always make things easy.

Angelina grew even more serious as she squared her shoulders and stood her ground. “How about floggers, belts, tawse?”

“Not the tawse.”

She nodded. “Any soft limits?”

“None that I’m aware of.”

“Extend your hands toward me.”

She held one of the leather cuffs he’d used on her many times.

Wait!
Marc’s heart pounded erratically at the implications of surrendering control.

Angelina nuzzled his neck, placing a kiss on his pulse, and whispered, “Trust me.” Her hand reached up to stroke his biceps and arms in gentle, sweeping motions.

Marc closed his eyes. “Pet, you know I trust you.” So then why wouldn’t he follow her command?

She stepped back. “Prove it by obeying me, boy. You know I’ll keep you safe. Give me your hands.”

Her withdrawal left a tight coil of anxiety in his chest. He attempted to draw air into his lungs, but they closed up tighter than when the shrapnel from the RPG had collapsed his lung. Sweat popped out on his forehead. He swallowed hard, reminding himself that anxiety and even a little fear were normal for a submissive at this point in a scene. That must be what was going on in his head.

Trust her.

Marc presented both hands to her.

Angelina’s voice dropped in timbre as she instructed him while attaching first one then the other cuff to his wrists. “Tonight, you’ll address me as Mistress, Mistress A, or Ma’am. You will not speak unless I ask you a direct question. You will not touch me unless I give you permission or tell you to do so. And you will keep your eyes down unless I tell you to do otherwise. Do you understand?”

The feel of the leather cuffs on his wrists wasn’t as unpleasant as he’d expected, but she hadn’t restrained him yet.

He grinned as his cock tightened. She was sexy as hell exerting her authority over him. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Tell me your safeword, boy.”

Boy, indeed.

His gaze lowered to her chest. “Tits.”

“Be serious. You know damned well it has to be something you wouldn’t normally say in a scene.”

“I won’t need a safeword.”

She sighed. “If you don’t give me your safeword, now, I’ll give you one to use.”

Her words gave him a clue she meant business. Of course, he knew she was right to insist on one. He’d taught her well. He glanced around the room but drew a blank. Maybe because he’d never used one before and he had no intention of doing so tonight.

“Fine, boy. How about Lombardy?”

In an instant, the mention of his birthplace conjured up memories of where he’d grown up in Italy. Normally, thoughts of his homeland were pleasant but not so after Mama’s revelations earlier today. Where would Angelina’s scene take them tonight?

He didn’t have long to wonder. His gaze roamed over her body once more, her bare legs apart and his shirt barely covering her ass. The flogger once more in her hand, he marveled at her transformation from submissive to Dominant.

She stood with her legs planted apart, shoulders back, with a Domme stare that exuded confidence. Without warning, the falls of the flogger thudded against his thigh, their ends stinging as they wrapped around his ass.

“Eyes on the floor.”

He grinned at how ridiculous it felt to submit to her.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Sir…I mean,
boy
.” Her cheeks flushed at the slip, but she quickly regained her composure.

“Twice now I’ve told you where your gaze should be. Don’t make me repeat myself again or you will force me to plan your first punishment.”

First, perhaps, but it would definitely be the last.

Appease her. “Yes, Mistress.”

His cock grew rigid as he let his gaze take in her gorgeous body once more while slowly following her command.

The falls slapped his ass again. “No hesitation next time.”

Apparently, she intended to go through with this preposterous role reversal. He’d agreed to the power exchange, so he needed to try and wrap his mind around his new status. A bottom.

“Yes, Mistress.”

She surprised him once again when she explained without hesitation the scene she had planned.

“You will be restrained to the bed. No honor bondage, not because I don’t trust you, but you need to feel the caress of the leather on your wrists and ankles, the restriction of the restraints. At all four points.”

Arms
and
legs?
How long had she been preparing to top him?
It would definitely be the last time he would leave her alone to her own devices for too long. Oh, but there would be no next time for a scene like this.

His heart pounded harder, but his cock softened as blood rushed to even more vital parts of his body. Fight or flight. What was he so afraid of?

Angelina leaned in, closing the space between them and reached up to stroke his cheek and neck. She whispered, “I know this is difficult for you, but Mistress is here to take care of you. No harm will come to you in this scene. You have your safeword if you need it. Understand?”

Marc swallowed hard, reminding himself again his initial responses weren’t uncommon for a submissive, especially a new one. He watched for signs of fight or flight in Angelina every time they played. Apparently, she knew what to do to calm his fears. Somewhat.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Angelina patted his cheek before she reached down to check the tightness of both wrist cuffs, just as he had done so many times with her.

Angelina pulled the bed covering to the bottom of the mattress. “Lie on the bed, face up.” He hesitated a moment too long apparently. “Mistress is tired of repeating every command multiple times. Last warning without consequences.” She flicked the falls of the leather flogger against her upturned palm a few times to make her point.

Marc grinned and met her gaze.

“What does my boy find so funny?”

“Nothing, Mistress.”

“Why are you still standing here then—and where should your eyes be?”

He lowered his gaze to the floor.

“Good boy. Now, on your back.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

He crawled to the middle of the bed, propped a couple of pillows behind his head, and stretched out on his back. Would she straddle him?
Dio
, he hoped so. Angelina nibbled at her lower lip, her gaze fixed on his recovered erection.

“Perhaps you should cuff my ankles now,” he prompted.

“Are you instructing your Mistress, boy? I’m in charge here, and it’s none of your concern if I have chosen to take a moment to admire the obvious display of your excitement at my dominance over you. You would do well to remember your place, boy.”

“Mistress, I assure you, seeing you wearing my shirt and nothing else does excite me, no matter which power role I’m fulfilling.”

“Well, then, perhaps I need to remove the shirt.”

Marc wanted nothing more than to feast his eyes on her tits. “Be my guest.”

“You just addressed me without permission. I see I’m going to need something with a little more sting to it to teach you proper discipline.”

She walked to the toy bag and retrieved something he couldn’t see. What did she hold behind her back? At least the canes were upstairs in the playroom; otherwise, he might be in real trouble right now.

“I’ve counted two strokes for disobedience since my last warning.”

Without further warning, she displayed the riding crop and in one motion brought it down swiftly just inches below his balls. He pulled his legs up instinctively to protect any errant blows from castrating him.

Fuck, it stung!
He’d never hit her that hard with it.

Without delivering the second promised blow, she returned to the bag and came back with ankle cuffs.

“I’ll decide when the time is right to deliver your remaining punishment stroke and any others you earn.”

The little minx. “How much practice have you had with the crop? You came perilously close to neutering me.”

Her glare reminded him to lower his gaze and shut his mouth.

Angelina sighed. “Marc, you’re a lousy submissive.”

“It’s not as if I didn’t warn you…
Mistress
.”

“Well, then. Maybe I need to step up my game and become a better Dominant.”

Merda.
He’d unleashed her inner Domme now. Heaven help him, because this woman did
not
hit like a girl.

* * *

Angelina had had enough of Marc’s rebelliousness. Right now, he was just toying with being her bottom. He hadn’t submitted one tiny bit. How would she build trust between them if he didn’t respect her authority?

On her way back to his toy bag to gather what she’d need, Angelina thought about how much more enjoyable it was to be on the receiving end of domination, not having to worry about all of the details. She had to deal with enough of those when running her catering business, and she enjoyed letting go of responsibility when she submitted to Marc during their play scenes.

Marc would have planned this scene ahead of time to fit the occasion or her needs. Flying by the seat of her pants, she couldn’t exhibit any hint of insecurity. She’d had a couple close calls already but thought she recovered well. By delivering the first of his punishment blows—harder than she’d intended to—clearly he knew to take her seriously.

Spontaneity wasn’t optimal for a play scene, but Marc had rolled with the punches before, adjusting a scene to explore whatever came up. She’d do what was needed without bowing to his previous authority over her. Marc needed to relinquish that tight grip on his self-control, whether he wanted to or not. He needed to trust her to take care of him.

The execution of
this
scene was in her hands. What should she use? Angelina dug around in the leather bag, found the items she was looking for, and returned to the bed, concealing some of them for later under the sheet piled at the base of the bed. She hoped the batteries were fresh in the one, because she planned to wear it out on him tonight.

First, though, the restraints.
Oh, shoot!
Angelina sighed at having forgotten something so obvious and went back to the bag. Pulling out four chains, she fastened the end of one of the chains to the D-ring on his left wrist cuff and pulled his hand toward the carabiner she knew was hidden discreetly behind the headboard.

“How’s that?” Marc moved his arm nearly a foot. “Wait. Let me hook it here.” She pulled the chain taut and fastened it. He wasn’t able to move more than a few inches now. Better.

Angelina walked around the bed but felt his gaze on her again. “Where are your eyes supposed to be, boy?”

“On the floor, but I can’t see the floor now.”

When she was the bottom, was she this dense at following commands? Why didn’t he use a little common sense?

“Your insolence just earned you another stripe. Any further snarky remarks will earn five each. In this scene, I have made it clear several times that you are not to look directly at me unless instructed to do so. Do. You. Understand?”

“Yes, Mistress A.”

Relishing the thought of wiping the smirk off his face, she waited until he settled his gaze somewhere near the foot of the bed before she continued to the other side where she attached another chain to his right wrist cuff and hooked it to the bed frame. She followed quickly with the ankle cuffs. This would hold him when the scene became more active. Marc tested his range of motion, and she watched as the smug expression left his face. Perhaps he fully understood his predicament at last.

Standing back, she admired the image of Marc stretched out before her, magnificently naked and at her mercy. A red stripe welted his thigh—
Dio
, that must hurt—serving as a reminder for him to behave. She hadn’t done much to teach him discipline yet, though. He’d earned two more already, and she was certain they wouldn’t be the last.

A surge of power coursed through her. Being the Dominant was heady stuff and more than a little sexy. His pecs were so taut and lickable she had to tear her gaze away to keep from indulging too soon.

His focus returned to her face, and he flexed his fingers. “I’ll let you know if my hands tingle or anything else goes numb.”