In His Cuffs(25)

"I'll have no way to hide," she admitted to both of them.

"That's why I want you nude."

At times she wasn't sure she liked him much.

"Now kneel, Maggie."

Something primitive, as old as the heartbeat of time, responded to his dominance.

Looking up at him, she obeyed. Her face was near his crotch, and the  masculine scent of him combined with the power of his body to make her  feel utterly feminine.

"Mine," he said as he buckled the collar closed.

She was scared that was true, and more frightened that it might not be.





Chapter Seven





"Have a seat," David told Maggie, indicating a stool beneath the stone countertop.

She did as he'd instructed-her motions deliberate.

"Trying to get comfortable should be impossible. If it's not, I can give you a second beating now."

"I'm fine," she said, her words a jumbled rush. "Thank you, Mr Tomlinson."

"More wine?"

"Please."

From the living room, he collected his unfinished glass.

"Mine's upstairs, I'm afraid."

"I'll get it later." He put his in the dishwasher then asked, "Red to go with the steak?"

"I'll stick with the white unless it offends your sensibilities."

"You should have whatever you prefer, and don't let anyone tell you  otherwise." He uncorked a bottle of red and poured her a white. He liked  having her collared, naked body in his kitchen. Other than when he'd  hosted a party for several people, he'd never invited a woman to his  house.

Since his divorce from Sandy, he hadn't had the inclination to share his  space. But with this dark-haired beauty, he hadn't had a choice. The  other night, he'd realised a few hours wouldn't satiate his need for  her.

All week, he'd noticed her growing frustration when he'd stayed away  from her at work. But he'd needed some time to think things through.  What the hell was he supposed to do when he knew he wanted uninterrupted  time together, but was honest enough to admit he was a less than  perfect partner when it came to committed relationships? He hadn't just  failed with Sandra-he'd been guilty of withholding attention no matter  who his partner was, be she submissive or vanilla.

He'd known that spending more time with Maggie would take a concerted  effort on his part. He hadn't been sure he was capable of expending the  energy on a long-term basis, or if she'd appreciate it even if he did.  She'd been clear that sceneing was all she wanted. Once he'd reached his  decision, about twenty minutes into a run on Wednesday morning, he'd  set his sights on having her. He'd turned part of his considerable  energies towards figuring out how to make it happen.

He'd wanted her as hungry for him as he was for her.

He'd wanted privacy and a place where she was out of her element. His house. With no clothes.

Objective accomplished. Not that he'd doubted it would happen. They  wanted each other bad enough to break all their self-imposed rules.

For the first time that he could remember, he'd left work early on  Friday night. As he'd blazed through the grocery store with at least two  hundred other people then cruised the aisles at the supersized liquor  store, he'd realised that he'd never made the time for a relationship.  Wanting to be available for all her needs, he'd climbed out of bed at  five a.m. to exercise, answer emails and plan next week's schedule  before Maggie arrived.                       
       
           



       

It was hard for him to admit he'd been a jerk before. Not that it should  have come as a surprise. He'd been told that often enough.

He slid Maggie's drink towards her.

She glanced around before taking a sip.

"You can relax. It's just us."

He noticed she crossed her legs then uncrossed them again and pulled  back her shoulders. Within seconds, she'd curled back into herself.

"Stand up," he told her, the words clipped and commanding.

"Sir?"

"You heard me."

She released her glass and followed his command.

"Bend over the stool."

Her eyes widened.

He moved towards her and fisted her hair. "Now." He waited a moment for her to safe word before forcing her down.

Her muskiness flooded his senses. The woman might fight him, but she was turned on.

This wasn't meant as a punishment, more it was a reinforcement of their  roles and a physical way to jar her out of her discomfort. "Count them,"  he instructed as she grasped the stool's legs for balance. He gave her  the first spank with his open hand on her right buttock. "I said count,"  he snapped when she remained silent. This was a battle of wills, and he  wouldn't lose.

"One, Mr Tomlinson."

He gave her four more slaps in quick succession, forcing gasps out of  her. Earlier he'd let her be in charge of the pace if not the number.  This time, he took even that from her.

"Three, four, five, Mr Tomlinson."

He moved to the other butt cheek.

She gasped and cried out, carrying on instead of counting. He wanted her tears, wanted to break through her resolve.

When her chest was heaving and her body blazed with his marks, he helped  her to stand. He kept a firm grip on her shoulders as he said, "Thank  me."

"Thank you, Mr Tomlinson," she whispered.

He liked her compliance. "You were right that you need spankings.  Regular ones. Now that I know that, I'll be sure you always have one.  I'll keep a belt or hairbrush handy. Back on your stool." He helped her,  and she trembled, keeping her gaze down.

Giving her a quick thrashing shouldn't turn him on as much as it did. He  told himself he should be able to deliver it dispassionately. Good Doms  were capable of separating their corrective actions from their arousal.

There were moments with her, though, when that didn't seem possible.  Forcing her out of her self-conscious prison meant he had to rein in his  libido. He released her and put the distance of the kitchen between  them. He took the steaks out of the refrigerator and brushed on his  homemade sauce before setting them aside to marinate. He poured his wine  and swirled it in the glass before levelling his gaze on her.  "Masturbate."

"I …  What?"

"Get yourself off. Don't tell me you can't. I know you're aroused from my spanking as well as my dominance. Do it."

To her credit, she didn't look around. She kept her gaze on him, even if she did hesitate.

"My request is not negotiable," he said.

She worried her upper lip.

Hard to believe this was the same woman who challenged him at every turn  in the office. "Would you like me to put your labia clamps back on as  punishment?"

"No thank you, Sir. I'm good."

"Then get on with it." He leant back against the counter while she parted her pussy lips. "I want to hear you. Be verbal."

Once she got past this, being spanked and playing with herself in the kitchen, she'd feel no more embarrassment.

She moistened a finger and slid it across her clit. Still watching him, she repeated the move several times.

"That's hot," he said.

After a few more strokes, she closed her eyes. As he'd wanted, she expressed herself in whimpers and moans.

"Do you like that, Maggie?"

"Oh, definitely, Mr Tomlinson. My clit is pounding and it feels … " She  tipped her head back. "Damn. So, so good. I'm pretending it's you  touching me."

His cock hardened. Who was being punished here?

He shoved away the wine and went to find his wallet. Where in the hell  had he left it? He found it on a table near the front door. Trying for  the control he was nowhere close to harnessing, he dug out a condom.  Cash spilled out and he didn't care. His mind was filled with one  thing-Maggie. "Such a good sub," he told her when he returned to the  kitchen to find her still toying with her cunt. "I have to have you  now." He shucked his sandals and pants then donned the sheath.

"Mr Tomlinson … "

None of this had been his intention. He'd planned a nice dinner,  conversation in the living room then a long, deep fuck in bed. But the  sight of her in a collar-permanent or not-as she pleasured herself was  too much for any mere mortal man.                       
       
           



       

He removed her from the stool and bent her over it. Their height  difference was a slight challenge. "Feet together and stand on your  toes." He knew that would make the fit even tighter, and he relished it.

David spread his legs wide and parted her buttocks with his palms.

"Sir is so hot," she murmured.

"Sub is slick." He surged up into her welcoming heat. Once he was balls-deep, he reached around to fondle her nipples.

"I'm not going to last long, Mr Tomlinson." She constricted her muscles hard enough that he slid out of her.

"You are so fucking responsive, Maggie. I'm going to keep you cuffed to my bed."