In His Cuffs(28)

He attached her cuffs to the hooks, spreading her body wide. "Would you like a gag or would you rather scream the house down?"                       
       
           



       

"Those are big words, Mr Tomlinson."

"I'll back them up." He'd heard the teasing note in her retort.  Interesting that he already recognised the difference in her tone when  something was bothering her and when she was goading him to give her  everything she wanted. "Lower your head and open your mouth."

She drew her eyebrows together but did as she was told. He picked up the  chain that dangled between her clamps and placed it between her teeth.  "Don't let go."

Her eyes were wide. Every movement would drag on the chain. He hoped it  would be an experience she'd never forget. "How are you doing, sub?" he  asked, tucking wayward strands of her hair behind her ears.

She murmured something, turning her cheek against his hand for comfort.

He stepped away from her, and she tracked him with her gaze. In that  position, she was hobbled and gagged and about to endure something he  was willing to bet she'd never dealt with before.

David picked up his flogger and approached her. "Let go of that chain at any time to signal that the scene is too much."

In his cuffs, she formed a circle with her thumb and index finger, indicating everything was okay. "I'll start slow."

With a back-and-forth flicking motion, he flogged her belly and pelvis,  shifting his stance so he could catch her already-swollen labia.

She moaned and pulled against the restraints, but she didn't release the  chain, and she kept her hand curled in the same position.

He fell into a rhythm as he went up and down her lower torso. She closed  her eyes in total surrender. He continued with the same motions, using  more or less the same amount of pressure, letting her know what to  expect. This was about nothing other than her pleasure.

Then, wanting to strike her breasts with more force and not worry about  touching her face, he transferred the multi-strand whip to his left  hand. "Let it go," he told her, reaching for the chain.

She did and said, "Thank you."

"Your manners are exquisite." He resumed the beating with more vigour,  searing her breasts and jostling the clamps to the point she whimpered  from the pain.

Her face flushed and perspiration covered her body.

"You've got some beautiful marks," he said. "You may not see them by  Monday, but you'll enjoy them for the rest of the night and, I'm  guessing, all of tomorrow." He hadn't paused, and she hadn't asked him  to. Rather, she'd allowed her head to rest against the slats behind her.

Was Maggie nearing subspace again, and so fast?

Damn, her ability to shove aside everything else, but the moment  astounded him. He understood how this could be cathartic to her,  satisfying her in a way that exercise did for him. No wonder she looked  forward to her outings at the Den. Subspace wasn't a vague idea to her,  it was a destination she headed for.

He kept her there for a while, criss-crossing her body and leaving  behind vivid streaks of red. She allowed the restraints to take more of  her weight as she leaned into the lashing. He spoke to her non-stop, and  two minutes after her last verbal response, he eased off, lengthening  the time between blows and softening the impact. "Stay where you are,"  he told her. "I've got you."

After tossing aside the flogger, he unfastened her ankles, then released  her wrists. Her body sagged, and he caught her in his embrace, carrying  her up the stairs to the living room. Still holding her, he sat on the  couch. He debated what to do about her clamps before deciding to leave  them in place. Soon they'd become uncomfortable enough for her to remove  them herself.

Smoothing her hair and holding her tight, he matched her breathing.  Then, when they were in synch, he led her into a shallower pattern.

She began to stir. He couldn't make out her first words, but it didn't  matter. Before long, she reached for the clamps, but she lacked the fine  motor skills to release the tips. He brushed aside her hands and  removed both at the same time.

"Yowzer," she said, punctuating the word with a short yelp.

"Welcome back."

"You're worse than an alarm clock," she told him. "I'm hitting the snooze button."

He grinned as she settled against him again.

She was quiet for so long, he began to wonder if she was asleep. A few minutes later she said, "That was spectacular."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it. So did I. No real lingering pain from the beating?"

"Not at all. My body feels like it's glowing," she said. "This might  sound odd, but I'm relaxed, and I'm invigorated at the same time."

"Go on."                       
       
           



       

"I don't go there all the time, but I like to. You're particularly  skilled at what you do." She looked at him. "I think I had my eyes  closed during the flogging."

"You did."

"It's strange."

She stopped and started, explaining things in fragments, and he allowed her to talk at her own pace without interruption.

"Once I stop fighting, let my body accept it, everything seemed  brighter. Not just light, but a blinding white. Sounds …  They seem to be a  million miles away. I hear you when you say my name. But otherwise …  The  real world has no distinction. I guess it's like being in a swimming  pool." She was silent before adding. "Thank you for the experience."

"Pleasing you matters to me, Maggie mine."

She was quiet again for a long time, and he skimmed a thin red stripe that marred her shoulder.

"I think I should buy stock in a company that manufactures arnica."

"I don't mind skipping it."

"Sorry. That's not an option."

"I want to keep a couple of marks so I can remember the experience."

And get her through the time to the next scene? "We can talk about that.  But I won't have you walking around with painful bruises."

"Spoilsport, Mr Tomlinson."

"A Dom, Ms Carpenter. Your Dom."

She exhaled a long-suffering sigh and protested, "Just because you have me in a collar-"

"And cuffs."

"And cuffs," she repeated.

"And in my house."

"Are you done yet?" She pursed her lips. "None of that means you get to boss me around."

"Yes. I'm afraid it does."

She looked up and dug her hand into his hair. It was her first real,  intimate gesture, and it meant something powerful to him. She trailed  her fingers down his cheekbone and settled on his chin. "You're  insufferable, Sir."

Insufferable enough, evidently, for her to move her hand lower to stroke his biceps.

"I'm glad," she admitted.

He raised his eyebrows.

"There's a certain comfort in that," she said. "Which I wouldn't admit  if I hadn't had that wonderful experience. If you bring it up again,  I'll deny I said it."

"I wouldn't expect anything else from you."

"Keep that arm in flogging order for me, will you?"

"Your wish is my command, princess."

"Do you need arnica for your wrist?"

"After your next spanking, I might." He upended her, tossing her over his lap.

"You wouldn't!" She brought her hands back to protect her butt.

He swatted them aside, and before she could protest, he plucked the plug from her anus.

"That was diabolical."

"That averted a pointless debate," he countered. He eased her from his  lap and went into the powder room. He brought back a washcloth and  cleansed her before returning to the bathroom.

"I'm not sure I'll ever get over you doing that for me," she confessed  as he sat next to her and held her close again, mindful that she didn't  catch a chill now that her body was cooling.

"You said that as if you think you have any say in the matter."

"Mr Tomlinson-"

"Master," he corrected. "Master David." In his arms, she froze. Time seemed to teeter on a precipice of disaster.

"I …  Ah … "

He breathed out and the moment lurched forwards.

"You have no issue with using the title when you address Master Damien,  or other Doms for that matter. I won't demand it of you, but when you're  ready to show the courtesy, it will be well-received."

"I'm not sure what to say. I mean no disrespect, but Mr Tomlinson seems  unique and fitting." She raised her palms as if beseeching him to  understand. "It's what I call you. To me, it is a term of respect. At  the beginning … " She looked away. "Damn, I feel bad saying this …  In the  beginning, maybe it wasn't. But it is now. When we're alone, it's … " She  seemed to stumble for the word. "Different. I'm not making myself  understood, but the distinction is clear in my mind."