David sat her up and drew her against his chest. Her limbs felt numb, so when he placed her head against his shoulder, she didn't protest.
He stroked her hair and said words that sounded nonsensical.
She heard the steady thud of his heart, and it gave her comfort.
"I'm going to take off the clamps," he told her. "Hopefully your nipples are sore enough that my touching them later will hurt."
He cupped her right breast tightly and parted the rubber-tipped clamp. He pinched her nipple and squeezed it several times, allowing circulation to return by measures.
"Ah … Thank you, Mr Tomlinson." Often her Doms released the clamps and allowed blood to rush back in painfully.
He repeated the process with the other side.
By the time he finished, she was holding herself away from him a bit.
"How was your spanking?"
She gazed into his eyes. This was somehow more intimate than having her pussy exposed to him. She inhaled his scent.
His chest was more than broad, it was inviting. The HM band emphasised the ripple of his biceps. If she were the type of woman to lean on a man, she'd be tempted to rest against him again.
As he had earlier, he pushed hair back from her face. His eyebrows were furrowed. She fought an insane urge to smooth his forehead. Instead she clasped her hands together. "Fine, Mr Tomlinson," she said.
"Fine?"
Remembering he'd mentioned protocols earlier, she added, "Thank you for your attention."
"You wouldn't be punished for that omission since I hadn't instructed you beforehand. Rules must be understood ahead of time. Still, good manners are always appropriate behaviour. Continue about the spanking."
"I haven't experienced anything quite like it."
"In what way?"
"I've never had a punishment, only a scene."
"I told you I've imagined having you over my knee. And it wasn't erotic and meant to get you off, but it was far from punitive."
"Mr Tomlinson?"
"We don't have a permanent relationship. Therefore, I am not in the position to mete our actual punishment. This spanking wasn't delivered with the idea of correcting persistent or offensive behaviour. Well, maybe the offensive behaviour." His quick smile took any sting from his words. "If I had punished you, you would have known it. There would have been no pleasure in it at all."
"So … "
"It was more of a test, than anything."
She frowned.
"I wanted to gauge your reactions, see what you disliked, what you liked, notice how your skin responded, where you're most sensitive, what made you wince or cry out or sigh." He threaded his fingers into her hair and pulled back her head.
"Did I pass the test?" she asked.
"Princess, you could not have failed."
Again, words that took her off guard. Was he simply a very considerate Dom? Or a man deeper than she'd believed possible from what she knew about him?
Another thought followed that. He'd said he was learning about her, but she'd discovered a number of things about him, too. He paid attention to her. He hadn't taken her too far, and he had given her enough that she wasn't rolling her eyes or pretending it was hard enough so that she didn't damage his fragile ego.
"And when you're ready, I want to tie you to the table and torment you."
"Is there an orgasm involved in that?"
"I wouldn't dream of sending you home unsatisfied."
"How about two?" she asked. "Or am I pushing it, Mr Tomlinson?"
"Greedy sub."
"I prefer the word needy," she corrected.
He inclined his head towards the apparatus that came complete with extensions for her limbs. "Shall we find out just how needy?"
Restlessness filled her. The spanking had left her wanting more, emotionally as well as physically. "Yes, please."
He tugged her hair a little harder. "In that case, lie on your back with your head in the cradle." Without another word, he slid her from his lap.
Chapter Three
Damn. This woman, this sub, delighted him.
David watched Maggie's every move, much as he had for the last few months. Ever since he'd first been introduced to her, he'd been partial to her curves and the elegant way she carried herself. The pencil skirts she favoured during business hours were professional, but the way they hugged her full ass inspired some thoughts that were not appropriate in a work environment.
At the office, she kept her black hair pulled back, wore minimal makeup and her shirts were never revealing.
When he'd seen her there tonight, sipping her drink, her hair spilling invitingly over her shoulders, dressed in a short skirt, tight top, platform shoes instead of pumps and topped off with a sparkly collar, he'd looked twice. At first glance, he hadn't been able to believe she was the same woman who challenged him on a daily basis. She'd looked soft and approachable, so different from the woman who'd once entered his office without knocking, slamming the door behind her, making the solid wood jump in its casing.
She'd stalked over on her sensible, I-mean-business-and-won't-be-intimidated-by-you pumps, had planted her hands on top of his polished desk then leaned towards him and threatened to quit if he downsized and released a certain employee.
For five minutes, she'd presented a logical-if heated-case for keeping the overhead so high.
Her passion had captivated him. Her employment contract was ironclad. Her mother would lose out on a significant amount of money if Maggie walked away. That meant she had a lot to lose. So if she were willing to put that on the line for a co-worker, he'd listen.
She'd convinced him. To her credit, she had not gloated.
From that confrontation, amongst others, he'd taken her for a strait-laced, if not uptight, woman who might be sexually repressed. That hadn't stopped him from imagining her luscious ass upturned over his lap as he spanked her. On many occasions, he'd jacked off in the shower with that picture in his mind, particularly after she had annoyed the hell out of him at work.
Reality surpassed fantasy.
Maggie Carpenter was as intriguing as she was responsive. She had told him earlier that she would encourage him to move faster, but he doubted she would need to. When he'd hit her hard, she'd made mewing sounds and had kicked her legs. It seemed he hadn't got her close to tears, but the blows had definitely been hard enough to secure her attention.
After keeping her waiting in silence for two full minutes, he stood. The chair legs scraped the floor. She didn't try to see what he was doing, but he saw her belly move as she took a breath. "No doubt you've had some formal training," he said as he walked around her.
She followed him with her gaze. "I've had a little bit, Mr Tomlinson. I took some classes at a club in Denver. And I've had relationships that had a few BDSM elements."
He was discovering more and more layers to Maggie. Their remaining time together wouldn't be nearly enough to uncover them all. "Extend your arms."
Unhesitatingly, she did so. He adjusted the table so that her arms were at a gentle stretch, nothing terribly uncomfortable, but not too much give, either. She'd be helpless in her bondage.
"Now your legs," he told her. He tied her ankles then strapped down her thighs. Next, he moved apart the table's legs, so that her pussy was wide open and available. "Too bad I can't keep you like this at the office."
"In your dreams, Mr Tomlinson."
"Yours as well, Ms Carpenter."
She shivered a little. Oh, yes. Doubtless his defiant employee would remember this. Perhaps she'd walk into his office on Monday morning and picture herself over his desk. Or maybe battle a compulsion to strip and kneel for him? It was impossible, he knew, but he couldn't banish the thought. "Are you comfortable enough?"
"It's a bit of a stretch, but nothing that is causing muscle cramps."
"You can squirm without injuring anything?"
"It shouldn't be a problem."
"Shall we find out?" He touched her clit.
She tightened her buttocks and pulled back a little.
"How was that? And I'm not talking about your cunt. I'm asking if you experienced any discomfort in your thighs or arms."
"I'm fine, Sir."
He was going to enjoy this experience immensely. Bringing off the woman who constantly confronted him would be a great pleasure, better, he imagined, than spanking her had been. Listening to her cries as she called his name and begged for his touch would be intoxicating. "I'm planning to flog you, Maggie," he said.
"Thank you, Mr Tomlinson."