Re/Paired (Doms of the FBI Book 2) (12 page)

The edge of impatience tightened in the lines around his mouth. “Master.”

For some reason, probably his relaxed demeanor and the fact that he was taking the time to explain things to her, she’d thought they’d suspended protocol. “I’m sorry, Master. I appreciate your patience.”

The line, something they’d joked about as being a snarky way for companies who kept customers on hold to remind them who was really in charge, elicited a raised brow from him. She’d meant it, but there was no way to say it without sounding a little condescending.

When his expression didn’t change, she scrambled to do some damage control. “Seriously, Master. I meant that. You are very patient. And a little scary.”

He lowered his face to hers and nipped her lower lip. “Scary means you don’t trust me. I’d never do anything I didn’t think you could handle.”

She knew that. She also knew he probably had some pretty insidious plans. While she might be able to handle whatever he threw her way, that didn’t mean she didn’t fear it. “I do trust you, Master. But I know you too well to think you didn’t mean it when you said you got off on causing pain. That’s a little scary to me, but not enough to make me chicken out.”

The raw desire on his face when he’d put those clamps on her had only underlined his sadistic tendencies. And she’d really liked being on the receiving end.

Instead of responding or letting her study his nonverbal reaction, he closed the distance and kissed her. It was a long, thorough kiss, the kind that possessed and controlled without being violent.

When he changed the tempo, fucking his tongue into her mouth and then trailing a series of sucking bites down her neck, she responded on a primal level. Writhing under his slow attack, she sought both to escape the stinging points of contact and to bring him closer. She couldn’t help but notice how her desperate movements solidified his hard-on.

“Don’t ever hide or fake your reactions.” He sucked her nipple into his mouth, trapping it between his teeth and tongue before letting it go. “I need to be able to read you at all times. If you hide things, it makes it difficult to read you, which can lead to some unintended consequences.” Back and forth, he tortured her breasts until she cried out.

He regarded her expectantly. She stared back, uncertain what he wanted. At last she said, “Yes, Master.”

That seemed to satisfy him. It dawned on her that he’d asked her to bare herself to him. He’d warned her that he’d ask for everything from her and give nothing in return. She wondered if he considered this request a step in that direction. The irony nearly made her laugh. He wanted to know her reactions so he could make sure the scenes were good for them both. While he didn’t say as much, he had already taken steps to get to know her body in a way no other man had. He’d spent the evening studying her reactions, planning his next move based on what he thought she wanted.

And he presented it as a selfish thing. Only Keith would see it that way.

He knelt up and hauled her with him. “On your knees. Face the headboard. I’m going to bind your arms and legs first, and then I’m going to make you scream and possibly beg.” He said it in the same matter-of-fact tone he used during depositions. No emotion, just facts. Somehow that made it all the more sinister, which caused another rush of desire to tingle through her system.

The headboard of her bed consisted of a series of slats. He took the padded cuffs from the spreader bar and put them back around her wrists. Instead of using the snaps to attach them, he threaded a few feet of rope through the snap on one, around a center slat, and through the other snap. When he finished, she had enough leeway to wrap her hands around the long, rectangular top piece, which meant she could only move them inches away from where he’d tied her.

He grabbed the pillows from the bed and tossed them on the chair next to her door. Then he pulled her back so that she had to bend forward and rest her weight on the headboard to stay upright. When she was in the perfect, exposed position, he guided her legs farther apart.

From his bag of tricks, he extracted a length of rope that was at least an inch in diameter. He wrapped it around the middle of her left thigh and secured it to the bed frame beneath the mattress. With a second line, he secured her other leg in the same fashion.

Though she was only bound at three points, she found it surprisingly difficult to move. The position of her arms meant she couldn’t rest back on her heels, and her body was effectively held in place by the ropes on her legs, so she couldn’t scoot forward to find a different balance. She was stuck, legs spread wide apart, exactly how he wanted. He moved around her, checking and rechecking the places where things wrapped around her body. “If you experience numbness or tingling in your hands, wrists, legs, or feet, call yellow and tell me what’s going on. Got it?”

“Yes, Master.” Right now her pussy was the only thing tingling, and he hadn’t indicated that he had plans for it.

He held up a strip of black leather studded with metal loops and rivets, and she recognized it as a bondage collar. Without asking permission, he buckled it into place and checked the fit. As he stared at her, a bit of peace settled into his eyes. He nodded, a quick action heavy with finality. “This means you’re mine.”

Katrina swallowed, and the weight of the collar shifted with the movement. It was odd, heavy and bulky, almost alien. At the same time, a place deep inside responded to this show of possession. For the first time, she felt like they weren’t just playing a game. This was for real. She would grow accustomed to the collar.

He hadn’t asked a question, so she didn’t respond. Not that it mattered. He’d already turned back to his bag and was fishing around inside for something else.

She gasped when he dumped a bag of stainless steel clothespins on the bed next to her knee. Several slid into the indent she made and bumped into her skin. They were cool to the touch. She’d only ever seen clothespins made from wood or plastic. She’d clamped them on her skin before. Sometimes they hurt, especially when they were pulled off. Something about these being metal lent them a menacing quality. She shivered, half in fear and half in anticipation.

Keith climbed onto the bed and knelt so that he was facing her, yet his entire consideration went to her chest. Tied to the bed, bound into position, she had become his plaything, just as he’d warned her. Excitement curled low in her belly, but she wasn’t sure she should embrace it. If she consented to being objectified like this, did she have to turn in her feminist card?

He plumped one breast, squeezing and kneading the tenderized flesh.

Unable to help it, she hazarded a glance at those menacing steel torture tools. That was when she noticed he was wearing pants.

“You got dressed?” That came out sounding a little more upset than she’d intended. She tried to make amends with the way she added his title. “Master.”

His lips curled in that sinfully sexy smile that stopped her heart every time she saw it. He didn’t otherwise answer. Thinking about it, she realized it was another way to emphasize the power shift. She was naked and powerless. He was clothed and dominant. When she considered that perspective, she was less upset.

While she was distracted by her need to rationalize everything, he clipped the first clothespin onto her nipple. It exerted less pressure than the clamp, but it still pinched. When she’d experimented with clothespins before, she hadn’t tried them on areas that were this tender. Her mistake.

He pinched the skin on her breast just below the nipple, pulling at the area he’d already pinned and making it burn a little. Then he attached another clothespin. Circling her breast, he attached two more. Now she had four total, each working against the other to simultaneously pull and pinch. Every breath she took aided the nefarious configuration. It stimulated, but it hurt too.

By the time he started on her other breast, the pain had grown disproportionately to the pleasure she derived from the pinch. Using the breathing technique he taught didn’t help, because the rise and fall of her chest exacerbated the situation. She wanted him to remove the clothespins. Frustration built, and she snapped at him.

“What is it with you and breasts? Do you have a boob fetish?”

He glanced up, clinical curiosity his only apparent reaction. He studied her, no doubt noting the way her lips trembled. “Not really. I do prefer smaller sizes. Too big and it’s difficult to find the right combination to produce the pleasure/pain sensations I’m after.”

He wasn’t finding the right combination now. Her breasts felt like they were on fire. She only felt the pain. Clothespins on her nipples wouldn’t have caused this distress. Earlier, with the clamps, Keith had established her love of that kind of stimulation. These additions just hurt.

She had no problem remembering her place. He’d seen to that when he bound her like this. “Master, this hurts. It doesn’t feel good at all.”

He finished and leaned back to survey his work. A satisfied smile settled on his mouth. “Perfect.”

He flickered his gaze between her face and her chest. Then he brought his hand up and brushed his thumb across her cheekbone. She felt the wetness of a tear. She hadn’t been aware it had fallen.

“Beautiful.” He kissed her lightly, reverently, and she realized exactly how much he loved seeing her like this. “Just wait. It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

It was a hollow assurance. A glance down showed a mountain of desire tenting his pants. She hoped he lost control of it before she started sobbing like a baby.

He disappeared behind her only to reappear as he shouldered his way between her legs. Leaning up on his elbows, he buried his face in her cunt. He licked her wetness, fucked her hole with his tongue, and circled her clit with his thumb. She liked the way he dived right in and set about his task with urgency and passion. The rush of pleasure took her mind away from the pain in her breasts. It was still there, but it mattered less.

Taking a chance, she rocked against his face. The bindings had left her with a little wiggle room there, and she used it to her advantage. He moaned and matched her rhythm. The vibration triggered a small orgasm, and her vagina convulsed around nothing. She’d had no idea she was that close. Air hissed through her teeth, the only outward sign that she’d inadvertently gained completion without permission.

He dropped down and rested on his back between her legs. She thought he was waiting for her to come down from her climax, but he reached for a clothespin and closed it on one edge of her labia. It hurt in a different way than on her breasts, maybe because she was more sensitive there. Tears immediately welled and fell from her eyes.

“Son of a bitch.” She hissed the oath. There was no way he could think she was calling him names, though it might come to that before they were through.

But if he heard, he didn’t show it. Slowly, methodically, he clipped two more clothespins to that side of her labia. Each ratcheted up the pain factor. Then he evened out the torture by attaching three to the opposite side. She couldn’t stand it. He might think she was capable of withstanding—or even enjoying—this kind of agony, but he was wrong.

Trying to escape the burning pain on her chest and between her legs, she jerked against her bonds. “Master, please take them off. They hurt too much.”

He wiggled out from between her legs and put the rest of the pins into their bag. “No. You can handle this, Kitty Kat. You’re brave and strong. Breathe through it.”

Breathing through it made it hurt even more. She lost her temper. “Son of a bitch. Take them off.” Now she was calling him names, and he took it that way.

He leaned against her bedpost and crossed his arms. “That’s no way to talk to your Master. I just gave you an orgasm, and I didn’t even make you ask for it.”

And he’d given her loads of fiery pain. She choked on a combination of tears and rage. All week she’d been upset and more than a little pissed at him for turning her down and forcing her to have a conversation with Dustin she’d never wanted to have. For over a decade, she’d lusted after Keith and loved him from afar. And then last night when she’d called him to tell him someone had been in her apartment, he’d treated her like she’d fabricated the whole experience. Now he was calmly persecuting her just for the fun of it.

Those feelings came barreling out. She called him every combination of horrible names she could think up, and then she accused him of lacking any kind of compassion. “You’re inhuman. That’s what you are.”

He leaned close and licked the trail of tears on her cheek. “Yes, Kat. I am. It’s important you understand that about me. I’m not the kind of man you think I am. Call red, and I’ll stop everything. I’ll take off the clothespins. I’ll untie you. I’ll wrap you in a blanket and hold you until you feel better.”

His quiet acceptance caught her off guard, and she realized the danger inherent in his game. If she cried off, she would confirm that his initial reaction had been the correct decision. They weren’t compatible. She couldn’t let him win that way. Perhaps she didn’t particularly like this, but there were plenty of other ways he could pleasantly torture her.

“No.” She shook her head to emphasize her point. “I can take this. I don’t have to like it.”
A submissive endures pain for the pleasure of her Master
. She repeated that to herself silently.

He gave her that same sinful grin, and she melted a lot. Then he smacked a powerful kiss on her lips. “Slave, would it help to know the pleasure is always greater than the pain?”