In His Cuffs (3 page)

“I like to win,” he agreed. His plainly stated words took away any further argument. “You and I both know that in any D/s relationship, the sub has the real power. You get to set the rules and the pace. If I don’t agree to your terms, we have no deal.” He paused. “In a way, the tables are turned. It seems to me you should relish that after six months.”

“It won’t be your butt that’s being blistered.”

“Or legs,” he added. “Or shoulders. Or breasts.” He leaned in a fraction of an inch closer.

It stunned her how threatened, how on fire she suddenly felt. He’d barely moved, but she was snared.

“Or pussy,” he said finally.

She pressed herself harder against the wall, needing its support. “I’m not saying I would ever agree to your insane suggestion…”

“Go on.”

“If I did, we wouldn’t talk about it at the office.”

“What happens here, stays here. It will change nothing about our dynamic at the office, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid of anything, David,” she said, her words infused with bravado she was sure he could see through.

Maggie reminded herself she didn’t like him. But damn, there was something about his commanding manner that intrigued her. Every day, she watched him in action. When he wanted something, he pursued it with single-minded determination. A very feminine part of her wondered what it would feel like to be the focus of that attention.

“Do you have your own safe word that you prefer?”

“Halt is fine.”

“How about a word to slow things down?”

“Eclipse.”

He tilted his head to the side.

“I’m more likely to say accelerate,” she told him.

“I wouldn’t have figured you for an extreme player.”

“You think you’re a sage, Mr Tomlinson,” she said. “But you’ve misread a few things about me.”

“I’ll give you that. From the way you behave at the office, I would have taken you for a Domme.”

“It might be fun to strap you to a St Andrew’s cross,” she said, raising one of her waxed eyebrows.

He laughed.

She blinked. During the time she’d known him, she had never heard him laugh. She’d rarely even seen him smile. Was it possible she’d judged him too harshly? Then she recalled the way he’d even provided the ballpoint pen for her to sign the hated employment agreement. “I’ll take that as a no, then.”

“Not a chance in hell,” he affirmed. “The only one feeling a lash will be you. And feel it you will.”

Before she could respond to his flat, arrogant statement, he continued, “I assure you I will be very observant about your reactions.” He captured her chin and tipped her head back. “I want to know what quickens your pulse. I’ll find out what dampens your panties. I want to know all of your erotic sounds and what each means.”

She wished she had met him here first, that she’d seen him as an exciting Dom, felt the connection and agreed to scene. But she couldn’t pretend their relationship wasn’t already laden with hostility and distrust.

“For tonight,” he reminded her. “Just tonight. Say yes, Maggie mine.”

If she was smart, she’d tell him no. She shouldn’t want this, him. But every nerve ending zinged. Desire won the battle over common sense. “Yes.” She nodded.

Desire seemed to flare in his eyes, widening them. “Good,” he said.

He released her and stepped back.

She was grateful for the physical space. This close, she noticed how male he was, sexy, sensual and threatening.

“Any hard limits?” he asked.

This part of a negotiation was familiar, and she relaxed into it. She was good at asking for what she wanted. “No blood, edgeplay, permanent marks.”

“How about formal protocols?”

She’d had enough experience to know that Doms differed on what that meant. But in this setting, since they weren’t a couple, she doubted he would ask for anything she’d find objectionable. “If it suits you, I’m okay with it.”

“We’ll observe some, but I don’t require strict adherence. I want you to communicate.”

She nodded.

“What are your limits around humiliation?”

“As long as I’m not left alone for long periods, I’m fine.”

“I won’t leave you alone, ever. If you’re suffering for me, I want to watch and enjoy every moment of it.”

There was something about the huskiness in his voice—part promise, part threat—that made her tremble. She looked at him. The set of his jaw emphasised the seriousness of his words.

Maggie would have never suspected she’d willingly experience anguish for David Tomlinson, even offer herself to him, but in this moment, there was nothing she wanted more.

“And suffer you will, Maggie,” he promised.

Chapter Two

Maggie froze as David reached forward to tuck a few stray strands of hair behind her ear.

His gesture was tender, a contradiction to what she knew lay ahead.

“Your wristband indicates you’re open to having sex, but given the nature of our relationship, I think we should discuss it.” He lowered his hand to trace a finger around the top of her collar.

Goosebumps ran up her arms. His touch was a distraction, and his question loomed large. She considered her answer.

She’d have to face him on Monday morning and every day for over a year. Maggie hated awkward emotional entanglements, so she’d never slept with anyone she worked with. She also knew she could compartmentalise with the best of them. “We’re both adults,” she said. “If the scene leads to sex, and it feels like a natural progression, I’m sure there won’t be any repercussions.”

“I want to be very clear about this.” He slid his finger beneath the collar. “You’re open to it?”

“Yes.” She nodded.

“I can fuck you as hard and as long as I want?”

The words, so raw, natural, caught her off guard. “I thought you were a House Monitor. Don’t you have things you need to do?”

“I’m off duty for the next two hours.”

“Master Damien agreed to that?”

“I asked for three. We compromised at two.” With his fingertip, he drew her a little closer.

“Pretty sure of yourself,” she said. “No one can sustain a scene for that long.”

“We’re wasting time. Anything else you want to discuss before I take you downstairs?”

“Ah…” The moment was here. It was real. And she really had no doubts. “I’m good.”

He waited a few seconds before nodding. “In that case, let’s get to my rules.”

Maggie laughed a little. “I knew there was a catch.”

“You’re comfortable calling me Mr Tomlinson, you can use that in addition to Sir.”

She scowled. She used Mr Tomlinson to drive distance between them, not as a term of respect. Calling him that would alter their dynamic. “Well played,” she said.

“Any objections to that?”

“No.”

“I expect straightforward communication and honest answers to any questions I ask.”

“Sounds fair.”

“If you’re ready, I think it’s about time to get on with it.”

She nodded.

“Please respond verbally.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he prompted.

“Yes, Mr Tomlinson.”

He looked over his shoulder and signalled to Brandy. The sub moved towards them, and he released his hold on Maggie’s collar. Instead of letting her go, he rested his fingertips on her shoulder. She felt the warmth and firmness of his touch even through the fabric of her shirt.

She appreciated that he hadn’t let go of her completely. She’d said she didn’t like to be left alone for extended periods, and he seemed to have extrapolated from there, figuring she liked constant assurance from her Dom.

Until now, she hadn’t realised how nice that was.

“Please fetch me a leash,” he said when Brandy joined them. “And my personal bag was checked when I arrived. Brown leather. I’d like that as well.”

“Of course, Master David.”

Maggie had never been leashed. She’d bought the sparkly, hot-pink leather strip for show. She hadn’t anticipated it would actually be used as a collar.

Within a minute, the blonde sub returned. With her head bowed, she extended the items he’d requested.

David thanked the woman. He placed the toy bag on the floor then accepted the black nylon lead.

With a quick curtsey, Brandy left them.

Maggie’s gaze was fixated on the lead. His motions were quick and efficient as he attached it in place.

“I’ll expect you to keep the tension taut so that you keep the appropriate distance between us,” he told her. “Please keep your hands behind your back, except for when we are on the stairs. Your safety matters, so I want you to hold onto the banister. Do you have any problems with my instructions?”

“No…Mr Tomlinson.” Damn, the formality of the address, especially minus her implied sarcasm, sounded odd. But she was sure it had his desired effect. They were Dom and sub, not co-workers, not friends.

“Say that again, please,” he instructed.

He’d spoken softly, but with a steel undertone. With her, it was far, far more effective than if he’d been harsh. She looked at him. Her heart rate decreased as she began to slip into a submissive mindset. “I understand your instructions, Mr Tomlinson, and I have no problem with them.”

“Very good.”

His approval made her relax her shoulders.

“You look very pretty on my leash, Maggie.”

“I… Thank you, Mr Tomlinson.” Resisting the urge to tug on the hem of her skirt and cover herself, she laced her hands at the small of her back.

He wrapped the length of nylon around his hand twice, obviously planning to keep her close. “Ready?”

“Yes, Mr Tomlinson.”

With a brief nod, he turned and began to walk.

It took her a couple of steps to match his pace and get accustomed to being led. No one paid attention to them as they moved through the main level of the luxurious mountain retreat.

At the top of the stairs, he gave the leash some slack. He descended slowly, and she appreciated his thoughtfulness.

The main room of the house’s dungeon also had a number of people gathered around. A kneeling sub was attached to a ring on the wall. A couple waited for beverages in front of the bar, and servers moved through the space, carrying bottles of water and more trays filled with delicacies.

Master Damien walked over to talk to them. “I see Maggie has agreed to play with you.”

The house owner looked at her, rather than David. She knew Master Damien was checking on her, giving her an out. “I did, Sir,” she told him.

“He’ll make you cry,” Master Damien warned.

She hazarded a quick glance at her Dom for the evening.

David shrugged. “It has happened once or twice.”

“As you know, Sir,” she said to Master Damien, “I don’t cry.”

“I’m afraid you might have just issued a challenge,” Master Damien said with a quick grin.

This man was an enigma to her. Although she saw him every time she came to the Den, she knew very little about him. Sometimes he wore a suit, other times he was much more casual in jeans and a T-shirt. Tonight he wore slacks and a black lightweight sweater.

On occasion, she’d seen him with his hair pulled back and secured with a thin strip of leather. Tonight it was loose, with the ends curled against his collar.

Rumours about him were rampant. The only thing people were pretty sure about was the fact he lived in seclusion. She’d heard he had another job and spent some time at the Den, but didn’t call it home. Everything beyond that was wild speculation. He’d either had a sub who’d shattered his soul or he was heartless to begin with and had never allowed anyone close.

All she knew was that she appreciated the way he ran the house. Nothing happened here without Gregorio or Master Damien knowing about it. Some of the playrooms had an exposed wall in case the players wanted to be seen. Other places had doors for privacy, but even then, there were windows so that someone could periodically check on the sub’s safety.

To her knowledge, no one had ever witnessed Master Damien participating in a scene. Maggie knew she wasn’t the only one who’d wanted to play with him.

“Is there a private room available?” David asked.

“First door on the right.”

David wound up the leash again, bringing her in close. “I’d like you to keep your hands behind your back,” he reminded her.

She immediately did as requested, but he continued to regard her. “Yes, Mr Tomlinson,” she said. While she was accustomed to having Master Damien look in on her scenes, being corrected in front of him embarrassed her. She looked at the floor, wishing it would open up so she could disappear.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Master Damien said.

“Thank you,” David replied, answering for both of them.

She felt a tug on her leash. It had the effect of yanking her out of her musings and refocusing her on her submission. She forgot about herself and her feelings as she followed him down the hallway.

Once he had led her to the room and the reality of what they were about to do set in, the first tendrils of nerves rippled through her.

From her numerous visits, the room was familiar. Each of the play spaces had similarities—they were all stocked with cuffs and various spanking implements. But each room also catered to a different form of play. This one had a table that resembled something out of a doctor’s office, but not exactly. There appeared to be a cradle for her head, so that she could safely be situated facedown. In that way, it looked more like something a massage therapist would use.

Like a table in a doctor’s office, it had a small shelf that could be slid back, leaving her bottom hanging suspended. How much pressure she’d be under would depend entirely on how he secured her. There were attachments that could be extended for her heels. She had no idea how he intended to use the piece of furniture, but the numerous possibilities intrigued her as much as they made her anxious.

He closed the door behind them.

She knew the walls had been soundproofed. It could be disconcerting to others to overhear screaming, and when she was the one screaming, she liked having some privacy. Since the Den also served as a studio for exclusive video shoots, keeping down outside noise was important. Despite the extensive efforts, the walls still seemed to softly vibrate from Evan C’s band.