Wanting Wilder (16 page)

He kissed her temple, and the caress of his fingers moved down to her shoulder. “I’m glad you trust me. We couldn’t do what we did tonight without that trust. And I’d never keep you tied up for hours on end when you’re not used to it. That’s going overboard, especially for you. You’re quite a fighter. I wouldn’t want you to pull a tendon or anything that would leave you with some kind of physical injury.”

She searched his face for signs that he didn’t like the way she fought. Really, she hadn’t meant to resist, but he’d made her feel such exquisite things that she couldn’t keep still. With the ropes holding her in place and the flogging that stole her will, she hadn’t tempered her reactions at all.

“I didn’t really fight you. I wanted you to do the things you did.”

“I know.” He palmed her breast, alternately squeezing the globe and tweaking her nipple. “Once you get more comfortable with me and you realize you can’t win, I expect you’ll fight more and more. I won’t stop if you don’t use the safe word, Lydia. Remember that. If you truly want to stop, you have to use the safe word.”

She nodded. “Got it.” She sat up and downed the rest of her water. Then she shifted to get out of bed. The lethargy had disappeared, and she needed to use the facilities.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He didn’t grab for her, but the stern expression on his face held her just as tightly as if his hand were clamped on her arm.

She pointed to the open door where he’d gone to wash the gag.

His gaze didn’t waver. “You have to ask first.”

She looked toward the bathroom and processed this information. Did he have some kind of weird hang-up about sharing space with a woman? “I have to ask to use the bathroom?”

He shook his head. “You have to ask to leave the room. Some Doms don’t care if you observe protocol when it’s not an active scene. While I’m okay with you not using my title all the time when we’re more relaxed like this, in a lot of ways, I’m still a lot more formal. If you want anything, whether it’s to leave the room or to ask for a flogging, you must get on your knees and ask.”

This wasn’t something she’d anticipated. He’d prepared her to kneel before him at the beginning of the scene. She understood the symbolism of the act—she was showing him respect and turning over the care of her body to him. But this was too much.

Wasn’t it?

“You may kneel on the bed. I don’t require you to always get on the floor.” He patted the mattress helpfully.

Lydia looked at the place where his hand had come to rest, lifted her gaze back to his, and shook her head. “I’m not asking to go to the bathroom.”

With that, she flounced from the bed, went into the bathroom, and locked the door. The precaution might have been overkill. She couldn’t see him dragging her out of the bathroom, although she knew disobeying would make him mad. It might be cause for him to end the scene. Doms liked to be in control, and she’d rejected his authority.

As she washed her hands, she thought about the strangeness of the situation. Wilder didn’t seem like he was all that domineering. Yes, he’d used her body for his pleasure, but she’d wanted that, and she’d derived a great deal of pleasure from what he’d done to her. And she knew he made sure she climaxed once more before he let himself go.

Why did asking to use the bathroom rankle so much?

She dried her hands and returned to the bedroom, prepared to get dressed. He’d been very clear about the kind of association he wanted to have with her. She grabbed her folded shirt from where he’d placed it on the dresser.

“I didn’t tell you to get dressed. Fold the shirt, put it back, and return to bed.” He spoke softly, no trace of anger in his tone.

She hazarded a look at him. Other than to sip his water, he hadn’t moved from his semireclined position. He patted the mattress again. She didn’t miss the steel of his authority. Wordlessly she did as he said. She didn’t know why she followed his orders, only that she did.

He put his arm back around her and pulled her against him so they were once again snuggled close. Lydia sat stiffly.

“Relax.” He rubbed his palm over her arm. “I won’t punish you until you understand exactly why you’re being punished, and you accept it.”

She twisted to better see his face. “I have to accept a punishment before you’ll administer it?”

He nodded. “And you have to understand the reason for it.”

She searched his eyes, but she only found tranquility in his clear blue gaze. “You’re not angry, but you want to punish me. I don’t understand.”

“I know. That’s why I let you go in the first place.” He brushed a kiss across her lips, and his gentle warmth permeated her cooled flesh. “You lack training. I want to train you. I want to show you what it’s like to be my cherished submissive.”

His. He wanted to show her what it was like to belong to him. She wanted that too. She never thought of herself as the type to fall head over feet for some guy she met on a spring break trip, but here she was, nestled in his embrace. “Okay. Help me understand why I have to ask to go to the bathroom.”

Amusement glinted from his eyes. She liked that look on him. He sat up a little more and shifted her to sit across his lap. He cradled her in his arms.

“It’s about respect.”

She wanted to echo the last word as a question, but she knew when to keep quiet. If she wanted answers, she was going to need to listen.

“In a D/s relationship, the sub gives control to her Dom. She gives him control over her pleasure, her pain, and her body. He is entrusted with caring for her, making sure she gets the pain she needs and the pleasure she craves. One of the more overlooked aspects is control of the body.”

He lifted a strand of her hair and fanned it between his fingers. Being part of her weave, it wasn’t technically her hair. But it looked good, and she didn’t have to straighten it, and that was all she cared about.

“While pleasure is mostly about sex, and pain often plays a role in that, control of the body isn’t restricted to sex. It’s so much more than that. When you give control to me, I’m taking on the responsibility for your physical and emotional well-being.”

She hadn’t asked for that. “Why would you want to take on responsibility for the physical and emotional well-being of someone you just met?”

He twisted his hand in the hair at the base of her skull and held her immobile. “It doesn’t feel like we just met. I can’t explain why I feel connected to you any more than you can. We can just acknowledge the facts and proceed accordingly.”

It was refreshing to know he felt it too, that she wasn’t the only one in the room falling hard. She nodded the best she could with his hand twisted in her hair. “But even when people have been together for years, they don’t want to have that much responsibility for the other person.”

“That’s tragic.” He brushed soft kisses over her cheeks and eyelids. “I can’t imagine spending my life with someone and not wanting to see to their health and happiness.”

His romanticism stole her breath, even as she realized his vision of a D/s relationship was very one-sided. “What about you? Who makes sure you’re happy and healthy?”

“You do.” He kissed her then, plunging his tongue into her mouth and claiming possession. He used the hand not tangled in her hair to caress her ass.

When he broke the kiss and pulled away, she mewled in protest.

“You take responsibility by doing what I say, when I say, and how I say. The particulars of all that are negotiated. I don’t make the mistake of thinking it’s all about me, but I also don’t harbor the illusion that I’ll be happy with anything less than a submissive who lives to please me.”

She felt connected to him, but she couldn’t say she lived to please him. Did she want to please him? Yes. But not at the expense of her happiness. “Wilder, I’m not a doormat. I don’t live to please anyone but myself.”

He chuckled. “I’m not looking for a doormat. I’m looking for a woman who can appreciate that I need to be in charge, who is a bit of a masochist, who likes to be tied up, who is intelligent, beautiful, willing to try new things. And who understands what it means to submit.” He sobered completely at that last part.

What he said appealed to her. She didn’t quite understand why, but she knew she didn’t have to figure it out right then and there. She sat up, pushing her hands against his chest to put a little distance between them. “What if I never understand it the way you need me to?”

Without moving closer, he sat up a little straighter. “You already do. That’s what drew me to you. That’s why I’m taking the time to talk through this with you instead of letting you get dressed so I can take you back to your hotel room.”

She thought about all he’d said and all the desires he’d uncovered. The short amount of time meant it was a little overwhelming. Still, she didn’t want to walk away from him or from what was happening between them. “I want to learn to please you.”

He regarded her somberly, and she knew the moment of truth had come. “It would please me if you would explain why what you did deserves punishment.”

Pieces of logic, connections to past and present, came to her. “Leaving the room without your permission was disrespectful.” She swallowed. “More than that, I threw my refusal to ask in your face. If you were a stranger and we were just casually chatting, I would have excused myself before leaving. You’re so much more than a stranger, and you deserve even more consideration. I’m sorry, Sir.”

And she was. She recognized that she wasn’t asking to use the bathroom. She was asking to be excused from their interaction. It was Manners 101, and she’d failed.

“I accept your apology, my sweet. Now I want you to accept your punishment. Spanking. Five strokes.”

Lydia started at his pronouncement. After all he’d done to her, he expected five smacks of his hand against her ass to be suitable for chastisement? “Five, Sir?”

He nodded. “Get on your knees and ask for it.”

She looked at the bed, and then she shifted her gaze to the floor. Which would he expect? Since this was a punishment, he probably wanted to see her as low as she could get. She slid from his lap and knelt on the floor. It felt different from before. When they’d entered the room and she’d presented herself to him, she hadn’t felt the shame she felt now. She’d felt sexy and proud; excitement and anticipation had tingled through her nerves.

“Sir, I’m sorry I disobeyed, and I’m sorry I left without your permission. I accept your punishment.” As she said the words, a weight lifted from her shoulders. She’d apologized already, and he’d accepted, but this was different. The position, the marking of this moment brought her absolution. For the first time, she knew she wouldn’t spend hours replaying her mistake through her head and berating herself. She would be able to put this incident behind her and move forward with a clean soul.

“Come back up here, Lydia. Lie across my lap with that gorgeous ass where I can reach it.” He shifted to the center of the bed. She scrambled up and put herself where he indicated. He caressed the cooled skin of her ass, raising gooseflesh. Her pussy grew moist, and her clit throbbed with need.

“Stretch your arms up, and grip the edge of the bed. This is going to hurt. Bury your face in the covers to stifle the sounds of your screams.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that his directive had a chilling effect on her. Any romanticism or eroticism disappeared. She could see where she might enjoy a good, thorough spanking from him, but not like this. Not under these circumstances.

And then she understood the difference between punishment and pleasure. It was all in the intention. “Yes, Sir.”

He didn’t rush the spanking, and he didn’t make her count. The first blow took her breath. It was no harder than he’d struck her before, but it was definitely a disparate event. When he finished, he turned her around, cradled her in his arms, and wiped away a stray tear. “You took that very well. I’m proud of you.”

She wasn’t, not by a long shot. “You’re not angry?”

He shook his head. “I’ll never discipline you in anger. Anger drives people to make poor decisions. Plus, I expect you to make mistakes. As long as you take responsibility and learn from them, I won’t stay angry with you.”

“What about when you make mistakes?” How in the world did one go about punishing a Dom?

“I’ll take responsibility and apologize.”

Now that her punishment was over, she truly felt like she could move on. She grinned at him impishly. “And I get to spank you?”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Would you want to?”

She thought about that, considering it quite seriously. She could not imagine taking her hand or a paddle or anything else to his ass. “No. I think I’d rather have you figure out how to make it up to me.”

From the look on his face, she realized how perfectly compatible they were. He looked like he’d rather die than fail to rectify a mistake. So would she.

Reaching up, she smoothed her fingertip over his eyebrows and down the line of his nose. Unable to stop, she traced the rest of his face. “Sir? I’d like to ask for something.”

He released her from his embrace.

She knelt on the mattress next to him, staring at a point just in front of her knees.

“What is your question, slave?”

His low tone washed over her. For the third time that night, she found pleasure in kneeling for him. “I’d like to continue the scene, Sir. You said you weren’t finished with me.”

He chuckled. “I’m definitely not finished with you. Stand up.”

She rose to her feet to find him standing next to her. He placed his hands on either side of her face and held her immobile for his kiss. Plunging his tongue into her mouth, he demanded her acquiescence and her obedience. She happily gave both.

Breaking the kiss with a loud smack, he stepped back. “Kneel at the center of the bed. I’m going to bind your arms and gag you, and then I’m going to use your body any way I want.”

It shouldn’t have made her pussy weep to know he planned to use her, but it did, and Lydia embraced her new role wholeheartedly. She was made for this.

He wrapped medium-gauge rope around her wrists, simulating handcuffs, and secured the lines to the X of naked wood hovering over the bed. She’d assumed it was there merely to give the makeshift bedposts some structural support, but it turned out to have an additional application. He tethered her so that she had a small range of motion. She could rise up on her knees and turn her body in a circle, but that was all.