worry about it.”
“You know that won’t make me not worry, right?”
“Stubborn wench,” I said, chuckling.
She shot me a playful glare. “Come on. Talk. What happened?”
I slid my hand into her hair and gripped it just tight enough to make her close her eyes and bite her lip. “I don’t think,” I whispered, making sure my lips brushed hers, “that you came here to listen to me talk, did you?”
“No,” she whimpered.
“That’s what I thought.” I released her hair. “Shall we?”
“Absolutely.”
I picked up my glass off the coffee table. I swirled the wine slowly, and she watched it.
“So, now that you’re here…” And I can’t believe I thought I didn’t want this tonight . I lifted my glass, swirling it again. “…are you in the mood for a flogger?”
She didn’t respond, instead silently watching my glass. She knew as well as I did I wouldn’t take a drink until we were in the dungeon, but I kept drawing her attention to it. Over and over, with subtle gestures and absent swirling, I kept reminding her it existed. Its presence drove her crazy with anticipation, and I so loved toying with her mind.
“Krissy?”
My voice made her jump. She cleared her throat. “Scott, I am always in the mood for a flogger, you know that.”
“Good.”
She followed me down the hall. I opened the door to the dungeon and gestured for her to go in.
Closing the door behind me, I watched her. The dungeon was a familiar place for her now. A comfortable, even pleasant place. She walked through the door without flinching at her daunting surroundings like she had when I’d first brought her in here. It had intimidated her then, it was foreign and alien, but she was never afraid of it. Not the way Meredith was. Krissy had no reason to fear this place, and she’d be given a reason over my dead body.
I rested my hip against the table below the rack of floggers. “Ready?”
She faced me. “Of course.”
Without a word, I raised my glass. Before the wine had even touched my tongue, Kristen bit her lip. When I set the glass down, she pulled in a breath, licking her lips as she watched me unbutton the cuff of my left sleeve. I rolled the sleeve to my elbow, watching her fidget with anticipation. She knew this routine well. Just a few simple gestures, a few simple motions, and automatically, eagerly, she slipped into submission. As I rolled my other sleeve, I thought she whimpered softly, but I couldn’t be sure. When I sipped my wine again, watching her over the glass, she did release a quiet sound just before she dropped her gaze.
The glass clinked on the table.
She exhaled, her shoulders falling as she stared at the floor between us.
When I spoke, I kept my voice low and even. “Tell me your safe words.”
“Red if I want to stop, yellow to slow down, Master.”
“Good girl.” I paused. “Clothes off.”
I never could decide what turned me on more when Kristen undressed in front of me: her unquestioning obedience, or just the fact that she was so fucking sexy when she stripped. Shrugging off a blouse to reveal whatever piece of lingerie she’d worn—a red lace bra this time—before that too fell to the floor. The subtle shimmy as she slid her tight jeans over those beautiful hips. Long hair spilling over bare shoulders that would be pink and sweaty in no time at all.
She pushed her clothes aside with her foot and waited for my next command. Still, silent, eyes down, she waited.
I walked toward her, then around her. The slight tilt of her head shifted as I moved, subtly signaling she was tracking me, tuning all her senses to where I was, how close I was, what my next move might be.
She gasped when I ran my fingers across the tattoo on her lower back. She’d just gotten it a few months ago, and the colors—green, blue, black, red—were still bright and sharp. It was the first of many, of that I was certain. I smiled to myself. Ah, my little pain slut .
Trailing my fingers up her
“You know that won’t make me not worry, right?”
“Stubborn wench,” I said, chuckling.
She shot me a playful glare. “Come on. Talk. What happened?”
I slid my hand into her hair and gripped it just tight enough to make her close her eyes and bite her lip. “I don’t think,” I whispered, making sure my lips brushed hers, “that you came here to listen to me talk, did you?”
“No,” she whimpered.
“That’s what I thought.” I released her hair. “Shall we?”
“Absolutely.”
I picked up my glass off the coffee table. I swirled the wine slowly, and she watched it.
“So, now that you’re here…” And I can’t believe I thought I didn’t want this tonight . I lifted my glass, swirling it again. “…are you in the mood for a flogger?”
She didn’t respond, instead silently watching my glass. She knew as well as I did I wouldn’t take a drink until we were in the dungeon, but I kept drawing her attention to it. Over and over, with subtle gestures and absent swirling, I kept reminding her it existed. Its presence drove her crazy with anticipation, and I so loved toying with her mind.
“Krissy?”
My voice made her jump. She cleared her throat. “Scott, I am always in the mood for a flogger, you know that.”
“Good.”
She followed me down the hall. I opened the door to the dungeon and gestured for her to go in.
Closing the door behind me, I watched her. The dungeon was a familiar place for her now. A comfortable, even pleasant place. She walked through the door without flinching at her daunting surroundings like she had when I’d first brought her in here. It had intimidated her then, it was foreign and alien, but she was never afraid of it. Not the way Meredith was. Krissy had no reason to fear this place, and she’d be given a reason over my dead body.
I rested my hip against the table below the rack of floggers. “Ready?”
She faced me. “Of course.”
Without a word, I raised my glass. Before the wine had even touched my tongue, Kristen bit her lip. When I set the glass down, she pulled in a breath, licking her lips as she watched me unbutton the cuff of my left sleeve. I rolled the sleeve to my elbow, watching her fidget with anticipation. She knew this routine well. Just a few simple gestures, a few simple motions, and automatically, eagerly, she slipped into submission. As I rolled my other sleeve, I thought she whimpered softly, but I couldn’t be sure. When I sipped my wine again, watching her over the glass, she did release a quiet sound just before she dropped her gaze.
The glass clinked on the table.
She exhaled, her shoulders falling as she stared at the floor between us.
When I spoke, I kept my voice low and even. “Tell me your safe words.”
“Red if I want to stop, yellow to slow down, Master.”
“Good girl.” I paused. “Clothes off.”
I never could decide what turned me on more when Kristen undressed in front of me: her unquestioning obedience, or just the fact that she was so fucking sexy when she stripped. Shrugging off a blouse to reveal whatever piece of lingerie she’d worn—a red lace bra this time—before that too fell to the floor. The subtle shimmy as she slid her tight jeans over those beautiful hips. Long hair spilling over bare shoulders that would be pink and sweaty in no time at all.
She pushed her clothes aside with her foot and waited for my next command. Still, silent, eyes down, she waited.
I walked toward her, then around her. The slight tilt of her head shifted as I moved, subtly signaling she was tracking me, tuning all her senses to where I was, how close I was, what my next move might be.
She gasped when I ran my fingers across the tattoo on her lower back. She’d just gotten it a few months ago, and the colors—green, blue, black, red—were still bright and sharp. It was the first of many, of that I was certain. I smiled to myself. Ah, my little pain slut .
Trailing my fingers up her
Similar Books
