Binding Agreement Read online

  John closed the short distance between them. “Let’s see how you’re doing.” He parted her sex and inspected her. She bit back a gasp, her pussy more sensitive than it had ever been, more sensitive than she’d thought possible. Her clitoris was on fire. Her hips rocked of their own accord, welcoming his touch as he stroked the drenched opening, spreading her juices.

  “Very nice,” he said, “but let’s see if we can’t get this pretty pussy even rosier.” As he prepared to resume the flogging, she found she no longer dreaded it—quite the opposite. It was as if she’d become hooked on some wildly addictive drug and now craved it. She knew about the body’s release of endorphins in response to pain, a kind of self-made opiate, but it was more than that. Endorphins didn’t put that heated look in John’s eyes or that conspicuous bulge in his pants. They weren’t responsible for her body’s helpless response when he looked at her that way.

  “You’re going to come for me now.” John delivered two lashes in quick succession. Kay yelped, arching into them. “You’re halfway there already.”

  Mere hours ago she would have been incredulous at the suggestion that a pussy-whipping could bring her to orgasm. But every snap of the flogger made the sensual burn flare hotter, made her whole body coil tighter in anticipation of release. Her cries were now the shrill, breathless gasps of a woman straining for that peak.

  Without warning, he reached between her legs and spread her pussy again, his thumb and index finger pressing outward, opening her to the max. He hauled back with the flogger and administered a rapid volley of moist-sounding flicks, driving her to the edge of the peak and over it.

  Kay screamed as she came, bucking hard against his hand and the stinging whip-tails. Her orgasm tossed her, yanking on the leash, shooting shafts of white-hot pleasure from her nipples to her pussy. She was keenly aware of the dildo as her body convulsed around it. John dropped the flogger and thrust his fingers into her, kneading her, making her climax last so long that dark spots crowded her vision and her legs began to buckle.

  Swiftly he unlatched the leash from the nipple chain, lifting her into his arms as the floor rushed toward her. He carried her across the room and sat in a stuffed leather chair, settling her on his lap as she gulped air and blinked to clear her vision.

  He brushed strands of hair off her face. His deep voice rumbled in her ear. “You with me, honey?”

  She offered a groggy “Uh-huh.”

  “Barely,” he said with a soft chuckle.

  Kay was a boneless postorgasmic puddle, her voice husky as she murmured, “Thank you for correcting me, Sir.”

  He studied her for a long moment, a quizzical half smile on his face as if there was something about her he couldn’t quite figure out. Then he kissed her on the lips, a tender, lingering kiss. The smile spread to his eyes. “You’re welcome.”

  He shifted to reach into his back pocket. She heard a metallic snap and managed to focus on the object in his hand—a small pocketknife, its blade extended.

  She supposed the prudent thing at this point would be to panic and struggle. That was what the sensible, cautious Kay would have done. But that Kay had been relegated to a dim, cobwebbed corner of the brave new Kay’s brain, and her shouted warnings sounded weak and distant.

  Kay trusted John. She couldn’t say why, couldn’t have expressed it in words. She was unaccustomed to reading people on instinct, unaccustomed to listening to her gut feelings. But she was listening now. And she liked what she heard.

  She sat calmly while he levered her forward and slid the blade under the knotted strip of leather at her elbow. He sliced through it and through the knot at the other elbow, then unwound the thong from her arms and tossed it aside. She winced as, slowly and carefully, he unfolded her stiff arms and set her hands on her thighs.

  He massaged the cramped muscles, admiring the stripes left by the bindings. “It looks a little like when shibari ropes come off.” When she frowned in confusion, he said, “Japanese erotic bondage. The rope is wrapped and knotted in intricate patterns on a woman’s body. Sometimes she’s suspended like that. The breast binding in particular tends to be very imaginative.”

  Kay tried to picture it. “I never realized what a sheltered existence I’ve led.”

  John leaned sideways to open a small brushed-steel cabinet next to the chair. She failed to identify it as a refrigerator until he withdrew two frosty bottles of water. She was parched and gratefully accepted hers, sucking down half of it in one long pull.

  He flicked one of the nipple clamps. “These look sexy as hell, but they’ve stayed on about as long as they should.” He took the water bottle from her and set it on top of the fridge alongside his. He reached for one of the clamps and paused. His eyes met hers and she saw something there she hadn’t seen before, something that looked suspiciously like concern.

  “Okay, I wasn’t going to mention it,” he said, “but these things are going to hurt more coming off than they did going on. A lot more.”

  Her eyes widened.

  He said, “That’s what happens when the blood flow returns. I just don’t want you to think I’m doing it on purpose.”

  He cared about what she thought of him? Kay had no time to ponder this because he immediately released the clamp.

  “Fuck!” Her back arched, her face contorted. She couldn’t say what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this shocking stab of pain. The instant the clamp was off her nipple, John’s mouth was on it, sucking gently, so gently, massaging the burning tip with his talented tongue.

  His ministrations had a remarkable effect. The pain receded within seconds, leaving her limp and breathless. “That’s okay,” she groaned, “just leave the other one alone. I’ll wear it home.”

  He gave that a crooked smile. “Some women get off on the pain.”

  “Right,” she said with mock incredulity. “Next you’ll be telling me there are women who can come just from having their pussies whipped. Shameless pervs, all of them.”

  It was the first time she’d heard him laugh—a joyous, spontaneous bark of laughter—and it warmed her to the core. This man needed to laugh more.

  “Are you calling yourself a shameless perv?” he asked.

  “Well, I spent the first part of my life being a boring goody two-shoes,” she said, “so if I go totally in the opposite direction from this point on, I figure it’ll even out to something approaching normal.”

  The crinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened. He was looking at her that way again, as if he didn’t quite know what to make of her. As if she’d somehow defied his expectations. That was a novel experience for Kay, defying expectations. She decided she liked it.

  With a start she realized they’d been having an actual conversation for the past minute or so. No barked commands or obsequious “Sir”s. No overbearing Dom or docile sub. Those roles had fallen away like a curtain, leaving them naked and exposed, two ordinary lovers enjoying each other’s company.

  The change hadn’t escaped John—she saw it in his eyes. His smile faded and she watched the pain flood back in, the emotional exhaustion she’d witnessed earlier in the den. Something gnawed at him from the inside, something that struck like a raptor when he let down his guard.

  He looked away for a moment. When he faced her once more, his features were an impenetrable mask. The Dom was back. With no warning, he released the second nipple clamp.

  The pain struck and she writhed in his lap. Even as she moaned, “Fu-hu-huck…” his soothing mouth worked its magic, suckling, licking, easing the ache and making it all better. At the same time his hand slid to her pussy, which he fondled with the utmost care, clearly aware of how outrageously sensitive she now was down there. He ushered her past the pain and into the realm of unalloyed pleasure, lightly gliding his fingers between her moist lips and circling the ultrasensitized clitoris.

  “Oh God…” she moaned, lifting her hips to meet him. She clung to him, feeling her pussy flower open, feeling the juices flow. For him. Never
in her life had she responded to a man this way, and she’d known him less than three hours. Certainly she’d never had an orgasm like the one he’d recently treated her to, one that had literally knocked her unconscious.

  His words came back to her. The point is to get past the pain to a pleasure that would otherwise elude you. At the time, she hadn’t known what he’d meant, couldn’t know, having never experienced it. But she did now.

  He lifted his head and looked her over. “You are the very image of the perfect submissive,” he said. “The bondage marks on your arms. The flushed cheeks, the swollen nipples. And that cunt. Look at yourself, Kay.”

  She did, and saw what he saw, a hungry, florid pussy glistening with the evidence of her arousal. Pink stripes crisscrossed the smooth mons. Her pussy clenched as she recalled the skillful flogging that had put them there.

  He tipped her face and kissed her. This kiss was serious. It was deep. His fingers pushed through her hair and held her while he claimed her with his mouth. He demanded entrance and she opened to him, taking him in, welcoming his thrusting tongue like a stamp of possession. She found it hard to lie still in his arms even before his free hand found her breast. His thumb stroked her burning nipple and she moaned into his mouth, dizzy with the novel, searing pleasure of it.

  He raised his head at last and locked on to her eyes, his blue-fire gaze as mesmerizing as a wolf’s. His color was high, his nostrils flared. Those predatory eyes scanned the room, homing in on the kidney-shaped slab of glass that was his desktop.

  He rose from the chair, setting her on her feet. “Clear all that crap off the desk.” Even as he spoke he yanked off his waffle-knit shirt and tossed it to the floor.

  She hurried to obey, lifting his laptop and looking around for a suitable place to put it.

  “Anywhere, goddammit.” He kicked off his deck shoes and unzipped his jeans.

  She moved the computer to the credenza, every step reminding her of the dildo impaling her ass. By the time she’d relocated the folders, yellow legal pads, pens and assorted sticky notes, John was as naked as she.

  Despite the uninhibited intimacies she’d experienced with this man, this was Kay’s first glimpse of his unclothed body—well, except for earlier on the beach, but she’d been too startled and frightened then to appreciate the moonlit view. If this wasn’t pure masculine perfection standing before her, she didn’t know what was. She’d already seen him plow through ocean chop as if it were a backyard pool. Based on the impressive muscle definition in his tall, tanned body, she wouldn’t be surprised to learn he was a triathlete.

  And that erection. She’d known he was big, had never experienced anything like the blue-ribbon cock that had filled her earlier. Still, the sight of that rigid war club rising stiff and proud from its nest of dark curls was a revelation. A drop of pre-come glistened on the tip as he fisted his fingers around the base and slowly stroked upward.

  His voice was rough and impatient as he said, “Come here.” He shoved the chair away from the inward-curving edge of the desk. “On your knees.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, making her kneel on the plush area rug where the chair had been, her back to the desk.

  “You know what to do,” he said, and she did, though her experience with oral sex was limited to the basics and she feared she was about to disappoint him. She wanted this, though, awed by the depth of her desire to take him into her mouth, to taste him and suck him and give him this singular brand of pleasure. Her pussy pulsed in anticipation as the broad head of his penis parted her lips and pushed inside.

  Right away John seemed to sense her lack of experience. He scaled down the depth and pacing of his thrusts, though she could tell the effort cost him—he was near the limit of his self-control. Patiently he guided her movements, murmuring instructions and the occasional word of praise. His cock swelled to even more majestic proportions as he taught her how to open her throat and take him deeper, how to work her tongue as she sucked him.

  Kay mentally prepared herself to swallow his come—something she’d never in her life done. But she wanted to now. She was drunk on the taste of him, on his slippery hardness pistoning between her lips, and she wanted more. Needed more.

  But he needed something else. He relinquished her mouth and impatiently lifted her off the rug and onto the cold slab of glass. He pushed her to lie flat, seeming not to notice or care that her head hung off the far edge. She felt a moment’s panic not being able to see him—the full moon dominated her field of view, framed by the expansive windows.

  He lifted her knees, spreading them wide. “Hold your legs,” he said, and she obeyed, hooking her hands behind her thighs while her heart pinballed around her rib cage.

  His intentions became clear in the next second when his warm, wet mouth closed over her pussy. Her startled cry reverberated in her ears. Never before had she experienced anything approaching this staggering pleasure, but then, never before had her most intimate flesh been subjected to the lash. Her recent flogging, her “punishment”, had left her shockingly sensitive, magnifying the erotic sensations.

  Her pussy buzzed as he murmured, “I forbid you to come,” punctuating the command with a slow, savoring lick. He reached under her bottom, grasped the bulbous end of the dildo and gave it a long, slow turn. She gasped, stunned by the unaccustomed feeling of something twisting deep within. In the same instant he sucked her stiff clitoris into his mouth, every mind-melting tug nudging her closer to the forbidden orgasm.

  He kept the dildo moving, first in one direction then the other, as Kay writhed in ecstatic torment. She muttered a string of breathless curses, followed by something closer to a prayer as his strong, lithe tongue explored her, now stroking, now flicking, now plunging fast and deep. Even the scrape of his beard stubble stoked the fire she was trying so valiantly to douse.

  “I’m going to…” she whimpered, “I can’t…”

  John backed off a little. He blew softly on her drenched pussy, which, far from cooling her off, almost sent her right over the edge. She moaned as if in agony, struggling to focus on the glowing disk of the moon through the window, struggling to govern her body’s unruly needs.

  It seemed years, decades, since she’d yielded to John’s outrageous invitation, since she’d bent over a complete stranger’s sofa and let him fuck her. So much had happened since then. She was a different person. One thing she knew—when she walked out of this house, she’d be leaving the old Kay behind for good. She’d learned too much about herself to ever again inhabit the same dull, dependable set of mores and assumptions she’s woken up with that morning.

  She’d learned too much about herself to let Mr. No-Last-Names call all the shots.

  “I need your cock, goddammit!” She hooked her knees over his shoulders and shimmied her butt to the edge of the glass. The move shifted her head onto the desk, allowing her to scowl at the autocratic bastard. “I’m going to come with or without your permission, and if you’re not inside me when I do, then I’ll just Felicia my way out of here and you can go play with yourself. Your choice. Sir.”

  Startled amusement flashed in his eyes, soon replaced by savage, single-minded intent as he planted his feet, grasped her hips and positioned the head of his cock at her slippery entrance.

  “Wait!” she said.

  “Wait?” He gaped at her. “After a speech like that—wait?”

  “Well…this thing has to come out of my bottom first. The dildo. Right?”

  A smile of pure devilment spread on his face. “Wrong.” He didn’t give her time to ponder that but pressed into her in one long, mind-numbing stroke. “Ohhh yeah…” His voice was half chuckle, half groan. “Oh that is fucking amazing.”

  She knew what he felt because she felt it too, the delicious crowding caused by the dildo, its bumpy caress as he retreated most of the way and drove back in to the root. She clung to him, rising to meet each hammering thrust, savoring the unparalleled sensation of being penetrated front and back. Her climax crested and sh
e willed herself to stay right there for just a moment longer, teetering on the brink of release.

  Tendons stood out in his neck. His eyes were hard, glittering sapphires as he watched her, watched her start to come apart. “That’s right, honey, give it up, I want to feel you milk my cock.” His words pushed her over the edge into a brain-rattling orgasm. Her shrill cries rang in her ears and she was grateful for John’s solid presence in her, around her, grounding her.

  He held himself still, gripping her hips hard as he fought to keep her climax from triggering his own. “My God, Kay…” He gave an incredulous little shake of his head, smiling down at her. “My God, you are so beautiful when you come.”

  He pulled out of her and lowered her legs from his shoulders. He flipped her over so she lay facedown on the desk, the glass cool under her cheek and her tender nipples. She gasped as he grabbed hold of the dildo and slowly withdrew it from her body, one bulbous portion at a time.

  He set it on the desk—it sounded like crystal wineglasses clinking. She stared in wonder. Whatever she’d expected to see, it wasn’t this beautifully crafted sculpture, clear glass with delicate swirls in shades of blue and green. If she’d spied this thing on John’s coffee table, she’d have taken it for some pricey objet d’art. Was there such a thing as an objet d’booty?

  He left her for a moment and returned with a small bottle, which he set on the desk. Lube. Her heart did a somersault. He’d had her every other way. Her mouth. Her pussy. There was only one thing left. True, her body had been prepared by the dildo, but what he’d told her about its size had also turned out to be true—it wasn’t as thick as his erect penis, not even close.

  He was behind her now and Kay peered over her shoulder, straining to see him, bracing herself for the invasion. His hand settled on her hip and she flinched. She heard self-reproach in the warm sigh that wafted over her. Was his brutal promise as fresh in his mind as it was in hers? I’m going to ride you hard.