The Dom's Bride: A BDSM Romance Page 4
Tristan is on top of me in a moment, pinning me down by my shoulder. His face is amused as he looms over me. “Normally I’d give you two safe words. One for when we’re nearing your limit and one for when you want me to stop. But you? All you get is red. It’s all or nothing, treasure. Say red and it all stops. Otherwise, you’re mine. Do you understand?”
I nod, even though my heart is pounding so hard it feels like it could give out any moment. My breath is caught in my throat and a pleasant but frightening warmth is flooding through every cell in my body. Is this what it feels like to really want it? God. Is this what I’ve been missing from pushing men away before it came to sex? It feels like something dangerous is waking up inside me bit by bit, like every breath from his perfect lips and every touch of his calloused fingers stokes the flame. Whatever it is, I’ve suppressed it for my whole life, but I don’t think I could stop it now even if I wanted to. I just want to let him take me. I want his touch, his taste. I want everything he can offer me. I want the sensations to blast away all my worries until all that’s left is the here and now, even if I never see him again after tonight. One night. One experience. Maybe that’s all I need.
He bends his neck until his lips brush my ear with every word, until his words slide sensually into my body like a caressing touch. “Let go. I’m going to take you, dominate you, fuck you.” He punctuates the last phrase with a hard kiss that he follows with a quick nip of his teeth on my earlobe.
I gasp at the pleasure and slight pain, back arching and chest pressing up into him. I can’t help from squirming and pushing against him, as if my mind and body are at war. My body wants this so badly it hurts, but my brain isn’t ready to submit. My hands still seek for leverage against his hard body, pressing and twisting without conviction.
“This ends one way,” he says gruffly. “Your choice is how we get there.”
I turn my head to frown up at him, not understanding.
He grips my chin, forcing me to hold his gaze. “This ends with your submission. Your choice is whether you want to give it to me or make me wrestle it from you.”
His words coax the flames in me to even greater heights. I’ve never let a man touch or talk to me like this, but everything about it feels right. I always figured my sexual tastes would be vanilla and tame, but maybe suppressing that side of myself for so long caused some twisted desires to blossom in the darkest corners of my mind.
“You’re just going to take me here on the couch?” I ask defiantly. I don’t know where the bravery to speak to him like this is coming from, especially, when he has me pinned, but the words spill out of me like I’m possessed. “All your talk of the night of my life and the best you can do is throw me on the couch?”
He pushes against me to straddle me with bent knees and an almost angry look on his face. Tristan loosens his tie with one hand, slinging it free of his neck before he takes me roughly by the wrists and presses them above my head. I struggle weakly against him but he secures the tie around my wrists with ease. He rips his belt free next and ties it around my ankles, pinning my legs together. Once he has me where he wants me, he moves off the couch to stand beside me.
“Get on your knees for me, treasure. Move,” he snaps impatiently when I don’t respond right away.
As much as I’m tempted to defy him more just to see how far he’ll take this, I can’t seem to stop myself from obeying. There’s an air of command in his voice that moves me as surely as two strong hands until I’m on my knees with my ass in the air until my dress is tight against my skin and hiked up so high he can probably see my panties. I should be embarrassed to be so exposed, but the way he’s looking at me makes it impossible to feel anything but sexy.
Tristan rubs his thumb across his lip before reaching to undo the buttons of his shirt. The last of my defiance drips away with every bit of skin he reveals. Button after button pops away to show me his flawless, tattooed torso and perfectly sculpted muscles. He tosses his shirt to the side and walks close to put his hands on me.
I shudder against his touch, feeling so small and fragile in his powerful hands. He slides them down my hips and pulls a hand back to spank me on the ass hard enough to make me gasp.
“You’ve tested my patience, treasure,” he says. “I was going to make this easy for you, but you couldn’t stop from tempting me, could you?”
“Just do what you have to do,” I say through gritted teeth.
He chuckles. “So eager.” He kneels down until we’re eye to eye. “I’m going to fuck you in ways you never imagined. Then I’m going to cut you loose. But you knew that already, didn’t you? I don’t do girlfriends. I’ll never be the guy you get your white picket fence with. I’m just an asshole who knows how to fuck you out of your mind. That’s not going to stop you from letting me take you how I want you, is it? Because you may be a virgin, but you’re ready to be my dirty slut for the night.”
My lips pull back in something close to a snarl. As much as I want to prove him wrong just to spite him, I know I won’t. He’s offering me an escape and he knows it. I can live without restraint for this one night. I can enjoy it and I can move on. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that.
He laughs softly when I don’t respond, confirming his suspicion. “Good.” He puts his finger under my chin and tilts my head slowly up until I’m looking into his eyes. “You’re in another world with me, Stephanie. What we do here doesn’t touch the outside world. You can let go of your inhibitions. You can rest assured knowing what happens between us will stay between us for as long as you wish it. So don’t hold back on me. I’ll know if you do.”
He stands suddenly and grips the open back of my dress. He yanks on the shoulder straps, snapping them before he pulls the dress down with a surprising delicacy, like he’s unwrapping a present and wants to cherish every moment.
I arch my back and close my eyes, feeling sexier and more precious than I’ve ever felt, as crazy as that is. I let this man call me a slut and degrade me, but it’s almost as if he really can read my body like a book. He throws out cautious, testing words and watches me like a hawk for my response. Any time his words or touch have an effect on me, he ramps up the intensity and follows my cues.
I suck in a breath when he pulls the dress down past my ass, leaving me wearing nothing but a bunched up dress around my knees, a white thong, and a matching bra. I thought I’d feel exposed and awkward my first time, but he makes me feel like some kind of exotic creature—something beautiful, dangerous, and delicate all at once. I feel possessed. After all the women’s rights arguments I’ve had, now I find myself getting wet because I feel like property. Insanity.
The way I’m kneeling on the couch has me elevated slightly, so that Tristan is able to have easy access to my entire body and explore my bare flesh with his eyes and hands. He doesn’t grope me like a desperate high schooler, though. He mixes soft, almost feather-like touches with a hard, massaging kind of force that nearly buckles my elbows and sends my face into the armrest. He makes tingling heat explode down my spine and pool between my legs only to follow it with cold chills that flow from my shoulders to my fingertips.
Before long, my eyes are closed and my neck is arched back. His fingertips and palms are like magic on my skin. I don’t even realize he’s undoing my bra until he tugs it down to where his tie is wrapped around my wrists and leaves it to dangle.
I laugh softly. “One minute, I was ready to slap you, and now…”
“No talking,” he says firmly, hands still moving across me, savoring every curve and crease. “You had your chance to leave, treasure. You stayed. That means for tonight and tonight alone, I’m your Dom and you will submit to me. It means you won’t speak unless I ask you to. You won’t cum until I let you.”
I bite my lip to hold in the words that threaten to come. Jesus. His voice drips with so much command and confidence that I almost can’t even imagine trying to defy him. I can’t imaging wanting to. Not with the way he already has my body on
fire. Though a reckless part of me has to push his buttons, to know how far he’ll take this.
“Or what?” I ask.
His hands pause for the first time. He doesn’t speak right away, which gives me more time than I like to anticipate his response—verbal or otherwise.
“Normally, I would explain,” he says finally. “But with you? I think you’re going to need more than an explanation. You need discipline.” He walks away suddenly, disappearing around a wall and leaving me to wait in total confusion.
I already regret pushing him because the absence of his touch feels like punishment enough. Right now, all he would’ve had to say was that he’d take his hands off me and I would’ve said and done anything he wanted.
When he comes back, he’s carrying a briefcase. My eyes widen and my hands clench tight on the fabric on the couch. What did I get myself into?
4
Tristan
My head is buzzing already. I haven’t even really begun and I’m already so hard it fucking hurts. She’s the perfect blend of submissive and feisty to sate my appetite. She’s a natural submissive, but there’s a fire in her that refuses to be extinguished. That’s a challenge I can enjoy.
Even as I open the briefcase full of BDSM implements, I have to remind myself not to get attached. No matter what my cock seems to think, this ends after tonight. I don’t do attachments. I don’t do relationships. When people get close they start to think they can ask questions. They think they have a right to know about my past.
I mentally force myself to focus, silencing my trailing thoughts.
There’s no time to get distracted tonight. This woman deserves every bit of my attention and every drop of my focus. It’s not hard to recenter my focus on her. The sight of her breasts hanging and her ass in the air for me snaps me back to the present in an instant. She’s watching me very closely.
I could let her continue to wonder, maybe even to think I might be some kind of psycho who is planning to hurt her, but that’s not the kind of experience I want her to have. Some Doms get off on frightening their submissives. It has never been about that for me. The dominant and submissive relationship is just a tool. It lets me keep an emotional distance. I can enjoy myself and not worry about messy strings or baggage. But it doesn’t hurt that I’ve always had a knack for reading people.
Even now I can see that Stephanie is afraid but hungry. She wants me to test her limits. She’s not just hoping I’ll fuck her. She’s hoping I’ll destroy her. She wants to hide from something so badly she’s going to let me do whatever I want. It makes me clench my teeth to think how foolish she’s being by giving me this much control blindly. I’ve known men that would take advantage of the trust she’s placing in me in an instant. They’d leave her broken and scarred.
“You’re wondering how bad it will hurt,” I say, pulling a leather paddle from the briefcase. It’s shaped much like a ping-pong paddle but the leather is floppy and thinner. “Maybe you’re thinking I’ll leave you bloody and bruised?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “I don’t think you would do that.”
Without warning her, I slap her ass with the paddle, careful to land the blow on her panties to take a little of the sting away.
“What was—” she starts.
“You’ll wait for permission to speak,” I say flatly.
“You asked me a—”
I raise the paddle again and she flinches. “A rhetorical question,” I say, finishing her sentence and lowering the paddle.
She nods, averting her eyes.
“There’s a reason I demand complete obedience, treasure.” I run the edge of the paddle from her shoulder blades down to the small of her back, watching as goosebumps ripple in the wake of its touch. “It’s not because I crave the control.” Liar. “It’s not about what I want at all.” Fucking liar. “It’s because you crave the submission. You might not be ready to admit it to yourself, but you crave it. You want the release of responsibility, even if it’s only for a night. You want to feel used and taken. You want to be the prize I rut into and fill with my cum.
“Strip away what society wants from you,” I say, dragging the edge of the paddle down the line of her ass and over her panties until it’s against her soaked pussy. She shivers, fingers tightening against the armrest of the couch. “Strip all that away and we’re just animals. We want what feels good. Society tells us it’s only allowed to feel good if we’re fucking our husbands or our wives. But all you have to do is surrender. Let it all go and put that weight on my shoulders until the only thing left is the animal behind the mask. Let me get to the real you and I’ll make you cum so hard you’ll forget who you are, treasure.”
“Who says I want to forget?”
Her voice startles me. I cock an eyebrow at her. I just finished explaining exactly why she wasn’t supposed to speak out of turn, and yet I find I can’t really be surprised that she continues to defy me. This one is different, isn’t she? In all the right ways... “You don’t?”
She shakes her head, almost self-consciously. “Maybe I just want to take a break from me. Just a break.”
I nod. I’ll never tell her as much, but she just explained why I continue to have meaningless flings like this. Maybe I’m not so strange for wanting a break from myself. I refocus my attention on her, where it belongs. I can’t keep letting my thoughts wander if I want to give her the night I promised, the night she deserves.
I’ve let her talk too much. I need to remind her that we’re not playing by the rules she’s used to. I grip her panties and rip them off. The elastic pops into the silence of the room like a small firecracker. She jumps, turning surprised eyes on me.
Her hands are still bound tightly with my tie and her ankles are secured with my belt, but she’s not as immobilized as I would like. I rub my thumb across the stubble on my chin while I decide what to do with her.
A grin creeps across my face. I know exactly what I’ll do.
I reach in the briefcase and pull out a black silk cloth, which I use to cover her eyes. For once, she waits patiently and doesn’t offer up resistance while I work. Maybe she’s learning. Finally. Next, I take out a nine-inch vibrating dildo with a clit stimulator. I’ve always prided myself on my control. It’s part of the drug for me. I put myself in an impossible situation and prove again and again that I can remain composed. I can be the composer. The one on the stage with my back to the crowd while I orchestrate the perfect sexual experience. I can do it all without ever letting myself bleed into the equation. That’s all it has ever been—a test of will, of power.
But even as I walk behind Stephanie and begin to work the head of the dildo against her slick pussy, I know I’m faltering. If I was my normal self, I’d start soft with her. I’d drip candle wax on her or use ice cubes. She’s not just a virgin to BDSM, she’s a virgin in every sense of the word. She doesn’t need anything more than the faintest touch of intensity to feel like she’s riding the edge of a razor between safety and danger.
“Tell me,” I say, feeling myself edge closer to what I know is a very, very bad idea. I ease the head of the dildo just a fraction of an inch inside her opening. My throat tightens with barely suppressed need at the sound of her slick pussy parting for the dildo. “Tell me when the first time you ever touched yourself was.”
“W-what?” she asks. She’s blindfolded, but still turns her head to look toward me.
I press the dildo an inch deeper, careful not to force it through her hymen if it’s still intact. I’m not about to break her virgin pussy with a dildo, but I only need to use the first couple inches.
She lurches forward. By the way her hands scrabble to grip more of the fabric on the couch, I can tell she’s not used to having something inside herself. No dildo of your own at home, treasure? You’ve been saving this perfect pussy for the man of your dreams, haven’t you? My own thoughts turn my stomach a little. She’s waited so long for the right man, but she had the misfortune to meet me.
“Tel
l me,” I say firmly.
“I was seventeen,” she says tightly. “It was kind of an—oh, God.”
She buries her face into the cushion of the armrest when I angle the dildo and let the head slip out of her to graze her clit.
“Finish,” I growl. “Tell me how you did it.” My cock is already throbbing just thinking of this innocent woman waiting so long to discover her sexuality, to think how suppressed she must be, like a dormant volcano primed to explode.
“It just kind of happened,” she says between heavy breaths. “I was in my bed. I thought it would be less dirty if I did it through my panties. So I just—oh,” she pauses to clench her entire body when I slide the dildo back inside her and use my thumb against the swollen bud of her clit.
“I just did it,” she finishes.
“Touch yourself for me now,” I say, taking away the dildo and untying her wrists, which causes the bra that was dangling there to fall to the ground. I know the sudden absence will nearly be a physical pain for her. Bit by bit, I’m driving her into a kind of sexual trance. She’ll feel the pressure of her orgasm build until she’s so desperate to cum that she’ll do anything I ask. “Don’t make me ask twice,” I say.
She shifts her weight, leaning her shoulder into the backrest of the couch and using her other hand to reach between her legs, where she hesitantly starts rubbing her fingers against her pussy like she’s afraid of it.
I frown. “No,” I say.
Her hand stops suddenly, fingers motionless against her still-wet pussy.
“It’s not just a tool,” I say, taking her by the wrist and pressing my hand to hers. I slide my palm down so that my fingertips rest against her fingernails and I’m able to guide her hand exactly where I want it to go. “Trust me,” I say softly. “Relax.”
I apply pressure to her middle finger, not starting with her clit but pressing the area just between her ass and her opening to drag her finger up her slick valley. She takes in a shuddering breath when we reach her clit and I show her how to circle it, almost reverently, like a dance where the most important part isn’t the touching but the promise of touching, so that when her finger finally brushes the swollen, sensitive skin, her shoulders go slack and she arches her back. Her moan is as sweet as honey in my ears.