Page 28 of Fearless
Chills broke out across her shoulders, running down both arms as the unmistakable tromp of Noah’s boots came down the hallway. She hugged herself tighter, instantly regretting her decision to remain partially clothed. Intensely regretting requesting this of him at all, and yet just standing there, doing nothing to correct either mistake right up until Noah came back through the kitchen and into the dining room. He had a minor armload of toys, all of which burned themselves into her brain with ominous dread. Most were toys, but Ethen had once hurt her with a plastic straw, so it really didn’t matter to her what he brought out. Anything could be made a punishment.
“Did you eat at least two crackers?” Noah set his armload on the table. He didn’t dump them in a pile, but took the time to spread them out, allowing each implement its own space.
“Yes, Sir.” She hoped he didn’t ask her to eat any more. She honestly didn’t think she could hold down one bite more without her stomach rejecting all out of sheer nerves.
“Did you have a sip of tea?” He looked in her cup, noting it was half empty.
“Yes, Sir.” She didn’t think she could handle any more of that, either.
“Good girl.” Laying the last item on the table, he stepped back to give her open access. “Take a look at everything I’ve brought. If there is an item you do not want used during this session I want you to point it out.”
Don’t tell him, the ghosts of her past whispered. If he knows, he’ll be sure to use them.
Pressing her sweaty palms to her thighs, she looked over what he’d brought. The restraints made her swallow hard. Her bottom clenched at the sight of the paddle, but it was nothing like Ethen’s punishment paddle. It was small, made of leather, engraved on the back with an ornate rose and thorns. Her knees almost buckled over the butt plug, and just that fast, she was back in Ethen’s play room, tied over the wooden horse, screaming and shaking as Ethen slowly worked her open on the plug he only ever used when he was in a mood to hear screams.
Don’t think about it. Noah wasn’t him, and the plug he’d put on the table, while not the smallest she’d ever seen, certainly wasn’t huge. It was metal, though. With a very narrow neck and a pink jeweled base.
“It’s fine,” she whispered, her legs already beginning to shake. That butt plug meant she’d have to take her clothes all the way off. So… he truly hadn’t meant to give her a choice. Sick to her stomach, she reached behind her to unhook her bra.
“Stop,” Noah ordered, the steely authority of his tone snapping at her. Suddenly he seemed a little taller, a little broader in the shoulders, and whole lot stronger, particularly when he frowned like this. “I told you to present yourself in the way that made you comfortable. You followed my orders and your request is now my limit to follow. But from the moment I entered this room, our scene began. That means I am in charge now, and you will do as you are told or there will be consequences. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Sir.” She didn’t have the strength or the courage even to swallow. She was shaking, every inch of her trembling all the way down to her very core.
“Did I tell you to remove your clothes?”
“N-no, Sir.”
“Then your clothes stay on. One more time, I want you to look at the items I’ve brought. I may or may not use any or all of them during the course of our scene. So I want you to be very sure that you are okay with everything on this table. If you are not okay with it, I am ordering you to point it out right now.”
She looked at them again. None of them were strangers to her; most evoked anything but fond memories, but it felt so very wrong for a submissive to tell her dom what he could or could not use. She wove her fingers tight before her, clasped her hands tight and stayed silent.
“All right,” he said, a glitter darkening the depths of his knowing stare. “Let’s begin.”
Pulling out a chair, he took the Velcro restraints off the table and sat down. “Wrists,” he said, laying one across his knee and opening the other. He waited, his blue stare burrowing into her until she extended her arm.
After police-issue handcuffs, zipties, and piano wire once (which had cut her skin), having him put Velcro on her seemed a very novice thing for him to do and yet there was no denying the firmness of the grip. It hugged her wrist. It hugged her thigh even tighter when he wrapped the strap around her, putting his hand right up between her legs as he adjusted how the restraint lay as it ran through the crease between her limb and panty-clad pussy. The caress of his hand there was at once impersonal and electrifying. She almost closed her eyes, her body reacting to it with near desperate hunger.
“Hand,” he said again, as if that faint scrap of his knuckle across her crotch were too common for him to take note of. For her, it raised chills all over again, only these felt different than before. They danced up through her belly and into her breasts, whereas before, they’d prickled like spider legs across her back. Both left her shivering as she offered her left hand.
With both her hands now strapped to her thighs, he stood and picked up the hair tie. Her chills became dervish dancers, moving through her faster and faster as he stepped behind her, but the comb of his fingers as he pulled her long brown hair back from her face felt almost… loverly. Ponytails were handles to a dom. There were a lot of things a submissive could be made to do with her hair grasped tight in the hands of a controlling man. And yet, in spite of herself, Kitty relaxed.
Pulling the ponytail through the last twist of the hair tie, he let his hands fall to her shoulders. For almost a full minute, he massaged her, rolling and squeezing the tension for her shoulders until she gave in to the allure, relaxing even more. The longer he kneaded, the more she forgot herself until she found herself nearly leaning back against him.
His touch changed again, the kneading ceasing as he seized hold of her ponytail, pulling her head solidly back until his breath was at her ear. His low growl sent her dancing shivers whirling all through her. “I asked you what my limits were. This is your last chance to give me some.”
Her throat worked, but without sound. Her heart raced. Her captured hands clenched tight into fists, but for the first time in longer than she could remember, Kitty didn’t move—not because she couldn’t, but because for one crazy minute with his master-like grip in her hair and the heat of his chest searing into her back—she didn’t want to.
“I don’t have any,” she whispered.
“Everyone has limits.” His right grip tightening in her hair, holding her frozen against the dominance of his body, he reached around her and seized her breast in his left hand. He squeezed hard, but the pain barely qualified as such. It was vitalizing, zinging its shocks straight into her eager nipples. “Is this off limits?”
“No, Sir,” she gasped.
Dropping his hand, he seized her pussy in the same cruel, intoxicating hold. His squeeze captured her clit, her folds, her heart, and her breath. “Is this off limits?”
Pooling warmth filled her belly, spilling in an instant all through the furrow his fingers now owned. Her knees shook, buckling in and out under her. He held her up by her pussy. If not for that grip, she’d have fallen into a heap there at his feet.
“N-no…” Her eyes closed against her will when the heat of his mouth engulfed her earlobe. She felt his teeth, the sharpness exciting all her singing nerves. Her blood pulsed, filling her head, her breasts, her sex with the same heady beat.
