Page 33 of Brave
“Can I trust that you will use your safeword if you need to?” he countered. “You won’t hold it in for fear of upsetting me, or because you think you can take it, no matter what?”
She fidgeted, wearing away at her nails one torn keratin splinter at a time until, with a tight nod, she said, “Yes, Sir. I promise.”
Determined to take her at her word, he nodded too. “Take off as much of your clothes as you feel comfortable removing.”
She looked from him to the vibrating wand, and then down at herself. And then she surprised him. Stepping out of her shoes, she got naked. He’d thought, considering what he knew of the abuse she’d gone through, she might only remove her top if given the choice, and he was prepared for that. A sub didn’t have to be naked for him to use the vibrating wand on her. He knew where a clit was and how to find it through jeans. Likewise, a sub stripped down to jeans and a bra still provided a lot of useable canvas for him to apply clothespins to—the biceps, the fingers and webbing in between, not to mention all the tender pinches of skin along the forearms.
Oh yes, he could have made partial nudity work just fine. But naked would always be better, and Puppy naked very quickly hit the top of his preferential list. Folding each article of clothing as she removed it and setting them in a neat pile beneath the desk so they wouldn’t become a tripping hazard, she stood before him just as if she were equally comfortable being naked as she was clothed. Back at Old Ebbitt Grill, she had tried to cover herself, but that was a different situation. He’d been newer to her then. Also, he’d been about to punish her, and most submissives found that to be incredibly difficult to get through on its own.
Puppy stood before him now with her hands at her sides, her back straight, her chin up, and her eyes staring down. Her brown hair looked windblown, from however long she’d been sitting on the library steps waiting for him, and she was thin. Too thin. But given time and a few healthy pounds, he could easily see how the loveliness of her would become absolute beauty.
Pushing off the edge of his desk, he went to his playbag long enough to retrieve a hairbrush and an unused hair tie out of his stash. It was amazing how many long-haired submissives came to Black Light aching for a flogging and yet unprepared to receive one. Being prepared was something he was good at, and it certainly served him well right now.
She stood obediently frozen while he gently brushed the tangles out of her hair and then gathered the long mahogany tresses into a ponytail. He let his hands rest on her bare skin, caressing her from the sides of her neck to the curves of her shoulders. Her head bowed and she shivered. He liked that. Even more, when he circled back around to stand before her again, the tips of her nipples had tightened into buds so pert that his mouth ached to taste them.
“I would like to touch your breasts. Do I have your consent to do that? I want you to say no if you’d rather I didn’t.”
She looked at her breasts just before she nodded.
“Use your words, honey. I need to hear you say it.”
She swallowed hard. “Yes, Sir. Please… touch m-my breasts.”
He reached for her, watching close for the first sign of panic and seeing only the wonder, the catch of an uncertain breath when he let his fingers brush along the outer curve of her left breast. His thumb passed across the tightly perked nipple. He circled it, rolled it gently, plucked, all the while watching that slow flush of pink rise bright across her face. The set of her body melted as that blush of arousal spread all the way down onto her chest.
“These are the hands of a dom who cares for you,” he said, bringing his left hand up to her right breast. He circled her nipples in tandem, loving how her eyes closed, her face tipping upward as her back arched, offering her breasts to him that much more. “These are hands that respect you and will always work hard to protect and defend the trust you’ve put in me.” Letting go of her, he added, “They are also the hands that are about to show you just how not broken you are.”
Turning away, he emptied the bag of clothespins out onto his desk. Filling his pocket, he returned to cup the weight of her left breast in his hand. He bent.
“Remember your safeword,” he said, just before taking the peak of her nipple into his mouth.
Her body and her gasp both melted into the suckling draw of his mouth as he drank in his first taste of her. He loved the sound. Even more, he loved how she closed her eyes, losing herself in the sensation as his lips, teeth and tongue gently played with her. Her breathing turned swift and shallow. Goosebumps broke out along her skin.
“Cold?” he asked.
She shook her head, quick, tight back and forth jerks that meant no.
“Little pinch,” he warned, plucking the tip of her wet nipple into a bud that the first clothespin easily bit down upon.
Her shaky breath ended in the softest mewl of a moan. One she quickly choked off into silence.
He liked the moan. Hearing more of it became his instant goal.
Bowing his head, Carlson closed the heat of his mouth over her other nipple. He suckled that, fiercely now, wrapping his left arm around her waist to hold her steady when her knees buckled. His right hand took command of the clothespin, letting it repeat its blunted bite over and over again as he made love to its twin, licking, kissing, and nipping until all the frozen tension in her body had melted into writhing.
Her hands cupped his head, not to push away, but holding him at her breast right up until he let her nipple go and suddenly she noticed what she’d done. She quickly snatched her hands away.
“I-I’m sorry!” she gasped.
Clipping a clothespin on both nipples now, he took hold of the biting tips, gently applying pressure to increase the nip of pain, bringing her dancing up onto her tiptoes.
“Did I censure you?” he asked pointedly.
“No, Sir,” she gasped.
“Then don’t be sorry.” He released her, and she came down off her toes with a barely muffled moan born in part from relief and in part arousal. From the moment he knelt to plug the wand into the power strip beneath his desk, he caught the unmistakable whiff of feminine desire. “You’re not broken at all, are you?”
Excitement was an electrified wire singing through his veins. He rose, feeling that bite of anticipation in every one of his fingers as he cupped each of her breasts in his hands, molding them in his palms, taking a moment to savor the softness before, one clothespin at a time, decorating them in clips.
