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For a moment, she kept her eyes closed, but when she opened them, she looked at him and said, “Thank you.”
Her words sounded heartfelt.
She seemed like a puzzle, each piece unique and complex. To him, she was no longer a woman who worked with him, alternately helpful and confounding, or a sub he enjoyed playing with. She was much more complicated.
He stood and curved his hands around her upper arms. “This is more than a desire for an occasional kick for you, isn’t it?”
She drew a few, shuddering breaths.
The silence stretched for so long he began to wonder if she would answer.
“Yes, Mr Tomlinson, it is.”
He wanted to know much, much more about her. Watching her, he fisted the chain that draped between her breasts and dragged her nipples together. She gasped but didn’t protest. She closed her eyes. There was no anguish on her face, only a calm serenity. “Beautiful,” he told her. He eased the pressure.
“Thank you, Mr Tomlinson.”
“I do love good manners. How would you like your spanking?”
“Well done,” she said cheekily.
He gave her clamps a quick tug.
She sighed.
“Incorrigible wench,” he said with an exaggerated huff.
“I liked that,” she told him. “The unexpected. It’s different when I play with myself. Not knowing what you’re going to do, how it’s going to feel, being unable to brace myself. To be honest, Mr Tomlinson, it doesn’t matter. If it pleases you to continue as you were earlier, that’s fine with me. Over the knee works. Or there’s a reason I bought a four-poster bed.”
Since he’d had her across his lap at the Den, he thought he’d go for something else, though if he were honest, he’d admit that he loved the feel and the sight of her body as she squirmed against his skin. “I’m going to readjust your cuffs.” He released the lock and freed one wrist. He rubbed her skin because he wanted the connection he got from touching her. “They don’t seem as if they were too tight.”
“Not at all.”
He massaged her shoulders as well before instructing, “Kneel on the edge of the bed with your ass in the air.”
Her motions were deliberate, slow and feminine. As he’d started giving orders, her breathing pattern had changed in response. “Tits on the mattress, Maggie. That’s it. I want your breasts to feel those clamps. Ah, yes. Now arch your back a bit more. Show me that beautiful butt.” He waited while she followed his instruction. “I should take a picture,” he said. “Can’t think of a nicer screen saver.”
“I hope it would be a distraction,” she responded.
“The ultimate. Everything about you is.” Including the fact she hadn’t protested his idea. He walked around to the far side of the bed. “Give me your wrists, please.”
She stayed in the position he’d ordered her into, and she could only lift her head a few inches to look at his eyes as she stretched her hands towards him. Her eyelids were lowered a bit, and he was recognising the look as one that came over her when she was getting deeper and deeper into a submissive headspace.
He secured the cuffs and checked the fit. He held her gaze. “I’m going to beat you,” he informed her, “and give you another well-deserved orgasm.”
“Thank you, Mr Tomlinson.”
“Are you comfortable enough?”
“Not at all.”
He grinned. “Perfect.”
“I figured that might be your response, Mr Tomlinson.”
“Do you really want it otherwise?”
“No,” she said clearly.
“As I thought.” He moved behind her.
He trailed his fingers down her back until he was between her buttocks. She parted her legs to give him greater access.
He saw the tension in her muscles as she fought to keep herself in place while he fondled her pussy. He continued to touch and explore.
“Please, please, please,” she said, now shamelessly pressing against his hand.
The tang of her arousal rent the air and urged him on in a primal need for possession. “How do you keep this side of yourself hidden at work?” He gave her a few light slaps.
