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He placed her paddle on the counter then faced her with the collar in his hands. “Remain in place and lift your hair.”
Gaze focused on him, she did so and watched him close the distance between them.
She loved it when he stood so close that she was able to inhale his scent.
He buckled the strip of leather into place then stood there for a moment, looking at her.
“This is something I won’t get tired of seeing.” His voice was hoarse.
Kelsey let her hair fall over her shoulders and down her back.
“There’s a flogger hanging behind those doors.” He nodded toward the piece of furniture.
“Yes, Sir,” she said, unsure what to say and having no choice but to rely on intuition to guide her.
“Bring it to me. Present it to me.”
She didn’t know exactly what he meant. In books, the Dom sometimes expected the sub to kneel, sometimes just hand it over. “On my knees, Sir? Standing? Bowed before you?”
“Excellent,” he whispered.
His approval made heat lance through her. She realized his instruction had been a test. Would she have the courage to admit what she didn’t know and ask for his guidance?
“Head on the floor,” he said.
She went to the masculine piece of furniture and opened the doors.
Breath chilled her lungs. He had all sorts of stuff hanging from hooks—floggers, whips and two paddles. One was carved from thick wood and had a capital D burned into it. The other was much thinner, crafted from a lighter-colored wood, and it had rows of holes marching across the surface. Either of them, she was sure, would hurt considerably more than hers. He had a couple of other implements on the shelves that she’d never seen and couldn’t name.
“It’s the short one on the far left,” he said from across the room. “Golden colored.”
He had several there. One was black, intimidatingly long with at least thirty strands. There was a red one that appeared to be made from rubber. Kelsey picked up the one she thought he meant. It was about twelve inches long, and the thick strands were soft and supple, but it was still daunting. “Is this correct, Sir?” She turned toward him.
“It is.”
Schooling her mind and her racing thoughts, she took a few steps toward him then stopped. Her pulse fluttering, she lowered herself to her knees then went lower still, until her forehead was pressed to the hardwood. Kelsey stretched her arms in out in front of her, palms together and facing up with the handle of the flogger across them.
Since her eyes were closed, she relied on her other senses. The sound of his footfall seemed to echo throughout the room and inside her head, reminding her of her submission.
Then… Nothing but the whisper from the air conditioner.
He allowed the tension to stretch and grow, and it took all her concentration to remain in position.
Eventually she felt him lift the flogger from her hands.
“Very, very nice. I couldn’t have wanted anything more.” He went quiet for a moment. “Look at me.”
Through barely opened eyelids and with her forehead a scant few inches off the floor, she tipped back her head.
He was crouched in front of her, his legs spread.
She met his gaze. “Sir?”
“When you’re ready, sub, strip. Stack your clothes in the bottom drawer of the armoire, then put on the nipple clamps I’ve laid out for you here…” He pointed toward the countertop. “Then position yourself over the spanking bench.”
She waited, unable to respond.
“When you do, I want you to tell me how many times I should use my flogger on you.”
Kelsey squeezed her legs together and felt the plug shift.
“And when we agree on that answer, I’ll do exactly that.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Once we’re done and you can’t take any more, you’re going to ask me to sear your ass with the paddle. I want you, me—both of us—to know that you’re my slut. And I want you to be proud of that.”
She shifted, already needy.
“Do you understand me, Kelsey?”
“Yes. Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, Sir.”
She forced her gaze up.
“And then, my obedient submissive, you’re going to beg me to fuck you.”
Chapter Twelve
The reality of having Kelsey in his playroom surpassed his fantasies.
He stood near the countertop and watched her take off her clothes. Her hands didn’t shake as badly as they had a couple of days ago, meaning she was gaining confidence, perhaps relying on him and his direction to guide her. Fucking heady stuff.
As he’d instructed, she placed her clothes in the bottom drawer, and she tucked her shoes out of the way.
She walked toward him, her bare feet silent on the floor. Though he loved the sight of a woman in high heels, there was something about her being completely nude that made her appear more submissive.
