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He pulled her against him, eyes drawn toward the collared bra he’d found just for her. His fingers traced the thin black ribbons from her neck to where the cups held her gorgeous breasts, her nipples making themselves known through the thin fabric, savouring her every reaction before dipping his head to meet her lips in a slow smouldering kiss. He felt her unspoken words of love and gratitude with every swipe of her tongue, every soft moan of pleasure that came from the meeting of their lips as she melted into him.
As he broke away, he inhaled deeply, burying his head in the crook of her neck, taking a moment to breathe her in. Citrus and honey anointed her pale skin. Ivy had always used scents to bolster her mood. It was something that monster had used against her, a part of her she had only recently reclaimed. Even if she could still no longer stomach the smell of her favourite chocolates and the scent of whiskey still made her stomach churn, she’d taken back one more thing from him.
He ran his tongue across her collarbone, up her neck to claim her earlobe with a gentle nibble. Her hands rose, fisting his hair, her back arching, pushing her slender body further into as she pulled just enough to burn his scalp and tease a growl from his throat. As soon as they stepped through the door she’d be a model of discipline, his good girl. Out here though, there was always a few moments just to let her know that she was his goddess, and the playroom was but one place he would worship her.
CHAPTER TWO
Miles stepped into the playroom, his eyes briefly casting over the specialised, custom furniture. Benches, suspension frames, spider webs, everything he could imagine and more. It had taken Devon’s contacts the space of a morning to set him up with the basics, but since then, as he explored and discovered his and Ivy’s kinks, their collection had grown and evolved, much like their relationship.
Ivy knelt in the middle of the room, eyes cast down, waiting. He always sent her in ahead, giving her a few moments of solitude to calm her mind, to centre herself in the mindset that never failed to bring her peace. At one point, her submission had been a crutch, the only way to still her mind and calm her thoughts and fear, the only way she knew to survive. Now, while it held therapeutic value, she had also reclaimed the part of herself that Perry Carter had tried to strip from her. The love of Kink and BDSM she’d had long before him.
Every time Miles looked at her, he was filled with awe and wonder. A disbelief that he could be so lucky. There would never be the words to tell her how he felt, how proud he was of her. She was his goddess, the light of his world, his wonder. He loved her with everything he was, and hated he’d wasted so much time not seeing what had been before his eyes for so long.
As he approached the fitted, matt-black wardrobe, he allowed his gaze to find her on the mirror’s surface as the door slid open.
She looked every inch a goddess, his goddess. Her brown hair had been tied back, ready to be wrapped around his fist, tugged and pulled in ways which made her mewl. The dim light from the embedded spotlights cascaded over her, bathing her in their gentle glow, announcing to his groin she was ready and waiting.
The low hum of the climate control did little to dull the sound of her breathing, calm yet anticipatory, as she knelt waiting.
The wardrobe he’d opened was home to their impact play toys. His fingers traced the wooden grain of lacquered paddles and the smooth texture of resin, before moving on to the supple leather. Decisions, decisions, so much choice, and never enough time.
Gathering the items he wanted, he placed them on the metal table he had prepared for their play session earlier, a preparation now temporarily delayed by the need for her to be punished.
With his items at the ready, he slowly began to circle her, flogger in hand, drawing its soft leather across her skin, up her arms, over her shoulders, teasing her, watching the way her body twitched in anticipation. Savouring every shallow intake of breath through lips parted with desire.
Her body jerked in response to every touch, his to command. He flicked his wrist, causing the braided falls to crack gently, too gentle for Ivy, and she wasn’t ashamed to let him know, to seek out more. She arched into the impact as it lashed against the curve of her breast. His strokes were playful, infrequent, and too light to leave the red kisses upon her skin they both loved.
“Up.” The single word was responded to instantly. Ivy glided to her feet with grace and poise, keeping her gaze down, waiting. Miles knew she was awaiting his next command, and flicked the flogger, harder than before, drawing the slightest moan from her lips, her eyes fluttering closed.
God that sound was sexy. He’d never tire of hearing her pleasure, hearing her cries, hearing her beg through laboured breaths as he gave her exactly what she needed. She was his. Only his. The whip struck again, a criss-cross kiss forming on her skin.
Placing the flogger down, he retrieved the shackles from the table, taking her left hand in his, kissing her scars before covering them with the leather cuffs and repeating the process with the right wrist.
This was his ritual, his routine, his reassurance to her. The scars that lined her body had been caused by abuse, but in this room, she would find only love. In this room, she only needed to say one word, or make one gesture, and everything would end, and aftercare would begin.
Linking the cuffs together with a carabiner, he led her to the wall. Sometimes he would be vocal in his needs for her, sometimes, like today, he was quiet, letting her mind fill with anticipation and questions. While her mind was focused on what was to come, the thoughts that had crowded it before had no place.
“Front to the wall,” he commanded, his eyes gliding down her pale skin. She shivered as he traced his fingers across her back as she stood facing the wall like a good girl. Knowing his wishes, she raised her arms above her head, waiting for him to secure them to the chain suspended through the metal hoop fixed to the suspension brackets on the ceiling. Although suspension was not his intention today.
She looked so perfect strung up, waiting. Her thighs sawing together to relieve the ache he’d put there, her limbs stretched, muscles taut. She was still too thin, but her weight, her curves, were slowly returning. Her every rib was no longer visible with the rising and falling of her chest with each anticipatory breath. “Why am I punishing you?” he growled in her ear on an exhale, his body still pressed against hers from when he’d fastened her in place, knowing his breath would chase across her flesh, heightening her senses, further stoking the need that burned within her. She was a tactile creature, something he used to their mutual advantage.
“Because I didn’t wait for the car and made you worry.” Her answer came on a whisper, heady with desire.
“Now, what’s a fair number for your punishment? You were over an hour late, sixty minutes.” His nails traced the length of her arms, a needy whine escaping her lips, her ass pressing against him as she arched. Her hands twisted to grasp the chain within her slender fingers. He’d never tire of seeing her like this, wanting, waiting. “Be a good girl. If you beg, I’ll stop at thirty. Three sets of ten. I want to hear you count them out loud.”
“Yes, Master.” Her voice trembled, a sharp breath sucking between her teeth as he reached around her hips, sliding his fingers to her clit, teasing her gently until her hips bucked, greedily seeking out more.
He stepped back, the first smack of the paddle taking her by surprise, her chest pressed against the wall as she jerked forward. Rookie mistake, or it would have been if he didn’t suspect she’d done it deliberately. He struck again. Her body, pressed against the solid wall was now forced to take the full impact without the natural give her body’s movement would have allowed. “You’re not counting, princess.”
“Two,” her voice wavered, deeper with lust and arousal. His hands found her hips, pulling her back from the wall slightly. Naughty girl. Surely she knew he’d only let her get away with that once.
“Ah-ah, start again.” With a delicate touch, he caressed her pink ass gently, kneading the firm buttocks until she pressed back into him, a needy whine vibrating in her throat. He smacked her again, her ass pushing into the strike as she counted out loud.
Another sharp crack had her crying out, the sweet pleas he loved to hear on her lips. Her thighs pressed together as he continued to deliver the blows, stopping only as she cried out the number ten.
“Good girl,” he whispered, enjoying the way her body responded to those two simple words. Reaching between her legs he stroked her gently, teasing the nerves, bringing her to the edge, to the place her legs began to quiver.
“Please, Master, may I come?”
