Her vocal cords froze. There was nothing she could say to counter him. She
had
been the one to push him away. The one who avoided admitting how she felt about him. Refused to accept his apologies. And even his implied threat of retaliation didn’t garner the knee-jerk response that always followed anyone else’s attempts at intimidation.
She wasn’t frightened. The frisson of sensation quivering through her held no relation to fear. Instead anticipation stirred in her belly. And excitement. On a visceral level, she knew Mike would never lift a hand in anger against her. He was nothing like her father in that sense. The doubts began to surface, percolating up to prod and push away the eagerness Mike always stirred within her.
Forcing aside the disturbing thoughts, Lyssa offered a simple nod of agreement. “I understand. I didn’t really—”
Mike cut her off. “A submissive needs to understand that the master’s needs come first. That his desires supersede hers. That breaking the rules is tantamount to ignoring the wishes of your master. To refusing him the pleasure he deserves.”
Over the last four years, Lyssa had participated in similar debates with Mattie and Bryce over these very issues. With Bryce their discussions focused on a hypothetical, even intellectual, exchange. Her sister, on the other hand, had surprised her.
Considering the example of their parents, Lyssa was flabbergasted at the simple reasoning Mattie gave for following Bryce’s rules. “
I love Bryce. If it pleases him that I follow his rules, it pleases me
.”
The part of her that cringed at the thought of reenacting her mother’s subservience to her father had howled in protest at Mattie’s words. But when Lyssa saw the couple going toe-to-toe over some business venture or something to do with the kids, she knew the rules Mattie followed only applied to the D/s portion of their relationship. That her sister’s trust in her husband’s love and control gave Mattie the freedom to stand as a partner in their marriage.
Lyssa returned her attention to Mike. He eased his hold on her chin then moved back to the bag he’d left on the bed. “So honoring the rules is essentially honoring the master?” she offered, still trying to steady the blood thrumming through her veins at the intensity she could feel emanating from Mike. He might look unaffected by her comment, but his displeasure at her earlier taunts was still palpable.
He glanced over his shoulder at her as he set several items on the quilt covering her bed. “You could say that.”
Curiosity got the better of her. Lyssa asked, “If punishment is a result of disregarding a master’s rules, what is discipline?”
Mike settled on the edge of the bed and shed his sneakers and socks. “Discipline is the steady training of a sub in various methods of meeting the master’s needs.”
“If punishment is correcting behaviors, and discipline is building skills in pleasure, where does spanking fit into the picture? Is it discipline or punishment?” Lyssa moved a step closer.
“It can be both,” Mike answered.
“How can that be?”
“It varies for every submissive. According to your response last night, you like a good spanking. Heating your bum with a few well-placed swats from my hand, a flogger, or even a paddle is more titillating than off-putting for you.” His grin hinted at later plans to do just that.
Lyssa’s nipples peaked, rubbing against the soft lace of her bra as she absorbed the information Mike provided.
He continued, “For other subs, spanking is a humiliating experience. It works as a retaining wall between their sexual self and their nonsexual self. If the spanking is delivered in front of others, it makes the situation even more unbearable.”
“But how can it be considered discipline?”
“Discipline is often a component in role-playing or scene work. For you, pet, a good spanking is like foreplay. It gets your juices flowing. It turns you on. When I use it for discipline, the focus of our play will be to train you to hold off climax.”
“Then you aren’t going to spank me?” Lyssa couldn’t keep the disappointment from her voice. She quelled the protests of the submissive within her.
“I am.” The look on his face was a blend of cunning and amusement.
“But you just said—”
Mike smiled. “For some submissives, physical punishments work to curb behaviors. But only temporarily. The most effective lessons are those of denial.”
“Denial? You mean delayed gratification?” For some reason, Lyssa was finding it difficult to process the information.
“In a way.” Mike rose from the bed and motioned her to step in front of him. “Until you recognize what you’ll be missing, denying it to you is a waste of time.”
“And you think I’ll grow so attached to your attentions that when you take it away, I’ll start doing anything you want?” She deliberately injected disdain into her voice to bolster her confidence. A confidence on a suddenly shaky foundation when she admitted to herself that his reasoning wasn’t too far off the mark.
“Mmmhmm.” Mike grinned. “Think of it as a big girl’s time-out. Follow the rules and you can play all you want. Break the rules and no more playtime.”
Before she could ask another question, his hands gripped the bottom of her sweatshirt. “Enough talking, Lyssa. The sooner we get started, the sooner we can get back to proving me right.”
“Or proving me right,” she suggested. She lifted her arms and let him strip off her sweatshirt. “I still think this is a waste of time,” she grumbled.
It seemed reasonable that the sooner she went along with him and let Mike show her the error of her ways, the sooner he’d grow tired of dealing with her. But that didn’t mean she had to go along without protest. Despite the twinge of disappointment pricking her, Lyssa knew it was better for her if Mike recognized that his feelings were infatuation and not love early on in this thirty-day training period.
He didn’t bother responding to her comment. His fingers stroked the straps of her bra from her shoulders, the callused tips lingering before sliding down to unfasten the hooks in the back and removing the simple white cotton undergarment. His fingers then worked the button and zipper of her jeans free before he eased them over her hips.
“No clothes again?” she quipped. Thirty days of his focused attention would be synonymous with stepping blindfolded onto a minefield.
“My dad always said there was a spot, halfway between the neck and the knees, where you could get your point across without doing permanent damage,” Mike teased. “I acquainted you with it last night.”
“My father didn’t care where he hit as long as it left a mark to remind him he was in charge,” Lyssa muttered, bitterness and anger welling at the sudden memory.
Rough fingertips cupped her chin, lifting her gaze back to his. “Your father wasn’t a dominant. He was an abusive son of a bitch. Nothing he ever did was done with forethought or control, let alone another’s pleasure in mind. A true master never ignores the needs of the one he…rules.”
The deliberate pause before his final word told Lyssa Mike had reconsidered what he’d started to say. Before she could dwell on the flutter that thought produced within her, he crouched and stripped the shoes and socks from her feet. She rested her hands on his shoulders, rubbing at the warm fabric of his shirt. The flex and bulge of muscle beneath her fingertips heated her body while thoughts of making love with him in her bed again stirred.
Mike finished tugging off her jeans and the panties beneath and tossed them toward the pile of discarded clothing on the floor nearby.
The events from Halloween and the night before still made her body tingle. Four years ago, she’d imagined living the rest of her life without a lover would be easy. Lyssa discarded that thought now. Her body craved the sensations Mike could bring it. If his application of the paddle tonight was anything like the spanking he’d bestowed on her last night, she was in deep trouble.
Lost in her thoughts, Lyssa was only barely aware of Mike rising and stepping closer to the bed. He drew her with him, positioning her nude body between his spread thighs as he sat on the edge, his hands around her waist.
“Second thoughts, pet?” he asked.
The play of his fingers against the base of her spine sent tendrils of warmth flowing through her center. The wicked threads of heat pooled between her thighs before eddying upward into her breasts.
“No.” She cleared her throat to try to rid her voice of the husky tone his touch invoked.
Mike stifled his smile, but she could see it twinkling in his eyes. “Positive?” he asked. He leaned forward, her gaze held by his, and slid his tongue over the hard tip of her breast.
Determined not to succumb too quickly, Lyssa shook her head. “I can handle anything you choose to dish out, kid.”
Something flashed in his gaze. Whether it was irritation or humor, she couldn’t tell, but the nip of his teeth against her sensitive nipple made his warning very clear.
Don’t push.
Lyssa couldn’t stop herself from arching her right eyebrow in silent response to his caution. She’d spent too many years relearning not to be intimidated by anyone—male or female—to knuckle under simply because Mike could play her body so well.
His mouth surrounded the firm jut of her nipple, drawing on it while his tongue stroked and teased it into an even harder crest. Then he drew away and repeated similar attentions to her other breast. The hands kneading her back moved down, cupping her bottom, squeezing and massaging the rounded cheeks in rhythm with the suckling of his mouth.
Lyssa fidgeted, the fire growing in her belly. She felt moisture on the insides of her thighs when she flexed and shifted her legs, hoping to still the burn between them. The evidence of her arousal probably coated her vulva in a glistening sheen as well. Perhaps he wasn’t mistaken in reasoning that familiarizing her body to his would work to his advantage.
Dazed and focused only on the sensations Mike stirred within her, Lyssa jumped when the sting of clamps encircled first one nipple and then the other. Instinctively she reached up to remove them, but Mike halted her, capturing her hands and lowering them to her sides.
“Leave them.” His command was firm, and the look he gave her matched.
Determined to meet his challenge, Lyssa drew a deep breath and forced herself to relax. The pressure of the rings wasn’t painful, merely…unfamiliar. The tips of her breasts throbbed, and the fire in her core doubled.
“Is this it?” Lyssa flinched when she heard herself ask the question.
Mike’s expression reflected amusement more than irritation. “Not enough, love?” he asked as he dipped his head and nipped the tight crown on her right breast.
Lyssa jumped but stood her ground. “Depends on how much you have planned,” she stammered.
Mike rose from the bed, keeping Lyssa close. The fabric of his shirt and jeans rubbed along her chest and legs, sending tingles of sensation skittering along her nerve endings.
“Nothing too drastic.” Mike grinned, easing around her so her back rested against his chest. His arms wrapped around her waist, and his hands caressed the soft curve of her belly before moving lower to her waxed, bare mound. Rough fingertips spread the swollen folds and teased the firm nubbin from beneath its hood. “Merely an exercise in control.”
Lyssa allowed her eyes to shut, and her head to drop into the curve of his shoulder, a groan spilling from her lips. “Whose control?” she whispered, fighting the temptation to arch into the caress as he collected the moisture from her body and used it to ease the slide of his thumb along her clit.
His laughter vibrated against her back, warming her body even more. “Why yours, my love.”
I was afraid he’d say that
. Lyssa heard and felt the moan rising in her chest. If Mike’s promises were to be believed, Lyssa knew what form this particular punishment would take.
“Turn around,” Mike prompted. He emphasized his command with a light slap to the right cheek of her derriere.
The amusement in his voice induced a tingle of foreboding as she complied. He stood watching her, the slightest smile quirking his lips. The urge to comment rose, but Lyssa stilled her tongue. For the rest of the month, she needed to assume the role of submissive but remain diligent in protecting her heart. Her breasts throbbed, the initial pain of the clamps having faded but not forgotten.
“We need to take this particular task in stages,” Mike informed her.
A quick tug from his fingers on the chain connecting to the clamp sent fire from the captured flesh straight to her womb. The muscles deep within her spasmed, and the spill of her juices trickled onto her thighs, but Lyssa remained still, allowing only a swiftly stifled gasp to escape.
He drew her close to him using the chain. Her wobbly legs made her stumble, nearly toppling into him. Only Mike’s lightning reflexes kept a paper-thin slice of space between their bodies. He nuzzled her temple before moving down to her cheek.
“When you masturbate, you imagine it’s my hands touching you, correct?” The question was a soft whisper as he nibbled on her earlobe.
“Yes, Master.” It would be foolish to deny. Even now she trembled at the thought of his fingers stroking over her aching body.
“Show me.”
Lyssa blinked up at him in confusion. “Huh?”
The fingers of his left hand strummed a soft beat against her nude pussy. “I want to see you pleasuring this body that belongs to me.” He held her gaze with a firm look. “And you are not to come unless I give you permission.”
Mike gave her no time to climb onto the bed. Instead he lifted her in his arms and gently set her on the mattress, her bottom close to the edge, her legs dangling over the side. “Spread those pretty legs and show me how you finger fuck my pussy,” he ordered, his lips pressing against hers in a quick kiss before he released her and stepped away.
Heat filled Lyssa’s cheeks as she watched him shed his clothes in a slow striptease.
“Show me,” he told her as he dropped his underwear onto the neatly folded pile and palmed his erection.
Hyperaware of his gaze, she lifted her knees so her heels could find purchase on the edge of the mattress. She propped herself up using her left arm and lifted the fingers of her right hand to her lips. If he wanted an exercise in control, she’d give him one.