TietheKnot

Cynthia Rayne

John “Sax” Saxon wants his
estranged wife Maggie back in his life and in his bed. As his submissive.
During their whirlwind courtship and short-lived stint as a married couple,
he’d kept his kinky desires to himself, worried that his sheltered wife
wouldn’t understand. Now that they’ve separated and counseling has failed them,
he has nothing left to lose. Sax is going to show Maggie just how pleasurable
submitting to him can be.

A Romantica®
BDSM erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave

John Saxon never remembered their
names.

Not that he really wanted to get
invested in the women he, er, patronized. It was a business transaction,
nothing more. Flesh and filthy lucre. The last thing he wanted was something
personal. Intimate.

Now
that
would be a real
betrayal of his wife’s trust.

The woman standing across the room
from him made a great show of removing her black designer suit. Most working
girls dressed as if they were businesswomen. The disguise made it much easier
to glide past the hotel’s front desk. With her back to him, Lori seductively
slipped the jacket from her narrow shoulders, revealing the silky lingerie
beneath. Or was it Lily?

She wore a black bustier and teeny
tiny matching panties with lace stockings. Linda winked at him as she brushed
her bleached-blonde hair to one side and seductively shimmied the black flared
skirt down past her supple thighs. It dropped lower and lower until it formed
an ebony pool at her feet. She deliberately took a long time, showing off her
tanned ass cheeks and the pink pussy lips underneath the see-through fabric.

Lila was gorgeous. He recognized
that on an aesthetic level, but she was much too thin, not his type at all.
When he’d glanced at her photo on the Pandora’s Box website, she appeared to be
a bit larger. Shapelier. Skinny wasn’t his beat. No, he preferred larger, curvy
women with full asses, luscious thick thighs and big, full breasts. Women who
looked as if they could handle a deep, hard, dominating fuck. Like his wife,
Maggie. But he was here alone with a woman who indulged his desires. For a
price. So he wouldn’t let the hotel suite go to waste.

Laura turned, lowered her eyes and
walked toward him on very high patent-leather heels that clicked on the parquet
floor. She wore a light citrus-scented cologne, which tickled his nose. Sure
sign of a pro. No telltale overtly feminine perfume that might be carried on a
man’s clothes back to his wife. No lipstick that could be kissed off either,
just a light-pink gloss.

Not that he had to worry about a
suspicious wife at home. Maggie hadn’t lived with him in nearly two months.
This
transaction
with Lola was a poor substitute.

Laura lowered her voice and spoke
in such an affected, throaty whisper it nearly caused a burble of hysterical
laughter to erupt from his lips. “I’ve been such a bad girl, sir. I need a
good, hard spanking.” Although his cock didn’t have a sense of humor, it stood
at attention.

Bloody fucking hell.

Sax casually sat on the orange
chaise in the hotel living room and patted his lap in an inviting gesture. A
luxurious king-sized bed beckoned a few feet away but he preferred to keep this
light. A couch was far less romantic and, to be honest, he was somewhat pressed
for time.

Lacy.
That was her name. It
had been bugging him. “Then come here, Lacy, and you shall have one.” He seriously
doubted her real name was Lacy. Like actresses, they utilized stage names to
protect their privacy. Although he didn’t care who she really was. She was
merely a stand-in for the real thing.

“If you wanted me to, I could slip
these panties right off. We could, um, renegotiate my fee for any…additional
incurred expenses. Not for sex, of course. That’d be wrong.” She winked at him.

Why the subterfuge? In case the
police had bugged the room or he was some sort of snitch?

She came to stand in front of him,
her red-polished nails making a seductive pass over the edge of her panties.
Dipping below the waistline. What a little tease. “If something were to happen,
it would be between two consenting adults.”

He raised a brow. Sax had no
intention of letting anything like that happen. He had been faithful to Maggie
and intended to honor his promise, even if he had broken the spirit of that vow
by indulging his proclivities.

Besides, he’d never paid for the
sexual
services of a woman, although he did employ them for the purposes of
discipline. He had no intention of starting now.

“It is a very tempting offer but no,
thank you, Lacy.” He was aware how absurd the situation was. In a few minutes
he’d have a half-naked woman on his lap, but he couldn’t,
wouldn’t
do more.
He and Maggie might be separated, but he was still in love with her. He didn’t
want another woman in his bed. And he would lose his mind if she slept with
another man.

He played with his wedding ring,
spinning it around and around on his finger as he briefly contemplated walking
straight out of this room, leaving Lacy and her silk underthings gaping at him.
Touching another woman felt wrong. It
was
wrong. But he couldn’t help
himself. He needed release. Felt compelled to do this.

“Now lie down on my lap and do your
level best to be quiet. I don’t want the neighbors calling the concierge. That
would be embarrassing for both of us.”

She made a face because he didn’t
snap up her bait, but obeyed. Once she was situated, Sax closed his eyes and
thought about his wife. He loosened the tie from his throat and curled the red
fabric around her wrists. When he finished, he admired his handiwork as she
tugged at them. Unable to get loose.

He summoned Maggie’s image in his
mind, pretended she was the girl sprawled upon his lap, her lush hips pillowed
on his thighs. Her juicy white ass at his mercy and eager for his discipline,
his cock. He would start slowly, make her worry. Run his fingertips along the
cheek of her ass. Teasing her. Letting her anticipate the slap to come. He
loved this part, toying with the submissive.

Lacy just started to relax, rest
against him, and then he brought his hand down.

He pictured the long silken length
of Maggie’s red hair tickling his hand. To cut the sting, he caressed each
supple cheek before delivering a slap to either side. Then he soothed it again
and admired his handiwork. She wore cheeky panties, so little half-moons of
creamy white flesh were revealed and they had turned an enticing shade of pink.

He could feel himself grow hard.
His cock rearing to life. For the past month he’d been on a sexual bender of
sorts, hiring a pro sub once a week or so, so he could spank her. He was no
longer content with memories of his college youth spent in the fetish scene or
the wicked DVDs that arrived in his mailbox in telltale slick black wrappers.

He had to have the real thing.
Maggie.

But he seriously doubted Maggie
would ever let him touch her like this. Just like his former fiancée Allison,
Maggie would run from him if she knew what he really desired from her sexually.
No, his desires were best confined to random women. In his single days after
Allison, he’d even frequented bondage-friendly clubs prowling for submissive
women with a dominant male friend of his, Drake. Together they’d fucked women.
It had been sexually gratifying, if empty. Much like paying a woman to let him
spank her.

He slapped her bum again and Lacy
made a lusty porn-style groan but he ignored it. He focused once more on the
woman of his dreams. Maggie, hot and eager for him. “Such a naughty girl,” he
muttered. “You know you deserve this, don’t you?”

“Yes sir!” She undulated against
him and he gritted his teeth. He was hard, hard as a rock and in need of
release.

God, he wanted his wife so badly.
Wanted to have her at his mercy like this. This was nothing more than a
substitute, an inferior bit of cold comfort.

Lacy moved again and he unseated
her unceremoniously, nearly landing her on the floor. He ripped off her
restraint. “Hey, wait! You paid for the entire hour.”

“Keep the change,” he called,
crossing to the bathroom and locking the door, lest Lacy’s avarice drove her to
attempt to talk him out of a few quid for a shag in the shower. He shucked his
blue suit, folding it neatly on the marble countertop, and then the rest of his
clothes. The last thing he removed was the silver Rolex Maggie had given him.
He left that on the top.

He stared at himself in the mirror.
Studying his reflection.

Enough. You are better than
this.

His cock still stood proud and at
attention. The head dipped and bobbed as he imagined taking Maggie here, bent
over the marble counter. He picked up the watch and checked the time once more.
He only had forty-five minutes to jerk off, shower and get to his counseling
session.

He climbed into the cool porcelain
shower stall and turned on the hot water, letting it roll over him in waves.
Sax pushed his head under the water spray and thought of his wife.

Maggie bent over the back of the
chaise, ass high in the air, her little panties down around her ankles. He’d
come up behind her and slide his thick, aching cock inside her. Just like that.
Straight into the moist heat he had missed so much. God he loved the feel of
her tight pussy around him, milking his cock as it pushed in her. Over and over
again until they were both panting and satisfied.

Alone in the shower, Sax pumped his
cock, gliding his hand up and down the thick shaft all the way to the plump
purple head. He growled as he came, spurting, hitting the black tile with his
sticky white cum. With a sigh, he braced his arms against the wall and watched
as the water sluiced down over his body, washing away the remains of his
orgasm, the lemon-fresh scent of Lacy and the betrayal of this desperate act.

Sax knew he couldn’t do this
anymore. It was time for a bloody change.

* * * * *

“We’re skipping therapy this
afternoon.”

Maggie jumped at the soft-spoken
voice that came from just behind her. Sax. She’d know the deep baritone
anywhere.

She turned to look at him and
sucked in a bit of the chilled air. Immaculately dressed in a gray pinstriped
suit, Sax gave off an aura of power. He was an imposing man. Six-foot-six and
built like a linebacker with broad shoulders and strong arms. He had
mischievous blue eyes, short blond hair and a wicked English accent.

Was it any wonder she’d fallen for
him on their first date? And hadn’t been able to stop since.

She’d just gotten out of her car
and was about to walk into the office building to meet Dr. Brown. She and Sax
had a standing weekly appointment for marriage counseling. Not that it had done
much good, but they both dutifully attended every week.

“Why would we skip it?” she asked,
arching a brow.

He gave her that confident
courtroom smile, the smile he used to sway juries and, no doubt, charm sorority
girls out of their panties in college. A smirk filled with masculine arrogance
and magnetism that made her shiver.

“Talking with a stranger about
marriage hasn’t solved a damn thing, has it?”

She sighed, exasperated. When she’d
proposed therapy, she thought it might help. That maybe a professional
counselor would be able to pry open those taciturn lips of his, but he’d
remained just as closed off, only now it cost him four hundred dollars a week
to not talk to her.

“Then why did you agree to
counseling in the first place?”

“I did it for you.” He shrugged.
“Because you wanted to try it. At first? I thought it might help, but I can’t
talk to her.”

Maggie had the sneaking suspicion
she was the one he couldn’t actually talk to, but she didn’t press it. “Okay.”
She rubbed her temple with a gloved hand, trying to stave off the threatening
migraine. “So, what’s plan B? Do you want to try another therapist? Would a guy
be easier to open up to?”

“I think only you can solve this
particular problem,” he said, practically purring.

She hesitated for a moment. “What
do you mean by that?”

“I’m going to buy you some coffee.
We’ll sort this out over some caffeine.”

“But what about our appointment?”
Maggie felt like groaning. They’d tried it on their own and it hadn’t helped. Now
counseling seemed to be a bust. “You already paid, we might as well go.”

“I’ll cancel it.” He grinned,
plucking his cellphone from his coat and then dialing the number. “Go ahead and
get in my car to warm up while I get us out of the meeting.”

Maggie locked the door of her sedan
and trudged through the mixture of salt and snow to Sax’s black SUV. She hopped
inside, turned on the heated leather seat and slumped down in the chair.

She wondered if she’d been kidding
herself, using therapy as a way to postpone the inevitable. She and Sax were
over. It had been a mistake from the start, really.

They’d had a whirlwind courtship,
getting married after they’d only known each other a few weeks, and they’d
separated just after their first anniversary. Frankly, this all seemed to be
hopeless. They should just admit the truth and agree they’d made a terrible
mistake.

He climbed in the car and smiled at
her.

His grin
wasn’t
infectious.
She just stared back at him.

“No problem. I gave our apologies
to the good doctor and got out of our appointment.” He put a soothing hand on
her shoulder, which she shrugged off. “Come on, don’t look so down. All things
are better with a little coffee and caramel.”

Damn that man and his freaking
charm.

Her lips twitched. Sometimes she
thought he could seduce her into anything. In fact, he had the night they met.
She’d ended up sleeping with him, even though that went against her dating
rules.

“Fine.” She crossed her arms over
her chest. “But I want a huge coffee and cheesecake brownie too.”

* * * * *

Twenty minutes, later they had gone
through the drive-thru at Starbucks and were in front of the fireplace at Sax’s
modern and almost clinical-looking apartment.

She’d been in doctor’s offices with
more warmth.

He had all-white furniture with
silver metal accents. Hardwood floors, a wall of windows with a spectacular
view of Washington DC. But it was cold. There were no photos, plants or
knickknacks to distract from the clean lines. Nothing warm about this place.