Authors: Natalie Dae
John’s previous subs had been totally passive, allowing him to call every single shot. Shara wasn’t made that way. She enjoyed being at his mercy—it gave her a sense of calm to be so treated, to hand over the reins to him and allow him to take her wherever, whenever and however he pleased—but to not express that she needed more went against her principles. She was a sub, yes, but one who needed a say in what occurred. This was a learning curve for John, and she was determined to show him that a sub didn’t need to take only what he decided to give, denying her inner wants.
You
will
do what I want, John.
My pet,
I realise you admitting you can’t take any more would be a big thing. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met—that’s why I love you, my sub with a touch of Dom. Perhaps, when I paddle your arse and you find the pain is a different breed to what you’ve had before, you’ll finally admit I was right. That I know best.
I can see you rolling your eyes. Stop it.
Once you’ve put the paddle on the table, you may go into the living room and sit on the sofa. It should be around four by this time. You must think of the paddle, how it will feel—the studs, the bite of them—and how far you’re prepared to go. They may make you bleed, remember that. I know the pain carrying over to the following day gets you off. Where you can’t sit, can’t bear to wear clothing because it chafes, yet at the same time you relish that because it reminds you of what we’ve done. I know all this, but I’m concerned at the levels you’ve said you wish to go to this evening. Although I’m prepared to strike you, to give you pleasure-pain, I’m not prepared to hurt you if it doesn’t give you some measure of excitement or sexual sensation. Do you understand? Hurting you for the sake of it isn’t something I can do. You’ve been aware of this from day one. Do not push me or try to force me into playing that way.
What is my main rule? Say it out loud. Say it to yourself now. Yes, that’s right. Your safety is my primary goal. So, my little pet, do not think you can outwit me with how clever you’re being. I know exactly what you’re doing and it won’t work. The minute, the second I feel you’re out of your depth, play stops.
You sighed then, didn’t you. Don’t.
I won’t go easy on you either, know that and let it sink in. If this is what you want—a hard, brutal spank—then that is what you’ll get. But, I’m warning you, if I catch on to you pretending that it really isn’t hurting so bad, just so you save face, I will not be pleased.
A thought struck her then. Perhaps one of her email responses had alerted him to what she was up to. She
had
planned to continue with the paddling even when it got too much. She wanted to surpass any previous pain level, to get over it and drown in the pleasure that was sure to follow, as it always had in the past. Had he strode in here tonight after reading between the lines and was now working out how best to put it to her that their play session wouldn’t go ahead? That he couldn’t trust her to use their safe word when things went beyond anything they’d indulged in before? She loved him dearly for his concern, but—
He lifted his head and stared across at her, halting her thoughts. She stopped breathing for a second, then exhaled through her teeth, the sound of it a loud hiss in the quiet. His eyes glittered, and he drew his eyebrows together as though trying to figure out how he would tell her something. She wasn’t so bull-headed that she’d fight him on this, cause a scene and stamp her feet to get what she wanted. No, if he felt even he couldn’t hit her as hard as she wanted, she’d back down until he’d had more time to think about it. He might be a Dom, but his sense of right and wrong always played a part in their sex games. She wouldn’t think him weak if he refused to play a certain way. On the contrary, she’d think of him as stronger for it.
“Jacobson pulled out of the deal,” he said, standing upright and planting his hands on top of the chair. His knuckles whitened, and the muscles in his jaw worked, a steady pulse she longed to smooth away with her fingertips.
She stared at him.
Oh, God…
What is Jacobson playing at? He promised me he would be on board. That his wife wouldn’t like to know he spent some of his evenings in a BDSM club…
He smiled, a quick flash of stretched lips, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Speak, pet.”
She opened her mouth, stopping herself from getting up and rushing to him, from holding his head to her breast and stroking his hair. Comforting him. This was a major blow. Their pharmaceutical business needed Jacobson’s expertise, needed him involved in order to produce the drugs needed for cancer patients. John would be crushed.
“Oh, John. Are you sure there’s no one else? Someone who has been researching the same thing?”
Please let him say yes…
“No, there’s no one else.” He turned away to stare at the mirror again. “I wanted… Fuck, I thought we’d be helping so many. He promised. I thought…” He pressed his lips together, then, “This can wait. We can talk after play. For now I need you to make me forget. Make me forget every goddamn thing except for you.”
Chapter Two
My pet,
I’ve been thinking since your last email. I know I’ve said this before but I think it bears repeating. You have no idea how much I love you, do you? How I would give up everything for you. The company, the money, the healing—none of it matters as much as you, not one goddamn thing.
Remember when we first met? You were the most seductive-looking sub I’d seen at the club, and I knew right then you were mine, were destined for me. Yeah, that sounds far-fetched, a bit unmanly, but I don’t give a fuck. That’s how it felt, how it still feels. I had millions and you didn’t know, treated me as you would any other, and you restored my faith in women. That love does exist, that a woman can love me for who I am and not what I earn.
You being beside me, giving me your support, helping me to see how to increase revenue at the same time as expanding our reach, extending hands to those in need, has been indescribable. You’re one of the most unselfish people I have ever met. A Godsend. My lady.
Now, try to imagine hurting someone you love as much as I love you. As much as you’ve said you love me. Try to imagine why, even though the one you love assures you they want the pain, they want to push the envelope, even going so far as to cause themselves injury, you’re reticent to oblige. Oh, I’ll paddle you all right, but what you must understand is that I’m not prepared to continue with it past the point when you may not get the pleasure you crave. Some pains are too painful, you understand? This is the proper behaviour for a Dom, me warning you, and you are aware of this, but it is also the proper behaviour of a man who loves his woman. I will do this, but I
will
stop when I sense you’ve had enough.
All I ask is that you respect that and say the safe word. What is it about saying it that has you so obstinate? Are you trying to prove something to yourself, is that it? Prove that you can take whatever is dished out? You said it wasn’t that, so what is it? Tell me. Admitting the pain is too much isn’t something to be ashamed of, pet. It’s something to be proud of, that you can own your feelings and know when to call it a day.
A part of me wonders whether what I have just said has been a waste of time. You’re stubborn, I get that, but think on this. If you ignore my warnings, your body’s warnings, and continue to be paddled long after the time when it should have stopped… Let’s just say I will be disappointed that you didn’t trust me enough with that secret. The secret of admitting your breaking point. My knowing it can only enhance things between us, you do realise that, don’t you? That you trust me enough to reveal what you’d call your failings. I will keep it to myself forever, I promise.
He knew just how to get to her, and after she’d read that particular email she hadn’t felt he was manipulating her back. No, he’d bared himself, had been completely honest, and she’d been awash with a sense of shame that she had even contemplated trying to dupe him. Yet still that little voice nagged at her, telling her that when she’d first been whipped there had been a point where she’d thought she couldn’t take any more, where it was nothing but pain, pain, pain. And then it had swiftly changed just as she’d opened her mouth to say their safe word, the raw, feral snap of toy upon arse switching from teeth-gritting agony to the boiling euphoria of pleasure.
Her cunt lips had swelled, her clit had grown, seeming to strain for fingers that weren’t there to touch it. She had humped the air, seeking out something to rub herself against, to get herself off. She’d tingled all over, the skin of her arse burning—so fucking hot, so damn itchy—and had gulped in air as though she’d been drowning in a sea of suffering and had finally, finally been allowed to the surface to breathe. She’d ridden the mighty waves, the undulating sensations that had doused her lust-riddled cunt, falling, falling into the violent yet welcomed crests, letting them envelope her in their scream-inducing glory.
“What are you thinking?” he asked. “Tell me, pet.”
She clenched her hands to prevent herself pushing off the sofa and going to him. He hadn’t said to move. “That you’re right. That I promise to say the safe word if I can’t take any more.” And she would, but would she forever wonder whether that magnificent crest had been just around the corner? What if she gave up and it had been lurking, waiting to change from pain to bliss a few seconds after she said ‘renoncer’? What if John decided they wouldn’t use the studded paddle again because she’d been unable to stand it this time? “I’ll keep going until I recognise the pain level from my first time with the whip, perhaps a few more strikes after that. Then…then I’ll admit defeat.”
He nodded. “Good. Make sure you do. Now, into the playroom.”
His command made shivers dance down her spine, made them shoot from there to her cunt, where they spread and infused her sodden folds with a clit-tingling ferocity that had her sucking in her breath. Her heart rate increased, and her pulse fluttered in her neck. She swallowed, maintaining eye contact—her way of showing him she’d meant what she’d said—then stood.
She brushed past him on her way to the playroom, his body heat and nearness prickling her skin, the hairs on her arms standing at attention. She was unable to resist letting her fingers meet with his in a brief touch of comfort. Yes, play would take his mind from what had occurred within the company today, but for her to continue as though his announcement hadn’t been made wasn’t something she could do—even though he’d prefer it that way. He smiled, just a quick lift of his lips, and this time that smile
did
reach his eyes. She knew what had gone through his mind—he’d told her often enough in the past what her small gestures made him feel. Loved, safe, cherished.
Lucky.
She released his hand then strode away with her head held high, a pose she knew would make him inwardly chuckle. She’d never been one to bow, to stare at the floor, but this time she kept her chin lifted as a means to control herself, not as an act of defiance. Her eyes stung a little, and she blinked, telling herself that to allow her emotions to get the better of her now would mean her letting him down. He
needed
this play, and if he saw her welling tears he’d call it off, wanting to cosset her and find out what was wrong. That she had been overcome by that slight touch of their hands and the enormity of her feelings for him would be by the by. He would think something more serious was afoot and wouldn’t let it drop until she’d convinced him otherwise.
I love you, John.
She walked down the burgundy-carpeted hall with its embossed wallpaper then entered the playroom through a doorway to her right, taking a deep, juddering breath and giving herself a stern talking-to. Now wasn’t the time to indulge in soppiness. She had to remain strong, for John, and get him to that place where only they existed.
Approaching the smooth wooden table in the centre of the room, she fixed her gaze on the paddle, riveted by the way the studs seemed to sparkle from the harsh overhead spotlights. She rested her hand on top of them then pushed down as hard as she dared, the jab of each stud threatening to pierce her palm and fingers. The spanking was going to hurt, no doubt about it, but she
needed
to do this. She couldn’t explain why it was so important, how pain gave her such a sense of security that she craved it, loved being embraced by it, and in between sessions she thought about the pain she would endure in the next. Some might say she was obsessed, that her wants were skewed, twisted thorns that poked at her relentlessly, and maybe they would be right. But John understood. John knew. As much as she desired receiving pain, he desired giving it.
They matched in every way.
She clenched her teeth as emotions threatened to overspill again, and stood upright at the sound of him walking down the hall. His shoes made a soft swish on the carpet, the leather creaking a little. Her stomach contracted in her excitement, and once again her heart and pulse went haywire. She inhaled through her nose then out through her mouth, stepping back, taking her hand from the paddle. She fisted her hand, the movement bringing a snap of after-pain where the studs had been, and smiled at the thought of what her arse would feel like come tomorrow.
The sound of the door to the playroom closing had her looking up to stare into the floor-to-ceiling mirror opposite the table, one that covered the whole wall. John was leaning on the door, hands pressed to it, fingers splayed, and she eyed him, letting him know she was ready. He didn’t walk towards her, though, as he usually did, but studied her. By the look on his face—soft eyes, a slight tilt to his lips—he was feeling emotional himself. They were both in a state of high expectation—her to overcome the pain and seek out her goal, John to make sure she didn’t go too far. She wondered, not for the first time, whether him monitoring her so closely during play meant he lost some enjoyment. He’d assured her that wasn’t the case, that the monitoring enhanced his pleasure, but surely he couldn’t fully let go if he was overly concerned about her. If the roles were reversed, she wouldn’t be able to relax. Which was where she got lucky. She was the sub, able to relinquish everything to him, knowing he would take care of it all. Would make her happy.