His cock hardened even more.
No wonder Master Marcus had been reluctant to let her take a leave of absence. Although her behavior needed to be corrected, Marcus had made it clear he didn’t want Zones to lose Alani. She was sexy, sin and innocence in the same package.
Nathaniel knew she’d been born in Hawaii. Even though she’d spent the last fifteen years in the Rocky Mountain west, her skin was still a golden bronze. Her hair flowed over her shoulders and down her back like a midnight waterfall.
Through her sheer blouse, he saw her breasts were full and firm. Her nipples had hardened to tight, suckable peaks. “How sensitive are your nipples?”
“I can tolerate a lot,” she said.
“Sir,” he snapped.
“I can tolerate a lot, Sir.”
From her quick, modulated response he knew she understood. They were now involved in a scene.
“I enjoy wearing clamps, Sir,” she added.
“Does the pain help you get off?”
“Yes, Sir. It does.”
“So you’re a bit of a masochist, Alani?” Even though her head was slightly bent, he noticed a soft flush creep up her cheeks. Well, well. A professional sub who still had some hesitations.
“Yes, Sir. I’m afraid I’m more than just a bit of a masochist.”
“So I punish you more by withholding pain?”
“I suppose so,” she admitted.
“Spread your legs farther apart. Is your clit swollen?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Their conversation aroused her. How much more responsive would she be when he laid leather to her body?
The woman before him was so different from the one he’d seen interact with Master Richard. With the other dom, she had been saucy. With him, she was much more subdued. He preferred some sort of hybrid. He didn’t want false reactions from her, but he wanted everything she could possibly offer. “Remove your blouse.”
She unfastened the buttons from bottom to top. Most likely that’s the way Marcus had trained her. If only by a few seconds, the anticipation built.
She shrugged off the sheer material and draped it over the chair.
The shelf bra supported her breasts but left her nipples exposed.
Without being reminded, she placed her hands behind her head again.
“Pinch your nipples.”
She did.
“Hard.”
She tugged on her nipples, twisting and pulling.
“Harder.”
Her eyes closed as she applied more and more pressure.
“Is your cunt wet?”
“Yes, Sir,” she said, obviously getting into the sensation.
“Show me, painslut.”
She opened her eyes wide.
“
Show me,
” he repeated.
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered. Her eyelids drooped slightly.
His language and demand had clearly been a shock, but one that turned her on.
Alani released one breast. She slid her free hand down her stomach, across her bare pubic area. She delved lower, easing her fingers between her legs.
She was behaving as if she were putting on a show for him, and he didn’t object. She was sensuous, and he’d bet most of it was unconscious and unrehearsed. Maybe some of it was training, but it seemed instinctive.
Drawing out the motion, she eventually inserted her first two fingers in her pussy.
He noticed how deliberate her actions were. She was being careful not to touch her engorged clit. Smart girl; he hadn’t given her permission to touch herself there.
She finger-fucked herself for a couple of strokes, gyrating her hips as she surrendered.
“Uhm,” she said, the single word more like a moan. “Thank you, Sir.”
Damn, he could watch her all day. No wonder she was the most sought-after sub in the club.
She wasn’t his typical fantasy. He generally preferred willowy blondes. But Alani Dane was hot. He was developing a sudden and real appreciation for this petite sub with sun-kissed skin. He wanted to dig his hands into her dark, thick hair, holding her head captive while he fucked her from behind. Her liquid eyes held secrets, and her lush mouth held untold promises.
Unlike earlier this evening, there was nothing affected about her behavior. Her reactions were honest and seemed to flow naturally.
She held out a hand and showed him the moisture on her fingertips.
“Taste yourself,” he told her.
Holding his gaze, she brought her fingers up to her mouth and gently sucked.
Jesus.
Her actions were brazen as she licked and then sucked again. She was simulating giving him head.
He resisted the need to adjust his slacks. No way was he letting this little minx know how much power she had. “The desk, Alani. Now.”
She dropped her hand to her sides. “Are you going to spank me, Sir?”
Her words were spoken softly, a dance carefully constructed to manipulate him.
“Yes.”
“Will it hurt, Sir?”
“Alani, you may be accustomed to topping from the bottom, which isn’t something Master Marcus had noted, but it’s something we’re going to work on during your retraining.”
She blinked.
He liked having this lovely woman off balance.
“Sir?”
“Retraining will be part of your continued employment, will it not?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “If I have to tell you to get your ass over that desk one more time, you’ll be checking coats at the front desk for the rest of your career.”
She moved. Again, not quickly, but deliberately. His cock hadn’t been this hard in seven months, since before he’d left for Iraq. Many times over the years, carrying an assault rifle and wearing body armor, he’d faced a cold and hardened enemy. But that didn’t seem to be as much of a challenge as Alani posed. “Reach your arms across the desk and hold on to the far side. No matter how much you are tempted, do not release your grip.”
She took her sweet time getting into position. It wasn’t long enough to goad him into a temper, but it was considerably longer than it needed to be.
She wriggled about, and he enjoyed the sight of her mostly uncovered tits pressed against the gleaming wooden surface. Since she was so petite, her feet barely reached the floor. Her calves were shapely in the stiletto heels. Her silk stockings snuggled her thighs and lower legs.
But the view of her lovely, exposed skin above the lacy tops of her stockings was the real turn on. The black garters drew attention to the swell of her buttocks, soon to be reddened by his punishment.
“You look lovely, painslut.” He stepped back. “Spread your legs farther apart. I want better access to your pussy.”
“Sir?”
“I intend to punish you fully, including your cunt.”
Her face was turned to the right, so he couldn’t see the battle waging on her face.
He waited her out.
Approximately five seconds later, she spread her legs.
“What’s your safe word?”
“Will I need one, Sir?”
“I insist.”
“’
Ula.
It means red in Hawaiian, Sir.”
“What’s your understanding of using a safe word?”
She wriggled about. “I’m not sure I understand the question, Sir.”
“Some subs use a safe word if they’re uncomfortable or frightened. Some use it if there’s something on their nonnegotiable list. Some use it only if they’re terrified. Some doms will stop immediately. Some will check in before proceeding. Some will end a relationship.”
“The club has a safe word, as you know,” she said. “I’ve never used it.”
“And ’ula?”
“I’ve never used it, either. I’ve never safe worded out of a scene.”
“You discuss limits with your doms ahead of time?”
“No,” she said.
“Ah, then it’s because you’re always in control?”
She didn’t answer.
“Is that it? Or is it because you’re such a painslut that no one has ever given you what you want?” Marcus more than had his challenges with Alani. This woman was more complex than he’d initially thought, and the issues were likely deeper than Marcus knew. “Answer me.”
“Neither,” she admitted.
“The correct form of address is Sir.”
“Yes. Sir.”
He took a silent step toward her. She likely wasn’t aware of his movement. “I’ll make you aware of being a sub. And I’ll remind you who the dom is.” He landed a sharp, open-handed slap on her left buttock.
She gasped.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir!”
“What are we doing here, Alani?”
She sighed. The sound wasn’t a protest, it was encouragement.
He slapped her hard again in exactly the same spot.
She shifted against the desk.
“You want to get on with this, painslut? Or are you just hoping I’ll add more stripes for your bad behavior?”
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
“Do your doms always accept your apologies? Or does no one call you out when you’re a disrespectful sub?” Maybe you just hide it better with others?” Or perhaps others didn’t pay as much attention to her as he did. “What are we doing here, Alani?”
“Besides talking, Sir?”
When he didn’t respond, she said, “I’m being punished, Sir.”
“What for?”
“Rolling my eyes repeatedly and yawning during a scene with Master Richard. And then I earned two more for not getting into position on the desk when you told me to.”
“And I’ll deduct those two because you didn’t call me Sir.”
“Deduct, Sir?”
“We’ve determined you’re a painslut. I’ll have to be more creative in punishing you.”
She squirmed, maybe made a bit uncomfortable by his scrutiny?
“What’s your favorite way to be punished?”
“Whatever Sir chooses.”
How had she lasted two years at Zones without AJ or Marcus reprimanding her? “What’s on your limits list?”
“Nothing, Sir.”
No limits? Christ. “Crop?”
“Fine, Sir.”
“Cane?”
She moved slightly. He couldn’t tell whether the motion was from fear or anticipation.
“It’s okay, Sir.” Her voice a little softer, she added, “If wielded correctly.”
“You’ve had a bad experience?”
“Two of them, including a bruised kidney.”
He winced.
“It wasn’t at the club, and it was a long time ago.” She’d been looking for something, anything, to satisfy her.
“Were you playing without a safe word?”
“No, Sir. I just didn’t use it.”
Little fool. She needed someone to look after her. She didn’t seem like the reckless type, but really, what the hell did he really know? How well could you ever really know another person? Just because he understood her behavior, he didn’t excuse it. “Yet you’d let me cane you tonight?”
“Of course, Sir.”
She’d been injured and she was still unwilling to take it off the table? Obviously Alani wanted something she’d never gotten. Emotional connection? True submission?
She’d tried to goad him earlier, and he wondered if she’d pushed the other unnamed dom in her search for the place inside her that only pain could bring.
He understood the allure of subspace where adrenaline combined with the bliss of endorphins and nothing else existed. He found something similar when he was in combat, a rifle in hand. He thrived in those moments, walking the precipice, unsure whether he’d live or die. Every sense was hyperaware and nothing existed but the moment. It was difficult to recreate those moments.
If he were honest, that’s why he drove his vehicles too fast, too near the edge of Colorado’s mountain passes. Extreme skiing and rock climbing came close to the rush, but nothing compared to combat.
He’d mostly learned to control his clawing need for the adrenaline fix, channeling the energy into gym time. All too well, he understood the complex seduction of the body’s own medicine cabinet. “My belt,” he told her. “We’ll start with my belt tonight.”
She spread her legs just a little farther apart in silent, maybe unconscious, invitation.
“How many do you deserve?”
“As many as Sir deems necessary.”
“Ten.”
She released a soft huff of disappointment.
“I beg your pardon?” he asked.
“Ten will be perfect, Sir,” she said. “Thank you.”
“It would have been an even dozen if you hadn’t tried to manipulate me.” He moved behind her and none too gently rubbed her ass cheeks and upper thighs, increasing blood flow to the area so she didn’t bruise as easily.
His motions moved her about the desk, marring the surface with her sweat. Soon, he hoped, it would also be covered with her tears and arousal.
She inched backward, wordlessly seeking his touch. “Stay still, sub. This is punishment. I won’t hit you hard enough or long enough for you to get off; that’s part of your retraining. Denial.”
“I’d rather have a beating, Sir.”
“And
I’d
rather have your pussy weeping for an orgasm and you walking around forbidden to touch yourself.” Indeed, he believed it was the only way she’d learn to temper her needs, and she’d actually enjoy subspace more when she got there. He pinched her clit.
She squealed and arched her spine. She exhaled deeply, then settled against the wood.
“Do you have something to say?” he prompted.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“You do have some rudimentary manners.”
“I’ll try to do better, Sir.”
He moved toward the front of the desk, shoving aside Marcus’s chair. “Unbuckle my belt.” He knew the order wasn’t an easy one to follow.
She lifted her head and released her grip on the desk.
“Quickly.”
She fumbled. Despite his instruction, he really didn’t care if it took her a long time. The sight of her being so obedient, her hair spilling everywhere, was its own reward. “Shall I deduct more stripes?”
“No, Sir!”
He grinned, glad she was looking down at his crotch and not up at his face. He didn’t want her to know how much she delighted him.
Finally the buckle released.
“Now take off my belt and present it to me.”
She gave a long, firm tug, her body moving about a bit on the desk. After she’d removed the belt, she folded it in half, and extended her arms toward him.
He accepted the offering. “Expensive leather was meant for your fine ass, Alani.”
She didn’t answer, and he didn’t push.
“You’ll count each stripe aloud and thank me.”