Doms Of The FBI: Re-Paired Part 13

His chuckle held a hint of devilry. "You can beg. I like hearing you beg. But that doesn't mean you'll get what you want. You're not in a position to demand anything. You're mine. Pleasure or pain, you take what I give, and you thank me for it."

The inherent unfairness of this struck her wrong just then. At the same time, it thrilled her to no end. She was in his hands. His. Just like she'd always wanted.

He inclined his head toward the door. "Let's go to the dungeon. When we get inside, I'm going to show you where to kneel. Whenever we enter the dungeon, whether or not we intend to do a scene, you'll follow the same protocol. Kneeling tells us both you cede complete control to me, that you trust your body to me. It also tells me that you accept my rule in the dungeon."

She nodded, knowing words weren't necessary. She had yet to find a room that wasn't his dominion, even at her place.

The door to the dungeon was the same as the interior doors in the rest of his house. Katrina had thought it would be heavier and soundproof. Only the lock on the handle marked it as different. The other doors didn't have them.

"This only locks from the outside." He inserted the key and rotated it clockwise. "I'll never leave you alone inside this room, but the inside k.n.o.b will open whether or not the outside is secured, so you won't have to worry about getting stuck."

He pushed the door open and stepped forward. She followed him to the center of the room and knelt in the place he indicated. She was dying to look around, but she fastened her gaze to a point just in front of her knees, the way he'd taught her. Luckily she didn't have to wait for long.

"Rise, Kat. You may look around."

She sprang to her feet and scanned the room. Most the equipment looked familiar or was easy to figure out. She recognized sawhorses, a Saint Andrew's cross, a spanking bench, a Y-table, and a table that looked a lot like the one in her gynecologist's office, maybe a little more comfortable. A closer look revealed that most of the equipment had been bolted into the cement floor. Above them, the ceiling had been left unfinished, and the high trusses had been reinforced with two-by-tens. Holes had been drilled into the additional support beams at regular intervals. In several places, chains had been attached, and they dangled from the ceiling.

"What do you think?"

She glanced at Keith, noting that his arms were folded across his chest. He was nervous about her reaction? She struggled for words that were honest and would set him at ease. "Parts of it are what I expected, but I'm wondering about a few things."

He nodded, a curt movement, and his shoulders remained tense. "Ask."

She looked up at the nearest chain. "What are the chains for?"

"Suspension, mostly. There will be times when I want to tie you up and suspend you from the ceiling."

Heat pooled between her thighs at the thought. She knew he would make sure they both enjoyed the experience. She turned to him and lifted a brow. "I have no plans Tuesday and Thursday nights."

The look in his eyes guaranteed that she now had plans.

She gestured to the far corner. "What's the exam table for?"

"Playing doctor." He kissed the top of her head. "My way."

The thick leather straps attached to the table promised that she'd find her body secured to the table and her legs tied to the stirrups. "You do realize that no women have fantasies about the gynecologist's office?"

His shrugged as if saying he knew something she didn't. "Go lie facedown on the Y-table."

It wasn't difficult to figure out that the split part was for her legs. Katrina went to that end.

"No, the other end."

She studied the table, trying to figure out why he gave that order, then remembered she wasn't in a position to be a.n.a.lytical. When Keith gave an order, it was her job to comply. Immediately and without question. She lowered her body to the narrow, padded strip and prayed he wouldn't torment her for much longer. The bench part was wide enough to hold her securely, but narrow enough to provide access to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her feet dangled off the end she'd originally thought was for her head.

He opened the nearest cupboard and grabbed a few things. She couldn't quite make out what he held. One looked like a blood glucose monitor. He set them on her back, and she gave up trying to figure it out. He went back to the cupboard, but this time she recognized the rope in his hands.

"Stretch your arms above your head."

The table wasn't wide enough to support her shoulders or arms, so she'd let them hang from the sides. Stretching her arms above her head was ungainly for the same reason. She clasped her hands together to keep them from slipping to the sides. Staying like that wouldn't be possible. In this instance, the ropes would help her stay where he wanted.

But he apparently didn't want her to remain that way. He took one arm and bent it so that her elbow dropped below the bench and her wrist was above it. "Stay like that."

Katrina worked out when she could, which translated to about four or five times each month. Or two. She couldn't maintain that position for very long. Still, she knew better than to argue.

He arranged her other arm the same way on the other side of the bench. If she were standing or lying on her back, she could hold this position with no problem. But she was on her stomach and fighting gravity. Thank goodness he was going to tie her in place.

He wound rope around one elbow, looped it under the table below her head, and secured it to her other elbow. Then he tied her wrists together above the table, forcing her hands to stay at the top of her head. It solved the problem of resting her arms, but the position proved awkward. He played around with the ropes, tugging on them and slipping his fingers beneath to test the give.

When everything was satisfactory, he stood next to her and fiddled with the things on her back. With her head turned and her inability to move, she found herself staring at his crotch. This table was the perfect level for him to slip his c.o.c.k into her mouth. Saliva pooled on her tongue at the thought, and she swallowed.

Keith said nothing. He put sticky things on her back. From what she could feel, two were just under her shoulder blades on each side, and two were on the muscles she most liked ma.s.saged after a long day of research and paperwork.

"I'm going to turn it on. Tell me when it becomes uncomfortable."

At first, she felt nothing. After several moments, she became aware of a light tapping underneath the sticky things. The tapping sped up and became sharper. It didn't hurt, but the sensation surprised an unplanned exclamation from her.

"Kat? Does it hurt?"

"It doesn't. It's...different. I can't quite decide if it feels good or just weird. Is this the TENS unit?"

"Yes." As he said that, the distinction between each tap vanished. Underneath the pads, her muscles bunched and relaxed. The sensation traveled a counterclockwise path around her back, a weird kind of ma.s.sage. "Oh, now that feels good."

"I'll leave it here for now. Close your eyes and relax."

She gladly complied. Within a minute or so, the physical manifestation of her stress melted away. Her mind drifted on a tide of tranquility. Even when he slid her down the table so that her legs and hips were no longer supported, she clung to that place, stubbornly refusing to leave.

He closed his hand around her ankle and guided her to stand with her legs apart. Ropes wound around her flesh, fastening her to cold metal poles.

Then he turned off the device. She groaned in protest, but she did remember her manners. "Thank you, Keith. That felt nice." It didn't do anything for the fire he'd lit in the bedroom, but it did release the tension from deep within her muscles.

More rope encircled her legs just above her knees. He buckled a thick belt over her lower back, further binding her to the table. She couldn't move any part of her body, and she took a moment to admire his strategic placement of the ropes. He stood behind her. She could detect no movement, so she deduced he was just looking at her. He was definitely big on the visual aspects of s.e.x.

He caressed her a.s.s, brus.h.i.+ng the soft back of his hand over her skin. Since it was still sore from earlier, that touch was magnified a thousand times. She felt the soft, sticky pads as he repositioned two of them low on her a.s.s, only inches from her p.u.s.s.y. The other two ended up high on her thighs, equally close to her v.a.g.i.n.al lips. She wasn't sure about this part of his plan, but she trusted him, so she tabled her reservations. She'd liked the kneading feeling on the places in her back where stress lived. A ma.s.sage around her p.u.s.s.y couldn't be anything but pleasurable. Right?

"You have permission to come tonight as often as you can. Don't temper your reactions. I want to see you and hear you."

He stated his instructions firmly and with as much devious pa.s.sion as he'd used the night before when he told her he got off on her pain. Though she'd liked some of the kinds of pain he'd issued, she worried a little.

Tingling under the pads drew her attention away from her fretting thoughts. As the sensation picked up the pace, traveling from pad to pad, it began to feel like she was being slowly f.u.c.ked. She liked the feeling, but she would rather it was closer to her p.u.s.s.y.

"Keith? Could you maybe put one of those pads on my c.l.i.t?" Her voice came out thin and flat. Thin because she was a prisoner of the electricity pulsing through her a.s.s. Flat because her cheek was pressed against the bench.

"It's not safe to do that, Kitty Kat. Dry skin only." He slapped a flogger lightly against her a.s.s. The falls landed together, but they fell down her behind by themselves, sc.r.a.ping against her tender skin. "Don't worry. We have all night."

As the last of the falls slithered down her flesh, he lifted them. He ran them up her back and down her legs, sensitizing her skin to what was about to happen. Her heart beat faster, because she knew he would deliver on his promises.

"Relax. Breathe into it. This is going to hurt at first. I'm going to cover this lovely tanned skin with red stripes. You can scream as loud as you want, Kitty Kat, and I won't stop until you look exactly the way I want you to look."

A response wasn't necessary. Because his will was her will, her permission was a.s.sumed. She wanted this because he wanted to give it to her. It was as simple as that.

The first series of lashes lacked serious bite. It awakened her nerve endings, not that they needed all that much help. Her muscles tensed, and she had to work to keep them soft. In a purely theoretical way, she knew tightening them up would make it hurt worse.

Through it all, the pads that were almost between her legs pulsed in a sensuous rhythm. The muscles of her lower a.s.s and inner thighs danced to it. They were helpless in the face of the electrical onslaught.

The next stroke of the flogger snapped loudly, the sound startling her more than the feel. Only when the tips of the falls pulled away did the searing pain register, eliciting a cry of protest. He'd said he would go for a light sting to give her a floating feeling. This wasn't light by any means.

She opened her mouth to call yellow so she could remind him about what he'd agreed to do, but the snapping sound came again, high on her left shoulder. He was careful to hit the fleshy parts, she noticed, but it still hurt like h.e.l.l.

You can do this.

The voice came from somewhere inside her head, a cheerleader urging her on when the coward inside argued for a reprieve. She breathed into the sting, winning her internal battle. She would be strong, and she would do this for her Master. And she called him by that t.i.tle because he was a Master. Her Master.

But she still didn't want to utter the word. For some men the t.i.tle was a mark of respect. For Keith it was a wall she wouldn't let him build between them.

As she rationalized her decision yet again, Keith picked up the pace. The snaps came at regular intervals, ringing through the air to become her consciousness, and the lag time between them seemed to have disappeared. Just as the searing sting from one blow registered, he was already delivering the next. The sensations ran together. The agony throbbed through the skin of her back, a.s.s, and upper thighs. He even targeted the curves of muscle along the backs of her calves.

She cried out. She struggled against her bonds. Desperate pleas fell from her lips, but she wasn't cognizant of anything she said. She wanted out. She wanted it to stop. At the same time, she felt as if she would die if he didn't continue.

Sobs heaved from deep in her chest, and at last her body relaxed. She submitted to this torture, accepting this pain because it had obliterated everything else, and she needed to erase the stress of the past week. With that decision came peace. She floated in a vast sea of calm, riding the ripples of pain that had transformed into the sweetest pleasure.

The snapping sounds of the flogger came from far away. Vaguely, she registered that it was falling with even more force that before. Instead of hurting, it served to keep her anch.o.r.ed to this refuge where no worries, no pain, nothing bad could penetrate.

Some time pa.s.sed before she became cognizant of the fact that he'd stopped, but she had no idea how much. Her entire body buzzed, tingling with awareness and the remnant sting of the flogger. Keith sat on a low stool next to her and smoothed her hair away from her face. He murmured quiet praises of both her performance and her beauty.

Her eyes had been half-open. She blinked, clearing away the heaviest of the cobwebs, and focused on his handsome face. The lines around his mouth had softened. His entire demeanor had softened, as if he'd found relief the same way she had. For the first time ever, she saw the tentative beginnings of tranquil peace through the windows to his soul.

"Thank you, Keith." She said his name as reverently and respectfully as if it were his t.i.tle. In her heart, she wanted to call him Master, but her heart didn't overrule her better sense. She didn't want to use his t.i.tle until he could feel the true weight of that word.

"You were made to be flogged, Kitty Kat. Your fight and your surrender were beautiful to witness." He leaned forward and kissed her wrist.

She wondered if he was going to untie her.

Seeming to read her mind, he shook his head. "Wiggle your hands and feet. They weren't cold when I last checked, but you need to make sure you still have feeling. We're not even close to being finished tonight."

Nothing was amiss, though she noted that her shoulders were going to be sore. She voiced that concern, but he just chuckled.

"Most of your body will be sore in the morning. It just means you were well and thoroughly used. That should be a point of pride."

Or at least cause for a sated grin. Though he hadn't actually given her an o.r.g.a.s.m yet, she knew that was on the menu.

He stood and made his way to stand behind her. She felt the coolness of his palm sliding over her hot skin, moving down her shoulder blade, over the belt binding her to the table, to the smoking flesh of her a.s.s. The light caress burned like wildfire. She tried to buck his hand away from that tenderized flesh. It had been twice abused in only a few hours.

But Keith knew his way around restraints, and she was only able to flex her muscles.

"I love your a.s.s, Kitty Kat. I've spent years stealing glances at it."

All went silent, and she knew he was taking time to look his fill. Never once had she caught him checking out her a.s.s or sporting a guilty expression. As the utter stillness continued, she became acutely aware of how wet she was. Being bound in this position and the impact play had certainly turned her on. Even the spanking, discipline though it was, had whetted her appet.i.te to have Keith inside her. His simplest touch had the ability to send her senses reeling.

Now she was finding out that he didn't even need to touch her. The power of his inspection melted her insides and made juices rush to her p.u.s.s.y.

"Like what you see?" In all the years she'd known him, she'd never censored her sense of humor. It might get her into trouble, or he might remember how much he liked her wit.

"Most definitely."

She heard his amus.e.m.e.nt, but he didn't touch her. He didn't do anything. This was almost worse than physical torture. At least when he was flogging her or spanking her, she knew exactly where his attention was centered. She wanted to squirm, but she couldn't. She tried to lift her head to look over her shoulder, but his ropes were doing their job.

After an eternity, she heard the sounds of things moving. Small noises told her that he was doing something to the table directly underneath her p.u.s.s.y, and that made her realize he'd removed those sticky pads sometime during or after her flogging. The long, slow trek of his tongue from her c.l.i.t to her rosebud startled a strangled cry from her.

He returned for a second pa.s.s, then a third, almost as if he couldn't help himself. His tongue became more insistent. He moaned and added his fingers to the mix, circling her c.l.i.t, alternating light and heavy pressure. The heat of his tongue teased her hole before plunging in. She moaned and struggled to push back against his face.

He played her body expertly, and she could only lie there and take it. Heat suffused her core, highlighting the job the flogger had done on her skin. It came from everywhere and blanketed her mind. The force of her climax shattered any illusion of control she thought she had.

Waves of delicious warmth lapped over her in time to the rhythm of his tongue. He licked away her cream and prolonged the o.r.g.a.s.m. When her c.l.i.t tried to hide, he pinched it to draw it out of its protective hood. Tremors shook the insides of her thighs as the stimulation reached the point where it was too much.

Just as she opened her mouth to beg, he stopped. Sort of.

Something settled against her c.l.i.t. It was large and round, squis.h.i.+ng against the tip of her nub and extending almost to her v.a.g.i.n.al opening. Cold jelly covered it.

Keith appeared near her face. Her juices glistened from his lips and chin, and the scent of her musk permeated the small amount of air between them. He planted a kiss on her cheek.

"A little-known fact, Kitty Kat. A woman's c.l.i.t is a larger, ovoid structure. What we think of as the c.l.i.t is actually the tip. The rest of the muscle stretches down in two strips around the urethra, meeting up again just above the opening of the v.a.g.i.n.a. The best o.r.g.a.s.ms come from remembering to stimulate the entire area."

No wonder he was such a good lover. He knew more about her body than she did. What he said made sense. When she m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.ed, she concentrated on the areas that felt good, and she didn't limit her forays to her c.l.i.t or her v.a.g.i.n.a.

"This pretty pink vibrator is the size of a baseball. It's fitted to a mount that's welded to the crossbars of the table. It's not going anywhere, my sweet, sweet Kat. There's no escape." The c.o.c.ky smile accompanying his speech sent a thrill of helplessness down her spine. Every nerve ending p.r.i.c.kled to life, and gooseflesh traveled up her neck and down her legs.

He leaned over her. She heard a click, the flick of a switch, and the thing between her legs hummed to life. It pulsed, simulating f.u.c.king her differently from the way the TENS pads had. This device came into direct contact with her p.u.s.s.y, and it was mercilessly automated. She whimpered at the intensity as it pummeled her c.l.i.t, forcing it back into the game.

Keith sat back and watched her, his hungry gaze roaming her body and coming to rest frequently on her face. She realized he planned to watch her climax, so she rested her head back down on the bench and gave herself over to enjoying the sensations her voyeuristic Master wanted her to feel.

The languor of her last o.r.g.a.s.m hadn't quite faded. The gentle whisper of pleasure grew, fed by the special vibrating machine. She wanted to grind against it, to control the buildup and release. At most, she managed to flex the muscles of her inner thighs a few times.

When she had acclimated to the pulse setting, he switched it to a steady vibration strong enough that she felt it in her a.s.s and thighs. That steady upward climb took on a new urgency, and the need to rock against it became almost unbearable. Energy she would have expended that way became trapped in her p.u.s.s.y, and she cried out as another climax broke.

This time, she didn't labor under the delusion that he would remove the device once it had delivered. He wanted to torture her with o.r.g.a.s.ms. He wouldn't free her until she'd had as many as he wanted her to have. She took comfort from the brutal honesty of the pleasure he took in watching her submission.

As the next o.r.g.a.s.m loomed on the horizon, he stroked his hand over the bulge in his shorts. "I can't tell you how many times today I wanted to take you into your bedroom and make you come. Watching you m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.e in the shower this morning was one of the most erotic things I think I've ever seen. However, my sweet Kitty Kat, your o.r.g.a.s.ms belong to me. You will have them at my discretion. Tonight you'll learn what happens when you fail to secure permission."

Katrina didn't know whether his words, his tone, or the steady pa.s.s of his hand over his c.o.c.k drove her need the most. She craved his touch. Not only did he deny it, he taunted her with the velvet of his voice and the sight of his c.o.c.k, so close yet completely out of reach. She whimpered, begging for it.

He unzipped his shorts and eased them down to draw out his erection. She wanted him to remove his s.h.i.+rt again, but he didn't seem so inclined. Another denial.

His wonderful hands with their strong, tapered fingers wrapped around his c.o.c.k, pumping up and down. He lifted his hips, thrusting into his palm, again tormenting her by performing an action she desperately wanted to do.

"Please." The word creaked forth from her dry lips. "You already punished me for coming without permission."

Those gorgeous green eyes fell to half-mast, and he lifted one side of his mouth in a sinful grin. "This, my dear, is discipline, not punishment."