Cattail Club: Safeword Interrupted Part 9

At Deacon's grat.i.tude toward his fellow Dom, Bethany finally placed the voice from earlier. Her cheeks pinkened. Just her luck, Deacon would plan her first visit for the exact same time their bartender happened to be there. It made her wonder if Mistress Annie was someone she knew. Living in a small town, where most everyone knew everybody else, she could only think of two 'Annies' with one being only twelve, that left their local librarian. Unease pooled in her stomach at the thought of shy Annie Levitson actually being a Domme. While not a close friend, the librarian was normally a person that Bethany saw at least once a week when she visited their local library.

Through the fan of her lashes, she scanned the surrounding area and prayed that she wouldn't see the diminutive woman who more than once had checked her out. Relief surged through her. Maybe she'd just have to deal with Tim being the only witness to her submission. And despite her unease, fresh desire consumed her s.e.x. She needed Deacon's touch. It had been too long.

"Straddle the horse, little one. I want you face down with that a.s.s in the air." Deacon's voice broke through her conflicting thoughts. Her head jerked up in surprise, and she focused on the padded saw horse/bench in front of her. Dark leather, accented by silver rivets, it seemed almost innocent in its construction, if one discounted the heavy-duty rings attached to each leg. Each was positioned at the perfect height to aid in restraining a sub.

She rubbed her suddenly damp palms on her thighs. "Yes, Sir."

Deacon waited impatiently for Bethany to obey, reminding himself not to push. She approached the padded sawhorse with hesitant steps. He couldn't wait to see her straddling the bench, with an arm and leg on either side and bound to it. He would make certain the leads on the arm restraints were shortened to the proper length, to keep her tipped forward with that delightful a.s.s high in the air.

He crossed his arms over his chest as she awkwardly flung a leg over the horse and used the small footrests on either side to balance her weight. She fumbled a bit before grabbing at the horse, her balance off kilter.

"Sir?"

The uncertainty in her tone, as she struggled with how to actually do as he asked, drove him crazy. She was trying - even though she wasn't entirely sure how to accomplish his request. "Yes, little one."

Her fingers dug into the leather. "I need...can you help me, Sir?"

His heart melted in her timid request. It was the first time she openly acknowledged her need for him in public. "With what?"

Her cheeks reddened again. "I want to do as you have ordered, but I'm scared I'm gonna fall on my face, Sir..."

Moving to the horse, he held out one hand, allowing her to balance herself against his arm. She gave him a grateful smile and quickly arranged her body in the position he requested. "Thank you, Sir."

"You're welcome." He crouched down next to where her cheek rested on the black leather. "What is your safeword?"

She gave a soft sigh before the word pa.s.sed her lips. "Red, Sir."

He nodded as he began securing her arms to the horse. "You will use it if this becomes too much. Or yellow if you need me to ease off."

"Of course, Sir." Her breath came faster. It seemed his little sub was getting off on the idea of being bound in public.

After checking the tightness of the wrist restraints, he moved to her legs. "Straighten them, little one. I want your a.s.s in the air, but don't lock your knees."

She obeyed, and it was all he could do to keep from groaning. The beautiful swell of her bottom had both his palms itching. Whether it was for the kiss of the flogger or the calloused touch of his hand, her a.s.s begged to be used and use it he would. But in a way, he was sure his little Bethany would never expect. He had a surprise for her. The little black remote in his pocket a.s.sured him of that.

It took less than a minute to secure both of her ankles, then he shoved a u-shaped wedge under her stomach to help her keep her a.s.s in the air. Eventually he would test her control by flogging her without it, but for now it would keep her a.s.s where he wanted it while keeping her wet little p.u.s.s.y from rubbing against the leather. She got off when he said, not before.

"d.a.m.n, if that isn't hot." Tim rested his shoulder against one of the support beams, taking in Deacon's handiwork. "You think she'll fly?"

"Like an eagle." Deacon a.s.sured his friend and protege. "She loves the kiss of leather against her skin, and having you pervs watch will send her even higher. Just watch."

Then Deacon retrieved the flogger he'd used on Bethany in Puerto Rico. After a few warm up swings, he approached the bench. "What level are you at, little one?"

"Green, Sir." Her voice was clear and concise.

"Good. But before we can get to playing, I believe I have a punishment to dole out. Why are you being punished, Bethany?"

"Because I disobeyed a direct order, Sir." She turned her head to look at him. "You asked me to show you my p.u.s.s.y - and I refused."

Deacon arched a brow at her. "You did something worse than refuse, didn't you?"

Her gaze darted from him to Tim and then back. "Yes, Sir."

He nodded. "Tell Master Tim what you did."

She bit her lip, but kept her eyes on him as she explained. "I teased you, Sir. Opening my thighs just enough to get you hot and bothered, but not enough to show you what you wanted."

"And why did you do that?" Tim asked softly. "Especially when you know how strict your master is?"

She looked away from Deacon to focus on Tim, her cheeks bright red.

"Answer him, Bethany." Deacon was curious himself. "Or risk the punishment being twice as bad."

Her eyes darted back to him. "Because he shoved an a.n.a.l plug up my a.s.s."

"Then you're going to hate this." Deacon reached into his pocket and flipped on the remote to the plug.

"Son of a....Sir!" Bethany bucked for a minute as the plug began to vibrate inside her. Not wanting to bring her off - at least not just yet, he counted to five then flipped the switch off.

"You're an a.s.shole, Sir." Bethany panted.

"She's just now realizing this?" Tim shook his head.

"Obviously." He tossed the remote to Tim. "Have fun."

Tim caught the device. "Are you sure?"

Deacon nodded. "Just don't bring her off until I say so."

"Sir?" Bethany groaned, as Tim flicked on the plug again, then shut it off.

His friend shrugged. "I was just checking out the controls."

He shook his head and turned back to the bound woman in front of them. She was looking at Tim with dread. Realizing she needed rea.s.surance, he crouched down next to her. "Do you trust me to not push you past your limits, Bethany?"

"Yes, Sir." Her answer was anything but hesitant. "Even if you are an a.s.shole."

He chuckled. "That I am." He straightened. "And this a.s.shole needs to punish his sub. For your earlier disobedience, you'll receive five strokes." He stepped back and gazed at his target her lush a.s.s. "Count off."

The first impact of leather against her skin made a soft popping noise, followed by Bethany's voice strong and sure as she gave him the count. "One, Sir."

Aiming the flogger as a slightly different angle, he laid the lashes a half inch lower than the first hit. Bright red, the welt was nearly perfect in its s.p.a.cing from the first.

"Two, Sir."

The third blow landed about the first two, this time at a forty-degree angle.

A hint of pain bled through her voice. "Three, Sir."

"Two more, Bethany. You can handle it." The last two were always the hardest for his little sub. She craved the pain of punishment but at the same time loathed it. He caught Tim's eye. "Hit it after the last fall."

Tim nodded, his thumb rubbing over the surface of the remote.

In quick succession, he landed two more blows, one on each leg, where they met her a.s.s. She hissed, and barely managed to get the count out before Tim activated the plug once more. The unexpected vibration had her sobbing, her hips rocking in desperation, as she rode the edge of release.

She collapsed back to the horse when Tim shut off the plug. Moving closer, Deacon ran a hand down her trembling back.

"Good girl. Punishment is over." He pressed a kiss to her parted lips. "Now it's time for fun."

Bethany whimpered under the fall of the flogger's soft lashes as her Sir continued to flog her. Unlike his earlier punishment, this flogging was of the pleasurable type. Meant to tease while heating her skin, Deacon danced the leather across her entire back, warming her even as he drove her crazy with l.u.s.t.

But not as crazy as the a.s.shole with the remote. When she got free, she was going to take it and cram it up Tim's a.s.s. She should've realized the bartender had this s.a.d.i.s.tic dominating streak. He handled both the bouncers and the patrons of the bar with ease, no matter how much alcohol they'd consumed. The only man she'd ever seen him back down from was Deacon. At first she'd thought it was because Deacon was the owner, but seeing both men in this setting, she realized that it was because Deacon was Tim's mentor.

She gritted her teeth as the plug flared to life once more, this time rhythmically pulsating against the tight confines of her r.e.c.t.u.m. The bursts of vibration seemed to penetrate the wall between her p.u.s.s.y and a.s.s making her even more desperate to come.

"d.a.m.n, that's beautiful." Tim clicked off the plug and moved closer to examine Deacon's handiwork. Bethany could only imagine what her back looked like.

"Yes, it is." Deacon's tone was hoa.r.s.e a sure sign that he was beyond aroused. Would she even make it out of the club without being f.u.c.ked? Her aching p.u.s.s.y hoped not, despite her initial unease at being the center of attention in the club.

"In fact, I think I need a closer inspection." Deacon's voice seemed closer. She whimpered when two fingers suddenly thrust deep inside her p.u.s.s.y. "Oh yeah, she's wet."

She greedily clamped down on them, wanting to keep them deep inside her. She cried out in pleasure as he worked them deeper, before pulling them completely free. She could hear the wet slurp as he licked her juices off. "Sir!"

"Oh yeah, more than ready to be f.u.c.ked." He made a quick adjustment to the horse, and she suddenly found her a.s.s against the impressive erection straining the front of his jeans.

She yanked on her restraints as the o.r.g.a.s.m she'd been trying to delay surged hard against her fraying control. Then the plug flared to life once more. She stretched, her lower pelvis aflame with the need to come, and began to fall head first into the dark place where nothing more than her and Deacon existed. Call it sub-s.p.a.ce, release, whatever...it didn't change the fact she craved it more than her next breath.

"Hold it." She barely heard the rasp of his zipper, before his hand wrapped around her ponytail. "Hold it, you little s.l.u.t. Let me get in you first." He jerked her head back, sinking his fingers deep into her hair, causing her torso to elongate as he sank deep inside her p.u.s.s.y. She sobbed, her mind reeling as she struggled to accept the intense pleasure of having both holes filled. She hung on by her fingertips, the release she desperately wanted just waiting to consume her whole being. But hold it she did waiting for his words.

Then he ground his pelvis against hers, in a counter-clockwise motion, sending his c.o.c.k careening off every inch of her sheath. "Come, b.i.t.c.h. Soak my c.o.c.k."

"Sir!" She fell headfirst into the abyss, barely aware of his low curses as he pounded against her a.s.s, or the spewing wetness as he filled her full of seed.

Chapter Fourteen.

"So when are you going to tell him?" Deborah Willis asked from the open bathroom door. Kneeling in front of the toilet with her back to Deacon's mom, Bethany swallowed hard as her stomach did another hard roll. At loose ends while Deacon visited with his uncle-mentor, she decided to pay his mother a visit. Too bad her stomach couldn't get onboard. Was it really too much to ask that what remained of her breakfast would stay down? She was so tired of being nauseous morning, noon, and night. She opened her mouth to reply when another round of vomiting hit her.

When the spasms finally eased, she gratefully took the warm washcloth from Deborah's hand. She wiped her mouth and leaned her forehead against the cool porcelain. In the past month since she'd debuted at the club, she'd been sick more often than not. Scared to accept the truth she blamed the nausea on stress, on the flu virus, even on the changes in the weather. Anything but the truth. Much like an ostrich, she'd stuck her head in the sand and even refused to entertain the idea she might be pregnant. Then she'd missed her period last week.

"Here." A small bottle of mouthwash appeared next. "Pull yourself together, sweetheart. I'll be waiting in the kitchen."

Bethany nodded, then watched as the older woman left. What the h.e.l.l was she going to do? If Deborah suspected, it wouldn't be long before her astute son did as well. It had been a miracle that he hadn't already. Pus.h.i.+ng to her feet, she managed to stand with the help of the vanity next to the toilet.

"s.h.i.+t." She clung to the sink as she tried to imagine Deacon's reaction to her pregnancy. But as much as she loved him, she couldn't help but have a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "He's not ready f.u.c.k, I'm not ready either." It was the truth, she realized. She wanted more time with her master before becoming a mother.

Before I have to fight the uphill battle, the almost impossible struggle I'll have convincing the stubborn man that he'll be a great dad.

She grimaced at the burn of the minty mouthwash, before swis.h.i.+ng her mouth and spitting in the sink. She caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror and sighed. With dark circles under her eyes, and the distinctive green around the gills look, her reflection looked like death warmed over. It was good that LeRoy's rehab was taking up so much of Deacon's time. If they'd spent more than a few hours together outside the bar each week, he'd have taken her to the doctor, and demanded in no uncertain terms to know what was wrong with her.

After was.h.i.+ng her hands, she reluctantly joined Deborah in the kitchen. Deacon's mom, despite the cancer trying to ravish her, still managed to look good for her sixty odd years, stood in front of the oven, sliding in a tray of her cinnamon rolls. She straightened up, her smile welcoming. Fussing with the scarf over her almost bald head from the chemo, Deborah nodded toward the table. "Go have a seat, young lady. I've got tea and crackers for you."

Bethany chewed on her lower lip but obeyed. She sank down onto one of the padded benches of the breakfast nook. Moments later, Deborah placed a cup of steaming tea in front of her, along with a plate of unsalted crackers.

"Here try these. My mother's ginger root tea with a few crackers always seemed to settle my stomach while I was carrying Deacon and Steve."

Hesitantly she reached for heavy ceramic mug as her stomach rolled again. She paused and swallowed hard. "I don't think this is gonna work, Deborah."

Deborah patted her hand before sliding onto the bench across from her. "Give it a minute. Inhale the steam. I promise it will help settle your tummy."

"Okay, I'll try." She took a tentative sniff. At first, she didn't smell much more than the lemon floating on the top of the steaming liquid, but then another scent, one that seemed to calm her stomach, bled through. It actually smelled great, and when her stomach settled down and didn't try to heave, she took a small sip. Slightly spicy from the ginger, but sweet from the honey, the tea slid down her throat warming her from the inside out. She waited a moment, then gave a sigh of relief when the nausea began to fade. She took another sip.

"Good, isn't it?" Deborah leaned back against the bench. "I lived on it the first four months of my pregnancy. Before you leave, I'll write down the recipe for you."

She set down the cup and reached for a cracker. "Thank you."

Deborah chuckled. "Don't be thanking me yet, sweetheart. You never did answer me. When are you going to tell my son that he's gonna be a father? I'd say the sooner the better. That way you can get a handle on him before the baby is born. After all, it's gonna take some doing to get a ring on your finger."

Bethany froze. "What do you mean?"

Deborah sighed. "After that mess with Amanda, Deacon swore off marriage. I won't go into particulars that's Deacon's tale to tell, but you need to realize you're gonna have to do more than play at that submissive c.r.a.p of his, to get his ring on your finger."

Shock rolled through Bethany. Did Deborah honestly think that what she and Deacon did was a game? She could still remember the sting of his belt from the last time she'd even inferred that what they had was a delightful playtime, but nothing more. The bond between a Dom and his submissive went much deeper than any wedding ring or so Deacon had told her, as he'd thoroughly spanked her a.s.s.

"Excuse me?"

Deborah c.o.c.ked her head. "Don't give me that look, child. I may be a tired old woman, but I know my boys. Deacon goes to that d.a.m.ned BDSM club to pretend he has control of his life, while Steve constantly tries to please everyone. It all roots from the same d.a.m.ned issue. Carson Witshall did more than f.u.c.k me over when he decided fatherhood wasn't for him. If the man weren't dead, I'd kick his a.s.s for giving my boys abandonment issues. Both those boys need to find a good woman and settle down." Deborah placed her hand over Bethany's. "You're good for Deacon, Bethany, but giving him free milk isn't going to keep him around when the going gets tough. A wedding ring will. It's a commitment."

Bethany could see Deborah's point, but was beyond irritated that the woman thought marriage was the answer. "No, it will only make him miserable. If I'm indeed pregnant, I'm not going to compound one mistake with another by forcing your son into a situation where he'll be truly unhappy." She freed her hand and slid off the bench. "Thanks for the tea."

She was almost at the door, when Deborah called to her.

"Either you tell him, or I will, young lady. I won't have my grandchild go through what my sons went through."

Anger surged forward. How dare the woman threaten her! She and Deacon were nothing like Deacon's father. Even if they didn't stay together, Deacon would never abandon his child. She counted to ten, but at three, said screw it and stalked back to the table.

"Listen to me, and listen to me good. If there is a child, that is between Deacon and me. What we decide to do will be our decision - and you'll have no say in it. I may love your son, but I refuse to let you manipulate either of us into a situation that we'll both be unhappy. I'll leave first." She leaned over the table. "Think long and hard about that, Deborah. Either let me handle it in my own way...in my own time, or risk losing access to your grandchild."

Tears of anger and frustration built in her eyes as she stormed out of the kitchen and got into her car. As she started the engine, she rubbed her hand over her flat stomach. Could there actually be a baby in there?