30DaystoSyn (37 page)

“You don’t need to know,” he said.

He felt a shudder ripple through her and
knew he’d frightened her but he had no intention of telling her in what way he
had threatened the women.

The cage settled and the doors slid apart.
Beyond was pitch blackness.

“Ah, that isn’t encouraging, Kiwi,” she
said in a worried voice.

“Lights!” he called out and one by one a
row of can lights in the ceiling flickered on to reveal a room roughly thirty
feet by fifty feet. The walls were dark-gray fieldstone and the floor a darker,
weathered stone. Torchlights like those in the other parts of the Club were
spaced evenly along the walls. The room looked like something out of an old
movie about the Inquisition.

“The setting doesn’t allay my unease,
Kiwi,” she told him. She was looking at the rough wooden beams of the St.
Andrew’s Cross that sat in the center of the room.

“No harm will come to you here,” he said.
“I keep my word, Melina.”

He stood off to one side with his arms
crossed over his bare chest as she walked slowly around the room. She stopped
in front of a rack that held the various restraints he had mentioned to her.
Another rack held an assortment of whips, floggers and quirts. She looked away
from them very quickly and barely glanced at the glass front of the cabinet
where vibrators and dildos and other sex toys lay on glass shelves. The
autoclave and sink in the corner of the room caught her attention and she
looked around at him.

“Health and safety issues are very
important in BDSM role play,” he told her.

She nodded and walked behind the St.
Andrew’s Cross, her hand trailing over one of the metal clamps that was
attached to the upright.

“There is a lever that tilts the cross
backward and down,” he said. “That way the cross has a dual purpose. Horizontally
it becomes a table.”

“A torturer’s table,” she said quietly.

“If that’s how it is to be used, yes.”

There was a double bed with an
old-fashioned iron headboard and footboard at the far end of the room. Hanging
from the four iron posts were manacles.

“The door to the right of the bed leads to
a bathroom,” he said. “There is an oversized shower made of fieldstone.”

He watched her crane her head to look up at
the ceiling. Her forehead creased.

“A sex swing,” he enlightened her. “I can
lower it so you can…”

“Ah, no. That’s not necessary,” she said
and color stained her cheeks. “Kiwi?”

“Yes,” he drawled.

“When I first met you, you said you weren’t
into bondage and sadomasochism, no kinky stuff.”

“That’s not what I said,” he disagreed. “I
said there would be no bondage, no sadomasochism, only domination for
you
.
That I wasn’t going to submit
you
, personally, to anything kinky or
dangerous. I told you I didn’t enjoy hurting people and I don’t.”

He saw her look at the whips and floggers.
“But you like to be hurt,” she said and when he didn’t answer, she turned her
eyes on him. “You let those women do things to you that involved bondage and
sadism and kink.” She swept her hand toward the racks. “This is all for you,
not them, isn’t it?”

He didn’t want to answer her assumption so
remained silent. How could he tell her that pain was sometimes the only thing
that kept him sane?

She took a few steps toward him. “Did you
think I would do the same things those other women did?”

“Do you want to?” he countered.

Her face crinkled. “Do I want to hurt you?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

“Even if I’d like you to?” he asked.

“Not even if you begged me to,” she said
firmly.

He hitched a shoulder. “Okay, so that
settles that.” He looked over at the cross. “But would you be up to taking the
lead in just a little kinky way?”

“Taking the lead?” she asked. “How?”

He walked over to the cross and stood in
front of it. “What if I asked you to bind me to this cross, lower it and then
make love to me on it?”

She stopped in mid-step. “You want me to
tie you up?”

“No,” he said. He placed his back against
the cross, lifted his arms and stretched them along the uprights then shifted
his legs so he was standing with his ankles against the metal clamps. “I want
you to restrain me and have your wicked way with me.”

“Kiwi, I—”

“I prefer to be blindfolded so I can’t see
what you’re going to do next,” he said. “If you want to gag me—”

“Hell, no, I don’t want to gag you!” she
snapped, eyes wide. “What the heck is the matter with you?”

“I’m damaged goods,” he said quietly. “I
thought you’d realized that by now.”

She came closer until she was only a foot
or so away. “You’re not damaged goods, Kiwi.”

“You have no idea, baby,” he said. He
clenched his fists, his arms beginning to ache from being held above his head.

“You really want me to hurt you?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” she asked and he thought he heard
the threat of tears in her voice.

“I don’t know, baby. I just like it. I
can’t explain it to you. I won’t explain it. There are things that turn me on that
I know are evil but I can’t help it. I like…”

A muscle flared in her jaw and he knew she
was clenching her teeth. “I won’t do it, Synjyn. I won’t hurt you.”

“All right.”

“I mean it. I won’t do it. Ever.”

“All right,” he repeated.

She looked at his arms. “But this…?” Her
brows drew together. Her gaze locked with his. “This I could do if you agree
not to ask me to hurt you.”

“I understand,” he said. “I’ll never ask it
of you.”

She hesitated for a moment or two then drew
in a long breath, exhaled then lifted her chin. “Tell me what I need to do.”

“You need to clamp my wrists and ankles
first.”

It seemed to him she wasn’t giving herself
time to back out as she reached up to lock the metal restraint in place around
his right wrist. She was close enough to him as she moved to the left wrist to
rub her body against his and he leaned into her, his lips to the side of her
throat. He nuzzled her and she sucked in a breath, pressed her cheek to his.
She thrust her body tight to his after restraining his left wrist.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” she
whispered in his ear.

“There is a lever behind the cross. Depress
it and the apparatus will lower.”

She rubbed against him then slid her hand
to his cock. “This will never do,” she said and shocked him to the core when she
slipped her hand inside the fly.

“Then cut them off. Ah the shorts, not the
balls,” he said with a grin. “I’ve got more in the chest over by the bed.” He
had to swallow before he could tell her where the scissors were for she was
massaging his growing erection.

“I’ll wait until you’re flat on your back
then I will remove them,” she said. She dropped gracefully to the floor between
his legs to lock his ankles to the cross.

“The blindfold is in the glass shelf unit,”
he informed her. “I would—”

“Stop talking!” she snapped, shooting to
her feet. She thrust her body tight to his. “You don’t talk until I give you
permission to. Is that understood?”

He felt his cock stiffen as though someone
had driven a titanium bar from the slit to his balls. His heartbeat sped up. He
parted his lips.

“Don’t you say a word,” she warned and
reached down to take hold of him.

Her eyes were hot, steady on his and her
hand so tight around his stiff shaft it was almost uncomfortable.

Just the way he preferred to be held.

“I asked if you understood me.”

He parted his lips, curled his tongue over
his bottom lip, and nodded slowly. He watched her eyes lower to his mouth. He
quickly drew it back inside his mouth.

“Oh, I have plans for that tongue, milord
Syn,” she said. “You won’t be able to hide it from me.”

Stark desire shot through him and he
twisted against his bonds. Not in any attempt to get free but because his body
was on fire with need. He groaned when she released him and moved away, heading
for the glass case.

He turned his head to watch her. In the
long black robe she set his blood to boiling in his veins. Her long dark hair
was in a thick French braid hanging down her back and the sash of the robe
accentuated the flare of her hips. She moved with such feline grace, the skirt of
the robe molding her sweet little ass to perfection. He stopped breathing as
she opened the glass-front case and had to stand on her bare tiptoes to reach
the blindfold hanging over a vibrator sitting in its stand. He heard her laugh
when she pulled the blindfold away and saw the dildo. She looked around at him.

“An Eskimo?” she questioned.

He silently lifted a shoulder and pursed
his lips.

She looked back at the vibrator and laughed
again. “And a polar bear with his tongue out standing at the Eskimo’s feet.
What’s that for?”

He didn’t answer so she turned and gave him
a stern look. “You may explain.”

“The dildos and vibrators aren’t for me.
You insert the vibrator so the polar bear’s tongue touches the woman’s clit.
When you turn it on, the tongue flicks the clit,” he explained.

Her eyebrows shot up. “Whoa,” she said then
gave the vibrator an admiring look before coming back to the cross with the
blindfold. “That we’ve got to try now that I no longer have to worry about my
cherry.”

“If you—”

“Stop talking,” she said brusquely. She
went behind the cross and looped the black silk blindfold over his eyes, trying
it tightly in place, the cloth effectively blocking his vision. She depressed
the cross’s lever and the apparatus began to lower backward. As it lowered, a
fifth beam slid out from the middle of the cross so whoever was bound to the
cross could rest his or her head.

He was completely at her mercy as the cross
settled into place with a light thump. He could hear her moving from behind it
but he jumped when she trailed her fingers down his raised arm.

“You are mine, now, milord,” she said and
her voice was deep and husky. “Mine to do with as I please.”

His body was covered in chill bumps as she
lightly raked her fingernails from his armpit to his wrist.

“Open your hand.”

He was quick to obey and felt her
fingernails drawing slow circles in his palm. It was more sensuous than he
could have imagined. The scent of her beside him was intoxicating—the gardenia
perfume filling his nostrils. He could almost feel her body heat.

“You have been bad, milord Syn,” she said.
“You must be punished.”

He writhed against the wood. The roughness
of the timber was digging into his back but it wasn’t unpleasant.

Not yet anyway.

She dragged her fingernails down his arm
again, spiked her fingers through his underarm hair.

“I like a nicely thatched stand of hair
here,” she said. “The thicker, the better.”

He grunted. Her comment aroused him for
some strange reason and when she slid her fingernails across the upper part of
his chest, he arched his hips. He wanted—no, he ached—for her to touch his
nipples.

She circled one in a tight O—around and
around—but never quite touched the hard little nub. Instead she drew her nails
to the center of his chest and down the narrow, thick patch of hair that was
his tiger line to the waistband of his shorts.

“I like the way your chest hair swirls,”
she said. “Across your chest and to either side of your bellybutton.”

She dipped her fingertip into his
bellybutton and he jerked, sucking in a startled breath.

“Do that again and I’ll leave you here and
go back upstairs,” she said sternly. “Is that what you want, milord?”

He shook his head violently.

“I thought not.”

She traced firm little spirals inside his
bellybutton, around it, across it, and with each pass he shivered. His breath
was coming faster and shallower. He swallowed hard.

“You like that, don’t you?” she whispered
then lowered her fingertip to the waistband of his shorts and ran it under the
elastic across his belly. This time a hard shudder ran through him. “Oh, yeah.
You like that.”

She took her hand away and he groaned.

“Hold that thought,” she said.

He turned his head, following her progress
though he couldn’t see her. There was something very sensual, very sexy about
the fact he was blind to what she was doing. It was a very heady authority she
held and she was going to make the most of it. Coming back to the cross, she
took the handles of the scissors and drew them gently from his ankle, up the
middle of his shin, to his thigh. He writhed beneath her touch and made a
little grunting noise when she switched legs and drew the handle from the thigh
to the ankle of the opposite leg. She made the reverse trip from thigh to ankle
but this time on the sensitive inside of his leg. He jumped when she switched
back to the other leg and drew the handle a bit more firmly from ankle to
thigh. She removed the handle and he growled low in his throat.

“Wanting a bit more, are you?” she asked.

She turned the scissors over in her hand,
slipped her fingers through the holes then put the blade to the left leg of his
shorts and began to slowly cut the material apart.

He tensed and it wasn’t because of the
anticipation of her cutting away his shorts but because the blade was very
close to his package.

“Don’t worry, baby,” she said. “Mama ain’t
gonna damage the goods.”

The material slit from edge to waist, the
elastic popped apart and he sucked in a breath. She put the blade to the
opposite leg and began to snip. Once more he licked his lips and his breathing
became audible.

“You know what I see?” she asked. “I see a
big bulge right between your legs. Let’s see what happens when I peel the
fabric back.”

He went still, stopped breathing until she
plucked the center panel of his severed shorts from over his cock and laid it
between his legs. His cock leapt, jutting straight out from his body.