A Dom for Christmas (10 page)

Cam took her arm and walked to
the door with her.

“My room, my bed,” he said in a
tone that brooked no argument. “I won’t be long.”

“Yeah, well there’s one small
problem there,” Angie told him as he turned to go back into the library. “I
don’t have the foggiest idea where your room is.”

“My
apologies, lady-mine.
The door next to yours, along the green
corridor.”

Easy enough then, Angie
thought. Except for the life of her she couldn’t remember where her door was. She
found the green corridor by trial and error and looked at the doors. All dark
wood, all shut, and no distinguishing features. Why on earth hadn’t she paid
attention to her surroundings?
Because I
was paying attention to Cam, that’s why.

Ah well. There was nothing for
it but to try each one in turn and hope none were occupied. She had no idea who
lived in the house, apart from Cam, and evidently herself.

The first two rooms were
uninhabited, their furniture under
holland
covers,
and the shutters closed to prevent fading. The third room was a tiny sitting
room that she fell in love with. How she’d like to appropriate that. The only
other door past that led to a large cupboard full of linen.

However, with one side of the
corridor checked, it meant their rooms were on the other side of the corridor.

Angie looked at the doors and
bit her lip as she pondered her next move. If his was next to hers, which end
could it be? Once more she had four rooms to choose from. She turned the handle
on the first one. It didn’t budge. She bent down to see if she could look
through the keyhole, but evidently the key was in it because the aperture was
blocked.

Not here, then.
It was only a few strides to the next door. It opened easily when
she turned the handle and Angie walked inside.

This was easily recognizable as
a man’s room. No pale
colored
cushions or soft
furnishings here. Dark wood surrounds and skirting boards, with the bed covered
in deep red silk, and the windows with the same
color
velvet. Next to the window, a small table held a decanter and two glasses. The
chairs drawn up to it were deep and welcoming.

However, it was the door at the
end of the room that held Angie’s attention. It obviously led to the other
room.
The one with the locked outer door.
She looked
at the side table and then toward the bed. There was no contest. With a
fatalistic shrug, she walked to the door, turned the handle, and pushed.

Angie blinked and rocked back
on her heels as her pussy clenched and her skin stung with awareness. Her
juices coated her thighs, and her mound was damp within seconds as she stared
at the contents of the room. No wonder the outer door was locked.

Chapter Seven

She’d never ever wonder just
what Regency
Doms
used for
toys
anymore, that was
for sure. The books she’d read didn’t know the half of
it. Hanging from what looked like a stable hook was a series of intricate ropes
and pulleys. Next to them was a bench on wheels, and beyond that, a waist-high
bed—something similar to what her beautician used for the torture of waxing.
The far wall had several parallel bars fixed to it, and a long, low cupboard
top had candles and a tinderbox on its surface, along with several pots of
lotions and salve.

She noted a set of graduated
whips and floggers hooked over wooden pegs and something that looked like a
horse’s bit and reins.

Shit, he really is a Dom.
Angie walked farther into the room and let
her curiosity overcome her. She opened the cupboard door.

Well, they said curiosity
killed the cat, and boy did it make her heart stop for a second. It held
dildos.
Lots of them.
And butt plugs, she thought.
In various sizes, shapes, and material.
One particular
smooth, medium-sized, mushroom-shaped object caught her attention, and she
lifted it out of its nest of velvet and ran her fingers over the cool surface.
Green jade, one of her
favorite
materials.

“A butt plug, lady-mine. Shall
I use it?”

Angie whirled round, and the
jade slipped from her hand. Cam bent and retrieved it before it hit the floor.

“Not the best way to treat our
toys, lady-mine. Did you lose your way?” He tossed the jade from one hand to
the other whilst he looked at her.

Angie quelled the urge to lower
her gaze. Yes, she was in the wrong, but hadn’t he said
their
toys, not
solely his? The thought that they’d used that, plus the other things, made her
juices gush and she clenched her thighs together.

Damn and blast, if I have to be around now, the worst thing that
could happen is that I remember hot stuff like this.

“Answer me, lady-mine.”

 
Angie replayed his words.
“
Er
, sort of.”

He tapped the jade against his
leg, but didn’t speak. Angie fidgeted under his gaze.

“Okay, I was nosy, because the
outside door was locked. Yeah, I guessed that’s a hint, but the door from your
bedroom wasn’t, so I sort of pushed it and well
…
” She giggled nervously. “So
sue me.”

“Turn around.”

“Pardon?”
What was he thinking? Angie
accepted she wasn’t nervous or scared. Rather she was excited, aroused and wet.
Her chemise stuck to her pussy as her arousal grew, and she’d bet there was a
big damp stain on the fine lawn. She started to push the material away from her
body, but Cam took hold of her hand.

“I said turn around.” His tone
gave no leeway for an argument.

Not that Angie had any
intention of arguing. Her body was heavy with passion, and her clit clenched as
her pussy muscles tensed and released. She’d once likened those tugs and pulls
to a clit dancing the samba, and she reckoned that was about right.

“Yes, Sir.”
She did as he asked and found
herself facing the wall bars. This close she could see that they could be
released from their moorings and moved around the room. The gap between two of
them was narrower than the rest, and it looked like the whole apparatus could
be angled. What was in his mind? Her nipples tightened at the thought of just
what might be about to happen.

“Grasp the one above your head.
By the curved pegs.”

 
Angie didn’t even think of what she was asked
to do. She reached up and caught hold of the two protruding pieces of polished
wood and curled her hands round them. Her breasts were now fitted tightly
between the narrowest gap, and her pussy and clit between a larger one.

“Good girl.” He stood to one
side of her and fastened each hand to their respective pegs. “I trust that now
you’re fully recovered from your injury?” he asked in a conversational voic
e
.
“As you had
no problems in finding our special room.”
He put his foot against one of
her ankles and tapped it. “Move your leg onto the post.” She complied
instantly. “Good girl.
Now the other one.”

“Perfect.” He knelt and fastened
her ankles in a similar manner to her hands.

Angie realized her feet were no
longer on the floor but resting on a thin, raised shelf of wood.

“I had intended to go slowly,”
Cam said. He ran his hand up her leg and stroked the entrance to her channel.
“But it seems I needn’t have worried. You’re oh so wet for me aren’t you,
lady-mine? Ready for whatever I decide. Wondering how I’m going to punish you
for not doing as I said. Thinking what we had agreed
on,
and whether you can say you’d forgotten. But you know deep down, that even if
you don’t remember everything in its entirety, you are mine. Our relationship
is one where I am dominant, and one you accept and enjoy. Am I wrong?” He
pushed two fingers inside her.

Angie moaned as she clenched
her muscles around those questing digits.

He laughed. “You will not come,
lady-mine, until I say so. You know that. Now, am I wrong?”

She sighed.
“No,
dammit.”

His fingers left her channel so
fast,
she didn’t have time to really register the fact
before he pinched her clit. The pain filled her, but in such a way that it
wasn’t really pain.
More a heat that swept through her and
left her panting.

“Pardon?
Angelina, you are treading on
dangerous ground here.” He moved away from her and the next thing she knew, the
bars were swung around so she now faced the middle of the room with several
feet of space between her and the wall. Cam pressed something and shook the
bars. They held firm.

“I know I have said I won’t
spank you. However, that doesn’t mean I won’t use a flogger.” He tested her
bindings. “And I think perhaps we might need this.” With a grin she could only
describe as wicked, he produced a velvet mask, something like she’d wear at a
masquerade, but with no eyeholes. “Do you remember how we both know you’re happy
with what we’re doing?”

Angie swallowed. She did with
the other Cam, but here and now? “I’m guessing we have a safe word, a word I
use to say I need you to stop for whatever reason, but I’m sorry, Sir, I have
no idea what we use.” She hoped that sounded correct. “I trust you, however, to
know me better than I know myself.”

“Hmm.
If you are not happy you say
‘Brummel.’ Poor George, if only he knew how we treat his name. If you are, it’s
‘happy.’
Very straightforward.
So when I say happy? I
expect one or the other. Do you understand?”

She bit back her initial reply
of
duh, I’m not stupid
. A tendency to have a runaway mouth had always
been her problem. And it wasn’t one that acted independently, either.
“Yes, Sir.
Happy.
”

Happy is perhaps a misnomer. Hot and horny fits better
. She didn’t add that thought.

“Good girl. He placed the
blindfold over her eyes, and adjusted it. “Happy?”

She nodded, and he pinched her
thigh. It was not a pleasant pain.

“Verbalize, please.”

“Yes, Sir.
Happy.”

Cam—she had to assume it was
Cam, if he was anything like the other Cam, he didn’t share her or anything
pertaining to the two of them—stroked her cheek.

“Good, lady-mine. Remember, I
will listen and adhere to whatever you say. In reality, you are in charge.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Behind the blindfold and unable
to see anything, Angie found her hearing was acute. Every rustle, every
footstep sounded louder than life. She found herself trying to second-guess
what was happening.

“Hold very still.”

The cold steel on her neck was
enough for her to obey instantly. The bars she faced and was tied to were
evidently no obstacle to Cam resting a knife or dagger on her skin once more.

“Now where were we? Oh yes, my
lovely submissive was misbehaving and needs to be punished.” The knife stroked
her from chin to chest. “How should I do that, do you think? Do you have any
suggestions, lady-mine?” He moved the knife off her skin. Angie waited, dry
mouthed, to feel where it touched her next. The seconds passed and still she
heard and felt nothing. She swallowed nervously, and realized he might be
waiting for her to answer him.

“No, no, Sir.
Unless.”
She paused. She might as well say it.
“A spanking?”

That cold steel was on her skin
again. This time Cam used it to stroke her leg, and circle her knee. A tiny
sting made her brace herself. Had he pricked her with it?

“Brummel,” she said in a hurry.

The pinprick stopped.

“Why?”

“You stabbed me,” Angie said,
hatin
g
the petulant tone she used.

“Really?
You think that?” His voice had
no expression.

She sighed. “No, no I don’t,
Sir. Happy.” Would he believe her?

A cool breeze wafted across her
thighs and Angie realized Cam had lifted her skirts. Instead of girding them
around her waist as she supposed he might, there was a tug and a tearing sound.
Her arse, and then her back, experienced the same chill as her thighs.

“Good girl, stay very, very
still.” The steel touched her shoulders as one by one he slit her dress and
chemise from shoulder to cuff. “Daggers are
so
versatile,” Cam murmured and tugged the material away from her skin.

There was nothing else to be
said. He was correct.

“Now, am I right in saying you
disobeyed me?
On more than one occasion?”
His breath
feathered across her ear.