Management Skills (6 page)

That accidental diddle session didn’t count. Surely he could see how ragged her breathing was, her desperate need. She was still hotter than a rocket.

“That’s not true,” she said.

He scowled. He didn’t believe her.

Afraid of his disappointment, she dropped to her knees on the carpeted floor. She unzipped his trousers, shoved down his soft cotton boxers. His penis leaped out. How could he be so upset with her and yet be so hard? Stroking his fine, muscled thighs, she looked up at him. He was still pissed.

She kissed his cock. Hard and smooth, it pulsed against her lips. Before she could take him into her mouth, he gripped her shoulders firmly, dragging her up against him.

“I’m looking for your sexual obedience. Not a blow job.” He pulled up his pants, turned away and stalked out of her hotel room.

Her owner was furious with her.

It was so unfair. It wasn’t as if she’d hauled out her favorite dildo and masturbated on purpose. She sobbed. It was an accident. It was more like sleepwalking. Nobody blamed sleepwalkers for what they did when they roamed about unaware.

She was innocent. She’d been chaste.

All she had to do now was convince him.

Grant paced his hotel room, dissatisfied. He’d wanted to surprise Allie with a visit. But the surprise was on him.

All day he’d been planning how to please and tease her, how to collect the debt she owed—extracting every bit of interest. He even had a little gift for her. The DFX-90 prototype. She’d wanted to test out a better spotlight setup for weeks now. He’d called in a few favors to get the thing. The lamp and console was here in his hotel room.

Why didn’t she understand deprivation led to their spectacular climaxes? It was clear she’d broken her promise to remain chaste. He knew the second she opened the door. Normally she stopped breathing when she first saw him. As long as they were together, even while they had sex, there would be a hunger in her expression. No sassy, seductive walk to the desk. No ass wiggle.

Oh yes, those rich, womanly cheeks, bare and exposed,
asking
for a spanking. Her bold claim that she hadn’t pleasured herself frustrated him. He should have corrected her right then and there, but he was too angry.

Without self-control, he’d never be able to control Allie.

He worked to soften his annoyance with her. He fought off his disgust at her bribe—oral sex for forgiveness. Her previous Dom had obviously overlooked her misbehavior in exchange for sucking him off.

But Grant wasn’t Joseph.

Grant despised lies. Truthful communication was key to any relationship, a D/s one in particular. Allie would have to learn that, one way or another.

There was a soft knock at his door. He opened the door to his disobedient property. Her eyes were red from crying. By the way her lower lip trembled, she was going to start weeping again.

“Come in,” he said.

With a swallow, she stepped into his room, her gray eyes pleading. She subtly loosened her robe to display her luscious full breasts.

“Put those away.”

She gasped unhappily. She drew the robe across her nakedness, her eyes downcast. “Please don’t be angry with me, Sir. I have been chaste.”

He shut the door. He picked Allie up and threw her over his shoulder. She shrieked a cry of triumph. She believed he was going to give her a good fucking.

Not quite.

He sank down onto the bed. He laid her, stomach down, across his lap.

“You’re a liar, Mine.”

Jerking up her robe, he exposed her lovely curved ass.

“You’re going to punish me?” Her voice was dismayed.

Who needed words when he could demonstrate? He brought his palm down on her buttocks with a loud slap.

Whistling in a sharp breath, she writhed against him. The blow hurt. Hurt him, too. He took no pleasure in spanking her, but it had to be done. He couldn’t tolerate a lying sub. He delivered another stinging stroke. She twitched and moaned. Her outburst had a strange, unearthly tone. Her moan went on and on.

He hesitated.

Why was she making that sound? She shouldn’t be in that much pain. The woman was amply padded. He wasn’t putting that much force into the blows, either. Maybe her noises were manipulation; she just wanted him to stop.

He slapped her heated ass again. Now she cried out, her whole body shuddering. He stared at her backside. Was she
climaxing?
The seconds stretched out as he studied his stunning, disobedient property.

She tilted her hips, raising her bright pink ass up for more.

“Damn,” he said. Correction wasn’t about giving her orgasms.

He flipped her over. She lay on his lap, her face flushed, awash with tears and confusion. Her robe fell open. Her outthrust chest was sprinkled with red patches, her nipples sharp and hard.

She had, indeed, climaxed.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, gasping for breath.

He grunted. What had worked for Joseph would not work for him. So much for the transferability of training from one Dom to another.

How could he correct her? Having his near-naked property arched on his lap wasn’t exactly conducive to figuring out an alternative to spanking. He carried her over to a chair near the desk.

“Sit,” he ordered.

She did. She also hastily covered herself up again. At least she’d finally figured out he wouldn’t be diverted by her erotic display.

Unfortunately, convincing her to be honest would be a far more difficult task. Her lying ways were probably a leftover from her time with her ex. A don’t-rock-the-boat mentality. Tact. Self-preservation. Manipulation. Fear, even.

Lying wouldn’t fly with Grant. He required honesty even more than chastity. If Allie wouldn’t be truthful willingly, then he’d have to coax it out of her. Drag it out of her. Force it out of her. Truth serum? Torture? Those methods were out of the question.

How about interrogation?

His eyes drifted over to the box containing the DFX-90 prototype. He smiled. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

He rigged up the console and the tiny ellipsoidal reflector spotlight to sit on top of the desk. Allie watched him as he worked, uneasy, silent. Good. Let her worry. He manipulated the reflector to give off a soft-edged light. He turned off the hotel room lights.

The light from the DFX-90, mild now, illuminated her pretty face. She really was an attractive woman. He moved to stand behind her.

“This is the DFX-90 spot lamp prototype, Mine. The one you were so eager to get a look at. It’s a present for you. A little technology to play with. But tonight
I’ll
be playing with it.”

“Sir?”

He ran the barrel to increase the intensity of the beam. She turned her head away from the light.

Standing behind her, he grasped the sides of her head, forcing her to look at the painfully dazzling beam.

“This is an interrogation,” he said.

She struggled briefly against his hold. “I don’t like this scene.”

“And that’s about the only honest thing you’ve said all night. Which we will rectify. I don’t like liars.”

Waves of heat came off the lamp. Not enough to burn her, but sufficient to add a little more sensation.

“I’m not a liar, Sir.”

She sounded so sincere, so meek. She was still a liar.

“You still going to insist that you didn’t pleasure yourself?” he asked.

She paused, blinking at the spot. Thinking. Weighing. Probably wishing the questioning would be over.

“Sir,” she whispered.

Her posture was soft and submissive. She hoped he would have sympathy for her and back off.

“Yes or no,” he demanded. “Did you masturbate?”

“Yes,” she finally said, pressing her eyes shut against the brilliant light. “Not on purpose, though. I was just daydreaming, and I must have been stroking or something, because all of sudden, I was coming, and it was over. Tonight was the very first time. It was an accident.”

Finally, the truth.

“Thank you,” he said softly, still holding her head immobile. “Do you understand why I ask for your chastity?”

“Yes. For bigger and better orgasms.”

“That’s right. Dissipation and diversion will diminish release.”

“Yes. It’s true. It does. Can you turn off the lamp now?”

“I can, Mine. But I won’t. The interrogation continues.”

“Why?”

“You presume to interrogate me?”

“No.” Her voice was contrite. Tears squeezed out of her still-shut eyes and she dropped her head.

He enjoyed grilling her. It didn’t arouse him in a sexual way, but it still satisfied him deeply. Spanking her had been a duty, an unpleasant chore. Interrogating his property was a pleasure. The harsh light magnified every nuance of her expression. He could observe her very thought process. He was making her more self-aware.

He jerked her head back up to face the painful light, square on. “Open your eyes.”

She obeyed.

“Now let’s talk about lying,” he said. “Why did you lie to me?”

After a long pause, she said, “I didn’t want to get into trouble, Sir. I convinced myself that since my, um, dissipation was an accident, it didn’t really happen.”

“Dishonesty offends me as a person. As a man. As an owner. Lying erodes trust. Lying is dangerous to you, to me, to our union. Do you understand why it’s dangerous?”

Heat radiated off the lamp. She bit her lower lip. After a while she answered him. “Because next time I lie, you’ll get really mad and hit me too hard? And you’ll regret doing it?”

Sadness seeped into his chest. “No. I’ll never lose my temper with you. Allie, the biggest threat to your safety and to our relationship is lying to please me.”

“But I want to please you. It matters to me.”

“But your desire to serve can’t override your duty to honesty. What if you need to safeout, but you won’t, because you think I’m enjoying play too much?”

She exhaled a long breath. “I never thought of it that way. I’ll be more honest, Sir. I’ll use my safeword if I need to.”

He fervently hoped so. “Do you remember your safeword?”

“Yes. It’s ‘over.’”

“You can safeout, Allie, even when I correct you.”

“Oh,” she said.

“Even now. Do you want to safeout?” he asked.

“No. I deserve interrogation,” she said, looking forlorn, beaten.

His hold on her head eased. “Are you unhappy with our relationship?”

“No.”

“Talk to me, Mine. What are you thinking? What are you feeling?”

Allie’s hand drifted up to her collar. “I’m happy. I love it when you touch me.”

She lowered her chin, but this time he didn’t force her to look into the light. Her failure to remain chaste was his failure. He’d neglected her. That wouldn’t happen again.

“But?” he asked.

“But chastity is hard for me,” she said. “It’s painful.”

Still standing behind her, he rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. “It’s supposed to be painful. If you weren’t a sexual woman, long deprivation wouldn’t ultimately bring you outstanding release.”

“Why can’t it just be about love?”

He turned off the prototype illumination and carried her to the bed.

Cradling her warm body, he murmured into her fragrant skin. “I do love you, Allie. But we want something more powerful than love, don’t we?”

“Yes. I want to be yours, Sir,” she whispered.

Her words moved him. They lay snuggled together in the dark, sleep eluding them both.

“Sir, I can still see flashing in front of my eyes. Are you ever going to interrogate me again?”

“Yes. In a heartbeat. If I ever sense deception.”

She sighed, a happy sound. Nestling her closer, he listened to her breathing turn soft and regular. They had overcome their first crisis.

Grant didn’t hold grudges. Allie was certain of that. After she’d lied to him and he’d corrected her, he’d talked to her, he’d cuddled her. In his mind, the episode was done with, forgotten.

She had a much harder time letting go. She constantly reviewed that evening in her mind. Grant had demanded honesty from the beginning. She’d failed him. She’d have to get better at telling him the truth. She’d have to learn to communicate without interrogation. His questioning under the spot was humiliating and painful, but afterward, she was overwhelmed by a feeling of intimacy and gratitude.

How had he known she’d masturbated in the first place? Was the level of her throbbing sexuality so transparent? His insight into her libido was a good thing, she supposed. Sex was, after all, the basis of their relationship. But her reaction to his physical punishment was embarrassing. She’d never climaxed from pain before. Was it simply because his skin had touched hers? Would she have reacted the same way if he’d smacked her with a crop?

Whatever the reason for her spanking orgasm, it was clear he had enormous sexual power over her. His potency both delighted and frightened her.

The morning after her failure and later catharsis, Grant went back to California, promising to arrange a whole weekend getaway together. After a little texting back and forth, they found a date agreeable to both. She couldn’t wait.

Grant got to Allie’s apartment late Saturday morning, wearing a casual striped button-down shirt and jeans. He was dead gorgeous. So tall and well built. Dark hair curled to his collar, deep-set eyes alive with passion. Her heart thumped with anticipation and anxiety.

“You look wonderful.” His eyes drifted over her body-hugging wrap dress in dark teal. “That’s a pretty color on you.”

She smoothed her fingers over her hips to hide the trembling in her hands. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Hungry for breakfast?”

“Yes.” It was a lie. A small lie. Her stomach was jumpy. She wanted to get breakfast over with so she could show him what a perfect submissive she was.

They headed down the stairs together, Grant carrying her flowery overnight bag. He opened the passenger door of his pale blue sedan. She slipped in. He stashed her luggage in the trunk and settled in beside her.

“I thought you drove a white car.”

“I do.”

“But this is a blue car.”

He looked around the inside of the vehicle, pretending confusion. “Huh. You’re right. This car is blue.”

“How many cars do you own?” she asked, laughing.

His expression turned sheepish and he refused to tell her.

“That many?”

“That many.”

She owned but one car, a seven-year-old Honda Civic. Grant’s blue sedan was a Mercedes. No doubt super expensive. She tried to imagine finding happiness in acquiring fancy automobiles. She couldn’t. Maybe it was a rich-man thing.

Cupped by luxurious leather seats, she pondered their differences. What if she and Grant didn’t have that aching, all-consuming, white-hot craving for each other? Would they dislike each other then? Even hate each other? The very idea made her sad.

The restaurant had an elegant yet casual atmosphere. They decided to eat outside, under a canopy of trees on an inviting flagstone patio. He pulled out a heavy scrolly iron chair for her. His sweet attentions stirred her nearly as much as his fierce control. His tenderness wasn’t artifice. He could be both a gentleman, sincere in caring for her, and a demanding owner. Just like she could be both a dignified professional and a writhing sex slave.

The specialty of the restaurant was old-fashioned comfort food. They ordered a hearty breakfast, along with coffee.

“So, where are you taking me this weekend?” she asked, sipping her coffee.

“A little B&B on Nob Hill.”

“A B&B. How romantic,” she said, grinning.

He sent her a darkly sexy look, as if romance wasn’t on his agenda. Her whole body hummed in response. Their eyes connected for one long, satisfying moment. He grinned back at her, breaking the spell.

“What’s new with your family?” She loved hearing about his siblings. With so many of them, there was always some amazing thing going on.

“Trig and his wife Suzanne are going to have another baby.”

“They’re the ones in Peru?”

“Ecuador, actually.”

“Not Peru? Oh, yeah, that reminds me. Did I tell you Pilar and I are getting set to visit my Mom in Japan this summer? We have tickets and everything!”

“That’s exciting,” he said, his voice rich with affection.

“Yeah, I’m finally going abroad. I can’t wait. I finally get to see what my Mom’s doing. Why she likes it. And having Pilar come with me—well, she’s a blast. That girl is a portable party. Did you know she’s a big anime fan? Japan is like the mother ship to her.”

His eyebrows rose. “Pilar and anime? The girl with the multi-colored hair? You’re pulling my leg.”

She chuckled.

The waiter brought their breakfast. Her fragrant golden pancakes were slathered in butter and dripping with syrup. Grant’s plate had a manly meat-eater ambiance, with heaps of bacon and sausage, no pancakes and one token egg.

They both dug in. The pancakes were soft and fluffy. Truly comfort food.

“Karen’s engaged now,” he said. “To a fellow teacher.”

“Have you met him?”

“Yes,” he said, enjoying his bacon.

“You approve?”

“What makes you think Karen wants my approval?”

She laughed. “Not just yours. She’s going to want the approval of that whole clan of yours. You Edmonds are constantly in each other’s business. I’m surprised I haven’t been vetted by your family yet.”

He grunted. “Well, I have met Karen’s man. Stefan’s his name. Decent sort. Conservative and calm. Nice counterpoint to Karen.”

“Have they set a date?”

“Yup. Atlanta in August.” He picked up his mug of coffee. “Are you free the last weekend in August?”

“Are you inviting me to your sister’s wedding?”

“No, you’ll be getting a formal invite from Karen and Stefan. But I’m giving you a heads up.”

She was touched. He wanted his family to meet her. But she couldn’t go. “I can’t. That’s when I’m off to Japan. I wish I could.”

“I’m sad you can’t be there.” He gazed at her with such warmth she nearly melted into a puddle. “But Karen’s going to be beyond disappointed. I’ve told her so much about you. She so wanted to meet one Allison Rose Fairfax.”

She smirked, amused. “My middle name isn’t Rose.”

“Not Rose? Is it Ravishing? No? How about Rumba? Rhododendron?”

“It doesn’t start with an R at all.”

He reached across the table to encircle her wrists with his big hands. His touch was gentle, but rife with meaning. It was the only public gesture of dominance he ever made. She loved it.

“Does your family know what kind of man you are?” she whispered.

He tugged her toward him across the table by her wrists. “And what kind of man would that be?”

She sighed as sparkles of pleasure shot up her arms.

“I think it’s time to go,” he said gruffly.

The B&B was a charming gingerbread Victorian painted in eye-catching yellow and peach. According to the wooden sign above the moss-green door, it was called the Cornerstone. Grant pulled their bags out of the trunk. His suitcase was huge. What on earth did he have in his bag?

The B&B owners, a couple in their late thirties, were expecting them. They plainly adored each other. While Grant registered, the owners sent each other loving glances, touching each other constantly. Melancholy drifted through Allie. Would she and Grant still be together in fifteen years?

Grant had arranged for them to stay in the Tower Room on the top floor. He dragged his gigantic suitcase up three flights of marble staircase. He was probably wishing he’d reserved a room on the ground floor. Allie followed him up with her little flowery overnight slung over her shoulder. They finally got to the top floor. He was out of breath. Either she’d packed way too light, or Grant was a man-diva who’d brought a change of clothing for every meal—and a few for snack time.

The door to their room was massive. Made of rough-hewn wood, it was held together with crude iron straps and bolts. The medieval tone of the door didn’t fit in with the whimsical Victorian exterior of the B&B.

“Amazing door,” she said.

“That’s for sure. The owners tell me the walls inside the room are just as amazing. Thick and imposing. Stone everywhere.”

“Stone? What kind of a bed-and-breakfast is this?”

“The Cornerstone is a bed-and-
bondage.
” A soft smile edged his lips.

Surprised, her mouth fell open. “I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

He opened the door using a heavy iron key. She stepped inside, curious. What kind of stuff did a bed-and-bondage room have in it? She couldn’t see anything in the dim light. Illuminated only by flickering yellow candles, it took a while for her vision to adjust.

The room was a medieval dungeon. Rough stone covered the walls and floor. An assortment of evil-looking restraints hung like streamers from the ceiling. A wooden rack, complete with heavy iron chains and leather restraints, stood in the center of the room. Grant, the lord of high-tech entertainment, intended to entertain her in a primitive dungeon. Her excitement vaulted.

At that very moment the lord was dragging his huge suitcase into the room. She was starting to suspect there weren’t clothes in it. He set his luggage down on the floor near the rack and pulled out a smaller case.

She gazed around the room, realizing her vision was as good as it was ever going to get. Various crude wood cabinets lined the wall, and a big pile of sweet-scented hay lay in one corner.

“Wow,” she murmured. “This is so cool.”

Enchanted, she drifted over to a massive stone hearth opposite the hay. The fire was quite real, smelling of pine and smoke. The cheerful crackle and light was offset by a set of sinister-looking branding irons jammed into the glowing logs.

“Those irons had better just be for effect,” she said.

Putting on smooth black leather gloves, he strode toward her. “The branding irons are quite real, Mine.”

She felt a thrill of fear.

He untied the bow of her wraparound surplice dress. The dress fell open, revealing she’d worn no undergarments.

“Counting on getting lucky?” he growled.

“Yuh.” She was nearly beyond speech, hot and needy.

He pulled the dress off her shoulders and arms, allowing it to drop to the stone floor. She kicked off her wedge sandals. She stood naked, her nipples tightening into hard points.

He jerked her arms up and snapped her wrists into a pair of hanging iron restraints. Her arms were now loosely anchored to the ceiling. One of his gloved fists slid down the very center of her nude body, stopping at her belly ring. She arched into his touch, excited by the delicious contrast of his strength against her vulnerability.

“The walls are so thick,” he said. “Nobody can hear you beg.”

She groaned. She didn’t want to have to beg.

He fixed a satin blindfold over her eyes. She was now blind and bound. The sensation was both delightful and unnerving.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, “while I make preparations.”

She heard his footfall. He was moving away from her. His suitcase opened. Fragrances of candle wax, of burning wood, of hay intermingled. She tested the shackles. If she tried, she could easily slip out of them. Not that she ever would. But if she leaned, she might be able to rub her naked body against her owner while he did whatever he was doing. She tugged. She could hear him breathing nearby. She caught his scent of cedar. But she still wasn’t close enough to touch him.

“Stop distracting me, Mine.”

He sounded genuinely irritated. He was getting hot. If she could get him to drop his iron self-control, maybe he’d abandon his infinite, teasing foreplay and fuck her where she stood.

Bound and blind, she intended to push his buttons. She made whimpering sounds of desire, moving in her restraints as only an exotic dancer could.

“You are way too sexy for your own good,” he snarled.

He unsnapped her wrists from the restraints. He carried her, still blindfolded, to a flat, hard surface. She assumed it was the rack, now covered with soft fabric.

“Now be good,” he said.

She refused to be good. She lay on her back, continuing her erotic display. Arching, offering, gently sighing, making herself so hot she couldn’t bear it.

She had no idea if he was ignoring her—or drooling. He continued his preparations.

He shifted her limbs so her arms were at her sides and her legs straight. Like a soldier. Something softly brushed against her bare skin, starting from her shoulders all the way down to her toes. The sensation was sexy as hell. Her head swam.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Covering you with oil.”

He was going to give her a massage. She squirmed with delight.

“Stop wriggling,” he said. “Now breathe delicately, Allie. Don’t flinch. Don’t move.”

He made her chest sting, right below her collar. She gasped, surprised by the pain. The pain resolved into a wonderful tingle. A river of intense warmth traveled down the valley between her breasts.

“Oooh,” she said with a rush of pleasure. “Wax play.”

He continued dripping wax on her nude body.

The burning liquid splashed onto her upper breasts to drip over her nipples. She twitched in pain, but soon felt only a hot pulse. Melted wax poured onto her tummy and down through the juncture between her legs. The liquid set her pelvic area on fire. She groaned.

She gave herself up to the sensations. Patches of concentrated heat, followed by warmth. Blind, her body surrendered to his sweet control. Her Owner would take care of her. All she had to do was enjoy it. Her breathing turned shallow, her mind reached serenity. Heat, soothing and erotic, continued to spread all over her skin. Her arms, her thighs. Grant’s meticulous wax bondage soon encased her. She felt indulged and secure.

He lifted off her blindfold. She blinked, struggling to re-connect with the visible world. Her eyes focused. On Grant. He stood over her, his expression tender and loving.