Reconstructing Meredith (9 page)

“You’re nice and wet for me, Kristen,” I whispered, sliding my fingers back out. “Does this turn you on, my little fucking slut?”

She whimpered, squirming against me as much as her restraints would let her. “Yes, Master.”

“As wet as you are, I don’t think it would take much at all to make you come.” I teased her clit, waiting for her to moan again before I added, “Would it?”

“No, Master.”

“Don’t come yet, Kristen.” I kissed her neck. “You’ll wait until I tell you, won’t you?”

“Yes… yes, Master.”

“Of course you will.” I slipped my fingers inside her again and kissed just behind her ear. “Your orgasms are under my control, aren’t they, my filthy fucking
whore
?”

“Yes, Master, yes, I…” Her breath caught, and when she shivered, her pussy squeezed my fingers. Sucking in a breath, she squirmed as I continued teasing her. The Saint Andrew’s Cross creaked and the leather restraints protested. With every stroke of my fingers, sliding slowly in and out, her pussy grew wetter. Every time I slipped them free and teased her clit, she fell apart a little more, moaning and struggling to stay in control. I kept her going like this until she held her breath, squeezed my fingers, trembled, until she was a breath away from letting go, and there I held her, forcing her to teeter on that brink until I was damned good and ready to let her come.

“Like that?” I growled.

“Yes, Master.” She was breathless now, gasping and writhing with every circle I drew around her clit.

I kissed the side of her neck and slid my fingers back inside her, pressing my palm against her clit. “Do you want me to let you come?”

She held her breath as a tremor worked its way up her spine. When it had passed, she whispered, “Please, Master.”

“Come, Kristen.”

She let go of a long, spine-tingling cry. Her pussy tightened around my fingers while the rest of her body melted, and every tremor and whimper made me want to be inside her that much more.

Soon. I’d fuck her soon enough, but we weren’t finished yet.

I unfastened her ankles. Then I stood and, with one arm securely around her waist, freed her wrist. Her arm fell to her side. When I released the other hand, I laid her arm around my shoulders and let her body sink against mine.

“Good girl,” I whispered, stroking her hair. “You’ve done well.”

“Thank you, Master.”

I held her to me and kissed her. As she regained her footing, as her trembling knees steadied, she returned my kiss. I loved the way she kissed when she was in this state. Assertive, never demanding. Following my lead, but not just passively letting me have my way with her mouth without responding at all. She fucked the same way when she submitted, moving in ways that complemented—never dictated—how I moved inside her. She’d learned fast, she’d learned well, and her beautiful surrender drove me wild every damned time.

I guided her hand to my erection, trying not to gasp at the warmth of her palm through thick denim. Her fingers twitched, probably struggling to resist the temptation to give a playful squeeze. She wouldn’t, though. She didn’t have permission.

I slid one hand up her back and into her hair. She gasped, not quite breaking the kiss, when my fingers tangled in her hair. She knew what was coming.

But a Dom is nothing if not a tease, and when I loosened my grasp, she sucked in a breath that was made of frustration. After a moment, I tightened my fingers, grinning when her breath caught and her spine straightened. Then I loosened my grasp again.

She couldn’t hide her frustration. It revealed itself in the creases between her eyebrows and the way her lips tightened into a thin, bleached line.

Frustrated, yes, but not defiant. Perfect.

I gripped her hair and twisted it, forcing her to her knees at my feet. She gasped, then moaned.

“Do you want to suck my cock, Kristen?” I growled.

She licked her lips. “If that’s what you want, Master.”

Oh, you’re damn right it is
.

“Good girl,” I breathed.

Still holding her hair on my other hand, I unzipped my jeans with the other. She watched intently, wetting her lips and barely breathing while I stroked myself just a few inches from her face. Though she licked her lips again, she didn’t move. She knew better. If she closed the distance between her mouth and my cock by even a fraction of an inch, I’d deny her, a lesson she’d long ago learned.

I loosened my grip. She still didn’t move.

“Good girl,” I whispered, and when she looked up at me, she smiled. I smiled back, inclining my head in the slightest parody of a nod.

I curled my fingers against the back of her head and nudged her forward. She didn’t hesitate, taking my cock into her mouth eagerly, hungrily,
obediently
. I still held her hair, though not as tightly; enough to feel every motion, not enough to interfere unless I wanted to, which I most certainly did not.

“Use your hands,” I said.

That was the command she’d been waiting for, of that I had no doubt, and as soon as I gave the order, both hands were on my cock. Squeezing, stroking, adding just enough of a twist to make my knees shake. A shiver ran down my spine, leaving goose bumps in its wake.

“Yes, that’s a good girl, just like that,” I breathed. My balance wavered. With my free hand, I grabbed the Saint Andrew’s Cross for balance, struggling to stay on my feet as she fucked me with her mouth. “That’s it, baby, make me come.” As soon as the words were off my tongue, she doubled her efforts, just as I knew she would, and I closed my eyes.

God, yes
. I couldn’t help moving my hips in time with her movement. Couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t fucking wait.

I held the Cross and her hair tighter, and with a deep groan, I came. She kept right on going until I couldn’t take anymore and whispered for her to stop. When she did, I took a few breaths, giving the world a moment to right itself.

Then I looked down at her and, trying not to slur, said, “Stand up.” When she rose, I put my arms around her and kissed her. “Your mouth is, as always, fucking amazing.”

“Thank you, Master.”

I kissed her again. “No, thank you.” I ran my fingers through her hair. “I’m not your Master anymore tonight.”

She let out a breath, rolling her shoulders as if to relieve some tension.

“Water?” I asked.

“Yes, please.”

I handed her one of the bottles I’d brought in before she arrived and took the other for myself.

After we’d both drunk a little and caught our breath, I said, “Come on, let’s go in the bedroom and get some lotion on your back.”

I led her into the bedroom. Once we’d kicked Malia out and closed the door, Kristen got into bed, lying facedown with her arms folded beneath the pillow. I pulled the covers up to her waist and sat beside her with a bottle of lotion. Before putting any lotion on her, I did a quick check for cuts. I hadn’t used a terribly brutal flogger tonight, but I checked anyway out of habit.

There wasn’t a cut to be found, so I poured some lotion into my hand. She groaned softly as I smoothed it on to her shoulders, up and down her back, anywhere the tails had colored her skin. For the longest time, neither of us spoke. Sometimes she fell asleep while I rubbed her back after a flogging, sometimes she just closed her eyes and enjoyed it.

Evidently she hadn’t fallen asleep, because after a while, she said, “You never did tell me what happened to your face.”

Without thinking, I reached up and brushed my fingertips across the bridge of my nose. It wasn’t terribly painful anymore, just slightly swollen and a little bruised.

“Nothing serious. I just put my face where someone else was trying to put her elbow.” I chuckled in spite of the memory.

“Looks like she tried to put it there with quite a bit of force.” She grinned over her shoulder. “Or you were trying to put your face there with a lot of force.”

“Very funny.” I shot her a playful glare. “No, it was just one of those clumsy moments that would have won us some money had we caught it on tape.”

“Pity you didn’t have a camera, then.”

I laughed, pretending not to feel the chill crawling up my spine. “Yeah, that could have been… interesting.”

“I’m sure.” She was quiet for a moment. “Oh, I meant to ask. What happened with Meredith the other night?”

I sighed. “I can’t really discuss everything, but it involves her ex-husband.”

“Probably a good thing he’s now an ex, then?”

“Yeah. It’s a long story, though.”
A long, twisted, fucked up story.

“Is she okay?”

“She’s all right,” I said quietly. “But she wants me to be her Dom.”

“Really? I didn’t realize she was into kink.”

“She’s had… some experience.”
If you could call it that
.

“So you’re showing another newbie the ropes, as it were?”

“You could say that.” I exhaled. “And now we have this sort of complicated sex-but-not-a-relationship relationship.”

Kristen looked over her shoulder at me. “Need I remind you how well that worked when we did it?” She paused, then quickly added, “Keeping it to friends with benefits, I mean. I’m certainly not complaining about how it worked out.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that.” I chuckled, but then turned serious again. “You and I didn’t have the history I have with her, though.”

“Do you still love her?”

My hand stopped in the middle of her back. Of all the questions I’d eluded since Meredith called me that first night, I’d avoided that one in particular like the plague.
Did
I still love her? Not just as a friend, but as something more?

“Scott?”

I shrugged and started rubbing Kristen’s back again. “I don’t know what I feel for her anymore, to be honest. Right now, I just need to help her sort out some shit in her world.”

“Are you sure you won’t get emotionally tangled up with her?” She glanced at me. “I’m not trying to pry, you know that, I just don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

I swallowed hard. Kristen had been there when Meredith and I broke up. Yeah, we’d stayed friends, but it was hard, and Kristen knew as well as anyone how much it hurt me.

“I’ll be okay, babe.”

“You sure?”

No
. “I’ll be fine.” I watched my fingers draw slow, gentle circles on her shoulders. “What this does mean, though, is that it’s going to be taking up a lot of my time and energy for a while.” I trailed my fingers down the middle of her back. “Are you okay with that? I mean—”

“Scott, if she needs you, of course I’m okay with it.” She rolled on to her side and looked up at me. “If it’s as bad as it sounds, I’d honestly be questioning what kind of guy you were if you
didn’t
help her. I’m not about to get all possessive.”

I smiled. “Thanks for understanding. And I’ll still be around. I promise we’ll still spend time together.”

“We’d better.”

A startled cough of laughter burst out of me. “Oh,
really
?”

“Yes. Or I might hurt Matt. And you, when you do come around.”

“Hmm, that doesn’t sound too bad, actually.”

“Oh, shut up.” She grabbed my shirt and hauled me down to kiss her.

I pulled back, grasping her jaw in one hand. “Do I need to put my sub back in her place now?”

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Shut up and fuck me, Scott.”

“I
beg
your pardon?”

“Okay, okay.” She took a deep breath, putting on her most sarcastically repentant expression. “Shut up and fuck me,
Master
.”

“Mouthy wench,” I growled, leaning down to kiss her again.

“What ever will you do with me?”

“Normally I’d punish you and make you beg,” I whispered. “But since I already told you I’m not your Master anymore tonight, and, well…” I pressed my hard-on against her hip. “I think I’ll just shut up and fuck you.”

After a couple of weeks and with Leslie’s blessing, Meredith was ready to take another step forward. No more just getting reacquainted with physical intimacy, it was time to move into some kink. Light kink, nothing overly hardcore yet, but not just vanilla sex with safe words.

To say I was nervous was a fucking understatement.

I walked through Meredith’s front door at a little past eight, and as soon as that door closed behind me, a chill ran down my spine.
I’m here. We’re really doing this
. And even out here in the hallway, both fully dressed and making small talk like the once-lovers, near-strangers we were, I couldn’t shake the feeling of stepping into a minefield.

“Anything to drink?” She glanced over her shoulder on the way into her kitchen, gesturing with the glass of water she’d been drinking when she came to the door.

“No, I’m okay. Thanks.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

She drained the water glass, then set it in the sink. The small talk ground to a halt and Meredith didn’t look at me. Awkward silence descended. We both knew why I was here. Someone just needed to say the word and we’d be in her bedroom, and if I thought walking down the hall and into her kitchen was a minefield, the bedroom could only be worse.

Might as well jump right in
.

“Before we go in the other room,” I said, resting my hip against the counter, “let’s talk rules.”

She shifted her weight. “Rules?”

I nodded. “In a consensual Dom/sub scenario, rules are established upfront. To make sure everyone knows what they’re getting into and everyone’s safety and well-being are taken into consideration.”

She gave a single sharp sniff of bitter laughter. “What a concept.”

“Welcome to safe, sane, and consensual.”

“Okay, so these… rules.” She raised her eyebrows. “What kinds of rules?”

“Well, things either of us won’t do, for example.” I hooked my thumbs in the belt loops of my jeans. “There are hard limits and soft limits. Hard limits would be the things you absolutely won’t do, soft would be those you might consider under the right circumstances. Make sense?”

“Yeah.”

“My one non-negotiable hard limit is choking,” I said. “I absolutely will not choke you.”

She shuddered. “I don’t think that’ll be an issue.”

“I know, I didn’t figure it would be something you’d want. But I wanted to put it out on the table so you know where I stand. Now, are you okay with me touching your neck at all? Or would you prefer I didn’t?”

Probably not even realizing what she was doing, she raised one hand and rubbed the sides of her throat. “I’m fine with you kissing my neck, but nothing else.”

I nodded. “Kissing, nothing else. Noted. What about bondage and restraints?”

A shudder straightened her spine. “I can handle being bound, just…” She trailed off.

“Just what?”

She took a deep breath. “Just don’t leave me when I’m bound.”

I cringed. “Fucking hell.” I shook my head. “Baby, I would never, ever leave a sub alone while she was tied. I promise you, if I’ve tied you, cuffed you, restrained you, or in any way immobilized you, I will
always
be in the same room. Always.”

Another breath, and this time her shoulders slowly fell. She rolled them, loosening some tension. “That’s all I ask.”

“Trust me, you don’t even have to ask. But I’m glad you mentioned it anyway.” I paused. “Are you okay with flogging? I mean, does it irritate your scars or anything like that?”

“No, no, it’s fine,” she said. “Though they’ll sometimes itch if I work up a sweat and don’t put any lotion or anything on them.”

I nodded. “Not to worry. I always put lotion on a sub after I flog her.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem, then.”

“They don’t cause you any pain?”

She shook her head.

“Good.” I chewed my lip. “Okay, I don’t want to bring him into this any more than I have to, but I need to know: did Rich make you call him by any title? Sir, anything like that?”

“Master.” She spat out the word. Through her teeth, she added, “He made me call him Master.”

“Did he ever have you call him or anyone else Sir?”

“No.”

Thank God for that. At least he left something unscathed
. “Then that’s what you’ll call me.” I thumbed my chin. “Are you okay with that?”

She nodded.

“Tell me your safe words.”

She licked her lips. “Red to stop, yellow to back off.”

“Good. And since we’re moving into a little bit of kink now, one thing I can’t emphasize enough is to always err on the side of caution with your safe words. I will never, ever punish you or give you a hard time if you use one. Anything we’ve stopped can always be started again, and using a safe word is
never
a form of disobedience. Understood?”

Another nod.

“You sure you’re ready for this?”

A fleeting second of hesitation preceded the whispered, “Yes.”

I took a step toward her, resting my hand on her waist. Touching her face with my other, I said, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she said quickly. “You know I do.”

“Let’s do this, then.”

Meredith took a deep breath, then led me down the hall to her bedroom. There, we kicked her cat out, much to his great disgust, and closed the door.

Enclosed in her room, she turned to me. She looked me in the eye and squared her shoulders, but couldn’t quite hide her nerves. Her breathing was deliberately slow; the long, deep breaths of someone trying to counter a thundering heartbeat. Her hands were at her sides, opening and closing as if she was a second away from wringing them.

Nerves were to be expected. Every novice sub had them to a degree. So far, she was nervous, but not scared. Good.

I regarded her silently for a moment. I conditioned most of my subs to submit after a series of subtle gestures. Kristen instantly slipped into a submissive mindset when I took a sip of wine, rolled each of my sleeves in turn, and took a second sip. Amy responded the same way to a different routine.

I moved closer to Meredith. With my right hand, I ran the backs of my fingers down first her left cheek, then her right.

“From here on out,” I said in a low, even tone, “I am in control. My commands are to be followed, and you will address me as Sir. Understood?”

“Yes… Sir.” The hitch in her speech wasn’t hesitation, just lack of familiarity. Trying it out, learning the words.

I touched her face with the backs of my fingers again. Left cheek, right. “This will continue until a safe word is spoken or I relinquish control. Clear?”

She nodded.

I raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, Sir,” she corrected.

“Good girl.” Left cheek, right. “Do you trust me to do this without abusing my authority?”

Another affirmative, this time with no hesitation.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“No, Sir.”

“Do you understand that as my submissive, you are completely safe and will not be harmed?”

She swallowed. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.” Left cheek, right. “For tonight, I’m just going to have you go through a few basic tasks. This is to get you accustomed to obeying me. There won’t be any bondage or pain play this time. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.” Left cheek, right.

I walked around her slowly, keeping about a foot between us as I circled her. She kept her eyes down, but I had no doubt they tracked my movement just as all her senses likely did. By now, she was probably hyperaware of me, tuning all her senses to my presence, my movement.

I stopped, facing her. She kept her eyes down. Her breathing was slow, but uneven. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, and her shoulders were bunched with tension.

Left cheek, right. “You’re doing fine, Meredith,” I whispered. “Just relax.”

She closed her eyes and swallowed, but the tension remained.

“Breathe, baby.” Left cheek, right. “You can stop this at any time.”

Finally, she exhaled, and her posture lost some of its stiffness.

“You all right?”

“Yes, Sir.” She kept her eyes down.

“Good girl.” I touched her face once more. “Unbutton your shirt.”

She took a deep breath and raised her hands to do as I’d ordered.

I’d taken similar steps with Kristen when I first introduced her to kink. Simple commands and tasks. Progressively more demanding, progressively less flexible. When she and I had started, we’d never been intimate before at all. Though I’d been intimate with Meredith plenty of times in both the recent and distant past, she’d been abused, so I took small, careful steps as if I’d never touched her at all. Before we could proceed, she had to learn to submit to me because she wanted to, not because she felt she had no choice. She had to respect me, not fear me.

When her shirt was unbuttoned, she dropped her hands to her sides and waited.

“Take it off,” I said.

She shrugged once and let her shirt slide down her arms until it fluttered to the floor at her feet.

“Unclasp your bra.”

She reached back and did as I ordered. Once it was loose, she started to pull it down her arms.

“Wait.”

Her eyes flicked up and met mine.

I raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t tell you to take it off.”

Cheeks darkening, she immediately dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry, Sir, I’m—”

“It’s okay.” I touched her face—right hand, backs of fingers, left cheek, then right—and said, “You’re learning. I’m not angry, just correcting you.”

Her eyes flicked up to meet mine. We exchanged smiles, and she rolled some tension out of her shoulders before looking down at the floor again.

“Take it off.”

She did, but before letting it drop, she held it on her crooked finger. She looked up at me, an unspoken request for permission in her eyes.

I nodded.

The bra fell to the floor without a sound.

“Unbutton my shirt.”

With another deep breath, this time released slowly through parted lips, she reached for my top button.

In my mind’s eye, I saw us doing this in another time and place. Her hands weren’t so timid then. Submission wasn’t on her mind, nor was it on mine. Buttons weren’t so carefully undone, and neither of us could have cared less if we’d just ripped them off in the process. Once enough of the damned things were out of the way, we’d both hauled my shirt over my head so we could finally touch. No fear, no reservations, no ghosts.

Something jarred me back into the present.

Her fingers had stopped, that was it, and now hovered tentatively above my belt.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Your shirt,” she whispered, nodding toward my waist. “May I untuck it, Sir?”

“Yes.”

She closed her eyes and gulped, then reached for my shirt again. She freed it from my jeans and unbuttoned the last two buttons before dropping her hands to her sides once more.

“Take it off.”

She slid my shirt over my shoulders and down my arms, and I fought to keep my breath steady and even. Never an easy task with a woman’s fingertips brushing my skin this way, but as I always did when I played these games, I managed.

I managed, even as I said, “Unbuckle my belt and take it off.”

The unusually emphatic rattle of the buckle revealed the unsteadiness she probably didn’t want me to notice. She slid my belt free of the loops and held it until I gestured for her to put it aside.

“Take everything else off,” I said. I did the same, getting out of my jeans and boxers while she let her skirt and panties fall to the floor.

Naked and facing me, though with her eyes down, she shifted her weight once, twice, again. Her bare shoulders bunched slightly, and she moistened her lips a couple of times.

“Doing okay?” I asked.

She nodded.

I cleared my throat.

“Yes, Sir,” she corrected.

“Good girl.” Left cheek, right. Some of the tension disappeared. More when I did it again. Nerves, then. Not fear. Just as I’d hoped. “Go to the bedside table and get a condom out.”

“Yes, Sir,” she murmured. She turned and started toward the bedside table. With her back to me, I winced at the sight of her scars, the pale reminders of the delicate psyche with which I worked. I looked away, gritting my teeth and wishing all manner of foul things on Rich.

Meredith took the condom out, closed the drawer, and just as I looked up, she started back toward me.

I put a hand up. “What was my command?”

She gulped. “Get a condom out of the drawer.”

“I didn’t say to come back to me yet, did I?”

“Sorry, Sir.” She dropped her gaze and shrank back slightly.