Red Hot Obsessions (206 page)

His eyelids fell into heated slits, and he pulled out of me and was on top of before my next breath. “Wait. Go back. You have a box?” He dragged his wet fingers across my lips. I kissed off my sugar water.

I nodded slowly and sucked him, giving him my naughtiest eyes. “Mmm hmm. At home.”

“I’m not surprised. You will bring me some of the contents. I’m quite curious. I’ve always known that a bad girl was in there. And now, little pet, I know for certain you’ve been hoping and praying and fingering in the dark, waiting for some stern prince to find you and paddle you right and bring out even more naughty. Your box has a whip? Then we will definitely, definitely have to add one to mine. No question.”

He has a box!
I smiled. “Yes, Sir.” My heart pounded frantically under his chest, even more so when he excavated passion between us with his tongue dives into my mouth. His kiss came off me with a slow, sticky release.

“Do you have any allergies or health concerns I need to be aware of?”

“Nope.”

“So, we’re set in our framework for now? Do you have anything else to add?”

“Mmm. Not that I can think of.”

“We can tweak as we go along.”

CHAPTER 2

I teared up as my heart felt like it was blossoming into a newer, better organ, because Logan Thorndike was now my Sir. Mine, all mine. “Yes. I’m so delighted you’ve chosen me to be your sub. I’m so happy. Please don’t hurt me too much.”

“Wonderful. I have no desire to hurt you. When it comes to pain, I will always give you exactly what you require or deserve, nothing more.” He got off me and stood. “Up on your feet and take off my shirt.”

I stood immediately and said, “About time,” while I yanked his shirt, the shirt on
him.
Which was a mistake I realized by the time it got up to his chest.

He cracked up as he jerked his shirt from my double-handed grip and back down, but my cheeks were still burning from the sight of his abs. He didn’t have a bulging six pack, but I could see that he was beginning to carve them out nicely with some kind of workout regimen. “Anxious to see my hot bod, are we? Not yet. I will phrase things better next time. The one on you. Strip.”

“Yeah, I know that
now
. Sorry, Sir.” I snickered and brought my hands to each side of his unbuttoned dress shirt and tossed it back over my shoulders. It slid down my arms, and as it gathered at my wrists, I shook it onto the floor, eagerly accepting my nakedness before him.

“Don’t be a slob. Respecting me goes for my domain and car as well. Fold it up neatly please and set it on the couch.”

His car.
My pussy throbbed as I thought about hot action in and around his car. I folded the shirt and set it down as he asked.

“Good. Now, you are going to pose for me. I want you to lay on the floor, flat on your back, hands together and up over your head, with your legs spread open as far as they will go. I expect you to love doing this for me, being open to my gaze or touch. You are to only speak when addressed. Got it?”

“Yes, Sir.” I got down on one knee, crawled to a good spot of free space on the Oriental rug, flipped onto my back and got into the position he desired. But what he didn’t know was how far I could spread, so I showed him. It was one of the only perks I still owned from my experiment with ballet and gymnastics in middle school and cheering in ninth grade. I could do splits fine, but I struggled these days to slide into a perfect Russian, the crotch in my upright always stopping about 6 inches from the floor. But he was impressed with my lingering limberness, his adorable gawk said, as my spread-eagle span exceeded his expectations and reached 130-degrees, maybe even 140. Partaking in various extracurricular activities, I just wanted to catch and hold the interest of my parents for two seconds, but they never even came to one event, not one stinking recital. My Dom’s searing gaze branded me and a grin tugged at the corners of his lips. Fuck them! His look, right there, was the best, most glorious interest and praise of all. It made up for a lifetime of dismissals and I’m-too-busys.

“You
will
stay that way, right where you are, until I tell you to get up. Don’t move an inch.”

I did not move. I would not. I could do this. Easy. I felt more exposed and vulnerable like this than I did with my legs up over my head, and it excited me to know I was laying this way before him. My fully accessible pussy felt the coolness in the air and, at the same time, warmth from the fire right behind me. It coasted over my body in waves and licked me, licked me, licked me, right on my perky nipples and clit.

He sat down on the couch and frisked me with his traveling scrutiny. “Very nice, little pet. Thank me please. Not only now, but anytime you’re given verbal correction, a direction, a punishment or a treat.”

“Thank you for letting me lay here before you, Sir.”

He did not respond to me at all.

Fuck!
I bit my lip. A burn began to build up in my thighs and it snaked its way down to my knees. I suddenly realized my move to spread open so far was a bad, very bad idea. I panicked. My body started shaking.

My
Dom,
mine, sat on the couch, grabbed the remote and turned on a freaking football game. He propped his feet up on the ottoman and pulled a beer out of the side table that I now knew doubled as a fridge. The beer can clicked opened, and he devoured foam as it rose. He deliberately licked it slowly, all around the rim, and sucked it and his first sip up with a slurp. He was paying more attention to a freaking beer can than me, and reminding me how he could delight me at any moment with that luscious mouth if he chose but didn’t.

My vagina, that he’d just brought up into this wet, hot condition with his touching and kissing on the couch, ached for release, even more so because he was leaving me in it, refusing to satisfy me. The longer I laid here, the more furiously horny and agitated I got. When I’d laid down, I assumed he was gonna finish me off, not stick me here while he watched the Cowboys pummel the Eagles, according to the score. Why couldn’t this be the Pats game? At least then I’d care about the outcome or maybe get some entertainment out of this. He looked at me on occasion but didn’t say a word. By the time the game neared the end of the first quarter, he wasn’t even looking at me at all. He cheered at first downs and every notable rush or carry, and he shouted out at an interception and some bad calls.

I tried to enjoy the sound of his voice, and take pleasure in that alone and the way he exhaled and pumped his fists, but my thighs were kindling logs. I was quaking so badly, I’m sure I was rubbing red, rust, purple and blue off the flowers beneath me. And he was not even concerned with me at all! I bit my lip to hold back my verbal cries, but tears spilled out of my eyes and into my hair.

During some commercial break, he, thank god, finally acknowledged me. “What’s your major?”

I cleared my throat to speak, but cracked out the words anyway, “Broadcast Communications.”

“Do you want to be a broadcaster, a techie or the writer behind the scenes?”

“A reporter and eventually a news anchor.”

“Hmmm.” And the silence returned. He was back to ignoring me and nursing his second beer, while I laid here in agony and fiery arousal.

The first half ended, and even as five commentators argued aspects of the game, he left me here, unattended to. He left me here, in pain and in want. He had to know how much this was killing me. My cries became blubbering warbles I couldn’t control.

He ignored that too, even as the third quarter off of just an inch on each side.

Out of nowhere, in the middle of the fourth quarter, he said, “What is the matter, Addison? Why are you crying? Do you not enjoy posing for me, for my delight?”

“I’m … it hurts so much. I spread open too far. Please. And you’re ignoring me.”

“Deal with it. Dig for the strength I know you possess. I can and perhaps
might
make you stay like this all day. I
hoped
you would love this and fully expected you to. I despise complaining. That goes for your spirit too, not just the words coming out of your mouth. Complaint is a sign of ungratefulness and it stems from a misalignment in priorities, in affection, in focus. You should be focused on
me
, happy to serve and hurt for me. What did I say I will do about complaining?”

“Punish me.”

“Yes. Soon after your pose time is up, I will punish you good. You will learn to do as I ask and do it without complaint …
even
in your heart and mind, because you absolutely must, because you
need
to above all else, because pleasing me is all that matters. And you are nowhere near that yet. But I will bring you there. To a beautiful place and state of mind where you will learn to bow from within, to accept and even relish pain and discomfort and thank me for it because it is a tool to help you grow, and your hurt is secondary to my wants and desires. In your world, pain will eventually matter little to you, and yet, mean everything in that you’re able and willing to carry it for me. ”

Punish me good.
He could punish me in many ways, as if this wasn’t punishment enough, and I didn’t really realize just how many ways until he’d spelled them out, and that was only the tip of the iceberg. Those were mostly physical. Soon he’d discover ways to tap into the very depths of my soul, and I couldn’t wait for that to happen, for that day. Because then he’d be able to break and reset me to match the mosaic in his mind.

I laid there and blubbered at my weakness. “Yes, Sir. Sorry for my bad attitude. Thank you for taking the time to train me. I will learn to be your submissive and obey you without complaint. I will learn and strive to please with every cell in my body, every waking minute of the day.” I cried so hard, because once again, I was a stupid fuckup, a weak, failing and floundering wimp before his eyes. I made such a crappy sub. He was amazing. He deserved someone like Indian girl.

I tried to shove my attention from the burn in my legs, but it just killed so much. I’d be lying if I said I relished this. I didn’t. Not one bit. But, I would learn to, dammit.

When the game ended with a victory for the Boys, cries billowed out of me.

Logan left the room, cheering for the win. He called someone. I could hear him laughing and the mumbles of a one-sided conversation, that went on for at least a half hour, or maybe it just felt like it. The sun set behind me, taking back its light from the room, leaving me in just the glow of firelight. With him out of the room so long, I could have moved, just a teensy bit, he probably wouldn’t even notice, and while I was very, very tempted to do so, I just recalled how wretched I felt in the bathtub for failing him and stayed rigid and true to his instructions and desire for me. I stayed steady, I sucked it up, I dealt with it. My leg muscles were ready to explode, yet I did not move one inch.

When he returned, I was sobbing. He laid on the floor perpendicular to me with his face at the side of mine. He stroked my hair and brushed me cheek with his lips. “Don’t cry, pretty playgirl. You are beautifully, beautifully hurting, taking pain for me and my pleasure. You’re not lying on your stomach with a back covered in cuts and burns, you are not suspended with your limbs feeling like they will rip off, you’re not tied to a St. Andrew’s cross as I give you electric shocks, you are lying on my floor, not just any floor, on a $4000 carpet, with your legs spread open for my wonder and enjoyment. It should be a delight. Your pain could be much worse. Yours is moderate. It’s by no means brutal. You can muscle through it, to a state where you no longer even feel it, where all you will feel is pleasure because you are pleasing me with your position.” He kissed my face. “You are doing so well. Your hairline is sweaty, your whole body is shaking, your eyes are clenched tight, your nipples are erect and your sweet slit is so, so wet. That is the look of devotion and obedience. That is the glorious look of my sub. You are absolutely stunning.”

I curled my lips together and moaned. Tears seeped. He was wonderful. And he considered me stunning!

“You may speak.” He kissed off a tear on my temple and stroked my hair.

“Please forgive me.”

“For what? Did you move?”

“No. Not at all. Not an inch. Forgive me for originally thinking of this as punishment in my heart. It’s not and hasn’t been, I can see that now. You’ve given me a gift. And I am crying now not because of the
pain
but because I
am
euphoric. Pain is trumped by ecstasy, and it’s like I’ve been running and bouncing on the clouds. I didn’t know this kind of thing existed. I’ve just been lying here, thinking about you, about everything I luuuu...ve about you, and it has flooded me with joy. The pain in my legs is still there, but it is nothing compared to my joy, and that is pushing me through. I’ve never done drugs, but I imagine this is what it’s like to be high but with facilities still in place.”

“I’m so glad you’re there, in the ecstasy of your mind. I knew you could do it.” He left a little kiss on me. “So, you love things about me?”

“Not only that, Sir. I don’t know how it’s possible, because I hardly know you, but … I’m pretty wildly in love with you.” My heart pounded. What if that upset him, if he wasn’t the type of guy to do the whole ‘love’ thing?

My worries were unfounded, clearly. He pressed his lips into mine and cradled my chin in his palm. He lingered there, kissing me, sliding his tongue into my mouth. When he pulled his passion off of me several moments later, he left me with two feather-soft pecks that were equally delicious. He was still cradling my face, and now looking into my eyes with concern in his dazzling brown ones. “Do you love, Logan?” he asked.

I nodded and creaked out, “More than anything in the world.”

“Good. We match. I’m pretty wildly in love with you, Addison. And I love my beautiful, worshipful sub. I will take such good care of you, my sweet, and help you find the very best in yourself, things you never imagined were in there or that you were capable of. Through submission, you will discover you are stronger than steel, and it will flood you with confidence and self-respect and bring out your brilliance, like the artistic cuts on a diamond. Just look at you now, choosing to remain in pain for me, for hours, not letting up, not losing so much as an inch, even though you very well could have. Others would’ve caved by minute five. And this is only day one. You are such a good girl right now, such a stubborn fighter.” He kissed my check and softly said, “Close your eyes. I have a special treat for you.”

I did and heaven called me back, especially as his butterfly fingers danced on my face and neck, and the kisses chasing delightfully after them added up to dozens.

“Can you imagine, Addison, going to your job as an anchor? And sitting behind the news desk just minutes from go-time? You’re in a pencil skirt and a crisp, white blouse. Your handsome co-host tries to flirt, and sometimes you fire a few jabs and playful innuendos his way, but today you’re not having it. You can’t think of anything but your awful, horrible predicament. You’re itchy and uncomfortable and absolutely terrified. You’re so worried that the people you work with will know, they’ll somehow know or discover, that packed into that pencil skirt is a thoroughly spanked, blazing, red bottom.”