The Submissive's Secret (What's Her Secret?) (5 page)

“That’s…that’s fine, Sir.”

He slapped my arse with both hands at the same time. I jerked forward, more from it being unexpected than anything else. I coached myself calm again. Of course he’d been about to strike me, I’d been silly not to prepare myself for that. And those slaps had felt like nothing, just taps. He struck again, harder, then again and again until my skin felt scorching and I imagined it was bright red.

“Nice and pink,” he said. “Beautiful.”

I heard him take a step back and braced myself for him to bring both hands down once more, his arc wider now there was distance between us. A faint whisper of something displacing the air filtered through the pulse drumming in my ears, then a strike landed across the top of my arse—and it wasn’t his hands.

I jabbed my pelvis forward on instinct, forgetting for a moment that the cock I was impaled on prevented me from getting away. The hemp fibers in the rope grazed my palms, the delicate skin on the insides of my fingers and my wrists. The padlock lifted then slapped down.

It was all so fucking delicious.

“Again?” I whispered. “Hit me again? Please?”

“Please what?”

“Sir. Please, Sir.”

He gave me what I’d asked for, a cracking swipe across the bottom of my back, the tawse’s leather fingers spreading, giving me two strips of pain at once. The toy felt new—too new—stiff and terribly unyielding.

“God, Sir. Dear God…”

He struck me again, the result the same. I wanted the clamps removed and I didn’t. I wanted my arse to stop stinging and I didn’t. I wanted it all yet nothing at all.

Another two lashes and I was edging closer to my limit. Had I just been enduring the tawse I could have braved a few more lashes with no problem, but even my feet had begun to ache as the stirrups seemed as though they were cutting into my soles.

“One more, please, Sir. Just one more. Hard.”

There was a moment where time seemed suspended, where all I could hear was the thud of my pulse and heart, the rattle of my air going in and out of me, the pitter-patter of rain, the roar of a thunderclap and Jaska’s juddery breathing. Then the sound of the tawse as it cut through the air, and the almighty snap of it as it hit my arse.

And my sobs. I heard my sobs.

“Red!” I shouted, the word extended and painful to utter, my keen of distress.

It had been the first time I’d ever said it.

Jaska must have stood on one of the struts between the horse’s legs, as he put his torso to my back and skated his hands up my belly to my breasts. “Get ready, pet.”

I sucked in a breath, knowing what was coming.

He took off the clamps.

Air rushed out of me, a strangled noise. My throat grew tight with another moan—God, how I moaned through the terrific sensations powering through my breasts. He dropped the chain—it fell to the floor somewhere—then settled his hands on my nipples, pulling me closer to him.

He kissed my neck and I tilted my head back to give him better access. My chest felt as though my lungs couldn’t cope with my erratic breathing patterns.

With his lips against my skin he murmured, “You did so well.”

“I couldn’t take…as much as I…wanted to.”

“You took enough, Lori,” he said, voice stern.

I relaxed, sagged, even though it put strain on my arms. I released my hold on the ropes and drew my hands from the loops, preparing myself for the snap of pain when I lowered them. Jaska crossed his arms over my chest, put his hands over my armpits and pressed—hard.

“Lower them now, sub.”

I did so. I held my arms to my sides, trapping his hands, and waited for the twinges in my shoulders to dissipate.

“Let me go,” he said.

I loosened my hold and he stroked his hands over my belly toward my cunt. I looked down. In front of the cock’s base was a dial and a button. He pushed the button and the thick tube vibrated.

Oh, Jesus…

He fondled my clit and set me free. I let him work his magic, my arms loose by my sides, my body fully open to him and whatever he wanted to do. He slid his other hand between us at the base of my spine and fumbled for a moment. The soft heat from his cock touched skin, then the unmistakable knobbles of his knuckles as he clutched himself.

“Come,” he said.

I obeyed, zoning in on the feelings the black cock produced inside me and those from his fingers that radiated from my clit. They spread further, filling my folds and buzzing over the lower curves of my arse. The tap-tap-taps on my back of Jaska bringing himself off had me hornier. The inevitable wave rose, sweeping over me. He strummed my clit in time with the strokes on his erection, his stuttered breathing loud beside my ear. I reached across to turn the dial beside the switch, ramping up the intensity of the cock’s vibration.

I was lost then. My body seemed to take over, my
self
rising from it. I floated on a sea of pleasure that soaked and jostled me, lifting me up and crashing me down relentlessly. Bliss quivered through my cunt, taking the whole of it over, dominating it with jab after jab of desire. I cried out, my throat raw from my earlier scream. Jaska released a series of loud groans, each one tagging on to the next so they could have been one long sound.

Wet heat splashed onto my back as his movements on his cock grew faster, and I crashed over the peak knowing he was coming. Aftershocks rippled through my cunt, and I fumbled blindly for the switch to turn the black cock off. I managed to but it felt as though it was continuing to buzz. The area between my legs was over-sensitive, tiny pinpricks of pain flickering through it with every beat of my heart. My nipples were still aching, the phantom of the teeth on the clamps lingering.

“My pet,” he whispered, slowing his hand and breathing heavily. “My beautiful pet.”

I lifted one hand to reach back and touch the side of his face. I slid my fingers into his hair then turned my head to the side so I could kiss him.

A soft kiss, like the ones he’d given me, the touch light but saying so much.

That he was mine and I was his. That we belonged together and nothing could tear us apart. Tears pricked the backs of my eyes.

I never wanted to be without him.

Chapter Five

Diary, October 9th

Today was a lazy Sunday spent with Jaska, me nude the whole time. We’d toured his house, even the gardens, and I’d walked out there where anyone driving past on the main road could see me in all my naked glory. I didn’t care.

Jaska had indeed set me free.

It seemed strange that he’d dropped me home this evening. I’d quickly gotten used to being at his house, forgetting, for the most part, I had my own, and a life I’d led without him in it for six days of the week. He’d always been on my mind, though—and in my heart.

It would be different now. We’d discussed introducing other elements into our relationship, like meals out, trips to the theater, the whole dating thing. I looked forward to it, getting to know the other sides of him he’d kept hidden before. And I looked forward to letting him get to know me.

My bed, it isn’t the same as the one in his dungeon. Isn’t as comfortable, and the sheets aren’t so crisp, the quilt as puffy. But I’ll be back there tomorrow, he’d said, as he had plans, if I was willing, to use the studded paddle.

I was more than willing.

* * * *

“Look,” Fiona said, wiping a crumb of bread from the corner of her mouth while we sat in the pub eating lunch. “I don’t want to pry, but you seem different today. It’s Monday, you shouldn’t be so bloody jolly. And you’ve always been such a secretive person. What’s
that
all about? I just can’t work you out.”

I swallowed the mouthful of quiche I’d been eating, glanced around at the other girls, who were listening intently, then smiled. She didn’t want to pry? I stifled a laugh.

As kindly as I could, I said, “Do you always feel the need to know everything about people?”

She had the grace to blush. “No! It’s just that, well, we all have a good natter about ourselves and you never do. I don’t really know a thing about you.”

“Maybe that’s because I don’t want you to.” I smiled again to take the sting out of my words. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but it isn’t your right to get answers out of me. Some people like keeping their private life private.”

“Oh. Right. Well, you should have said.” She took a bite of her sandwich, looking at everyone else and shrugging as though she wasn’t bothered by what I’d said.

“I did try, using tact, to let you know I wasn’t willing to share my
secret
with you. Secrets aren’t meant to be shared, are they?”

My phone trilled, mercifully preventing her from answering. I took it out of my bag and looked at the name at the top of the message box. Jaska.

I miss you, pet.

I missed him too, more than I’d thought possible. I had the urge to get up and walk out. To return to work and get the day finished so being with him this evening came quicker.

“So you
have
got a fancy man,” Fiona said, leaning toward me and staring at my phone. “And aww, he calls you pet. Is he from up north then? Newcastle way?”

I slid my phone into my bag, annoyed that she’d violated my privacy in such a way. Asking questions was one thing, but reading my texts? “No, he isn’t. He doesn’t call me that for the reason you’d think.” I cursed myself for letting a part of my personal life out. I stood, the quiche no longer appealing, and readied myself to return to work.

“Lunchtime isn’t over yet,” Fiona said.

“It is for me.”

“And you’ve got quiche left. Can I eat your quiche?” she called.

I left the pub without answering and walked around the back to the car park. Despite the cold—a bit of a nip to the air, although once the storm had finished we’d had no more rain—I sat on a wall that separated the pub garden from the tarmac. I took my phone out and told Jaska I missed him too, that I wished he was here to take away the irritation I was feeling with regards to Fiona. I understood she was young, that to her, sharing the ins and outs of everything was the norm, but she had to learn that not everyone felt the same.

Do you need me?
he replied.

I do, but I have to go back to work in half an hour.

That’s long enough. Where are you?

That pub on Stretford Road. Jouster’s Arms. Know it?

I do. See you in five minutes, pet.

Suddenly my day didn’t seem like it would drag on, although the time between reading his last text and me seeing his car swerve into the car park did. I stood, heart fluttering madly, my knees going weak. I put one hand on top of the wall to steady myself. God, how he affected me. He drew up and parked, and I ran to his car, flinging open the passenger door and throwing myself inside. The scent of his aftershave filled the small space, and I breathed it in as I looked at him.

His eyes twinkled, as though they held the secret that he, too, hadn’t been able to wait until tonight for us to meet. He’d tidied his stubble since last night, and I knew it would be prickly and hard against my skin, just the way I liked it.

“You look good in your office clothes, Lori.”

His words, his voice, had my chest tightening.

“Thank you, Sir,” I said breathlessly. “You look good in yours too. Always do in a suit.”

“You’ve never seen me wearing anything else.”

And I hadn’t. He’d worn a pair of trousers and a shirt all weekend. “Perhaps we need to fix that, Sir.”

“There is no perhaps about it.” He smiled then narrowed his eyes. “Kiss me, sub.”

I leaned across, the gearstick digging into my hip, and pressed my lips to his. His stubble did indeed feel hard and prickly. Everything melted away as he slid his tongue into my mouth and roved his hand up and down my back. He brought his other between us to seek out one of my nipples and gave it a hard tweak. I gasped against his lips and pushed closer to him, lifting my hand to sink it into his hair. I wanted to take his clothes off, to straddle him there and then and ride him ragged while he slapped my arse and sucked my nipples.

He ended the kiss, out of breath, and pushed my head down so my cheek rested on his chest. We stayed like that for a moment, me content—so content—and him stroking my hair, still playing with my nipple. I closed my eyes and let our closeness swamp me, knowing I had to keep hold of that feeling so it would be enough to carry me through the afternoon.

“I never knew love would feel like this, pet.”

I raised one hand to circle over his shirt where his nipple was beneath. It rose quickly, and I smiled.

“Me neither,” I said.

“It’s frightening and wonderful at the same time.” He twirled my hair around his fingers then tugged hard. “And it’s funny, but you don’t have the fiery temper to go with this hair of yours.”

“I might have. Maybe you just haven’t done anything to set me off.”

“Ah, we have so much to discover, sub.”

He pulled my hair again, and a flurry of desire slashed through me.

“I like that, Sir.”

“I know you do.” He pulled again. “Perhaps tonight, after we’ve eaten dinner, I can treat you to a good wrenching on your hair while I paddle your backside.”

Just the thought had me wet and ready for him. “You could.”

“But is that what you want?”

“It is.”

“Tell me how you want it to go.”

Still with my eyes closed, I said, “I want you to strap me to the cross, so I face the wood. You’d have the studded paddle in one hand, my hair in the other, and every time you hit me with the paddle you’d pull at my hair.” I could feel how it would be, the sharp tugs, the even sharper bites of the paddle. “My cunt aches when you do that, Sir. Pulling my hair, I mean.”

“So it’s aching now?” He gave it a short, sudden yank.

“Yes, Sir.”

“And you’re wet.”

“I am.”

“Good.” He paused for a moment, then said, “You need to keep your eye on the time, pet.”

I opened my eyes to look at the dashboard. I had ten minutes to get back to work. It took that long to walk there from here. “I have to go, Sir.”