Safeword: Mayday by Candace Blevins

Excerpt

“I’ll scan these in, email a copy of both to each of us, and then I think we should celebrate by my bending you over the desk so I can fuck your ass until you beg for an orgasm.”

“Oh no, my ass definitely needs some recovery time. I’m all for you bending me over the desk, but my ass is off limits.”

Bud had expected as much, so he shrugged and stepped to the scanner. “My way or the highway. You don’t get to dictate what will and won’t happen.”

“And I’m telling you my ass can’t handle your cock right now.”

“What if it can? Tell you what — you trust me to make it good for you, and if I can’t then you can safeword and I’ll get you off with my mouth. But if I can? If you’re beggin’ for an orgasm when I do it my way? You’re mine sexually, twenty-four-seven, anytime I want you for the next seven days.”

“And why would I take that deal?”

Bud leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “You know you want to. No one’s come along who could take control of you in a long damned time, right? You’ve been the one in charge, and while that might be more convenient, it isn’t what really scratches your itch. Is it?”

“Three days.”

Bud chuckled. “It isn’t a negotiation.” He sat at the computer, logged into his personal email, and sent the scanned NDA contracts to her while she thought his proposal over. He knew she wanted to accept it but the woman was stubborn.

“You have a copy of both documents in your email, as well as the paper copies we signed. Shall we celebrate, or would you like to play some pool?”

“You’re right about it turning me on, but I worry that the seven days thing won’t work for me and I’ll just avoid you, and it’ll fuck up whatever we have going. Twenty-four-seven is a big deal, and we’ve only had sex one night.” Granted, it was a good part of the evening and into the night, and then the morning — but still.

And he wouldn’t be able to get a bead on her scent over the phone if she came up with a reason he couldn’t come over. He could make sure she enjoyed it enough while they were together, but people convinced themselves of all kinds of crazy things when they were alone. Still, he was offering a seven-day deal.

“I like your honesty. Seven days, but if you find yourself even considering avoiding me, you’ll tell me and we’ll figure out what isn’t working.”

Bud’s cock pulsed and grew in his pants when Nickie bent over and began unlacing her riding boots.

“Leave them on. Nothing sexier than a woman bent over the desk with her pants around her knees and heavy riding boots holdin’ her feet down.”

She retied the boot and stood. “Where do you want me?”

He’d smelled her conflict the night before — wanting him to take over but unable to take the steps to show him. Tonight, there was a teeny bit of it, but she’d pushed past it. To reward her, he stepped to her, pulled her into his arms, leaned her back, and his heart sang when she opened to his kiss. He could get lost in Nickie’s scent when she wanted him like this, but he pulled away from the kiss when her heart raced like she was sprinting.

He stood her back up and cradled her cheek with one hand while he supported her with the other arm. “Pants down to your knees and bend over the desk.” He grinned. “We have little sterile packets of lube in the desk drawer, along with condoms. I’ll lock the door so no one will walk in on us. I don’t share.”

Something about his telling her he didn’t share bothered her, but he couldn’t ask about it without having to explain how he knew. Her poker face gave nothing away, but her scent easily betrayed her.

However, by the time he’d collected the condom and lube, her arousal level was through the roof.

The office still had the same fifty-plus-year-old filing cabinets the club had used when they opened the bar, and the metal desk was probably just as old. The original cheap paneling on the walls, linoleum on the floor, metal folding chairs for guest seating — Bud had instinctively known she wouldn’t think she was too good to have sex here, but was still happy to smell her arousal. Wendy had been born to be an ol’lady, but his little brat would have to figure out how she fit into his life and into the club. That was okay — if he’d only wanted to replace Wendy with another Queen Bee, there were dozens of women who’d wanted the position over the years.

Bud slicked his right hand and ran it over and around her pussy. She moaned and pushed back, and he rewarded her by sinking two fingers inside. He pressed into her g-spot, scissored them to spread her wider, and let her feel some of his strength as he pressed inside. “Not interested in dominating you too much outside of sex, but I’d love you to be mine enough I can use you anytime I want, whether you’re up for it or not. Watching you fight to submit when I order you on your knees to blow me, or I spank your ass first thing in the morning just because I want to see you standing in the corner with a bright red ass while I cook. Or maybe I’ll stop by your condo to fuck your face on my way to a job — just enough time for me to get off, but not enough to do right by you until I return four hours later.”

He leaned in closer to her ass to take a look at the bruising. “If you misbehave today, you’ll feel my belt on your breasts. When I finish with your ass, I’ll rub some more arnica in. See if we can’t get your bruises to heal faster.”

Humans were so much more fragile, but Wendy’d been a werewolf and had still died from a stupid drunk driver. There weren’t any guarantees, and he’d just have to hope fate dealt him a better hand this time.

He unfastened his jeans, set his gun and extra mags on a shelf, pulled his cock out, and donned a condom. Nickie tensed as she thought he was about to enter her, but then moaned when he circled her clit with his fingers, and she groaned in bliss when he sank two fingers back into her pussy. He pulled his fingers out long enough to get both hands slick, gave her two fingers where she wanted them again, and oh-so-gently traced the outside of her asshole with the pointer finger of his other hand.

Her pussy and ass both gave off a lot of heat and he had no doubt she was sore, but he was confident he could get her horny enough she didn’t care. Also, he’d thin his cock down enough she could handle him in her ass.

She didn’t know about that little trick, and he couldn’t let her figure it out. He’d have to be careful not to go too much narrower.

Five minutes later he was working her with two fingers in her pussy and one in her ass. She was on her way to an orgasm and he used his left hand to slick the condom more before he pressed it to her asshole and opened her with his cock.

“You don’t have permission to come, Brat. Hold onto it. I’d like nothing more than to turn your tits red with my belt — just give me a reason.”

* * * *

Nickie had been determined not to beg for an orgasm, but she’d lose her mind if she didn’t come soon. Fuck, but his hand on her clit and his cock in her ass, and that damned sexy voice telling her she couldn’t come.

“Please. Fuck, Bud. Please! Let me come, I’m begging! You won the bet, just let me come already! Fuck!”

“You can come when I do.” He’d wiped his hands with a baby wipe earlier and they were clean and dry when his fingers curled around her shoulders for leverage while he pulled out and slammed in. “A few minutes rough and we’ll both get off. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am.”

“God yes, fuck me hard. Damn. Shit.”

And then there was no more talking because it was all she could do to breathe while he fucked her ass hard, fast, and ruthless. When he finally pressed into her bottom, his own back arched as he emptied his balls into the condom deep inside her, and he leaned on her more than he had before as her spasming anal muscles milked him through his orgasm. Nickie told herself he’d put more weight on her because she’d made his knees weak, but she didn’t have enough energy to taunt him over it.

When both of their orgasms finally faded, Bud stood long enough to give her ass crack a few swipes with a baby wipe, pull the condom off and toss it and the wipe into the trash, and take two steps back with her in his arms before he sat heavily in a metal chair. He held her like a baby and she melted into him, not in the least worried about her jeans down around her knees.

“Fuck,” he told her. “It’s almost eight. You’re mine for seven days from now, until eight in the evening.”

“Have to work. Can’t be yours the whole time.” She sounded drugged even to her own ears, and he chuckled and kissed her forehead.

“No, just when I want to play with you. What are you working on?”

“Editing the grumpy detective, writing a werewolf romance, marketing a cozy mystery.”

“We’ll discuss your writing schedule later so I can be sure I don’t fuck with it too badly. Are you going to need a massage after your ride today? How often do you ride?”

“Ride a bicycle a lot, don’t often ride a motorcycle. I’m fine.” She lifted her head, met his gaze. “Damn, you melted my brain but I think it’s working again.”

He helped her stand and made sure she had her balance before he let go. They both took a few minutes to pull their pants up and put themselves back together.

“So, the lesson is to trust you?”

“Yeah. My way or the highway, but I’m not going to do something you can’t handle. You won’t always like what I do, and I’ll hurt you often, but I won’t injure you.”

“Okay then. Seven days, and I’ll tell you if it isn’t working for me.”

“Not everything’s gonna work for you. You’ll tell me if you start to consider avoiding me. I don’t intend for the arrangement to make you happy all the time.”

He touched under her chin and she lifted her gaze to meet his once again. “Gonna run you by the clubhouse for five or ten minutes, introduce you around as mine. You may see people having sex, getting spanked, giving blowjobs. Those aren’t ol’ladies. I won’t use you in front of anyone like that.”

He stepped back, looked at his phone, slid it into his pocket. “We’ll let your security have a say in whether I stay with you tonight or you stay with me, but you’ll be at my place at least a few nights of our week.”

“Wait, the bet includes spending the night together every night?”

“How the hell else do I have access to you?”

She hadn’t spent seven nights in a row with anyone in years. She wasn’t used to that kind of sex — not night after night.

“I’m already so sore.”

She said it more to herself than to him, but he chuckled and kissed the tip of her nose. “Not even close to how you’ll feel seven days from now.”

Nickie expected the clubhouse to look a lot like the office, but she was surprised to find hardwood floors, new-ish leather sofas, nice pool tables, and five big screen televisions spread around the room. All were showing a ball game or a hunting program, and all had closed captioning turned on. Only one had the volume up so it could be heard, and it went mute shortly after Bud started talking.

“This is Nickie.” He dropped her hand and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck. “She’s mine. She has her own security team, but she uses Drake so most of you will know at least some of them. Don’t give them a hard time.”

“Who’s after her?”

“Human trafficking ring. Long story.” He moved his hand from the back of her neck to around her waist. “She’s an investigative journalist.”

The entire room went quiet and she sensed hostility, but a big guy from the back of the room said, “Bud wouldn’t have brought her if she was going to report on us.”

“Exactly right. Everything’s off the record with her, legal or illegal. You can’t contractually keep someone from going to LEO, but since we’re just a bunch of bikers who own a bar and a bike shop and a few other businesses, there’s nothing illegal to worry about.”

* * * *

Nickie was asleep when Bud had come to her bed the night before, and he’d awakened her long enough for a round of sex, given her a half-dozen melt-your-brain orgasms, and held her while she drifted back into dreamland. This morning he’d gone down on her with his magical tongue before fucking her face without mercy, but had insisted they shower together afterwards, where he’d given her another set of fantastic orgasms by torturing her breasts and nipples while he insisted she look at him. She’d thought he’d break her, making her orgasm and hold eye contact until she was lost in the forest green of his eyes and wasn’t sure she’d ever find her way back. Wasn’t sure she wanted to find her way back.

And now she stood on the sidewalk in front of a nice, older house just blocks away from downtown Atlanta. Stone columns defined the wrap-around porch at the steps and the corners, and huge, ancient hardwoods shaded the yard and house. The structure looked like a two-story from the front, but she’d noted on the way over that many of the homes were actually three stories when viewed from the back. The driveway curled around the side of the house, and a privacy fence rose tall on either side, though left the front open to the road.

“Welcome,” Bud said with a smile as he stepped out the front door and onto the porch.

“When was it built?”

“Nineteen twenty-five, but the inside’s been completely redone several times, most recently just a year or so before I bought it. I’ve done a little more work, mostly on the kitchen. I’ll give you a full tour before we get started.”

Most rooms had an elaborate fireplace, and all were spotless. The colors throughout the floor were all neutral — tans, navy, and the deep forest green of his eyes.

“Who chose the furniture and colors? The curtains?”

“I picked out the furniture and paid someone to tell me how to do the walls. He photoshopped them the way they’d look, showed me a couple of options, and then I bought the paint and had a paintin’ party before the furniture was delivered. The MC partied at my house for the weekend and by Sunday evening it was finished. Didn’t bring any furniture with me from the old house. Needed a fresh start.” He shrugged. “I originally brought my Angel’s furniture from her old room, but it’s been changed out since she got married. Works for her and Bash to stay in when they visit.”

“The place is spotless. I expected… I dunno. Clutter. Man stuff. A bachelor pad. Do you keep it this clean all the time?”

“One of the sweetbutts comes twice a week to clean it. I had her come this morning.” At her look, he held his hands up and out to the side a little. “I pay her. She cleans for several of us. Not many people I can trust in my home, and she’s been around a long time. She takes care of the house and my clothes, changes the sheets on my bed. I’m not usually here when she does it.” He motioned towards the front of the house. “I can control the lock with my phone, and video cameras let me see who’s on the porch.”

“Not jealous, just not comfortable with the sweetbutt thing.”

“You’ll have to get over it. Way of life for us. I won’t use ’em anymore, but they’ll still be around.”

The house wasn’t terribly wide but it was long, so they walked through the living room, a dining room, and into a huge kitchen with a row of glass doors at the back of the house. She looked out onto a large deck with way more yard space than anyone usually had at a downtown address. With all the old trees, it felt as if she were in a forest instead of downtown Atlanta. A stand of bamboo at the back corner kept people in a taller house from being able to see into his backyard.

“You like your privacy.”

“Yeah. This is the middle floor, let’s go down before I show you the upstairs.”

They went out onto the deck, down the outside stairs, and Nickie fell in love with the screened in room below the deck. There were ceiling fans, plenty of comfortable seating, and it was perfectly arranged for having friends over.

“Do you entertain a lot?”

“Yeah. Comes with bein’ president.” He walked her through the outdoor room and into a large den with two big screen televisions on one wall, several gaming systems under them, a pool table, a dartboard, and a foosball table.

“Mancave on steroids.”

He chuckled. “Part of it.” He motioned her through another door, and Nickie stopped and stared at the black sixty-seven Shelby Mustang he’d told her about. It was beautiful, and flawless, and she didn’t care if it was rude, she had to ask.

“I looked these up, just curious after you told me you had one. They can range from forty-grand to over a million dollars. That’s a huge window.”

“She falls somewhere in the middle.”

Nickie knew he’d paid just under a half-million dollars for the house and had gotten it at a steal. Surely his car didn’t cost as much as his house?

“Smack in the middle would be three-quarters of a mil. I couldn’t drive something around that cost that much.”

He chuckled. “I paid just under a hundred grand for her, to give me a project when Angel left for college. She’s insured for a quarter million, and that’s about what I’d get for her now that she’s back in mint condition, but she isn’t for sale. I’m usually on a bike, and have the truck to haul stuff or if the weather’s bad, but if I want to drive the Shelby, I drive her. It’s what she’s there for.”

Nickie turned to look at his bikes — nine of them, perfectly lined up, parked diagonally with the back tires all about a foot from a cinder block wall.

“Why do you need so many bikes?”

“I really only need three, and four have sentimental value. I haven’t driven two of them much in the past year, so I’ll likely sell them.”

“Why do you need three?”

“One for around town, one for road trips, and one for fun on curvy roads.”

He stepped to her, drew her into his embrace, and she melted. How had she grown to need his touch so quickly? Her subs and slaves learned her moods, but they asked permission to touch her or hug her. Bud just pulled her to him whenever, but she didn’t mind — she craved his touch, his warmth, his strength.

“So far, you’ve liked the screened in room best.” His chest vibrated under her cheek and made her smile.

“Yeah. I like my balcony okay at the condo, but I miss my screened in porch at home. Nothing compares to coffee and a cinnamon roll at sunrise with the trees and the birds as company. The city’s nice, but I prefer being out away from people. You’ve managed both.”

“I have, but since my little haven is in the city, I’ve taken measures to ensure my privacy and safety. The front porch, front yard, the garage, and the fence line all have video surveillance. If you’re within ten feet of the fence, you’re on candid camera. The insurance company insists on the garage camera, the rest are for my security. However, you should know warrants have been issued in the past for video and audio surveillance at points inside my home. I regularly sweep for electronics, but with current technology someone can be in a van down the street and hear most everything in the house. That doesn’t work for me because my sex life is no one’s business, so you’ll hear music playing most all the time. Speakers are set throughout the house, and there’s a tone in the music that defeats their listening capabilities.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Americans aren’t supposed to have to worry about the government listening to them have sex. I have no reason to believe I’m the subject of an open investigation, but it’s happened before out of the blue. Just want you to have a heads up. Talk and scream freely when you hear the music, but know someone might be listening if you don’t hear it. It isn’t loud — doesn’t have to be to do the job.”

“We come from different places. I’m usually the one hiding listening devices to catch other people at stuff.”

“Being the president puts a target on my back. I’m used to it, but didn’t want you to get blindsided and be pissed at me for not tellin’ you.”

“Anything else downstairs? This is supposed to be a… four car garage?”

Bud motioned towards a bike up in the air, at the very back of the space. “Five, but if you park one there, it’ll be three deep, so I put a bike lift in it. Gives me a place for my latest project.”

“Figured you’d do that at the bike shop.”

“Not my personal projects. Might take me a year or two to finish it. I buy something old and restore it, and I don’t get in a rush. Just something to do when I need to get my mind off everything else.”

Nickie expected him to throw her over a random bit of furniture and fuck her brains out, but the next hour was spent talking. A roast was in the crockpot and bread was in the fridge ready to go in the oven, but neither was hungry, so they sat in the screened in room and talked. He hadn’t taken her upstairs yet, but she figured she’d see it in due time.

Bud is comfortable in his skin no matter where he is, but she’d noted he seemed more at peace at the bar and then at the clubhouse. Now, at home, he had the energy of a guru or swami — the calmness of a spiritual master. Or, and she didn’t know why she kept coming back to this, of a wolf in his territory. At peace with everything around him. Not just at peace with it, but in tune with it.

* * * *

“Tell me about the bratting,” Bud asked as they finished dinner. “When did it start?”

“I told you from the beginning I’m more of a masochist than a submissive. For most men, I submit enough to get what I want, and yeah, I understand what’s wrong with that, so you don’t have to point it out.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “And I know you’re having fun picking at me, but the clubs I go to list me as a SAM, not a brat.”

“The first time you asked someone if that was all they had, was it a relationship or a play partner in a club?”

“Club. Someone who’d whipped me before, but it felt like he was taking it easy on me.”

“How long ago?”

She shrugged. “Ten years? Fifteen? I honestly don’t know.”

Long enough it was part of her psyche, which was fine with Bud.

“You’ll have to figure me out, but I don’t mind a little lighthearted, fun bratting. When I need you to be serious and submit for me though, you’ll be wise to fall in line.”

“Yeah. I picked up on that.” She said it totally deadpan, but the roll of her eyes added a touch of humor, and Bud chuckled.

“Okay, one more thing. You’re gonna have to find your place with my men and their ol’ladies. You might want to eventually brat to me around them, but I don’t think you want to start out that way. Not telling you what to do or how to act, just trying to steer you in the right direction until you figure it out yourself.”

Bud sipped his water and sat back in his chair. “I’m not too terribly out there when it comes to kinky. I mean, I don’t do fire or needles, I’m not going to cut you open, and I don’t have a secret dungeon. I have a heavy, four-poster bed I can use to tie you up in fun ways, and every piece of furniture in the house is sturdy enough for me to fuck you on it. I have wooden spoons in the kitchen, the belt around my waist, and I can grab an electrical cord, loop it over, and whale on you until you’re black and blue. I don’t have paddles, whips, or floggers here, but I can more than make my point if you need to feel it.”

He smelled her disappointment, but her poker face gave nothing away so he couldn’t mention it. Instead, he asked, “If you could only bring one thing in — a toy or piece of equipment, what would it be?”

“Leather wrist and ankle cuffs. Just wearing them puts me in the right space, knowing you can clip me to something in just a second and I’ll be immobile. They’re like a trigger or something, to get me in the right headspace. I’ll miss them if I never feel the weight of the leather and metal on my wrists and ankles again.”

“Next five things?”

“Flogger. Probably two, a moderate and extreme one. Is that two of the five, or one?”

“We’ll call it one.”

“Butt plugs, nipple clamps, TENS unit…”

When she didn’t add anything else, he prodded, “One more thing.”

“I’ll let you know. My guess is you have rope, lube, and lots of things to bend girls over for a spanking.”

“I do. We have a violet wand at the clubhouse.”

Her scent went sour. “Rosso. No. I end up with actual burns from them.”

“Good to know. Tell me the rules your slaves lived under.”

She looked down a few seconds before asking, “Can we not? At least, not yet? Telling you will put me in the mindset of the one in control, and I’m kind of happy with the energy right now.”

Bud smelled the truth in her words, so he nodded. He’d want to get it out of her at some point, but it could wait.

“I have some clamps in the garage I know work well on nipples, and I’m well versed in how to keep a woman in line with a plug stuffed up her ass. We’re on the same page there, even if you hadn’t said anything. Haven’t bought any plugs to use on you yet, but we’ll make that a priority. Never used a TENS on someone.” He’d hooked people up to a car battery to torture answers out of them, but probably best he didn’t bring that up. “Maybe we’ll wait a bit for that, but if it makes you scream and writhe around while you beg for mercy, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

Nickie chuckled. “You say you aren’t versed in the BDSM kind of kinky, but only someone in the lifestyle can negotiate as casually as you.”

“Some of my men are into it, and we’ve been educated on some of the details in the clubhouse. I’ve been a sadist since long before I understood what it meant, though. Found my own ways to make it happen.”

Nickie washed dishes while Bud stored the leftovers, put things away, and wiped everything down.

He put the crock pot away last, and turned to look at her from across the kitchen. “I need to gather a few things from the garage. You go on up — my bedroom’s at the end of the hall, and there’s a hot tub on a little deck off my room. The way the points of the roof are situated, no one can see you between the door and the hot tub, but don’t walk too far to the left naked unless you want to make my neighbors happy. There’s a button to lift the lid — it’s all automatic and clearly marked. Take a few bottled waters up with you. I’ll be up before too long.”

* * * *

Nickie walked out onto the little balcony off his bedroom and breathed in the energy. The ancient hardwoods all around made it feel like a hot tub in a treehouse, a little isolated paradise. And yet, she didn’t want to strip and get in. She loved soaking in a hot tub. Why was she rebelling against orders she didn’t mind following? Bud had more than proved he’s capable of not just Topping her, but truly Dominating her.

She walked back in the house and took in his bedroom. His bed looked like a mix between a treehouse and a fancy four-poster bed. The canopy was made so one would feel as if they were looking up into the branches of a tree from below, and the posts holding it up looked like the trunks of a huge walnut tree, complete with the pattern on the bark. The rest of his house had been decorated with company in mind, but this was Bud’s den.

She was going to have to give one of her werewolves a bed like this.

There was no armoire, no dresser, no chest. All his things were probably in a huge walk-in closet somewhere. The room was dominated by the bed. A bench at the base of it was probably where he sat to lace his riding boots, and a laptop on the coffee table of a small seating area told her he likely worked from home in here sometimes. Or, maybe it was where he watched porn. The thoughts of him jacking off to kinky porn made her grin, and reminded her she was supposed to be getting naked.

Nickie’s clit thrummed to life as she removed her clothes and folded them on the bench. It was just the right height to kneel on and bend over the footboard for a spanking.

Walking outside without clothes felt naughty, but she trusted his word that it was okay. Some hot tubs weren’t configured for short people, but she happily found a seat a little higher than the others, so she could lean her head back and relax without her face being halfway in the water.

“Do I dare ask what you rounded up?” she asked when he stepped out on the little balcony a while later, totally nude. She sat up enough she could look him over from head to toe. She’d seen him naked before, but this was different. He was soft, they weren’t touching, and he was standing in the sunshine.

Overwhelmed by his sheer beauty, she could only stare. Bud was the most magnificent man she’d ever seen. Sculpted, sharp lean muscles wrapped over each other. Add to that the predatory way he walked and the intense look in his eyes, and it took her breath away. Nickie considered what it’d be like to try to Top such a man, but the idea didn’t appeal to her. She wanted Bud over her, dominating her and hurting her in the most marvelous ways.

He wouldn’t be Bud if he let her tell him what to do. Once you’ve tamed the wolf he becomes a pet. A dog. She liked him just the way he was, even if he sometimes annoyed her with his bossiness.

At a loss for what to say or where to look, she asked, “I didn’t see my bag when I came up. Is it still downstairs?”

“It’s locked in one of my gun cabinets, along with the clothes and shoes you just removed.” He settled the towels on a chair, sat on the edge of the hot tub, swung both legs around, and slid into the water to sit on one of the little seats across from her. “You’ll be my naked little brat until it’s time for you to go back to your condo. I’ll get your toothbrush and whatever else you need out of it, but you won’t get the whole thing until shortly before time for you to leave, day after tomorrow.”

Nickie was simultaneously ticked off and horny-as-fuck, and she sat on her right hand to keep from pressing her throbbing clit with it.

“I didn’t agree to that.”

“You agreed to be mine sexually, twenty-four-seven, and you agreed to remain at my house until four o’clock the day after tomorrow, with the understanding you’ll only need an hour or two a day to handle stuff online unless your assistant calls you with something unexpected, and you’ll be mine the rest of the time. Is there a reason you need to be clothed to get online? Are you recording video while you’re here?”

She shook her head.

“Then we’re good.”

Not exactly, but she decided to change the conversation, and Bud finally climbed into the hot tub with her, but he stayed on the other side.

They talked casually for at least an hour, but Bud seemed in no hurry to get started on the sexy fun. Nickie had teased his inner thigh with her toes until he’d pulled her in his lap, but he’d held her and kept talking.

“I thought we were gonna fool around.”

“We will.” He kissed the side of her neck from behind. “But on my timetable, not yours. I’m enjoying this — spending time and getting to know you. Just because I have the right to sex with you every minute doesn’t mean I’ll take it. I want to know what’s in your head, too.”

“Well, my food’s fully digested, so we’re good there.”

When he didn’t say anything, Nickie said, “Oh, maybe you can’t get a hard-on in the hot water? Maybe we should get out.”

“My dick’s fine, but I bet your nipples will firm up nice in a cold shower.”

“Probably, but your teeth would work just as well.”

His grin told her he was enjoying this. She reached for his cock, but he grabbed her wrist before she got to it. “You don’t have permission to do that just yet, Brat.”

Her left hand was on her thigh, and she slowly moved it to her pussy, separated her lips, and sank a finger inside. Water nearly always kept her from being slick, but the resistance just made her single finger have more of an impact. She leaned her head back on his shoulder and moaned as she spread herself with two fingers.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking care of myself.” She pressed a third finger in and closed her eyes in bliss.

Bud’s strength had taken her by surprise several times, but now she could only hold onto him in alarm and disbelief as he stood with her in his arms and stepped out of the hot tub as if he carried a towel.

“Where are you taking me!?”

“Cold shower. You need to cool off.”

“No! You need to warm up!”

“Mmmm.”

Nickie fought him for all she was worth, but he stood calmly under the same icy-cold spray she screamed through. He held her in his arms, strong and warm despite the cold, until she climbed him and wrapped herself around him. “I’m sorry! God, please make it stop!”

“Bud will do,” he chuckled, but he turned the water off. “What have we learned?”

“Playing with myself is apparently pushing too far.”

“Only if you don’t have permission.” He leaned in, nipped her lower lip with his teeth. “As it happens though, now that you’re all cold, I’m thinking it’s a good time for a hand spanking — they hurt so much more on cold, wet, skin.”

Nickie’s insides went molten and her legs turned weak — not just from the promise of a spanking, but the look in his eyes and the deep, sexy timbre of his voice. He wanted to hurt her. Not just wanted… needed.

She figured they’d dry off and go in the other room, but he sat on the side of the fancy tub next to the shower, pulled her down and over his knees, and gave her ten fast pops on her left ass cheek that had her screaming from the first powerful slap. A short pause to let her catch her breath, and he popped the same cheek ten more times in quick succession.

“Please don’t make me uneven! Fuck! I’m sorry I played with myself in the tub! Please even it out!”

“Mmmmm. We started on your timetable, so you don’t get it even. Bratting is fine as long as we’re both having fun, but don’t think you can force my hand without consequences.”

Another ten strikes to her left ass cheek and she was ready to offer just about anything to keep him from whaling on one cheek all night.

Five more sets of ten to the same cheek, and she heard herself shouting, “What can I do to get you to even me up? Please, Bud!”

“Nothing, Brat. You’re getting your spanking, but you’ll get it my way. Thank me for it.”

No way in hell was she going to thank him for an uneven damned spanking.

He didn’t stop at ten the next time, and he went too fast for her to count. His hand landed harder and harder until she could barely breathe between screams, and when she could take no more she managed to belt out a garbled “Thank you!” He stopped immediately, though she wasn’t sure how he’d understood her because she wasn’t sure she would’ve.

He held her to him and rubbed her back until her sobs stopped, but didn’t say a word. Finally, he said, “You’ll find a hairdryer hanging to the right just inside the bathroom closet. I assume you’ll need a brush and toothbrush from your overnight bag. What else?”

“Just bring the whole thing and I’ll pull out what I need.”

“So, just the brush and toothbrush then.” He stood with her, planted her on her feet, and let go slowly. “You good?”

“No, some asshole just gave me a lopsided spanking!”

“Mmmm.” Bud turned and walked away, and she quickly added, “There’s a little toiletry bag inside, with makeup and stuff. Also, some hair clips and ponytail holders are in the inside pocket.”

He returned with everything she’d asked for, and she thanked him.

“You’re welcome, but what are you thanking me for?”

“My things.”

“Not the spankin’?”

She could see the twinkle in his eye, so she shrugged. “You didn’t seem like the type of guy to half-assed do things, guess I was wrong about you.”

He grinned, Nickie grinned, and then they both cracked up. “Okay, Brat. Get your hair dry. I’m going to step out on the balcony and make a phone call. Come to the bedroom when you’re ready.”

Nickie dried her hair and pulled it into a messy bun on top of her head — ponytails can be a pain when you’re lying flat on your back. No eyeliner or mascara because that shit looks bad when it runs, but a touch of eyeshadow and contouring made her feel a little pulled together.

Bud was wrapping duct tape around alligator clamps when she came into the bedroom, and her nipples shrank to hard pebbles while her clit demanded attention and her left ass cheek throbbed with the memory of his hand. Every cell in her body pulsed with need. The clamps would be even tighter with all that tape around each side, but they wouldn’t dig into her nipples and make them bleed.

“Cat got your tongue?”

She hadn’t realized she’d frozen in the doorway, and she took a cautious step into the room, her eyes locked on his hands — those deft, strong fingers holding tools to hurt her with.

“Five modified alligator clamps. Nipples, clit, and pussy lips, most likely,” she guessed. “You’ve already told me what you use the electrical cord for, and since I detest loopy johnnies I’m sure I’ll hate it as well, which should make you happy.” Her heart sped and her stomach somersaulted as she immediately understood the best use for the straightened wire clothes hanger and the car antenna, but she didn’t mention them.

“No bondage tonight unless you prove not to have any self-control.”

She sighed, disappointed. “I’ve never been trained like that. I’m not telling you what to do, just making sure you understand I’ve never been expected to hold still on my own. I’m bound and beaten in BDSM clubs, easy-peasy, just stand or lie there and take it because moving away from the pain isn’t possible. I’ve submitted to a few men here and there, and I want to submit to you, but don’t expect me to be all trained and shit.”

She’d also molded and reprogrammed plenty of little slave boys to be what she wanted, and she knew what was involved in the process. She’d never wanted to be trained before, but the idea of Bud taking her in hand and making her his in every way had her pulse fluttering and her insides clenching.

“Well then, let’s get started training you.” He pointed to a white sheet of paper on the floor in between his seating area and bed. Nothing special, just a piece of copy paper. Nickie noted he’d moved a chair in the seating area closer to the sofa to give a bigger space, and she figured that meant he intended to use the antenna or coat hanger.

“On the paper and stand on your toes. Hands to the back of your head. Place your feet carefully when you step on. If you step off, if your heels touch the ground, or if you rip the paper, there’ll be consequences. If you rip it, I have more paper and we can try again. Also, if your hands come down, there’ll be consequences. Maybe not right away, but they’ll happen.”

“You can’t hit my hands. I write and type for a living. That’s a hard limit.”

“Noted.” He lifted a doctored alligator clamp. “Where are you supposed to be?”

“On the paper.”

He crossed his arms and they locked gazes until she felt as if she were challenging a wolf for dominance. Nickie never looked away for anyone, but she couldn’t help but drop her gaze for Bud. The memory of the sofa in her office versus the sofa in her bedroom came back to her, and the left side of her ass throbbed while the right side felt nothing. With a sigh, Nickie kept her eyes to the ground and walked to the paper.

“Good girl. As a reward, you can move your hands to the top of your head when your arms get tired. Start with them at the back, though. Lace your fingers and brace them.”

Nickie spread her feet as wide as possible on the paper because she’d need as much help balancing as possible, and went to her toes. She lifted her left foot, resituated it, and when she felt secure she looked up and into Bud’s penetrating, dark emerald-green eyes once again.

She often wrote of men who were so tuned into the woman they loved, they were aware of every emotion, every problem, every joy. Real men weren’t like that though, which was what made the fantasy so perfect. Bud blew that out of the water with his way-too-perceptive eyes.

Nickie looked at his forehead to break the spell, and managed to tell him, “I’m good for a few minutes, but I’m not sure how long I can hold it.”

He walked to her with two of the clamps. “Of course. Fair warning though, if I have to tie you to keep you still, it won’t be comfortable, and you’ll wish with every fiber of your being that you’d dug deeper for self-control.”

Click to continue reading BUD.