Open Doors (Suncoast Society #27)(8)

Pleased to find her already naked, wearing her leather wrist and ankle cuffs and matching leather collar, and bent over the end of the bed as he’d ordered, he laid the implements on the bed next to her.

“Such a good girl,” he said. He leaned in and bit her right ass cheek, enjoying the way she squealed, her toes curling as she struggled to remain still for him the way she knew he wanted.

It was even more fun to keep her unrestrained and watch the struggle. Anyone could tie up their slave, sure.

But watching his slave trying not to squirm or wiggle was even more fun, for him.

He followed that up by a bite to her left ass cheek. In the morning, he knew he’d catch her looking at the marks in the mirror with a playful smile on her face and a wet * as she remembered the play.

Meaning morning shower sex for him.

Nearly every time.

For now…

He stood up and grabbed her by the hips, grinding against her. “Someone’s going to go to sleep with a nice red ass.”

Her fingers curled, fisting the sheets. He felt her trying to arch her back and rock her hips against him for more traction.

He nudged her feet wider apart and folded his body over hers. Pulling her hair away from the nape of her neck, he brushed kisses across her flesh there, making her shiver.

Then, he nipped, making her let out a soft cry of need. He knew if he reached between her legs right then that he’d find her * drenched already.

“Who’s my good girl?” he whispered in her left ear.

“Me, Sir.”

Yep, subspace achieved. He could hear it in her voice. Just the act of putting her cuffs and collar on usually got her most of the way there. And a nip on the nape of the neck?

She almost always sank like a rock into subspace from that.

He straightened and started stripping, making sure she heard it when he slowly slid his belt out of the loops of his jeans. He laid it on her back, lengthways, with the end hanging off her ass and brushing against her *.

Yes, she loved that, too. It would be used on her soon enough. He didn’t buy a belt unless he could also spank her with it. Every belt he owned had been used at least once on her flesh, when they brought it home from the store. She would kneel, kiss the buckle, and work her entire way down the length of it, kissing it, before he laid her over the end of the bed and used it on her.

One more sneaky trigger to get her wet for him. Plenty of times in the past when they’d been somewhere, especially with others, and they’d been standing there as a couple, he’d drawn her arm around his waist and then hooked her fingers under his belt.

What? It looked like an endearing gesture between a couple in love.

Only he knew, while standing there, with his arm draped around her shoulders, that she was having a hard time keeping her knees locked so she didn’t drop to them next to him. That her * would be wet, her clit throbbing, and that she damn well knew that he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

She called him the good kind of evil.

He took that as a compliment.

Once he was naked, he grabbed her by both ass cheeks again and squeezed, hard, enjoying her moan of pain and pleasure all rolled into one as she tried to stay still. He started spanking her bare-handed at first, with his right hand, the left planted squarely in the middle of her back and keeping the belt in place, too.

All the while, her toes curled, her knees flexing and straightening a little as she struggled not to start dancing in place, trying to stay still for him. Wanting to stay still for him as he increased the tempo and force of his strokes. Until just before he knew she was about to safeword, he stopped.

Her chest rose and fell, her body trembling.

Then he slowly picked up the belt and with the buckle in his hand, took several turns around his fist with it.

He started out lightly slapping her * with it, not enough to hurt but enough to make her moan as he teased her.

Then across her ass, both cheeks, hard enough to leave marks and make her cry out in pain.

“You know the rules,” he said. “You can safeword, if you want.”

She shook her head, her hands balled into tight fists. She hated to safeword. Sometimes, he’d deliberately push her hard enough he knew she’d have to safeword, just to comfort her and reward her when she did to reinforce that he didn’t have a problem with it. Somehow, she’d gotten it into her mind that not safewording was a badge of courage, when he’d insisted it wasn’t. And she even preached to newbies that safewording was good and encouraged.

She just didn’t practice what she preached.

She couldn’t even tell him why she was like that. And even several months of aggravating her by stopping well before she was ready for him to stop didn’t break her of the habit, either. After their years together, he’d given up trying to find the reason. As long as he knew he could read her body and not push her to a bad point, he’d decided it wasn’t worth struggling over. It wasn’t like she played with anyone else, only him.

He used the belt on her for nearly ten minutes. Slow, deliberate strokes that would mark her and leave bruises for several days, making her happy.

Then he switched to the riding crop, leaving welts up and down the backs of both thighs.

Finally, the paddle.

Her body tensed. She hated the paddle, any paddle, but also loved them. Because she knew after the paddle would come the pleasure.