Knight Nostalgia: A Knights of the Board Room Anthology(73)
She bit back a yelp, strangled on moans as he gave her an even more vigorous than usual punishment with the brush, caressing her cunt in between strokes. During the last few hits, he slid his fingers into her, so she was squeezing down on him. When he removed his hand, she was so in need of release tears were in her eyes. He kissed them away, laid her on the bed, kissed her mouth gently, soothed her down with those magic hands and told her how she was an amazing submissive, and how lucky a Master he was. How proud he was of her.
He knew the emotional always held more sway over her than the physical, even when she was at the very edge of that pinnacle. She curled in his arms, stopped shuddering at length, and was content, knowing she’d pleased him by not climaxing. Building the response he wanted to unleash on Friday.
She did find herself thinking about what he’d meant, though, about this being a delayed first anniversary gift. Why had he waited?
She would find out. No reason to think about it too much. To think too much about anything. Not that her telling herself that ever did much good when a concern decided to take root and spread out thorns.
No, that wasn’t true. She’d gotten much better at taking a mental spade to those thoughts and digging them out. Even if she never seemed to get all the roots, she was successful more often than not these days, trimming them down so they couldn’t infiltrate every aspect of her life.
The next day, she felt the lingering burn of that punishment on her ass whenever she had to sit during physical therapy. Thank Goddess, it was Friday, but the minutes ticked by so slowly. Work helped, her clients keeping her busy and distracted, and Sally gave her a wonderful massage at lunch time that helped her muscles relax, even if her mind didn’t. Once she arrived at home, it felt like the clock was going backwards. She followed his direction, however, doing a little gardening, reading until she fell asleep, and then eating a light dinner before soaking in the grotto.
The closer it came to the time she would head for the K&A tower, the more stimulated she felt by the lightest brush of anything against her skin. She had no concentration. He’d left her three envelopes of instructions and a go-bag on the bed. Each one had a note on it as to when she was supposed to open it. The first envelope was the only one she was allowed to open at home.
Wear whatever is easy to take off, gorgeous sub. You won’t be wearing it long.
The paper seemed to hold a hint of his scent as she brought it to her nose. She imagined him writing it, the fall of dark hair over his brow as he concentrated. She was always tempted to stroke her fingers through those soft strands during such a moment. A thought which brought back to mind his departure this morning, when he’d given her a melting heat level kiss, full of promise. His hands had roamed over her as he’d pressed her up against the wall by the door, his tongue teasing hers, teeth catching her bottom lip.
“I hate you,” she said, when he released her and picked up his briefcase. A sexy grin that made her want to bite his lips was his answer.
She donned slacks and a blouse, a variation of what she wore to work. It was comfortable and, more importantly, easy to shed. Then, finally, she was in her car and on her way to the New Orleans business district, allowing enough time to navigate the remains of Friday rush hour traffic.
All the way there, she struggled to focus on her driving, and mildly regretted telling Jon she preferred to drive rather than have him send a car. Normally, she didn’t feel like her blood was about to burn through her skin like paper and turn her into living flame while she was negotiating traffic.
When she finally pulled into the parking deck, her heart was thumping, her mind full of imaginings of what would happen when she stepped off the elevator at the executive floor of Kensington & Associates.
The sun was setting. Tonight it would be clear, she knew. Which meant the stars would be out, with a sliver of moon. A romantic night. A perfect New Orleans night.
After she found a parking spot, she opened the cream-colored paper of the second note. He could have sent the messages to her phone, but when it came to things like that, her hi-tech inventor always went old-school. And romantic. Her lips curved when daisy petals tumbled out of the folded paper onto her lap.
When you get off the elevator, your only identity is that of my submissive. You will not speak unless addressed by me or one of the other Masters. Go to the ladies’ room, and stand directly in front of the mirror. Take off everything but your collar, and put on the robe I’ve left you. They’re in the go-bag. Leave the robe open.
I know you’re wet for me, sweet girl. Don’t do anything to change that. There are four gifts from the others in a box on the table. Put them on. Then come to the board room, where you will circle the table once, showing all of us how beautiful you are. After that, you will kneel by the door until you are commanded to do otherwise.
I love you.
It didn’t surprise her that he would add that at the end, a reminder and a promise. She ran her fingers over the words, picked up the daisy petals and touched them to her lips, enjoying the silken feel of the slender pieces.
As far as being wet, he was right; she’d spent the day half-aroused. Now his instructions took her all the way there. Her body quivered with anticipation, the desire to be touched. Commanded.
Leaving the car, she went to the elevator, entering the family code that would take her to the top floor. Family. She took a breath. She was part of this rather unusual family of Dominants and submissives, whose interactions with one another would likely be considered wrong by others. She thought about how she felt with Jon, however, and knew those other people’s truths were not hers.