Black Leather and New Boundaries Read online

  “Spread your legs wider,” he directed.

  Holding the stocking sheathing her leg in place, she complied with his order. The tip of the dildo slipped between her lips, pressed into her deeper, stretching her. She knew it—short and fat, stretching her wide.

  “Finger your clit,” he said, the tone of his voice penetrating her as thickly as the dildo was now doing. Using her free hand, she rubbed her clit.

  “You want to come,” he said. “But you won’t until I tell you to.”

  “No, Master.” Her busy fingers, slick with her juices, stilled.

  “Don’t stop.” She flicked her clit again, toying with the ring. The desire to come rolled over her enticingly like a foamy sea flirting with the sandy shore, teasing her with sweet, aching need. Creed thrust and twisted the dildo inside her. Her breaths grew shorter, tiny mews of need escaped her.

  He removed the dildo and set it aside. Creed’s attention turned to her stocking. He took his time in fastening it to the garters.

  “Put on your other stocking,” he said. He held it out to her.

  Ren tried to catch her breath. In this position, it wasn’t easy to get the stocking ready, nor to balance well. Except for Creed’s steadying hand on her hip.

  As she leaned farther forward to place the rolled up stocking on her toes, suddenly he thrust the dildo into her wet pussy. She clamped down on it. She almost toppled forward but his hand on her hip helped to hold her steady, the dildo lodged inside her. She felt the bite of his fingers digging into her flesh.

  “Come for me. Right now,” he said, then twisted the dildo.

  And she did.

  For a time he held the dildo in place, then slid it out and dropped it onto the table. He yanked her back to him, his tongue finding her pulsing core. He stroked his tongue along her lips, lapped at her juices, stroked back over her anus, stabbed into her small hole, a quick, shallow thrust with his tongue, before delving between her engorged labia lips once again. The orgasm rolled through her, almost like one mounting and piggybacking the first. She shook with its force as he lapped at her greedily. Then he released her.

  He yanked her arms up, locking them together behind her back.

  “Keep them there. Now, straighten and turn around to face me,” he said.

  It was with some difficulty that she straightened, the blood rushing through her, dizzying. She waiting a moment for things to settle, then turned around, her limbs barely holding her up, the rolled stocking still stuck clinging to her toes. Creed pulled her closer. With his thumbs he held her lips open, his long fingers digging into her thighs.

  “Mine,” he said. “Your cunt, your orgasms belong to me, isn’t that right?”

  She stared down at him through half shuttered eyelids. “Yes, Sir.”

  He leaned forward and flicked his tongue over her clit and Ren shuddered. He ran his tongue over her inner lips, curled it around her clit, then sucked her clit into his mouth, pulling it deeper, tonguing the ring, until the ache soared through her. Then he released her and leaned back in his chair.

  “Finish dressing,” he said.

  She almost toppled over, but then righted herself, still dizzy with the tumult of sensations coursing through her. Stepping back, she leaned down and, with shaking fingers, rolled the second stocking up her leg. She then presented her sheathed limb to Creed so he could fasten the garters in place.

  Once he’d finished with the stocking, Ren walked to the bed on unsteady legs, picked up the dress, and stepped into it. Creed stood and went to her. He zipped up the low back, arranged the straps, and cupped her breasts. He turned her to face him and smoothed his hands down the line of the dress. His hands went beneath the skirt, toyed with the tops of her stockings, then flicked at her swollen lips as he stared into her eyes. She wanted him to fuck her. She wanted to tear off the dress, forget about the dinner, forget anything outside this room, and spend the rest of the night having him make love to her. She was so damned hot and needy.

  He smoothed the dress back into place and returned to sit in the chair.

  “Bring me your shoes,” he said.

  “Yes, Sir.” Quickly, she retrieved them from the floor near the bed and moved back to the chair. She lifted her leg and angled her foot. He fitted the shoe on her foot, like the prince might have done for Cinderella, and then did the same to the other. The shoes fit perfectly.

  “Comfortable?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She’d gotten used to wearing heels, and most of the shoes Creed bought for her were made especially for her foot shape and high arch, with special cushioned inserts. The heels were comfortable—she didn’t lie about that.

  “Now,” he said. “Finish me.”

  She needed no second invitation. Ren went to him, carefully knelt, undid his black trousers, carefully released his cock, then took him into her mouth. He was already hard and he filled her mouth. She looked up at him as she licked her way along the shaft, over the head, and then, drawing him deep, she brought him to climax rather sooner than she expected. He groaned as he came, his fingers gripping her hair, his eyes unfocused and dark as he spilled into her mouth. When he began to soften, his expression again focused on her, she allowed his now pliant cock to slip free, and she leaned back on her heels.

  “I’ve brought you something special to wear tonight,” he said after she’d readjusted his trousers. She remained on her knees. He got up. Her eyes tracked him as he stepped to the side, then pulled a black velvet jeweler’s box from his jacket pocket. Ren’s eyes went wide when he opened it and the glitter of diamonds and rubies had her gasping in surprise. He removed her braided black leather collar and startled her by replacing it with the diamond and ruby choker and the matching set of earrings. He then helped her to stand.

  Creed led her over to the dressing table mirror and stood behind her. He stroked his hands over her shoulders and down her bare arms. He kissed the side of her neck.

  “I wish there was time to play more before we leave, but I ran late tonight.” He touched the glittering collar. He smiled at her in the mirror. “Stopping by to pick up these little trinkets took a little longer than I expected.” He kissed her jaw. “Later,” he whispered, a world of promise in that one word.

  She shivered with equal parts pleasurable anticipation and a tinge of trepidation. The only thought in her mind, and something that had her shaking, was that whoever the associate was, he must be someone very special, and that worried her. At this point Creed had her primed to accept anything he wanted to do to her tonight. Her thoughts returned to the dinner where Ariyel had introduced her to Creed and that ride home in the car spent splayed between the two of them.

  As Creed and she rode down in the elevator, Creed must have sensed something in her demeanor. He placed an arm around her.

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” he said. His fingers slipped beneath her jacket and stroked down her bare back, tracing the length of her tattoo. He leaned forward, shoved the collar of her jacket aside and kissed the curve of her neck. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back as he planted kisses along the line of her jaw, then possessed her lips. He deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, consuming her with his passion. Any reservations she’d had quickly slipped away as her hunger for Creed steadily intensified. She clung to him as her world spun. Finally, he pulled back.

  He gazed down at her, his eyes so dark and mesmerizing, like hard glittering diamonds to match her necklace, as he scrutinized her face. “Yes, much better. Kyle won’t bite, lovely Ren. Nor will he touch without an invitation.” And then the doors of the elevator parted and he guided her out into the lobby.

  At dinner Creed introduced her to his business associate, Kyle Monahan. They spoke of his company, Monahan Worldwide, and the fact he was looking for a new employee to complete an acquisitions team. She noticed that Creed remained silent during the conversational exchange. At first she was hesitant, but soon she warmed to the discussion about international finances. He was looking for
someone to assist in auditing the books of the banking institution currently considered for acquisition. Kyle Monahan seemed a powerful, intelligent man in his own right. He was the sort of man Creed might be associated with. There was some allusion to the fact that Creed had assisted Kyle on a recent acquisition in Greece that had some mysterious undertone attached to it. And Kyle had apparently assisted Creed with several sound investments that had helped to make him a wealthy man in a very difficult worldwide economic climate. The two men seemed to have a healthy professional respect for one another.

  Creed never discussed his business directly with Ren, so this was a rare glimpse into his world. Kyle, though very business-like and politely interested in Ren and her ideas, soon turned a more sexual eye to her, although he didn’t say anything and Ren decided to ignore the heavy-lidded innuendo in his expression. She had come to realize that black silk and diamonds—her plunging neckline, her skin-tight cocktail dress—had a way of turning men on very quickly. Usually Creed made it clear who she belonged to. In fact, he’d done just that in the elevator. But oddly, here at the restaurant, he didn’t make it quite as obvious and Ren had to wonder about that. It seemed shades of when Ariyel had first introduced her to Creed more than a year before.

  Kyle didn’t offer her a position right then and there. Instead, as they were served a flaming dessert, he turned to Creed.

  “I’ll be in touch,” he said, his eyes dark, his sculpted lips lightly turned up at the corners with what seemed to Ren a more sexual communication. He held her hand for perhaps a couple seconds longer than necessary, his thumb lightly stroking across her palm; finally he turned to shake hands with Creed before he departed.

  “Is the position something you’re interested in?” Creed asked once Kyle left the restaurant.

  She turned to him, trying to figure out the motivations behind the question. Business? Something more intimate? She wished she could fathom exactly what Creed wanted from her, but his expression remained noncommittal. “He wants more than to give me a job as auditor, it seems to me,” she finally responded. “Are you certain he wants to offer me a job?”

  Creed didn’t respond to the question she asked. “You didn’t answer me.”

  She sighed and then, feeling slightly uncomfortable, she began fiddling with the gold cloth napkin spread across her lap. The way the position was outlined, it did sound interesting and challenging. She glanced at Creed. “It sounds exciting. Very different from my last job. Very, very different.”

  “You’re a CPA and more than qualified to handle the position. Whatever specialties he requires for his company, Kyle will see that you’re trained for the position. I’ve told him you’re a very quick learner. Very intelligent.”

  “The way he outlined the position, there will be a significant time commitment,” Ren said, knowing that it would likely take away from her availability to spend time with Creed.

  He nodded. “I wouldn’t have arranged this meeting if I hadn’t already known his expectations. The question is, do you want it?”

  Ren felt an excitement mounting inside her at the challenges the position would present and the financial independence holding a job again would provide. This was an opportunity she couldn’t just shrug off. According to Kyle, the previous auditor had quit because of complications in her pregnancy. It was an excellent chance for Ren to get her foot in the door of a very solid and far-reaching organization. It might prove a stretch from the small construction firm she’d worked for previously. It would certainly require commitment on her part. But she couldn’t help wondering what other “perks” Kyle Monahan might expect in return. Was she willing to take the chance? Creed awaited her answer.

  “Yes, I’m interested,” she finally said.

  Creed had eased back in his chair and looked at her with approval. “Good. Then you’re to report for work on Monday at nine A.M.”

  “Just like that?” she said. “You’ve already arranged it, assuming I would agree?”

  His expression told her little as he gazed at her. “If you didn’t want it there would be nothing for you to worry about.”

  “How well do you know him?” she asked. “Is he a Dom, too, or just a business associate?” She hesitated for a moment as fear gripped her. This wasn’t the same as with Ariyel. Something was different and panic began to mount. “A-are you giving me to him? Is that what this is about? Did you bring me to New York just to hand me off to someone else? Are you bored with me already?”

  His expression turned remote, his eyes going so very black, and Ren sensed she had crossed a boundary that wouldn’t be ignored. Creed would have made an Egyptian Sphinx proud with such a demeanor. “That isn’t up for discussion. Now, are you finished with your dessert? Would you like coffee before we leave?”

  “No, Sir. No coffee.” She shoved her dessert plate away. “Yes, Sir, I’m finished.” The dynamics of the evening had changed and she’d felt the subtle shift almost immediately. How could she not, when she was so deeply attuned to his every mood?

  “Then we’ll leave.”

  He brushed a hand across her pierced nipples as he helped her with her black leather jacket, and she shuddered as an arrow of pleasure shot through her. Then he pinched her nipple. She drew a sharp breath as the pain shot through her, going straight to her vagina. She sensed that she’d displeased him and couldn’t help feeling a sense of trepidation. In uneasy silence they walked back to her apartment, which was only several blocks away.

  When they arrived, the tingling that had started at the restaurant spread through her until it was almost more than she could bear. Creed helped her to remove her jacket and turned to hang it up.

  “Bring me your leather paddle,” he said, as turned back around to look at her. Ren could read nothing from his expression. The leather paddle was one of those implements used only for certain occasions. Not often, but enough for her stomach to clench as she walked to her bedroom to retrieve the paddle. She suspected she should be relieved—he hadn’t called for the cane or the harsher wooden tennis paddle with the holes drilled into it.

  She knew she was going to be punished for her earlier indiscretion. She shouldn’t have questioned him.

  Ren got the paddle from her bottom dresser drawer and returned to Creed, who was seated on a chair in the kitchen, his thighs spread. He’d removed his jacket and it hung on the back of the chair. She knelt in front of him and offered Master the paddle.

  He accepted it from her and held it out. She kissed it.

  “You understand why you’re being punished?” he asked.

  “Yes, Sir,” she said, her gaze turned to the floor.

  “Tell me.”

  “I shouldn’t have questioned you at the restaurant. You are my master and I should trust that you know what’s best for me without questioning you.”

  “We have an agreement,” he said.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “I expect you to abide by it. Now turn around.” He motioned for her to turn horizontally on her knees and bend over on the cold tile floor.

  She did as he ordered. Roughly he shoved up her tight dress and exposed her ass. Heat spread through her in anticipation of feeling that paddle strike her ass. She knew she was tense, her body tight, knowing this wasn’t for pleasure; the paddling would be administered for chastisement and discipline. It was going to hurt. He unfastened the garter straps holding up the backs of her stockings and secured them beneath her belt at the waist, out of his way. Her stockings hovered unbound at the backs of her upper thighs.

  “How many do you think you deserve?” he said as he smoothed his bare hand across her exposed bottom.

  She knew what her answer must be. “Whatever you feel is deserving, Sir.”

  “Ten seems warranted.” He stroked his fingertips across the back of her thighs. He slipped his fingers inside the tops her stockings and played with the edges, brushed the pads of his fingers against her warm flesh. She shuddered; her pussy was already wet. There would be pain, but the p
leasure would not be far behind. It always was for her. Though she hated the idea of being punished, her body would ultimately betray her. Creed had taught her many things about her own body, including the fact that pain was far too closely tied to her pleasure. Creed was a master at meting out both.

  “Count them so we’re both certain of the number.” He removed his hand and she sensed the distance he now created. Suddenly, she felt cold, and a knot tightened in her stomach. She tried to prepare herself to accept her punishment, but it wasn’t easy—it never was.

  The first strike always caught her sharply, ripping through her keenly. This time was no different. Her eyes watered, but she fought to hold back the tears. “One,” she said, her voice tight with the pain. And thus it began.

  His strikes were measured and the paddle came down again and again, firmly and without hesitation. He made certain she felt each one of the strikes. The burn throbbed through her. It was pain, but there was more, so much more to it, as the heat flooded to her pussy, and biting sensation shot to her nipples.

  “T-ten,” she finally said, her ass so hot, her pussy so wet, her face flushed, her hair tangled and plastered to her face with sweat and tears. Embarrassment, throbbing pain, regret for her transgressions. And at the end, something else. The wealth of sensations flooding her was almost more than she could bear.

  Master rose from his chair and came around in front of her. He lifted her head, gently brushed back the wet tendrils of her hair, then held the paddle in front of her. Lips trembling, she kissed the paddle.

  “I’m sorry, Master.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  He wound his hand into her hair and pulled back her head. His eyes seemed merciless.

  “You are mine. You will obey me. You will not ask questions unless given permission to do so. Who do you trust to know what’s best?”

  She could do no other than stare into his eyes; he locked her to him. “You, Master.” The way he said the words, “you are mine,” sent a warm glow spreading through her. The possessiveness in his tone made her stomach flip-flop. The hold he had on her hair, the burn of her ass—she belonged to Creed and no one else.