The Collar, Page 7

  “You graduated summa cum laude from Harvard Law.”

  She swallowed her shock at this confession that he’d looked her up online. “So?”

  “You admitted your interest in submission started as an act of rebellion against your father. Who happens to be a senator.”

  “And you said no one could be a submissive for four years out of spite.”

  He walked toward her slowly. So slowly she could see the gradual change from irritation to desire. “You’ll have to excuse me,” he said when he was steps from her, “if I have a hard time picturing a spoiled little rich girl who went on to be a super-successful Harvard lawyer on her knees as a submissive.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Damn, are you serious? And after that entire discussion on stereotypes, too.”

  “Can I say you’re showing a perfect example of submission at the moment?” he asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

  “I’m submissive for either my Master or the man topping me in a scene. Right now you’re just a judgmental asshole.”

  His jaw tightened.

  “Tell me,” she continued. “What bothers you the most, the fact that I’m rich or that I graduated from Harvard?”

  “Both. They both bother me. This isn’t a game for me. It’s my life. I was being honest when I told you the reasons why I’ve never collared a submissive.”

  “I’m insulted you think I see this as a game.”

  He shrugged. “Good thing we never made it to my playroom.”

  “I’ll make you a deal.”

  “Not interested.”

  She ignored his comment. “Give me an hour and a half in your playroom, and if I’m not the best damn submissive you’ve ever been with, I’ll leave the group.”

  The look he gave her should have made her drop to her knees, but she forced herself to remain upright.

  His voice was husky when he replied. “I appreciate the gesture, Ms. Jenkins, but I can’t make that sort of deal. I will, however, agree to forty-five minutes at the party tomorrow night. And if you aren’t the best, you and I agree to stay the hell away from each other from now on.”

  The next night, Jeff waited for Dena in the living room of Daniel’s guesthouse. It would serve him right if she didn’t show up. He couldn’t deny he’d acted like an ass toward her. He’d been shocked when he’d found out she was Senator Jenkins’s daughter. Who wouldn’t have been?

  He’d gone home after seeing her safely inside her apartment and searched for her online. He’d learned she was a Harvard Law School graduate who’d surprised her family by turning down a position at a prestigious firm to work for the State of Delaware. When you paired that with what he knew about her reasons for initially joining the local community, he had a pretty good idea of how she was wired.

  She was a fighter who took what she wanted even when those around her thought she should do otherwise. But how was she as a submissive? Would she try to top from the bottom? The more he learned about her, the more he wanted to find out.

  But he wanted her to decide he was what she wanted. The downside of his strategy was that he’d pissed her off in the process.

  “Master Parks?”

  He looked up to find she’d entered the room. She looked even more stunning than she had at the first play party. Tonight she wore a white corset and a short white, clingy skirt, with her blond hair falling to her shoulders in soft curls. The effect was breathtaking.

  “Dena.” He stood.

  He meant to say something. To invite her to sit beside him. Ask how her day had been. Anything. Instead, he watched dumbstruck as she hesitantly moved toward him. When she made it to his side, she gracefully slid to her knees, kneeling before him.

  He couldn’t stop his hand from reaching out to settle on the top of her head. Her hair was soft and silky. He stroked it and heard her sigh in pleasure.

  “Look at me,” he whispered.

  Clear blue eyes met his. She looked at him with need, want, and just a slight hint of lingering anger.

  “Thank you for suggesting this,” he said. He’d planned to talk with her before they played, but seeing her on her knees made him change his mind. He had a copy of her checklist, and she’d agreed to be his for forty-five minutes tonight. Talking could wait.

  “My pleasure, Sir.”

  “There’s a spare room to the right of the kitchen. Let’s go. You can walk in front of me.”

  She led the way and he followed. As they passed Daniel in the kitchen, he gave Jeff a self-satisfied nod.

  Jeff tilted his head toward the room. “Make sure we’re not interrupted too much.”

  Because they were at a party, he knew a senior member would look in on them at least once. He accepted that; he just didn’t want their scene interrupted numerous times.

  He closed the door behind him. He’d set everything up earlier in the evening. A St. Andrew’s Cross stood at the back of the room, with his toy bag and ropes beside it. Dena would see the giant wooden “X” and infer he had a bondage scene planned.

  Dena knelt in the middle of the room. Her butt rested on her feet and her knees were pressed together. If they played together again, he’d instruct her in the way he preferred his submissives to wait, but for tonight she was fine.

  He stood before her and pictured how they would look to an outsider: Dena, dressed in white, with her pale skin and blond hair. He would look like her opposite with his dark hair and black jeans and T-shirt. Likely as not, they had nothing in common except their lifestyle. Fortunately, for the next forty-five minutes, that was all they needed.

  “What’s your safe word, Dena?”

  “Red, Sir.”

  “Anytime you feel like you need to stop, use it and we can talk.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Stand up and take off that corset and skirt. They’re too pristine for what I have planned for tonight.”

  She obeyed quickly, standing up and slipping the skirt down over her hips, putting it to the side. But then she hesitated.

  “Is there a problem already?” he asked.

  “I can’t get the corset off by myself, Sir.”

  He eyed the white contraption, noting the laces and ties were in the back. “How did you get it on?”

  “One of the other submissives helped.” She was contorting her body this way and that in a vain attempt to reach the top hook. Though it probably wasn’t her intent, the movement was doing magnificent things to her figure. At one point, one of her breasts threatened to pop out.

  “Enough,” he finally said, putting an end to her wiggly dance. “As enjoyable as this is, I have no intention of watching you try to undress for the rest of our time together. You have two minutes to get out of that corset. If I have to help, you’ll be naked the rest of the night.” He looked at his watch. “Time starts now.”

  Though she’d marked exhibitionism as “likes a lot,” she apparently wasn’t in the mood to spend the remainder of her time at the play party naked. Her movements intensified as she struggled to undo the corset. With thirty seconds remaining, she let out a satisfied “Aha,” and the garment fell to the ground.

  She stood before him breathing heavily, a look of triumph on her face.

  “Very nice, Dena,” he said. “Now take off the panties and come here.”

  When she was naked except for her white heels, she walked over to the cross where he stood. Fuck, she was even more gorgeous naked. Every inch of her was perfect.

  “I want your back to the cross,” he instructed her.

  Taking a length of red rope and a length of black, he bound her to the cross, spread-eagle. He worked slowly, taking his time, running his fingertips along her skin before he decorated it. Done correctly, bondage was an art form, and for the night, he had the most beautiful canvas imaginable.

  He secured her legs and went to work on her arms. As he bound her, he made sure to touch and tease her. She impressed him by remaining still. He stepped back and saw she had her eyes closed and had fal
len into a deep, rhythmic breathing pattern.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Nothing too tight or uncomfortable?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “I’m getting ready to be a little evil.”

  “I look forward to it, Sir.”

  Ever so slowly he trailed another rope along her torso before wrapping it around her chest, making something that resembled a bra. He purposely left her nipples exposed, and he circled them with his fingers, pulling slightly. She rewarded him with a gasp.

  Next he draped a thin red rope over her right shoulder so the ends trailed on either side of her body. She sucked in a breath as he slowly worked his hands down her torso. He took the ends of the rope and tied a knot, placing it on the right side of her clit. He repeated the same thing on her left side.

  When finished, he stepped back to admire his work. “You’re completely at my mercy now. I can do anything I want to that fuckable body.”

  Tied and bound as she was, every slight movement, every breath, would cause the ropes to tease her clit. She knew this, of course, and she was trying her best to stay completely still. Which was why he needed to incentivize her to do differently.

  He picked a lightweight flogger out of his bag. “I gave you a command a little more than a month ago. Do you remember?”

  The shocked expression she gave him told him she did but was hoping he hadn’t. “Yes, Sir, but since—”

  “‘Yes, Sir’ is enough. I didn’t ask for commentary. How many times have you come in the last month?”

  “I don’t remember, Sir.”

  He flicked the flogger against her upper thighs. “Try.”

  “Umm, four?”

  “Are you asking me?”

  “Probably eleven, Sir.”

  “That’s a bit different from four.”

  She took a deep breath and shivered as the ropes moved. “Nineteen, Sir.”

  “Nineteen?” He picked up a flogger with heavier tails. “Is that your last number?”

  “Yes, Sir. That’s my best guess.”

  He glanced at his watch. “We have a little more than twenty minutes left, so as punishment, I’m going to flog you for nineteen minutes.”

  Her eyes grew dark. “Please, Sir.”

  He gave her a sadistic smile and then started. First he used the lighter-weight flogger softly across her body to make her nerve endings come alive. He followed with the heavier one, but only on her upper thighs, making sure some of the tails landed between her legs.

  The heavy flogger left faint pink marks on her thighs, and he alternated occasionally with the lighter one. It kept her off guard, but judging by her soft moans and intakes of breath, it was turning her on. He could probably use heavier strokes, but he was hesitant to on their first scene. First scene. He’d make damn sure there was a second.

  She whimpered. “Please, Sir, let me come.”

  “No.” He moved to her breasts, landing just on the tips of her nipples.

  Her body jerked. “Fuck.”

  “Okay to continue?” He thought it was but felt the need to check in more frequently.

  “Yes, please. Please don’t stop, Sir.”

  It was the affirmation he’d been waiting for. With a flogger in each hand, he rained stroke after stroke on her, alternating implement and intensity until her moans of pleasure filled the room. Her sweet cries fueled him, and he brought her closer and closer to the edge.

  He flicked the tails of one flogger across her clit. “Need to come?”

  “Yes. Please. Sir.”

  “I’m going to flog your pussy nineteen times. You can’t come until I’ve finished. Count.”

  She whimpered but counted each stroke. After the nineteenth one, he put the floggers aside and walked close to her. She still looked like an angel, but damn it all, he never knew an angel could look so seductive and absolutely fuckable.

  “Very nice, Dena.” He slipped a hand between her legs, easily pushed two fingers inside, and thumbed her clit. “Come for me now, you naughty girl. Come on my fingers.”

  With a yelp, she finally let loose, and a massive orgasm rocked her as she pulled against the restraints.

  “That’s my girl. So good.” Leaning against her, he whispered in her ear, “The next time you come, it’ll be with my cock pushed inside that hot pussy.”

  He trailed kisses from her ear, across her cheek, and down to her mouth. Though he wanted to spend time kissing her, he knew he needed to untie her first.

  He untied her faster than he’d tied her, promising himself that if she was agreeable, he’d soon have her bound for a much longer, more intense session. He started at her legs and moved up, running his lips along the skin he exposed. When he unbound her arms, she swayed into him.

  “You okay?” he asked, gathering her in his arms.

  “Incredible, Sir.”

  He half carried, half walked her to a nearby love seat and sat her on his lap. She shivered a bit, so he wrapped a blanket around her. For several minutes he kept her like that, enjoying the feel of her and inhaling her delicate jasmine scent. He stroked her hair and murmured how impressed he was with her.

  At one point, she pulled back and looked at him. “What’s your verdict, Sir?”

  “You very well might be the best I’ve ever played with.”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “Might be?”

  He shifted his seat, and the movement caused his erection to brush against her. “I need another session to ensure a thorough evaluation.”

  She looked down and wrapped the blanket around her tighter. “Why would you want to play with me again, Sir?”

  “I was an ass, and I’m asking you to forgive me. I want very much to play with you again.”

  “On one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “You let me take care of that massive erection I’m sitting on.”

  He swallowed a laugh. That was what he’d been expecting. “Our forty-five minutes are up.”

  She ran a hand down his chest and gave a mock sigh. “Too bad. I was looking forward to showing off my oral skills.”

  His erection grew harder, and he shifted her off his lap. “Don’t let me stop you. I’ve been dreaming about having that hot, sassy mouth around my dick.”

  The next Friday night, Dena pulled up to Jeff’s house shortly after six. She stepped out of her car and admired the rustic but modern cabin. It looked exactly like the house she’d have pictured Jeff in. Set back in the woods and with no neighbor in sight, the house looked like it was deep in the wilderness rather than so near a large city.

  He was actually smiling when he opened the door. Smiling. She rarely saw him with anything other than a neutral expression, and her breath caught at how handsome he was when he was happy.

  “Dena,” he said, holding the door open for her. “So glad you could make it.”

  Earlier in the week, he’d asked her to come to his house for dinner tonight. Even though it’d been Monday, the memory of their time at the party was fresh in her mind. And while they’d spent the rest of the evening together, he didn’t take her. When she’d questioned him about it, he’d told her their first time wasn’t going to be at his friend’s house where the potential existed for them to be interrupted.

  She hoped that meant there was more on the menu at his house tonight than just food.

  “I’ve been looking forward to this all week,” she said, stepping inside. “Your house is amazing.”

  The inside boasted exposed-beam ceilings and wide-planked wooden floors. There was an overall feel of warmth and comfort and home that on the surface appeared at odds with the cool demeanor