Signed (24)

His brows drew together as he frowned.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

His eyes almost burned her flesh. Reg had tied her in an intricate series of rope and knots. While it had been embarrassing to have him working on her so intimately, she appreciated his deft hand. The knot over her clit was driving her crazy. The bonds holding her hands behind her were gentle enough to not stop blood flow–yet sturdy. Her legs were held open with a long wooden bar, the leather cuffs securing her ankles to each end of the pole.

She knelt on a pair of small pads, while Reg’s fist in her hair helped hold her upright. Her breasts jutted out, and a series of clamps lay on the floor between her spread thighs.

“I repeat,” He said, his gaze moving between the two, “What the fuck is going on here.”

“Your slut prepared this party just for you. Consider me your personal decorator. We left a few finishing touches for you to finish the design with.” Reg pointed to the clamps on the floor. He raised his brow.

“Well? Are you coming over here or do I need to tie a whip onto your hand?”

He took a step, then paused. “I’m not playing this game. I don’t know what you two thought you were doing but…”

“Hey, it was her idea. And if you’re too stupid to act on it, why not go back upstairs and let me take advantage of her offer?”

She knew Reg was baiting Sir, but she wanted to speak. But he’d forbidden her to. It had been one of his ground rules for doing this. She bit her lip, watching the two growl at one another.

“No fucking way. She’s mine.”

“Really? She’s been complaining of being neglected. She has an itch and if you don’t have an interest in scratching it, I am sure I can find all of her…itchy places… rub.”

She watched a muscle twitch in His jaw. Reg stood a moment longer, then laughed.

“You dumb ass. Play with your slut.”

With that, he strolled from the room, shutting the door firmly behind himself.


He crossed to her, cradling her face in his large hands.


“Because….I…need it. And I think you do, too.”

Her eyes locked on his. He could see the truth in her words laying inside those blazing blue pools. He sighed, and felt the beast in him begin to twitch off the chains he’d been bound in for these last weeks.

Hooking his hands under her armpits, he lifted her to her feet. She balanced, feet splayed widely, feeling whorish. Feeling wanton. Feeling alive for the first time in weeks.

“I want this.”

She paused, cocking her head at him, giving him a saucy look.

“And I think, Sir, You want me.”

This was the pivotal point, right there. He would answer yes, or he would say no. Either way she wanted-needed-resolution.

“You get to choose now. Over there,” she gestured with her chin to the small table beside the bed, “is a contract. You should go read it, Mr. Legal Eagle, and see if my terms are acceptable.”

He moved to stroke her nipple. She smiled, then spoke.

“No, Sir. You need to read first.”

“Actually, first I need to put you back on your knees so you don’t keel over trying to stand that way. Despite how pretty you look straining.”

He lowered her back to her knees, the crossed the room. She heard the rattle of paper as he picked up the document, the creak of the bed as he sat to read it.

“Did Reg help you write this?” He wondered if his good friend had had a hand in this.

“Oh, no Sir. I just had him tie me up. I found the outlines for that at that legal document website and…adapted it. That’s what we do, right? We take things that are …vanilla…and adapt them.”

He laughed, then went back to reading the document. Clever wench, indeed. She kept her eyes forward, refusing to look at his face while he read. The wait was driving her nuts, but she knew how methodical he was.

The bed creaked as he rose. His slippers were quiet as he crossed to her. His fingers cupped her chin.  Eyes met, clashed. He bent, and bit her lip hard before kissing her. His tongue swept into her mouth, twirling and dancing with hers. He tasted her lips, her teeth, the very essence of her breath before releasing her. Her eyes were huge pools of blue when he stepped away.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, as he turned and stepped from the room. In a second he was back.

“Oh, forgot this.”

Bending, he took a pair of clamps that were affixed to a heavy chain, and attached each end to a nipple. A gentle tug confirmed that they were on tight.

“Just to keep you busy while I’m upstairs.”


Reg was fixing a sandwich when he bolted up the stairs and into the room.

“I need water.”

“Really? Did you cum that quickly? They have a pill for that….”

“Fucktard! For her. I’ll be right back.”

He turned, moving quickly down the hallway, then up the stairs. Turning into his bedroom, he opened the large armoires. Reaching up, he opened the topmost compartment and pulled out the two blue boxes. Laying these on his end table, he doffed his work clothes, and slid into the pants he often wore at the club. The leather hugged his thighs, while the tied crotch would give him quick freedom when he decided to fuck her.

And he would most decidedly fuck her.

He pulled on his tight white tee-shirt, slid his feet into the dark leather boots. He didn’t normally “dress Dom” unless the situation warranted. Domly dressing was more a joke between Reg and he…but he knew it would make an impression on her.

He planned to make many ‘impressions’ on her tonight. It was as if something in him had torn loose. He was still very much in control, yet his inner beast, kept on short chains these last weeks, was sensing freedom.

Jogging downstairs, he kept the boxes in his hand, snatched up the water bottle Reggie had placed on the counter, and kept moving downstairs. He left the boxes on the bottom step, then entered the room.

She was breathing a bit heavily now.

“I want to see, to really see, if you’re up for this before I agree to all your terms. If you agree to that, we shall proceed.”

Well and damn. She’d wanted to be the driving force here, but perhaps this was as it should be. After all, he was the one in charge. Once again. She smiled, and nodded.

“Yes Sir. I agree to your terms about my terms.”

She giggled.

“Eyes closed,” He snapped. Her giggle was quickly swallowed. He was gratified to see that she obeyed without hesitation.

Reaching around the door, he took up the boxes from the step and shut the door firmly. Moving across the room, he put the boxes where she wouldn’t see them, inside one of the drawers of the wall unit where he stored his arsenal. He took out a long thin cane, and smiled.

Crossing to her, he took her hair in hand and smacked one tit. She gasped, but kept her eyes closed. He tugged her head backwards, making her lean further and further back, opening her delightful chest to his predation. He tapped her tits, hitting chain, clamps, and flesh. She gasped. She moaned. And the warm scent of hot pussy wafted to his nose.

The cane struck her thighs.

“I smell wet cunt. Is your cunt wet for me, slut?”

“Yesss…Yes Sir!”

“Say it.”

“My….” His fingers tightened in her hair, a warning. “…cunt…is….wet…Sir.”

“Again. No stuttering. Tell me about your fuckhole.”

And just like that, he was back, he realized. In charge, taking her. And she, he could see from her face, was back as well. Enraptured, even as his cane stroked her thighs, tapped the deep cleft between, and returned to her tits.

Enraptured. He thought about that for a moment. And wondered which of them it was more suited to.