Chapter Five

Kiara arched her back, presenting her breasts to her master for more delicious abuse.

Not your master.

No, not her master. But a master, and for her, he was the master. The one who made her feel her submission so acutely it was like a separate state of being. For her, subspace was usually a state of mind that she could put herself in and out of. What she felt now was so much more than that. This was a place of quiet, desperate need that she had only ever found with him.

It wasn’t what he did. The spankings and nipple play weren’t extreme, at least not by her standard, yet she was deeply affected. More than she would have been had a different man done exactly the same thing. The only difference was her chemistry with Reis. When he touched her, something that could have been nearly platonic, as spankings often were for her, became deeply sexual.

His chest rose as he took a deep breath. His eyes were heavy lidded, but she could see the satisfaction in them. He knew exactly his effect on her, knew she wanted and needed him.

He slapped her breasts, the blows light, more to make them jiggle than to cause pain. Blood rushed to the spanked flesh, making her already aching breasts feel even more full and needy. He never struck her nipples, instead working all around her breasts—the outsides, the insides, above the nipple, and even a few strikes from below that made her breasts bounce.

“Now you’re ready for the clamps.”

The words were sweet, as if having her sensitive nipples clamped were a reward instead of just the next sadistic pleasure. “Yes, please.”

“Manners,” he chided.

“Please, Master.”

The word slipped out, and Kiara sucked in a breath. Reis, bless him, didn’t comment. He didn’t smile in satisfaction. If he had, she wouldn’t have been able to deal with it. She would have had to safeword out of the scene.

Reis dipped his head, flicking her left nipple with the tip of his tongue until it tightened. Then he applied the clamp.

The rubber-tipped ends pressed in on either side of her nipple and as he moved the slider up they tightened.

“How does that feel?”

“Tight, Sir.” This time she was careful with her words.

“Can you take more?”

Normally she would have said yes, but she was so sensitive that she wasn’t sure.

“Will you take more, because I want to clamp these sweet nipples harder?” He thumbed her right nipple. “I want you to feel the bite.”

A shiver of pure submissive need washed over her. “Yes, Sir.”

“Say it.”

“I will take more because you want me too.”

“Good girl.”

The clamp tightened and she whimpered, tingles of pain shooting from her nipple directly to her clit.

He applied the clamp to her right nipple, taking his time tightening this one also. When he was done, she was whimpering from the delicious pain, and she was practically cross-eyed with arousal. She panted, both from the pain and the need, and couldn’t keep still. She shifted her weight side to side, which was enough to make her labia rub together.

“Hold still,” he commanded in a sharp, deep voice.

She froze, whimpering a little.

“If you need something, you ask me for it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He paused, waiting, giving her a chance to ask for what she needed. Stubbornly, she refused. It was stupid, but she felt petulant after having been reprimanded for moving.

“Ask, Kiara.” This time his voice was soft, coaxing.

The fight drained out of her. “Please, Sir, will you touch my pussy?”

He feathered his fingers over her labia. “Like this.”

“Inside. I want your fingers inside my pussy. On my clit.”

He made a happy Dom sound and parted her sex, exposing her warm, wet core to the cold air. Even that was enough stimulation to have her tipping her head back and breathing heavily.

While holding her pussy open with two fingers he used a third to stroke her clit. At first the pleasure of that firm, gentle touch was only a counterbalance to the now-diminished pain from the clamps, but inside a minute the pleasure overtook the pain, sweeping it up until the two sensations were woven together in a way that only masochists really understood.

“Edge,” she murmured. It was training and habit that made her say it. If she’d been thinking clearly she would have kept her mouth shut, orgasmed without permission, and then accepted the punishment later.

“You may come.”

Again and again his finger stroked her clit, sweeping up from the center of her pussy, over the little bundle of nerves, and sliding against the plump apex of her labia before starting over again.

He was relentless, but not frantic, stroking her with a patience and skill that spoke of an experienced Dom.

“Come for me,” he ordered.

It was the deep, rich voice more than the words themselves that tipped her over the edge. She came—fingers curled into fists, wrists straining at the ropes, thigh muscles quaking from the effort of maintaining her position.

He grabbed the chain and yanked the clamps off.

Pain radiated out from the tips of her breasts like starbursts of vibrant sensation. The pleasure took her to her knees and she would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her. He cradled her, one hand cupping her pussy, the other around her back. She fell forward into his body, her cheek pressed against the side of his head, her aching breasts smashed to his chest. She could feel parts of his hot, naked chest touching her, and she hated the shirt that hid so much of him.

He was murmuring things she was too lost in sensation to hear. The world spun dizzily as he sank to the ground, cradling her in his arms and undoing the rope. He lay her back on the fake snow and she shivered, as if it were real.

This wasn’t aftercare.

Reis sat cross-legged in the snow, his back against the stump. Despite the network of lights in the warehouse roof overhead, and the dark-clad figure of Summer hovering at the edges of his vision, he wasn’t in a warehouse in North Hollywood.

He was in a secluded cabin in the woods with his sub. The woman he wanted to do more with than top.

Holding her on his lap, he stroked her hair, shoulder, and arm. As he did, he told her how beautiful she was, how much he’d missed her.

“I’m so glad to have you back in my arms. I was an idiot. I missed you.”

He’d peeked at her face, and her eyes were closed. The fact that she hadn’t reacted to his words—especially when he admitted he’d been an idiot—meant she was asleep.

Normal post-scene aftercare was a hug, getting the sub something to drink, talking about normal things. After care was a transition time, bringing both the sub and the Dom out of the scene.

Holding her like this wasn’t helping either of them transition. The trust she showed falling asleep in his arms made him feel more possessive of her, not less.

He’d had more things he wanted to try, wanted to do, but the longer he held her the more he wanted to be done for the day.

Not done touching her. Done performing. He wanted to…

He had to stop and think.

Contractually, he had her as a sub for the next two days. After that he knew what he wanted from her—everything. There were some in-between steps that he was missing.

Date. He needed to take her out on a date.

Reis stroked a few stray wisps of hair off her forehead. “Kiara, wake up, beautiful.”

She stretched, arching her back, her head falling back to expose the long line of her neck. He wanted to lick and nip her. He wanted to hold her down with a gentle hand on her throat.

She presented such a pretty, tempting picture—smooth, naked skin—that he ran two fingers from the underside of her jaw, down her neck, between her breasts, over her belly all the way to the small patch of hair on her pussy.

She sucked in a breath, then let out a little sigh.

“Up,” he commanded.

She rose to her feet, and once she was standing, she spread her legs, laced her fingers together behind her back, and lowered her gaze to the floor.

“Kiara, wake up beautiful.”

Kiara blinked to help herself focus, trying to pull herself out of the dream she’d been having. In her dream Reis had been insisting that he loved her, that he wanted to marry her. He’d been dressed like a Disney prince. She woke feeling both deliriously happy and nauseatingly embarrassed.

“Up,” he commanded.

She pushed to her feet, trying to bring herself back to the present. Her body was on autopilot as she assumed an appropriately submissive stance—legs spread, arms behind her back, gaze down. The stupid dream hadn’t left her in a good headspace. A submissive headspace, yes, but not a good one.

Her left side, which had been pressed against him, felt cold after losing contact with his warm body. She fought off a shiver, and controlled her breathing, preparing herself for whatever wintery scene they’d be doing next.

Reis stroked her upper arm before taking her elbow and tugging it. She released her hands, letting her arms fall forward. Using the hold on her elbow, he started guiding her through the faux forest.

He took her to the edge of the set, and then down the step onto the concrete warehouse floor. He held open the black drape, exposing the warehouse beyond and effectively destroying the illusion.

They were done?

Kiara crossed her arms over her breasts, tugging her arm from his hold as she did so.

The scene is over. You’re not submitting to him anymore.

Kiara forced a smile. “Thanks, Reis, that was great.”

His eyes were unreadable, like two hard green gems.

Summer stepped down beside them. “Done for the day? I got some really amazing pictures.”

“Can I see?” Kiara turned her attention to Summer. She was doing her best to ignore the fact that she was naked save for boots while Reis and Summer were both dressed. She hadn’t thought to bring a robe with her to the set.

“Sure, though these are all just rough, you understand.” Summer frowned down at her camera, clicking buttons.

“Kiara, we are not done,” Reis said.

A shiver worked its way down her arms and back at his words. “Oh.”

“We’re done with this, for now.” He motioned to the set at his back. “But we’re not done.”

Summer was frowning at Reis. “What do you mean?”

His burning-cold gaze switched to her. “Kiara and I have things we need to work out.”

Summer’s eyes narrowed. “Once you’re off the set, you’re done.”

Reis barked out a laugh. “No, we’re far from done.”

Well that was certainly a loaded statement. Kiara was still stuck in the headspace of the dream, and a stupid, romantic part of her was trying to interpret those words as some sort of declaration.

Summer proved that she was a bad-ass chick with balls of steel because she stepped between Kiara and Reis. “No. Once you’re off the set, you’re done.”

“Don’t get involved.”

“I am involved.”

Kiara felt frozen in place, torn between wanting to agree with either Reis or Summer. She needed to stop standing there like a mute fool and speak for herself.

Summer wore a black safari-style jacket with tons of pockets. Kiara put her hand on Summer’s shoulder and said, “Can I borrow this?”

Summer looped her camera around her neck and then shrugged out of the jacket, passing it back to Kiara while still standing between her and Reis. Kiara slid the jacket on. It was heavy—the million pockets must have been full of camera equipment—and was just long enough to hit the top of Kiara’s thighs.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Summer looked back over her shoulder, nodded, and stepped to the side. “I’ll escort you to your dressing area.”

“No, thank you. Reis and I need to talk.”

Summer looked dubious, but walked away to a small table set up with a laptop and some black camera bags.

Reis opened his mouth, but Kiara jumped in, rushing to speak before he could.

“Thank you, Reis. That was a great scene. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Don’t act like what we have isn’t special.”

Kiara flinched away from the words. “Reis, don’t. It isn’t fair.”

“I don’t care about fair. I’ll fight dirty if I have to. To get what I want.”

“What do you want?”

“You.”

Kiara sucked in a breath. “Damn you, Reis. Damn you to hell.”

She turned on her heel and walked away. She waited for the sound of footsteps.

Stay away from me. You broke my heart once. You don’t get to do it again.

There was no sound of him following her.

Follow me. Stop me.

The first tears filled her eyes just as she reached her dressing area. Fighting back frustrated sobs, Kiara yanked on her clothes. She was enraged that he would say something like that to her, that he would bring up their past. But the white-hot heart of her anger was with herself, for still wanting him.