Chapter Seven
Trust goes both ways
Back arching, Kevin silently buried himself little more than halfway inside the woman strapped ass-up on the bench. Pulsing around him, her body jerked, trying to push back onto his cock, frustrated at the secure bonds holding her legs locked in place. They were pulled tight against the bench supports, keeping her from moving. With a somber expression she couldn’t see, he looked across the room to see Kris soundlessly pretending to applaud at the performance. They had become friends and an odd tag-team pairing while Kevin was here opening a new hotel for the Admiral brand in Fort Wayne. Without this club, he thought, it would have been a long six months.
Judging her response, he knew she was riding the edge of climax even without his movement, her pussy clenching around him as she used miniscule changes in position to grind her clit against the bench. Pulling out of her body, eyes back on his selected sub for the night, he quickly stripped off the condom and disposed of it in the strategically placed receptacle nearby, keeping one palm in contact with the sub. Opening and using a wipe to clean himself off one-handed before buttoning his jeans over his still-hard cock. The woman made a sound of frustration, her short, shrill scream muffled by the ball gag wedged in her mouth.
Once he was arranged to his satisfaction, he trailed his fingers along her skin while he rounded the bench. He removed his hand once she could see him, and squatted, keeping his head slightly above the level allowed her by the structure. He looked into her eyes, frowning at the anger there. Yeah, I got this one right. Making a quiet tsk-tsk sound, he asked her, “Wasn’t that what you needed?” Bad little subbie. Voiceless because of the gag, she shook her head the quarter-inch the straps allowed, eyes snapping fire at him still.
“But you told me you’d been bad. Told me to fuck you in punishment.” He delivered this deadpan, reminding her she had overstepped far past what he would allow, and what had just occurred between them was an assertion of his role. Her head moved back and forth again, this time with hesitancy as she realized exactly how she had fucked up.
“That wasn’t what you needed, was it?” Lifting one hand, he held it a half-inch from her face, far enough even straining against the straps as she was, all she received was the barest warmth radiating from his palm. No touch, no tenderness, which is what she needed. She thought she wanted to be dominated, wanted something exciting. Had never felt satisfied, so she thought kink would add to her enjoyment, and only knew one kind of kink. Babe in the manger, he thought, a soft warmth infusing him at the memories of Aurelie.
Talking to this sub beforehand, he had caught signs that she may indeed be into a few aspects of the life, but something about her responses seemed rehearsed and simply didn’t ring true. So he’d goaded her, pushing for obedience as if it would buy his participation in what she claimed to want. When she bucked his lead, he responded in the ways she expected, what the media had taught her should happen. If she had actually panicked or backed down at any point, he would have stopped, but she didn’t. So he pushed her farther, each reaction giving him information, dragging them on the path to what she didn’t want. He allowed it so she would know in the future that this wasn’t what she needed. Now he would show her what he had learned.
“You don’t want to be disciplined, sweetheart.” No names, not yet. It wasn’t the time to make this personal to her, to remind her that she had a life outside these walls. Right now she needed sweet endearments to soothingly blanket her mind as he would cover her body afterwards. “You want to be held, and cherished.”
His hand moved the barest amount and stroked his fingers over the back of her head, careful not to snag and pull her hair bound by the gag harness. Gently, slowly, he touched her, watching her color even out, seeing her muscles relaxing. Tirelessly he stroked, tenderly applying pressure, grounding her, reminding her he was there, would be there. Knee to the floor, he lifted his other hand, thumb sweeping salt tracks from her cheeks. “Sweetheart, you need to be told how beautiful you are.”
Her eyes blinked rapidly, and he knew he had hit on the center of her fear because she was trying to hold back stinging tears, these of humiliation, not anger. So much going on with this one. “You’re beautiful, sweetheart.” Fingers gliding across her cheek to her jaw, stroking back up to caress her lips where they framed the gag. “So beautiful, bound. Subject to me.” Her eyelids tightened, underscoring what he already knew; this excited her. “Beautiful. My beautiful, voiceless sweetheart.”
Nostrils flaring as she sucked in a breath. “Pleasure in perspective,” he said, hands keeping a continuous movement as he worked to ease her into the space outside her head where she could accept things. Fingers tweaking her nipples, palms fondling the breasts hanging on either side of the narrow bench. Movement in his peripheral vision and he nodded. “Pleasure in partners who appreciate your beauty.”
Her eyes widened as she strained to turn her head, and he knew Kris had placed his hands on her legs. They had worked this out in advance, decided to partner up on this one because it would be difficult for one Dom to bring her where she needed to be. Palms on either side of her head, Kevin brought her rolling-eyed focus back to him. “Sweetheart, you are so beautiful. My friend would like a taste. And I find myself with a deep desire, one only you can help me fulfill right here, right now.”
His voice deepened, coaxing her, “Can you do that for me, sweetheart? Can you give me my deepest desire? I would like you to allow this, and sweetheart, I would like to watch.” He paused, waiting and watching for feedback. So far he had determined that public exposure excited her, as did restraints, and during their conversation earlier, she had flushed deeply when talking about taking multiple partners, a beautiful, involuntary reaction. That was before she derailed things, of course, taking them on a diverted route for a time. Time to get things back on track.
Pupils dilating, her breathing quickened, and he didn’t need her tiny head movement to know this was way more than okay with her. Flicking a glance up at Kris’ face, he nodded, making sure the woman could see the slow, precise movement of approval. The corners of his mouth tipped up in pleasure as her body jolted, trying to move against the restraints. Automatically he scanned her hands and feet, arms and legs; everything pink and warm, nothing was amiss.
Kris slowly disappeared from sight behind the bench, and her eyes widened, then slipped closed as her throat vibrated with a moan she couldn’t suppress. Kevin tapped one fingertip on her chin, and she opened them again, but now her eyes were hooded and dark, the lids half shut. A sense of satisfaction flooded through him because he knew that look was from pleasure. Here we go, he thought, stroking her cheek and telling her, “There you are, Tonya. You are so beautiful.”
***
“That was an interesting evening,” Kris said, crumpling his drained water bottle, tossing it hand to hand like a ball. It was nearly dawn, and their shared sub was headed home in a cab, exhausted and sated. “I wasn’t sure you had the right of it, man. Totally wrongheaded about it. You had it, and did well with her.”
Kevin nodded, sipping his water. Tonya, the little sub, had proven she could go the distance once he found what she needed. He had taken the time to talk with her after she recovered from their play, making sure the lessons learned would stick. He and Kris stood beside her as she updated her paperwork in the office, hopefully ensuring there would be no other missteps in her exploration of the submissive world. One of the things that led to so many ruined scenes and relationships was a lack of communication. Not all Doms were willing to go the interview route with a new sub, but he knew for self-preservation, most would review public parts of a new sub’s file.
“She was stuck in what she thought she should want, instead of listening to what felt right. We just pulled her head out of her ass, made her focus on herself for a change.” He shrugged. “Worked well tonight, the two of us.”
“Hell, yeah. I’m not afraid of takin’ direction, and the end result was…so good.” Kris leaned his head back, rolling his shoulders. “Me takin’ the shadow role worked well. She would have fuckin’ freaked if she saw me before she hit sub-space. Two big guys working her from either end would have tripped all her fuckin’ triggers.”
Kevin watched as a shadow chased the pleasure off his friend’s expression. Sensitive to Kris’ distress, he decided it was time to change the subject. “Tell me again about this group of friends.”
Kris’ expression changed again, this time giving off a sense of satisfaction that looked similar to what Kevin felt when he mastered a difficult, new recipe. “Rebel Wayfarers. It’s a motorcycle club here in the Fort. My brothers.”
“And you all ride around town on motorcycles? But you say you’re not a gang?” Working to edge them down the same path they covered two weeks ago when they sat down for a chat, Kevin hoped this should ease Kris’ anxiety because he had already explained everything, so there weren’t any missteps for him to make here. He set his empty bottle on a side table, still focused on Kris.
“Not a gang, a club. We pitch in together, like family, only better, because these are folks we’ve chosen to be associated with. Not a gang.” Leaning farther back, he looked up at the ceiling as he tossed the crumpled bottle up in the air like a ball, catching it with one hand and sending it sailing up again. And again. And again. Hypnotic. Rhythmic. Self-soothing without even being aware. “It’s a partnership. Like we’re all on the same team. Like the army, but…better, because they haven’t been force posted to some shitty sandhole to stand by my side, live or die. These men are by my side because they want to be there, ride or die.”
“And a bike is a requirement?” Kevin slouched in his chair a little, stretching his long legs out in front of him, watching as a service sub came closer, fresh bottle of water in each hand. He acknowledged her and reached for a bottle, allowing his fingers to stroke along hers as she pulled back, enjoying a surge of satisfaction at her inrush of breath with the touch. She knelt at Kris’ feet, head sweetly bowed, both hands supporting the base of the bottle as she offered it to the entirely oblivious man.
Kevin made a noise, but head back, Kris still didn’t see her and continued talking. “Yeah. Gotta ride to be a biker, man. You said you rode overseas, the states are fucking easier, I bet. You’d pick it back up like…” Kris paused, thinking then laughed, finishing, “riding a bike.”
Kevin cleared his throat, trying to decide for a moment what to do, how to bring his friend’s attention to the vulnerably close sub without making the man self-conscious. Kris had been plainspoken about suffering from PTSD earned as a medic in the war, and it wouldn’t be good for him to be startled now, when he was so relaxed at the end of the night. Kevin waited another few seconds and then softly said, “Kris, this little one has water for you.”
The muscles in Kris’ neck flexed and tightened as he jerked upright, startling the girl and Kevin with the violence of his reaction. “Fuck, she got close.” He took a breath, then another before reaching down and plucking the bottle from her hands. Kevin noted he carefully did not touch the girl. “You did good, kitten.” The sub smiled, eyes still fixed on the floor as she gathered her legs underneath her and pushed up. To Kevin, Kris said, “I must trust you, man. Trust you to have my back. Jesus. She got fuckin’ close.”
“That trust goes both ways, Kris,” he said, leaning back in his chair.
“Goose,” Kris told him. Then he smiled at Kevin, the darkness that always rode his brow lifting slightly as he said, “My brothers call me Goose. I think it’s about time you did, too.”