“Put your things on the table,” he said, his voice slipping into a lower, more serious tone. “Including your glasses.”

Without hesitation, she did.

“Good girl. Arms out in front of you.”

She did, struggling against her nerves. He buckled a black leather cuff around her left wrist, then her right one. “Not too tight, are they?” he asked.

She shook her head even as her pulse raced. Well, I asked for this.

He pointed at the floor. “When I do this, I expect you to kneel in front of me. I shouldn’t have to say a word about it.”

She knelt on the floor.

“Good girl. Hold your hair out of the way.”

When she did, he buckled a matching leather collar around her neck, inserting a couple of fingers between it and her flesh to check the fit. “Too tight, or good?”

She let go of her hair and swiveled her head around. “It’s good. Sir.”

He laughed. “I like how you remember to add it on. Don’t worry, it’ll become a habit soon enough.” He stood in front of her and her heart pounded as she recalled her dreams. “Hands on your knees,” he quietly said.

She did.

He stood there for a moment, not speaking. As the air conditioner kicked on, the silence in the immense room deafened her, made her acutely aware of how vulnerable she was.

And the fact that she hadn’t thought to tell anyone what she was doing. That she would be here alone with Tony.

Don’t be stupid. Everyone trusts him.

She flinched a little when he rested one hand on the top of her head. “It’s all right, pet,” he softly soothed. “I just need to go over a few things with you. For starters, when we’re alone, you will give me a greeting before we start our play. You will kiss my feet—the tops, not the bottoms—the backs of my hands, and then…” He laughed. “I guess we’ll modify the last part. You’ll nuzzle my cock through my pants. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“No objections?”

“No, Sir.”

“Good girl. Greeting, pet.”

She leaned forward and kissed each motorcycle boot, on the top of his foot. Then she sat up and pressed her lips against first his left hand, then his right. His height and her position put her at the perfect position to lean in and rub her nose against the zipper of his jeans.

She didn’t think it was her imagination that the bulge there grew a little.

“Good girl. Stand up.”

She did, a little disappointed to know nothing else was going to happen, and amused to see him adjust himself through his jeans.

“Skirt up.”

She swallowed. “What? I mean, Sir?”

He cocked his head at her. “I gave you specific instructions on how to dress. Show me.”

“Oh.” She looked at the floor, her face blazing hot as she lifted her skirt.

“No. Look me in the eye.”

It took her longer to force her gaze up to his than it did to hold her skirt up.

“Keep your skirt up until I say put it down,” he sternly said when her hands had started to lower.

She jerked her hands up again, forcing herself to maintain contact with his green eyes.

He looked amused. “How do you feel right now, pet?”

“Exposed,” she squeaked.

He chuckled. “Good. That’s the way I want you to feel. Exposed and vulnerable. I want to force you out of your comfort zone. I need you to be able to trust me. I need my commands to become second nature in your brain. Where you respond to me, not to anything around you. Where your focus is solely on me and you can trust me and let go regardless of what else you might feel.”

She nodded.

He walked around her. “Hike the back of your dress up, too, pet. Let me see.”

Swallowing again, she adjusted her grip on the fabric until the skirt was gathered around her waist.

“Spread your legs. More,” he ordered when she didn’t spread them to his liking.

Now her face felt like a neon beer sign in the window of a bar next to a dry county.

His soft voice in her left ear startled her. “How do you feel now, pet?”

“Extremely exposed, Sir,” she whispered.

“Good. Stand like that until I say otherwise, with your skirt up and your feet spread.” He turned his back on her and walked over to his bag and grabbed a couple of items. When he returned, she saw he had the metal whisks from the other night, a short, leather strap with a solid handle she knew was called a slapper, and a…

“Is that a spatula, Sir?”

He grinned and held the black object up. “Yep. Good for scraping batter out of bowls, or smacking subbies’ asses.” He stepped in close and hooked a finger through the front D-ring on the collar. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “And as I told you, you can always call red. I want to give you a little taste of what I have in store for you later tonight, so you have something to look forward to. Any objections?”

She shook her head. “No, Sir.”

His grin did dangerous things to her reserve. “That’s my good girl. Keep that dress up and those feet apart.”

He released her collar and walked around behind her. She flinched again when she felt his hands on the thong’s waistband.

Then she realized he was pulling it down her legs.

She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together as she felt what little covering she’d had disappear.

He put an arm around her waist to steady her and tapped her right leg. “Step up, pet.”

She lifted her foot and felt him pull the thong off her leg and drop it to the floor, where it puddled around her left ankle. “Foot down, pet.”

She complied.

“Legs apart, like I told you.” This time he nudged her right foot out with his. The boot leather felt warm against the side of her foot through the sandal.

He stepped away again. She heard him move in front of her. “Do you want a blindfold, pet?”

“Yes, Sir.” The words slipped from her lips without even needing to think about them.

“Ah, my poor, bashful pet. I should make you watch this time, but I won’t. I’ll go easy on you.” She heard him walk away. Then he rummaged through his bag, his boot heels making solid sounds on the painted concrete floor as he returned. She felt him slip a soft leather blindfold over her head and buckle it.

“How’s that, pet?”

She nodded. “Good, Sir.”

Even the word “pet” had taken on a new connotation for her. It felt like a new name. She was his pet, his toy, his plaything.

She heard him pick up one of the items he’d left on the floor next to her feet. When the plastic touched the skin of her inner right thigh, she twitched but didn’t draw her legs closed.

“Keep that skirt up, pet,” he said in a low warning tone when she’d let it slip. She yanked it back up again, bunching it in her hands so she could keep her elbows at her sides and not drop the fabric.

He lightly slapped her ass and thighs with the slapper first, just barely enough to be stingy in a pleasant, scratching-an-itch kind of way. After a few minutes of that he switched to the spatula.

He caressed up and down her inner thigh with the spatula, down to her calf, behind her knee, with both the flat side of it and the edge. Then up her thigh, just between her legs where he skipped her clit and pussy altogether and repeated the teasing on her left leg.

“You’re wet, pet. I can smell you.” He sounded amused.

He didn’t chide her for not replying, so she remained silent.

He did that for long minutes, back and forth.

Then a stingier slap, against her inner right thigh, making her yip in surprise more than pain.

“Legs apart!” he barked. It startled her, and she forced them apart. He started slapping the insides of her thighs with the spatula, up and down, the backs of her legs, her ass. Not as hard as she suspected he could hit, but in a few moments she felt the stinging all over.

He stopped, which shocked her almost as much as when he’d started.

His warm breath blew across her clit. “My poor, wet pet.” He lightly brushed her clit with the spatula.

She froze, which didn’t escape his notice. “Good girl. Hold very still.” He slipped the edge of the spatula back and forth through the folds of her labia and up the seam of her ass, teasing her. She pressed her lips together to try to hold back her whimpers.

It seemed nothing escaped his notice. “Make all the noise you want, pet. It’s just us.”

He dragged the edge of the spatula across her clit. That made her moan and involuntarily thrust her pelvis forward, wanting to maintain contact with it.

“Good girl,” he cooed. “That’s exactly what I want you to do.” He repeated the motion, tormenting her with the spatula, making her clit swell and throb even as her pussy began to dully ache with a cramping need she knew only an orgasm would take care of.

When was the last time I felt like this?

That would be never.

Even James, in the best of days, had never inspired this much desire, this much blatant need in her.

Suddenly, all contact ceased. She moaned.

“Patience, pet. You gave me control of this. That means we do it my way.” Then cool metal touched her inner thighs.

The whisks. He slid them up and down her legs, occasionally brushing against her clit in the process and tormenting her even more.

“How do you feel, pet?”

She had to lick her lips. It took every ounce of will to speak. “Horny, Sir.”

“Good girl.”

Something else touched her clit. She didn’t have time to process what it was when he sternly ordered, “Come for me, pet.” A strong, vibrating buzz filled the air and her clit at the same time.

She cried out, surprised, but even more shocked when her body responded and an orgasm pulsated through her. Her knees went out from under her, but Tony’s arm appeared around her waist to catch her. He kept the vibrator firmly pressed against her pussy with his other hand. “You can do it, pet. Give me another.”

She sobbed as another one did, in fact, roll through her. Her legs felt like they couldn’t support her at all. He slowly eased her to the floor before pulling the vibrator away and shutting it off. As she lay there recovering, she realized she was curled half in his lap and half on the floor.

It took her a couple of minutes for her breathing to slow and her wits to return. He unbuckled the blindfold and carefully removed it. She blinked against the sudden intrusion of light and looked up into his face.

His serene, satisfied smile beamed down at her. “I think you have achieved at least partial comprehension.”

She closed her eyes and nodded as she let her head fall to his lap again.

He laughed. “Poor pet. Two orgasms and you’re worn out already.”

He helped her to her feet after removing the thong from around her ankle. He led her over to the couches, grabbing a clean, folded towel from a basket next to them. He spread it out for her before easing her down onto the couch.

He knelt in front of her so he could look her in the eye. “We’ve got about twenty minutes or so before anyone arrives. Take a few minutes. Okay?”

She nodded. He reached out and stroked her hair. “You all right?”

She nodded and closed her eyes. I’m better than all right.

And he was right.

Now she did understand at least part of the attraction of BDSM.

* * *

He studied her face for a moment before standing and leaving her. Dammit, now his cock felt like it was going to explode.

He grabbed the vibrator, spatula, and whisks he’d used on her and took them into the men’s room. How long had it been since he’d had that much fun giving a woman an orgasm?

Too damn long.

He hadn’t planned on doing orgasm play with her that soon, but when he’d laid his hand on the vibrator in his search for the second whisk, the temptation had just been too great. He wasn’t even sure he would use it on her, until the way she arched her back to push her clit out against the spatula.

She hadn’t shied away from him at all. He washed the implements and the vibrator with soap and water and left them on the edge of the sink. He walked into one of the three stalls, locked the door behind him, and unfastened his jeans.

He already had a wet spot on the front of his briefs where his cock strained against the material.

Freeing it, he spit in his palm and started stroking, hard, with his eyes closed. It didn’t take more than a few seconds before jets of cum exploded from him and left him shaking so hard he had to lean against the wall of the stall for support.