AngelinLeather Page 16

  When she stepped away from her lover, when she ran the tip of the cane over Malcolm’s toes, Rick huffed in frustration.

  He didn’t fool her though. She knew he liked a tease, a slow buildup, and she was happy to oblige.

  Laying the cane against Malcolm’s heel, she began hitting him. Fast yet soft strokes. A sting instead of a thud. She started off gently…so gently she could barely hear the impact…then did the same thing to his arch. Malcolm jerked, hissed then settled back on the bench. Malcolm had wanted this, had been the one to suggest it. He was ticklish and anything involving his feet gave him an extra thrill.

  “Very good, Malcolm,” she said quietly when he exhaled deliberately, puffed out his cheeks then inhaled through his nose. “I’m pleased.” He was good at controlling his breathing, almost as good as Rick. It helped him center himself, accept the pain, relish it and allow his body to process it as pleasure. She continued to hit him. Quick and light, she worked the same line across his arch, again and again. In this form of torture, precision was everything. His skin began to pink up and when the line was a subtle rose, she moved on to his toes. She didn’t hit the tops. The flesh between skin and bone was far too thin there. Instead she hit the fleshy underpads with smooth upward strokes. Holding his foot to ensure her aim, she began. With Malcolm she’d learned through hard experience to position him so that if he jerked, he could only move out of the path of her strikes. His thighs bulged deliciously as he strained against his restraints.

  Rick made a low sound of need. Stopping, she met her lover’s gaze, took in the hard rise and fall of his chest and drew her tongue across the top of Malcolm’s foot until Rick groaned again.

  Straightening, she slid the cane ‘round and ‘round Malcolm’s foot, took aim at the ball of his foot and began all over again.

  Slowly the effect of so many strikes built up until he was gasping and dewed with sweat. “Rate the pain,” she demanded quietly.

  “A two. No. Three. Mistress, please.”

  With Malcolm, three usually meant five. She’d learned that about him too. Still, he seemed eager for more and she was willing to oblige. She began to hit him just a tiny bit harder.

  When his balls jerked in their sac then pulled up close to his body, she stopped. His moan of frustration, the way he clenched his teeth, was so very satisfying.

  Brenna stepped away deliberately and moved to Rick. “Please,” he said and licked his lips. “Don’t make me wait any longer, Mistress.”

  She’d gotten good at reading his responses and knew he was now primed and ready. Without delay she set Malcolm’s small cane down, picked up the one on Rick’s bench and ran it over his foot. The canes were identical, thin with just a bit of whip, and it satisfied her to treat them the same even in this.

  Rick’s entire body twitched when she started hitting his insole, fast and soft, just like she’d done to Malcolm. Grabbing onto the chains holding his handcuffs made the muscles in his arms strain, and his pecs swelled and flushed with color.

  One foot. She focused on one foot only, increasing the force behind each strike with the barest of increments, letting the sting build and smolder. Rick bared his teeth, jerked against his restraints, lost control of his breathing then, with visible effort, mastered it. His lids grew heavy.

  As always, the sight of his body took her breath away. Gleaming with sweat, his muscles taut and his cock straining, Rick pleased her in ways no other sub had. Those blue eyes of his pleaded with her. The way his lips moved, as if he was on the verge of begging for more, drew her to him and she kissed him until her toes curled inside her patent shoes.

  Admitting to herself she was falling in love with the delicious Dr. Rick Finley, Brenna softened her kiss, swept her lower lip across his then stepped back so she could amp up his arousal through denial.

  Oh yeah. This man did so rock her world.

  Grinning and feeling a little wild, she turned back to Malcolm. She started in on his other foot. Light, fast hits to his heel, then insole, then the ball of his foot. Groaning, gasping at times, he strained against his bonds, lifted his hips to her, begged.

  “Please, Mistress. I need it. I need you. Don’t stop.” When she asked, he rated the pain at six, then seven. Brenna was about to ease off when the vein in his neck began to pulse less harshly, his breathing rate slowed. His lips parted in an odd smile and his body began to relax. He looked…peaceful.

  “Fly, sweet sub,” she whispered as she eased off on the intensity of her strikes. When they were no more than gentle swipes against his skin she stopped entirely, uncuffed his hands and feet, covered him with a blanket and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead before turning back to Rick.

  The first thing she noticed was his erection had flagged.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, keeping her voice gentle. She combing his dark hair back with her fingertips and watched his face.

  Rick nodded jerkily. “Yeah.” He swallowed and smiled but it looked forced. “Just…anxious.”

  Tipping her head to the side, she considered calling a halt to the scene. After two months with this man, she knew he wasn’t lying. He just wasn’t being forthright about why he was anxious. But Rick had proved time and again she could take his word when they were scening, so she did.

  Picking up his small cane, she started in on his other foot. She built on the soft, stinging hits, aimed precisely, kept a careful watch on his reactions. Jerking against his bonds and sweating, Rick hissed when she moved from the sole of his foot to the pads of his toes. His cock got fully hard again, he punched his hips into the air regularly but his breathing didn’t settle. His brow furrowed as if he was trying hard, but he started gasping more than taking air deep into his lungs. Without asking, she began to back off.

  “Bulldog. Bulldog,” he blurted out, loud enough that Malcolm stirred, lifted his head and scanned Rick’s body with what could only be called professional focus.

  Dropping the cane on the floor, Brenna hurried over to a small cupboard, got some ice out of out the mini-refrigerator, wrapped it in a towel and held it to the bottom of Rick’s foot. Malcolm got up, undid his buddy’s cuffs and asked, “Can you sit up?”

  Rick nodded and waved Malcolm’s hand away as he levered himself upright. He flashed Brenna a thin smile of thanks when she resumed icing his feet. He did the same thing when she massaged his wrists and ankles.

  “Brenna, I…” he started to say but his voice dried up.

  “No explanation is necessary,” she said with a firmness belied by her gentle tone. “You’ve never done this before. You didn’t know how you’d react. Subs are most definitely allowed to say yes or no. Especially my sub.”

  Nodding, he quirked up the corner of his mouth, stepped down gingerly then walked over to his clothes without obvious discomfort. Malcolm hobbled a bit as he followed but looked happier than a sane man had a right to be.

  * * * * *

  That night, naked and pressed up against Rick in the dark, Brenna smoothed her palm over his chest. They’d showered and he smelled like soap with subtle notes of sweet, male musk. “Are you ready to tell me why tonight didn’t work for you?” He hadn’t said more than two words to the few friends he’d cultivated at the club and he’d been quiet during the drive back to his place. “As your Domme, I need to know if you don’t like something and why so I can know whether to push you or lay off.”

  He sighed, trailed a hand down her arm then dropped his head back into the pillow. “It felt good at the start. New. I was getting off on the novelty, the challenge of processing something I’d never experienced before. Then…”

  Holding her tongue, Brenna waited.

  “Then you made Malcolm fly.”

  “Ah.” Again, she willed herself not to say anything else until he was finished.

  “I’ve never given you that. He’s flown for you, what, five times? I trust you without reservation. Hell, I think I may be falling in love with you. I’ve flown for other Dommes after only a handful of
sessions but for you…”

  He stopped talking and didn’t start again.

  “Don’t think of it in terms of not being able to get it up for me.” She stroked his ribs gently. “And may I add you’ve never, ever failed to satisfy me in that department.” When she touched his cheek, she felt the pull of his muscles and knew he was grinning. “Subs have told me it’s the right combination of atmosphere, feeling safe and protected and experiencing the pain in just the right way. Having your Domme use just the right technique on that given day. We’ll work it out, Rick. Between us, we’ll come up with the right combination. In the meantime, we’ll just have a lot of fun figuring out what works best for you.”

  “Maybe. Yeah,” he agreed grudgingly, then wrapped his arms around her and held on until she fell asleep.

  The ring tone was jarring and Rick swore as his head popped up from his pillow. Grabbing for the receiver, he fumbled and almost dropped it before getting it to the side of his head. “Yes,” he mumbled.

  “Rick?”

  When he recognized Malcolm’s voice, he sat up. Brenna grumbled at being disturbed but she rolled aside so he could lift his arm out from beneath her.

  “Sorry to disturb you, buddy, but I need a huge favor.”

  “Yeah. Sure. What is it?”

  “Um, I’m kind of stuck on my bedroom floor. I got up to take a leak, forgot what we’d been doing last night and as soon as I stood up my feet buckled. Are you laughing at me?”

  Rick held his hand over his nose and mouth and tried not to blow his eardrums as he held his laughter back.

  “You were saying?” he prompted when he was able, then cleared his throat. He thought he heard Malcolm mutter “asshole” but didn’t hear any vehemence in his buddy’s tone.

  “Look I need a hand, all right? I managed to crawl to the toilet and back but there’s no way I can do anything else.”

  “Okay. We’ll be there in twenty minutes. Oh and, you know, relax and stay where you are.” Rick hung up but not before he started laughing.

  It was a good thing Rick had keys to Malcolm’s building. The doorman knew him but Rick didn’t want to raise red flags by showing up with his medical bag and asking for entry.

  Sure enough, after they let themselves in, they found Malcolm sitting on his bedroom floor, his back propped up against his bed, a pillow under his ass, naked as the day he was born.

  Trying not to grin too much, Rick told hold of one of Malcolm’s arms. Brenna took the other. “Up you get, buddy,” he said as they helped Malcolm lift his butt back into bed. Rick had him lie down so he could lift his feet and examine them.

  “Well, nothing’s broken and there’s no nerve damage as far as I can tell. They’re swollen as hell though.” He rummaged around in his bag and pulled out a prescription pad. “I’ll write out a script for some anti-inflammatories. Brenna, there’s a twenty-four-hour pharmacy on Woodbine.” He reached into his pocket. “Here are my car keys. Use the GPS to get directions. Twenty dollars should be more than enough but take forty out of my wallet just in case.”

  “I’ll be back soon,” she promised, then kissed Malcolm’s forehead and left.

  “What do you think?” Malcolm asked as soon as she was gone. “NSAIDs and some ice? Jeez I feel like such a pussy.”

  “I’d inject you with an anesthetic but on the chance something’s really wrong in there, I don’t want you walking around pain free and causing more damage.”

  “Yeah. Agreed.”

  When Brenna let herself back into Malcolm’s apartment she found Rick and him propped up in Malcolm’s bed, watching the fishing channel. Malcolm was dressed haphazardly in a t-shirt and sweats. His feet were wrapped up in towels and she spotted a bag of frozen corn taped against the sole of one foot and a bag of frozen peas on the other. She held up two paper sacks.

  “Drugs for our sad friend and breakfast for his stomach.”

  “Egg McMuffins?” Malcolm said hopefully as he sniffed the air. “You’re too good to be true.” He patted the empty space beside him and, after she grabbed juice out of the refrigerator and figured out how to work his coffeemaker, the three of them sat up in Malcolm’s bed, eating breakfast.

  “So,” she said without condemnation during a commercial break. “Are you going to lie to me again when I ask you to rate pain?” She set aside the newspaper she’d picked up at the drugstore.

  Malcolm’s hand, holding a hash-brown patty on its way to his mouth, froze. “What gave me away?” he deadpanned. When her brow shot up, he relented. “Yes. You’re right. I’ve always been kind of a pain slut.”

  “I’m more than willing to give you as much pain as you can safely handle but this…” She waved in the direction of his feet. “Do it again and it’ll be the last time I Domme you.” Despite her anger—at him and herself—she spoke calmly.

  He nodded slowly. “Yes, Mistress.”

  After that, they sat in silence for a few minutes.

  “Kind of a pain slut?” Rick repeated, then snorted.

  Malcolm used the back of his hand to slap Rick’s belly. “Lightweight,” he shot back then asked Brenna for the sports section.

  Chapter Nine

  Rick pulled his Jag into a parking spot marked Visitor and killed the ignition. The head office of Oh My Darling Organic Soaps wasn’t what he’d expected. Sure, the place was in an industrial area with ready access to the 115, but it looked more like a botanical center than a manufacturing plant.

  A brick walkway divided so he could pick a path through rows of lavender, roses, honeysuckle, even his mother’s favorite lemon grass. Helpful little decorative iron signposts identified the plants.

  Down at the back, beyond the wide drive at the side of the building where he’d parked, he could make out a row of greenhouses.

  The front of the building itself was covered in brick. The sides were industrial concrete block. Off to the left, visible through a bank of windows, was a lab. Beside that was what looked like a lunchroom. The other half of the front looked like office space. He walked into the foyer and, like Brenna had told him, picked up the phone and dialed her extension.

  “Brenna Darling.” She answered quickly and sounded distracted.

  “Well hello, Ms. Darling. Your date’s here.”

  “Rick. Ohmygawd, is that the time?”

  He heard the phone being dropped, then nothing. Alone in the small lobby with a few upholstered chairs and a display case of her company’s products, he stared blankly at the silent receiver in his hand. A big, obviously industrial door whooshed open and Brenna stepped through. Rick blinked. She was wearing a plain white smock coat bearing a patch embroidered with the Oh My Darling logo on one side, the name Brenna on the other. Her beautiful black hair was tucked up under a hairnet, she was wearing a serviceable pair of tan pants and a button-down blue Oxford shirt. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, a pair of black steel-toed shoes.

  She’d never looked so gorgeous.

  She must have noticed the direction of his gaze because her hand went to her head. “I don’t even have any lipstick on,” she muttered as she tugged the hairnet off.

  “That’s okay,” he said, then stepped up to her and pulled her arms around his neck. “I’d just kiss it off anyway.”

  He’d just started reacquainting himself with her taste when someone behind them cleared their throat.

  “Either the boss lady’s got a new boyfriend or she really, really wants the account.” A man in his early sixties grinned as he edged past them. He smelled good, like vanilla frosting, which caught Rick off guard.

  “Rick, this is Jim. He’s my compounding manager.”

  They shook hands. “Glad to meet you, Rick. Have a good weekend, Brenna. See you Tuesday.” With a wave, he left.

  Rick couldn’t help but sniff the air in the man’s wake.

  “We were running vanilla-cinnamon body mist and soap today,” she said before Rick could ask. “Some scents cling to clothing more than others. Come on in. I’ll be ready to leave
in just a minute.” She led the way to what he assumed was her office, closed the door, grabbed a brush out of her purse and started running it through her hair. “Lines two and six broke down today. Maintenance just got them up and running an hour ago. Of course that means I’ll have to pay the day shift overtime to stay so we meet the production quota for Tuesday’s shipments.

  “It’s a long weekend so nobody wants to come in tomorrow.” Muttering to herself, she put her brush away, took off her smock and hung it behind the door. “A national store chain wants to sell our products, but their pricing structure and wacko delivery demands make me want to pull my hair out and—” She stopped talking, quite suddenly, walked up to him and dropped her forehead on his chest. “And it’s Friday.” When she exhaled, her breath warmed his neck. “It’s a long weekend and a very handsome, wonderful man battled cottage-country traffic to spend three days with me.” She lifted her head and smiled at him. “How about I start over? Hi, Rick,” she said with enough warmth to ease the two-hour bumper-to-bumper driving tension that had settled between his shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re here. Wanna come home with me so I can lick you all over?”

  He laughed. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  * * * * *

  The gravel drive curved through the woods and he lost sight of Brenna’s SUV for a moment. When it reappeared, his jaw dropped. Her cottage was a gracious, incredibly inviting farmhouse. Two stories high with dormer windows, white clapboards and what looked like a foot-high fieldstone foundation, the house had broad patios and lots of flowers in planters.

  He got out of his car, grabbed his suitcase from the trunk and was still staring at Brenna’s home when she walked up to him and looped her arm around his waist.

  “You own this place?” he asked.

  “Yep. The land belonged to my parents. They had a little two-room cottage. It wasn’t winterized but at least it had indoor plumbing. Spent every summer here as a kid,” she said as she led him to a side door and produced a set of keys. “When they passed I inherited the cottage and their house in Peterborough. Selling that earned me just about enough money to cover the construction of this place.”