Chapter 16
HARPER
“How are you feeling?”
I look up at Nate over the rim of my drink, feeling strangely shy out in the normalcy of the lounge after what we just did.
It probably doesn’t help that Nate made me leave my bra back in the small room, making my hard nipples very visible through the thin fabric of my dress.
Or the fact that he’s carrying my sodden panties in the pocket of his slacks right now.
“Great,” I say, blushing at the thought of my panties.
“Good. You awake, alert?”
I feel a thrill as I look at him. There’s a note in his voice, barely concealed excitement, and I see it mirrored in his eyes. My senses immediately sharpen.
“I’m good,” I say, my voice stronger. “What did you have in mind?”
He stares at me, eyes dark. “I think it’s about time I show you my playroom.”
“Your playroom?” I squeak. He told me that he didn’t have one of those at his house.
He nods. “Here. I rent a room. I’m the only one who can use it.”
I wonder how expensive something like that must be at such a high end, exclusive club. Then I wonder how many women he’s had in there, and I swallow. Was the mysterious Renee one of them?
Nate must misread my expression as fear because he leans closer. “Only if you want to. If you’re not ready that’s fine.”
“No,” I rasp out, throat dry. “I want to see.”
He grins. “Excellent.”
I expect him to take me back to the steel door and am surprised when he leads me behind the bar, instead. He pulls a key from his pocket and opens a nondescript wooden door, leading me through to a flight of stairs. “How long have you had a room?” I ask, whispering for some reason.
“About five years. Since I started coming to this club.”
I swallow. Five years. Probably a lot of women, then.
He stops at a room just at the top of the stairs, looking down at me with a searching expression. “Still sure?”
I nod even though I feel sick with nerves. I trust him, I remind myself. I just let him fuck me senseless, for God’s sake. “Still sure.”
“Well then,” he says, swinging the door open. “Welcome to my play room.”
I take a tentative step into the room, my heart absolutely pounding now.
The space is sparse, not much furniture except for a large four poster bed in the center.
The walls are painted in a deep hunter green color that immediately soothes me.
The carpet is plush and soft under my bare feet, the light dim.
There are candles on every available surface—I can just imagine how beautiful it must be when they’re all lit.
Against the walls stand several heavy wood cabinets and I shiver, thinking of the different toys he might keep there.
But it’s not the cabinets or the carpet or the color of the room that really gets my heart pounding—it’s the equipment.
I recognize a St. Andrew’s Cross, just like the one we saw on the stage, as well as a bench similar to the one I saw the first night.
Against one wall stands what appears to be a sawhorse, covered in black leather.
There are chains hanging from the ceiling… is that a swing there in the corner?
My breath is coming in shallow bursts as my eyes travel quickly around the room.
I researched some of this equipment for my thesis last year but I’ve never seen most of these things in real life.
Even so, after the experiences of the last few weeks, most of them don’t shock me much.
What I wasn’t expecting at all is a large metal cage, like an oversized birdcage, just big enough for a person…
holy shit. He keeps submissives in that thing. I feel dizzy and overwhelmed.
“You doing okay?”
“I think so,” I whisper, even though I’m not.
I can feel my body trembling. Is this too much for me?
I really think it might be. I had liked the spanking—a lot—and I definitely got off on him being bossy and controlling.
I had even come to enjoy watching the whipping that first night, and the voyeuristic thrill of watching others.
But all of a sudden, standing in this beautiful, terrifying room, it feels like too much.
As if sensing my terror, Nate comes up behind me and rubs my shoulders. “You have nothing to fear.” His voice is steady and calm. “You are completely safe with me. We’ll take our time, start slow. Anything you don’t like, we skip.”
He turns me to face him, his eyes serious and kind on my face as I continue to tremble.
“I take this role very seriously. It’s my responsibility—and my pleasure—to take care of you, in every way.
We might use these things,” he gestures around the room, “for fun and, yes, for punishment. To help you learn and develop as a submissive. But you will always have a safe word. No matter what is happening, if I hear that word, we stop. My only focus is you. My only concern is you.”
His words are chasing away the fear, filling me with warmth.
His only concern is me. His focus will be on me.
When was the last time anyone offered me that?
When was the last time anyone had seemed so happy to take care of me?
I crave that, yearn for it, the security and the care he’s promising.
The desire to be cared for, to be treasured, is so strong it burns in my chest, more painful than anything I’ve ever known.
I take a deep breath. “Okay.”
His expression is cautious. “So we’re going to do this?”
I bite my lip. “How would it work?” I asked. “Us…this. I know about your thing with compartmentalizing. I know we have to be careful at school. But what else? Would it be a relationship? You said you liked being with me at dinner. Would we go out or would we only be together here?”
He looks conflicted for a moment, then his face smooths, almost like he’s intentionally forcing his expression into his usual confidence.
“I enjoy your company, here and everywhere else. We can decide, together, the terms we are comfortable with, whether we want to see each other in normal situations or strictly here at Wyld. We’ll have to be careful either way, of course.
Both with school and with your brother.”
Awesome, I think. Exactly what I want to think about when discussing the parameters of a sexual relationship. My brother.
Nate isn’t finished. “I’ll also want to sit down with you and determine which activities you’re interested in trying and which might be hard limits for you.”
It all sounds so cold. So formal. Not at all like the warm promises he had made moments ago.
When I don’t answer, he must assume I’m confused because he continues.
“Hard limits would be things you never want me to try—for instance, some people enjoy breath play, I do not, and I would thus list it as a hard limit.”
My throat feels dry again. “Breath play?”
He smiles. “People are into different things. That’s why we would want to know ahead of time where the other stands.”
God, he sounds exactly like he does when giving a lecture to the research team, all buttoned up and proper.
Then he takes a step closer to me, his voice shifting into something low and velvet. “But tonight, I don’t wish to sit and make lists and discuss limits with you. Tonight, I want to show you what you can expect as my submissive. Tonight, I want to have some fun.”
Some of the coldness seeps out of me, replaced by the warm promise of his words.
“Is that what you want, Harper?”
“Yes, sir,” I whisper.
“Good. A few ground rules about this room.” He reaches up and grabs my chin roughly, pushing it down so I’m staring at the dark hardwood beneath us. “When you’re here, you will only look at me when directed. At all other times your eyes should be on the ground.”
I swallow, and nod once.
“You will address me only as sir when we’re in this room. I’ve been somewhat lenient with this so far. But not in this room. In this room you will be punished if you fail to address me with respect. No warning.”
I think about all the ways he might punish me, heat unfurling in my belly. “Yes, sir.”
“Lastly, you will never meet me in this room with clothes on again.”
My hands flutter to my now rumpled dress.
“From time to time,” he goes on, circling me now, “I may provide lingerie or clothing for you to wear, but you will always begin our time in the playroom naked and waiting for me.” He’s standing behind me now and he reaches out to finger my zipper.
“Let me show you what I mean.” In one quick motion he unzips the dress and pulls it down so that it flutters to my feet, pooling there on the floor. Just like that, I’m naked before him.
“Get down on your knees,” he says, voice rough, and I comply immediately.
“Good. Now spread your legs slightly. Lower your head and put your hands behind your back…good. Clasp a hand to each elbow and push your shoulders back.” I do as he says, finding myself completely exposed for him. And very much turned on by that.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, touching my shoulder. “From now on, when I ask you to go to the playroom and take your position, this is how I will expect to find you. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I whisper.
“Good. Now, you will stay in that position until I tell you otherwise.”
I can’t see him from my spot on the floor, but I sense that he’s walked away from me. Before long, I hear him rustling in one of the cabinets. Shit. Here we go.
“Earlier this evening,” he says, his voice silky. “You were intentionally bratty in the car. I don’t tolerate that.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Oh, it’s far too late for sorry,” he whispers. Something brushes over my cheek, feather light, but I can’t see what it is. “You’ll be punished for it. Now stand.”
Punished. I stand on shaking legs. I can’t tell if I’m scared or embarrassed or really excited. Nate is still talking and I struggle to focus.