Chapter 8
Tara looked soft and relaxed, even as her breath shuttered out with a few more sobs.
Nathan leaned down, gripping first her upper arms, then her waist, as she climbed up onto his lap. She straddled his thighs, ass hovering above his knees.
Nathan palmed her butt, relishing her gasp and whimper of pain as he kneaded her well-spanked ass. Transferring his hold to her thighs, he forced her to sit down, eliciting another gasp, this time followed by a groan.
She bowed her head, long hair bracketing her face.
Tara— Tara —was on his lap, legs spread, her mostly naked body bound in fetwear that made her look even more submissive than if she’d been naked.
Her breathing was a little shallow, and as much as he enjoyed the look of her lush tits compressed and captive under the black band, he was worried it was restricting her breathing.
Leaning in, he brushed his lips over the corner of her mouth as he reached around behind her to undo the two small buckles that held the chest band closed.
“Who helped you put this on?” he asked softly, eyes half closed as he focused on unbuckling by touch.
“No one.”
“You buckled this on yourself?”
“Yes. It’s not that much harder than putting on a bra.”
“Wait, you fasten bras behind your back? I thought you did them in the front and turned them around?”
“‘You’ meaning me personally, or the bra-wearing population?”
“I have worked very hard, for a good number of years, NOT to think about you and bras at the same time.”
The second buckle came loose, and she let out a relieved sigh. Nathan carefully slid the thin shoulder straps over the curve of her shoulders and then down to her elbows, before peeling the chest band forward and off.
Her pretty, plump tits jiggled as they relaxed, her dark nipples small, hard tips in the center of her wide, round areolas.
Horizontal lines marked her breasts above and below the areola, the groove looking deep and painful.
“You had it on too tight,” he admonished, tracing the angry lines with one finger. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
“And that’s your job?” Her head was still bowed, but she was looking at him through her lashes, a small smile curving her lips.
“Exactly.” He ran his thumb over her smile, and she turned her head, keeping her lips in contact with his skin.
He swallowed against the swell of need that little moment created.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned,” he said gruffly, “it’s that subs are always far more brutal with themselves than a Dom would ever be.”
“I don’t know about that. I’ve met some pretty brutal Doms.”
“Fair point, but are you telling me that you’ve never had a Dom stop a scene when you would have kept going?”
“Fair point,” she echoed. “It happened recently in fact.”
He had a bad moment, shoulders tensing, as he imagined her with some other man. Even though he had no right to feel possessive…
“Wait, do you mean me?” He blinked at her. “Me and right now?”
Tara laughed, leaning in to rest her head against his. “Yes, Nathan, I mean you.”
He smacked her ass, just because, and she softened against him, her body almost melting into his.
“You would have kept the spanking going?” he murmured into her hair.
She nodded, chin bumping his shoulder.
“Even though we were well past the point of a little slap and tickle and into real pain?”
She nodded again.
“Say it,” he commanded.
“I loved being over your knee,” she replied instantly. “I love the feel of you spanking me. Hurting me the way I need. If it were up to me, you would have kept going. You would have gotten a slapper or a paddle, and kept spanking me.”
He gripped her ass as the last word faded, and she pressed into him, her bare breasts against his chest, though the leather of his vest kept him from feeling the hard points of her nipples.
“And this is why topping from the bottom is dangerous. Subs are all uncontrolled sadists.”
“Wouldn’t it be masochists, since the ones we want to hurt are ourselves?”
“Partially true, but I’ve also seen some sub-on-sub scenes that were genuinely terrifying.”
He loved the feel of her laughing in his arms. He’d never had a scene that flowed like this, from kink to conversation and back again.
“Your ass is done for now. Need to give this pretty girl time to rest.” He palmed her butt and gave it a little jiggle.
“Did you just refer to my ass as a pretty girl?”
“Yep. And it’s attached to more very pretty things.”
Nathan gripped her waist and she flinched.
Shit. Nathan jerked his hands up and to the sides, palms forward. “What just happened? Where are you hurt?”
Tara didn’t answer, instead turning her face into his neck.
Nathan gathered her hair in his hand and yanked her head up, pulling until she was seated upright on his knees, her hands resting gently on her upper thighs, elbows tucked into her sides, hiding the place he’d just touched.
“Tara,” he barked the word, made it a warning.
“It’s not…I’m not hurt.”
“You flinched.”
Her face twisted with a grimace, but she didn’t say anything else.
“Hands together behind your neck, elbows back.” He released her hair as she obeyed, making space for her hands to slide under her hair, her fingers laced together at her nape.
Given how tight she’d strapped the band around her breasts, maybe it was the waist strap that was bothering her, and he’d touched a sore spot.
He unbuckled the belt, letting it fall around her hips and thighs.
There were no angry red indents here, and when he traced the faint mark the belt had left, she didn’t react. He slid his hand down to her hip, holding her as he leaned to the side, checking for bruises or tender spots.
This time, she didn’t flinch, but she did suck in air and hold her breath. He immediately lifted his hand. He’d barely touched her, so he expected to see an angry bruise where his fingers had been. An angry bruise he’d somehow missed noticing, which wasn’t like him.
There was no mark, only soft, smooth skin.
“Tara, I’m hurting you, but I don’t know how. Tell me,” he demanded.
“You’re not hurting me.”
“Don’t lie to me, Tara. That’s a hard limit for me, especially when it comes to pain.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Are you tender here or…” He raised his brows. “Are you ticklish?”
“No, it’s not that.” She stared at his chest, lines bracketing her mouth in an expression that was almost a grimace.
“Talk,” he demanded, voice lower than it had been, as frustration and a desperate need to make sure he wasn’t hurting her gripped him low in the gut.
“Idon’tlikeitwhenpeopletouchmyfat.”
Nathan blinked. “What?”
Tara gripped her hips, squeezing her own flesh. “I don’t like it when people touch my fat.”
He stared at her hands, then her face, then back to her hands. “What the shit are you talking about?”
That startled a laugh out of Tara, and it was his turn to grimace.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m not trying to be dismissive of your feelings. But…what?”
Tara gripped the delicious soft skin low on her belly. “I’m well aware that this is what a normal female body looks like, but knowing that intellectually is different than actually embodying it to the level of not being self-conscious while naked straddling a hot man’s lap.”
“You think I’m hot?”
Tara pursed her lips. “That’s your takeaway?”
“I like to focus on what’s important.”
Tara laughed, the lines that had bracketed her mouth finally disappearing.
Carefully, Nathan slid his hands up her thighs, then pressed his palms over the backs of her hands. “Will you move your hands for me, baby?”
Tara softened, her gaze dropping to his mouth, her lashes thick and lush as they partially hid her eyes.
Slowly, she tugged her hands out from under his, letting them fall to her side. He cleared his throat pointedly and she raised her hands, lacing her fingers together at the back of her neck.
“I won’t tell you how to feel about your body. That’s not my place, or anyone’s place. Though I suspect some asshole did or said something to make you feel self-conscious.”
“Honestly it’s mostly society in general.”
“Fucking society. Those shits.”
Tara laughed.
“But please believe me when I say that I personally find your body incredibly appealing. If there are parts of you that you don’t want me to touch, we can make that a hard limit.” He ran his hands side to side along her lower belly, occasionally feeling her tremble.
“No,” she murmured. “I don’t want to stop you from touching any part of me. I guess in a way, I’m used to Doms going right for erogenous zones. It’s…unexpectedly intimate to have someone touch my stomach, or my legs, or even my upper arms. All the places that don’t normally get touched.”
“Before, when you leaned away from me, was that about this?” He gently squeezed her.
She nodded with a sigh. “You were kind of tucking your fingers underneath my fat roll where it lay on my thigh.”
Nathan stared at her legs and hips. Yes, a little bit of her torso skin was resting on her thighs. But she was seated. Wasn’t that normal?
He cleared his throat. “To be clear, we are not going to refer to this sexy little area right here as a fat roll.” He ran his palms up her thighs until his fingers hit the “roll” in question. Pressing his palms flat against her lower belly, fingers splayed out along her hips, he squeezed. The hip straps of her fetwear were still in place and already compressing her flesh. Now his fingers joined in, making her lower body a study of soft flesh trapped by stiff straps and hard fingers.
“You see this?” He jiggled his hands, making her flesh ripple. “This is sexy as shit.”
“I want so desperately to believe you,” she murmured.
“And I want you to believe me when I say things like this.” He shifted one hand, sliding it up inside of her thigh. “But I know you. And words aren’t going to make you believe me. So I’ll just use this pretty body exactly the way I want.”
For the first time, he cupped her pussy, the latex slick under his palm, the heat of her almost scorching.
Tara’s head fell back, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.
“I’m going to use you as if you were my personal sex doll. Made just for me, exactly to my specifications.”
“It’s probably messed up how hot I find this.”
“Baby, we each spend five figures a month to be members of a semi-secret BDSM club. Messed up is where we’re most comfortable.”
This time, she didn’t laugh, though he saw the small smile play around her lips. Instead, she rocked her hips gently against his hand. Her arousal fluid leaked out around the latex gusset of the fetwear.
Nathan positioned the tip of his index finger in the center of the latex panel and pressed up slightly. It was thin latex, thin enough that he could tell her pussy lips were already parted. Spread either by the position of her legs or due to arousal plumping that sweet flesh.
He couldn’t wait to look. To see how pretty she was there.
He ran his finger along the valley of her sex, feeling the contours of her body. He knew when he hit her clit, not just from the slight bump under his finger but in the way she froze.
She held her breath until he circled her clit, molding the latex to her. Tara groaned. It was a guttural sound without artifice—not a sexy sound but an honest one. He preferred honest. He didn’t want any woman he was with, and especially not Tara, to mewl and pant and whimper because that’s what she thought she should do, or what she thought he wanted.
“This pussy feels very wet.”
“It is, Sir.”
Again, the seamless transition back to a D/s dynamic.
He ached with the need to speed this up. To use her in order to pleasure her.
But it was the game that brought them together. The least he could do is play. Especially when it meant playing with her.
Nathan kept his hand on her thigh as he twisted, hooking his arm over the back of the small couch.
“Hey,” he called out to no one in particular. “Can someone bring me some feathers?”