Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
The next evening while undressing in her brightly lit bathroom, Ray looked over her shoulder at the mirror to check her bare bottom. Her slightly swollen, still reddened, beginning-to-bruise butt.
“Holy kraken, no wonder it hurts to sit down. Those paddles were awfully effective.” And Drake had a very…firm…swing.
Just firm enough though. From paddling Casper, she knew Drake could have hit her much, much harder. But if he’d gone softer, she wouldn’t have been able to evaluate the true sensation each paddle gave.
The hardwoods ones had been too painful for her, but were perfect for spankees like Casper. She could use the beautiful rosewood or the beautifully grained zebrawood. Cocobolo would be stunning but…no, it could cause allergic reactions. Talk about adding insult to injury.
Two shapes. Yes. Some long and narrow paddles. The others shaped like ping-pong paddles to spread out and lighten the sting.
Cuz there had definitely been a sting. She eyed her butt again. “Ouch?”
So why was she grinning? WTF? “What is wrong with you, woman? Happy about bruises?”
Maybe. A bit, yes. The marks were souvenirs of a very interesting evening. Of being someone’s center of attention.
And that someone was Drake. Her whole body shivered.
He was definitely the whole package. Not only gorgeous, but that resonant, French-accented voice… She’d be happy listening to him reading War and Peace, the most boring book in the world.
His voice as he touched her… She had to swallow hard.
And his hands—his far-too-skillful, way-too-creative hands. He’d played her like a master conductor directing an orchestra through a symphony. Speeding up, slowing down, circling, stroking. Sliding his fingers inside her.
Aaand now she was all aroused. Way to go, idiot. But he really was something.
She froze at the thought.
Falling straight into obsession again, Ray? Haven’t we done this before?
No, this was different. Drake was a good person. Admittedly, her own judgment sucked, but Hope and Mac both liked him. They would know, right?
Last winter, she hadn’t been in college long enough to make good friends, which was a shame. Friends would probably have disapproved of Theodore like Faj had.
She shook her head. And four years ago at UW, she had friends but didn’t tell them about trying out BDSM. Total mistake.
But Hope and Mac approved of Drake.
With a huff, she kicked off her jeans. Cloth and a tender ass? All day, she’d regretted the combination.
Being naked was a relief as she walked into the bedroom.
He was interested in her. Kind of. How much of it was a casual interest though? As the owner of the club, as an experienced Dominant, he had to be in demand. Oh yeah, she’d noticed other submissives drooling over Master Drake. He could have all the women he wanted.
No, Ray, he’s not someone you should even try to get involved with.
None of her relationships with men lasted.
Like with Theodore, who’d gone from saying she was fascinating to telling her to stop acting like a child.
When it came down to it, maybe she was happier without men in her life at all. Friends were awesome. Men not so much.
But…she could do an occasional scene at the club once she got to know more people and confine her interactions with men to Chains. Maybe even occasionally enjoy some…coital bliss.
For now, she had her BOBs. Many, many battery-operated boyfriends. Hey, a girl needs variety. Especially me.
Opening the nightstand drawer, she considered her choices. Not AquaBob. No. What about Bilbo, the dildo, or BuzzyBoy, the vibrator? No. Oh, hey, how about a rabbit? Not Bugs—he didn’t quite do it for her, but Thumper?
“C’mere, Thumper. It’s you and me, buddy. Let’s have us a good time and forget all about the Chains cop.”
You know, as a Chains cop, he probably owned handcuffs…
Holy kraken, stop thinking about him!