“I’m not sure I know, exactly, what I’d like to do to you tonight,” he said, walking slowly as he examined the tools he’d laid out. “Is anything off the table since we discussed this?”
“No, Sir.” I meant it. We’d negotiated which acts we might possibly get up to, but I needed him so badly there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do. I’d told him as much, right before I’d spent the better part of an hour with his mouth between my thighs.
He turned his head to hide his smile. “Is there anything you would particularly like?”
“Yes. I want you to be rough. And relentless. I want you to make up for lost time.” My voice wobbled. “I want to be yours.”
Without comment, he went to the ornate bedside table and opened the drawer. My breath caught as I glimpsed the black velvet bag in his hands. He untied the drawstring and gently shook the object inside loose.
My collar.
The huge diamonds wreathing it sparkled in the warm, dim light. The platinum shone like a mirror. He opened the clasp, an ingenious hidden latch that fit the collar into a perfect circle when closed. Every step he took toward me was too slow. I raised a hand to touch the hollow of my throat, before I even realized I’d moved.
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Get on your knees, Sophie.”
I did as he asked, a chill running down my spine in anticipation of the cold metal touching my skin.
He held the collar before me, open, so that faint engraving inside was barely visible. “Read it.”
I didn’t need to see it to know what it said. I licked my top lip, my nerves finally overcoming me. “Property of Neil Elwood.”
He reached down an
d cupped my cheek, lifting my face to look him in the eye. “You are my property, Sophie. I own your mind, your body, every moan of pleasure and rush of desire. All mine.”
“Yes, Sir,” I whispered. I got dizzy as he leaned down to fit the collar around my neck.
“Lift up your hair.”
I did, stifling a moan as his fingers brushed the nape of my neck.
The heavy weight of the collar surprised me; I hadn’t worn it in so long. It was only on a second before my body remembered the feeling, and its response to it. My mind, however, fell under its spell immediately. No matter how long it had been, I recognized the contentment of possession, of belonging to someone because I’d given myself freely. And, in an instant, we were who I needed us to be.
He gave me his hand and ordered me to my feet, then led me to the bed. I saw the leather glove lying there, first in the row of tools, though there was no guarantee he would use them in the pattern he’d laid them. He picked up the glove, slid it onto his hand, then offered it to me like he was the Pope offering his ring. “Kiss it.”
I pressed my lips to the cool black leather that would cause me so much pain, in just moments. The glove gave him distance from the impact, meaning he could spank me with his hand for longer. The leather made it sting more.
“I want you over my knee,” he said, his voice deep, dripping with desire that I never usually heard when we played. He normally held himself as the epitome of detached control. But it had been too long, and he was struggling.
He knew himself well enough to recognize that. “And, Sophie? Tonight, please use your safe words without hesitation. I know that you occasionally rely upon me to know your limitations, but I’m out of practice.”
I nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
So, I would have to keep my mind clearer tonight. Which was fine. We needed to ease back into this, no matter how desperately I wanted to let myself go completely.
He helped me get into position over his lap. The trick was to not leave my torso supported solely by his legs, but to lay across him with most of my weight on the bed. That way I could breathe and stay comfortable for a longer spanking.
Not that I was going to be comfortable tonight. He smoothed his gloved hand over my ass, squeezing each half in turn. His kneading fingers intensified the heavy, tight feeling in my cunt, and I squirmed.
That earned me my first smack, a deliciously forceful slap that knocked a surprised, “Oh!” from my lips.
“You’ll hold still,” he warned. “Is that perfectly clear?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Another slap, not as hard this time, but no less of a shock after going so long without this kind of contact. He’d had paddles and floggers on the bed, too. I wondered if those were just to scare me. He gave me another mild slap, and my hands instinctively flew back.
That was a rookie mistake. The last thing you want to do when you’re getting spanked was to get your hands in the way. Neil wasn’t the only one out of practice.