Submitting to the Sheriff (Cowboy Doms 2)

Connor looked across the room and saw the submissive everyone knew was not interested in settling down with one Dom. “Yeah, your bachelorhood is safe with her.” With a two-fingered tip of his hat, he added, “Have fun.”

Grayson slid off the stool and offered some parting advice before strolling over to claim his playmate for the evening. “Maybe you can try to do the same.”

As sheriff of Willow Springs and the surrounding area, Grayson was well known with the town folk. As a partner with the Dunbar brothers in their BDSM club, he enjoyed socializing with members and friends from as far away as Billings, who didn’t mind the one-hour drive for a night of indulging in their favorite sexual proclivities among others of like persuasions. Taking the time to wind his way through the tables and seating areas spread around the cavernous, first floor space, he spoke or nodded to acquaintances as he questioned his lack of enthusiasm in approaching Nan. He’d enjoyed her before, as had almost every Dom in the place, and never ended a scene with her without walking away satisfied. In fact, she was the only woman he’d broken his rule of not being with more than twice. Since she was of like mind in not desiring a full-time, committed relationship, he deemed her a safe bet to return to on occasion.

So why wasn’t he anticipating putting her through her paces as she greeted him with a warm, interested smile, her pretty breasts propped up and put on display in the tight corset? Large dark nipples puckered as he eyed her bountiful mounds and unbidden, the memory of a soft, hesitant voice describing pale, pink-tipped breasts intruded on the enticing view. Fucking A. He couldn’t understand why that misdialed phone call still popped into his head at random times, even now, over two weeks afterward.

“Master Grayson.” Nan’s deep, husky voice blocked out the faint echo of the mystery woman’s soft hesitancy and stirred his interest.

“Nan.” Removing the toothpick, Grayson slipped it into his shirt pocket and held out his hand in silent invitation while fingering the thin cane attached to his waist. He hoped he hadn’t misread the invitation in her brown eyes or the fact she still sat alone.

Her gaze brightened as it drifted from eying the cane up to his face. “Glad to,” she purred, rising and giving him a clearer look at the red, lacy lingerie that cupped her full breasts, cinched her waist and showcased the miniscule red thong barely covering her naked labia.

“You never disappoint, sugar,” Grayson complimented her as he led her to a padded bench in the far corner by the wide glass doors that opened onto a back deck and spa.

“Neither do you, sir.”

Maybe not in the flesh, but he couldn’t help wondering if he shouldn’t have done more to help the woman whose dire straits had left her no choice but to get work as a phone sex operator, a profession clearly out of her depth. Her hesitant and then frantic floundering over the line had hinted at someone in a desperate situation and worry over what might have happened to her still gnawed at his conscience.

“Lie on your stomach first,” he instructed Nan, nodding to the bench. “I want you to feel the ache of your stripes when you turn over.” He knew her, and her pleasures well. The flush of arousal spreading over her chest and up her neck matched the damp glistening on her denuded folds as she slid off the thong.

“Yes, sir,” she replied, facing the bench and bending at the waist, leaving the corset, garters and stockings on. Her three-inch heels put her at about five ten, still five inches shorter than him, and arched her ass higher in this position.

Unclipping the cane, he reached out with his other hand and caressed her smooth, round buttocks, enjoying the soft, malleable flesh, her small quivers hinting of both excitement and unease. “Relax. I know your limits. Reach above you and grip the top of the bench. Do not let go until I say. Is your safeword still panda?” She once mentioned she collected stuffed pandas which was why that word was easy for her to remember.

“Yes, sir.” Turning her face up to his, she quipped, “Why change now?”

Exactly. Maybe he was just going through a late-thirties funk, he considered as he traced a finger down her crack and tickled the damp seam of her pussy. She groaned, shuffled her feet and shifted her hips and he snapped the rod across one thigh. The sharp reprimand elicited a soft cry, but she stilled. He liked seeing those immediate responses to his heavy hand as much as he had relished his naive mystery woman’s obedience. Fucking A. He needed to keep his head in this game and quit returning to one that should have no further meaning or bearing on his life.

Grayson tuned out the music, low-voiced conversations and high-pitched cries of pain-induced climaxes as he worked the cane over Nan’s upturned ass, concentrating on the fleshiest part of her buttocks. Crimson stripes blossomed across her cheeks, but she kept herself quiet and immobile by tightening her hands above her and locking her knees against the urge to dance away from his swinging arm. Her breath came in rapid puffs among tiny mewls as he shifted to the sweet under curve of those plump mounds, but his pleasure in her response dim

med as another voice filtered into his head.

Disgusted with himself, he brought an end to the first part of their scene. “Excellent, sugar,” he praised her after adorning her thighs with a few final strokes. Reaching for her hand, he helped her up, held her close when she wobbled and felt the rapid beat of her heart against his chest, the pointed drill of her turgid nipples through his black tee shirt. “You good?”

“Oh, yeah,” she moaned on a sigh. “Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Grayson warned, nudging her to sit on the end of the bench. He smiled as she winced with the pressure on her abused buttocks and assisted in laying her back. “This should help you maintain your admirable acceptance.” After wrapping the cuffs attached to the sides of the bench around her wrists he did the same with her ankles to the outside bottom corners, leaving her legs in an enticing spread. “Nice,” he commented, running his hands up the insides of her thighs.

“Sir, please.”

“You beg nicely, Nan, but your pleasure will come when I’m ready, and not before.” Her eyes flashed with frustration and darkened with need, both of which he ignored as he flicked the cane in a light snap across the underside of her breast. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, arching her chest upward in a silent plea for more.

Grayson found himself warming to the scene and her responses, his cock growing from a semi-erection to a full-blown hard-on as he striped her breasts until slick cream seeped from her gaping pussy. Setting aside the cane, he padded to the end of the bench and took up residence between her splayed legs. Leaning over her glistening body, he cupped her shoulders and stroked his open palms over her breasts. Pausing, he rotated atop her puckered nipples before gliding down her soft waist to palm the insides of her thighs. “So needy and ready for me, aren’t you, sugar?” A sudden desire to move this along once again intruded on his concentration and pleasure, frustrating him anew.

“Yes, always Master Grayson. You know how to get me going,” she complimented him as her muscles clenched under his hands.

“What a nice thing to say.” Releasing his straining cock, he made short work of sheathing himself before using his thumbs to spread her folds even wider. With his eyes on the swollen, pink tissues all but begging him to take her, he slid slowly inside her convulsing vagina. The immediate, tight clamp of slick muscles around his girth drew a hissing breath. “Fuck, but you’re hot and tight. Fast and hard. Ready?”

Nan nodded, her eyes glued to Grayson’s pummeling cock, her breathing ragged as he plowed her moist depths with rigorous strokes, just as he had warned. She met each ramming thrust with a lift of her hips, each jarring plunge with a soft gasp and every withdrawal with a low moan of denial. He remembered what a delight she was to fuck and enjoyed the hell out of using her willing body, so why, when he drove Nan into a cock-gripping orgasm was he thinking about another voice crying out in climax, this one filled with both surprise and despair? Shaking off the haunting memory, he gave the woman with him what she deserved, his undivided attention, straining to bring her to another release before letting go and embracing his own pleasure.

Fifteen minutes later, Grayson stepped out back, into the cold snap of a Montana January night to clear his head. He needed to get his head straightened out and back in the game before he returned to play in the club again. He was a strict but generous Dom, and the subs willing to trust him with their needs deserved more than having half his attention during a scene that resulted in a half-assed, rushed conclusion. The frigid air seeped into his bones, leaving goosebumps along his bare arms, but the self-inflicted discomfort was well deserved for his poor performance with Nan. Despite her needy complaints, she was a woman who craved the sting and pleasure of having to wait. He knew that and let her down by moving on too quickly. Maybe he could make up for it in a few weeks. She was a good sport, walking away from their scene with a grateful smile and kiss of gratitude, but that just made him feel guiltier for not doing better by her. There was always more to a sub’s needs than simply getting off, and he should have prolonged Nan’s torture a little longer, taken her deeper into that place some women strived to go before climaxing. His sudden desperation to get to his own pleasure and end their time together was unforgivable.

Retrieving a toothpick from his shirt pocket, he slipped it into the corner of his mouth as the sliders swished open behind him. It didn’t surprise him when Caden joined him in leaning his arms on the railing, his gaze following Grayson’s to the dark woods. “Nan looked content so why aren’t you?” the rancher asked with his usual bluntness.

“She should’ve still been lost in subspace and unable to walk away from me so easily,” Grayson snapped, irritated with himself and his friend.

Caden’s low chuckle didn’t improve Grayson’s mood. “You’re not God. None of us are.”