Sheer Dominance (Sheer Submission, Part Nine) Read online

  “That’s what I want,” I said. “I want us to be together, but I want us to do it in a way that isn’t so dysfunctional.”

  “Do you promise, Aven? Promise that no matter what happens in that office, that no matter what the therapist says, that you will not leave me.”

  “I promise.”

  “Then I will go.”

  I let the breath out I was holding, simultaneously terrified and excited all at once. I knew this was a big step for him, and I couldn’t help but love the fact that not only was he doing it for me, but he was making sure that no matter what happened, we would stay together.

  But now that I’d gotten what I wanted, I wondered what kind of things would come up in therapy, what kind of demons he was really hiding.

  “Aven?”

  “Yes?”

  There was a knock on the door. “Let me in.”

  He was still in his suit from work, dark and pressed, the lines elegant and masculine at the same time, hugging his muscular frame.

  As soon as he walked in, he pushed past me into the kitchen. He looked around.

  “Where is the espresso machine I bought you?” he demanded.

  “I sold it.”

  “You what?”

  “I sold it.”

  “To whom?”

  I shrugged. “Some random on the internet.” I shut the door and locked it. “I was mad.”

  “This is what you do when you’re mad? Sell things that I give you?” His eyes blazed, and I couldn’t tell if he was really mad about the espresso machine itself, or just at the fact that I’d disobeyed him.

  In the end, it didn’t matter.

  “Go to the bedroom, Aven.”

  “What? I thought you wanted to talk about Paisley.” My core was pulsing at this nearness, even though he was across the kitchen. His presence, though, permeated the entire room, his undeniable chemistry and power taking over everything.

  I was lucky that I’d made my demands when I was on the phone with him, because I wasn’t sure I would have been able to resist him in person.

  “I do,” he said. “But I want to do it in the bedroom.”

  “But –”

  “Do you want to defy me even more than you already have today, Ms. Courtland? Because I assure you that things can always get worse, that your punishments can always be more… severe, shall we say.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then. Go. To. The. Bedroom.”

  Once we were there, he shut the door softly. Now that he was in control of me, he didn’t want to rush, didn’t need to rush. He turned the lock with an audible click, and even though Emma wasn’t here, so she couldn’t have saved me anyway, something about the sound made something visceral rise up inside of me, somewhere between panic and excitement.

  Landon took off his suit coat slowly, a movement I’d come to associate with whatever he was about to do to me.

  My body was primed to respond to his every movement, even something as slight at this.

  And sure enough, when he began to roll up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt, his tanned forearms coming into view, my pussy flooded with heat and a tiny moan escaped involuntarily from my lips.

  The sound earned me an arrogant smirk from Landon. “That’s right, Ms. Courtland.” Done rolling up his sleeves, he closed the distance between us, his movements almost predatory.

  The fingers of his right hand found the button on my jeans, slipping it through its hole.

  He pulled my zipper down slowly, his palm sliding down over the outside of my panties. He pushed the flat of his hand against my pussy. “Your body will never lie to me. It will betray you every time. “ The crotch of my panties was pushed to the side and his finger probed my folds. “So wet. So tight and sweet.”

  The pad of his thumb brushed over my clit and then he was gone, moving away from me, to my desk chair.

  He turned it around and sat down. It was a cheap chair, one I’d picked up at a thrift store in Queens on my first weekend in the city, Emma and I giving our subway cards a workout as we rode the train up and down the city from borough to borough, lugging things back and forth as we spent our meager savings on what furniture we could find.

  The chair had cost five dollars, and as a result had no arms and was made of cheap particle board that was supposed to pass as wood.

  It was nothing like the chair in Landon’s office, the one that was made of leather so soft you could fall asleep in it.

  And yet even in this small room, Landon looked every much the rich executive he was, the businessman who never took no for an answer.

  He regarded me, his eyes moving up and down my body.

  I blushed.

  “Strip to your bra and panties, Ms. Courtland.”

  I did as I was told, taking off my shirt and jeans.

  “Very nice,” Landon murmured. I was wearing some of the lingerie he’d gotten me, a black bra and panty set. The cups of the bra were demi, and my breasts spilled out over the top of the cups. I reached up to adjust them, but he stopped me.

  “No,” he admonished. “Leave it.”

  I dropped my arms, my body breaking out in goose bumps.

  “You will never cover your body when you’re showing it to me. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Get on your kneels and crawl to me.”

  I did as I was told, crawling toward him across the floor, the braided rug scratching my knees. But the discomfort did nothing but turn me on more.

  When I got to him, he tipped my chin up toward his, his eyes on mine.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice soft.

  I stared up at him, the angles of his face, the strong cut of his jaw, the slash of his brow and those long lashes over those deep blue eyes. He was so handsome, so strong, to gorgeous that I almost couldn’t take it.

  He leaned down and kissed me gently, his lips soft against mine. He tasted like mint and smelled like the expensive cologne he wore, something clean and cedary that sent my nerve endings into tiny little explosions.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he said again. “But you’ve been so bad, too. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes.”

  I waited, expecting him to pull me into his lap and kiss me again. The emotion in his eyes was undeniable – it was as if everything I was feeling deep within my soul was reflected on his face, in his expression, in those deep blue eyes.

  But he didn’t pull me onto his lap.

  Instead, he pulled back.

  He stood up.

  “Follow me into the kitchen, Aven.”

  Dread and anticipation pooled deep in my belly.

  “But I thought you wanted me in here.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  I stood up, ready to follow him.

  Then his hands were on my shoulders, pushing me back down. “No. Crawl.”

  I crawled to the kitchen on my hands in knees, clad in only my bra and skimpy thong panties. The position made my breasts, which had already been dangerously close to spilling out the cups of my bra, tip even further out.

  By the time I reached the kitchen, the cups of my bra hit just above my nipples, exposing a slip of areola, and my entire body burned with humiliation.

  “You may stand.”

  I stood, my body thrumming, and resisted the urge to adjust my bra, heeding his warning not to cover my body when he’d asked me to expose it.

  My knees ached, even though the crawl to the kitchen had been short.

  “Lean over the island,” Landon commanded. As he spoke, he reached over and ran his finger slowly under the cup of my bra, separating it from my skin. He repeated the gesture with my other breast. His gaze was trained on me, his eyes hooded, his body stiff.

  I did as I was told, leaning over the island. As I did, my tits popped from my bra, and the cold linoleum of our outdated kitchen island brushed against my exposed nipples.

  Landon crossed to the other side of the island.

  �
�Hands.”

  I reached across the island, offering them to him as he slid off his tie, and began to bind my wrists together. When he was done, he pulled the ends, taut causing me to be stretched across the island.

  He took the ends of the tie and tied them to the drawer on the other side of the island, leaving me immobile, stretched so far that I had to arch my back and rise up on my tiptoes, my ass pushing into the air behind me.

  “Jesus, you look sexy,” he murmured. “Those big tits falling out of your bra, your tight little ass up in the air.”

  “Um, we’re not… I mean, I don’t know when Emma’s coming home.” The thought of my best friend coming in here and seeing me tied up and spread out over our island, my body at Landon’s mercy, made the humiliation and shame that was already flowing like a red hot river through my veins burst into an inferno.

  He didn’t respond, and I watched as he opened kitchen drawers until he found what he was looking for – a wooden spoon.

  “Did you hear me?” I asked.

  “I heard you.”

  “So maybe we should, um… go back to the bedroom.”

  “Why? Are you afraid someone might see what a bad girl you’ve been?”

  I swallowed, realizing there was no use in arguing with him. He had me tied and bound. And this was all part of his particular brand of torture, having me here, knowing how humiliating it would be for me.

  He unbuttoned his shirt until he was naked from the waist up, and I inhaled sharply at the beautiful planes of his body, the rigid lines of his torso that flexed with every movement.

  A line of hair started at his belly button and dipped down below the waist of his pants, and I moaned.

  He crossed the room until he was standing behind me, the hard wooden spoon still in his hand.

  “Normally I would do this with a paddle,” he murmured, running the spoon down over my spine, causing shivers to ripple through me. “But we’ll have to make do with what we have, now won’t we?”

  “Yes, sir,” I managed.

  He knelt behind me, pushed my legs apart, and then his mouth was on my pussy, through the sheer material of my panties.

  “Oh!” I rose up on my tiptoes as he began to kiss me down there, to eat me, open-mouthed, his breath warm, his tongue probing my slick folds through the material of my panties. His movements were slow, languid, teasing, his tongue pushing the fabric away from my pussy every so often so that he was licking my bare cunt.

  My body was tight and wound, and I knew pleasure like this could only be followed by inevitable punishment and pain.

  I sucked in a breath through my teeth.

  “Do you like that?” he demanded.

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I like when you eat my pussy.”

  His tongue swirled around my clit.

  I moaned, but he didn’t stop, instead taking me to the edge of orgasm before stopping.

  “So wet,” he murmured. “But that’s good, baby. I need to get you nice and wet so that when I hurt you, you’ll like it. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.” My body was on fire, tiny little fires that were started to merge together, my nerve endings forming connections, the warmth firing over my synapses.

  He stood up, and I laid my cheek against the cold linoleum of the kitchen island.

  “Tell me exactly why you went to see Paisley.”

  “I wanted to talk to her.”

  He was still standing behind me, and I knew he had the wooden spoon in his hand, ready to use it on me as needed.

  “About what?”

  I hesitated, wondering how, exactly, to answer this question. There were a million reasons I went to see Paisley, and I wondered which, if any, would be acceptable to Landon.

  “Don’t lie to me,” he demanded, and then the flat side of the wooden spoon hit my backside, the blow harder than I thought. It was different than his hand, which delivered its sting and then immediately dissolved into a warm pleasure. The wooden instrument was the opposite, the pain radiating and intensifying after the initial strike.

  “I wanted to ask her about the note she left in my sweatshirt,” I said.

  “And?” he prompted.

  Another blow to my ass, this one harder, hard enough to leave a red mark. I gasped, my hands curling into fists as my skin warmed.

  “And she said that your family was loyal, that you took the blame for Conner when he stalked her.”

  This seemed to please him, and this time, he ran the wood over the sore flesh of my backside, keeping himself from spanking me.

  “So she corroborated what I told you.”

  “Yes.”

  He leaned down and brushed the hair from my neck, his breath skating across my skin as he spoke. “You should have trusted me, angel,” he said. “If you’d have listened to me, trusted me, this would be a lot easier. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He kissed me then, his tongue pressing past the seam of my lips, taking me. Our tongues tangled together, the slight stubble on his face brushing over my skin and branding me, the roughness and intensity of the kiss making my pussy flood with even more warmth.

  The pain on my ass from where he’d struck me began to turn to pleasure.

  But just like that, he pulled back.

  I groaned and tried to move my lips back to his, desperate and hungry for more.

  “You like that, don’t you?’

  “Yes.”

  He took my lower lip between his, sucking it gently, before pulling away and standing back up, leaving me panting.

  A silence filled the room as he pushed my legs apart.

  “Legs apart,” he commanded.

  I did as I was told.

  “Up on your toes so I can see that wet pussy.”

  I did it, the cool air of the room sliding over my most sensitive places, putting me on display for him as my body bloomed with humiliation.

  He moved the spoon down over my exposed vagina, getting the top of it wet with my juices.

  “Did she say I was dangerous?” he asked.

  His voice was a low growl, and the fists of my hands tightened as I braced myself against the island. He wouldn’t like the answer, and yet I knew lying to him would be much worse.

  “She said your family is very loyal.”

  “You already said that,” he growled.

  “She made it seem as if your family’s loyalty could cause you to be a dangerous person to be around, yes.”

  Another blow with the spoon, this time harder than ever, and I cried out as the pain spread across my ass cheeks, sharp and raw.

  “Do you think I’m dangerous to be around?”

  I thought about it, hesitating.

  Another blow with the spoon, hard and fast. I could feel my own juices on it from when he’d rubbed it against my pussy, knew that he was hitting me hard enough to leave marks.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  Another blow, this one so hard my ass cheeks jiggled and my tits bounced.

  Then another.

  And another.

  So many I lost count, but I held myself together, taking it for him, knowing this was what he needed to work out whatever it was he was feeling, whatever emotions that were boiling up inside of him.

  Finally, I heard him throw the wooden spoon across the kitchen, the clattering of the wood startling.

  “Jesus,” he murmured, and his hand was sliding over my raw flesh, taking in what he’d done to me, the red marks I was sure his makeshift paddle had left on me.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked, twisting my hair in his fingers and pulling gently.

  “Yes,” I answered honestly. “Yes, Landon, I trust you.”

  His hand found my ass then, and he spanked me again, furiously, his hand much different that the wood of the spoon, not better, not less painful, just different, but the feel of his skin on mine made me feel connected to him in a way I had never felt to another human in my entire life.

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nbsp; He spanked me hard, harder, making me take it, and I did, I took it for him, to prove to him that I trusted him, that I knew he would never push me past the point of what I could take, that he would never hurt me.

  He might have been dangerous to be around, but I knew that he would never intentionally hurt me. In fact, it was the opposite. He wanted to protect me, but in order to let himself feel the way he was feeling, he needed to do these things to me, needed me to prove to him that I trusted him.

  Finally, he was spent. I could hear him behind me, breathing heavily.

  My own breath was coming fast and hard. The pain had caused my eyes to fill with tears and one had slipped down my cheek, but my body was on fire for him. I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted him, wanted to feel him inside of me.

  A moment later, he stilled.

  “Jesus, Aven,” he whispered again. “Jesus, I didn’t mean to…”

  He trailed off, and I closed my eyes, imagining the carnage that was the skin on my ass, the red marks he’d left with his hand. But all it did was make me want him more, make my pussy wetter, make my body and mind crave his touch, his cock, his love.

  If this was fucked up, I didn’t care.

  I wanted fucked up.

  I wanted him.

  He crossed to the other side of the island, his waist at eye level, and untied me from the handle, but left my wrists bound.

  This allowed me more movement, and I wriggled forward, desperate, taking the button and fly of his pants and undoing them until his cock sprung out, hard as steel encased in soft velvet.

  I wrapped my hands around it, and began to beg.

  “Please,” I said, as I stared up at him, the lines of his gorgeous body, the ridges of his six pack, his hard swollen cock right in front of me.

  I took it in my hand and guided it to my lips, and Landon put his hand on the back of my head, forcing me down on him in one full thrust, the salty taste of his precum filling my mouth.

  He held my head down, pressing me, choking me.

  When he finally let me go, I cried out, gasping for breath.

  He shucked his pants before returning to the other side of the island. He flipped me over, pulled me toward him, pulled off my panties before slipping my still-bound wrists over his head.