The chemistry between horse wranglers Bailey French and Hondo Labar was hot enough to singe the air even before their unexpected meeting at Rawhide, a private bondage club. Their extreme edge play at the club feeds their sexual needs, but Hondo wants a relationship outside the club and Bailey refuses to acknowledge him as more than a fellow wrangler. When a riding accident puts her in his care, can she finally trust her heart as well?
“Permission to speak freely, Sir?”
Hondo tensed. Was she about to dump a problem on him that he wouldn’t want to deal with? But he’d asked her so like any really good Dom, he needed to listen. As much to what she didn’t say as what she did.
“Of course. You need never be afraid to say anything to me. Ever.” He made his tone as reassuring as possible. She’d come to the room with him willingly but she was definitely skittish about something.
“My…needs can be somewhat extreme at times.” A faint blush colored her cheeks. “I have not always had the best luck with Doms understanding that.”
He wanted to ask her what she meant by that but he’d been in this lifestyle a long time and suddenly it clicked into place in his brain.
“Was it because you’re into extreme edgeplay?”
“The fear place aspect of it?”
“And your Doms either take you too far or are afraid to take you far at all. Do I have that right?”
She nodded again.
“Bailey, look at me. I give you permission to raise your eyes and look at me.” When she did he smiled at her. “We will go very slowly here. I’m very good at reading responses. I’ll never give you more than you can take and never back off unless you need me to. I know how to play the fear game. We’ll take it in stages. Do you believe me?”
She took so long to answer he was almost afraid to hear what she’d say.
Then, in a soft, voice, “Yes. Sir. I do.”
“Very good then. Remove your clothes slowly before I prepare for our first session.” Which he hoped would not be their last. “I want to see every inch of you.”
He watched her unbutton the blouse with fingers that trembled slightly, the soft fabric falling away. She shrugged and it dropped to the floor. No bra. He figured as much, the way her nipples were practically boring through the material but his mouth watered at the sight of her naked breasts. Round and plump, they were tipped with rosy brown nipples and surrounded by wide aureoles. His fingers flexed as they itched to pinch them.
The skirt was next, a micro piece of leather that joined her blouse, leaving her standing there in a scarlet thong and those sexy strappy sandals.
“Stop,” he commanded.
She tensed, as if she’d done something wrong and he was going to scold her.
“I want to touch you right now.” He made his voice as soft as he could. “Leave the sandals on. They make me hard. But I want to take off the thong myself.”
Her body was exactly as he had imagined it so many times lying in his bed at night. Feminine yet at the same time muscled from the hard work she did. Her work jeans had only hinted at the luscious curve of her ass, of hip and thigh. He could easily imagine those strong thighs gripping him as he plunged into her.
He crouched in front of her. He would have knelt but that was a position for his sub and he had no intention of changing roles. Hooking his fingers in the tiny straps at her hips he tugged slightly, just exposing the top of her mound. Very carefully he drew a line with his tongue, her soft curls brushing against him like a whisper of a feather.
He had wondered if she kept her pussy bare. Did she wax it? Shave it? Trim it? When he took the fabric in his teeth and eased it over her pussy his cock flexed at the sight. Below the top strip of hair two thin lines of curls defined the lips of her cunt. The rest of it was blessedly, beautifully exposed.
“Nice, but I’d love to see it totally bare.”
Unable to help himself he licked her folds, finding her clit and nibbling it with his teeth. Bailey trembled in his hands as he sucked the furled nub of flesh into his mouth and pressed it hard between his lips. It was all he could do to make himself release it and stand up so he could prepare her for the session.
“Submissive pose,” he ordered as he opened the drawer of a wide chest.
Obediently Bailey dropped to her knees, head lowered and hands again behind her back.
Scanning the selection of toys and instruments, he tried to choose carefully for this first session. Years ago he’d discovered that edgeplay—the extreme form of BDSM—gave him the most satisfaction. He’d learned from a respected Dom and an experienced sub exactly how to give pleasure to subs for whom pain was the ultimate sexual stimulant. Casual play in the club scene had fulfilled him for a long time and he’d perfected his skills at fire play and knife play.
But now he was at a point in his life where that wasn’t enough. He wanted the emotional as well as the physical. Finding the right sub, one who wanted more than just the pain and the fear but craved the sexual and emotional satisfaction it gave, wasn’t an easy journey. To find that one perfect person with whom he could share a relationship of ultimate trust and power exchange.
From the moment he laid eyes on Bailey French something inside him had unraveled. Whatever it was had continued to grow until he realized he wanted her to be that person. Tonight was the opportunity to find out if that was possible. If she could feel the same way and they were headed in that direction.
From the drawer he withdrew two razor-sharp knives of different lengths, unsure which one he’d use. He’d wanted to cut away her clothing but that would have left her with nothing to wear home. Next time—and there would definitely be a next time—he’d make sure she was prepared. But he knew how to wield the blades for maximum sexual stimulation on her naked body.
Next he pulled out a fire wand and a bottle of alcohol, a box of wipes, a small bottle of oil and a short flogger. The handle of the flogger was wrapped with leather and a dozen strands with the thickness and rough surface of short hanks of rope hung from it. The application of the instrument would give him an idea of her pain threshold and set the tone for the rest of their play. He set everything on a small table against the wall, near the St. Andrews Cross. He’d requested a room specifically with that piece of equipment.
And finally he selected a trio of condoms. He wasn’t sure he’d make it past one tonight but he wanted to be prepared.
“Rise, sub,” he ordered.
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