Taming Naia (12 page)

She nodded as the head of his cock tickled her pussy. “Yes, I’m yours. I’m yours.”

He thrust into her, burying himself to the hilt in one swift move. He held her like that, filled up with him, spread open, and, keeping his eyes locked on hers, he fucked her.

All she could do was moan, “Oh, god, I love you, I love you…”

Her pussy tightened around his cock as he drove harder and deeper and she felt the now familiar throbbing as he came inside her, her muscles tightening around him until her own release came and they collapsed on the bed, wrapped in each other’s arms.

* * *

After showering, they walked to a nearby restaurant for lunch. Liam liked seeing Naia like this, happy and relaxed, wearing no makeup and with her hair loose over her shoulders.

But he still had one more thing to address with her.

“You go back to the east coast on Tuesday?” he asked after they’d ordered.

“Yes, for three months. They’ve chosen my replacement so I have to get him going, introduce him to the clients, make sure he’s ready before I can take my new position. He can’t start for another month or it would go faster.”

“Three months more after ten years,” Liam said. “It shouldn’t feel like a long time but it sure as hell does.” He sipped his drink. “You’re sure about everything?”

“Both eyes wide open,” she said. “I want to be with you.”

“My brother was right about one thing, Naia. I am a very possessive man. If we do this, you come to Denver as my wife, nothing less. You already know I’m not an easy man and I will demand a great deal from you, but…”

She grinned and couldn’t help but giggle just a little. It was a nervous laugh though. “Professor Roark, are you asking me to marry you in your own strange, dominant sort of way?”

He seemed at a loss for a moment, but quickly recovered himself, his face relaxing into a smile. “Yes, I suppose I am.” He took her hands in his. “I’ve waited a long time for this and I’ve never been one to do things half-assed. I meant what I said earlier: you’re mine. In every way. In fact, I don’t think I could let you go if you wanted me to. So, Naia, will you marry me?”

Tears slid down Naia’s cheeks as she took his face into her hands. “Yes, Professor Roark. I will marry you, big, dark, and scary side included! Yes, yes, yes!”

He kissed her. “You should know I want kids,” he whispered, his tongue flicking over her earlobe. “Lots of them.”

“Me too,” she said. “I’m so happy.” It came out choked as more tears rolled down her cheeks.

“You have a strange way of showing it,” he teased.

Naia situated herself on her knees in the living room. She had gotten home later than she had planned and hoped everything was as it should be. It was Friday night, maintenance night. Their weekly ritual. However, between Liam’s work and some unexpected travel on her part, they’d missed the last month of Fridays and hadn’t been able to make it up. Tonight would take care of that though, Liam had promised that much. And she was looking forward to it more than she thought she should be.

It had been eight months since her move to Denver and their wedding was scheduled for the end of the year. Naia found herself settling easily into her new life with Liam; she felt at home. Work was going well, she liked her colleagues, and the job itself challenged her. And, most important, things were moving well between her and Liam. Everything just felt good. They’d been playing for longer and longer periods and Naia had found a certain peace in surrendering to him. Her submission had ventured out of the bedroom, but it had been so gradual and natural a transition she had barely noticed. Liam was always respectful and loving and it just felt right.

In fact, she had been the one to take Liam by surprise when she had requested a weekly maintenance night. Both of them were busy and she not only wanted but needed the scheduled evenings that usually began with a full physical inspection, continued with a spanking—unless a more severe punishment was deemed necessary—and ended with incredible sex. Although she didn’t care for the nights she was not allowed to orgasm; that was still difficult for her.

The headlights of Liam’s SUV shone through the window as he turned onto the driveway. The car door opened to the accompaniment of dinging and a snippet of music. Naia’s heart raced in anticipation and she mentally ticked off all the things she’d done to prepare for the evening as well as all the things she hadn’t.

She heard the front door open and close, his keys being placed on the table. Her heartbeat picked up speed when footsteps sounded his approach.

“Naia,” he said, setting his case on the couch and walking straight to her.

She met his eyes briefly.

“It’s always so good to see you after a long day.” He reached down to take her hands and lift her to her feet while kissing her softly on the cheek.

She dared another glance into his eyes. He was already aroused and she liked the idea that he, like she, had likely been anticipating this all day.

“Hi,” she said. It was all she could get out before his kiss covered her mouth.

Liam stepped back and held her at arm’s length, looking her up and down. All she wore were white lace panties and black patent leather pumps with straps around the ankles. It was her maintenance night outfit, chosen by him.

He stepped back and took off his jacket and tie, then unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt before rolling both sleeves up.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at you,” he said.

She smiled. “Would you like a drink, professor?”

“That would be lovely,” he said, settling on the couch.

Without a word, she walked slowly to the bar, aware of his eyes on her as she did. She dropped two ice cubes into the glass and poured the whiskey before turning back to him. This was their ritual. She’d make his drink and stand before him while he drank it and conducted his inspection of her body. Tonight was no different.

He took the drink from her outstretched hand and thanked her. She stood so she was just inches from him and assumed his preferred position—legs spread to shoulder width, back straight, hands clasped behind her head. That part had taken some getting used to, but it felt good now. It never failed to arouse her, in fact, and he no longer needed to ask her to do it.

Ice clinked around in the glass, but she kept her gaze on the opposite wall.

“Take your panties down,” he said.

Without question or a moment of hesitation, she pulled them to just beneath her hips. She was fully aware that, depending on how closely he checked, she might receive a punishment tonight. She was banking on the fact he normally didn’t miss the little details.

“I love…” he began, brushing a finger between her thighs.

She swallowed.

“That you’re always ready for me,” he continued. Her face burned red, a reaction she seemed not to be able to rid herself of. He reached out a finger and tested the skin. “Tsk, tsk,” he said.

He’d noticed. Of course he would.

He leaned back in his seat and waited.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Eyes on me,” he said.

She met his gaze.

“Explain.”

“I was too late to make my appointment. It won’t happen again,” she said. Liam preferred her waxed every few weeks rather than shaved. He claimed her skin felt softer and although it hurt, she’d kept it up. This time, she’d not made her appointment soon enough before the studio filled up. “I have an appointment on Saturday, sir,” she said, not wholly sorry. She would be punished, she knew it. But the truth was, she wasn’t entirely dreading punishment. She also had ideas for the evening, although she still wasn’t sure if she’d have the guts to go through with them.

He finished his drink and set it down.

“We won’t miss maintenance nights going forward,” he said. “I accept my share of the responsibility and I promise I’ll be keeping a closer eye on things. Now, between this and the three weeks we’ve missed, I’m going to give you a punishment tonight. Make up for time lost. Do you consent?”

“If you think that’s best, sir,” she answered, looking every bit the penitent.

“Do you believe you deserve to be punished, Naia?” he probed as he always did on these nights. “Eyes on me,” he repeated the command.

It was so much easier to look away.

“Yes, sir,” she said, although she trembled a little. As much as she wanted it, pain was pain.

He seemed pleased. Finishing his drink, he set the glass aside and reached a hand out to her. “Over my lap, let’s get you warmed up,” he said.

Moving slowly into the required position, she draped herself over his thighs with her hands and feet on the floor, her bottom lifted, legs together.

“Remember,” he began, taking her panties farther down her thighs but not taking them off completely. She liked the feeling; it was as though she were even more exposed than had she been fully naked. “Hands and feet stay on the floor, legs remain straight. And I want your bottom pushed out throughout your spanking.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, arching her back to lift her bottom higher, that act of offering herself to his hand making her wet sex wetter.

“I think,” he began, caressing one cheek. He hadn’t spanked her in three weeks and she missed it. “You’re ready to take some strokes of the cane,” he said before the first spank landed on one cheek.

She was going to get the cane. Naia held her position but couldn’t help clenching her bottom before softening it again.

The second one landed, but she remained still. It didn’t hurt so much as leave a quick sting, but she knew it was just the beginning.

“What do you think? Are you ready for the cane?” he asked.

Yes, she was ready for the cane. She wanted it. She just couldn’t open her mouth to say it.

He continued to spank her, alternating between cheeks before moving to her upper thighs. That always hurt the most.

“Naia?” he asked, rubbing her bottom while he waited for her answer.

“Yes,” she began, her voice breathy. She’d been thinking about a caning for weeks now, wondering how it would feel, wanting to know the sensation, wanting the pain. She’d come to find a rhythm in the hurt and Liam always managed to take her right to the edge but kept her from tipping over. “Yes, sir. I’m ready to take the cane.”

Through the material of his pants, his thick cock pressed against her belly and her breasts bounced with the strokes while he, without a word, resumed her spanking. She’d had much harder ones before and understood this was only preparation for what was to come.

Memories of the first caning she had witnessed months ago still played vividly in her mind. She had seen more at the club in the last months and it had become one of her favorite scenes to watch. She might even say it was fast becoming an obsession.

Although a few tears had slipped from her eyes, she didn’t fully cry during the spanking and before she knew it, he stood her up and stripped her panties off altogether. She’d learned not to reach back to rub her bottom but to allow herself to feel the residual burn after any punishment, and tonight was no different.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he said.

She walked ahead of him up the stairs and to their bedroom. Once they reached it, she stood at the foot of the bed and resumed the position she’d held earlier with her hands at the back of her head, waiting for his next instruction. He retrieved the cane, one very similar to the one used that first night at the club. She had never felt its sting; he had never pushed her to it. Here she was tonight though, both wanting and dreading the fact that she’d soon become all too familiar with the object.

“How many strokes do you think you deserve, Naia?” he asked, holding the cane casually by his side while he came to stand inches from her.

“Um, one, sir?” she asked, knowing full well it would be more than that but also knowing him well enough to start low.

He smiled. “Nice try. Ten.”

“Three.” No way on the ten.

“Eight.”

“Four.”

“Seven,” he said, smiling.

She knew he enjoyed these bartering sessions since he always had the last word anyway.

“Five,” she said, and then added, “Professor.” She turned wide eyes to him. “I want to do this but I don’t know if I can. Please.”

He nodded. “We’ll meet in the middle at six. Remember, you have your safe word and I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t think you were ready. I’ve been watching you at the club—I’ve noticed your reactions.”

She trusted him. There was no question about that. He took care of her, it was all there was to it. He’d never hurt her and had never pushed her too far. She had never had to use her safe words.

Looking up at him, she felt no fear when she answered. “Okay, I trust you to know what’s best.” She wondered if he felt it too, this shift in their relationship.

Liam smiled and brushed his lips over her cheek. He was the only man who made her go weak at the knees with just a kiss.

“Stack the pillows at the foot of the bed, Naia.”

She went around to collect the pillows and set them one on top of the other at the foot of the bed all while he watched.

“Good girl. Now turn around, face the headboard, and bend over them. I won’t bind you unless you need me to.”

She didn’t want to be bound; she wanted to give this to him. Casting one last glance at the cane, she turned and assumed the position he requested, laying her torso over the bed, her bottom raised higher by the pillows. She lifted her hips to present her bottom to him, keeping her legs together. She faced the headboard, her arms underneath her, her weight on her forearms.

“Spread your arms out wide to the edges of the bed.”

She did as he said, all the while imagining the picture they made—him behind her, cane in hand; her ready, willing, and waiting for punishment. Heat radiated through her, starting at her center and spreading, scorching her already wet pussy.

She swallowed. “I’m ready, sir.”

“You’ll not move from this position throughout your caning, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you’ll count each stroke.”