Completely Mine: Bliss Series, Book Four Read online

  She’s beet red. I mean, looks like she’s been scalded with boiling water. It’s all I can do to suppress the laugh that’s trying to bubble up out of my chest. I stand there and watch the woman close the door behind her, then turn to Cirilla. “Awwww. We make a cute couple,” I say mockingly. Instead of saying anything, she spins and high-tails it for the balcony. “Oh, come on!” I call toward her back. “I was just kidding! Is it really that distasteful to think others might get that idea?”

  When I drop my hands to the balcony railing, she answers without looking at me. “No, sir.”

  After another ten minutes of standing there and staring at the scenery, I say, “Well, I suppose we should go to some furniture stores to see what we might want and then get some lunch, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And you can get whatever furniture you want.”

  “Oh, no, sir. I mean, I’ll pay for my furniture and―”

  “Nonsense! I’ve got a few pieces I’ll actually want to bring with me, but only a few. The rest can just, I dunno, be sold off? Donated? I really don’t care.”

  “Will I be able to add a few things to the load, sir?” she asks timidly.

  “Of course.”

  “I have a few boxes and a couple of pieces of furniture.” Her tone is almost apologetic.

  “That’ll be fine. Whatever you want to bring. If there’s more, it’ll just mean they have to use a bigger truck. I don’t care. We’ll get it all here one way or another.”

  “What about our cars?”

  “How ‘bout we sell them both and I’ll get us a couple of leases when we get out here? How does that sound?”

  She just shrugs. “Whatever you’d like, sir.”

  All of a sudden, like a bolt out of the blue, I see her in my mind, naked and bent over a fucking bench, wrists and ankles bound, and it takes me completely by surprise. What the hell? Where did that come from? I know she can’t read my thoughts, but it’s my turn to blush, and I can’t seem to form words. Matter of fact, my lips feel kinda numb and I wonder if I’m having a stroke or something. It takes me a full five minutes to get hold of myself, and all I manage to squeeze out is, “Um, lunch. Yeah. Eating. We should.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  And why is it that those two words make my dick twitch behind the fly of my chinos? Yep―now I know why. I want to see what this woman looks like out of those stupid clothes. If I can manage that, unless I miss my guess, I’ll be the first man who ever has. Problem is, I’ll probably lose the best assistant I’ve ever had.

  And then again, maybe not.

  * * *

  The rest of the week is spent arranging for housekeeping for the new apartment, looking at furniture, setting up utilities, and working on getting the mailing addresses changed. I also go down to look at the gym in the building, have the office assign us parking spaces, and have a phone line run so I can use my fax. Yes, I know, dinosaur, but there really are some people who insist on faxes. They say you can’t tamper with a fax. Of course, you can tamper with it before you fax it. Like I said―dinosaur.

  Next, I plan out the office in the apartment and try to decide how we can best use the space. Cirilla measures the whole thing with a tape measure she borrowed from the building’s maintenance man. I hate for both of us to work in the same space, but it’s the only thing that makes sense. She offered to put a desk in her room, but I tell her no. That should be her place to get away from everything, not go to it. They say you don’t rest well if you sleep in the same space where you work, and I can definitely believe that.

  By the time the week is over, we’re both exhausted. We go back to Cincy because I have to close up everything, turn off everything, and list my house. I’ve loved the city and its northern Kentucky neighbors, but I realized as I went here and there in Seattle over this week that it really is home for me.

  I do, however, think to ask Cirilla how she feels about all this. Actually, I start with, “You know, I’ve enjoyed Cincinnati, but Seattle is really home for me. Where is home for you?”

  “Wherever I have a job.”

  Well, that’s pretty simple. “Where’s your family?”

  “Here and there.”

  Okay, this is getting ridiculous. “So if you had to pick a town you’d say was your hometown, where would that be?”

  “Cincinnati.”

  She is possibly the most exasperating individual I’ve ever tried to get to know. I mean, truly exasperating in an impossible way. I finally give up. The woman is not going to let me in. It’s been abundantly clear, but I think she was waiting for me to give up. Well, okay. I have.

  It takes another week for me to get everything shut down. A friend of mine, Immanuel, says he’ll take care of selling our cars, and I’ve got a realtor to sell the house. That’s when I realize I haven’t asked Cirilla about her residence. “Do you need someone to sell your house for you?”

  “I don’t have a house, sir, and my lease was one month from being up, so I’m good, thanks,” she says, never looking at me. The office looks like a disaster area, but honestly, I know she knows exactly where everything is. It’s no stress for me. Cirilla’s handling it, so I know it’ll be taken care of.

  “The truck will be here tomorrow. Do you have your things packed up and ready to go?”

  “Yes, sir. And I’ve got a charity coming to pick up everything I won’t be taking.” She stops for a second and turns. “We’re leaving tomorrow afternoon, right?”

  “Tomorrow evening. I figured we could catch some shut-eye on the plane, and we’ll need all day to finish getting everything ready,” I explain as I go through a stack of papers and throw about half of them away.

  “Yes, sir.” With that, she just goes back to her packing.

  Morning comes too soon, and I’m exhausted when dinnertime rolls around. The office stuff has been loaded in the truck, my stuff has been loaded, and they’re at Cirilla’s loading her stuff. The phone rings once and she answers with, “Yes, sir.”

  “Are you finished?”

  “About ten more minutes.”

  “Okay. Got your bags packed?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. I’ll come get you and we’ll grab something to eat before we go to the airport. Be thinking about where you might want to go. Make it something we won’t have out there, something you like and will miss.” I know what I’m thinking, but I wonder what she’ll say.

  Doesn’t take her long. “Skyline.”

  “What about Dixie Chili?”

  “No. Skyline. Sorry, sir. I like Skyline.”

  I catch myself before I sigh. The woman never asks for anything, so this is one thing I can do for her. “That’s fine. I’ve got the rental car loaded and there’s plenty of room for your bags. See you in about, say, twenty-five?”

  “Yes, sir.” Then silence. She was finished talking, so she ended the call. No goodbye. I’ve noticed she never seems to say goodbye at any time. And I think that’s kinda strange.

  Sure enough, when I get there, she’s actually standing on the sidewalk, waiting. After I load her bags into the trunk, we head to the closest Skyline Chili, and in three hours, we’re on a plane to Seattle.

  Look out, Emerald City. Brian Zimmer’s comin’ home.

  * * *

  The damn doorbell just keeps ringing with delivery after delivery. I hadn’t realized we’d ordered so much stuff until it all started showing up. It takes us about five days to get everything we ordered delivered, and the moving van still hasn’t shown up.

  On Friday, I decide I should probably go to the club. I know Dave wants to make sure I’m actually going to be a hands-on presence, and I intend to be. I order pad Thai and we eat in virtual silence. We’ve almost finished when she asks something that damn near knocks me out of my chair.

  “So, sir, did you mean it when you said I could have a membership to the club?”

  That same vision from before pops into my head and I’m left mute for an extrem
ely awkward amount of time. “Well, um, uh, sure. No problem. Of course, you have to go through the orientation like everybody else.”

  “Of course, sir. I would expect that.”

  “Okay, well, while I’m there tonight I’ll see when the next one is scheduled and we can get you signed up. Sound good?” She nods. “I’ve got to get over there to stake my claim. Will you be okay here by yourself?”

  Swear to god, the eye roll she gives me looks just like a fifteen year old caught with a porn magazine. “Well, yes, sir. I’ll be fine. Look around. God knows I’ve got plenty to do.” That’s the closest to a complaint I’ve ever heard her come out with, and on top of that, she’s right―we both have plenty to do to get the place in order.

  “If you need anything, just call. Your lease is supposed to be ready tomorrow, so we’ll go pick it up and then you’ll have a way to get around,” I tell her as I pull on a light jacket.

  “I can call a cab if I just have to go somewhere, sir, but there’s really nowhere I need to be,” she says as she pulls the plastic off a just-delivered vanity stool for her makeup table in her bathroom. That was a surprise. I didn’t think she wore makeup.

  “Okay. I don’t know when I’ll be in, but it’ll be late, or possibly early tomorrow morning, so don’t let it scare you if you hear me coming in,” I warn with my hand on the doorknob.

  “I’ll be fine, sir. Don’t worry.” As I walk out and lock the door behind me, I think about her again, there alone with no car and in a strange city. A lot of women would be freaking out, but not that one.

  Everybody seems glad to see me at Bliss. Melina comes up and gives me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. I swear to god, the woman looks better than she did when I left town all those years ago. Several of the original members are still there, and that’s good to see. Dave pulls a cake from under the bar, and in the white frosting, it reads in blue, “Welcome back, Brian!” Of course, I share it all around, but I’m careful to put a piece on a plate and wrap it in plastic wrap to take back to Cirilla. I hope she’ll like that.

  An hour later, the place is hopping. Every scening area is filled, and that means the private rooms will be shortly. There have to be at least a hundred and fifty people watching or sitting around talking, and seeing all that activity makes me very, very happy.

  It’s slowing down a little at about eight thirty, and Melina’s smiling face shows up at the bar. “Hey, good looking, I’d really like to scene with somebody tonight. Got anybody who can watch the bar so we can play?”

  I glance around and see Master James standing not too far away, leaning against a column and watching. It takes me about a minute to talk him into minding the bar, and I’m off to the locker room to change.

  When I step out into the common room in nothing but my leathers and boots, something comes over me, something I haven’t felt in quite some time. Power. Raw sexual power. In that moment, I realize I’ve been waiting for my life to come to me instead of going out and getting it, and if this is what I need, then so be it. In seconds, I’m even more glad to be there than I was before.

  Melina strolls out of the locker room in nothing but a belly chain and a pair of gold stilettos. God, the woman is every filthy fantasy I’ve ever entertained. Every head turns as she walks by, and I can’t help but smile when she heads straight for me. She stands there, arms at her sides, and looks down at the floor. “Sir, what would you like to negotiate?”

  “What do you need?”

  “I need to be pushed.”

  Hmmm. “So, a bit of orgasm denial followed by orgasm torture?”

  She bats her eyelashes and they brush the tops of her cheekbones. “Yes, sir. That would be delicious.”

  “And nipple clamps? Some particularly vicious ones?”

  I hear a hitch in her breath when she answers, “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Let’s go.” As soon as we step up onto the platform in the smaller scening area, I point to a stool in the corner and she sits down obediently. The dimmer on the wall gets turned down low, and I light a couple of candles on the small pedestals in the corners of the area. When I turn to the implement chest, I realize something important.

  It's the first one we bought, one that has been here since the very beginning. I’m shocked that it’s still here, and then I wonder … Could they actually still be in there …

  It takes three drawers but when I open the third one, there they are. “Submissive,” I tell her, “climb up.” When I point at the St. Andrew’s cross, she steps onto its footrests eagerly, and I almost chuckle. She has no idea what’s about to happen and if she did, she might not be so eager. Once she’s up there, I secure her wrists, ankles, and waist. “Open wide,” I tell her and slip the ball gag into her mouth. I’m pleased to see that, just as I had in the past, Dave has kept everything spotless, and I can tell from the smell when I open the drawers that everything has been sanitized thoroughly. Sure enough, in the larger drawer at the bottom, I find a huge, plug-in vibrator, and in the corner I see the stand that belongs with it. She’s watching everything I’m doing, and I realize I’m going to have to put a stop to that. I get the vibrator on the stand and set up, then rummage through the drawers again until I see what I want. “Here,” I tell her, and she bows her head just enough for me to get the blindfold on. We’re almost ready.

  When I draw my implements of choice out of the third drawer, I hear several gasps from the crowd, and I know they’ve figured out what I’m about to do. That alone makes my cock start to stiffen, and I know in less than a minute I’ll have a raging hard-on. Good. I’m going to need it.

  I start the vibrator on low and watch her. As soon as she gets close, I pull it away, and I hear her whine. After thirty seconds, I press it against her clit again and hit the button, and she jumps like she’s been shocked. In under two minutes, she’s writhing, so I pull it away again. This is something I do several times, and each time she’s a little more frustrated. Good. We’re getting there.

  There’s no doubt that she’s close, so I pick them up from the top of the chest and approach the panting submissive restrained there, helpless to my torture. Every long-dormant thrill in my body is awakening, and I turn the knurled knob on the end of the thing to open the jaws.

  Locking adjustable pliers. The jaws are wide open but the handles are engaged when I hold them up to a nipple and start to turn the knob again to close the jaws. I’m holding them straight out, and there’s a reason for that. When I get them tight enough to hang on, I do the other side the same way. Once they’re both secure, the fun begins.

  I turn the knob two turns each and I hear her gasp from behind the mask. “Submissive, show me your hand signal,” I tell her, and she does a “thumbs up” with both hands. “Very good.” That’s what I’ll be watching for. Two more turns and she gasps again. Each time I turn a knob on one set of pliers, I have to let the other dangle, and that pulls her nipple down, which is even more painful, I know. I keep doing this until she’s whimpering.

  God, I love this. I’d forgotten how much, but I truly do love it.

  I keep cranking down on them and she keeps whimpering until she’s actually crying out, but I just keep going. Her nipples are turning white, and that’s what I want. When I can no longer easily turn the knobs, I give them two more twists and listen as she shrieks. Perfect. A crowd has gathered and they’re watching us, whispering amongst themselves. Then I press the vibrator into her again.

  When I turn it on, she jumps a little and then yelps from behind the gag. Every shudder of her body makes the pliers dangle and swing, and that’s got to be excruciating. I keep watching her hands, but so far, nothing. She was so close to coming before that she’s got to be close now, and I just keep watching while the vibrator does its job.

  And then it happens. She shudders, her hips try to thrust, and the muscles in her belly ripple. That’s my cue, and I reach up, grab the pliers, and pull straight out.

  A scream breaks out from behind the gag, and she comes again,
her body churning and hips begging to pump, but there’s no relief, and I won’t move the vibrator away. As that orgasm subsides, I pull the pliers outward again but this time, I twist them, and watch as she comes again, this time screaming and gasping. She’s broken out in a sweat, her hair damp around her face and her body glistening under the dim lights. One more time, I hear a voice in my head say, and I reach up and snatch the blindfold off. “Submissive, look down at your tits and watch,” I snarl, and this time, I pull them out, twist them, and then yank.

  As soon as her body convulses, her head drops backward and her eyes roll back, nothing but white showing. She’s not moving, her body rigid and muscles rock-hard all over, especially her belly. And then I see it.

  Two thumbs.

  It takes me less than a second to grab the vibrator and turn it off, then I start methodically turning the knobs on the pliers the opposite direction, taking turns, loosening them slowly. They were pinched so tightly that if I just released them, the pain from the blood rushing back into the tissue would probably cause her to pass out, and I think she’s been close enough to that already. It only takes a minute to get them loosened and then off, and I slowly release the ankle restraints, then the wrists. Her arms flop to her sides, limp, and her head rolls forward. The gag comes next, and I toss it in the bin against the wall. My last move is to release the strap around her waist and when I do, she almost goes down, but I catch her and sweep her up in my arms. “Hey, blow out the candles, please,” I tell one of the members as I whisk her down the hallway and into a private room.

  The lights are dim, the covers turned back on the bed, and I place her gently on it. When I take a good look at her, she’s so far into subspace that I might not see her for a couple of days, and that makes me chuckle. One kiss on the side of her neck and I hear her whisper, “Fuck me. Please? Please fuck me?”

  The fishbowl of condoms on the side table is full, so I grab one, unzip my leathers, and roll it on. I check with my fingers first―dripping wet―and then just plunge into her. Scissoring her legs upward, I stand up on my knees and bury myself in her over and over, watching as her arms reach upward and her hands grip the rungs in the headboard, her elbows stiffening to let my pumping do the maximum damage.