"Wh- was that a promise?" Lauren managed. Why wasn't she running? She thought a little wildly, why wasn't she bolting from this room? Down the three flights of stairs and screaming out the front door?
Thomas laughed, a gorgeous sound in the room, thudding off the sound dampening walls. "I believe so, baby. And a good girl like you always keeps her promises, yes?" He could see her feet shift restlessly, could practically hear the thoughts shrieking in her head. "I know you're quite alarmed right now. But I believe part of you has been looking for this room for some time, haven't you?"
Lauren stilled. Had she? She knew Thomas kept all manner of secrets from her. But since introducing her into his private, dark acts, she'd felt oddly closer to him. Like he trusted her enough to show these mysteries. To make her enjoy them. Thomas watched her pretty mouth try to shape words, try to explain or ask or whatever was still racing around that clever brain of hers. He'd always enjoyed her quick mind, how fast his lovely bride could leap to the right conclusion, given enough information. "I..." she paused, trying to think of what to say. "I knew there was, more with you. More here."
"Ah," his tall form was circling her again, long, elegant fingers trailing across her bare arms, the thin skin of her neck and collarbones. "Such an intelligent girl. What did you think was behind this door?"
Her screech of nervous amusement was a little too high-pitched, bordering more on the edge of terror. "Blackbeard's wives?"
Thomas's laugh was genuine, and she stared a little resentfully at his sharp profile, the slash of his high cheekbones and those vivid ocean blue eyes closed as he enjoyed her admission. "No. No other wives. But I believe you will enjoy all the mysteries here, even if they frighten you." His warm hand was suddenly cupping her cheek, raising her face to look at his. "Have I always given you more pleasure in return for your pain?"
Her pink tongue darted out to wet her dry lips, "Yes."
"We will talk about the rules," he soothed, in the same calming tone he used on men he'd been torturing, interrogating, those finally broken enough to be grateful to tell him anything. "You will use your safe words if needed and they will be honored immediately. But I expect you to be brave. I know you are. If you are naughty or disobedient, I will punish you. It will not be as simple as a few swats on that juicy behind. You will know you were punished. You will feel it. You will not wish to be naughty or disobedient again. When we are in this room, I am your Sir. You are my submissive. Sometimes my princess. Sometimes my slave. And I can promise you..." Lauren swallowed back a whimper as he paused behind her, her tall husband's body pressing against hers, the heat of his cock throbbing eagerly against the small of her back. "I promise you that you will beg for more."
Cadenza: A point near the end of a movement in a work such as a concerto where the orchestra will stop playing and the soloist will perform an elaborate passage showing his or her virtuosity on the instrument.
Chapter 20 – Yes, Sir
In which Thomas introduces his bride to the dark and murky delights of his "playroom."
For a few moments, the room seemed utterly silent to Lauren, the only audible sound was her breathing, rapid, a little harsh. Thomas was staring down at her, quite at ease but shrewdly gauging her reaction. "Do you understand the rules, darling?"
"Mmmmm, hmmm..." his bride managed, still frozen in place, eyes huge.
"You will need to speak when spoken to, little one," he corrected her, tone cooler.
Lauren cleared her thrust. "Yes, Sir," she whispered.
His cool expression cleared slightly, his polar blue eyes warming to a Mediterranean shade. "There's my good girl," he approved, one big hand coming up to cup her cheek. His thumb slid along her throat, feeling his bride's pulse speed up, her carotid artery throbbing. Stepping back, Thomas gestured at her cotton dress. "Take that off." He seated himself in one of the wingback chairs, long legs spread with his usual arrogance. Lauren was still frozen in place, and she jumped a little when his beautiful voice deepened, enunciation sharper. "You will always answer 'Yes, Sir' when I give you an order in this room."
Head bobbing like a marionette's, Lauren raised her hand to the zipper of her dress. "Yes, Sir."
Voice softening slightly, her dark husband asked, "Do you remember your safe words?"
"Yes, Sir," Lauren's voice was clearer this time. Idly crossing one leg over the other, Thomas was struck by his wife's courage. Forced to marry a complete stranger - he knew he essentially kidnapped her into this union though he preferred to believe it was a positive turn of events for her - but to handle his terrifying lifestyle so well? Her nervous eyes, the color of a lavender field, rose to his. In his careful analysis of all things Lauren, Thomas knew this meant she was anxious, frightened, but her long spine was straight, and after a nervous flutter of hands, they stayed clasped together. "Lovely girl..." that resonant voice was back to soothing again, and Thomas smiled approvingly. "Now your bra. Slowly." Hands rising to obey him, Lauren cringed internally. She knew exactly nothing about undressing in a sexy manner and to be frank- in the past, her scary husband usually had her clothes off before she knew what was happening. "Ah." Lauren froze. Thomas was still seated, but the thin tip of a rattan cane was sliding up the skin of her abdomen. "Slowly. Look at me, no hiding." When his bride unclasped her strap, the top of the cane slapped her left nipple sharply, the fabric doing little to lessen the sting.
"Ow! Wh- why-"
The cool, cultured drawl of Thomas's voice interrupted her. "When I give you an instruction in this room, you always answer me with, 'Yes, Sir,' forgetting this again will merit a sharper correction." Fuming internally, Lauren tried to keep her expression neutral. She failed, of course, the girl had no idea how open and expressive her features were. And for Thomas, she was the loveliest of open books. The tip of his cane smartly slapped the right nipple this time, a little harder, enjoying his bride's yelp. "And no pouting, little girl."
Gritting her teeth and clutching her bra Lauren nodded. "Yes, Sir."
Thomas settled back, tapping the cane on one polished shoe. "You may continue."
"Yes, Sir." she murmured and slid one strap, then the other down her toned arms and let the fabric slide off on to the carpet. Lauren was infuriated to see her nipples were already peaked, pink tips straining towards the dark, suited figure before her.
"Run your hands up your stomach, darling, and over your breasts, cupping them." That damnable cane was still resting on his leg, her husband's gaze fixed on her.
"Yes, Sir." Lauren was acutely uncomfortable. She didn't know what to expect when she found this room, but the girl assumed it would involve like... tying her up or something. But standing here in front of him, beginning to obey him was excruciating. And his half-smile told her he knew it. But as her fingertips circled her nipples, palms cradling her breasts, Lauren was surprised to hear the little sigh escape her.
"Such a good girl," Thomas said approvingly. "Now, put two fingers in your mouth, get them wet."
Watching her obey him with a little puzzled frown, he was about to bring that cane down on the plump mound of her pussy when his clever bride hastily added, "Yes, Sir." His cock was beginning to swell, Lauren could see it pressing against those well-tailored trousers of his, but Thomas ignored his erection, still focused on her.
"Run those long fingers of yours down to your knickers, slip them over your tender little pearl and stroke it." He watched the red flush start on his innocent bride's chest and rose up her neck and turning her cheeks crimson. "So shy..." he muses, pensively running his forefinger over his upper lip. "Come here."
"Yes, Sir." Another barely audible response, but Lauren obeyed him.
