Pinch Me

Chapter Twenty-Eight

They’d collapsed into bed when they got home, both of them exhausted. Friday morning, she was awake a little after five in the morning and watched Rob while he slept.

Her Sir. Her Master.

Unfortunately, he had to go to work that morning to work two back-to-back shifts, and he wouldn’t be home until Sunday morning.

In everything that happened the night before, she hadn’t told him about her lunch with Don Kern and knew she had to do it as soon as possible. The more she thought about it, the worse she felt even though she hadn’t done anything improper.

She climbed out of bed, naked except for her collar, and went to start the coffee.

When Rob made it out to the kitchen a short while later, he gave her a kiss and then stared at her for a moment. “What’s wrong?”

“Is it that obvious?”

He nodded.

She told him the story, starting when Don Kern walked into the dive shop. Rob looked troubled and stared at the floor for a moment before speaking.

“Is he someone you want to go out with? Because if you do—”

“No, Sir!” She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Just the opposite. The good thing about all this is that it made me realize something.”

“What’s that?”

She held her left hand up. “I needed to put this back where it belonged.”

Tears flooded his eyes as he folded her into his arms and held her. She stood with him like that until Doogie decided that his people needed cheering up and stuck his cold wet nose against Rob’s bare ass.

“Hey, personal space, doggie.” He ran his hand up her back, to the base of her neck where he grabbed her hair. His tone changed, dropping. “Who do you belong to, baby girl?”

Need and desire swept through her. “You, Sir,” she said in a tiny voice.

Now she recognized it. The beginning of subspace. Rob had always been able to get her there just with his tone of voice.

He nuzzled the base of her neck. “Who owns you?”

A soft, mewling sound escaped her. “You, Sir.”

He feathered his lips along the base of her throat, up to the side of her neck, where it met her shoulder. He gently nipped. “Who do you want to own you?”

“You, Sir. Only You.”

His breath felt hot against her flesh. When he bit down, hard, she let out a little cry and had to hold on to him because her knees wanted to give out. She felt her juices coating the insides of her thighs, her need thick and heavy for him even as the sweet pain swept through her. He bit and sucked and she knew by the time he finished she’d be sporting one hell of a hickey there that would last for several days, at least.

It wouldn’t be the first time, although usually he did it where her clothes would cover the mark.

When he finally released her with his teeth, he examined his handiwork with a pleased smile on his face.

“Today and tomorrow, if you go into the shop, you wear a shirt that will show off that mark nicely.”

She clung to him, wishing she could keep him there with her all day. “Yes, Sir.”

“Sunday, I want you to arrange to stay home.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He kissed her, hard and deep and full of the passion she hadn’t felt until yesterday. “Sunday, we’re going over to the house after I wake up. All our toys are over there. And I’m going to give my girl one hell of a spanking. You’re going to feel it for several days every time you sit down.”

She wanted to feel it right then! “Yes, Sir!”

He hooked a finger through the D-ring on her collar and tugged on it, leading her over to the kitchen sink, where he pushed her forward over the counter.

“Legs spread.”

She did, her breath coming in hitching gasps. She heard him open a drawer and rummage around before closing it again. Then the feel of his hand on the back of her neck, fingers around her collar, holding her down.

“This is just a reminder.” She knew immediately he’d grabbed a wooden spoon, and he smacked her several times with it on the ass, stingy, but not nearly hard enough to leave marks.

Then she heard him lay it on the counter. His free hand appeared between her legs, gently probing.

“Oh, you’re a very wet girl.” He sounded amused.

“Yes, Sir,” she admitted.

He plunged two fingers inside her cunt, still holding her in place with her collar, and finger-fucked her hard and fast.

“Don’t you dare come, baby girl,” he warned. “If you do, you’re going to get some not-fun strokes from my belt.”

She tried to hold on to the sink, her knees weak from his words and tone and even the threat. He also knew exactly where to thrust, what sweet spots inside her would take her over the edge, and his other fingers hit her swollen and throbbing clit with every stroke.

Just when she wasn’t sure she was going to be able to obey him and hang on, he stopped, making her gasp and whine when he pulled his hand from her cunt.

He yanked her up from the sink. “Knees.”

She dropped like a sinking stone in front of him, looking up.

His cock jutted out, rock hard, a drop of pre-cum pearling at the slit at the end.

She wanted to lick it off and knew if she didn’t wait for permission that could mean more punishment.

She didn’t care. She wanted it all.

“Open.”

She did, and he stuck his fingers in her mouth. She knew what he wanted and didn’t lose eye contact with him as she licked her juices off his fingers.

His cock twitched in time with her mouth, making him smile. He cradled her chin with his other hand. “Such a good girl,” he cooed, sending another flood of juices to her pussy.

When he pulled his hand out of her mouth he replaced it with his cock.

This time, he gathered her hair in his hands and took full control, fucking her mouth the way he liked while she wrapped her hands around his thighs and held on.

“Get ready,” he grunted just before his cock hardened and exploded, rewarding her with a mouthful of his cum as his balls emptied.

She felt him shudder. He grabbed one of the chairs and pulled it over, not removing his cock from her mouth, cradling her head in his lap. He stroked her hair. “Good girl,” he whispered. “Such a good girl.”

Her eyes dropped closed. She could do this for the rest of her life, sitting collared at his feet, doing this.

Doing anything he asked of her.

This was the peace that had been missing in her life, beyond the memories. This was the missed context, the ability to discuss all things vanilla and kinky with her friends and knowing they understood exactly where her mind was at.

It was this.

It was Him.

She let out a content sigh.

After a couple of minutes, he tapped her on the head and made her sit up and look at him.

He leaned forward in the chair and caught the ring on her collar with his finger. “Such a good girl.”

“Thank You, Sir.”

He grinned. “Oh, you thank me now.” He reached between her legs with his free hand to play with her clit. “You don’t get to come until Sunday.”

Her breath caught. “What?”

“Is that a problem?”

Her clit throbbed, especially since he was now rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. “But…”

“Do you accept this punishment, baby girl?”

She didn’t have a choice. She wouldn’t disappoint him. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

He released her clit, but then started tormenting her nipples, going back and forth between them until they were both taut, aching peaks.

“No playing with yourself unless I tell you to. And no orgasms. If you come without permission, it’s twenty-five hard ones with the big paddle. Got it?”

At that point she was so horny she thought it might be worth it. “Yes, Sir.”

He kissed her. “Good girl.”

Rob sent Laura frequent text messages all throughout the day, making sure to keep her horny and on edge. As instructed, she wore a shirt that would expose the hickey, but she left her hair down and other than Sarah giving her a friendly ribbing about it, no one else commented.

Friday night, without Rob’s comforting, solid presence in bed next to her, dreams plagued her unlike any other.

These weren’t mere dreams, though. She suspected they were true memories of past events. When she awoke Saturday morning, she was reluctant to leave the bed for fear of not recovering any more information. Most of what she picked up was older stuff, college years, but included some very fond memories of her parents and Bill.

And Rob.

She brewed a pot of coffee, then it hit her.

Don Kern.

This was the morning of his class.

The thought filled her with trepidation. She didn’t know what she felt about the man with the green eyes, but now that she was rebuilding her relationship with Rob she didn’t feel right about seeing Don Kern, even platonically.

She didn’t want anyone but her Master.

At class she would simply tell him she wouldn’t feel comfortable making plans with him. He would either understand or not.

Besides, Steve was teaching the class. She could easily make herself unavailable.

A hope filled her that she had begun to think wasn’t possible. The light at the end of the tunnel was no longer an oncoming train.

It was conceivable she’d make it through this okay.

She took her time getting ready. By the time she reached the shop, Steve and the class were already on the boat and gone.

Sarah laughed. “Boy, there was one guy who seemed disappointed you weren’t teaching the class.”

Laura froze. “What do you mean?”

“What’s his name, Don? He asked for you specifically. I guess he thought you were teaching.”

A chill settled over her, wiping out the morning’s progress with her mood. “If he doesn’t like it, that’s tough. I never told him I was going to be the instructor.”

“Hey, don’t get upset. He just seems to have a thing for you is all. He’s not the first and won’t be the last, you know that. Sometimes we get people like that. They get their card, they go out a couple of times on the boat, and once they realize diving’s not Sea Hunt and that you don’t have the slightest bit of interest in them other than making sure they don’t die on their check-out dive, they quit being creepy.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” One of the things she remembered was Sarah was someone she could always talk to and confide in without worrying about it getting around. “Listen, I’ve got to talk to someone.”

“STS?”

“Huh?”

Sarah laughed. “Sworn to secrecy stuff?”

“Yeah, something like that.” She recounted Don Kern’s initial visit to the store, the call, and her lunch with him. She also mentioned recovering a lot of her memories about Rob, while leaving out the BDSM aspect.

When she finished telling it, Sarah let out a breath.

“Well, that makes it a little different.” She looked at Laura. “Why the hell did you go to lunch with him and not tell anyone?”

Laura shook her head. “I don’t know. I wish I hadn’t now. I just had this…feeling.”

“Were you attracted to him?”

“Not like that.”

Sarah chewed on her lip. “He might really be bent out of shape then.”

“I laid it all out for him at lunch. And I never promised him dinner. I said we’d talk after class, that’s all.”

“Yeah, but the difference in what you said and what he heard could be the equivalent between English and Swahili for all you know.” She thought about it for a moment. “Do you want to blow and let me handle him for you?”

“Is that something I would have done?”

Before?

The word was implied but ever-present.

“No, you would have told him to go take a flying jump off a really short pier.” She smiled. “Or you would have introduced him to Rob, who would have assisted him off the pier himself. You also probably wouldn’t have gone out to lunch alone with the guy, either.”

“Is Rob jealous?”

“Oh no, that’s not what I meant at all. Rob’s always very secure with you. You’re joined at the heart, not the hip. He’s just…you own his heart. If you asked him to bring you the moon on a string he would hijack the space shuttle without a second thought.”

That made her feel worse, not better. Guilty guilty guilty. “Why don’t you just tell Mr. Kern that my fiancé came and picked me up?” Laura grabbed her purse and some paperwork and headed for the door. “And don’t give him my home or cell number.”

“Duh and a half. Besides, you’re unlisted.”

It surprised her that Sarah knew. “What?”

“Well, yeah. Everyone here knows that. It’s SOP. No one gives out your home number or your private cell. Something about a creep a few years ago wouldn’t quit calling you.”

Frozen in her tracks, she forced herself to turn completely to face Sarah. “What?”

Sarah saw the look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Why did you say I got an unlisted number?”

Sarah realized Laura didn’t know this. “Years ago, before you met Rob and when you were still living with your parents. You dated some guy in college, but then later, you dated him again for a little while. When you broke up with him the second time, he didn’t want to take no for an answer at first. Your dad got the house number changed and had it unlisted. When you moved to your condo you kept your number unlisted. Rob and everyone who works here know that.”

She hadn’t read anything about the second relationship with the guy in the journals. Then again, there was still a lot she hadn’t read through yet, in both the older handwritten journals and the newer computerized ones. “Are you sure they knew? I mean about why it was unlisted?”

She thought back. “I’m pretty sure.”

“Do you remember the guy’s name?”

She shook her head. “No, not offhand. Steve might. He threw the guy out of the shop one day when your dad wasn’t here and the guy wouldn’t leave. That was before I worked here.” She frowned. “You’re not thinking Don Kern is that guy, are you?”

Laura considered it. “No, I guess not. If Steve threw the guy out, I’m sure he’d remember him.”

On the way home she checked her mirror every few seconds. Any car that pulled out behind her she watched like a hawk, and almost rear-ended someone when she took her eyes off the road for too long. When she walked in the door she called Det. Thomas and left a message asking him to call her. She double-checked her locks, set the alarm, and called Rob. When she got his voice mail, she left him a message to call her.

Who made the hang-up call after she got home from the hospital? They assumed it was the attacker. Was it? If the number had been changed, that meant it would rule out the old boyfriend, right? Or was her attacker someone close to her who she gave her phone number to? Or was it just a coincidence?

Her cell phone rang ten minutes later when Thomas returned her call.

“Listen, this might not be anything. I just found this out today and thought I should tell you.” She related the conversation with Sarah and her thoughts on the situation.

“You’re talking about”—she heard papers rustling—“Kevin Baldwin. Psych professor at USF in Tampa. Steve and Carol already told me about him and we checked him out. He was in front of a class of fifty people that ended at eight o’clock that night, and went with a group of other professors and students to a local bar after. His wife swears he was home by twelve, the friends say he didn’t leave until after eleven, and his credit card receipt for the bar tab was date stamped 11:20 p.m. There’s no way he could be your attacker. Tampa’s a good two-hour one-way trip. Plus he was uninjured. I saw this guy myself. Unless he killed you first, there’s no way he could have hurt you the way the attacker did. This guy’s maybe one-fifty soaking wet, about five ten. He’s a beanpole. If he turned sideways, he’d disappear.”

“Okay, I get the message.” She sighed. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”

“No, listen, anything you think of, and I mean anything, call me. It might not be important, but then again it could turn out to be the one thing we need to break the case.”

“No new leads yet?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Okay then. Thanks for your time.” She ended the call feeling disappointed and somewhat relieved.

A smile crept across her face as she stared at her engagement ring, finally back where it belonged on her left hand.

If nothing else, at least she had her priorities straight and had Rob back where he belonged in her life.