Title: Broadway
Author: Shatterpath
Feedback address: shatterpath@shatterstorm.net
Date in Calendar: 20 June 2008
Fandom: Light, Water, Muses
Book: Prisms
Category: The continuing saga of Dace and pack's adventures. Takes place in the summer of 2004 in a land far, far away
Pairing: Dace/Catherine. And Dace gets a new playmate.
Rating: PG-13 to NC17. I cover the whole damn spectrum in this one!
Summary: A personal favor turns fascinating for the big cat…
Spoilers: Nothing specific, except for the several characters from earlier sections of Light, Water and Muses, and aspects of their characters and backgrounds were established there.
Advertisement: Part of the FSAC:DD08

General Disclaimer: This site contains stories between mature, consenting adult females. All characters are borrowed without permission, but without the intent of infringement. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. All TV show disclaimers are in earlier parts of this saga.

Note: Because of the dangers of Real Person Fic, this tale has been rewritten. Squint a bit and you might be able to figure who the Broadway characters are.

Beta: ariestess, ardvari, laylat, geekgrrllurking, racethewind10

Part 3


It's a fun night, but I'm feeling my fatigue and the babies are sound asleep, with Katie drooling contentedly onto the surprisingly ample cleavage of Reg and Sandy sprawled in kittenish abandonment in Jaye's lap. Eve has dozed off leaning onto Lorna, who's barely awake herself. Sofia has been cop-talking a starry-eyed Bartholomew and Cath is just utterly entertained by the whole thing.

"Next time you get involved in a party like this," she teases me, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of my smile, "count me in. This has been a scream. However," the sudden raised, bossy tone jerks everyone completely awake, including me. "It's late and the babies need real sleep. Pack it in, you lot."

Grumbling good-naturedly, they do as they're told. There's some chaos settling the bill and we spill back onto the street. Traffic is no quieter than rush hour, the din is as loud as ever and I swear that there are actually more people out. A glance at my watch confirms that it is, indeed, one twenty-two in the morning.

"City that never sleeps, baby," Lorna crows as she catches my expression and resettles Eve's weight, draped half over her small frame. "C'mon E, I can't carry you."

I earn a squawk as I grab the waistband of Eve's jeans to help spill her into the arriving cab and a crushing hug from Lorna before she follows. Reg is eying Lee oddly, her mind working furiously over the clues to this puzzle that I've constructed so carefully. "Security consultant?" she questions me, her voice mildly confrontational again and I smile kindly.

"I haven't lied to you, Reg."

She harrumphs at the half-answer and Lee actually flushes and swallows a grin. Their chemistry is fascinating and difficult to put a name to. Jaye offers to escort Reg home, both of them hugging Lee with promises to see her tomorrow. Then this new pet is left with my pack and I, calm and trembling beneath the heavy hand I've wrapped loosely around the back of her neck.

With the silent understanding we've built over time, Catherine and Sofia take the next cab with the twins and I push Lee in ahead of me at the last one. "Where to?" the cabbie asks roughly and I rattle off the address of one of the Spades' hang outs. It's close to where Catherine is staying in case my fatigue adds to a potential zone-out and has a wide variety of play rooms that are hopefully available.

I'm embarrassed to be woken up by gentle hands on my arm and I look around blearily. "We're here," Lee explains and I sit up to eye the meter, tossing the guy a couple twenties while pinning my charge down with a hand on her belly.

"Stay put for a sec," I instruct, pushing her door open and sinuously levering myself over her smaller body to plant one boot in the gutter and stand fluidly from the car's interior. Yes, I'm grandstanding, but what good are feline reflexes if I can't show off on occasion? Instincts tell me that there is no attention focused my way and reach back a hand for Lee, who takes it and allows herself to be helped from the cab.

Quickly stripping the now collectable and entirely too obvious shirt off, I shove it, inside out, into my waistband and once more place my scarred hand on Lee's neck to guide her. Loud club music pours in from a sprawling doorway set deeply into an entry foyer, but that's not our destination. A flash of the platinum card at the bouncer gets the door open and I repeat the familiar ritual of passing the thing over the reader with my fingers on the biometric pads.

"I need a playroom with a full bath," I tell the Spade there, impressed that he doesn't blanch at the top of the line clearance that I know just flashed on his screen. Most players in the Four Suit's organization will never meet a King or Queen, but these kinds of high-end places are only staffed with the most unflappable and discreet of players.

That's why people like me come to them for privacy.

"Here you are, King of Hearts," the man says differentially and hands me what looks exactly like a hotel key card. "It will be room twenty-one; up the stairs to the left."

Without a thank you, I steer Lee to the aforementioned stairs and fish out my phone to push a well-worn speed button. "Hey you," Catherine's voice greets me warmly. "Miss me already?"

"Always darlin'," I flatter with no hesitation. "Could you do me a favor and send Fetch over to the Arrow with my small play bag and a change of clothes? I'm in room twenty-one. Tell her I owe her for keeping her up even later."

The chuckle warms me as it always does. "No problem. She'll be there soon."

"Thanks. Love you."

"Love you too. Bye."

At room twenty-one, I hold out the unmarked key card and wait. This move must be Lee's. This is her decision, her show. I drop my hand off of her neck to give her space to think, moving my much larger body away a bit. There is a long moment of conflict before she hesitantly takes the card and I step back even further.

The door clicks satisfyingly when she slots the card and pushes her way into to the space beyond. I follow, noting with pleasure that she does not look over her shoulder, trusting my presence at her back. However, she doesn't know what to do with herself now. Not a problem.

After entering the room and securing the door, I grab the smaller woman's shoulder, freezing any movement with a simple instruction of, "stay." The duffelbag is tossed negligently onto the bed and we both take in the space for a moment. It looks like any hotel room, with a few notable exceptions. The black décor is one, the chain and pulley system in the ceiling another. Instead of a desk for work or a dresser for clothes, there is a table with heavy legs and eyebolts screwed in at the corners and a heavy wooden rack for S/M tools. There's a large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, the remote control stuck to the wall beside it with heavy Velcro. I sit on the edge of the bed, her standing body close to my knees.

"You stand or kneel," I begin calmly, getting the businesslike part of the night out of the way. "Don't meet my eyes directly unless you want my attention for something. I will not leave any kind of noticeable mark on you, I know better than that."

Lee nods, discreetly eying me from beneath her lashes and I am thoroughly amused at how quiet she's been. Her breath stutters as I reach out to press both hands flat to her belly and I admire the flex of strong muscles there.

"Take a deep breath," I purr softly, the same voice I use to calm the kittens. "Hold it for a moment, good girl. Now let it out, nice and slow."

Just like that, much of her tension flows out and I'm glad to see that my best guess about her singing skills appears to be accurate. All those years of watching the Sound of Music and Disney movies are paying off. I can't sing to save my life, but I sure know how to project if I need it.

"I don't really know what to expect," she finally confesses softly. "I've never done anything like this before."

Some time ago, I was dragged by Sofia, the closet 'Bohemia' fan, to see the traveling cast. This woman originated the role of Simone, half of the blatantly sexual girl couple of the group. My eyebrow barbell quirks up with my skeptical expression, making her giggle.

"Not for real."

Using my wrists for balance, she sinks to her knees with a groan and boldly meets my gaze. Excellent.

"Well, you can bet your ass that you will get the real thing from me, sweet cheeks." I leer at her briefly before growing serious. "Now, you need safewords. Doesn't matter if the play is light or heavy; safewords are your best safety net. A yellow word for slow down and a red word that puts an instant stop to everything; something obscure enough that you won't blurt it out by accident, but not so obscure that you cannot spit it out the instant you need it."

The busy mind behind the dark eyes turns inward. "So, something safe? Like a name?"

"A name can work, but think it out."

"Could I use my last name?"

"Sure. But what if you and I turn into a regular thing a few times a year? I might want to show you off in semi-public."

To Lee's credit, she only swallows hard and nods, once more trusting me. Then she grins impishly and gives me a flirty look that definitely gets my motor runnin'. "So a yellow word, like a yellow traffic light?"



My laughter is not feigned and I reach out to hook her around the neck and pull her forward to plant a warm kiss between her eyebrows. "Inspired." She is pleased by my affection and I note that. Chewing at her bottom lip, she's straining and I feel the need to help out. "How about Gabrielle? After all, Reg seems real protective of you."

That startles her, but obviously she likes it, nodding slowly. "I certainly won't forget them. And anyone overhearing will probably think I'm a 'Bohemia'-freak or some related breed of fangirl."

"That's the spirit," I laugh and settle back down to business, Lee noting the change. "Now, to get this started, you read your safewords and their colors back to me. Then I give you mine." That startles her and I smile. "Just because I'm your Top for the evening doesn't mean that I can't get in over my head too." That goes to great lengths to reassure her further, the dark head nodding. "Swapping safewords is like signing a verbal contract. We will still talk about things and negotiate what we both like, but it will only slow down or stop with your words. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Yellow is Kaitlyn," I offer, thinking of my old police captain I still miss. "And red is Hollywood. Now, repeat it back so that I know you understand and I'll do the same with yours."

"Yellow is Kaitlyn, red is Hollywood," Lee parrots back in a clear voice before hesitating again. Now is her last hurdle before I take over. She must offer the words of her own free will.

So I sit back and completely relax my body language, not pressuring her. This is a step she must take completely on her own. I have played this out endless times over the years. Some can't do it, creeping out with nothing but fear and a curiosity that they may never conquer. Some jump in almost too eagerly, making me wonder about their sincerity. I'm usually right. But when a potential player, facing this new and scary unknown, hesitates and thinks it out, that reassures me. What she is about to do is no small thing.

After a few heavy moments, she squares her shoulders, spine drawing up ramrod straight and she looks me dead in the eye. "My yellow word is Simone and my red word is Gabrielle."

Dutifully, I repeat it back and the contract is sealed.

Right on time, there is a knock on the door and I pin the visibly startled Lee with a sharp look. "Stay," I growl and go to the door. A peek through the peephole confirms that it's Sofia and I yank the door open to let her in.

The weary scowl speaks volumes.

Only a quick glance is spared for the kneeling brunette, a sly grin curling Sofia's mouth. "Here," she grunts and shoves the black leather bag into my arms. "Cath made sure there were snacks in there, too. The food here sucks."

"Thanks Fetch, I owe you one."

Grumbling and waving absently, my pal lets herself out and I chuckle to myself. I'll make it up to her later somehow. Returning to the bed, I yank the zip and unceremoniously dump the whole damn thing out onto the sheets. The clean clothes I toss aside along with several bottles of water, sorting through a squeeze bottle of lube, the safe-sex kit in its little tupperware case and a carefully coiled length of soft cotton rope. Don't tell me I forgot it dammit…

Nope, rifling the bag reveals the manufacturer-sealed plastic bag caught in one of the seams. Tossing it down, I yank open the safe-sex kit and whip out a pair of surgeon's gloves. "Normally," I start chatting conversationally, "I'd have had you tested for cooties long before we got to this point, but this was a bit of a surprise." The latex snaps home over my right hand and I grin suggestively at her. "So we'll do this the old-fashioned safe way. Care to do the other?"

For a long moment, Lee stares at my right hand and its accompanying tapestry of tattoos before swallowing hard and reaching for the other glove. She carefully tugs the thing over my fingers, settling it close to my skin. Then I pick up the errant package and hand it over.

"Open it."

Inside is a pair of the carefully fitted, butter-soft kidskin gloves I buy by the dozens from an artisan in eastern Washington. They are nearly as supple as cloth and I can feel pretty clearly through them and the whisper-thin latex. After fondling the expensive leather for a moment, Lee takes another deep breath and dresses first my left hand and then my right, her fingers stroking my concealed flesh for a moment before she pulls back with reddened cheeks.

I let her get away with the familiarity for now.

Stalking around her kneeling body like a hungry wolf at the edge of firelight, I come to a stop at her back. "Stand up."

It takes a moment, her legs obviously stiff, so I simply reach down and impatiently yank at her waistband, earning a gasp and possibly a wedgie. But she gets her legs under her after a moment and I let go.

"Arms up."

Off comes the shirt, tossed negligently atop my clean clothes. Now I can start touching, running my leather-encased hands softly over her bared skin, watching the goosebumps erupt in the wake of the shivers. Down the finely muscled, narrow back, tickling the groove of her spine, brushing my knuckles into the small of her back, drinking in the whimper stifled in her throat, to slip around the narrow curve of her waist.

Kneeling, I blindly yank the button of the jeans and pull the zipper down before shifting my hands to grab the denim at her hips and start shimmying it down. Besides, this position gives me a chance to breathe hotly over the small of her back, a hotspot that rarely fails. When her hands ball up, I smirk with satisfaction. Placing her right hand on my shoulder, I instruct, "foot." Sneaker, sock and pant leg are shed and we do the same on the left, leaving my pet in nothing but a plain white silky bra and a crimson thong. With my teeth, I grab the elastic of said thong in my teeth and let it snap against her skin, making her jump and squeak. "No panty lines," I laugh and stand with her clothes in hand.

Now, one doesn't need to be a Sentinel to tell that this woman is getting fiercely turned on by this. Her nipples are already hard and she's making an effort not to squirm. The flush has spread from her cheekbones down her neck and is working its way down her chest.

Tossing the clothes with the rest, I set the sneakers neatly at the edge of the bed and turn back to my prey. Now I step in close, chest to chest, looming over her small body. She stands about Cath's height, even if she's ironically built like Sara, and the boots really make me tower. Once more, I trail my hands softly over her, liking the quiet noises she makes and how her muscles jump.

"Don't move," I warn and she nods jerkily. That gives me a chance to grab her chin and force her to meet my eyes. "You should acknowledge an order with a 'yes ma'am'. Or 'yes sir' if that's more comfortable. Since I intend to fuck you to screaming before daybreak, the later is acceptable."

Heh. Her eyes have gone as wide as saucers, the pupils expanding to push back the greenish brown. Shifting my body, I lean over her intimidatingly, putting us nearly nose to nose.

"Say it," I hiss and she blinks, caught by the power in my eyes.

"Yes ma'am," she breathes out, nearly soundless, and I smile before giving her some breathing room.

"Good girl."

Releasing her chin, I finish my first lesson by repeating the whisper-soft caressing of her torso. She's starting to twitch, the expressive eyes drifting nearly closed, fingers flexing. Her weight shifts imperceptibly from foot to foot, but it's not until I start to circle her perky tits that her arms finally start to curl up.

"Don't move," I growl none too kindly, finally getting a real whimper from between clenched teeth. I love this game; order her not to move and then feel her up until she cracks and disobeys. Besides, this lets me learn what she likes on the vanilla end of the spectrum and I'll build on that. So I continue to caress her torso, varying the pressure as I go, using more fingers or more palm as I go. "Feel it?" I tease throatily, amused that her eyes remain closed and her leg muscles strain with the effort of not pressing into my hands. "Not what you thought this would be?"

Doubt she's even really listening at this point, the long weeks of curious anticipation of this night and my abrupt presence in her life having done the bulk of the work for me. When I clamp her smart-aleck nipples in the vise of forefingers and thumbs, she wails hoarsely and jumps. Hands are up, grabbing my forearms, but she shakes with the effort and forces them back down again.

"Much better," I soothe, cupping those fine breasts fully now to reward her with concentrated caresses that make her moan. Pulling away with a growl, I startle her by jerking her around and fumbling the obnoxious little clasp loose on the bra. Never said I could do everything with the damn gloves on…

Hazy and heavy-lidded, the darkened eyes watch me as I turn her again, now clad only in the crimson thong, clearly outlining the enticing curves of tummy, hipbones and groin. I'm getting a crick in my back and sit heavily on the edge of the bed to hook my fingers in that strip of cloth and tug her close, forcing her to straddle my legs. Body to body with this new lover, I quirk a tender smile that focuses her lust-scattered neurons.

"Hey pretty girl," I flatter, delighted when she grins girlishly. Yeah, this one's appeal is easy to see, her puppy-dog charm, good looks and glorious voice a deadly package. "You did a good job with lessons one and two."

"Thank you ma'am," she flatters coyly and jumps when I swat her lightly on the ass.

"Smartass. Don't get cocky just yet."

Any more sassiness on Lee's part is headed off at the pass as I curl my hands into the strong muscles of her ass, yanking her pelvis into my belly. Groaning, she stays loose in my hold, her body relaxed and pliant. There are two tools on my dorsal side right now that I can torment her with; the heavy folds of denim at my crotch and the weighty silver buckle holding the chaps to my waist.

Releasing the tense muscles of her fine ass, I grab both wrists, drawing them to the small of her back. "Grab your wrists," I instruct. "Don't let go."

"Yes ma'am," she pants, hips twitching, fighting between stillness and wanting to grind into me.

This new pose thrusts her chest out, as her shoulders are forced back and I give in to the temptation to suckle the rosy tips. Knowing what this woman does for a living, I had hoped she's a noisy lover. I'm both right and wrong. The lusty animal sounds come faster and higher and breathier, but the volume is middling. Ah well, I can't complain about not getting my eardrums shattered.

Rather than actually bite, I just pinch her nipples in my teeth, applying pressure as she whines and pants and makes sexy sounds across a broad spectrum. When the muttered cussing starts up, my hands drifting deeply between her legs from behind, I'm not actually surprised. Her breath is hot and fast against my scalp as she curls up almost painfully. Damn she's limber.

Reaching back blindly for the tube of lube, I flick its cap open and aim the nozzle at my palm before giving a squeeze. Particularly while clothed in the gloves, better too much of the stuff than too little. Worming that hand past the thong, no challenge there, I feel for this new terrain to familiarize myself. Tendons stand out in her upper thighs and her grip on my hips is stronger than I'd have believed for a woman her size.

Guess what they say about dancers is true!

I have been an avid lover of women since long before I was legal and I'm damn good at it. Each female is unique, the soft hills and valleys of her pussy like a topographical map of the same country, different mapmaker. Everything's where it should be and I get to find out exactly what she likes. The pressure of my hand across the whole front half of her vulva does it, her voice ratcheting up, the cussing foul and nearly incoherent. My free hand moves from her ass to her wrists, clamping down as the convulsions start.

Head back, spine arched, Lee cries out brokenly as her pussy clamps around my exploring fingers. She's flushed rosy, damp with sweat and her whole damn body's into this.

I love it.

A teasing flex of my fingers makes her whine a desperate, "oh fuck," as she's trapped between 'no more' and 'again'.

Patting her wrists, I purr, "let go. Grab my waistband and hang on tight."

It takes a moment for her to obey, utterly distracted by the feather brush of my hand trapped in her heat. This is a delicate tight-rope act, a tough prospect with a body I don't know yet. Part of her wants to calm and enjoy the buzz and part of her is still hard and tight and wants more. Vulnerable and trusting, she falls into my body, face pressed into the crook of my neck and shoulder, hands wrapped tight around the heavy leather straps that anchor the heavy leggings to the waistband of the chaps.

The stroking keeps her wound up, but I can't quite snap the spring. She whimpers as I pull away my caressing hand to wrap both hands around her upper thighs and stand up abruptly. She's not heavy, just compact, and walking with her additional weight to the far side of the bed is a cinch. Besides, now I get the thrill of those legs wrapped around my waist.

Once again she squeaks as she impacts the bed, our bodies still intertwined and my hands bracing my weight above her. And now I can see her face and the shame and pleasure warring there. "Hey," I soothe, "what's wrong? Second thoughts already?"

"No," she whispers. "I couldn't… get off a second time."

This is a bad time to laugh, and I don't, even as part of me wants to. "Honey, you've been heterosexual for too damn long. I'm not keeping score. Your nerves are over-stimulated and you need a breather. No prob." Hope replaces tension and shame and I make a note to dole out the flattery a bit more judiciously. Settling my body firmly into hers, I brace myself on my left elbow and tug on her arm to get her hand up. She's as curious as a little kid as I press her slender hand to my cheek. "Touch. Go ahead, it's okay."

Shy with this unexpected intimacy, her expression reflects the feather touch of her fingertips over the planes and hollows of my face. I even trustingly close my eyes so that she can brush the silky lids and the thrust of eye cavity to brow.

Besides, I'm curious if she's bold enough to touch the scar.

Few dare, which kind of saddens me actually. It's the size of my middle finger, livid against my golden complexion and bracketed in with the old pinpricks of the sutures that roughly zipped it closed. The overworked county surgeons were far more concerned with trying to save my ruined arm to worry about my looks. By the time a plastic surgeon got to me, it was too late. So once it healed completely, I had a metal rod sunk beneath the hardened flesh to revel in the defect. Just as I'd made Michael cover my horrifically scarred arm in the gorgeous tattoos.

Lee charms me completely by tracing the scar on my face as though reading Braille.

"Must have taken forever to heal," she muses, caressing the skin-hot platinum rod and the whitened hairs in my brow. "I like the piercing. It shows no shame."

It's a very accurate observation and I grin warmly and finally, finally get the same in return. It's a full faced smile that lights up her eyes, squinching up the inside corners adorably. Her bare feet are slithering over the back of my thighs and I grin suggestively.

"Like those, do ya?"

"You sure wear leather well."

"And you haven't even seen the signature jacket!"

Experimentally, I rock my hips into her crotch to see what response will come, gratified when her breath hitches.

"Watch me," I tell her, determined to read the tale of her arousal in her face. "You can touch if you want." Visibly gratified, she continues to pet my face, combing through my ragged white-gold mane, grabbing at my neck, smoothing my shoulders, wrapping those expressive hands around my biceps.

Too many people think that kinky sex requires props and elaborate theatricality. By the pleasantly startled expression on my new girl's face at the subtle and careful press of my pubic bone beneath the strategic placed button fly, until a few moments ago…

She was one of them.

This is a difficult trick, the blunt press of my cunt to hers, slowly grinding with the effort to turn us both on. More important is the connection of our gazes, for the most important sex organ is the brain. Caressing over her temples and cheekbones, my hands drift into the sloppily dried hair to pull loose the tie at the base of her head. It gives me something to grasp in my fingers while my brain concentrates on below the waist.

It gets close, real damn close and then I spot the amusement and mild frustration in her green eyes. Dunno what causes it, but her sharp snort is instantly echoed by my entirely butchless giggle…

And we both dissolve into hysterics.

Her laughter is uproarious and completely unfettered, her smaller body shaking beneath mine. "I like you," she finally giggles and scrubs away her tears of laughter with the heel of her hand. "But this is twice you've left me fucking hanging like this."

The hilarious quaver in her tone takes away any sting, as does the full bodied hug, her strong arms and legs squeezing me into groaning for mercy. "Alright, let up you evil hussy or I'll send you home wet and horny like this."

Making a face, she does as ordered, jumping as I crack my open hand across her hip. "Yes ma'am," she sasses and I realize that the laughter has uncorked her inner brat. Oh good, this I can work with. Cupping a hand under her ass, I toss Lee onto her stomach. With the weak right hand in the middle of her back and kneeling carefully so that all she can kick is my boots, I set about bringing up some color on her rear. Gripping the sheets in her fists, she doesn't object to the slaps and soon I have some good dark pink on her asscheeks.

"You're a brat," I admire as I haul her to her feet, noting the complete lack of contrition on her face. "I think I might have underestimated you." Before she can do more than squawk in surprise, her own t-shirt and several loops of rope have bound her wrists together and the trailing edge is snugly tied off to the panic clip on the chain mounted in the ceiling.

"Hey!" she whines as I step away to winch up the chain and my diva is stretched tight.

"You're a neophyte, brat or no brat," I comment conversationally, going to the collection of objects dumped earlier from my play bag. "So I'll leave your feet flat on the floor instead of on your toes. Once you start getting the tingles in your arms, that will be some small favor." Her expression is amused and mulish. Definitely underestimated this firecracker!

My foot collides with something under the edge of the bed and crouch to look. I should have known Sofia sent it. The damn thing must have fallen out when I unceremoniously dumped the bag. Serves me right to almost lose it.

"So, I've left you hanging, hmm?" I muse as though to myself and eye her like a side of beef. When I hook her disarrayed thong, she jerks away, kicking awkwardly. Now I growl for real, a low, feral, feline sound. She squeals in shock as I grab her thighs, hauling her lower body into my gut while her upper half hangs from the bondage.

"No, no, no," isn’t her safewords and I ignore her, grabbing the trailing end of the rope to tie her knees together just tight enough so all she can do is writhe impotently. And like a worm on a hook she does, muttering foully until I laugh meanly at her.

"Aw, poor baby. Is just an old fashioned fuck that'll get you off?" Pulling the zip on the case I found beneath the bed, I leave the prize inside to be ogled. "I can do that, but it seems almost a copout." The thing's just a strap-on the way a Bentley is just a car. Years of product development and countless bucks have gone into getting this Rolls Royce of dyke dicks perfect. The shorter end of the 'v' shaped toy is bean-shaped and firmly squishy, meant to be held inside the wearer. The fucking shaft is cored with a nylon articulated 'skeleton' so that it as maneuverable as a python. Beneath the silky silicone skin is a layer of thick gel that shifts around from shaft to shaft while fucking. The thing is just as fun for the wearer as her partner.

Lee's torn, part of her wanting the semi-familiarity of the phallus and part of her wanting to see what I can do without it. So I go for the first aid kit and pull out the blunt EMT scissors and start stalking my prey.

"You don't scare me," she blusters and I shrug.

"Your loss, sweet cheeks. But I haven't really tried either. Just feelin' you out."

The rope around her knees makes a great handle and she can squirm all she wants, to no avail. Since there is literally no way to cut her with the safety scissors, I calmly ignore the wriggling energy of her body and snip through the thong over each kidney. Then I can reach around and tug the crimson scrap loose to shove it in my pocket with a leer.

"Souvenir. It's not like I can talk about this to anyone but Michael and my boss."

She debates with herself for a moment before settling and looking contrite. Not that I believe it for a second.

"Your boss, ma'am?"

"The Queen of Hearts. And I suggest that you keep any 'off with her head' jokes to yourself if you ever meet her. She is a true lady and deserves to be treated as such. A brat like you would be hogtied, gagged and sent to her to get your hide tanned." Then I grin wickedly and stride over to gather up my clean clothes before heading for the bathroom. "Don't go anywhere."

A speaker in the bathroom clearly transmits her frustration. It's a good safety feature and a hoot as well. Stripping naked, I eye my skin, irritated at being trapped beneath the chaps for so long. Like a good hotel, there are little bottles of shampoo, conditioner and hand lotion. Unlike a good hotel, there is a damn nice safe sex kit that impresses me, set up elaborately like a kinky bouquet of flowers. I'll have to tell Michael to look into the food Sofia complained about and this place will be pretty damn close to perfect.

A hot shower that I neither rush nor delay relaxes me and wakes me up for more fun and games. I've had little sleep in the last thirty hours or so, but I've tolerated much worse. Freshly scrubbed, I pull on clean underwear and chuckle that Cath packed me a black t and jungle cammie pants. "Perverse," I chortle to my mate and don the clothes. Stamping my freshly socked feet into my beloved old boots, I collect the leather gloves and the safe-sex kit and head back out.

Lee's expression is miserable and she's definitely not happy with her predicament. Neither of us speaks, just warily watch one another. She's more complicated than I had thought initially and I relish the challenge. So I let the power of the predator wash over me and approach her helpless body. Hunching down, I kiss her lightly, feeling her mouth play curiously against mine. Before the kiss can get friendly, I pull away, but only far enough to start plucking the strings of her body.

Even more than when I initially undressed her, I take time to savor this new terrain. When she starts squirming again, I release the panic strap and she staggers a bit. "I've got you," I reassure and maneuver her body so that she can lie on the bed in a semi-kneeling position. Gloving up again, I trail kisses and nips over her back, warming her up again, getting her blood and hormones pumping.

"Where does your skin show?" I abruptly ask, pressing my hands flat to her hips.

"What? Umm, arms, upper chest, hips down. Reg shows more skin than I do."

"Yeah, but Reg isn't going to bite you."

It's not really an actual bite, but it sure feels like it! On the upper curse of her delicious ass, I pick a fleshy spot and combine some serious suction with the rasp of my teeth to startle her nerves. And she squeals for it now, outraged and horny. Once she's trying to squirm away from my mouth, I make her tolerate the pain for a moment longer before moving to a different spot. Running the fingers of my right hand on my jawline to test, I note that they're still pretty slick.

Good. Except this will be an awkward position to keep the gloves clean. Ah ha! Without having to remove my torturing mouth, I can just reach the safe sex kit and snatch out a handful of gloves, and better, several condoms slither to the floor. Ripping the plastic on one of the rubbers, I roll the thing over my thumb and shift my body up to suckle at the small of her back, tickling my fingertips at her swollen vulva.

Lee's moaning and muttering across a wide spectrum of tones and sounds, up on her elbows with her bound wrists nestled up between her breasts, the sheet fisted in her hands. With her knees still trapped, all she can do is scrabble her toes at the industrial carpet, unable to find purchase as my greater weight has her hips pinned.

"You want it, pretty girl?"

"Yes!" She wails. "Please!"

Tucking my thumb against her asshole, my fingers sink into her softness to see if I can make her scream again. With my mouth in the hollow at the base of her spine and my hand deep between her legs, Lee's off and running. She's been through a lot of teasing and I hope to get her off again. I'm guessing that she's just nervous with a stranger between her legs and needs to be coaxed past that.

Hoping she won't rear back and bust my face, I move my other hand so that I can knead her fleshy mons, feeling the rasp of her pubes, slipping in middle and ring deeper to straddle her clit and add to the sensation symphony playing along her nervous system.

Even with the long teasing, the climax doesn't come easily. But it's an intense one, making her shake and grunt, every muscle in her body tight and hard. Slowly, she settles and I feel tender about her sprawled, vulnerable body and the sassy and sweet woman within. So I gently kiss her spine and slowly remove my fingers from the grip of her body, thrilling at the long, musical note of animal feeling that echoes out of her.

Stripping my hands bare, I pull the slipknot that holds her legs and carefully gather up her slender body to mine. Immediately, she cuddles into my torso with her whole body and I'm warmed by her sweetness. Carefully balancing on one boot, I use the other to push back the bedding and settle her to the navy sheets.

"Rest," I purr and kiss her forehead. "I'll be back in a sec."

Humming an affirmative, she does as I've asked and I can quickly gather up my things and put them on the bondage table. Wetting a hand towel in warm water, I return to my pet, who's more asleep than awake.

"You are completely adorable," I note and crouch beside her, noting the mischievous smile on her face. "But you know that, hmm?"

With her still-bound wrists above her head, I can run the terrycloth over her body to soothe and wipe away the accumulated sweat. She very nearly purrs at the attention and I have to chuckle at her sweetly feral state. Then I roll her onto her belly and repeat the process, including pushing her thighs apart to quickly mop off the worst of the lube.

Tossing the sheet and blanket over her, I sit and toe off my boots before stripping off my shirt and grimacing wryly at my own hard and sensitive nipples. Oh well… right now I need sleep more than sex. Leaning onto my left arm, I pluck at the slip knot holding her wrists trapped.

"I kinda like it," Lee notes, her voice soft and I pause before finishing releasing her.

"Okay. But it's not safe to sleep like that. Compromise?"

Measuring out the perfect length by looping it around the thickest part of her left hand, I tie a loose knot and then slip the loop over her hand. Grinning at the curious green eyes watching the process, I explain, "Now you can get out with just a twist of your hand. Psychological bondage."

With a couple feet of play, I tie the other end to the barred headboard and finally get to drop onto my back to sigh heavily. After a few long moments, I note that she's not relaxing and reach out to touch her hip.

"Lee? You okay?"

Clearing her throat, she whispers, "I'm… feeling a little vulnerable. Can I cuddle?"

There are times I can be a dumbass, no matter how long I have done this. "Of course you can, sweet girl. Come're."

That's all the invitation she needs, rolling over to press her whole body against my side, shivering convulsively before finally relaxing. With her dark head tucked against my neck and jaw, her right hand fisted into the sheet in the middle of my chest and her slimly muscled body pliant against mine, I can forget for the moment that she is not Sara and my loose embrace is subconsciously adoring.

Sleep comes easily.

To Be Continued in Part 4...