Desire for Ecstasy Read online

  Desire for Ecstasy:

  humility and acceptance

  Book 3/3 in the Desire for … series

  Adira August

  edited by

  Tanja Ongkiehong

  Copyright ©2018 Adira August

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, places and incidents

  are either wholly sprung from the

  author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Desire for Ecstasy: humility and acceptance

  Desire for … Book 3

  by Adira August

  Fiction - novel - romance - erotica

  Ecstasy

  From Joy there is a scent of bliss,

  from Perfect Joy yet more.

  The Joy of Cessation is passionless.

  The Joy of Sahaja is finality.

  The first comes by desire for touch

  The second by desire for bliss,

  The third from the passing of passion,

  Thereby is Sahaja attained.

  Monday, March 6th, 2017

  “I don’t understand why not? Ecstatic orgasm is what you always wanted. It’s how we started.” Avienne Rivers threw herself down in a visitor chair in Benedict Hart’s Denver Tech Center office.

  “It’s not where we are now, Avia, and I don’t go backward.” Ben made rapid notes in a document on one of an array of computer monitors. “This topic was closed at breakfast and I don’t appreciate you stalking me to my office. I have a conference call in a few minutes and-”

  “Tell me why,” Avia interrupted, crossing her arms. “You refused to this morning with your master-of-my-domain pronouncement that the topic was closed. It’s not closed with me. Tell me why and I’ll get out of here.”

  He frowned at the screen and consulted a different monitor.

  “You’ll get out in any case when I call security.” He copy/pasted something from one screen to the other, then looked at her. His head went back, his indigo eyes darkened, the planes of his face sharpened. “I’ll also spank you over this desk, first. And not in a way you’ll like.”

  Avia felt the color drain from her face and return in a rush of anger. “We are not in the Keep; this is not our bedroom.”

  He was looming over her with his hands on the arms of her chair almost before she could draw breath. “You think it matters where we are?”

  Avia’s mouth went dry looking into his face. He was the most compelling, beautiful man she had ever encountered. Ben Hart was striking, rather than handsome, with a clean forehead above dark winged brows. His eyes, deep-set over high cheekbones, went almost black when he was angered or determined or aroused. No other man had ever turned her to a molten mass of need and lust the way Ben Hart had. No man had loved her, cared for her, demanded everything of her and given her more in return.

  His sculpted mouth set in a firm line, he waited for her answer. Avia knew he wouldn’t wait long.

  “Yes,” she said because they didn’t lie to each other. “I think it matters where we are.”

  “That’s why.” He straightened and went back behind his desk, refocusing on his work. “You’re willful, self-centered, arrogant and contumacious.”

  “Contumacious.”

  “Willfully disobedient to authority in a way that shows contempt.”

  “I know what it means.”

  He opened his intercom. “Send security to my office.”

  Avia stood up.

  “Too late for that,” he said.

  The door opened and Kevin Woodward filled the doorway. Ben’s driver/bodyguard’s eyes flicked over Avia and Ben, taking in the room.

  “Sir?”

  “Ms. Rivers will be out in a few minutes. Escort her to her vehicle and watch her drive out of the parking lot.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ben rose and slipped off his suit coat and vest. The charcoal gray straps of his suspenders bracketed a broad, muscular chest under the snowy white shirt.

  “Leave your belt on the credenza and wait outside the door,” he told Wood. “No one comes in.”

  “Yes, sir.” He unbuckled his belt.

  Avia’s chest hollowed in fear. She loved the sexual submission that aroused her to depths she hadn’t known she possessed. But she was not a masochist in the way of enjoying pain only for the sake of pain.

  There was a slick hiss of leather against fabric as Woodward pulled the belt swiftly through the loops and coiled it up. He placed it next to the lamp on the polished surface of the credenza by the door with a clink of the brass buckle.

  The sound made Avia’s stomach clench. She watched the door close behind him. He’d take up his stand directly outside. The door was not soundproofed.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll just go,” Avia said, taking a step toward the door.

  “No. You won’t.”

  Ben’s cufflinks were on his desk. He was rolling up his cuffs. In the five months they’d been together, Ben had not punished Avia. Not this way, not something outside of sex. As an arousal device, even if he was chastising her, he knew just how far he could push the pain to make her come hard and long.

  But this was something else. This was pure discipline.

  He grabbed a decorative pillow from the sofa against the wall of his large, window-walled office and dropped it on the credenza. “This’ll do.” He moved the lamp to the floor. Then he picked up the belt.

  “Put your face in the pillow, pull up your skirt. Legs spread, toes in. You know the position.”

  “Ben.” Her voice was so tight she could barely speak.

  He held the belt by the buckle and the end, so it formed a one-inch wide leather loop.

  “I can have Wood come in and restrain you, if you need that.”

  The heat raced up her chest and over her face. The humiliation would be unbearable. Stress tears rolled down her face, but he was implacable. She walked to the credenza, her knees so weak she feared she’d collapse.

  He’d told her from the very beginning there would sometimes be punishment. She had agreed.

  She bent over until the side of her face met the rough fabric of the pillow cover. Reaching back with both hands, she gathered her loose skirt and pulled it up until she felt the cooler air of the room against her upper thighs and the tear-away panties he required her to wear at all times.

  His warm fingers quickly released her two back garters. Her stocking tops sagged. He tucked the straps up out of the way.

  “Shoes off. Spread.”

  She stepped out of her low pumps and worked her feet apart. Then, hating it, knowing it was the last thing before he’d begin, she turned her toes in. The position prevented her from clenching her buttocks against the pain. It was an action that had always excited her. Now, it only made her nauseous.

  “Forearms flat on the credenza, hands next to the pillow.”

  She had a vise-like grip on folds of her skirt, and it took effort to let go and move her arms.

  His left hand folded the skirt up further over her back. His right hand, the one that held the belt, ripped apart her panties. The belt loop scraped over her buttocks.

  “Present.”

  Oh, no, no, please, no. But she knew she had to. If she refused, he’d do it or the bodyguard would. And her punishment would be worse. With a mortification that felt like dying, she buried her face in the pillow, tilted her hips and popped up her bare bottom to receive the belt.

  “You’ll accept your punishment in position without protest. Do not move until I give you permission.”

  Acceptance came over Avia. Ben was not cruel; he wasn’t abusive. She heard the swish of the belt through the air as he took a few practice swings. It would be over soon.

  whoomTHWAC
K!

  Avia screamed into the pillow. It was the sound and surprise—then it was the pain: hot, deep, spreading. Her knees jiggled, but her feet stayed in place.

  whoomTHWACK! whoomTHWACK!

  “AHHH-HAHHHH-AHHHH!”

  Her back bowed as her body pulled her ass in to avoid the belt and pain. His big hand pressed hard on the small of her back, her ass popped up and the belt came sharply down. She cried out into the pillow.

  whoomTHWACK! … whoomTHWACK! … whoomTHWACK!

  The belt clattered to the top of the credenza next to her arm, but his hand stayed in place on her back.

  “This is because you didn’t hold still,” he said and spanked her hard with his bare hand. His wide palm found the raw places on each cheek where the belt had bitten in.

  She screamed and shook and wept and made herself hold still.

  When he stopped, it took a few moments for her to realize he had.

  There was a click. “Mr. Hart, the embassy says it’ll be five minutes.” The intercom.

  “Thank you, Delores, put them through when they’re ready.” His voice came from further away. She rolled her head and looked at him through swollen eyes. He was standing behind the desk putting in his cufflinks.

  “You still think it matters where we are?”

  “Not to you,” she answered.

  He shook his head. “Willful. Stand up. Put on your shoes. Take the belt and give it back to Woodward as you leave. Make sure I hear you thank him. Close the door behind you.” He sat down and went back to his monitors.

  Avia did as she was told.

  WHEN THE DOOR closed behind her, Ben Hart bolted for his bathroom and vomited violently into the toilet. He’d always hated disciplining a companion. When it was necessary, he managed it with an iron-willed self-control he’d spent years perfecting, doing what was necessary as efficiently as possible.

  But this was his Avienne. He’d avoided this moment for months. At first, he’d told himself they were simply pausing the development of their relationship after a terrible time of injury and death.

  Then he’d been too fragile, himself, unable to resume any semblance of normal relations with her until he’d found a way out of his self-imposed prison of guilt and remorse. And when they’d finally found some peace and happiness with one another, he’d not wanted to disturb it.

  He brushed his teeth and drank some water, looking into the mirror, facing a truth that rendered him a haggard imitation of himself. He’d become distinctly uncomfortable in the relationship. Avia had become more and more demanding.

  He returned to his desk and reviewed the Macau plan, some parts still hazy. This was a deal he’d been putting together since Christmas, and it was almost ready to launch. He’d originally scheduled his confrontation with Avia for afterward, when he’d have more time to concentrate on her. On them. But she’d accelerated things today.

  Benedict Hart was born a Dominant male. At one point he’d given up looking for a woman to be a life companion. Then Avienne Rivers walked into his office and he was lost. And found.

  As alpha a female as he was a male, in denial about her own submissive nature. When she finally had submitted, it was earth-shattering. He wanted her for his wife, but there was so much more to a lifetime in a D/s relationship than mind-blowing sex. She must understand, accept—desire—what that was, or their future together wasn’t possible.

  The thought of losing her made him feel empty. The thought of clinging to her until everything they loved about each other was destroyed in a battle for control was sickening.

  A faint electronic click. “Embassy on monitor four, Mr. Hart.”

  “Okay.”

  Willful she might be, but her resistance was no match for the inexorable determination with which he’d built an empire. He touched the control that brought Macau to him in color and sound.

  WOODWARD USHERED Avia to the private elevator at the end of the hall. Once inside, he replaced his belt. Her chin on her chest, Avia turned away during the process.

  Exiting the elevator, they were a few steps from the heavy metal exterior door that led directly to the covered parking space where Ben Hart’s big, silver SUV waited.

  Wood led her outside and held the back door of the vehicle open for her. She hesitated.

  “Just escorting you to your car, ma’am.”

  Avia climbed in and lay down gratefully on the custom bench seat.

  “It’ll just be a few minutes, Ms. Rivers. I want to check the tire pressures.”

  He shut the door and left her alone. Her backside burned miserably and she wondered if she would suffer this degrading pain and reminder of her punishment for days. A few more tears slipped down onto the leather seat. She told herself to get a grip. Myriad women and men in D/s relationships took punishments worse than this.

  But all she could think of was how sad it was to be here like this. How many times had she and Ben had intense, wonderful sex on this very seat. She called the SUV his “sexmobile” …

  She was in the sexmobile.

  Avia leaned over and opened the hidden drawer under the seat. All Ben’s sex aids were there, including the jar of soothing cream he used on her backside after a sexual spanking.

  She hiked up her skirt.

  Her skin was hot, but the cream cooled her and the pain backed off to a dull ache and throb. She found the fragrant wipes and cleaned up her face. In a drawer under the facing bench seat were panties. Sometimes Ben ripped three pair a day from her as they were driven from place to place.

  He loved pushing her to the brink of orgasm and holding her there, helpless and desperate as Wood drove them to the next luncheon or party or back home. Sometimes he’d take a business call with two fingers inside her, his thumb lightly massaging under her clit while she fought desperately to stay quiet.

  And as much as he never tired of tormenting her, she never wanted him to stop. So he’d stocked the SUV with panties in various colors. Though sometimes, if they were going to a restaurant with tablecloths, he didn’t allow her to replace the ones he’d ripped off.

  Avia realized she’d turned herself on simply looking into that drawer. Ben Hart had released her inner sex maniac.

  Avia removed her garter belt and stockings, unwilling to bear the feel of elastic garter straps over her spanked cheeks. After putting on new panties, she folded everything into a small bundle she tucked into her bra.

  When she got out, Avia made sure to close the door with a solid thunk to alert Woodward. She found the bodyguard around the other side, squatting in front of the rear tire with a gauge in his hand.

  “Walk me to my car, will you?”

  “Certainly.”

  It was a long way around the outside of the building. When they reached the front, they cut across the parking lot to her red hatchback.

  “Wood?” She didn’t look at him.

  “Yes, Ms. Rivers?”

  “If he’d called you in to hold me down, would you have done it?”

  “Of course.”

  When she pulled out of the lot, he was still standing there, watching her drive away. Just as Benedict Hart had told him to.

  “STOP SMIRKING at me, Hunter. It hurt! It still hurts.”

  Hunter Dane, Denver homicide detective and friend to Avia Rivers, swallowed a bite of something sproutier than he ever thought he’d consume. He was eating it because she’d insisted on meeting him in a “bistro” where patrons ate at tall tables with no chairs.

  “It’s punishment,” he shrugged. “It’s supposed to hurt. He’d be a crappy Dom if he couldn’t deliver a decent spanking.”

  She leaned over. “He used a belt.”

  He put the sandwich down and picked up what looked like a potato chip, except for being red. “Did he break the skin? Are you bleeding?”

  “No.”

  “How many times did he hit you with this belt?”

  “I don’t know … Six, I think.”

  “You think. He didn’t make you count?�
� She shook her head. He dropped the dubious red chip and picked up a pale green one. “So that’s all?”

  Her face flamed. “He—used his hand, too. Right after.”

  “Did he?” Hunter smirked again, imagining the ass he’d so long admired turning pink under Ben Hart’s hand. “You disobeyed him during your discipline?”

  “How did you know—” She turned redder. “He aimed. On purpose. He hit me right where the belt did.”

  He nodded and picked up his beer. The bottle said “organic.” He turned it so he couldn’t see the label. “Yeah, that’s what I would’ve done.” He drained the bottle, ignoring her outraged face.

  She opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out. He pushed the remains of his food away.

  “What exactly did you think BDSM was, Av? Ben Hart is one of the most powerful Doms I’ve ever met. If he was gay, I’d have offered. It’s who he is not some persona he turns on and off. “

  He threw a tip on the table and got up. “C’mon, I need real food.” He led her outside. “You treat him like he’s your personal animated sex doll. Billionaire version. You like him pulling out his Dom tricks in the bedroom. You like the control; you like the orgasms. But you think it all stops at the door. If you want that, I know a BDSM club you can go to. Ben finally called your sore spoiled ass on your bullshit.”

  He had her by the hand practically dragging her across the wide street.

  “Where are we going?”

  “There’s a great hot dog cart by the library. I’ll sit under a tree in the park; you can recline at my side.”

  Avia stopped and yanked her hand from his. “Stop it!”

  He turned on her, hands on hips. “Why?”

  “What? Because … What do you mean why?”

  “Are you still hungry?”

  “I -”

  “Are you?”

  “Yeah, I mean -”

  “Do you like chili dogs and chips and soda?”

  “Are you crazy? You know I do.”

  “Sitting on the grass in the park a big turn-off?”