Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down Read online

  “You did not!”

  “Yeah, I did. Still have my father’s handprint on my butt to prove it. Want to see?”

  Rhea snorted at him even though the offer was extremely tempting. “Why does everything have to get back to me seeing you naked?”

  He smiled at her. “Ulterior motives.”

  The worst part was that Rhea really did want to see what he kept hidden under those clothes. She’d spent many hours last night after their kiss wondering how much of his ego was boasting and how much was true.

  He dipped his head down to nuzzle her cheek.

  For a full second, she couldn’t move as she savored the feel of him there. But somewhere in the back of her mind, warning bells went off.

  “Would you like some coffee or juice?” she asked, pushing him away before she headed toward her kitchen. Yowza, but he had a hard body. Just the brief contact of her hand on his chest was enough to let her know he was built of solid muscle.

  Disappointment flashed across his face, only to be quickly replaced by a grim determination. “Juice would be great.” He followed after her and took a seat at her breakfast counter while she went to her fridge.

  She could feel his gaze on her body. Turning her head, she saw confirmation. He was staring at her butt as if he were caressing her in his mind. Her entire body burned.

  Rhea almost dropped the juice. Tightening her grip, she pretended to ignore him and went to get a glass. “So your brother is named Aramis, huh? Your dad must have been in The Three Musketeers.”

  “Yes, and Aramis is grateful every day of his life that Dad didn’t double for Christopher Lee.”

  “Why?”

  “He played Rochefort.”

  She laughed as she poured the juice. “Yeah, I can see where that might be bad. But had your father doubled for Michael York, Aramis would be D’Artagnan. That could have been cool.” She handed him his juice.

  “Maybe,” Ace said before he took a sip. “But no one would ever be able to spell it.”

  The doorbell rang.

  Grateful for the interruption, Rhea put the juice back in the fridge. “That must be our instructor.”

  She headed back to the door, unsure of what to expect. The woman’s name was Beullah Mueller, and for some reason she pictured an extremely rigid German woman who looked like the gym teacher from the movie Porky’s, complete with hair rolled into sausages around her head.

  The reality was worse.

  “Hi,” the woman said, not in a German-accented voice, but in a normal American one.

  “Beullah?” Rhea asked, unsure if this was the right woman.

  Surely not.

  Around the age of forty-five, the woman in front of her was of average height, slender, and was dressed in pink designer sweats. She had a large, navy blue gym bag slung over her shoulder. Something about her reminded Rhea of Meredith Baxter-Birney from Family Ties.

  She looked wholesome and sweet.

  Beullah smiled warmly. “I know. I look like someone’s middle-aged mother and not a dominatrix instructor. But in my day…I have to tell you, I have whipped many a man’s ass and enjoyed it thoroughly.”

  There was something extremely incongruous about that coming out of the mouth of a woman who looked as if she ought to be in a peanut butter commercial.

  “Okay,” Rhea said, stepping back to let the woman in. “I don’t suppose I want to ask how it is Tee knew to call you, do I?”

  “We go to the same spa and health club. I have to tell you that Tee is something else. She bends like a pretzel.”

  “Oh, jeez, now there’s an image I want burned out of my memory. I’ll never be able to look Tee in the eye again,” Ace said as he joined them.

  Beullah smiled. “You must be Ace. Tee told me to give you an extra hard time.”

  “I’m sure she did, just as I’m sure you will.”

  Rhea had to admit she didn’t like the way Beullah was looking at Ace, like a starving woman staring at a steak.

  Beullah waltzed into the living room and placed her bag on the coffee table. “Tee said she liked the two of you a lot and that you were ready to get more adventurous in your relationship, so here I am.”

  “Pardon?” Rhea asked.

  Beullah waved her hand. “Oh, don’t be bashful. I’ve worked with lots of couples who have gotten bored with the missionary position and are looking for new ways to spice up their sex. I had this couple once who started out normal as pie, and the next thing I knew, they had more body piercings than Marilyn Manson and Christina Aguilera combined. He really liked feeling the cat-o’-nine-tails whip across his pe—”

  “TMI,” Ace said quickly, cutting her off. “Way too much information for me.”

  Rhea agreed completely, but couldn’t resist teasing him. “I don’t know, Ace. That sounds like fun. Sure you don’t want to give it a try?”

  “Nothing painful comes near the area,” he said, indicating his entire groin. “Nothing.”

  “Now, now,” Beullah said as she unzipped her bag. “You two have to learn to trust each other. That’s rule number one about being a couple. If you’re to have a healthy relationship, you have to learn to express your needs and fears to each other without dread or inhibition.”

  So that was the story Tee was using for this. Rhea and Ace were supposed to be a couple wanting to add spice to their sex life. Nice lie. Tee could have filled them in on it first.

  “Well,” Rhea said wistfully, “you know how it goes. Even the hottest piece of cheese eventually goes bad. I never thought I’d get bored with Ace, but look at him…My cheddar turned into Gouda on me.”

  “Hey, I resent that.” Ace’s tone was offended. “I’m not the prude here. You’re the one who walks around in shirts buttoned all the way up to your nose and pants or long skirts. You know it wouldn’t hurt you to wear a miniskirt and low-cut blouse once in a while.”

  Rhea arched her brow at that. Ace had been paying attention to her clothes. Who knew?

  “Now, now,” Beullah said in a voice that held the full authority of a woman used to being in charge. “There’s no need in blaming each other. Two days with me and you two will know all there is to know about how to make each other beg for your attention.”

  She opened her bag wider and searched through plastic bags. “You,” she said to Ace. “Take off your clothes.”

  He went completely stiff. “Bullshit.”

  Beullah pulled out a whip. “Take off your clothes, slave. Now.”

  “No.”

  She snapped the whip at Ace, who caught it without flinching when it wrapped itself around his forearm. “Whips don’t do it for me, baby. I’m not a lion and you’re not going to tame me like one.” He jerked the whip out of her hands.

  Beullah looked at him with a newfound respect. She glanced over to Rhea. “You certainly have your hands full, huh?”

  “You’ve no idea.”

  Beullah retrieved her whip.

  “C’mon, Ace,” Rhea said. “Time to play.”

  He growled low in his throat before he started unbuttoning his shirt.

  Beullah smiled approvingly. “That’s it, Rhea. You have to take charge of your slave and show him who’s boss.” Beullah unzipped her sweatshirt top.

  Rhea’s eyes bulged as she realized that beneath that average outfit, Beullah wore a leather corset that had studded metal cups that covered her breasts.

  Beullah acted as if there were nothing unusual about her state of dress. “First thing you have to do, Rhea, is get used to your role as mistress. You need to be completely comfortable in this.”

  Beullah pulled her pants off. She wore a pair of black fishnets that were held up by bloodred ribbons. The back of the corset was a thong that left more of Beullah exposed than Rhea had ever wanted to see.

  Rhea could feel herself gaping. “I could never feel comfortable in that.”

  “Sure you could,” Beullah and Ace said at once.

  “No, really,” Rhea insisted. “How about a T-shir
t and…” Her voice trailed off as Beullah pulled out three small plastic baggies.

  “This should fit. Tee gave me your size and told me to pick out something extra rough.”

  Beullah opened one bag and handed Rhea two pieces of something she would have sworn was an arm sling…for a very small child.

  “Don’t be bashful,” Beullah said. “I’m sure Ace has seen you naked enough not to care, and you haven’t got anything I don’t.” She looked at her speculatively. “At least I hope you don’t, and even if you do, I’m sure I’ve seen it on someone else.”

  Yeah…Little did Beullah know Ace had never seen her undressed in either of their lives. But then Bender would have the same problem. She was going to have to wear this for not only a complete stranger, but a demented one at that.

  Okay, Rhea, you can do this.

  No, I can’t.

  Yes, you can. Do it.

  Determined to go through with this, she started for her bedroom. At times she really, truly hated her job, and now she knew why she’d given up fieldwork to begin with.

  It sucked.

  “And don’t forget this.” Beullah handed her another red-tinted plastic bag and a smaller bag.

  Rhea was too scared to even look at what it contained. Ignoring Ace, who watched her with a hot, intense stare, she crept to her room down the hallway, where she would hopefully find her courage lurking someplace.

  By the time she was dressed in the tiny, shiny PVC halter top and thong bottom, Rhea had almost convinced herself that this wasn’t so bad. After all, women wore less than this on beaches in Rio.

  Not that much less, but somewhat less.

  Of course it would help if the bottom wasn’t crawling into places the good Lord never meant neoprene to touch. Rhea opened the bags to find a pair of fishnet stockings and six-inch-spike-heeled PVC boots. Oh, yeah, these looked lethal.

  And poor Ace thought his padded handcuffs would be used.

  “How long have you two been dating?” Beullah asked while Ace waited without his shirt on for Rhea to return.

  He kept his arms folded over his chest, wondering what Rhea would look like when she came back.

  “Three years,” he said to Beullah’s question. The first rule of lying was to stick close to the truth. Since he’d known Rhea that long, it seemed a safe guess.

  “Do you love her?”

  Rule number two, answer question with question and let the other person draw their own conclusions. “What’s not to love?”

  Beullah went to her bag and pulled out a pair of tiny leather briefs. “You know, this is what you’re supposed to wear.”

  He curled his lip at the thought of that little thing strapped onto him. “I’d rather keep my pants on, thank you.”

  She clucked her tongue at him. “Aren’t you more sexually adventurous than that?”

  If it were only a sexual relationship, the answer would be hell no. Unfortunately, more than a relationship was at stake here. If Rhea didn’t at least act as if she knew what she was doing, she’d end up killed, and since he was the one who had gotten her into this…

  Expelling a disgusted breath, he grabbed the briefs from Beullah and realized brief was definitely the key word. He might as well be covering a watermelon with a Band-Aid.

  Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but that’s what it felt like.

  Ace headed for the open door in the hallway that led to Rhea’s bathroom. Ignoring the feminine pink-and-white-flowered decor, he closed the door, then pulled his shoes, socks, and pants off.

  Just as he reached for his briefs, the door opened.

  Rhea froze at the unexpected sight of Ace completely naked in her bathroom. Her heart hammering, all she could do was gape.

  Hello. He was glorious!

  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known he’d have a great body. She did. But this…

  This was heaven. He was so toned, she could see every tendon of muscle. His skin was deep tawny and inviting. Warm and delectable.

  He made her mouth water.

  And as she stared at him, she realized he was growing hard even before her eyes.

  He cursed an instant before he grabbed a pink towel off her counter and covered himself. “Did you need something, Rhea?”

  “Damned if I remember what it was now,” she confessed. “I have to say, seeing you naked has totally reviled me to utter stupefaction.”

  He scoffed at that. “Yeah, well, I have to say, I’m enjoying the view myself.”

  It was time to teach this man a lesson. Rhea narrowed her eyes on him two seconds before she stepped forward and grabbed the towel he was holding. Before she could stop herself, she jerked it free.

  “Hey!” Ace snapped as she danced away with it.

  Laughing, she ran out of the bathroom with Ace in hot pursuit. They both skidded to a halt as they entered the living room and saw Beullah looking intimidating in her role as mistress.

  Rhea didn’t protest Ace’s taking the towel back and wrapping it quickly around his hips.

  “I’ll get you later for that,” he whispered before he vanished back into the bathroom.

  “Good, good, good,” Beullah said. “You should play with your slave. Torment him until he knows who the boss is.”

  Yeah, but in this relationship, Rhea wasn’t sure she was any more his boss than he was hers. It seemed to be a mutual game of one-upmanship.

  Beullah handed her a cat-o’-nine-tails that was made out of velvet and feathers. It looked more like a cat toy than something designed for sexual stimulation.

  Ace returned with the towel wrapped around his hips.

  Beullah frowned at him. “Did the briefs not fit?”

  “Not in my opinion.”

  Before either of them could move, Beullah whipped the towel free of his hips to expose the leather briefs.

  Rhea burst out laughing.

  “Hey!” Ace snapped. “Galaxina, I didn’t laugh at you.”

  “I’m so sorry. That just doesn’t look right.” And it didn’t. Something was profoundly wrong with a man as tough as Ace Krux wearing what amounted to a leather Speedo.

  “Who is Galaxina?” Beullah asked.

  Rhea struggled to subdue her laughter. “A very cheesy sci-fi movie with Dorothy Stratten.”

  Beullah humphed, then dropped the towel. “Now we need to set a few ground rules. One, there should always be a safe word that the slave uses to let the master or mistress know when he or she has had enough. I think today we will use Pinocchio.”

  Amusement flashed across Ace’s face. “Pinocchio? The boy made of…wood?”

  Rhea rolled her eyes at him.

  Beullah gave him a censoring glare. “You have something against Pinocchio, slave?”

  “Well, no.” He gave Rhea a playful look. “I just think it’s an interesting choice.”

  “Okay, then,” Beullah continued. “Just say Pinocchio to let Rhea know when she’s hit you too hard. Remember, this is for fun and for arousal. The point of this isn’t to actually hurt each other.”

  “Thank you, Lord,” Ace said in a relieved tone. “Can I start this whole thing by saying Pinocchio now so that I can get dressed again?”

  Rhea rolled her eyes at him.

  Beullah looked around the living room. “Now Mistress Rhea, where should we tie up your slave?”

  Rhea grinned wickedly with a thought. “The front yard for the neighbors to see?”

  “Like hell.”

  Beullah laughed. “You two certainly have the relationship, don’t you? All right, children. We’ll start simple. The bedroom.”

  Ace didn’t miss a beat. “Pinocchio.”

  Rhea put her hands on her hips. “Ace, c’mon, play nice.”

  Unready to face the Hun with the whip, Ace crossed his arms over his chest and followed Beullah and Rhea to the bedroom in back. He paused in the doorway as he took in the white and pink perfection of Rhea’s domain. It was innately feminine.

  Better still it was innately Rhea, righ
t down to the soft, sweet scent of her perfume that hovered in the air.

  His body stirred instantly and it was all he could do not to close his eyes and just inhale the seductive scent.

  “We bought these last night.” Rhea handed Beullah the bag full of their toys.

  Beullah scoffed at them, “Those are for amateurs.”

  Ace scoffed back, “Consider me an amateur.”

  As he reached for the velvet-lined handcuffs, Beullah pulled them away. “You are a very bad slave.” She handed the whip to Rhea. “Punish him.”

  Rhea burst out laughing. “I don’t think I can do this. I really don’t. I’m just not dominatrix material.”

  “You have to get into the mind-set. Close your eyes.”

  Rhea looked at Ace. “Cover me if she makes a weird move?”

  “You got it.”

  Rhea closed her eyes as Beullah came up behind her. “Now picture yourself as the ultimate goddess. You have to embrace your inner womanhood and know that you rule the world.”

  Rhea could see herself as empress of the universe.

  “Imagine men lining up to do your every bidding. You have the power to make them want you. To need you. To do anything to get your approval.”

  A woman could cozy up to that idea.

  “Now open your eyes.”

  She did and Beullah handed her the whip.

  “Now make him serve you!”

  Rhea stiffened her spine. “Get on your knees, Ace.”

  “Pinocchio.”

  “There is no Pinocchio for you!” Rhea cracked the whip, which would have been more effective had it been made of something other than velvet and feathers.

  Ace felt completely ridiculous as he did what she ordered. But then she had to get used to this. Her life would depend on her being able to convince Bender that she was a dominatrix.

  What was a little damaged ego if it saved her life?

  “Now grab his hair and pull his head back.”

  Rhea complied.

  Ace stared up at her dark, sinister glare.

  It lasted about three seconds before she burst out laughing. She rubbed his head where her hand had been gripping his hair. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”