Epilogue...Two Months Later...

This was something he never thought would happen to him. Not in his wildest fantasies and dreams had he ever expected to be turned on like this. His mind resisted but his cock did not. From the moment she mentioned the scenario, he felt himself twitch to life at just the thought of it. And here he was, handcuffed to a bolt in the ceiling, really handcuffed, no escape. Stark naked, although she had threatened to leave hiswhite athletic socks on. He was kind of sorry she didn't, because then it wouldn't seem so real. And so dangerous.

In the two months since they had been together, there had been a lot of changes. Obviously they couldn't work together as partners, but, miraculously, at the same time, the FBI decided to not allow "outsiders" to work hand in hand with agents anymore. Since they still utilized scientists at the Jeffersonian, he had almost daily contact with her. And his new partner, Abe, had no problem dragging her along to crime scenes. They still lived separately, but in lease only. They switched off apartments, where they both kept toothbrushes and changes of clothing. He was immensely happy with the pace of their relationship. And the sex. Nightly, with multiple repeats. Almost all day on weekends. He kept thinking it might burn out, but over time he only grew more hungry for her. Their bodies fit together so perfectly. He now knew every curve and dip, every hollow and bony part. They had played a bit with the control aspect, but always lightly. She could sense his reluctance to let go completely so she proceeded slowly. For her part, she loved playing the sub, always insisting he smack her harder, make her beg, tease her, and in some cases, humiliate her. She seemed to have no problem letting him take the reins and never seemed to feel as if she was being diminished in any way.

But now he had agreed to a being trussed up like a piece of meat, hung from the ceiling and completely at her mercy. This was a mistake. He was sure of it.

Brennan was fully dressed in office attire, black pencil skirt and blood red satin blouse that plunged to a V in the front. She had on black platform stilettos with bare legs. Her hair was up in a sloppy bun, delicate tendrils falling on her shoulders. Her makeup was dramatic, thick black eyeliner and blood red lips. She looked like someone to be feared.

She licked her lips, circling her prize. She loved this part. When they began a playful scenario (which is what they called it, to keep things in perspective), she would immediately slip into the character, in this case, a sadistic boss punishing an office underling. I really should have been an actress, she told herself, trailing a lone finger down Booth's side. She felt him shiver, his eyes never leaving her roaming form.

"It's come to my attention, Mr. Booth, that you have been acting inappropriately with some of the women in the office. Namely, fucking them them, ON OFFICE GROUNDS, then boasting to all your colleagues of your "conquests". Is this true?" With the last sentence she moved to face him, her eyes narrowing, her lips pursing.

"That's none of your damn business," he growled, running with his part perfectly.

"I think I'm making it my business, Mr. Booth. Or should I call you Don Juan?" She lifted a finger, jabbing it directly into the middle of his forehead.

"Well, then. Yes." He spit out, "I fucked them and it's my business who I tell."

"I disagree, Mr. Booth. I'm sure HR would be very interested in your exploits," she paused for effect, "You make quite a bit of money here, don't you?" She didn't wait for an answer. "What would you say if I told you that I could make it all go away?"

He looked at her suspiciously, "Go on," he said.

"For one session, and one session only, you will let me do to you anything I please, no matter how painful or humiliating to you. Do you agree to this Mr. Booth? After today, your record will be wiped clean and I will not interfere in your "business" again.

He cleared his throat, speaking clearly. "I agree."

"Good. Let's get started."

He smiled wickedly, "Yes. Let's."

*Smack*. Her open hand made direct contact with his cheek, reeling his head backwards. "You don't speak to me, dog. I will tell you when to speak!" He righted his head and gave her a look, as Booth, that told her she was going to pay handsomely the next time she was at his mercy.

"I see you are already aroused," she said tauntingly. She eyed his erection, the massive head swelling as she gazed at it. "You'd like me to touch it wouldn't you?"

He knew enough not to speak again, he only nodded solemnly. She dropped to her knees in front of him, her eyes gazing up with passion and mischief. With infinite slowness she reached for his cock, lightly brushing the tip with her thumb and forefinger. Her fingers trailed down the shaft to the base and up again. He growled softly, her soft touch making him ache. He longed for her to increase the pressure, relive him of his suffering. But he was sure it wouldn't be that easy. She leaned down taking the head of his cock in her mouth and sucked deeply. At the same time she reached around digging her fingernails into his ass. His hips thrust forward, his cock shooting deeper into her mouth. He gasped in pain and pleasure.

Abruptly she stopped. Standing, she stood face to face with him. "You'd like to come in my mouth, wouldn't you, dog? Is that what you did with all the women in the office? Or did you actually manage to fuck them?" As she said this, she stood close enough to him to rub his cock against the front of her skirt. Any more of this, he thought, and I won't be able to hold on.

"I assume from your silence, you were unable to pleasure them, only yourself. In that case, you will be used for my amusement without any satisfaction to you." She smiled coldly and circled him again.

Dear Jesus, Booth thought desperately, I won't be able to take this.

From behind him, he could hear her digging through a bag and placing something on the table behind him.

"First off, you need to pay for what you did. Have you ever been whipped, Mr. Booth?"

Booth dropped the mask of play for a minute, craning his head back, "You wouldn't dare."

He heard her chuckle. "Oh, Mr. Booth, you do not know me too well, do you?"

He turned his head back, thinking of what to do next. He could call it off, right? Dammit, what was the safe word again? Strudel? Pastry? Oh, yeah, apple pie. Satisfied that he could put an end to this if he wanted, he waited for the first smack. His cock pounded with an intensity he had never known. The idea that he might not receive relief for it, reeled in his thoughts.

*Smack* The belt whacked against his buttocks. A red mark immediately appeared across the whole backside. His hips shot forward, his cock straining towards the ceiling.

*Smack* Another direct hit, but this time it was accompanied by a soft caress to his back after the strike.

Blow after blow rained down on this back and buttocks, her hands roaming his body after each. Her fingers gently pinched his nipples, drifted down his hard stomach, bypassing his hard-on, to the tops of his thighs all the way down the front and back of his legs. He was close to begging her touch to be rougher, sure he would orgasm as soon as she did.

"Harder. Harder," he rasped, the last of his resolve disappearing. His head fell back, his eyes wild.

Brennan thought it would be hard for her to inflict real pain on him, but she could tell that beyond the sexual release, this was deeper and more spiritual for Booth than even he realized. He needed this. The man who was always in command, always sure of himself and what he could do, needed to feel what it was like to give up control to another person, and not be lost. As she beat him with the belt, she could feel herself getting turned on. She was doing this for him. She didn't expect to be more turned on than she normally was when seeing him naked. But her panties were sopping wet, her nipples hard and straining against the material of her blouse, her breath coming in short bated bursts. She wanted him, wanted to relieve his suffering, and her own.

She dropped the belt, pressing herself fully against his back. "Did you have enough Mr. Booth? Or should I continue?"

He didn't answer, just slumped against her, his body throbbing and begging for release.

'Is this what you want?" Her hands danced around to his front, fluttering around his cock. Suddenly she grabbed him, pulling his cock roughly as her teeth sank deeply into the back of his neck. He exploded into her hand, his eyes rolling back in his head, grunts bursting from his chest. They rocked together until he collapsed against her.

He heard a click of a lock then felt his hands being released. She guided him to the floor, turning him on his back. His cock was already hard and waiting for her, so she swiftly straddled him, sinking down on him. He filled her completely. His arms, nearly numb from being held up for so long, gently gripped her hips, letting her ride him. It didn't take long until she cried out, falling on his chest, her hair coming undone, flowing over him. He felt himself coming again, for what felt like might be his last orgasm before he perished from happiness. She was everything he had ever wanted. A friend, a confidant, a partner, a tiger in the sack. And the one person he could trust. Trust with this. Trust with every terrible thing that had ever happened to him.

They lay still, bathing in the glow surrounding them. Brennan looked up into his eyes, her gaze serious. "I hope you've learned your lesson Mr. Booth. The only person in this office you should be fucking is me." She broke out into a wide smile.

"You got it," he said, wrapping his arms around her. "You know, there is this other thing I did that was very bad."

She propped herself up on an elbow listening, "Oh, do tell. Do tell."