The Last Good Knight (The Original Sinners Pulp Library)

by Tiffany Reisz

  “I could die on your quads,” she said. “Or between them. Seriously, can you crush coconuts with those thighs?”

  “I’d say thank you but that’s the last part of my body I was hoping you would notice, Mistress.” He said the words with a rueful smile.

  “Oh, I noticed that, too. Hard to miss it.” She stepped forward and wrapped her hand around his thick, hard inches.

  Lance gave a labored breath as she stroked him. He probably wanted her to take a firm grip and stroke harder, so instead she merely grazed him with her fingertips, touching him as lightly as possible. His stomach muscles contracted.

  “How good is your orgasm control?” She teased the tip with one finger and felt fluid on her skin, a drop or two. She massaged it back into the head.

  “Decent. You order me not to come, and I won’t come. I can’t last much longer than a week or two, though, or it’ll happen in my sleep.”

  “How old are you?” She stroked the underside of his cock with the back of her hand.

  “Thirty-six, Mistress.”

  “You’ve played with a domme before?”

  “My first real relationship was with a domme.” Lance closed his eyes as she cupped his testicles.

  “Really? How old were you when you were with her?”

  Lance opened his eyes and smiled at her. “Eighteen to twenty-two. College.”

  “Not many college girls are tough enough to top men. Takes a few years to get to that point.” Nora wrapped her whole hand around him and tugged.

  “This college girl was a beautiful, tall, dark-haired professor in her late thirties with a wicked mind and a wickeder flogging arm.”

  “Fucking a professor?” she said, stroking him harder to show her approval.

  “She fucked me, Mistress. I might have been inside her, but it was always at her whim and command.”

  “My kind of gal. Anyone since then?” She kept stroking him, testing his endurance, his ability to keep himself from coming.

  “Here and there. Only professionals since then. No one in the past six years.”

  “Why not?”

  He sighed heavily. “I got married. Bad idea.”

  “Worst idea I’ve ever heard. Divorced?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. She wasn’t kinky?”

  “Just so you know, Mistress, talking about my marriage is the best orgasm control there is. If we talk about it, I can guarantee I won’t be coming anytime soon.”

  Laughing, she took the hint. She could tell there was a lot more to that story, but she didn’t press him for it. He didn’t come down to her dungeon for a therapy session. Pain and sex were on the menu tonight. They’d save the getting to know each other bullshit for later.

  “Since I do want you coming at some point tonight, I’ll ask you about your ex-wife another time when I’m feeling really sadistic. For now how about you follow me…” Without letting go of him, she took a step back and led him slowly and carefully to a leather-covered kneeling bench, not unlike the kind found at prayer shrines.

  “I’ll follow anywhere you lead, especially if you have my cock in your hand.”

  “Stay here. I’ll get the stopwatch. We don’t want to go into overtime on the pain and miss all the fucking.”

  “No, Mistress, we absolutely do not.”

  She heard a bit of a drawl in his words, a bit of the Old South under his clipped military tone. “Where are you from?” She got the stopwatch off the wall and handed it to him.

  “Military brat. I’m from everywhere. But Mom and Dad are from Mississippi. I went to school around Boston, but I guess I didn’t lose their accent.”

  “Boston? Did you got to Harvard?”

  “MIT. Did Naval ROTC there.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Nerd. Nerds get punished around here.”

  “I’m also a geek.”

  “Do you read?”

  “All the time. Especially since recovering from the surgery. Big, thick non-fiction books. Biographies of dead military leaders. Fat ones.”

  “Fat books or fat military leaders?”

  Lance started to say something but she interrupted. “Forget it. Bend over, bookworm.”

  He did as ordered and Nora picked up the solid red riding crop, the one with the steel spine. She could wield it like a cane and strike him with the length of it. That would be too easy, though. The tip of the riding crop was a divided piece of leather, four inches long and forked like a snake tongue. She’d yet to find anything that stung quite as much as this particular crop did.

  “You picked the number fifty earlier so we’ll let it do double-duty. You survive fifty hits of this bitch, and I might even let you come twice tonight.”

  “You spoil me, Mistress.”

  She brought the viper-tongued crop tip down onto the back of his thigh. “Count for me.”

  “One.”

  “Hurts more than it looks like it would, doesn’t it?”

  “Fuck yes, Mistress.”

  “You’re welcome. Keep counting.”

  By twenty, Lance’s voice had started to break. By forty, Nora started to feel a little sorry for him. But they were only ten away. The fifty sounded choked, like it took every ounce of energy and every scrap of masculine pride to get that number out.

  “Good man…” she purred as she ran her hand over his burning skin. “Very good.”

  “Thank you, Mistress. I want to please you.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  “What’s our time now?”

  “Five minutes.”

  “Good. Bedroom. Now. Kneel facing the bed, hands on top of it, eyes closed.”

  She didn’t have to tell him twice. Lance stood up and walked purposefully to the bedroom while Nora lingered in the dungeon gathering some bondage supplies.

  When she entered the bedroom she found him doing everything as she’d instructed.

  “You’re so well trained. You could turn pro, sailor.” She sat on the bed next to his right hand.

  “Attention to detail, Mistress. Something they drill into us.”

  “Would you like to drill into me?”

  “I’d cut off my right hand for the chance.”

  “Oh, don’t do that. We’re going to need that hand. If I get in the right mood, we’re going to need all of it.”

  She wrapped leather bondage cuffs around his wrists and buckled them. God damn, that man looked good in leather. The cuffs on his wrists accentuated the muscular forearms. Hitting on this guy was the smartest thing she’d done all night. Maybe she’d be smart again tomorrow…and the day after…

  Once she had his wrists buckled, she flung one leg over his head and moved to straddle his hands.

  “Am I wearing panties? I can’t remember if I put any on today.” She raised her hips so he could see straight up her skirt.

  “No, Mistress. You aren’t.”

  “Good. That’ll save us a step. Are you good at oral?”

  “Isn’t that for you to decide?”

  Nora cupped his chin and traced his lips with her thumb. She picked up a snap hook and, taking his hands in hers, pulled his arms down behind his back and cuffed them together at the wrist.

  “Here’s your challenge,” she whispered in his ear. “If you can make me come using nothing but your mouth in ten minutes or less, then I’ll let you inside me next. Ready?”

  “God, yes,” he whispered back.

  She scooted her hips to the very edge of the bed, pulled her skirt up, and spread her legs wider. She set the stopwatch again and said, “Go.”

  Lance leaned in and stroked her folds with his tongue. He focused on her outer and inner lips, on her vulva, taking his sweet time with her. By the time his lips enfolded her clitoris, she was almost ready to beg for it. The man might be a sub, but he knew how to tease as well as any dominant.

  He continued teasing her as she’d teased him, keeping the pressure so light that it bordered on torture. But she didn’t bark any
orders at him. After all, if he failed to make her come in time, it was his loss as well as hers.

  After a few minutes of the tease, he licked her harder and put more pressure onto her clitoris. She let herself moan, let herself pant. They were lovers tonight, not dominatrix and client. She could enjoy him as much as he enjoyed her.

  And God, did she enjoy him. She enjoyed him so much that she came with a cry as her climax gripped her. As she lay panting on the bed, she heard the beeping of the stopwatch.

  Slowly she sat back up on her elbows and looked down at him still sitting between her knees. “Okay, I think we’ve established that you’re good at oral.”

  “I’m glad you think so, Mistress.” With a posture of sincere reverence, he kissed her thigh where her boot met bare skin.

  “I didn’t think you were going to get me there in ten minutes. You took your sweet time.”

  “You give me ten minutes with my face between your thighs, and I’ll take every second of it.”

  She ran her hands down his arms and unsnapped his cuffs. “Are you ready for your next order?” she asked.

  “Ready.”

  “Go to the head of the bed. Sit with your back against the headboard.”

  He rose off the floor and crawled across the bed. While he waited in silence she took lube and condoms out of her drawer.

  “Hands up,” she instructed as she knelt in front of him. She opened the wrapper and rolled the condom onto him. Whenever she fucked male submissives she always put the condom on herself. So much more fun to make him sit there and be treated like a sex slave with no control over his own body.

  Once it was on, she covered him in a thin layer of lubricant. After all the pain she’d given him, she wanted nothing for him now but pleasure.

  She put the lube away and dried her hands. He’d taken his sweet time making her come. She’d take her sweet time making him wait.

  Finally, she straddled his thighs and gripped the headboard. Facing him on her knees she brought her mouth to his for a long, deep kiss.

  “If you fuck as well as you kiss, this is going to be a good night,” she said, smiling at him.

  “I gave you an orgasm. It’s already a good night, Mistress.”

  “Let’s go for a great night, then.” She lifted his arms and hooked his wrist cuffs through the headboard. He gripped the black steel bar with both hands.

  Nora rose up and lowered herself down onto him, sinking onto his cock with a sigh of pure pleasure. She smiled as he released a ragged breath. She gripped the headboard, her hands bookending his, as he lifted his hips up and pushed into her.

  “Is this position okay for you?” she asked, remembering the massive scar on his back.

  “It’s perfect, Mistress. You’re doing most of the work anyway.”

  “What positions don’t work for you?”

  “Honestly, the only one that hurts is missionary.”

  “Thank God for that. I only do missionary position with missionaries.”

  He laughed and kissed her bare shoulder. She turned her head to the side, giving him better access to her neck and throat.

  “You’re a sadist for cuffing my hands,” he said as he pressed his face to her hair. “I’m dying to touch you.”

  “I might let you if you beg a little more.”

  “Please let me touch you with my hands, Mistress. Please…”

  “What do you want to touch?”

  “All of you. Your arms, your breasts, your nipples, your thighs, your clit…every part of you I can reach. Please.”

  “I’ll give you a choice. I can unhook your cuffs and let you touch me, but you won’t get to come for another hour. Or you can stay cuffed and you can fuck me until you come. Your decision.”

  “I can come on my own later, Mistress. Touching you is a much higher priority.”

  “I can’t argue with that logic, and even if I could, I wouldn’t bother trying.” She unhooked the cuffs and set Lance’s hands free. He wasted no time and immediately ran his hands over the swell of her breasts. With eager hands he set about unfastening her corset. She helped him pull it off and it ended up on the floor by the bed. She wasn’t going to waste a second folding the damn thing.

  He cupped her naked breasts and sucked deeply on her nipples. Then one hand wandered between her legs and pressed against her clitoris.

  As he kissed her breasts, she continued to ride him, swiveling her hips so that he rubbed against her G-spot. She held onto the headboard, steadying herself so Lance could explore her body any way he desired. His large warm hands felt so good on her, so arousing but also comforting. Strong men never scared her because strong men never harmed her. Only weak men had ever harmed her, so she knew she had nothing to fear from Lance.

  Leaning back she gave him full access to her front. One hand caressed her from shoulder to shoulder, neck to breasts while the fingers of his other hand toyed with her clitoris. Soon she was panting again, desperate to come again.

  “Come with me,” she said. “I’m breaking my own rules. I want you to come fucking me. It’s an order.”

  “I’d never disobey an order from you. I’ll come the minute you tell me to, Mistress.”

  “Good, but me first.”

  “Always…” he breathed into her skin and the erotic tone in his voice alone nearly got her to the brink. She closed her eyes and let herself get lost in the pleasure of his hands on her body, of his cock that impaled her. So close…she felt the tension mounting in her stomach…closer…her clitoris swelled against his fingers…almost there….she heard a pounding…she felt the pounding…she inhaled and didn’t exhale…and finally…

  Pleasure exploded inside her as her vaginal muscles fluttered hard around him, hard enough she heard him gasping from her orgasm.

  “Now,” she panted and Lance needed no further orders. He came in silence but with a controlled shudder that wracked his entire body. Together they collapsed onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs.

  The sex had stopped, but she still heard the pounding. Sounded like someone banging on one of the dungeon doors. Not hers so she ignored it.

  Facing Lance she gave him a quick but passionate kiss.

  “Go clean up,” she said, glancing down at the condom. “Bathroom’s in the dungeon. We’ll start round two when you get back.”

  “Yes, Mistress. Be right back.”

  He left the bedroom. Nora slowly stood and pulled the covers down on the bed. She unlaced her boots and kicked them off, wriggled out of her skirt, and unpinned her hair. But as soon as she’d stripped completely naked, the pounding in the hallway now hit her door.

  “What the fuck?” She had a scarf on the door. No one would ever interrupt her with a scarf on her doorknob.

  “Eleanor,” came a voice through the door. “Open the door right now or I’m opening it.”

  Søren? Unless the club was burning down, she was going to kill the man.

  “Jesus, give me a second.” She grabbed a sheet off the bed and wrapped it around herself like a towel. Søren had seen her naked a million times, but she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of seeing her naked now, not after interrupting such an intimate moment.

  She threw open the door and shot Søren a murderous glare. He looked almost as disheveled as she did—his Roman collar gone, his shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest.

  “What the hell is going on? I’m kind of busy here.”

  “Kingsley wants all his female employees at his townhouse now. That means you.”

  “Why?”

  “A dominatrix was just attacked by a client.”

  “What? Who?”

  “Mistress Natasha. She’s in the hospital, Eleanor. And whoever did it got away. Now get dressed. I’ll go with you and Simone to Kingsley’s.”

  “Mistress?” She turned around and saw Lance standing in the doorway between the bedroom and the dungeon. He must have heard the commotion because he’d put his jeans back on. She saw Lance and Søren exchanging poin
ted glances before Søren looked back at her. She nodded her acquiescence at him.

  Søren took a step back into the hallway to let her close the door. Her body, which only a few minutes ago had come alive with pleasure, had now gone numb with fear. Alone again with Lance, she gave him a look of apology.

  “I have to go,” Nora said to Lance. She knew Mistress Natasha and knew it would take a very dangerous—or very desperate—man to attack that woman.

  “What’s wrong?” Lance asked.

  “Sorry, sailor,” she said. “Family emergency.”

  Part II: Sore Spots

  Nora, Simone, and Søren headed to Kingsley’s townhouse. Usually three kinksters in the back of a Rolls-Royce meant for a very pleasant car ride, but Simone had curled up with her head in Nora’s lap, stunned into silence, while Nora and Søren sat quietly side by side, only their fingers touching. Søren had told her everything he knew. One of Kingsley’s many minions had come banging on the doors, rousting all the official staff from whatever depraved activities they’d gotten themselves into. All they knew at this point was that a former employee of Kingsley’s had been brutally assaulted during a session with a client, so it was all hands on deck.

  Once at the townhouse, Søren helped Simone out of the car, but when he offered a hand to Nora, she only rolled her eyes and stepped past him.

  The house crawled with submissives arriving at Kingsley’s, and they all wore looks of anger and fear. It was part of Nora’s job to take care of the submissives, help train them, and as the most revered member of Kingsley’s staff, she considered herself responsible for the women on his payroll as much as Kingsley did. If they were going to feel safe again, she couldn’t allow herself to show any weakness around them.

  She put an arm around Simone’s waist and, side by side, they walked into Kingsley’s house, Søren behind them. Inside Kingsley’s office, Nora kept her expression neutral even as the women around her wept softly or whispered back and forth to each other in hushed tones. One young submissive named Nikki grabbed Nora’s hand, and Nora gave it a reassuring squeeze.

  Mistress Irina rose from a chair, a look of barely controlled fury on her face. She and Nora exchanged meaningful glances—glances that said that whoever did this deed better pray the cops caught him before she and Nora did. Irina stood in the back next to Søren. Søren obviously wasn’t on staff, and even more obviously, wasn’t a woman, but the members of The 8th Circle considered him their spiritual leader as they considered Kingsley their earthly leader. Søren occasionally played with many of the submissives in the room but never had sex with any of them. They trusted him and often sought his advice and comfort. As far as Nora knew, theirs was the only BDSM community with its own chaplain.