“When you run a business like that, you expect the mafia to come after you.”
“Well, I didn’t. Especially when I’d kept us under the radar for so long.”
He sighs and with a glum tone, mutters, “I’d like to convince you you were wrong, but I can’t. You did keep under the radar for a long while and probably would have done if it really had been the mafia coming after you.”
I scowl at him. “What do you mean?”
“They were a front for a Russian group with ties to the Kremlin.”
“Oh fuck,” I groan. “This is getting too complicated.”
Erick raises his arms and says, “Welcome to my world.”
“Don’t tell me anymore. I don’t want to know.”
“Okay, if you don’t want to hear more, I’ll do the listening. Is anyone in danger from this plan you’ve concocted?”
Pinioned by his stare, I grunt, “One person.”
“Who?” he barks.
“Either Alexei Sergov or James Hutchinson.”
“Either? Not both?”
I nod.
“How am I supposed to sanction this, Marina? Fuck, when you came back to the ranch, you were supposed to settle things down. Not rattle them up.”
“I am calming things down. Just in my own way. And I’m not the one putting Alexei or James in danger. Their pasts are doing that. Plus their association with Greta. They’re getting what’s coming to them.” I point out stoutly.
He sighs again. “You’re incorrigible.”
“That’s why you like me.”
He rolls his eyes. “What’s sick is you’re probably right. I’ve never known someone capable of more mischief than you.”
“No one else is in danger, Erick. Honest. I wouldn’t have set this up if that were the case.”
“Don’t tell me anymore. The less I know, the better. But after this, I want nothing stranger happening at the ranch than a few accidental explosions from the labs. I’m the one who has to justify this place to the Senate.”
I smile at him. “And you’re doing a really good job.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“Bullshit.” Nate’s voice drops into the atmosphere like a nuclear bomb. Both Erick and I freeze, our secret conversation about Nate burning at the forefront of our minds. “Erick’s easily flattered, Marina.”
There’s only one way to describe the smile I shoot Nate’s way: winsome. “I already knew that, Nate. I’m just informing Erick of the reason why Greta has been evicted.”
“Does he disapprove?”
“He is in the room, Nathan.” Erick stands and before shooting a warning glance my way, settles his gaze on Nate. “I don’t disapprove. But I advise you to proceed with caution. Greta has ties to some unsavory characters.”
“She sold Stasi secrets to the US for permanent residency, Nate.”
Nate’s eyes are glacial as he looks at me. Somehow, that ice doesn’t make me shiver. It makes me burn. And like that, with that one look, the atmosphere in the room changes. Or at least, it does for me.
“That means she’s in more danger, not less. The Stasi might have died out years ago, doesn’t mean there aren’t folks about who don’t hold a grudge. Throwing her out might make her accessible. That works to our advantage. Will make her even more reckless.” He eyes Erick and nods briskly, before walking over to me and standing at my side. “If you’ll excuse us, van der Viel? I have something I need to show Marina.”
There’s a somber twinkle in Erick’s eye. A mixture of amusement, nostalgia and an impossible wish that things were different. But he says nothing, merely nods, before spinning on his heel and leaving me to deal with the strung out lion.
Frozen in place, I wait for Nate’s command, because I know that whatever he has to show me, it will be a punishment. I want to defend myself, tell Nate I can’t ignore Erick forever, especially as the other man is important for the commune. Erick wasn’t lying; he’s our government liaison. I say nothing though, just remain silent.
The digital clock on the TV tells me five minutes have passed before Nate moves toward the door and bites out, “You have two minutes to get to my room and to present yourself to me. Move.”
At his bark, I shoot out of my chair. The wheels propel the seat into the back wall, but I ignore the noise and race into the corridor, down the hall and then, up the stairs. I’m breathing hard as I make it into our bedroom and I’m hopping out of my pants by the time I hear footsteps on the stairs. After flinging my T-shirt, pants and shoes through the open closet door, I drop to the ground, wincing as my knees connect with the boards, but position myself just in time for the door to open and close behind Sir.
I’m still breathing fast. In fact, it’s hard to get my bearings back, to get my mind in gear. Maybe he knows that, because he walks past me and heads over to the set of drawers that house our toys.
As the drawers’ runners slide and close, slide and close, I concentrate on the sounds, force my breathing to follow that same relaxed pattern and eventually calm myself down. In the two days since the upheaval, Sir hasn’t made an appearance. It’s almost like Nate and Sir are two separate entities. Nate has very much been present, leaving Sir to rest in some hidden part of his mind.
I needed Nate these last few days. Not Sir. We had plans to make and sex would have slowed us down. I can’t say that now is the right time for Sir to make a reappearance. Everything is still up in the air. Nothing is resolved. But I have no regrets. At this moment, I need Sir like I need my last breath.
Very much his princess now, I straighten my spine and relax into my position, content to sit here all afternoon if he wants me to. That, more than anything, is the most wonderful aspect of being Sir’s sub. The ability to zone out of the cacophony that is my life and all of my responsibilities into this world of peace and quiet, where only he and I exist.
Sir’s steps echo around the room until he finally comes to a halt before me. He brushes my jaw with the back of his hand and murmurs, “Stand.”
I do as he says, rising to my feet, ignoring the slight numbness in my toes from holding the position for so long. He takes my hand, guides me to the bed and says, “Sit still.”
I watch him as he takes a seat beside me and reaches for something on the bedside table. It isn’t a shock to see his hand return with rope. One long strand is placed underneath my breasts and circles me from back to front. With that same piece, he crosses through my cleavage and loops the rope above the upper slope of my breasts before dropping down between my décolleté again. He repeats this once more so I have two bands of rope underneath and above my tits, as well as rope sectioning them apart. It’s like a hemp sports bra.
That done, he murmurs, “Lie down.”
With the rope already tickling my skin and not in a nice way, I fidget a second before settling myself down the center of the bed. Once my back is pressed into the cool sheets, the faint scratch from the rope abates, and I stare overhead, trying to keep my gaze glued to the ceiling. From the corner of my eye though, I see him collect another two pieces of rope, which he proceeds to tie around my wrists and knot them in a complicated bow. He splits the two strands, looping each one around a bedpost and tying them to the bed.
I suck in a breath as more rope appears, but this time, Nate drops down to my legs. He grabs them and pulls them apart, lifting them so that my thigh and calf are plastered together. He ties rope around them, binding them together and then, adds another complicated knot, which travels in a vertical line between the two bindings at ankle and thigh. The ties look like elongated letter I’s. Leaving me spread-eagled, my pussy bare, open to the room.
He leaves me then, wanders away from the bed, and with my head pinned between my upraised arms, I can’t move it all that much to watch him. He doesn’t leave the room though, just moves away from me. Allowing me to acclimate myself to this new position.
He’s tied me up before, so this isn’t exactly new, but still, I’ve never been tie
d up this particular way. I feel very exposed. Considering Sir’s the one doing the viewing, I don’t mind. In fact, it heats my blood to know he can see every inch of my bared pussy, that my breasts are presented to him, nipples erect and pointing through my gold nipple shields toward the ceiling.
I guess I could feel claustrophobic. I can’t move. Can’t even wriggle all that much. My most intimate parts are on show. Yet if anything, I feel free. Liberated. And it’s the most marvelous feeling, one that triggers a low vibration in my ears. A buzzing white noise that pushes me to the brink of sleep.
How long he leaves me there, I don’t know. I’m utterly calm, relaxed even though the position isn’t comfortable. Maybe it’s a sign of my trust in him, I don’t know. All I do know is I’m anything but panicked. I’m not even aroused. Just relaxed. Although, need is there. Burning away, tingling in the background. Waiting to explode into flames. There’s just no urgency.
It probably helps that I don’t think Sir has anything to punish me for. Well, he does but he’s fair. What happened the day of Erick’s arrival is a kind of no man’s land; I doubt he’ll castigate me for anything that occurred a few days ago.
More drawers open, the runners whir and then, he’s there. Beside me. Just like that, need, arousal burns through me once more. Its sudden resurgence causing a whimper to vibrate inside me.
Fingertips pluck at my already-erect nipples. Gently at first, a little harder and then, he tugs off the nipple guards I wear almost constantly. I hiss when his head moves toward my chest and he laves first one and then the other with his tongue. Flicking the tiny bud, fluttering the tensile muscle before retreating to the next.
Out of the silence comes an insistent buzz, and it isn’t one I’m making. I recognize the sound. Think a swarm of bees and it wouldn’t come close to the sound of a ‘magic wand.’ I flinch as the head of the super-strong vibrator—something that doubles as a back massager—settles against my nipple. He presses down hard, making the vibration seem like a soft punch, and my hips jerk down into the mattress by way of reaction. He treats the other nipple to the same action. Anointing each one with the kick-like vibration, ramming pleasurable pain down my gut.
Calm disappeared as soon as the vibrator came on to the scene. Peace and tranquility, any signs of being relaxed burst into the fire of my arousal. My pussy is gushing. There’s no other word to describe the cream flooding me. It’s almost embarrassing, but I can feel the wet puddle against my butt as my juices sink down to the mattress.
I need his cock. The vibrations are too much but not enough and they’re not in the right area. I don’t think I can cum from attention to my breasts alone. As it is, my once slow breathing is now choppy, and my tits jiggle and jerk against the hard vibrations.
Deep in Sir’s eyes, I can see a malevolent pleasure. His enjoyment in my discomfort. Discomfort he, himself, has caused.
I shudder at the sight and clamp my eyelids closed, trying to endure the endless vibration until it suddenly disappears, and the low hum with it.
My eyelids flutter upward to the view of more rope. I look down, tilting my head so I can see what he’s doing. When I see him fashion a kind of grip for the vibrator, fastened to the bindings at my legs, I close my eyes again, knowing what’s going to happen.
I feel the smooth, round head against my cunt, as he presses it between my lips, soaking it with my juices, before settling it at my clit.
“Your reward is your punishment, princess.”
“What do you mean, Sir?”
“On the day of van der Viel’s arrival, you won three orgasms.”
“But, Sir, why am I being punished?”
“You know I don’t like him.”
“I didn’t touch him, Sir. I swear. He just came into my office to talk.”
“I don’t want you to talk to him.”
“I can’t help it, Sir. Sometimes, I have to. Please, don’t punish me, Sir. I didn’t break a rule.”
“You’re questioning me, defying me. That is a broken rule.”
My lower lip quivers as I stare at him, begging him to understand. It’s hard arguing with him when he’s like this, and when I’m the way I am. I’m not in Marina mode, but princess mode. Princess doesn’t argue. She accepts. My gaze blurs, as desperation overcomes me and I whisper, “Please, Sir.”
“No. I don’t want you talking to van der Viel. Unless I’m with you.”
I have the wherewithal to know what a huge relief that amendment provides me. I suck in a quivery breath and whisper, “Thank you, Sir.”
He jerks his head, and I can tell he’s not happy. Something he displays, when a Wartenburg wheel appears in his hand. Think a spur on a cowboy’s boot. I only know the name of the weird device thanks to my days at Papillon.
The instant I see it, I swallow. He hovers it over my breast and then presses the spikes against my skin. I yelp at the sensation and as he rolls it over the plump curve, avoiding my nipple entirely, I can feel each individual spot of gooseflesh pop up. Tingles course up and down my arms and legs until I feel like my nerves are on the edge of burnout. Then, he adds to my torment.
He switches on the wand.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
There’s no other word to describe it. I screamed.
My already sensitive pussy felt as though it was being electrocuted by the level of vibrations cascading over my needy flesh.
My toes curl in, clenching so hard they feel like they could drop off. My legs, spread so wide, baring every inch of my cunt to the vibrations, tense, turning white with the power of the strain. My hips begin to jerk, attempting to escape the ceaseless oscillation, but it’s futile. Fastened as the wand is against my clit, my entire body begins to judder with the sensation.
Boom.
Out of nowhere, climax is there. It isn’t a gentle stream of pleasure. Nor is it a loud display of fireworks. This is a car crash. Me, flying out of the windscreen into infinity as the nerves in my clit explode with the power of my orgasm.
I don’t even have a chance to catch my breath before I’m back to reality, no longer soaring through the ether. Sir’s voice sounds as though it’s traveling through water as he murmurs, “One.”
The vibrations haven’t stopped. If anything, they feel even stronger and the slick slide of the wand as it jerks up and down to the rock of my hips, somehow adds a ferocity to the sensation. I clench my muscles down, hoping to stop the painful pleasure but it doesn’t work. I begin to cry. My tears turn to sobs. My sobs disappear into hard mewls, interspersed with wordless pleading as I shake my head from side to side within the tight confines of my arms.
Like an electric shock, I feel something brush against my lips and realizing its Sir’s cock, I swallow it. Grab it with my mouth, hoping like hell it will switch my focus from my cunt. I suckle him hard, using every trick in my handbook to get him off and hopefully switch the fucking vibrator off. But he won’t let me. Every time I suck down hard, or flutter my tongue against the tip of his shaft, he pulls out of my mouth completely and trails the weeping tip along the curve of my jaw.
My eyes are wet with tears when he returns, and I don’t even try to pleasure him. I just let him rock his hips back and forth, let him fuck my mouth. The sensation of being used, of him having complete control over my body has my mind prodding my body into action. I come. I don’t know how I have the wherewithal not to clamp down, not to bite Sir’s cock with my teeth as the climax throttles me with its power.
“Two,” I hear him grit out, and begin to cry at the endless throb of the wand as it tortures me.
The vibration feels like it’s traveling through my entire being. I can only liken it to being tazed. Not that I’ve been tazed. Nevertheless, I can imagine the agony is akin to this.
Tears pool and puddle at the base of my throat, some are jerked off course as Sir continues fucking my mouth. This time, when I try to suck, to lick, he lets me. His grunts and groans of pleasure are like the most beautiful sonatas I’ve ever heard and
I focus on them, trying to ignore the cattle prod for a vibrator pummeling my clit with the most painful pleasure I’ve ever known.
My eyes literally cross, when Sir pulls his shaft away. My head jerks up as much as it can to follow him, but he moves away too quickly and then, there’s blessed silence and no vibration as he switches off the wand.
I can’t help it; relief has me crying out, “Thank you, sir. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Oh, Sir, thank you.”
His hand comes up to trail down my cheek. He gently hushes me before he moves away, and I feel him release the wand out of its bindings. Shuddering with relief, I jolt when he places it before my lips and in a low voice filled with his arousal, grits out, “Lick it.”
So unutterably grateful that he has turned the damn thing off, I lavish the wand, licking it and suckling it clean. I can taste my juices: fresh, sweet. Womanly. They’re not offensive. When he takes the wand away, my eyes flash to stare at him and spotting the depth of his arousal, I shudder again.
Out of nowhere, a flogger appears, and before I have time to tense, it whistles through the air in a bout of rapid circles with a lick that lands each time on my lower belly and upper mons. In any other position, it wouldn’t have nudged my cunt. As it is, spread as I am, it does. I yell each and every time the strands of leather bite into my clit until it propels me higher. Higher. Higher, until even birds can’t reach me. Soaring, flying free, I don’t even realize I’ve climaxed until his cock slides into me and the fluttering walls of my sex clamp down on him, triggering another orgasm that has my back arching off the bed.
He comes. And I can tell he hadn’t meant to. His surprised yell, the low, shocked grunts warm me, let me know he’s as out of control as I am. I feel the splash of his seed, sense the soothing burst of moisture, and shiver in reaction as his hips continue to rock as though he’s riding every sensation, as though it’s a wave and he’s a pro surfer.
Sir slumps against me, his weight a heavy blanket. In truth, he’s too heavy, but it’s such a comfort. His weight is much needed. The vibrations are ethereal, painful throbs that the pressure of his muscular body counteracts.
Sinfully Mastered: Naughty Nookie Page 35
