by L. DuBois
She tipped her head back, fingers tightening on the now-hot bars in her hands.
“I’m coming,” she moaned. “Liam, Master, I’m coming.”
She may have said more, but then the orgasm took her, washing over her, pulling her under into a pool of strange shallow pleasure. It was unlike the acute pleasure she was used to. It was as if her body were atop a base amp as a low chord was played, leaving her vibrating but without the spikes of the melody.
When it was over, and she wasn’t sure how much time had passed, though it felt like it had lasted longer than normal, she went limp. The parts of her body not covered in wax were cool, due to a fine layer of sweat. Her head felt muzzy and hot.
The Dom’s fingers curled under the bottom of her hood and started pulling it off, the tight fabric rubbing some of the sweat from her skin. She kept her eyes closed after it was finally off, and shivered a little as the comparatively cold air hit her cheeks and forehead.
“How long have you known it was me?” Liam asked.
A bubble of relief escaped as a semi-wild laugh. “I recognized the sound of your walk, and the sound of the stuff in your pockets. You always keep so much stuff in your pockets.”
She opened her eyes, looking up into the familiar, and yet foreign face of the man she’d loved half her life.
“The beard threw me off,” she whispered.
“I didn’t think you’d know it was me.” He sounded almost disappointed.
“I didn’t. Not really.” She sniffed and tried to hold back tears. “I wanted it to be you. I wanted you to be the one treating me like this.”
His eyes widened in surprise, and then he lowered his mouth to hers. She raised her head, kissing him back ferociously.
When he pulled back, Liam was frowning. It looked fiercer than normal due to the dark beard.
“Are you upset that I knew it was you?”
He ignored her question. “Did I hurt you?”
She didn’t want to have this conversation. Didn’t want him to ask that question, a question he’d asked a thousand times before, a question that had no good answer.
She closed her eyes. “Don’t do this. Please. Don’t be the way you normally are.”
He made a small sound, a grunt, as if she’d socked him in the arm, and she realized how cruel her words had been.
She opened her eyes. “Liam, please, I didn’t mean it like that.”
He pushed away from the table and turned his back to her.
“Liam, please!” She strained her neck, heart slamming against her sternum as she watched him walk away.
The door closed behind him with a small, definitive thump.
“Liam!”
Ten
She was calling his name. He could hear her even through the door of the playroom. He closed his eyes and rubbed one hand back and forth over his face, then brushed his hair back out of his eyes.
She’d known it was him the whole time. And she’d obeyed. She hadn’t thought he was…abusing her. She’d wanted it. She’d had some sort of crazy pain orgasm.
This wasn’t the kind of BDSM they’d talked about. She wasn’t a masochist, she liked the structure of submission. He wasn’t a sadist, he used BDSM as a way to care for her.
At least…that’s what he’d thought. What had just happened in there was—
“Master Liam, how is your evening?”
The last thing he wanted was to talk to Master Khan, who’d been the one to push him to do this in the first place.
Liar. You’re lying to yourself. You’re doing what you wanted to do. He just helped you stop pretending.
The fight went out of Liam, and he raised his head. Master Khan stood there, Luscious on his arm. Did the two of them just roam around meddling?
“She knew it was me.”
Master Khan frowned, but Luscious nodded. “Of course she did.”
Both men looked at her.
“What? You think we don’t recognize how our men smell, what their hands feel like?”
“I have a beard,” Liam said, rather lamely.
“Good. That’s how she knows you’re sort of different, but still hers.” Luscious looked between them. “It makes perfect sense to me. Master Liam, why are you out here?”
“After she realized it was me, I took the hood off. The things I did to her. I…” He rubbed his eyes. He had enjoyed it. Really enjoyed it. That was bad. “I would have kept doing things to her. Hurting her.”
“Hurting her? You mean abusing her in truth, or engaging in sadistic play?”
“I poured wax on her clit,” he snapped, hoping to shock them.
“Mmmm, yummy,” Luscious cocked her hips to the side.
“Liam?” Rosa’s voice floated through the closed door.
“Did she use her safe word to end the scene?” Master Khan asked.
“No, but now she knows it’s me. I took off the hood, and it’s different.”
Luscious muttered something under her breath, released her Master’s arm, and stomped into the room, slamming the door behind her. Master Khan and Liam both stared at the door.
Master Khan blew out a breath. “I’m going to beat that woman’s ass black and blue.”
Liam winced. “I can’t do that to Rosa. She ends up looking like an abuse victim.”
“But she’s not.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is exactly that simple. When we walk away from here, we change roles. We code switch.” Master Khan sounded different, sounded like someone else. Maybe he was trying to show Liam who he was outside of here.
Liam shook his head. “She’s my girlfriend. I can’t code switch.”
Master Khan raised one brow. “Luscious is my wife.”
Liam blinked. “Your wife?”
“That will not stop me from being her Master. She needs me to be her Master when we’re here. Out there—” He flung his arm out, indicating the world beyond the estate. “—I am her lover, her companion, her friend. I care for any marks I leave on her and, if she is hurting, I commiserate, but do not apologize for who and what I am in here.”
Liam shook his head.
Master Khan made a fist and held it in front of his stomach. “I do not apologize for letting my beast run free.”
His beast? Now the other man sounded like a character from a bad urban fantasy.
“My inner Master, my beast, is dark and brutal,” Master Khan continued. “But it is what she needs here. And I am a better husband to her because I am her Master within these walls.” His expression shifted. “Though I do not do enough. I am too lenient, too pleasure driven.”
Liam ignored the more self-directed comments at the end of Khan’s statement. He’d said his inner Dom was “dark.”
Was that what these perverse and dire urges were? His inner Dom? No, he wouldn’t normalize it by giving them a name. He couldn’t be like that.
“Do you…run? Rock climb? What sport do you engage in?” Master Khan asked.
Liam frowned. That had come out of nowhere. “I run.”
“Do you do it seriously?”
“I’ve done a couple marathons.” He hadn’t run more than a few miles since he’d come home to find ’Licia gone. Even his podcasts, which he only let himself listen to when running, hadn’t been enough to keep him from thinking about her once it was just him and his feet pounding the pavement. It had been easier to throw himself into work, which had been the only thing that kept him from thinking about her.
“Have you ever injured yourself running, or perhaps been sore the next day?”
Liam saw where this was going and all but rolled his eyes. “It’s not the same. I did that to myself.”
“And she has not done this to herself?”
“She didn’t pick what I did to her. She didn’t even know what I was going to do, or what I was doing in the moment. She couldn’t see.”
“Exactly.”
Liam shook his head again. “If I follow your analogy, it would be l
ike me forcing someone to go running, and then they get hurt while running.”
Master Khan grinned. He was enjoying this insane conversation. “No, no. You are not seeing this in the correct light. Using this same metaphor, your submissive has asked to exercise. You are her trainer, but also her exercising companion. She knows that there are risks, knows she will ache the next day, but still she asks. You merely choose the specific exercises.”
Liam stared at Master Khan. That…made sense. He blinked.
Beside him the door opened. Luscious sashayed out. “Sorry, took me longer to find what I needed than I thought.”
Liam jerked up, realized that he’d been so wrapped up in his own shit that he’d let the possibly crazy Luscious wander into the playroom with a totally helpless and vulnerable Rosa. He didn’t really think Rosa was in danger, but he also didn’t fully trust the meddling Luscious.
Rosa, his pain loving sub. Not ’Licia.
He shouldered past the woman, ignoring Master Khan’s evident relish as he informed Luscious she was going to be soundly spanked.
He burst into the room, terrified of what he might see.
Rosalicia was still in the same place she had been, bound to the multi-purpose play table. Her head rested on a removable pad, somewhat like the ones they had on massage tables. Her hands were strapped to the heavy iron pipes that stuck up about a foot above the top of the table. Manacles around her ankles were attached to chains, which were in turn attached to the pipes that made up the frame.
Her body was still dotted with purple wax. The tall, fat candles he’d used were burning merrily on the far end of the table, safely out of the reach of her feet, given that she couldn’t straighten her legs all the way.
Rosa lifted her head, and he saw what Luscious had done.
Rosa wore a half hood—a molded blindfold connected to a harness of leather straps that wrapped and wove around her head, the black of which contrasted with her blond hair.
There was a black bit-style gag in her mouth.
She once more couldn’t see. Wouldn’t know if it was him who had entered.
The candles had been burning long enough that there should be plenty of freshly melted liquid wax waiting to be poured over her soft skin.
Those thoughts came from the shadowy place within him. A darkness that had a name—his inner Dom.
No, not just that. That Stygian sense was Rosa’s Master.
His cock, which had been rock hard when he’d been toying with her, had gone semi soft outside. Now the blood rushed to it, swelling and hardening until he swore he could feel the individual teeth of his slacks’ zipper.
He walked over, making sure his heels hit with enough force that she’d hear him coming. She turned her head, focusing on him, and he watched as a bit of drool leaked from the corner of her mouth. She’d worn that kind of gag all those weeks ago, when she’d been in the stocks. When he’d let strangers spank her. When he’d demanded some of those same strangers help him abuse her.
He scooped up a candle, accepted the fact that he was fucked up eight ways from Sunday, and started pouring wax on her defenseless body. He didn’t warn her as he had before by touching the spot he was about to molest. He simply tipped the candle over her. The first drops hit her abdomen, just below the belly button. Her head fell back, she shrieked into the gag, and then she arched up, offering herself to him.
Mine.
She spread her legs, exposing the semi-hard wax coating her clit and the inner folds and crevices of her sex. He switched the candle to his other hand, then reached between her legs and peeled the wax from her clit.
Rosa panted into the gag, a wet needy sound.
He looked at her lips, wet and pink, and remembered another of the items from their list.
Head. As in giving head.
He poured the last of the wax, letting it splash against her sternum and the inner edges of her breasts. He held the candle at an angle once the well was empty, so the flame melted fresh wax, and it dripped onto her. This would be hotter than the pooled wax. She whimpered, a soft, pain-filled sound which only made him want to abuse her more, until those whimpers of pain became moans of need.
Setting that candle aside, he brought two others, both full of melted wax, placing them on either side of her ribs. Then he crouched by her head and felt for the catch holding the head rest in place. He released it, cupping the back of her neck as he let the head rest swing down where it dangled under the table. The edge of the table, between the upright supports, was padded, either so a sub’s head could hang off the edge, or so that a Dom wouldn’t bruise his thighs or knees if he fucked the sub bound to it.
Rather than undo the gag, he hooked a finger under the corner of it and pulled it out and up, over her chin.
That way after he’d finished coming in her mouth he could yank it back into place.
Rosa licked her lips. He toed off his shoes as he unzipped his pants. The detritus of everyday life in his pockets clattered as they hit the ground. He stripped off his boxers, shirt, and finally frantically ripped off his socks.
He felt too big, and too hot, for his skin, as if his need and desire would cause him to split at the seams. But there was an antidote, a tonic that would cure him. And she was strapped down and waiting for him.
“Open your mouth,” he growled. “You’re going to suck my cock.”
She opened her mouth with gratifying speed. He wrapped his fist around the base of his cock and angled his member into her waiting mouth.
He nearly came as the warm, wet heat of her engulfed him. Because she was upside down, her tongue was rubbing the top of his cock, something that he’d never felt before. He also had a perfect view of her naked, wax-spattered body.
He wished he’d thought to plug her ass, or force a nice fat dildo into her pussy before he’d sunk into her mouth. Next time.
And there would be a next time.
Widening his stance and bracing his feet, Liam cupped the back of her neck, vaguely worried that he might totally lose control and crush her C1 or C2 vertebrae. That bit of restraint was only a thin layer of civility over the beast he finally let free.
He slid deeper into her mouth and felt her swallow around him.
One hand cupping her neck, he grabbed her breast with the other, fingers digging into the soft flesh, bracing himself against her. He squeezed harder, watching her breast, which was paler than the rest of her, plump up between his fingers, which seemed dark in comparison to soft skin.
He adjusted the angle of his cock and pressed deeper. She gagged.
He didn’t stop.
He looked down and saw the moment his cock entered her throat in earnest—saw the slight bulge at the top of her neck. He watched her chest heave as she tried and failed to breathe around his cock.
Only then did he pull out—just enough that she was able to suck in air around him. Her frantic breath cooled his wet cock, even within the hot confines of her mouth.
Her hands were bound and she couldn’t talk. She had no way to use a safe word.
Realizing what he’d done—that he’d put her in a position of no recourse, no way to communicate her fear or pain—should have crippled him with guilt. It would have in the past.
He’d made a mistake, but he would correct it and keep going. Keep using her, fucking her. Mastering her.
“Tap your right heel two times for yellow. Four times for red. Tap once if you understand.”
She was still breathing heavily around his cock, but tapped her heel once on the table. Chain rattled quietly.
He slid his cock deep into her throat, until he could feel the tightness around the head of his cock, see the slight bulge.
He could ignore her comfort, just fuck her face brutally if he wanted. There was nothing she could do to stop him. Oh, he’d given her a safe word, but that would be so easy to ignore.
He would never hurt her.
Her very vulnerability, her willingness to submit only made it all the more clear that
she needed him. Needed him to be her Master—to protect her, love her. She needed him to do these brutal things to her, because he, and only he, would protect her even as he used her.
“You. Are. Mine.”
He punctuated each word with a small, quick thrust, just enough to tap his cock against her throat.
She tapped her heel once on the table.
He pulled out, so the head of his cock was in her mouth, and waited to see if she’d tap again. She didn’t.
She’d been agreeing with him. She was his.
Liam released her breast and grabbed one of the candles he’d placed by her side. He pulled out until her wet, pink lips were wrapped around the head of his cock. She lapped at him with greedy speed.
He poured hot candle wax over her breast.
She screamed in surprise, pain, or both. Her mouth opened as she screamed. He leaned forward just enough to keep the tip of his cock resting against the roof of her mouth. A reminder of who she belonged to.
Purple wax was drying and hardening on her breast in individual drips and larger splatters.
Her pants slowed to more regular breaths, and her lips closed around his shaft, her tongue laving the top of his cock. He was close, he wouldn’t last long.
For one brief, wild moment he considered finding a cock ring, maybe one of those rubber ones, and snapping it on so he could make this last longer. He wasn’t done playing with her.
Why does coming mean you’re done?
Because once his raging arousal dimmed he might realize exactly how brutal he had been. Once he’d come, his inner Dom might disappear, leaving him alone to face the consequences.
He set the candle aside and grabbed the nipple of her wax-spattered breast. He pinched and twisted. She liked that, loved having her nipples played with.
She sucked on his cock, as if she were trying to suck him down, to have him deep inside her again. Liam adjusted his feet and thrust. She gagged against him, but her tongue didn’t stop licking.
