by His Slave
“Someone who might turn her into a pony?”
In her current frame of mind she was hard put to remember that pony-play called for a submissive to be treated like a horse complete with harness and strenuous training routines. “Maybe.”
“What about you? Would you like that?” He punctuated his question by pushing her labial aside and slipping into her sex.
No man had manhandled her like this! She didn’t want it, didn’t know how to handle it. Most of all, she couldn’t control the sticky fluid leaking from her. Not breathing, she waited for him to complete the invasion, but the seconds ticked by with little more than his first knuckle in her. Not looking at her, he picked up his drink left-handed and took a healthy sip.
“A pony,” she finally thought to say. “I don’t think so.”
“Why not? You have strong legs.”
“Would ... would I have to live in a barn?”
When Mace chuckled, she realized that was as close to a laugh as she’d ever heard from him. What had delighted him as a child?
“No, because I don’t have one. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me by losing any races. I can be a harsh taskmaster.”
Given the way he was plundering her, she was hard put to imagine what that kind of existence might be like. Bidding on the young slave on the stage was brisk, but as long as Mace didn’t expect her to comment further, she didn’t have to think about anything except what was happening to her. An electric heat fairly radiated out from Mace, prompting her to ask herself what he looked like under his form-fitting black outfit. She’d spotted the outline of well-defined muscles, but thanks to the low lighting, she could only draw on her imagination.
An imagination pushed into overdrive by the bold invasion.
This wasn’t her, wasn’t! Despite her interest in a submissive experience, she’d always drawn a firm line. Her dates could maul her a bit; she rather enjoyed rough, commanding hands and a playful slap. But that took place only once she trusted the man. Never on their first date.
Yet here she was in a joke of an outfit Mace had supplied, standing in full view of everyone, her legs apart and body angled for his easy access.
“She’s zoning,” Paul said. “Getting that droopy-eyed look. Sure she isn’t on drugs?”
Fingernails scraped the inside of her right thigh in a silent command for her to further widen her stance. The too-short skirt tightened around her hips in an erotic bondage. In contrast, her heel hurt.
Another finger joined the one already in her to farther open her. She knew nothing except the increased invasion and Mace reaching deep into her. If only he’d tied her wrists together! That way the decision of whether to fight or not would be out of her hands. She’d be helpless.
“There’s nothing as sweet as being surrounded by a woman’s sex,” Mace said. “Whoever’s responsible for the difference between men and women sure as hell got this part right.”
He was talking to Paul, wasn’t he? Certainly he didn’t expect her to offer her opinion.
“What is it?” Paul said. “I mean, pussies aren’t much different. You climb into one, you’ve climbed into all of them. ’Cept I can’t get enough. I plant my cock in a pussy and I lose my mind. Good as that feels, it can be scary.”
Paul’s words swam around her. She wanted to pay attention because he was saying something revealing about the male sex, maybe even about Mace. But her master’s fingers were fucking her.
“A question, slave,” Mace said. “When you come, is it from clitoral or vaginal stimulation?”
Mace was nearly a stranger. They hadn’t so much as shared a cup of coffee and here he was asking an intimate question. Possibilities swarmed through her. She could tell him the truth or to go to hell or something in between.
“Guess you’ll have to find out,” Paul allowed. “The thing is, I’d think you’d have known by now.”
“I told you.” Using his unoccupied hand, Mace exposed her other breast and then took another sip of his drink. “I’m just starting with her. One more chance, slave. Either you tell me or I’ll figure out on my own.”
She saw nothing but blurred colors like a rainbow through a rain-sheeted window, heard male mutters punctuated by occasional female gasps or cries, smelled sex and other heavy, indefinable odors. Mostly she felt Mace’s fingers in her.
“Clit or cunt?” His breath was harsh and hot against her ear. “Come clean or two fingers become three.”
“Clit!” she whimpered. “Mostly clit. Sometimes ...”
“Sounds like she lost her concentration again,” Paul observed. “Guess you’ll have to make good on your threat.”
She wanted Paul gone, dead even. Wanted out of this stifling room with human flesh supposedly being auctioned off. Needed to be alone with Mace.
He gave her no warning. One moment two fingers claimed her. The next increased pressure and strength all but exploded in her. Her fingers lost their hold on each other, and she gripped Mace’s biceps for balance. Instead of trying to pull him out of her, she bent a little and helped guide him home.
All three fingers were now deep in her, their bases against her sex lips. Her pussy was splayed, open and vulnerable, fire lancing her breasts, belly, hips, and thighs. She wasn’t yet close to climaxing, but she didn’t care because sensation was enough, everything.
Turning her body over to this dark and unsmiling man was what she’d been created for. There was no tomorrow, no paycheck to earn, no electric bill to pay. Only him. Everything him.
He could wrap her in ropes and she wouldn’t object. If he welded a collar around her neck, she’d stand passively while he worked. Anything for his touch and heat. She’d learn how to give head with her hands lashed behind her, crawl behind him, sleep on the floor next to his bed.
Whatever her master wanted, she’d do it.
“That’s enough,” she heard. “Don’t want your brain shorting out tonight.”
Comprehension came a half second at a time. Moving so slow she nearly convinced herself she was only imagining the loss, he drew out of her. His knuckles glided, his nails touched. No matter how fiercely she gripped his arm, she couldn’t stop him. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t silence her raw whimpers.
“That’s enough.” He spoke more firmly. “You’ve taught me everything I need to know for now.”
When he turned her from him, she cared only that his hands were on her arms, one of them coated in her offerings. Then he began wrapping a soft rope around her wrists.
“What...” she started.
“I want you to focus on your reactions and responses,” he explained. “This way you won’t be distracted. Don’t think about me. Mentally place yourself next to that auctioneer and imagine that the bids are for you.”
His voice had gone from no-nonsense to hypnotic, and she floated into a space he’d created for her, concentrated on nothing except the experienced hands rendering hers useless and her still-hungry cunt.
“The chains are heavy,” he said with his mouth now near her ear and his body behind hers. “Your wrists and ankles are chafed because the links dig into them. Your master, a man who no longer wants you, placed them on you, and you try to tell yourself that as long as they’re in place, you still belong to him. Are you crying, slave? Perhaps you’re fighting to keep the tears from showing. Which is it?”
When he’d finished weaving rope around her, instead of releasing her, he drew her back toward him. His legs were on either side of her, his knees brushing her thighs, and his cock pressing against her, making her whimper.
“Which is it?” he repeated. “Tears freely given or held back?”
“I don’t cry.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
“Because you’ve taught yourself control or because nothing truly matters?”
The young slave was walking toward the stairs, proof that she’d been sold. What was it like to have no ownership of one’s body?
“Lessons learned,” she heard herself ad
mit.
“I want to know about those lessons and the reasons for them, but not tonight.”
7
Cheyenne was silent, not that Mace expected her to say anything. Thousands of words had poured out of her during her running commentary about the auction, and although they’d been delivered without emotion, he hadn’t been fooled. Wise in women’s ways, he’d tapped into her body language. For most of the time she’d been unaware of her near nudity, to say nothing of the attention directed her way.
His intention had been to keep his hands on her and her body against his as part of his plan to draw her deeply into the submissive mindset, but she’d done things to him he hadn’t expected, and not just physically. Instead of staying at Indulgences until liquor and lowered inhibitions turned play into something dark and intense, as soon as the sham of an auction was over, he’d informed Cheyenne that they were leaving.
She hadn’t argued. Neither had she asked him to pull the blouse over her breasts or tug the skirt back down. She also hadn’t indicated she wanted back use of her arms or the collar’s weight off her neck as they made their way through the crowd. Both Paul and Jonus, who manned the door, had asked what the hell he was doing leaving so soon, but he hadn’t bothered with an explanation.
The obvious one was that Cheyenne needed a break from her system’s overload. The one he’d never share was that his hard-on was getting to him.
“Remember what I said about security at Indulgence’s parking lot?” he asked as they stood near his car’s passenger’s door.
“Ah, that it’s good.”
“Which is why I’m not going to remove the ropes until we’re out of here.” He opened her door.
Despite the balance-compromising heels and skirt wadded around her hips, she managed to settle herself in the bucket seat. Instead of helping, he told himself he was presenting a dominating persona when the truth was, he needed to distance himself from her.
After closing her in, he walked around to the driver’s side, his teeth clenched against the grinding in his groin. The interior light illuminated her breasts and well-muscled thighs. What he saw of her pubic hair was so pale it was nearly nonexistent. Gripping the steering wheel was the only way he could keep his fingers off her.
Because he wasn’t sure he could hold emotion from his voice, he said nothing as he drove out of the parking lot. She was looking ahead, her body at an unnatural angle, the chain dangling from her neck and settled between her legs.
Shit!
When, a quarter of a mile later, he pulled into the alley behind a used-car lot, she sent a glance his way before staring at the cars as if she’d never seen anything more fascinating. Her breathing picked up.
“First, this.” He unsnapped the chain and tossed it in what passed for his backseat. “Lean forward.”
Because he hadn’t fastened her seat belt in deference to her bound arms, she easily complied, and he stared at the rope circling her crossed-over wrists. Tonight’s action was over; it was time to return ownership of her body to her. Why, then, the reluctance?
Cheyenne was different from the other women he’d worked with, he just didn’t understand why. Or why sliding his fingers into her hot channel had made him feel as if he were drowning.
An image from another life pushed through his defenses to blur his view of her backside. A child, him, stood before a massive closed door. He clutched a half-full paper bag in a dirty hand, his scabbed knuckles stinging. Any moment the door would open and he’d step into yet another strange house. Helplessness weighed him down and made his eyes burn. If only he had someplace to run to!
He did, damn it! That place was the here and now.
“Your shoulders are going to ache once your wrists are free,” he said, working on the knots. “Rolling them forward will help.”
As he expected, the moment her arms fell free she gasped, and he gripped the steering wheel to keep his hands off her. She did as he suggested. Then, slowly, as if she couldn’t put her mind to what she was doing, she hoisted herself off the seat and tugged the skirt back in place. That done, she lowered the blouse over her breasts. Not bothering with the buttons, she fastened her seat belt.
They didn’t speak during the twenty minutes it took to get to her car. The whole time he tried not to note what she’d done with her hands, tried and failed. Knowing they were clamped between her legs sent even more blood to his cock. He needed to get laid, damn it. Of course, there was another way of getting rid of this damnable hard-on, a lonely one.
The instant he placed his vehicle in Park, she unhooked her seat belt and opened the door. After swinging her legs out, she took off the blood-red shoes and tossed them behind her.
“Wait while I change in my car,” she said, not looking at him. “That way I won’t have to return this outfit to you later.”
She’d exchanged her clothes for his in her vehicle before they’d taken off. He considered telling her she didn’t have to contort herself in the confined space again, that after what he’d seen of her tonight, what was a little more nudity? But no longer looking at her breasts and pussy had eased the transition from dom to the man he usually presented to the world. They were once again Edge employees, nothing else.
“Why did we leave so soon?” she asked through the open passenger’s window when she emerged from her car dressed in a sleeveless cream knee-length dress that draped her still-unrestrained breasts.
“You’d had enough for one night.”
“What makes you think that? You sure as hell didn’t ask.”
“I didn’t need to. Remember what I said about judging your body language?”
Her nod drew his attention to the fact that she was still wearing his collar. Although he could hand her the key, taking on the chore himself would bring them close again. Dangerously close.
Exciting.
She had to know what he had in mind when he joined her in the Edge parking lot, which had its own security cameras. Fortunately, because he was in charge of those cameras, he could erase what took place between them—or keep the sequence for himself.
“How does your neck feel?” he asked when he was done. His fingers lingered on her throat, her veins pulsing against the tips.
She didn’t move away. “Strange. Mace?”
Her voice stroked him, tipped him in a direction he both didn’t want and needed. “What?”
“I’ve, ah, never experienced anything like what happened tonight.”
“I know.”
She swallowed. “The way you touched me, manhandled me—”
“Is that how you see it?”
“I don’t know. My research should have prepared me for—the real thing’s so different from fantasizing.”
“Good or bad?”
Still not looking at him, she shrugged. Instead of letting her know he saw through her attempted indifference, he waited her out. The lighting here wasn’t as strong as at Indulgences, and except for a trio of company cars, theirs were the only vehicles in the lot. If not for the steadily scanning cameras at the corners of the building, he’d be tempted to believe they were the only two people in the world.
He wanted them to be.
“I don’t know,” she belatedly answered. “Hopefully I’ll have an answer by morning.”
Touching her was a damn poor idea, too much like gripping a live electrical wire. Just the same, he leaned closer and wound his fingers through hers. She didn’t try to pull away.
“What’s next on your agenda?” he asked.
“Going home.”
“What about once you’re there? Not sleep, right?”
Shivering, she stared at their intertwined fingers. “I can’t lie to you, can I? You’d see right through it.”
Hopefully you can’t do the same thing. “Pretty much.”
“All right, then.” She raked her free hand through the short and practical hair he’d love to see long and loose and draped over his chest. “It’ll be pull out the toys and battery time.”
“How long will it take?”
With a sigh, she locked eyes with him. More of the electricity he’d long ago taught himself not to touch shocked him. “You really expect me to answer, don’t you? There’s not going to be any discussing the weather between us, is there?”
“No.”
“Damn you.” She sighed again and shuffled, drawing his attention to the fact that she was barefoot. And sans underwear. “All right, not long. Wound up as I am, I might have to pull over on the way home.” She clawed at her hair some more. “I shouldn’t tell you this. Damn it, I know better, but hell ...”
“Hell what?” Don’t take her other hand!
“This isn’t my body.” She studied her feet. “It’s like I’ve taken some aphrodisiac, an upper maybe. I didn’t have anything to drink, so I know it isn’t that.”
“Go on.”
A quick, low laugh seared his nerve endings. “If I took that literally, gravel might be already digging into my backside.” She laughed again. “My clit. Number one trigger. Anything else you want to know?”
A million things, at least. “Not now. This week you got your feet wet, so to speak. Next week we’ll go deeper. Make your experience richer.”
Her shiver seeped into his fingers, and his thoughts went back a million years to when fear ruled him.
“Same time, same place, same outfit?” She ran a hand over her breast, and her nipple instantly responded.
“Different outfit.” He ground out an unemotional response. “Between now and then I’ll give you an idea of what to expect.”
“Why?”
Her voice fairly sang to him, each note unique, resonating. He didn’t just have a hard-on. Understand it or not, which he didn’t, he was in danger of bending before her spell. Thinking to fight her impact in the way that made the most sense, he drew his hand free and stepped back.
“Simple,” he answered. “Most women have the same response to what I did to you. Sex organs are pretty much the same when it comes to how they react to stimulation.”
Clamping her hands over her stomach, she looked at him, glanced away, looked again. “Sounds damn clinical to me. Takes the fun out of it.”
