Single White Submissive

by Madeleine Oh

  Carrying her into the home theater, he sighed. He wasn’t sure how long she’d sleep, but it would probably be long enough that any sex would have to wait until after her friend’s damnable follow-up call.

  He kicked out the recliner, then settled into it with Gayle cradled in his arms. She snuggled closer, her cheek resting just above his heart. One-handed, he flipped the top of the built-in table, exposing the storage area beneath housing his remote controls, as well as one of his ever-present notepads of staff paper. After all, inspiration could strike anywhere.

  The DVD in the player spun up. Amadeus. Damn, he had been feeling melancholy the last time he’d watched a movie, hadn’t he? Well, he wasn’t about to get up and disturb Gayle’s sleep again. And you couldn’t argue with the beauty of Mozart’s music. He’d just fast-forward through the bits with Salieri falling into a suicidal depression because he’d been given the desire to create music but not the ability.

  He was smiling, nodding in time with the music, until he reached the scene where Mozart attended a party, and was asked to play a piece of music in the style of Bach. When that triumph was not enough, the party guests flipped him on his back and demanded he play that way, reaching behind his head to the keyboard. He did, gloriously, until his father’s ominous displeasure ruined everything.

  Rikard thumbed the DVD off, his throat tight and his eyes burning. He’d once tried that trick at a party. Had it been the tour in Munich? Although not on a par with Mozart’s movie performance, he’d done a credible job.

  He’d had a gift, and he’d wasted it, playing tricks at parties. What he wouldn’t give to just once be able to play the piano again, to let his soul fly free on the waves of sound, and carry the audience with him to heights they’d never dreamed existed. Hell, he’d play in a deserted basement, as long as the piano was in tune. But that would never happen. The scarring on his left hand had damaged his extensor tendons. He could hit the notes just fine, but he couldn’t lift his fingers away from the keys, not at anything approaching the right speed.

  Softly, he began singing the Sondheim melody he’d played for Beth earlier. Not a day went by that he didn’t think of the music he could no longer play. It had been his life, his heart and his soul. Sometimes, he thought it would be easier if he could just forget. But that way lay madness and death. If he ever lost the memories as well as the music, he knew it would kill him. A man may be able to live with a blade of ice imbedded in his heart, but he could not withstand the removal of his soul.

  * * * * *

  Gayle woke slowly, aware of warmth and a soft thudding drumbeat. And music. Rikard was humming softly to himself, occasionally punctuated by “No, that’s not right”, or “Yes, that’s it”. A pencil scratched frantically across paper.

  Awareness returned to her body. She was sitting curled on his lap, wearing something heavy yet soft, her cheek pressed to his chest. His left hand was cupped loosely around her hip. Her ass throbbed in time with her pulse, still sensitive from the thorough whipping and spanking he’d given her.

  Experimentally, she rolled her shoulders. No stiffness there, although she could feel the muscles, like the burn of pressing a stretch when working out.

  Rikard’s humming stopped.

  “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  “No, that’s all right. I was just waiting for you to wake up.”

  Gayle sat up, hissing as her weight rolled onto her ass. The brief flash of pain was followed by a delicious warmth, spreading out over her skin while at the same time spiraling deep to ignite the slumbering desire within her. She wriggled on his lap, stoking the flames.

  He inhaled sharply, and tightened his grip on her hip, holding her still. She recognized the firm pressure against the back of her thigh as his suddenly hard cock.

  “I don’t have any condoms in this room. And if you keep that up, I’m not going to remember why I need to go get them.”

  She froze at the low threat in his voice, more than the words he used. When she remained still, his hold loosened and he released his breath in a soft gust.

  “Thank you.”

  Careful to move only her head, she glanced around the room. They were no longer in the playroom. He’d carried her downstairs, to the reclining couch in the home theater.

  Her glance dipped down to the fluffy white robe she was wearing. The breast was embroidered in gold thread with a fat bird. A bird wearing antennae. At least that’s what it looked like upside down. She struggled to read the scrolling print beneath. L’ Perdrix. That didn’t help.

  She flicked her gaze upwards to Rikard, meaning to ask him about the logo. His blue eyes watched her from within the dark depths of his black mask.

  “You’re still wearing your mask.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you’re still Master Rikard, and not just Rikard?” She couldn’t explain the sadness this caused. After all, Master Rikard was the one who had given her the best orgasm of her life in the kitchen, then topped that with the full-body meltdown of ecstasy in the playroom.

  Maybe that was it. Master Rikard was about the sex. Held close in his arms, cuddled and cared for, she wanted an emotional connection. If it had been Rikard holding her, she’d have thought that’s what he wanted, too. But it wasn’t Rikard. It was Master Rikard who held her on his lap while his cock pressed hard and solid against her thigh. Master Rikard who wasn’t done with her yet.

  Her breath quickened, her breasts tensing and tightening despite herself. He was watching her reaction carefully. When her breathing shifted, he slipped his gloved hand between the folds of her robe, the black leather dramatic against the fluffy white terry.

  His warm hand cupped one of her breasts, his thumb rubbing gently across the nipple. Gayle arched into his touch with a sigh, her eyes closing to focus all her attention on the feel of his hand upon her. Her nipple tightened even further, to a hard point.

  He tugged lightly with his thumb and forefinger, ripping a gasp from her lips. Her hips bounced without conscious volition, pulling an equally sharp gasp from him. His cock dug into the soft flesh of her thigh.

  “Where are those condoms?” she asked.

  “Upstairs, in the guest bedroom. But we can’t go up just yet. Your friend will be calling soon, and she’ll be distressed if you don’t answer the phone.”

  Gayle blinked. “How did you know…?”

  “She already called once, while you were asleep.”

  The blood drained from her face. “Oh my God! What did you say? What did she say?”

  “It’s fine. I told her you were sleeping, and she promised to call back in an hour.”

  “An hour? How long was I out?”

  “Forty, forty-five minutes. Something like that.”

  “Wow.”

  He tugged on her nipple again, soothing and inflaming her at the same time. Gently, he untied the belt on her robe, and pushed the collar off her shoulders, exposing her body to his gaze. His hand stroked her thigh and hip beneath the robe, then glided up her rib cage to once again cup her breast, while his head bent, and he pressed a soft kiss to the pulse point in her neck.

  She shivered and moaned. Reaching up, she thrust her fingers into his thick blond hair, clutching his head and pressing his mouth against her neck.

  Rikard stiffened, just long enough for her to fear she’d done something wrong, before he relaxed and resumed kissing and licking her neck. His hand dropped away from her breast, making her whimper softly in disappointment. He chuckled softly, the sound rolling through her like a wave of pure delight.

  “I’m not stopping,” he whispered. “Just moving us to the kitchen, so we’re not unduly interrupted by your friend’s call.”

  He slipped his arm beneath her thighs. Then, with a fluid surge of graceful power, he rose with Gayle in his arms. He carried her through the house, into the kitchen, and sat down at the table. Her purse was upended, with the contents strewn across the glass tabletop. She had a brief spike of worry. Was there anything i
n her purse she’d have preferred him not to see? Although, since her cell phone was sitting on top of the pile, she doubted he’d looked at anything else.

  Then he lowered his head, this time covering her breast with his mouth. His tongue swirled around the tight nipple, then he tugged lightly on it with his teeth. She groaned, already hot and wet for him.

  His fingers stroked up her thigh, making soft circles that drove her insane with need. Then he slipped his hand higher, slicking his fingers between her folds.

  She moaned, letting her legs fall open, encouraging him to touch her deeper.

  “Are you going to fist me again?” she asked breathlessly.

  “Would you like that?”

  “Oh, yes. Please.”

  “Then I will. But you must take your friend’s call when it comes. Even if my hand is all the way inside you, and you’re writhing with pleasure, you must take the call. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, Master Rikard.” She’d promise anything to feel him inside her again.

  He stroked the circle of her opening with his fingers, probing with first one, then two. “You’re not ready, yet.”

  The leg supporting her jiggled, bouncing her up and down, awakening her sensitive ass. Gayle moaned, and felt the change in his touch as his gloved fingers became coated in her fluids. He found her clit with his thumb, and worked her, swirling around the thickening bud, then brushing back and forth across the tip, and finally pressing against it.

  She gasped, and his fingers slid inside her.

  “Now you’re ready,” he whispered.

  Licking and kissing the tender tip of one breast, he built her to a frenzy of need, then scraped his teeth across her nipple. When the wave rippled through her, he slipped a third finger inside her. Shifting position slightly, he turned his attention to her other breast, and repeated the process. This time when the wave broke, he slid a fourth finger through her opening.

  He moved on to kiss and lick her neck, sensitizing her pulse points with openmouthed kisses then blowing lightly across the damp skin to make her shiver with need. Each time, his fingers pressed ever so slightly further into her. His fingers were in her up to the second joint, his thumb stroking her opening preparatory to joining them. Then the phone rang.

  She didn’t recognize the cheerful chirping at first, focused on the feelings coursing through her body.

  “Answer it,” Rikard ordered.

  Gayle fumbled for the phone and flipped it open. “Hello?”

  “Gayle! Are you okay? Is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fine.” She gasped as Rikard’s thumb joined his fingers, stretching her even further. He wasn’t planning on stopping his assault while she was on the phone.

  A rush of wet warmth filled her, at how completely he controlled her body and its response. His hand slipped further inside, almost up to the knuckles, and Gayle moaned with pleasure.

  “What’s going on? Are you sure you’re okay?” Carrie demanded. She sounded ready to hop on a plane and check out the situation in person if Gayle didn’t give her the answers she was looking for.

  “What’s going on is we’re having sex, okay? Hot, sweaty, kinky sex. And your call came right in the middle of it. Stop calling me. I’ll phone you when I get home, and we can talk then.”

  Carrie was silent for so long, Gayle was afraid they’d lost the connection, then Carrie said softly, “I’m sorry. I was worried about you. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “Oh, Carrie, I’m the one who’s sorry. You’re the best friend ever, and I know I asked you to call. But your timing stinks! I’m halfway out of my head with what Master Rikard is doing to me. I can’t talk now.”

  Rikard bit lightly on her neck, making her whimper, and murmured, “Only halfway?”

  “But you are okay, right?” Carrie pressed.

  “Never better in my life.”

  “Okay. I’ll wait for your call tonight. But if I don’t hear from you by nine, I’m still calling the cops.”

  “Great. Wonderful. Call by nine. Got it. Bye.”

  She shut the phone and tossed it onto the table.

  “Open for me,” Rikard whispered. “Open as wide as you can go.”

  His hand spread her opening the last fraction of an inch, then he slid fully inside her, up to his wrist. Her muscles clenched and gripped his hand, as she shivered and moaned.

  Unlike the first time, when he’d reached deep inside her, this time, he immediately started to pull his hand out. The wide part of his hand pressed her vaginal muscle, stretching her fully open again, before he pushed his fist deep inside her once more.

  She gasped, bucking against his hand.

  “Shh,” he said softly. “Let me do all the moving.”

  “Yes, Master.” Gayle spread her legs wide, tipped her hips, and leaned back against his other arm. She was his to control.

  His fist pumped slowly in and out, eliciting soft groans of pleasure with each stroke. Then he began speaking, softly, gently, in time with his hand movements.

  “You’re so hot. So wet. It’s like putting my hand into a steam bath. A paraffin dip. Warm and wet and closing tight around me. So tight. Tighter.”

  She clenched her inner muscles, wrapping them around his fist. He filled her completely, pressing back against her with his sheer size. His knuckles rubbed the wall of her vagina as he slid back and forth. She gasped, her hand once more thrusting into his hair and clenching tightly.

  “Please, Master. Please.”

  “What do you want, Gayle? You were very good, and followed my orders about the phone. You deserve a reward.”

  “Please. Do me faster.”

  His fist stroked steadily in and out, building speed, while his hand on her hip kept her where he wanted her to be. Her gasps and groans became short, sharp cries at the apex of each stroke.

  “Sing for me, Gayle. Sing.”

  Her next cry was a warbled note.

  “That’s it. Sing.”

  His fist pumped harder, faster, driving her cries of passion higher and higher up the scale. With a series of high notes worthy of Mozart’s “Queen of the Night”, Gayle gave a final shriek and came in a shuddering rush. Rikard’s hand spurted clear of her body.

  His mouth closed over hers, his lips tender and gentle as he pulled her lower lip into his mouth to suckle. Slowly, he soothed her down from the heights where he’d taken her. Her trembles subsided, leaving her filled with warm lethargy.

  “I think you need to build your energy up after that performance,” he said. “We should have dessert now.”

  “Dessert?” Gayle opened blurred eyes, then closed them again when it was too much effort to resolve the wavering images into a scene that made any sense. “I couldn’t possibly eat dessert. I can barely keep my eyes open.”

  “I’ll just have to feed you, then.”

  A ripple of anticipation coursed through the sluggish circulation of her body. He would care for her. Completely.

  “First you dressed me. Now you’re going to feed me. When do I do something for you?”

  “I told you, I believe my role as dominant is to ensure you’re surrounded by luxury, and have all your needs met.”

  “I thought your role as dominant was to blow my mind with incredible sex.”

  He laughed, the sound washing over her in benediction, filling her with joy. “That’s one of your needs, isn’t it? You can satisfy my desires later.”

  Gayle frowned. “Have you had…any…?”

  “Satisfaction?”

  She nodded.

  He lifted his hand from her hip and stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Yes. There’s more to satisfaction than simply coming. Helping you with your music was satisfying. Watching you enjoy the meal I prepared for you was satisfying. Having my touch send you into orbit was extremely satisfying.”

  She closed her eyes and relaxed into his gentle caress.

  “That being said, I would like you to make me come, hard and long.�
��

  “Yes, Master Rikard.” She swallowed, inexplicably nervous. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I want you to let me make love to you.”

  She blinked. “That’s it?”

  “That’s it. Ready for your dessert now?”

  He lifted her off his lap, and set her down in her previous chair. While she stuffed her belongings back into her purse, he washed his gloved hands, then dished the dessert out onto two plates.

  Gayle’s eyes widened at the confection he placed before her. A half pear glistened in a coating of thick golden syrup, topped by a scoop of French vanilla ice cream, the whole thing drizzled with swirling loops of caramel and garnished with chopped pistachio nuts. “It almost looks too good to eat.”

  “It’s just poached pears.”

  “Just poached pears. Like you have them for dessert all the time?”

  “Actually, I had one for dessert last night, and will have one for dessert tomorrow night. The recipe is for two pears, and it’ll keep for two days.”

  “So what do you have the rest of the time? Crème Brûlée?” she mocked.

  Rikard’s eyes narrowed. “What is your problem, Gayle?”

  She threw her spoon onto the table, and buried her face in her hands. “I don’t know!”

  Instantly, he pulled her into his lap, tucking her head against his shoulder and rubbing soothing strokes up and down her arm. “Shush, now. Forget the dessert. What’s bothering you?”

  She sniffed. “I don’t understand this. I thought it was an even trade. But you’re doing everything for me. And then you don’t even want me to do anything to get you off, just have sex!”

  “So you’d be happier if I wanted you to kneel and suck my cock until I came?”

  Despite the confused tone of his voice, she nodded. She could taste his smooth length filling her mouth, hot and hard, thrusting deep into her throat almost farther than it was possible to take him. She swallowed, her throat suddenly thick.

  “At least that would make sense.”