by L. DuBois
Cort’s fingers tightened on her breasts as he fought the urge to do exactly what she was begging for—to ignore the game and everything they were supposed to be doing and instead use her the way he wanted.
Do things to her they hadn’t talked about, hadn’t discussed in advance.
No. She deserved better.
“Please,” she whispered.
Cort grabbed her by the hips, forced her off the chair, and scooted forward. Before she had time to do more than frown, he’d grabbed her and flipped her down over his lap. Her hips were against his right thigh, her shoulders resting on the left, and her breasts dangled between his legs.
“You need a good spanking.” He raised his hand, and brought it down on her ass in a loud, cracking smack.
10
The first two swats surprised her. She yelped when the third one landed on her upturned bottom. It hurt. He was spanking her hard, each blow of his large hand enough to make her body lurch, her ass and thighs jiggle.
Her hands were scrambling for something to hold on to. She tried grabbing his leather pants with her right hand, but the material was too smooth and well fitted for her to catch hold of, and her arms were too short for her to brace her hand on the floor. She ended up grabbing his ankle, holding on for dear life as he continued to spank her. Her left arm was pressed between her side and his stomach.
Smack, smack.
He wasn’t doing some measured, controlled spanking. Back when Hach had been topping, he’d preferred a spanking bench, and only taken her over his lap a few times when they’d been roleplaying as naughty schoolgirl and headmaster. She hadn’t enjoyed that kind of role-play, so they’d moved on.
He’d never spanked her like this—hard and fast, so she barely had time to catch her breath between each blow. Her whole ass was starting to ache. He’d covered her from ass to upper thigh.
“Next time you wear your panties over the garters, so I can take them off while you still have your garters on. Understand?” His voice was a low, rough growl.
“Yes, Master—”
She yelped, toes lifting off the floor as he smacked the sit spot on her left leg, which he’d been paying particular attention to throughout the spanking.
She’d been planning to say “Master Dowell” but hadn’t managed the “Dowell” part before the spanking truncated her statement.
It felt good, calling him “Master.” Thinking of him as her Master.
When this game is over, I’m leaving Hach.
In the midst of the spanking, while the physical pain stripped away her mental excuses, she finally accepted what she needed to do, for both their sakes.
Sejal started to cry.
Master Dowell, Cort—it was nice to know his name—slowed, but didn’t stop the spanking. “Crying won’t stop the spanking.”
It was just the right amount of mean, scary Dom. Her pussy, which had started throbbing a while ago, clenched in desire.
“N-no, Master.”
“You need this, don’t you?”
“Yes, I…Yes, I do. Thank you, Master.”
“Thanking me won’t make me stop.” He grabbed the sides of her panties shoving them between the cheeks of her ass. He spanked the newly bared skin a few times, then rubbed her with his palm. She lifted up, pressing her warm, aching ass against his hand.
“You like this, don’t you?”
She rubbed her cheek against his knee. “I do. I want…more. But it hurts.”
“You have a safe word,” he reminded.
“I know, Sir.”
“Back to Sir?” He swatted her hard enough to make her shriek and jump.
A second, equally firm smack, cracked against her ass. Pain made her teeth clench and toes curl, even as her pussy throbbed. She moved her left arm, covering her ass with her hand.
He grabbed her wrist and forced it to the small of her back. “I was going to lick your pussy as a reward for being so good while you got your spanking, but now I won’t.”
“I’ll be good. I’ll be very good,” she panted.
“Too late. Now you’re going to have to earn it.”
“Please, let me earn it. Let me suck your cock.”
Spank, spank, spank. These ones were softer, but she squealed and wiggled against him. Her ass was on fire, her skin so sensitive and hot that she could feel the slight breeze being generated by the building’s heating and cooling system.
“That’s a reward too. Now, we finish this. Let go.”
For one moment she thought he wanted her to let go of his ankle, but then realized it was both more and less than that. He wasn’t asking her to let go physically, but emotionally. Earlier she’d started to cry, but not from the pain.
Pain, at least this kind of pain, was more than physical. It was an outlet—a way of dealing with stress. Or it could be, if she let it.
You’re going to leave Hach.
She closed her eyes, focusing on that thought, as Master Dowell continued to spank her, though much more gently than he had a moment ago. The idea of leaving her bound Master didn’t bring tears to her eyes as it had before. Rather, a mix of sadness and anger swelled over her. Sadness that a relationship that was so important to her, that had meant so much to her, was over. Anger at Hach for what he’d done. Or what he hadn’t done. Anger that he’d ignored her.
“He used me,” she said aloud.
The timing of her words was perfect, coming in the quiet lull between spanks.
Master Dowell released her wrist, his free hand spreading over her back in a comfortingly commanding way. “Tell me,” he said simply.
Sejal shifted, rubbing her cheek against his leg and hoping it wasn’t real leather. “He used me. He changed. He wanted different things. And he used me to get them.”
Cort slid one hand up her back, tangling it in her hair. His right hand landed one final, soft tap to her ass, and then he slid her panties back into place.
“Kneel.”
Sejal slid off his lap, onto the floor. He grabbed her under the arms, lifting her so he could drag her between his spread legs. She shivered in reaction to the casual display of strength. Cort bent forward so their heads were nearly level, keeping his hands on her.
“You deserve better. Better than to be used.”
Tears filled her eyes again. She started to tip her head back, so they would spill down her cheeks but he grabbed her chin.
“Let go.”
With his hands on her, his will and power and command surrounding and protecting her, Sejal was able to lower her internal walls, let her feelings free. She pressed both hands over her mouth and sobbed.
Cort jerked her up onto his lap. Pain lanced through her as her abused bottom landed on his rock-hard thigh, but she didn’t care, because he pulled her close, wrapped his big, heavy arms around her, and held her as she cried.
“Good morning.” Warm hands slid under the covers and along her naked skin.
Her alarm hadn’t gone off, and she wasn’t wearing her watch. That meant she didn’t have to work today, and wasn’t on call. She had no reason to get up. Therapy had taught her that it was okay to sleep in as a form of self-care, so Sejal rolled onto her stomach, burying her head in the pillow, her hair falling across her face.
Huh. That was odd. She must have forgotten to braid it last night.
“I said good morning; it’s time to get fucked by a big dildo while you ride a glider.”
The hands were warm as they kneaded her back, the words soft, foreign, and pleasantly masculine. She’d almost fallen back to sleep when the actual words penetrated. English. He was speaking English. She still dreamed in Hindi, and she been having a wild dream when the man first tried to wake her.
Usake bistar par ek aadamee tha.
There was a man in her bed. A man touching her.
That certainly wasn’t normal, yet she wasn’t alarmed. In the next second her brain caught up with her body—her body had recognized that touch, the sound of his voice, and known she was sa
fe. Her brain was now up and running.
Sejal turned her head, pushing her hair out of her eyes. Cort was kneeling beside the bed, looking tousled and sexy in the mid-morning light.
“You’re wearing a shirt,” she mumbled.
“You sound disappointed.”
“It ruins the view.”
“If I promise to take off the shirt, will you get up?”
She rolled onto her side. His hands, which were burrowing up under the covers, slid along her skin. One hand came to rest on the side of her breast.
“You could order me to get up.”
He raised a single dark brow. “I could.”
Sejal took a deep breath, his hand now half an inch closer to her nipple.
A smile touched his lips.
Sejal wasn’t all that obedient, and she didn’t like to wait. She rolled onto her back, and his hand slid over her breast. She arched up, eyes fluttering closed as his palm rubbed her nipple.
“Naughty girl. I like it.”
Cort threw back the covers, and the cold air made her skin prickle. She threw her arms up, laying them on the pillow, crossing her wrists above her head.
Cort rose, planted one knee on the bed, and bent his head to her breasts.
Sejal arched her back, breasts aching with the need to be touched. Her ass was reminding her of how they’d ended the night, with a spanking and some intense after care that ended with him tucking her into bed. She waited, waited for him to suck her nipples. Or lick them. Bite them. Anything. She’d let this man do anything he wanted to her.
Cort planted a noisy kiss on her cheek, popped off the bed, and dragged the covers with him. Sejal yelped as the cold air hit her naked body. She sat up and glared at him through the tangle of her hair. He grinned at her.
“You’re a morning person?” she asked in disgust.
“Not normally. Not unless I have something to look forward to.”
He stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans, rocked up onto his toes. The white shirt he wore hugged his arms and chest in that way that made her think it was either a very expensive shirt, or custom made.
“I’m guessing you’re not a morning person?”
“What I am is punctual when I have someplace to be. I used to get up at five am no matter what.”
Sejal swung her legs off the bed, then hopped off and started to stretch.
Cort retreated a few steps to watch her. “Up at five every morning to do yoga?”
“No, to study, or work, or read journal articles.”
“What changed?”
“I’ve learned to give myself time to rest both body and mind.” She dropped onto the carpet and into a cobra pose, looking up at the ceiling.
Cort came over and looked down at her. “I like the naked yoga, but you have twenty minutes to meet me in the playroom.” He tapped his watch. “This time I will be on time.”
He bent, kissed her forehead as if he’d done it every morning for years, and then walked out the door.
Sejal lowered her shoulders to the floor, and stayed there, a little stunned. The kiss had felt…intimate. Too intimate for something so simple.
She arched up into downward facing dog, held it for a count of twenty, and then abandoned stretching in favor of getting ready. Twenty minutes wasn’t much time to prepare for…how had he phrased it?
Oh yes, getting fucked by a big dildo while riding a glider.
Sejal smiled and snatched up her discarded garter belt and stockings.
11
She was wearing the garters, stockings, fuck-me shoes, and nothing more. When she opened the playroom door, which he’d left slightly ajar, she was silhouetted by sunlight. Each decadent curve was highlighted in gold. She looked radiant and powerful, the queen he’d likened her to yesterday, strength reined, ready to fight him for control once more.
Sejal stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. Even with all the lights on, it was dim in comparison to outside, almost as if they’d entered a twilight world, where time didn’t matter.
He’d done as he’d promised, and pulled off his shirt. Her gaze went to his chest, and Cort crossed his arms, ego well stroked when he saw the way she inhaled slowly while her gaze lingered on his pecs. She was definitely an arm and chest sort of woman. He didn’t skip leg day, but he was more confident in his upper body physique. In this way, this single way, they were compatible.
Certainly nothing else about them matched.
And he needed to keep reminding himself of that. It was the only way to temper this feeling of rightness he got when he was near her. They weren’t right for one another.
Her gaze slid from him to the padded wooden glider placed in a position of honor in the middle of the floor. He’d shoved the spanking bench and one of the cages out of the way, then laid down mats before carrying in the glider. He’d taken his time examining it, reading the instruction manual, googling this particular model, and finally collecting everything he’d need and securing it all in a small wooden trunk. He’d considered laying everything out on the tray so she could look and see what he planned to do, but then decided it would be more fun to surprise her.
For once he was sure he was prepared, really prepared, for a scene. He wanted it to be perfect for her. He wanted her to feel special and treasured the way someone like her should feel.
“That’s…that’s the glider?”
Cort walked over to her. She surprised him by meeting him halfway and leaning into his chest while still examining the glider, as if he’d protect her from it. For one wild moment the white knight inside him wanted to do just that. Then the sexual defiant within told the white knight to go be a sad virgin elsewhere. He was sticking to the plan, and the plan was to strap her to it, gag her, and then fuck her with it until she was screaming from a series of unending orgasms.
Cort slid his hand under her hair, around her neck. “Yes, it is. And I intend to use you quite roughly today.”
She shivered, but when she spoke, her voice was hot with desire. “Yes, Master.”
Master. She’d called him Master. Not Master Cortland. Not Sir. Master.
It felt right.
Silence stretched, heavy and full of the implications of what she’d just called him. He waited to see if she would correct herself, but she didn’t.
“Good,” he said, and she relaxed against him.
Had she thought he was telling her not to call him Master? Correct her? Punish her?
No. He wanted to be her Master, as stupid and impossible as that was.
Keeping his hand on her neck, he guided her over to the contraption.
“How does it work?” She looked dubiously at it.
It wasn’t particularly large—about the size of a large moving box laid on its side. The top was two padded ovals with space in between them. A dildo protruded from the space between the pads, and there was a short handle sticking up at an angle from the front side.
Keeping one hand on her neck he reached down, put his hand on one of the padded seat pieces, and rocked it forward and back. As he did, the dildo thrust up.
Sejal made an odd little sound.
“Freaked out or excited?” he asked.
“I’m not wholly sure. It seems…dangerous.”
“Dangerous how?”
“Well, it would theoretically be possible to injure yourself using this. For example, if you hit the pelvic bone with the dildo support rod—”
He turned her to face him. “I wouldn’t use this with you if it was going to hurt you.” He realized what he’d said and smiled. “Hurt in a bad, not fun way, I mean.”
Sejal looked up at him, one brow raised.
“The dildo is soft plastic and a Vac-U-Lock. There’s no support rod.”
Her expression softened, her gaze lowered. “Yes, Master. I’m sorry. I do trust you.”
Cort’s cock twitched in his jeans. “Spread your legs.”
She stepped wide, and he reached for her pussy. Her labia were dry, but he o
pened her up, finding a pool of moisture at the entrance to her vagina. He pressed two fingers up into her. She made a delicious little sound, arching her back so her breasts were thrust towards him.
He had plans for those sweet nipples.
Sliding his now lubricated fingers up her pussy to her clit, he played with her, rubbing and stroking until her hips started to rock forward in a gentle rhythm that left no doubt as to how aroused she was.
Cort pulled his hand away and stepped back, turning to the glider. He’d left a tube of lube on the floor—damn he really was prepared this morning—and added a dollop to the tip of the black dildo, which had a stylized head like the head of a cock but was otherwise smooth.
He made sure the glider was in the back position, which retracted the dildo until only a few inches of the head protruded above the level of the pads, and locked it in place.
He turned to Sejal, who’d been watching him. “Shoes off.”
She stepped out of her heels, then picked them up and set them off to the side. She must have put on lotion or something, because her skin seemed to glow, her breasts begging for his attention.
He wanted his hands on her, now.
Cort picked her up, hands around her waist. She grabbed his shoulders, and wrapped her legs around his waist. That was perfect for what he wanted. Cort carried her over to the glider and set her down on the padded section. She released her legs and he helped position them—thighs on the pads, ass and pussy easily accessible. Her calves were along the outside of the glider, toes braced on the floor.
She was still holding onto his shoulders, and as he straightened her hands trailed down his chest. She sighed. “I didn’t realize I was quite so shallow.”
“If it makes you feel better, I intend to fondle you too.” He grabbed her wrists, raised her hands, and kissed her palms.
“I look forward to that.”
He let her rest her hands on her thighs as he took a knee and opened the lid of the box to pull out what he’d need next. Sejal strained to see what he was pulling out.
“What is that, Sir?”
She called him “Sir” but it didn’t feel like she was backtracking, rather that she used it to indicate that this was a casual conversation. Well, as casual a conversation as they could have while she sat on a glider prepared to be machine fucked.
