by Maya Banks
He reached down and caught her foot in his hand and raised it to his lap. Again, his fingers trailed over her flesh, sensual and soft. He opened the other cuff and secured it around her leg, just above her ankle. The anklet was a perfect match to the one on her arm, and it conjured images of a harem girl, adorned in gold, as she danced for her sultan.
“For as long as you belong to me, you will wear my mark,” he said. “You won’t remove them, not even to bathe.”
She glanced at her arm and then down to her ankle. She felt exotic, not at all like herself, and wasn’t that the purpose of this? To step outside herself and live a fantasy?
Another giggle threatened to escape, and she swallowed it back. How absurd was this? She was sitting naked on the bed next to a man who’d just shackled her for all practical purposes. Shackled her and commanded her to stay naked while she was in his presence.
Clearly she was loopy.
“First, a shower,” Damon said as he studied her closely. “I’ll have a tray brought up, and we’ll eat in bed afterward.”
“Tray brought up?” she croaked. Did he have servants who would be witness to her nakedness? To the fact she was acting as his slave? Good lord, would he want to have sex with her in plain view of anyone walking by?
“You’re starting to panic,” he reprimanded. “Relax and allow me to take care of you, Serena.”
She inhaled deeply through her nose and then let it out in a long exhale. “I’m sorry. I won’t question you again.”
He smiled. “Yes, you will. Of that I’m sure.”
She raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the satisfied glint in his eyes. “And what will you do?”
“I have my methods of punishment,” he said in a silky, sexy-as-hell voice.
“You’re not exactly encouraging me to be good,” she murmured.
He shook his head. “No games, Serena. That isn’t what this is about. If you want games of cat and mouse, disobedient slave to punishing master, you’re better off with someone else. As much as this is a fantasy and not your reality, in the time you’re with me, it will be real. In all ways.
“I want your obedience. I expect it—no, I demand it. I don’t relish nor will I enjoy the idea of punishing you. So if you seek to bait me so that you enjoy the thrill of discipline, you’re sure to be disappointed.”
She nodded. “I understand.” She glanced down at the band circling her arm again. Unable to resist, she raised her other hand to touch the beautiful designs. “Why did you choose this instead of a collar?”
“Because I want you to wear the sign of my ownership in public as well as private, and a collar . . . I don’t seek to embarrass you, nor do I desire to make our relationship public. It’s a private matter between the two of us and not open for speculation. All that matters to me is that you know that you belong to me. What others think or not is irrelevant. I’m not so insecure that I need you to overtly scream to the world that you are my slave.”
Her chest squeezed, and without thinking, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She buried her face in his neck and hugged him tightly.
“Thank you,” she said, clearing her throat to get rid of the catch.
His hand swept up her arm to rest on the band. “You’re welcome. I like seeing the evidence of my possession on your body. It pleases me and will please me every time I look at you and see my gift on your arm and your leg. I need no satisfaction beyond that.”
Slowly he pulled her away and then stood, taking her hand with him. He tugged until she rose to stand beside him.
“Come now so I can see to your shower.”
She looked at him in surprise, but he just smiled in return.
“In time you’ll learn that I’m very serious when I say that I plan to see to all aspects of your care and keeping.”
CHAPTER 14
S erena stood in the shower under the spray of water as Damon undressed outside the glass door. Her gaze was drawn to his muscular body. Lean, hard, perfectly tanned with not a single flash of whiter skin.
His cock was impressive even in its semierect state, set amidst the dark hair at his groin. This was a man who clearly took care of himself, and it didn’t detract from his manliness whatsoever.
He was, in a word, beautiful. Rugged. All male. He wasn’t a knuckles-dragging-the-ground he-man Neanderthal type with more muscles than brains. He was several inches taller than her, but not so tall that she had to strain to look up at him.
He stepped inside the shower, and before he ever touched her, her body went on alert. Her nipples beaded and strained outward as though begging for his touch. Her pussy pulsed and tightened. She wanted him. Her need was powerful and overwhelming.
There was nothing sexual about his ministrations as he gently set about washing her. His long fingers glided over her skin, spreading soap bubbles in their wake. When he’d covered every inch of her body, including her most intimate areas, he turned his attention to her hair.
Methodically, he lathered her hair, massaging her scalp with firm fingers. After he’d rinsed, he worked in conditioner and gently pushed her back away from the spray.
Then he handed her soap. “Now you will wash me. Use only your hands. I would feel your touch on all parts of my body.”
Her pulse skittered and jumped like a drunk trying to play hopscotch. With trembling fingers she took the soap and worked it in her hands until she had a good lather. She set the soap aside and tentatively put her hands to Damon’s chest.
He closed his eyes the moment she touched him. Emboldened by his response, and her own pleasure at touching him, she began to stroke her hands over his shoulders. Then down to his taut abdomen.
She skipped his groin and his now turgid erection and soaped both his legs. When she knelt on the floor of the shower to soap his feet, his hand touched her head.
She glanced up, worried that she’d done something wrong, but she saw approval shining brightly in his eyes.
“You kneeling at my feet, so sweetly, as you wash them . . . it’s quite beautiful, Serena. You are beautiful.”
She ducked her head, suddenly shy and self-conscious. She finished his feet and then worked her way back up to his groin. His cock bobbed in front of her, and when she would have stood, she remembered how pleased he’d looked when she went to her knees. And so she merely hoisted herself higher on her knees so that his cock was eye-level and she closed her hands around it.
It was hot against her skin, hotter than the water cascading over them both. It pulsed slightly against her palm as she rubbed back and forth. When she reached the base, she slid her fingers beyond to his sac. His balls rolled against her palm, and she marveled at the softness of the skin, the pliability, and how swollen they were as his cock jutted outward above them.
She wanted to take him in her mouth again and pleasure him. A light tap to her cheek made her blink and look upward. Was she so transparent?
“Use only your hands this time,” he said in a raspy voice.
He reached up to direct the nozzle away from them and then guided her hand back to his straining erection.
She worked back and forth, moving the foreskin as far up the bulbous head as she could before pulling it away, revealing the smooth top again.
“Harder,” he urged.
She readily complied, tightening her grip and moving more rapidly.
Then suddenly, he yanked himself from her grasp. With one hand, he shoved her arms down while he jerked at his cock with the other. She gasped when the first hot jet exploded onto her chest.
He continued to pull as he leaned closer to direct his cum onto her breasts. Some landed at the hollow of her throat and slid downward, slithering between her breasts and down to her navel.
One thick rope traveled to the tip of her breast, coated the rigid nipple and dangled precariously before dripping to the shower floor.
Damon pulled upward on his cock and leaned farther in, pushing at her mouth. “Open,” he said hoarsely.
&n
bsp; She complied, and he slid in with ease. His cum coated the head of his penis, and as he pumped deep into her mouth, she swallowed away the last of it.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “Clean me, Serena mine.”
For several long seconds he rocked up on his toes, rhythmically fucking her mouth as his cock continued to soften. Finally, he pulled away and reached for her hand to help her up.
With an arrogant look of satisfaction he gazed at the trail of cum covering her chest.
“Bathe yourself with it,” he murmured. “Rub me all over your body and know that you are mine.”
Hesitantly, she raised her hands and then looked down at the sticky cream on her breasts and down her belly. She put one hand to her skin first and cautiously rubbed in a tight circle.
Damon’s breath hitched and his cock bobbed upward, already recovering from his orgasm.
With growing confidence, she placed her other hand to her wet breast and began massaging the fluid over her skin. She swayed sensuously as she rubbed and caressed.
Her body was hypersensitive to her every touch. He’d driven her so close to her release just by attaining his own. He hadn’t touched her to bring her to orgasm in any way, but yet she verged on the brink. Hovering. Aching. So close. So very close. If she could just get her hands lower . . .
Strong hands gripped her wrists, and he pulled her hands away from her skin. Without a word, he directed the water so that it poured over her body, and he began to rinse the conditioner from her hair.
Again, with no attempt to arouse, he washed her until her hair was clean and the remnants of his orgasm were gone from her skin.
“Stay here,” he said as he turned the water off and stepped from the shower.
She watched as he quickly dried his naked body. He wiped the last of the moisture from his skin and then gave his hair a quick tussle before tossing the towel aside and picking up another.
He reached in to take her hand and drew her out of the shower. He started with her hair, squeezing the excess water from the strands. Then he worked down, patting her skin with the soft towel.
When he was finished, he dropped the towel and pulled her against the warmth of his body. He cradled her perfectly. They meshed so well, her softness conforming to his harder planes.
He just stood there, his heart beating softly against her throat. His hands smoothed deliciously over her back and down to her buttocks before traveling up her arms. His right hand came to rest at the cuff she wore on her left arm, and he stroked it for a moment, as if pleased by the ornament she wore. For him.
“Come, it’s time to feed you and put you to bed.”
She bristled the slightest bit because he made her sound like a pet or even a child. But as his hands moved sensuously over her shoulders as he turned her in the direction of the bedroom, those thoughts, and her irritation, fled.
To her relief, the tray of food was already delivered and sitting on a table by the bed, which meant she didn’t have to face any hired help in the nude. The sheets and covers had been pulled back and the pillows repositioned at the head of the bed.
Damon, it seemed, did indeed like his creature comforts.
He gestured for her to climb onto the bed, and it was only after she crawled onto the plush mattress that she saw the rope and satin cuffs secured to the bedpost on her side of the bed.
She glanced back uncertainly at Damon, but his expression didn’t change. He expected obedience, and his stance didn’t offer any alternative.
He waited until she turned around and settled against the pillows before he reached for her left hand. She watched in shocked fascination as he pulled the rope with the cuff from the bedpost and secured the cuff around her wrist. Silently, he captured her other hand and brought it around to the small of her back where he secured it with the other cuff so that her hands were bound together behind her.
She wasn’t even going to ask the obvious question of how the hell she was going to eat, because after his speech and countless reminders of how he would take care of her every need, she had a suspicion of just how she was going to consume her food.
“Are you comfortable?” he asked as he stood by the bed.
She nodded. And she was. The bed was wonderfully soft. Not too soft, though. It molded to her body, contouring perfectly as it cradled her. It would be heaven to sleep on.
Satisfied with her response, he walked around to the other side where the dinner tray sat, and he sat on the bed beside her. After spending a few moments preparing a plate from the dishes arranged on the cart, he then scooted back against the pillows and sat cross-legged, the plate resting on his lap.
It smelled wonderful.
There was roasted chicken with scalloped potatoes and a decadent looking chocolate dessert waiting on the side.
Damon cut into the chicken, arranging bite-sized portions on the plate. When he was finished, he forked one of the pieces and held it to her lips.
For a moment she simply stared at him, wondering why she didn’t feel ill at ease at what he proposed to do. He waited, patiently, the chicken resting lightly on her bottom lip. Finally she opened her mouth, and he carefully slid the fork inside.
How strange that he could make the act of feeding her, as though she were helpless, so intimate and loving. There was such tenderness to his actions, such regard for her, that she couldn’t muster any discomfort over him feeding her while she sat there, bound and naked, in his bed.
Even more curious was the way he made her crave his attention. As soon as he gave her one bite, she hungered for another, not because of the food but because of his regard.
He alternated feeding her with taking his own part of the meal. She watched the bites slide into his mouth, watched his lips run over the tines of the fork that her mouth had touched. His warmth still lingered on the metal when he next placed it in her mouth.
When it slid from her lips, clean, he trailed it gently down her chin, down the column of her neck and to her chest. The tines were lightly abrasive, scratching along her skin, eliciting a shiver in their wake.
He topped the rise of her breast and ever so lightly skimmed the tip over her nipple. Her shoulders shook, making her breasts bob, which rubbed her nipple rapidly across the fork.
When he pulled it away, her breaths were coming in shallow bursts. How much more teasing could she take before the need for her orgasm drove her to insanity? She ached. Her pussy ached. Her breasts strained, so tight and sensitive that each brush across them was agonizing.
He returned to his plate, carefully picking at the remainder of the food. He fed her three more bites before pushing the cart away from the bed.
When he rolled back over to face her, he reached behind her back to free her hands. But before she could pull them in front of her, he merely repositioned her arms over her head and refastened the cuffs around her wrists.
“Find a comfortable position,” he directed.
As best as she could, she shimmied down until she was lying on her back, her head nestled among the pillows. He tested her bonds and instructed her to roll right and then left. Satisfied that she could move freely, he pulled away and ran his hand freely down her body.
He rested on his side next to her, his head propped in his palm as he regarded her with contented eyes.
“Before we go to sleep, I thought I should acquaint you with more of my expectations so that you aren’t taken by surprise,” he said.
She raised an eyebrow at that. He’d been pretty darn clear in what he expected. What else could there be? But she didn’t voice that thought, and she waited for him to continue.
He smiled. “You wanted to object. I admire your restraint, but more than that, I am pleased by your desire to please me.”
Not knowing what to say to that or if he required a response, she remained silent.
“Sex,” he said. “Your body is mine to do with what I want. This means that I take you when I want, how I want, sometimes with your pleasure in mind, sometimes with mi
ne. It is at my discretion as to when you achieve satisfaction.”
He waited as though expecting her to speak, but she was figuring this out pretty quickly. He wanted compliance, and so she would give it to the best of her ability.
Again, he looked pleased when she merely waited for him to continue.
“It is a particular pleasure of mine to have sex when I awaken, when my mind is still clouded with sleep but my body craves the sweetness of a woman. I’ll mount you while you are tied to my bed, helpless to do anything but give me what I demand.”
She closed her eyes and pressed her thighs together to try and alleviate the burn. He was going to make her come with no more than his voice.
A finger trailed over the swell of her breast and then circled her puckered nipple.
“You questioned me about why I wanted you nude at all times. Part of the reason is that I find the female body the truest form of art. I like to enjoy it. I like to gaze upon it, especially when I know it belongs to me. The main reason, however, is that I intend to enjoy unimpeded access to your body. I like the idea of being able to fuck you when I want, how I want. I can enjoy your mouth, your pussy and your ass with little more than the effort it takes to bend you over the couch, or my chair or my lap. As you walk by, I can reach out and take you. I can press you against the wall and take you from behind. You won’t deny me. I won’t allow it. Unless you are injured or ill. Or you say no. Once you say no, it ends.
“So you see, Serena, despite all the power you have ceded me, it still rests very much in your hands. You have complete and utter control over your fantasy because with one word, it all ends.”
She was balanced precariously on the edge of the sharpest of orgasms. She was going to come despite the fact that he hadn’t touched her more intimately than on her breasts. Flash images of him taking her in all the ways he described battered her mind. Her body swelled and quivered. Oh God, it was coming, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.
