CollarMeinParis

by Sidney Bristol

  Clay grunted and thrust his hips back, straightening his arms and impaling himself on the dildo. She tightened her hold on his testicles in reflex to being rocked slightly off balance.

  “Fuck yeah,” he moaned.

  The ridges against her folds rubbed her clit, sparking sensation that radiated down to her toes. She lifted her other hand and slapped his back, right over the welts.

  “Did I tell you to move?” she asked, putting some snap into her voice.

  “No Mistress,” he choked out.

  She grasped his hips and thrust, seating the dildo farther into his ass. Tendons and muscles stood out in stark relief as he held himself perfectly still.

  Bianca draped herself over his back again, the heat from his welts less than before. She splayed her hand over his stomach and pressed closer, wiggling her hips slightly as the ridges slid against just the right spot.

  “Do you love me?” she asked as she brought the hand around his balls up to his shaft.

  He peered over his shoulder. “I do.”

  “Good. I’m going to make you come.” She pressed a kiss to his shoulder and straightened, placing her hands on his hips. She was never too rough with his ass, always giving him a few moments to adjust to the intrusion, tell her if something hurt. And she trusted him to let her know those things. Ultimately, trust had led to love.

  She rocked back and forth, setting an easy rhythm, working deeper with each thrust. Clay’s breathing grew labored and his arms bulged with the effort it took to hold still. She let her head fall back on her shoulders and tilted her hips for a new angle. She was wet, so ready to use that hard cock on herself, but this was about giving him what he wanted. Taking him in a way that satisfied the desire for total submission.

  He groaned and the bedframe squeaked, either from her force or his strength, she didn’t know which. She thrust harder and her breath shuddered out as pleasure rippled down to her toes from the pressure against her pussy. She gasped and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.

  “Who owns this ass?”

  She surprised him with a smack. He rocked up on his toes, panting.

  “You, Mistress.”

  “That’s right,” she purred.

  She leaned forward, covering one of his hands with hers and grasping his cock with the other. She pumped in time to her short, powerful thrusts. He was close, she could tell from the way his spine bowed and his hands fisted the blankets. Clay rocked back and forth, her command to hold still forgotten in the heat of the moment. Her breasts rubbed against his back. She ached for more pressure or something.

  “Fuck,” he groaned.

  His dick twitched in her palm. She pressed against him and threaded her fingers through his. “Come on, babe. Show me how much you love me.”

  The muscles in his back rippled, his arms locked in place and his head tossed back. Hot cum bathed her hand and the towel. The sound of their breathing filled the room.

  She pressed a kiss to his spine and wiggled her hips. She wasn’t close, which was a pity. She loved coming with him like this, owning his pleasure and hers. Another time, maybe.

  Clay grasped her wrist and wiped her hand against his stomach before lifting it to his lips and kissing her palm. She wrapped her other arm around his waist and hugged him, snuggling her face against his back.

  They stood like that for a moment while they each caught their breath. Finally she eased back until the dildo slid free to bob awkwardly like an unsatisfied monster. How men managed walking with their bits was a mystery.

  “Did you come?” he asked, brow furrowed.

  “No.”

  She released the straps on the harness and stepped out of it. No, but she had a more-than-willing sub with very talented fingers. She crooked her finger at him and let the contraption hit the floor.

  Clay wrapped his arms around her waist and set her on the dresser next to the TV. He lowered to the floor on shaky legs and guided her thighs over his shoulders. He thrust his tongue into her pussy and rolled her clit. She tossed her head back and smacked it against the wall.

  She clapped a hand over her mouth, muffling her giggles mixed with moans. The last thing she needed was to give Kevin, whose room was next door, a reason to check on them.

  Bianca shattered, her body clamping down on his tongue and spasming. Her back bowed and her thighs squeezed him closer.

  Clay carefully picked her up and took her to the bed, where he set her on her feet for a moment while he cleared off the bed and helped her in. He disappeared into the bathroom and retrieved a washrag, cleaning her off before himself.

  He crawled in and surrounded her with his body, nestling her against his chest and holding her close to his heart. God, she loved this man.

  * * * * *

  Clay hissed as his balls were clenched in a vise. Or what felt like a vise.

  His eyes snapped open as Bianca glanced over her shoulder and frowned. She sat straddling his stomach, already dressed.

  “I told you to hold still.”

  As if he could control his cock when her hands were around it. She squeezed until his balls had to be turning purple and his toes curled in an effort to keep from bucking her off.

  Fuck.

  What a way to wake up.

  He gripped the rumpled sheets and breathed deeply, focusing his gaze on the geometric design of her dress and not the sensation of soft rope around his shaft or circling his balls.

  She eased up on her grip, petting his testicles as if they were a cat.

  “What time is it? Clay?”

  His body flushed from the sensation radiating down his cock, through his pelvis and up his spine. Lust was a dull roar, drowning out thought. But his Mistress had posed a question to him. He glanced at the bedside clock.

  “Nine twenty.”

  She ran her palms up and down his thighs. The cool air wrapped around his heated flesh. He wiggled his fingers instead of his hips and sucked in another deep breath.

  “Hm, and you still need to get dressed.”

  “Ya-huh.”

  Screw it. He palmed Bianca’s firm ass and squeezed. She was wearing leggings, but under those she’d gone commando, like last night. She was on a mission to drive him out of his mind.

  A loud crack heralded pain blossoming up his shaft and lighting his balls on fire.

  “Shiiiiiit,” he groaned, digging his fingers into her hips.

  “I.” Smack. “Said.” Smack. “Hold.” Smack. “Still. And I never gave you permission to touch either.” She pried his hands off her hips and dropped them to the bed.

  His thighs and groin were afire. White dots blossomed in his vision. Bianca twisted to face him, her cool, unmovable demeanor a fucking turn-on. Sadly he could merely curl up on his side and breathe through the pain rippling through his body.

  She leaned down and tilted his chin toward her. “You deserved that. I don’t like when you intentionally disobey me. And you knew what time we were supposed to get up, and you’ve wasted almost half an hour. Also, you knew you weren’t supposed to move or touch, didn’t you?”

  “Yes Mistress.”

  Bianca pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “I was going to use you, but you don’t deserve it now. Get dressed.”

  Fuck his luck.

  She slid off the bed and got out her leather boots, the flat ones she wore during the winter or when it rained. He lay on his side, not ready to move yet, and watched her tweak her charcoal leggings up her thighs and smooth the dress over her hips.

  “Clay,” she said sharply.

  “Moving,” he groaned, rolling to his stomach. He hissed at the brush of fabric to his pulsing dick still bound by rope. He crawled to his side of the bed and grabbed the clothes he’d pulled out last night.

  “There’s a chance of rain today.”

  “Oh?” He grabbed formfitting boxer briefs from his suitcase and pulled those on instead of the looser pair he’d selected before he knew what B had in store for him.

  “Mm-hm. Did you bri
ng your boots?”

  Words. He needed to use his adult vocabulary. Replying with “Guuuhhh” was not an option. He cleared his throat and pulled his jeans up. “Yeah, they’re still packed though.”

  As he threaded his belt through the loops, Bianca approached him, a delicate chain in one hand and his necklace in the other. His heart and jaw dropped.

  “B…” He took a step back and stopped.

  “If you can’t follow directions, I need to keep you on a short leash.” She sped through switching out his collars, clipped one end of the chain to the necklace and let it dangle.

  The cool links slapped against his chest. He fisted his hands and leaned toward her, his gut tied up in knots. “B.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Are you going to beg now? Please don’t put me on a leash, please? You’re better than that, but since you need a reminder today, you get the leash like a bad boy.”

  His pride withered into a small, sad thing and he ducked his head. He couldn’t pull his shirt on fast enough to hide the physical sign of his shame. Okay, he’d screwed up. He’d made the conscious decision to misbehave a little.

  Dressing quickly, he kept his head down, aware that he was in fact rather sullen over the whole situation. This was not how he wanted to start the last leg of the race. Yesterday had ended so well, all things considered.

  “Stop pouting and come on.”

  He bit his lip to keep from replying. Saying “Yes Ma’am” would just make him sound like a damn schoolboy. He needed to fix this, earn his way back into her good graces. Neither of them had studied for the day so they were mostly on their own, but maybe he could get them going fast enough to keep the head start.

  “Train tickets.” He snapped his fingers and wheeled back to the dresser. Sure enough, the train tickets were tucked under the edge of the TV where he’d forgotten them yesterday. He tucked them into his pocket and winced. His dick was still tender.

  Backpack on, jacket over his arm and armed with the determination to do better, he followed B out of the suite.

  Kevin, his wife Heather, Jason and Amy were still eating breakfast in the living room.

  “Morning, party animals.” Kevin smirked and saluted them with his mug of coffee.

  Bianca glanced at him, an adorable blush staining her cheeks. He couldn’t remember the last time she’d done that. Was she concerned they might have heard them last night?

  “Michael and Jennifer went down to the lobby with Mom and Dad,” Jason offered. He didn’t look at them crosswise or any differently than he had before last night. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

  “Thanks. See you guys later,” Bianca said, light as a breeze.

  They took the stairs in silence, their footsteps echoing in the stairwell. The chain bounced against his chest with each step, a constant reminder of his screwup. Bianca skipped down ahead of him, the small, evil pack bouncing against her lower back. The hem of her skirt swished back and forth, teasing him with what could have been a glimpse of thigh. His dick pulsed, the ropes cutting into his skin as his flesh swelled.

  The landing smelled of piss. That wasn’t arousing. He’d focus on how awkward it would be to take a leak and have some random person happen by. That wasn’t arousing at all.

  He followed Bianca out into the lobby where everyone already waited. Michael saw them first, his gaze narrowing and lips thinning. He hadn’t said much to them since losing the day before, and considering how seriously the brothers took this, it wasn’t that surprising. It was more than a little immature that a game would drive such a serious wedge between family members. But according to B, when it was over it was over and they returned to good humor. Or at least as good as it could be. The winner of course never allowed the others to forget their victory.

  “Nice of you guys to show up,” Michael said.

  Mrs. and Mr. Shoeder turned to grin at them.

  “Morning.” His father-in-law shook his hand and patted him on the back. “How much more time?”

  “Five minutes,” Mrs. Shoeder replied.

  Michael crossed his arms over his chest and glared at them.

  “You’re wearing that today, Bianca?” Jennifer tossed her braid over her shoulder and gave B a once-over from head to toe. Where Bianca appeared trendy with her dress and boots, Jennifer wore track pants, a t-shirt and a sour frown. It seemed that Michael wasn’t the only sore loser.

  He smiled at his sister-in-law and put a hand on his wife’s waist. They’d catch a lot more bees with honey. Bianca flattened a hand against his chest and shifted her weight toward him.

  “Thanks for the concern, Jen. I’ll be fine.” She dished out a cool smile for the other woman. At best, Bianca and Jennifer coexisted. They’d chosen to have a small wedding party and B had not asked any of her sisters-in-law to be bridesmaids. Jennifer, it seemed, had yet to let that go. He still stuck by his decision to support his wife. Hell, it had been their wedding, not Jennifer’s.

  “Okay, get ready, you two.” Mrs. Shoeder held her fancy stopwatch, avidly staring at the face.

  Mr. Shoeder held up one of the blue envelopes, his gaze trained on his wife, waiting for the signal.

  So much for getting a moment to prepare. Clay tightened the straps on the backpack and took his wife’s hand. She squeezed and slanted a smile his direction.

  “On your mark, get set, go!” Mrs. Shoeder crowed.

  Bianca snatched the envelope and they sprinted out the door. They had scant moments over the other two.

  “Where are we going?” he gasped as they ran. His dick ached and the ropes pulled and twisted with each stride.

  “No idea, get to the Métro before Mike does. They can run faster than we can.”

  She ripped the end of the envelope open, bits of paper fluttered by in their wake. People stared at them as they ran past. The air was heavy with moisture and rain was imminent.

  “Go to the Ile de France region. Versailles!” She grinned at him.

  “Yellow line, right?”

  “Yeah, but it has two end points.” Her pace flagged, but the entrance to the Métro loomed.

  “Come on, B, almost there.” He glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of a blonde head, which was likely Jennifer, bobbing between people. “They’re right behind us!”

  Bianca threw on another burst of speed and they hit the stairs. He took them two and three at a time, reaching the bottom first. He dug out two tickets and pushed her through the turnstile ahead of him, scanning for the viewscreen with trains and platforms.

  “Platform A, come on, it’s pulling in right now.” He snatched Bianca’s hand and pulled her after him, weaving through people in time to see the train come to a halt and the doors pop open.

  “Oh my god, I can’t believe our luck,” she squealed as they pushed onto the first available car.

  He kept a hand on her lower back as they squeezed onto the train. He ducked his head to watch the entrance to the platform while Bianca pushed ahead. He didn’t see his in-laws. She slid into an empty pair of seats and patted the one next to her.

  He eased down, mindful of his still-sensitive bits. “We’re going to have to get off and transfer to an RER yellow line, but we’re good. I think. Shit, we’ve got to take up more cardio or jogs or something.”

  She tilted her head back and laughed. “What, are you kidding? We’re going to have to come up with our own race preparation plan.”

  He blinked at her. “Seriously? Do your brothers do that?”

  She nodded. “Everyone has their own way of getting ready except us.”

  They slumped in their chairs, catching their breath while the doors banged shut without either Michael or Jennifer showing up, and the train coasted out of the station. He set the backpack on his lap and investigated the front pockets until he found the map he’d stashed last night.

  “I think we’ll go to Javel and switch to a yellow train that goes to Versailles-Rive Gauche. But we have to make sure it goes to Versailles because there are two yellow trai
ns going that way. The other goes to Saint-Quentin-en-Yvelines. What else does the clue say?”

  She handed him the slip of paper. “Just, “Go to the Ile de France region.” I’m guessing it’ll be obvious when we get there.”

  “Huh.”

  He turned the card stock over, marveling at all the preparation her parents had to have done to set this up. How much it cost.

  “So what’s the plan?” He was determined to do the best they could today. Hopefully their lead would increase since they got on the Métro first.

  Bianca glanced at him through the curtain of her hair. She had that pack in her lap and was rummaging around for something. “How are you doing?”

  He knew what she meant. He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. The ropes had settled while they ran, they weren’t comfortable but now they hugged him intimately without being painful. “I’m good.”

  “Really?”

  She cupped his cock through his jeans. Fortunately the backpack shielded his crotch or else a couple of teenagers would be snickering at them right now. He groaned and bit his cheek as she palmed his length.

  “I have a few punishments in mind for you,” she purred into his ear and kissed his cheek. “You aren’t going to like them.”

  “You’re killing me,” he groaned.

  “Take this.” She pressed a rectangular something into his palm and leaned back against the window.

  He glanced down at his palm and did a double take. His stomach clenched, dropping to a new low. “B.”

  “It’s a punishment.” She quirked a brow.

  He frowned and pressed the power button. A small digital display lit up showing speed options. “Where’s the bullet?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

  “Mm, where do you think?” She raked her hair back and slanted him a sly smile.

  “Fuck.”

  She grasped his wrist, brought his hand to her crotch and curled his fingers to touch her pussy. The thin material of her leggings offered little barrier. Between her soft folds was a hard plastic bump. A vibrating bullet.

  He had an irrational hatred of Bianca using anything but his cock, fingers or mouth to get off. Vibrators especially. Of any punishment she could have picked, this was one of the worst, being replaced by a bit of battery-operated plastic.