“Now what, Mistress?” Rodney asked, his voice timid.
I stamped my foot, the hard impact of its platform sole setting off a stir of echoes in the marble chamber. “Slave, you will not speak unless you are spoken to,” I barked. “If you disobey this order again, there will be consequences. Severe consequences. Do you understand?”
Rodney gave me a small nod, followed by a sly smile. He clearly liked being bossed around and terrorized while naked.
“Good,” I said, lowering my voice a bit. “Now, Slave, you will enter the shower.”
He did, leaving the glass door to the enclosed shower chamber open. He seemed to expect me to follow him in, but I didn’t. I just slammed the glass shower door shut after him hard enough to it to rattle hard on its hinges, threatening even to shatter the glass—though the door stilled to silence at the last possible second. Rodney instantly jerked to attention, his eyes wide and glistening.
Ah. So I’d scared him. All the better.
“Slave, you will now turn on the shower,” I ordered. “Use all the body sprays and the handheld massager. Set the taps all the way over to COLD.”
At this, Rodney’s eyes flew even wider. But he complied, and with a grin on his face to boot. He switched on the rainshower-style overhead shower spigot first, then the wall-mounted body sprays one by one. He jerked and shivered more and more as each ice-cold spray hit his body, but he showed no signs of flinching. In fact, the effect of the cold water on his powerful frame seemed to have the opposite effect than one might expect. Instead of the famous “shrinkage” so many men experience when their bodies are exposed to cold, Rodney’s equipment seemed to grow longer, thicker and harder the colder his body got. It was obvious that Rodney got off on the stinging pleasure-pain sensation of the frigid water as it poured over his rippled, muscular body.
I was just about to issue my next order when Rodney read my mind. Without me having to tell him, he instinctively took the handheld shower massager in one hand, and flicked the small wall switch that transferred some of the overhead shower spigot’s water pressure to it. Then he adjusted the massager’s pressure setting until the water poured out of a single, high-pressure opening in its middle—its stream now powerful enough to literally tear into skin. He tested the powerful spray with the palm of his hand for a moment or two, then held up that palm to show me. The skin of his palm was bright red, from both the extremely cold water and the stinging water jets. Rodney shot me a wink, and then I watched transfixed as Rodney transferred the spray to his crotch.
I was speechless. I’d planned to just have Rodney spray his torso with the ice-cold water on the much gentler massage setting. But like a true masochist, he’d gone way over the top completely on his own.
After almost two full minutes of withstanding the frigid spray, Rodney’s cock was red, raw—and huge. His cock was now easily the biggest I’d ever seen—and so rock-hard that it could probably be used as a blunt weapon.
The sight really gave new meaning to the term “stone cold.” My vag was running like a river at the thought of having that huge, wet, and cold cock deep inside it.
Once, when I was in college, I’d spent a lonely experimenting in my nether regions with Popsicles. Which, mind you, had been fun—but a little too cold and sticky for my liking. This, however, looked like a perfect blend of hot and cold in all the right places.
Time to get busy.
I took a tiny step towards Rodney, swaying and sashaying my hips. Then another step, then another. I inched my way to the shower stall this way, moving my body like an exotic dancer’s. I flung open the dripping shower door, placed my hands on my hips, and cocked my head. “That was quite a maneuver you just pulled, Slave,” I purred. “Tell me something. How did you know that I liked watching a man freeze himself solid?”
Rodney snickered. “Oh, just a hunch, Mistress.”
Rodney’s eyes were traveling up and down my body, and they came to rest on my sex. The dark triangle of my pubis was clearly visible through the red lace. But as much as my sex was screaming for Rodney’s dick to fill it, I wasn’t going to let him anywhere near there just yet. I had other business to take care of first. “Slave, your next task will be to lick the dried-up drops of port you spilled from my legs and feet. Once you have done this, you will turn the cold water back onto your cock until I tell you to stop. Do you understand? Will you be able to accomplish this to my satisfaction?”
He grinned a mile wide. “Yes, Mistress. And believe me, I’m looking forward to every bit of it.” But instead of carrying out my orders, he looked at me expectantly, waiting for my next set of instructions.
I took the cue. “Slave, you must get on your hands and knees and lick my feet and legs from the floor. Start with the left foot and leg, and when it’s clean, go to the right. Don’t rush.”
Rodney’s lowered eyelids fluttered, and he licked his lips. “Yes, Mistress. Your wish is my command.” He kneeled down in front of me, and began to lick the splatters of port from my shins with the tip of his tongue. The feeling was pure tasty bliss on my damp, sticky skin. He took his time, savoring every drop of spilled port, which had become flavored with the salty taste of my sweat. Once he’d licked my left shin and knee clean, he unstrapped my left shoe, slipped it off, and started in on my left foot, beginning with the heel and arch. The sensation of his wet tongue on the sole of my foot was like the ultimate foot massage, sending electric jolts straight up my leg that landed in my cunt. When the sole of the left foot was wiped clean and slick with Rodney’s saliva, he moved on to the spaces between my toes, making a point of sucking on each toe individually as if they were pieces of sweet hard candy. By the time his mouth reached my big toe, my sex was wide open and puffy as a beach ball.
Rodney polished off my left foot by lapping away at the drops of port that had dried on my instep. By now, he was half-drunk with port and arousal.He gently set my bare foot on the floor, and went to work unstrapping my right stiletto. He gave my right shin and foot the same treatment he had my left. When he finished, he rested back on his haunches, anxiously waiting my next command.
“That was very good work, Slave,” I purred. “Now, you need to cool things down a bit down south.”
Without a word, Rodney switched the handheld water massager back onto his equipment, keeping the taps on their coldest setting. But instead of just using the massager, he flicked a series of switches until all the body sprays and overhead rain shower were all spewing ice-cold water onto his entire body. He gritted his teeth and tried hard not to shiver underneath the frigid waterfall, which had to be excruciating. But it was obvious that the man loved nothing more than a bit of exotic torture—his cock got still harder and thicker, and his balls drew themselves up and back, just about to blow their load. My cunt melted like a stick of butter in anticipation of what was to come. I even longed to push the envelope just a bit further.
But that just wasn’t practical. No matter how much I might get off on watching the man torture himself, he was way too close to the edge for me to keep going this way. It was high time to get down to business.
Rodney had been a very good slave. And now, it was time for his reward.
“You have been a good and obedient Slave,” I said, borrowing a line from the great Mistress Violet. “And now, we shall screw.”
I reached out and grabbed Rodney’s hands. I pulled his chilled, dripping body to me, then pressed my body against his. His huge member thrust itself into the space between my thighs, and its purple, swollen head knocked itself against the entrance to my sex. His cock was like a block of dry ice—its frigid tip banged against my wide-open cunt and I yelped.
Rodney delighted in this, then reached around, grabbed my bare buttocks, and squeezed. “Mistress, may I speak freely?” he whispered in my right ear.
I ran my fingernails up and down his back, hard enough to leave marks. “Yes, of course, Slave,” I whispered back. “Go ahead.”
“What do you say we chuck this whole domi
natrix-slave thing now and just have a good old-fashioned fuck?”
I threw my head back and laughed. “Sounds fabulous.”
I guided Rodney’s hands to the tiny crotch of my now very damp G-string, which he slid to one side. I lifted my right leg and wrapped it around his ice-cold, dripping waist, giving him plenty of room to push in his giant cock. He slid inside my sheath easily—and the feel of his frigid, chilled-out cock inside my red-hot vag was the most delectable combo of fire and ice imaginable. The sound of my juices sluicing against his swollen member filled the room, and were accented by the tinny chimes of the Chinese balls as they waltzed around in my vag in time to each thrust.
We stayed that way for several minutes, until I was so breathless and turned on that I could barely stay upright. Sensing this, Rodney picked me up, wrapped my left leg around his waist to match the right one, and carried me out of the bath suite, down the hall, and into his bedroom that way until we reached his enormous four-poster bed—never once stopping his thrusts or pulling out of my cunt. He finally set me down on the edge of the bed, and looped my ankles around his neck to give him and his dick the best possible viewing angle of my vag.
“Look down, Jasmine,” he breathed between thrusts. “Look at what we’re doing to each other.”
I did. My vag and labia were splayed wide open, red, and glistening with my nectar and cream. My sex was swollen to at least three times its normal size, like a giant, night-blossoming magnolia. And it had to be to accommodate Rodney’s cock, which itself had swollen to even more gargantuan proportions.He moved his cock in and out of me all the way each time, giving me a glimpse of its purple, shiny tip and bursting foreskin with each and every movement. My clit had retreated up underneath its little hood, but was so sensitized it could still register even the tiniest sensations, like the stir of the air caused above it by Rodney’s breathing and thrusting.
My juices made the surface of Rodney’s penis slick and shiny as a new penny, and I could have sworn that his glans was smiling at me. My nipples stood as sharp and erect as arrows, threatening to tear through the flimsy fabric of my teddy.
I watched Rodney thrust in and out of me for several minutes, amazed at the degree our desire for each other had brought about such drastic changes in our bodies. As I did I could feel the heat and friction that had been concentrated around our joined nether parts begin to build and spread wider. Waves of scorching intensity undulated up and down my thighs and torso with every thrust, bump, and grind. I encouraged Rodney to pick up the pace by raising my hips to meet his at quicker and quicker intervals, which just made those scorching waves spread even wider.
The sound of our genitals slapping and slushing against one another was deliciously obscene. Our breathing, grunting, and moaning became perfectly synchronized. I closed my eyes and could see my orgasm approaching from far away. It was taking its time getting there, but even from a distance, I could tell that it was looking good.
Rodney leaned forward and took my left nipple into his mouth, sucking it through the rough lace fabric until it swelled and pointed itself into a little round, pointed cone. Then he switched to sucking the right one, while rolling my newly sensitized left one back and forth between his fingers. He worked my boobs like a professional, but never missed a beat with his thrusts down south. The man was truly a master.
When Rodney had sucked both my nipples raw, he lifted my hips from the bed and then spun me around like a top with his cock as its spin-pin. Now I was on all fours, my butt up in the air and my chest resting on some pillows. Rodney adjusted his hips to take advantage of the new angle, and penetrated me even deeper than before. Now he was ramming me so hard and so deep that the head of his cock was thumping against my G-spot with every thrust, and the Chinese balls came close to popping out every time. The resulting sensations were like having a throbbing discotheque inside my vag. Rodney turned his attention from my nipples to my clit, which was as hot and swollen as it had ever been in my thirty-four years on this planet. He tweaked it and toyed with it until I cried out for mercy.
My orgasm was coming, and coming fast. It started in my clit, throbbing and pulsating, then spread to my vag, where the Chinese balls intensified the sensations to the point of a near-earthquake. I went into full-body convulsions as my orgasm took hold. “Yessssss,” I groaned, banging my fists against the mattress. “Yes!”
Rodney exploded a moment later, groaning and swearing as his orgasm rocked his body so hard he lost control of his limbs, too. I knew I’d probably have a few bruises from where his fists hammered my back involuntarily at his moment of orgasm. He landed on me in a heap, biting down on my shoulder so hard at the last spasm of his climax that he drew blood.
“Thank you, Mistress,” he breathed, then rolled off my back and spooned me from the side.
“You’re welcome, Slave,” I replied, then fell asleep.
I woke up hours later in an empty bed. The lights were dimmed, and the room was quiet. I found my watch on the bedside table and checked the time—3 a.m.
I padded on bare feet into the marble bathroom and took one of the Egyptian-cotton bathrobes off its wall hook and put it on. After cleaning myself up a bit, I set out to search the huge penthouse suite for Rodney.
I found him in a small den at the end of a long hallway, sitting in an overstuffed leather chair and brooding over a laptop. He was wearing a tattered old plaid robe with nothing underneath, chewing his thumbnail and appearing in deep thought. A cold cup of black coffee sat half-empty next to the laptop.
I sneaked up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Awfully late for you to be working, isn’t it?”
Rodney looked up, startled. “I thought you were asleep.”
“I was. But I woke up. Sometimes it’s hard for me to stay asleep in a strange bed.”
Rodney rubbed his temples. “I can relate. Sometimes it’s hard for me to sleep at all.”
I tried to read Rodney’s laptop screen over his shoulder, but he had one of those privacy guards that made it impossible to see anything unless you were looking from a certain angle. But I surmised it was probably something due to appear in the Beltway Times morning edition. “Any good dirt there?”
Rodney flinched and snapped the laptop shut. “Nothing I’m prepared to discuss with you,” he hissed.
Rodney stood up, and walked over to the window.His body was wracked with tension. Something was wrong. Very wrong. I curled up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. He shrank at my touch, and slunk away. “Is there something you want to talk to me about, Rodney?”
He shuddered and began to pace the room. I caught sight of his face when he passed through the faint beam of light emitted by his laptop, and saw he looked distraught and haggard. “No,” he growled.
His abrupt tone stung. “I thought after what’s happened between us that we wouldn’t have secrets from one another anymore.”
“You thought wrong. I never made any claim that you and I would be intimate in any way other than sexual. And as I recall, I made it very clear that the sexual relationship was with no strings attached.”
“Oh really?” I crossed to him, shoved my way between him and the windowpane. “You also said in that same conversation that you were smitten with me. What exactly did you mean by that?”
Rodney looked at the floor. I reached for him but he stiffened, even seemed to recoil a bit from my touch. “Nothing,” he said. His tone was low and terribly sad. “Nothing at all. I must have misspoken.”
“Bullshit.” Something in Rodney had changed drastically, that was for sure. But what?
He sighed, ran a hand through his tangled hair, then stared at the floorboards for a long, painful moment. “Jasmine, I think it would be best if you went home now.”
I gasped. “What? Why? It’s the middle of the night!”
Rodney turned to face me, his expression dark. “I’m really sorry, Jasmine, but something’s happened. Something serious, and I can’t risk you being here when t
he shit hits the fan. And I expect the shit to hit the fan in a matter of hours. So please, do as I ask and go home. For your sake.”
“But—“
Rodney raised a hand. “Don’t argue with me, Jasmine. Go. Now.”
My mouth dropped open. I was stunned. After all that had happened that night, how could he do this? After the incredible, earth-shattering intimacy we’d just shared, how could he just send me off anonymously into the night treat me like a common whore? “What the hell am I supposed to do, walk home? The subway’s aren’t running, and I’ll never get a cab this time of night—“
Rodney’s expression softened. “I’ll arrange a private car for you.” He reached for the phone.
I scoffed. “No thanks. I’ll see myself home, thank you very much.”
I turned on my heel and dashed out of the room. At the last second, I glanced back over my shoulder, and saw Rodney slumped back in his chair, his head in his hands.
Chapter 13
Dexter and his cab arrived in front of Rodney’s apartment building only ten minutes after I dug his business card out of the bottom of my purse and called him. I guess he meant what he said when he promised I could call him “anywhere, anytime” for a ride.
“I had a feeling you’d be needing me someday soon,” was his greeting when the cab pulled up in the building’s circular driveway. “Though I really would have preferred it if you’d waited to call me until after sunrise.”
I got in and slouched against the taxi’s rear seat. “Sorry, Dexter, but that just wasn’t an option tonight.”
Knights and Kink Romance Boxed Set Page 13
