The set of his jaw said her protests would be ignored. He picked up the short leather flogger. “Jessica, look at me.” The caress in his deeply resonant voice overlaid a steely edge.
Her gaze lifted to his.
“I love you, my spitfire. I love you enough to give you the sex you want—and the control you need.”
And with that, he flicked the strands hard over the inside of her left leg and the right.
Her legs jerked as the burn bit into the delicate skin, and she yelped.
He ran his hand over the light red marks, his tender touch at odds with the pain. Cupping her chin with one hand, his eyes trapped hers. “Jessica, this is going to hurt. It’s punishment, not pleasure. I want you to accept the pain silently.”
Her eyes filled with tears—and relief. No anger showed in his expression, just determination. He wouldn’t let anyone or anything break what they had together.
If he’d let her provoke him into behaving as she wanted, she’d be in control. And she didn’t want that any more than he did. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“I know, little one. As am I.” After kissing her tenderly, he stepped back.
When he lifted the flogger, she saw the welts she’d left on him. She gritted her teeth. She’d be silent and take her part of the punishment that they both shared.
And then, he continued. With infinite care, he flogged her inner thighs, moving in painful increments from above the knee straps toward her groin.
Ouch, ouch, ouch.
He’d pause long enough for the sting to register, for her to pull in a breath through her nose, and…for her to anticipate the next blow.
Her hands were clenched and a few tears slid down her cheeks. But she hadn’t made a sound.
He set the flogger down. “You did very well, kitten, for this part. I’m proud of you.” The approval in his voice started to loosen the knot of guilt.
As he sat on the end of the bed between her burning thighs, he examined the marks. “Nice and pink. We should make sure your pussy matches your legs, shouldn’t we?”
“God, no. No, no, no.” Her throat clogged with a mix of lust and utter fear. Her legs tried to close—but no one did bondage better than Master Z. She couldn’t move an inch.
The bone-deep knowledge that he could do what he wanted turned her to jelly.
The finger exploring her folds slid inside with a betrayingly wet sound. The sheer pleasure of his intimate touch made her moan.
He didn’t smile—but the corners of his eyes crinkled. Then, oh God, he bent and he teased his tongue over her clit. Already sensitive, the nub of nerves flared to life as his tongue flicked it, then rubbed lightly…in direct contrast to how he’d wielded the flogger.
His finger inside her increased to two, moving in slowly rotating thrusts.
Her muscles started to tighten as the need to come amplified. She whimpered, tried to move, couldn’t.
Pulling back, he rose. “Since your punishment isn’t over, you should have a diversion for the next round.” Opening the drawer, he pulled out the toy she loved and hated in equal parts—the vibrating anal plug.
“Nooooo.”
Ignoring her, he lubed it and set the plug at her back entrance. When her rim puckered in refusal, he lightly slapped her sore thigh. “Push back, Jessica.”
She’d never been able to defy him when he used that low, commanding tone. Not ever. Her muscles loosened.
The plug slid into place with a slight plop, and her anus closed around the narrow part before the wide flange. His warm palm pressed against her buttocks. “Your body is mine, Jessica. Is it not?”
His.
And he’d deliberately taken possession of her most private area to reinforce that reality. His gray eyes held hers with the inflexibility of forged iron.
The melting sensation in her belly wasn’t new, but somehow the entire bed seemed to be sinking into the floor. She was his. Forever. “Yes, Master,” she whispered.
“Very good.”
He flicked the switch and rose.
Vibrations started, exciting her asshole and pussy, sending sparkling desire all along her nerve endings. Her hips tried to lift again, and she moaned when nothing moved.
As he observed her, his lips curved in a faint smile. “You’re so beautiful.”
When he looked at her with such warmth in his eyes, she felt beautiful. And cherished. Staring up at him, vulnerable and open, she smiled her love back.
“That’s my submissive,” he murmured. He bent and fondled her breasts into aching mounds…and how wonderful was it to have his hands on her again. Gripping her hair with his free hand, he kissed her, long and slow.
When he lifted his head, she was ready for—
“Let’s finish this. Brace yourself, pet.” He picked up the pussy flogger.
Oh God, no. Her body squirmed as if she could wiggle off the top of the bed—and his lips twitched.
To her dismay, he started at her knees again, delivering stinging hits to the inside of her thighs. The blows weren’t as powerful this time, but oh, she was already sore. The strikes inched up her legs.
She knew he wouldn’t stop when he reached the apex.
Her muscles clenched when the flogger neared her pussy. Yet, somehow, her clit was throbbing with need. And that stupid anal plug kept vibrating, sending her arousal higher.
The falls hit barely below her pussy on one side, then the other. Then he flicked the strands upward against her left labia. The sudden nipping shock made her gasp. She struggled to bring her knees together even as he delivered the next blow to the right folds.
Her arms were completely tied, her legs open, there was no way to avoid whatever he wanted to do. His compassionate…unyielding…gaze met hers as she jerked at the restraints.
The flogger struck her folds, avoiding her clit. Again and again, the merciless leather strands flicked her until the entire area burned. The pain was bearable and yet too, too much.
“You’ll discuss problems with me openly. Honestly.” He punctuated the statement with a harder flick, and she fought unsuccessfully to remain still.
“Yes, Master.” Tears filled her eyes from the pain, from the knowledge she’d angered him, from the sheer need to have him hold her.
The next blow came down on her mound—high on the plumpness—as he created a ring of burning flesh.
In the center was her clit.
The exquisitely sensitive nub felt as if it was cringing—yet was engorged with blood, throbbing and anticipating the pain.
Master Z watched her squirm and pull at the restraints. “No, you can’t get free, Jessica. You’ll take what I want to give you.” The rich timbre of his voice stroked over her, another restraint in its own way, making her see and feel exactly how exposed she was. How helpless.
And how much he enjoyed it.
Two more blows hit her mound, ruthlessly, bathing her in liquid heat that was almost pain. Was past pain.
He bent and licked over her clit, sending her, almost, almost into a climax. All the stinging, the vibrations, everything coalesced deep within. Her skin slickened with sweat.
Then he straightened. The flogger impacted against her folds from beneath, her mound from above, and back again. Folds, mound. A pause that seemed interminable as her pulse surged in her ears.
He moved. And the cruel strands struck her clit.
Right. On. Her. Clit.
Pain blasted upward, stealing her air with the shock. Her center clamped down…and fireworks exploded inside her. Her back arched as pleasure ricocheted through every nerve in her core before reverberating outward in waves of sheer sensation. Her insides contracted and spasmed, tightening around the vibrating plug in her ass and increasing in intensity. Oh, oh, oh.
“Look at me, Jessica.”
She managed to open her eyes.
His dark eyes held hers as his callused, powerful hand covered her pussy, holding in the burn and the pleasure…sending her over again. “This pussy is
mine, pet. Do you think you can remember that?”
She barely heard him through the roar of her pulse. Gasping for air, she could only nod.
“Very good.” He opened his trousers, set a knee on the bed, set his cock at her entrance, and pressed past her slick, swollen tissues. With her ass already occupied, the shaft penetrating her pussy seemed impossibly huge as he took her. Steadily. Inescapably.
“Oooooh, God.” Her body wouldn’t stop coming as she stretched around him. His thickness increased the sensations from the anal plug until his cock seemed to be vibrating as well. Her whole lower half spasmed with exquisite pleasure.
He was deep within her, his muscular body pressing down on hers, one arm beside her shoulder, the other cupping her cheek so he could watch her. “You feel very, very good, Jessica,” he said softly—and no lie was in his words or his gaze. He still wanted her.
The knowledge was heady. Wonderful. Sending her spiraling on a fountain of joy.
She wanted to hold him, to feel him, to be anchored before she floated away. She tugged at the ties holding her arms above her head. “Please, Master, can I touch you?”
His stern face softened, and he reached up and released her wrist cuffs with one hand.
Her arms went around his shoulders. Oh, she’d missed touching him, missed his weight on her. Stroking his back, she felt his iron muscles bunch and loosen as he moved.
More. She wiggled her restrained knees and looked up with an unspoken appeal.
His grin flashed, almost too fast for her to see. “No, little one. You’ll stay spread and open and will deny me nothing.”
Just his words made her clench inside.
Deliberately, he increased his pace, his thick shaft driving deep with each thrust.
His rhythm was ruthlessly compelling, and she felt her body gathering again into a sweetly rolling orgasm.
“That’s my kitten.” He gripped her face, holding her for a possessive and penetrating kiss, taking her mouth as he took her below. Under her fingers, his muscles tightened and then he drove deep, deep, and she could feel the spasming of his cock in the most intimate of sharing.
His gray eyes had never left hers. “I love you, Jessica. Never doubt it.”
“I love you, Master,” she whispered, holding him closer and letting herself drift.
Sometime later, she realized he’d cleaned her up, released her, and was now settling her on top of him. With firm hands, he molded her close, so not the slightest barrier came between them.
She could hear the slow thuds of his heart; her breathing rose and fell with his; his masculine scent surrounded her. And she gave a tiny sigh of perfect content.
In all the universe, this was her happy place.
Two hours had almost passed, so Anne was unsurprised to hear footsteps in the hallway outside the room she’d chosen. She looked up from her book.
Z walked through the door, wearing his usual black jeans and black shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His hair was damp from a shower, and his eyes were heavy-lidded with satisfaction.
Jessica had won the day.
He studied Anne silently, his face unreadable. “My submissive doesn’t have a devious bone in her body,” he said finally. “I didn’t test her loyalty by asking, but I would guess the advice came from you or Gabi.”
Oh. Damn. Meddling in another Dom’s affairs was considered ill mannered. Aiding a submissive to manipulate her Master? Especially when the Master was Z?
Hanging offense.
Admittedly, she’d hoped Z wouldn’t figure out she’d given Jessica more than babysitting services, but she’d known the possible consequences if he did. “I gave her the suggestion.”
His gaze stayed on her. “You had a reason. Might I know it?”
He knew her well, knew meddling wasn’t her style. “This is something you should discuss with your submissive.”
A corner of his mouth lifted. “We did. But your interference is between you and me, Dominant to Dominant. Explain, please.”
“Her talks with you had proven unsuccessful.” After a second, Anne added diplomatically, “Actually, I didn’t think waiting another week was unreasonable to be certain of safety.”
He nodded.
“However, after giving birth, women aren’t especially reasonable. She said she needed not only the sex, but also the intimacy and the power exchange that came with it. It appeared her frustration was rapidly turning to anger. Toward you.”
Z rubbed his face. “I understand. In this case, I appreciate the…intervention…although you might have simply spoken to me instead.”
“I offered. She refused that idea. Vehemently. You may ask her about it.”
“I will.” He walked over and picked up his daughter, snuggling her close with a kiss to her fuzzy head.
Arms empty, Anne felt the slow slide of envy.
Taking his extended hand, she let him pull her to her feet. After handing him Sophia’s diaper bag, she scooped up her purse.
At the door, she hesitated. “Are we good?”
“We are. Thank you for your care, Anne.” Laughter lit his steel-gray eyes. “I’m glad to see the Mistress hasn’t lost her touch—your advice was quite effective.”
“Good to know.” As they parted ways, Z back upstairs and Anne to the outside, she decided she’d have to check Ben’s reaction if he saw his Mistress taking her pleasure into her own hands.
Chapter Eighteen
“Day’s over. Head on in,” Ben shouted from Raoul’s patio.
Groans came from the dozen teenage boys on the beach.
“Here you go, Bronx.” A boy pitched the Frisbee into the waves. “Get it one last time.”
Bronx barked happily and charged into the surf.
“These are good children.” Raoul joined Ben at the railing. “I’m glad they could all make it here.”
Slowly, reluctantly, the boys started up the steps toward the house. Sunburned, sandy, scruffy. Some had more tats than clothes. More piercings than money. A few of them looked as if they’d murder their grandmothers and rob a 7-11 on the way home.
Yet, as Bronx pranced out of the water, Frisbee held high, every single boy cheered. Each gave the dog pats and scratches as he trotted past them on the steps.
Ben accepted the Frisbee and ruffled the dog’s ears. “Thanks, Bronx. You did good today, buddy.”
If there were therapy dogs for unhappy teenagers, Bronx would be a natural. Even the quietest kid blossomed under the retriever’s attentions, and the dog had become an essential member of the group soon after Marcus recruited Ben.
The original bunch had been kids in Marcus’s martial arts club. The sensei there had offered some at-risk teens free lessons, hoping the discipline of karate would benefit them. Marcus started the outings, partly for fun, partly to acquaint them with various careers. Then his friends had stepped in. Now, some of the kids worked for Andrea’s cleaning business, some in Beth’s landscaping company.
Somewhere along the way, Ben had been roped in. A few months ago, he’d taken a handful to an art gallery and later on a photo expedition.
Last month, the boys had visited Raoul’s offices to learn about civil engineering…and to design bridges on the high-tech software.
Today’d been simply to have a good time.
Ben had enjoyed himself as well. Kids were fun—all of them, from the terrifyingly small ones like Z’s Sophia to this batch of rabble-rousers. He wanted children of his own, someday. Didn’t matter how many as long as the number started at two.
Anne didn’t even want pets in her life.
No, that was inaccurate. She was changing. And fuck knew, she loved children. As with plants and pets, she’d just never thought about having her own.
How far could he push her before hitting a wall?
“Y’all fetch your bags, grab water, and line up at the door,” Marcus ordered from the living room. He counted off boys as Raoul tossed them bottles of water.
“Thanks, Raoul.” �
�Thanks, Ben.” “It was great.” The chorus of farewells and gratitude continued as the teens headed out the front door and to the rented mini-bus. Undoubtedly, they’d party all the way back to Tampa.
“Thank you for hosting the invasion, Raoul.” Marcus stopped in the door to keep an eye on the bus.
“It was a pleasure, my friend, and an honor. Here—one for you.” Raoul tossed over a bottled water.
Marcus caught it. As Raoul headed into the kitchen, Marcus turned to Ben. “Thank you for—”
“Don’t even start on that gratitude shit, Atherton.” Snorting a laugh, Ben nudged the lawyer out the door. “You know I have as much fun as they do.”
As Marcus jogged to the bus, Ben raised his hand to the boys and got back a burst of whistles and cheers.
And that was that. He glanced at the clock and winced. Time to get a move on.
Kim was in the kitchen. “Hey, Ben. Raoul went out to the patio. He said his ears were ringing.”
“Got that.” Noise and boys—inseparable. “Do you have an old towel I can use on Bronx? He’s covered in sand, and we’re driving to the Everglades after this.”
“Of course. I’ll bring one out.”
When Ben went out the French doors to the back, he found Raoul at a table in the shade.
Off to one side, Bronx was lapping water from a wide, foot-high, terra-cotta fountain.
Hell of a fancy pet-waterer. Something so pretty would look just about right on Anne’s deck. Maybe in a ceramic blue.
Ben looked around. “Where’s your dog?”
Raoul grinned and pointed under the table to where Kim’s dog was sprawled out, dead to the world.
“Poor bastard,” Ben said. “It’s a lot of work to protect and serve—and play—all at the same time.”
“He takes his guard dog duties quite seriously,” Raoul agreed. At a rocky point in their relationship, he and Kim had broken up. Worried about her being alone, he’d bought the highly trained German shepherd for her.
Today, although the dog played on the beach with the group, Ari had remained vigilant. Any time someone approached Kim, the dog’d charge up the stairs to the patio…just in case.
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