Gabriella's Prosecution [The Black Iris Club 3] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic)

by Skye Michaels

  * * * *

  Miguel grilled steaks for dinner while Gabriella threw a big salad together and made baked potatoes. It was fast and easy, and they enjoyed working together. He had declined to open a bottle of wine since they were going to the dungeon after dinner. “It’s never a good practice to mix alcohol with impact play. Perceptions can be altered on both sides.”

  “Whatever you say. You obviously know best. I have to admit that I’m a little nervous about this.”

  “Come here, querida.” He pulled her into his arms and held her tight. “You know that although I may spank your ass tonight, I won’t actually hurt you in any way that is permanent or meaningful, don’t you? Your butt might be sore, but I would never hurt your heart. I want to teach you to love this not fear or detest it. Our play may escalate as we go along, but you will always have your safe word and your trust in me.”

  “I guess it’s fear of the unknown.” The look of unease in her eyes turned him on, but also brought out a feeling of affection and a need to protect her—even from himself.

  “Let’s go down to the barn then. There is no need to drag this out. We can load the dishwasher later.” He took her hand and led her from the kitchen. “We’ll feed the horses first. Ollie is probably wondering what happened to you.”

  When they got to the barn, Miguel made quick work of tossing thick pads of Timothy and alfalfa hay into the stalls and scoops of sweet feed into the feed buckets. Two heads immediately went down into the buckets, and oats and corn were sprinkled on the pine shavings to be picked up later. Then he took her hand and walked to an inconspicuous door that almost blended into the rough cedar planks of the wall. He unlocked the door with a key he took from his pocket and ushered her inside before he locked it again behind them. He could feel the quivering in her muscles. Gabriella looked around the room nervously.

  Miguel knew the dungeon was an intimidating space. That was the intention. The door, which matched the cedar planking walls of the barn on the other side, was steel from the inside. The room had a high, open-beamed ceiling perfect for whip use. The use of a long dragon-tail whip required a lot of room. Otherwise people could be seriously injured, the whip handler included. Miguel knew the sight of the St. Andrew’s Cross, suspension chains, and spanking bench could be overwhelming to a newcomer who did not know what to expect. He went to a cabinet near the door and took out wrist and ankle cuffs, paddle, crop, and flogger. He laid them on a workbench and turned to her. “I will probably use all of these on you tonight just so that you will know what they feel like and what to expect when you see them. Understanding the implements will help with your nerves during our scenes.” He smiled a slightly wicked smile. “Sometimes the sadist in me will want you to be nervous, but tonight I want this to be a learning experience.”

  She had that doe-in-the-headlights look again. “Kaylin said subs aren’t supposed to speak unless asked a question. Can I talk to you?”

  “Kaylin is correct. But tonight since this is a learning experience, you can ask any questions you need answered. You will address me as ‘Sir.’ Later we may advance to ‘Master.’ We’ll see. That is a relationship to be negotiated and not entered into lightly. Remove your clothes and shoes and put them in the closet. Then kneel on the floor in front of me. I will teach you the slave position.” When he saw the recalcitrant look start to take over her face he said, “It’s only a name, Gabriella. There is no need to get worked up over it.”

  When she had accomplished her tasks, she knelt on the floor in a reasonable facsimile of the slave position. Obviously Kaylin or Chloe had showed it to her. Miguel corrected her position gently and spread her legs open further. She looked up at him with a question in her eyes. “This pose of submission is meant to convey your willingness to obey me and show that you are open to my pleasure.”

  “Miguel…”

  “Gabriella, just give us a chance to explore this without letting that steel-trap mind of yours interfere. Trust me.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He reached down and kissed her forehead. “Everything will be fine.” He fastened the padded wrist and ankle cuffs in place and checked them for proper fit. When he was satisfied they were tight enough but not too tight and would not chafe her delicate skin, he smiled at her. He knew that smile was intimidating. He walked over to a heavily carved Spanish-looking chair with a high back but without arms and sat down. “Come to me, Gabriella.” When she hesitated, he just gestured with two fingers. Finally she approached him with more than a hint of trepidation in her steps and on her face. When she stood beside the chair, he reached up and took her cuffed wrists which had been bound together by a thin steel chain and pulled her over his lap. “We’ll start with a bare-bottom spanking. This is my usual method of greeting my sub.” His hand fell with a satisfying crack on her upraised bottom. God, he loved that sound. It never failed to get a rise out of him.

  “Ouch! That hurt.”

  “It is supposed to, querida. You know it’s just a little sting and not life threatening.” She tried to struggle up, but his hand in the center of her back kept her in position. He quickly administered five more slaps. “You got an extra one for resisting. Remember that for next time.” He soothed the red marks before he lowered his lips and kissed each of her cheeks. He could feel that she was still ready to bound up and gave her one more sharp smack. “Be still.” He slipped his hand down between her legs to check her pussy. As he had suspected, she was beginning to get wet. “Very good, Gabriella. You know I like you nice and wet for my pleasure and yours.” He began to play with her pussy and soon had her writhing on his lap. He thumbed her clit while plunging two fingers between her folds. Her gesture of opening her legs for him was involuntary, but it made him smile. Her body was reacting favorably whether she wanted it to or not. That was a very good sign. He pulled her up and into his arms. “No coming for you yet. It is far too early in the proceedings for your reward. We still have many things for you to experience.”

  When Gabby was reluctant to lean back against his chest, he said, “It’s time to just relax for a few minutes and savor the sensations you have already experienced.” He settled her more comfortably on his lap. The feel of her warm, naked, and slightly pink bottom nestled over his hard-on was delicious. He was not going to get his pleasure for a while either. They would both have to work for it.

  When Miguel thought Gabby had calmed down sufficiently, he stood up from the chair with her in his arms and walked to the center of the space. He put her down beneath the suspension chains hanging from the rafters and fastened her cuffs to the spring clips at the end of the chains, taking a quick moment to re-check them for fit again. Then he reached down and fastened her ankle cuffs to a spreader bar inset in the floor. Her legs were spread wide open, and her arms were stretched high above her head. “This is how I have dreamed of seeing you, querida—stretched out for my pleasure and at my mercy.” As a look of fear closed over her face, he smiled, leaned down to her ear, and whispered, “Trust me.”

  * * * *

  Gabby looked into his eyes and saw the slight glint of mischief there, and then she knew that this was mostly high drama—a scene as he had said. He was excited but far from out of control. He might be a self-professed sadist, but she wasn’t sure that was an accurate assessment or completely true. A real sadist wouldn’t care if she was frightened or if the pain was too much. Her definition of a sadist had been influenced by her experience with criminals and very bad people, not a man who cared for her and wanted to give her pleasure, albeit in an unorthodox way. She decided then and there to live the fantasies that had been residing in her head for two years and trust him to bring them to life.

  He seemed to register the change of expression in her eyes. He smiled and walked around her, examining her body. It was difficult to just relax and let him look his fill. She was definitely at his mercy except for her safe words. That fact alone gave her comfort. She could stop him in his tracks with one word.

  “Technically
, it is not protocol for a sub to look into my eyes, but I am glad to see in yours a new look of understanding and trust, Gabriella. Let us proceed with your learning experience.”

  “Yes, Sir.” The look that passed over his face at that moment spoke volumes. She was just fine, and she might be about to get much finer.

  He picked a wicked-looking crop up from the work bench and ran it lovingly through his fingers while he looked into her eyes. Oh, he’s good at this—the devil. She could feel the spike of adrenalin in her system as he circled around her. A prickle of nerves skittered up her spine even though she had just decided to trust him. It was amazing. The drama of the scene had its effect. Her pussy lips were stretched open, and she could feel the slick dampness there.

  Suddenly she felt the stinging flick of the end of the woven-leather covered riding crop on her right cheek. She was a horsewoman, and she had carried a crop forever, but she had never felt one on her own butt. It gave her pause for thought. It was true that horses had tough hides covered with insulating hair and not soft, bare skin, but still she had a new appreciation for that particular tool.

  “Pay attention to me, Gabriella. Your entire focus should be on me.” He stood close to her, and she could feel his heat along her naked back. She had the strongest urge to just lean back into him, give everything over to him. But no, he is going to have to work for that. He kneaded the muscles of her shoulders, which were beginning to get a little tight, and then he ran his hands down the muscles of her back and over her butt. “I love your ass, Gabriella. I am going to amuse myself endlessly with your nice, high, round butt.”

  She groaned. Scenes from her recent fantasies flashed through her mind, and her pussy was starting to tingle when he wasn’t even touching her. Just the sting of the crop, the sound of his deep voice, and the intense look in his startling blue eyes had that effect on her. His hand slid down from the crevice of her ass to her pulsing pussy. She wanted to feel his touch there in the worst way, but she couldn’t ask for it. She pushed her butt back into his bulging cock and tried to rub herself against him.

  His retaliation was quick and direct. She felt the biting tip of the crop against each of her cheeks in succession. “Don’t be presumptuous. I will pleasure you when you have earned it. I am in charge here, and no ‘topping from the bottom’ will be permitted.”

  Yikes. What the heck was “topping from the bottom”?

  Apparently he saw her confusion. “Topping from the bottom means a sub who is trying to direct the proceedings from a position of pseudo-submission. It is totally unacceptable.”

  “I apologize, Sir. I didn’t realize.”

  Miguel demonstrated the paddle, which had a hard, thwacking feel, and the flogger, which had a stinging percussive feeling on her back, butt, and thigh muscles. He let her feel several strikes and the full impact of each instrument. She groaned or yelped a couple of times, but he was totally in control and didn’t take the pain over the top. She knew her butt was going to be sore for a while, but she wasn’t in agony by any means. In fact, the warm glow on her butt had migrated to her pussy, and she found she was massively turned on. What was Miguel going to do about that? She hoped he wasn’t going to leave her to suffer with no relief.

  After he had cleaned his tools with disinfectant wipes, he re-shelved them and returned to her. “I think you have had enough punishment for today, so we’ll leave the spanking bench and the St. Andrew’s Cross for another time.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “You’re catching on to the sub protocol very quickly, Gabriella. Now, I’m going to show you what the reward is for all of that punishment.” He reached down and unclipped her ankle cuffs from the spreader bar and then stood up. He had opened the zipper of his jeans. His iron-hard cock was surrounded by a thick nest of springy, black hair and was fully erect. He was magnificent standing there in his snug jeans and cowboy boots with his cock proudly displayed. She was dying to worship it with her hands and mouth, but her wrists were still chained to the ceiling. She didn’t know what to do about it, but he showed her. He cupped her hot and very sore butt and boosted her up until her legs had clasped around his hips. Her arms were still secured to the ceiling chains. “Are you ready? Is this what you want, Gabriella. You’ll have to ask me for it.”

  “Yes, Sir. Please make love to me.”

  “Making love is what we do in the house, in my bed, or in your bed. What we do out here in my dungeon is fucking—hard and fast. I want to be deep inside you. Do you want that? Do you need it?”

  “Yes. Yes, I need it. Please…”

  He grasped his cock and guided it unerringly into her hot, wet, aching pussy. When he was fully seated inside her, he stopped and looked into her eyes. Then he began to stroke in and out, slow and easy. “Is that what you want, Gabriella?”

  “No. Harder, faster. Fuck me, Miguel. Make me come.” He picked up the pace until he was pounding into her slick folds.

  “I’m right on the edge, querida. I’ve wanted to fuck you hard and fast and make you come for two years.” His fingers dug into her sore butt as he crushed his lips to hers. His tongue explored her mouth, her neck, and dipped down to taste her hard nipples. That almost shot her over the edge. She was trying to hold back and make this last as long as she could. Her head tipped back, and he bit her neck. The light pain pushed her over the edge into a hard orgasm that roared through her system. It was a good thing he was strong enough to support her because if her wrists had not been chained to the ceiling she would have collapsed in a heap at his feet. After a few more grinding, pounding strokes, he roared his completion as he came with a massive spurt into her hot core. When her mind was functioning again, Gabby knew that Miguel was the man who could fulfill all of her fantasies—even ones she hadn’t had yet.

  * * * *

  Miguel reached up and unclipped Gabriella’s wrist cuffs from above her head. Her shoulders were probably a little sore by now. He would give her a good rubdown later. He was more than pleased with her reaction to what he had done in the dungeon. He had not been kidding. He would make love to her in bed and beat her butt and fuck her in the dungeon. So far, she seemed more than fine with that. Time would tell. Some subs loved the action in the dungeon and then later had second thoughts. BDSM was certainly not for everyone, but those who loved it really loved it. He hoped Gabriella would turn out to be one who really loved it—because he had finally admitted to himself that he really loved her and had for quite a while.

  He carried Gabriella to the chaise in the corner of the dungeon and lay down with her still in his arms. It was time for aftercare, and he never scrimped on that. His sub gave so much of herself to him, it was only fair that he reciprocate. When she was spread out over his chest, he ran his hand over her red ass and thighs to judge how sore she actually was. She would feel a definite soreness there tomorrow. He pulled a light blanket from a chest next to the chaise and covered her. Coming down from all the drama, pain, and pleasure could be traumatic for a sub. They needed the warmth and affection of the Dom to ground them as they came back to reality.

  “Rest now, baby. We’re done with this part. We’ll give the guys some treats and then go back up to the house and watch some Christmas movies. How’s that?”

  “Mmmm. Fine, Sir.”

  After they had rested a while, he stood up and helped her back into her clothes. On their way out of the dungeon, he showed her his collection of whips and the pad of thin sheets of paper nailed to the wall. He picked up one of the shorter whips and demonstrated several strikes. While they made a loud popping sound and connected with the pad of paper, leaving a slight dimple, they did not rip or damage it. “It’s all in the wrist and follow-through. The idea is not to cause damage or mark the skin. It should feel like a light pinch or sting. The longer whips like the dragon tail on the wall, the one with the clappers attached by thin chain, can cause more pain. That is an acquired taste which you may never acquire.”

  * * * *

  Gabby and Miguel qu
ickly groomed the horses and gave out more treats before returning to the house. Gabby went into the kitchen and made a bowl of popcorn sweetened with syrup and Craisins while Miguel poured them glasses of his uncle’s private reserve sherry. The sweet, nutty flavor of the sherry complimented the salty-sweet flavor of the popcorn. They settled on the big, comfortable leather couch in the great room on the first floor with the three dogs at their feet and picked out a selection of Christmas movies. He pulled her into his lap to watch Scrooge.

  He patted her butt. “Still a little sore?”

  “What do you think?” She was confused and embarrassed by her feelings.

  “I think I could always top it off a little if you like, smart mouth.” He quirked one strong black eyebrow.

  “No thanks. I think it’s just about perfect right now.”

  “Good answer.” He kissed her hard before he smoothed his hand down over her ass again and gave it a little squeeze. She could feel the pleasant heat and definite soreness, and she knew her ass had to be red. It would probably still be red tomorrow. She had loved the sharp sting of his hand on her skin. She couldn’t believe how turned on she had been by the whole dungeon scene and the feel of his hand and the other instruments on her ass. She had to think about this experience and weigh it against the woman she had always believed herself to be. Could she reconcile the two?

  Chapter Five

  Quixote Acres, in Southwest Ranches, Florida, Thursday, Christmas morning, December 25, 2014

  Gabby awoke wrapped in Miguel’s arms in the enormous, heavily carved, Spanish-style mahogany bed in the master bedroom suite. He had told her that the bed, together with a container load of antique family furnishings, had been shipped to Florida from Puerto Rico by his father when he had purchased Quixote Acres. He’d had the bed refinished and resized to fit a modern king-size mattress for comfort.