On Your Knees

by Brynn Paulin

  “My screams weren’t very strong.”

  “That’s a matter of opinion. While I flogged you, you didn’t swear at me. You didn’t cry and beg me to let you go. You let your body adjust and take it and sink into pleasure. I know men who couldn’t handle as much. You were so beautiful.”

  “I bet you say that to all your slaves.”

  “There are none. I don’t do polygamous relationships. If I had another partner, I wouldn’t be here with you.”

  Bending over, he kissed one of the stripes crossing her shoulder blades. Warm threads of awareness started through her middle again. Again? She wanted him again. She couldn’t possibly. New need building low in her belly argued her body wasn’t nearly as broken as she might think. She moaned and dropped her head to her arms. No, she couldn’t take more. Physically or mentally. She liked his hands on her body but she was done in right now.

  Then his firm fingers moved to her ass. Oh man. He seemed to know just how spent she was though. Gently, he worked the cream into the marks, unknowingly easing her desire. Was it crazy that she wanted him to take her to bed somewhere and press her into a firm mattress? Wouldn’t Keera have a field day with this? She’d say, “I told you so. And you doubted Madam Zelda?”

  Okay, so she should have had more faith. How could she? She wasn’t really a tarot believer—not like her friend. Keera lived by the cards she’d inherited from her mother.

  Her weak faith was growing fast, both in what Madam Zelda had said and in this man rubbing his hands down her thighs.

  Silence fell between them, the only sound their breathing and sporadic groans from her as he occasionally touched spots already more sore than others. It wasn’t long before her body practically dissolved into jelly. If not for her increased awareness of this man, she could have slept he had her so relaxed. Overall she just felt good.

  She couldn’t rouse the energy to move when he left her again. Again she heard water and she wondered if he wasn’t the cleanest Dom in the world. She smiled turning her head and watching him move. For a guy, he had a graceful manner about him. He really did move like a cat, his frame working in unison in a lazy assured roll as he walked.

  The scarf tied around his head had hiked up a little in the back and short strands of hair peeked out. In the dim light she couldn’t tell if it was brown or black, just dark. She knew a ton of built dark-haired guys—she worked in construction for God’s sake. It could be anyone. She was swiftly coming to the conclusion that she knew this man. The familiarity about him…the things he said…how well he knew her. And why else would he be here if he wasn’t getting paid?

  The realization that she must know him should have troubled her. It didn’t. She only hoped he’d introduce himself later, without the mask, and they could continue this in the bright light of real life. She wouldn’t push the issue now. Her brow furrowed when he turned toward her and her gaze dropped to his tattoos. Perhaps she didn’t know him after all. She couldn’t think of a man she knew who she hadn’t seen without a shirt or at least with sleeves short enough that they would have revealed the wide band on her dungeon master’s arm.

  So she was back to square one.

  “What do your tattoos signify?” she asked when he returned and sat beside her. She sat back on her heels, wrists at the small of her back and winced only slightly when her ass connected with her ankles. “They look like some sort of words.”

  “Hmmm… well, in a way.”

  He cleaned the inside of her thighs with the new cloth he’d brought, wiping away her sticky cream. The way he cared for her made her all shuddery inside. She looked into his mesmerizing eyes, enveloped in his intense gaze. Her lips parted.

  She wanted him again. Her eyes dropped closed on a tiny moan as the warm cloth pressed to her folds. She heard the wet slap of the cloth on the cement as he tossed it away and he cupped the back of her head, pulling her to him. His mouth covered hers, feasting at her parted lips and sending tremors once again shooting through her. She lifted up at his urging, meeting him chest to chest and feeling his jutting erection against her belly. Being pressed to him, complying with his will like this, filled her empty spaces as nothing ever had. He tilted her head and drove his tongue in for more. She sucked at it, taking his taste, showing him what she wanted to do to his cock if she ever had the chance.

  They were both gasping for breath when he pulled back.

  “Tattoos?” she managed, trying to regain some level ground. She wanted to know everything she could about him, but maybe that wasn’t allowed in this lifestyle. He’d tell her. Maybe after another flash-fire of passion.

  Every action, every look, every little word seemed to be a match in a drought-stricken forest for them. Any one of them could start something they both wanted to finish. Right now she didn’t care about the stripes across her back. She needed him again.

  “Nearly every man in my family has them. It’s sort of a ritual. When you turn eighteen, if this is your chosen lifestyle, you go see Uncle Tony to get the marks.” He pointed to the one at his navel, partially blocked by the tip of his erection. “This one basically says ‘control your belly’. It’s about always remembering to control yourself during any situation, sexual or otherwise, involving your sub.”

  She had to admit, he’d exhibited more control than she would have. She was writhing and begging and given the chance she would have pounced on him without a second thought. Something, she had to admit he brought out in her. She’d never been so desperately needy for any other men.

  He held out his arm, displaying the band of black figures on it. “This one says ‘keeper of the temple’.” He touched her forehead. “And ‘owner of the treasure’.” He cupped her mound and she tilted into him, making a needy sound when his finger slowly dragged over her clit. Pulling away, he flattened his hand between her breasts. “And ‘protector of the spirit’.”

  She swallowed wondering if eventually, she’d get a mark that said temple, treasure and spirit. Even if this was really just for tonight as she suspected, she’d look into it. She was all those things and even if he didn’t claim her, he’d touched those parts of her marking her as indelible as any tattoo.

  “What now?” she asked. She didn’t want this to be over yet.

  “How does your back feel? There was lanocaine in the cream.”

  “I’m okay.” She would have said the same even if she felt every bruise. “I’d like to continue.”

  He was silent for a moment and from the corner of her eye she could see him studying her. “I don’t think you can. Not as we’ve been so far.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t argue with your master. I’d hate to top this with a spanking which, I think, is about all you’d be able to take right now.”

  “All right,” she said sadly.

  “I didn’t say we were finished…just finished like this.”

  “We didn’t even try—”

  “Another time.”

  Ryan lifted her into his arms and headed for the door that connected to the room beside this one—room 3D, the other half of his private quarters here at Pleasure Palace. He’d already pulled back the blanket on the bed and it stood ready and waiting for the next step of Jessica’s seduction.

  Carefully, he laid her on the satin sheets, conscious of her back. She wasn’t really hurt, just aching in the aftermath of something to which she wasn’t accustomed.

  “This is nice for a dungeon,” she commented, lifting up on her elbows.

  “This isn’t the dungeon. It’s my room when I stay over here.”

  “So does that mean you’ll tell me your name and I can stop calling you Master?”

  “No.” If she hadn’t guessed it was him, he wasn’t really ready to tell her. She’d know soon enough. He’d have liked to have said he kept the secret because he was unselfishly providing the stranger fantasy for her, that he was seeing it out until the end. Truly, it was more dread of the look on her face when she realized everything her boss had done to
her. He hadn’t thought that part through very well.

  He had plenty of experience with women rejecting him for his lifestyle. Even though she enjoyed this scene, Jessica might reject him too. He didn’t know how he’d take that. Everyone outside the scene thought a Dom was so always strong, almost impervious to life’s arrows. He was human, just like any other man. Jessica had given him her power but she still had the ability to eviscerate him with a few words.

  One word in particular. Goodbye.

  She looked up at him with her huge green eyes. Excitement swirled in them without a lick of fear. Despite the mask and the intensity of what had occurred the other room he’d managed to win her over. There might be hope for him yet.

  “So, slave,” he said, purposely reminding her of her position. “We’re going to play a little game.”

  She shifted sinuously on the sheets, looking for all the world like Aphrodite come to seduce the mere mortal. The little minx. “Is this a game I’m destined to lose?”

  “Depends on your point of view.” The way she was taunting him, he’d definitely see she lost while they both won. “This game is called ‘Can Jessica stay still?’ Ever heard of it?”

  “No but I don’t like the sound of it.” The aroused edge to her words belied her statement. This wouldn’t take long. She was already squirming with desire.

  “Now in this game, I don’t cuff you.”

  She took a shaky breath. “Uh-huh…”

  “And I get to try out some of my favorite toys on you.”

  “What happens when I lose?”

  He noticed she didn’t say if. It wasn’t like her to give up already. Her legs shifted apart inviting him inside. Soon enough. He had a short list of toys which would be introduced to her lovely pussy in a few moments.

  It would be better for her if she tried to fight the need to move…

  “I get to claim my prize. And if you win… I’ll take off my mask.”

  Presented with a dilemma, she sank her teeth into her bottom lip, tormenting the flesh he’d like to suck on. She sighed. “So, this doesn’t seem fair. Do I get a chance to see if you’ll stay still?”

  “Is the name of the game ‘Can the Dungeon Master Stay Still?’?”

  She shook her head. “What constitutes a move?”

  “Anything more than a gentle tremor.”

  “Shit.”

  He shook his head, clicking his tongue at her. “Do I need to wash my slave’s mouth out with something?”

  Her eyes narrowed growing dark as summer leaves. “Depends on what you want to use.”

  “Generally, a flogging makes a slave less sassy.”

  “Am I an ordinary slave?”

  “No.” He held up a hand to forestall whatever mouthy response was about to spring forth. “The game starts now. Moving your mouth is considered movement.”

  God he loved playing with her and sparring with her. Years and years of this would be wonderful.

  She pressed her lush lips together but he ignored it. Opening the drawer beside the bed, he withdrew a few of his favorite tools and realized he’d left the ball gag in the other room. Damn, he needed it. Unlike the dungeon this room wasn’t soundproof. He didn’t want to share Jessica’s cries with anyone else.

  He held a blindfold before her. “Did I mention that you don’t get to see what I’m going to do?”

  She growled her displeasure, fury burning in those fiery green eyes as he slipped it over them and eased the elastic bands behind her head. She obviously had things to say but didn’t want to lose. Her frustration level would have her literally shaking for release soon.

  Leaving her waiting he went to retrieve the gag. She might as well get used to the mouthpiece. Some situations required its use. This one didn’t. He wanted to see the dark blue ball pressed between her lush cherry lips, stretching her mouth as wide as his cock would when he fucked her mouth. There went his control again. He closed his eyes, clutching the oral restraint in his fist.

  He had to regain himself before he returned. He went to his supplies, considering what else he could use to taunt her. He’d left a small vibrating egg and a two-sided whip on the bed. He didn’t intend to use the whip portion on her but the other end was tipped with feathers. Jessica wouldn’t hold out long against them.

  He knew exactly the thing that would drive her insane. Opening a refrigerated drawer, he removed a heavy glass dildo and a tube of gel. Perfect.

  She hadn’t moved when he returned. Good. She was invested in winning the competition. Not that she had a prayer. But he wanted her to try. He wanted to watch her fight her reactions to him and lose. She’d discover she had no power here either.

  Setting the dildo and the lube on the bed, he pressed the ball to her lips.

  “Open your mouth,” he instructed.

  She sucked in a breath through her nose, not moving her mouth.

  “I won’t hold it against you,” he added.

  Her brow furrowed and he guessed she was deciding if it was a ploy to make her lose the game. Slowly, she opened. He jammed the ball between her teeth and fastened the leather strap. His cock jerked. Seeing Jessica bound before, seeing her modeling his preferred paraphernalia made him hotter than the summer sun.

  He’d never thought he’d see her like this…naked in his bed…waiting for him…pert breasts rising and falling on each excited breath. The overwhelming need to reveal himself and see where it led almost distracted him from his course of action.

  Afterward. He’d tell her whether she won or not. He almost laughed. What was he thinking if she won? As if that would happen. He played dirty. It was his specialty and marked him as a master, in more ways than one.

  “It also won’t count against you if I move you,” he told her. Her fingers were clenched into the sheets at her hips and he gently unfolded them. Her tight, closed up position gave her a false sense of security. He wanted her open and vulnerable with nothing impeding him.

  Sliding his hands down her arms, he pulled them over her head and crossed her wrists just above her crown. Dragging his fingertips along the sensitive flesh on the inside of her arms, he made a path down her body. Deliberately, he raked all ten fingers over her tempting breasts then headed over her torso and hips until he reached her tightly compressed thighs.

  He traced a line along the crease, from mound to knees. “You are a very naughty slave.” Grabbing her legs, he forced them apart. “Never together,” he murmured, though parting her increased the throbbing in his veins.

  “Luckily,” he continued, grabbing the icy cold dildo. “I know just the thing for disobedient slaves.” He dragged the tip along her naked, glistening folds and watched her shake as the frigid glass tormented her clit. Pulling it away, he coated it with equally cold lube. “I decided you’re right. Your tight little ass is too small and untried to take me right now.”

  She shrieked behind the gag as he pressed the dildo to her anus. This was one of his favorites. The length and modest width made it a good choice for vaginal activity while the deep groove toward the base made it perfect for this. Agitated, she clenched her muscles, trying to get away without actually moving. He kept it pushed to her while he waited for her to exhale then forced it slightly inside her momentarily relaxed body. She made agitated sounds in her throat, protesting the invasion.

  During other play, he might have worried and become more vigilant to her reaction. This was different. With her hands unbound, she could literally reach down and deck him if he really pushed her beyond her limits. Doggedly, he continued the invasion until the entire length of the icy invader was lodged inside her. He checked to be sure it was seated properly and let go, watching her buck as the chill invaded her heated tissues.

  Her muffled, unchecked cries yanked at his cock, begging him to fuck her. Leaning forward, he sucked her clit into his mouth and nipped the sensitive flesh. Her taste flooded his mouth. He’d dreamed of this for so long. Languidly, he dragged his tongue through her tangy cream. He looped his arms und
er her thighs, capturing them as he pressed his hands over her pubic bone and helped her to stay still. It was a battle she’d already lost.

  Taking his time, he lapped at her folds. Greedily, he took his fill of her working from the back of her swollen cleft to the front containing her most sensitive flesh. Her protests segued into throaty moans that vibrated through him. He did this to her. He turned her into this warm, sensual creature. She was his.

  Grasping her ass, he lifted her and drove his tongue into her supple sheath. It immediately convulsed. He continued his jabbing thrusts while her body jerked into an orgasmic rhythm. Her muscles clenched and she bowed up into him, flooding his mouth with her sweet taste.

  Her pleasure entwined with his, drawing him into her sensations. Shaky with the need to be inside her, he knelt between her legs and dragged the feather lightly over her in a path from belly to chin. She trembled as it tickled her over-sensitized skin and she tried to roll away from it.

  He pushed the blindfold from her eyes and gazed down at her. “You’re not very good at staying still,” he laughed. “You lost. I guess I keep my mask.”

  Her brows drew together, her glare speaking loudly of how unhappy she was with that. If the gag hadn’t prevented it, he had a feeling her sharp little tongue would be lashing him with her thoughts of his game. She settled for pointedly sliding her gaze away from him.

  “None of that… I won fair and square.”

  Her eyebrows shot up and her chin lowered as she looked at him in disbelief. She had a very expressive face and damned if it wasn’t as sassy as that mouth of hers. She was going to make his life a challenge. Good, he didn’t particularly want someone who kissed his feet. Maybe his ass but that was another thing.

  “Now, I get to claim my prize.” Too bad he hadn’t pinpointed what he wanted as a prize… he’d have to punt. “So what shall it be?”

  She shrugged.

  He trailed his fingers lightly over her shoulder. “A tattoo? No? I think you’d look good with your nipple pierced. No?” He lowered his voice. “I know what I want…”