“So you’d been with a Dom before you met the asshole?”
“Two.” He made a give me more motion with his fingers, so she continued. “The last one had been a Dom for maybe a couple years, and he was nice. He took good care of me.”
“You got off every time?”
“About half.” Kyler had seemed so much more dangerous, so thrilling in comparison to sweet Andy. And the sex with Kyler had been wonderful at first.
“Tell me about the other one.”
Her lips curved. “He enjoyed teaching new subs, and he was very strict. No backtalk, only ‘Yes, Sir.’” Her smile grew at the thought of him. “I think I tested every limit he set, kind of like Jessica does.”
“And what did he do for punishment? Are any of those scars from him?”
“No, he never did anything to break the skin.” The thought would have appalled Master Chris. “Spanking, paddles. A flogger or cane once in a while. He embarrassed me once, and that was horrible.” She winced inside at the memory, and then added, “But I’ve done so much since then that I don’t embarrass easily.”
“That’s good to know,” he said. After setting his beer down, he lifted her onto his lap as if she didn’t weigh a pound. With unyielding hands, he leaned her back until her head rested on the arm of the couch, her body across his thighs, and her legs on the seat cushions. Her bustier flopped open, leaving her breasts pointing up in the air. After licking his finger, he ran it around her nipple.
Her face heated. What was he thinking? Indignation rolled through her. Scenes belonged in the roped-off areas. In those locations, her mind was steeled for being in public, and her body prepared. But sitting here in the middle of the bar being treated like a toy doll? No, this was just wrong. Her hand came up to push him away, and he looked at her, waiting for her to do just that. She set her arm carefully back at her side.
“Good girl.” His voice warmed. He ran his big hand across her breasts and down her stomach in long, slow strokes as if petting a cat. “So, with the strict Dom, how often did you climax with him?”
“Every time. Sometimes even when I didn’t expect to.” She sighed. The happy memories felt so distant, glowing somewhere on the horizon, nowhere she’d ever be again.
“And with the bastard, how did you fare, orgasm-wise, with him?”
Somehow it was getting easier to talk with him, maybe because of his lack of reaction to whatever she said. Just that intense attention. His hand caressed her breasts. “At first, really good. And later, not at all.”
“As the pain got worse.”
“Yeah.” She breathed in and dared to ask, “So what happens tonight?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” he murmured. “I had a long day, and it feels good to get off my feet. I like having you stretched across me, offering me your breasts. And your mouth.” He bent to take her lips, harder than he had last week, taking possession, demanding her tongue back. He drew the kiss out, nibbling on her lips, before plunging back into her mouth. No hurry, no urgency. Just firm lips against hers, the plunge of his tongue, the slight scrape of his beard shadow.
Her body warmed as his scent engulfed her, soap and leather and a hint of masculine musk. His hands moved over her breasts slowly, massaging, circling the nipples. Then he took a peak between his fingers and sent jolts of pain/pleasure through her.
By the time he drew back, her breathing was ragged, and her hands were clamped onto his rock-hard biceps.
He glanced down at her pleated PVC skirt. “Nice skirt.” His hand ran up her leg, under the skirt. When he discovered the bikini briefs she wore, his brows drew together. “Lift your hips up.”
She did, and he yanked the briefs down to her knees. “Lift your legs.”
Acutely conscious of where they were, she raised her feet so he could slide the briefs off. She started to lower her legs.
“Leave your knees bent. And, Beth, don’t wear underwear to the club again. Am I clear?” The implacable gaze returned to her face.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Any time I am not clear in my instructions, you are permitted to ask.”
She nodded and then froze when he flipped up her PVC skirt to expose her completely. She felt like a piano; his left hand playing with her breasts, and his right... His right hand moved up her leg and settled against her pussy.
“Sir, this isn’t a scene area,” she told him as if he didn’t know. This just wasn’t right. She glanced around to see if anyone—
“Keep your eyes on me, sub,” he said, pinching her nipple, and hot desire ran through her as if her breasts and clit were connected by high-voltage wiring. Lower down, her nerves flared to life as his sure fingers slid through her folds. When had she become wet?
His fingers circled her clit, never touching, and the nub began to throb. This was too much like last week. How did he do this to her?
With his left hand under her back, he lifted her, bringing her breasts up to his mouth. His right hand rubbed gently over the hood of her clit as his hot, wet mouth sucked her nipple. She trembled as hot need flared like lightning inside her, turning her insides molten.
His finger grazed over her clit, once, twice, and her core constricted.
He went back to stroking her folds. Oh, God, she needed more. Her mound tilted up into his hand. “Very nice, sugar,” he murmured. When she managed to focus on his face, he was smiling.
“Open your legs farther.”
She didn’t want to, really didn’t want to. Her fear had disappeared, oddly enough, but lying across his lap felt wrong. Too intimate. Scene play was more focused and less personal, at least when she had her way. The Dom would be standing and doing stuff. She shouldn’t be sprawled half-nude on a Dom’s body.
“Beth.” He drawled with a faint southern accent, the warning clear.
She moved one leg. An inch.
As his brows drew together, her foot crept to the very edge of the couch cushion. And as the movement opened her slick folds under his hand, he pushed his finger into her, hard and fast.
“Aaah!” The nerves inside her flared to life for the first time in years. Shocked, she arched her back, and he bent his head to take her nipple in his mouth as if she’d offered her breasts to him. He bit gently on the tip.
The sharp stab of need sizzled all the way to her pussy, and she tightened around his finger. When he sucked on her nipple, the pulling sensation squeezed something deep inside her.
He slid his finger in and out of her vagina, and his thumb angled to slip over her clit. The rhythmic sensation was impossible to ignore, coordinating with his sucking and biting on her nipple. Tension coiled inside her as her body swept out of her control. Her entire lower half burned. Every touch sent her higher and higher. She grabbed his arm, her fingernails digging into his wrist, needing something, anything to hold on to.
He paused, and little mews of need escaped her. He started again, driving into her forcefully, his thumb directly on her clit. Her thighs trembled as her muscles stiffened and held. Another fierce plunge, another stroke of his thumb over her clit and the room sheeted to white, a fireball of sensation exploding inside her. Pleasure sizzled through her nerves.
His thrusts didn’t stop. As her hips bucked, his left arm turned to a vise around her, holding her for his touch as he wrung every last spasm from her.
Damn, she was a gorgeous sight when she came, Nolan thought, his hand over her pussy, his finger still deep inside her. As her eyelids fluttered shut, her muscles went flaccid. He’d known she was tense, but not how extreme it had been until now when the stiffness flowed right out of her. He bent to lick her nipples, soothing the red marks his small bites had created. Each time his tongue touched her, her pussy twitched around his finger.
There was nothing as fulfilling as having a woman come apart in his arms, and this little sub had badly needed to get off. And more. Her scream of release had echoed with pain. He’d breached the barriers she’d erected to keep people out.
He hadn’
t expected she’d trust him enough to let go. Not yet. But she was submissive, through and through, and dominance, not pain, was her key.
Sliding his finger from her body won him a low moan and blinking eyes. “Sir?”
Well, now that felt good; her unthinking acknowledgement of his mastery even before her brain turned back on. He flipped her little skirt down and gathered her up so her head rested against his chest. Her breath created a warm spot on his T-shirt.
Over the background noise in the club, he heard footsteps approach. Z stopped in front of the couch, a subbie blanket over his arm.
Nolan grinned and nodded, thinking that the Shadowlands owner should be called Father Z. Z tucked the blanket around Beth and left without saying a word.
She burrowed closer, her head fitting nicely in the hollow of his shoulder, and he caught the faint scent of strawberries and lemon. She was so light; he could hold her all night without a problem.
So he slid down on the couch, leaned his head back, and enjoyed the simple contentment of having a snuggly, satisfied sub in his arms.
She woke to the rumble of conversation around her, hearing men’s voices before she was quite awake. Where was she? A body shifted under her. A man’s arms were around her. She froze, her breath stopping as panic surged through her. Kyler. Memories flooded her mind, how he’d hold her lovingly after whipping her for hours.
With a thin wail, she pushed away from him, rolling off his legs, and landing on her butt on the floor. She scrambled backward, breath heaving, seeing only men’s legs around her. She’d woken to a nightmare.
“Stop.” A command.
Her muscles froze.
“Beth, look at me.”
Panting in terror, she looked up and into dark, dark eyes. Not pale blue ones. Master Nolan. Her arms almost collapsed as relief flooded through her. She licked her lips, tried to speak, and nothing came out.
He simply pointed to the floor beside his feet. His face showed no reaction or anger, as if subs panicked and fled from his arms every day.
Her bustier gaped open as she crawled back to him, the wooden floor hard and cold against her knees. She knelt next to his legs, keeping her eyes down. He must be furious. Her insides shook so violently that her stomach twisted, and she swallowed hard. Carefully she placed her trembling hands palms up on her thighs. She closed her eyes, tried to breathe, tried to remember where she was. Florida. The Shadowlands.
Master Nolan.
After a minute, he pressed her head against his solid thigh, letting her rest there. And he stroked her hair lightly. Little attentions, nothing special, the sort any Dom might give a sub to let her know he wasn’t upset, to let her know that he hadn’t forgotten her.
Nothing special, dammit. Yet the feel of his gentle hand on her hair made her eyes burn with tears.
She kept her eyes lowered, blinking fast, and the conversation continued around her. Master Z’s voice. The bartender, Cullen. Another Dom...maybe Master Dan? They were discussing upcoming activities. Theme nights. The Fourth of July. The Dom’s monthly meeting at the Palms Restaurant.
“So when are you going to start having your play parties again, Nolan?” Cullen’s voice. “I’ve missed them.”
BDSM parties? At Sir’s house? As the implications of that registered, she stiffened.
And he could feel it. The hand that had been stroking her hair tilted her chin up. “Don’t worry, sugar. You’ll have fun.”
No question as to if she’d attend, just the simple assumption she’d bow to his will. He lifted his eyebrows and waited.
Here in Florida, she had never, ever done a scene anywhere but the public areas of the Shadowlands. Never dated. Never used the private rooms upstairs. Do a play session at someone’s home? She shivered. But others would be there, right? So it wouldn’t be too much different than doing a scene here in the club with others present. She wouldn’t be alone with a Dom. With him.
“Yes, Sir,” she said finally.
He nodded as if he’d known she’d comply, and yet his “brave heart” was like a splash of warmth.
But the room still felt cold, and the tremors inside her were working their way out.
His hand stilled on her hair. With a firm grip, he pulled her between his legs and wrapped the blanket around her, tucking it securely beneath her knees. His legs against her sides felt like hot iron bars.
A trainee sub appeared in response to some motion, and Sir said, “Bring me a hot chocolate.”
When the hot chocolate appeared, Master Nolan put it into Beth’s hand, waiting until he was sure she wouldn’t spill. She sipped, and warmth flowed through her, heating her inside as surely as his surrounding body heated her outside. She felt enclosed and safe between his legs with his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. She finished the cocoa and set her cup on the floor.
As the conversation flowed around her, she dared to rest her head against his leather-clad leg. When his hand stroked down her hair, the sigh she gave was of perfect contentment.
For this moment, this moment only, no fear intruded.
* * * * *
He stepped into the BDSM club in downtown Tampa, grimacing as the music of Velvet Acid Christ assaulted his ears. Two sluts, drenched in nauseating perfume, lined up behind him. As the fat one chattered away in a shrill voice, he could almost feel his favorite cane in his hands and how he’d whip it across her insipid face and split the thin tissue of her lips. Blood would splatter the wall and drip down onto the glossy pink latex corset she wore.
“Sir.”
He blinked, shook his head.
“Sir,” the doorman repeated, holding his hand out for the fee and shoving a clipboard forward. “Sign here, please.”
He scrawled his name, Kyler Stanton, taking his time so he could check the list. No Elizabeth Stanton. No Elizabeth at all. But he couldn’t assume she wasn’t inside.
She might be clever enough to use an assumed name. Anger coiled in his stomach, a growing monster biding its time before bursting free. He’d given her his name, one of respect and dignity. If she’d abandoned it as easily as she’d rejected his home—and him—her punishment would be quite severe.
* * * * *
Nolan had sent Beth home an hour before, her nerves obviously overloaded. She’d done better than he’d anticipated. Of course, she still didn’t trust him worth a damn. Taking a sip of beer, he twisted on the bar stool to watch the scene at the St. Andrew’s cross. A Domme was doing sensation play, running a feather up the inside of her sub’s legs. The poor guy was trembling, his shaft pointing straight up. If he got off now, his cum would probably hit the ceiling.
Nolan grinned. Mistress Anne would have locked that cock in some metal cage and added weights. Amazing what a difference there could be between Dommes.
And that brought his thoughts back to Beth and the Doms she’d known. He understood her wariness. After her experiences, she wouldn’t trust anyone easily, especially a Dom. He sighed. The edge of fear was where trust could be engendered, but if he tried to push her there, she’d flee. Catch-22.
That little sub was definitely a piece of work. He scratched his jaw. On a work site, cement trucks tended to empty unused dregs on the ground, sometimes right in the way of something else. So the crew had to shatter the heavy concrete mass and then dig it out. What tools could he use to break up the ugly mass of memories in Beth’s mind? It wasn’t going to be easy or quick.
Holding his beer, Nolan wandered through the room. This late at night, the club was quieter, although most of the stations were still occupied. At the stockade, a burly gay Dom in biker leathers paddled a willow-thin sub who groaned with every slow stroke.
Farther down, at the lacing table, a Domme indulged in wax play with an older blonde whose breasts were covered with white streaks. The sound of the sub’s moans as she approached her peak almost killed Nolan. His cock had been throbbing like a sore tooth since he’d touched Beth’s wet pussy.
Nolan turned and went the other dire
ction, finally taking a chair near the suspension station to watch Cullen play with Sally. The trainee sub was in her mid-twenties. With a golden tan, long, curly hair the same rich brown as her big eyes, and a very soft, full figure, the sub was a pleasure to fuck. A bit mouthy, too smart for her own good, but thoroughly submissive once a Dom got past the attitude.
Totally focused, the bartender worked a flogger up and down the pretty brunette with nice rhythmic strokes, alternating the pressure, sometimes hard, sometimes soft. As Sally’s cries changed, showing she couldn’t differentiate the pain from the pleasure, the flogging moved from her curvy ass and thighs to lighter erratic blows on her ample breasts and pussy. Her eyes glazed, her breasts and hips arching to meet the blows.
Before Sally could come, Cullen stepped back, nodded in satisfaction, and unfastened her, steadying the sub when her legs wobbled. A hip-high bench stood nearby—Cullen was always prepared—and now he laid Sally on her back with her head dangling off the top. Her ass jutted out over the other end. Cullen bent her legs up and strapped them against her waist. Top and bottom open and ready for use.
After glancing around, Cullen walked over to Nolan and tossed a condom in his lap. “Why don’t you come and play? Sally’s never had it from both ends, and she’s been a good little submissive all night...as good as she ever is. And you’ve been a good boy too; everyone in the place heard Beth scream as she got off. Nice job, but you’re probably ready to explode.”
That was the truth. Nolan picked up the condom and eyed Sally. She quivered as she craned her neck, trying to see where Cullen had gone. Her frustration was obviously growing by the second, and Nolan laughed. “Looks like we’d better get over there or she’ll come without us.”
“Be a nice change. I think she’s been faking it with some of the newer Doms.” Cullen frowned. “Maybe I’ll talk Z into giving a workshop on detecting fake orgasms.”
“That’d be interesting.” Nolan grinned, thinking about Z’s sub who really hated doing public scenes. “Jessica will hide under the bed if she hears you suggest that one.”
Seduction in the Sun: Adult Romance Box Set (9 Sizzling Tales with BBW, Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Alpha Males) Page 74
