I stay stock still as he walks over to a cabinet and opens it, removing a few items and coming back over. He holds up the first, a leather collar with adjustable buckles. “You will wear this all weekend to show that you are my Angel now. If you’re a good girl, I’ll get you a nice one, something more permanent. Lift your chin.”
I lift my chin and Rafe buckles the collar around my neck, and I’m confused. I'm collared. I should be feeling degraded . . . so why don't I?
Because it's Rafe, my Master now, and he knows just what to do as he attaches the hobbles and the leash to my collar, leading me around the room a few times just to see how I react.
“What you're going to learn is that humiliation is nothing more than a state of mind. There's nothing that you can do to my Angel that I can't turn around and make feel like heaven,” he says. I’m confused at first, wondering who he’s talking to, then I realize. He’s lecturing the demon, and from his tone of voice, he’s ready to engage it fully. “I took on The Club. I beat the shit out of the manager there. You? You're small potatoes.”
With each word, the demon howls and tears trickle down my face, but they're tears of joy even as the ache increases and my hamstrings start to burn. “You're worthless, a phantom created by a madman and only given power because you've kept my Angel from the truth about her. That she loves this. She loves the pain, she loves the release . . . and there's not a damn thing wrong about any of it.”
His words pierce me to my very soul and I start sobbing, unable to walk, and he stops, lifting me in his powerful arms and carrying me to the bed, where he lays me on my back. My legs are bent and spread for him, the hobbles now acting as an effective leather harness for him as he takes off his clothes and stands before me naked, his cock proud and massive in front of him. “Is this what you want, Angel?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Is this what the demon wants?” he asks, and I shake my head. “Why?”
“It's afraid of you.”
“It should be. I underestimated it once. I won't do that again. Be warned, like any operation . . . this might hurt a little.”
Rafe grabs my knees and jams them next to my head, slamming his cock into me with one powerful thrust, spreading me open and making me howl in pain and pleasure. He doesn't pause though, grabbing me by the throat, his hand over my collar as he pounds me, his cock hammering deep into my pussy each time, angrily slamming home so deep I can feel my womb shaking inside me under his relentless power.
Still, despite the anger and ferocity of his body, his eyes are tender, emotionally taking me in as he hammers me, my body adjusting and starting to milk him, to clutch his perfect cock even as his body ripples with the force of his efforts. “Mine, Angel. You're mine. Say it.”
“Yours, Master,” I moan happily. “I’m yours.”
My words cause Rafe to speed up, his cock a blurring, never-ending assault of pleasure on my body, my pussy filled and every nerve inside me screaming in pleasure. He doesn't stop when I come the first time, but drives himself in harder and harder, our hips smacking together even as the sweat starts to glisten on our skin and his breath speeds up. He's an athlete of inhuman ability, but even his perfect hips can't keep this up forever. He doesn't stop as my aching pussy starts twitching again and my chest grows warm. “Oh, fuck . . .”
“You can come as much as you want, Angel. Don't worry if you aren't perfect . . . yet,” he grunts, his chest and stomach outlined like a sculpture in the lights.
“Yes, Master,” I moan, my body starting to release again. I feel myself clench, and another orgasm tears through me, my eyes squeezing shut. I can't control myself. He pulls out, and suddenly, the warm spray of his seed splashes on my skin, and the demon starts to chuckle before he gasps in anger. I open my eyes to see Rafe write his name with his own come on my stomach before scooping it up and feeding it to me. I suck the precious gift from his fingers gratefully, understanding what he's done. “Master.”
“My Angel,” he replies, smiling down at me. He reaches for my ankles and undoes the hobbles, carefully letting my legs down. “Now . . . that’s a good start.”
The collar digs a little into my skin as we walk through the shopping center, and I can see some people looking as we walk through a shopping plaza. There’s no physical leash, but there is a mental one, and I stay exactly one step to his left and one back, proudly displaying my collar.
“Are you mortified by this, Angel?” Rafe asks. “Does this humiliate you?”
“No, Master,” I reply immediately. We're over a hundred miles from Stanford, which is helpful because I still worry about what would happen if the people from campus see me like this. Rafe knows it though, and as we walk into the shop to buy me some new shoes, the store clerk looks startled before giving me a jealous look and turning away in a huff. “See?”
“See what, Angel?” he asks after the store clerk walks away and we start trying things on.
“The way the store clerk looked when she saw me with you. She's startled, she's never been where I am . . . but one look at you and she wants to be. How can I be humiliated when the women we see want to swap places with me? I'm lucky.”
The clerk brings out the shoes that Master selected for me, and in ten minutes, we leave, my bag in my hand as he takes me back to the car, putting my bag away before giving me a deep kiss. I moan, my bare pussy starting to get wet. Master commanded that under my skirt, I'm not to wear underwear all weekend. When he steps back, my heart is racing and my skin feels warm. I want him right here. “Master . . .”
“At home, Angel. First, a little more shopping. I want you to have a full, beautiful new wardrobe to match your new life. And it is a new life, isn't it?” he asks, stroking my face.
“Where to next?” I ask, and he smiles.
“The next stop is the jewelry store. We're going to get a proper collar for you. But there's one more thing we're going to get.”
“What?” I ask eagerly. He’s showered me with gifts over the past two days, most of which are to help me adjust to this new lifestyle. I hope it’s what I need, and I’m willing to put my trust in Rafe. Other than the 'embarrassments' he's made me go through, like going around the house naked all last night and this morning, or kneeling next to his chair to serve him glasses of tea as we watched a DVD of Andromeda together, he's been kind. Each demand he makes is with a clear purpose in mind.
He's taken me five times, and I expect that he'll do it again tonight when we get ready for bed. He's been rough, he's been tender, he's been dominating, he's . . .
“Angel!” Master says, and I realize I've been gathering wool. I snap my eyes over, chagrined.
“Sorry. I was thinking about how dramatic this weekend has been.”
“And it will nearly culminate here,” he says, his eyes firm but tender. “Look.”
I look and see the sign on the place we're parked in front of. “Golden Bear Tattoo and Jewelry?”
“Exactly. They have just what we need,” he says, coming around to let me out. We go inside, where instead of the buzzing, rock and roll blaring place I expected, I find myself in what looks like a high class beauty salon. The staff person behind the counter is even wearing a three-piece suit.
“Hello, welcome to Golden Bear. How can we help you?” the man says, looking us over. “Hmmm . . . looking for a tatt?”
“We're your five o'clock appointment,” Rafe explains, and the man grins broadly.
“Wonderful! Well, first, lets get you set up, and then we can bring in the collars,” the staffer says, leading us into the back. I follow Master, where a chair that looks like something from the dentist's is set up next to one of those massage chairs where you lean into the donut shaped facial pad. “Well then, what are we looking for today?”
“Speed is essential. I'm willing to pay for two artists,” Rafe says, taking a picture out of his pocket. When I look, he gives me a small smirk. “I drew this while you were trying on the things at the boutique.”
I
blush, remembering how sexy I felt putting on the lingerie, but I'm floored when he shows the piece of paper to the staffer. “Can your artists make this stretch over her back?”
It's beautiful—twin wings that are pure and angelic, feathery and detailed, not identical to each other but instead looking like they're about to burst out, unfurling off my back to carry me away. “Beautiful . . .”
“These will go from her neck to her waist. I want it to stop at the exact planar line of her shoulders,” Master says, running his hand over my back. “And while they do this, we'll select the collar.”
The staffer nods, then looks at me. He’s probably dealt with this sort of situation before, considering how relaxed he is, but he’s still checking that this is my wish too. “Young lady?”
I look at Rafe, tears in my eyes, and the man’s ready to stop when I grab Rafe and kiss him, my tongue entwining with his as he pulls me to him tenderly, smiling when we have to part to breathe again. “I can’t wait.”
“Now no matter what, you'll have two things to remind yourself of who you are, who you can be, and who you belong to,” Master says, stroking my face. “And when you're ready, we'll come back again.”
“For what?” I ask, and Rafe takes my hand and puts it over his heart, where I know his tattoo is. “You?”
“When you’re ready for that,” he says. “Are you ready for this?”
I nod, taking off my t-shirt and bra, not even embarrassed as I sit down in the chair, almost refusing the hospital gown-like top until the man explains that it's for sanitary purposes as much as my coverage. The two artists come in, and for the next five hours, I sit as still as a stone as the two artists work their magic. The feel of the needles buzzing along my skin is both painful and exhilarating, my arousal growing with each inch of ink that's being etched into my body.
About halfway through, one of the artists speaks up. “You know, with the tone of your skin and the way your back is shaped, this could be epic with just the black line work. What do you guys think?”
“It's up to you,” I reply, looking up at Rafe.
“Let's keep it at the black lines, and we can fill in later if you want,” he says, coming over and kneeling down in front of me so that I can see him. “How're you doing?”
The guns start up again, and I have to bite my lip. I look at him and mouth the words inside me. I want you. Bad.
“Not too much longer,” he reassures me. “For now, let's pick out your new collar.”
In the end, we select a choker that's made of carbon fiber mesh and embedded with gold and silver threads that interweave in the design, both high-tech and classy, something that I can wear every day and fits with all parts of our lives. The feeling of Master putting it around my neck is highlighted even more when he selects a small golden lock and closes it over the catch, making it impossible for me to remove the collar without his permission. It's midnight before the artists finish up, applying an antibiotic ointment to my skin before putting gauze over it. “You won't be able to wear an open back shirt for a few days—oh, and no bra,” the lead artist says as he helps me on with my shirt, “but don't rush it. Take your time to let this heal and you'll be a lot happier. Nothing screws up a new tattoo more than someone rushing, leaving off the antibiotic ointment because they want to look cute, and they catch themselves a skin infection.”
“Don't worry, she'll be well taken care of,” Rafe says, shaking hands with both of the artists. “You men did excellent work. I'll make sure to request you when I come in for mine.”
It's difficult sitting up with my back not touching the seat of the Jag the whole ride home, but that's okay. I'm earning my wings. When we get home, Rafe helps me inside before he kisses me tenderly, brushing my hair out of my face. “You were amazing today.”
“You help me feel like I can fly,” I reply, cupping his face. “I know they said I can't be on my back, but . . . well, I kind of want to be right now.”
He chuckles, picking me up in his arms, his hands under my hips and carrying me like a feather toward the bedroom. “I have an idea I think you’re going to like.”
Reaching the bedroom, Rafe helps me off with my clothes before having me kneel on the edge of the bed wearing a blindfold. I'm prepared for his cock. My pussy's been dripping wet for what feels like hours, but instead, I hear a chair scrape up behind me, and then the warm caress of his breath on my pussy lips. “Oh, my . . .”
“Shh . . .” Rafe says, his voice warm and tender. “You earned this reward, Angel.”
His tongue touches my lips and I clutch the bedspread, swept away as he licks and nibbles at my pussy lips, his tongue fluttering over my clit before dipping deep inside me. I push back and he presses deeper. “Ahh . . . Master!”
He mumbles something against my pussy lips, the warm pleasure washing through me and leaving me boneless. My body wants more, but my brain is telling me it's nearly two in the morning, and I'm unable to do more than push back, insensible as Rafe’s tongue licks and nibbles at my sopping wet pussy.
Faster and faster he goes before he starts sucking on my clit, my feet drumming on the bedspread until I'm coming, my voice harsh with the cry of my release before I sag onto the bed, sleep chasing me into the blackness. Still, with the last dregs of my consciousness, I feel Rafe climb onto the bed beside me, helping me stretch out before he covers me with the sheet. “Good night, my beautiful Angel. Tomorrow, we'll face the day together.”
Chapter 22
The Counselor
As George Takei would say, oh my.
What?
Well, let's see. You’ve got a bounce in your step, and for the first time since we started seeing each other, you're wearing a tank top. And that ink is absolutely amazing. No wonder you were in a high-necked shirt last week. I was worried when you told me a little of this evolution of your relationship, but seeing the results . . . I’m liking it.
It's amazing, isn't it? And with M . . . sorry, I know you wanted to talk about that later, but this week was even better than last weekend.
Okay, well, tell me about it.
Every day, he’s done something to train me. Not all of it is sexual. Like every day, when he goes to do his lunchtime workout, he’s had me go with him. And I feel more . . . well, I’m starting to feel happy.
You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to hear you say that. But I have one concern—this new . . . lifestyle, is it permanent?
He’s challenging me to be stronger, even if I am serving him. So if I ever choose to go on my own, I’ll be able to stand on my own. I serve my Master because I choose to.
So he’s not crippling you? I like the change, but I don’t want you to move too fast. Take it slow.
Far from it. I mean . . . every touch, every movement, even every word is filled with tenderness, respect and a desire to make me a better woman. It’s why he’s waiting outside.
That’s good to see. Okay, one more note before I drop the relationship issue between you and Rafe. You calling him Master—you know a lot of people might find problems with that in public.
We do. And it was my choice first as to the word. That came out of my mouth without him mentioning it. But we don’t really care what people think. We’re not going to go around with him leading me on a leash in public or anything. I realize there’s a time and place, and we’ll be mindful of it.
We discussed it and set the ground rules right at the start. Not just about this either, but the fact that we’re also Professor and student, boss and subordinate.
That’s a good sign for the start of any relationship, regardless of what the couple wants to be. How are your classes and your lab work?
Nothing but positive. If there’s been any drawback at all, it’s that I’m constantly running out of time.
Is Rafe demanding that much of you?
No. Everything is just so new, and there’s a lot of intimacy. Like this morning, I barely got to class on time because we were having sex in the shower.
Lik
e sands through the hourglass, so are the days of our rehabilitation.
That one was terrible, even for you.
When I get worried, I get punny and ironic. It's a failing of mine. I'll do my best to limit myself. So you might need to work on your time management. Or your sex drive.
Sex overdrive, you mean. And that part’s good. I’m getting worried too, but for other reasons. I’m having emotions about Rafe. Ones I’m not prepared to talk about right now.
Of course. Speaking of emotional subjects, how is your godson?
Shawn? He's adorable. I can’t wait to see him in person.
Thanks for coming in. Sorry it took a little longer, but I wanted to end things with Shawnie on a high note, and getting her to talk about her friend Abby is always a good way to let her smile.
I don’t have a problem with it. I’m glad that you’ve tried so hard to help Shawnie over the past year.
So . . . angel wings?
They’re what I want her to remember at all times. She has the inner ability to soar above everyone, to be the woman that I know she can be. So she’s an angel in my eyes, and an angel she can show the whole world.
You know, speaking of showing the whole world, you’re not exactly a person who’s shown the whole world a lot about yourself.
You’ve been poking into my past.
I have. Does that upset you?
Counselor, I don’t want to talk about me, so all I’m going to say is that my past does affect my relationship with Shawnie in that it gives me motivation to want and see her become healed and to exorcise the demon from her.
Exorcism?
Not literally, just a choice of word. We both know what the demon is. It’s her guilt over what happened in Georgia, combined with an inner nature that was suppressed for far too long. She’s a natural submissive. She just never met the right man. Does that shock you when I say that?
No. I came to the same conclusion, but I haven’t told Shawnie because I want her to reach that conclusion herself.
No Limits: A Dark Romance Page 15
