by Ann Jacobs
Whether she wanted to push out the monster invader or hold it inside her forever, she couldn’t say.
“That’s it, baby. Let go. Squeeze my cock. Make me give you my cream.” His whispered words reverberated against the sensitive skin below one ear before he sank his teeth into her neck just below her jaw, hard enough to trigger the best orgasm she’d had since…
Since ever.
Her stretched inner walls were still contracting around his cock when she felt it start jerking wildly inside the passage made painfully tight by the presence of the now-hot anal plug.
Rocky’s scream of satisfaction made Sandra come again. After all, she’d succeeded this first time in pleasing her new Master.
But apparently he wanted more. Having loosened her bonds long enough to flip her onto her back, he discarded the condom, straddled her face, and fed her his cock, still wet and hot and slick with his come. Then he reached between her legs and inserted a nine-inch dildo into her wrung-out pussy.
Full almost beyond bearing, she tried to concentrate on swallowing his big, thick cock with its heavy PA ring and breathing around the velvety-smooth ball sac that lay heavily on her nose. His beard-roughened cheeks abraded the insides of her clamped-off labia while the satin-smooth surface of his ears and head brushed against her inner thighs while he sucked and nibbled at her swollen clit.
He had every orifice of her body stuffed. Possessed. Incredibly aroused again, amazingly since she’d just come moments earlier, Sandra redoubled her efforts, licking and sucking and swallowing until her open mouth cradled his smooth groin…the velvety skin where his cock began to rise from his scrotum.
She was still coming and swallowing the last of his thick, salty cream when she felt him fasten a soft leather harness around her waist and between her legs, tightening it enough to secure the plugs in her butt and pussy.
Fully relaxed for the first time in recent memory, she barely noticed when he loosened her bonds and laid his bald head on her belly to sleep.
Chapter Three
When the early morning sun awakened him, Rocky sat and watched Sandra sleep, satisfied that for the moment he’d managed to allay that brittle air of desperation he’d sensed in her at Bennie’s—and before. Hell, until she’d called him Master in that husky, half-scared whisper he’d never considered they might share the sexual appetite he’d honed while working undercover vice twenty years earlier in Tampa’s underground of upscale sex clubs and fetish parlors.
Yeah, he’d found he fit right in as a male dom. So much so that the plain vanilla sex in his one short marriage to a high school sweetheart had left him frustrated and wanting. Hell, Gina had hated sucking him off and scoffed at the trouble he took to stay shed of all his body hair. She’d even sworn she didn’t like the feel of his tongue on her pussy, which he knew had been a lie since he’d certainly swallowed enough of her honey on the few occasions when she’d let him eat her out.
His ex-wife would have had his ass in jail if he’d ever tried to tie her down or put a dildo up her butt. He imagined most good Italian girls would have done the same—at least those whose mothers had taught them well that sex was for making babies, not having fun.
Funny. He’d figured Sandra for one of those good Italian girls, only focused on her career instead of traditional girly things. In his wilder moments he’d even pictured himself taking her home to Mom and Pop, making them happy that he’d finally taken up with a good Italian woman. One who didn’t sport a shaved head with a huge rose tattoo and some very visible facial piercings, like his most recent submissive had flaunted.
Boy, had Sandra given him a fuckin’ delicious surprise when she turned out to be a sub. A sub who gave every outward sign of being a cool, collected lady who’d never entertained the first delicious, dirty thought. A sub who’d make his mom nod her head and smile.
Rocky ran his fingers through her silky black hair and grinned. Maybe he’d get an urge to rid her of it, explore all the erogenous zones he’d discovered on Desert Rose’s smooth scalp–ones she’d so enthusiastically demonstrated on his own bald pate. If he did, he could always buy her a wig to wear in public. He’d indulge his penchant for piercings to her body parts that only he and she would ever see.
What he wanted to do with Sandra was control her mind. Win her complete trust that whatever he did to her would bring her pleasure. And he wanted her to acknowledge publicly that they were lovers, to flaunt him in front of the pretty-boy lawyers she worked with every day.
Hell, he wanted to discover firsthand with her what he’d realized by observing other Masters and slaves over the years: that if the match was right, they’d soon get past the need for physical manifestations of his control over her. And that the big O could get bigger and better when it came from the heart as well as the gonads.
First, though, he had to establish his dominance. He reached into her toy drawer and selected an ornate pair of round clamps with wicked-looking teeth coated with soft, pink rubber. Then he stroked her satiny breasts, pinching the nipples to hard little points before pulling them through the center circles of the clamps. When both clamps rested flush against her rosy areolas, he tripped the tiny switches that caused the teeth to close, then bathed each jutting nub with his tongue.
“Ooh. Bite me, Master. Please.” Her sleepy plea came from lips still reddened from last night’s finale.
He worried the closer nipple between his teeth, then clamped down on it until she let out a little scream that jump-started his arousal, making his balls draw up and his cock rear up against his belly. At the same time he tugged on the belt that ensured that her ass and cunt wouldn’t dispel the high-end stainless-steel toys. He dipped a hand between her legs to jostle them and remind her the dildos still were there.
God, but she was already dripping wet. Her slick, hot cunt beckoned with its musky smell of sex. And his cock throbbed. But he could wait. First…
Abruptly he pulled away, standing naked in the morning sunlight. “Take off the harness,” he ordered. “Then you may get up and shower. When you’re finished, take the dildos out, but leave the clips on. It arouses me to see your nipples hot and reddened like this.” Unable to resist, he tweaked one of the swollen buds.
“Yes, Master.”
If he stayed, he’d fuck her again as soon as the dildos came out of her cunt and ass. And that wasn’t in his immediate plans. Reluctantly he picked up the clothes he’d discarded the night before and began to dress.
Today he’d test her, see how far she’d go in pursuit of pleasure. Taking the pad he’d found neatly laid out by the telephone on her bedside table, he composed his orders for the day. Then while she was still in the shower, he rifled through her drawers and closet and laid out what he wanted her to wear. He left the sheet of perfumed paper folded neatly on top of the stack of clothes on her bed. As he strode out of the bland apartment she called home, Rocky glanced at his watch.
Nine hours and two minutes before he’d see Sandra again unless Fate brought him to the state attorney’s office on less pleasant business before the work week was over. Unless she decided she didn’t want him for her Master after all and blew him off.
* * * * *
Friday. A quiet day, with only a few defense attorneys wanting to talk plea bargains when they could otherwise be out playing golf or doing whatever it was that got them off. Sandra wished something urgent would come along, take her mind off Rocky’s message that she’d tucked into the pocket of her suit jacket.
She didn’t want to consider that if she took Rocky as her Master, she could lose the focus, the hard-won self-control that had made her successful in her career. Unlike her old Master, He wouldn’t fit neatly into the compartment in her life she’d carved for the sexual part of her life. He’d invade her work space…the solitary time she’d always valued.
Damn it. Recalling the last outing she’d attended with her boisterous family, she realized Rocky would fit right in there, too. And she had a feeling He wouldn’t take well t
o her shoving Him into her sex compartment and excluding Him from the other parts of her life—parts where she’d already let Him in before becoming His sub—when they were no more than good friends.
Sub, hell. Rocky obviously intended that she be His slave. She’d almost ignored the instructions He’d left on her bed, instructions she was certain He’d meant to test her, to see how far she was willing to go for satisfaction.
She hadn’t been able to say no, not when she’d just come out of the shower, pleasantly sore and still tingling from the long-denied orgasms He’d given her. Blindly, she’d complied with every scribbled order despite her doubts about her own sanity.
“By the way, Ms. Giancone, you look good in that red suit,” the office’s resident young stud Craig McDermott told her after she’d helped him find a precedent for objecting to change of venue for a rape case he was to try the following week. The kid winked—she could hardly believe it—as he backed out of her office and shut the door behind him. Junior staff attorneys didn’t wink at cool, collected Ms. Giancone.
Maybe, Sandra figured, she looked sexy because she had sex firmly on her mind. How could she not?
The suit Rocky had chosen for her hid the scanty underwear He’d ordered her to wear—a lacy garter belt and matching bra with cutouts for the nipples that only a man would choose. The sheer thigh-high stockings He’d chosen scratched deliciously against her inner thighs whenever she moved around on spike-heeled black pumps better suited for an evening out than a day in the office.
Good thing the nubby fabric of her jacket disguised her rock-hard nipples that jutted from the cutouts in her bra. Not so good that they rubbed deliciously against the rough texture of the material. But fortunate indeed that Rocky—Master—had instructed her to remove the nipple clamps He’d put on her this morning, presumably in the interest of discretion.
She found herself wondering if He’d stop by the office. He sometimes did. Would He want to see whether she’d followed His instructions to the letter, even to the severe skinned-back French twist He’d ordered her to wear to bare her throat and the silver hoop earrings that seemed much larger now than when she wore her usual pageboy?
Her cunt clenched when she imagined Him slipping a hand under her conservative straight skirt and checking out her bare pussy, now as smoothly shaved as His head, per His orders. As soft now as the rest of His big, muscular body. Especially His incredibly satin-smooth cock and balls. She fantasized that He’d insert his rough, callused fingers in her cunt, and that He’d grin with satisfaction when He felt the diaphragm He’d ordered her to obtain and insert for His convenience–and His pleasure.
Sandra’s tongue tingled at the thought of taking Him in her mouth again. And she could hardly wait to rub His big, satiny ball sac with the smooth round barbell He’d told her to insert in her tongue today.
The mandarin collar of her jacket hid a love-bite she’d noticed was turning an interesting shade of lavender. She’d seen it this morning when she’d lifted the thick curtain of hair off her neck and shoulders. The memory of Him topping her, licking and nibbling and rubbing His hot flesh over hers made her mouth go dry while her own steaming juices ran along her slit, bathing the entrance to her stretched, sensitive rear passage.
Good thing she hadn’t had a court appearance today. Sandra slid her tongue along the roof of her mouth. The tongue ring, heavier than the one she’d worn for her old Master’s pleasure, made her slur her speech, particularly now when she’d worn nothing but the acrylic retainer through her piercing for almost a year. It made her diction less distinct but, she thought, gave her voice a softer, sexier edge. Maybe, she thought, that edge came from her need for the day to pass by quickly so she could serve Rocky.
Sandra pulled out the paper that listed His orders, staring at the last two instructions—ones she had yet to follow. Opening her purse, she stared down at the egg-shaped pink acrylic vibrator, another parting gift from her former Master…the one to which Rocky now held a powerful remote control.
At precisely two-fifteen, put the egg in your pretty little cunt and think of how much better My cock will feel there. But do not come. Your orgasms belong to Me.
Dared she disobey? No. Not while every cell in her body ached to please Him. Sandra held the vibrator, warming it between her trembling palms. Glancing at her watch, she saw she had less than two minutes to do His bidding. She slid her desk chair as close as it would go toward the desk, hiding the lower half of her body from the view of anyone who might pass by.
Could she do this and still function outwardly for nearly three hours like the cool, collected prosecutor who let nothing interfere with business?
She’d have to. Until she talked with Him, established ground rules for her servitude. Now the yearning ache deep within her cunt compelled her to follow His last orders.
Since there was no time to take the fifty-yard trek to the nearest ladies’ room, Sandra reached under her skirt and slipped the egg between her sopping pussy lips. Shoved it as deep inside her cunt as she could push it with her fingers. Then she clenched her inner muscles, mindful that the thing might pop out and that He’d allowed her no panties that might help keep the vibrator from bouncing onto her office floor.
Just as she’d thought she could control the needy sensations that snaked through her body, the vibrator began a gentle motion, back and forth, around and around. Her breathing became ragged before she regained control and managed with difficulty to concentrate on studying the police report of a recent drug bust for which she was to prosecute the accused ringleader.
Over the next hour or so, the gentle hum in her cunt strengthened, made her squirm. She checked her watch. Damn, she had to endure this for at least another hour before she could leave.
Giving up on reading, Sandra considered Rocky’s last command. Subservience to Him. Her acknowledgment of His mastery.
She opened her center desk drawer and lifted the thick gold collar she’d worn for her former master. Smiling, she opened the innocuous-looking cameo that had nestled in the hollow of her throat—and slipped her finger through the sturdy O-ring it concealed. The ring where he’d delighted in hooking a matching gold leash.
His leaving had hurt her far more than the worst stings of his whip against her tender flesh, but He’d been right to go because she’d failed him. She’d refused to give up her professional persona and admit her enslavement to the world. Now his once godlike image had faded in her mind, replaced by a picture of the big, rugged cop whose discipline she sensed from His gentle touch would always involve more mind games than whips and chains.
Sandra glanced down at Rocky’s last command. My collar awaits you. If you want to wear it, give me your hand when I come for you.
Would He agree their relationship must be kept private? For a long time her former master had, until he’d realized that for her the ultimate humiliation would be acknowledging to those in the plain vanilla world that she was his BDSM slave, lower in his estimation than the pit bull bitch he kept for hunting hogs. He’d relished taking her to public dungeons cloaked, masked and hooded, with her entire head and body except her well-used mouth, her rouged nipples and her clean-shaven crotch concealed under skin-tight, shiny black latex. But he’d wanted more. He’d wanted to strip her bare before her colleagues.
She imagined Rocky would expect her to go public with their relationship, although she doubted He would go so far as to flaunt His connection with the BDSM world, considering His job. With luck, she’d persuade Him to accept that His mastery of her must remain private…secure…and limited to times when they were alone. With more luck He wouldn’t insist that she publicly acknowledge her enslavement at one of the well-known local sex clubs while she knelt before less vulnerable members of the local BDSM community to accept His collar.
She couldn’t—wouldn’t—do it. Wouldn’t risk the respect she’d struggled to gain in the vanilla community, even if it meant a lifetime without the delicious sensation of being controlled…mastere
d by a true Master. While she might once again endure the humiliation of being lent to strangers, ordered to do their sexual bidding as well as His, she’d never let Him bare her face.
When she reached across the desk for the phone to call Him and tell Him this wouldn’t work, though, the motion set off more tingling in her nipples. And the vibrations of the egg inside her cunt intensified, as though He’d sensed her doubts…her misgivings. Before she finished dialing the cell phone number He’d given her this morning, He strode through her office door, a benevolent smile on His rugged face. And closed the door behind Him.
A moment earlier she’d been sure she wouldn’t do it, but when she met His smoldering gaze she held out her hand. He sandwiched it between His callused palms.
* * * * *
“Have you prepared yourself?” Rocky’s gaze slid from Sandra’s breasts to her lap as he fingered the remote control in his pocket and set the vibrator speed to its highest level. From the way she squirmed in her chair, he surmised she’d followed his orders at least to that point.
“Yes, Master,” she said, but he sensed doubt in the way her voice broke on the respectful reply.
God, was she hot. His nostrils flared at the heady smell of her arousal and her perfume, obvious to him but mistakable as a musky, sexy bottled scent by anyone who hadn’t eaten her cunt and licked her clit to a hard little point. Her pink tongue darted out, wetting lips as red as he’d made her nipples this morning with the clamps and his teeth.
His cock swelled against the codpiece of the leather jock he’d put on a few minutes ago beneath his dress slacks, and his balls drew up painfully in their sac. “You have doubts, Sandy?” he asked, encouraging her to speak up now before taking the step that would set her on the path to becoming his submissive—perhaps even his lifetime slave.
