Master of Hearts: A Domination And Submission Romance Anthology

by Erika Masten

  “And you, little devochka, will call me sir. Yes?”

  “Yes!” I cried.

  My heartbeat matched a hummingbird's tempo. Aroused, scared, and exhilarated all at once, I gnawed my bottom lip, clawing at my knees for support.

  “Put your belly on the bench. Step over it. That's it. Right there.” He spoke calm and steady, more like he were training a horse than a lover.

  Something about the intense, but detached nature of his words sent new heat roaring through my blood. The leather padding beneath my stomach cooled me, but it didn't help.

  Not much – especially as a I realized just how exposed my ass, and my entire body had become to this man.

  He kissed me on the shoulder tenderly. A calm kiss became a bite, and he sank his teeth into my flesh until I moaned and squirmed.

  It didn't hurt like I expected. It wasn't sharp enough to break the skin, but I expected a bruise there tomorrow. I sighed happily as hot blood swarmed the area his mouth had marked.

  “Hands out. Head up. Look straight in front of you and don't move your eyes a single fucking inch. Do you understand me, little devochka?”

  I did what he asked, but it wasn't easy. I looked in the nearest mirror at my own expression.

  What a mess. He's done a number on my hair, twisting my locks behind me. And those stupid tears smearing my makeup!

  I flushed, not wanting to admit what my appearance made me look like. I lifted my head a little higher, realizing I hadn't yet given him an answer. And he wasn't the type to wait forever.

  “I understand,” I whispered. “I get it perfectly now.”

  This is a whore's reflection. He's been right, this whole time.

  I really was in danger of doing something I'd regret forev –

  His hand clapped to my right ass cheek, harsh and unexpected. I bucked once, but didn't break eye contact.

  Five more whacks followed in quick succession, each one a little harder than the first, evenly divided across my buttocks. Even with my ass numb, I realized he hadn't truly hit me with one quarter of his strength.

  Just enough to get my attention. And he had it!

  I stared back at him in the mirror, wondering what I'd done to deserve this spanking. Slowly, he crouched next to me, lowering his face to my ear.

  “What did I ask you to call me?”

  “Sir.” The word rolled softly on my tongue, musical and addicting.

  “Say it again,” he ordered.

  “Sir. I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again.” I meant it.

  Satisfied, he stood up again, and walked to one side of me. He returned a second later with a heavy metal object in his hands.

  I lifted my wrists, but refused to look at them. Cold metal clamped around my flesh.

  It was heavier, longer than handcuffs – more like the full shackles only a convicted felon would wear.

  For the first time, I felt like a fragile pet about to be tamed, trained to his liking. And, sick and unnatural as it was, that thought warmed me like a fire had suddenly sprung up beneath me.

  “Look at you,” Dmitri whispered. “It takes chains to bring out your beauty. You're ten times more attractive like this, bound and innocent, naked with that paint flaking off your face. If you want to be an angel, my little devochka, then you must show me your natural beauty and grace.”

  “Yes, sir.” I said dumbly, unable to resist shifting my hips on the padded bench.

  My wagging butt drew the Russian's eyes. He flattened the fists at his sides, moving them flat along his chest.

  My heartbeat picked up as he started undoing his tie, followed by the buttons on his shirt. It was finally happening after a wait like an epoch passing.

  He shed his clothes slowly, prolonging my lustful torment, drawing out the tension building in every muscle. My eyes fixed on the tiger's paw stamped on his chest.

  I watched it ripple as his muscles hardened, like a large cat's hand flexing, preparing to feast on soft virgin flesh.

  When he was down to his boxers, my hands formed fists in the shackles. The lukewarm iron felt tight against my wrists, or maybe it was just the blood growing hotter, hotter, spreading its friction inside my veins like flowing lava.

  “Don't move your fucking face,” he grunted, fisting my hair again as he kicked off his boxers. “You keep your eyes on the mirror, looking at yourself. You're peering inward, little devochka. And soon, you'll feel things you never imagined inside you.”

  He began to pull on my hair, slowly at first, but quickly increasing the pressure. I winced as my roots groaned at their bases.

  His free hand pawed at my breasts. Discomfort turned to pleasure as his fingers found one nipple, and rolled it roughly.

  He tweaked my right breast until my hard, erect nub softened in his hands. I realized he was changing me, exactly as he promised, transforming my body to jump to his whim.

  The absolute power Dmitri had over me that instant hit hard.

  “Please,” I moaned, unable to articulate more complex words.

  He replied with a growl, giving no mercy, moving to my untouched nipple with the same hand. And still he yanked on my hair, lifting my head higher, forcing me to stare into my own reflection.

  I saw myself defeated, forced into his grip, and smeared with gurgling pleasure. He'd won this match between us, and I no longer cared.

  Quite the contrary. I wasn't begging him to stop, mewling and pleading each time his fingers pinched hard around my tender flesh. I was asking him to do it harder, to batter to his way inside me, bringing me to the ultimate finish every fiber of my body craved.

  “Do it.” I bit my tongue as the words left my mouth.

  His tension lessened. I opened my eyes and looked past my reflection, staring deep into the hard points burning in the middle of his eyes.

  He lowered himself behind me. His masterful hand left my breasts, snaked down my back, and settled near my ass.

  Dmitri grabbed the waistband to my panties and ripped them to my knees in one push. Leaving no time to recover, he moved forward, rubbing the raw vastness of his hard cock against my slit.

  I groaned and rubbed myself into him. I couldn't help it, commanded only by that deeper need, the primal song he'd orchestrated in my heart, singing louder in my loins.

  “I'm yours, sir. Yours for the taking.” I held my eyes open through the intense fires spreading from my core, staring back at him.

  But was it really him? Wasn't it more like an animal about to seize me like no one before?

  His length lifted away from my hot, slick flesh. A second later, I felt a harder knob, and realized it was his swollen tip.

  And this time, he wasn't going to torment me with games.

  My mouth opened, forming a hard ring with my lips. He penetrated me hard, greasing his cock with my natural slickness, sinking as deep as he could past virgin softness.

  The hand that hadn't left my hair pulled. The sharpness bit my temples like thorns, a welcome distraction to the sharp tearing sensation down below.

  Near the entrance to my sex, something gave way and snapped. But the real fire burned as he sank deeper, battering me open, forcing my inexperienced walls to comfort to his rigid strength and thickness.

  I twisted my neck up, high as I could in his grip, and screamed.

  The sound excited him, drove him on. Dmitri reared up and pounded into me again, faster and harder the second time.

  His hips began to rise and fall like heavy pendulums. If he pulled my hair any tighter, I swore it would've ripped, but he let up, tightening his fist around my locks for support.

  Beneath me, my shackles clacked. My hands unconsciously shifted as my body tried to process the overwhelming cocktail of pleasure and pain.

  I should've known. Transformation is never easy, especially when it comes wrapped in blood, lust, and fire.

  My Russian lover grew more comfortable with my body. I felt myself open, allowing him to fuck me more comfortably.

  He pivoted backward an
d slipped into me like clockwork, diving deeper, filling me up to my aching womb.

  Deep inside me, flesh stirred and gushed around his hardness. I moaned in his hands, listening to the deep bass of his breathing picking up behind me.

  For a second, I imagined myself riding on top of a thundering steed, carrying me toward marvels and mysteries unknown – but not for much longer.

  I grunted. I threw my hips back, swallowing him deeper, pushing past the pain and toward the white hot pleasure lurking behind it.

  My brain rewarded me with incredible sweetness, like a lump of sap melting in the middle of my skull. My whole body sank into a sugary, calming morass.

  Nature took over, guiding me like a puppet, opening me like a ripe flower to his heat and light.

  Is this an angel's glow?

  I barely had time to give the question serious thought. Dmitri pounded into me again, letting out a sharp grunt.

  He slowed his strokes, fucking me deeply, measured in his movements. His impact rattled my flesh, giving an extra sharp twist to my nerves.

  It was getting harder to breathe. My lungs collapsed a little more as he filled me, occupying every part of me.

  His free hand moved across the front of my thighs. He went straight for my clit, pinching it between his fingers and stroking it hard with his thumb.

  The rhythmic orbits matched his heat, his tempo, raising my delirium to runaway to unstoppable heights.

  Lightning flashed in me, a raw sphere of energy exploding in waves.

  I came. Harder than I'd ever come alone.

  Dmitri's movements quickened. He slammed himself harder into me, increasing his friction, holding me down as I thrashed beneath him.

  My hips went into overdrive. I felt myself rising up, bucking through the delightful spasms, fucking myself above the devouring waves threatening to undo me forever. I slipped, but regained my footing on reality, holding onto a little piece of myself before it was lost in ecstasy's hurricane.

  “Open your eyes and look at your face.” He tore at my hair, holding my head straight and softening his thrusts. He whispered directly in my ear, his dark voice resonating through the orgasmic heat.

  It wasn't easy to listen, but I did.

  I stared into my reflection, half collapsed in pulsating climax. Sweat beaded my brow like a halo, and my lips were turned up, as if in prayer. My flushed cheeks were swollen and redder than before, and my lips were naturally rosy.

  Remnants of makeup from the club were smeared beneath my eyes. Everything had truly blurred. I resembled an innocent and a degenerate slut.

  The sight sent new waves crashing down my back. Sharp, electric flares snaked through my spine, exploding in my loins, making me come harder.

  The orgasm ended as my lungs ballooned to breathe. It seemed like an eternity since I'd replenished my badly needed oxygen.

  I sucked in air as if it were the most nourishing thing in the world. But really, it was his caress, which started beneath my fisted hair and traced my spine, winding across my thighs to that swollen bead between my legs once again.

  Everything started again as he seized my clit.

  I grunted, exhausted and drained, wondering how he could fire new desire so soon and so vigorously after all that. Dmitri's hips swiveled forward, crashing into me with a wilder, more ruthless intensity, an urgency that wasn't there before.

  He hammered deep, as if he were splitting me open, readying me for the potency churning in his balls. Their heavy slap occasionally touched my folds. They were swollen and warm like heated chestnuts.

  I came. Harder, wetter, clenching tight around his pistoning flesh as he pushed his tip to the edge of my womb.

  Behind me, Dmitri tensed up and roared. His fist grabbed at my ponytail. Lower, his fingers circled my clit with renewed vigor, fast and furious.

  I slammed the shackles holding my hands up to the bench and lower to the floor.

  An inferno burst below my belly, kindled by his crazed friction. I gritted my teeth, eyes wide as he swelled deep inside me.

  He exploded into my nova. My Russian Master began emptying himself in hot jets.

  His seed rocketed against my slick walls, pumped into my womb, coating me in hot, virile jelly. My eyes cracked open and I stared at my orgasming face, looking past it to his grim visage.

  Dmitri's polished teeth shone bright in the mirror. His eyes were clenched, rolling in his head like distant worlds.

  Seeing the pleasure I'd given him split me in two. Orgasm number – three? four? – hit in full force, heavy and brutal.

  I shifted hard. I pushed my hips into him, holding him deep, greedily milking his weakening jets. Though less in volume, they were just as hot as the first, torrents of lava rushing to my deepest, darkest spaces.

  Oh, shit.

  I hadn't even thought about fucking him without protection – especially when I was nearing the most fertile part of my cycle. I chewed my lip, wondering why having his baby didn't upset me like it should.

  It's natural. The greatest gift you can give him. And remember, you wanted to give him everything.

  After what felt like a small eternity, his grip on my hair relaxed. My scalp shifted back into place on my head, tense and exhausted as the rest of me.

  His hand slipped off my sex and rested on my thigh. Dmitri held me as I collapsed on the bench.

  His arm went around my waist, right where my womb was. We panted together, battling to regain consciousness and precious air, collecting our wits in hot silence.

  “Whore or angel, I do not know,” he whispered behind me. “All I know is that you're absolutely beautiful in your submission, little devochka.”

  III: Wintry Revelations

  “Peer into the darkness for me, my little devochka. Look closer. I want you to black out everything, until you're only able to feel.”

  He thrust into me again. I cried out. Loud.

  The black blindfold turned into a sea of red over my eyes. My arms were burning. He'd bound my hands in wrist cuffs to the headboard, pushed my legs apart with his strong arms, and taken me.

  Dmitri thrashed between my legs furiously. He pounded so deep, so hard, that I completely forgot what it was like to be a virgin.

  Have we really been fucking for weeks?

  As if in answer, he slammed forward again, all teeth and fiery breath. One hand reached for my clit and pinched it in his thumb and forefinger.

  “Come on my cock,” he ordered. “I want your sweet cunt warmed up for my seed, devochka. I will get you pregnant by winter.”

  The sinister promise in his voice sent me over the edge. Red turned to white across my eyes.

  I felt like I was staring into the heavens as my brain imploded. I saw black stars peppering the empty sky, and they winked as new spasms ripped through me.

  “Sir!” I moaned, wrapping my legs tight around his ass.

  He growled in my ear, caressing the lobe with his teeth. I came even harder.

  Dmitri went into overdrive. He drove at me like a steam engine, meshing his beautiful cock with the ends of my womb, making my slick, spasming flesh shiver again and again.

  I melted beneath him. Ecstasy took over, and it wasn't going to let me go on anything but its terms.

  If the blindfold weren't there, I wasn't sure I could've looked at him at that moment. Feeling his hot flesh on me, inside me, was just like facing down a Medusa.

  He'd turned my body to stone. And I knew I might never get up if I had to come beneath his demanding gaze.

  My orgasm finally died, releasing me from its grip. But Dmitri's harsh friction kept the pleasure coming.

  His onslaught rolled forward. Musky droplets of his sweat dripped onto me every so often. My skin drank in his offering, the same as my sex in just a few more moments.

  “Kiss me, devochka. Your lips are divine. Tasty. Supple.”

  Without waiting, he smothered my lips with his, pushing his tongue into my mouth. I felt for it with mine and purred.

&nb
sp; He penetrated me deep, now in two different orifices.

  I determined to swallow everything he wanted to give me. His saliva, his semen, his very essence. I wanted it all.

  Anything to serve my Master in this strange land. Anything for you, sir.

  He reached to my breasts and began tweaking my nipples. It was only a prelude to his feral bite, which sank on my right breast as his kisses snaked downward.

  His thrusts quickened, creating a delicious friction. His short, but wild pubic hair rubbed against my clit each time he buried himself inside me.

  Orgasm number two wasn't far off.

  “You want this baby, don't you, devochka?” His face was above mine again, brushing my lips with hot, teasing air whenever he spoke.

  I bit my lip in answer. My hips began to rise, pulling with my legs. I threw myself into him, as far as the restraints would let me.

  My pleasure boiled above my loins like molten honey. I arched my back, just as the muscles all around me started to constrict hard.

  “Little, precious womb...here it comes!”

  I only had a second to process his words before I launched into a fiercer climax. Dmitri reared up, curling deep inside me, gently prodding my cervix.

  We exploded simultaneously.

  Everything below my waist sloshed into liquid fire, sticky heat as blessed as it was blissful. I struggled to control my muscles as I screamed behind the blindfold.

  I wanted to come hard, but measured. I wanted to drink up every drop of his semen I could. I wanted to be pregnant by this man.

  “Knock. Me. Up. Sir!” I grunted.

  The staccato words broke apart, slurring into pleasurable nonsense. I rocked with him, melded to his flesh, coming and sweating as he emptied himself inside me.

  My hands pulled hard on the shackles. The metal clacked on both sides of my head and my arms throbbed painfully, but pleasure numbed it all.

  I collapsed as he drew himself out of me. The soft, gentle lines he traced along my forehead brought me out of my exhaustion, the sweetest way to wake from dreams.