by Diana Hunter
But such an event was in their future, not their present. The single, overhead light he had left on for her shone down with a most unflattering glare. The bare bulb filled the room with an intensity designed to make her uncomfortable. There was no soft light to hide behind. Richard wanted her to feel exposed. Remaining where he was, he gave her a command.
“Strip for me, slave.”
Lissa’s independent spirit flared only for a second before she dampened it. This was her choice, she reminded herself severely. Deliberately, her fingers unbuttoned her blouse, letting it fall open to reveal the pushup bra. She could not look him in the eye as embarrassment threatened to overwhelm her. Keeping her eyes down, she pushed the blouse off her shoulders letting it fall to her hands.
“Look at me, slave.”
She did, not moving her head from its downcast position. Eyes like saucers, wasn’t that how the phrase went? Richard noted her reaction, but did not waver.
“Fold it neatly and place it on the chair over here.” Remaining in the doorway, he nodded to a straight-backed chair that sat to his right.
Lissa did so, becoming a bit more confident as she crossed the few steps that brought her closer to him. A whiff of his cologne tickled her nose. The clove scent was a powerful aphrodisiac and her stomach fluttered. Remaining in front of the chair and less than an arm’s reach from him, her fingers moved to her waist to unfasten her skirt. But at a shake of his head, she stopped. Without moving from his comfortable spot against the doorframe, Richard crossed his arms over his expansive chest and nodded into the room.
“Back to the center of the room, slave. Undress there.”
She understood. Cheeks burning now with her embarrassment, she walked back under the light in the center of the room and turned to face him again. The independent streak came to her aid and Lissa raised her chin almost defiantly as she undid the front closure on her bra instead of unbuttoning her skirt, letting her breasts hang free. He hadn’t told her what to take off, only to undress.
When he nodded to the chair, she crossed the room, folding the bra as she came. Setting it on top of her folded shirt, she turned on her heel and once more took center stage.
But if he expected the skirt to fall next, she decided to make him wait. Slipping off her sandals, she bent to pick them up, keeping her legs straight and the view of her ass pointed away from him. With a challenge in her eye, she sauntered to the chair and placed the sandals beneath it before turning sharply again and returning to the center of the room.
Richard simply waited, letting her have her brief moment of triumph. In fact, her actions boded well. While carrying out his orders, she still managed to give them her own definite twist. Interesting.
Lissa’s fingers undid the clasp of her skirt and she paused. Richard would now know she wore no panties at all. Not even a thong. Her cheeks burned anew as she let the skirt drop.
But Richard stopped her when she bent her knees to pick it up. “No, slave.” He did not move, but the firm, commanding tone in his voice made her stop to listen. “You will retrieve it the same way you picked up your sandals. But you will face the opposite direction.”
Lissa’s eyes narrowed in humiliation. How dare he? She turned around and bent over, giving him a full view of her ass and pussy lips as she did so. Damn him for besting her. She stalked over and dropped the skirt on top of the pile.
One look from him, however, and she knew his meaning. He might be amused, but his direction was clear—he wanted her back under that horrid light.
She went. Totally naked, she stood in the center of the room, not even a soft light to hide her imperfections. The dark mole on her right breast marred the translucent peach of that full globe. The scar on her side from a childhood appendectomy screamed a pink color. And a small, round white spot of skin, her birthmark, gleamed palely on her left side in the bright incandescent light.
All the time he watched Lissa undress, Richard remained casually leaning against the doorway. Her humiliation at stripping naked for him tightened the coil in his belly—a coil he would continue to wind until the feelings of sexual release became too strong to ignore. Stepping toward her on silent feet, Richard continued her humiliation. “Put your hands up behind your head, slave. Clasp your fingers together.”
Lissa did as she was told, her breasts rising as she did so. Richard meandered around her, taking his time with his examination and noting her small blemishes. The beauty mark on her breast, the light pink line of a former pain, birthmark that denoted her individuality. Each one marking her as a unique and beautiful woman.
Lissa, determined not to squirm under his inspection, stood still, the muscles in her legs tight with anticipation and embarrassment. With no way to hide her imperfections, she felt vulnerable. What if he found something that repulsed him? As his examination continued, she grew damp and there was absolutely no way she could hide it. He commanded her; she wanted him to take complete control.
“Tell me what you are thinking, my slave.”
He stood behind her; she dared not turn around to answer him. She opened her mouth to speak, shut it, and opened it again.
“I am thinking that I want to be mad at you for how you speak to me. It’s demeaning and rude. But there’s something about you calling me “slave” that just makes my knees want to turn to jelly. I don’t understand how I can feel both at the same time, but I do.”
“Do you want to submit to me?”
“Yes!”
“Do you want to submit to just anyone? Or only to me?”
Richard came around in front of her. She still gripped her hands behind her head, but Lissa’s face was alive with her struggle to understand her own feelings.
“Only to you. Definitely. I could never do this with anyone else.”
“Why not?”
“Because you…well, you…” She stopped, stumped. Just why would she only do this for him? Because his tanned skin, dark goatee and vivid blue eyes gave him the look of a handsome devil come to claim her soul? Because her own husband had taken a fancy to his wife? Or was it something deeper?
“Say it, Melissa. I wish to hear the answer from your lips.”
He knew he was pushing her. But it wasn’t only his ego that wanted to hear the answer. He wanted to know how close he was to touching the wild animal inside her.
“I can only do this with you because you’ve made me comfortable doing this with you.” When he said nothing, only raised a dark, sexy eyebrow at her, she continued. “You’re patient with me. In spite of some of the words you use with me, I think that, deep down inside, you respect me. As a person. I could not do this at all with someone who just wanted to tie me up and find a hole to stick his cock in.”
Richard’s booming laugh filled the room. That was not the answer he had expected, she’d given him one better.
“Put your arms down, Melissa.” He waited until she had done so before standing before her, and tilting her head up so that she could read the truth in his eyes. “I do respect you; I’m glad you understand that. But I do intend to tie you up and, ‘find a hole and stick my cock in’—tonight.”
The twinkle in his eye told her meant it, and her pussy twitched in anticipation. His cock was huge, certainly larger than she had ever seen in real life before; even most of those she saw on the web paled in comparison. Remembering his size, her pussy contracted again. Could she take such a man without pain? Lissa smiled shyly at him. It was going to be fun finding out.
* * * * *
Adora lay entwined in David’s arms, his leg thrown over her thighs, his semi-erect cock nestled in the hollow of her hip. Almost lazily they had undressed and now cuddled together, needing only a sheet over them in the warm summer night. The candles cast their romantic spell over the room and Adora sighed.
“Was that a sigh of discontent?” David pulled his head back and peered down at the beautiful woman in his arms.
“The opposite.” Adora’s sultry voice, smooth as velvet in the night, caress
ed his ear. “I cannot believe how at home I feel in your arms. How protected.”
“But you feel protected in Richard’s arms as well.”
“It is a different kind of protection. Richard would fight for me. He would kill any man who tried to hurt me. He protects my body; you protect my soul.”
David wasn’t sure what to say. She was right; David was a poor warrior when it came to a physical battle. But hurt kittens and wounded psyches he could deal with.
“Does that mean you don’t want to dominate me?” He couldn’t resist teasing, but Adora answered him seriously.
“I dominate men because of my need for revenge.” She turned her head so she could look at him. His blond hair, tinged with the soft yellows of the light, brought out the almost white highlights, making it look as if he wore a halo around his head. No knight in shining armor for her; that image belonged to Richard. No, David was her angel, come to her from the very heart of Heaven to save her.
His cock stirred and she smiled. And a very sexy angel at that.
“I don’t need to dominate you, David, because you treat me as an equal.”
He knew what she meant. In the past men either tried to control her, or she controlled the men; she knew no other way. Even with Richard, who loved her with all of his heart, in the bedroom, equality was not an option. But David never wanted it any other way.
Her blue eyes shone with unshed tears—not of submission or gratitude—but of utter contentment and peace. He brushed the backs of his knuckles along her soft cheek, trailing a finger to trace the sharp line of her jaw. Leaning forward, he pulled her toward him as their lips met in a tender kiss.
Gently, like brushing one’s lips over a rose petal, their lips caressed. Their breaths, begun separately, mingled, becoming one in the closeness of their kiss. And when their kiss deepened, their bodies moved to join.
Adora’s legs parted; David’s cock grew hard. But still he lingered at her lips, her taste heady like a rare, sweet wine; he wished to drink his fill. And when he had, he turned to the sweetness of her skin, blazing a trail of his kisses down her neck to the little hollow between her collarbones. His tongue eagerly explored that sweet spot.
Adora’s head fell back as she enjoyed his explorations. The hard muscles of his back rippled under her fingers as his hand cupped her breast, and his mouth moved down to enclose the nipple. She whimpered and dug her nails into the skin of his back, urging him onward.
His mouth enjoyed the sweet taste of her nipple too much to leave just yet, however. Instead, he rested his body on hers, the warmth of her pussy pressing against the smooth skin of his chest. When her legs encircled his back, he snuggled in, comfortable with her breast for his pillow.
* * * * *
Stretched fully on the piece of furniture Richard had referred to as a bed, Lissa decided her first name for it was the better one. A rack.
Instructed to lie face up on the wooden platform, Lissa now lay bound to it. Not only her wrists were encased in the wide leather cuffs, this time Richard cuffed her ankles as well, then spread her body and tied her arms and legs to the four corners of the platform.
But she was still not spread enough for him. He certainly had a good view of her arousal; white cream already appeared among the dark hairs surrounding the slit he would soon penetrate. Tight as he had bound her, there was still too much wiggle room. He wanted her immobile for what he intended.
And so he bound her further, taking white cotton rope and securing her legs both above and below the knee to spread them wide. Anchoring her waist to the eyehooks on the side of the table, he tied her arms taut above her head, on both sides of her elbows, effectively immobilizing her. When he was done, he surveyed his work.
The one overhead light still cast its unflattering glare. Richard turned it off, plunging the room into momentary darkness. No light filtered in from anywhere. Lissa tried to squirm on the bed as her thoughts got the better of her. What was he doing? What was she doing? Letting him tie her so thoroughly that all she could do was tighten and relax muscles. All she had control over was her head, and that she could only move from side to side as well as raise a half inch or so. Richard’s bindings were secure. In the darkness, she heard his seductive baritone.
“I intend to flog you tonight, Melissa. To have you feel the caress of the leather across your virgin flesh. I wish to hear your screams sing into the night.”
Her pussy flooded as his words careened through her mind, setting her passion on fire. But she did not cry out to stop him, not even as she felt the leather thongs brushing softly against her breasts.
That whimpering sound in the back of her throat caused Richard to smile. Knowing her mind reeled with her helplessness, he let the moment linger, slowly dragging his chosen flogger along the twin hills of her breasts and down along the flat plane of her stomach.
The darkness served to heighten her anticipation; he let the anticipation build. One heartbeat. A second. Another dozen heartbeats in the night before he stepped away to add light to the equation. Let her see the instrument of her torment.
A soft, incandescent light flared over near the door, a welcome light. Lissa lifted her head, but could not see the small lamp. She could, however, clearly see what her Master held.
Short, flat thongs of light brown suede, as long as her forearm, hung from the handle in his hand. As she watched, he came back to her, holding it up for her inspection. The brown handle contained the ends of all the thongs woven together into a solid grip of leather. No chance one would snap out; this flogger had been made by a master craftsman. Three parts of her brain held separate reactions to the sight. The most objective part of her brain registered the beauty and workmanship of such a magnificent object, while another part of her mind recoiled at the thought of those thongs biting into her skin, yet a third part sent signals of arousal to her pussy, which promptly throbbed with the desire to experience the sharp caress of the leather.
“Sing for me slave. I wish to hear your sounds.”
Richard snapped the flogger with no further warning to land directly across her vulnerable breasts. Lissa gasped in surprise. The muscles of her body tensed in their bindings, but she could not avoid the second lash of those stinging leather thongs.
“Sing for me, Melissa! I wish to hear your voice.”
The flogger landed again and Lissa’s natural quietness gave way to her desire to sing for her Master. She wanted him to stop; she wanted him to continue forever. The sounds bubbled up inside; the flogger landed, and her tightened muscles forced the cries from her.
In the soft light, Richard watched the helpless woman thrash against her bindings. Caught in a net of his own weaving, she could not escape his torment. He listened to her cries and reveled in the sound of her pleasure as he slapped the leather thongs against her skin.
Richard changed his tempo; the lashes fell more slowly, but harder each time. Her cries became grunts as her face winced in pain. A pain he knew aroused her as it sent the endorphins coursing through her body and took her to new heights.
She endured the blows that rained along her breasts, closing her eyes to savor the sweet pain and enjoy the rising tension building in her body, her lower lips now soaked with her need. The outside world floated away; all that remained was the will of her Master, and the touch of the leather.
Again Richard changed his tactics as her body quieted under the lash and her cries turned to soft whimpers. Her breasts flushed a bright pink; the nipples, hard as stones, stood erect. Richard smiled; he had plans for those nipples later.
* * * * *
The scent of Adora’s sex drifted up to David where his head rested on her breast, tempting him, stirring the latent passions inside. Dipping a finger down to rub against her lips, he liked the soft murmur his touch produced. Almost lazily, he brought his wet fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean. Her sudden intake of breath made him smile.
“I like how you taste, Adora. A little salty, perhaps, but actually quite ni
ce.”
“Oh, David, taste me again?” She wiggled a little underneath him, inviting him with more than just words.
“Of course.” He grinned and reached down again, this time stopping a moment to flick her clit with his finger, eliciting some marvelous whimpers and a little more wiggling.
“Is someone getting needy?” he teased as he scooped his finger through her slit and raised it to his lips again.
For answer, Adora only grinned and waggled her hips under his chest.
Poised, ready to lick his fingers, David changed his mind. Instead, he leaned forward, inching up the bed to place a wet finger on Adora’s mouth. She parted her lips to accept his gift to her, but he shook his head and she closed her mouth, her brow furrowed in puzzlement.
“Let me paint your lips with the scent of your pussy; I want us to share your taste when I kiss you next.”
She smiled and let him trace a line of wetness over her lips, and when he bent his head to take his kiss, she tilted her head up, enjoying the salty taste of her arousal.
David felt her hand slip around behind his head, pulling him deeper into the kiss. Surrounded by Adora’s presence in her scent, her touch, the warmth of her skin, his cock hardened.
She felt his erection poke her hip. His arousal mirrored her own. Her lips parted, inviting his tongue in to explore the inner softness of her mouth. David obliged her. Slowly at first, then increasing in tempo, their tongues caressed each other. Both moaned as David’s cock pressed harder against her skin. The maroon head, swollen with his need, raised itself proudly in the candlelit night.
