by Joey W. Hill
Closing her eyes, she braced herself as his heated mouth sealed over her nipple, his tongue flicking the beaded tip, taking away the sweet spread, suckling it thoroughly, and then laving her with slow, massaging rolls, a teasing glide that he knew how to do so well. Not too much or too little stimulation, just enough to make her brain liquefy and leave her leaning into him, her breath speeding up. Her pussy ached, wanting to press against that hard bone in his hip, so close. Knowing it, his body was straining forward, trying to make contact. Her hands slipped back to his taut shoulders, curled over them so her bare abdomen slid across his as she kept her back arched for his mouth’s ministrations. Her nails dug inward and then moved up, raking him slow and deep, earning a bite from his teeth that made her gasp, arch harder into him, asking for more of the same pain.
Instead, he changed tactics, letting go of the nipple and swiftly shifting. Before she could draw back, he’d set his teeth to her throat, precisely capturing the large artery and depressing it so it affected her pulse. Oh God. It wasn’t a matter of underestimating him; she knew he could sweep away her will. But it was always such a miracle to have that control taken away, to experience the secure joy of letting herself fall into his keeping. That ruthless clamp of teeth made her so aware of her mortality, while the eroticism of constricting her breathing or blood flow brought all sorts of physical and emotional reactions rushing to the forefront. It was a feeling she was only permitted to indulge when he imposed it, and he used it now as one of his most potent weapons. She swayed.
You’re not going to give yourself that choice...
It was Justin’s device that saved her. The modulation changed once again to that high frequency, and it jerked his body upright, his cock sliding across her stomach, leaving a wet trail across her heated flesh. She pulled back, sliding off the stool, trying to get her breath back. As she did, she let her fingers drift across that same track across her abdomen and then brought the salty taste of him to her mouth. Her neck throbbed, the bite hard enough that the teeth marks would be visible for several days afterward. That in itself brought her back on track, the delicious anticipation of what she intended to do.
He was quivering, fighting the vibration bringing him perilously close again. She saw his cock convulse and it made her breath catch anew, such that she let him hear the arousal full blown in her throaty voice.
“I may change my mind,” she purred. “It would be a real temptation to watch you spurt out on the stable floor. What if, rather than fucking you at my leisure, I whipped you with the crop, then set the probe on high? Sat on this stool and watched my Master come, helpless from what I’ve done to him.”
“Marguerite.” His hands flexed in the chains and the beam let out an ominous and impressive creak. From the sudden ripple of muscle that coursed with breathtaking power across his chest and shoulders, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he ripped it free on the next attempt. “You don’t want to find out the answer to that. I can promise you.”
“No?” She rose as the probe modulated down again. The relief almost emanated off of him, telling her how near the falling point he’d been yet again. “I can make you a promise, Master.”
He stilled, as much as he was able, at the soft sound of the zipper teeth releasing when she opened the side of the riding breeches. She took them all the way off and let the shirt slip from her shoulders. Bringing the blouse up to his face like a veil, she trailed it over his eyes and nose, the wet heat of his mouth, before dropping it to the side, leaving her completely naked. Turning, she leaned back against him, brushing her buttocks against his restrained cock and earning a low, deliciously menacing sound from him. Even so, she indulged the feeling, turning her head to nuzzle his jaw and getting his mouth instead, a powerful kiss. So strong that, even without his arms free, she felt as if he were holding her back against him with the pressure of it, keeping her head securely in the crook between his jaw and shoulder as he plundered her mouth, long and thorough.
As the kiss drew out, she became aware their lower bodies were doing their own sinuous tango, a serpentine series of slow movements and rubbings, his cock against her ass, teasing the seam as she used the flex of her feet to make infinitesimal caresses against the thick length of him. The ridge of the broad head, the steel of the shaft, fitted itself in the channel between her buttocks and she tightened on him there.
Finally, he lifted his head, enough to speak against her lips. “And what promise was that, angel?”
The crafty bastard. It took her a moment to remember. Despite the fact he was pulsing with the type of violent lust equaled only by Vikings on convent raids, his firm, irresistible mouth curved in a satisfied smile.
But she’d employed that blindfold for a reason. She still had the advantage of surprise. Moving out of the shelter of his body, she slid the stool in front of her to give her the leverage she wanted. With him stretched the way he was, she hadn’t needed to manacle his ankles. His hips would have only a certain range of motion and control.
“This is what I promise you. That the moment I start pushing my cunt down on your cock, you’re going to need to come, worse than you’ve ever needed to in your life. You won’t want to do it, though. Not until I come, at your command. But I’m not going to come, Master, not until you do. And that’s going to push you even further. When you get free, you’re going to want to take the most extreme measures to make me understand who serves whom.”
He cocked his head, a weighted stillness settling between them. “You’re baiting me, angel. Why?”
Reaching up now, she removed the blindfold slowly, dropped it to the side and met his amber-colored eyes. Having deprived herself of his beautiful gaze, she couldn’t hide the tremor that swept her at the way his expression devoured her. No one, especially her, would ever be fooled into thinking he could be rendered powerless by something as simple as chains.
Yes, he could make her do anything, but there was one way she could make him helpless. His love for her would convince him to do anything she wished, if it really mattered to her. And now she called on that, because it was the last weapon she intended to use to take him where she knew the deepest part of him truly wanted to go.
Next she unbuckled the cock harness, working it carefully off his engorged cock. Moving around him, she removed the probe, caressing his tempting muscular buttocks as she did so. She let all that fall away so he was now unencumbered. Then she returned to his front, turned her back on him and leaned down again. Putting her elbows on the stool positioned her ass within several key inches of his cock. At the sharp clank of chains, she tossed her hair back so it swept over her opposite shoulder and gazed back at him.
“Can’t quite reach, Master?” She shifted, spreading her legs enough so he could see the pink folds of her pussy, glistening with her arousal. She backed up, one inch, two inches, one pale cheek teasing his cock. She slid her cunt across his broad head, neatly evading as he thrust forward, so he only rammed the fleshy part of her buttock.
“Damn it, Marguerite.” He gave a half laugh, half groan, but his eyes were so vivid, so fierce. “Tell me why.”
She shifted her attention to a point behind him.
His brow creasing, Tyler turned his head as much as he was able, looking over his upstretched arm. Toward the very back of the long stable, she knew he’d see another source of the heat that had him glistening with sweat. And understand why he’d been getting the occasional whiff of smoke. A brazier, with what appeared to be a half dozen branding irons resting in it.
He turned his gaze back to her. She saw understanding hit, and two reactions warred in his expression—lust and denial. It told her she was close to success, but it would take a reminder to get him past the denial. That, and going forward with her plan to mercilessly take her pleasure of him, breaking every rule a Master could impose.
“You remember that night, when we were out on the Keys in your boat?”
He held her gaze. “I remember.”
“You were de
ep inside of me. Had me spread-eagled on the forward deck, my wrists and ankles tied to the stanchions with soft nylon.” She cocked her head. “I had my head dropped back, looking at the reflection of the moon on the water, all those stars above as you pushed me to climax.” And his soul in that moment had been laid out, raw and bare in the darkness.
“You whispered”—so fiercely that she almost felt the heat of the iron then—“that if you were a less civilized man, you’d want to brand me, make it clear that I belonged to you, that I was your property, your possession, everything that meant anything to you.”
She kept her eyes locked with his. “In the morning, you were actually embarrassed. You, who never lets anything fluster you. You made a joke, saying how the right woman could turn a man into a caveman. You missed how utterly, completely the idea overwhelmed me. I haven’t forgotten it. I can’t forget it.”
Tyler’s jaw flexed, that same raw emotion returning, gripping her with quiet victory. “Angel,” he murmured.
“Everything I’ve done, will do in the next few moments, is intended to make you forget everything about being a civilized man. I want to make you so full of lust, so full of a need to possess me, remind me that I’m your slave, your property, your possession, that you won’t hesitate to take one of those brands in that brazier and mark me as yours. The way I know you want to do, way deep down inside.”
She made sure she let him see the resolve in her own eyes. “And I want you to know, in that same raw part of my soul, that I want you to do it. Because I truly am yours, in every way. Happy birthday, Master.”
Part Eight
Holding his gaze, she shifted her stance, so that she realigned herself with his cock, as large as she’d ever seen it. The combination of taunts, promises and images had focused every zone of his mind and will on one thing—taking her. Which was exactly what she wanted.
She moved back until she was against that thick, virile column. He was too erect, and he didn’t have the ability to lower himself, angle his cock to thrust himself into her. He was dependent on her mercy, and there were plenty of subs who knew mercy was something Mistress Marguerite doled out with the smallest of teaspoons, if at all. Now she rubbed her slick cunt downward, going from beneath the broad head all the way to the base of the cock, and then up again, pushing up on her toes to tighten her long thigh muscles, her buttocks, knowing his eyes would be glued on how his cock looked, rubbing up and down that slick channel, so slow. Then she reached between her legs, gripped him with sure fingers and began to lever him downward, tightening her hold, sending the message that it would be at her pace, under her control.
“So help me God...” The muttered oath made her lower abdomen contract violently. However much she’d made him want her, her own body was on a deceptive simmer, covering a cauldron of heat waiting to explode at the moment of penetration. She knew she should divert her thoughts, anything to cool herself down, because she wanted to hold onto this as long as she could, but as she guided his head, wet with his own response, into the hot mouth of her sex, she couldn’t stop herself. Her inner labia sucked involuntarily around him, her breath catching in her throat. With deliberation and supreme restraint, she backed down on him, a millimeter at a time, closing her eyes as the shudders that began in her lower belly and upper thighs moved closer together, zeroing in on the sensation between her legs. There was nothing in her life that felt as perfect, as complete, as having Tyler inside of her, joined this way. Depriving herself had been a double edged blade.
It took a moment before she could fight past her own reaction to focus on his. When she did, she knew instantly she’d made a critical mistake. That distraction was the only opening he’d needed.
She’d pushed him as far as he was going to allow.
Just a shift, and his cock thrust in hard, past the grip of her fingers, wresting a cry from her, and he was solidly on his feet, his body curved over hers. His hand came up beneath her arm to close on her throat, pull her up against his shoulder. Putting his teeth to that tender area beneath her ear, his other hand slid down, holding her against him, stilling the movement of their joined bodies, pulsing with unreleased—and in his case— near-violent need. The handcuffs dangled from the wrist at her throat, the cold metal a pendulum over her breast, teasing the nipple.
“You are in a great deal of trouble,” he said, easing his bite to tease her carotid with a lazy flick of his tongue. Her survival and sensual instincts weren’t deceived by the caress, recognizing the ominous heat emanating from the wall of tense male muscle against her.
“You cheated,” she returned, and gave a soft moan as he withdrew part way then came back into her, letting her feel every increment of friction between their bodies. Her clit quivered, so close, but he knew her body so well, holding the climax just out of reach. In return, she contracted purposefully on him. His hand on her throat tightened in admonishment, constricting her air and driving her arousal up further.
“Be still,” he breathed into her hair. But he nuzzled her with a sudden shift into tenderness that melted her body into him. She was still aroused past insanity, but he was adept at activating that connection between them, the emotional undercurrent in everything they did, a reassurance and a reminder of their bond.
“You thought you could arouse me to the point I would hurt you, angel. Protecting you is the most important part of being your Master.”
She closed her eyes. “But I want you to do it. I’m...begging you to do it.”
The sigh expanded his chest, and she slid her hands behind her, over his hips to the curves of his ass, digging into the muscle, making him flex against her grip, and moving him within her. She let out another whimper as his palm pressed harder against her abdomen. She was aware of where every finger rested, from the middle finger’s position on her pubic bone, a scant space above her clit, to his thumb, sliding over her hip. He had large, strong hands. Hands that could break a neck or hold her fast during their wildest lovemaking, but they were always gentle, except when he knew being rough would drive her to greater heights of pleasure. He put limits on that, knowing her desire for pain could sometimes cross into unsafe areas. As he said, he took her protection, even from herself, more seriously than anything. But she knew he wanted this.
“Tyler...”
“You know what to call me right now.”
“Master.” She breathed the word, the last syllable elevating as he slid his hand lower, that middle finger now so close above her clit it registered the pressure, the tiny pulse fluttering in response. “Oh, Goddess...”
“You’re ready to come all over me, aren’t you?”
“The same way you’re ready to spurt into me like a geyser.”
“Just can’t stop pushing it today, can you?” Taking her head back to a more precarious angle on his shoulder, he held that constriction as he brought her to her toes, dropped a tender kiss in the pocket between her collar bones. “Look at how hard your nipples are. You need to be well and truly fucked, angel. Over and over again, until you realize you don’t trick your Master into doing anything. You ask him, beg him, and you do it pretty, sitting on your heels with your thighs spread, your tits out where I can fondle them, have access to your cunt as you beg. Stroke your hair and wind it around my hands so I can pull your head back and put my cock in your mouth.”
She’d gone still as he spoke. The meaning behind the words, the power and desire behind them, made her wonder and hope...
“I have something to ask my Master, then,” she ventured.
“In a moment. Bend over, take hold of your ankles, and bring your head to your knees. You hold that position until I tell you otherwise.”
He paid close attention to her morning yoga, and there wasn’t a single position he hadn’t evaluated with the wicked and delightful tendency of the male mind to consider all sexual possibilities. He knew this position would put her clit out of reach of his strokes, but still stimulate her to near mindless arousal, without allowing her a climax.
She understood his intent, but he added to it with the verbal command. “You don’t come, angel. Not until I say.”
Bending forward, feeling the fullness inside of her pussy adjust as she folded her body downward, she let her hair sweep the stable floor. She earned a gratifying exhalation of male breath as she performed the flexible movement, sliding her hands behind her calves and pressing her forehead all the way to her shins.
Without further warning or preparation, he took hold of her hips and began to thrust. Full, stretching penetration, deep, and using her body without giving her any relief, just taking the desire she’d stoked in herself up to screaming need. He only made it worse with the psychological impact, demonstrating a Master’s right to give himself release and leave her craving. She was crying out, unable to help herself because it felt so damn good, even though she couldn’t reach that pinnacle point. She was amazed at his own restraint, that he didn’t come at the first few strokes. However, it wasn’t the first time his Master’s will had impressed her. She had a similarly indomitable endurance with club submissives, but with him...she’d finally admitted, at least to herself, that she couldn’t hold out as long.
She’d managed well enough here, enough to get him truly worked up, such that he intended to repay her in spades. It made her body shiver in anticipation and longing, torn between her complex emotional and physical needs.
As much as she wanted to give him this, and nursed the hope that he would give in to his own desires as a result of her efforts, he was her Master, of heart, soul and mind. Something in her had to surrender to him to feel complete and whole.
His fingers flexed against her ass, his thrusts becoming harder and more punishing. Her hair swept the floor, back and forth, her fingers tightening on her calves, anchoring herself against the impact, though if he hadn’t been holding onto her, his power would have shoved her forward. Two more thrusts and he came, making her moan, a needy, plaintive noise she couldn’t help as he jetted thick spurts of heat in her. Once he pulled out, it would trickle down her legs, dampen her sex and thighs. She knew he wouldn’t allow her to clean it off. He’d want his marking of her with his release to dry upon her flesh.
