by Joey W. Hill
"No." She wasn't disagreeing with the ownership thing, the thing she should be protesting. It was the worshipping and cherishing that were going to kill her. Ben was right. She needed pain. Needed it like air. She tried to jerk away from him, force the issue, and all he did was hold her fast. The climax he was inspiring was going to destroy her, but in this position he held all the power.
"You're going to go over for me. You're going to say 'Yes, Master.'"
She shook her head. He put his mouth against her ear. She was curled up on her knees on the ground, his large body arched over her, so he could surround her with his voice, his demand and heat.
"Your tears are making the scarf wet, Celeste. It's breaking my heart, darlin'. I'm going to keep doing this to you, make you cry even more, until all the tears are gone. Until you know it's okay again. That I've got you, safe and sound, beautiful and whole. All mine."
He eased another finger in, stretching her, and she gasped at the bolt of pleasure. He worried his finger over her clit. "So swollen, and what's this? Your pussy, wet as morning dew. We'll spread some of that over your clit, make it easier for me to stroke and play with it. After you come, I'm going to suck all the juices off it with my mouth, because I love the way a woman squirms and shudders when everything is still so sensitive. If I order you to be still through that, you'll try so hard. Because you act like a brat, darlin', but what you want to be is my good girl. You're just afraid. And you don't have to be afraid with me. Break, darlin'. I've got you."
She started to come on that note, and the strength of it brought her hips off her heels, pushed her forehead deeper into the carpet. She was glad for the gag as she tried to muffle her response. A cry became a scream as he removed his fingers, shifted around to straddle her head, his thighs against her shoulders, and replaced his fingers with his mouth. Curved over her, he licked her rim and cunt, sucking on her clit as she came so hard, she had to rely on the cage of his body to hold her up.
"No..." The aftershocks came together, like fast ripples of sound. She kept rocking against him, her fingers clawing the carpet. She wanted him inside her. She was so empty. She needed to be filled up. She begged him to fuck her through the gag, a muffled plea he ignored.
Instead he teased and cleaned her with his mouth, little licks and a sweet, long sucking on her clit and labia that had her whimpering, squirming against his face, just as he'd said. He put her down on her side after that, her body still curled up beneath his. He had his knees planted on either side of her head, and she wrapped her hand around his calf, digging her fingers into the denim of his jeans as he kissed the line of her hip, nipped her buttock, massaged her rim and slid his fingers down between her folded legs again, working into the wet petals of flesh to stroke.
He didn't stop until she was making tiny little moans, her body twitching. Bringing her back onto her elbows and knees, he made sure she was steady before he stepped away from her. It was only a second, a scraping sound suggesting he'd picked something up off the dresser. He passed something cool and hard with uneven ridges against her buttocks.
"It's an antique hairbrush," he said. "The back is metal, the surface shaped like a garden of flowers." He stroked something else over her like a line of felt fingers. "This is a pussy willow branch. Not a real one. It's designed to look like it's part of the flower arrangement on the dresser, but it's a switch. Cass and Lucas have made sure their guestroom has a few improv tools for a visiting Dom, without it being obvious to their more vanilla guests. Makes them pretty damn good hosts, in my opinion. You'll be sure and thank them for their hospitality, won't you?"
She was trying to wrap her mind around what he was about to do with those two items, and then he hit her with the switch. The contrast between the fuzzy buds and the sting of the whiplike stem had her jumping. "I asked you a question, Celeste."
"Yes. Yes, sir." The damp knot of fabric muffled her words, but the responses he was demanding were simple, easy to understand.
"Good."
This wasn't her. She didn't obey so easily, didn't capitulate to calling a man Master or sir as if she'd been a sub all her life. But before she could think about pushing up on her knees, renewing her resistance, he'd put the thick tread of his shoe on the back of her neck, his heel braced on the ground next to it. "Stay," he reminded her.
She couldn't see anything except blue through the scarf. It, as well as what he was doing to her, kept her in a hazy world as he struck her. It wasn't as painful as the dragon tail. It merely got her twitching and off-balance before he brought the brush into it. The metal studs were painful, yet she lifted up for more of it. She embraced the agony, needing the punishment for everything...for nothing...for herself. For him to call her a good girl when it was all over.
She was letting out tiny muffled yelps with each strike, especially as he ramped it up, alternating it so she wasn't sure if she was going to get the stinging slash of the switch or the hard thump and painful pressure of the back of the brush. Then he ran the bristles over her throbbing skin, between her legs, and she jerked at the uncomfortable prickle over her labia.
"Please..."
"Please what?" He paused. Hooking his fingers in the scarf at her nape, he brought her up on her knees, settling her on her heels. When he moved in front of her, she saw his shape through the blue layers. "Tell me, Celeste."
"Please, Master."
"Hmm. What do you want, darlin'?"
She couldn't give voice to it. 'Please, Master' covered all of it. It was a plea for anything he could or would do to her, whatever would make her lose control, stop wanting to fight. Otherwise, the tides inside her shifted too suddenly. Like now. She struck out at him with closed fists, hitting his upper thigh, his hip. He caught her wrists. She tried to jerk back but he simply clasped both wrists in one impossibly strong hand and removed the scarf with the other.
"Un-unh. Settle down." As he pulled the scarf away, she blinked. He was on one knee in front of her, his mouth set and serious eyes seeing everything. He threaded his fingers through her bangs, stroked them back from her eyes and then he rose to his feet, shifting his grip so he had one wrist in either hand. He pulled her arms around his upper thighs so her hands were molded against his muscular buttocks, a pleasing place to pin her palms. Her fingers curled against the pockets.
"Put your mouth on me, Celeste. Occupy those lips of yours with something other than getting you in trouble."
He hadn't removed his jeans, so she was frustrated by the barrier, but she gave it full effort, opening her mouth and pressing against the fly, licking the denim, stroking her tongue up the length of the hard shaft beneath. She breathed heat through the jeans, used her teeth on the stiff fabric to increase the pressure. He kept his firm clamp on her wrists, and weirdly, though she was gripping his buttocks as much as the fabric allowed and trying to give him oral sex through it, she kept pulling against him, trying to get away even as she mouthed and tongued his cock and held on to his ass as if she never wanted to let go. Her own bottom hurt from the strikes of the brush and her come was trickling down her thigh. Or maybe that was more arousal, because it didn't seem that she'd had an ebb period from that last climax. She needed more now.
"More," she muttered against him. She bit down on the thick denim of his fly harder, trying to inflict pain, an instant before she remembered he'd said he couldn't yet trust her not to use her teeth. She couldn't control the surges of anger that hit her at odd points like this one. The truth of it defeated her, filled her with despair, but he wasn't letting her go there. Instead, he shifted her in one smooth movement, putting her on her back as he straddled her face. He pinned her arms with his knees as he'd done before. With that cue, her lips parted, a savage eagerness rising in her breast. She watched him open his jeans, stretch that beautiful cock out, thick, hard and long. Her lips were already parting as he pushed the smooth broad head into her mouth. As he made her take his full length, even when she choked, he kept his eyes on her face. The golden-brown eyes were br
illiant and ruthless now, convincing her he was her Master, whether she said it or not.
"You bite me, and I'll beat you within an inch of your life," he promised. He gripped her hair, used the pull on her scalp to thrust in and out. Her gaze clung to him, the plea in her eyes. Her pussy was aching, empty.
"Get me nice and slick and I'll see where else I can put this."
Thank God. Nothing like giving a girl a goal to distract her from the unwise compulsion to do exactly what he'd warned her not to do--use her teeth. She sucked his length, ran her tongue over him, got him as wet as she was between her legs.
She made a noise of protest as he removed himself from her lips, but his eyes flashed, telling her he'd have his way. He moved down her body, hiked her thighs up over his elbows, holding her up high, hips off the floor. He nudged her anus with his cock, telling her he might fuck her there, but in the end he pressed his thick length against her cunt, holding her gaze as he pushed deep into her snug channel, as she rested in his arms, helpless as a doll. Fucking her temporarily ended the fight, all control ceded to him as he took full possession. The man could destroy every ounce of resistance she had with his pacing, that leisurely rhythm that built her to an excruciating level of sensation. Their position gave him all the control over rhythm and force. Though she did tighten her thighs and stomach muscles and try to increase the rate of thrust, she was unsuccessful.
"Who's in charge, Celeste?"
"You are."
"Who?"
She met his gaze, was swallowed up in it. Inside those honey-gold depths she could trust; she could be brave. "Master." You're my Master.
He began to come, his seed marking her inside, his strength holding her as he carried them both to a place where she didn't have to think about anything else. Not right now.
"Come for me, Celeste. Come now."
How could she resist anything he commanded?
SS
When it was over, he didn't leave her, just as he'd promised he wouldn't. He bid her stay where she was, went into the guest bathroom and ran the water. When he returned with a washcloth, she'd sat up and was trying to get on the bed despite legs weak as noodles. He sighed, helped her get there, then promptly put her over his lap and gave her a spanking that, on top of the switch and brush, hurt like fire. She struggled and cursed him, but when he was done and laid her down on her stomach on the comforter, the fight went out of her. Especially when he used the warm cloth to clean her, and tucked her under the comforter before she could get cold.
He took the items back to the bathroom, and was in there long enough to suggest he was cleaning himself. She drew circles on the comforter, tried not to think of anything. Upon his return, he pulled back the covers, bent and brushed his lips over her sore ass. Cupping his hands under her thighs, he started eating her pussy. In no time, she was clawing the covers, on the cusp of climax once more. The man was a freaking machine, and he was going to kill her.
Confirming it, he stretched out on the bed, turned her over and made her straddle his body. Hands clamped on her hips, he lifted her up and set her on his cock, shoving up into her hard enough she gasped. He held her there, spread cunt firm against his pelvis, as he picked up the scarf he'd left on the pillow and looped it behind her neck. Twisting it over his fingers, he rested his closed hand against her sternum and brought her down so she was leaning over him, their eyes a few inches apart.
"You hold me tight inside, Celeste, and lift off of me slow. When you get to the head, you rotate your hips once, and push all the way down to the hilt again, just as slow. At my pace. You listen to my voice and follow direction. Starting now. Squeeze it and push up onto your knees."
It required taut stomach and thigh muscles, and excellent control. She was already so close to coming from his mouth, she found her control faltered within three rounds, but he kept her doing it, kept her to his pace.
"Do you want me to let you come, Celeste?" His eyes were on fire, his mouth set in a fierce line, and from the ripple of muscle all along his body, she knew he was just as close as she was.
"Yes, Master. Please."
"All right. I'm going to hold you just like this, Celeste. You work your hips on your Master until he comes. I want to see you working hard, your face all flushed. You rub those beautiful breasts against my chest some more. When you make me come, you can come."
Christ. Who'd have ever thought she'd be with a male partner who'd have better control over his climax than she did? She wanted to hate him for it, and wanted to give him everything in the world to keep doing what he was doing. She couldn't hold out. She started to shudder within seconds, and her panicked look shot to his face.
"Ask, Celeste."
"May I?"
"Yes. Fucking yes. Come."
They came almost at the same time, him only a hat drop behind her. He kept his fingers hooked hard into the twisted folds of the scarf, pulling her down so her face was against the side of his as her hips pistoned on him, as he gripped her ass with his other big hand and worked her on him until the full measure of the climax was so pleasurable she could have blacked out. She muffled her shrieks against his thundering pulse, and was afraid she'd maybe deafened him, but he didn't seem out of sorts about it.
He guided her limp body into a curl against the side of his, keeping the length of the scarf wrapped around his hand like a tether. The tails of the blue fabric were in a folded line across his chest, his hip bone. She played with it, looped it around his cock and earned a chuckle.
"You leave that on me, and I'll stick to it when I dry, darlin'. You'd take too much pleasure in pulling my skin off."
Freeing it from his cock and her throat, he rewrapped it around her wrist, knotting it there. She left that hand resting on his chest as she listened to his beating heart. She traced the graze mark in his side, now a thin scab, caused by the same objects that had pierced Jai's chest, killed him. "I don't want you to go."
"I know." His arm tightened around her. "Believe me, darlin', I don't want to leave you, either. By the time I get back tomorrow night, you'll have decided you shouldn't have done any of this, and be pushing me away again."
"Yeah. I'm sorry." Didn't change it, though.
He gave her a squeeze. "I didn't ask for your apology, Celeste. Seems like it works out pretty well for both of us, working through that. I've got no complaints." He shifted, glancing out through the sheer curtains, where night had fallen and the moon was rising. "I still owe you that dinner, but I have a feeling you need sleep more."
"I should get up and at least say hello to Cass and Marcie."
"No. Not tonight. It'll keep. I think Cass and Marcie are still out dealing with wedding stuff, and Lucas understands where we're at tonight. None of them will be surprised if they don't see you until the morning. Though I'll go root you up some food if you're hungry."
Celeste struggled with the dictates of courtesy, but in truth, she was relieved to concede the point. She wasn't up to social chat tonight and she wasn't hungry. Remembering he'd leave in the morning brought on a whole other set of discomfiting emotions that filled up her stomach.
"I'll miss you." She would, terribly, and that worried her worse.
"I'll miss you. We'll touch base tomorrow, don't worry. You answer that phone when I call, even if you've talked yourself into a snit. Don't make me call Lucas to make sure you're okay. When I come back, I can bring things a lot worse than that brush."
That gave her another shiver. He chuckled again, a bear's growl. "Yeah, you'll test me to the limit, won't you? Shut up for now and let's sleep."
"I didn't say anything," she protested.
"Darlin' you say more with your silence and your body than most women say with their mouths. Then you have that sharp-assed tongue on top of it. Lucky I'm a patient man."
She sulked a little over that, but worried the scarf around her wrist, plucking at it. He'd kept the other end twisted around his own hand. "You're not going to take this off?"
"No. Not w
hile we're sleeping. I'm making sure my sub stays right where I put her. Go to sleep. Turn it off for a while. It's all right." He kissed her forehead, held her close.
She closed her eyes, hoped he was right. She wanted the feeling in her gut that said things were going to get worse to be wrong. But the more he proved his worth, the more she'd push him away. She knew it. Or did she?
There was a first time for everything. She carried the hope into her dreams.
Too soon, she woke to him sliding out of the bed. A bleary look at the clock showed it was a couple hours before dawn. She knew he wanted to have time to get in before his shift, see what was happening with the case and how he could help. She knew that because he explained it to her in a murmur as he bent over her to capture her mouth in a kiss. She was still groggy, but not so much that she didn't slide an arm around his neck, press her bare body against his clothed one and do her best to convince him to stay. He put his hip on the bed and pressed her back into the pillows as he took over the kiss, making it demanding and hot, his arm banded around her back, crushing her to his chest. He slid his other hand beneath the covers, between her legs, making a sound of approval as her thighs loosened and parted for him. He had her rubbing up against his fingers and the heel of his hand in no time. When the climax rolled through her, quiet and intense, she made tiny little feminine cries against his mouth. He massaged her through it, kept kissing her mouth, her cheek, her ear and throat.
When he drew back, he was looking at her with fierce and focused eyes that roved over her face, over her breasts that he'd exposed by pulling the covers down to her waist. He bent and closed his mouth over one nipple, suckled it to a rigid peak, then moved to do the same to the other as she curled her hand in his short hair, the back of his neck, holding him to her.
"Please don't leave." When he was gone, she'd start re-erecting her walls, wonder what the hell had caused her to surrender so unconditionally to him, to give up with what seemed like barely a fight. She didn't want that to happen.
