by Mayburn, Ann
Internally she had to laugh. She’d survived just about the worse blunt force trauma wounds a human being could have and live. If he thought a little spanking was going to make her cry, he was delusional. Rather than risking him hearing the insolence in her voice, she nodded.
Without preamble, he laid the first smack on her ass. She knew she’d fucked up. It hurt, a lot. The next one came even harder, hard enough to shove her on the arm of the couch. “Ow! I mean, thank you, my lord.”
The next spank was gentler, but it hit the crease of her right leg where it met her ass cheek, and stung like a mother. “Thank you, my lord.”
The next two came in rapid succession. She choked back a cry when they hit the same place. “Thank you, my lord.”
The warmth of his breath against her already heated skin was uncomfortable, but his goatee scratching against her stung. Then he licked over her bottom and began to gently probe between her rear cheeks with his wickedly long tongue. Hell, that man could give Gene Simmons a run for his money.
Suddenly thrown back into a state of sexual craving, she moaned and arched her hips, trying to give him better access. In response, he nipped her hip, and she stilled. He scraped his nails down her butt. She shuddered, a confusing blend of pain and pleasure overloading her mind. Her entire being focused inward, concentrating on his gentle strokes and probing at her anus.
Swimming in a pool of heat and desire, she was totally unprepared for the next slap. That made it hurt all the more, and she struggled to thank him. By the time he’d worked her up to the tenth spank, her voice was raw with unshed tears. “Thank you, my lord.”
He massaged her ass, gripping it hard and digging his fingers in. It felt so fucking good and mingled with the burn. The edge of his pants pressed against her, and he reached between her legs, fondling her aching pussy. “Oh, sweetheart, you are so wet for me. Did you like being spanked?”
She moaned when he slid a finger between her labia and began to pet her clit. “I don’t know.”
“It is very simple question, love. Did being spanked bring you sexual arousal?”
She didn’t know why he was bothering to ask her. The evidence of her arousal was coating his fingers, and her nub quivered beneath his knowing strokes. Sucking in a deep breath, she then let it out and whispered the truth. “Yes, it aroused me.”
“Your honesty pleases me, Kira.”
The warmth in his voice, the genuine pride in his words made her all glowy inside. Slowly, the heat from her spirit merged with the burning desire of her body, and she rocked herself against his fingers. He held fast, making each movement of her hips tug at her clit trapped between his fingers. With his other hand, he gathered some of her abundant honey and smoothed it between her ass cheeks.
Before she could muster enough brain cells to protest, he teased at the opening with his thumb, making her whole body tense. She’d never had anal sex before, at least not with a man. Somehow she didn’t think having his dick in her ass would be the same as a small butt plug. The thought of taking him, of touching him, and tasting him had her worked up into a frenzy of need. She wanted to touch him in the worst way, to bring him pleasure.
“Please, my lord. Please let me touch you. I want to make you feel good.”
“Earn it.” He began to rub his thumb in tight circles around her clit and at the same time sink the thumb of his other hand into her bottom. “Come for me.”
It only took a few more strokes from Bryan to pitch her into the fire of her release. She burned from the inside out, the contractions of her pussy reverberating through her ass and back again. Bliss slowly replaced the harsh pleasure. A sweet, floating release that gently surrounded her with happiness. She barely stirred when he pulled her dress back down and moved to the couch. Before he sat, he lifted her around the waist and pulled her down with him, arranging her so she cuddled against his strong, muscled body. The ecstasy began to recede, and a darkness slipped into to her soul, a sense of shame that she’d liked being dominated, had liked being hurt. What kind of sick woman would actually seek this out and enjoy it? What was wrong with her?
“Kira, give me your hand.”
Blinking back tears, confused as to why she was suddenly so emotional, she did as he asked. Instead of shoving it down his pants, he placed her hand over his heart. It was an incredibly intimate gesture, and when she looked up at him, his concern made a few tears slip free. Distressed, she tried to wipe them away, then choked on a cry when he leaned down and kissed them from her cheeks.
“Hush, sweetheart. This is all so new to you. I’m here. You’re not alone, and I will take care of you. I’m so proud of you, my good girl. You responded beautifully, and you endured for me in a way that almost had me coming in my pants.”
She let out a watery chuckle, his words lifting her as much as the steady beat of his heart beneath her hand. “I was wondering if I even turned you on.”
“Why in the hell would you say that?”
“Well, because, you know, it must not be too difficult for you if you haven’t let me touch you.” Suddenly shy, she closed her eyes and turned her head against his shoulder. “I promise I can make you feel good.”
He let out a frustrated sigh. “Woman, you already make me feel good. The gift of your submission? It is a drug that makes me fly like no other.”
She kept her hand on his heart, stroking the inch of his chest that she could reach from the opening of his shirt. “Will you ever want me to please you? I mean sexually, physically.”
He grew quiet, pensive. “Why is my pleasure so important to you?”
“Because…well, because you made me feel good. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Return the favor?” She looked up at him, capturing his dark gaze with her own, shaking at the strength and power reflected in his eyes. Next to him she felt so…small. Not something she usually felt at five-ten. “You amaze me, my lord, and I’m afraid I’m a lousy submissive.”
He gave her a long, penetrating look that made her feel as if he could see into her soul. “If you want to please me, all you have to do is what I say. Simple as that. Now strip.”
She hesitated only for a moment before pushing herself off his lap and standing before him. He looked so cool and controlled while she felt like a hot, sweaty, emotional mess. It didn’t seem fair he should be perfect and unaffected. So she decided to see if she could change that, if he really did see her as desirable, as he’d said.
Leaning down, she slowly removed her modest heels and placed them next to the couch. Looking up through her lashes, she noticed he was completely focused on her, still and contained as only a predator could be while examining their prey for the best place to bite.
And holy shit, may God have mercy, did she love his bite.
With a little bit of wiggling, she managed to slowly roll her dress up, exposing her body to his perusal. Unease about her weight made her movements slow, and once she finally had her dress off, standing there in her garter and bra, she looked away, afraid of the disappointment she might see in his gaze.
He made no reassuring sounds. In fact as far as she could tell he hadn’t moved an inch. With trembling fingers, she unhooked the back of her bra and shrugged it off, placing it on the pile with her clothes. When she went to reach for the clasp on her garter belt, his rough voice stopped her.
“Leave it on.” The tightness of his tone made her look up, and she caught an almost savage hunger shining in his eyes before his features once again smoothed out. “Turn around and lift your hair off your neck. I want to see the color I put on your pretty arse.”
She turned, feeling naughty, but in a good way. So good that she felt like giggling while she pulled her hair up, mimicking the woman in the Degas picture. Bryan’s soft inhalation sent renewed warmth through her, awakening her body once again. Giving him a coquettish look over her shoulder, she asked, “Does my lord approve?”
It was getting easier and easier to refer to him as “my lord.” First, because he actually wa
s British elite, and second because there was an aura about him that commanded her respect. That didn’t mean she was going to be curtsying to him anytime soon, but calling him by that title helped her to give some control to him. She guessed a part of her would always be the princess waiting for her handsome prince or, in this case, her handsome lord.
“Very much.” He stood, an elegant uncoiling of muscle and grace. “Follow me.”
He turned without so much as a backward glance, secure in the knowledge she would do as she was told. While his presumption irked her, in this case he was right. She followed at his heels like an eager puppy, wanting to see what he had in store. Hopefully more orgasms for her and at least one for him. Seeing him come undone as she pleasured him was now one of her new life’s goals.
They left the Green Room, and he took her through the house, passing various unlit rooms, and went down a staircase. Artwork hung on every available inch of the walls. She almost ran into his back a couple of times while admiring a painting or sculpture and not paying attention to where she was going. Just those brief touches had her pussy slicking her inner thighs with her arousal.
He stopped before a nondescript door and removed a key from his pocket before turning it in the lock. The bolt slid back with an easy click, and he opened the door, gesturing to her.
“Ladies first.”
Apprehension mixed with anticipation, a combination that reminded her of the feeling she had before pulling off a particularly hard stunt. It made her feel so very alive. Bryan made her feel so very alive.
Scared shitless but alive.
She paused before him and placed her hand on his shoulder for balance before leaning up and kissing him on his smooth, shaved cheek next to the scratch of his goatee. “Thank you, my lord.”
His dark eyes briefly warmed, but his expression remained stoic. “Get going before I paddle your bum.”
She smiled at him, and the answering curve of his lips delighted her. “Yes, my lord.”
There were stairs leading down into darkness. She hesitated on the threshold. “My lord, I’m not sure if it’s safe for me to take the stairs in the dark.”
“Trust me, Kira. Take the first step.”
Feeling foolish for fearing a fall down the stairs like some old woman afraid of breaking her hip, but still scared nonetheless, she took a deep breath and placed her foot on the first step. The moment she did, a mellow, golden light illuminated the way down from recessed fixtures hidden in the ceiling. Not wanting him to think she was hesitating because she didn’t want to see what he had in store for her, she made her way down the rest of the stairs, then paused and gaped.
Holy fucking shit. It was like a perverted sex-toy showroom.
The section of the basement they were in had to be the size of half the mansion. The sheer amount of gleaming chrome, black leather, chains, and wooden structures made it hard to actually see anything. It was like looking at a jar full of jelly beans, unable to focus on the individual colors.
Bryan stroked his hand down her back, smoothing her hair over her shoulder. “Welcome to my dungeon.”
Chapter Five
Drawing in a lungful of the almost edible caramel-based perfume she wore, Bryan found he was nervous about his next move. He chided himself that he never got anxious, that he didn’t care if she took his temporary collar or not. It was merely a formality, something that would be a symbol of his commitment to her as her trainer.
Nothing more.
He nuzzled against her neck, enjoying the smooth silk of her hair against his lips. Bloody hell, she intoxicated him. Enveloping himself in her energy was an amazing experience, something he could easily become addicted to if he wasn’t careful. “Before you can enter, there is a price.”
She leaned back into him, crossing her arms over her chest. He didn’t think she was cold—he kept the room at a comfortable seventy-seven degrees—more of a defensive posture. Not that he minded the position; it pressed her lush buttocks against his aching cock. He reached into his pocket, then pulled out the diamond-encrusted black leather collar. He ran his thumb over one of the spikes coming from the side and tried to untangle the diamond chains and pendant without her noticing his movements. He had a rather vivid and pleasurable mental image of attaching a leash to the glittering collar and taking his pet for a stroll through Wicked, letting all the other Doms see the beauty who belonged to him, however temporarily.
Originally he’d intended to give her the regular black leather collar he used for his submissives. It was pretty, with gold embellishments, and he had a jeweler he trusted craft it. When he’d gone into the jewelry store today and was taken back to the private viewing room, Bryan had found himself wandering over to where the more elaborate and extremely expensive collars shimmered on beds of black velvet.
He’d examined them all, the jeweler eager to talk about each piece. At first he tried to tell himself that he was browsing, simply admiring the art. Something to think about in the future when he settled down with a nice, well-mannered, and safe submissive. Certainly not for a woman he’d only met once but had thought about constantly since the moment their eyes first met. Kira had the most beautiful eyes, a lovely golden brown that seemed to reflect her joyful soul.
He gave up the farce when he’d told the jeweler her neck measurements from his hand around her throat. In the end he chose a black leather collar with four platinum spikes on each side. The center was fastened by a diamond circle holding the separate pieces together, and from either side of that diamond circle a platinum chain hung down, suspending an elaborate topaz pendant circled with pavé diamonds. When he’d first seen the collar, it had reminded him of a piece of jewelry one would find on a princess. He wanted Kira to have a beautiful collar that she would be proud of, something she’d wear and cherish. The thought of her feeling it around her neck for the first time, and being the first man to ever place a collar on her graceful throat, made him aroused to the point of his cock aching.
She shifted against him. “What’s the price?”
“That you wear my collar; that is, my training collar.”
“Okay.”
He grinned, bemused by her uncharacteristic acceptance, and kissed the side of her neck. “Okay? You don’t want to ask any questions first?”
She shook her head. “No. I trust you.”
Thrown off stride yet pleased, he placed another kiss against her neck, then a bite. As his teeth sank into the skin where her shoulder and neck connected, he enjoyed the way she groaned and pressed harder against him. Damned if her skin didn’t taste faintly like sugar.
He never knew he had such a sweet tooth.
Reluctantly pulling back from her offered flesh, he tried to gather his wits. As tempting as it was to just put the collar on, she had to understand the implications of the act, to know what it would really mean. This wasn’t just a BDSM prop to him, but a promise to always take care of her and put her needs first.
“If you accept this collar, it means you are giving over control to me. You no longer call the shots. You don’t have to worry about what to do or what to say. I will make you do and say exactly what I want, how I want, for however long I want. And before you open your insolent mouth, I’d like to remind you that I can paddle your bottom until you come and then you’ll beg me to beat you some more.”
Her body trembled against his, her breath quickening. “I believe you, my lord.”
She was fucking beautiful when she allowed herself the pleasure of submitting.
“Lift your hair.”
Her movements were clumsy, a little unsure, but soon her actions would flow with utter relaxation. She was nervous now, and he understood that. Trust was something that had to be earned, and he intended to never give her a reason to doubt him. And once they had the trust needed to really start to play rough, he’d be able to put her into something close to subspace by just bringing her down these stairs and putting on her collar.
There was a poetry to a submissive’
s body when she was getting near subspace. A languid, easy grace that captivated him. While he hadn’t gotten Kira anywhere near deep subspace yet—they still had too much to work on—he had a feeling she would be poetry in motion.
Keeping his movements slow and controlled, he allowed her to savor every sensation that came from being collared. True, this wasn’t a permanent relationship collar, as binding in its own way as a wedding ring, but even placing his training collar on her was an act of ownership that he cherished. For however small of an amount of time, she agreed to be his, and he would take the best care of her possible.
He forced his thoughts away and focused on her, on the drag of the diamonds over her skin, the cool kiss of the leather that would soon warm and become supple. No expense had been spared in the making of this collar, and he had to say it was money well spent. The contrast of pale skin, black leather, and the sparkle of diamonds made his breath catch.
When he began to fasten it, her arms moved, then jerked back in place. “My lord, may I look?”
“Not yet.” Her spine stiffened, and he couldn’t help tormenting her. “I may blindfold you every time you enter this room, never allowing you to see yourself or me.”
“That would suck donkey dick.” She made a high-pitched noise and then cleared her throat. “My lord.”
Now he really did need to blindfold her, because holding back his laughter at the way her chest and neck flushed scarlet was extremely difficult. “Do you know what we do with sassy mouths around here?”
She looked over her shoulder at him, her beautiful sherry-brown eyes conveying a depth of emotion and need that called to his Dominant soul. Poor girl. Her desire was so easy to read. With her half-parted lips and dilated pupils, he would have known she was aroused. Not to mention the fact he could smell her wet cunt.
“No, my lord.”
“I stuff things in it and make the submissive suck.”
She arched her back slightly, offering herself to him. “Please let me suck your cock.”
“No.”
She grumbled. “Would it help if I told you I can suck a watermelon through a garden hose?”
