Taming the Brat (Forbidden Secrets)

by Diana Rose Wilson

  She opened her mouth with a gasp of startled pleasure and pain. The word was on the tip of her tongue. She understood. But when her lips parted, he forced the rubber bit roughly between her teeth until the padded bar pinched the corner of her mouth. She’d not noticed it balled in his fist under the mangled leather.

  It tasted like apples. The tartness of it made her mouth instantly water. She struggled to swallow around the bit but saliva trickled down the corners of her mouth. She made a soft mewl of distress around the gag, sinking her teeth into it.

  Looking up, she implored him with her eyes, but he ignored her. His focus was on arranging the battered leather around her head to secure it into place.

  The straps attached to the d-rings in the bit on either side of her mouth and buckled behind her head. The dry leather felt rough against her skin, but the scent was like apples and oats. It had just the appearance of aged rawhide rather than some time-worn and well-used gear.

  As he fastened more straps into place for the headstall from the cheek straps up to the crown of her head, she continued struggling with the bit. It wasn’t fastened tightly but she couldn’t properly swallow. Like an animal, she drooled down her chin but she didn’t dare lift her hand to wipe it away.

  Horses didn’t get to wipe away their spittle.

  “Much better. Because you can’t speak your safe word, I want you to use your hand to tap the bed when you’ve had enough. Do it twice with your fingers spread open, palm down. Nod if you understand.”

  She nodded her head quickly, liquid dribbled down her throat.

  When he drew his hand to her face, she braced, expecting the slap. His eyes blazed down at her and he uttered a soft growl. “No, bratty ass, you are going to need to be exceptionally good to get that, sweet little pain-slut.” His palm cupped her jaw and his thumb smeared up her chin and the corners of her mouth as though it were some precious wine rather than spit.

  She leaned into the touch, letting her eyes close as his fingers stroked her with a gentleness that contrasted with his expression.

  “Such a good little ass.” His words were quiet, the praise unexpected and warm. When she arched toward him, he gently pushed against her to prevent her. “We’re not playing.”

  And the inflexible tone only made her want to rub herself all over him until she came. She rubbed her thighs together, desperate for relief from the need building in her.

  “Spread your legs. Are you a mare in heat?” He drew another object from the pack as she obeyed him. “It looks like you are. Every stallion in the building is going to try to mount my prize ass.”

  The object he withdrew was a horsetail-ended phallus like the one he’d shown her earlier. Unlike that flaxen-haired beauty, this one looked as though shears had been taken to it. The muddy brown hairs sprouting from the end stood at all angles, ending in an uneven mess.

  He smirked at the sound of denial she made behind the bit. His eyebrows lifted and he glanced at her hands but she gave a shake of her head. The sudden movement made the buckles clink and his lips peeled back into a wicked smile.

  He walked to the foot of the bed, petting light fingers down her side, curling patterns along the outside curve of her breast to the nipple. He circled around it to make it perk and tighten and then let his touches drift back to her ribs, zigzagging the pattern between and over the bones. The caress made her draw her stomach in, muscles tight and straining as she warred with her desperation to arch into his touches.

  “Such a good girl.” His voice dropped lower, softening as though he were reassuring a skittish horse. Warm fingers continued up her hip and finally he was teasing the welts he’d inflicted on her backside. It wasn’t words as much as affectionate growls that escaped him as his touches explored the marks. A firmer press into one of the aching spots sent a pulse of pleasure through her as it chased the throb of pain. She hunched her hips in response, her breath catching.

  The mattress under her knees shifted as his weight settled into the bed just behind her. His breath whispered along her ass as he slowly inhaled and then sighed out a long, low groan. Her sex was swollen and slick. The liquid heat overflowed her pussy, trickling down her inner thigh.

  He circled the head of the plug over her mons, drawing a coiling pattern against her. The silicone tip of the toy felt cold in contrast to her scalding skin. Slowly he drew it up between the lips of her wet sex.

  It barely touched her but it felt so sensual that her broken moan of need rose around the bit. The desperation of it sounded loud and raw in the room.

  “Easy, girl,” Sir whispered. “No coming yet.”

  He swirled the phallus around once, dipping it into her pussy. As if he was dipping a pen into slick, dripping ink, he painted up the crack of her ass, smearing her lust around her lubricated pucker.

  He didn’t need to warn her this time. She was already pressing back against the toy, impaling herself on it with an enthusiasm that shocked her. Her eagerness made him growl. And just when the sensation started to spread into the liquid pleasure that would push her over the edge into the bliss of orgasm, the resistance vanished.

  Without his hand to brace against, she rocked back with a moan of frustration. When her ass hit the bed, the toy plunged to its base into her. The pleasure throbbed through her. The delicate rings of muscles squeezed around the toy in pulses of sensation timed to her hammering heartbeat.

  “Not yet.” His hands drew her hips back up so she couldn’t continue to wantonly grind herself against the bed. The orgasm was right there. She felt the heat rolling through her in denied anguish. Her release dangled and rippled just out of reach.

  She cried out behind the bit, writhing, but his hold against her prevented another attempt. Nothing in his expression indicated pleasure when he finally released her and returned to the head of the bed. He was unmoved by her whimpers and the restless twisting of her hips.

  “Stay still,” he ordered, turning his attention to the pack.

  Humiliation burned at her cheeks as she mastered some of her composure but couldn’t quite regulate her gasping breath. Her mind was in a different place, longing to chase after the pleasure just out of reach. Distantly she was aware of him drawing out more straps. They were the same ugly leather, thick and unfinished with pitted brass on the buckles.

  The first of the straps was a belt. He slung this around her hips, careful not to touch her with his fingers as he fastened it. Then he attached straps that threaded between and around her thighs. The harsh leather scraped sweetly against the welts of her ass cheeks but otherwise left her backside and tail exposed.

  In silence he worked another strap into place and as each bit of leather settled into position, she felt herself slip more and more into her role as the pony. She craved the glamorous harness he’d shown her earlier, not these wretched things. It wasn’t until he tightened the harness and the cool, rough leather pressed against her sex that she understood the trap.

  This was a chastity belt!

  There were sinister purposes for the multiple d-rings she realized only as he clipped heavy padlocks closed to fasten the belt into place.

  “Now your virtue will be safe,” he whispered into her ear as he bowed his body over hers. His teeth caught the shell of her ear as he rocked his hips forward.

  His cock was hard through his slacks. The length of his manhood pressed to her ass cheek while his thigh slipped between her thighs. He ground his knee against her leather-bound sex. The plug up her ass pushed deeper and the rough leather scraped her pussy and clit.

  She moaned wantonly through the bit, head swimming with the various sensations. The flood of pleasure and pain made her shudder violently. The locks clattered with the force of her trembling. He knew exactly how much to push and when to stop the torment to prevent her from tumbling into orgasm.

  “Safe from anyone except for me,” he growled after releasing her ear. Where his teeth had pressed into her, she felt imprinted with fire. She imagined a cord tied between that spot an
d the tormented knot of need within her ass and cunt. It was taut, straining and about to snap and shatter her.

  His mouth brushed against the bit before he drew away. When he came back into view, his expression was full of admiration. The azure of his eyes seemed more like star sapphires. They were dark and glittering, as if he wanted to consume her body and soul.

  Her sex tightened when he licked his upper lip and she thought she might lose the tenuous control of her orgasm right there. Could she have an orgasm just by a look from him?

  “Almost ready.” He reached once more into the bag and after searching around he turned back to her, not displaying whatever it was he’d retrieved. His expression still looked like a hungry predator and she felt breathless. Her breaths panted out behind her bit-gag. “Up onto your knees and put your hands behind your back. Sit up tall. Do not settle your ass down to the bed again. I want you to roll your shoulders back and present your breasts to me for inspection.”

  She felt her brows draw together at this instruction. It was so specific and the finality of his tone left no room for argument or debate. He motioned with his hand in a wordless emphasis for her to obey when she hesitated.

  A lifetime ago her stepmother had sent her to etiquette school. It had proved to be too late for Vans’s domestication though. She had smothered those memories after the failure of her coming out party. Like pony club and ballet, debutante curtsies and ball gowns were a thing of her childhood and had no place in reality. She remembered all the moves though. With some effort she rallied enough composure to gracefully sit up in one fluid movement.

  With a grace borrowed from that rusty training she swept her arms up, lazily rolling her slim shoulders back. She arched high on her knees into the movement as her limbs folded behind her. Curling her fingers around each forearm at the small of her back she offered her pointed nipples toward Sir’s fierce blue gaze.

  The plug shifted delightfully inside her and the unforgiving leather scraped the flesh on the insides of her thighs. The straps roughly pinched in some places, making her utterly aware of every place they touched her. The discomfort was delicious. She whimpered out her suffering under the desire heating in his gaze. The wetness of her sex would soak through the leather and everyone would know how worked up he made her.

  He groaned softly in appreciation of her effort. “Well, isn’t that the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” There was a note of awe in his voice, as though she had just transformed into a butterfly before his eyes.

  He cupped her breast in one hand, flicking the nipple with the fingernail of his thumb. The spike of pleasure drilled through her and she rocked her hips forward. As she moved, the heavy locks pulled against the leather shielding her sex, adding to the sensation.

  Holding up his hand, he displayed what he’d taken from the bag. Dangling from his fingers was an unassuming brass chain attached to two miniature clothespins. Before she could process what he was showing her, he attached the little clip to her pert nipple and screwed the post so the cool metal clung to her flesh.

  The sweet ache went right to her sex and when he attached the second clip, she cried out, twisting toward him. They felt like little mouths against her nipples, the pressure a constant torment she could not evade. The chain tickled between her breasts, pulling the clips with every swing.

  As she squirmed and wriggled he growled out his encouragement. “That’s so pretty. Fuck, you are beautiful.” He cupped her cheek and smoothed his thumb over her wet chin.

  She uttered a broken sob of pleasure when he kissed the corner of her mouth. He was gentle with her, taking care not to add more torment as she adjusted to all the sensations. Using a towel, he lightly dried her face and neck. Thankfully, the drooling had stopped. Bad enough that other parts of her continued to steadily melt.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  For a breath or two, she wasn’t sure. She was desperate and needed him in a way that transcended the physical. How she was going to navigate the rest of the morning, let alone the rest of the day, with this sort of craving knotted in her belly? Nothing in her life had ever felt like this. She couldn’t imagine how she could go back to the kind of sex she’d known before, after having this.

  His expression softened as she struggled with her answer. When she nodded, he slowly eased back with a considering look. “Well then, I think we’re ready to show you off. Come along, bratty ass.”

  Chapter Four

  Breakfast

  If someone had told her yesterday how delicious humiliation was, she wouldn’t have believed them. Her face felt both hot and cold in waves as she emerged from the safety of the suite and crawled into the hallway. For a moment she was gripped by uncertainty though. It was one thing to romp around the suite on hands and knees and quite another to do this under judgmental eyes.

  Would those women from the limo be there? Her lusts cooled momentarily at the realization that she might have to deal with that. She growled out a muffled curse.

  “Is that the safe word?” Sir Dragon asked, twirling the ends of her reins.

  He was back behind his mask and she in hers. It offered some protection and between that and the bit, he couldn’t really see her scowling at him.

  She shook her head when he hesitated before closing the door. Her glare didn’t faze him at all. He just smiled and after the room was secure, walked her down the long hall, keeping his steps short so she could keep up. It felt as if it took forever to get down the stairs and to the atrium where breakfast was served. It gave her time to adjust to her new role as an animal. And it was fucking hot! She liked the way he would pause and check her gear and stroke her back and murmur sweet praises to her.

  The atrium was packed with people. Everyone who passed greeted Sir Dragon and he sometimes introduced her as his “ass” and she glowered at them. Which made the embarrassment deepen because then they’d offer him advice on training. Her glowers became less furious by the time they reached a table and she was trying to keep close to his legs, not wanting anyone to accidentally touch her. She didn’t need anyone trying to school her behavior as one interested young woman suggested.

  He was just settling into his seat when another pony-girl came crawling up to them, every movement sensual and artful. Vans had not perfected her pony crawl. At all. This girl, in a hummingbird mask, preened under Dragon’s attention as her handler sauntered closer, pulled by the leash as the girl made for Dragon.

  Vans chewed against her bit as the women ignored her and fixed their attention on Dragon.

  “Ah, good morning, Kitten,” Dragon rumbled toward the woman in the leopard mask. He looked past her and then back at her. “Not running with…who was it last time? Hare? Or was it Hound? Trying the girls now, hmmm?”

  “Dragon. Morning. No, I thought I would run your girl. She was your girl, wasn’t she? She seems to remember you.” Displeasure tightened the corners of her mouth as she watched Hummingbird quiver and preen for Dragon’s attention, rubbing up against his knee.

  Vans counted very slowly to ten and then back to one but her blood boiled. What was the etiquette for this situation? Normally, she’d say something like get your whore hands off my man. Or she’d throw an elbow into this cheeky broad’s throat. But neither of those things seemed like proper pony behavior. As though to answer her, Dragon’s hand dropped to her head and he smoothed his fingers into her hair, curling them into her locks before pulling her up toward him.

  The movement of stretching up onto her knees drew both women’s attention to her and they stared as Dragon kissed her firmly on the mouth, over the bit she’d been biting into. Vans basked in the obscene pleasure of the kiss around the rubber. She arched toward him, showing off the brass nipple clamps and chain strung between them. The jingle of the various locks and buckles shivered around her as he stroked the other hand down her back, adjusting her pony gear until she melted against him. Fuck, it is so hot. She wanted to crawl into his lap and proclaim her undying love for him in front o
f the whole room!

  Only when Hummingbird made a furious sound of anger did he break the kiss. He continued to hold Vans against him, rolling the end of the tail around in a slow circle until she moaned behind the bit in wanton delight.

  “You said you never— You wouldn’t—” Pale-blue eyes fixed on Vans. There was jealous fury there. Well, all right then.

  “Kitten, you have no idea. I suggest you control your pony.” Dragon sounded completely bored with the whole situation as he sat smoothing his fingers through Vans’s hair, adjusting the curls just so as he looked away from the two. “What would you like for breakfast, bratty ass?” he asked her, as though no one else was in the room, staring at them.

  It was a clear dismissal, but it took the woman in the leopard mask—Kitten—a few tugs to get Hummingbird to back off and come away with her.

  Dragon kissed Vans’s cheek, winked and teased her bit. “No, jealous one. I never fucked her. You see that behavior?” He shook his head from side to side slowly. “Do not follow that example. Understand?”

  After she nodded, she felt him toying with the buckle and the bit came free.

  “Good girl. Try not to use that sassy mouth for more than eating. All right?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered and leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. He rolled his eyes and pointed to the floor and when she dropped back down his big hand patted her backside.

  She was just getting settled when a familiar voice greeted him.

  “Dragon! Good morning.” Ursa’s cheerful voice bubbled up with honest delight and Vans jerked her head up, slamming the underside of the table hard enough to rattle all the glassware above.

  “Oh!” Ursa gasped. “Are you all right?”

  Vans wanted to curl up and die! She huddled into Dragon’s legs and stayed under the table.

  “She’s fine,” her Sir rumbled. His hand dropped down to pet along her hair and down the nape of her neck. “Are you all right?” He leaned to the side and one azure eye peered down at her and she gave a frantic nod. “Hmm…maybe hit a bit hard.”