by L. DuBois
Xavier came, one hand tangled in her hair, the other grabbing the waist of her panties and jerking them up so the fabric ground against her pussy. Mae shuddered through her own orgasm as she sucked the last of his come from his body.
Xavier’s legs were trembling when he stepped back. A blessed peace filled him. It was like silence after a lifetime of throbbing noise, or dawn heralding the end of a ceaseless night. He dropped to his knees and rested his forehead against the chair. Mae’s cheek dropped to rest on his head, her still bound arms dropping around his shoulders.
She held him as he shuddered and shivered through the emotional release that he’d come here looking for, and that had been building inside him since he first touched her.
For the first time he didn’t think about her—what she needed or was feeling. He took rather than gave. Took the release, took the comfort of her touch. He didn’t know how long he knelt there, but when he finally sat back he could not pretend that this had been just another session with a sub.
A rush of fear made him get to his feet and turn away from Mae. He’d meant this to be a simple breast whipping, a primer to what he’d planned to do to her in the courtyard. It should not have affected him like this. He should not have felt as if he’d been turned inside out.
He looked back at Mae. She was still kneeling on the chair, elbows propped on the back. She opened her mouth, but when their gazes met she dropped her eyes and closed her mouth. She slowly lowered her upper body until her midsection rested on the back of the chair, resuming the position he’d first put her in.
She’d given him everything he’d asked, more than he could have hoped for, and now she was willing to give him more.
Xavier bowed his head. He was a coward, something he’d sworn never to be. It was time to stop pretending that what he had with Mae was simple, or that he’d be willing and able to give her up when this was done.
He helped her off the chair, taking a seat and pulling her into his lap. She cuddled her head against his neck and rested her still bound hands on his chest.
Xavier kissed her forehead. If it hadn’t been for the game, he might have ended the scene here, taking her to a bed where he could fuck her at his leisure. The overseers had said that this checklist game was about pushing themselves. There was almost nothing on the checklist he wasn’t willing to try or do, so he’d assumed that Mae was his challenge. Mistress Faith must have seen that she was more than sweetly submissive, and in need of a guide to the darker end of the spectrum. Once he’d seen her masochistic tendencies Xavier had understood why, though they seemingly had nothing in common, he and Mae had been paired.
He knew now that she wouldn’t use her safe word, wouldn’t back out. She’d take all he’d give her, and she’d be a better submissive for it. But being pushed that far, that deep, could take its toll, and Xavier feared that though Mae would submit to what he had planned, she’d hate him for it.
Chapter Nine
Mae practiced breathing—in, out, in, out. She’d have thought that by this point in her life she’d have something that fundamental mastered, but it was as if Xavier had drained her of everything… only to fill her back up again. What she’d just been through should have been less intense than this afternoon’s session bent over the barrel in the library, but it had been far more so. And the most intense part had been at the end, when Xavier had dropped to his knees. He’d been shaking as if he would break apart into a million pieces, and she’d been gripped by the need to hold and protect him from whatever was raging within.
In that moment, with her body still aching from his touch, she’d had to acknowledge that she had feelings for him. Feelings that went far beyond what a sub should feel for a Dom. Falling in love with a Dom was an amateur mistake, and one she’d never been in danger of making until now.
Once she got away from him, once the game was over, these crazy feelings for him would surely fade. This sense that fate had brought them together was simply a byproduct of their intense play and her own conflict over this new direction her sexuality was taking.
When Master Xavier urged her off his lap, Mae sank gracefully to her knees. Her breast brushed his leg and she winced. Looking down, she was both shocked and pleased by the state of her breasts. They were pink all over from his hands with thin red lines from the whip. Her nipples were plump and still erect. With each breath she was aware of the way the air danced over her skin.
Though she’d come twice—the first time from nothing more than rough breast play, which she’d never have imagined was possible—Mae was still aroused. Her panties now felt like a chastity belt, designed to torment and keep her from her pleasure.
“Stand up; take off your clothes.”
Hiding a smile of delight, Mae gingerly pushed to her feet. Xavier cut the bindings on her wrists, freeing her to obey his command.
First she undid the latches on the front of the corset. Peeling it back, she took a few deep breaths, reveling in the freedom. Next she stripped the steampunk undies down and off. The crotch was soaked and the smell of her arousal flooded the room.
She tugged the sleeves of the lace shirt until her arms were free, intending to push it down over her hips.
“No, take it off the other way. Slowly.”
Mae shivered, glad that he wouldn’t let her get away with anything, glad that he wanted her to feel everything he did to her. Crossing her arms she started to pull the shirt off. The lace felt like sandpaper against her sensitive nipples. She was trembling by the time it was off. She went to remove her shoes and stockings, but he shook his head and she left them on.
“Hands together behind your neck.”
Mae did as she was ordered, her beaten breasts now proudly on display. He examined her, his gaze almost a physical weight on her body. Two fingers dipped into her pussy, massaging her clit. Mae’s knees went weak, but his touch was gone far too soon. She watched, mesmerized, as he raised his hand and tasted her. She remembered the way she’d felt when he’d pushed his fingers into her mouth, the way she’d bitten him, too lost in the mad combination of pain and pleasure to consider exactly what she was doing.
“Put the corset back on.”
Questions and comments were right there on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them, choosing instead to give him the silent obedience that would free him to do whatever wonderful, painful things he had planned.
She’d adjusted the lacing at the back of the corset before even coming to Las Palmas, so it was easy enough to quickly slip it around her belly and fastened the closures down the front. Above and below it she was naked, her breasts and pussy on total display. The constriction of the corset felt odd contrasted with the nakedness of her most intimate places.
Master Xavier grabbed her wrist, tugging until she fell against him, her breasts brushing his chest. “We’re not done, Mae. It would be easier if we were, if I could ignore everything and fuck you the way I want to.”
Mae’s eyes widened at the grim tone of his voice.
“You’re masochistic—you enjoy pain, you feel it the way other people feel pleasure. I don’t know how you went this long without being tested, but now that you know, you won’t be able to go back.”
Her stomach churned.
“You’ll have to learn your new limits. And you’ll have to learn to protect yourself. Masochistic submissives are the most vulnerable in our community.”
“Why are you telling me this, Master?” It was the kind of lecture you gave someone before you left them.
“I’m telling you because you need to hear it. And you need to face what it means.” Xavier handed her a pair of simple leather cuffs. “Put these on, count to one hundred, then come outside.”
*****
The torchlight lent a primitive air to the already imposing Iron Court. There were more people there now than there had been an hour ago. Some were seated on benches placed on the paths between the statues, others were kneeling and still more were standing around the outer rim of the to
rchlight. In the middle of it all was the stage. A few short metal buckets sat on one corner, and a large T-shaped wood structure was mounted to the edge closest to her. Master Xavier stood in the center of it all. He’d stripped off his shirt and his bare chest seemed to glisten in the light. With the dark pants and hood he looked like an executioner waiting for the condemned.
When she emerged all eyes turned toward her. Mae dropped her gaze and swallowed.
Run.
She clenched her fists, fighting back the impulse. She trusted Master Xavier, and as scared as she was, she wanted this—whatever dark thing was about to befall her. If he wanted to do it to her, then she wanted to experience it.
The click of her heels was loud on the tile until she stepped onto the crushed sandstone path that led to the center of the court. She could feel the gazes of the crowd—they were looking at her red and beaten breasts, at her marked ass and exposed sex.
She mounted the steps up to the stage. When she reached the top Master Xavier’s hand was there, guiding her forward. He took her hips in his hands and turned her to face the corner, where the metal containers were. One was a bucket—filled nearly to the top with water.
The other was a brazier, full of glowing red coals. The handles of three branding irons protruded from the fire.
“No!”
Mae jumped back, smacking against Master Xavier. She shouldn’t be shocked—this elaborate set-up and the way he’d spoken to her just moments ago were all clues that this was coming. She’d hadn’t seen, hadn’t wanted to see.
Xavier steadied her, then took a deliberate step back so he wasn’t touching her.
“Branding is one of our checklist items, Mae.”
“No, no.” Panic was clawing at her throat.
“Are you using your safe word?” Someone in the crowd called out the question, clearly concerned for her.
Mae opened her mouth. Banana. All she had to do was say it.
Instead she looked at Xavier. “This is on your checklist?”
He nodded. “I can see the beauty in marking a submissive in this way, if she chooses to bear her submission like this.”
“Is this…like collaring?” It would make sense if this were about permanently showing ownership.
“No, Mae. We are not bound. This branding would mean that you submitted fully to me in this moment. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
Her heart was breaking and she couldn’t breathe. Mae folded her arms against her chest, only to cry out when her breasts throbbed.
“On your checklist, did you say you wanted to be branded?” His tone was firm.
“Yes, Master.”
“And now you are presented with that opportunity.”
She whimpered and dropped her head.
Xavier touched her cheek. “This is what safe words were made for.”
Though she heard him, all she could think about was his touch. It was nothing more than his knuckles stroking her face, but it made all the difference. Mae exhaled, a trance-like calm settling over her. He’d warned her both about himself and about her own desires.
This was the turning point. She could walk away, or she could embrace this.
And then, when her time with him was over, Mae would have his mark. She’d have a way to remember what it had felt like to dance in the dark. Even if no one else ever touched her the way he had, she’d remember these feelings—the pride and desire of walking through the club wearing the marks of a flogger, the delicious helplessness of being mastered by a man who found release by marking her flesh, and above all the way he’d looked at her.
“No, Master.”
“You have to say your word, Mae.”
“I mean no, I’m not using my safe word.” She raised her voice and heard the crowd mutter. “I’m ready.”
He took a deliberate step back. Doubt bit at her once his touch was gone, but she clenched her fists and firmed her resolve.
“Mae, this is not a challenge. No one here doubts your submission. Least of all me.”
“Thank you, Master.”
He snarled, chest muscles flexing. “Use your safe word, damn it.”
Mae shook her head. “No, Master.”
“Xavier, if you’ve changed your mind, you too have the right to safeword out of this item.” Though Mae couldn’t see the speaker, she recognized Mistress Faith’s voice.
Their gazes met, and in his eyes Mae saw a terrible dark need.
“I want to brand her. I want to mark her.” Master Xavier’s deep voice made the words poetry. “I want to taste her pain and submission and the pleasure it brings.”
There were murmurs from the crowd, but she didn’t care. Her whole world had narrowed, until all that mattered was his green eyes, staring at her from behind the mask that hid nothing of his soul.
Xavier pointed at the T-shaped wood structure. “If you want this, attach your cuffs to the chains. I will not bind you. You will do it yourself.”
Mae looked at the simple cuffs she’d put on. They were one thin piece of leather, held closed by a buckle. A D ring near the closure was the only hardware that distinguished them from a cuff bracelet. It seemed odd that these simple things would be what bound her.
The crosspiece of the T came to just below her breasts. A short chain with a carabiner clip dangled from each end. Using two hands she got her left wrist clip in with no problem. The right took her longer, and she had to stretch and wedge the clip against the wood in order to press the latch and push the D ring in. Her fingers were shaking by the time she was secured, and doubt clawed at her.
She wrapped her fingers around the chains, holding tight.
Footsteps thumped on the wooden stage. “Look at me, Mae.
Turning her head, she watched as Xavier held up a branding iron, the tip glowing red. He pushed it down on the stage and the wood hissed and sizzled. When he lifted the brand, an “X” was burned into the boards.
Mae felt nauseous. The idea of that heat searing against her skin was too much. She shook her head, raising her gaze to Master Xavier’s. There was fire in his gaze, a fierce desire to master her body in this way. The desire to submit warred with fear and she dropped her gaze, struggling to sort out her feelings.
She didn’t want this because it would hurt, she wanted it because he wanted to do it to her. Wanted what would come after—the permanent record of what they’d meant to each other.
She was vaguely aware of the sound of water hissing as he dunked the brand into the bucket, though she couldn’t see it happening. When he touched her ass Mae screamed, then shuddered when she realized it was just his hands.
“Spread your legs, Mae.”
She was shaking too much to obey. He forced them open, then pressed two fingers into her pussy. The penetration sent spikes of pleasure through her. She focused on that—the feel of his fingers inside her.
“I want you to come for me. I want to feel you shaking with pleasure.” He brushed her hair aside and kissed her neck. “Can you come for me, Red?”
His fingers scissored around her clit and Mae screamed, her whole body bowed back. Knowing that there was a crowd looking on only spurred her arousal. She shamelessly pumped her hips on his hand, grateful to have this to focus on—the kinky pleasure that she understood so much better than the dark needs he raised in her.
Her orgasm was still shuddering through her when he pulled back. Mae had a moment to focus, to remember where she was, and what was about to happen.
She felt the heat a second before something hard pressed against her right butt cheek near her hip.
Mae screamed. She screamed in terror and in satisfaction. She screamed as the heat penetrated her. It was hot, painfully hot.
…But it didn’t burn.
She sobbed, falling forward against the wood support as her trembling knees gave way.
It didn’t burn.
That one thought rattled through her. The pressure of the brand was gone from her skin, having stayed there not more than a second or
two.
Xavier wrapped his arms around her, one at her waist, the other at her shoulders, just below her neck. He pulled her back against his body, holding her as she shook. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
The tears came, great sobs wracking through her body. “You… you didn’t?” She couldn’t complete the question.
“The brand was hot, but not enough to scald you. I wouldn’t do that to you, Mae.”
He cupped her jaw, forced her to turn her head and meet his gaze. “It was my choice, and I chose not to mark you permanently. Do you understand?”
She could feel a dull ache on her butt where the brand had touched. Though it hadn’t burned her, she was sure she’d have a mark. His grip shifted, pulling her tighter back against him. The hard line of his cock dug into her, leaving her no doubt as to what effect she had on him.
Xavier released her to undo the cuffs from the chain. The instant she lost full body contact with him she started to shake. Holding on to the T-support, she faced him. Feelings she couldn’t even begin to name rocketed through her, one after another, coming so fast she couldn’t process them.
Xavier reached for her, but Mae held up a hand. He stopped, eyes hot with need as he examined her.
She slapped him. Mae had no idea where it came from, but she hauled her hand back and slapped him hard across the cheek. His head whipped to the side, then slowly swiveled back to her.
Mae straightened, facing him down with every ounce of courage she had left in her body. Her breasts were heaving with her shaky breaths, her whole body ached both from what he’d done to her and the release of tension. His gaze pierced her, his mouth a hard line of anger.
Their eyes met, and Xavier’s expression softened, leaving her to wonder what he could see in her face, if he knew how hard she was trying to rebuild the defenses he’d ripped down.
