Dark Master (Dark Masters Book 1)

by Shana Vanterpool

  I scrambled to get away from him, swiping at my eyes on my way to our bedroom. I lay on my stomach on the black blankets and tucked a pillow under my head.

  He was right.

  I was still afraid.

  6.

  I was done crying when he came in. He moved around the room, leaving for a moment before I heard the shower turn on across the hall. He returned later, the sound of him drying off and dressing at my back.

  The light turned off and then the bed moved.

  “Come here.”

  I crawled to him, curling up against his bare chest. He engulfed me in his arms. He smelled of male soap and clean skin. My toes curled into the sheets. I found intense comfort in him when moments before he’d been responsible for my pain.

  “I will never apologize for being your dominant. I will never say I’m sorry for punishing you. You’ll be mad at me. You’ll cry. You’ll question your choices. That is natural. But you’ll be mine during and you’ll be mine the way you are right now. Completely.”

  He didn’t ask if I understood this time. It didn’t matter whether I did or not. Because in my submission, he already had my answer.

  “You were amazing, Miya. Everything I wanted in your submission was there. You didn’t even use your safe word. I am awed by your bravery.”

  Within my sadness and confusion, there was a small spark of what it took to be a submissive. A desire to please. Pleasing my master made my sex come back to life. It reminded me of why I wanted to be in his arms, why being over his knee had been sublime until it hurt past good.

  I snuggled deeper in his arms.

  I got the impression that he wasn’t going to sleep until I did. It wasn’t hard to seek exhaustion. My body was dragging with it. I found the perfect spot on his chest and fell asleep to the sound of his quick rhythmic heartbeat.

  He was gone when I stirred. My ass hurt so badly, I hissed when I stood. Lightheaded and in pain, not to mention my desire to see him, made it hard to give myself what it wanted. I needed food to live, but I needed Mr. Damon to feed my insides.

  After going to the bathroom, a feat considering it hurt to sit down, I searched the basement for him. Besides our room and the bathroom, there was a laundry room. But no master.

  Alone, my mental state started to dissipate. I settled on the sofa and lay on my stomach, staring into the dim living room—the lights were off—the way I’d stared into the darkness.

  I didn’t know how long I remained that way before I heard a door open and feet on the stairs. He turned the corner where the stairs were and I saw his eyes seek out the room. The moment they landed on me, they warmed and sizzled. They were filled with softness and hardness, with love and want.

  He was wearing my favorite suit. Dark blue dress shirt tucked into his black slacks. Black suit coat open, tie the color of charcoal. Black hair combed back, jaw shaved. He looked every part the sexy professor who starred in my fantasies non-stop last semester.

  The sight of him brought me to life. Where there had been emptiness, there was only fire. My petals opened and bared to him.

  He didn’t say anything. He took his suit jacket off, took off his tie, and untucked his shirt. He left momentarily, returning with a new ice-pack and grabbing the same bottle of lotion he’d used on me last night.

  “Don’t get up,” he ordered, when I moved to do that.

  He sank to his knees beside me and pulled my panties down enough to get to my ass. I pressed my face into the couch as he rubbed and iced me. The sure deep massage of his strong hands on my sore skin felt amazing. The cold of the ice numbed me enough to enjoy it.

  “I missed you all day, my sweet Miya.” He pressed a kiss to my left ass cheek, nipping at it with his teeth. “It’s Monday. My TA couldn’t cover any more of my classes. You’ll return tomorrow.”

  I didn’t know why, but the idea of returning to my life brought forth a wave of overwhelming sadness. My fear had been my own doing. Gone, there was no returning to my life. There was only leaving his.

  “You’d know that if you tried going upstairs. Have you eaten?”

  I shook my head, cheek pressed into the cushion.

  He moved to lay his near mine. His handsome face so close made me smile through my tears. He stroked my cheek and pressed a kiss to my lips.

  “What’s upsetting you?” he asked softly against my lips, his kiss turning less sweet and more bad.

  “It’s so soon.” I spoke between kisses, finding the taste of his mouth divine. His tongue was hot and silky, an intensely erotic feeling in my mouth. I kissed him hard, reaching out to hold his shoulder; my nails dug into his flesh through his shirt.

  “No. We both took too long.” He gave my face a gentle shove away. “On your back.” I struggled to get on my back for him. The weight on my ass hurt past good, but the moment he settled on top of me, all pain was gone.

  He pressed into my middle, resting his entire weight on me as his hands cradled my face and he kissed me so incredibly deep. There was no dominance in this kiss. It was his dark and my dark cancelling each other out. I found myself moaning into his, a slave to his tongue. I wanted it to twist around mine. I wanted him to swallow me.

  My legs wrapped around his waist. I drug my nails down his back and struggled to find some friction. My aching sex found the bulge of his erection. I rubbed myself against him in my panties. They were still hanging off my backside, and the motions of my humping lifted them up more. They were in my way, blocking my pussy from the contact it needed.

  When I reached down to somehow get them down my thighs, he grabbed my hands and pinned them over my head, interlacing his fingers in mine. He kept them there and lost himself in my lips.

  The feel of him melting into my body, of feeling a strong dominant man lose his control because of me, made me ache for him in a way that spun insanity.

  I was insane for him.

  And I never wanted to touch sanity again. Lose myself in the darkness.

  Let it overpower me.

  Finally, he let my hands free. He reached down to rip my panties off. He rose onto his elbows. “Give me your wrists.” He tied my panties around my wrists, giving them a yank until they bit into my skin. “Put them over your head.” He tied the loose end that dangled between my wrists to the wooden arms of the couch. “Since you can’t seem to keep your fucking hands to yourself. Pull free and your left ass cheek will bear the same marks. Do I make myself clear?” His dark gaze pinned me in place.

  “Yes.”

  “Now look what you’ve done.” He shoved his hard bulge against my pussy. He grabbed his shirt so he could see better and looked down, stroking the bulge of his cock up and down my core. He parted me ever so softly, the fabric of his slacks teasing my clit. “I dreamed of this pussy. I dreamed of all the ways I’d take your virginity. Rough, gently—I still can’t decide.” He pressed deeper, stroking my clit. “I’m going to have fun stretching your tight virgin cunt.”

  Tired of his shirt, he ripped it over his head and off his arms, tossing it aside. I yanked on my bindings. I wanted to touch his body. His beautifully chiseled abs made my mouth pool with drool. I cried out, pulling hard as he dry-humped me with rolling rocking motions of his hips.

  When I looked down, his black slacks were darker where they came in contact with my sex. I wanted to help make them wetter.

  The moment I tried to hump him back, his hand grabbed my face and forced my eyes on his. His grip on my jaw hurt. The dark fury in his gaze made my body tense.

  “Did I ask for your help?”

  I tried to shake my head, but within his grip, it wasn’t possible. And his thumb and index finger dug into my cheeks, keeping my mouth open and making it impossible to answer with words.

  “Was I not enough?”

  He looked so disappointed in me tears sprung to my eyes. I wanted to say he was enough, but he didn’t want my answer. Obviously, my actions told him one thing.

  “You need far more training before we continue this
.” He rose from my body and let my face go, marching away from me, his bare back the only thing I saw before I heard the shower turn on.

  I sagged in defeat, naked from the waist down, tied to the couch by my panties. The lace had no give, digging into my wrists painfully.

  “Master?” I called hoarsely, hearing no reply.

  I was still aching with want. Frustration boiled over. I didn’t care what he said. What he did.

  I lifted my wrists to remove the tension in the lace, then I pulled until the tie on the couch rail gave way. I brought my wrists down and pulled my panties free, tossing them on the floor.

  We were going back to our regular lives? For what? What was up there for me? What was the point in giving him my submission if he only took it sometimes? For him, sure. He was a psychiatrist, giving classes at the university, he was even up for tenure. For me, I was undecided in my major. I went home alone every single night and woke up the same way. There had been nothing but dark emptiness until the moment I walked into Mr. Damon’s class, Intro to Psych, and my heart stuttered at the sight of him.

  He wanted to go back to normal.

  Fine.

  I marched into our bedroom and searched for a pair of clean panties. Pairing them with a pair of jeans, I grabbed a hair tie from the pack on the dresser and put my hair into a ponytail. The entire time, panicked tears streamed down my face.

  “Do you have any idea the mess you’re making for yourself?” he growled behind me.

  I cried harder, searching around the room for shoes. I came in here with them. Where were they? I couldn’t even remember my shoes. “Shoes!” I screamed, casting my glower at him.

  He stood in a towel wrapped around his waist. The rage on his face wasn’t as terrifying as going back to normal.

  “My severest punishment isn’t even suitable for your behavior. You don’t need shoes. You’re not going anywhere until tomorrow. Sit down!” he roared, when I tried to walk around him. He dropped his towel and grabbed me by my shoulders, lifting me so my face was inches from his. “You will stop your hysterics and behave yourself. Or I’ll get my belt, Miya. There will be nothing but punishment.”

  I closed my eyes.

  “I will give you one more chance,” he said. “A belt on your ass right now would tear your raw flesh open. Do you want that?”

  “Do you?” I snapped, my eyes flying open in a rage.

  Coldness settled over him. Resolve. He set me down and grabbed my arm, pushing me onto the bed.

  “You promised me you understood what being a submissive was. You are here to please me. I want nothing more than to make you feel pleasure so immense, it alters you. I want that from you too, Miya. But your first rule is me, and so far, you’ve failed on all accounts.” He grabbed my ponytail and wrapped it around his fist, yanking my head toward my back. He put his mouth over my ear. “Frankly, I could find a better submissive on the street.”

  He broke my heart. Completely. I felt pain so immense, nothing he did at that point would make a difference. A numbness slid over me a moment before he reached around to unzip my jeans. He yanked them down my thighs along with my panties.

  He spanked me with a belt so hard I felt what was left of my heart shatter. I sobbed, not because of the pain, but because I was seeing a side of him I’d conveniently overlooked. This was what he wanted from me. To have my submission and to cause me pain. To hurt and punish. I was here to make him feel good. That was supposed to be enough.

  He was right. I failed him.

  Because that wasn’t enough.

  Wanting him made me want who he was. And maybe, I could get to that point. I could be a true submissive woman. Here to please her master. But I only wanted to please the beautiful man I fell in love with.

  I didn’t want to go back to normal and suffer through that life again, not after he made me feel so alive and complete.

  He pulled my panties and jeans back in place. No ice or lotion tonight. He tossed the belt on the floor and grabbed up his towel, leaving the room without another word thrown in my direction.

  It was the first time I hated him.

  I searched for shoes, finding a pair of sneakers in the closet in my size still brand new in the box. It was hard to stand, as sore as I was, but I managed to tie my shoes. I was sure I looked like shit, face red from crying, heart trembling from his mean words.

  What we had was so much more than sex and submission. We were so good together, in a bad way. He brought me to life. He wasn’t supposed to snuff it out too.

  Maybe I truly didn’t understand what I said yes to before I’d already started to find myself in this lifestyle.

  When I made it to the top of the stairs, the door was open. I pushed it open to find myself in a large open kitchen overlooking the Columbian River. The view was on display in floor-to-ceiling walls in the Oregon forest. On the island was my purse, phone, and the coat I’d worn to meet with him before he’d taken me in his car.

  I’d been so excited to finally be getting what I wanted.

  “Some time apart will do us both good. You think about what you want out of us. I won’t take anything less than your submission.” His angry voice broke, his emotions peeking through. “I can’t be in a relationship without it, Miya. I’ve tried. This is the only kind of relationship I can have. I accepted myself. Now you must accept yourself too. I’ll drive you home.”

  This wasn’t fair. I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want him to be so dark it overwhelmed everything in the room. I wanted … us. That’s all. Just us.

  Why wasn’t that enough?

  I tried to suck back my tears, but they streamed in rivulets down my face as I followed him through his home. I barely saw a thing but his back. He’d changed into a black shirt and jeans, his hair dark and damp. My things jostled in my arms.

  My hand shot out to hold his arm as we went downstairs. I wanted to touch some part of him.

  “I’ve never felt what I feel for you for another woman. I don’t involve love in my lifestyle. I didn’t think it would ever exist. This is new for me too, but I know what I need to function. Love doesn’t supply me with that. Your submission does. I need your submission. To do what I say when I say it. To follow my orders. To take your punishments when you break the rules. I want to take my dark sexual fantasies out on your body. That doesn’t make me a good guy. It makes me a monster, but I am a monster who recognizes his darkness. You must recognize the same. Think about it, please. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. My next submissive would know only pain. You will have taken all my heart if you can’t do this.”

  I fell against him, dropping my things in exchange for him. I held him as tightly as he held me. We both needed each other. This was what I needed from him. When he acted like this, I understood how simple submitting to him was.

  To have him, I had to accept this side of him.

  I had to embrace the dark.

  7.

  He waited for me to get inside of my apartment before driving away in his Lexus. The moment he was gone, so was I.

  I’d saved money from my summer job to build up enough to help pay for my one-bedroom shoebox close enough to the university. But I was nearing the last of my funds. I’d need to get a job soon, which was hard as a full-time student. My scholarship demanded a 3.5 GPA. I couldn’t have a full-time job and give my sponsor what they wanted to keep attending.

  And without college, what was there to hope for?

  Going to class the next day was hard. My ass hurt, covered in bruises and swollen where the belt had pelted me. I hadn’t slept. And reality was so heartbreaking.

  I wanted his darkness. In the dark, we existed freely.

  In the light of day, we were back to nothing. Back to want and no release.

  Despite my yearning, I didn’t seek him out on campus. I went to class and went home, writing down answers I didn’t know, and typing mindless essays. He didn’t call or stop by. He was waiting on me. Which made me so mad I kept up my resolve.
I tried hard not to think about him with another woman, or worse, a submissive he found on the street. My broken heart barely managed to beat in my chest.

  There were sacrifices to be made on both parts. If he wanted my subservience, he had to give me his heart. I needed that to function the way he needed my compliance.

  From the moment I saw Jaxon Damon, my only desire, my sole focus, was him. I hadn’t thought about what would come once I’d gotten what I wanted. Now I had to think about what to do to keep him, and what I wanted from us.

  Obviously, he wasn’t enough to keep us going. He needed something from me too.

  But I was stubborn, driving my heartache deeper. On Friday night, I came home from class exhausted. Sleeping was a fruitless excursion. I decided to apply my studying skills to my life. I opened my laptop and settled on the couch with it, delving deep into the world and minds of other submissive slaves and the dark minds of dominants. Some of the relationships and desires I read about made me yearn for the same thing. The closeness, the intimacy, the lack of control. Giving up your ability to say yes or no and letting someone you trust make every choice.

  That was my hitch.

  I made my choices. I lived my life. Now I had to give all my control to a man I wanted more than I wanted anything.

  Without doing that, we would never be.

  8.

  On Saturday, I was growing restless and exceedingly emptier.

  It was clear what he wanted. Wearisome and pissed, I placed my laptop on my table in the kitchen and settled with a cup of tea and sugar cookies.

  I logged into the fake email account I created to contact him in the first place. There was one email from him on Thursday evening.

  From: JDdominant

  To: SweetSub18

  Subject: Clock is ticking

  I’m waiting, Miya. The longer you make me wait, the redder your backside will be. I keep thinking about it. Your plump pale skin red and swollen. Your tears, your bravery. We can be this. Dom and Sub. All I’m waiting on is you, my sweet Miya.