Nobody's Hero

by Kallypso Masters

  “Ahh!” The sensation sent all thought fleeing from her mind. More. Her head lolled back against him and he bent down to nuzzle her neck once more. His beard stubble abraded her tender skin and sent bolts of electricity to her girly bits. The pulse in her neck beat so strongly, surely he could feel it against his lips.

  His right hand released her nipple and glided down over her flat abdomen and over the filmy skirt. He found the opening flap of the wrap-around skirt, and his hand slid between her thighs as he moved up to the juncture where she felt herself growing wetter. Karla held her breath. When his fingers came into contact with the bit of fabric barely covering her pussy and clit, she gasped. Touch me there. Instead, he followed the waistband to the thong strap in the back.

  “Good girl.”

  Did he think she wouldn’t follow his instructions? “Thank you, Sir.” The breathy sound of her voice sounded seductive. She enjoyed being sexy for her Master.

  “Keep the skirt and thong on.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Let’s lose the blouse and bra, though.” He placed her arms at her sides and pulled the blouse further open, sliding the sleeves down and off her arms. The feel of the warm silk and firm fingers against her skin sent a shiver up her spine. She glanced up and was surprised to find their reflection on a wall mirror she hadn’t noticed before. Ah, she realized. The curtain below the shelf had been moved aside to reveal the mirror. He brushed her hair aside and unhooked her bra, tugging on a loose strand of hair. He left the scrap of lace hanging from the straps as his warm hands slid around her and under the lace to cup her bare breasts. She hissed when he pinched her nipples again.

  “I love touching your tits, kitten.”

  “Your kitten loves to have her tits touched by you, Sir.” Her face grew red at speaking of herself in third-person and using a word like tits, but she smiled anyway. She’d read online that slaves often referred to themselves this way. She and her breasts—or tits—were his property now.

  She hoped he was pleased with her body. Her breasts weren’t overly large, but oh-so-sensitive when he touched her now, as if he’d awakened them or something. She loved that he loved having his hands on them.

  Master Adam released his hold and stood behind her, then went to the shelves where she’d seen the bundles of colorful rope. She waited. Warmth enveloped her, and she realized he’d turned on a space heater.

  “Rope bondage is hard for someone who’s cold, and you seem to be cold-natured, so I placed a space heater here to keep you warm. Let me know if you’re too hot or too cold.”

  “Yes, Master. Thank you.” That he had thought about her comfort pleased her, too. He wasn’t only concerned about what he would gain from their scene. She’d seen some postings online from some egomaniacal Masters who got into humiliating their slaves and treating them like objects, but Master Adam didn’t seem that way at all.

  A few moments later, he knelt behind her again and dropped several rope bundles onto the mat beside her thigh. She resisted the urge to turn and look at them, but red and blue ones were visible out of the corner of her eye.

  “Hold your hair up out of the way.” Once again, he sounded annoyed about her hair, just as he had been at Marc’s house. Maybe she needed to consider cutting it. Only now she would have to ask for Master Adam’s permission. Her hair was his, too.

  She reached up to do as he instructed, and he surprised her by reaching around in front of her, holding a black leather collar lined with sheepskin fur. A dog collar? She blushed at being treated like a pet, but she supposed that’s what she was now. His toy. His pet.

  His kitten.

  But she didn’t want him to treat her like a baby anything. She’d been trying to get him to see her as a woman all this time and now she was just doing whatever he told her, like a good little kitten. A child.

  He placed the collar around her neck. “This is a playtime collar. The D-rings on it can be useful for bondage, and the collar is a reminder to you that you’re my pet. My plaything.” His hands wrapped around her collar, fingers on either side sliding inside and pulling it away from her skin.

  “That isn’t too tight, is it?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Good.” His hands slid to her shoulders and he eased the bra straps down her arms, his callused hands gently abrading her skin. He tossed the scrap of lace aside. She felt exposed and vulnerable until Adam’s hands reached around her again, so warm against her cool skin.

  “I can’t keep my fucking hands off your tits.”

  Karla smiled at his earthy language. A sense of power came over her. Master Adam saw her as a woman at last. Her nipples reached out to greet the pads of his palms.

  He tugged her hair from her grip and let it cascade over her shoulders and back. “I also love touching your hair, too.”

  A burst of pride welled up inside her. He liked her hair?

  Then his fingers splayed out, his palms covering her ears as his fingertips brushed upward across cheeks and into her hairline. He raked his fingertips over her scalp, massaging her with a firm, gentle touch. The muscles in her legs and back gave out; she slumped against his body for support.

  He chuckled.

  Her clit throbbed as he continued his sensual massage of her scalp. Who knew this was an erogenous zone for her?

  Master Adam.

  She moaned.

  “That’s right, kitten. Surrender to your Master, completely.”

  I did that long ago, Sir.

  After several more minutes, he began finger-combing her curls, from her scalp to the ends of her tresses. He fanned the long strands over her shoulders and breasts. She continued to lean against him, as if she could have moved if she’d wanted to. Why did she always melt like butter on a stove when he touched her?

  “Clasp your hands behind your lower back, just above your ass.”

  The abrupt command sent her erotic nerve-endings back on full alert. She straightened her back yet again and did his bidding.

  He released her and picked up a red-dyed bundle of rope, unwrapping it and finding the ends. She lifted her butt off her heels and knelt taller for him, her breasts jutting out, erect and proud. She watched in the mirror as he shook out the strands of red rope, preparing for the binding to begin, she thought.

  Instead, he took the strands, threading them between his fingers, and rubbed the cold rope and his warm hands over her bare breasts. The sensual feel of the rope, along with the pressure of his hands, elicited a moan from deep within her throat. This was so different from the demonstration at Marc’s house. For one, her breasts were bare this time. But he seemed to be spending so much more time preparing her.

  “That’s right, kitten. Embrace the rope.”

  “Yes, Master,” she whispered. Her heartbeat fluttered. Waiting. Wanting. Needing.

  “Breathe, baby.” Master Adam’s voice reminded her of the need for oxygen. She took a deep, relaxing breath. He continued to rub the rope over her breasts, abdomen, mons, even pressing it against her thong-covered clit and pussy, causing a delicious friction there that sent heat radiating throughout her body. Her breath hitched as her nipples became even more engorged. The rope and his hands moved up her arms leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their path. She fought to maintain her kneeling position, but the sensory overload left her wanting to puddle at his feet.

  “Breathe, kitten.”

  She did as he commanded. His hands returned the rope to her breasts and her breath caught when he brushed the rope across her sensitive nipples. No longer able to fight gravity, she sagged against him, her head lolling to the side. His body surrounded her and enfolded her. His lips kissed the curve of her neck, then nipped at the flesh there. She caught her lower lip between her teeth and panted. Now. She wanted him to touch her now.

  “Stay.”

  How could she do anything else?

  He rose, and she planted her butt against her heels for support. She watched the rope dance in his hands as he prepared it for the binding
to come. Her eyelids drifted shut. Of a sudden, the rope lashed her torso, licking repeatedly at her tender nipples. She opened her mouth to scream only to realize she wasn’t experiencing pain, just surprise. He walked in a circle around her continually flogging her with the ends of the rope—touching every exposed area, shoulders, breasts, arms, thighs, hands, butt. The nerves rose to the surface to welcome the sensual lash of the rope.

  Just as suddenly, he stopped and knelt behind her again, separating her hair into two shanks and letting one fall over each shoulder to cover her breasts. Apparently, this time, he wasn’t going to bind it in the hair corset as he had at Marc’s house.

  “Bend your elbows behind your lower back at ninety-degree angles and grab the opposite elbows with your hands. Your inner wrists need to be flush against your forearms.”

  Karla hoped she did everything he’d ordered in his list of rapid-fire commands. Where did he want her elbows, hands, and wrists? Had she done it right?

  “Good girl.”

  Her body warmed at his praise. Her breasts jutted out even further in front of her, making them seem larger than they were.

  “If you feel any tingling, especially in your arms, and eventually your legs, I want you to tell me immediately. Understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He tied her forearms together, midway between her wrist and elbow, and with bone-melting movements, Master Adam’s hands wrapped, twisted, and threaded the rope with quick precision around her upper arms. She pictured countless scenes of his club demonstrations where he created what looked like a box out of the model’s arms, wrists, and hands. Occasionally, he tugged at her arms and the ropes, checking for tightness or comfort, maybe both.

  She’d watched Adam bind Mistress Grant many times in demonstrations for other Doms wanting to learn the art. Those demonstrations had been so torturous for Karla that sometimes she’d had to turn her attention to other scenes happening in the club’s great room, because watching him touch someone else so intimately hurt too badly to watch.

  Of course, he’d been much more intimate doing Shibari with Karla than he’d ever been with Mistress Grant. Tonight he wasn’t performing for anyone but the two of them, wasn’t touching anyone but her. She smiled.

  Soon he had her upper arms and torso tightly secured by the rope, her arms pressed snugly against her sides. She tested the bindings to see how much movement she still had in her arms and realized there was very little give.

  “Don’t move, unless you need to flex your hands or fingers. Don’t shift your body. The ropes will be placed on your torso, hips, and arms in very precise ways so that, when I suspend you, I won’t put a strain on your arms.”

  Suspend? She remembered the ring hanging above her. Oh, my! His explanation made sense. She didn’t feel any sense of panic, though. She trusted Master Adam not to harm her. He’d been her guardian and protector in many ways since she was sixteen.

  Again, he worked in rapid motion behind her back. She wondered if there was a name for this design but knew if he told her the Japanese word, she’d forget it anyway. He reached around in front of her and threaded a blue rope above and below her breasts, adjusting the tension and attaching these ropes to the red ones on her arms. Her breasts were squeezed between the ropes, but not so tightly they hurt. He pressed a kiss against her right shoulder and she shivered with need.

  Rather than analyze what he was doing, she closed her eyes and surrendered to the ropes and Master Adam’s hands once more, letting him push and pull the rope through the bindings, moving her torso left and right, forward and back, while he manipulated her body as if she were a rag doll. Her head fell forward as she lost the ability to hold it upright. Her loose hair cascaded over her breasts and swung in the air in front of her as he bound her. Time ceased, and Karla felt as if she were levitating off the floor, floating above her body.

  Free.

  When Master Adam took a shank of her hair and slowly pulled her head back, her eyes fluttered open to find herself staring upside-down into his mint-green eyes. “I’ve never worked with anyone so responsive to the rope, kitten.” He smiled.

  That sounded like a good thing. She smiled, feeling half drunk, before her gaze settled on his lips. All she wanted was to feel them on her—anywhere. His smile faded. “Up you go, pet.”

  His strong hands gripped her tightly bound upper arms and lifted her to her feet. He walked around to stand in front of her and stared down at her breasts, which had swollen and turned red between the rope bindings. When Master Adam bent to brush his tongue over one of her protruding nipples, she gasped at the hyper-sensitivity.

  “Oh, my God!”

  He chuckled. “I’m flattered, but you know better how to address me.”

  “I’m sorry, Sir. I’m a little…disoriented.”

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d gone into subspace.”

  She’d heard Angie talk about the time her mind and body separated when the abusive Dom beat her. “I thought you have to be in lots of pain to go into subspace.”

  “No, it can happen anytime a sub or slave so completely surrenders and is able to move outside her conscious mind. It’s like going into a trance—or being stoned.”

  She smiled. “I felt that, Master. I floated. Time disappeared.”

  He chuckled and stroked her cheek. “Thank you, kitten, for your sweet surrender. Those are the sweetest words a D—a Master can hear.”

  Master Adam was pleased, which pleased her. She’d been a good slave for him. All she wanted was to be what he wanted. To give him herself.

  “Time to heighten your senses even more.”

  She felt herself grow wet at the threat in his words—or was it promise? She bowed her head. “Thank you, Sir.”

  He reached out and squeezed her tender nipples until they were hard and even more sensitive, which didn’t seem possible a moment ago. From the right pocket of his leathers, he pulled out a chain with clamps on either end. Master Adam took her left breast in his cupped hand and bent down to place her erect nipple between his lips. His teeth bit down gently and she sucked in a sharp breath, feeling as if her knees would collapse under her.

  He stood tall again. “Perfect.” Still cupping her breast, he took the clamp with his other hand and placed her nipple between the pincher-like ends, then slid a tiny ring along the shaft closer to her nipple, causing the pinchers to squeeze tighter and tighter onto her nipple. “Tell me when it’s too tight.”

  She tried to hold out as long as she could to show she could be a good slave and take what her Master meted out, but when she could stand it no longer, she screamed, “Now!” Rather than stop, he pushed the ring just a little further sending a raging fire of pain burning through her nipple, until her knees buckled. He grabbed her arms to steady her, chuckling.

  Sadist.

  “How do you address me?”

  Oh, shit. She hadn’t called him a sadist to his face, had she? Then she remembered what she’d forgotten when she’d tried to get him to stop squeezing her nip. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  How was she supposed to remember protocols when he did such mind-blowing things to her body? Would addressing him as Sir ever become a natural response for her? When he went to attach the other clamp to her right nipple, Karla instinctively moved away from him.

  “Do. Not. Move.”

  Ka-thunk. Her stomach dropped into her pelvis at his stern words, which left her feeling even more skittish. He bent down and bit her nipple, causing it to double in size, and placed the other clamp over it and began to tighten the pinchers. She decided not to let the pain go beyond her tolerance level this time and quickly shouted, “Now, Sir!” But he continued to adjust it to about the same tension as the other. The pain! Oh, God! Then she realized he hadn’t asked her this time to tell him when it hurt too much.

  Karla’s breaths came in shallow hisses as the burning pain in both her nipples consumed her mind. She looked down at her squashed nipples and wondered how she’d be able to
stand it much longer. She took a deeper breath, hoping it would relax her. The pain receded to a tolerable level and she was able to breathe normally again.

  “Good girl.”

  Why did those two words of praise and his gentle touch make her feel as if she could stand so much more for him? Because she knew she wanted nothing more than to please Adam, her Master.

  He stroked her breasts, avoiding her tender nipples, then pinched the sides of her breasts, taking the focus away from her nipples and making the pain more tolerable. Strange.

  This Master/slave relationship—arrangement—had begun as a game to get him to notice her but had very quickly gone so much further than she’d ever intended. Karla already felt herself morphing into the docile slave Adam wanted. The independent, headstrong Karla should be bothered that she was losing herself as she became someone else’s property, but she’d wanted to belong to him for so long. No wonder he hadn’t been attracted to her before. Her personality was too powerful. She was too independent.

  However, since they’d entered into this arrangement, he’d paid much focused attention to her every need. This had stopped being a game. She was growing to need him as her Master, totally and completely.

  She wanted nothing more than to become his slave.

  Chapter Six

  Adam had just tested her for pain limits and Karla hadn’t whined or balked. He’d even gone beyond her limits, hoping she would safeword and put an end to this god-damned arrangement. Nothing. Oh, at one point, she’d glared at him and he’d seen the old Karla shining through—the one who wouldn’t put up with anyone’s shit. Then she’d surrendered to his will.

  Why didn’t she tell him to go fuck himself?

  Why did her complete surrender make him come undone?

  Had he been wrong about her? Was she submissive? The thought of being her Dom made his dick grow hard, no doubt about that. He may not be into the extreme of the Master/slave relationship, but he sure as hell was dominant to the bone—and her telling him he’d put her into subspace just made him rock hard.