by Harte, Roxy
“I would do anything to make you happy. Your servitude pleases me. This pregnancy pleases me.”
Emotion wells in my throat and I drop my gaze to the floor as my vision suddenly blurs. I’ve had so many doubts since learning that Master is not the father of my babies and Lord Fyre is. Doubts Master might not love me as much…might not want me anymore at all, my religious taboo-laden upbringing warping who I know Garrett Lawrence to be. He—the same man he was when he purchased me to be a sex slave, the professional Dominant who is so utterly mesmerizing that I’ve seen both men and women swoon in his presence, hell, the first time he touched me, I almost fainted, the man who gives lectures across the country on power exchange and polyamory—is not the man who would run away from a relationship just because it got a little hard, a little complicated.
Bending forward, he lifts my breast and takes my nipple into his mouth. Sensation slashes through me, pain verging on need, need verging on me begging him to stop. I imagine my babies needing to nurse and me turning my back on them. None of the books Jackie gave me said anything about breastfeeding being painful.
He nips, biting lightly.
“Oh God!”
He sucks harder, thinking I am enjoying the sensation.
Pregnancy is ruining everything. I don’t want to have sex, I don’t want to have my nipples sucked.
Finally he stops and I suck in a deep breath of relief…but then he pulls my other nipple into his mouth.
“Oh God. Stop, stop, stop.”
The thought rolls through my brain that “stop” is not a safe word…is this really worth safe-wording over?
He leaves the couch, squatting beside me, still sucking. My breast has started to pulse and ache, but strangely my pussy is equally pulsing and aching. I need to be filled.
Master seems to know what I need because I feel his hand push between my thighs, his fingers teasing past my clit to find my dampness. He lifts my bottom, making room for his hand, and his fingers slide deep.
Yes, yes, yes.
I lift higher, repositioning without permission. Bad, Kitten, bad.
Obeying, disobeying, waiting for permission to do anything, all of our Master-slave protocols always weigh so heavily on my mind. How are we going to do this with babies in the house?
“Lean over the couch cushion.”
I obey, laying my upper body on the sofa, lifting my ass to him.
Behind me, Master pushes his face against me, licking the length of my slit, his tongue probing my clit but not sucking, just licking. He teases lips and tongue over my labia, licking, licking, finding my anus to rim me gently.
“Oh God. Yes, Master.” I should be silent. We’re not in the bedroom. I can only speak so freely in the bedroom. How many infractions am I up to now?
I hear the door and jump, startled, but am trained too well to overreact. I stay in position. It doesn’t matter who sees. Hearing the shuffle of paper bags and the toss of keys, which clink loudly into a ceramic bowl stationed on top of a small table near the door, I assume it is Enrique, the houseboy. But what if it were a nanny returning from the park with our babies?
I am acutely aware of the erotic tableau, Master pressing into my most sensitive places, making me gasp and moan. He stops licking, sliding over me to press kisses to my shoulder. His fingers slide over my saliva-slicked ass. I arch, pushing against his hand, wanting him to fill me, anus, vagina, it doesn’t matter. I want this. I suddenly feel like a cat in heat, so different than a moment ago when I didn’t want sex at all. Every bit of me is still too sensitive—my nipples, my pussy, my ass—painfully so, but the ouch has turned into an ohmyfuckinggod.
“You make me so fucking hot, Kitten. I walk around with a perpetual hard-on, thinking about you naked, and when I see you I just have to have you.” He rims my asshole with his finger and I push against the weight of his hand, wanting him to push that finger inside me, needing it. I close my eyes tightly. I don’t want to see if Enrique stops on his way into the kitchen with the groceries to watch. I don’t want to imagine a similar scene with a nanny hastily covering our children’s eyes with her hand. We have to talk about this! Soon. How is this ever going to work with babies in the house?
“I’m fat,” I argue. “Not attractive.”
“Not fat.” He grabs my chin and forces my face around. He kisses me then meets my gaze. “As far as I know, I’ve never had a pregnant belly fetish. To be honest I’ve never really thought about it, but seeing your baby bump, something snapped in my brain. At first I was afraid to have sex with you, afraid you might lose the babies. But as time has passed, I’ve realized those are foundless fears. And as your waistline has expanded I’ve had to face this need inside of me.”
What am I supposed to say to that?
“You are so sexy.” He pushes his finger into me, stretching my anus, demanding I allow the intrusion, but my mind is still trying to wrap around his admission. “I’m not the only one. I see how some of our clients watch you as you crawl around The Oasis, your swollen belly so obvious, your hips fuller, your tits swaying.”
He pushes his finger inside and I moan, trying not to think of the lingering glances I receive when I’m at the club and failing because I have noticed. I moan as he pumps his finger in and out of me. I’m so very tight, but it feels so good.
Master whispers against my ear. “They want you. They want to fuck you.”
Yes, yes they do. I should feel ashamed, affronted, but as his finger slides in and out of me it is obvious my body finds it pleasing to think about.
“Oh God.”
He slides in a second finger, stretching me more and I push against his hand, opening for him.
“Does it make you feel sexy? Desirable? Knowing those men would fuck you in a heartbeat if I would allow it?”
“No,” I lie and he chuckles as though he doesn’t believe me.
His free hand wraps around my middle, rubbing my belly, and one of the babies kicks against the weight of his hand. It feels so strange, knowing there are little babies rolling around inside me, reacting to the attention Master is paying my body. I shouldn’t be enjoying this. I should be cloistered in a nunnery for the duration of my pregnancy. Untouched. A silly thought I suppose since I’ve never been Catholic.
I push it away…all of it…all the random thoughts, and concentrate solely on Master’s touch. Or lack thereof. He pulled his hands away and I understand why when I hear the slide of his zipper. He doesn’t make me wait long. I feel the head of his cock pressing against my ass.
This position, doggy-style, is easier now that I’m pregnant and my belly is in the way, but usually he pushes into my vagina. It’s been months since he’s fucked me in the ass.
I like it when he does, but I feel so tight today.
Too much thinking, my head just can’t drop into the blissful headspace I need to be in for everything to be perfect. I’m too worried about babies and nannies, or whether Enrique is in the kitchen putting away groceries, or if he pulled up a chair and is watching from behind. He wouldn’t do that!
Still, I’m thinking too much and am not surprised when Master commands, “Relax.”
Hearing the command, need tightens low in my belly. His voice always does that to me, and I focus on the command, wanting to be mastered, wanting to feel owned.
He pushes in, just the tip of his cock, waits for me to relax and pushes deeper. It still feels like only an inch. He’s reached the tight internal muscle band that doesn’t want to let him penetrate me.
He smacks my ass and the sting takes me by surprise. Heat flares over my hip and in that instant, while my mind is still focused on the smack, he pushes deep, filling me.
It’s been so long since I’ve been spanked, smacked, flogged.
“Master! Please!”
I don’t have to tell him what I want. He knows me. He smacks my ass again, pushing his cock even deeper, and this time I cry out. The sting. Oh God, yes, the sting flaring through my hip, but also the stretching an
d filling of my ass.
He pushes in, pulls out a little to push deeper on his next thrust. I feel every inch of the glide as he goes deep. His hands close around my abdomen, holding me tight, controlling the rhythm with his hold on me.
I fight to not even register the flip-flops and bounces happening inside me.
Stop touching my stomach.
Touch my clit.
Oh God, I want to come.
Impaled completely, I push back against him, feeling the soft hair that covers his thighs on the back of my legs. He sets a rhythm and his balls swing, a caress on my labia.
My ass contracts around his cock and I reach to touch my own clit. He doesn’t slap my hand out of the way and I wonder for a moment if he even noticed the infraction, but then my pleasure is rising, a blissful vortex lifting me.
I know the moment he starts to come because I’m right there with him, encouraging him to fuck me harder with the rhythm of my hips, pushing him, pulling him. “Oh God, oh God, oh God!”
“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.”
Anaïs Nin
Chapter Seven
Nikos
I am like a bitch in heat, waiting for her stud. Any glimpse of Mistress Morgana would do it for me, but as I wipe counters, take orders and fill drinks, I am disappointed again and again each time I scan the room, seeking the bright flash of her hair.
“You okay tonight, man?”
My co-bartender has noticed my distraction, the sloshed drinks and lack of conversation with our customers. “I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind.”
Morgan and I have kept our meetings secret, waiting until after work to play, even going so far as to spend our days off at various hotels far away from town. It has to be that way, I know it does. I understand the rules in place here. I also know I need to see her.
She put me in a chastity cage our first night together. Now she holds the key to the plastic cage around my cock. I never realized before how many erections I have in the course of a day. Especially here. I could keep a permanent hard-on…if not for the cage…and now I am forced to divert my eyes, divert my thoughts, or else there are painful consequences as the plastic denies my body’s attempt at a full erection.
If she wanted my thoughts to be on her every moment of every day, she wouldn’t have had to go to such lengths. I would have thought about her anyway. Three weeks later and I still haven’t fucked her. Even masturbation is out. I feel like I am losing my mind.
She tortures me, she allows me to serve her. She doesn’t allow me to pleasure her, which makes me wonder who she is having sex with. She doesn’t own a pet…and I doubt she’s owned. What if she has a partner completely away from Lewd’s? That thought makes me more insane than all the others.
I sleep at the foot of her bed, a good dog, and the entire time I want nothing more than to hold her, but she doesn’t let me.
She’s a nightmare of pain, but when I’m with her I feel some salvation is imminent.
Dozens of beautiful bodies flirt with me every night—men and women—I could have my pick of partners, so why am I so obsessed with this one?
I close my eyes, remembering our last scene. She’d put me in the damn box, my wrists and ankles secured in the corners, my throat caught in a collar in the center. I was spread, balanced precariously and completely at her mercy.
She unlocked and removed the cage from my cock but there was to be no pleasure in the moment. She immediately attached clamps to my scrotum. Stroking my face, she’d said, “Enjoy the pain I cause you.”
She stroked my cock and I rose to the challenge. Even when she added the low vibrating hum of electricity through my cock and balls her threat had seemed inconsequential. She worked me up, making my cock so hard it felt as if it might break off. Then she added more electricity and any pleasure I was feeling plummeted, my erection falling.
She slapped my sagging flesh. “You’re such a huge disappointment.”
She turned the electricity completely off and disconnected all the wires. My guts clenched, fearing the worst. I’d failed any chance of being hers. But she wasn’t playing fair. I had no idea how to please her.
“Please, Mistress. I want to please you.”
She collapsed the box’s walls, leaving me still anchored at corner posts. Another snap and half of the cage bottom folds down. “You want to please me?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“I’m going to fuck you senseless, mutt. If you want to please me, you won’t come. You’ll deny yourself all pleasure.”
“Yes, Mistress.” I was bound and helpless, my cock deflated. It didn’t seem like such a hard request.
She zapped me with a long-handled animal prod, again and again, on the inside of my thighs, the backs of my arms and legs. Each jolt was a painful surprise.
“Fuck,” I cursed. “God damn.”
She laughed at any attempt I made to pull my wrists or ankles free of the cuffs, and after a while all I wanted was to be free of her torture. She must have sensed the moment I quit because she backed off, walked away. She returned with lube. Standing in front of me, she spread a liberal amount over the prosthetic cock she had strapped to her hips. “Do you like it up the ass, mutt?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Leaning over me, her face close as she met and held my gaze, she spread lube on my anus. She rimmed my hole with her slick fingertips. “I don’t believe you.”
Slowly she slid a finger deep inside me and wiggled it. My muscles clenched against the intrusion.
“Say you love my finger in your ass.”
“I love your finger in my ass, Mistress.” I hated it that my voice cracked. Strangely, my chest felt heavy with emotion I didn’t understand. I’d been fucked up the ass before. It wasn’t that I was an ass-fuck virgin, but my body was responding with nervousness, fear. Vulnerability. I didn’t understand why I was feeling the way I was or why it was so important for me to experience it with her, but it had seemed since the first moment I’d seen her that she had to be the one. I’d just seen myself controlling her.
Was it really that simple? The power exchange happening between us was mind-fucking me?
She pushed the head of her rubber cock against my anus, just pressure, not entering me. She sighed against my face. “Do you want this, mutt? Do you want me to fuck you?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
She pushed harder, still not entering, and my cock sprang to life. Need harsher than I’ve ever felt welled in my middle. I pulled on my wrist restraints, wanting freedom and knowing if I was free that this game would end now. I would fuck her senseless and she would beg for mercy.
Holding my gaze, she smiled, and it was a wicked smile because it seemed she could read my mind. “You want to fuck me so bad, don’t you, mutt?”
I ground my teeth together to keep from saying a word.
She slid the tip of her cock inside me, opening me slowly. Too slowly. God, just do it. Get it over with.
She pulled back out, then pressed in, just the head, not even pushing past the band of muscles that would fight against the intrusion.
“Say you love my cock in your ass.”
“I love your cock in my ass, Mistress.”
She thrust hard. Stretching me. Opening me. She thrust faster, accusing, “You like being the Dom too much. You like controlling people. You like hurting others.”
“I don’t,” I lied, forgetting to use the word Mistress as the faces of those I’d harmed flashed through my brain, one after another.
I didn’t enjoy it. It sickened me. But I’d done the things I’d done despite how horrendous the tasks were. I’d stomached it. I’d done my job, but I couldn’t tell her that, I couldn’t admit anything of my past to her.
“You caused pain and you laughed about it.”
“No,” I refuted, sudde
nly remembering where I was and who I was with. “Mistress!”
She thrust harder and harder, ripping moans from my throat as the pain I’d caused others and their screams welled up from a place in my memory I thought I’d locked down tightly.
“You promised to never lie to me.”
I started shaking then screaming, matching the sound in my head, not because she was hurting me fucking me, but because I’d hurt myself so badly doing the things I’d done. Irreparable damage. I am damaged. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Oh. God.”
She kept fucking me, even after I started sobbing.
She kept fucking me, even after I’d recovered from whatever breakdown had wrapped me in its grasp for those moments when I’d wailed like an infant. I wanted free, but I couldn’t escape her. I couldn’t escape myself, my memories. I was held down, fucked hard, emotion riding me mercilessly as I was forced to feel all the pain I’d hidden from for so long. “Mistress. Please release me.”
She grabbed my face, pinching my cheeks hard between her fingers before she kissed me cruelly. “You’re the one who came to me, mutt. You said you wanted to be owned, wanted to be controlled. You want to be punished for all your past sins, don’t you?”
God, yes. “Please let me go.”
“I can’t do that. I won’t fail you, mutt.”
She thrust hard and deep, seeming to rip me in half. I screamed and kept screaming but she didn’t release me, not until I became calm. Resigned. Exhausted.
I lay there knowing that even if she flayed me, it would not cause me enough suffering to make up for all that I’d done. She came, the sound of her pleasure seeming like the sounds of agony etched into my brain, and I knew then what drew me to her.
We’re the two most injured people in this place. Broken. Soulless. Do we hope to save each other?
“A rum and Coke.” My thoughts are interrupted by a customer’s order. I go through the motions, serving him, a moment’s distraction from her but then I’m scanning the room, seeking her out and being disappointed again.
