For My Master

by Suz deMello

  He tugged at the straps of her sundress and they slid down her arms. When they caught at her elbows, his lips left hers. With an impatient “pfft”, he tore the dress off her, popping open the buttons with eager hands. Naked, she grabbed his shirt’s hem, lifting it, exposing his solid torso. He hooked a bare leg around hers and tumbled them both toward the ground, easing her beneath him before she quite knew what was happening.

  She tensed as she fell, worried about hitting her head, but one big hand protected her skull from the floor as they landed on soft carpet. He kneed her legs wide and her clit swelled with need. She scrabbled for his zipper, desperate to have him. The metal teeth scraped apart and he groaned. “Hurry up, Belmont.”

  She restrained a laugh. Was she his slave, or was he hers? She reached inside his shorts, fumbling for his cock, finding it inside the slit of his boxers. The cloth was silky but he was wonderfully hard, his length solid and heavy in her palm, steel encased in velvet. She grabbed for his shirt but before she could strip off his clothes he stretched his long body atop hers, his weight heaven on earth.

  She had only a split second to savor the feeling. He shoved a hand between them, adjusting himself for a moment before he sank his tongue into her mouth and, at the same time, sank his cock into her wet, greedy pussy.

  His rigid shaft parting her tight, hot sheath was unbearable pleasure. Everything she was clenched around him and, with her eyes squeezed shut, her world exploded into a shower of glittering sparks. She pushed her tongue at his, writhed beneath his hard body and grappled at his shoulders. Hot waves of ecstasy slammed through her. A long moan rasped her throat as the release that jolted her body went on and on.

  Her erotic fog thinned and she became aware of fabric against her back as he pressed her into the carpet. He pushed out her knees, spreading her open so he could spear her to the core. She hooked her legs over his shoulders to take him in farther. Anchored deep, he cupped her breasts and kneaded the nipples until they stood out red and aching, then bent over her. The intensity in his eyes scared her a little, but she remembered that she could trust Ross, perhaps more than she’d ever trusted anyone.

  He played with her clit, massaging with increasing pressure as she started to peak again. This climax was slower, gentler, and he watched her all the way through it. But she wasn’t embarrassed.

  He kissed her mouth, a brief, hard peck, then pulled out so that only the round head of his cock lay inside her cunt. “I’m gonna come, now, baby, and I might be a little rough. Can you take it?”

  Kathie nodded and kept her eyes open. Was she a voyeur? Maybe, but so what? Ross was gorgeous, and she wanted to watch him come.

  She hitched her legs farther up on his shoulders. He reared back, gripping her hips so hard that she’d bet tomorrow she’d be bruised, but that was okay. She wanted him to let go.

  He closed his eyes and surged into her. He hit the head of her womb and she realized that he’d been holding back. Now he rammed his full length into her right up to the balls, with fierce thrusts that sent stabs of pleasure zipping through her.

  He let one hip go to lift his hand, palm open, then slapped her hard on the ass. The spank reverberated off the walls, was echoed by her startled squeal. He spanked her again and the fire on her flesh seemed to sink down to her cunt. He squeezed the spot he’d savaged as he pounded relentlessly into her.

  She gasped and squirmed, her hands going to her breasts, pinching the nipples in concert with each driving lunge. His face contorted into a harsh mask just before his cock swelled, pushing at her inner walls, the flame inside matching the heat on her hip. She screamed out one last orgasm, her cry mingling with his.

  Chapter Two

  Kathie came to at about the same time as Ross. She pushed at his heavy chest and mumbled, “Can’t breathe.”

  He rolled over. “Jesus Christ.”

  “Huh?”

  “I don’t know how we’re going to complete this mission if all I want to do is fuck your brains out every minute.” He plucked at his damp muscle T, then zipped his shorts, stood in a lithe motion and extended a hand to help her up.

  She reached for her dress.

  “You won’t need that.”

  She lifted the shredded cloth, the straps and bodice torn, perhaps irreparably. She grinned. “That’s good, because there’s not much of it left.”

  He grinned back. “Follow me.”

  Cool. Now she had a chance to look around his house and didn’t have to rein in her curiosity. Part of that was her natural bent as an investigator, but she also wanted to know the master she’d chosen to serve.

  First the entry, where soft lighting illuminated pale yellow walls with cream wainscoting, trimmed with masculine, dark wood. A red, patterned rug partially covered gray slates. A table fountain’s splash caressed her ears just before he led her to a great room tiled with the same slate floor.

  At the room’s far end lay an open kitchen with brushed, silvery appliances and a big, copper-hooded range top. Gorgeous. She guessed he liked to cook, which was in line with what she’d already noted about Ross. He brought his own coffee beans to the office and handmade his espresso in one of those mysterious European metal pots set directly on a hotplate. She’d thought he was nutty until she’d tasted some of the brew, which had been sublime.

  Near the kitchen was a dining area, dominated by a wooden table that harmonized with the house’s Craftsman style. A plasma TV hung on the wall closest to her, with a dark red, leather sofa arranged opposite.

  “Have a seat,” Ross said.

  She headed toward the couch but he said, “No, not there. On the table.”

  “On the table?” she asked. “Not at the table?”

  “You got it, Belmont.”

  Then she noticed the ropes tied to the table’s legs.

  He planned to tie her up. Her belly clenched, whether with fear or anticipation she wasn’t sure.

  She’d wanted bondage, dreamed of it, hadn’t she? So from where did that knot in the pit of her stomach come?

  “We’re expecting someone at ten thirty.” He smiled at her.

  Someone else? She fought to pull herself together. Dammit, she’d been a top-notch policewoman and now she was an experienced agent. An unexpected guest wouldn’t shatter her calm. She wouldn’t allow that to happen. “I’ll get some clothes,” she said.

  “I already told you that won’t be necessary. Get onto the table.” A harsh note had entered his voice. “I don’t want to have to tell you again.”

  “Yes, sir.” She bit her lower lip. This was nothing like the scenarios she’d dreamed up for herself and Ross.

  “Let go, Kathie.” He came closer, stroked her face. “I know you need to. I know what you’ve been through. I know you need someone else to be in control.”

  She closed her eyes against the prickling heat of tears. “You’re right,” she murmured. “Ever since my parents died—”

  “You were only eighteen.”

  “I had to take care of everything, make sure that the younger kids had what they needed.”

  “Oh, but who took care of Kathie?”

  She shook her head. “Nobody. There…there wasn’t anybody.”

  “I’ll take care of you. Be mine, all mine, and I’ll give you everything you need.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, wondering if he was for real or whether this was an act put on for the mission. She’d heard of Ross Guerrero’s legendary dedication. He wasn’t above manipulating her in order to complete the assignment.

  She did her best to steel her heart as he kissed away her tears, his lips tender and his embrace warm, strong.

  She raised her head and looked into his kind, brown eyes. “Why did you first propose that I be the dominant one?”

  “I had guessed what you wanted, but I knew I could be wrong. I wasn’t going to push you into anything you didn’t want. I still won’t. I won’t use my authority to manipulate you, Kathie, not ever. So, tell me…is this what you want?”
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br />   She closed her eyes and allowed the pain to fall away. “Yes.”

  “Now lie down on the table.”

  She took in a steadying breath. “Yes, sir. Umm, face down or up?”

  “Up, please.” He smiled at her. “And for this operation, your name is Belle.”

  “That’ll work. You call me Belmont anyhow.” She walked to the table and perched on it.

  “Yes, it’s close enough that we probably won’t slip. And when you don’t call me sir or master, I’m Zack.”

  She studied him. “That suits you, sir.”

  “It’s my middle name. Zack Guerrero is a common enough name that I won’t be traced. Lie down, please.”

  Wood pressed cool and hard against her damp skin. When she stretched out on the table, some of Ross’ come leaked out of her pussy. Embarrassed, she pressed her thighs together. “I’m, um…dripping. Sir.”

  He picked up a wooden spoon and rapped on the wood. “Spread ‘em. From now on, don’t put your knees together. Slaves provide their masters with total access at all times. If you forget this, they’ll finger you as an undercover cop for sure. Next time, this’ll be on your ass.” He whacked the spoon against the table again for emphasis, then tossed it onto the table with a clatter. “And it won’t feel as good as a spanking.”

  She spread her legs and arms in an X. “Maybe you should tell them that, uh…I’m in training.”

  “Oh, I will. Hell, it’ll be the truth.” He opened a drawer and took out a clean cloth. He wiped her cunt and the table, placing a light kiss onto her shaved mound before dropping the towel next to her.

  He reached for the rope nearest her left wrist. She closed her eyes, wondering what the hell she was doing. The mission, she reminded herself. If this was the only way they could infiltrate the criminals’ operation, then she’d do whatever she had to do. That she wanted Ross to dominate her was a plus, but she’d never been a submissive before and didn’t know what to expect. Fantasies weren’t reality.

  He finished with one wrist and moved to the next. As he tightened the second knot, a delicious lassitude flowed through her body. Her limbs quivered.

  So this was submission, the complete release of control to someone she could love and trust. She prayed that Ross wouldn’t abuse that trust.

  He twisted the ropes around her ankles, securing her to the table’s legs. While rolling the towel into a cylinder, he said, “Test your bonds.”

  Kathie turned her head to look at him. “Sir?”

  “Test the knots,” he said. “This isn’t a game. You have to be tied fast.”

  Her heart stuttered. “S-sir?”

  He came closer. “Do you trust me?”

  “Y-yes,” she said.

  “You don’t, but you will. Do exactly what I order. Unswerving obedience, Belmont, or it ends here.”

  “No!”

  “What?”

  “I want this. I want this mission. And everything that comes with it. Sir.”

  “Everything?”

  “Everything,” she said firmly. Twisting her body, she yanked on the ropes. They held.

  “I’ll want you to bear my mark. A tattoo.” His voice was rough. “There may be some pain involved.”

  She shrugged, faking unconcern. Inside she was quaking. Bearing Ross’ mark… What did he mean? A tattoo. She’d be marked as his slave. What if it didn’t work out? What if she wanted other lovers? They’d know, wouldn’t they?

  But it was for the mission, and for Ross, and if things worked out…”It’s okay,” she said. “I was thinking of getting a tat anyhow.”

  “All right, then.” Ross’ voice calmed. “Lift your hips.”

  She dug her heels into the table to comply and he slipped the rolled towel under her buttocks. It raised her pelvis so her sex was lifted high, revealed. Now she was naked, bound, spread open and displayed.

  Her clit twitched anew. She was aroused, aroused by the exposure. But how would she feel when that mysterious someone else came through the door?

  Ross stroked her wrist, slid his palm along her arm to her breast, tweaking her nipple. He licked and sucked one nub, then the other. Her need increased and she squirmed against her bonds. While he kissed her breasts he drew a hand down her side, ending with his fingers in her pussy, his caress raising cool flames of desire racing along her skin.

  She closed her eyes to better enjoy Ross’ touch.

  The door chime sounded and her eyes popped open. Oh, God… Who was going to see her this way? She didn’t mind Ross tying her up and fondling her. Oh, no. He could do that all day. But others?

  “I could play with your sweet cunt forever.” He finger-fucked her for a few strokes and sighed. “But duty calls.” He left, presumably to answer the door.

  Kathie struggled with her feelings. She decided that she’d better get used to other men gawking at her, touching her. The dealers operated out of an orgy house. More than one man might ask her master for use of her body.

  Would Ross allow that? If so, could she handle it?

  She heard the clatter of heavy motorcycle boots on slate and every muscle tensed. She turned her head to see who’d come in. Ross was there, of course, but to Kathie’s surprise he wasn’t accompanied by a man. Instead, two people strode into the room. One was a thirty-something woman with long, streaky blonde hair. She had on the sort of clothes that no one in San Diego ever wore except in a bar at midnight—leather from head to toe, red lipstick and goth-black eye makeup. Her skirt was a wisp of black leather. A black leather vest exposed tanned, muscular arms sprinkled with tattoos of stars, butterflies and red roses. She carried a turquoise, sequined satchel in a wild animal print and talked nonstop.

  “Sorry I’m late, Zack, but the traffic was unbelievable.” She dumped her satchel on the table.

  Her companion was the kind of man Kathie had anticipated. Most tattoo artists enjoyed their craft and this tall, thin guy had indulged. Every inch of his flesh that wasn’t covered by his wife-beater and jeans was adorned, except his face. Oddly, he possessed large, doe-like brown eyes and full lips, a very sensual mouth for a man. His brown hair was down to his waist, apparently clean, and neatly brushed into a ponytail clasped at his nape.

  He smiled at Kathie. “Who do we have here?” His speculative glance swept her, lingering on the restraints.

  “I could ask the same question.” Ross quirked a brow at the woman. “Darla?”

  She fidgeted. “I don’t know you, Zack, and when I go to a strange man’s home I never go alone.”

  “That’s reasonable,” Ross said.

  “This is Toby.” The woman—Darla?—gestured. The man gave a gentle smile.

  Ross nodded. “Darla, Toby, this is Belle. She’s agreed to bear my mark.” Ross placed a possessive hand on Kathie’s bare mound. “Here.”

  Tense, she bit her lip. She’d agreed, hadn’t she?

  Toby must have sensed her tension because he said, “That’s a good idea. If your relationship doesn’t work out, your muff will cover it up.” His voice was casual, as though he and Darla tattooed sex slaves on a daily basis.

  “It’ll work out,” Kathie said. She glanced at Ross. His expression was unreadable.

  Darla reached into her satchel and took out a couple of items. Kathie guessed that one was an electric tattoo gun. Toby plugged it into the wall while Darla opened a jar of petroleum jelly, smearing a thin film over Kathie’s pussy. Darla shaved it again, working with quick, expert hands.

  That Toby and Ross were watching wasn’t lost on Kathie.

  Darla snapped open a new packet of needles and fiddled with her machine. “What mark, Zack?”

  “My initials, Z.G.”

  “Fancy, plain, curlicue?” From her satchel, Darla pulled out a notebook, flipping it open. She set it on the table between Kathie’s legs.

  Kathie fumed, but knew she’d chosen this bizarre situation. She’d agreed to take on the mission, becoming Ross Guerrero’s sex slave in the process. She’d wanted it, and so fa
r a lot of what had happened had been amazing. The sex was nothing short of earth-shattering and she guessed that Ross had only started with her. Besides, he really understood her, knew why she wanted to let go and give him total control.

  But couldn’t she help decide what tattoo would be inked into her most private flesh?

  She glanced at Ross. His dark visage was intent as he turned the pages of Darla’s notebook. “I like this one,” he said.

  Apparently not. Kathie sighed and tried to relax. Toby was right. If she decided she didn’t like what Ross had picked, she could have it altered or let her muff grow back.

  “Blackletter font, very nice,” Darla said.

  “What does it look like?” Kathie asked.

  Ross glanced at her, still unsmiling. “You don’t need to worry about that. Just lie back and relax.”

  “But—”

  “One more word…” He picked up the spoon and rapped it on the table.

  She bit her lip. “Yes, sir.”

  Toby smiled. “New to the life, eh?” He opened a new jar of black ink and poured a little into a tiny plastic cup, then gave Darla a fresh pair of gloves. He picked up the tattoo gun and switched it on while Darla donned the gloves and took the machine from Toby.

  The first touch of the humming needle on Kathie’s plump mons startled her, and she realized that Ross had good reason to bind her for the tattooing. The zap of the needle, its prick, the sting… If she hadn’t been firmly secured, she’d have squirmed, ruining the tattoo.

  Darla worked slowly but steadily, bending over Kathie’s sex, her long, blonde hair brushing Kathie’s belly and thighs while Toby helped by stretching the skin of Kathie’s mound, presumably so the lettering would be clear.

  To her shame, she was turned on by the sensuality of the experience—the scents that the tattoo artists wore, of exotic blossoms, leather and patchouli, the stroke of their hair on Kathie’s flesh, the tiny, warm puffs of their combined breaths on Kathie’s exposed clit. Both were attractive people and, despite her burgeoning feelings for Ross, she found herself turned on by their very closeness.