Unbound Surrender

by Sierra Cartwright

  Her Dom, her ex-husband, her Master, knew what she needed. He inserted a second finger and fucked her hard and deep.

  “Keep your arse spread,” he said softly, like a lover might.

  She was delirious. She lost all shame and thrust back as he found her G-spot. “Stephen!”

  He pulled away his hand.

  She’d been so close to a climax, to coming hard, coming fast.

  Before she could fully comprehend, he’d taken a step or two back and he landed a devastating lash straight to her pussy, searing her vulva and swollen clit.

  She screamed as holy blackness shot through her mind.

  Then he was there, gathering her close, turning her, lifting her, sweeping her into his arms and holding her close. The pain receded by measures, becoming a dull ache. She leant into him, resting her head on his shoulder, exhausted emotionally and spent physically.

  Odd, this BDSM stuff. She’d never fully gotten used to it. You intuitively turned towards the one who inflicted the punishment, and there was a connection that transcended anything else.

  She realised that as far as beatings went, this one had been fairly mild. It was probably closer to discipline than something truly corrective, but he’d read her perfectly. It had been exactly what she needed. Not too light that she hadn’t been aware of it, and not too intense that she truly couldn’t bear it.

  Why had she ever run from him?

  Could she truly make amends?

  Until now, she hadn’t been aware that she’d even wanted that. But now that she was back in the security of his arms, she didn’t want to leave. “Fuck me?” she asked.

  “Jessica. Not now. Not—”

  She looked up at him. As always, his eyes were unreadable. “I need you to fuck me.”

  Chapter Three

  This woman was going to be the death of him.

  It had taken him months to accept the reality that she was truly gone. Part of him had expected, irrationally hoped, that she’d come back when he filed the divorce papers. But he hadn’t heard from her.

  He’d had other, short-term relationships in the interim, even had a live-in sub for a few weeks. He wouldn’t say he was still hung up on Jessica, but no other woman made his dick take the same notice that she did.

  And now that she was back, he realised he had to be very careful to keep himself distant. While he demanded her emotional surrender, he couldn’t, wouldn’t offer his own. Having his heart trampled by the lovely and appealing sub had been more than enough for him.

  He carried her from the parlour.

  She wanted to be fucked?

  Fine.

  He wanted to fuck. His cock was hard as a rock. He’d pound her, then chain her to the foot of his bed.

  Mrs. Boxley was coming out of the kitchen as he headed for the stairs.

  “Are you retiring for the night, sir?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  She was grinning. He knew she’d like to see Jessica back in their lives. The older woman had gently chastised him for letting Jessica get away. She didn’t understand that the blonde snuggled against him had cut his heart into neat little slivers. Instead, Mrs. Boxley had told him to travel to Manchester and fetch her back home, bind her, gag her and drag her, if necessary.

  Pride would have never permitted that.

  He would have expected the protective housekeeper to be glad he’d moved past Jessica, farewell to bad rubbish. But the smile on her face told another story. He’d see to Mrs. Boxley in the morning.

  After shooting her a dark glance that only made her grin wider, he carried Jessica up the stairs to the bedroom they’d once shared. He’d carried her over the threshold on the day he’d collared her, then again on their wedding night.

  He placed her on the king-sized bed. Since she’d been gone, the bed had seemed too big. But with her in the middle, it would be exactly right. The bed was made for two, damn it.

  When she reached for him, he captured her wrists and crossed them over one another, holding her prisoner.

  He looked down at her. “When I let you go, grab hold of the headboard.”

  Her golden eyes lightened, and he saw the desire in them. “I want--”

  “I want your obedience,” he snapped.

  She swallowed. “Yes, Sir.”

  He pulled back the duvet cover and top sheet. When he placed her on the mattress, she dutifully scooted up towards the pillows and curled her hands around the slats in the headboard.

  “Do not let go.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Her chest rose and fell with her shallow breaths. “Spread your legs.”

  She complied instantly.

  “There’s a reason I had to tell you to do that?”

  “I apologise,” she said breathlessly. “I’ll do better…Sir.”

  He sat on the bed. For long seconds, he didn’t touch her, he just looked at her. She was so perfectly displayed before him. Lovely. Appealing.

  She looked at him, her eyes wide and unblinking.

  The room had a late-winter chill and it caused her nipples to remain tight little pebbles. Her pussy was still damp. It was red from the single, searing belt lash that deliberately targeted her cunt, and he smelled her arousal.

  In so many ways she was perfect, and even her defiance appealed to him.

  He parted her labia. Her lower back came off the bed. “Keep still.” He knew the beating had made her more sensitive than usual, and he liked that. Even the barest touch would be enough to drive her wild.

  He brushed his thumb across her clitoris.

  She moaned, and he saw the effort it took to keep her body from moving. “Does that feel good?”

  “It… Yes. And it hurts.”

  “Ah.” He loved keeping his subs on that exquisite line between pain and pleasure. He pushed down on the hood protecting her clit, exposing that nub. “Your clit is swollen.”

  Her shoulders shook.

  “Does it hurt from your punishment?”

  “My pussy does.”

  “So your clit is swollen from desire?” He pinched it lightly.

  “Ah!”

  “Desire, not pain, right?”

  “Yes!”

  “And now?” With the tiny bit of skin no longer protecting the tender flesh, she was even more vulnerable to him. Leaning over, he licked her clit.

  She dug her heels into the mattress.

  He wondered how long it would take her to climax. Would the time be measured in minutes or seconds? He did it a second time.

  “My God,” she said.

  “You’ll keep your legs spread for me, won’t you, Jessica?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’ll keep your arse on the mattress?” He licked her again.

  “Yes,” she said, but he was imagining her teeth were gritted.

  He sucked her into his mouth.

  “May I come?”

  Seconds, then, not minutes. “No.” But he was pleased she’d remembered to ask permission. She hadn’t forgotten everything, despite her lack of discipline in getting to her knees without prompting and breaking position when he’d belted her.

  He released her, and her breath whooshed out. He moved between her legs. “Put your legs over my shoulders.” He thought for a moment she might protest, but she didn’t. “I’m going to eat your cunt. If you come, it will be your last orgasm while you’re here. Do you understand?”

  “But I’m so close already.”

  “And?”

  “Please?”

  “Begging’s going to change my mind?”

  He felt her body tense.

  “No,” she said.

  He licked her fully, even though she was already moist. He liked the way she tasted, all woman, all surrender, all his.

  He sucked on her clit, tonguing it, pushing against it, gently biting it.

  She thrashed and moaned and her heels dug into his back.

  “Stephen!”

  He continued his torment, moving slightly so
he could insert a finger in her moist vagina.

  He thrust his finger in and out, simulating the way he was going to take her soon. She was slick, hot. Ready.

  She panted, and then he heard her counting aloud.

  He knew the moment she was on the edge. Five more seconds, and she’d be powerless against the orgasm.

  “Please?” she begged. “Please may I come?”

  He fully intended she enjoy several orgasms during their time, but if he made a threat, he always followed through. He stopped tasting her. Slowly he withdrew his finger.

  “Damn it!”

  He smothered his grin by kissing her cunt again.

  “You’re a torment,” she protested.

  “And you’ve a very obedient sub.” He pinched her inner thigh, and she squealed.

  “Will you fuck me?”

  Every way possible. He shrugged her legs from where they rested on his shoulders. “Turn over.”

  He helped her onto her stomach. For a moment their gazes met and held. He noticed the welts from his beating. His mark. They were already fading, but for the moment, he savoured the fact she had taken her punishment well.

  Desire sparked in her eyes, replacing the nervousness he’d seen there earlier. “Hold onto the headboard again.”

  She obviously remembered every bit as much as he did. Odd that they’d been apart for so long, but they’d come together again so naturally, as if they’d merely had a holiday from one another rather than a divorce and two year absence.

  Without him telling her, she lifted her belly so he could slide a pillow beneath her. She wasn’t doing a good job of staying still, though. Her hips moved side to side slightly as she awaited his penetration.

  He slipped a finger, then a second inside her.

  “Stephen…”

  “Sir,” he corrected.

  “Sir,” she said, her words muffled by the pillow. “I need you…”

  He reached over to the nightstand and took a bottle of lube from the top drawer. He flipped it open and squirted a huge dollop of lube on her puckered arse hole.

  She squirmed.

  “Tell me what you want.”

  “I want you to fuck me.”

  “Where?”

  “My cunt. My ass. Take me, Stephen. Sir.”

  He pushed against her tightest opening. She pushed back slightly, trying to ease his way. He liked the feeling of resistance as he inserted his forefinger inside her.

  She sighed softly, a far cry from the way she behaved several years ago. “Do you like that?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Once you got past the wailing and gnashing of teeth.”

  “I wasn’t that bad.”

  “I was there,” he said.

  “Maybe just whimpering and clenching of teeth.”

  “Wailing,” he corrected. He worked his finger back and forth, and she rocked in rhythm with him. “Clenching your teeth is what you’re doing now so you don’t come. Very different than the first time I inserted a plug in your rear.”

  “Anything you say. Just please, don’t stop doing that.”

  “Ready for more?”

  She tensed her buttocks for just a moment before relaxing. “Yes.”

  She was trying, he realised. One of their challenges had always been her resistance. Once she tried things, she generally found them acceptable, and more often than not, pleasurable. But getting her there had often been a challenge.

  He slickened a second finger. He pulled out the first and then slowly entered her with both fingers.

  She groaned. But instead of trying to wriggle away, she arched her back, allowing him entrance, easing the way for both of them.

  “I want your cock,” she said.

  He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. She said it had been a while for her. It had been just as long for him. He got sexual relief from masturbating every day, but the pleasure didn’t compare to the sensation of being deep inside a willing, hungry sub.

  Stephen continued to pleasure her anally and she responded as he’d always craved, with abandon. She wasn’t holding back on experiencing her own pleasure. And he appreciated that.

  “Stephen… Sir… M— I’m going to come.”

  She’d nearly called him Master. Nearly. His balls felt heavy and tight. That would be the ultimate from her, her total surrender. But he wouldn’t ask for it, wouldn’t demand it. He’d demand a title of respect, all Doms should, but he wouldn’t require her to call him Master. She was back of her own free will. Anything she gave would be because she offered it.

  “Sir… I need… I need to come!”

  He withdrew his hand. “You’ll come with me inside you.”

  “You’re giving me permission?”

  “When I say,” he clarified. He climbed off the bed. He stripped in less than thirty seconds, leaving his discarded shoes and clothes in an untidy heap, something he never did.

  She continued to writhe slightly. “Is my dirty sub rubbing her cunt against the mattress?”

  “Sir…”

  “I wouldn’t come, if I were you.”

  “Of course not.”

  She sounded a bit offended at the reminder, but he could see her arousal, smell it on the crisp night air.

  Could anything be more perfect?

  His cock stood straight out and he seriously wondered how long he would last. Right now, watching her delectable, reddened arse rise and fall, he didn’t think he’d be setting any world records for stamina.

  After rolling a condom down his shaft, he climbed back onto the bed and she spread her legs a little farther apart while simultaneously raising her hips towards him. “I love the way you look like that. Your pussy is all moist. Your cunt is red and swollen.” And even her arse hole was ripe for him.

  He took her in a single stroke. Yeah. Forget control. He wanted to claim her, wipe everyone but him from her memory. She was his sub, damn it. And in the next few minutes, he’d make sure she didn’t forget it.

  He pulled out. He was forcing her to control her reactions; he should do the same. He teased them both, sliding only his cockhead into her pussy, just a bit, then pulling out.

  She moaned. Her breaths sounded as if she were running a marathon. He saw her knuckles whiten on the slats of the headboard.

  His jaw was tight as he struggled to manage his physical reactions. He wanted to spill his load. By measures he entered her. Her pussy clenched around him, milking him. He ground his back teeth together, demanding control over his own body.

  She called out his name.

  He sank deep into her in a powerful, single thrust.

  “Yes,” she shouted. “Fuck me. Fuck me hard. Make me yours.”

  He couldn’t resist her.

  He rode her hard, expressing with his body what he couldn’t with words. She was his on an irrefutable level. She could leave him again, and she probably would at the end of their few days together, but she would always be partially his woman.

  His orgasm built deep in his balls. She responded so perfectly, he couldn’t hold back his release. “Come,” he said into her ear. Then he bit her shoulder.

  She screamed.

  Her body bucked and trembled.

  “Fuck,” he muttered. He remembered her being perfect for him, but he sure as hell hadn’t remembered just how powerfully she came. Her internal muscles were strong and the force of her climax nearly forced him out of her hot, tight pussy.

  He forced himself to wait until the aftershocks subsided then he wrapped his hands over hers and penetrated as deep as possible, his cock hammering deep within her.

  “Yes,” she whispered, the single word sounding strangled. “Yes, yes, yes!”

  He came powerfully, the release primal. “Mine,” he said.

  She trembled, and he heard the soft sound of her crying. “Am I hurting you?” he asked.

  “Only by letting me go.”

  Bollocks.

  What the hell did they have here? He hadn’t let her
go. She’d run, leaving her wedding ring, collar and his battered heart behind.

  Frustration gnawed on his nerves. After all, he was only a man. How the hell could he be expected to understand a woman?

  He withdrew his spent cock and then pulled her against him.

  A good master would make her sleep at the foot of his bed. A good master would keep firm boundaries and make certain his sub knew her place. Keeping rules straight defined a D/s relationship.

  But with Jessica, the lines were suddenly blurred.

  He kissed the top of her head and held her tight.

  Chapter Four

  “You asked for this,” he told her. “You asked me to push your limits.”

  She should have known he’d select this.

  Jessica moistened her lips. It was a stall tactic, and she knew Stephen, all seeing, would recognise it for exactly that.

  Her gaze was fixed on the hood and blindfold dangling from his fingers.

  After last night, how could she be expected to think straight? Especially when he’d chosen the one thing he knew was the biggest threat to her.

  She’d been willing to do almost anything with Stephen, bondage, discipline, punishment, but she’d always drawn a line at sensory deprivation. She might close her eyes, but she always wanted the option of opening them if she were frightened. Odd as it seemed, she always wanted to know what was coming.

  And now, he was going to deny her that.

  “It’s up to you whether or not you meant it.”

  “I did.”

  “In that case,” he said, “walk over to the spanking horse.”

  He’d bought the bench specifically for her.

  It was an amazing contraption, covered in red leather. He could secure her, and had, in dozens of different positions. In his favourite position, she’d knelt on the horse then leant forward. The top was narrow, and because it had places for her knees, if she stretched out her arms, her breasts hung down loosely and her rear was exposed and vulnerable.

  She knew she could refuse, and her pounding heart would stop racing if she did. But she’d come back for a reason, and this time, she wouldn’t let fear get the best of her.

  Slowly, her bare feet feeling as if they were filled with lead, she moved towards the horse.