by Vonna Harper
“His doing you? That’s how you saw it?”
“I didn’t know what I was supposed to do.”
“Sounds like every girl’s dream, sprawled out on a plastic seat with the steering wheel in the way. Was it as good as you thought it would be? Did you climax?”
The truth was she’d been so damned nervous he’d had to moisten her opening with his spit. The pain of that first penetration had sobered her. Jake had nearly come before he’d gotten all the way in. After, he’d patted her shoulder and thanked her. She’d put up with his awkward attempts to soothe her. Then she’d pulled her jeans back up and hurried into the house so she could clean up in the bathroom.
“I’m not going to say I’m sorry it turned out the way it did,” he said, “because I’m not.”
“I know.”
He jerked her onto her feet and marched her back to the bed. Instead of forcing her onto it, he sat on the side and positioned her between his legs facing away from him. He slipped his hands into her hair and drew her head back a bit. That done, he snaked his other arm around her hips and cupped her mons.
Seconds marched past. The hold on her mons loosened. A low groan oozed from him. “No,” she thought he said.
His breath dampened her head and shoulders. She couldn’t make sense of what had just happened to him. “I asked why you’d signed up for a MSDB experience but I already know the answer,” he said. “It’s the same reason the other women I’ve worked with have. You need to give up control.”
‘Need’. She didn’t do one-night stands. All right, she sometimes imagined what would happen if she walked into a dark bar and sized up the possibilities. Once she’d picked the most likely prospect, she’d offer to buy him a drink. The dance of suggestive words wouldn’t last long. In minutes, they’d head for the nearest motel for a night of uninhibited fucking. Come morning, they’d go their separate ways.
Any chance of leaving today had been taken out of her hands. Even if this turned out to be a one-night stand, she’d never forget it.
“It’s that simple?” she asked. “I have the money to indulge in some game playing and you’re ready to take me up on it?”
“No, it isn’t that simple.”
Of course it wasn’t. She was sorry she’d put it that way.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” she admitted. “You have me at a physical disadvantage.”
“Yeah, I do.”
She’d been careful to remain still through their exchange, but it was so damn hard. In contrast, the hand over her mons threatened to claim her full attention. His fingers had already twitched several times, as if foreshadowing what he intended to do next.
“I spend my days dealing with the law,” he told her. “Everything I say, do or write is within the framework of our country’s legal system. I know better than most the consequences of stepping outside that framework. I go after those arrogant or stupid enough to believe laws aren’t for them. If they’re stupid, I’m inclined to cut them more slack than someone who thumbs his nose at what makes us a civilized society.”
His words had a sing-song quality to them and she relaxed. There was nothing to fear from a man like him.
Then he started moving his fingers toward her pussy and the world became clear and sharp again.
“There must be times when you hate kissing the ass of whoever you’re working for,” he continued. “They’re demanding or indecisive. Maybe they ask for the impossible, or try to stiff you, but you take it because, otherwise, you can’t pay your bills.”
Maybe he expected her to respond. Maybe he was trying to distract her from his fingers’ relentless march. It didn’t matter, because not only couldn’t she think what to say, she was shivering from the wanting.
“Go back to this morning,” he said. A finger grazed her clit. “What happened when you woke up? Did you crawl out of bed and head for the bathroom, or did your hand slip between your legs so you could do this?”
He again touched her clit, the pressure more than the first time and lasting longer. Heat flowed outward from where he’d claimed her.
“I think you played with yourself as long as your bladder allowed. Maybe you didn’t sleep well for thinking about what was going to happen.”
He was right. She’d spent most of the night wishing morning would come. She’d finally dozed off, only to wake a half hour later with her hands between her legs—much as was happening now.
He released her hair, reached around her and clamped onto her shoulder. “I didn’t sleep. The need is stronger than I am.”
What need? Besides, was anything stronger than he was? Certainly not her. She hadn’t resisted when he’d pulled her against his chest with her breasts trapped under his arm. A soft sigh escaped her, a sound he surely heard.
“How do you think this going to play out? A few gentle slaps, the hint of a whip followed by sex?”
“Yes.” Given his tone, agreeing seemed the easiest course. She was somewhere between lethargic and feeling separated from her body. It belonged to a mindless woman trapped in a big, dark spider’s web. Sensual strands stroked the woman and stripped away the last few brain cells.
He went after her, sometimes abrading her flesh, sometimes barely whispering to it. A finger slid into her drenched opening, explored it then exited. She sank down a little, but he hauled her up.
“My way,” he said into her ear. “Not yours. In all ways.”
Shaking, she waited him out. After what felt like forever, he parted her lips and he entered her again.
“Don’t the hell move, understand?”
She nodded.
He took his finger deeper this time, pushing against her pelvic bone so it took all she had not to rise onto her toes. Her pussy muscles tightened around the invasion.
“No!” He squeezed her shoulder. “Damn it, don’t move.”
Not even that? Confused, because surely he didn’t want to deny himself, she fought her body’s instinct while he repeatedly plundered and withdrew. Her breathing snagged then escaped in a long hiss.
“Bad slave.” He pulled out and slapped her belly. Fire danced there. “I hope to hell you don’t expect to be rewarded. You haven’t deserved it.” He slapped her again, only this time the blow struck her pussy. “Get those damn legs apart.”
Yes, Master, yes, Master.
She hoped he’d acknowledge her desire to please him once she’d spread her legs so wide her inner thighs protested. Instead, he clamped hold of her labia. She couldn’t breathe.
“This is what happens to slaves who don’t obey, got it?”
Did he expect a response? Maybe this was a trick on his part, a test to see how compliant she was. One thing—maybe the only thing—she knew, she loved the sensation.
Loved the fear and anticipation.
“Interested in another chance?”
The foolish creature she’d become nodded.
As he fingered her loose lips, she knew without a doubt that he was deliberately avoiding her clit. So much need was packing inside her, so much emptiness being exposed.
Empty? Had the emotional holes always been there?
“You don’t give a damn what it’s like for me,” he said. He wiped sticky fingers on the inside of her left thigh. “As long as you’re getting it, that’s the only thing that matters.”
“That’s not right,” she blurted. “I do—”
“I’m not interested.” He ground his knuckles where he’d just deposited her juices. “I’ve dealt with too damn many women like you. I know what they’re really like.”
You don’t know me, she wanted to protest, but that would only set him off more. It hadn’t occurred to her that the man playing Dominant to her submission would want more than a hefty paycheck and pleasure. Obviously, she’d been hooked up with someone with a chip on his shoulder.
She had to try to understand him, but how could she if he kept arousing her?
“Not what you expected. Maybe I should have…”
When he didn’t c
ontinue, she tried to fill in the spaces, but she knew less about him than he did about her. Whoever was behind MSDB, they hadn’t adequately screened the men chosen to fulfill the fantasies of women like her, she told herself, only to reconsider because the women she’d seen in the videos had obviously been having wonderful times.
She’d gotten a failure, had she, a sadist?
Fear warred with the need to experience more than the taste of Domination and sex he’d given her. She tugged on her bonds.
“You aren’t going anywhere.”
Maybe she was reading something that wasn’t there into his tone, but he didn’t sound as angry as he’d just been. She’d keep her emotional antenna on full alert so she could sense his moods. When the time was right, she’d say whatever he needed to hear. The session might have to be aborted, but at least she’d get out of it intact.
Unless the last few minutes had been an act on his part.
Was that it? He was the consummate actor, a pro who pulled a Dominant cape so firmly around himself that she’d been fooled?
That was it.
All she had to do was play her part.
Simple enough.
“Done talking to yourself?” he asked. “Think you have me figured out?”
She shrugged.
“You don’t.”
“I want to,” she whispered.
Chapter Ten
Things weren’t going the way he’d told himself they would. Damn it, the thing that had been trying to take hold of him wasn’t supposed to win. He was stronger than it. Returning to the island was supposed to have been a test—of something.
Teeth grinding, he had shaken off the woman’s soft admission and concentrated on what he’d come here to accomplish today. In the beginning, working for MSDB had been a heady experience. Since he couldn’t fight it, by God he’d recapture the sense of power.
Starting with giving the client what she’d paid for and what, for the first year or two, had given his life a depth of satisfaction and meaning his career couldn’t.
How much had he told her about his life beyond here?
“I’ll forgive you that outburst,” he said, determined to take control, “but you’ll be punished if you break the rules again. Don’t move and don’t speak until I say you can.”
He didn’t bother asking if she understood. There was no hope for her if she didn’t get it. Life was too short to spend it trying to educate the uneducable. When, except for the rise and fall of her chest, she remained immobile, he locked onto her. This was about her, not him, and certainly not about the growing storm.
The woman—her name was Shana something—wasn’t the most beautiful he’d ever played with, but she might’ve been the most athletic. Her breasts under his arm carried her heartbeat. He felt the same pulsing life in her pussy. Eager to experience that again, he rolled two fingers over her drenched lips and pushed both into her. She shuddered. Her knees buckled.
“Straighten yourself, slave. Give your Master full access.”
She sucked in more air and straightened. Her head fell back, but the moment it touched his shoulder, she lifted it off him. He understood her desire to keep some part of her separate from him and yet he needed her full surrender.
Needed to own her.
The weight of what he’d just acknowledged pressed on him from all sides. Looking at the window didn’t help, because it had started to rain, with the wind beating the trees just as he wanted to beat his slave.
Don’t!
Don’t let the beast win.
Shana was suspended on the man’s fingers. She could fight his hold, but she couldn’t win. No matter how hard she struggled, he’d keep her like this for as long as he wanted. The room was darker than it had been earlier, doubtless a result of the impending storm. Shadows seemed to be pressing in on her from all sides, but she wouldn’t feel this way if her arms were free and Master’s fingers weren’t inside her.
Weren’t moving, pressing against her channel’s sides.
Don’t fight. Let it happen.
Everything about how he held her transmitted a single message. He was in control.
Once again, she slipped into a space created by the belief that this moment was part of some grand adventure. She’d wondered what being a submissive woman was like and now she was being given the opportunity to experience it on the deepest levels.
Most importantly, Master’s fingers had filled her and were now on the move. The pumping action started slowly but accelerated until she felt awash in sensation. The burning claimed every inch. A small part of her declared that a stranger had no right to manhandle her, but the voice was nearly drowned out by weeks of sexual frustration.
Her fantasy Master had kept her hungry for a long time. She accepted this as wet friction drove her to a steep, familiar edge. He’d often teased her during the weeks he’d kept her in a cage no larger than her closet, commanding her to masturbate while he lightly whipped her thighs, buttocks and back. Not once had he allowed her to come. When she’d been so close to the edge that she’d begged for release, he’d slapped her and ordered her to orally please him. He’d commanded her to swallow as much of his cum as possible and paint her breasts with what she couldn’t. Of course she’d obeyed.
Done with her, he’d cuffed her hands behind her so she couldn’t get off and left her in the dark.
“Come back to me, damn it!” The man who’d removed her clothes slapped her breasts. “Where the hell did you go?”
She was supposed to answer, to fight the power of the fingers pummeling her.
“My imagination,” she got out. “I didn’t—”
“What were you imagining?” He pumped her more forcefully, repeatedly slapping her breasts as he did.
“That—that I was your slave and you were denying me.” Her pussy muscles clamped down. “Please, oh please.”
“Are you begging your Master, slave?”
“Yes.” The burning made anything except the truth unthinkable.
“What are you begging him to do?”
Think. Give him what he demands. “To let me climax.”
His harsh laugh slapped her senses. “No.” He rammed his fingers deep inside her. Bleating like a trapped sheep, she waited for his next move. “Not yet, slave.”
* * * *
After his declaration, Master had shoved her away and onto her knees. Half-crazed with need, she’d watched his every move as he walked over to the window and stared out. Even though she couldn’t see his expression, his clenched fists and rigid stance said he was struggling with something. An occasional flash of light served as testament to the lightning accompanying the storm. Thunder roared. After several minutes he turned around. His eyes had shifted from gray to black. There was something fierce about him, a wild, savage quality that spoke to every inch of her.
“Crawl over to me,” he commanded.
She felt awkward and ungainly obeying, so aware of their bodies she could hardly stand it. The top and bra that had once stood as defense against his power now imprisoned her when she longed to be free of all clothing.
“Good,” he said when she was a few inches from him. “You have promise.”
“Thank you, Master.”
He took hold of the hair at the top of her head. “You think of me as your Master?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you want to take that step?”
“I don’t know.”
“What if you had no choice?”
Unease had her testing her restraints. “Is that a threat?”
“Or a promise.”
She was still trying to make sense of what he’d said when he closed his hands over her arms and hauled her to her feet. He spun her away from him. “Don’t move.”
Judging by the sounds he was making, he’d gone to the storage box in the living room and was taking something out of it. From where she was, she couldn’t see the bed where he’d placed the vibrator. Standing there with nothing to do but anticipat
e increased her awareness of the burning in her shoulders. As long as she didn’t fight the rope it didn’t dig into her wrists, but they were sensitive. From what she understood of the BDSM lifestyle, the inflicting and acceptance of pain was a core component of a Dominant/submissive relationship. She’d watched open-mouthed and turned on as MSDB operatives lashed restrained women who obviously loved what was being done to them.
When would her time come and how would she handle it?
“Don’t move, got it?”
The command lifted her head.
“Got it?” he repeated. “I’m about to take you even deeper. Whether you comply or resist makes no difference, but it’ll go easier for you if you do as you’re ordered. This is the only chance you’ll have to get with the program. One way or the other, it’s going to happen.”
The unknown fueled her anticipation.
“Are you deliberately keeping quiet?” His hand landed on her shoulder. “Checking to see what angers me?”
“No. I didn’t mean—”
“Doesn’t matter. In fact, not much about you as a separate human being matters to me because that isn’t going to last long.”
She cursed his attempts to fuck with her mind. At the same time, his heavy hand served as an inescapable reminder of who was in charge.
“You’re an object, a piece of clay in need of molding. Whether you see yourself as perfect or destroyed by the time I’ve finished with you depends on many things.” He ran his fingers into her hair at the nape of her neck. “You can ponder what you want from the process or simply let it happen. That doesn’t concern me. Only the end product does.”
The thought that he might be losing his hold on his boundaries set her heart pounding and yet, in some respects, he was right. She was clay, unmolded, desperate to see the end result.
“This is proof of your subservience,” he said as he slipped something around her neck and fastened it in place. Metal settled over her flesh. “You may have thought I had to ask permission before collaring you, but that’s not how it’s going to be.”
By moving her head about, she determined that the collar was more than an inch wide. It didn’t restrict her breathing and wasn’t particularly heavy, not that she could dismiss its presence, which she had no doubt had been his intention. Looking down, she glimpsed a ring dangling from the collar. She wouldn’t have been surprised if there was another ring in back, perfect for attaching chains or rope to.
