by Vonna Harper
The short walk filled him with reverence for the setting but did nothing to clear his mind. Feeling half drunk, he lifted the lid on the well-equipped sex toy box, but instead of finishing the task, he let it slam closed. The sane part of him knew he was risking too much by letting the environment engulf him, but the beast was so strong. As water-heavy air continued to blast him, he sucked in as much of it as his lungs could hold.
Wilderness. Wild. An end to civilization.
Heady with a repeat of what had claimed him more times than he wanted to acknowledge, he gave himself up to nature’s strength. His clothes became so wet they felt as if they were glued to him. Fighting the pulsing in his cock, he yanked his shirt over his head and dropped it onto the deck. Wind-driven rain slammed into his bare flesh. He opened his mouth and sucked in liquid. After holding the water in his mouth for several seconds, he slowly swallowed. The storm’s essence ran down his throat and entered his belly. He stuck out his tongue.
Nothing had ever felt more right.
Or dangerous.
A half dozen swallows later, he went inside. He could see the slave through the door between the living room and bedroom and wondered what she was thinking and whether she’d deluded herself into believing she understood him. That was impossible, of course.
She never would.
Master was naked from the waist up. Maybe she should try to determine what he was holding, but she couldn’t take her gaze from the broad, glistening chest with countless droplets clinging to the dark hair and highlighting his well-defined muscles. She’d never understood who had decided that today’s male models should have all their chest hair removed. Someone, somewhere, must have thought a man looked sexier that way and everyone else had followed suit, but they were wrong.
The man striding toward her was pure male.
“You went outside,” she said unnecessarily. Why was remaining silent suddenly so hard? “Any sign of the storm letting up?”
He didn’t acknowledge her comment. In fact, he barely seemed aware that he wasn’t the only one in the room as he placed what he’d chosen for her next lesson near the foot of the bed. Her head buzzing, she noted nipple clamps attached by a silver chain, a thin whip, a ball gag, a blindfold, a butt plug. There were other items, but she couldn’t focus on them.
I don’t know if I’m going to survive.
“You’re so damn sure of yourself,” she blurted. “What makes you think I want all this shit?”
His eyes feral, he knocked her sideways onto the bed and lifted her legs so they, too, were on it. She bent her knees so she wouldn’t roll one way or the other. Her unruly hair partly obscured her view of him.
“I didn’t mean it that way, Master,” she blathered. “I’m just nervous. You must have seen my list of the kinds of behavior that are within my comfort zone. No anal sex.”
He raked her hair back from her eyes. This was no lover’s gesture and she couldn’t begin to describe his expression. She’d briefly dated a man who was into boxing and had reluctantly attended a couple of local matches with him. What had caught her attention the most had been the way the young, fierce boxers had acted while they’d waited for a match to start. They were stereotypical pit bulls straining at their leashes, wild horses determined to break out of their corrals.
Master had too much of that in him.
“I want this to be educational and exciting,” she told him. “I came here of my own free will and paid good money for—am I getting through to you? Don’t spoil it for me. Don’t make me regret—”
“I don’t give a damn.”
She struggled to sit up, but he planted his hand on the side of her neck, where the collar rested.
“I can’t believe you don’t.” She was alive all right, every part of her in overdrive. “If you hurt me, really hurt me, you know I’ll tell the authorities. I’ll make sure they shut MSDB down.”
His only response was to clamp his hand over her mouth. He was so close that his wet heat became part of her. The feral quality had faded from his gaze, replaced by a predator’s look. This was no act. He hadn’t decided to assume a role in an attempt to add an element to her experience. Maybe she should take his comment that he didn’t give a damn about her to heart, but she couldn’t.
Or maybe the truth was she couldn’t yet let herself go there.
“You think you know your body,” he said, “but you haven’t touched its depths. Neither have I gone all the way into mine. That’s going to change.”
If his taut muscles were any indication, he’d had to work at getting the words out. Not for the first time she took note of the two sides of him—the dangerous and the civilized.
He, again, became a conquering warrior in her mind and she his helpless prisoner. He’d been trained to fight and defend and punish those who threatened his clan’s safety. It didn’t matter to him that she was the enemy chief’s daughter and not an enemy warrior. He’d exact his brand of justice on her.
Only it wasn’t that simple.
His finger pressed onto her closed mouth while his other hand continued to rest on her neck.
“Captive,” he muttered. “Hostage and slave. That’s what you are.”
His hands seemed to envelop her entire body. He could’ve easily broken her neck. Even as she told herself he wouldn’t do that, she wasn’t sure the consequences of killing her had entered his head because he was in a space she hadn’t reached.
Yet.
“You think I’m all three things?” she asked around his fingers.
“Yes.”
There was that deep and seductive tone again, the one designed to open up her veins and crawl inside her. She stared, wide-eyed, up at her captor.
“Where are we?” she asked.
He lifted his hand from her mouth and ran his thumb from the base of the collar to the valley between her breasts. He teased one breast then the other. His eyes were still those of a predator, but he didn’t look quite as hungry as he had a few minutes before. There was no need for him to kill his prey or for the conquering warrior to slash his prisoner’s throat and all the time in the world to demonstrate his strength.
“Where?” he repeated. “In the jungle.”
“How did we get here?”
He frowned. “Does it matter?”
“I just wanted—”
“You belong to me. That’s the only thing you need to know.”
The way his hand was separating her breasts and pressing against her heart, she thought better of asking what had made him come to that decision. What she couldn’t wrap her mind around, any more than she could deny the sensation, was how being dominated by him made her feel. She’d been turned on for a long time today. Sometimes, sexual wanting had been a little need humming in the background, but several times it had become everything.
She was again approaching that state.
“You’re made for action,” he said. “Every part of you screams sex.”
“And you like that.”
He neither agreed with nor denied her comment, not that she cared, starting at the moment he picked up the vibrator and placed it against her labia. She clamped her legs together as if cradling it. Positioned the way it was, it would stay in place as long as she remained on her side.
“Not fighting, captive?”
His arms hung by his sides, as if testing her will. She had no doubt he wanted to see how long she’d hold out before begging him to turn it on but, although she did in spades, a small, sane part of her commanded her to see if he could keep his hands off her. This man she barely comprehended wanted her. She saw the truth of that in his burning gaze and the way his fingers were extended toward his cock, the occasional shifting of his legs. The same need gnawed at her, a strange, hungry beast that might overcome her at any time.
This wasn’t fair! She had no way of testing his limits.
If she wanted to.
“Is that what you want me to do?” Hoping for more stimulation against her sex, she tighte
ned her thigh muscles even more. The strain made them shudder, giving her away. “You get off on watching me struggle?”
“That, and watching you suffer.”
His comment sucked all moisture from her throat. As she understood it, ‘suffering’ meant different things within the BDSM community. Sometimes, sexual stimulation was incorporated into a punishment session, sometimes not.
“You already got what you wanted when you pinched my nipple.”
He laughed, a short harsh sound. “Not even close, slave.”
She couldn’t stop herself from trying to roll onto her belly when he picked up the nipple clamps. A barely audible, “Please don’t,” escaped, despite her attempt to keep it inside. Maybe he didn’t hear, because he didn’t say anything, but perhaps he’d returned to the jungle he’d mentioned earlier.
As he demonstrated how the adjustable screws worked, and the rubber tips, she fought apprehension.
Not just apprehension, she admitted, as moisture began to coat the vibrator. Instead of wanting to get the hell out of there, she shivered in anticipation of having her nipples imprisoned. He took his damned sweet time bringing the clamps to her breasts, and she nearly screamed when he repositioned the breast closest to the bed so he could get to that nipple. When he had it where he wanted it, he cupped his hand around her other breast and squeezed.
“Done,” he said and opened the clamp’s jaws wide. “Perfect for getting you where I want you.”
The rubber-tipped steel closed around the base of her nipple, taking bites of her sanity as it did. She gasped and stretched her neck as if that stupid move would free her.
“Feel your capture. Understand how completely you’re under my control.”
The clamp tightened down and took a bite. Alarmed and excited, she bent her neck so she could see what he’d done. Silver now had a secure hold on her, partly obscuring her view of her breast. Pain sparked through her, making her whimper.
“A beautiful sound. Now to make it happen again.”
Chapter Fifteen
As he lifted her other breast off the bed, she stared at what she could see of his determination to make her his. The pain in her already-clamped breast had started to back off, making her wonder if it was more a case of her imagination than reality. Then the second clip gripped down. Whimpering, she dug her heels into the coverlet. He tightened the screws. When he’d adjusted them to his satisfaction, he grasped the connecting chain and demonstrated how he could manipulate her breasts. Fire raged in her belly. She crushed the silent vibrator between her legs while staring helplessly at her captor.
Her Master.
“Getting the point, are you?” He tugged on the chain. “Metal gives a different message than ropes do. I believe it’s a deeper one.”
Her attention fixed on his all-controlling hand and the flames flickering deep within her, she wondered if she’d lost a part of her mind. Not long ago, she’d wanted to be free, but that had been taken out of her hands. Only surrender was left.
And acceptance.
Wanting.
“They won’t cut off all circulation,” he told her. “That’s why I might keep them in place for a long time. Who does your body belong to?”
In a dim way, she comprehended that her captor had asked a question, but it died beneath this demonstration of his power. She had no use of her hands and her legs were next to useless. Hell, she couldn’t as much as pee without his assistance.
So that’s what surrender feels like.
“My body belongs to you, Master.”
“Yes. You’re mine.”
And that impacted him in ways she might not ever fully understand. As much as she wanted to comprehend the changes she was undergoing, she wished she could climb inside his head. Had he always had a need to dominate, or was this a relatively new development and thus one he hadn’t yet made his peace with?
“Life is filled with compromise and disappointment,” he said as he released the chain. “All those years I spent in school, I thought I was preparing myself for a career I could take pride in. One where I could make a difference. It didn’t turn out that way.”
She wanted to tell him she’d had her share of disappointments during her early working years, which was why she’d decided to become her own boss, but listening to him was more important.
That, and wondering when he’d go from words to action.
Maybe he’d read her mind, because he picked up a leather flogger and dragged the strands over her middle.
“A man can only take reality so much, only deal with the dregs of society so long before it gets to him and he decides to change things. To be in control.”
Maybe she should’ve been used to bursts of sexual excitement charging through her by now, but he’d just introduced something new to the mix. Needing to learn what the flogger was capable of, she rolled onto her back, exposing even more of her body to him.
He bared his teeth. “Hungry little slave, aren’t you? Time to see if you have what it takes.”
Changing position had caused the vibrator to slip away from her core.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Yeah.”
His teeth remained exposed as he slipped his free hand between her legs. After removing the vibrator, he pressed his fingers against her pussy. He didn’t comment about what he’d found. She could only hope her expression spelled out how much she wanted the toy back in place.
He cocked the arm holding the flogger and struck her on her navel. The leather strands stung. Before the sensation faded, he whipped her there again. A third blow distracted her from the fingers on her sex.
“Having second thoughts about presenting yourself the way you did? Contemplate that for a while as…”
The pace picked up until there was no pause in the strikes. He targeted her belly, turning it so sensitive she felt as if she’d been scraped raw there. She’d made a fatal mistake by putting so much weight on her arms because now she could only rock a little from side to side. The chain jiggled constantly, sending sensation deep into her nipples and beyond. She started panting, quick bursts of sound that never caught up to the flogger’s rhythm.
She was relieved when he started attacking her thighs, but she could hardly relax. He put more strength behind the blows, gradually increasing the impact and pushing her into a place between simply experiencing and overdrive. The stinging-biting on her trembling legs seized more and more of her attention. She wanted to say something, anything, but couldn’t put her mind to what that might be. Master was drowning her, taking her deep, not hurting her as much as overwhelming her.
Somewhere in the middle of the storm-like blows, she found a wave and started riding it. Yes, she was under attack with her flesh burning, but there was something almost peaceful about it, a totality of experience. She continued to breathe like a racehorse and discomfort raged through her breasts. Rarely, when he gave her an instant of quiet, she acknowledged she had no way out. She’d continue to drown until he decided otherwise.
“Who owns you now?” He whipped the outside of her left breast, just missing the clamp.
“You. You!”
A twin of that blow struck her right breast. “No question about it?”
“No!” She hated and loved the admission.
“Wish you were anywhere but here?” The leather strands curled around the chain, shocking both breasts at the same time.
“I don’t know. Master, I don’t know.”
A grunting chuckle from him made her wonder what he was thinking. He planted the whip lengthwise between her breasts with the chain trapped under it.
“Get off the bed.”
Every move she made spoke to her imprisoned nipples and brought tears to her eyes. They’d been easier to ignore when she had been being whipped. She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t compliment her for doing as he’d commanded. What she didn’t understand was whether he was using silence to show her who was in charge or because he’d mentally gone to a place where words had little meani
ng. He made a circling gesture, indicating he expected her to turn her back to him. Once she was in place, she tried to glance over her shoulder, but the collar against her neck made her think better of it.
He released her wrists and dropped the rope on the bed next to the other things he intended to use on her. He picked up something she couldn’t see.
“Look at me.”
She wanted to and yet she didn’t, needed to fill her senses with this powerful, bare-chested man even as she emotionally mourned the lack of humanity in his eyes. He stared at her for a long time, his gaze laying bare every inch of her.
“Arms out. Inner wrists together.”
Trapped by the collar and metal attached to her breasts, she complied. She’d already noticed that he had hold of a strip of leather with a buckle. This was no belt. She just wasn’t sure what it was. When he placed it around her wrists and cinched the leather tightly, she had no choice but to accept yet another restraint. A metal ring much like what was imbedded into the collar was attached to it. She could move her arms up and down and from side to side but her hands were essentially useless—except that she could have removed the nipple clamps if she dared.
Or wanted to.
Waiting for the next order like the caged creature she’d become, she focused on a spot over his shoulder so she wouldn’t be tempted to search his features for something that wasn’t there.
“More to be done,” he muttered. “Much more. A never-ending…”
Leaving the words to hang in the humid air, he walked her to the middle of the room by pulling on the nipple chain. Compliant and anxious, she hurried to keep up. He positioned her under a chain with a hook at the end which was dangling from the ceiling. After granting her nipples some relief by letting go of the thin silver, he lifted her arms over her head and attached the wrist restraint to the hook. She could stand flat-footed but move only a few inches in any direction.
Leaving her, he returned to the window, where he stood with his back to her, his shoulders squared and his face angled so the wind and rain slammed into him. After maybe a minute, he faced her. Except for being wetter than when he’d strung her up, nothing had changed about him. His dark eyes said he was in another place.
