Playing Hard to Master

by Sparrow Beckett

  “Yes, yes, Master.”

  His smile was fearsome.

  He tugged on the buttplug, removed it, lubed her again, then, just when she thought he’d take her, he coaxed a bigger plug into her. She hissed, trying to stop, but the vibrator and the pressure in her ass had her screaming with pleasure again. He fucked her with the plug, holding her down, while she weakly tried to escape.

  “Do you feel this plug in your ass?”

  He set it to a slow throb. How could she not feel it? It was huge.

  “I’m going to fuck your sweet little cunt while this vibe is still in your ass.”

  “No,” she whimpered. “It’s going to hurt me, Master.”

  “It probably will, a little. Can you imagine how full you’ll feel? How mine?”

  “No, please, Master.” She begged, her face itching from the tears and drying drool and mascara she could feel smeared down her face. Master was watching her like she was the most beautiful toy he’d ever seen.

  “Okay,” he conceded. Was he shaking too? “I’ll put the smaller one back in before I fuck you. But if I do that, you have to come for me again.”

  “I can’t!” she squealed, exhausted. It felt like someone had jellified all of her bones.

  He used his mouth, teeth, and the bigger plug to show her that she most definitely could. The pitiful, weak cries when she came sounded pathetic, even to her. She lay under him limply. There was no point in struggling. She was going to orgasm again if he insisted on it.

  The smaller plug went back in, and he folded her legs back again, until she was practically bowed in half. He stood over her and angled his cock downward into her pussy. He groaned and gritted his teeth as he convinced her body to take him. The tight fit intensified the buzzing in her ass.

  “Fuck. Fuck. What the hell was I thinking?” His teeth were clenched, and his fingers dug cruelly into her flesh. “You’re so fucking tight. And the vibe . . .” He moved cautiously until her body relaxed around him, then fucked her hard and fast, his face right above her now, his gaze locked on hers. “Fuck, I’m going to come, baby. Do you have another one for me?”

  “No!” she lied.

  Master stopped, then started to fuck her slow, but so hard that each thrust rattled her teeth. Oh fuck. He hit her G-spot and the hazy, befuddled subspace glow grew, making her thoughtless—helpless. Her clit was being squeezed by rough fingers, and her body rose up higher to meet his pounding rhythm. She came when he did, yelling in her ear, beating her into the chaise with his body. She took all of it. His fingers clenched convulsively on her abused clit, and she came again, her whole body a throbbing, sticky ache.

  The last orgasm sent her off into a hazed, blissful world.

  She was His. And she never wanted to wake up.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ambrose sat in the passenger seat and tried to slow down his heart. Banner’s car crunched along the snow-packed streets far too slowly. He was tempted to tell his friend to pull over and let him take the wheel, but that would probably just end up with him getting a speeding ticket.

  “If you’re that nervous, maybe it’s too soon,” Konstantin grumbled from the backseat.

  Fucking Konstantin. “I know you don’t get it, but I’m not in the mood for advice right now. Besides, I’m not about to take advice from a guy who’s planning to marry a complete stranger.”

  Kon chuckled. “Everly is hardly more than a stranger to you. You’ve known her what . . . four months?”

  “So? Sometimes these things happen.” Ambrose’s hands linked together, fought each other. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Being a passenger always made him antsy, but today was worse. “I knew she was mine the first day I met her. If anything, I feel like I’ve been dragging my feet on this too long. Sometimes you have to do the right thing, even if it seems crazy.”

  “Is lying to her ‘doing the right thing,’ too? Odd,” Konstantin mused, his voice sardonic.

  Ambrose frowned out the window, but said nothing. He didn’t want to think about that.

  To take his mind off things, he contemplated the details of the new contract he’d signed right before the guys had picked him up, and wondered if he should tell his HR rep to hire a few more drivers. Drivers for other companies checked in regularly, hoping to get their foot in the door with Langly. Thankfully, having a good reputation as an employer meant never being short-handed.

  A million years later, Banner pulled into the driveway of a modest brick bungalow and put the car in PARK.

  “Here?” Ambrose raised an eyebrow. “It looks so . . . normal.”

  “And what? We don’t?” Konstantin leaned over the seat and looked Ambrose up and down. “Hey, Master Ambrose, who let you out of the house without your leather pants? And where’s your whip?”

  “I’ll show it to you later.” Ambrose winked at him, and Kon rubbed the top of his head affectionately.

  Banner shook his head. “I can’t take you two assholes anywhere. Now be polite.”

  “Speaking of assholes, did Everly give hers up for you yet?”

  Ambrose glared at Konstantin. He wasn’t about to share the intimate details of his relationship with her.

  “Ow. Enough with the ‘fuck off and die’ eyes. I just wanted to know when you’re going to share her with me. You like DP, and you always share girls with me.”

  An unfamiliar jealousy gnawed at him. It was true that he and Konstantin usually thought nothing of sharing girls, but Everly was a different story. “You touch her and I’ll kill you.”

  “Calm the fuck down.” Kon grimaced at him. “Like I’d touch her without your permission, suka.”

  They got out of the car and walked to the door, both of them in a sullen silence.

  Banner was trying to swallow his amusement.

  “What’s so funny?” Ambrose grumbled. “Other than that bitch calling me a bitch?”

  “You. This must be serious, if you’re not willing to share.”

  “Being in love makes you grumpy and selfish,” Kon said. “I won’t bring it up again, but if you change your mind, I’m more than willing. She’s got curves in all the best places.”

  “Don’t look at her,” he snapped.

  Now they both laughed at him. Banner gave him a playful shove, and he stepped partially onto the snow-covered lawn. His instinctual reaction was to grab a handful of the fluffy stuff and give Banner a face wash, but he wasn’t in the mood. Now there was snow melting in his shoe, and he was excited and irritated and overwhelmed.

  “Like a dog with a bone.” Konstantin shook his head.

  Banner rang the doorbell, since he’d been there before. A sixtyish-year-old woman answered the door. Her short-sleeved T-shirt revealed a multitude of faded tattoos on her arms.

  “Hi, Della.”

  She smiled and stepped back to let them in. “Heya, Banner. Come on in. Just toss your coats on the rack there.”

  The house was warm and smelled of bleach, like they’d interrupted her cleaning the bathroom.

  “So which one of you lucky gentlemen is Ambrose?”

  Konstantin grabbed Ambrose’s shoulder and moved him forward, then slapped his back.

  Della smiled kindly. “Do you know what you’re looking for? Depending on how complicated the design is, I might be able to finish it while you’re here. If it’s fussier, it might take a few days.”

  His heart felt like it was thudding in his throat.

  “Uh, I don’t know. She’s a brat. She’s fun and funky and drop-dead gorgeous.” And she deserved the best collar anyone could make.

  Della snorted. “You let the girl you want to take as a slave be a brat?” She shook her head. “The beginning of the relationship sets the tone, Ambrose.”

  A girl in her late twenties padded into the room, dressed in a 1950s-pinup-girl dress. She went directly to Della and curtsied, her gaze politely downcast.

  “The leather swatches, please, Misty.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She curtsied again and
left the room. Pretty little thing, but she didn’t hold a candle to Everly.

  “See? Now, Misty would never give me sass. Maybe she had some fight in her when we met, but I fixed that quick.”

  Misty was back in a moment and knelt at Della’s feet, offering up a stack of leather in different colors. Della ignored her.

  “So is this collar for play or daily use?” She went to the sofa and arranged herself comfortably. Misty knee-walked to her and waited, the swatches still offered up to her mistress.

  “Probably for play. I’ll get her to help me pick out something subtle for wearing in vanilla contexts.”

  Again, Della looked nonplussed. “I’ll make something sturdy. If she needs a lot of training, the collar you put on her might need to take some abuse. Now, do you want something like lace or bells on it? Is she a baby girl or a kitten?”

  A montage of Everly in costumes and situations they hadn’t explored together yet started playing in his head. So many perverted things he wanted to do to her.

  “Something neutral is good for now.”

  “Spikes? Decorative chain? Something hand-painted? Her slave name?”

  Suddenly, the room felt too small and sweat sprung out on his forehead. Banner never said this would be like playing Twenty Questions. Of course, he could always buy her more collars later, but none of the others would ever be this important first one—the meaningful one—that spoke of his commitment to her.

  Della took the swatches from Misty. “Go get drinks. This looks like it might take a while. What about a metal O-ring or a D-ring to attach a leash to? Do you want one? Two? Three?”

  Finally, easier questions. How had Banner come here alone for Kate’s first custom collar? Ambrose might have fainted if the guys hadn’t volunteered to go with him.

  “Just one.”

  “How wide do you want the collar? As wide as a posture collar?”

  “No. Wide enough to make her feel owned, but not wide enough to restrict movement.”

  “How big is her neck?”

  Shit. How was he supposed to measure for something like that?

  He looked at his hands and thought about how her neck felt when he had them wrapped around it.

  “Show me.”

  A little creeped out about having this conversation with a strange woman, he made a circle with his hands, remembering instinctively how much his fingers overlapped.

  Banner and Konstantin both chuckled, but Della waved a hand at them.

  “Oh, like you were any better, Banner.” She rolled her eyes. “The first time you came, you had to bring me that ugly sex-store collar you were using on Kate to show me her size.”

  Misty brought them coffee. Ambrose was coached through picking colors and embellishments, and hoped he’d chosen things Everly would like.

  The design of the collar was important, but whether she’d accept it was still a mystery. Sure, they’d said the L word to each other, but that didn’t mean she was ready to accept him as her Master in a more permanent sense. Maybe it was “I love you for now,” or “I love you based on what you’ve told me about yourself.” Maybe having a collar made for her was premature, considering how much he was keeping from her.

  Della focused on cutting things out and stitching them together, and the guys settled in to wait. Banner was getting a kick out of pointing out the subtle and not-so-subtle kink renos that had been done, just in the living room, even though Ambrose spotted most of them before he said anything. When you were into kink, you never assumed the O-rings in someone else’s ceiling were for missing swag lamps or plant holders. Almost every piece of furniture had been adapted so restraints could be easily attached. Della was hard-core, and Ambrose felt like he’d been invited into the home of a kink Jedi.

  “So when are you going to come clean with her?” Banner asked, grimacing. “You shouldn’t offer her a collar until you two have that conversation.”

  Ambrose sighed, his hope sinking. Things were going so well. Did he have to tell her?

  Of course he did, but he wished he would have found a way to tell her sooner. The longer it dragged on, the worse all of his rehearsed explanations sounded in his head.

  “Just tell her the truth. What’s the worst thing that could happen?” Konstantin punched Ambrose’s shoulder and then leaned on him. “If it’s that much of an issue, then it’s best to find out now. You can only keep this game up for so long.”

  “What’s that?” Della asked, looking up from her work. “Have you been lying to this girl?”

  Ambrose nodded, ashamed to have to admit it.

  “Well, fuck. Even the newest of Masters knows that’s no way to start a relationship.” Della frowned at him, and he felt like he was in the principal’s office. “You can’t give this to her until you lay all of your cards on the table. So what’s the big secret? You have another girl on the side who she doesn’t know about?”

  “No.”

  “You’re fucking pretty boy there?” she asked, flicking a finger at Konstantin.

  Konstantin chuckled and shifted closer, throwing an arm around Ambrose’s shoulders.

  “No,” Ambrose replied. “He wishes.”

  Banner grinned and sat on Ambrose’s other side, joining in the group cuddle.

  Della rolled her eyes. “So what, then?”

  “She doesn’t know he’s rich and he’s too chickenshit to tell her.” Konstantin barked a laugh. “Poor girl. She’ll be so disappointed to find out you want to take her to Europe.”

  “How on earth do you hide something like that?” Della asked. “Do you want a regular buckle, by the way, or a locking one?”

  “Regular.” He moved to put his empty mug down on the coffee table, refusing Misty’s offer of another refill. She whisked his mug away almost before it touched the wood. He had a hard time imagining Everly being a service sub like that, but they could always hire a maid.

  “He rented a crappy apartment in a crappy part of town and everything.” Banner nudged him companionably. “To be fair, he still dresses the same as he always did.”

  “She has an enchanted pussy,” Konstantin confided. “Banner and I can’t think of any other reason he’d be doing such crazy shit.”

  Della whistled. “It might seem ridiculous, but lying is lying. How can she trust you with her submission and her safety if you’ve been lying to her?”

  “But if I’d told her right away, she never would have given me a chance,” Ambrose explained. Della’s words made panic rise in his chest. “She hates rich people.”

  “Then that would have been her choice, and maybe her loss.” She shrugged. “If you really love her, though, lying is a craptastic way to show it.”

  Even mousy little Misty nodded her head in agreement.

  Damn. That was the same thing Kate had said. And his mom, when he’d told them not to mention it when they were there for dinner. Fuck.

  Christmas was in two days—then he’d tell her. Afterward, so that if she hated him forever, at least he didn’t ruin the holiday.

  It had seemed like such a harmless lie of omission in the beginning. Like any woman would care that much that a guy had money? But he’d been so wrong, and now the best thing that had ever happened to him was hanging in the balance.

  * * *

  “You okay?” Everly looked at him. He loosened his grip on her hand, realizing he’d probably cut off her circulation.

  The strains of Gene Autry’s Christmas album filled his parents’ living room. Usually the songs brought him back to Christmases as a kid, but the tension from the past few days was making him edgy.

  Knowing they were going to visit Everly’s mom tomorrow was freaking him out. His relationship with Everly was based on a lie, so his relationship with her family was going to be a sham. The thought had kept him awake all night, staring at the ceiling. Only Everly using him as a pillow had stopped him from pacing the house.

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He smiled at her, wondering if she’d be smiling back at him a
few days from now, when he told her. Waiting until after Christmas had been a stupid idea. He’d thought it would keep the holidays from being ruined. It was too late now. “I’m just thinking I should check on the turkey.” Plausible excuse, since the turkey smelled amazing.

  She frowned. “That’s a pretty serious frown for turkey.”

  Awkwardly, he patted her. He rose and went to the kitchen, leaving Everly alone with the festive music and his parents’ obnoxiously decorated tree. As long as she didn’t look at the thing too closely, she might not notice that the ornaments were all hand-painted by him and Augustine when they were little. Classy, his family was not. Although the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree.

  In the kitchen, his parents were whispering to each other.

  “What’s up?”

  His mother turned to him, her lips pursed. “Well, since you’re asking,” she whispered, “I’m not at all comfortable with you involving us in this big mess of lies. Everly is a lovely girl. Even if she forgives you later, what is she going to think of me for agreeing to keep my mouth shut?”

  “It’s not like he’s hiding a mistress or something, Jody,” his father mumbled back, keeping an eye on the door. “Is hiding something good really that big of a deal?”

  She arched a brow. “Well, hiding the new mixer you got me for Christmas was one thing. This is a little different.”

  “I know. This is probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. And that’s saying something. I just need a chance to put this right. A few more days?” Ambrose gave her the pathetic puppy eyes, and she finally sighed and grimaced.

  “Fiiiine. Just don’t blame us if we slip up. We’ll do our best.”

  His father shook his head, but busied himself with taking the turkey out of the oven. If Mom said okay, Dad never contradicted her.

  His father started his signature whistling along with the music coming from the living room, and Ambrose wished he could freeze this moment in time. It would have been like their own family holiday card, other than the fact that he had The Lie hanging over his head, and Augustine was missing. His girlfriend, Charlotte, had insisted on going over to her parents’ house for the evening. Ambrose didn’t mind because it meant fewer people had to cover for him, and his parents could get to know Everly better. He knew they’d love her. Who wouldn’t?