She wanted to be touched. She wanted his cock in her mouth. And he was still fully dressed. For God's sake, she didn't even know whether or not he had an erection.
"Is your pussy still wet?"
"No."
"Ah. So it's easy for you to be aroused when you're getting my full attention, but not as much when you're serving me?"
Her tongue felt raw.
"Is that right?"
She concentrated on her assignment.
"Why are you here, Emily?” His hands fisted in her hair, forcing her to hold still. Sterling did not allow her to look up.
"Because I want to be your slave. Your submissive. 24/7. I want to wear your collar."
"Wearing a master's collar is an honour that must be earned."
"We were together about six months.” She tried to keep the bitterness out of her tone. Tried, but failed. She wanted this man. She wanted him to want her. She wanted to be returned to a position of honour in his household, in his life, in his bed.
"And you did not earn it."
"Damn it—"
"Aye. Damn it. You are excellent at performing tasks that you want to perform. And dreadful at doing things you do not want to do.” He gave her a moment to absorb each word.
She wanted to look at him, see what was written in the depths of his eyes.
"And you forget, Emily, that everything, everything I ask you to do for me matters to me."
And she understood.
He was right.
Maybe that's why she ran. She thought she'd panicked because of the emotional commitment she had started to feel toward him, a commitment she knew he didn't return.
But it was more ... If she totally submitted, she would have to subjugate her own needs completely. Tasks that were sheer drudgery would become pleasurable, because that's what he wanted.
Her breath was wobbly.
She'd felt emotional commitment, but had never totally submitted. And he would withhold emotional commitment until she submitted.
Catch-22.
She had returned, though, hadn't she?
Other men since him were willing to commit, but she didn't want them. What did that tell her?
Each word a bullet, Sterling said, “Now clean my shoe.” He kept handfuls of her hair in his grip.
With her new-found realisation, she did as he commanded.
She forgot the fact her tongue hurt.
Each lick was equal measures of promise and repentance.
She tasted herself along with the bite of leather. She forgot about the humiliation, blocked out everything other than the fact she was pleasing Sir Sterling as completely as if her mouth were closed around the head of his cock. As she laved attention on the job he'd given her, she realised there was a difference between humility and humiliation.
"Can you still taste yourself?"
She shook her head as much as his hold allowed.
"Is your pussy wet?"
This time, unbelievably, it was. “Yes."
"That pleases me."
Chapter Four
Her heart did a funny little somersault. He rarely said that. The lift it gave her was stunning.
"Give and take, Emily. Hump my shoe again."
She did, moistening the leather anew with her hot juices. She loved looking at him, loved the bite of his fingers on her shoulders.
And when he ordered her onto all fours and placed his foot beneath her mouth, she hungrily, happily cleaned up her musky moisture.
This time, he made no comment. That, she knew, was part of the test. Would she serve even if he gave her no positive feedback?
Yes, she knew. Yes, she would serve. It was better than being stuck with a man whom she could master with a pout or simple refusal.
"Position yourself on the table."
With elegance that he'd taught her, she rose and hurried to the table he pointed at.
The elegant piece of furniture was older than America, and its finish had been dulled by the years. He'd used the piece of furniture many times before to spank her.
She vibrated in anticipation as she draped herself over the table. It was a little tall for her, and her toes barely brushed the floor. Her torso was completely supported by the wood.
He caressed her right thigh, then he cupped the cheeks of her ass. Still holding her, his breath brushed the curve of her back before he kissed that sensitive spot. She'd been expecting a slap, and the tenderness was her undoing.
"Take hold of the legs."
Eagerly, she manoeuvred to do as he said. It stretched her arms a bit uncomfortably, and her head hung over the side and so did her breasts. Her toes no longer reached the floor. She felt vulnerable and off balance.
The sharp slap to her bottom made her gasp. Her pussy flooded.
"I can smell you.” He slid a hand between her legs and rubbed between the soft folds. Her juices made his hand slick. “Do you want to come?"
"If it pleases Mas—” Thoughts were a jumbled mess, tossed in the soup of erotic confusion. “Yes! Yes, if pleases you, Sir, yes!” Then, with a soft whisper, she added, “Please."
He pinched her clit
Emily would have climaxed instantly if she knew she wouldn't be in trouble for doing so. Naughtily, though, she pressed her heat against him.
"Keep still.” He pinched again. “Open your legs more.” He dipped a finger in her cunt.
She heard the metal zipper of his trousers. She got wetter.
Her eyes closed when she felt the head of his cock pressing into her vaginal opening. Finally. She'd dreamed of this. Hungered for it.
He sank into her with a viciously quick stroke.
Despite her attempts to hold still, she wiggled to accommodate him. It'd been so long. So long since she'd been touched by him, held by him, been the centre of his attention. She'd spent months dreaming of this, and she wanted to savour every sensation, every stroke.
He withdrew and she gyrated her hips, seeking him once again.
Then she felt his finger at the tight whorl of her ass.
"I could bind you,” Sterling said, his words deceptively conversational. “But I am choosing to tie you by my will."
Tied by his will.
Her mind gnawed on his words, and she truly understood his intent. He wasn't going to cuff her to the table. If she were in bondage, she could struggle, not only physically, but emotionally as well. She could think he was doing things to her that she didn't want him to do, enduring because she wanted a second chance.
He was stripping away that last veil for her to hide behind.
No matter what he did, her submission was of her own free will. She could get up and leave at any time.
"What will it be, Emily?"
His question took away her breath. She hated having anything up her ass. It hurt, and she felt violated. But Sterling was like no other master. She could refuse; but he wouldn't say it was all right, they'd do something else.
She'd come back, hoping for a second chance. She could tolerate anything, as long as it pleased him. “Fuck me."
"Pardon?"
"Fuck me, Sterling."
"Where?"
In her delirium, she didn't totally hear his question, but she knew what she wanted, and, more importantly, what she needed more than her next breath. “With your finger, your cock. Anything you want. Just fuck me. Please."
He took away his finger. There was no part of their skin that was touching.
"What do you want?"
"Take me.” And she wanted it, she realised. She wanted to do this for him, and therefore, for herself. She was draped over the table, open and vulnerable, exposed and waiting for his possession. “Fuck my ass."
He left her for a few moments, and she heard him ring a bell. A few moments later, Agnes said, “Sir?"
"Fetch a pot of oil."
"My pleasure, Sir."
There was no doubt what would be happening in this room. All of the hired help would know she was being buggered. But suddenly that did
n't matter. She shoved aside feelings of embarrassment. She was serving the master as surely as any of the others.
Time dragged, and she was aware of the darkness outside the window, along with the evening chill. Gooseflesh dotted her skin.
The door opened and closed. “There you are,” he said. “Please lubricate Emily's anus."
Emily froze. Silence stretched.
"Spread your legs a bit farther. Move yourself backward a bit more. You'll want to give the servant a bit better access.” When Emily complied, he added, “That's a good girl, then."
She bit into her lower lip when she felt the woman's grease-slickened fingers pressing into her.
"Nice and deep."
The woman was enjoying this!
Not only was Agnes inserting the lube, she was finger-fucking Emily's tight hole.
"Prepare her for me."
Agnes inserted a second, then third finger. She then parted her fingers, spreading Emily wide.
She thought of what she looked like, obscenely displayed for him, another woman's hand spreading her anal opening wide. And she imagined his reaction. Was his cock hard? Was he aroused? Did he want to possess her the way she wanted to be possessed?
Agnes found a rhythm to stretch Emily and fuck her simultaneously. Unbelievably, a tiny moan escaped her throat.
"Why I do believe our Emily is enjoying herself."
"Aye, sir."
"Give her a bit more, then."
The woman did, banging hard.
"Now stop."
Emily heard the woman's little “Ugh” of displeasure.
"Allow Emily to pump your hand. There's nothing she enjoys more than being shameless."
She could not have possibly heard him correctly! Was there no end to his punishment? Would he just please beat her and get it over with? Anything but these humiliations, one on top of the other.
"Emily? On with it, girl,” he said.
Hating this, she nonetheless dutifully complied, moving her hips back and forth so that she was all but fucking the servant's hand.
"Is her cunt wet?"
"Aye, sir. I can smell her. She's in heat."
Emily was beyond caring. The sensations were too much, too intense. She didn't want it to end.
"That'll be all, Agnes."
Emily continued to move.
"Ag-nes.” Sir Sterling's word was warning and threat wound into two distinct syllables.
The woman slowly pulled out.
"Ready the playroom for Emily's arrival."
The woman slipped from the room.
He followed her, leaving Emily alone for a few minutes that dragged like hours.
Upon his return, Sterling didn't waste time with words. He crossed to her. His hands rough, he pulled apart her ass cheeks. Her stomach clenched with fear. His touch wasn't nearly as gentle as Agnes's had been.
Holding her wide for his penetration, he sank both of his thumbs into her tiniest opening. Her breaths were shallow, strangling as he forced her to stretch. “So tight. So submissive,” he said.
"Yes,” she whispered. Then silently she added, For you.
Even though he'd prepped her, the size of his cock pressing against her made her gasp. She grabbed the table legs tighter, her fingernails digging into the wood.
"Please me,” he said.
"Yes. Yes! I want to please,” she said. Her entire body tensed as he pushed past the sphincter and eased inside her. She couldn't take it. Couldn't do it. Even for him.
He grabbed her hair and yanked. She screamed. Her back arched. He rammed the entire length of his shaft into her.
"You're there,” he said. “Nicely done."
Nicely done? She was being devoured from the inside out. She struggled to escape, but he held her there, pinned and trapped.
"Count to ten,” he told her, “before deciding you can't do it."
Silently, she did. It didn't help. His cock in her bottom still hurt. But she bit back the protest bubbling inside.
"It's not the most comfortable position,” he said, granting her that much. “But it is a very submissive one. With the way your body is situated on the table, you have very little control. I chose it on purpose.” He moved his hands to her shoulders. “And unless you tell me not to, I'm going to fuck you harder than you've ever been fucked before."
Surprisingly, the way he held her, the feel of his strong hands on her small shoulders comforted her. She could do anything as long as he offered his strength.
She moistened her lips, only wishing she could see his face. He pulled back a bit, barely a dozen centimetres, then eased back in. Her hole felt raw.
"And again,” he told her before repeating his movement.
When she began to accommodate his strokes, he must have felt the difference because he pulled back a little farther.
This entrance was more demanding.
"Grab hold of the legs tighter. You will not be permitted to fight me."
He'd never ridden her like this before. Previously he'd taken pity on her mews of distress and penetrated her vaginally instead.
This time, though, he sank all the way in, then pulled almost all the way out.
She moaned.
He intensified his thrusts. In. Out. Harder. Faster.
Her toes scrabbled against the wood flooring.
Faster. Faster still.
Her body tensed, then relaxed, accommodating his moves.
Then, as she had with Agnes, Emily began to enjoy the motions. She no longer felt pain.
Her cunt filled with moisture and it dripped from her. She remembered what he'd told her before, about there being more nerve endings in the anus than anywhere else in the body. Every one of them seemed electrified. “Damn. Damn, damn!” She let go of the legs. Mindlessly, wordlessly, she reached back, trying to find him.
"What?"
"More,” she whispered, barely able to speak at all. “I want more."
He moved his hands beneath her, supporting her and lifting her from the table. The angle was exquisite.
Holding her captive, he filled her, fucked her.
"I need...” What did she need? “I have to ... I..."
"Come,” he instructed. He painfully pinched a nipple. “Now."
Screaming, she did, drenching them both in her pussy juices.
"Good girl,” he told her. “Good little sub."
Spent, drenched, she didn't protest when he gently lowered her to the table.
It wasn't until a good quarter of an hour later that she realised he hadn't climaxed.
He re-dressed, rang for Agnes to bring Emily a soft, damp flannel to clean herself, and then gave Emily a few minutes to recover.
She sat quietly near him, on the floor, naked, close to the fireplace, while he worked on his notebook computer.
"Tell me again,” he said, “Why you're here."
"I want to be your slave.” She glanced up at him. His eyes were dark as usual, but there were streaks of intimidating black in the grey. His mouth was set in a hardened line, his air of implacability complete. She ached to trace her fingers along the strong lines of his jaw, feeling her skin against the masculine texture of his.
Would she ever reach him again the way she had before she ran away? Would he ever allow any level of intimacy? “All day, every day. I will do whatever it takes to please you."
"And that part you were talking about? The ninety percent emotional?"
"I don't have to tell you,” she said, feathering her wayward hair back from her face, “that sex is nothing more than the connection of flesh. It can mean nothing. And it did with those other men. I gave little, received even less.” She drew a breath. “But that's not how it is for me when I'm with you. I'm giving you more than my body. I'm offering you all of who I am, my responses...” Dare she say it? “My heart."
"I will settle for nothing less."
"I need that."
He keyed another few strokes into the computer keyboard. Seconds later, the printer across the ro
om hummed to life. Two pieces of paper were spit out.
She was reminded of a similar time about a year ago in this very room, when she'd first come to him. He'd been very official, asking her wants along with her dislikes. They'd signed a contract, outlining what she was willing to do, how far she was willing to go physically. They'd agreed on a safe word—a word she would use if things were ever too intense. She'd never used it.
And she'd never talked to him as she'd agreed to in the contract. If she was upset or scared or concerned, she was to request a time they'd talk. She never had. Instead, with the slamming of a door, she'd made it null and void. No second chances.
"Your leaving, Emily, was devastating. I do not accept slaves lightly. I'm well-aware of the commitment and obligation. Being a slave is an honoured position in a Master's household. She has my respect above others. Pleasing the slave, caring for her, is my biggest priority."
And she'd walked away. “I'm sorry.” She'd thought only of herself, not of his reaction to her leaving. Big, strong, commanding Master had been devastated? That was absolutely unthinkable. “I have a hard time believing I mattered at all."
In a swift motion, he stood, then yanked her to her feet. He dragged her against him, captured her mouth with a quick, devouring kiss. “Believe it."
She blinked when he released her.
This wasn't the reaction she was accustomed to. Her master, the Sterling she knew, was cool and reserved, British through-and-through. But this man ... Raw. Untamed. Her toes curled.
"Fetch those papers from the printer."
Shaking, she did so. She was tempted to read them, but didn't have permission to do so. She did, however, sneak a peak. Her name was on the top page. Her heart added a dozen extra beats a minute and pounded against her ears.
Unsure of his expectations, she followed her instincts and sank to her knees, offering the papers without meeting his gaze.
He carried them to the table that still had patches of dampness from her powerful orgasm. He took a pen from the table's drawer, placed it next to the piece of paper and then said, “Come here."
Still unsure of how to behave, she stood.
"This contract supersedes the one you signed last year."
It was shockingly short. It contained only five points, all bulleted. There were no items to debate, nothing for her to mark through. Straightforward, no negotiation.
Naughty Nibbles Anthology Page 3
