Iron Dominance

by Cari Silverwood

  Up the curving flight of stairs they went, past the sensual sculpture that had caught her eye an eon ago, along the curved passageway overlooking the foyer, to a double set of doors made of timber and riveted metal.

  Just inside the doors was a minifoyer. Paintings hung on the walls. A display cabinet was filled with objets d’art. The middle shelf held an oversize pistol she didn’t recognize with a bronzed revolving barrel and a blue steel grip.

  Theo tugged on her hand.

  The bedroom was enormous. Two standing voltaic lamps graced either side of a large four-poster bed with posts of ebon and brass inlay. The red and black oriental quilt had been folded back in preparation for sleep. This was a man’s bedroom. No flimsy designs or pastels, no delicate ornaments, everything looked solid and perfectly capable of withstanding a rocket attack.

  She stood there, unsure of where to go, as Theo went to a red lacquered suitcase sitting on a low table, clicked it open, and rummaged inside.

  To her right, golden curtains framed a curved window jutting out past the line of the outer wall like a cockpit on a gyrocopter. The glass was sectioned into four pieces by metal rods. She strolled over. Outside was the airship, a giant darkened balloon outlined in moonlight, anchored by ropes to the grass.

  The lamps in the room extinguished. Glass and metal reflected moonlight; the room was a soft, silvered darkness. Measured footsteps came closer. Theo hugged her from behind, his chin beside her ear, surprising her a moment, until she remembered how much taller he was than her. Her eyelids lowered a little. Excitement stirred the hairs along her arms. What is he planning?

  “Beautiful, isn’t she?” He ran his hand down her side, the silk softly hissing, then he tucked a finger into the pajamas’ waistband. “Almost as beautiful as you. I thought you might like to change into something more interesting.”

  She caught his hand before he slipped it farther inside her pants. More interesting?

  “You want me to stop?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Let me show you. If you want me to stop, you know what to say. Yes?”

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  He freed his hand, undid the tie. The pants fell to her ankles in a susurration of cloth. With his lips kissing her jawline then the hollow of her neck, he crept his left hand down the opening of her shirt, popping the buttons one by one. Transfixed, she let him, only tilting back her head to offer her neck.

  “I find…” he said, biting her and licking down the side of her neck. She shuddered, and her pussy clenched. Instinct owned her. She sighed and moved her buttocks back against him, feeling that hardness again. What would it be like to have a man inside me? “That your strength appeals to me.”

  “My strength?” He shifted behind her, pulled her head onto his shoulder, and slowly kissed up to her cheekbone and across, then near each eye, making her shut them. She kept them that way. Without the distraction of sight, every touch seemed more potent. And he touched everywhere, as fleeting as a firefly, grazing his fingertips on breast and belly and thigh, then below her nipples, close enough to arouse them to hard points. When he stepped away, she swayed, lost without his caresses.

  “Yes. You’re strong, self-contained. Aren’t you, Claire?”

  She shook her head. “Maybe.” Right now, she didn’t want to think.

  “Except now, with me. Controlling you, like this, means so much more. Keep your eyes closed.”

  She did, feeling the seconds ache with promise. That he liked her strength was somehow…intoxicating, because already, she liked the idea of surrendering. What will he do next?

  “That’s my girl. It’s not that difficult, is it?” His voice teased her, amused yet filled with a fierce satisfaction.

  “No.” She craved his touch.

  Ah! Something—his finger—had touched her hip, and he circled her with an unhurried thump-tap of heel and toe on the timber floor, as he ran that finger around her waist. The shirt, fully open, slipped from her shoulders. She felt the light brush as her underwear slid down to join the pants at her feet; then his hand, first at one ankle, then the other, made her lift each leg in turn. The pants and underwear were whisked away. She could hear herself breathe.

  “Stay there,” he said.

  She could smell him.

  She almost opened her eyes to say something, but instead balanced there. Why she obeyed him, she wasn’t sure, but it satisfied something primal, something deeply sexual. And letting go like this made her feel safe.

  Anticipation strung her insides tight. She yearned for further caresses. Her cleft swelled.

  “Here. Raise your feet.” An article of clothing, both silken cloth and something harder, slid with muffled clicks up each leg. Theo arranged it about her torso, cool beads shifting across her breasts until the garment fitted snugly on her body. Something narrow settled between her legs. She gasped at a throb of pleasure as his fingers played in her moisture. A few more adjustments and he led her off to one side. A light flared on. “There. Open your eyes.”

  In a tall mirror, she saw herself, dressed in a black corset paneled with satin. Coming down from a halter, pearl ropes fanned out over each breast with her nipples peeking out between. A tiny skirt of chiffon, divided at the crotch, barely made it as far as her upper thighs. Lines of seed pearls undulated down the satin, and a string of larger pearls dived deeply between her legs, emphasizing the split lips of her sex. She could feel it run up between the cheeks of her bottom at the back. Even as she looked, she felt a renewed throb, for every movement she made, from breath to heartbeat to shift of feet, moved the line of pearls and rubbed against her clit.

  In the reflection, she saw Theo beyond her shoulder, bare-chested, the ringlets of his black hair stark against his forehead. He raised a satin and pearl choker and positioned it about her neck, clicking it into place. “And these,” he said, holding first one wrist and then the other to snick matching black satin bracelets on her wrists. “They suit you.” From the hardness, metal lurked beneath the black cloth.

  Where the choker and bracelets rested on skin, her pulse rose, thumping, to the surface and reminded her of where she was, who she was with, and especially, how dangerous this could be. But…she trusted him.

  To her surprise, her throat still worked, though the words seemed to stick to her tongue. “How did you know my size? Where did this come from?”

  “Bought while I was away. I have a good memory, especially for someone as striking as you.”

  Which meant, he’d planned her…seduction, while she’d been planning escape. She leaned back against him, fascinated by the allure of the woman in the mirror. The heat from his body soaked into her like a glass of wine. She lifted each wrist and examined the bracelets—identical, and each with tiny loops of steel projecting from them.

  “That’s for a chain to pass through,” he whispered, mouthing her nape. “Does it bother you? Think, before you answer.”

  “Yes…” she said slowly, fearful of being again restrained in cuffs.

  “And yet?” He pressed a hand against her stomach, holding her against him, making her feel the rigid line of his cock. The pearls slid in her juices, pressing, rolling over her clit and anus. She let out a whimper. “Ahh. You feel them working on you.” He chuckled. “And yet?”

  And yet the idea of it, of being restrained by Theo, held a strange and deadly fascination. She shied away from that thought and shook her head. “And nothing.”

  “Aah. I can see my first project will be to get you talking more.”

  She stood there in silence. The fear she felt came intertwined with lust in almost everything that Theo did to her. Taking her by the shoulders, he moved her to face him, gray eyes inches away; then his mouth descended, covering hers, devouring her. She breathed in his breath, letting him do as he willed. One broad hand held the base of her neck; the other splayed over the curve of her buttocks. His fingers wrapped around the pearl rope running between her legs, tightening it. Desire ran rampant thr
ough her, surging higher with every tiny movement of his lips on hers and the rub of the pearls on her pussy and nipples.

  When she put her hands to the belt of his pants, he reached between their bodies, snared both her wrists, and pulled them round to the small of her back where he held them with one hand. Again, the pearls shifted. She bit her lip, a moan escaping her as she arched.

  Eyes shut, she heard a soft animal-like growl.

  “Claire, if you’re not damn careful, I’ll eat you up.”

  What? She opened her eyes a slit, still panting, to see that he’d stepped away a little, angling his stance so as to observe her.

  His gaze brushed her, lingering on her breasts before he locked on her eyes. “Last chance. Do you want to stop? Are you too sore? It might cause me irreparable harm, but I can stop.” Then he eyed her darkly, as if he’d liked to do exactly what he’d threatened to—eat her up.

  The pain of the bruise at her neck had faded to nothing in spite of the choker. With her whole being, she yearned for more of him. He inflamed her past bearing, and knowing that he watched her swept her excitement to another level.

  She licked her lips, aware of her wrists still caught behind her and the display of her body. God, if he didn’t do more than this, she’d surely burst.

  “No,” she said huskily. “Don’t stop.”

  “Please?”

  Ah, how he tormented her. “Please.”

  “Over here then.” Still gripping her wrists, he urged her toward the bed, to kneel by the side of it and lie facedown across the quilt with her bottom up. He spread her hands, palm down, over each cheek of her buttocks.

  “Don’t move,” he whispered in her ear, “and I won’t have to tie you.”

  Tie me? She almost let go at that. Was this what she wanted? But he held his hands over hers a moment. She stayed there.

  “Good.”

  His fingers trailed over the backs of her hands, over the ends of her fingernails, and down her thighs. She quivered, sucking in air through the quilt bunched beneath her mouth.

  “Spread your legs, Claire.”

  She shifted them, feeling even more exposed, a breeze caressing her engorged labia. He traced down the line of pearls, reached her wet cleft, and followed deeper, where the pearls seemed to have sunk into her flesh. Slick and wet. The scent of her lust reached her. Slowly he went farther until he reached her clit. He circled it, teasing, making her shift her bottom to place the finger just right.

  “No.” To her shock, he smacked one cheek of her ass with the flat of his hand, just missing her fingers.

  Oh. A wave of pleasure from the smack vibrated through her lower body. She froze and took a piece of quilt between her teeth.

  Her taut nipples throbbed as they pressed into the bed. She heard him kneel. The end of a finger pressed against the entrance to her vagina, slipping in, then the smallest distance out, over and over while something, a finger and thumb perhaps, clamped softly on her clit and began to squeeze and release in exquisite rhythm. Two, then three of Theo’s fingers eased into her entrance, stretching her. Each thrust slid farther inside until her body climbed, brimming with tension, to the peak. The fingers slid all the way in, the finger and thumb squashed down tighter and faster. She wanted to move but mustn’t, couldn’t. Her clit became a swollen nub, bursting, wanting that last press. She shook and exploded over the edge, crying out into the darkness of the quilt, convulsing around his fingers.

  When she’d quieted and her heart had climbed down from the heavens, she found her hands at her sides, tangled in the quilt.

  She heard Theo move behind her and the slither of cloth falling to the floor.

  He leaned his whole body on her, his erection hard against her back. “I think you’re wet and open enough now, darling. If it hurts too much, say so.”

  She took in a deep breath, then nodded slightly. Trepidation caught hold of her. This was far beyond what she’d gleaned from anatomy books and demonstrations and gossip. He moved the moistened rope of pearls to one side, then placed his hands over her wrists where they rested at her side and held them down.

  This time it wasn’t a finger at her entrance. The blunt pressure of his cock strained at her vulva all the way round, evenly—tight and slowly inching inward through her juices. Holding her breath, she concentrated, wanting to remember this…this stinging, almost painful, stretching feeling of delicious fullness. When she thought his cock could go no farther, he waited a few moments, then withdrew to the entrance and back in, only deeper. Again, the hint of pain, and yet—Oh, that’s good.

  His thrusts strengthened bit by bit until they jolted her, sending her body along the bed. He slowed, rocking back, then building in tempo again. She groaned as his cock seemed to swell inside her, his balls slapping against her clit. That expanding ebb and flow of pleasure returned and overwhelmed the last vestiges of pain. She writhed, or tried to, her wrists twisting under the heavy pressure of his hands. Her clit ground against the pearls as she whimpered, wanting, desperate for more of everything her body was feeling. His last thrust slammed against her flesh, holding her down.

  Oh. Yes!

  He released into her, his ejaculation spurting inside, his cock so far in, so deep, his balls jammed against her. Ecstasy fireballed, reverberating from clit to core and back again. Flattened between the bed and his body, she gasped out her orgasm, her bottom straining to arch, every muscle taut and shaking her into a thousand white-hot pieces.

  Chapter Nine

  The soft click of a door and the murmur of voices broke through Claire’s dream. The same dream she’d had before, of something buried deep in the earth and footsteps sounding, just off to the side, where she couldn’t see.

  Strange, that she’d slept so soundly. Normally, the smallest noise or even change in smell would awaken her. Yet while beside Theo, in his bed, she’d felt so content, so safe, she’d sunk down into a level where nothing disturbed her.

  The dream footsteps had merged into the sound of real ones approaching on soft flooring. She lay on her side, covered with a sheet pulled up to her waist. Through her eyelids, she saw a shadow arrive, then loom closer. She tensed until the heavy scent of the shadow told her this was Theo.

  Theo: male, glorious, and last night they’d made love. More accurately, he’d possessed her body and done what he’d wanted. Delicious. Remembering everything made her feel like wriggling.

  The familiar throb returned to her groin.

  Lips softly kissed her bruised ones. “Time to wake,” Theo said. “It’s past dawn.” The sheet slipped away as he smoothed his hand down her arm to the dip of her waist.

  She rolled over onto her back and smiled up at him. The neck of his silver-gray dressing gown showed a tempting V of bare chest. When in her life had she ever woken up with a man hovering over her, his eyes simmering with lust? She reached with both hands and pulled his head close again, kissing him back, enjoying the yield of skin on skin.

  “I could eat you,” she whispered.

  “Aah, but that’s my job. We need to get this off you.” Moving the hand on her stomach lower, he tugged at something. A jolt of pleasure ran up from her pussy.

  She glanced down and saw the satin corset, his hand tucked into the pearls dipping between her legs. “I’m still wearing—” She blushed.

  “Yes.” He grinned. “You are. You dirty woman. But I like it. Come!” He took her legs and pulled her to the side, until she had to sit up or risk falling to the floor on her bottom. “Up, up, up! The bath is filled with hot water. There’s soap and fresh towels, and…I’m going to watch.” He paused and eyed her upper thigh. “Those stitches look ready to come out. That’s a better result than the galvanic treatment usually gives.”

  The skin beneath the line of black sutures was pink and clean.

  “I heal easily.” Yet it stirred her to unease. Here was another thing that made her different. Nothing could ever change her nature.

  The bathroom was on a scale with his bedroom—
large and luxurious. Two bronze sculptures of flamingos guarded a huge round bathtub with gold feet. Half the tub sat embedded into a raised tiled area coming out from the wall. She’d never seen anything like it.

  At first, Theo sprawled on a red divan, watching with hooded eyes as she stripped off the corset, bracelets, and choker. Feeling suddenly shy, she stepped into the steaming water.

  Though the heat made her gasp, she quickly lowered herself. The bubbles in the water clung to the sides of her breasts.

  A thought struck her. “Who filled this?”

  “Kirsten. She takes care of my room. You’ll meet her eventually. Why?”

  She sank deeper, head back; water lapped at her ears, muffling sound. “She didn’t see…anything?”

  “Like your half-naked body?” he drawled, then rose from the couch and walked over. She felt like some water creature eyeing a predator. “I threw the sheet over you.”

  Efficiently, he shed his dressing gown. His erection stood out as proudly as the one on the sculpture on the stairs, the muscles of his stomach and chest rippling as he moved. That telltale arrow of hair led the eye to his groin. Trying not to stare and only partly succeeding, she moved to one side, sending water sloshing. Every movement of Theo’s signaled determination—she had a suspicion no wasn’t going to work at the moment.

  With the water around his thighs, he looked like some god risen from the depths of a sea.

  Seeing his gaze drift lower, she looked down to see her exposed breasts shining with moisture and bubbles. “Um. I thought I was getting clean?”

  “You look very clean to me. Come here.” He beckoned, then sat on the edge of the tub. His cock was straight and thick, and almost long enough to touch his belly button—she’d had that inside her last night?

  Any thought of not going to him vanished. She waded over on her knees, sliding across the porcelain. She couldn’t help looking at him, at his cock. Last night, buried under the avalanche of her awakening feelings, she’d barely had time to study his body.