Dominant Persuasions Anthology: 12 Tales of D/s, Where Mastery Meets Passion

by Anthology

  She whimpered again. He checked her out. Her cheeks were flushed, nearly as red as her backside. In a million years, he’d never thought the act of spanking his wife would make him so hard it hurt. Every time he shifted, the abrasive denim of his jeans ratcheted his need another notch.

  He dialed up the remote. Her body jerked, and her eyes flew open. She turned her head, regarding him with wide eyes. He grinned back at her and turned on the radio.

  Her whimpers turned into desperate squeaks. She strained to close her legs, but the bar between her knees prevented that from happening. Her arms moved, her back arched, and she yanked at the handcuffs.

  “Justin. Oh, Justin.”

  He loved the way she said his name. At home, she never used it. She frequently avoided speaking directly to him, sending the girls instead. “Go ask Daddy to start the grill. Go ask Daddy if he has to work this weekend.”

  He loved being a father. He loved that his little girls looked so much like Trish. They both had her kind soul and generous heart too. She was a giver, his Trish. He hadn’t understood what that meant until his second meeting with his mentor, when Mike had explained that most submissives were givers. As her Dom, it was his job to make sure she got what she needed, sexually and emotionally.

  The noises she made grew louder and more urgent. He reduced the speed of the small egg he had placed inside her.

  She groaned and shifted to look at him. “You’re going to kill me this way, aren’t you? You’re going to tease me until I die from frustration.”

  He wanted to stop the car and fuck her, but he didn’t. She had to accept the fact that he was the boss. Besides, GPS put their destination at only fifteen minutes away.

  The small opening announcing the narrow road to the cabin wasn’t more than a brief break in the tree line. The ruts in the driveway caused both of them to rock back and forth. Justin braced himself with one hand on the door. Trish moaned loudly.

  He glanced over again. The way her elbows bent next to her head obscured the expression on her face. He liked the way she looked, bound and helpless, completely at his mercy. Well, the road’s mercy, at any rate. Judging by the noises she made, her pleasure intensified as the car bounced over the ruts.

  She sighed when he stopped in front of the cabin. Leaning forward as far as she could go with her hands bound behind her neck to the headrest, she peered at it through desire-heavy eyes. She licked her lips. He noticed they were drying out from all the panting she had been doing. He made a mental note to see to them.

  “It’s small.”

  He knew what she was thinking. Given how much money they had both paid for this weekend vacation, they had expected a larger place. From the specs he had seen, he anticipated three rooms: a kitchen/living room, a bedroom, and a five-star bathroom. The living and sleeping areas would be equipped with bondage equipment. The brochure promised a multitude of equipment, a selection ranging from a St. Andrew’s cross to a simple flogger. For the bathroom, it had boasted a jetted tub and a massage table, everything he would need to properly care for his slave. The kitchen would even be stocked with their favorite foods, which he’d ordered as part of the package.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Images of his lovely wife in full slave mode floated before his eyes. He had been masturbating to this fantasy for weeks. “You’ll spend most of your time chained to the bed or kneeling at my feet.”

  When she didn’t respond, he swallowed his trepidation and looked at her. Those dark brown eyes stared at him speculatively, and he knew she was wondering how this would change their relationship once they returned home. Justin didn’t have an answer. That was one of the things they were going to discuss while they were here.

  “Are you going to untie me?”

  He grinned. “Eventually.” Without elaborating, he leaped from the SUV and went around back to grab their bags. She hadn’t brought much. He had specified that she bring no clothing with her, save what she would wear to return home.

  He disappeared inside. Trish could wait in the car for a bit longer. He had been hard for too long. If he didn’t take himself in hand, he was going to fuck her before he got her inside the cabin.

  It was as he expected. The door opened to the combination living room and kitchenette. One wall showed two open doors. One door led to a bathroom. The other led to the bedroom.

  Justin looked around for a bit, taking in the decor. Dark wood, leather, and polished chrome made up the bulk of the furniture. It wasn’t to his taste, but he found it perfect for this weekend. Every single piece sported places to tie his slave. He could bend her over the back of the chair and bind her wrists to the arms. He could splay her on the coffee table and secure her in a variety of positions. An assortment of whips and other implements hung from the walls as featured decorations. There were no pictures, only mirrors.

  His cock jerked, pulsing painfully as he pictured her lying spread-eagle on the table while he ate dinner. He could lick her between bites. He could hold ice cream to her clit, and she wouldn’t be able to escape. Justin dropped his suitcase onto the bed and loosened his pants. He knew this relief would only be temporary.

  Patricia squirmed, trying to move the egg closer to her G-spot. She didn’t know if she wanted to be angry with Justin for leaving her in the car with this damned, tiny vibrator buzzing away inside her. This was exactly what she had asked for in her fantasy—a man who controlled her pleasure and bent her to his will.

  She yanked on the handcuffs and tried to move her knees, but like her attempt to move the egg, nothing happened. All of a sudden, the speed of the vibrations increased. She moaned loudly, the singular sound filling the silent interior of the SUV. The orgasm was close. She knew she should open her eyes to see if Justin was near, but she couldn’t find the energy. She tried to subdue her reaction, but her body wouldn’t cooperate. It jerked and twisted. The seat belt was the only thing stopping her hips from rising to thrust against the empty air. The climax came, washing over her body without quite sating her need.

  Good God, she wanted another spanking!

  The vibrating ceased, and she groaned. Next to her, the door opened, bringing with it the cool rush of spring. She hadn’t realized how much the car smelled like sex. It took all of her energy to turn her head.

  “Beautiful,” he said. “Simply beautiful.”

  He freed her knees first. The seat belt came next. Blood flooded back into her nipples as he eased the pinch of the clamps. The pins-and-needles feeling made her gasp and writhe. She wanted to call the sensation painful, but it wasn’t. It was uncomfortable, unsettling, and smacking of promises yet unfulfilled. She ached to feel the heat of his hands or his mouth around them, but he showed no sign of doing that.

  He retrieved the egg before seeing to the handcuffs. When he helped her from the car, every muscle in Patricia’s body protested. She had forgotten about the plug filling her ass, but now she was completely aware of it.

  “Come,” he ordered. “I’ve run a bath for you.”

  He led her to the bathroom. She wanted to take a moment to look at the cabin, but he pushed her forward. The flow of water from the tap pounded a steady beat, calling to her from the next room.

  “You can see it all later. I’ll give you a half hour alone, Trish. Don’t take out that plug, and don’t masturbate.” With that, he closed the door.

  She stared at the solid piece of wood. At first, she marveled at the changes in her husband. He’d been confident and a bit bossy when they’d met. It had taken her some time to discover his kind heart and to fall in love with him. Over time, he’d mellowed. They had become equal in all aspects of their relationship. Now he still treated her with respect. There was more kindness in him, but there was also a ruthlessness to him, an iron will that made her thighs weak.

  Gradually, her musings faded, and she noticed the door. A steel bar hung from leather straps that must have been secured on the other side. Manacles dangled from it. Eye hooks were placed strategically down the door. If sh
e were chained to the manacles, a rope could be threaded through them to bind her waist, her knees, and her ankles.

  She blinked away the vision of herself bound there, awaiting Justin’s pleasure or his torture. Perhaps both.

  In addition to a tub large enough for two, the bathroom sported a massage table.

  Steam wafted from the tub. She turned off the faucet and eased herself into the water. Cream coated the insides of her thighs, and sweat made other parts of her sticky. She wanted to be clean for Justin. Not since her wedding day had she so wanted to floor Justin with her appearance.

  She washed and ran fresh water. Her time was almost up. Maybe he would join her in the tub. Maybe he would bend her over the side and fuck her. Maybe he would tie her to the door. Desire flared, and her hand crept lower, caressing her thigh before finding her soft folds. She pressed her clit. The little nub was already hard and ready.

  “I told you not to do that.”

  Her eyes flew open. She hadn’t heard the door. Her body was submerged to her shoulders, meaning she could only feel the cool air he brought on her face.

  She smiled the most inviting smile she could muster. “I was just thinking about you.”

  He pressed his lips together. Instead of feeling defensive, as she usually felt whenever he displayed this expression, she felt the tingle of anticipation.

  “Stand up and let the water out.”

  She did as he commanded, flipping the lever for the drain with her toe. He wrapped a towel around her and lifted her from the tub. She reached to take the towel from him so she could dry off, but he shook his head.

  “No, Trish. You belong to me. I’ll take care of you.”

  He patted her dry, and then he turned to the array of after-bath products on the counter. They were hers. She hadn’t noticed those before.

  “Lie on the massage table, face down.”

  The table had a place for her face to rest. She did as he commanded. He traced paths down her arms, across her shoulders, over her back and legs. There was no continuity to his pattern. He explored, leaving gooseflesh in his wake. Patricia shivered.

  “I’m going to take out the plug. I need you to relax.”

  A tug and it was gone. The sensation of fullness disappeared, leaving her feeling abandoned and empty. The wet sound of lotion being pumped caught her attention.

  Not once in fifteen years had he ever attempted to do anything like this. As he rubbed in the cream, his hands massaged and caressed. It was as erotic as it was tender, as sexy as it was sweet.

  “Turn over.”

  He paid the same attention to the front of her body, lingering over her breasts and kneading them with care. When he finished, she felt like liquid. She could assume any shape he wanted. She would do anything he commanded. He brushed his finger over her lips, rubbing in her favorite lip balm.

  “Spread your legs, slave.”

  The narrowness of the table required her to bend her knees and drop her legs over the side. He teased her folds with the same gentle pressure he had used on her back. Wetness smeared where he touched. The massage had done its job.

  “So wet, my slave. So wet for me.”

  She wanted him to press harder, to thrust his fingers inside and fuck her with them. He withdrew, and she held in a whimper of protest.

  He held his wet fingers to her lips. The musky scent of her arousal filled her nose. “Open your mouth. Lick my fingers clean.”

  Patricia had never done anything of the sort before. Sure, she had given her share of blowjobs, but this was different. Though she was uncertain about this idea, she opened her mouth. He slid his fingers inside, fucking her mouth with slow, even strokes.

  His eyelids fell to half-mast. She recognized the telltale sign of his arousal and sucked harder. The sweet-tart taste of her cream didn’t matter nearly as much as Justin’s reaction. If she could only push him over the edge, he would bend her over the side of the massage table and sink his cock into her empty pussy.

  Too soon, he withdrew his fingers. “Well done, slave. You might want to hang on to the table. This is going to hurt a bit.”

  Adrenaline pumped through her system. Just because she liked the pain didn’t mean she wasn’t a little afraid of it.

  He snagged something from the counter and turned his attention back to her pussy. “Beautiful,” he said. “You know, when we were younger, your pussy was a delicate pink color. Now it’s a bit darker. So are your nipples.” He glanced up at her face. “It’s sexy as hell, Trish. I’ve never told you that before, but it is.”

  Heat suffused her neck. She had noticed the changes, especially after each pregnancy, but she’d never known what he thought about them. Part of her had wondered if he found her less attractive because if it. Now she knew.

  A gentle pinch on her clit chased all thoughts from her head. He was doing something she couldn’t see with the item he hadn’t shown her. The pinch grew sharper, squeezing her clit painfully. She yelped.

  “You’ll get used to it, my slave. Just like the nipple clamps.” He grinned and tweaked one nipple, turning it into a hard peak. “We’ll get back to those later.”

  Her nipples were still sore from their earlier imprisonment. He took her hand and tugged her into a sitting position. The pinching feeling shifted, and now something pulled as well. Moisture flooded from her pussy, and she knew she would leave behind a wet spot when she stood.

  “It’s weighted, my sweet. Whenever you move, you’re going to feel it. Stand up and bend over the table. It’s time for a bigger plug. I plan to be able to fuck you there before you fall asleep tonight.”

  He snagged something from a contraption on the counter. It took her a moment, but she recognized a bottle warmer.

  Justin squeezed gel onto his fingers and disappeared behind her. She felt the gentle press of his fingers on her anus as he massaged the gel into the muscle.

  Her clit throbbed, both in yearning for the same kind of stimulation and in protest over the clamp with its weights pulling down.

  “Breathe in and out, my lovely slave. This one is going to hurt a bit more.”

  Trish took a deep breath. As she exhaled, he pushed an impossibly large object into her ass. Her muscles stretched, but the bath and the lube had done their jobs. It didn’t hurt at all.

  She heard water run as he washed his hands. Trish remained still, her gaze glued to the back of this familiar stranger.

  He dried his hands on a towel. “Stand up.”

  The fullness from before had nothing on what she felt now. As she straightened, every nerve ending in her pussy screamed as the full effect of the weights combined with the sensations in her ass. She gasped.

  He crossed his arms and assessed her with a critical look in his eyes. “Dinner is ready. Afterward, I’m going to make you scream and beg.”

  Patricia had no idea how to respond to that. Even if she had made it this far with a stranger, she wouldn’t have felt the tingling anticipation set free by the trust she had in Justin. “Thank you, Sir.”

  Dinner wasn’t what she expected. Justin had cooked pasta with a white mushroom sauce. He directed her to a chair. Given the amount of lubricant and wetness seeping from her pussy, she was relieved to see that he had covered it with a towel.

  He served her when she expected things to happen the other way around. Patricia always served him when he made it home for dinner. Because she was the one always home, she was used to serving the kids. Taking care of Justin had become a natural extension of the work she already did.

  She looked up at him as he set a full plate in front of her. “Thank you, Justin.”

  His mouth curved in a pleased smile, and she realized he was pampering her this way to make a point. While she might be his slave this weekend, he would be the one taking care of her. She hadn’t felt this cared for since the early years of their marriage when she’d come home sometimes to find him waiting with a prepared meal and a bottle of wine. They’d eat and talk, and then they’d spend the evening
making love. Tears pricked behind her eyes. They ate in silence for a little while, both of them satisfying their stomachs before they moved on to address more complicated hungers.

  “I’m going to be following the guidelines you laid out in your questionnaire, Trish. If there’s anything you want to change, now is the time to do it.”

  When she’d filled in the answers to the endless list of questions, visions of Justin had filled her mind. Those answers were tailored to suit Justin and nobody else. She saw that now.

  “No, Justin. I trust you. I want to please you.” The throbbing in her clit had reduced to an occasional twinge. Though he hadn’t fastened the clamp very tight, she knew it would hurt anew once he removed it. She shifted in her chair, and the plug moved deliciously inside her.

  He sipped his water and watched her. “I can’t do all the things you want in one weekend. We’ll have to work up to some of them, anyway.”

  Patricia held the belief that preparation for anything new resided completely in her mind. Perhaps Justin wasn’t ready. This was the first time for both of them, but Justin had the job of seeing to her wellbeing during the scene.

  Still they were both on new ground here. He was learning her body in an entirely new way, and it would take time to do it well. When they had first begun sleeping together, he had taken the time to find those special spots that could trigger the reactions he wanted. If this was how Justin wanted to proceed, then she would trust his decisions. She nodded.

  “Before we leave, we need to talk about where this goes from here. We can’t go back to the way things were before.”

  He didn’t have to finish his thought. Patricia knew they were headed for divorce or a life filled with complete unhappiness. She didn’t want either option, not when she knew they could be so blissfully happy together. They had been that way once, and they could do it again. “I agree.”

  He cleared away the dinner plates. She watched as he rinsed and loaded them into the dishwasher. When he dried his hands and turned toward her with a dispassionate expression, adrenaline coursed through her veins. This was it; this was the moment for which she’d yearned.