At His Mercy

by Shelly Bell

  But he’d be lying.

  With several scenes of light bondage and impact play occurring in the room, Isabella turned her head toward the submissive lying spread eagle on a table, her arms and legs shackled by chains, whose Dom dripped glossy white candle wax over her breasts. Angel licked her lips, as if she was attempting to taste the passion and pain from the air. At the crack of a paddle on bare flesh, she jerked back into him, emitting a small gasp, her body trembling.

  Screw it. She obviously couldn’t handle public play. He’d take her upstairs and they’d spend the rest of the evening getting to know one another. “Are you sure you want to do a scene tonight? If you’re not ready—”

  “I’m ready. I want this.” She covered his hands with hers. “With you. I know as the submissive, I don’t have the right to ask, but I was wondering if you’d…flog me.”

  He slowly rotated her around and was shocked by her flushed cheeks and saucer-sized pupils.

  She wasn’t frightened.

  She was aroused.

  His cock thickened in response. “You always have the right to ask for what you want, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” he said. “Your Dom won’t always agree, but I have no objections to using my flogger to turn that gorgeous pale skin of yours pink. In fact, I’ve been thinking about nothing else since you stumbled through that door.”

  Right now, he was thinking of doing a lot more to that body of hers. Things involving his tongue, lips, hands, teeth, and cock between her sweet thighs. But he’d start with a flogging if that’s what she desired.

  Planting a possessive palm on her lower back, he directed her safely around the active scenes to the back of the room, where he dropped his bag on the floor in front of an available Saint Andrew’s cross. Normally, for a flogging, he’d restrain a submissive to the X-shaped piece, but after observing her reaction to the suggestion of bondage, he’d refrain from it tonight. Rubbing the ends of her silky hair between his fingers, he stood in front of her to block out everything and everyone else. His heart pounded furiously. Jesus, he was actually nervous. When was the last time that had happened?

  “Unless you have a safe word you’d prefer to use, I like the traffic light method,” he said. “‘Red’ stops the scene immediately, ‘yellow’ is a warning for me to proceed with caution, and ‘green’ means good to go.” He collared her throat with his hand, feeling her pulse race underneath his fingertips. “What color are you at, Angel?”

  She glanced at the cross, then smiled at him. “I’m one hundred percent green, Tristan.”

  Leaning toward her, he picked an errant piece of hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. “I’m going to start by taking off your clothes, Angel.” He buried his nose in her hair, whispering in her ear. “If you want, you can keep your panties and bra on.”

  She slowly lifted her arms to give him the ability to remove her makeshift dress. “I’m not shy.”

  Needing to see…to touch…to savor what she hid underneath her clothes, he put his impatient hands on her hips and bunched the thin cotton in his hands before quickly whipping the shirt over her head, leaving her naked except for her white boy shorts and bra. No satin or lace for his Angel.

  Never had simple cotton been so seductive.

  On high perfect breasts, her nipples puckered from exposure to the air, tightening into hard buds.

  The rest of her body was just as perfect. Toned and curvy, with creamy skin and enough padding that he wouldn’t have to worry about cutting himself on sharp hip bones, she nervously nibbled on her bottom lip as she stood before him like a woman who had no idea she was actually a goddess.

  It was time to rectify that.

  The moment his palms made contact with the softness of her freckled shoulders, the room’s temperature shot up ten degrees. She sucked in a short breath just as he exhaled one, the electricity between them as charged as lightning. There wasn’t enough time to explore her the way he wanted to, but he would do his best with the time he did have. Like savoring the unwrapping of a present, he slipped his thumbs underneath her bra straps and peeled them down over the silky flesh of her biceps. Despite her earlier bravado, she trembled as he unhooked the bra and removed the fabric from her chest.

  “Fuck, you’re beautiful, Angel.” She was even more beautiful than he could have imagined, her cotton candy nipples capping small mounds of freckled flesh. His mouth actually watered at the thought of getting his lips around them.

  Her lids lowered as he swept his fingers down her neck…her sternum…her soft belly, watching the entire way as he made his descent. Reaching the band of her panties, he stopped, giving her a moment to change her mind. At her nod of consent, he slid two fingers over the middle of the damp cotton, eliciting a hum from her. “Beautiful and wet.”

  He crouched in front of her and dragged her panties down her legs, revealing the tight curls between her thighs. Her spicy scent intoxicated him, increasing the hunger he felt for her tenfold and threatening his control. Later. Later, he’d get his mouth on her, but now, as her Dom, he had a job to do.

  Standing, he bunched the panties in his hand and placed them in the pocket of his jeans. Spinning her around, he pressed her back to his front and slid a finger between the lips of her pussy, groaning as he accumulated her arousal and swirled it around her clit. “You’re on fire. You must like what you see in this room. What turns you on the most?”

  She rested her head against his chest, his fingers thrumming her clitoris. “You, Tristan.”

  Reluctantly, he removed his hand. “Likewise, Angel.” He slid an arm around her waist and brought her closer to the Saint Andrew’s cross. “Let’s see if you feel the same way after your flogging.”

  Her green eyes went glassy, almost as though she were drugged. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she was already slipping into subspace, the altered state of consciousness where a submissive fully surrendered to her Dominant. But to do so before they even began the scene would be incredibly rare. Rare, but not impossible. The idea that she trusted him so completely gave him a high he’d never felt, like a million bees were buzzing through his veins.

  He wanted to mark her. Brand her. Make her feel his presence on her skin for days.

  “Spread your legs wide and get as close as you can to the cross,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. When she complied, he grabbed her wrists and raised her arms over her head. “Hold on to both sides of the frame, and don’t let go or I’ll stop.” Normally he’d strap her down, but they’d have to improvise because of her bondage hard limit. “What’s your safe word?” he asked, reminding her that she also had the power to stop the scene.

  “Red.”

  He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “Use it if you need it.” On those words, he moved away, positioning himself a few feet away from her back. She peered over her shoulder as he rifled through his equipment bag and pulled out two of his favorite floggers. “I’ll start light, Angel. Face front and keep still.”

  He didn’t keep her waiting long.

  Choosing his softest deerskin flogger, he struck, the tails hitting the rounded flesh of her right butt cheek in a dull thud. Immediately, he fell into a steady rhythm, working the strikes around her body in a circular motion from her thighs to her upper back.

  Like a massage, he used the flogger to warm up her skin and lull her into a relaxed state. As the minutes passed, her shoulders dropped, indicating he’d been successful. “What color are you at, Angel?” he asked, checking in with her.

  “Green,” she said automatically. “Is that it?”

  He chuckled. “I told you I was going to start light. Now that you’re warmed up, I’m going to switch floggers.”

  Picking up the leather one with the thin falls, he got into position behind her and rotated his wrist. His cock twitched in response to the resounding crack of the leather hitting her skin and thickened as the pink evidence of his mark appeared. Showing her no mercy, his stinging strikes forced her body for
ward, her hard nipples brushing the wood of the cross. In no time at all, her entire backside turned a beautiful, fiery red. Just from flogging her, he flew into a Dom space like he’d never experienced before, her submission like a drug coursing through his veins.

  She moaned, her fingers tightening on the wood, and her entire body shook with tension. “Tristan, I need…”

  He dropped his flogger to the floor as he rushed to her side. “What do you need? Do you need to stop?” he asked, stroking his hand through her hair.

  Her dark pupils engulfed her green irises. “I need to…come.” With a hand on her shoulder and another one on her hip, he slowly turned her toward him, the spicy scent of her arousal as strong as if he were nose deep inside of her. She slid her fingers into the hair at the base of his neck. “Touch me. I’m burning up inside.”

  He ached equally as bad, his cock currently trying to punch its way out of his jeans and make its way inside her slick heat. A possessiveness he’d never known bubbled up inside of him. He could use his fingers or his tongue or even the handle of his flogger to get her off. But he wouldn’t. Not in front of an audience. No one else would watch her come apart. Her orgasms were for him alone to witness.

  “Me too, Angel.” He pulled her to his chest and tucked her head under his chin, holding her naked body tight against his clothed one so that she could feel his torment. “I’ve never wanted to fuck anyone more in my life.”

  “Do you always follow the rules?” she asked, her words muffled by his shirt.

  Yes. Rules had kept him sane since his freshman year at college.

  And yet where had those rules gotten him?

  Divorced by his early twenties. Almost penniless. His credit destroyed to the point he couldn’t even get approval from the bank for a conventional business loan unless he made a steady salary for more than six months.

  What was the worst that could happen if, for one night, he threw caution to the wind and did what he wanted rather than what was expected?

  “Upstairs. There’s a bedroom.” He tipped up her chin, feeling a bit like the Big Bad Wolf seducing Little Red. “Feel like breaking the rules with me tonight?”

  Four

  Leading her upstairs from the dungeon, Tristan replayed the memory of the sweetest word in the English language falling from Angel’s lips.

  Yes.

  For one night only, they’d break all the rules.

  He’d never experienced such a perfect connection with any submissive before. It was as if she were made for him. He wanted to get under her skin and brand his essence into her so that every other man would know he’d staked his claim to her. Wanted her to picture his face every time she closed her eyes at night. Wanted her to imagine her fingers were his cock every time she masturbated. Wanted his name on her lips every time she climaxed.

  He wanted to become her Master.

  Own her body and soul.

  And that thought terrified the shit out of him, because the timing couldn’t be worse. He had nothing more than dominance and a few orgasms to give her. She was so damned innocent, and he no longer remembered what it was like to believe in permanence. If she was the forbidden apple in the Garden of Eden, he was the snake. But he was too selfish to walk away. He wouldn’t give up the opportunity to slide inside her perfect heat and feel her clench in abandon around him.

  Ignoring the puzzled looks of the others, he pushed open the door to Ryder’s extra bedroom and yanked her inside before slamming the door. Using the switch, he dimmed the lighting.

  There wasn’t a spot on Angel’s body that he didn’t want to see, touch, and taste. Fucking her in the dark would deprive him of what he craved, and deprivation was the last thing on the menu. Tonight was all about indulgence.

  His hunger for her growing stronger by the second, he stalked toward her, loving the way her eyes widened and her chest rapidly rose and fell. He slammed her back against the door, his mouth coming down on hers with brutal intensity. She tasted just as she smelled—like a vanilla cupcake with buttercream frosting. He’d never smell vanilla again without his dick getting hard. His tongue met hers in an erotic dance of domination and submission in which he led and she followed. He was starving for her.

  Little gasps and moans flew from her lips, her body growing soft and compliant under him. He twisted the lock on the door and palmed her thighs, lifting her off the ground to take her to the bed. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her to the bed and laid her down, his body falling on hers.

  Checking in, he nipped her ear and whispered, “What color?”

  “Green.” Her tongue darted out as if searching for his. “Now fuck me,” she demanded, a beautiful blush staining her cheeks and neck. No matter how confident she purported herself to be, her innocence cut through her facade.

  Holding back a laugh, he smiled against her cheek. Even though she was trying to top from the bottom, he loved her eagerness. Bucking up her hips, she attempted to grind against him, no doubt to get pressure on that swollen clit of hers. “So what does a girl have to do to get you to properly fuck her?”

  Unconsciously, she was testing his dominance and engaging him in a power struggle. The submissive inside her required a firm hand, and it was just her luck that he had one.

  “Who’s in charge here?” he asked, dropping the timbre of his voice in censure.

  She lowered her lashes. “You are.”

  “Exactly. I’ll fuck you when I’m ready.” His cock was demanding entry into her heat, but he wanted to savor the short time he had with her. He slid down her body, settling between her thighs and going up on his knees. “Which I’m not.” Those breasts of hers were begging to be marked first.

  He lowered his head to her breast and sucked a nipple into his mouth, enjoying the shiver that wracked her body. He wanted to give her something she’d never forget. Teach her more about the pleasure that could be found in pain. He released her nipple and gently bit the creamy flesh of her breast.

  “Ow!” she cried. “You bit me.”

  “Nothing gets by you.” She probably wasn’t aware of it, but when he’d bit down, she’d arched her body up toward him, rather than trying to retreat. The way she’d responded to the flogging had all the indications that she was a bit of a masochist. He soothed the bruising skin with his tongue, laving it with careful attention.

  He brushed his thumb over her nipple, loving those breathless little gasps she made with every pass. “Don’t fight the pain. Surrender to it. Every time you change your clothes for the next few days, you’ll see these bruises and think of me.”

  Her tongue darted out, moistening her lips until they glistened. She reached up and laid her hand on his cheek. “Like I’d ever forget you.”

  Fuck, she undid him.

  He kissed her palm, then returned to his mission. Over and over, he bit and sucked the flesh of her breasts, leaving behind bruises as tiny souvenirs. Her breathing accelerated as she writhed beneath him. Seeing his marks on her sent a sense of satisfaction through him that he hadn’t felt in years, making his balls ache with the need for release.

  But still he wasn’t ready, the driving desire to taste her pussy outweighing his own need to come.

  He slid down her torso until he was up close and personal with the red curls between her legs. His fingers combed through them, becoming sticky with her arousal, and his eyes almost rolled back into his head. She was drenched, wetness coating the top of her inner thighs. Using two of his fingers, he separated her labia, exposing her pink folds and the swollen bundle of nerves at the apex of her pussy.

  Fucking gorgeous.

  “Hold on, Angel.” Driven by his insane hunger for her, he bathed his tongue inside of her, lapping up her sweetness.

  Her thighs tightened around his ears as her hands plunged into his hair, her fingers digging into his scalp. “Oh my God. That’s…” The rest of her words were cut off by her moan.

  If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think no one had ever done
this to her before. Either way, he’d leave her with a memory she’d never forget. Working her clit with the flat of his tongue, he slowly inserted a finger. Holy shit, she was tight, her walls gripping him like a hot, wet glove. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his cock throbbed, his restraint nearing its breaking point. Pressing down on her belly with one hand, he slipped a second digit into her soaked channel and crooked them, finding the sensitive spot that would light her up from the inside and rubbing.

  Her legs trembled as her pussy clenched around his fingers. “What are you doing to me?” she asked, her head whipping back and forth on the pillow. On a long, keening cry, she climaxed, her body growing rigid as her delicious pussy clenched and released, over and over again, and her ecstasy spilled around his fingers. He eagerly drank her up like a man who’d been lost in the desert, the spice of her orgasm bursting on his tongue. When her body softened and her legs collapsed on the mattress, he withdrew his fingers and lifted his head.

  There were so many things he wanted to do to the body laid out before him, but he couldn’t wait another moment without sinking into her. He stripped off his shirt and jumped from the bed, taking off his boxer-briefs along with his pants and retrieving a condom from his wallet. It was his only one, but he had no doubt his friend stored plenty more, as well as other sexual aids, in the nightstand beside the bed.

  Sprawled out on the bed, with her red hair fanned out on the pillow and her legs slightly spread, Angel glowed in satisfaction. She watched him through hooded eyes.

  He rolled the latex down his length and climbed onto the mattress, seizing her by the ankles with the intention of flipping her over and taking her from behind, as was his usual way when his submissive wasn’t restrained. But something stopped him, a silent voice that whispered she deserved more—and so did he.