Miri cocked her head. “I think I can hear them.”
“No. That’s the rustling of my sperm.”
“Bwah hahaha.”
“They’re swarming into my cock. They’re getting ready for you, baby.”
Miri gasped with laughter. “I’m pretty sure they hang out in your balls until orgasm.”
“Not mine. They charge around and break the rules. Speaking of breaking the rules...” He fingered the collar. “Someone’s been a bad girl. A very bad girl.”
Unfortunately, Miri couldn’t dispute that. In hindsight, she felt terrible that she’d kept the news about the baby from Mason. She’d been afraid, a little paralyzed perhaps.
“I’m sorry,” she said for the hundredth time. She would always be sorry.
“You’re forgiven,” he replied for the hundredth time. “I understand why you did it. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to use it as an excuse to redden your ass for the next sixty years or so.” He traced the scar healing on his shoulder. “Lucky for me, I’m right handed. Unlucky for you.”
Miri watched as he leaned to prop their photo on the bedside table. “You promised the doctor not to tax your shoulder,” she said. “Your stitches are still healing.”
“The stitches are completely healed,” he countered. “Now kneel on the floor, naughty girl.”
She inched off the bed and obeyed. She hadn’t really wanted to get out of being punished, but at the same time, she felt kind of scared. It had been a while now since they played. He buckled on her collar while she stared up at him, remembering past scenes between them, and looking forward to future ones.
“Now that we’re getting married, I might buy you a wider collar,” he said, as if reading her thoughts. “Something more substantial. You’re not a novice anymore.”
“Whatever you like, Sir. But this collar is very special to me.”
“You could still wear it. I’ll replace the o-ring with a pendant and then you can wear it to events. That would be secret and naughty.”
“A heart pendant?”
“That, or a miniature reproduction of my cock.” As he said the words, he brandished his hard tool in her face.
“There’s nothing miniature about that,” Miri said, swallowing.
“Hush up and suck me.”
For five minutes there was only the sound of Mason’s groans and sighs, and the background noise of the beach. Then he stopped her and padded over to his suitcase. He came up with a doubled-over belt and gestured her toward the wall.
“Naughty girls are punished, aren’t they?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Remind me. Does punishment feel good or bad?”
“Bad, Sir.”
She wanted it to feel bad, wanted to feel punished for her mistakes. She also wanted this reconnection with him and the close feelings this would bring. He put one hand on her collar, a finger threaded through the ring. With his other arm, his uninjured one, he delivered a volley of belt strokes that hurt like the devil. He was careful—he stayed in the safe strike zone—but oh, he wasn’t kind.
She didn’t want him to be kind. She wanted to sob and cry out for mercy. She wanted him to push past her limits and really break her down, but with her pregnancy she knew he wouldn’t play that hard. The belt stung though, and he wielded it without stopping in between strokes to let her catch her breath. Her collar marked her as his submissive and in this moment, for this scene, she was his bad girl, so she stood and took her punishment with tears of contrition streaming down her face.
“I’m sorry,” she cried out when her whole bottom felt wrecked. “Please, it hurts. I can’t take much more.”
“Say the word then,” he said, not stopping.
She reached up and grasped the hand that held her collar, just for comfort, for solace. She wouldn’t say the word. She could feel the strength of his grip, the rigidity of his muscles and tendons. She held on for dear life until he stopped, until he dropped the belt and took her face between his hands. He kissed her, branding her. Forgiving her.
“Oh, Master,” she sighed. It just came out, as natural as the whisper of her breath.
“What did you say?”
She looked up into questioning eyes. “I’m sorry. I called you Master. I don’t know why. I suppose because I feel so completely...enslaved to you. At times like this, I’m your slave, heart and soul.”
She was afraid he’d be negative about the Master thing, but then he smiled, a slow, elated smile. “I like the sound of that. A new slave collar then. You’ll wear it the first time on our wedding night.”
“Yes, Sir. Master.” Miri hesitated.
“Sir for now.” He kissed her again, a long, gentle foray into her mouth. “Master when we get the new collar. After the baby, when we’re properly married. We’ll build up to it, but I think we’ve started down a good road.”
“Yes, Sir.” Miri felt bounding happiness, over and above the drying tears on her cheeks and the throbbing of her ass. Mason reached down and parted her pussy lips, sliding through wetness as copious as her love for him.
“My good bad girl,” he whispered. “After punishment comes the reward.”
He led her to the bed, licked her all over—her full breasts, her rounded belly, the contours of her collar, and down to her thrusting, wanton clit. “Please take me, Sir. Please fuck me,” she begged. “Please, I’m so hot for your cock.”
He spread her thighs wide and looked down at her, an amused grin spreading across his face.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m just remembering a girl perched on a bar stool pounding cherries and asking me to ‘catch her up.’ Baby, I think you’ve just about caught up now. For one, you can dirty-talk me under the table.”
“Okay,” she said, as he rubbed the head of his cock across her aching button. “Okay, yes. Just—please—”
“Hmm, I don’t know. I’m kind of enjoying this. Teasing you.” He slid halfway inside her, then pulled back again.
“Mason—Sir— This isn’t funny.”
“Oh, but it is.” He dipped inside again, just enough to make her shudder. “Say something super, nasty dirty and I’ll give you what you want.”
“Please shove your fat, delicious cock inside me. Make me come. Ride me like a bad girl and make me scream. God, just plow into me like a fucking piledriver—”
“Okay, that’s enough,” he laughed. “Maybe a little too much there at the end. Is this what you want, good girl?”
He slid inside, all the way, seating himself to her core. He braced his hands on either side of her and drove into her again and again, her lover, her Sir, her Master. Even in his wildness, he was careful not to hurt her or their baby. Emotion unfolded and grew inside her along with sexual excitement, until her body felt buffeted by waves.
The world could have their photos of the baby bump, of her and Mason kissing in the outline of the sun, but for Miri, Cap Camil would always mean something deeper. It would always be the place they started over again—the place they reconnected to one another for life.
*** *** ***
They decided not to get married until after the baby’s birth, which was fine with Miri. They used the remainder of the pregnancy to settle back into their relationship, and also to prepare for the big event. Mason was wild to be a dad, and Miri enjoyed buying baby clothes and setting up the nursery. Ava Elizabeth Cooke arrived on a stormy night in a small, private hospital, after a labor that wasn’t nearly as bad as Miri feared.
Within a few weeks, Ava was already recognizing them, cooing and making faces and developing her own little personality. The baby had Miri’s green expressive eyes, and Mason’s dark hair, and her sweet chubby face was Miri and Mason put together in the exact perfect way. Ava had bodyguards, but all in all, the paparazzi weren’t as intrusive as Miri feared. There was only one irritating incident, a tabloid article that depicted Ava and little Jemma locked in a celebrity baby duel. She and Mason got together with
Jessamine to jointly sue the publisher. It was a satisfying exercise and at least partially thawed the ice between them all.
As for Mason, he lived for his times with Ava, and every time Miri watched them together she fell more deeply in love with the man. His natural affinity for fatherhood was humbling. What a crime it would have been to rob Ava of his love. From the start, he was an expert at tending and nurturing her, probably because he was such a child at heart himself.
Tonight he was sprawled on the floor beside her, mindless of his designer clothes. He was engaged in a one-sided game of Pat-A-Cake, since Ava couldn’t participate, but that didn’t slow him down. At the end of each round, he’d tickle her until she gurgled and wiggled. Miri thought for sure the baby would be an early smiler, because Mason smiled at her so beatifically, all the time. Even Miri couldn’t help laughing at his antics from her vantage point on the couch.
His little game with the baby relaxed Miri, but not enough. She perched on the edge of the couch in an emerald charmeuse gown, her stomach flip-flopping with anxiety. Today, for the first time since Ava’s birth, they were leaving her behind to make a public appearance. Revelation was finally ready to be released.
“I saw it,” Mason said, shaking a rattle at Ava. The baby grimaced and kicked her legs at the toy. “Gareth screened it for me on Wednesday.”
“How was it?”
“It was good, although it was kind of weird to watch our scenes together, especially that one. We can stay tonight and watch the whole film if you want.” He looked over at her when she didn’t answer. “Are you nervous?”
She nodded. How could she not be nervous? She was back in the damn waist cincher again, wearing the stylist-approved outfit and overdone makeup for a premiere that would be packed with ten times the press of an average premiere—because it was Miri’s first post-baby appearance, and they would both be there.
“She’ll be in good hands,” he said, tickling Ava under the chin. Mason thought she was nervous because they were leaving the baby with the nanny for the first time, but she was more nervous about going out and being seen. She was extremely nervous about how hot Mason looked in his tailored pants and bespoke dress shirt.
He turned back to Miri. “I think we should stay and watch the whole movie. I would like people to get a good look at us together, to know that we’re not battling anymore.”
“We haven’t been battling for a while.”
“But people don’t know that. I mean, your dad stabbed me.”
She rolled her eyes. “That was months ago.”
He made a low sound. “Eye rolling, my little sassypants? Wait until we get home. It’s been six weeks. We can fully resume our activities.” He imbued the word “activities” with lurid, menacing emphasis.
“Let’s not stay for the whole movie then,” Miri said with a little shudder.
He shook his head at her. “No, we’re staying. And don’t get me worked up now. We have to leave in five minutes.” He looked back down at Ava as she kicked him in the arm and gave a shrill scream. After kissing her on the forehead, he stood and tugged his clothes back to rights. “I wish I could pick you up,” he said to their baby. “But you might barf on my shirt and I promised the designer I’d wear it tonight.” Miri chuckled and Ava’s eyes searched for her. “Mommy can’t pick you up either,” Mason explained. “That dress is on loan from Versace. This premiere is a pretty big thing.”
Miri loved the way Mason talked to Ava as if she could actually understand him. The nanny arrived and took over, and Miri and Mason headed down to the garage to get into the studio car. All of this felt familiar and yet unfamiliar. When they arrived at the theater, he helped her out of the car in that way he had, that was more lifting than pulling. She heard the manic clicking of cameras, the flashes, the yelling. As always, he stood in front of her and helped her compose herself before he stepped away to let the cameras get at her.
And for the first time, Miri felt at peace with it. She looked at Mason and squeezed his hand.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded. They’d met filming this movie, and thinking back to that time made her realize how much they’d weathered together since then—and how much she’d learned. She wouldn’t act anymore for the PR machine. She wouldn’t fake anything ever again. She smiled her own smile, lifted her chin and took his arm. She didn’t worry about how she was standing, the angle of her arms, or whether the death cincher was holding in her lingering post-baby pudge. She didn’t care.
As always, Mason was a consummate professional, smiling for reporters, looking suave, fielding questions with glib, pleasant answers. Yes, the baby’s doing well. Yes, we’re very happy, very content.
Once inside, she and Mason sat in the third row in the middle, and sometime during the opening credits, Mason took her hand. He squeezed it and let go, and it occurred to Miri that they’d never been to a movie together, other than his various premiere events. Two actors, and they’d never been to a movie on a date, never sat in a theater next to each other eating popcorn and candy through an entire film.
When it got to their big scene, their rape scene, Miri watched with critical eyes. She thought it turned out okay. Not perfect, but pretty good. Mason leaned close to her halfway through.
“I’ve got a hard-on again, dammit.”
Miri choked and covered her mouth with her hand. A few people sitting near them looked over with a smile. Of course two co-stars might be struck with the giggles, watching themselves in a scene like this. Necessary laughter. The rest of the movie was good, really good. Mason was an incredible actor. The nuances in his looks, the emotion he communicated just with his movements, his body… None of it should have surprised her, but it did. Just before it ended, he leaned close to her again.
“Let’s get out of here before the lights come up. Otherwise we’ll be stuck here all night.”
Miri nodded and they shimmied down the aisle, tripping over knees and legs. A few industry people took Mason’s hand and whispered praise. People shook her hand too. Then they were out of the theater, in the car again, and then home. The baby was fine, fast asleep in her crib. Time to get back to their activities.
Mason sat on the edge of the bed in the dungeon, still dressed. He didn’t waste any time pulling her over his lap. He must have missed these interludes too. He buckled on her collar, then ran his hands over the skirt of her gown, rough possessive touches and gropes.
“Don’t rip the dress,” Miri said, looking back at him. “It’s not mine.”
Mason chuckled. “Where have I heard that before? I’ll rip it off if I want to, you little tease.”
“Aren’t you the one who wouldn’t let me hold Ava earlier in case she drooled on me?” she reminded him. “I bet shredded seams are harder to fix than a little baby drool.”
“You’re over my lap about to be spanked.” He gave her collar a sharp tug. “Not the best time to smart off.”
Miri clamped her lips shut, not quite able to stifle a smile. Then she yelped as he landed a hard swat.
“Shh,” he reminded her. “Quiet. You mouthed off, now take your punishment like a good girl.”
He started to spank her, not too hard at first. She loved the feeling of being held over his lap. His hands were so big, his thighs such firm, warm support for her. Soon her bottom started to heat up with a pleasurable ache, and then he spanked her harder. The dress had a muffling effect on the noise, but the pain and sting came through just fine. After five minutes or so of a very sound spanking, she started to fidget in his lap. He stopped and pressed his hand at the small of her back.
“You should know, you’re about three seconds from being brutally ravished,” he said.
“Please, no,” she cried in feigned panic. Please, yes.
“If you won’t be still and take your punishment, I’ll have no other recourse than to teach you a lesson with my cock.” He traced up the inside of her stockings with light fingertips. Miri shivered as he flipped up the skirt o
f her dress. He slid his palm beneath the silk of her bikini panties, a cool caress over her spank-heated bottom, then he reached for her arm and held it tight across her back. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as he spanked her again over her panties. Firm, sharp slaps, and now they sounded loud without the dampening layer of skirt. Miri didn’t care. He spanked her until she shuddered with the effort to keep her cries inside, then he stopped and pressed his fingers into the moist gusset of her panties.
“So naughty,” he said.
She could have bawled, she was so hot for him. “Please, Sir… He knew exactly what she was begging for. One of his fingers brushed over her clit, lingering there. “Ohh...”
He chuckled and lifted her to her feet, fumbling at the back of her dress for a zipper. “Spanked into submission. Let’s get on to the ravishment part, shall we?” He took off her dress and the obnoxious waist shaper, stripped off her panties and thigh high stockings. His own clothes came off in record time. Before she quite caught her breath, he was pushing her back on the bed, crawling over her, his thick, rigid cock jutting up between her thighs. She felt a moment of panic. He hadn’t been inside her since before the baby was born. She swallowed and reached out her hands. “I think I’m a virgin again.”
He corralled her wrists and trapped them above her head as he settled over her. “I’ll be happy to take care of that for you.”
She tensed and he paused, gazing down at her. “You’re really scared?” He stroked fingers over her forehead, toying with a wisp of her hair. “I’d never hurt you, baby. I’ll be so careful. I know it’s been a while. Too long,” he added with a soft growl.
“I trust you,” she whispered, her fingers clenching around his grip. “Love me, please. Even if it hurts a little, I’ll survive.”
Mason smiled, his boyish, movie star smile. “You might even like it.” He moved forward, sliding into her, teasingly slow at first. It did ache a bit even though she was wet for him, but it hurt in the best possible way. She stretched out under him, wanting to savor every pang, every inch of his invasion. Soon he was buried completely inside, too intrusive to ignore.
Comfort 4: Command Performance Page 24
