“No,” he said. “As long as you try to be as honest with me as you can, Celeste, you can’t ruin anything. I can tell you’re trying really hard to be honest. But sometimes you’re brutal and honest. Honest with me, brutal with yourself. We’re going to handle that.”
She looked over her shoulder at him, at his silhouette. He had a thumb hooked in his jeans, his other leg straightened to brace himself as he leaned against the door. “I’m in charge of everything that happens in this room,” he repeated. “Including your behavior and how to handle it. Light the candles, darlin’.”
She looked back down at the candles. Somehow she had the lighter in her hand, but she held it for a couple seconds, listening to her breath, loud in her head, feeling light-headed as she contemplated what she might be about to do. No, what she was going to do, because he’d ordered it. She wouldn’t refuse him. Not a Master’s command.
She flicked on the lighter, bent and lit the candles, one by one. There were thirteen of them, different sizes and colors, all sitting on a big tray. When they were lit, her gaze was drawn to what else lay on the table, lined up in a neat arrangement.
A thin, flexible rod whose length shone in the reflection of the flickering light. A flogger with black rosebuds at the tips. A paddle with a cushioned, satiny-looking business side in a rich purple. Another whip that looked like a coiled piece of cloth attached to a handle. Six condoms. A gag with a short, thick phallic mouthpiece attached to a large rectangle that would cover the mouth completely. A collar with a two-inch wide strap and a ring attached to it. The collar was lined inside with a cushion of purple velvet. Her fingers were on it, caressing the plush, before she realized what she was doing. She drew back.
“Celeste, turn around and face me.”
She did, wondering if he could hear her heart thudding in her chest. In this dim light his eyes were dark, burning coal. “Take off all of your clothes. Fold them neatly on the end of the table. Then bring me the collar and the gag.”
The candles’ scent was a mix of cinnamon and vanilla, with a trace of something muskier, like a man’s desire. She was in an erotic dream, one from which she didn’t want to wake. Her tears were still drying on her cheeks, her throat still ached and her stomach hurt a little, but it was feeling better. He’d touched her face in the truck, wiped away her tears, and what she saw in his expression told her he might know things about herself she didn’t know. When to soothe and when to demand, like now.
“That’s a pretty outfit,” he said casually. “If it’s not off in the next two minutes, I’ll be the one taking it off. You’ll wear one of my shirts and no panties home because I’ll cut it all up for cleaning rags.”
The hard gleam from those dark eyes told her he meant it. She bent and unzipped the boots, holding on to the table to pull them off her feet, remove the thin ankle stockings beneath. Then she unzipped the brown skirt, wiggled out of it. Pulled the angel wing shirt over her head. Reached behind her with fumbling fingers to unhook the gold lace bra. With a brief hesitation, she shimmied out of the matching panties. The warming air of the room touched her skin.
“Jewelry, too.”
The shell choker and five earrings followed. He’d stayed at the door, silent and watching. She put her clothes on the end of the table. He didn’t need to remind her of the rest of his command. It was what had made her fumble through the removal of her clothes. She wasn’t sure how neatly she’d managed to fold them, but they were in a reasonably symmetrical pile. She closed her hand over the stiff strap of the collar and the rectangular part of the ball gag. Her fingers split onto either side of the thick rubber phallus that he would put in her mouth, taking away her ability to speak.
The wood floor was worn smooth under her bare feet. It was less than fifteen feet to cross, but it felt much longer, though he straightened and closed the distance between them, so she came to a stop on the cushioned mat.
“On your knees, darlin’.”
A shiver went through her knees, her lower abdomen, and she swayed. He put his hand on her shoulder, her elbow, the pressure taking her safely to the floor. Once there, she stared at the shiny buckle of his belt, the way the strap defined his waist, the powerful upper torso above it, the straight lines of his hips below, the impressive shape of his genitals under straining denim, emphasized by the pressure of his thighs on either side of them.
“First this.” He stroked her lips then parted them, guiding the phallus into her mouth. Fitting the rectangle over it, he buckled the strap behind her head. She let out a needy sound as he cinched it so it molded over her lips, the straight edges pressing against her cheek and jaw on either side. Unlike a regular ball gag, it rendered her incapable of any kind of speech. Her gaze lifted to him, a pleading look in her eyes she didn’t know how to explain. He cupped her chin, ran his fingers along her windpipe, shortening her breath further.
“My beautiful sub. There she is. Wanting everything her Master will demand of her. Keep your chin up.”
The collar was next, and her eyes closed at the sensation of it being buckled and secured, snug against her throat without hampering her breathing. He caught his fingers in the ring attached to it, tugged so her eyes opened.
That tender expression was there as he stroked her cheekbones, around her eyes. He nodded toward the table set up with the candles and the toys. “Your Master was going to break his own rules tonight. I was going to take you home, no matter what I said about waiting. But because I’ve let you see that, I also need to show you that was my decision. Your Master is in control. Not you. You earned a punishment tonight. So we start with that.”
Holding his fingers in the D-ring, he moved around her. She experienced a peculiar leap in her lower belly as his hold made her turn around on her knees, and she had to make a couple awkward steps on them to follow him, relying on the pull on the collar to steady her and help her know where he wanted her to go. Bringing her down on all fours on the mat, he squatted in front of her. As he lifted a length of silver chain from the floor, she saw the other end was attached to what looked like a sturdy cabinet pull, screwed into the floor a few inches out in front of the mat. He attached the chain to the ring in her collar, holding her there.
Her gaze slid to two other pulls at the corners, the mat tucked up under them. Two more were positioned parallel to the mat at the midpoint on either long side of the rectangle. If she could turn around, she expected she’d find a pair at the back corners. While they looked like guides to keep the mat in place, they had another purpose, since each had chains and cuffs waiting at them.
He wrapped the two front cuffs around her wrists and clipped them to the corner pulls. Rising off his heels, he circled behind her, did the same to her ankles. The cuffs at the midway part of the two sides of the mat were wrapped around her thighs. He made adjustments to those chains so her knees had to stay spread shoulder width.
After he had her restrained, he stood up and walked around her, trailing his fingers over her back, her hip.
Her stomach was doing flip-flops, her hands tight in the bonds. When he circled behind her, the tautness of the chain between the collar and floor kept her from looking at him. But when he came back to the front, she could lift her head enough to stare up at him. He was pure virility standing over her like this, his aroused cock impossible to miss under the jeans, his steady but lust-inflamed look leaving no doubt what he planned to do to her.
Whatever he wanted.
He’d silenced her tongue, kept her from moving. That dark part of her that wanted to fight twitched against the chains, and she despaired as she felt the ugliness of it stirring, but he’d taken away her ability to safe word. She had to rely on him to completely care for her. To know what she needed. To protect her.
Insane, right? But she was shaking with desire, fear and need, and couldn’t think beyond what he would do to her next.
He picked up the short whip that looked like a rolled piece of cloth. “This is called a dragon tail. I don’t usually sta
rt with it, but I want you to have a taste of it up front. Your punishment will conclude with this, and I want you dreading and anticipating it.”
He threaded it through his fingers, moved to her side. In the corner of her eye, she saw him take hold of the tip end of the rolled cloth in one hand, his other grip sure on the handle. The position reminded her of a tennis backhand, a sport she’d played briefly in school with borrowed rackets and old balls devoid of bounce.
He released the tip in a short, snapping movement.
Holy Christ. She yelped at the sting against her side, as bad as being popped by a wet towel. She tried to jerk back, but he followed that blow with another one on her buttock. She cursed him against the gag, but it came out a petulant mewl.
“Maybe one more to emphasize the point.”
She shook her head violently, but he’d already moved to the other side, hit her on the rib cage. “And maybe just one more, because I’m all about balance.”
She jerked against her bonds, screeching as he popped her other buttock harder. He laid his hand over the burn, rubbed it briskly. When he dropped to one knee to kiss it, she tried to jerk away, glare over her shoulder.
“There’s my brat. Let’s play with that some.” He shifted and she caught a gasp in her throat as he seized the chain on her collar, jerking her head down so that the only thing between her nose and the floor was his fist, closed around the chain, right against the D-ring of the collar.
As he held her that way, he pressed a kiss to her spine, worked his way along that valley toward her raised hips. She dipped her head, tried to scratch his hand with the semi-stiff corner of the gag. If she hadn’t been wearing it, she would have bitten his hand, but since his large fist looked like all hard bone and knuckles, and was the size of a grapefruit, she was sure it would have been as ineffectual as a newborn kitten exercising her tiny teeth.
He tsked, hooked the neck chain to the steel handle with another clip so she was forced to stay in that position, her ass high in the air, face close to the floor. Getting to his feet, he left her there, returning to the table. She was relieved to see him put down the dragon tail and pick up the paddle. Despite her anxiety over her vulnerable position, she could handle that, actually yearned for impact play.
He began to use that on her ass, firm strokes that made her buttocks wobble, and followed it up with kneading fingers that stayed frustratingly far away from her slick pussy. She lifted up to him, trying to tell him what she wanted.
“That a girl.” He cupped her between her legs, his fingers like a hook under her body, curved over her pubic mound, his palm against her labia. His grip there kept her in position as he started to alternate blows around his hold, swatting her bottom with more and more strength. Too much… It started to burn, burn fiercely. Her fingers clenched and she cried out against the gag, tried to lower her hips, tuck them down. He just held her up higher.
When she was sure her ass was on fire and bruised as hell, he put the paddle aside, parted her buttocks and slid his tongue around her rim, his fingers now pushing inside her cunt. Oh God… The change in sensation was mind-boggling. As his thumb stroked over her clit, then pushed under it, finding a million nerve endings, she struggled anew, pleading, the sensation overpowering, overwhelming. She was screaming, yet with that gag, it was just a muffled, desperate squealing sound, no louder than a squeaky door. When she thought she might die from the agonizing pleasure, he eased that pressure and returned to a light brush of her clit and the sensitive flesh around it. He played at her rim with his mouth, the tip of his tongue teasing the crinkles around the opening, then slowly pushing in.
God, it felt so good. A shudder racked her, a climax rising, but he closed his fingers over her swollen clit and twisted it, roughly enough it kept her grounded, though her body pulsed like an alarm.
He rose again, went to the table. With his back to her, he opened the snaps of his shirt, shrugged out of it, revealing the white tank beneath it. He pulled that over his head, the rippling movement of a powerful male animal, and her gaze slid over golden skin, dropping to his ass. The denim snugged over it briefly when he unbuckled the belt, stripped it.
He picked up one of the condoms and turned toward her. Showing he definitely had a cruel streak, her Master moved back behind her so she was denied the sight of him unzipping his jeans, tearing open the foil and rolling the condom over his turgid shaft. She heard a squirting sound, like maybe there’d been extra lubricant in the packet and he was applying it. A moment later, he put the head of his cock where his mouth had been.
She hadn’t been entirely prepared for that idea, hadn’t made the connection that was where he was going with this, but his hands were on her back, stroking then gripping her hips, holding her fast as he began to ease his substantial cock into her.
“Such a pretty little thing you are. So delicate.”
She’d had something pretty enormous in her ass once upon a time, since the Dom at Club Surreal had been over-endowed, but that had been a long time ago and Leland was no lightweight either.
“Easy, darlin’. Just push out. You can take me. This is the way it’s going to be tonight. I’m fucking your ass, cunt and mouth a couple times each, just to make sure you get the point. You’re mine. You can act up all you want. I’ll beat your pretty little ass, fuck you into submission as often as I need to do it. And I’ll enjoy every minute of it.” He dropped over her then, his forearms braced on either side of her shoulders as he slid all the way home, introducing a burning sensation that had enough pleasure wrapped around the pain she was shuddering, whimpering.
“If you cry, Celeste, I want it to be the right kind of tears. Understand?”
She nodded, her forehead all the way to the floor as he withdrew, pushed back in. He wasn’t hard or cruel about it, just relentless and irresistible. Her thighs quivered against the restraints holding her open as he took his good, sweet time fucking her ass. He stayed away from any clitoral massage, so though she was insanely aroused from him shoving into her backside, and then even more from the way he straightened and gripped her hips so he could pound into her more smoothly, she couldn’t come.
“Your climax is up to me, Celeste. But you can beg through that gag all you want. Just makes my dick harder. I can fuck you until you’re sore as hell. But I’ll take care of my baby, make it all better.”
He pushed in deep, withdrew slow, then speeded up again. He caught the hair on her crown, jerked her head up so she felt the pull of the collar against the back of her neck as he worked his hips into her, rotated, drilled in deep. She cried out against the gag as he came for the first time, grunting, hips working against her thoroughly, the open zipper of the jeans biting against her sensitive ass.
When he was done, he slowly withdrew, leaving another line of kisses down her spine, all the way to the dimples over her ass. The condom was stripped and tossed in a small waste can under the table, his jeans fastened and zipped. Then he picked up the rose-tipped flogger.
He straddled her, standing over her to bring the length of the flogger beneath her and catch it with his other hand, tightening the straps in one twisted line over the top of her breasts. As he constricted the hold, her breasts tilted up from the pressure, the nerves tingling to emphasize how aching the peaks were, begging for the touch of his mouth, his hands. When he released the whip, he draped it over her neck and slid his hands under her. As he cupped her curves and began to fondle, her hips jerked in a coital rhythm, begging for release, to be fucked, arousal trickling down her thighs. With her legs spread, she was sure she had a pool growing on the floor between them.
Not until she was making utterances of hungry need did he pick up the whip and move back. She looked down beneath her, and saw she was right. The mat had a small puddle beneath her legs, and she could see the glistening tracks along her thighs. He put his hand on her hips.
“You’ll like this.”
The flogger’s rose tips were like drumming rain against her back, buttocks and thig
hs, curving up under her to tease her breasts, lick at the insides of her thighs. He landed a few blows against her pussy, the stroke of the stiff braids compelling her to undulate her hips like a lap dancer.
“That’s it, darlin’. Show me your cunt. Show me you want to be fucked by your Master.”
It was all she wanted, everything she’d ever wanted. Time had stopped outside this room. It was about him, whatever he was doing to her. Her helplessness and panic that she couldn’t stop any of it was balanced with the reassurance that she couldn’t stop any of it.
“Time to get back to your punishment.” He picked up that flexible rod that shone in the candlelight. He slid it under her chin first, teasing her collarbone with light flicks. Then he dropped to one knee before her, and took off the second clip of the chain so she was back to having about a foot of chain between her and the handle in the floor. He curled his fist around the chain right against her collar once again, though, so she had to stay in place. Since that let her stare at his chest, the gleaming light mat of hair on it that arrowed toward his groin, that didn’t seem bad. Plus his position, resting on his heels with his thighs spread, let her see the curve of his testicles under denim. Then he started using the rod.
He flicked it beneath her, short movements that shouldn’t have been anything, but it licked stripes along her breasts, outside, inside, over the nipples. As it started to sting like little paper cuts, he increased his hold, which drew her eyes up to his face. His implacable expression, the heat of lust in his gaze, only grew as she protested against the gag, tried to yank back and was held in place. His unwillingness to stop made her so aroused she couldn’t separate physical pain from sexual frustration. She bit down on the phallic gag, lips and tongue working against it, her hips jerking in the air.
He was a gentle bear, but he could also be this, do this to her.
She tried to resist it. She glared at him, cursed him through the gag, fought. He just kept doing what he was doing. He didn’t stop until she figured it out and stopped protesting. She held as still as she could, shaking, aroused, absorbing the blows. Her gaze clung to his face, the set of his mouth, the intent focus of his eyes, the steady strength that held her in place for him to do as he wished with her.
Soul Rest: A Knights of the Board Room Novel Page 18
