by Nina Mason
Men had always taken advantage, always treated her like a sex object instead of a person with feelings. Her stepmother’s barflies, the boys at school, the handful of hook-ups she’d so gullibly believed wanted more than a night of pleasure. They’d all been so enchanted with the pretty packaging, none had ever bothered to look inside the wrapping.
Sometimes, she wished she was ugly. Other women envied her beauty, but in lots of ways, it was a bane. Yes, her looks opened doors, but not for the right reasons. She had to work twice as hard to prove herself, to be taken seriously, and to be valued for more than her appearance.
Gwyn the Brave cleared her throat. Why did she believe Sir Leith was different? Well, for one thing, she’d read his book. The BDSM thing had to be window-dressing. No shallow sadist could’ve written anything half so poignant as The Knight of Cups. For another, she’d seen something in his eyes at times when he looked at her. Underneath the mask, she’d caught glimpses of the same deep longing for love and acceptance dwelling deep within herself.
His expression, his touch, and his choices all communicated that beneath the kinky armor beat the heart of a good knight—a man who yearned for tenderness, but denied himself for some reason.
Please let her not be wrong about him.
He was still across the room, still shopping the wall of tortures. A mixture of fear and anticipation buzzed in her veins. So did her thwarted orgasm. As weird as this was, she could come at the slightest touch.
He turned and started back. She couldn’t see what he held. Small things, mostly, and something long and thin. Small things were good. Whichever orifice they were meant for, they couldn’t hurt much.
Setting his selections on a table beside the chaise, he stepped between her wide-open legs. She could only feel what he did. But God, could she feel it. A finger traveled from pubic hair to anus, circled a few times, and headed back. When he reached her vagina, he slipped the digit inside and made a rotation.
“You’re very wet, Miss Brown,” he said, sounding pleased. “Were you this wet for the grooms?”
“No, my lord. It’s all for you.”
He made a guttural noise in his throat, pushed more fingers into her, and moved them about. In, out, and around, filling her pelvis with liquid fire.
A soft, vibrating whirr intruded on the silence. Something buzzed against her clit, jolting her. Holy shit. The sudden surge of euphoria was so powerful, so incredible, she couldn’t help but cry out.
The buzzing pushed her body to the breaking point. Her hands fisted overhead. Her nipples, still raw from his brutality, sprang to attention. Clenching her jaw, she strained for what promised to be the best climax of her life. Just as she was ready to explode, he withdrew all stimulation. The hindered orgasm retreated in a tingling backflow of warmth.
Just as she returned to earth, he pushed the vibrator into her vagina. Wow! The blissful vibrations reached all the way to her straining nipples. She gasped as his finger wagged against her swollen clit. Pleasure tremored through her body like an 8.5 earthquake.
Something pushed into her anus. She tensed, even though the invasion wasn’t painful. Just uncomfortable.
“Relax, Miss Brown.”
His burr was soft yet commanding. He stepped back, leaving the toys in her orifices. The next second, something snapped against her clit. She cried out as the shock reverberated through every cell.
“What the hell?”
“Be still, you wee whore.”
Snap.
Holy crap. He hit her again. The strike stung a little, but in an arousing way that wasn’t particularly painful. In fact, not unlike the nipple torture, the spanking was darkly exhilarating.
He ducked under one of her legs and came around to her side, giving her a startling view of both his erection and the object he’d struck her with. A riding crop.
Quick as a blink, he flicked the tongue of the whip against her right nipple, then her left. A bullet of erotic agony shot straight to her buzzing genitals.
“Pleasure and pain, Miss Brown. There’s a very fine line between the two, is there not?”
“Yes.”
He brought the crop down on her right nipple—the one he’d clamped. The sting made her wince. What the hell? That time, the blow didn’t feel so good. Her reproachful gaze found a mirror in his.
“Have you forgotten you’re addressing your lord and master?”
“No.” She forced the word through clenched teeth. “Forgive me, my lord.”
“Aye, well.” His stern expression softened some. “That’s more like it. Now turn your head to your right and open your mouth.”
As she obeyed his command, he came around and, without ceremony, pushed his hard cock into her mouth. Swallowing her surprise, she closed her lips around it and swirled her tongue about the head. The action was met by a sharp breath and a fractured groan. He pushed deeper, nearly gagging her.
“Suck my cock, Miss Brown. Like you sucked the groom’s.”
She gave the effort everything she had, reveling in the taste and feel of his solid-yet-pliable flesh and the accompanying soundtrack of breathy groans, vowels, and expletives. She sucked, swirled, flicked, and scraped with all the gusto she could muster. As she worked him, he worked her with small, sensual flicks of the crop on her nipples, navel, and clit.
Meanwhile, the vibrator hummed scrumptiously inside her and whatever he’d stuck up her ass was feeling remarkably erotic.
“Are you ready to be good and fucked, Miss Brown?”
He withdrew his cock from her mouth as he said the words.
She licked numb lips and moved her stiff jaw. “More than ready, my lord.”
He moved between her legs and removed the vibrating implement and whatever he’d stuck in her rectum. Both orifices wept for the loss. She heard something tear—a condom wrapper?—and then, with one well-aimed thrust, he claimed her pussy so completely her orgasm broke like the dawn of a new day.
Thank you, Jesus. Fulfillment at last!
He pulled back and thrust a second time, burying himself so deep she could feel him pushing on her cervix. As she moaned her profound enjoyment, he hit some magic spot on the wall of her vagina, making her come again.
“You feel so bloody good, Miss Brown,” he rasped. “I can see why all my ghillies are so eager to have their turn.”
“You feel good, too, my lord.”
Speaking took effort, given how breathless and depleted she felt.
He pulled back, hovered on the brink of withdrawal, and drove into her again. She bore down, squeezing her pelvic muscles as hard as she could. Pushing deeper, he groaned and shuddered, sending scrumptious quivers through her. He circled his hips, grinding their pubic nests together.
“Promise me you’ll never do it again,” he demanded with another rotating thrust.
“Never do what, my lord?”
“Fuck. The. Footman. Or. The. Grooms.”
“I shan’t, my lord. I promise.”
“Only me.”
“Only you.”
“Swear it, Miss Brown.”
“I swear, my lord.”
The bliss she felt melted away when she realized he was only role-playing. She’d never been one for casual sex. Yes, she had one-night stands now and then, but always with the naïve hope the trysts might develop into more.
He gripped the stretcher bar and, with each accelerating thrust, pulled to achieve more depth, pushing her toward the edge. Her insides, now molten, began to clasp for the building orgasm. He pulled out of her abruptly, denying her release once again.
“Please, my lord,” she whimpered.
“Oh, aye, Miss Brown,” he said, plunging into her. “Do beg for it. Tell me how good my cock feels, how this is the best fuck of your life, how I’ve ruined you for all future comers.”
“All true, my lord. And very cruel of you, too, I might add. Since you can never be mine.”
“Be glad of it.” Hi
s burr was husky and strained. “For my love is a plague.”
“In what way?”
“Because of my curse.”
Did he just say curse?
She was too close to orgasm to go there right now. He fingered her clit, allowing her release. As her sex spasmed around his, ecstasy she’d never known before radiated outward from the point of contact. He made a strangled sound, gave one last forceful push, and stilled as his cock unloaded inside her.
He pulled out of her, leaving her emptier than she’d ever felt before, and set about freeing her legs from the spreader.
“Is your curse the reason I will die if we get involved?”
“Aye.”
“Who put the curse on you and why?”
“The Queen of Avalon—and the why doesn’t matter.”
The why mattered to her, but she would shelve her inquiry until he felt more talkative.
As he removed the handcuffs, she sat up, rotating her wrists to ease the stiffness. “What now?”
“That depends,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Would you like to have a go?”
She scowled at him, unsure she understood. “You mean do what I want with you?”
“Aye. Unless you’d rather not.”
She couldn’t deny the suggestion appealed. No man, no person, had ever handed her the reins of control before. She’d only ever been equal or, more often, subservient. She cast a wary eye around at the chamber’s various torture devices. Hurting him didn’t interest her, but having power over him did.
“It would seem the wee mouse likes the idea of playing the cat for a change.”
The mouse did. Very much. She just didn’t know quite how to put the plan into play. She pictured him bound and blindfolded while she teased him into a sexual frenzy. Yes, that seemed like a splendid place to start. Breaking out of his hold, she got to her feet and started toward the wall of accessories.
“Wait here while I choose my props.”
Gwyn wilted in the face of her daunting choices. There were blindfolds, handcuffs, ropes, rolls of duct tape, gags, and assorted paddles and whips.
With a shaking hand, she liberated a riding crop from its peg and ran her fingers along the braided handle. Thrills swam through her as she pictured herself riding him like a pony. She found the bridle, but could find nothing to serve as a tail. In Beauty’s Punishment, the tails were attached to huge dildos the masters shoved up the asses of their sex slaves. She’d prefer something more modest in size. She liked the idea of putting something in his ass, but wasn’t out to make him suffer. As she went on looking for a tail, she could feel the cat’s eyes upon her.
“Are you looking for something in particular?”
“Yes, but telling you what will ruin the surprise.”
“I’m not big on surprises,” he said. “Tell me what you’re looking for and, if I have the item, I’ll tell you where it can be found.”
“What if you don’t want to wear what I’m looking for?”
“If I have it, I’ll wear it.”
She turned to find him still sitting on the chaise, looking so hot it was a miracle she didn’t melt where she stood.
“I’m looking for a tail so you can be my pony.”
“Oh, aye?” His mouth cocked into a devilish grin that activated a warm discharge of moisture. “Did you dream of having a pony to ride when you were a wee lassie?”
“I did, as a matter of fact.” Having a pony was one of many dreams that never came true.
“The tails are with the anal plugs.” He pointed toward the chest of drawers on the wall with the pegs. “Third drawer from the top.”
She opened the indicated drawer. Inside were several options. She selected a black one made from genuine horsehair before closing the drawer. Returning to the chaise, she set the items she’d chosen beside him.
He looked from them to her. “You’ll need a harness if you want me to pull you around in the cart.”
Tingling warmth flooded her pelvis as she pictured him down on all fours pulling her around as she snapped his buttocks with her crop. She spun, eyebrow raised. “You would do that?”
“Why not?” He shrugged as if it were nothing. “I told you I’d do anything you wanted. Just be prepared to return the favor.”
The image of pulling him around while he raised welts on her ass provoked a less enjoyable tingling. Maybe she should go back to Plan A. She picked up the fur-lined handcuffs. “How about we start with something I’m more comfortable reciprocating? Lay back and put your arms over your head.”
He promptly did as she instructed and, after the cuffs were on, she covered his eyes with the mask.
“What are you going to do to me?”
She felt devilishly empowered. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”
He laughed. “I guess I had that coming.”
“That and more.”
He was spread before her like an erotic banquet, hers to feast upon as she pleased. Sexual hunger growled low in her abdomen as her gaze traveled over his physique. Whatever she did, she would take her time. He was a tempting treat. She planned to savor every bite.
Moving around to his knees, she stepped between them, forcing his legs apart. The piercing intrigued her, so she decided to start there.
His erection was starting to flag. She stroked his length with her fingertips, reveling in the texture of its ridges and indentures. At its base was a nest of dark hair. There was more on his balls, which were drawn up. She ran her hand over them. They felt soft and squishy, but also fuzzy.
Arranging her skirts, she knelt on the floor between his legs. Wrapping her hand around his shaft, she held his erection upright as she dragged her tongue over his piercing and across the dome of his glans. The sexy moan he emitted made her ache with need.
Tightening her grip, she began to pump his shaft as her lips and tongue teased the head. He flexed his hips, encouraging her to take him deeper. As she complied, she flicked her tongue against his piercing. A low groan rose from deep in his throat. Oh, my. She liked the sound of his enjoyment, liked having this kind of power over him. She also liked the smooth texture, salty flavor, and impressive size of his cock.
“Sweet Mary,” he rasped.
She took him deeper and sucked hard. He groaned again. Locking her gaze on his face, she twirled her tongue around the tip again. His lips were parted, his neck arched. She would have loved to see the expression in his eyes, but that blindfold was staying put.
Gaze locked on his expression, she swirled and flicked her tongue up and down his length. Her hand sought his balls. As her mouth teased his cock, she petted, cupped, and fondled the tender eggs inside his fleshy scrotal sack.
“Oh, aye, lass. That feels nice.”
Spurred by the husky verbalization of approval, she took his cock deeper into her mouth as her tongue skimmed up and down the underside, paying special attention to his piercing. His hips bucked, forcing the head into her tonsils. She gagged and let go. “Jesus, dude. I’m not Linda Lovelace.”
He laughed, so she took his dick into her mouth again. Jamming her tongue into the hole on the tip, she very gently bit down on his shaft.
“Oh, yeah. Punish me. I deserve it.”
Why not? She was game within reason. She bit harder and pulled the hair on his balls. He groaned like he was getting off on this, so she flicked him in the scrotum with her fingers while dragging her teeth up and down his blood-gorged shaft.
He groaned, setting off fireworks low in her abdomen. The sizzle gave way to a tingling burn that made her eager to have him inside her.
Hot damn, this was a total fucking turn on. With his cock still between her teeth, she ran both hands down the insides of his thighs. As she brought them back, she clawed his flesh with her fingernails.
He thrust his hips upward, pushing his cock deeper into her mouth.
“Oh, aye,” he rasped.
He was getting clo
ser to the moment of truth. The money shot, they called it in porn movies. How she knew that, she couldn’t say. Something she’d heard at film school, probably.
His body was taut, his hands were fisted, his nuts were hugging his shaft, and he tasted of salty pre-cum. Plus, he was doing that sexy heavy breathing thing. Damn, it was hot to see him so worked up, though she wasn’t quite ready for the denouement.
She wanted to fuck him first. To feel that huge cock of his inside her, possessing her the way she yearned to possess him.
Releasing his erection with a pop, she pulled herself to her feet, gathered up her skirts, and climbed onto the chaise, one knee on either side of his hips.
As much as she ached to feel him inside her, she wasn’t going to do it without protection.
“Where do you keep the condoms?”
“There’s a tub of them under the chaise.”
Good, but that could wait. Once they fucked, he’d want to switch places, and she wanted to enjoy her power over him a little longer.
A line of dark hair marched across his rippled abdomen, past his navel, and up the center of his ribcage before fanning out across his chest. Getting down on all fours, she lowered herself over him and kissed her way up the trail. At his chest, she stopped to lick, suckle, and nibble his unadorned nipple. When she’d had her fill, she moved to the other side, slipped her tongue through the ring, and wiggled gently.
His chest hair tickled her lips as she worked her way upward. She pressed her lips to his collarbone and that sexy notch at the base of his throat.
She licked his neck and latched on like she meant to give him a hickey—to see what he’d do more than anything else. He didn’t object, which equally surprised and pleased her. She sought his hair, finding it as soft and silky to the touch as she’d imagined.
Moving higher, she kissed his jawbone and the cleft in his chin.
“Miss Morland,” he whispered, startling her some, “you’re breaching the borders of dangerous territory.”
She rose up on all fours. “What’s wrong, Sir Leith? Is all this too intimate for you?”
“Aye, it is.”
Hovering over him, she aligned her face over his. “And you don’t like it?”
