by Desiree Holt
The tissues of her cunt stretched to fit around his rod, which rasped her inner walls and dragged over her G-spot. She shivered with the sensual delight of it, raising and lowering herself slowly.
“You may touch my breasts,” she told him.
She couldn’t miss the heat in his eyes as he reached for them and cupped them in his hands. He hefted their weight, thumbs brushing across her distended nipples.
“Would you like to taste them?” she asked. She loved having her nipples sucked.
“Yes. A great deal.”
She leant forward, giving him better access. Immediately his mouth captured one nipple, drawing it on, sucking it deeply, swirling his tongue around the tip. Then he turned his attention to the other one, giving it the same treatment.
“Bite them. Hard.”
Without hesitation, he clamped his teeth on one of them, sending erotic pain shooting through her. When she pulled back, dragging her nipple from his mouth, she saw that she’d left a ring of pussy juice around the base of his shaft. Lowering herself back down, she waited for him to work on the other nipple, the inner muscles of her cunt clenching around him as he bit down on it.
“Now twist them with your fingers.”
He brought his hands up again and tugged on the nipple rings, twisting them this way and that and pulling on them until he’d stretched her nipples as far as he could. She saw in his eyes the gratification it gave him and welcomed the pain, urging him to pinch and twist harder. When she could no longer stand it—when she saw that he was at the limit of his control—she urged him to roll their bodies over until she was on the bottom. At once his cock slid deeper, bumping up against the mouth of her womb. She wrapped her legs around him, locking her ankles at the base of his spine.
“Fuck me,” she told him. “Now. As hard as you can.”
He needed no further persuasion, moving his hips in a smooth but rapid movement, the angle of his body causing him to rub against the clit ring with every forward thrust. As close to the edge as she knew he was, she was right there with him. All the playing and punishment they’d done had aroused her beyond belief. Tremors rippled through the stretched walls of her cunt and her nipples ached with pleasurable pain.
“More,” she urged. Her nails raked over his chest as she came close to orgasm. “Harder.”
He obliged, pistoning his hips and pounding into her. She knew the control he was exerting to keep himself in check until she was ready. And there it was, unwinding like a tightly coiled spring, ready to pierce every part of her.
“Now!” she screamed, and they both exploded with uncontrolled force.
She fell into a black velvet space, where she whirled and spun as her pussy convulsed over and over, and breath-stealing shudders racked her body. His body was convulsing in rhythm with hers, his cock pulsing so hard as he emptied himself into her, she was afraid he’d break the latex sheath. She only wished she could feel the hot spurt of his semen against her bare internal skin.
It seemed forever until the shaking stopped and their breathing became less ragged, their heartbeats steadier. Finally he eased from her body, slid from the bed and went to dispose of the condom. He stood in the doorway to the bathroom, watching her.
“It would be my pleasure to bathe my Mistress before we part. Is that agreeable?”
Spent, she could do little but nod. She heard the sound of the shower starting and the hiss of the hot water in the air. Truth be told, she should be the one bathing him, giving him the aftercare, but she was almost too exhausted to let him care for her. The exchange of positions—bottom to top for her, top to bottom for him—had given her new insights into the power exchange of her own relationship and the needs of each partner. She looked forward to tonight with her Dom—if she still had the strength.
A.D. would have lifted her and carried her into the shower, but she shook her head. She needed to do this on her own, finish the afternoon as she’d started. Totally in command. Easing herself up from the bed, she made it into the bathroom and stepped into the shower with its delightful, misty spray. Then she reached out her hand, inviting him to join her. The water caressed her skin softly, easing the aches and soreness. She hoped it did the same for him. He really needed more aftercare, but he waved it off when she attempted to provide it.
“My turn to take care of you,” he told her in a low voice.
A.D. spread scented shower gel everywhere on her body, cleaning every crack and crevice. He yanked lightly on her nipple rings as he scraped the taut buds gently with his fingernails. Playfully, he tugged on her clit ring, the look in his eyes exciting her. She’d had it done as a spur of the moment thing, but now she was glad she had.
“I like this,” he rumbled in a low voice. “If I had the opportunity I’d get a thin chain to loop through the nipple rings and fasten to the jewellery on your clit. How delicious it would be to sit beside you at night, with you completely naked, and I could tug on this any time I wanted to. See what amount of pressure it took to make you come.”
When his fingers pinched her very sensitive clit, she couldn’t believe the tiny tremors that gripped the inner walls of her cunt. Both her orgasms had been intense, the last one stealing every bit of energy from her body.
Yet here she was, on the verge of another one.
He urged her to lean back against the shower wall, then lifted one of her legs to drape over his arm. With his other hand he lightly worked her clit, using the attached ring to his advantage until her very quiet orgasm took away the final edge of need.
He washed her hair, massaging her scalp with a strong but gentle pressure of his fingers, then rinsed it thoroughly.
She wanted to return the favour, but she felt so much like a limp noodle she wasn’t sure she could manage it.
When they were both rinsed he turned off the shower and wrapped them both in big, fluffy towels. Insisting she sit on the vanity bench, he found the hair dryer the hotel had supplied, then brushed and dried her hair, leaving the toys to soak in the meantime. They were quiet as they dressed and each packed away their toys. When they were finished, he pulled her towards him and hugged her to his body.
“This was an amazing experience,” he told her. “It opened my mind to a lot of things.” He looked down at her. “You make an incredible Mistress.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “But I don’t think I’ll be giving up the top any time soon.”
“Neither will I. Today gave me what I needed. Answered some questions for me. ” She smiled at him. “Although if you ever feel the need to switch again, I think it could be arranged.”
He cupped her chin in his hand. “You are a rare jewel, my little cat. It’s hard not to love you.”
“I could say the same.”
“I worried when you first brought this up that there was something missing in our relationship. Something that left you…wanting.”
She shook her head. “No, no, no. That wasn’t it at all. I just needed a deeper understanding of how the power exchange works. Of your needs, so I always please you.”
He brushed his lips over hers. “You always please me, Shea. My adorable little cat. Never ever worry about that.”
“As you please me, Keith. Master.” He watched the wicked grin tilt her lips again. “We didn’t get to use all the toys this afternoon. Especially the birch switch.” Her dimples flashed. “I forgot a sharp knife.”
His own smile matched hers. “I think I know a way we can fix that situation.”
“Really? And what’s that?”
He licked the shell of her ear, nipped the edge of it and whispered, “How fast can you get home?”
She laughed, a deep-throated sound. “I’ll bet faster than you.”
“Loser makes dinner,” he joked.
“Who wants dinner?”
His face was suddenly serious. “Shea, I’m so glad we did this. I think it answered a lot of questions for both of us.”
“Me, too. And I promise to reward you by misbehaving.”
His laughter joined hers as they left the hotel and walked out to their cars.
About the Author
I always wanted adventure and change in my life, and I certainly got it. I grew up in Maine, a beautiful place to live, then lived in the Midwest and Florida. Now I make my home in the Hill Country of Texas, truly God’s chosen place on earth. My husband, David, is a sixth generation Texan, tracing his roots here back to the time when Texas was a Republic, so retiring here was a dream we finally fulfilled.
I’ve had a lot of firsts in my life—first female sports report on The Michigan Daily at the University of Michigan; first woman to own a rock and roll agency in Detroit, the home of Motown; first woman president of the Pasco (Florida) Economic Development Council.
I graduated from the University of Michigan with a double major in English and History, and a minor in economics, and went on to have at least four careers. When my children were small, I satisfied my need for writing by working for weekly newspapers. I had a wild and wacky time managing rock and roll bands. I joined the insanity of retail with a string of shoe stores. I worked in fundraising, public affairs and community relations. But writing fiction was always my dream. I had a lot of stops and starts, but it wasn’t until we retired that I could devote myself to it full time.
My wonderful husband, David, encourages me and supports me in my dream. Our children are all grown and on their own, and are my biggest fans.
When I’m not writing I’m an avid reader—anything and everything—and watching football, especially my beloved Michigan Wolverines. David and I golf and target shoot, and of course enjoy life in the gorgeous Texas Hill Country, where most of my stories are based.
I am a member of Romance Writers of America, and San Antonio Romance Authors, Diamond State Romance Authors, and Passionate Ink chapter of RWA.
Email: [email protected]
Desiree loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.
Also by Desiree Holt
Crude Oil
Beg Me
Afternoon Delight
Down and Dirty
All Jacked Up
Wet Dreams and Fantasies: Interlude
Wet Dreams and Fantasies: Intermission
Wet Dreams and Fantasies: Game On
The Sentinels: The Edge of Morning
The Sentinels: Night Moves
The Sentinels: Dark Stranger
The Sentinels: Animal Instinct
The Sentinels: Silent Hunters
The Sentinels: Mated
Cat’s Eyes: Pretty Kitty
Cat’s Eyes: On The Prowl
Attack Force: Unconditional Surrender
Brit Party: Four Play
Heatwave: Summer Spice
Night of the Senses: Carnal Caresses
Caught in the Middle: Swingtime
Threefold: Party of Three
Feral: Black Cat Fever
Christmas Goes Camo: Melting the Ice
Clandestine Classics: Northanger Abbey
Treble: Trouble at the Treble T
Subspace: Head Games
MASTERING MAYA
Lisabet Sarai
Dedication
To G, who mastered me.
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
The Incredible Hulk: Marvel Comics
American Express Gold: American Express Company
Chapter One
“Who the hell is she?”
The crack of the Domme’s single-tail whip punctuated Stephen’s question. Raven hair cascaded to her waist, swinging in time with the steady strokes she layered on her bound victim’s naked back. She danced around the flogging bench like a ballerina, bringing the leather thong down on the still-unmarked areas of skin with astonishing grace and precision. The brawny blond man stretched lengthwise along the padded trestle jerked each time the whip found its mark. The sub’s gag effectively muffled any vocal reaction, but Stephen had a clear view of his engorged cock poking through the hole in the bench. Pre-cum slicked the shaft. Meanwhile, the blond’s buttocks clenched around the plug embedded in his anus each time the Domme’s lash struck. Obviously, the sub was enjoying the woman’s expert beating.
It was the woman who held Stephen’s attention, though. Her simple, severe outfit—a white crêpe blouse, narrow navy skirt and broad belt—highlighted her lush curves. The half-buttoned top revealed the shadowed valley between her breasts. As she travelled from one side of the bench to the other, seeking the optimal angle for her next stroke, he noticed the slit in her skirt, facilitating her movements but also offering glimpses of creamy thigh.
His own cock swelled in his tight leather trousers, but not because of her extraordinary body. Stephen—Master Shark, as he was called by others in the lifestyle—had known many beautiful women, in the most intimate of senses. No, her face—her expression—was what transfixed him, making his balls ache and his palms itch to stroke and slap that ripe flesh. She wore a look of utter calm and total concentration, even as she brought the lash down with increasing ferocity. Only her eyes betrayed her excitement. As she applied the whip to the submissive’s reddening backside, she did not smile. He saw none of the manic glee he felt when administering a flogging. Her self-control was absolute.
“The Ice Queen,” his friend Tom—Master Thomas—replied to his almost-forgotten question. “Amazing, isn’t she?”
“The Ice Queen? That’s her scene name?”
The woman paused to murmur in the sub’s ear and gently knead his crimson butt. The blond shook his head, clearly indicating that he wanted more. For the first time, her lovely mouth curved into the ghost of a smile. Stationing herself where the sub could see her, she unfastened her blouse one slow button at a time and slipped it off her shoulders. Now Stephen could see the rise and fall of her breathing—so her exertion had taken some toll, at least—and the dark nipples peeking through her white lace bra. The Domme was aroused after all, despite her impassive demeanour.
Her mini-striptease had the desired effect. The naked yearning in the shackled man’s face made Stephen grin. His own imprisoned erection throbbed, mirroring the sub’s urgency.
“No, no, that’s just her nickname. No one would dare call Maya that to her face. But you can see where it comes from.”
Stephen inclined his head in silent assent, watching as the kinky scene continued to unfold.
The black-maned beauty stepped closer to her bound victim and fondled his cock. The man writhed against the padded horse. “You’re such a pain slut, James. I imagine you want me to use the cane now, don’t you?” Her voice was a low alto, smooth and warm as single-malt Scotch.
The man’s straw-coloured locks fell into his eyes as he gave a vigorous nod. She swept them back from his brow and captured his gaze. “Are you certain you can take it?”
Another nod. Stephen realised he was holding his breath. He forced himself to exhale.
“Very well. You do know better than to come, correct? You wouldn’t want to make me angry.”
Stephen found it difficult to picture what Maya would look like angry. Emotion scarcely seemed to touch her.
“And if it’s too much, squeeze the rubber duck. Squeeze it now, so I’ll know you understand.”
A cartoonish squawk filled the public dungeon. Laughter rippled through the audience, easing the tension a bit. Most of the other tops in the cavernous space had halted their own scenes to admire Mistress Maya’s proficiency, leaving their subs to gape from a distance.
“Good boy. Hold on tight, now.”
The sub clasped the bath toy in his right hand.
“I’ll be right back.” Maya stalked over to the equipment rack on sturdy heels that added at least three inches to her already significant height. Acting as if she were unaware of the eyes following her, she selected a slend
er fibreglass cane and whisked it through the air. The sub cringed at the vicious sound.
“Let’s see if we can satisfy your desire for pain, shall we?”
She stood well away from the bench, pulled her arm back, then brought the flexible rod down on the man’s already battered rear cheeks. Thwack! A bright scarlet line appeared, blazing against the dull redness generated by the flogging. The sub grunted behind his gag. More blood rushed to Stephen’s cock.
Whoosh! Thwack! The cane landed again. The sub keened and writhed, straining against the cuffs that bound his wrists and ankles to the bench. Thwack! Thwack! Maya wielded the cane with the same confident skill she’d shown with the whip. Every stroke made contact exactly where she intended, if one could judge from the marks spaced regularly across the victim’s ass and down the backs of his thighs.
Stephen found himself anticipating each blow, guessing when she’d strike, where and how hard. He’d rarely seen such an expert caning. She knew when to apply the cane in a rapid flurry of cuts, when to wait and let the bottom recover. Not once did a wayward blow hit the danger area near the kidneys. The stripes she raised created an exquisite grid across the sub’s punished flesh, almost perfectly regular.
He understood the high she must be feeling, the sense of power at having someone willingly place himself at her mercy. Yet little of that showed in her countenance. The cane slashed through the air and bit into the blond’s flesh, faster and harder as the scene progressed. A slight sheen of sweat appeared on her forehead, but otherwise Maya appeared as composed and focused as if she were balancing her cheque book.
