Feral King (The Dominant Bastard Book 1)

by Sparrow Beckett

  She sat up on the workbench, watching him in horrified disbelief – her pussy and ass tingling and needy as she watched him. He was dismissing her?

  Trembling, she slid off her perch, her thigh muscles sore from being held in the same position so long. Her wetness mingled with his saliva, drenching her thighs. Even the tops of her stockings felt damp. Her clit pulsed, and her legs shook as she held onto the workbench, trying not to fall off her low heels.

  “That will be all, Miss Korsgaard.”

  “Oh my god,” she whispered.

  As though he’d forgotten about her, he kept eating his sandwich, turning the piece he was working on and examining it from a different angle.

  He was serious?

  She was going to die, but not before she murdered him.

  “Mister Leduc, sir? May I –”

  “Of course not.”

  Bloody hell. That wasn’t what she wanted anyway, but she felt like her heart was never going to slow down again if she didn’t get some relief.

  In a last-ditch effort to change his mind, she turned her back to him and bent from the waist to gather her clothes, hoping to give him an eyeful of what he was forgoing. When she straightened, he was in her face. Her heart beat erratically and she sucked in a breath.

  “Did I say you could take these?” he asked. He walked to the forge and stuffed her skirt and blouse into the flames. The bra he tossed to her. The panties he twirled on his finger.

  “Quit being distracting. I have work to do.” He hung her panties on a hook above one of the workbenches he used often. “And remember, no masturbating.”

  Humiliated, she turned to go.

  “And don’t even think of putting that bra back on today.”

  In the ultimate walk of shame, scurrying back through the chill air, she tried to be angry. Instead, she only wanted him more.

  Chapter Eight

  In the darkness of his room, Severin stared at the shadows of trees swaying against the back lighting of the swollen moon. After hours of shifting and rolling in her bed, Miss Korsgaard had been still for about an hour, her soft breathing just barely audible in the chill silence of the house.

  He’d laid a fire in the hearth in her room, and the quiet crackle of it pleased him. Doing things to take care of her filled him with a weird satisfaction. Clothing arrived for her in the mail almost every day now. Watching her wear the things he’d picked out to replace the things of hers he’d destroyed was...lovely.

  Tension thrummed through his body remembering the glimpse he’d gotten of black lace she’d been wearing under the black silk robe when she’d come to say goodnight. The long, smooth legs. The swell of her breasts. And barefoot. He groaned, clasping his balls hard, willing his wide-awake dick to go to sleep.

  He rose from bed and padded to her room, tugging his jeans up even though they only slipped down to ride his hips again. Readjusting his erection was more difficult, but having it poking above his waistband would be hard to conceal when he was shirtless. He collected a few things and stalked down the hall.

  Standing at the door to her room, he watched her sleep. Why did he do this? It was so hard to resist seeing her with all of her defenses down, hair tousled, and lips parted, lit by the mysterious flickers of light from the fireplace. Nights were difficult, but days were worse. She was so impossible to ignore during the day, with her subtle submissive flirtation – the angle of her head, the openness in her gaze. Even her voice drove him crazy. She didn’t touch him, but gave him every indication that if he let her, she would rub against him like an affectionate cat. More like a cat in heat for the past few days.

  Teasing her and leaving her wanting had become a game. Four days of it so far. The fact that she slept so soundly when he was awake and thinking of her just wouldn’t do.

  “Miss Korsgaard,” he barked.

  She bolted upright in bed, blinking in confusion. She pushed her hair from her eyes, and the movement made the blanket slide down to her lap. The black, lace-edged tank top she wore stretched indecently over her pert breasts, and her breath shook.

  “Yes, sir? What happened?” Her gaze darted around the room, scanning for an emergency.

  “Nothing happened.”

  “But...” Her brow furrowed and she drew her blanket up over her breasts and tucking it primly under her arms. She searched his face, her dark eyes wide. “Is there something I can assist you with, Mister Leduc?” Her body squirmed hopefully. He almost felt bad.

  He pulled the blanket from her, leaving her on the white bottom sheet with only the obscene tank top and a tiny pair of boy short panties to preserve her modesty. Not lingerie, and probably not meant to be seen by him, which made it all the sexier.

  He tugged her tank top up, exposing her breasts and her sexy pierced nipples, then drew down her shorts and threw them on the floor. He grabbed a pillow off the wing back chair and tossed it on the bed.

  “Face down with your hips on the pillow.”

  “Nooo...” If he had any empathy, her whimper would have made him feel guilty, but she did as she was told.

  “Spread your legs.”

  “What are you doing, sir?”

  “Whatever I want to, Miss Korsgaard.”

  He spread her legs wider, kneeling between them. She tilted her ass toward him, the round cheeks of it begging for his hands.

  “Please,” she whispered, shivering. “Please use me. Please let me come.”

  “So you’ve never had anything in your ass?”

  “No!”

  Whether that was an admission of being inexperienced, or a protest because she wanted to stay inexperienced, he wasn’t sure.

  He dropped the lube and small glass plug onto the bed beside her face.

  “Please – why are you doing this?”

  “Because you’re letting me.” He grabbed her ass, separating her cheeks and looking at her tightly puckered anus. How did men fit in their women this way?

  “No, please. I’ll be a good girl,” she begged. “Please – I’ll suck your cock so well you’ll forget all about this idea. I’ll give you orgasm amnesia!”

  “Is that a real condition?”

  “I’ll do my damnedest to make it one, sir,” she babbled.

  “I think this is called the bargaining stage, Miss Korsgaard. You’ll feel much better when you simply accept this is going to happen.”

  “No...oh, God. I’m so desperate right now it would take one second. Please can I touch myself?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  Her bottom lip trembled, but she nodded. Four days of teasing, and she was completely biddable. Her muscles relaxed, and she melted into the mattress.

  He ran the pad of his thumb over her anus, and her breath caught and held. Gently, he teased her there, circling, stroking, tickling. She wriggled but didn’t try to get away. He opened the lube and squirted some at the top of her ass, then watched as it started its slippery descent to her back hole.

  “I’m trying to teach you better self-control, Miss Korsgaard. If you can stop yourself from soaking that pillow with your needy pussy, maybe I’ll choose to let you come.”

  She rocked her hips against the pillow and he landed a stinging smack on her ass, his print blooming bright red, making him want to add more yet not destroying the perfection just yet.

  “Stop that, or I’ll take a belt to your pretty pussy,” he said, wishing that keeping her on edge wasn’t part of the plan. Watching her do something so instinctive and uninhibited because of him was a power trip, and the motion of her hips and ass, almost made him too weak to stop her. Precome leeched into his jeans, but he ignored his own discomfort.

  She stopped rubbing against the pillow, dropping her forehead to the bed.

  “You are the cruelest man I’ve ever met. That huge plug is never going to fit. You’re going to hurt me.”

  “Hurting you makes me hard, Miss Korsgaard, but that’s not the point of this.” He picked up the plug – the smallest in the set he’d ordered. �
��This shouldn’t hurt. This is so that I don’t damage you when I take you here sometime in the future.”

  “So you are planning to have sex with me eventually?” she ground out.

  “Maybe,” he teased. “I’m not sure I’m interested.” If he were any more interested his dick would explode.

  He slid the plug against her anus, watching in fascination as she clenched against it. Her fists curled into the bottom sheet and she was whispering “No, no, no.”

  “No?” He pulled the plug away, and she shifted backward as though her body wanted it even if her brain didn’t.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sakes. Just do it.”

  He raised his hand to swat her again, but decided words might be better this one time. “Now you’re in a rush? Maybe I should skip prepping you and shove my cock in there.” He pressed his hips against her ass and slid his finger through the lube.

  “No!” She shuddered. “I’m sorry. I’ll behave. Don’t stick your monster cock in my ass with no prep or you’ll have to bring me to the hospital.” Even though the words were vehement, her hips started to rock again, pushing against his finger with every rock backward.

  Her body started to open to him, and his finger slipped slowly into her up to the first knuckle. She hissed and her ass clenched around his finger. A grunt escaped him, and his cock twitched hard.

  “Please, Mister Leduc...sir...master.” She was sobbing, and his cock felt as if it was going to burst. She moaned. “Oh fuck, do it if you want to. I’ll take anything right now. Anything you want. Please just let me come.”

  Reluctantly, he withdrew his finger, and pressed the plug against her instead. She mewled, but let him fuck it into her as he watched her body accept it bit by bit. By the time it was fully seated in her body, the base holding her ass cheeks slightly apart, and they were both breathing hard.

  “Master? Now why would you call me that?” he asked, his voice gruff. “If you’re a slave to anything, it’s to your body, not to me.”

  “It’s you I want.” She shoved back at him, nudging at his cock again, smearing lube from her ass across the front of his jeans. “You’ve shown me who’s the master of my body, and it’s not me.”

  He flipped her over and pulled the pillow out from where it was still half under her body. Soaked. He shoved the pillow close to her face.

  “Look what you did.”

  She shook her head, sweat dampened strands of hair sticking to her face and curling around her neck.

  “Please, master! I’m sorry. I can’t control how you make me feel.” Her arms fell helplessly over her head, and her breasts jiggled, the barbells in them glinting prettily in the firelight.

  “I told you the rules.” He crawled on top of her sweet little body, and straddled her thighs. One tug and his jeans unbuttoned with a quick series of pops. The girl panted and wriggled beneath him.

  “Please, Mister Leduc, can I suck your cock?” she whispered, pleading with her eyes.

  So tempting.

  He wrapped his hand around his painfully erect dick and drew it from his precome dampened jeans.

  The girl squirmed, trying to move lower, her gaze fastened on his cock. Her lips parted as if she was already imagining sucking him off. She was so fucking beautiful.

  He ran his hand over his shaft. So desperate for her, but this was good for her – to feel who was in charge, rather than just saying the words.

  Watching her hungrily, he began to slowly stroke himself. She claimed she’d never wanted a man so badly, but he’d never wanted a woman before her. Now she was all he could think about.

  “Don’t fucking move.”

  “What?” she squeaked as she clued into what he planned to do. “You wouldn’t!”

  Her eyes widened as he stared at her beautiful face. His own abrasive hand tight around his erection, he pleasured himself. Not using her when she was begging for him was the most extreme display of self-restraint he’d ever managed.

  He loved this game of cat and mouse, with neither yet both of them winning.

  “If you come on my stomach instead of in my mouth, I’ll never forgive you. Maybe you don’t want to have sex with me, but this is too much. I can’t do this anymore.” Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over even as she held very still, like he’d told her to.

  “Such a good girl,” he murmured, jacking off to the delicious combination of the smell of her arousal and the tears that trickled from her eyes. “You’ll get this eventually, but you have to prove that you understand the order of things between us.”

  “But I do!”

  “No, you don’t.” He grunted, and his hips bucked spasmodically as he tried not to come right away. It was a miracle he’d lasted this long. “If you understood, you’d ask what I want, not tell me what you want. You keep trying to get your way.”

  “Please, Master – don’t you want me?”

  “I do. But anyone can fuck a woman’s body – fucking her mind is so much sweeter.”

  His balls were so tight it set his teeth on edge. Pressure built as he pumped his erection in a cruel fist, watching the trembling of her bottom lip and the tears streaking from her eyes to drip into her ears before hitting the mattress.

  Come – hot, agonizing – boiled up from his balls, burst from his cock, spewing all the way to her chin, painting her from there to her navel in thick ribbons. She cried out as every lash of it hit her skin. Grimly satisfied, he smeared the mess he made with one hand, coating her chest and belly but avoiding her still-healing nipple piercings.

  The girl hyperventilated, weeping, her distressed cries making his cock jerk back to attention.

  “Look what you made me do,” he admonished, holding up his hand to show her.

  “Please...” she whimpered.

  “Clean this.” He held his hand in front of her face, and she licked the sticky mess from his palm with frantic movements of her adorable little tongue. She sucked each one of his scarred fingers, moaning with impatience. The suction of her pretty mouth on his fingertips almost swayed him to relent.

  He got off of her, trying to hide the weakness in his legs. He was shaking almost as badly as she was. She crawled after him, stopping when she reached the edge of the mattress. As he tucked his still rampant hard-on back in his jeans and rebuttoned, she watched him with forlorn disbelief.

  “Master, if you don’t want me, may I touch myself?”

  “You may,” he replied, loving the relief in her eyes because it meant his next words would be all the more entertaining. “But you may not come.”

  She shrieked and threw a pillow at him. He deflected it easily and grabbed her hard by the hair. She screamed and screamed, crying, almost touching him, but ultimately not forgetting the rules.

  “That’s enough with the hysterics, Miss Korsgaard.” He gave her head a little shake, and she quieted, watching him miserably. “Now – that plug stays in until you shower in the morning. If you need to relieve yourself before then, you must ask my permission to remove it. The come I’ve marked you with stays on your skin until you shower in the morning.”

  She sobbed, but nodded.

  “After your shower I’ll be forcing the next size plug into you, so make sure you work though your feelings about that beforehand. Some protesting is cute, but I won’t tolerate it every time.”

  She nodded again, turning to kiss his palm when he cupped her cheek. As much as she’d protested, it was obvious she fucking loved this.

  “What do you say to me?” he prompted.

  “I’m sorry, Master. Thank you, Master.”

  “For?”

  “For plugging my ass and marking me. For being patient. And for reminding me who I belong to.”

  Belong to. They’d never discussed it, but she understood his feelings on the matter and accepted them. The fact that she didn’t seem to need fancy words or declarations from him meant everything. She read him, and he needed that from her.

  He nodded. “Good girl.” He stroked her hair and she leaned
into the caress. “I know the past few days have been difficult for you, but if you continue to behave, tomorrow evening you’ll be rewarded.”

  Her eyes lit, and he smiled at her more confidently than he felt.

  “Goodnight, Miss Korsgaard.”

  “Goodnight, Master.”

  He left the room and headed back to his own, knowing it would take forever before he slept again.

  *

  The tap, tap, tap of Miss Korsgaard’s patent kitten heels on his office’s flagstone floor distracted Severin from the documents he was supposed to be reviewing. Figures danced and writhed before his eyes as he struggled to make sense of the information Rodrigo had brought for him to review.

  “So, as you can see, it’s finally done. The property. The house. All yours.”

  Severin leaned back in his chair, staring at the paperwork. He’d never completed high school, let alone college. All he knew was how to manipulate metal and fire to do his bidding. He wasn’t someone who could think in chess moves, three steps ahead. His life was designed to be controlled, predictable. Thoughts about certain things, like fighting and art and finding balance in a piece he created – physical things came fast. There he could be decisive.

  But he wasn’t a businessman. No one would ever discuss philosophy or literature with him. He’d read a lot, but couldn’t analyze what he’d read the way people like Rodrigo and Miss Korsgaard could. And numbers like Rodrigo dealt with? They didn’t make sense to him on the best of days.

  “So the investments you suggested turned out in our favor.”

  “Yes.” Rodrigo’s expression was neutral. It was never like the man to pat himself on the back, but he’d taken Severin’s stipends from his family over the years and turned them into a fortune for them both.

  Severin sighed, the turmoil of his thoughts confusing him. The money meant freedom from people who’d never cared about him in the first place. Rodrigo had helped Severin put an offer on this house, and they’d accepted. No other Leduc had set foot on this land in almost twenty-five years. Sutton once claimed his mother had come when Church’s mother died, but if she’d been there, Severin hadn’t recognized her.