by Lila Dubois
He rummaged in a drawer, then took the top off a small tub, releasing the familiar spicy scent of balm. Alexander dipped his fingers in, then rubbed some between his hands, warming it which released more of herbal scent.
One knee on the bed beside her hip, he started to rub the balm into her skin. Alena hissed, her feet rising off the bed as he first made contact with her sore ass.
“When we’re upstairs, I will find pain medication,” Alexander said softly.
It was the second time he’d mentioned upstairs.
After a few moments of his hands kneading it, her ass started to feel, if not exactly good, acceptable. The ache was a constructive feeling, like a deep tissue massage.
“Roll over.”
She did, bending her knees and planting her heels so she could carefully lower her butt to the bed. With her legs bent, it didn’t hurt too much.
Alexander took up more balm and again rubbed it between his palms.
She knew where he was going to touch her next. Her breasts also felt tender, and there were pink spots that had yet to fade.
He tenderly cupped her breasts, his thumbs stroking from sternum to areola in a tentative caress.
Alena’s eyes fluttered closed and she dug her fingers into the sheet.
“Too much?”
Alena opened her eyes, raised her head, and then very deliberately shook it. The urge to reach up and yank the gag out—the straps felt rubbery, which meant there’d be a bit of give—was nearly overpowering.
But she didn’t. She dropped her head back and arched her back ever so slightly, pressing her breasts more firmly into his hands.
Alexander sighed audibly and ran his thumbs over the inner curves of her breasts, but this time he kept going, gently caressing her nipples.
Alena moaned in pleasure.
Alexander swooped his hands over her breasts in mirrored strokes, caressing and teasing her for several long minutes.
Then he trailed his palm down her stomach. Alena shamelessly spread her thighs, needing him to touch her there, to please her.
Alexander bent over her and used his free hand to tug the gag out of her mouth, dropping it down around her neck where it lay over the collar.
“Alena.”
“Yes, Master Alexander?”
“Where are the towels?”
Now it was her turn to look surprised. “What?”
“You, uh, have towels.” He looked around. “I don’t normally…”
“Aww, my poor little billionaire isn’t used to getting his own towels?”
Alexander planted his hands on either side of her shoulders. “You want the gag back in?”
“No, Sir,” she purred, secretly thrilled he was teasing her. “That metal cabinet has survival supplies.”
Alexander leaned down and Alena caught her breath. Was he going to kiss her? She wanted that. She wanted it so bad that she started to lift herself up to meet him halfway when he smirked and pushed off the bed.
Alena watched from the comfort of the bed as he pulled a few towels out of the cabinet. He set two beside her, and carried a third into the bathroom, wetting it. When he brought it back, he sat on the side of the bed, wet towel balanced on his knee, dampening his pants.
Something inside her went soft as he unfastened the cuff on one wrist and gently wiped her skin with the damp towel.
Alexander started to release her, but paused. Instead he carefully guided her hand down and positioned it palm up at her side.
Palm up. For some people in BDSM, exposing the vulnerable palm—in kneeling pose, full supplicant pose, or any of the other submissive postures—was as intimate as bare breasts.
He hadn’t made an issue of it before, but apparently Alexander liked that particular posture detail.
He took her other hand, cleaned that wrist, and, leaning across her body, placed that hand palm up also.
Palm up. He wanted her submissive right now. Well, as his BDSM slave she was, by definition always submissive to him. His to do whatever he wanted to and with.
If he’d done this back at the club she would have said it was a signal that his ministrations weren’t aftercare, but merely a pause in the scene.
She licked her lips and tried not to let his gentle touches weaken her defenses, battered though they might be.
Of course it wasn’t aftercare, because BDSM slaves didn’t receive aftercare. Actually, she had no idea if that was true. Maybe leaving her the way he had yesterday had just been a dick move on his part, not appropriate even with a BDSM slave.
Her stomach clenched as a fresh rush of emotion, some new, some familiar, flooded through her. Tenderness mixed with anger and fear, longing with hard, biting arousal.
He removed the ankle cuffs and wiped the skin there too, the only sound the soft rasp of the towels on her skin and the occasional squeak of bed springs as he shifted his weight.
When he set the towel aside she waited, wondering what would happen next. He’d mentioned going upstairs, but what did that mean? Had what had just happened changed something for him? Or perhaps he would bring her upstairs like this, wearing a collar and with her ass red from a beating, only to do something even more dark and wicked to her.
He didn’t move, seemed to be so lost in thought that he might be drowning.
“I knew you were a sadist,” she said quietly. “You told me.”
He didn’t look at her. She wasn’t even sure he’d heard her.
Alena started to prop herself up on her elbows. As she did she flipped her hands over, palms down on the bed.
Alexander adjusted his weight. “I didn’t give you permission to move.”
Alena exhaled and slowly lay back, her heart suddenly pounding even as her pussy pulsed at his dominant tone.
He reached for her knees, then forced her legs open with a sudden sharp shove.
Alena froze, her legs bent, knees spread wide, her pussy totally exposed.
Alexander leaned down and opened one of the under bed drawers. He rummaged for a moment, then sat up, holding a small black vibrator, the kind of simple straight-sided plastic one that could be found in any sex store, no matter how seedy.
Alexander twisted the base, and she heard it buzz for a moment. He paused, looking at her. “You’re smiling.”
“Because you have a vibrator.”
“You think I’m going to pleasure you?”
She knew a trap when she heard it. “If doing so would please you, Master Alexander.”
“The things. Things that would, uh.” Pause. “Things that would please me would…”
He stopped, gaze on the far wall.
“I don’t care if you have a stutter,” she said softly. “Take as long as you need to say whatever it is you want to say.”
“I don’t have a stutter.” His gaze snapped to her face. “Sit up.”
Damn it. He’d been about to use the vibrator on her sex and she’d fucked up the moment. Alena sat up quickly, having momentarily forgotten about her abused backside and had to stop, gasping.
Alexander toed off his shoes then climbed onto the bed. Sitting near the head of the bed he propped himself against the metal headboard, then folded his legs.
“Come here.”
Alena rolled onto her hands and knees and crawled to him, pausing when her fingers were close enough to brush the fabric of his trousers.
“Sit here.” He pointed to his lap.
It was rare that Alena couldn’t figure out what was going to happen next, especially in something like a BDSM scene. But she could no longer predict what Alexander was going to do…
…or what that would cause her to feel.
Alena carefully slid onto his lap, her ass settling into the hollow his legs made so most of her ass wasn’t actually making contact with anything, her bodyweight on her thighs and hands, which she’d braced on his knees.
He wrapped an arm around her waist from behind and pulled her back, her body now reclined against him, shoulders against his chest. S
he could feel the smooth fabric of his shirt. When she adjusted her hips, sliding deeper into the cradle of his body, she felt the hiss of air as he exhaled.
There was a very large, hot bulge pressing into her. Alena shifted forward, then back, rocking her hips and ass into him. It hurt, but she felt his reaction as she stimulated his cock and that was more important than the pain.
He was breathing heavy, and there was intense intimacy in the way she felt his words rumbling through his chest into her back.
“Spread your legs.”
Alena gingerly obeyed, shoulders pressing firmly into his chest as she adjusted her position.
“Wider. More.”
Alexander had his head to one side of her own, his lips hovering near her right ear. When he spoke she shivered, and her nipples were so tight and hard they ached.
“Beautiful,” he murmured in German, apparently taking in the view of her breasts as he looked over her shoulder. He said a few more things, things she was too distracted by anticipation—and the occasional twinges of pain from her abused ass—for her to translate.
“Raise your left hand.”
She obeyed instantly. Alexander grabbed her wrist and brought her hand back, pressing her palm against his silky hair.
He rested his chin on her right shoulder and then…
Then he handed her the vibrator.
Alena examined it, somewhat stupefied by surprise. She’d hadn’t dared hope that the vibrator meant she was going to get to orgasm. Instead she’d assumed he’d put the vibrator in her ass, which would be pleasurable but not orgasm inducing.
As she stared at the toy she now held, Alexander reached around and twisted the base. It started to hum in her hand, the buzz pale in comparison to her favorite toy tucked safely in a drawer back home in her condo in Chicago.
Alexander twisted the dial as she held the shaft, turning it onto its highest setting.
“Touch your clit with it,” he said. “Until I tell you to stop.”
“And may I come, Master Alexander?”
“Not without permission.”
“Are you going to make me stop every time I’m about to orgasm?”
“Yes.” She could feel him smile against her hair, and that did more to calm her than anything else could have.
“And if I don’t stop in time?”
“I suggest you don’t find out.” There was a threat in those words, and for the first time she wondered how deep the well of his sadism was.
The night they’d met he’d tried to walk away from her because he thought he was too much, too dark for her. If the beating she’d just received was a taste of that darkness…
…then she wanted more.
“And if I want to?”
He released the dial of the vibrator, leaving her holding it, cupped her breast. His other hand came around her left side and took hold of that breast.
The index finger and thumb of each hand gently grasped her nipples.
Pleasure muted all other thoughts.
“Pleasure yourself.”
Alena pressed the tip of the vibrator against her pussy. The vibration wasn’t as strong as that of her magic wand, but she slid the tip up and down the valley of her sex. When the blunted tip passed over her clit, it was the contact more than the vibration that made her moan.
“Stop.”
Alena obediently lifted the vibrator away from her body, reacting to his command instinctively rather than consciously.
“Again, but you may not move it. Hold it still.”
Alena flattened the shaft of the vibrator against her pussy, the tip down at her ass. The vibration was stronger near the base, which was what she’d been counting on. Her hips bucked as the vibrator made contact with her clit, the sudden strong sensation almost painful in its intensity.
“Stop.” He punctuated the command with a hard pinch to her nipples.
Alena lifted the vibrator, panting. His grip on her nipples softened and he started to roll them gently. Warm pleasure danced along the nerve endings in her nipples, and in response her pussy clenched. Her breasts were sensitive from what he’d done to them not long ago, but the memory of pain was a pleasure of its own.
“Again.”
She dropped her hand, the vibrator making contact with her clit once more. This time she wedged the middle of the shaft against her clit and the vibration wasn’t as jarring. She sighed in pleasure. Alexander switched to stroking the very tip of each nipple with the pad of his index fingers.
For several moments her primary feeling was one of relief. Relief that the ache of desire would soon be satisfied.
Relief that he was touching her, holding her.
Then that melted away, replaced by the heat of arousal.
She tensed her abdominal muscles, feeling the first stirrings of the orgasm. Another three breaths and it wasn’t her conscious efforts that caused muscles to clench, but the rising tide of her orgasm.
“Stop.”
Alena’s eyes popped open. “Oh, that’s mean.”
“You weren’t going to tell me.”
“I was. I wasn’t that close yet.”
“I think you are lying.” He pinched her nipples, hard. “Don’t lie to me, Alena.”
“I’m not!” she cried out in protest, her nipples burning with sweet pain.
“Then you are lying to both of us.” He released her breasts. “Again.”
She lay the vibrator against her clit and though she’d been about to protest his assessment, the words were lost. It was faster now, only a few breaths before her body started to draw tight.
“Close,” she breathed.
His hands returned to her tits, and she tensed, unsure if he would give her pain or pleasure.
He grasped her nipples and pulled, stretching her flesh and then adding a little twist. It was both pleasure and pain, and it shoved her closer to the precipice.
“Close,” she yelped.
“Don’t come, but keep the vibrator on your pussy. You may adjust the position.”
Alena shifted it to the side, so there was no direct contact with her clit. She could still feel the vibrations, and between that and him playing with her nipples, she was trapped on a low plateau of pleasure.
His lips brushed her neck below her earlobe. “I don’t think you have it on your clit.”
“You didn’t say I had to, Master Alexander.”
“I didn’t.” He raised his hands and spanked her nipples with his fingers.
Alena whimpered. “Please don’t, please, please.”
“Don’t want your tits slapped?”
“No. I mean yes. Normally. But I’m too sore.”
If she’d expected him to feel bad when she admitted she was sore she was doomed to disappointment.
“Manners.”
“I’m sorry, Master Alexander.”
“I like the way you say my name, especially with Master in front of it.” That detachment she’d seen in him earlier was gone, replaced by the same hot dominance that had been there when he spanked her, but this time the focus was pleasure, not pain.
“Vibrator on your clit.”
“If I do, I won’t be able to stop myself from coming.”
“You don’t have permission to come.”
“If you’re playing with my nipples and there’s a vibrator, I won’t be able to stop myself.” Her words were slightly desperate.
“Put the vibrator on your clit.”
She shifted the toy the half inch it needed to press down on her clit. The vibrator buzzed, but the sound was drowned out by her hiss of pleasure. When she would have arched up he dropped one arm to wrap around her waist, holding her down while his other hand tweaked her nipples one after the other in rapid succession.
It was the sum of the parts, rather than any one element, that pushed her over the edge. The vibrator at her clit helped, but it was his heavy breathing against her neck, the feel of his strong arm around her, the residual pain in both her breasts and ass as well a
s his toying with her nipples, that made her come.
“Alexander, I—” Too late she started to obey his command. Her left hand curled into a fist in his hair, and it felt good to hold onto a piece of him. The orgasm was on her, in her. Filling her and draining her at the same time.
He pressed his face into her neck, rolled her right nipple, and held her as she came in his arms.
Alena was quiet at the peak, her whole body tensed and focused as her pussy clenched rhythmically, trying to squeeze down on a cock that wasn’t there.
When the first crest subsided Alena slumped, releasing his hair, letting the vibrator drop from her trembling fingers.
Alexander was still breathing heavily against her neck, and his cock was twitching against her ass. He returned to rolling and pulling on her nipples, and that was enough to prolong the tail of her orgasm, to have her making soft noises of pleasure and rocking her hips forward and back—ignoring the way it pressed her bruised ass against his hard cock—as he played with her.
With a last shudder, Alena went limp. He kept playing with her nipples, and the contact was almost painful thanks to her post-orgasm sensitivity. She knew better than to protest. Her Master would play with her until he wanted to stop, not until she was done.
He’s not your master.
“You came without permission,” Alexander murmured in her ear. “Time to take you upstairs to be punished.”
Chapter 10
Alena turned the armchair towards the window so she could soak up the sunlight, then took a seat. She remembered why that was a bad idea a second after her ass touched the cushion.
With a hiss she popped up. Damn it, she wasn’t going to be able to sit without discomfort for several days, at least.
With nothing but a wooden spoon he’d inflicted more physical pain than she remembered from a time, early in her exploration of the BDSM scene, that she’d had a sadistick—a gold standard for sadists and masochists alike—used on her ass.
Alexander came up behind her, his hand sliding up her back over her neck, over the collar, and into her hair. “Forget?”
“Maybe I did it on purpose.”
“Accepting you’re a masochist?”
“I never said I wasn’t a bit of a masochist. I said I enjoy the pain as part of the power exchange, not for its own sake.”
