by Lila Dubois
She tossed her head so all her hair fell over the right side of her face, then arched her back down so her ass rose another inch.
Goddamn it, this woman was perfect. She was so damned perfect and so fucking bad for him.
Solomon circled her, looking over each lovely inch of skin. It was an exercise in control, pushing himself to hold out another few moments before he put his hands on her.
Because once he started spanking her, there would be no turning back. He wouldn’t be able to pull away until he’d sunk deep into her pretty pussy.
He watched her breathing, took note of the tension in the muscles of her thighs and back. “Knees closer together,” he ordered.
There were some subs who needed to be told what to do every moment of the scene. There were some subs who knew what to do and did it, making their own adjustments.
And then there were subs like Vivienne, who was a mix of both. She’d hold a position to the point of cramping if she thought it would please him, or if that position made her feel particularly submissive, but she’d also take a moment during transition times to stretch or adjust without needing to be ordered to.
He had no doubt that she would hold that wide-spread kneeling position for the duration of the spanking.
And the reason he knew all that about her was that he’d loved and fucked this women for five long years.
Goddamn it. Now he was back to thinking about the past.
Solomon shoved his hands through his hair, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. He needed to stay in the moment. Once he was centered, and as calm as a man with a raging hard-on could be, he knelt beside her.
Vivienne’s breath caught as he laid his right hand on the small of her back. He’d taken his time cropping her, but hadn’t used enough force to do more than sensitize her skin. Her ass was smooth and creamy pale, with a very faint tan line that hinted at time spent in the sun while wearing a very small bikini.
Bikini. Beach. His beach. Vivienne on his beach. In his house. In his dungeon.
Solomon ground his teeth. He slid his hand over one plump ass cheek and squeezed, the motion centering his concentration on the spanking he was about to administer.
She moaned and pressed back against his hand.
Solomon’s jaw relaxed. “This isn’t going to be a gentle spanking.”
“I don’t want it to be, Sir.”
He wanted to hear her call him “master” and mean it.
“I’m going to spank you, because you need it.” He slid his hand over to the other ass cheek. He’d raided the stash of toys in the locker rooms. There were several anal plugs in his bag. He could change the plan, draw this out even more.
“Yes, Master Carter.”
In BDSM, or at least this club, using master as an honorific before someone’s name was merely a sign of respect. Tops referred to one another as “Master So-and-so” and submissives used that, or a simple “Sir” or “Ma’am” to address Doms and Dommes.
Saying the word master on its own was something different—that meant the person they were addressing was their master.
Hearing her call him ‘Master Carter’ wasn’t quite “master,” but it was better than ‘Sir.’ It was enough to make him feel a little calmer than he had a moment before.
“And do you…do you need to spank me, Sir?” she asked quietly.
He slid his hand down her thigh and bent, placing gentle, wet, open-mouth kisses all over her upturned ass. He could smell her arousal, could see—even in the lowered light of the ballroom—how her pussy lips glistened.
She made a soft sound, somewhere between a sigh and a moan, as he kissed her.
Solomon lifted his head. “I need to spank you, because I know you need it. I know you’ll enjoy it.”
“You…only want to spank me because I like being spanked?” There was a thread of worry in her voice.
He laid his palm over the center of her butt, then started to rub in a circle. “You know the answer to that. I want to spank you because it’s taboo. Because it means I’m in total control of you. Your pleasure. Your pain. I want to spank you because I want your ass hot and hurting when I fuck you.”
Solomon lifted his hand and brought his palm down on her right cheek. The crack of flesh on flesh was loud, seeming to echo off the roof high above.
Vivienne yelped, rocking forward away from his hand, her toes curling.
Solomon smiled and raised his hand again, bringing his palm down on the center of the other cheek.
She yelped and wiggled with each blow, and he didn’t order her to stay still. He didn’t want her to. He wanted to see her reaction, to know that he was giving her enough pain to light up her nerves.
After ten hard spanks, his palm was starting to hurt and her ass was flushed a nice pink. He shook out his spanking hand, keeping the other on the small of her back.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Green,” she breathed.
Solomon raised his hand and brought it down on a hard blow to her right cheek. Vivienne shrieked and leaned forward on her elbows, away from the spanking.
Oh no, she was going to take everything he could give her.
Solomon lifted his hand from her lower back, reached out, and grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back.
Vivienne gasped and then her whole body seemed to relax. Solomon spanked her again, hard enough to leave a distinct handprint. This time she didn’t cry out, didn’t try to get away, and it wasn’t just because his hold on her hair prevented her from moving.
Something inside Solomon released. The rest of the world faded away. That’s what they’d needed. The scene clicked into place for both of them. They were in perfect sync.
He peppered rapid spanks all over her ass and upper thighs. Vivienne responded to each blow with a sigh or moan. Soon she started to move, little forward and backward shifts of her weight that mimicked how she’d thrust back on his cock when he was fucking her.
He could have stopped then, but she wasn’t ready yet. He knew what she needed, what they both needed.
He tightened his hand in her hair, twisting his fist until she whimpered. He could see the side of her face. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open, tongue darting out occasionally to touch her lower lip.
Solomon rubbed his stinging palm against the outside of his thigh, then raised his arm and let fly, his palm coming down on her sensitive— and already well spanked—sit spot.
Vivienne sucked in air and seemed to freeze. He waited, watching her.
Her lips trembled, and then she let out a soft sob.
Satisfaction rolled through him. “That’s right, baby, let go.”
Vivienne drew in a shuddering breath, even as she pressed back, lowering her shoulders as much as his hold on her hair would allow and raising her ass, asking without words for more. For him to keep going.
Solomon spanked her hard. He watched her pretty pussy pulse in the aftermath of the blow, and her hips rocked back even as she let out another soft sob.
“Where are you?” he asked, though he knew the answer.
“Please, please, please,” she mumbled in French.
“Color,” he demanded.
“Green.” A sob, then a moan. “I need you. I can’t find peace without you.”
Solomon released her hair and yanked open the button of his pants. His hands were shaking so hard it took him a moment to get the condom on.
Vivienne looked back over her shoulder at him. Her eyes were bright with tears, her face flushed. “Will you fuck me now, Master Carter?”
“I’ll fuck you when I want to,” he growled back.
She let out a happy sigh. That’s what she’d needed, a reminder of who was in control.
He bent and gently bit her literally hot ass, before saying, “And I want to fuck you now.”
She made a mewling noise. “I need you.”
Solomon shifted, positioning his knees between her spread calves. He grabbed her hips and lined his cock up w
ith her sweet pussy. He hadn’t gotten his fingers or mouth on her lovely sex, but there would be time for that later.
Because in that moment when the head of his cock nudged her hot pussy, Solomon knew one thing.
No other sub would measure up to Vivienne, and when the Paris event was over, he wasn’t going to let her go.
He adjusted his hold on her hips, thumbs on her ass so he could press against the abused flesh. “Who do you belong to?” he growled.
There was a slight pause before she sobbed out, “You, Master.”
Not Master Carter. Not Sir. Master.
Solomon thrust into her hot, tight pussy. He closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling of finally being inside her, after so long being away. He held her still, her well-spanked ass against his hips and pelvis. She sighed, and it was a sound of relief.
Oh fuck no, he wasn’t going to let her go.
He wasn’t going to date her, or fall in love with her. That way lay godforsaken madness, but what they had as a D/s couple was too special to walk away from.
Solomon withdrew. He looked down, watching as he slowly pressed back into her. He watched the plump, glistening lips of her pussy spread as he entered. Watched her sex hugging his shaft as he slid deep into her once more.
They’d figure it out—get a contract in place, and see each other every month. That would be enough. With most of his blood in his cock, this made perfect sense.
Solomon’s back was damp with sweat, and his thighs trembled with the need to move, to fuck her hard and fast. He wouldn’t last once he started.
So he wouldn’t start until he knew he’d given, and taken, everything from her.
Solomon leaned over to reach under and up, between her legs. He found her clit. The bud was large and slick. The moment he touched her there, her pussy clenched around his cock and she hissed out a breath.
He rubbed her clit with two fingers, one along each side. He was hunched over her, feeling more like a savage beast mounting his mate than ever. His lips grazed her back, and he nipped the skin over her shoulder blade.
He rubbed her clit again.
Vivienne’s hips rocked back, though with his cock embedded in her and his body bent over hers, she couldn’t move far. “I’m close, Master.”
He reached out with his free hand, grabbed her hair once more, yanking her head back.
Vivienne gasped, then moaned, her pussy clenching around him.
“You come when I give you permission, not before.”
“Yes, Master.”
He rubbed her clit faster, listening to her breathing. His back and thigh muscles were starting to tremble, but he’d be damned if muscle cramps would stop him from playing with her clit.
The trick was to know she was about to come before she did. “You’re going to come when I tell you to.”
“Yes, I want that. I want that, Master.”
“Because you’re mine.”
Vivienne shivered. He saw the tremble work its way down her back.
“Come for me.” He rubbed and circled her clit, a steady, relentless rhythm. “Now.”
Vivienne ground her hips back against him, her pussy muscles squeezing his cock. Her scream of pleasure was jerky, interspersed with moans and whimpers.
Damn, he’d missed that sound.
A swell of hot arousal, based not only on the physical sensation of her coming on his cock and the sound of her orgasm, but the satisfaction of her obeying his command, coming when ordered, pushed him to loosen the reins of his self-control.
Solomon released her hair and slid his hand from her pussy. Straightening, he once more grabbed her hips, thumbs digging into her ass. Now it was his turn.
He held her still as he jackhammered into her tight pussy, giving in to the need to fuck her hard and fast.
“Oh yes, yes, fuck me, use me,” she panted.
Solomon’s eyes slid closed and he focused on the feel of his cock inside her, listening to her sweet, dirty pleas.
“I need you. I need this. Please, fuck me, Master.”
Solomon came, his jaw clenched as the orgasm tore through him, so intense that it was almost a physical pain.
He held her hips tight against him as his cock pulsed. Vivienne made a happy sound, and then with the next breath let out a little sob.
Solomon sank back, ass on his heels. He kept hold of her hips as he moved, pulling her back so his cock was still inside her.
Solomon slid one arm around her hips, anchoring her in place on his lap. He hooked his other arm under her chest and raised her upper body until her back was against his chest. She had her arms covering her breasts, hands under her chin, and was breathing jerkily.
“Shh,” he murmured. “Just let go, baby.”
Her response was to turn her face toward his. With her perched on his thighs, her head was slightly higher than his, and her cheek rubbed against his forehead.
Solomon grabbed her arms, lifting them up and then hooking her hands behind his head, forcing her to stop hiding her breasts.
“Master, I’m too—”
“No,” he admonished her. He cupped one breast, squeezing gently before grasping the nipple with forefinger and thumb.
“I know you’re sensitive.” He spoke softly, but the tone was firm. “But just because you came doesn’t mean you get to hide your breasts or pussy from me, does it?”
“No, Master.”
He pinched her nipple, twisting until she cried out. “Soon I’m going to wrap you up in a blanket and take care of you, but right now I know you need more.” This was what it meant to truly top a powerful woman—pushing her to find the deepest kind of emotional and physical release. “I’m going to keep touching you. Pleasing you. Hurting you. Because that’s what I know you need.”
He trailed his palm down her belly to her spread legs. He explored the slick folds of her pussy, rubbed the skin that was stretched tight around his slowly softening cock.
Then he lifted his hand and spanked her pussy with three fingers, striking the top of her sex—her plump mons and clit.
Vivienne’s arms tensed, and he could feel the metal of the thumb cuff digging into the back of his head. Her mouth was open, but she wasn’t breathing. Instead she was tensed and arched.
He spanked her again, and again. He’d given her pain and pleasure. She’d found a small release, but he wasn’t satisfied with that. He knew what this woman looked like when she really let go. By her own admission she’d come to the club looking for peace.
The path to peace was forged in heat and pain.
Smack, smack, smack.
He spanked her pussy hard, holding his fingers against her wet flesh for a moment with each strike. Vivienne sobbed once, then held her breath again.
Smack, smack, smack.
She jerked, body twisting, but she couldn’t escape his hold. She was braced on and restrained against his body, meaning he felt every twitch and shiver.
Smack, smack, smack.
He shifted the arm across her hips, sliding that hand up to her other breast. He grabbed it tight, kneading the flesh.
Smack. A bit harder this time.
“Oh, mon dieu, oui s'il vous plaît.” The words were frantic, but she was using the formal tense. She was still in subspace.
“How do you address me?” he whispered in her ear.
“Master,” she sobbed. “Master. Please. Donne moi une petite mort.”
He cruelly twisted her nipple at the same time he slapped her pussy.
Vivienne screamed. Not a shriek of pleasure, but a real scream that came from low in her chest. Her body arched up, away from him, his cock sliding from her pussy, but he didn’t hold her back. This was her release—a primal scream, a tensing of every muscle in her body. She’d earned this release with her submission, with her pleasure and pain.
Solomon exhaled in satisfaction as he felt and heard her release.
The echoes of the scream were only beginning to fade as she collapsed back against him.
> “That was beautiful. You’re beautiful, baby.” He murmured sweet words of encouragement as she started to cry silently. He lifted her arms from behind his head and quickly released the little cuffs. There were red marks on her thumbs, but he would soothe those away soon.
He eased her down to lay on her side on the mat, then reached out one long arm to grab his makeshift kit. He pulled out a small, thick blanket, which he draped over her, tucking it in so she’d feel secure.
Vivienne cuddled into the blanket, crying gently, but with a faint smile on her face. His own lips quirked in a satisfied grin.
He quickly got rid of the condom, and scanned for a place to take her for a bit of aftercare. It was only then that he noticed the crowd that had gathered around them. Most were dispersing. How many people had been watching at the height of the scene? He hadn’t noticed, and didn’t care. He’d found that perfect headspace where he was wholly focused on something—her.
Some people found it with exercise, meditation. He’d tried both, and they offered only a pale imitation of the clarity and satisfaction he’d found as a Dom. But even that was nothing compared to how he felt when he was her Dom.
Pants fastened, he scooped up Vivienne and carried her to a leather ottoman, which he nudged up against the wall so he’d have something to lean back against. He sat, with her cradled on his lap. The wall was cool against his hot shoulders and back.
Vivienne cuddled deeper against him, tucking her head against his neck and shoulder.
Solomon closed his eyes, and for the first time in longer than he’d admit, felt totally calm and at peace.
It was well into the afternoon by the time the black car pulled up outside her apartment building. She’d spent all night and all morning with Solomon, finally returning home with plans to rest, soak in the tub, and mentally prepare for tonight.
This morning had been peaceful and languid, in stark contrast to yesterday’s hangover-induced détente in Solomon’s hotel room. The reason the morning had been so wonderful was not only his company, but the catharsis he’d given her in the darkest hours of night.
The scene had been everything she could have asked for, and more, because she’d been submitting to Solomon. The first man to ever top her. The only man whose collar she’d ever worn. The only man she’d ever called her Master.
