Masterson Unleashed

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  "Will you do this or not?"

  "If I don't do it what are you going to do?"

  "Handle shit without you."

  "All right, all right. It's very possible that he could end up here tonight."

  "Why!?"

  "I told him we were coming here. I thought it would be an easier way for them to see each other again without a lot of drama. You know in a public place."

  My eyes start to immediately scan the room. I'm looking for dickhead or Elizabeth, or God forbid the both of them together.

  After about the longest five minutes of my life, I see a massive mop of dark, curly hair. I would know that head of hair anywhere. It's been threaded through my fingers many fucking nights. I've yanked that hair back as I pounded its owner from behind. I've sniffed that hair, curled it between my fingers, and even brushed it in the mornings.

  I've found her and now that I have, I want her ass more than ever.

  "Duchess." I say to myself almost in relief.

  She whips her head around while the man she's talking to still has his hands wrapped around her hips. I can't believe my fucking eyes.

  It's him.

  "Roman,” Elizabeth says while reaching for my arm. I can tell by the glint in her eyes that she's happy as fuck to see me. It feels almost as good to see that look on her face as it does when she's coming apart for me; but my brain can't compute all these conflicting visuals.

  Elizabeth happy to see me.

  Ethan with his hands on her.

  Elizabeth reaching for me.

  Elizabeth actually talking to this asshole.

  "You've got three fucking seconds to take your hands off her ass, or I swear to motherfucking God that I'll snap that little scrawny swimmer's neck of yours."

  "You should see someone about this unhealthy fixation you have for your cousin."

  WHAT! All of a sudden this dickwad had the nerve to grow some balls?

  I'm about to crack his jaw wide open when Elizabeth walks directly up on me and cradles my face with her hands.

  "I'm sorry, Masterson."

  Fuck she's fighting dirty.

  "I told him to stay the fuck away, Elizabeth."

  "I know you did, but it's just a coincidence that we are both at the same club. It's a smaller world than you think. We were bound to run into each other."

  Is she lying right now or does she really believe that ridiculous shit?

  "Elizabeth, he planned this shit!"

  Doesn't she see that?

  "It doesn't matter."

  "His hands were all over your ass!"

  "My therapist is on speed dial if you want to talk to some one, bro," the little fucker says.

  "Say one more fucking word. Pretty please. I double dare you." I taunt him while clenching my right fist.

  I can tell he wants to tell me to fuck off. Badly. He wants to show off in front of Elizabeth, and stand up to me to prove some meaningless point to her.

  "Ethan," she warns him. "Just go."

  I'm still wound tight like a highly strung guitar chord. Ready to pop at a moment's notice as Ethan walks away from the two of us. His peripheral vision still on me as he moves through the bodies on the dance floor towards the exit. I'm just waiting for one slip up. One sign to let me know that I'm not being totally irrational; that this motherfucker is testing my resolve.

  I get it just when he thinks he's out of Elizabeth's range of sight.

  The little prick winks at me.

  17

  Elizabeth

  Roman has put me on a Masterson-style punishment for the last 24 glorious hours. I told Aunt Juliette that I was staying over Sloan's for a girl's weekend, but instead I am in the Masterson Penthouse Suite getting orgasm bullied room by room by room.

  Yesterday it was his bedroom. Today it's the living room.

  "Strip and go stand in front of that mirror."

  Roman owns a massive floor length, distressed wood framed mirror that he keeps propped up against a wall in his living room. After I take off the last of my clothes, I stand there and stare at myself waiting for his next instruction.

  It doesn't come right away. Instead there is a pocket of tense silence between us. Him staring at me while I stare at myself. And immediately all of my insecurities start to pop up, and I look down and away from the mirror. My hips seem to be growing in width the longer I gawk at myself.

  "Head up,” his heavy voice commands.

  After another very long minute or so, Roman walks up behind me. He's fully clothed and I'm butt naked. His arms snake around my waist and then he takes several fingers and slides them gently between my folds. It's instinctive for me to close my eyes when he does something that feels so delicious, but he wants them open.

  "Open up,” he says. "Open up everything to me Duchess. Your eyes. Your legs. Even this." He taps my chest where my heart is.

  He's staring intently at me while he stands behind me in the mirror.

  "Why do you want me?" I ask.

  It's probably the most raw, the most honest thing I've ever asked him or anyone. Because for the life of me, I don't understand why the hell Roman wants me and all the inevitable baggage that will come from being with me.

  "Look at you."

  His fingers start to rub a little deeper. My breathing starts to become shallow as he uses his other hand to hold me under my left breast. He uses his thumb to gently rub back and forth across my nipple and the mixture of watching what he's doing to me in the mirror and the sensations of how it all feels is about to quickly make me come undone.

  "You're so fucking pretty Duchess. Especially when you look like this. Flushed, sweaty, spread wide and wet for me. Why wouldn't I want you? Why wouldn't any man fight for this?"

  I lean over and support myself with my palms flat on the mirror after that comment. I'm so wet that his fingers are easily slipping and sliding inside of me. Even though I've been with him many times, I'm still a little embarrassed by my body's reaction. How can I be this wet and he isn't even inside me yet? Is this normal?

  "Tell the truth, Duchess. You only get this wet for me right?"

  It's like he's in my head.

  "Yes, Masterson."

  "What do I have to do to get you this wet all the time for me?"

  "Exist,” I mutter.

  I love the heavy rumble of his laugh. It rolls and echoes around the room and inside my belly. I could listen to it all day, everyday.

  "That's all I have to do, baby? Is just exist?"

  "Everything you do makes me wet, Masterson."

  "That's a good answer, Duchess. You're learning. That's why you're so fucking smart. Too smart sometimes. Maybe you think some things over a little too much, analyzing things to death, when you just need to feel."

  "What do you mean?" I pant.

  "Where's your favorite place to sit in my house?"

  "The chaise."

  He stops touching me and orders me to, "Go lie on it."

  Roman goes inside his bedroom and comes back out with a small dark blue duffle bag. He unzips it and pulls out a small plastic package. Inside is a brand new bullet vibrator. I know very well what they look like because I own one. Although this one doesn't have a controller attached. It seems to be wireless. Just a small silver, egg-shaped vibrator. Why am I not surprised that the orgasm bully owns his own toy bag.

  "Raise your arms above your head and clasp them on top of the chaise."

  I do as I'm told. Experience tells me that these scenes a.k.a. punishments are always better for me if I follow instructions and keep my mouth shut. Of course that's not always possible.

  "Spread your legs and keep your feet flat on either side of the chaise. Excellent. Now you know what to do next right?"

  I nod my head in understanding.

  "What comes next, Masterson?" I ask.

  "This is a lesson all about letting go and just feeling shit. So next I'm going to slide this vibrator inside your pussy."

  I gulp for a minute in shock.


  "Then what, Masterson?"

  "Then I'm going to suck on your clit for no less than thirty minutes."

  I clench the entire time he describes what he's going to do me. I could come right the hell now. I'm never going to make it for a half an hour much less five minutes.

  I'm in big frackin' trouble.

  "You remember the rules right?"

  "All my orgasms belong to you."

  "That's right, baby. That means you don't come until I say you do. That's my only rule. If you come without permission, we start all over. Got it?" He grins when he asks me that.

  He knows I'm going to fail. He's counting on it.

  The vibrator is cool and smooth as Roman easily works it inside of my drenched walls. I immediately clamp down on it as it goes in, and I have to take a few deep calming breaths to bring myself down. It's not even buzzing yet, but Roman has me so damn excited that just the sensation of something going inside of me is making my vagina very happy.

  He digs back into his bag and pulls out the part I must have missed– the controller. It looks like the sort of contraption you would see someone use with a remote controlled car, and evidently it works exactly the same. When he turns the knob slightly to the right, I begin to hear a muffled buzzing sound vibrating inside of me.

  My eyes roll inside the back of my head.

  "Eyes on me, Duchess."

  Shit.

  "Okay."

  "Watch me."

  "Okay,” I pant.

  Still fully dressed, Roman faces me and straddles the chaise. Then he bends down and begins to kiss the insides of my thighs. He hasn't even made it to my clit yet, and I'm ready to scream bloody murder.

  "FRACK!" I scream.

  When I do, Roman turns the vibrator up a little faster to further raise the intensity of my orgasm. I scream again, but the words are garbled and incoherent since Roman is sliding his tongue in my mouth to swallow them. When my breathing starts to slow a bit, Roman turns the vibrator all the way off and lifts his head to speak.

  "You fucked up, Duchess."

  I can't respond. I'm too winded and dazed.

  "Maybe you aren't the fast learner that I thought you were. The rules were simple and clear. The test was easy, but you failed. Now we're going to have to try it all over again."

  "I can't–"

  "You can and you will. What's your favorite ice cream flavor?"

  "Chocolate."

  "You're in luck," he grins sinisterly. "I've got some chocolate here. Stay where you are. Don't move."

  Much of Roman's penthouse is really one big large open space, so I can see everything that he's doing in the kitchen from the living room. He's wetting a paper towel with warm water. Then he's scooping some chocolate fudge ice cream in a small white ceramic bowl. And now he's walking back over to me.

  He wipes between my legs with the warm paper towel but keeps the vibrator inside me. Next he feeds me a scoop of chocolate ice cream, then himself, and right afterwards starts sucking on my clit.

  The sensation is amazing because my body is on fire, but his mouth is frigid from eating the ice cream. It feels so erotic yet soothing. As he continues expertly eating me out, he turns the knob of the controller to damn near number eight on the dial and my back immediately arches. Then just as quickly he turns the vibrator down and off and now I'm coming quickly down.

  Over the next fifteen minutes Roman continues eating ice cream, eating me, and turning the vibrator up then down. By the last time he turns it up, I can't hold on any longer, and my orgasm is so powerful that I feel the adrenaline rush to my head like a freight train.

  It renders me frackin' speechless, and I begin to tear up.

  "You know that tears don't move me, Duchess. Not even yours. You fucked up again. So we're going to have to start this shit all over again."

  "What's the lesson I'm suppose to be learning again?" I challenge.

  "That nobody touches what's mine, and you let that asshole Ethan put his hands on my hips and my ass. They belong to me."

  "Right … okay I think I've learned my lesson, Roman."

  "What the fuck did you just say?"

  "I meant Masterson. I've learned my lesson, Masterson."

  "No," he shakes his head. "I don't really think you did."

  Oh. God.

  "This time I want you to get up."

  "Are you going to take this thing out?"

  "Nope."

  I'm moving a little slower than normally, because I've just had two earth shattering orgasms, and I have a vibrator stuck up my hoo hah; but I still manage to stand up. Roman gives me a light peck on the lips and then lies down on the chaise watching me. I'm anxiously awaiting what comes next. So I ask him the required question.

  "What are you going to do next, Masterson?"

  "Well you are going to go in the kitchen and get me a glass of water. I've been working hard eating that pussy. I need a cool drink."

  I clench my eyes shut for a moment and gather my resolve. Fine. He wants water. I'll get it and throw it in his face. He's just being plain ole' mean at this point.

  I take several steps, allowing myself to become adjusted to the foreign object inside of me when I hear and then feel the familiar buzz inside of me again.

  Dammit!

  I stop in my tracks and then so does the vibrator.

  When I start walking again, he turns the vibrator up again.

  He continues this torturous game of starting and stopping his little toy until I reach the island in the kitchen and lean on it for dear life.

  My breathing is very heavy now. My legs quivering.

  I want to come.

  I want him inside of me.

  I want to kill him.

  I wonder what he'll do if I throw this damn fruit bowl at his head.

  I turn my head to glower at him, and I catch Roman staring at me with those smoldering coal eyes. I know that he wants to get inside of me in the worst way, but he thinks he's proving some point by punishing us both with this orgasm bully game of his. I can't wait to get this frackin' glass of water! I swear it's going right in his face.

  After a few deep breaths I continue on my journey to the cabinet for a glass. Then to the water dispenser on his fridge.

  "I want ice,” he calls out in the most cavalier manner.

  I mutter the word jackass under my breath, but not quietly enough, because he hears me and turns the vibrator up on what I think is speed nine or ten.

  My knees start to buckle, so I grab onto the edge of the kitchen sink.

  Then he turns it off.

  "Don't be a smart ass, Duchess. Just get the water and bring it here."

  "Shut up, Masterson!" I yell with tears streaming down my face.

  Even at my expense, the rumble of his laughter warms me from the inside out. I love it. I think I love almost everything about his sadistic ass. That's my damn problem.

  "Come on, baby. Bring me the water,” he says in a soothing tone that I've learned over time not to trust one single bit.

  I fill the tall glass with crushed ice and then water. I fill it only three quarters of the way in case he turns this thing back on, on my way back. That way I won't spill any if I have to suddenly stop. I start walking very slowly back across the living room and surprisingly Roman doesn't turn the vibrator back on. Thank goodness. I think he knows that if he did, I'd come immediately, and I'm pretty sure that defeats the purpose at this point in his little game.

  I know that I said I was going to toss the water in his face, and I seriously considered it for three seconds, but I'm not a moron. I know that there'd be hell to pay if I did that. And not in the sexy, playful Masterson way– but probably in the mean, nasty Roman way.

  "Thanks, Duchess."

  "You're welcome,” I say a little sarcastically.

  He smirks at me while he takes the glass and throws back the entirety of it in two long gulps. Then he gingerly licks a droplet off of his top lip when he's done, and in the moment I start to fantasize jus
t where that tongue really belongs. He's so damn sexy it's criminal.

  Then Roman swings his legs to the side of the chaise and starts to silently undress. First his boots. Which he unlaces and places neatly by the wall very slowly and precisely. Then he pulls his T-shirt off, revealing the body ink I love to trace with my fingertips every time we're together. Next he stands up with his back to me and drops his pants to the floor in one smooth move. When he turns around I can't help but be immediately drawn to the large erection bulging through his black boxers.

  We lock eyes and in that moment, he slides his boxers to the floor and steps out of them. Then he lies back down on the chaise with his arms bent and hands clasped behind his head.

  "Come sit on my face, Duchess."

  I'm hesitant at first because I'm not sure how steady I can remain straddling Roman across this chair, but he holds onto my hips and ass while I mount up and makes sure I'm stable before he reaches on the side of the chaise and turns the knob of that dreaded controller.

  This time he only turns it to just a slow buzz. Not enough to send me straight to the moon, but just enough to annoy the frack out of me … until it doesn't. It starts to feel really good after a minute or so, and that's when I place my palms flat on the wall above his head to stabilize myself, because I know what's coming next.

  His mouth.

  It doesn't take long for me to explode.

  Roman is precise and thorough when he uses that dirty mouth of his.

  My breathing is quick and labored now. My body is hot and sticky. I see flashes of blinding white light and am probably speaking in tongues as Roman reaches inside me and pulls out the vibrator. He tosses it on the side of the chaise for the time being and quickly rolls on a condom, then lifts me to position me directly above his jutting cock.

  As I slide myself down, the feeling is absolute bliss, and it's in this moment that I know for sure that I'm where I belong.

  So we stay like that for the next twelve hours.

  18

  Elizabeth

  When I return back home from Roman's for the weekend, I feel like a teenaged girl who's covering up a hicky from their parents and can't look them straight in the eyes.