by His Slave
“That’s what I thought. Maybe it’s the same between you and this captor you conjured up. Because you’re the one who ultimately controls how things play out in your sex fantasies, you decide how much and what kind of things are done to you. As an example, instead of wasting time on the long, hard walk to his camp, you’ve jumped things ahead. Now that you’re there, what do you see?”
“You want—”
“An intimate look into your mind, yes. What is it, Cheyenne? Your imagination needs a jump start? This should help.”
He tapped the end of the plug. Jolt after jolt rocked her, forced her forward. Her breasts scraped his jeans. Hating the gag, she tried to gnaw on it. When that failed, she pressed her side against his cock.
“No, you don’t!” Dragging her closer to his knees, he planted a hand on her spine and held her in place. “You might be able to pull your captor’s strings, but that doesn’t work with me.”
“Fuck you!”
“Hold that thought.”
As the pressure on the plug continued, he reached under her, stroked her clit.
“Oh, shit! Oh, my—shit!”
“Unnerving? Now pay attention, because I’m not going to repeat my performance. And for your information, my thumb is all that’s keeping this not so little toy in you.”
She was ready. Anticipating. In control. At least that’s what she told herself. Then the plug drummed inside her, and his all-knowing fingers captured her nub. Screaming, she wrenched to the side and would have rolled off his knees if he hadn’t hauled her back into place.
“Not gonna get away that easy, my pet.”
More jolting deep inside sent her heart to hammering. The pressure caused by the plug wasn’t as intense as earlier, not that it mattered. He rolled her clit about.
“Oh, my God! I’m going to come!”
“It is what you want?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why not?”
I’m afraid. It’s all too much. “Stop asking your damn stupid questions!” Her throat felt raw, and even with need crawling over her skin, she knew she’d given away too much. Dreaming up submissive scenarios was one thing, reality quite another.
“All right.” The plug stilled. Although he didn’t release her hardened nub, at least he was no longer putting it through hell. “Sounds like it’s time to change a few things. Do you want up?”
“I ... don’t know.”
“Then I’ll make the decision unless you want me to make you come first.”
He could do that, force release? Of course he could. Unnerved, she shook her head. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you! Playing with me. Getting off on control.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m nowhere near getting off.”
Point taken. “What do you mean by changing things?”
“This, in part.”
The strange drawing sensation left no doubt that he was withdrawing the plug. He also left her clit, leaving her confused, relieved, and disappointed. He held the glistening toy in front of her. It was smaller than she’d thought, the deep red overkill.
“Not so intimidating this way, is it?” he observed. “It’s glass, in case you’re interested. Another time we might try a battery-operated one.”
“I, ah, take it you have that among your arsenal.”
“A staple for the well-supplied dom.”
“Something you’ve had a lot of need for?”
“Don’t.”
He was right. Not only wasn’t his past her business, digging into it wasn’t what tonight was supposed to be about. Just the same, the realization of how little she knew about him tamped her arousal down a little.
When he pushed her up and off him, still on her knees, she studied his features. His dark eyes belonged on a man accustomed to keeping certain doors closed. And if he kept countless secrets, she’d do the same. At least she’d try.
“What’s with the jeans?” she asked to have something to say. “They can’t be comfortable given the state of your cock. Why don’t you get out of them?”
“Because this is about you. Now—”
“Is it ever going to be about you?”
His jaw clenched, he turned his attention to the plug. If she said or did the wrong thing, she’d lose him. If she was ever going to get anything out of him, she’d have to choose her words carefully, not easy for someone on her knees with her hands cuffed behind her, and her dress now hung up on her hips.
“We’re going back inside your mind.” Dropping the plug on the floor, he reached for the dresser drawer and pulled out a strip of black fabric. “Locking you into what turns you on.”
She flinched both at the sight of the blindfold and what he’d said, then forced herself to settle back so her ass rested on her heels. Her buttocks still felt abraded from the spanking, a glorious and erotic sensation. If she played according to his rules tonight, if she earned his respect, would he eventually open up to her?
And what would she do with the knowledge?
Then he slid the velvet over her eyes and everything went away. Steady pressure left her with no doubt that he’d tied the blindfold in place. Robbed of a vital sense, she cocked her head, hoping to hear him. For a while there was nothing beyond her heartbeat and less than steady breathing, and sounds that led her to conclude that he was rummaging in his drawer of tricks. When he slid his finger under her neckline, she clenched her teeth. Sweat slickened her armpits.
A new sound set her to trembling. Only when warm air slid over her breasts did she fully comprehend that he was taking scissors to her muumuu.
“Who said you could do that?” she demanded. “Do you have any idea how much that cost?”
“You’re my possession. I can do anything I want to you and your belongings.” A ripping sound accompanied by air cooling her belly punctuated his words. “There. Better. Now, slave, take me back into your fantasy. Your captor has taken you to his camp. He intends to turn you into a well-trained and valuable sex slave, so how is he going to make that happen?”
14
If she told Mace that picking up the threads of her fantasy was the last thing on her mind, he’d only press her, either that or spin out his own images. In this one thing, maybe, she’d be in charge.
“He, ah, he begins by informing me that I must be broken down so he can rebuild me as he sees fit.”
“Do you know his name?”
“I’m to call him Master. Nothing else matters.”
“How does he break you down?”
Concentrate! You know how this goes. “By flogging me.”
“Flogging.” Mace rested his hands on her breasts, pushing them down. “What does he use?”
She couldn’t think after all, didn’t give a damn what happened to the woman in her dreams.
“Don’t you know?”
“You’re ... touching me.”
“As is my right and responsibility.” The pressure increased a little. “You have beautiful breasts, Cheyenne. The areolas are dark, the nipples even more like a deep tan. The men in your life must love sucking them. Is that something you’d like me to do?”
The question swam through what remained of her mind. The truth was, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted more, but would she survive? “I don’t know.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It’s the truth, damn it.”
“If it is, I don’t think you’d want to admit it.”
Running his hands under her breasts, he gently lifted them. “You’re not going to tell me this isn’t pleasurable, are you?”
Her sagged to the side. “Why ask? You know the answer.”
“I can surmise and read your body language, but I want you to tell me the truth. Back to your captor, although we really should call him your master now. Does he show you what he’s going to whip you with? Maybe he blindfolds you first?”
Was Mace going to take a flogger to her, maybe a switch? She couldn’t force the question past her dry throat.
“Need help tapping into your imagination? All right, here’s how things start. He ties you to a tree with your arms over your head so you’re on your toes. In addition to the rags he stuffed in your mouth, he’s knotted a blindfold in place. Next comes a rope that secures your hobbles to a nearby bush. You can’t move more than a few inches in any direction. It doesn’t matter that you can’t see it, you know what your naked body looks like. What about your breasts, Cheyenne? Are they swollen and sensitive?”
Working a little moisture into her mouth, she muttered, “Yes.”
“Of course they are, because this is what you’ve been wanting for. Only now you aren’t sure which is stronger, anticipation or fear. What about now? Between you and me? Are you looking forward to what I might do?”
Half of her remained tied to the tree Mace had told her about, while the rest was on her knees with his hands claiming her breasts and her pussy soft and ready.
“I don’t want to be flogged,” she whispered.
“Hmm.” Increasing his hold on her breasts, he massaged them. “Maybe you aren’t as much of a submissive as you wish you were. You don’t see anything erotic about pain?”
“This doesn’t hurt, not really.”
“What about when I spanked you?”
Laughing, she shook her head.
“Felt good, then?”
“Yes.”
“As I intended. Back to the pleasure—pain thing. How much have you explored?”
“Not much.”
“Do you want to?”
Knowing this was what he’d been leading up to didn’t help. Even as her breasts throbbed and tingled, her throat again dried. “I don’t know.”
“I do.”
His words like hammer blows, she flinched.
“But I don’t expect you to take my word for it. Example time.” He fingered her nipples, dry skin grating against dry. “For the true submissive, pain brings pleasure. Perhaps their nerve endings don’t process the difference. As a result, the message reaching the brain is a confused one. Some people can climax from pain alone. Do you think you might be one of them?”
“What ... are you going to do?”
“This.” Vice-like pressure closed around her nipples only to end almost before she realized he’d pinched them. “What did you feel?”
“Surprise.” Her knees were starting to ache and her world had closed in on her, blackness embracing her.
“Was it a turn-on?”
“It happened so fast I can’t answer.”
“Besides, you’re used to me handling your breasts.”
“If you say so.”
He chuckled. “Got it. However, that doesn’t get us any closer to learning what we both need to. A reminder, there’s a return visit to Indulgences on our schedules and toward that end ...”
As the silence dragged on, she realized he had no intention of finishing. Her overactive nervous system told her he’d pulled back. Alone, she tried to visualize what he was doing. Then he pushed her ruined gown off her shoulders and down her arms until the cuffs stopped him.
“I’m not going to flog you tonight,” he said. “Maybe another time, but not now.”
“What—”
“Silence! Put yourself back in that captive’s place. Surround yourself with trees and bushes. There’s a hawk flying overhead. A coyote watches from behind a boulder as your master reaches for this.”
Something hard clamped onto her left nipple. Shuddering, she tried to pull free only to have the grip tighten. Tears stung and her toes curled. “What—”
“Silence.” He slapped her free breast. “And hold still. Experience.”
Mesmerized and afraid, she froze. At first the only thing she could think was that Rio was biting her, but that couldn’t be.
“That’s better,” Mace said. “You’re shaking, but you aren’t trying to get loose. That’s the kind of thing a master requires, obedience in spite of fear.”
And pain. What about that?
“Ready?”
Before she could ask what for, another set of teeth closed around her right nipple. Careful not to test her strength against whatever had ahold of her, she breathed through flared nostrils. Something hot ground into her sex.
Whatever had hold of her nipples appeared to be made of steel with blunt-edged teeth ensuring she couldn’t dislodge them on her own. Although the stinging sensation held her attention, she no longer felt as if the top of her head might explode. Calming herself with an effort, she acknowledged that Mace had fastened nipple clamps on her.
“I tried them,” he explained, “so I have some idea what you’re feeling. But a woman’s breasts have much more to grip. These are called Japanese clover clamps complete with a chain. Ever put them on yourself or have anyone else do it?”
She shook her head.
“But you’ve seen them. They’re at all the BDSM sites.”
“I’ve ... seen. They hurt.”
“Do they?”
Suddenly her right nipple vibrated. She’d seen both silver and gold clover clamps and knew how big they were, how they adorned a woman’s breasts like hardware, how easy to manipulate.
“Pay attention.” He sent the other clamp to vibrating. “What beyond discomfort?”
Her breasts were on fire. How did he expect her to concentrate on anything else? Desperate to escape, she sucked in her breath only to exhale it as something drew her breasts down.
“I let go of the chain,” he explained. “You’re feeling its weight. My preference is silver. I love the contrast between pale flesh and something man-made. When a woman can’t use her hands, they become part of her until her master decides otherwise. Of course, you could beg me to remove them. Is that what you want?”
“Beg?” The word had a bitter taste. “No.”
“Ah, pride. Concentrate. What am I doing now?”
Something was drawing her nipples away from her body. Holding her breath and trying to lean forward did nothing to lessen the sensation.
“Mace, please!”
He slapped her cheek. “Call me Master.”
“Master, all right, Master.” Hating her pleading tone, she struggled to accept the inescapable. Maybe her nipples were becoming numb because she no longer defined the sensation as discomfort.
“That’s better. I repeat, tell me what you believe I’m doing.”
Think, damn it. Don’t make him angry. Even as the warning wrapped itself around her, she realized she wanted him to possess her. Forcing herself to think of nothing except him, she went in search of the answer.
“You have hold of the chain. Every time I move, the chain tightens.”
“You’re getting there.” Keeping the tension on her breasts constant, he patted her cheek. “Think about this. You’re naked and helpless. You can’t see what I’m doing. My attention is on your breasts. I love the way I’ve altered them. There’s nothing natural about the shape and certainly nothing natural about what’s hanging from them. And yet the clamps are works of art, a combination of the practical and erotic.”
Her mind hung up on the last thing he’d said. He must have released the chain because she felt it sliding over her flesh. Moving carefully, she leaned back. The sliding increased.
“Next to clamping a woman’s clit, there’s no more failsafe way of controlling her. Everything her breasts feel is echoed in her sex.”
He was right. It was as if her breasts and pussy were connected. “What do you want me to say?” Holding her head up was becoming harder and what did it matter? She couldn’t see.
“Whatever you need to.” The weighted sensation faded, leaving her to guess he’d again palmed the chain. “Right now my intention is to demonstrate the union between pain and pleasure.”
Lowering her head, she pressed her legs together. Flashes of sexual energy attacked her pussy.
“I still don’t want to be whipped. Maybe the day will come when—no, I don’t care. I want this.” She hunched her shoulders. “Not
daring to move. No choice but to wait for you. Feeling things that—”
Something pressed against her knees, jolting her thighs, belly, and then breasts. It had to be his knees but what—
Oh shit! His hand between her legs, sliding over her thighs and testing her resolve. Shivering, she willed herself to remain still. Masculine fingers marched upward, inward, slow and steady. Whimpering, she strained to see.
“You don’t want to fight me, slave. You know not to try, and yet your body needs to protect itself.”
Closer to her sex, the anticipation lasting forever.
“Don’t move, understand.” He slapped the top of one breast and then the other, making her whimper.
“This lesson is about self-control, slave. If you don’t demonstrate restraint, I’ll sell you.”
“I’m sorry, sorry.”
“Apologies mean nothing to me.” Two more light slaps to her breasts punctuated his comment. “And if you think I’ll regret what I’m putting you through, you’re mistaken.”
Something in his tone cut through the morass of her mind. “Do you ever wish you hadn’t done something?”
He’d gripped her chin before, but that time she’d been able to study his expression. Now darkness awaited her, that and the lengthening silence between them. “Life’s a never-ending succession of decisions, slave. Not all are right.”
“Then—”
“But I have no doubts about what I’m doing now.” His breath washed her cheeks. Anticipating while not knowing what she was waiting for wrenched her focus from her waiting sex. Then his lips settled over hers and became everything. Mace was kissing her, pressing his mouth against hers anyway. She tried to open her mouth only to have him lightly bite down on her lower lip. Seconds later, he let her go but continued to hold her chin.
“What’s going on behind that blindfold?” he asked. “Are your eyes pleading for me to stop? Perhaps, but I don’t think so.” With his thumb and little finger pressing against her thighs, she inched her legs apart.
“What are ... please tell me what you’re going to do.”
“Quiet. Patience. Trust.”
“Trust?” The blindfold had locked her in a small, darkened cave. She could listen and speak, nothing more.
“Trusting me is what brought you here, Cheyenne. Now that you are, you’re learning whether that trust was warranted or misguided. You could fight, you know. Throw yourself at me, aim your head at my chin. Maybe you’ll knock me out, but then what?”