by Zoey Marcel
Kayla's teeth gleamed white as her pretty giggle filled his heart with joy.
“He was really protective.” Her merriment waned to a sad, far-off gaze. “I miss him.”
“I know. Damned idiot I am for bringing him up.” Keith rolled his eyes. Would he never stop being an idiot? He didn't want to hurt this precious woman ever.
“You're not an idiot. I'm glad you brought him up. I don't want to bury him in the past and pretend he never existed. I want to honor his memory and cherish the time I had with him.”
He exhaled in relief and patted the bench. “You don't have to kneel on the ground, you know. There's a perfectly good bench right here just singing for your hot ass.”
“Thanks, but I think my hot ass needs a break from sitting for a while.” She frowned. “If my butt looks big it's only because your uncle gave me these thick sheets that are like cotton balls only in a different shape. I taped them to the inside of my underwear to keep the material from rubbing against my sore butt, so if my can resembles a queen ant's booty, it's not my fault.”
He laughed. “I really hadn't even noticed.”
Her expression turned serious again, silently beseeching him with her submissive eyes. “Please. Own me.”
He fought everything within him to resist her when she looked at him like that. “Women like you ought to be illegal. You break every thread of control I have.” He rolled his eyes. “That probably wasn't a very Domly thing to admit to.”
“It was honest. I appreciate that. Now master me, cowboy.”
His cock sprang to attention in his pants, making him groan with satisfaction when she fondled his length through his jeans.
“I'll deep-throat you if you make me your slave,” she whispered heatedly.
He put his hand on her wrist, curtailing any momentum of her stroking fingers. “Don't try to bargain with me like that. If deep-throating is a hard limit for you, then don't sacrifice your sanity to try to win me over.”
“It's not a hard limit for me, Keith. I know I can do it if I have the kind of Master/slave bond with you that I do with Hugh. I practiced with Hugh a few times and almost got it all the way down once. My only other experience with it was when Slade tried to shove his cock down there, but he never made it in all the way because I kept gagging and bit him.”
Keith snorted. “Well, that's not a convincing argument, sub. 'I bit the last guy who tried it. Now stick your cock down my throat.'”
She laughed, and he chuckled, heart swelling with emotion as he watched her. “No, no. It'll be different with you. I swear.”
“Right.”
“Have you ever been deep-throated before?”
“I tried it once, but the girl kept gagging, so I stopped. Most people have no experience with it in my opinion. The girl I tried it with had experience, but she said I was too long. It's not a big deal, although I kind of envy Jake. He's small enough to fit his entire cock into your mouth. I always wondered what that would feel like to be completely immersed in your soft, wet throat and mouth.”
Her eyes heated with lust as she undid his fly. “I want to give you that. I don't care if you don't agree to a power exchange when I'm done. I'll just cry about it later.”
Her words stabbed him in the chest. “Baby, that's really depressing. Please don't cry.”
“I wouldn't if I had a Master Keith to comfort me.”
His eyes narrowed on her in pretend accusation. “You know exactly what you're doing, don't you, woman?”
“Not with this. You'll have to talk me through it and be patient with me. I'm smart, though, and I'm a fast learner.”
He grinned and stood so she could push his jeans and boxers down. “You're not applying for a job, Kayla.”
She smiled seductively and ran the head of his cock between her fingers. “I also play well with others, and I'm good at following orders.”
He growled deep in his chest and tilted her head up with one hand while fisting his dick by the root with the other. “I like the sound of that.”
She covered his stiff cock with kisses, whispering his name and tender endearments all over his hot, pulsing flesh.
Keith went breathless, absorbing each sensation as she used different parts of her mouth on his glans and shaft. He force-fed her his erection when he couldn't take it anymore. She laved and suckled his penis with the enthusiasm of a deeply devoted lover, making the act look more like worship than a quick blow job.
He slowly worked his cock toward the back of her throat, backing off whenever she gagged. He inched his pounding dick gradually toward her throat, feeling her uvula tickle the tip.
“Just breathe, baby. Now let it out. Good girl, Kayla. My good, sweet sl—sub.”
Slave felt natural; sub sounded forced between them. She let him do this to her, though he'd promised her no power exchange in return. She faced her fear ... for him. He should give her something in return. He'd go down on her after this. She'd like that, though deep down he knew she needed more from him. He needed more from her.
He massaged her scalp, steadily feeding her his erection. His appendage slid with ease down her hot, slippery throat. She positioned herself appropriately so her throat opened more, taking his dick down her esophagus until his balls touched her lips.
She did it. His sweet, delicate little bird had his cock all the way in her mouth and down her throat. His erection basked in the unmatched glory of her slick, silky flesh encasing him in unbelievable heat.
He murmured praises to her, resting in the humid depths of her throat. She couldn't breathe right now. His shaft ensured she must forsake the luxury of breathing to focus solely on holding her Master's cock for safekeeping. Only when he eased carefully from her throat and mouth was she able to take air into her lungs. Her eyes watered profusely, and she coughed, taking in deep breaths. Her grateful smile at his praise moved him.
“One more time and that's all for tonight. I don't want to overdo it on your first time.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Sir? No. Master. She'd called him that before, and it had sounded so perfect and right. He'd called her slave by accident a few times, and it had felt as natural to him as breathing. Why fight the inevitable? Some part of him already knew somewhere in the back of his mind that they would end up in a power exchange relationship together. He wasn't perfect. Never would be, but could he forgive himself for his mistakes?
Kayla adored him, worshiped him. What the hell for? What single good deed did he ever do to win the love of this amazing woman?
She took him back in her throat, holding him there, choking slightly when he started to move.
“Shh. It's okay, baby. Squeeze my hand if you want me to stop.”
She didn't squeeze his hand.
“Good girl. That's it. Keep swallowing. I'll go easy on you. Just three little thrusts and I'll pull out.”
He advanced down her throat with three glorious thrusts before backing off. His brave little Kayla took them with a grace that touched his soul. As promised, he pulled out of her throat and fucked her mouth until he flooded her with his powerful release. His baby swallowed his load and sipped the residual cum from his slit, even licking the length of his penis clean.
His unstable legs wanted his ass to plant itself back on that bench for relief, but his wayward mouth had other ideas. Once she pulled his jeans and underwear back up and closed his fly, he yanked Kayla to her feet and then laid her down on the bench. The elated gasp he startled from her upon impact was a major turn-on.
He had her shorts and panties pulled off in a heartbeat and his face buried between her legs. She cried out in unrestrained bliss, pushing into his hungry mouth and mewling softly like a tiny sex kitten.
“Please. Keith, please. You're my Master.” She panted and whimpered as he tongued her juicy clit harder and faster.
He glanced up, heart clenching when he recognized the distorted pain on her face. Her expression contorted with pleasure as equally as it did a desperate ache from within.
She was in tears.
“You know you're my Master. Please. I need you ... so bad it hurts. My heart hurts when you hate yourself.” She tensed, shaking with pre-orgasmic flutters as her ecstatic moans turned to pleading sobs of distress. “I love you so much it hurts. You were my first kiss. Oh God, that feels so good. You were the first one I got a tattoo for.”
He slowed his tempo, smiling a little at her frustrated whine. “You never did tell me what the other tattoos stand for.”
“The dragon was for Master Hugh. The flower was for Virgil, since he got me that kind on my birthday when we were in California. Oh, Keith, my pussy aches so bad. Please let me come.”
“Keep talking, sub.”
She groaned. “The Marilyn Monroe tattoo I got because I've always admired her. She had some great quotes, and she was so classy and sexy.”
“Like you.” He pressed a kiss onto her moist pussy.
“Oh my God!”
Keith snickered. “Calm down, baby. People are gonna think I'm torturing you.”
“You are. Oh God, you are. Let me come, you magnificent bastard.”
He chuckled, enjoying her strangled outcry when he swatted her cunt. “Bad girl, insulting your Dom. Now tell me what the word on your collarbone means.”
“It's Latin for His. I got it for Travis because he was my first love. The little black bird on my leg I got for you.”
“I know. I was with you the day you got it.”
“I know. I was hoping the sentiment would have you feeling generous.”
He grinned. “Now you're manipulating me. See if I let you come.”
She whined and pressed his head down as she crammed her pussy in his face. “Please.”
He pinned her arms down and growled. Her soft, aroused moan made him hard again. He knew she was close to losing control. Her hot, swollen folds were soaked with cream, and her body trembled, muscles flexing and relaxing in a desperate struggle to obey him.
“I love the man you are.” She sniffled, voice hushed and broken. “I don't know why you hate that man so much, but I love him more than life, and I trust him more than anyone.”
His tongue froze, and his head lifted to test her eyes for sweet lies. He found none there. Kayla meant what she said. She trusted him more than anyone. More than her first Master, more than her first love, more than her bad boy, and her white knight. She might love them all equally, but for some reason she trusted him more. Her perfect trust in him demanded that she be owned by him, just as his trust and possessive love screamed at him to enslave her as well as marry her.
“You can order me to call you Sir, but my heart will never call you anything but Master,” she whispered.
Keith's throat tightened as he lowered his head and lapped vigorously at her engorged clit. To hold back now would be a breach of trust. He'd be living a lie if he said he wanted her to call him Sir.
“Come for me, my sweet slave,” he murmured against her tender flesh just before he licked her into orgasm.
“Thank you,” she sobbed, bucking and crying out softly as she came for him.
Keith bathed her sensitive flesh with his tongue until she was clean. He pulled Kayla onto his lap and held her in his arms, rocking her back and forth gently with his eyes closed.
He'd thought he'd lost her forever when she went to California and didn't come back for seven years. Now she was back, but more importantly she'd agreed to be their wife ... and his slave.
She kissed his neck and held him close while he nuzzled her neck and breathed in the scent of her skin. No one compared to her. He'd wanted a slave for years but had never owned one, hoping Kayla would come back to him. He didn't want that bond with anyone else any more than he wanted another woman as his wife, only her.
His spirit glowed with warmth. Kayla was theirs, but more importantly she was his.
Epilogue
Jason Adkins answered his cell phone when he saw his best friend, Armand, calling him. “What’s up?”
“Just checking in. Any news?”
“Nah, not really. Everybody’s on guard, watching the women like hawks, and the cops are keeping vigil. That’s about it. Any sign of Miranda down there?”
Please say yes.
God, he missed her.
Armand sighed on the other end. “Not yet, I’m afraid. New Orleans is a big city, though. I’ve posted pictures of her and that professor who was so obsessed with her, but so far…”
“What’s wrong?”
“I think that’s him.”
Jason jumped to his feet. “You sure?”
It sounded like running on the other end and the screeching rumble of a car peeling out.
“Armand, talk to me. What’s going on?”
“Shit,” Armand muttered. More running followed. “I think that was the professor. He just got into a car and drove away.”
“Can you get the license plate?”
“There isn’t one. He’s speeding up. He’s getting away!”
Jason pounded his fist against the table. He grabbed his coat and headed out. “I’m coming down there to help you look.”
Honking came from the other end of the phone and a loud “What the hell, asshole? Get out of the way!”
It didn’t sound like Armand, probably some indignant driver.
“Fuck. I lost him.”
“Don’t sweat it. We’ll find him again. He’s probably hiding out in the city or on the outskirts.”
“Do you think she’s still alive?” Armand asked.
Jason’s heart clenched. “She’s alive.”
He refused to even allow the possibility that she wasn’t. They would find her, and there would be hell to pay for the bastard who’d abducted her.
The End
www.zoeymarcel.com
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