by Selena Kitt
She sagged against him as deeper pain warred with pleasure. What the hell was wrong with her? She shouldn’t be responding like this. “I…” when he tugged again, she went up on tippy toe. “Yes, yes, dammit, let go.”
“Never.” His harsh reply was lost on her as he lifted her off the floor and strode to what looked like some kind of inverted sit-up board. With dark leather and silver ‘o’ rings at various locations, she had a feeling he’d never used it to do sit-ups. She thought for a moment he’d changed his mind when he released her hands from behind her back. Rubbing her wrists, he checked them. “Good no bruising.” After pressing a quick kiss on each one, he yanked them above her head and tied them once more with his tie to a ring positioned above her head.
When he turned away, she nearly whimpered with distress. Surely he wasn’t going to leave her in here alone. She paled when he picked up the phone on the wall. Who the hell was he calling? From where she was positioned she couldn’t make out what he was saying. Hanging it up, he shed his open shirt and moved to the set of oak cabinets lining one wall of the room. With his back to her he rummaged through the cabinet as she couldn’t help but admire the bare skin he’d exposed. Her eyes widened as he turned around holding a large pair of scissors.
“Dom?”
He gave her a reassuring smile. “As lovely as I find that outfit, it’s time for it to come off.”
Her heart sank - she knew once she was naked, she’d be lost. “Aw, come on Dom. Let me go. I promise I’ll leave and never darken your doorstep again.”
His eyes narrowed when he slipped the scissors under one shoulder strap. “You’ll be lucky if I ever let you out of my sight again, Adalia. You’re going to belong to me.”
Before she could blink, he’d cut both straps of her top and down it slithered to lay in pieces on the floor. Dropping to his knees in front of her, he slid his fingers under the filmy waistband of her flowing skirt. Frantic at the thought of him removing it, she tried to kick at him. A low growl erupted from him and she felt a sharp smack on her right hip.
“Knock it off or I’ll tie your legs spread-eagled.” He looked up at her, and she could see how serious he was by the icy look in his eyes.
She scowled down at him. “Don’t even think about it! If I would’ve realized you were into these type of games…”
Slowly standing upright until he towered over her, he smirked. “You’d have begged me months ago to bring you in here.”
“Like hell!” She kicked out at him, but he was ready and caught her foot.
“I warned you.” Crouching down, he grabbed something behind the board. She nearly screamed in frustration when he pulled it under and then over her thigh. As soon as he fastened it she realized it was some type of restraint. He did the same at her ankle. Still cursing him, she tried to stop him from securing the other leg. Struggling was pointless though as she soon found herself restrained in every sense of the word. She wondered why she’d fought him though when her womb flexed with need. Despite the protests of her head, it was obvious her body wanted what he was offering.
Stepping back from her, he stared at her before licking his lips. “Damn, if you aren’t enough to tempt the strongest of men.”
She rolled her eyes trying to strive for sarcasm but failed utterly when her voice came out reed thin with need. “Do you get many women that way?”
“Only the ones I want, Addie.” He reached to cup her breast. She braced herself for his gentle touch. Despite his roughness earlier, she didn’t expect it now. Dom was if anything a gentleman through and through. A low moan flew from her mouth when he sharply tweaked each nipple before tugging on her rings. When he let go she whimpered as the small weights he’d attached to them while he’d distracted her made their presence known.
“Oh, my God!” Tugging on the silk tie holding her hands, she tried to twist away from the sharp pleasure-pain from the dangling weights.
A dark laugh escaped Dom, but she barely noticed it when his hand delved between her thighs. “Just as I suspected. You’re a submissive little thing, aren’t you? You want to be dominated and have all your control stripped away.” A thick finger spread her labia and thrust deep inside of her sheath. A whimper slipped past her lips as he pulled it out. Wiping her own juices across her lips, he thrust his finger inside her mouth. “Clean it off.” The coldness and strength of his voice had her obeying without thought.
Tightening her lips around it, she stroked her tongue over the bittersweet taste of her own cream. In the past she’d never liked the taste of herself, so the few times Dom had gone down on her, she avoiding kissing him right afterwards. To her parent’s moralistic teachings, only sluts did stuff like that. Lovemaking was after marriage and it was only to be in bed with the lights out…or so she’d been repeatedly lectured.
When he finally pulled his finger free, a look of satisfaction crossed his handsome face, before he flicked one of the weights attached to her right ring and sent it swinging.
“Dom!” What she meant to come out as protest came out as a plea for more. Grasping desperately at her fraying control she tried to hang on, but the surge of pleasure, coupled with the sting of pain and a huge wave of lust pulled on it hard.
“Master.” His voice was firm and allowed no rebuke.
Her eyes met his and her will to not give into him faltered.
“I…no…I…can’t…” Shaking her head, she sagged against the bonds holding her.
“That’s not acceptable, Adalia. You will give me the respect I deserve.” The determination was evident not only in his words but the stance he held. A wicked even predatory smile curved his lips before he turned and walked back towards the cabinets.
When he turned back around, she knew she paled. On his palm lay the supple flogger and it seemed a natural extension of his hand. She looked at him with trepidation before licking her lips coated with the tart taste of her own forgotten juice. Damn, was he going to use that on her? Her innermost minx begged for it.
He came to a stop in front of her. “Who am I, Adalia?”
She shook her head once more before closing her eyes. She didn’t want to see the blows coming.
“Open your eyes, slave! There will be no hiding tonight. Tonight we’re going to peel away all those layers. I will have the real woman revealed or die trying.” With a sharp flick of the flogger, he lightly slapped at the flesh of her outer thigh. Strong enough to sting but not so strong he broke the tender skin.
“Ow!” Her eyes shot open. She couldn’t believe he’d actually hit her! It was followed by feelings of pleasure mixed with pain so intense she almost believed she might orgasm.
“That’s better. Now tell me who am I?”
Sticking her chin out, she silently dared him to do his worse. She wouldn’t call him or any man ‘Master’ no matter how much pain or pleasure he brought her. Her self-control was all she had left.
“Oh foolish, foolish girl.” He dropped the flogger onto the specially made hook on his belt. “I’ll have you screaming it before the night is over.”
* * * *
Almost an hour later, Dom was about to be rewarded for his efforts. Straining against the bonds that held her tightly, with scarlet marks scattered across her thighs, ass and swollen breasts, his little sub was trembling on the edge of her first orgasm. Removing his fingers from her clenching pussy, he licked her tart flavor off his fingers.
“So close.” He moved as if to stand and was pleased to hear her cry of protest. “You know what I want, Adalia. Give it to me.” Parting her wet folds he gazed at the small clamp and weight adorning her swollen nub. Giving it a slight tug, he smiled as she blasted him verbally once more.
“God damn it, Dom!” Her voice was hoarse from her continued pleas for enough stimulation to climax. Rubbing his finger over the clit clamp, he smiled when she bucked against him. “Please!” Her plea for sexual release was quite obvious.
“I thought you said you couldn’t orgasm.”
She snarl
ed at him. “You sadist.” She fought the bonds once more and nearly went over the edge when he again tapped the small weighted clamp attached to the heart of her sexuality sending it swinging to and fro.
“Of course, I am a Dom. It’s part of the job requirement. Plus it’s quite obvious what you need. You’re closer to coming than you’ve ever been in my bed. What’s stopping you?”
Staring up at her flushed tear-streaked face, Dom knew he should be ashamed of the distress he was causing his love, but he wasn’t going to let her tears sway him as they had in the past. He was going to break her free of her own self-imprisonment if it was the last thing he did.
“Look at me, slave.”
He waited for her to open her eyes and look at him. He knew her control was now held by mere threads. It wouldn’t take much to snap them, but he wanted her total attention the first time she slid over the edge. He wanted her to know who was responsible for her pleasure - him and him alone. Her dazed eyes finally focused on him. “That’s right, now come for your Master.” Swiftly pulling the clamp off her clit, he savagely thrust two fingers inside of her as blood rushed back to the swollen flesh and her muscles gripped, rippled and spasmed around them.
A guttural moan filled the playroom as she started to convulse with her first woman’s orgasm. Fumbling with his zipper, he finally freed his close to spewing cock and quickly pressed down at the base of his shaft trying to forestall his own release. He had to see this first release through, only then he could fuck his little sub’s brains out.
As soon as she sagged back against her bonds, he jerked the leather restraints off her thighs and ankles then lifted her legs up and wrapped them around his waist. With his tux pants hanging loosely around his hips, he slammed every inch he had inside of her in one slippery thrust. Her head tossed when she started to climb once more. Chest heaving he gauged how close he was compared to her new ascent and knew his time was limited. He had to make her orgasm again before he climaxed himself. He had to prove to her he was her master once and for all.
“Look at me Adalia!’
Her glazed eyes focused dimly on him.
“Who am I?” His demand was almost a plea. If he didn’t get her to admit it this time, he was lost for he could no longer deny his body’s overwhelming needs.
She licked her dry lips, before giving him what he desired. “Master.”
“Yes!” As if a spring had snapped, he began to thrust against her desperately, letting his own needs now rule. Through his stunned eyes he could see her struggling to peak for the second time. Letting go of one leg, he gave her still weighted nipples a sharp tug. She immediately tensed.
“Please, Master, can I come?”
The ritualistic words had him throwing his head back. “Yes!” The playroom was soon filled with her very real feminine scream of release followed closely by his deep masculine bellow.
* * * *
Sagging against her bonds, Addie tried to catch her breath. The amazing pleasure still was coursing through her veins when Dom finally withdrew from her. How did it keep getting better? She nearly mourned the loss of his wonderful body heat until she caught the look on his face. He was examining her body with a frown. His hazel eyes were concerned. “What level are you at slave?”
“Green.” She smiled at him. “I’m fine, Master.” She was quick to reassure him. Whoever said that Doms needed aftercare as much as slaves was right on the money. She’d pushed both herself and him to the limit tonight.
He looked up. “Are you sure, sweetheart?” He reached for the silk tie which still held her bound.
“Of course, Master. I know my safe word and you didn’t hear me yelling it, did you?”
He ruefully shook his head as a tired chuckle escaped him. “Of course not. Come on let’s get you down from there.” Untying her wrists, he lifted each one of her hands to his lips as if in apology for the slight bruising her thrashing had caused. “Let me get the witch hazel oil.”
She sighed as he left the room but quickly brought the ever-familiar bottle back with him. He popped the cap on it. Using the silk tie he’d tied her with, he poured some of the fragrant smelling oil on it before dabbing it first across her wrists then the red marks across her tired but satiated body. When he finished, he closed the bottle, lifted and carried her across the playroom, pausing only when he tossed the ruined tie into the garbage can beside the door.
“You know Master, it’s a good thing you have so many ties.”
Dom chuckled. “I know. We seem to ruin at least one every year don’t we?” He shouldered past the door into their bedroom. Crossing to their bed, he set her on the turned down sheets. Tucking her into bed, he quickly disrobed. The sound of metal hitting metal had him chuckling. “Some private investigator you are, slave.”
Addie smiled sleepily. “I’ve been stuck in the office since I went and got married. No more field work. I’m rusty. Sorry Master.” She snuggled back into the pillow. Contentment filled her as she felt Dom crawl in bed behind her. He carefully gathered her in his arms. He was always aware of her physical state and knew what she needed most of the time before she even did. Maybe that was why they reenacted the night of her claiming every year. Despite her happiness at being his submissive the inner minx in her demanded she test his control. It wouldn’t be happy until she pushed him hard enough he had no other choice than to reinstate his claim over her. Every year it more but her Master always rose to the occasion and she loved him for it.
Just as in the beginning of their relationship, he refused to let her self-control come between them. He’d patiently taught her the difference between him and her father. Over the past five years, he’d made sure to drive home the fact the only strings tied to his gifts was their mutual pleasure, and oh the pleasures they shared. Her Master had no problem giving her the raw edge of pain she needed her pleasure laced with. Snuggling closer to his warmth, she was on the verge of sleep when he tugged her even closer and found her left hand under the layers of soft bedding.
“I love you Mrs. O'Shanahan.” He pressed a kiss on her shoulder while she felt the familiar weight of the ring which had started it all slide back onto her ring finger before he placed her hand on top of the blankets. In the flickering light of the fireplace, the diamond marquis ring twinkled.
“And I, you, Master.”
About Dakota Trace
Dakota is a simple Midwest girl, who has found her passion in storytelling at a young age. Her father was always saying she was making up the craziest stories. Most remained unwritten though as writing wasn’t Dakota’s strong suit. That all changed in junior high when she took her first typing class. Problem solved for the dyslexic Dakota. There was no stopping her after that. She wrote her first novel her freshman year about a girl who could speak to animals on an old electric IBM typewriter and never looked back. Writing in several different genres, she is now a published author with multiple books under belt. When Dakota isn’t writing she’s a crazy mom of three wild Indians who are posing as children, a loving wife to the man of her dreams and a full time student.
To find out more about Dakota visit her at dakotatrace.com.
First Bite
By Jack Osprey
He watched her from his pew as she knelt in prayer inside the island's only Catholic church. Seated to her left, across the frayed crimson carpeted aisle, he had a good view of her as she used the worn kneeler, her hot body driving him wild as he watched her tight cranberry-colored skirt inching upward, baring the dark tops of her nylons. Above, her open jacket did little to hide her teasing breasts, straining against her demure white blouse. He almost blushed, his dark desires anything but pious in a house of God.
He waited for her outside, standing quietly at the edge of the dismal graveyard, half hidden behind the crowd of leaning lichen-choked crosses and statues. He tapped his feet impatiently as he waited in the chill late October drizzle. Eventually, he saw her coming out of the old stone church's vestibule, saying her good-bye to the pudgy
bald priest and exchanging a few words with several of the doddering blue-haired matrons, before beginning her scurry towards her parked car. Suddenly, the brisk wet wind whipped her coat and cranberry suit jacket away from her lacy Victorian-style blouse, her large breasts jiggling invitingly as she scampered towards her Altima.
God, she's so lovely.
Stepping from behind a statue of the Madonna, her doleful face and outstretched arms looking as though she was pleading, Philip Weazel stepped directly into the path of the hurrying school teacher.
"Miss Rodriguez—if I might have a word, please? Lacey?"
"Mr. Weazel...ah, Philip—I'm sorry. I didn't see you standing there."
As she stood before her boss, one nervous hand splayed across her throat, the other holding her mist spattered glasses, Philip tried not to stare at the smaller woman's breasts, focusing instead on her graceful legs; knees clamped together like a virgin nun's, mud-spattered white high heels with the toes pointing inward. Feeling confident of her answer, Constance Paine's vice principal cleared his throat to speak. Stop staring at her tits, you jerk, and ask her. You can think about her tits later.
"Miss Rodriguez—Lacey,—I was wondering if you'd care to go to the faculty Halloween party at the Bonnets' with me? Being the newest member of our staff, I thought maybe—"
"I'd love to go, Philip."
Being the newest teacher at the island's elementary school and living outside the center of town at a fairly isolated farmhouse on Sweet Bottom road, Lacey hadn't had many opportunities to make friends, much less look for romance. Of all Grim Island's males she'd seen, Philip Weazel was certainly in the top two or three as far as hunky good looks. In all honesty, the only other truly hot male Lacey had seen was one of the local cops, and he didn't even know she existed. Why would he bother to check out a four-eyed school marm with her rimless glasses, and prissy school clothes? On the other hand, she certainly had noticed him.