First Taste: A Collection of Hot Alpha Doms

by Sidney Bristol

  “On my lap.”

  She looked up in surprise, but obeyed. Straddling his thighs, she held herself up, her dripping pussy barely an inch above the swollen head of his cock. He plumped her breasts, then flicked her nipples until they were erect pink buds. He showed her the nipple clamps he’d hidden next to his leg. They were simple screw clamps. Licking her lips, she cupped and lifted her breasts, moaning in pleasure as he closed the clamps over her nipples, tightening them just a bit.

  “Beautiful.”

  “Mmm, thank you, Master.”

  “You’re ready for another orgasm, aren’t you?” He fingered her pussy.

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Good.” He took two pairs of cuffs from under the pillow behind him.

  Anna narrowed her eyes, wondering what else he was hiding. He locked one side of a set around each wrist, leaving the other cuffs dangling.

  “Lock the cuffs to the headboard behind me.”

  Anna leaned forward, her captured nipples rubbing his shoulders. He kissed her neck and chest as she locked the cuffs around the vertical slats of the headboard. The cuffs had a longer than normal connecting chain, and she was able to lean back enough to look into his eyes. She expected a grin, but his face was serious.

  “We have one more item on our list.”

  Anna realized what was about to happen the instant before he looped a thin white scarf around her neck. The ends dangled against her back.

  “Master, I’m scared.”

  “Don’t be.” He touched her face. “I’m going to apply just enough pressure to restrict, but not truly cut off, your breath.” He adjusted the loop of fabric that circled her neck. “This is about pleasure, not pain.”

  She dropped her forehead to his. Her safe word hovered on her lips. He held completely still, letting her come to terms with this. A too-hard paddling would result in bruises and maybe a blood blister. Asphyxiation was something much different, and much more serious.

  He’d protected her, used her, pushed her to her limits. She’d trusted him with everything else, and she’d trust him now.

  Anna leaned back, then nodded once.

  “Fuck yourself on my cock.”

  Anna sank down onto his thick length. After a few strokes, she forgot everything but the delicious fullness of his cock in her pussy. She loved looking at him as she rode him, it made her feel like a harem girl, who lived to pleasure her sultan. She rocked her hips, then lifted herself until he almost slipped out, only to sink down again. Her eyes closed, her head fell back. The clamps on her nipples added delicious pressure to the sensitive buds.

  The scarf tightened around her throat. Her breath hitched in her chest and her blood pounded. As soon as she realized the pressure was there, it was gone again. She faltered for a moment, but Master Jensen squeezed her ass, eliciting a yelp.

  “Focus, Anna,” he admonished her.

  “Yes, Master.”

  She went back to fucking herself on him, using the slow, grinding rhythm she knew would drive him wild.

  Again the scarf tightened, restricting her breath for just a moment longer than the first time. She looked at her master, her lips parted to take the breath he held captive. Their gazes locked as he tightened the pressure for the third time, this time holding it long enough that her chest heaved.

  A spike of pleasure shot through her. Anna’s eyes widened in surprise.

  “What?” he asked, seeing her reaction.

  “That felt…that felt good.”

  He nodded once. “It’s restricting the oxygen flow to your brain. Carbon dioxide is accumulating and that’s what’s making it feel good’. It’s like being at a high altitude.”

  She listened vaguely, glad he knew the physiology, but not wanting to think about it too much, in case it distracted her from the pleasure.

  She could feel his fists on her back, knew he held the ends of the scarf there. It both thrilled and terrified her that he controlled her so completely.

  “Faster,” he growled, and Anna increased the speed of her hips.

  He stole another breath from her, holding it long enough that her body spasmed, reacting to the denial with an illogical pleasure. Giddiness swept through her.

  “Faster,” he demanded again.

  Anna braced her forearms on his shoulders, threw her head back and fucked him hard and fast. Her ass slapped his thighs and the resulting pain was sweet pleasure.

  He pulled the scarf tight around her throat.

  “Come, Anna,” he demanded.

  Anna’s whole body convulsed in pleasure. The split second of oxygen deprivation tricked her body into a heightened state of pleasure. Her chest heaved, she could feel her pulse fluttering in her neck. She was owned, controlled, pleasured and worshiped. She trusted him completely. He mastered her, body and soul, and she owned him in returned. The scarf went slack and his hands grabbed her hips, holding her still as he jackhammered up into her pussy, shouting as he came deep inside her.

  Anna collapsed against his chest, the scarf still snug around her neck.

  Chapter Nine

  For the second time that day, Anna broke down. She sobbed, releasing the last bits of tension she held in her body. He freed her from the cuffs and clamps, then laid them down and curled around her, holding and protecting her. When she rolled over to face him, she could see the power and impact of what they’d done in the tense lines of his face. She kissed and stroked him, her touches not meant to arouse but to calm. He laid his head on her breast, the tension slowly leaving his body. She rested her hand on his back, feeling the scars there.

  “They’re not sexy scars,” he said quietly.

  He’d said it a million times before. She doubted he knew how much it revealed about his internal wounds.

  “They mean you survived,” she replied simply.

  Anna closed her eyes, going back to that waiting room. She remembered the moment they’d come for her, taking her into the hospital, where she’d gotten her first look at the boy she loved. But it hadn’t been a boy who lay there, it had been a man, his body wrapped in gauze, forty percent of him burned, the result of a helicopter crash.

  In the eighteen months since they’d broken up, she’d landed the job she wanted. She’d even tried to date—but it hadn’t worked. She found the men she met at the firm or at posh cocktail parties weak and insipid. She’d longed for her former boyfriend’s strong hands—and she’d hated herself for choosing a career over a future. Though only in her mid-twenties, she’d started to feel like her life was over.

  She’d been rescued, given an outlet for those dark feelings by a senior partner in her firm, Ramon Leo. He’d noticed her disdain for the men in their circle of acquaintances. He’d invited her out for drinks, plied her with expensive champagne, and asked her about her love life. Too tired and drunk to care, she’d told him how much she missed a strong man.

  The next weekend, he’d brought her to Las Palmas as a guest. Senior partner Ramon Leo turned in to Master Leo. He’d tutored and guided her as she explored her submissive side. When she’d received the call from Camp Pendleton, Ramon Leo had been one of the first people she’d told.

  When she returned to work a week later, after making sure her ex-boyfriend was safely set up in a good hospital, she’d unloaded on her boss, admitting that he was the reason she craved such strong men, and that it was killing her to see him so badly hurt. Seeing her beloved again, and seeing him in such pain, had made the outlet Las Palmas gave her all the more important.

  For a long painful year, she’d split her time between her job and her beloved’s recovery. One weekend a month she gave herself over to Las Palmas, desperately needing to be mastered. It was the only way she’d managed to stay calm and in control the rest of the time.

  “What are you thinking about?” Master Jensen asked her.

  “You.”

  “Don’t. Don’t think about it. It’s over.”

  It was amazing what a difference a few years could make. If some
one had told her two years ago that she’d be junior partner at her firm, a full member of Las Palmas, and that she’d be preparing to be bonded to the perfect Dom, she wouldn’t have believed them. Two years ago, the future had been a terrifying prospect.

  “How’s your neck?” he asked, kissing her.

  “Fine.”

  “And your ass?”

  “Sore.”

  He kissed her slow and deep.

  “Anna?” he whispered against her cheek.

  “Yes, Master?”

  “I’m starving. Let’s go get dinner.”

  Anna chuckled. She slid carefully off the bed, then went to the bathroom. When she came out, he was wearing jeans.

  “Put something on. I’m done sharing you.”

  Anna’s lips twitched. She went to her overnight bag and pulled out a pink and black bra, panty and garter set. Careful of her ass, she got dressed. Master Jensen kissed the upper swell of her breast, then led her toward the door.

  Twenty-four hours later, Anna zipped her skirt and checked her reflection in the mirror. She’d come right from work on Friday, and hadn’t brought any casual clothes with her. She’d be going home in the tailored Chanel skirt suit she’d been wearing when she left the office.

  Friday felt like a million years ago, instead of only two days. It was even stranger when she considered that she’d spent most of today sitting quietly with her Master and watching the players who’d been assigned to the letter “B.” She’d thought “A” was intense until she’d seen what the “B” subs were being subjected to.

  She placed her toiletry bag in the locker she’d been assigned in one of the Subs’ Garden rooms. Picking up her overnight bag, she pulled out the ring box. Extracting the antique, three-carat sapphire engagement ring, she slid it onto her finger.

  She waved to the other subs, both those who were changing into street clothes and those who were lounging in various states of nakedness, their play not yet done. She hadn’t exactly gotten the girls’ night they’d talked about, but there would be other weekends to play with her fellow subs.

  Anna smoothed a lock of hair back towards the chic chignon that was her signature hairstyle.

  Her Sergio Rossi heeled sandal—alternating thick and thick straps of hot pink and zebra print with a fuchsia heel—tapped on the concrete as she left the mansion and made her way toward the parking area. A handsome, blond man was leaning against the fender of a sleek, silver Aston Martin DB9. Anna smiled at her fiancé.

  “Hello, gorgeous.”

  “Hello, solider.”

  The corner of Jensen Couper’s mouth kicked up when she used the nickname she’d coined for him back when they were undergrads.

  She kissed him, plucking at the ugly polo shirt he wore. “I’m going to throw this thing away.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with this shirt.”

  Anna rolled her eyes.

  “You’re the only one who cares what I wear.” He took her bag and put it in the trunk.

  “At least you dress up for client meetings.”

  Jensen snorted. “Only because you make me.”

  “When people are giving you millions of dollars, a tie is appropriate.”

  He grinned. Looking at him now, with his hair glinting in the fading sunlight, she could see traces of the boy she’d fallen in love with all those years ago. They’d been through more than some people twice their age—he’d gone to war and nearly died. She’d nursed him back to health, while struggling to control her feelings for him and simultaneously dealing with her personal sexual demons.

  When he’d been near the end of his recovery and leaned in to kiss her, she’d had to haltingly tell him about what she’d been doing to satisfy her sexual needs, even while she’d emotionally committed to him and his recovery. Jensen hadn’t judged her, and they’d agreed to remain friends. Anna hadn’t wanted to take advantage of his gratitude by starting another relationship. Jensen hadn’t wanted to stand in the way of her exploration of BDSM.

  It had been a painful, if productive, period of their relationship, with each of them trying desperately to deny their feelings for one another, and learn to be friends as adults.

  Anna had helped him to set up a small engineering firm. Within six months he’d designed a new missile mount for military helicopters. Uneven weight distribution had caused the crash that had nearly killed him, and his design corrected that error. She’d represented him in the patent filing and subsequent multimillion dollar sale of the design. As a result of bringing him on, she was made a junior partner in her law firm, and Jensen was owner and chief designer of an ever-growing mechanical engineering company that specialized in military equipment.

  A year ago she’d arrived for one of her monthly visits to Las Palmas where Master Leo had introduced her to their newest member—a handsome, young millionaire who went by the title of Master Jensen.

  Anna had thrown herself into his arms and cried. He’d done this for her, she knew that. Later, Leo had told her that Jensen had come to him looking for advice and training. He’d spent six months secretly exploring the world of BDSM before officially joining Las Palmas. That first weekend, she’d been eager to show off for Jensen, and volunteer to sub for a Master who was known for putting on lovely bondage displays.

  Jensen had lasted ten minutes before he’d jumped on the stage, demanded that the other Master release her, and then hauled Anna away to fuck her senseless.

  They’d spent forty-eight hours locked in a room, exercising years of pent up desire. When they’d left after that first weekend, Anna had told Jensen that outside of Las Palmas she wasn’t sub Anna. She wanted to keep that part of her life separate. He’d understood, and that night he’d taken her home and dropped her off at her front door like a proper gentleman.

  The night after that, Anna had shown up at his condo in nothing but a trench coat. Much to their delight, they discovered they could still set the bed on fire outside the D/s relationship.

  Two weeks later they’d moved in together, and a month after that Jensen had proposed.

  “Baby, you okay?” His question shook her from her trip down memory lane.

  “Yeah, just thinking. It’s been a crazy few years.”

  He picked up her hand and kissed it. “I would be lost without you. You know that, don’t you?”

  “I love you. I hate how much time we lost.”

  “Don’t think about it. It all happened for a reason. We might never have found Las Palmas if things had been different.”

  “Is kinky sex really worth almost dying?”

  Jensen snorted. “Uh, yeah.”

  Anna laughed. She waited at the passenger door for him to open it, then held his arm as she gingerly lowered herself onto the seat.

  “I’m sorry, gorgeous.” He kissed her temple as she winced.

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Yeah, I’m not.”

  “Jerk.”

  “Nympho.”

  Jensen slid behind the wheel. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a slip of paper. Rubbing it on the back of his hand, he then cupped her chin and pulled her in for a kiss. The smell of sandalwood flooded the car. Anna gasped as her nipples tightened and her pussy clenched.

  “You bastard,” she breathed. Taking the slip of paper, she sniffed it. The scent of sandalwood made her head spin.

  “Damn that’s hot.” He rubbed the back of his hand over her breast. “Why didn’t we do that before?”

  “Drive, damn it.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” The engine purred to life and Jensen maneuvered the car out of the parking lot and down the long driveway.

  “And the joke’s on you. We’re eating Chinese food for Thanksgiving.” Anna rolled down the window to clear out the scent before she went crazy.

  “Huh?”

  “Sage. The other scent you used was sage. It’s one of the main herbs in stuffing. Since I’m never getting near sage again, we will be eating Chinese food, or Thai food, for Thanksgiving.”
<
br />   “Damn it, I love stuffing.”

  “You really have no one to blame but yourself.”

  “I guess I’ll just have to teach you to love sage again.”

  “Remember, we only have two more weekends here before the wedding.”

  Jensen’s eyes twitched at the mention of their upcoming wedding. It had been nearly ten months since he’d proposed, assuming they’d get married the next week. Anna was unrepentantly planning a six-figure dream wedding. Theirs was an epic love story—it deserved an epic wedding.

  “I will buy you a house in France if you’d just elope with me.”

  “Nope. But you’re going to buy me a vacation house in France anyway.”

  Jensen shot her a disgruntled look. “Then how about we move up our bonding ceremony?”

  Anna pretended to consider it. “Wedding first.”

  “Damn it, woman. Do you realize what I would have done if they’d tried to give you to someone else this weekend?” The primal violence in his voice made her shiver. After all they’d done this weekend, she should have been too exhausted to even think about sex, but when it came to Jensen, it seemed that she could never get enough.

  “I was a little concerned,” she admitted. “But I know you enjoyed making me sweat by pretending to be someone else. Besides, if you get lazy with the sex post-marriage, I might have to find a new Dom. Don’t worry I’ll still have vanilla sex with you.”

  “It’s cute that you think I’ll ever let anyone else touch you.”

  “Maybe I’ll marry you but get bonded to a different Dom. A husband and a lover. I’d get double presents on Valentine’s day.” Anna fluttered her eyelashes.

  “Maybe I’ll buy an island and keep you there naked and chained up.”

  Anna laced her fingers with his. “Promises, promises,” she said with a smile.

  As they sped down into the city, she felt the real world closing in around her. She’d work ten hour days the rest of this week, and meet with her wedding planner and bridesmaids in the evening. Jensen was finalizing the bid for a DOD design contract, so she probably wouldn’t see much of him until Thursday. Despite the fact that their day-to-day lives left little time for emotional or physical intimacy, they’d be alright—the closeness from this weekend would linger, holding them together even when they were apart.