by Maren Smith
"No, but I did date a man who got deathly ill on a ferry crossing once."
"Ooh." He winced. "You know, if you think you can play nice for a while, I might be persuaded to find the keys and let you out of there."
All 'buddy' friendliness dropped out of her expression. The twinkle hardened, although not quite hard enough to reestablish its 'drop dead' edge. "If you think I'm going to apologize to that bitch—"
"I'm not stupid," he said, cutting her off before the mere thought of apologizing to Tessa could resurrect her temper any further. "And she did manhandle you first; several witnesses saw it. Besides, she's so miserable right now, it'll probably be nightfall before she feels good enough to notice I've let you out. By then, I'll have thought of something to convince her to drop the whole damned thing."
"She ought to be in here instead of me."
"That's never going to happen."
"I know." Grudgingly mollified, Maddy fingered her chains. "Still, I don't think I want to be nice to you anymore."
"Not even if I remove the chains?"
"Maybe I like them." Her chin rose, faintly defiant, and her head tipped, as if she wasn't sure which of them she might be trying to convince. She showed off her manacles. "They're kind of sexy, really."
Every muscle from just under his navel to his inner thighs twitched and tightened. He felt the stirring of his cock turn the interior confines of his trousers—a relaxed and comfortable fit when he'd slipped them on in the employee costume center, but which now felt more like a prison instantly too small to be endured. He tipped his head, not minding at all when the roll of the ship caused him to accidentally whack himself against a bar. That minute pain kept him centered and from doing something stupid.
"I might have some chains in my room," he said.
Yeah. Stupid. Just like that.
"I don't think I want to go to your room." Her chin tipped higher. She fingered her chains again, as if wrestling with uncertainties that, right before his very eyes, began to melt into something almost… seductive. "Maybe I like being caged."
For him, the prison got smaller. Tighter. It began to affect his breathing.
"If my room doesn't have a cage when we get to the Colony Island, I'll switch to one that does," he promised.
"I don't want that one." Pushing away from the wall, Maddy rolled to her knees. His belly began to heat and burn, and that prison became impossibly close once she began to crawl her way to him. She left all sulkiness behind. All he could see now was the shadowy, curvaceous siren coming toward him on her hands and knees. She pulled herself up by the bars when she reached them, but only as far as his hips. "I want this one."
She looked straight at the bulge in his trousers when she said it and then the sultry minx licked the pink bow of her lips before raising her green eyes to his. Gripping the bars, she drew herself in as close to them as she could come, sizing up the meager space between them. Barely a fist-span apart, she couldn't fit her face through the bars. Flexing her fingers, she rested her cheeks against her thumbs instead.
"It's a hole," she noted, "though not quite a glory hole, is it?"
His cock leapt, straining against his fly. His pulse pounded, sending all the burning of his blood pouring through his veins. From this vantage point, he could see straight down the front of her tank top, the award-winning effect of her bra providing not just lift, but enough separation to grant an unobstructed view all the way to her navel.
"No, it's not," he agreed, his voice a little gruff. "Part of the allure of such things is not knowing who might be on the other side."
Releasing the bars, she reached through them to seize a firm hold of his belt buckle. Quivering tension zinged through his belly as her fingers slipped between his waistband and shirt.
"So, close your eyes," she ordered, drawing him pelvis first straight up to the bars. His gaze was full on her lips when she licked them again. Her fingers played with his buckle, loosening it. "Imagine someone else."
In the four years since the Castle had opened its doors, he'd had a plethora of lovers. More than he cared to count, and though his cock had grown hard for each and every one of them, imagine someone else? Not if she paid him.
He started to reach for her, but her chains clanged against the cage bars when she caught his wrist. "Only one appendage is allowed to invade this glory hole," she challenged, "and it is not your hand."
He growled, not at all liking being given orders by a submissive. Not that Maddy was, technically, his submissive, he had to remind himself. He found he didn't like thinking about that, either. Still, when she pushed, he grudgingly withdrew his hand back to his side of the cage. "Someone needs a reminder of who gives the orders and who takes what she is given."
"Oh, I'm taking, all right," she said with a husky little laugh. She pulled and tugged at the fastenings of his pants, her eagerness to get at him ending in a soft gasp when his zipper at last gave way and the full measure of his cock fairly leapt to find her hand. Her eyes glittered. Dark as it was in that shadowy hold, it wasn't so dark that Dominick couldn't see the blush that stole over her as she drew him out. "Mm," she breathed, licking her lips all over again. "Watch me take every inch of it."
He growled, every throat-fucking fantasy he'd yet entertained jumping immediately to mind as the headed exhale of her breath bathed the tip of his cock. Warm, wet heat engulfed him. Watch her, she'd said, but the minute he felt that first tentative suckling, his eyes closed. By sheer force of will—he was a Dominant, damn it; nobody and nothing could make him do anything against his desires—he gripped the bars tight and locked his gaze with hers. Had he closed them, he'd have missed the smug little grin that tugged her lips as she curled her tongue along his glans. He tightened his grip, twisting with the strain it took not to reach through the bars and grab her by that handle of a ponytail that she'd so thoughtfully twisted her hair into. Just for him. Maybe even just for this moment. Thoughtful minx. Naughty minx. The Dungeon Master's sexy little fucktoy, he thought, tipping his hips flush with the bars to give her better access to as much as her oven of a mouth could hold.
Her eyes were smoldering. His blood was smoldering, too, all the heat sparked by her teasing lips and tongue building down his shaft where she gripped him and into his tight, tense balls. Both heat and tension spread through his veins as, ever so faintly and deliberately, she scraped the head of him with her teeth.
Dominick locked his jaw against the deep and throaty growl that rumbled through him. His pulse was throbbing in his head. Worse than that was the throbbing he could feel at the base of his cock, the heady beat that matched the base pounding of his heart as she opened up wide and, green eyes laughing up into his, swallowed as much as she could hold. Her tongue lashed, spreading moisture as her lips retreated. His cock glistened, hard as rock beneath the pumping of her fist as she fucked him with her hand, then licked those damned ribbon lips of hers before she engulfed him once more.
She hummed.
Fuck. His hands shot through the bars, seizing her by the head. His hips thrust, bumping up hard against the unyielding barricade of the cage, but she still choked on what he fed her. Her eyes watered, but she made no move to twist free.
Wanting deeper, he withdrew the thrust again, but she caught him in both hands, locking his shaft in her fists. Nothing more than the absolute head of him could reach her mouth now before she abutted against her own hands.
"Tease," Dominick growled again.
"Glory hole," she reminded, breathing heavily, her eyes watering in spite of her smugly victorious grin.
Yeah, he'd make her cry all right. Letting Maddy go, he locked his fists on the bars again, determined this time not to let go. This right here was why he never visited Glory Hole Bay, as it was called, down at the Castle's Romanesque baths. It was too damned hard to power fuck a squirming, mischievous target hell-bent only on teasing.
He hated being teased. He was the Dominant. He was in charge. He did the teasing and when he got his hands on Maddy next, he wa
s going to teach her that in a way she'd never—
"Fuck," he strangled, his hips bucking up hard against the bars as she engulfed him again. The back of her throat milked at him as she tried to open up, to grip him deep, even to swallow. She wasn't very experienced, but all her naïve fumbling made the heated twitches of her mouth, the constant lashing of her tongue, tickling at the undershaft and tracing up along each pulsing, throbbing vein, all the more irresistible.
He shuddered the cage with his next pumping need to get deeper. To take all that pleasurable warmth and fuck like no one she'd ever known before or would ever know again. But she retreated each time he advanced, giving only what she wanted to. Closing her lips upon the very tip of his cock, swirling her tongue around and around the lower curve of his glans while her hands played up and down upon his shaft, so slick from her saliva and the pre-cum he could feel dribbling from his tip, that the pumping of her hands began to make the same slick slapping sounds his cock was going to make when he finally got her out of this cage and down on her hands and knees before him, head down—he growled, hips bumping the bars again, a steady twitch of a rhythm that matched the playful up and down, advance and retreat motion of her hands and mouth—ass up, just the way he liked his submissives. Every orifice open and waiting for him simply to pick which one he'd like to use first.
"Give me your ass," he ordered. "Get up. Turn around. Up against the bars."
Those sultry green eyes of hers were nothing but sparkling mischief and denial. She scraped him with her teeth again, shivering the whole of him with the faintness of a sensation that was zero parts discomfort and infinitely more pleasurable than his body was able to take. His balls tightened so sharp and hard, he couldn't stop it from coming—that rip of ecstasy so intense it was almost pain as he came, shooting straight into her willing, smiling, smug little mouth.
Unprepared for it, her eyes bulged and, for the second time, Dominick grabbed her head, holding her captive as he jettisoned the full measure of his pleasure onto her tongue and tonsils.
"Swallow," he ordered, refusing to let her withdraw. "Have you ever swallowed before?"
Startled lips locked and still around his cock, she stared at him in equal parts enjoyment (no doubt because she'd made him lose it so completely) and panic (now what was she supposed to do?). She mewed. There were no words in it, but he knew a 'no' when he heard it.
"Swallow," he ordered again. "Every fucking drop. Swallow."
She was going to rebel. He saw it in her eyes; not the glimmer of defiant submissive, but the spark of an anxious one faced with the consequences of something she hadn't quite thought through.
"Swallow." He gave her head a forceful shake. "Before you choke, swallow."
As if she'd been waiting for him to grant permission, her shoulders hitched into that first gagging cough and, knowing what was about to come, Dominick whipped out of her mouth. He dropped with her as she buckled over, spitting and retching. One hand on her back and the other holding her hair, he waited for the gagging to stop.
"You don't swallow?" He rubbed between her shoulders, letting the gentleness of his touch convince her that he wasn't passing judgment.
Without looking up, Maddy gulped twice, and then shook her head. "Sorry." She scrubbed the back of her hand across her mouth. "Mood killer."
"I'll live." He waited until he was sure she was done throwing up. As she pushed back onto her knees, he stood up, too. Two sideways steps took him to a clean section of floor. Repositioning himself against the bars, Dominick snapped his fingers and pointed at a spot directly in front of him. His cock might only be half stiff, but it was not yet completely useless.
Looking at it, then him, Maddy hesitated only a second before crawling up to the bars in front of him.
Reaching through the bars, he took a firm hold of her ponytail, forcing her head back and her face up. Gripping his cock in his other hand, he began a slow milking from the base of his shaft to the tip. Creamy whiteness oozed out to dribble down the head of him. Gathering as much as he could on his finger, Dominick showed it to her. "How disgusted are you by the thought of swallowing a man's cum?"
Eyeing the sticky drops, Maddy offered the smallest shake of her captured head. "I don't like the taste."
Nodding to show he understood, Dominick then ordered, "Open your mouth."
Her breaths quickened, hitching. She swallowed hard again, hesitating so long that he was about to repeat himself. But with the faintest grimace for what she knew was coming, she at last obeyed.
"Tongue," he commanded. When she stuck it out, he wiped every milky drop he'd gathered over every taste bud he could reach. "Master's cum is a privilege you do not have permission to deny. You will swallow whenever you are told. We'll work on the gag reflex later. Close your mouth."
Her eyes watered. It looked like tears slipping down her cheeks as she withdrew her tongue and closed her mouth.
"Now," he told her, his tone gentle but no less commanding. "Swallow."
The corner of her mouth twitched. She closed her eyes, sending two more tear-like drops slipping past her lashes and spilling free. He gave her ponytail a shake, summoning her gaze back to his.
"Look at me and only me," he told her. "Swallow."
She did. It was acquiescence reluctantly given, but once it was done, the disgust that had crept in around her eyes and mouth vanished. Wonder replaced it, no doubt half because she'd done it and half because she kept it down. She grinned.
Letting his fingers stroke lightly down her blushing cheek, Dominick smiled back. "Good girl."
CHAPTER TEN
"Welcome to the Colony!" announced the trim blond man who had met them at the wharf immediately upon the Glory Ho's docking. "My name is Lieutenant Anderson, the officer in charge of Fleetwood." Dressed in the blue and white uniform of an old-fashioned naval officer, he waved the stragglers down off the docking ramp, encouraging everyone to follow him. He walked backwards down the dock, keeping eye-contact with as many as he could while spinning his well-practiced spiel. On his hip hung a crop, the slender, black leather-braided length topped with a wide, stiff slapper guaranteed to make as much sting as it did noise. "The year is 1721, where flush toilets have yet to be invented, where doctors are worse than diseases, and where the grog is nasty but the water can kill you. This is the heyday of arguably the worst and yet most successful pirates to ever live. If you're lucky, you just might get to meet some."
Following at the rear with Emil, Cecil, and a handful of other 'Masters', Dominick studied what he could see of the Colony's harbor. A cobblestone walkway led from the wharf up into the dense wood and rock structures of a military fort, not to mention the bygone-era town beyond. From somewhere within that wall came the warbling crow of at least one rooster and, above the sounds and smells of the harbor, his nose detected the faint and unmistakable aroma of stocked barnyard. A necessary evil, he supposed. When one lived on an island and food had to be imported, one did everything possible to diminish that bill.
"Fleetwood is a replica township, taken from historical drawings and first-sight accounts of Port Royal," Anderson told them. "At first glance, the sight of the garrison and all its fortifications…" he swung an arm, gesturing up at the high rock wall that divided the port from the military and town, "might have been enough to keep the colonials safe, but as you are about to discover, the threat of pirate attack was a daily concern. Now, in a minute, I'm going to take you all to Wardrobe where you'll don the costumes you'll wear for the remainder of your visit, but first, if everyone will step this way, Master McGruder, the island's head watchman, is going to go over all the policies, procedures and protocols meant to keep you safe. Right this way, ladies and gentlemen, if you please."
With another wave of his arm, Anderson swung around and marched the resort's practice guests (most of whom still looked green around the gills) up the hill. Maddy, the only guest not still suffering the aftereffects of seasickness, led the way with her camera, already clicking pictur
es. Leaning on her equally queasy boyfriend's arm, Tessa struggled along at the rear with her remaining high-heeled sandal dangling from her limp hand by one thin strap.
"Why isn't she locked up?" she grumbled—by the sounds of it, not sure if she wanted to burp or throw up. Probably the former. Dominick couldn't imagine she had anything left inside her to disgorge.
"Give it a rest," Mark said, sounding tired as he staggered along beside her.
"Whose side are you on?" she returned, testily.
"You grabbed her first and you know it. That means you committed assault, too. Best case scenario, if you truly want to involve the police: You both go to jail."
Snatching her hand off his arm, Tessa stopped walking. When he didn't, she planted her hands against his back and shoved. Mark almost went down on his knees before he caught his balance.
"Whose side are you on?" she demanded again as he righted himself.
He turned on her slowly, jaw clenched and flashes of warning dark in his eyes. "Baby, don't do that again."
Frowning mutinously, she started toward him, drawing back the same hand in which she held her remaining sandal, at which point Dominick quickened his step to close the distance fast enough to grab her wrist.
"Hey, hey," Anderson called out, snapping his fingers. "This way, everybody. None of that, now. The faster we get through this, the sooner we all get to play soldiers and pirates. Who's going to plunder and pillage whom, that's the name of today's game. Let's go. Ándale, prisa, everybody."
Ushering them through the gates into the closed off area behind the high walls and twining green vegetation, Anderson waited long enough to welcome Mark in, patting his shoulder as he passed through the gate, then looked back at Tessa and Dominick.
Dominick raised his hand to wave but made no move to join him. Instead, with Tessa irritably gripped by the arm, he stayed where he was while the remainder of both customers and crew had filed through the gate. Bringing up the rear, Emil laid a hand on Anderson's shoulder, and what few quiet words he offered appeared to satisfy any need the other man had for explanations. Both disappeared inside.