by Cynthia Dane
The ice in her glass rattled again. “You can serve me by knowing when is and when is not an appropriate time to arouse me.” Another ice cube disappeared down her cleavage. The melting sensation against her skin made her cold breasts jerk beneath his touch. “Remember when I took your panties earlier?”
Monica nodded.
“There’s a reason for that. Stand up and bend over the table.”
Oh my God, he was going to do it!
Monica obeyed, head down and curls playing with the ice water spilling from her breasts. Good thing they hadn’t been served dinner yet. It gave her an empty space on the table to bend over, legs spread across her chair.
She thought he would thrust into her. Instead, Henry picked up another ice cube.
“Lift your skirt.”
The moment Monica presented her ass to him, she received a hard, hard spank.
“Ah!” The surprise echoed in the private room. Another spank, and her fingers clutched the edge of the table.
“Do you apologize for tempting me at an inappropriate time?”
“Yes, Master!”
“Do you know your place?”
“Yes!”
He spanked her again, her hips snapping forward from the force.
Something cold touched her raw skin.
“Oh…” Monica both wished for and against someone coming through that door right now. “Henry…”
The cold numbed her to the pain she received. Slowly, slowly, the ice cube traveled down her ass, the water left behind both soothing and a nuisance. It made her legs shake, her arms bend against the table, and the already melted ice in her cleavage spill water onto the table.
“What did you say?”
“I mean…” The cold was on her slit now, pushing toward her opening. “Master.”
“I like the way you say that word. Or I would if it didn’t make me want to fuck you. Don’t you remember what I said?”
“I’m so sorry, Master.” Monica tried not to pull away from the cold swirling around her opening, but she couldn’t help herself. Henry pushed her torso down with his other hand. “Please go easy on me.”
“No, Monica. I want you to beg for the exact opposite. If you’re so insistent on seducing me, then I’ll make you work extra hard for it.”
The ice cube felt like it was tearing her apart as the cold invaded her body and ventured toward her deepest recesses.
Her pitiful whimpers must have placated Henry, for he picked up the last ice cube from her glass and rubbed it against her skin.
“Does it burn?” he asked softly, the large ice cube hovering outside her entrance. “Does the ice hurt?”
“No, Master.” It hurt, but in the good way. Her neurons were alive with perpetual pleasure, a feeling unlike anything she had experienced in so long. I’m going mad. Keeping perfectly still as the ice spread its chill throughout her body? Not easy! And as that chill turned into her body’s natural warmth, she was reminded how wholly human – how wholly woman – she was. Small droplets of water dripped onto her thigh.
Before she knew it, a quick, snapping spank hit her ass.
“How about that? Does that hurt?”
Another spank.
Another.
Three spanks in a row, and Monica was about to come undone. The pain of his touch and the pain of the ice made her wiggle in his grasp. “No, Master!” She gasped the reply, for the biggest ice cube was now melting and threatening to pop out of her body.
After a tiring shudder, it dropped to the floor anyway.
Henry clicked his tongue when he bent down to pick it up. “I knew it. You can’t control anything right now. Looks like I have some training to do.” The ice cube, warm and tasting of her arousal, pressed against her mouth. “Open.”
She took the ice cube into her mouth and pressed her tongue upon it.
“Don’t swallow it.”
She wasn’t going to.
“Sit in the chair.”
Monica obeyed, careful to keep the smaller ice cube within her as she eased back into her seat and pressed her hands against hard wood. Her skin was on fire. Freezing. Freezing with fire. She didn’t know if she wanted Henry to fuck her or stay like that until the end of dinner.
Good thing she had a Dom to make the decisions for her.
“Over here.” Henry yanked on her curls, pulling her head toward his hips.
Sucking his cock at the dinner table with ice in her mouth was easier said than done.
“Oh, fuck.” Henry clutched all of the curls he could, pushing her mouth onto him. “That is some serious ice.”
Monica nearly gagged upon him entering her mouth, but she persevered. Her tongue pushed the ice against him, rubbing it along his shaft as she grabbed him by the base. He coached her, telling her to take it easy, to go slow before he came too soon, and to remember to breathe. Monica didn’t need help with any of that, but she enjoyed the sound of his soothing voice.
Yet the worst part was what happened between her thighs. Her new black dress was wet, and she didn’t know if it was from the melting ice inside of her or her own arousal.
She didn’t care.
“That’s it.” The ice was small enough to ride on Monica’s tongue up and down his hard shaft. “Good girl.”
That simple comment filled her with so much joy that she almost forgot where she was.
“Stop.”
Monica halted her movements, easing her mouth off him. She looked up into his stern visage and pressed her face against his waiting palm. Is it my turn, Master?
“Up.”
She didn’t need to be told twice.
“Remember your safe word?”
“Yes.”
The next few moments were nothing but a shocking blur. Henry grabbed her by the shoulders and whipped her around, shoving her chest onto the table and lifting her skirt back up over her ass. Her thighs were so wet he had no problem entering her on the first try.
She squealed into the tablecloth, his girth invading her, his hands squeezing her hips, and his strength bringing her back onto his cock before shoving her forward again.
Henry grabbed her curls and yanked.
“How’s this, huh?” The pain on her scalp was only rivaled by the pain between her legs. When Henry pulled out, Monica’s thighs were wetter than ever, and not just from the melted ice. “Is this what you wanted all along?”
She could only whimper again.
His next forward stroke came with a determined grunt.
There was nothing sophisticated about the way he fucked her. From beginning to end he was crude, taking her like an animal that could no longer control himself. Because of me. How dare she? Taunting him like that!
Every thrust hurt, but brought with it more pleasure than the last. Henry yanked on her scalp one minute and pushed her down onto the table the next, his body overshadowing her as he lifted a leg to get better access. “Tell me how much you like it,” he growled.
He had both hands on her shoulders now, holding her arms to her sides as he steadily thrust into her, deeper, deeper, harder. Monica’s lips twisted as she fought to speak. “Thank you, Master!” she cried. “Please give me more!”
An orgasm traveled through her. Moans fell from her lips. She clamped down onto Henry’s cock and encouraged him to give her what she really wanted.
Proof that she really was irresistible.
He lost himself within her. Henry pushed down on her so hard that she grimaced, but didn’t think twice about accepting his gift into her. This never gets old. Every time Henry came inside her she was reminded that he had chosen her. Marked her. Out of all the women he could easily have, there was something about Monica Graham that made him unable to control himself.
And she reaped the benefits.
“Yes, Master…” she murmured against the wrinkled tablecloth. “Thank you.”
He pulled out, hand still steady on her. “That should tie
me over for now.” Somehow he managed to regain his steadiness as he zipped himself up and straightened out his jacket and tie. Monica stood up, her Dom’s seed rushing down her thighs and gathering behind her knee. The more she moved, the more came out. The melted ice did not help. Or was it helping? Both.
“No.” A firm hand pushed her shoulder so she was forced to sit in her seat, seed still wet on her skin. “Now we eat dinner.”
Henry returned to his seat and poured himself another glass of wine. Not even two minutes later the waiter arrived, announcing that their meals had been given priority and that their food would be ready any moment.
Monica stared at her plate of food, no energy within her to eat. Henry ate as usual, wine washing down his meal as he talked about his parents’ latest messages from Montana and some idle thing that happened in his office the day before.
Finally, he said, “Eat up. You need your energy for later.”
Monica looked up. “Later?”
“Of course.” Henry gave her that hungry look again. He pulled out the list and crossed another item off. “We’ve got a lot to accomplish tonight.”
Monica kicked back her glass of wine and ate. Her ass was sore, her chest was wet, and her thighs were so worn out already that she could barely press them together – but had to, if she wanted her new dress to remain unstained before they got back to his place later. Even though she ached on the outside, she ached even more within.
Tonight.
He was going to do even more to her.
Tonight!
Chapter 10
Cut, Take, Free
“Let’s see what you brought with you tonight.” Henry crossed in front of the bed and flipped open the top of Monica’s overnight suitcase. “Oh. I see.”
Monica watched him from his bed. She sat on her legs, arms pulled behind her… and with a silk black rope tied all around her torso. Her body ached in more than the pleasures of discomfort. With the rope pressing into her skin and her arms forced behind, she felt like a sweet specimen on display for her master perusing her belongings. Her underwear poked out from his side pocket.
“I packed with you in mind.”
She wasn’t under any orders to stay silent. Nevertheless, Monica was mindful of her manners when in her Master’s quarters. So when Henry lifted the silver and diamond collar from her suitcase, she said nothing, and only flashed him a sheepish smile.
“I have good tastes, don’t I?” Henry held it up to the light, the chain falling against his arm and tapping against his hip. “Did I ever tell you that I had this custom made?”
“No, Master.”
Henry stepped away from her suitcase with the collar still in his hand. It swayed in the muted light of his room, diamonds twinkling and the end of the leash scraping the carpet. “I did.” He stopped in front of the bed. “When I thought of the perfect gift for you, this was what popped into my mind. I had it rushed so I could give it to you as soon as possible. Cost me a pretty penny.” He opened the collar and glanced at Monica. “Money well spent.”
Go ahead. Put it on. It made her think of the first time they made love in her room at the Château. When Henry strung her up with the collar on… “Thank you.”
Yet the collar hovered a few inches away, secure in Henry’s hands. “I bought this when I thought I would be your patron, not your actual boyfriend. It was something like a bit of fun. Now that I think about it, I overstepped some lines buying you a leash and collar, didn’t I?”
Monica didn’t say anything. The ropes dug into her arms.
“Have you ever been collared before? Officially.”
She lifted her eyes and looked into his. Blue. Calm. There was serenity in those eyes that Monica rarely saw in men. Even though her brain took her back to that one day Jackson wrapped a marital collar around Monica’s neck, she didn’t feel scared or pained. Not as long as she could look into Henry’s eyes.
“Yes.”
The collar lowered. “Jackson.”
“Yes.”
Henry sighed. “How long ago?”
Why was he asking this now? “I’m not sure exactly. We had a collaring ceremony when I broke up with…”
“Broke up? With whom?”
There was surprise in his voice. What a time to bring this up. “I used to be in a ménage with him and Ethan Cole. A long time ago.”
“I see.”
“Does it anger you?”
“Of course not. I never considered it.”
“I guess that was about four, maybe five years ago.”
“Was it a nice ceremony?”
Monica had to look away again. “Yes.” Candles. Wine. A red dress. Ethan had been there as both of their witness. He gave us his blessing. He was Jackson’s best friend. Of course he had. “I was very happy.”
“Was.”
Neither of them commented on what that meant.
For the first time that night, Monica spoke completely out of turn. “Have you ever had a collaring ceremony?”
Henry’s eyes widened, and yet he didn’t look at all surprised that she asked that. “Yes. Also a long time ago.”
“With that girl you scared away?”
A brief cloud of sadness overtook his countenance. “Yes.”
“What kind of collar was it?”
Henry reached down and traced a line around her throat. It made her shiver. Touch me more. If only. “Black. Thin. She was a very understated woman. Liked leather, so I got her a leather collar with flecks of emeralds. She took it with her when she left. I don’t know what she did with it. What do subs do with their old collars?”
Well, if they were going to chat, Monica was going to go ahead and fall off her legs. She sprawled them to the side, her arms still bound but her toes wiggling in relief. “I can’t speak for all subs… but I know a lot of them leave them behind, or take them with them, or keep them. Sometimes they sell them if they’re valuable. It’s highly personal. What do women do with their wedding rings from old marriages?”
“I wouldn’t know about that either.” Henry fingered the outline of the silver and diamond collar before tossing it onto the floor. “Doesn’t feel right to use that right now. Maybe sometime again in the future, Princess.” He put a hand on her head, smoothing down her curls and caressing her cheek. Monica leaned into his touch. “Are you happy with me?”
With her cheek still pressed against his palm, Monica looked up at him with as much reassurance as she could muster. “Very much so.”
“I’ve done my best to please you. As you know, it’s not just subs who want to serve and make another person happy.” His strokes lessened. “A good Dom takes his sub’s happiness into account above all else. I want you to trust me, Monica. Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“You barely know me. You’ve had a rocky past. I don’t believe you trust me wholeheartedly quite yet. And that’s okay.” He kissed her forehead, “I will earn more of your trust. Sit up.”
Monica pushed herself back onto her legs, her heart beating furiously in her chest at the thought of what her Dom might do to her. He’s already done so much tonight. Her ass was still sore from the spankings she received on the restaurant table. And her thighs… the way Henry fucked her… Monica wasn’t sure she could take more that night, and yet hearing Henry speak made her crave his intimate touch once again.
He went to a drawer on the other side of the room. The man was still in his suit, but minus the jacket. This was the most casual Monica had ever seen him dressed. His creased trousers were wrinkled in all the right places, and his long-sleeved shirt clung to his body in a way that made her shudder in anticipation. Just his shirt tucked into his belt alone was enough to make her want him. If she could, Monica would have clutched that belt and undone the buckle with her tongue. Next time.
Henry pulled something long and gleaming from a drawer. “I need you to sit very still.”
When he turned, there was a ski
nny knife in his hand. Monica involuntarily shot back on her legs.
“Now, now. I’m not going to cut you.” He stood in front of her, the knife at his side. “I need you to trust me. I don’t want to hurt you. I want to take you to new places. No blood. No skin. Do you trust me?”
Monica nodded. “Yes, Master.”
“Good. Now what did I tell you to do?”