Owned [Club Pleasure 6] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Allyson Young

  He knew the rest of the evening was a blur for Susan. She tidied up and trudged back to the other members like going to the gallows, but once there she pasted a smile on her face. When they didn’t reference her reaction to the scene, she relaxed a little and contributed to the conversation, if diffidently, when spoken to. He simply watched her, noting how the others responded. The Doms were intrigued, recognizing her submissive streak, and their subs were polite and even more welcoming than usual. A sense of pride filled him. She was the whole package.

  When he assessed fatigue becoming evident in the way her body moved, the gracefulness of her expressive hands faltering, he expressed their farewells and she obediently joined him. Lois was already dozing in Jon’s lap, and Trevor was holding her feet on his knee, stroking the arch. The other subs were either kneeling at their Doms’ feet, or, in Elise’s case, curled up against Ross’s side, with her knees held against her chest. He’d been aware of Susan glancing at their positions and at one point felt her begin to slip to the floor before he forestalled her.

  He wanted to train her at his home, their home, and save her any unnecessary corrections in front of people. Spare her any embarrassment given her newbie status. He was privately amazed at his forbearance, but this was Susan, his One. Not a sub who required intense pain and direction, and who usually had protocol down pat.

  “We’re going to your house?” She spoke quietly, but he could feel the tension right across the console of the truck as soon as he climbed into his seat.

  “We are.”

  “Well, good. And not just for coffee, right?”

  He’d been correct to insist she visit with the others, reclaim her equilibrium. And her little teasing personality that surfaced when she was feeling comfortable.

  “Not just for coffee.”

  The truck interior went electric. He’d been uncomfortable most of the evening with a throbbing hard-on, anticipating the end of the night. Clearly Susan’s earlier marked arousal, especially while in his bedroom slash playroom, and all those hints she’d given him, hadn’t been extinguished by her reaction to Griffin publically ass fucking Keira into submission. He drove a little faster.

  Parking the vehicle, he was out and around to her side with unseemly haste, throttling back on his need to fuck her up against the truck, and sedately escorted her into the house. First things first.

  “Go to our bedroom. Use the bathroom, remove your clothing, hang it up, and stand by the spanking bench. I mean to start as I intend to go on.”

  Her eyes popped wide. Anxiety warred with arousal, and her sweet mouth opened and closer before she managed a jerky nod and made her way toward the bedroom. He locked up and did a quick tour to ensure the back door in the kitchen was also secure. Then he just stood on the tile floor and waited, thinking about nothing.

  After enough time for Susan to become agitated, he paced to the bedroom. She stood there, naked, her only sign of distress a slight clenching of her hands. He stopped in place, not because he wanted to—his brain simply commanded him to see his woman.

  Full breasts, tipped with small peach-colored nipples, rested on her torso, waist flaring into wide hips. He noted the jut of her hipbones and the delineation of each rib. Too thin from too much worry and hardship. Firm thighs framed her apex. A bare apex. His eyes flew to her face.

  “I thought…I mean, all those pictures. The women were clean shaven.”

  “You’re perfect. Too thin for good health though.”

  She hunched a little, and her hands came up to veil her sex. Maurice cursed under his breath but didn’t retract his comment. “Don’t cover yourself. Stand tall. Feet apart. Hands behind your neck. Lace them together.”

  With halting movements, she did as he told her, and he nearly groaned at the way his cock rubbed against his leathers. He tugged his shirt off and tossed it aside, loving the way Susan’s eyes widened and how she caressed his bared skin with her gaze.

  “This is how I expect you to present for me when I send you to this room.”

  She nodded, and he replied, putting a snap in his voice. “Verbalize.”

  With a tiny gasp she nodded again and said, “I understand.”

  Crossing to her, he gently stroked down her cheek. “You’ll learn as we go along, sweetheart. You’re lovely.”

  “I noticed the others kneeling. I—”

  He cut her off. “You’ll respond to questions, but otherwise you’ll be silent in here. If you must speak, ask permission.”

  Looking bewildered, she still managed to convey a verbal understanding.

  Taking his time, he inspected his property, his beloved possession. The shell of her ear, the silky skin on the underside of her arm, the faint stubble in her armpit. Tracing a path over her collarbone, over her sternum, using both hands to lift and weigh the soft breast tissue, gently, then pinching the nipples hard, reveling in her wince when she didn’t break position. He smoothed his palms over the nip of her waist, down over her flanks, gripping and massaging the full buttocks in preparation of what was to come, before caressing her thighs. He knelt to stroke the taut calves and circled a narrow ankle with his fingers, tugging one further from its mate. He could smell her feminine excitement, a sharp, tangy scent he bet would taste sweet in direct contrast.

  “Keep your eyes looking straight ahead and don’t break position.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Fuck him. He preferred Master. He needed Master from her. But she’d given him the other respected title without being told, and she’d heard him say she hadn’t yet committed.

  “Your safe word is flowers. Say it and I stop. Whatever I’m doing, I stop. There won’t be any slow down or check-in words. You’ll trust me to know what you need.”

  “Yet I need a safe word.”

  He was up to his feet and in her face in one move. “You were told not to speak. That adds to your correction.”

  Susan didn’t flinch. One feathery brow lifted a trifle, and if he hadn’t been so intent on her, he might have missed it.

  He realized he needed to explain further. “There may come a time when you won’t require a safe word.”

  She visibly processed. “I understand.”

  Did she? He explained further. “In the relationship I require, you’ll come to trust that I’ll never harm you, never push you too far or take you where you don’t want to go.”

  When she didn’t respond, merely lowered her eyes and inclined her head, Maurice thought he’d choke on the emotion. He fell to his knees again, masking his face because submissives needed the sense their Doms were in complete control at all times when scening. He wondered if the same would always apply in their day-to-day life and began to doubt it. Susan would keep him on his toes, and he set the thought aside to explore it in detail later. When he wasn’t dying from the lack of having his woman.

  Using his thumbs to part the folds of her pussy, he watched as the little pearl poked out from its hood. She was still wet, so his show of will hadn’t scared her. Better and better. As her hips tilted toward him, he swallowed a smile. She’d be waiting a while.

  Standing, he directed her to turn to the bench, ignoring her tiny pout. “I’m going to correct you now. Can you position yourself, or do you need help?”

  “I can do it.” Awkwardly, she climbed on, and Maurice gently corrected the arrangement of her limbs, explaining as he went, easing her anxiety. It would take repetition for her to assume the placement on any of his equipment, but they had a lot of time ahead of them. And there would be many opportunities for her to practice, because he intended to treat her to erotic pain, too.

  When she was as comfortable as a sub could be on a spanking bench, he quickly restrained her, noting how she pressed into both the bench and the bindings, embracing them. Perfect.

  “Tell me why you’re receiving this punishment.”

  “Because I teased you at the Club. About Lois. And for speaking out of turn.”

  “The latter is accurate. The former—you were
disrespectful.”

  When she didn’t agree, he repeated himself. “Susan!”

  “I’m not giving that up. Sir.”

  What the fuck? “You’ll respect me in the company of others. At all times.”

  “That wasn’t the issue. You didn’t like it when I figured it out. That Lois was in your sights a while back.”

  He stared at her enticing globes and ran his callused palm over them, enjoying how soft they felt, before sliding his fingers through the cleft to search out her damp pussy lips. Fingering her, inserting the tip of his middle finger into that small entrance, he focused on the tight muscles at her gate, then dragged her moisture up to her clit. Rubbing in tiny circles, he leaned forward and spoke again.

  “I’m not conceding the point, Susan.”

  Between breathy little moans, she choked out, “Me neither.”

  With a smile he was glad she couldn’t see, he worked her until the orgasm was evident, her hips hitching in increments against the restraints, breaths loud in the quiet of the big room.

  “Please, Maurice. Please.”

  Ah, he loved it when a sub begged. Loved it even more when he denied them and they cried and begged some more. It fed his sadistic streak. Not the hurting some demanded, required, although orgasm denial hurt, too. He pulled his hand away, and Susan said some extremely unladylike things, considering he’d never heard her swear. He’d give her those this time.

  He crossed to the wardrobe, ensuring his steps were loud and measured, using the key secreted on the top to open the door, which creaked open in a most satisfying manner. He rifled through the contents in a deliberate manner, too, making it noisy, before selecting a paddle. Preferring to use his hand for over-the-knee, spontaneous spankings, he otherwise used instruments. Skilled with all of them, he nevertheless chose a wide, leather paddle for Susan’s first introduction to mitigating his displeasure.

  Once again rubbing the flesh of her ass, he chose to remain silent, until he placed the paddle on the small of her back. “I’m going to give you ten smacks, Susan. You’ll count each one and thank me. Show respect. Or we’ll start again.”

  After a beat, she replied, “I understand. Sir.”

  A hint of snark. It served to erase any thought of going easy on her. The first blow caught her on the fullness of her right cheek.

  A startled gasp and a clench of that soft flesh ramped up his need. “One. Thank you. Sir.”

  He replicated his strike on the other cheek.

  “Two. Thank you. Sir.” Susan spoke through gritted teeth.

  Massaging the heated flesh, he watched carefully as she settled, then laid on four more, quick, snapping hits over the cleft. Susan choked out an accurate count, adding the Sir, grudgingly, at the end. He accepted it, and leaned down to nuzzle the offended areas.

  “Four more, sweetheart.”

  She didn’t clench, and he dispensed the final smacks in a slower cadence. Her count was quieter, and exact. Maurice grabbed the Arnica cream and applied it in a thin layer over her buttocks. Other than a slight groan, she didn’t respond. He stripped off his leathers, his hands fumbling with the laces.

  Releasing her from the restraints, he carried her to the bed and sat with her curled in his lap. She rested against him, heated bottom pressed on his cock, and it was his turn to muffle a groan.

  “How was your first spanking?”

  “My bottom hurts.”

  “It’s supposed to. It was a punishment.”

  “But the woman at the Club. Keira.”

  “That was pain to enhance pleasure. And if you recall, she flew.”

  Susan was quiet, the beat of her heart slowing to nearly synchronize with his own. “Do I get one of those?”

  Despite his need to get inside her, he laughed and took a minute to explain. “Indeed you will, sweetheart, once I find out what it is you need. I already know how to punish you.”

  A little huff. Then her buttocks moved suggestively. “You took your pants off.”

  “I did.”

  “You’re hard.”

  “I’ve been hard all night. Hard for days around you.” He shifted her onto the bed and stretched out beside her.

  “It’s so bright in here.” Her eyes were huge in her pale face, and her wealth of hair streamed across the pillow.

  “I want to see you, see everything.” He dragged a finger across one pert nipple, and she shivered.

  “But it’s not romantic.”

  “I’m not romantic, Susan.” She mumbled something.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said, ‘you are so.’”

  “Well, what I plan next isn’t romance. It’s nasty, dirty fucking, and I intend to enjoy every minute of it.”

  Her laughter filled the room until his lips met hers. He attacked, ravished, and demanded her surrender, exploring every crevice, every part of her mouth, until she sobbed for breath.

  “Put your hands above your head and keep them there,” he urged. “I don’t want to tie you this first time.”

  Her face glowing from his intense kiss, hair tangled, eyes now glazed with passion, Susan placed her hands against the headboard. He followed the same path his fingers had traced earlier, but detoured to suckle first one nipple, then the other. He could hardly wait to decorate those tender tips, envisioning a slender platinum circlet with tiny tourmalines to match her eyes. She shuddered below him, a whimper escaping her lips as he closed his teeth over the entire areola, pinching the other in concert. But she didn’t beg him to stop, and he slowly increased the pressure before backing off and tonguing the pain away.

  “Nice, responsive breasts,” he breathed against her fragrant skin. He rolled away and worked toward the end of the bed. Susan’s head lifted from the pillow, visibly trying not to say anything, seeing as he hadn’t asked.

  “Knees up, feet flat on the mattress.”

  She dropped her head back and raised her legs. Maurice had seen his fair share of thighs lifted high and spread wide, but they vanished into the mists of memory. “Drop them open. Wide as you can. Hold the position.”

  He heard another mumble, something about the freaking military, and breathed hard. He wasn’t going to be able to leave Susan much time between his attentions. She tended to regroup too quickly.

  “Whenever I place you on this bed, your hands go above your head, and you spread for me. Clear?”

  “I understand, Sir.” And the crisp tang of her arousal punctuated her confirmation.

  Taking a stance between her widespread thighs, he viewed his pussy. Pink, swollen folds, ripe like fruit, Susan’s own natural lubrication catching the light. Opening her wider, he admired the inner lips framing the tiny, spade-shaped opening to her sheath, smaller than he remembered from fingering her earlier. It was going to be a struggle to get inside but well worth the fight.

  Rubbing his nose against her, he breathed deeply and imprinted her personal scent, before lapping up her whole slit. She let out a little shriek, and her knees wavered.

  “You don’t get to come unless we do this my way.” He kept his voice implacable only through long practice. She tensed and subsided.

  “You won’t require my permission to come this time.” Diving in, he ate at her, using his shoulders to pinion her legs wide, his hands shoving beneath her ass to raise her to just the right angle to access every square millimeter.

  Chapter Five

  Her hips higher than her head, Susan couldn’t get any leverage to avoid Maurice’s obvious intent to eat her alive. It felt so…visceral, so amazing, but she was battered by escalating sensations until she thought she’d go over, but then he’d back off and torment another area. Who knew there were so many erogenous zones in her pussy? She was fully aware of her clit, having found that trigger in her teens, but when Maurice sucked one side of her labia deep into his mouth and worried at it with his clever tongue, she couldn’t bite back the wail that rolled up from her throat.

  And the little flickers over her perineum, to her an
us—they hadn’t talked about anal sex. She had never—

  A lance of his stiffened tongue inside her, past those clenching rings of muscle, made her call out a protest before a dark, forbidden sensation subdued it. When a broad digit replaced his tongue, a skewer of stretching pain made her shimmy until it, too, turned into that edgy pleasure. Another digit sought entry in her pussy, joined by another, to fill her, and then he set his lips on her clit and sucked firmly. Screaming, the sound bouncing off the very walls, Susan went over, clenching hard on those fingers. Her thighs slapped together like a vise around Maurice’s head, and she felt him chuckle—chuckle, against her overworked flesh.

  She was still sucking in air to ease her lungs and calm her pounding heart when his broad body knelt between her legs, once again stretching her wide. They had discussed birth control, a casual snippet among various topics they covered, and she hadn’t missed the fleeting look of disappointment crossing Maurice’s face when she advised she wasn’t using any. Maybe they should have attached a little more importance to it—but then she registered the snap of latex. Blinking the orgasmic moisture from her eyes, she watched as he sheathed a thick, pulsing erection. It had been a very long time since she’d taken a man inside her body, and he was a little intimidating. She swallowed.

  Maurice fisted that appendage, the wide head popping above the flex of his fingers like a magic mushroom. His face was twisted with lust, but his eyes, while hot, were almost reverent. Unbidden, she reached for him. His eyes flashed a warning at the movement before he lowered over her, and she hurriedly put her hands back over her head.

  “I’m rushing this, sweetheart. So vanilla. But I can’t wait.” His words emerged behind gritted teeth, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.

  Before she could frame a suitable response, he fit himself against her and pushed inside, big cock fighting for entry. The tissues of her channel gave way slowly against the determined pressure, his size so much larger than even two of his fingers. Susan relaxed as best she could and received him, memorizing every tiny move. Her hands crept down to work their way into his hair, feeling the tension pouring from him. And then he was seated as deep as he could go, the weight of his balls up against her.