“Maurice isn’t like him.”
“He’s not.”
“Then as much as I’ll hate you leaving, it’s what you need to do.”
“I don’t know when,” Susan said. “But I’ll make sure you have lots of notice.”
“Appreciate that, Susan. I need to find someone to offset Missy. I swear that girl unlearns what she had figured out the day before. But she sells a pile of flowers to any man who crosses the threshold.”
They both laughed. Flowers were still the apology conveyance of choice, and Missy played that card better than either of them. Men coming into the shop to pick up a smaller bouquet almost always found themselves leaving with an enormous—and costly—one.
Felicity went off to tend to the ordering, and Susan was left again with sorting and finding space for the latest order in the refrigerated display cases. She didn’t mind the tedious work. It gave her time to think on certain other experiences with her Dom as she shifted, a little uncomfortable on her stool. She’d even called him Master the previous night, in no small way because he’d claimed her in the most intimate manner…
“I want you over the bench, sweetheart.”
Despite the fact the bench was used for many other things, all of them ultimately pleasurable, Susan also associated it with her first punishment, something she still wasn’t certain she’d deserved. She couldn’t hide a tiny flinch.
“Susan?”
“Nothing. Really. I just remember you paddling me, is all.”
“For something you’d still debate.”
“Well, yes.”
Maurice laughed and patted her naked ass affectionately. His jeans strained at the crotch. He didn’t dress for scenes in their home and wore his leathers to the Club only. Susan didn’t mind at all. He filled out a pair of jeans admirably. “No punishment, as you well know.”
Positioning herself on the padded leather form, she relaxed as he secured her, first tying off her hands, then binding her thighs and ankles. The addition of a strap over her hips was new, but she trusted Maurice and made no query, not that she was allowed to speak at this point.
A caress on her buttock preempted a popping sound and the liquid squeeze of lube. Her heart sped up. Lube meant anal play, and while it increased the intensity of her orgasms exponentially, she still struggled with the dirty, forbidden side of it.
“Relax, darlin’. A little cool.” But he’d warmed the lube between his hands, ever careful of her, and drizzled it down the cleft of her ass before rubbing it in circles over her anus. His first finger slid in easily as she’d learned how to receive penetration there, and the second one pulled only a small gasp from her lips.
More lube and he scissored his digits, stretching her with infinite patience until she was pushing back on him, mutely begging for something more. The extra strap held her firmly, and her entire being recognized the difference. She shivered.
“I’m taking this ass tonight, darlin’. And then we’re going to the Club where you’ll feel my cum deep inside, while you wait for your pleasure.”
It wasn’t like wearing those rigid little butt plugs he’d introduced over the past few days, having her wear them at different intervals. Sitting with one wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but she was certain everyone at the Club knew she was plugged, no matter how she tried to walk and sit or kneel normally. Although the smiles from the other Doms and the knowing looks from the subs made it clear she didn’t carry it off. However, she was in good company, having come to recognize certain other submissives were also holding plugs deep within their rectums.
Sucking in a deep breath, she made herself relax, as Maurice coached her along. His commentary should have horrified her, but instead it unleashed a bad girl residing inside of her.
“This little hole is such an anxious pucker, but it gives before my touch. It recognizes who it’s Master is, even if its owner doesn’t.”
At her wordless sound of protest, he smacked one buttock and pushed in deeper, like clear into her chest. “Its owner will know her Master afterward. I know it for a fact.”
He went on in the same vein, describing how her back channel opened to him, how pink inside and hot it was, and how he couldn’t wait to shove his cock in there. Anxiety at the thought of such a big appendage entering such a small opening made her huff, but the dark pleasure bloomed as he teased all those blood-rich nerve endings. The Internet was such a treasure trove of information, and Susan had driven herself to the edge with the anticipation.
Feeling him step between her legs, the denim of his jeans rubbing against the tender flesh of her inner thighs, knowing he was merely going to release his cock and fuck her while clothed, take her like a vessel, pushed her arousal higher. Slave girl, used by her Master. Her skin dewed with a fine film of moisture, and her pussy flooded with far more, wetting the leather beneath her so that she nearly floated on top where her folds rested.
“You aren’t to come. Remember your last correction.” His dark threat made her shudder, and her apex pulsed in direct rebellion. Susan bit back a plea, knowing it would fall on deaf ears and equally aware her reward would be vast.
His fingers withdrew, and she scented the wet wipes before all her attention focused on a silky, firm presence at her anus, different and far bigger than his fingers. She tensed, despite her best efforts.
“Relax and push back.” His voice was raspy with need.
The pressure increased as she did as she was told, and the head of his cock pushed past the ring guarding her opening. Her eyes flew open, and she sucked in air through her nostrils, striving to take him. He held still, waiting for her to adjust, and she could feel him pulsing just inside.
Another push and she bit back a scream, not of pain exactly, but a protest of such a foreign object lodged deep.
“Okay, darlin’?” His accent thickened, and she clenched, involuntarily, eliciting a groan from Maurice.
“You can’t just stay like that,” she whimpered. “Please.”
“God, you please me.” And he shoved deeper, until she felt his sac against her labia.
She struggled to move, helpless against the restraints, the whimpers and pleas falling without pause now from her lips, although no one would have been able to interpret them. He took her then, powering out and back in, sometimes pulling completely from her body to surge back in, opening her without mercy, and she savored his mastery even as she sought more.
Somehow, he worked a hand under her pelvis to easily find her distended clit, and she shrieked, knowing she’d never hold off if he used those diabolical fingers.
“You come for me, you come now.”
“Master!” The salutation heralded the moment.
Her world splintered around her as a first-class climax overtook her and she clenched helplessly on nothing in her front passage, the log in her back channel pressing deeper, pulsing with scalding heat as he gave up his cum. She let the experience take her away, oblivious to Maurice leaving her body, although she’d felt his aftercare, coupled with his praise. And his total satisfaction in her recognition of his true status in her life.
Susan slammed the display case door, grateful for the coolness of the unit, as reviewing her introduction to anal intercourse was an altogether heated experience. Somehow he’d known to give her an orgasm, instead of his original plan to make her wait. As promised, he made it his sole purpose to know what she needed. It hadn’t made waiting for him at the Club any easier insofar as sitting went, or even kneeling, all too aware of her affronted anus, but she’d accepted she was totally his.
And when he’d come to collect her, taking her to join Master Jordan for a few quiet moments and a drink, she’d called him Master, her reward the leap of joy in his expressive eyes. Jordan hadn’t stayed long, and it appeared to her the obvious connection between her and Maurice pained him. Maurice confirmed it, helping her into her cloak before the trip home.
“Emily left him. I think he fucked up, but that’s between them.”
Susan wanted to help, do something, but followed her Dom’s lead. If Emily reached out to her, she’d do what she could.
The drive home was quiet, both of them tired, but comfortable. They communicated without words, and Susan was content. She had no doubt Maurice was as well.
Chapter Seven
“I’d like you to come home with me next weekend to meet my family.”
Susan tensed. They were in his bed, recovering from another session of dominant sex. She’d had three mind-blowing orgasms, tied and splayed for incredible pleasure, before he fucked her for his own. It hardly seemed the time or place for such a serious comment. Maurice sounded…diffident.
He ran a hand over her flank and hitched closer to spoon against her, the heat and heft of his muscular frame once again stirring her senses. “I haven’t been home for a long time, sweetheart. Family isn’t always easy for me.”
Her heart swelled. She thought she’d fallen in love with this forthright man the first day they’d met, when he’d taken such good care of her while gently forcing his will upon her, all in her best interest. It wasn’t that he didn’t share with her. He did. He expected nothing less from her, and coaxed and demanded things she had never thought to share with anyone. And she thought she knew him. But this was like the final piece of reciprocity.
“I’d like to meet your family. Tell me more about them.”
He didn’t share anything significantly different than what she already knew, until he came to mention his brother, Joseph, and Joseph’s wife, Angela.
“She was to be mine, originally.”
Mine. Hearing that was like a knife in her heart, no matter she had no influence over his past, as he had none over hers. Maurice knew about her few fledgling relationships. She knew about his regard for Lois, but Angela was to have been his. She became aware she was breathing quickly into the silence and her heart was pounding. He knew it, too, and gathered her closer to kiss her hair.
“I wouldn’t have you walk into that house, unprepared, and see it, Susan. Or feel it. She chose Joseph because he’s the oldest and will come into the biggest part of the money when our parents die. And he’s come to recognize it. She nearly destroyed our bond, and now…well, he won’t abandon her because he’s honorable and she’s had his children, but it’s awkward.
“Joseph isn’t a full-time Dom. He expects Angela to be his wife and stay at home, but he’s not as…intense. That might have had something to do with her choice as well. And in the end I’m grateful. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have met you.”
Susan pulled herself together. This wasn’t about her. “Then we’ll focus on that! It’ll be fine, Maurice. That was then. I’m not concerned, and I won’t allow her—or the situation—to bother me.”
“Sweetheart.” He squeezed her tightly, then allowed her room to breathe, relaxing behind her almost immediately into sleep.
After a time, thinking dark thoughts about people who screwed with other people’s heads and hearts, she followed him into slumber.
* * * *
“You’re not what I expected him to choose.” Angela stretched her tidy little body languorously as she reclined on the lounge nearest the pool.
Susan sipped her sweet tea and was grateful for her sunglasses, hiding behind the dark lenses without apology. Maurice and Joseph were in the house, dealing with some crisis in the kitchen Mama Alain had proclaimed to be the fault of Papa Alain, and she and Angela were left to supervise the children.
The two little boys were mirrors of their father, but Susan could see Maurice’s smile each time they grinned in her direction. He and Joseph were very alike and favored their own father. Their mother was a tiny, plump blonde with fine, pale skin and flashing green eyes. Susan liked them all with the exception of Angela. Pronounced Ahngellah, don’t you know. Bitch.
She decided to respond to the other woman’s comment. “Maurice makes his own choices.”
A flicker of annoyance soured Angela’s perfectly painted pouting lips. “Yes, he does,” she purred. “I well remember.”
“It would be difficult to forget,” Susan concurred, and was rewarded with a furious glare.
“He wanted a twenty-four-seven sub. I couldn’t accommodate him, or his…tastes. Joseph is far more biddable.”
Your loss. Susan contented herself with a slight nod of her head, determined not to share anything with Angela.
“I find I second-guess myself from time to time.”
She’d had enough, even knowing the woman was deliberately baiting her. “You snooze, you lose.”
It was difficult not to laugh at the astonished, then affronted look twisting Angela’s refined features, the dark-brown eyes darkening further with outrage. She leaned forward, nearly overbalancing off the lounge chair, and spat the words at Susan.
“He likes to hurt his subs. I know this. It speaks to that sadistic side of him. I wouldn’t allow him to do that to me, and I can’t say as I care for pain sluts.”
The sound of the patio door opening saved Susan from formulating a response to the venomous comment. Joseph stepped between them, tugging Angela up from her position to sit on the edge of the lounger with her on his lap. Susan felt stifled and made to stand, when Maurice caught her elbow and helped her to her feet. His touch instantly transmuted Angela’s bitterness into mere speculation.
“Mama and Papa have sorted dinner out. Come and dine, sweetheart.” She willingly moved with him into the house, aware Joseph and Angela were speaking together behind them.
“What did she say to you?” The man missed nothing, although one could have cut the bitch smog with a knife.
“Nothing much,” she assured him. “Some hints about making the wrong choice, surprised you chose me, that sort of thing. What you expected.”
“Are you okay?”
“Of course.” And she was, she hoped, although that comment about pain sluts—but he was talking again.
“We can leave.” So he recognized there was more, that Angela had put the needle in, and he wasn’t prepared to allow anything further to make her uncomfortable. Susan loved him for it, but she wasn’t going to give Angela that kind of power.
“No, Maurice. I’d prefer not to be within a hundred feet of her, but I like your family. I want to get to know them.”
The pleasure suffusing his features made it all worthwhile, and Susan put the comment of pain sluts away, deciding it was another example of pure nastiness to rattle her and get under her skin. She let him seat her at the table and ignored Angela when Joseph sat his wife at the far end. Mama and Papa Alain bickered amiably in between bouts of sharing about Maurice and Joseph’s childhood as well as their other children, Desiree and Aimee. It was an altogether foreign atmosphere for Susan, and she paid close attention to Papa Alain’s interaction with his wife and grown children, not to mention the lavish care he bestowed upon his grandchildren. She soaked it up, believing it to be genuine, and found Maurice watching her, satisfaction in his dark eyes.
They retired early, Maurice refusing to go out to a club, although Angela wheedled her way with Joseph and emerged from their room dressed in a beautiful dress that matched her eyes, mile-high stilettos on her feet. Diamonds glittered at her throat and ears, and a huge dinner ring graced her right hand, balancing out her wedding rings. Susan was glad to see the couple go, and suspected Maurice’s parents primarily enjoyed having the two little boys to themselves.
As she undressed, hanging her clothes away and searching for a laundry bag to deposit anything soiled inside, Maurice spoke from his recline on the bed, already stripped to a pair of black silk boxers. “My parents like you. And they approve of you.”
“They’ve only known me two days, Maurice.”
“And they’ve been around a long time and are quite capable of judging people.”
“Oh, honey. I didn’t mean any disrespect.” And she didn’t.
He shook his head. “I know you didn’t. But you’re still not secure in the wonderful person you are. You
still doubt yourself.”
Susan wasn’t sure how she might reassure him. She felt she’d come into her own, under his care and tutelage, and other people’s opinions didn’t impact the way they used to. She hardly even thought about her father anymore, or the way he’d treated her and her mom. She still grieved her mother and didn’t expect that to change anytime soon. Maurice totally accepted that, and with his gentle encouragement, Susan had unraveled all the skeins of betrayal, abandonment and emotional abuse that had so impacted her ability to trust another person, even her mother. And what was more, she’d come to understand that while her mom hadn’t been able to be there for her in her childhood and adolescent years, she should have been. It was okay to regret that and work through the impotent anger it caused. Maurice would have made an excellent therapist. Whatever he wanted for her turned out to be what she wanted for herself.
“Susan?”
She’d been off woolgathering again. It seemed she spent a lot of time in her head working things through. She smiled at him. “I’ll keep working on it.”
“See that you do. Now, come here. Knees.”
* * * *
Well, shit. How had that happened? She’d come again without managing to ask permission. Not exactly true. She’d asked, but he’d denied her, and suddenly there wasn’t time to ask again. Susan quivered through the residue of a shuddering release, bound to the headboard of the enormous bed in the suite of guest rooms assigned to them by Maurice’s parents. Away from the main house and therefore secluded.
She’d sucked him off with abandon, just the way he liked it, reveling in her submissive power and in the supreme pleasure of pleasing him. She hadn’t expected him to tie her down in his parents’ guest quarters and exert his will in the same way he did at home, to finish in her. It didn’t seem possible that he’d outfitted the room with so many similar restraints, but the handcuffs and silk ropes had effectively immobilized her. Only the belief they were far enough away from the parents and the grandchildren had allowed her to resist requesting a gag.
Owned [Club Pleasure 6] (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 13