B is for…

by L. DuBois

  “Come in.”

  A sense of deja vu washed over Mae as she opened the door. Had it only been twenty-four hours ago that she’d stood here, with no idea who, or what, waited for her on the other side?

  Master Xavier wore a gray dress shirt instead of the tight, sleeveless black top he’d had on earlier. It was open mid-way down the chest, exposing golden. The sight of him made her fingertips tingle.

  He was standing beside the armchair he’d used the first night. A plain wooden chair held the place of honor in the center of the room.

  “Master Xavier.” Mae closed the door behind her.

  He crooked his finger.

  Mae’s whole body responded to the casual command—her nipples hardened under the lace, wetness flooded her pussy, and her mouth went dry.

  She stopped a few feet in front of him, skin tingling in anticipation of his touch. He looked her up and down, the corner of his mouth kicking up in just the hint of a smile. Reaching out, he tugged her braid, then ran his hands down to her breasts—pinching her nipples and rubbing the lace against the sensitive buds. Mae arched her back, offering him more, offering him everything.

  Xavier released her and pointed to the plain chair.

  Mae took a seat, knees together, hands braced on either side of her thighs.

  Xavier circled her, occasionally dipping one hand into her top to fondle her breasts. When she leaned forward slightly, brushing her cheek against his arm as he passed, Xavier thumbed her lower lip, then stroked her neck. The quiet room made it easy to forget everything but these strange wonderful feelings he elicited in her. He tugged her shirt down enough to expose her right nipple, flicking it with his thumb until she arched her back and gasped.

  Mae was perilously close to coming, aroused to the point of orgasm by nothing more than his presence and a few touches. He stopped, which was both a relief and a disappointment, and took a seat.

  Half in shadow, he seemed lazily dangerous, like a jaguar napping in the sun. “Blindfold, ball gag, soft beating, biting, breast bondage, being serviced, and light bondage.” Xavier tapped his fist against the arm of the chair. “Those are the checklist items we’ve done.”

  “Yes, Master Xavier.”

  “Those are also the lightest items on the list.”

  Mae shivered, remembering what was still to come.

  “I’ve taken you to your limits, pushed you further than you ever have been before. Am I correct?”

  “Yes, Master Xavier.”

  “And you’ve enjoyed it?”

  Mae nodded quickly.

  “I have too.” Xavier sat forward, bracing his arms on his knees. “But I need more. I do not play on the darker side of the spectrum because I like it. I do it because I need it. Do you understand, Mae?”

  She dropped her gaze. “I bore you.”

  “You are anything but boring. Being with you has challenged me as a Dominant. Helping you discover the depth of your submission is rewarding.” His tone deepened, hinting at the darkness within him. “But I do not come here for that. I come here because I need things.”

  “What things, Master? I’ll do them.” For him, with him, she wanted it all.

  He rubbed one hand over the smooth crown of his mask. When he spoke he kept his head down. “You will, at least until the game is done. But understand now I have to satisfy my own needs. I will do things to you that may hurt you or scare you. You trust me, and I am trusting you to use your safe word when needed.”

  “I’m not afraid.” But her voice shook.

  “You should be.” He stood and cupped her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “You should be, because I’ve never tasted anything as sweet as your submission, and it makes me want to push you harder.”

  “I’m willing, Master.”

  He hesitated and Mae wondered what he was waiting for—all she needed was the chance to show him that she was willing, that she could submit in a way that would fulfill them both.

  Xavier walked away, plucking some things off a table along the wall.

  “For the rest of the night you will not speak unless spoken to. You will keep your gaze down unless I give you permission to look at me.” With each word his tone hardened until it was almost as if he were a stranger—a cold, menacing stranger. “At no time will you attempt to cover yourself, or otherwise interfere with what I’m doing.

  “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Master Xavier.” Mae curled her fingers around the edges of the chair, keeping her gaze down.

  “Spread your knees. You are not to close your legs unless I give you permission. Understand?”

  “Yes, Master.”

  He grabbed her hair, jerking her head back. Mae yelped at the unexpected pain, but she opened her thighs, spreading her legs until her knees were on either side of the seat.

  “Do you, Red? You keep your legs spread because this is mine now.” His free hand patted her pussy, just hard enough to make her glad for the slight protection the panties offered. “Hold out your arms.”

  Rough rope wrapped her wrists, the binding quick and rough, nothing like the elegant bondage from this afternoon. With a jerk, Master Xavier lifted and folded her arms, pushing her bound wrists down until her hands were behind her neck. He tied the trailing ends of the rope to one of the rungs of the chair back, the tension on the rope strong enough that she had to arch her upper body to relieve the tension.

  The position lifted her breasts, and Mae suddenly knew what was about to happen.

  Xavier picked up her braid. “I like this.” He pulled the strands apart, then threaded some rope through the braid itself. Mae started to protest, but the words didn’t come. He’d ordered her to remain silent, and so she didn’t speak as he tied the rope now woven and knotted through her hair to the upper rung of the chair, further reinforcing the arch of her back.

  Another rope went around her waist, ensuring she couldn’t scoot forward, and finally he bound her legs open, looping rope around first her left knee, then around the back of the chair, before tying it off at her right knee.

  Though the bondage was far less elaborate than what he’d put her through earlier, Mae felt it more acutely. The scratchy rope and rough handling made it clear that this time the bindings were not about her pleasure…but about his.

  That realization, that what Master Xavier was doing was about his pleasure, his need, brought a flush of arousal to Mae’s skin and calmed her racing heart. She wanted him to use her this way.

  There was a loud crack and Mae flinched. With her head pulled back, she couldn’t see much except the ceiling. Xavier appeared in her field of vision. Unsure how to keep her gaze downcast when she was in this position, Mae closed her eyes.

  Something traced a figure eight pattern on her chest above the edge of her lace top. Mae licked her lips and fought back nervous shivers.

  “Open your eyes, Red.”

  Xavier was standing beside the chair, close enough that she could easily see him. He held up his hand, showing her the whip he held. It was at least three feet long, with a soft flexible tail at the end that he’d folded back and was holding in place at the handle. Despite her resolve to be strong, she let out a frightened little gasp.

  “This is one of my whips.” He released the tail and flicked his wrist. The stiff body of the whip trembled, while the flexible end snapped out, cracking in the air. “The shaft is composite and the lash is braided nylon, designed to create that whip sound.”

  He cracked it again. This time Mae was ready and she managed to stay perfectly still.

  “This is not a BDSM toy. This was not designed for play. It’s not even something they keep on hand here. I purchased this from an equestrian store, and do you know why?”

  “No, Master Xavier,” she whispered.

  “Because when I whip a submissive, I want a carefully crafted tool. I want maximum impact.”

  He folded the lash back against the shaft, then used the tip of the stiff part to trace patterns along her upraised arms
, tugging at her lace sleeves. The whip teased her nipples, which despite her fear were stiff, the left still semi-hidden beneath her shirt. He caught her right nipple on the edge of the whip, flicking it hard enough that she whimpered.

  Xavier reversed his hold on the whip and pressed the butt handle of it against her sex. Mae’s hips jerked, the legs of the chair scraping against the tile from the force of her movement. Though she was afraid, her body betrayed her enjoyment of this rough, masterful handling. She was wet and aching, wishing she had come to him naked, so that now there would be nothing separating her vulnerable body from his brutal touch.

  “If you want it, beg me, Red. Beg me to whip your breasts.”

  “Please, Master, please.”

  “Please what?”

  “Please whip me.” She stuttered over the words, but still she said them. “Please whip my breasts.”

  Xavier stepped back, where she could no longer see him. Mae closed her eyes. Dread and anticipation—an uneasy mix of emotion—were making her stomach churn. She braced herself, ready for the first blow, but nothing happened. The silence pressed down on her closed eyes, made each breath heavy. Time passed and all she could do was wait.

  Crack.

  Mae screamed in surprise and fear. She felt a slight thump on her belly. She waited, but there was no pain. Again the whip cracked, and again the lash struck her well-protected midsection. He whipped her again and again, each terrifying whistle-crack blow making her twitch and flinch, but she felt nothing more than a small thump under the thick leather of her corset.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Frustration flared to life in her belly. She wanted to feel the sting of the whip, wanted him to mark her and hurt her. When she couldn’t take it anymore, she broke his command for silence and begged.

  “Please, Master. Please whip me.”

  He growled and then his hands were on her breasts, jerking the lace shirt down and tucking it roughly into the top of the corset.

  She heard the click of his heels on the tile as he moved closer.

  “Open your mouth.”

  The whip pressed between her teeth and she had to bite down to hold it in place. He was standing behind the chair, close enough that her fingers brushed against the rigid line of his cock.

  Mae opened her eyes. Xavier was looking down at her, his chest heaving, his eyes seeming to burn with emerald fire. He grabbed her roughly by the back of the neck.

  “Eyes closed,” he growled.

  *****

  Xavier watched as Mae obediently closed her eyes. He was fighting his urges—the urge to whip her until she came from nothing more than the pain he inflicted on her breasts. The urge to cut the ropes, drag her to the floor, and fuck her.

  He would do neither. At least not yet. He’d promised himself time with her lovely breasts, and he would not let his base urges deny him this opportunity. Her body was bowed and stretched, her breasts lifted like sweet offerings.

  Taking the pink tips in his fingers he pinched them, lifting her breasts. Mae moaned around the shaft of the whip, the sound an intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain.

  He slapped her right breast, just hard enough to sting, then repeated the blow on the left. Pausing, he lifted the whip from her mouth, laying it over her thighs within easy reach. He wanted her to be able to use her safe word if she had to.

  Xavier slapped her breasts again, this time making sure he got her nipples. She gasped and whimpered. Her fingers brushed his cock as she twitched and Xavier’s knees trembled. He would not be able to make the scene last much longer—his need for her was too fierce.

  He spanked her breasts until they were flushed pink, until Mae no longer jumped with each blow, but lifted her chest higher. He rewarded her with a final strike to each nipple.

  Taking the lunge whip off her lap, he carefully detached the lash from the shaft, replacing it with a six-inch popper, designed to make that delightful crack noise that evoked visions of a bullwhip. He would never risk hitting a submissive with a tailed whip—though he’d had some who begged for the bullwhip, even after he explained that it would leave them scarred. Instead he used the long lash of this whip, like his bullwhip, to open the mind to the darkness. Xavier tested it against his thigh, making sure the popper wouldn’t fly off. Mae stiffened slightly, probably trying to figure out why the sound was different.

  Stepping up beside her, Xavier laid the shaft on her breasts, pressing it against her hard enough that there could be no doubt what it was. Mae’s sweet, kissable lips parted and she let out a long slow, breath.

  She was ready.

  With a quick flick of his wrist, Xavier struck her breasts. The thwack of the shaft was chased by the cracking sound of the popper snapping the air. Mae gasped, the sharp breath making her abused breasts bounce. Xavier rubbed the whip over her breasts, catching her nipples as he did so. He gave her time, gave her the chance to change her mind.

  But the lovely Mae didn’t use her safe word, didn’t retreat into herself or do anything else that would tell him he had to stop.

  Xavier struck her again, this time hard enough that a faint pink line appeared. Then again.

  He alternated strikes above and below the nipple. After six he switched sides, making sure her breasts got an even amount of attention. Each bounce of her breasts, each gasp and sigh, made Xavier’s cock throb.

  Her skin was now nicely marked, her nipples turgid little points. Knowing the end was near, he laid a hard blow on the undersides of her breasts, just below the nipples. Mae screamed, jerking so hard that the chair slid a few inches. She tried to curl up, her upper body twisting awkwardly. Xavier slid the whip between her back and the chair, applying pressure. It was a reminder, and invitation for her to return to her previous position. For a long moment he thought she wouldn’t react and he prepared himself for the next step, but then, with a shuddering sob, Mae arched her back, offering her breasts up for the next blow.

  The courage that took, the bravery and faith she had in letting him take her to this dark place, was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Xavier longed to kiss her, but the time for that was over.

  Thwack.

  A thin red line, darker than the pink marks that had come before it, blossomed on her pale flesh. Mae screamed, but then she moaned, her head twisting side to side.

  Tossing the whip down, Xavier put one knee on the seat of the chair between her spread legs and leaned over her. Taking a breast in each hand, he squeezed hard.

  “Open your eyes. Look at me.”

  There was a storm in her eyes—as if a hurricane was swirling inside her. She was giving him everything she had, everything she was. And in return she demanded all of him, all the darkness and rage that he bottled up every day.

  Wanting, needing, to taste that sweet pain, he took her nipples in his mouth. He wasn’t gentle. He bit and sucked, pinched and pulled, drawing on her breasts with hungry hands and mouth. Mae’s gasps turned into cries. Rope creaked as she strained against her bonds. Xavier released her, then jerked his belt from the loops. Doubling it in his hand, he choked up until he held a fold that was no more than four inches long.

  The leather belt struck the center of her breast, slapping the aching nipple.

  “P-please, Master.” Her teeth were nearly chattering she was shaking so hard, but it wasn’t with pain.

  Xavier slid two fingers into her mouth. She bit down, then began to frantically suck on them. He spanked her other nipple.

  Mae came. Her already tightly bound body went tense. He could see the muscles in her upper arms, neck, and thighs straining even as her teeth clamped down on his fingers so hard he wondered if she’d broken the skin.

  Tossing the belt to the side he squeezed her breasts, holding her as the last of the orgasm rippled through her. Her jaw relaxed and he pulled his hand away.

  “It’s not enough.” The words were faintly baffled, and he wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or herself.

  Xavier rose and stared down at
her. “You came.”

  Mae’s storm-filled eyes met his. “It’s not enough.”

  Grabbing her head, he kissed her savagely. The need he’d held in check slammed against his control, causing cracks in the armor he wore to survive. “No, it’s not.”

  He flicked open his pocket knife and cut through the ropes that bound her to the chair. With her hands still tied together he jerked her up, then dragged her a few feet and forced her to kneel on the seat of the armchair facing the back. Standing behind it, he pulled her upper body down so her midsection was on the padded back and her abused breasts hung exposed and vulnerable below her.

  Xavier jerked on the fastenings of his pants, shoving them down just enough to free his cock. He was wet with pre-come, so hard it was almost painful.

  He wrapped her braid around one of his hands. “Open your mouth.”

  The head of his cock slid past her pink lips and into her warm mouth. Xavier thrust, pushing deeper until he felt her throat close around him. He held there then withdrew just enough for her to take a deep breath through her nose, then thrust back in. Mae adjusted her position, bracing her elbows on the chair so her head was higher and at a better angle to accept his cock. Another submissive wouldn’t have dared move, but not his Mae. He realized for her the rules weren’t as important as the pleasure…and the pain.

  He started fucking her mouth in truth, using the hold on her hair to guide and control her. Mae swallowed as his thick length pushed deeper into her, past the point of comfort, to the place where there was no doubt that this was about control and domination.

  Xavier reached under her with his free hand and pinched one of her nipples. Mae gasped around his cock, and he took advantage of the moment to pick up the speed of his thrusts. The wet sound of his cock sliding into her mouth was punctuated by her muffled moans as he abused her nipples.

  Xavier looked down at her—her lovely body submissively bent before him, her red hair coming loose from the braid to spill around her shoulders. Along the edges of her panties he could see a few marks from the flogging. She was lovely in her submission—not helpless, because even now he sensed that in her core she was still in control. Not of her body, because that belonged to him, but of her mind. He’d opened the door, showed her the darkness on the other side, but it had been her choice to step through. Very few Doms were ever privileged enough to feel this—the humbling power of mastering a submissive who only grew stronger the more he or she gave.