“You’re beautiful, Sabina,” he says softly, and a rush of delight warms my chest.
“Thank you,” I croak.
“Tiny waist. Makes me wonder what you’d look like in a corset.” He begins to roll up his sleeves and I look away, desperate to retain some control over my arousal.
“Eyes on me,” he growls, and I comply.
What choice do I have?
“Ever worn a corset?” he says.
I shake my head. “No, Sir.” I’m hoping he’ll allude to us playing again sometime—even though we haven’t even started yet—but he leaves it there. Once his sleeves are rolled up to expose his thick forearms, he crooks a finger.
“Come to me, pet.”
His hand is around my throat the moment I get close enough and I stare at him, fighting back panic even as lust throbs through my lower belly.
“You can breathe,” he whispers. I can feel his fingertips digging into my neck and am strangely helpless, immobile just from this single, simple grip.
Taking a tentative breath, I realize he’s right. I can still breathe.
“Are you going to be a good girl and do as I tell you?” he growls.
Trying to nod, I realize it’s impossible. “Yes, Sir,” I say in a strangled voice.
“I’m going to hurt you, Sabina,” he says, and another bolt of lust punches through my lower belly. “But I’m also going to bring you pleasure unlike any you’ve ever known. On the condition that you do as you’re told. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.” My knees are suddenly weak, and I’m glad he’s holding me up.
His free hand drifts down to my chest and he caresses my left breast, scraping it lightly with his fingernails. “Such pretty, taut little nipples,” he says, and I tense, expecting him to pinch. Instead, he raises his hand and slaps my breast, hard, still holding me in place by my throat. “Eyes on me. Don’t you dare look away.”
I fight to keep my focus on his handsome face as he slaps my breast again and again, the sting increasing sharply with each stroke until I don’t think I can bear another one, and try to twist away.
“Nuh-uh,” he barks. “Did I say you could move?”
“Sorry, Sir,” I croak.
Still holding me, he adjusts his position slightly and slaps my other breast, over and over until tears are stinging my eyes.
“What do you say?”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Good girl. Manners are important.”
I gasp as he grips my abused breast, squeezing it briefly before sliding his fingertips down my belly, lower and lower until they reach that aching, throbbing place between my thighs.
“Manners will get you rewarded,” he whispers, finding my pulsating clit and stroking it so delicately, it takes everything I have not to thrust my hips forward in an attempt to get more friction. “Hmm,” his tone is almost conversational, “it seems someone’s enjoying herself.”
All I can do is whimper as he increases the pressure slightly, his fingertip drawing excruciating circles around that rigid, sensitive nub between my legs.
“Do you like that, pet?”
“Y-yes, Sir.”
“I can tell.” His expression is cool, almost mocking, which only adds to my humiliation. There he is, fully dressed, while I’m completely naked, writhing helplessly and desperate for more after just a couple seemingly effortless touches. His nails dig cruelly into my clit and I yelp, going up onto my tiptoes in a fruitless attempt to escape him. “But you’re not coming yet. Not for a long time…”
He removes his hand and I feel the loss acutely, the sharp pain from his pinch still echoing through my most sensitive place.
Then he moves his face so close to mine that for a moment I think—hope—he’s going to kiss me. Instead, he whispers, “And of course, you know not to come unless I say you can.”
Jesus. “Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” He takes a step back and lets go of my throat. I’m glad he takes my arm instead, otherwise I might already have hit the floor. My knees feel like they’re made of water. “Let’s get you in position so we can have a little fun.”
I feel like I’m in a dream as he steers me over to the St. Andrew’s Cross and positions me the way he wants me: facing it, my arms and legs spread and cuffed into place.
“Comfortable?” he asks, once he’s finished.
“Yes, thank you.” I close my eyes, partly glad I can no longer see him, partly disappointed. There’s a dull ache between my thighs, and my breasts are still stinging hot from his palms.
“Excellent. Then we can begin.”
I barely have time to wonder what will happen next before something thick and heavy thumps across my shoulder blades. Then the same thing strikes my butt. It’s a flogger, I realize, but it must be massive, with thick falls and plenty of weight behind it.
Maximus strikes up a rhythm, alternating strokes on my upper back and my ass. I lay my cheek against my right bicep and close my eyes, losing myself in the delicious, thuddy sensations. It doesn’t hurt at all; it feels more like I’m being massaged, even when he begins to hit me harder.
I’m limp, liquid, beginning to float…
Whap! A scorching blaze of stinging agony across my asscheeks draws a cry of shock and pain from my lips, and every muscle in my body tenses as if a button had been pushed.
“That got your attention.” His sentence is followed by another stroke and I try in vain to squirm away, outraged at being yanked so unceremoniously from my blissful space.
“This is a genuine Louisiana prison strap,” Maximus says, searing my flesh with it again and again. “Known to make grown men cry.”
I can’t breathe; it feels like the skin is being flayed from my buttocks. I twist the chains on the cuffs around my wrists and grip them for dear life.
“Are you crying yet, pet?”
“No!” I gasp, trying to remember to breathe.
“Well, I’m not stopping until you do.”
He delivers several more searing strokes and I have no choice but to take them, bound as I am to the cross. The strap must be huge, it feels like he’s hitting the same place every time—a broad swath of both my cheeks.
Closing my eyes, I force myself to concentrate. To focus. And slowly, through the agony, I grow increasingly aware of another sensation: a hot, liquid melting between my spread thighs.
“Want some more?” Maximus growls.
“Yes, Sir,” I gasp, determined not to give him the upper hand.
If he’s surprised, he hides it well. “You didn’t say please, pet.”
Fuck. Five more strokes burn my ass in breathtaking, agonizingly quick succession before I’ve even drawn breath to cry, “Please!”
His hand suddenly cupping my sex startles me and I jump, letting out a helpless groan as he grips my whole pussy, grinding his palm against my clit… back and forth. His hand is sliding so easily, my face burns almost as hot as my ass at the thought that there’s no hiding my arousal from him.
“Gods, you’re wet,” he says gruffly. “You really do like pain, don’t you?”
His other hand finds my breast and squeezes cruelly, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh.
I’m writhing, moaning, the searing sting in my buttocks only serving to heighten the relentless way he’s rubbing my clit against the flat of his hand.
“You’re dripping into my palm,” he says. “Do you want to come?”
“Yes! Oh god, please, yes, Sir!”
“Not yet.” He withdraws his hand and the next minute, he’s rubbing those fingers, slick with the proof of my arousal, across my lips and chin. “You smell so good,” he growls. “Taste it.”
I open my mouth and let him slide two fingers over my tongue.
“Atta girl,” he says. “Get them nice and clean.”
I suck them then, suddenly wishing they were his cock. He won’t be the only one to tease; I can give as good as I get. I’m rewarded with a groan, and resist the urge to grin triumphantly. I
want him as desperate for me as I am for—
The man sometimes moves with a speed that defies all logic. I haven’t even finished the thought before his fingers have left my mouth and are buried deep up inside my pussy, fucking me roughly, scouring my G-spot with such force that my thighs are shaking.
“Don’t you fucking dare come,” Maximus orders furiously, “don’t you dare until I tell you to, or I swear I’ll take a—”
I climax with a helpless shout, my hips bucking so hard that I’m slamming my pelvis against the unforgiving wood of the cross over and over as my pussy snatches at his still-working fingers. The sensation is so intense that I’m glad I’m being held up by the cuffs, and even as I can’t stop groaning, a distant part of me is aware that I’m squirting, my juice splashing my thighs…
9
Maximus
I don’t think I’ve been this hard since I was a teenager. Sabina is actually squirting, splattering my arms, shirt, and the floor with irrevocable, irrefutable proof that she defied my order not to come without permission.
Not that she had a choice. If I decide to make a woman climax, then climax she will, regardless of how hard she tries not to, how desperate she is to obey me.
I do love a good head-fuck.
Crouched down behind her as I am, I could easily extend my tongue and lick the taut, shiny, scarlet skin of her abused ass. Her scent is overwhelming, and I can almost taste her shame at not being able to hold back.
She’s a fucking delight.
A genuine painslut.
And so much fun to torment.
One night will never be enough time to do all the things I want to her. Hell, I don’t think a week would be enough.
Not bothering to hide my smile of triumph, I remove my fingers from her dripping cunt and order her to hold still before allowing myself the luxury of tasting her. Her clit is so swollen and rigid, it feels like a tiny pebble against my tongue. I lap at it briefly, closing my eyes and savoring the musky scent of her desire, the salty and slightly metallic tang of the blood pounding through her sex. I can taste it through her skin and the urge to bite, to allow the delicious elixir to run over my tongue to mingle with her juices, is so overwhelming that I almost lose control.
Almost.
You don’t get to be as old as I am without learning to manage yourself, though, so I snap myself out of it, give her clit another hard, lingering lick, and straighten up.
Her chest is heaving, she’s breathing raggedly, her whole body trembling and slick with sweat. I don’t need to look to know her face is flushed, her eyes glazed.
“You bad little girl,” I whisper in her ear. “Not only did you come without permission, you squirted all over yourself… the floor…” I lower my tone, “me.”
Her only response is a whimper which makes my balls ache.
“What did I say would happen if you disobeyed me?”
She shakes her head. I want to bring her back—just a little—to make sure she’s still capable of safewording if she needs to. And that means making her use her words. “Tell me.”
“Y-you’ll…” She swallows, her throat working. “P-punish me, Sir.”
“And did you disobey me?” I have to fight to hide the smile from my voice.
“Y-yes, S-Sir. I’m s-sorry…”
I allow myself a mocking chuckle as I leave her side for just long enough to extract what I want from my bag. “Oh, pet. You’re not sorry yet. But you will be.”
The Lexan cane is black, long, and tapers to a point. It leaves delicious marks which last for days. I suddenly have the urge to mark Sabina; a primal desire to leave lingering traces of myself on her delectable body.
“Brace yourself, sweetheart,” I tell her, raising the cane. “This is going to hurt.”
I snap the rod across the lower, fleshiest part of her ass. It was a decent stroke—not full-force, by any stretch of the imagination, but hard enough to wrench a garbled scream from the beautiful blonde who received it. Gods, but the noises she makes go straight to my groin. A bright scarlet line springs up, stark even against the mottled, hot pink induced by the prison strap. She won’t be able to sit down for a few days without thinking of me—a thought I find infinitely pleasing. “Count it and thank me,” I tell her coolly.
She’s fighting to retain some composure, and I wonder whether she’s ever allowed herself to lose control for longer than a few seconds at a time. “One, thank you, Sir,” she gasps.
I aim the next one a mite higher up, about an inch above the first. My good aim is one of the many things I pride myself on. To Sabina’s credit, her only response is a gasp.
Then, without being prompted, “Two, thank you, Sir.”
Suddenly desperate to make her scream, I lay the third across the backs of her thighs, a cold, hard stroke on virginal, as yet unpunished flesh. It must have been excruciating, as it has the desired effect. Sabina throws her head back and howls, “Fuuuck!”
I wonder whether she can hear the delight in my voice as I put my lips close to her ear. “Tut tut, little pet. What did I tell you about swearing?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” It’s like a mantra, the words tumbling out of her plump, delectable mouth. She sucked my fingers deliberately earlier, an attempt to regain the upper hand, to make me weak with desire by putting the image of her sucking my cock in my mind. Moreover, it worked, and while I already punished her for it by forcing her to come without my permission—and am punishing her for that now—I realize I still want to make her pay for it.
And I will.
“I’ll tell you what,” I whisper, allowing her to feel my breath on her skin. “You take another six of these without making a sound, and I’ll fuck you. Do you want me to fuck you, Sabina?”
Her reply is so quiet, I barely hear it even with my highly developed sensory ability. “What was that? I didn’t hear you.”
“Please…”
“Say it, Sabina,” I order. She hesitates, and I know she’s fighting a battle within herself. I slap her ass with all my might, but she’s so far gone by now that she barely seems to register it. “Say it.” I’m deliberately using the tone of voice I know will have an effect on her.
“Please… fuck… me…”
My cock is rigid, pounding. As much as I want to feel her lips on me there, I know I wouldn’t be able to last. Next time. There will be a next time, I’ve already decided that. If I have to take Sabina home with me and lock her up to ensure it, I will. But first things first.
“You know what?” I’m being cool, almost conversational. “I’ve decided that I will—fuck you, that is—regardless of whether or not you take these last strokes well. But you’re still getting six more with the cane. Now… are you listening?” I wrap her long hair around my fist and yank her head back. The silver crescent moon in the hollow of her throat is jumping in time with her racing pulse.
“Yes, Sir,” she gasps.
“If you take these without making a sound, you’ll get to come. Maybe once, maybe twice… hell, maybe I’ll make you come so often and so hard that you’ll beg me to stop. However, if you so much as cry out, you can rest assured that the only one coming tonight will be me. You’ll be going to bed with a throbbing, aching, unfulfilled little cunt.”
She flinches gratifyingly at the c-word. Another head-fuck. Don’t let them swear, but be crass yourself. Some women hate some words and it’s always fun to find out which ones react to which.
I slide the cane up the inside of her thigh and between her swollen lips. She rewards me with a gasp when I press it against her most sensitive spot. “Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl. Then let us begin.” I remove the cane from between her legs, release her hair, roll my shoulders to loosen them, and take up my stance behind her.
It’s time to make my mark, to ensure this delightful blonde won’t forget me anytime soon.
One of the many advantages of being a vampire is the a
bility to move insanely fast. We call it blurring. I can cross a room in the blink of an eye.
I can deliver six well-aimed, hard strokes of the cane just as fast. And I proceed to do just that, laying three searing, scarlet lines across Sabina’s lower buttocks and another three across the backs of her thighs before she even has time to brace herself or draw breath.
Which means the impact of all six hit her at the same time—and when that happens, I’ve long since dropped the cane, one of my hands is already between her legs, and the other is clamped tightly over her mouth.
Her scream vibrates through my very being, muffled as it is by my fingers, and even as the pain lights her every nerve ending on fire, her cunt gushes into my palm.
I can’t wait any longer. “Come now,” I growl, stroking rhythmically over her clit, and she obeys with a helpless groan, which turns into a whimper when I let go of her for long enough to undo my slacks, free my erection, and roll a condom over it before gripping her hips and tugging her into position. She’s still coming when I thrust my cock up inside her, her dripping, tight little cunt pulling me in greedily.
Gods, it takes every ounce of the self-control I’ve honed over centuries not to come the minute I’m all the way inside her. Instead, I focus on wrapping her thick, soft hair back around my fist and tugging her head back to bare her neck. My other hand delves down over her soft lower belly and I find her clit, leaping in time with her heartbeat.
The familiar sensation of saliva flooding my mouth makes my fangs extend and even though I’m not moving yet as I’m giving her a moment to adjust to my size, my cock jerks inside her, making her gasp.
My fingertip is slippery over her clit, sliding back and forth, up and down, changing the pace, direction and pressure often enough that she can’t climax.
Yet.
“Such a good girl,” I croon, thrusting deeper, pushing her pelvis forward and trapping my forearm against the cross. “You took that so well.”
She’s panting, trembling, completely gone.
“Six strokes without making a sound means you get a big reward. I’m gonna make you come so hard. You want to come all over my cock, pet?”
Her Vampire Addiction (Midnight Doms Book 9) Page 6