“Okay, what?”
“Do I have to say it twice?” His thumb moved into place and she lifted her pelvis, pressing herself against it. She was like a woman possessed, straining against her bonds, using them to increase her pleasure, to multiply the moment.
Harlan let her climax again and again until she begged him to stop.
It wasn’t a slave asking.
But definitely someone intimately connected and wanting to play.
Untying her, he wrapped her in towels fetched by Ophelia.
Harlan made sure the woman didn’t see a thing.
Not one inch of his Tabby Cat.
“It’s time to take you home,” he told her.
She looked at him strangely. “This is the end? We aren’t staying overnight?”
“The air is stifling.” He winked. “I think I need a break from castles and dungeons.”
Tabytha kissed the tip of his nose. “Do you need a break from me?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Good.”
Her next move caught him off guard, if such a thing was possible.
“Tabytha, are you sure?”
“Zip it,” she said, moving her fingers into place. “Or should I say unzip it.”
He groaned as she sank to her knees before him. His cock had never felt so huge, so full of need, so totally primed for relief.
She took her time, kissing the head and dabbing her tongue to remove the tiny drop of fluid deposited there. Then she kissed her way along the shaft, working the vein underneath, all the way to his full, aching balls, which she weighed in her hands one by one.
“Tabytha—”
“Call me Tabby Cat,” she said, and he was gone, lost to the sensations of her sweet mouth, sliding the length of him, suctioning, enveloping.
If he’d hoped to hang on long, he would be sorely disappointed.
The need was too great and Tabytha was too intense.
He hadn’t expected her to go the full mile as he felt the first spurt from the end of his cock and she made no move to jerk away. Instead she grasped his buttocks, breathing him deeply, taking him nearly to the back of her throat.
He groaned, leaning back, like a lion in the midst of sheer pleasure.
Tabytha milked him then, getting out every single drop. Even afterward, when he was exhausted, leaning on her shoulders, she continued to lick and nibble and suck.
“I’ll be hard again at this rate.”
“Save it for the ride,” she said.
He looked at the mischief in her eye.
Son of a gun.
Harlan pulled her to her feet.
Embracing, they let the moment go.
Neutral, no points, no last words.
For now.
Epilogue
Tabytha shivered even in the warm waiting area. The robe they had given her ought to cut the chill but nothing was going to give comfort to her body now.
Nothing but the touch of the man she had fallen for so hard.
The man whose touch could bring pleasure…and sweet agony at the same time.
It was her third session in front of the club members and you would think she would be used to the exposure, the sense of utter domination and wicked self-imposed humiliation.
It was dream humiliation, the sort you fantasize about but would never want in real life.
Harlan would never hurt her. He was master of her dreams, not to mention her growing companion in waking time. In the weeks since visiting the monastery they had built a steady connection, no formalities, no commitments.
It was perfect for a quirky journalist and a dashing playboy.
They did insist on monogamy, though, which was a problem for neither one of them. The only issue was having enough time together, finding the hours to play and explore and laugh and share.
Tabytha had grown acquainted with most of the implements on Harlan’s rack by now, allowing him to test and tease her with crops and paddles and even a little brush with the cane every now and again.
She liked his hand best, though, for the warmth it brought, the intimate sense of hard and soft, yin and yang.
Sometimes he could bring her to tears. They would hold one another afterward and whisper stories from their backgrounds, structures woven of hopes and dreams, things no one else would ever know.
The sweat would drip off them, the smell of their sex in the air, their fingers interwoven, like maybe, just maybe they were born for this.
But it could only go so far.
Couldn’t it?
A knock came at the door.
It was Trina, Harlan’s assistant.
“You ready, kiddo?”
“As ready as you can ever be.”
“No one’s ever ready for Harlan,” Trina quipped.
Tabytha nearly asked her the question, the one so recently on her lips. Instead she stood perfectly still for the blindfold.
It slid across her eyes like an old friend, shutting out one world, awakening her to a new one.
Always new, no matter the time, the exact circumstances.
There would be men watching, and women.
But only he would matter.
Symbolically now, Trina attached the slender chain to Tabytha’s wrist. It would be her only marking, her only identification.
The chain had a long lead.
As if in a dream she felt herself led down the familiar corridor, the flats of her feet had memorized every little indentation in the rug. How many others had helped to wear it thin, with their submission, their inevitable walks toward the domination they craved?
She craved Harlan. That was certain. She never had done the column either. The BDSM was their thing and for his part he had taken down his shingle as a trainer.
But where did it go from here?
Once they had crossed the threshold of the punishment room, Tabytha was transferred to the custody of the monks, part of the very same order she had been introduced to in the mountains.
It was their responsibility to strip and prepare her.
First they removed the robe, not a single finger upon her flesh.
Then they removed the chain.
Finally she felt them taking her hands, one on either side.
She gripped tightly as they took her to the center of the stage, the slate cold beneath her feet, the invisible eyes all too obvious to her overactive imagination.
The room was full tonight. She could sense it.
Unbidden, Tabytha lifted her arms. The cuffs were affixed and then the chains.
A bit of adjustment and she was brought taut, on tiptoes, the way everyone liked.
Then came the waiting.
The air upon her body, her nipples taut, her sex moist, labia puffy, skin pinkened, all signs of her arousal, her need, her desperate anticipation.
It was shameful to be in front of so many.
And yet she was proud.
Proud and full of…love?
What a strange word to employ at such a time and yet…
The applause began. Her tormentor had arrived.
She strained her ears so as not to miss a thing, the sound of boot steps, the light swing of the crop against his thigh, even the scent of his cologne.
He stood close, very, very close.
“Before I whip you tonight,” he said, utterly breaking protocol, “there is something else.”
Something else?
She stiffened, not daring to breathe.
“You know what you have meant to me.”
Tabytha sensed another person’s presence. She imagined him handing off the crop. But why?
“I could think of no better way,” he said as she felt his hands caress her cheeks and move higher, up her captive arms. He was holding something else, not the whip. Her heart skipped a beat.
It was metal.
He slipped it over her finger.
“Will you…” he began.
“Yes, oh yes,” she cried before he could finish the words.
<
br /> “It won’t be anything ordinary,” he warned.
“I should hope not,” she laughed, the tears running from her eyes.
Harlan pulled down the blindfold. It was real, he was here and he had just slipped a diamond on her finger.
“People will say it’s sudden, Tabytha.”
“People can kiss my—”
He put a finger to her lips. “Language, Tabby Cat.”
She grinned. “Good luck curing me of that habit.”
“I have a lifetime to try,” he replied with a wink.
Tabytha leaned forward, wanting a kiss, a whipping, a spanking, everything all at once.
She’d nearly forgotten their audience.
The small crowd was on its feet, cheering and applauding.
This was a dream come true.
But hardly a vanilla fantasy.
Tabytha wouldn’t have it any other way, of course, and neither would he.
Losing each other in a kiss, they sealed the deal, fiancée and erstwhile part-time Master, better known as Harlan and his Tabby Cat.
The End
About the Author
Reese Gabriel is a born romantic with a taste for the edgier side of love. Having traveled the world and sampled many of the finer things, Reese now enjoys the greater simplicities—barefoot walks by the ocean, kisses under moonlight and whispers of passion in the darkness with that one special person.
Preferring to remain behind the scenes, cherished by a precious few, Reese hopes to awaken in the lives of many the possibilities of true love through stories of far off places and enchanted lives.
For the sake of love and hope and imagination, these stories are told. May they be enjoyed as much in the reading as in the writing.
Reese welcomes comments from readers. You can find Reese’s website and email address on the author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Reese Gabriel
A Centaur for Libby
A Filly for Doug
Auctioning Charity
Chaining His Heart
Chance’s Rules
Come and Get Me
Commanding Kat
Dance of Submission
Exposing Victoria
His Sahvria
His Submissive
Ian’s Way
Kimberlee’s Keeper
Laila’s Bargain
Managing Macy
More Than Male 1: Nyssa’s Guardian
More Than Male 2: Seria’s Star Warrior
More Than Male 3: Azar’s Prize
More Than Male 4: Jaxey’s Master
More Than Male 5: A Dominant for Desela
More Than Male 6: Vandar’s War
More Than Male 7: An Obedient for Samharin
My Carina
Prisoner of Shera-Sa
Reflecting Jesyca
Roping His Filly
Scorching Sammie
Soul Master
Submissive with Benefits
Taming Delaney
Temporary Slave
Tie Me, Tease Me
Tying Tempest
Print books by Reese Gabriel
Exposing Command
Holiday Reflections anthology
More Than Male 1: Nyssa’s Guardian
More Than Male 2 & 3: Primale Possession
More Than Male 4 & 5: Primale Pleasures
More Than Male 6: Vandar’s War
More Than Male 7: An Obedient for Samharin
Prisoner of Shera-Sa
Roping Their Fillies
Temporary Slave
Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.
www.ellorascave.com
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