by L. DuBois
She was so lost in the feelings that she gasped when Master James grabbed her hips and spun her around so her back was against his chest. Firm hands grabbed her thighs and forced her legs along the outside of his, opening and exposing her sex.
“Raise your hands, put them on my head.” His voice was rough.
Beth obeyed, but the peace of a moment ago was gone, every muscle tense with dread. She’d forgotten where she was, what she was, and now she’d be punished. Flogging and whipping of her pussy were on her list of hard limits, but experience had taught her that there were plenty of other ways her sex could bear the brunt of a punishment, and each was painful.
“I apologize for my disobedience, Master James.” The words were the appropriate response to bad behavior. She waited for him to say something like “You won’t make that mistake again” or “You need some correction.”
Instead Master James brushed his lips against her ear and whispered, “I don’t ever want to hear those words from you again.”
One hand slid up to her breast, cupping the mound as he flicked the nipple with his thumb. The other settled between her legs, two fingers exploring her labia before slipping inside her pussy.
*****
James pressed his fingers along either side of her clit, rubbing gently. Beth’s body arched, her fingers tightening in his hair as she gasped in startled pleasure.
He forced aside the rage that was churning in his gut, focusing on her. Rolling one nipple with his thumb, he pressed his lips to her neck, letting his breath stimulate the sensitive skin there.
Beth’s hold on his hair became painful and the muscles in her thighs were vibrating. He’d been touching her for less than two minutes, but it seemed like she was going to come. Not surprising considering that she’d been denied pleasure for so long.
Ignoring that thought, he nipped her earlobe, pinched her nipple hard, and rubbed her clit with firm, quick pressure.
Beth’s already taut body tensed like an archer’s bow, the sleek lines of her gold-toned skin revealing lean, strong muscles. She took a fractured breath and then started to shake, her limbs trying to curl in, as if to protect herself from the force of her orgasm—a force so strong he could see her thigh muscles quake.
He didn’t try to force a second orgasm, but did press the heel of his hand against her clit, spreading the lips of her sex with all four fingers so he could feel the orgasm. He could have entered her, let her body clench around him, but he would save penetration for later.
Beth collapsed against him, breath shuddering in what was almost sobs. Part of him wanted to curl her up into a ball and hold her, but he kept her spread and open before him, hoping the physical openness would help trigger more emotional openness.
He ran his free hand over her torso, thighs, and arms, taking possession of her bare flesh with his touch. When her breath returned to normal, he took his hand from her pussy, wiping it against her belly so the smell of her orgasm would be more apparent.
He could tell the moment she shifted from a place of pleasure to awareness. She relaxed her hold on his hair, lifting her hands away from his scalp so her palms were only a light pressure on his head, still following his command but lightening the touch.
James eased her into a sitting positing, then helped her stand.
With her back to him, he took a moment to let his feelings show on his face. He could cheerfully horsewhip Cat—and every other Dom who’d ever used her.
True submission—stripping away a sub’s walls to find the core of him or her—was the hardest thing a Dom had to do. It took time, planning and skill, because it went against most emotional and physical protective reflexes people, especially women, had developed by the time they were adults. Usually what happened was a submissive managed to keep some of those walls in place, resulting in a sort of half-submission that was usually fine, especially among casual partners. The trouble came when neither Doms, nor the submissive themselves, could tell that they weren’t experiencing full emotional truth about what they wanted and needed.
That’s what he’d helped Master Xavier and Mae overcome—Xavier had managed to bring out Mae’s real submissive. She’d been begging Xavier for the kind of domination no one would have imagined she would want, but Xavier had his own demons to wrestle with and hadn’t realized how deep Mae’s need went. James had seen what neither of them could after watching the two of them together in a scene in the library. A scene Beth had been a part of, in so far as she’d been a prop.
In Beth it seemed there was the opposite problem—the perfect, obedient submissive who followed every rule, obeyed every command, and yet no one had touched the real core of her.
James doubted Mae would have submitted at that level to anyone but Xavier—chemistry between the Dom and sub played a huge role in how intense a scene or relationship could become. But it was much more common that good chemistry allowed for more intense play, rather than the apparent lack of chemistry in Beth’s past relationships resulting in unfulfilling experiences for her.
There were people who found the greatest pleasure in kinks that dismissed their sexual needs while still making them sexual objects. Some “slaves” were used in that way, as were men who enjoyed long-term chastity or cuckolding. James was a firm believer in live and let live, though he had no interest in those styles of kink, nor it seemed did Beth, despite the way she’d been submitting.
Every knight in shining armor instinct he had was on alert after only a few minutes with her, which only made him angrier, because that was the last thing he wanted. Reminding himself once again that she didn’t need to be rescued—she needed to be made to come until she couldn’t remember the word “rules”—let alone what they might be. James promised himself that he wouldn’t get emotionally involved beyond investing the time it would take to figure out how to make her let him in.
He was gathering pieces of the Beth puzzle, and though he still couldn’t see how they fit together, he intended to figure it out before he let her go Sunday night. He intended to make her submit, truly submit.
Maybe for the first time.
A bubble of amusement at that thought helped him put aside his anger.
Beth’s shoulders hunched slightly when he laughed. James squeezed her legs between his knees, reassuring her with physical contact. When she remained stiff he traced the line of her spine down to the crevice of her ass, spreading the cheeks with his fingers just enough to make her think about the possibility that he would fuck her there.
“Do you know why I’m amused, Beth?”
“No, Master James.”
“It’s because I just realized that I need to treat you like a virgin.”
“Uh… I’m not a virgin.” The tone of her voice suggested she didn’t think he was particularly bright.
If there was one thing he didn’t have to worry about with this sub, it was having her attempt to top from the bottom. That required manipulation, even if it was done subconsciously. Beth either didn’t like to lie or didn’t know how to. It was refreshing.
“I know you’re not really a virgin, but you’re a virgin to the type of submission I’m going to demand.”
“I don’t understand.”
James rose, pressing his front against her back. She was half a head shorter than him and lean, but the kind of lean that came from muscles, not diet. He normally preferred curvier girls, but there was something deeply appealing about Beth’s body.
“I know you don’t,” he whispered in her ear. “Raise your arms behind your head so I can look at you.”
With quick, easy grace, Beth laced her fingers together at the back of her neck, thrust her chest out, and spread her legs. The arch of her back pressed her ass into his groin. It was suddenly easier to understand the appeal of such an obedient and well-trained sub. James put some space between them and stroked his hands from her elbows along her shoulder blades and down her back to her ass. Taking a seat, he kneaded the firm globes.
“Bend.”
Her pussy lips were glossy from her orgasm, the scent of her pleasure heavy in the air. Palms on the back of her thighs, he now used his thumbs to spread her outer labia, examining the soft pink core of her sex. Her clit was large and partially erect from behind its protective hood.
Holding her open with index and middle fingers of one hand, he used the tip of his other thumb to press on the edge of her clit hood, trying to expose more of her clit.
Beth gasped and her posture wavered.
“Brace yourself.”
She dropped both arms, bending further until she could brace both hands on the floor. It opened her up even more. James retuned his attention to her clit, using a precise, almost clinical touch. In a way it was showing off, making sure she knew that he knew exactly how to touch her.
Beth started to tremble. “Master…”
“Yes?”
She shook her head, hair brushing the floor.
Dipping his thumb into the cream that had pooled at her entrance, James coated her clit. The slick skin made his task more difficult but would keep her from getting uncomfortable. As he manipulated her clit hood—rubbing and pressing on it, occasionally giving it a light squeeze, Beth started to tremble.
He knew that rhythmic, steady touches to the clit were the gold standard for female orgasms. Multiple subs had told him that having their clit hood manipulated was sexy, and clearly the act of a Dom, but too strange to allow orgasm.
Acting on a hunch, James continued to toy with her clit hood, and when he finally had his thumb in the perfect position to hold it back, exposing the tiny core of her clit, he pressed hard, mashing her clit hood against her pelvic bone.
Beth screamed, her whole body shaking. He saw her knees start to give out and quickly grabbed her hips, easing them to the ground. Beth’s body shook, and he could see through the hair that had fallen over her face that her eyes were squeezed closed, her lips clenched.
Pinching her labia closed he rubbed them in a circle, a muted caress of her clit. Her eyes popped open and her mouth opened too, though no sound emerged. Kneeling behind her, James slid one hand under her chest and forced her up, so that they were once more back to chest. He held her like that until her body stopped quaking. He’d never made a woman come like that. Her responsiveness was incredible.
“Master James?” She whispered his name, clearly hesitant to ask whatever question she was holding on to.
It was one of the habits he would break her of.
“Yes?”
“Are you going to…will we…is there going to be sex?”
She sounded so hopeful that his hold on her tightened. Denying or delaying orgasm was one of a Dom’s best tools, but clearly that had been taken too far with Beth. Watching her orgasm was pure bliss, and he intended to become an avid Beth-orgasm viewer.
“Oh yes, if you’re a very good girl there will be sex.” He helped her to her feet then spun her around so she could see the promise of pleasure in his face, but she kept her eyes obediently lowered.
Tipping her chin up until she looked at him, he rubbed her lower lip with one finger, and she opened her mouth.
He wanted to see those pretty lips wrapped around his cock. He wanted to kiss her as he thrust into her, taste her pleasure.
“Yes. There will be sex.” His voice was deeper than normal, his cock hard in his pants.
“If I’m a good girl.” Her post-orgasm daze was fading from her eyes and she frowned. “Being good means following the rules, but you said there aren’t rules.”
“Yes…and no.”
“That’s confusing.” She sounded disgruntled, which was strangely endearing.
“I’ll make it simple.” He grabbed her chin, putting enough pressure into the touch that it was not a caress but a command. “You’ll obey my rules, you’ll follow my commands, and you will submit.”
Her pupils dilated and he could feel her relaxing into his control. Physically she was perfectly obedient and emotionally responsive. The challenge with her would be getting inside her head.
He released her, satisfied that her worry had been negated by her trust in his domination, but in the next breath she was frowning, the moment gone.
“Perhaps if you wrote down your rules, I’d be better able to follow them.”
James smiled and started unbuttoning his shirt. “But if I do that I can’t change the rules whenever I want.”
She wasn’t going to be an easy sub, but he had no doubt that when he finally put all the pieces of the Beth puzzle in place it would be something beautiful.
She was watching him undress with ego-stroking fascination. He was in good shape, but women rarely looked at him with such blatant admiration and desire, especially here where good-looking people weren’t exactly scarce.
“Are we going to have sex now?” Beth licked her lower lip.
James was sorely tempted to say yes, though that was not part of the plan he’d come up with while she withered with pleasure in his arms.
He stripped the shirt off and held it up so she could slip into it. Beth looked at the shirt, then at him.
“You’re giving me clothes.” She eyed the shirt with trepidation.
Exasperated he said, “You’re not a house elf. It’s not going to free you.”
Beth’s face went completely blank and then she broke out in a huge grin. It transformed her face—she was suddenly so breathtakingly beautiful, and James blinked.
“Did you just make a Harry Potter reference?”
“I have nieces,” he said, a bit defensively.
“Sure you do.” Beth continued to grin. “I bet you have a Gryffindor tie.”
He did. “What are you, psychic?”
“No, just good at guessing things about people. I’m a professional at that. It was logical that you’d have something like a tie.”
James had no idea what that meant, and he was so thrown off by this weird conversational diversion that he blurted out the first thing that came into his head. “Don’t play Vulcan mind-games with me.”
Beth’s grin widened.
James stifled a groan. What was wrong with him? Las Palmas was not the place where he let his geek flag fly.
Beth cleared her throat, then said somberly, “‘The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the—’”
James threw the shirt over her head so he couldn’t see that face. “Put it on.”
Beth was still smiling as she slipped into the shirt, which had tails long enough to cover her ass and pussy. James ignored the voice in his head that asked why he wanted to cover her up before taking her out in public, or why the sight of her in his shirt was so pleasing. For both their sakes he needed to remain in control of the situation, though he was starting to suspect navigating between Beth’s past as a submissive and her real personality which he’d just gotten a glimpse of would be more challenging than expected.
He reached out and undid the top two buttons of the shirt. Her breath caught when skin brushed skin, and the teasing of a moment ago was forgotten. He pulled the shirt to the side, exposing her breast.
“I want access to your body,” he said by way of explanation.
“Yes, Master James.” She shivered, but it wasn’t from cold.
James pulled the shirt back into place, leaving the buttons undone so that a long V of skin was visible.
Placing a hand on her back, he guided her out of the playroom.
Chapter Four
Beth’s body was still humming from the intense orgasms, there were butterflies of anticipation in her stomach, and she could feel the heat of a blush on her cheeks. Together those feelings helped her hush the internal monologue that was frantically pointing out everything she
’d done wrong with Master James. From uninvited eye contact and not using his name and title when responding to direct questions to teasing him in a woefully disrespectful manner, she hadn’t followed the rules.
Yet, he didn’t seem to care, and the way he’d effortlessly taken command of her body, touching her both intimately and skillfully, made her feel far more submissive than the cage had. She was actually eager for him to command her, something she hadn’t felt since her first few disappointing sessions.
Beth walked beside Master James, his hand on her back guiding her. It was a distinctly possessive posture, but nothing compared to being made to crawl, or being leashed.
He guided her to the lovely garden of the “Sub Rosa” court, so named because a massive pergola covered the courtyard in the center of the single-story adobe tile roofed buildings. Climbing roses in shades of white and pale yellow wove over and around the wood, shading the court from the late afternoon sun. There were four bedroom-like playrooms off this garden, and it was the “gentlest” of the play spaces. The sprawling complex that housed Las Palmas boasted a series of courtyards, each with its own themes that carried into the playrooms that opened off each outdoor space.
There was a small circular platform in the center of the court with two pretty wood lounge chairs positioned on it. Surrounding the stage were pieces of lushly padded outdoor furniture. Occasionally someone would take their play onto the small stage and put on a show, but most of the time this courtyard was used for lounging. Baskets set against the base of the pergola posts held flat pillows that could be thrown down over the tile to allow subs to kneel and woven blankets for use when the nights were chilly.
The sun was just starting to set, and rays of light cut through small breaks in the canopy of roses, angling golden sunbeams onto the smattering of people already there. At the sound of their approach, heads turned, and a few people called out a greeting to Master James, their curious gazes taking in his newest companion.
Beth’s stomach knotted and her steps faltered when she caught sight of the other people. Their attention made her nervous—she wasn’t the kind of sub who hung out and laughed and chatted in this casual space. Crumpling the cuffs of his shirt in nervous fingers, Beth wished desperately that he’d had her crawl here, or put her in some kind of bondage.