Masks of a Tiger

by Doris O'Connor

  "Bastard! You have no right, you … oh—What are you doing? Oh God, yes, don’t stop."

  Grisha's amused chuckle vibrated through her, as he trailed something cold and smooth along her slit repeatedly. He followed the object with his fingers, the heat of those digits burning a path of awareness along her labia. She jumped when he circled her clit, and he murmured his approval at her panted reaction. She tried to push herself against that hand, and she screamed in surprise when he pinched her clit.

  "That's not the way this works, sweetheart. You'll come when I let you, not before, and not until you tell me the truth."

  Again he traced her slit with the object, and Neeve bucked when it started vibrating. He pushed the toy slightly into her channel, and her cunt clamped around the barely there invasion, her internal muscles desperately trying to pull it in further to no avail. Grisha kept it there on the edge, driving her insane with the need to come. The orgasm hovered just out of her reach, and she groaned her frustration to the floor, pummeling his legs in the process.

  Another swat to the ass was her reward. Her tender flesh stung and burned, the slight pain adding to the assault on her senses.

  "So, what will it be, Neeve? Are you going to tell me the truth, or do I carry on with your punishment?"

  "P-punishment?"Neeve panted the words as her body climbed again. "You call this punishment? Is that all you've got?"

  Why she felt the need to goad him she couldn't say, but by God, her body might be betraying her, but that didn't mean that she would give in that easily.

  "No, sweetheart, I call this torture, and I can keep this up for hours." She heard the smile in his voice, but there was an unmistakable edge of command in those words, and her stomach clenched in excitement.

  "You're so fucking wet for me, and your ass is so pink—it’s a beautiful sight, sweetheart. So tell me if you’re not a sub, then why is your essence staining my jeans? Why is that sweet cunt of yours quivering and weeping? It's just waiting for my thick cock to fill you, isn't it?"

  He pushed the dildo all the way in, angling it until it hit her g-spot, and Neeve saw stars. He fucked her with merciless precision until she was a quivering mass of need and would have said anything to get off.

  "Please, please … I need to come … please, Grisha."

  The swat to her ass stung, and his voice could have cut glass.

  "You will call me, Sir, sub. And you will answer my questions without evasion." He pushed the dildo all the way in and covered her slit with his hand, whilst the vibrations inside her increased to almost unbearable levels. He pushed one of his fingers into her anus, and Neeve screamed out loud. That felt way too good.

  "Please, please, I will, please, just let me—"

  "Let you what my sweet, Neeve? Let you come? Do you need to come?" His husky words in her ear grounded her, as he molded his naked chest against her back and pulled her hair until she looked sideways and up into his eyes. Glittering, golden orbs of intensity they pulled her into his will, and she couldn’t have looked away if her life depended on it.

  "Yes," she whispered, and he smiled.

  "Then what do you call me?"

  "Yes, Sir."

  His brilliant answering smile of approval spread through her and left darts of heat along her skin.

  "And you'll answer my questions?" he asked.

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Then come, sweetheart. Come for me now."

  ****

  Her screams of completion echoed around the room, as she convulsed under his hand, and Grisha pulled out the toy and used his fingers instead. Her silky walls squeezed around his digits, and he bit back a curse. She was so fucking hot and tight, he couldn't wait for his cock to be milked by those powerful muscles. Her skin flushed all over, and she squirted her juices over his hand, aiding his fist as he clenched his hand and pushed into her tight channel. She opened to him like a flower in bloom, and he fisted her into another orgasm more powerful than the one she'd just had.

  She moaned her denial when he slowly withdrew his fist, and he pulled her upright onto his lap. Eyes glazed over, her alabaster skin flushed all over, she was achingly beautiful. He lowered her onto the bed and peeled her dress off her.

  "Raise your arms for me."

  Still floating in post-orgasmic bliss she complied immediately with a whispered, "Yes, Sir." Her subconscious submission made his heart soar in hope. Maybe all he had to do was keep on fucking her senseless and then his human tigress would be putty in his paws. His tiger roared his approval, ready and eager to claim his mate, but Grisha reined the beast back in. To claim Neeve without her consent, without getting her to admit that she truly was submissive, at least to him, would open him to a world of hurt. He had no idea how this little redhead had managed to smash through all his defenses, but she had, and she was far too important to him, to fuck this up now.

  He fitted his much longer frame to her and pulled her into his side. She snuggled in with a small sigh, and before long her even breathing told him that she had gone to sleep. He watched her for a while. Even in her sleep a myriad of expressions crossed her face, and Grisha smiled to himself. He adjusted his aching cock and shut his eyes. It had been one hell of day, and it would probably be a good idea to rest while she slept. He had no doubt that she would give him merry hell when she awoke.

  ****

  Neeve woke up with Grisha's hand curled around her ass and his chest hair tickling her cheek. The broad chest she was lying on as though he was a human electric blanket rose and fell in deep, measured breaths, and even though she was just wearing her thong and bra, and the room was cool, his body heat kept her so warm, she wondered whether he was running a fever. She propped herself up on one elbow better to see him, concern for his well-being burning a hole in her gut, but he looked the picture of health. She let her eyes roam freely drinking in the sight that was a half-naked Grisha. This close he was devastatingly handsome. From the even features of his strong jawed face, the full lips that could kiss like Eros himself, the thick column of his throat with the prominent Adam’s apple, over the muscled shoulders and the broad chest and that trail of hair that disappeared into his jeans down to the impressive bulge in his groin. She let her fingers roam where her eyes had lingered, delighting in the feel of his silky skin under her fingertips, his so very dark in comparison to her pale flesh. A curious sound rumbled from his chest—almost like a cat's purr—but much more powerful. The vibrations shook the bed, and Neeve bit her lip and rubbed her thighs together.

  It wouldn't take much to send her over the edge again. Just looking at him made her cunt clench in remembered pleasure. Neeve had plenty of sexual encounters with both sexes, but no one had ever brought her to such an intense orgasm. Being restrained as she had been, bent over his knee, helpless to do anything but accept his punishment had been such a fucking turn on. But what had pushed her into oblivion had been his reaction at being called “Sir”.

  His approval had washed over, seeping into every corner of her soul until all the hurtful little cracks had been filled by him. Their connection had been so strong at that moment, an invisible line linking them together. To have a man that focused on your pleasure was a heavy aphrodisiac indeed, and one she would gladly swallow her pride for and call him Sir.

  Just like in the videos she'd seen he had not sought his own release, and Neeve had to wonder why. She would not have stopped him, had he thrust his cock inside any part of her. She had been far too busy floating on her cloud of sensual bliss, yet he'd seemingly only taken off her dress and shoes. Her dress was folded neatly on a chair, her shoes placed underneath, and she wondered when he'd managed to do that. She had no recollection of him leaving her at all. His scent and warmth had soothed her into an exhausted sleep instead.

  Poor baby. He had to hurt. She traced the outline of his cock through the fabric of his jeans, and the half erect shaft hardened immediately. Grisha stirred, releasing his hold on her, and she scooted away from him. He frowned in his sleep, and she
held her breath; but he didn’t wake up. He flung one of his arms over his head, and Neeve smiled. The move had brought his wrist right next to the padded restraints attached to the headboard. It would be matter of moments to tie him up.

  Heat exploded in her core at the thought of giving him a taste of his own medicine. She placed her feet gingerly on the stone floor and suppressed a gasp at the coldness under her toes. Her movement caused the dimmed light to brighten, and Neeve froze as she took a look at her surroundings. The walls and the steel entrance door were heavily padded, the stone floor bare. The bed on which Grisha lay dominated that side of the room. A padded and terribly imposing looking Saint Andrew's Cross stood in one corner; a spanking bench was in the middle of the room, and a long sideboard stood against one wall. Her curiosity getting the better of her she ran her fingers along the bench and fingered the restraints. She ducked under the set of ropes hanging from the ceiling. They brushed against her bare skin as she did so, and left tingles in their wake. One of the videos she'd watched over and over had shown Grisha tying up a woman until she resembled a human parcel. The rope dress, part of Shibari, as she'd found out it was called, had accentuated the sub's breasts and left her pussy on display, her arousal evident from the sheen of moisture coating her thighs.

  Neeve had always liked ropes. As a child she had always wanted to be the Red Indian, tied, and gagged, and she'd loved squirming against the ropes, wearing her Chinese burns like a badge of honor. As an adult now the thought gave her pause for thought. She'd never looked at it like that, and she wasn't sure what that sudden self-discovery meant. She glanced across at Grisha to make sure he was still sleeping and wrapped the rope around her wrist twice. She tugged on it to make sure it was tight and hissed under her breath at the stretching sensation.

  A movement from the bed sent her heart into overdrive, but he still seemed fast asleep, a small smile playing around his lips, as though he was dreaming about something amusing. She padded back to the bed to make sure, but his chest still fell and rose in the even pattern that could only signal sleep. Judging by the erection straining against his fly, his cock, however, was most certainly not asleep.

  As much as she wanted to explore the rest of this dungeon, and she was dying to find out what that side cabinet was holding, he was bound to wake up soon, and unless she got him restrained before he woke up, this was never going to work.

  She reached across him to secure one wrist to the padded handcuff, and Grisha turned his head. The move brought his mouth in line with her breasts, and her nipples puckered into hard little nubs of need, as his hot breath skimmed across them. Her heart turned into a jackhammer, and she looked down to ensure he was still sleeping. He appeared to be, but that smile of his had grown wider, and she hastily moved his other arm and secured it, before he could stop her.

  He didn't move, just lay perfectly still, his long eyelashes crescent moons against his cheekbones. Was he asleep? But he had to be, surely? He was a Dom. He would not let her tie him up unless he was indeed asleep, would he?

  A shiver of unease went down her spine. What on earth was she doing? He would be furious when he woke up restrained. She hastily went to undo the strap on his left arm when his deep voice stopped her.

  "Now, that would be a shame. You've gone through so much trouble. I'm rather looking forward to finding out what my little tigress has planned for me."

  She could hear the smile in his voice, and before she could move he'd sucked one of her nipples into his mouth through the lace of her bra. She put her hands either side of his head to support herself, as liquid heat erupted between her thighs, and she bit back her instant moan of surrender.

  What that man could do with his mouth... He shifted his hips, and she straddled him automatically to give him better access and to ground herself, as every suck and bite shot straight to her clit. She rubbed her sodden core across his naked abdomen, and his muscles tensed underneath her. He growled against the nipple flattened across the roof of his mouth, and the vibrations that caused sent darts of white hot arousal to her clit. He released that nipple and licked a path across to the other one, before giving it the same treatment.

  Neeve's nipples weren't usually that sensitive, but if he kept that up she would come on the spot just from that stimulation alone. He took her right to the edge, his breathing as labored as hers, and then he stopped. He blew against her wet nipples and winked when she moaned her denial.

  "Damn you, Grisha." She shrieked when he pulled his knees up and pitched her forward. She fell on top of him, and her breath left her lungs when he bit her shoulder hard enough to hurt.

  "Watch it, sub. What do you call me?"

  Neeve pulled away in defiance and rubbed the mark he left behind with her fingers.

  "Damn you, Sir. That hurt!"

  He growled low in his throat, as his eyes followed the movement of her fingers and bled to golden. She sat transfixed seeing that transformation. This time she could not put it down to a trick of the light as his pupils turned into cat-like slits. His scent increased tenfold, causing her to inhale sharply. Her insides tightened in need, and she balled her fingers into fists to stop herself from touching him as his hands elongated and formed into claws and the air around him began to shimmer. She had to be seeing things? Had he drugged her when she was sleeping?

  Disbelief turned to sheer terror, as his face too changed, and he showed a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. She scooted away from him and ran for the door, frantically searching for a handle that wasn't there.

  Shit, shit, damn, and fucking shit.

  The deep growl behind her trembled through every part of her body and stopped her dead. That sounded just like a big cat—a very big, powerful cat. She stopped breathing altogether when a wet nose bumped into her thigh, and she turned round slowly, so as not to spook whoever or whatever she might find behind her. Were the rumors not rumors after all? It seemed not.

  In front of her stood a huge Siberian tiger.

  Chapter Six

  Grisha flicked his tail and crouched low onto the floor in an effort to be less threatening. Seeing her run in terror, the scent of her fear thick in the air and completely obliterating her previous arousal, had had his tiger whine and sent him into pursuit mode. When she'd responded to his playful bite with her usual defiance his tiger had roared his displeasure. Seeing her slender fingers rub his mark had unleashed the beast, and he'd been unable to stop his shift.

  Unwilling to, if he was honest. It had been amusing and enlightening to see her explore Ink's dungeon when she'd assumed him asleep. Little had she known that his tiger had jumped to attention the minute she'd moved. Grisha had wanted to see what she would do. He had half expected her to try to run then. The fact that she didn't had given him a warm glow inside he didn't dare to examine too closely. So, he'd watched her from under hooded eyes, getting more turned on by the minute by her innocent exploration. Her breathing had sped up, and her skin had flushed when she'd examined the ropes, and it had taken every ounce of self-control to not jump off the bed and mark her pale flesh with the ties of Shibari before he sought his own release in her delightful body.

  But Grisha had demanded her honesty, and she deserved his honesty, too. He couldn't claim her body without her knowing who he truly was. So he'd forced himself to wait, every muscle in his body coiled for action, the control on his beast slipping more and more as she restrained him, her tits so close to his face he'd wanted to bury his face in the silken globes and never come up for air. The perfect handful, they'd taunted him; her nipples little come-get-me-beacons, signaling her arousal as clearly as the musk that filled his nostrils. He'd taken the hard nubs of pleasure into his mouth and wrought some more sweet torture of his own.

  His claws dug into the floor now as her fear subsided, and she slid down the wall. She hugged her knees to her chest, her eyes as wide as saucers as she looked him over.

  "It can't be true. She would have told me."

  He inched closer, keeping his bell
y on the floor, mindful to not scare her again, until he was close enough to lick her hand. She jumped, but the white knuckled grip she had on her legs loosened slightly, and, encouraged by her response, he licked her again.

  Her breath caught, and she closed her eyes, as he licked a path up one arm and then the other. By the time he licked along her neck up to her jaw, her hands fisted into his fur, not to push him away, but to pull him closer. He rested his head on her shoulder, and they sat like that for a while, until her heart rate slowed down and her fists unclenched again. She moved, and he raised his head to study her expression. She gave him a watery smile and stroked his fur. Hesitant at first, and then with more surety. He leant into her caresses and purred his approval.

  She giggled, and he licked her nose. Then swatted him away and laughed again.

  "You know that this is utterly ridiculous, right? I know what this is. I'm at home, having fallen asleep on the couch, drinking that cheap wine my p.a. bought me for my birthday, and I'm having wine-induced nightmares. I'm not really sitting in a dungeon, talking to a fucking tiger. I'm not."

  Her voice rose on the last word, and she shook her head with enough force to give her whiplash. Time to get back to his human self and to reassure her. They needed to talk, and he couldn't do that unless he shifted back. His tiger growled his protest; and Neeve pulled her knees back up to her chest, and her expression grew wary. He showed her a toothy smile that made her eyes widen, and he forced his tiger to retreat.

  His bones cracked and rearranged, his skin heated and his fur retreated, as the air around him shimmered. With the familiar burn settling all over him, he crouched on the floor back in his human form. The whole process took seconds, and unlike the first time he'd shifted it was mostly painless. Back then he had howled his distress at the forest floor, terrified of what was happening to his body. He closed his eyes and pushed the distressing memories away.