For My Master

by Suz deMello

  All the while Ross watched.

  Despite the sex with Ross, desire pooled deep in her cunt. She began to shake and her pussy tightened. The needle’s prick swelled her most sensitive parts and with the swelling came want. Want quickly blossomed into need and Kathie struggled to repress her passionate sighs.

  Darla noticed. So did Toby. How could they not? Kathie herself could smell Ross’ come and her cream oozing from her pussy. Even so, Darla’s hands were unwavering as she worked. But Toby’s fingers, as they moved this way and that while helping Darla, had developed an unmistakable quiver, and his cheeks had pinkened.

  “All done.” Darla switched off the needle, put away her equipment and stripped off her gloves. She cupped Kathie’s breast and smiled at Ross. “Your lady wants to play, and I’d be happy to oblige.”

  Her casual tone was undercut by the flush in her cheeks. Darla was aroused. Ross came closer and when Kathie turned her head she noticed an admirable tent in his shorts. Same with Toby.

  Everyone in the room was turned on.

  “She looks pretty sore.” Ross peered down at Kathie’s mound.

  “Yes, you have to be careful.” Darla dipped her finger into the jar of petroleum jelly and tenderly spread a thin film over the fresh tattoo, then stroked Kathie’s clitoris.

  Toby pulled her thighs apart. Her hips jerked involuntarily and she moaned. Darla chuckled and tugged on the nubbin of proud flesh before plunging one long, red-tipped finger into Kathie’s slit.

  Excitement shot through her. She cried out, startled by the invasion, more shocked by her response to a woman.

  Ross leaned over and thrust his tongue into her open mouth as she came, his hands on her breasts. Darla withdrew and massaged Kathie’s clit.

  Writhing within her bonds, Kathie opened her eyes to look deep into Ross’ brown gaze. Beyond him, she could see Darla kissing Toby while continuing to play with Kathie’s cunt.

  Another hand touched her—a man’s hand, she thought. But the hand couldn’t belong to Ross—he was cupping her breasts and pinching her nipples, which was unbelievably arousing, combined as it was with Darla’s fingers in Kathie’s pussy. Toby was stroking Kathie’s inner thighs up and down with gentle fingertips. The lazy caress kept her pulsing.

  She didn’t stop coming until Darla stopped. Ross straightened to unzip his shorts while Toby urged Darla to bend over the table between Kathie’s spread legs. Darla kissed Kathie’s naked cunt while presenting her raised ass to her partner, who lifted her skirt and opened his pants. He had a long cock—not as thick as Ross’ or as dark, but quite a tool nevertheless. Kathie’s pulse quickened as she watched, watched and anticipated with a rush of honey moistening her pussy. She pushed her cunt harder against Darla’s lips.

  Toby fondled himself for a moment then aimed his rod to enter Darla from behind with a long, slow surge. Darla’s gasp sent warm breath floating over Kathie’s clit while she watched Toby grip Darla’s round hips as he took her.

  She’d never thought she’d take part in such a dirty, sexy scene and didn’t know how she felt about it. The she remembered what Ross had said. Just let go…

  So she did. She let go of her judgments and her fear to watch Toby fuck Darla, allowed herself to enjoy the quick flicks of Darla’s tongue over her clit, flicks that landed in time with Toby’s powerful thrusts.

  Kathie writhed and moaned. Ross climbed up onto the table and centered himself atop her, his knees spread. He lifted her head and shoved his cock into her mouth, taking advantage of her open lips, her gasps and pants as Darla ate her out, her tongue stabbing rhythmically, her long nails digging into Kathie’s thighs while holding them apart.

  Those tiny stabs, along with the hard push of Ross’ cock in her mouth, sent Kathie over the edge once more.

  As she panted for breath, enjoying the afterglow and sucking Ross anew, he moaned, “Belle, Belle…”

  For a startled moment she forgot who he meant. Then she remembered and was both complimented and dumbfounded. Complimented, for evidently she was blowing him the way he liked. And dumbfounded. In the midst of his passion, he had used her code name.

  That was more single-minded than she ever wanted to become. What did that portend for their relationship? Would it always be overshadowed by their work?

  Chapter Three

  Ross led her down a hall, with Kathie’s feet silent on thick, gray carpets. She caught glimpses of rooms, one evidently an office, with a desk strewn with paperwork. Another was a guest bedroom, she supposed, for it was nicely furnished but had a lonely air, as though it wasn’t often used. Potted plants were everywhere. He’d even managed to persuade gardenias to bloom indoors. Their heady scent filled her nostrils.

  They turned into a large, opulently furnished master suite. Its sitting room featured comfortable chairs, good lighting and another table fountain. This was apparently where Ross hung out and read. She didn’t really have time to snoop around because he led her through the room and into another.

  His bedroom. Dominated by a four-poster, king-sized bed in dark wood, it was masculine without being ponderous or stupidly macho. No whips or chains, not even satin sheets. Just a big bed that reminded her irresistibly of hot sex on cool white linens.

  His bathroom was huge, the size of her apartment’s living room, and was trimmed with slate and lined with mirrors that reflected her image at least twelve times. A window was open, admitting a soft sea breeze. More potted plants also lent their fragrances.

  Darla had been right. Kathie was sore, a fact she discovered when she showered. Her mound, with the initials Z.G. done elaborately in black, was dotted with bloody pinpricks that she guessed wouldn’t completely heal for a couple of days. Her thighs exhibited tiny red crescents. From Darla’s nails, Kathie guessed.

  After drying off, she borrowed a silk robe hanging on the door. The green paisley was far too big for her—Ross’, no doubt—but it would have to do. Following his orders, she hadn’t brought other clothes.

  She found him in the sitting room. A diagram was rolled out on a table, weighted with an assortment of odd items—a fossilized nautilus shell, a polished granite cube, his cell phone and a book, Wilder’s Our Town.

  “This is the blueprint of the house we’re going into,” he told her.

  “How did we get it?”

  “We found the architect hiding out in Omaha. He wasn’t very pleased to see us and we persuaded him to give us these plans in exchange for our silence.”

  “It’s a square. That’s odd. Most people prefer houses to be more unique and individualized.”

  “It’s really a concrete fortress.” He eyed her. “It’s the headquarters of El Silencio.”

  Her belly twisted. El Silencio, The Silent One, was reputed to speak only when ordering a deal…or a death.

  “Here are some photos.” He handed her a sheaf of perhaps five pictures.

  She flipped through them. “The grounds are walled and gated.”

  “Yes, there’s only one way in and out. We’re expected, so getting in won’t be a problem. It’s getting out that could pose issues.”

  “How high are the walls?”

  “Twelve feet. Stucco topped with razor wire and broken glass.”

  “Where are the drugs stored?”

  “We’re not sure, but we believe in the basement, as it’s easily defensible.”

  She stacked the photographs at one corner of the table. “So what’s the plan?”

  “Go in, set fire to the drugs and get out, preferably without anyone getting killed.”

  She lifted her brows. “No arrests?”

  “No, that’s really not worth our time. You know how it is south of the border these days. The baddies would grease a few palms and be free before we got back home. All we’re trying to do is destroy the stash, which is rumored to be considerable.”

  She leaned past him to scrutinize the diagram. Though acutely aware of his nearness, she tried to ignore her tripling heartbeat and the sex juices gath
ering in her pussy. “Three stories.”

  “Two,” he said. “The ground floor, one upper story, and the basement, which is the focus of our endeavors. Look at this.”

  The diagram of the basement. “It looks like two big rooms.”

  “Yeah. Our information is that one room is the storage.”

  “Is it fortified?”

  “Yes, with extra metal beams and concrete. You could set a bomb off in there and the neighbors wouldn’t notice.”

  “What’s the other room?”

  “It’s a dungeon. A sex dungeon.”

  “A sex—”

  “Yeah.” He turned his head to regard her with serious eyes. “And we need to get down there as soon as possible.”

  She swallowed, her throat dry. “That shouldn’t be hard, not since you have a sex slave in urgent need of training.”

  “Speaking of which, come with me.”

  She followed him into the bedroom, where he asked, “Belmont, have you ever had it up the ass?”

  Her mouth fell open. She’d already seen that Ross could be salty, but this deliberate crudeness was unexpected.

  He huffed impatiently. “This is no time to get prudish. We have to leave soon, and if your ass isn’t open they’ll notice as soon as you bend over. Tell me, have you ever had anal sex?”

  “No, but I…” God. How could she tell Ross she used a dildo on herself? How embarrassing.

  “But what?”

  “I, er…you shouldn’t have any trouble,” she whispered. Even without a mirror, she could sense the red staining her cheeks.

  “Let’s find out. Take off the robe and bend over.” His tone was crisp and impersonal. He might have been ordering an espresso at Starbucks.

  She bit her lip and obeyed, even though she was angry at his peremptory manner. Just get your ass over here and bend over.

  Like the day before, he palmed her buttocks and spread her wide. Like the day before, she found this treatment unutterably sexy.

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice rich with male appreciation. “I see what you mean. You’re nice and open, but not loose. You use a dildo, or your finger?”

  “Um-hmm,” she mumbled, her face in the dark blue coverlet.

  “What?” He slapped her fast and hard.

  The spank reverberated through her, the shock wave shooting straight to her pussy, which creamed anew. Her knees started to wobble. “Yes, sir.”

  “Belmont, this isn’t a game. You’re gonna have to do better if you’re gonna fake it as a slave. I’ve been patient, but…” He reached over to a drawer in a bedside table and took something out.

  She turned her head to peek, saw something long and brown, and her brain shorted out. Surely it couldn’t be…

  The flogger swished onto her bare buttocks and she shrieked from sheer surprise. He leaned a forearm over her shoulders to hold her in place, then laid four stripes, two for each butt cheek.

  They stung like hell. “You bastard!” She twisted out of his hold, rolling across the bed. He followed her, pinning her down in the middle of the mattress, facedown, holding her there with his body weight.

  Damn him, she couldn’t get away. He had to outweigh her by at least fifty pounds. Worse, she was getting turned on. Aroused. Aroused by a whipping, by this big man holding her in place, controlling her every movement. She liked it.

  Her pussy clenched and her mind blanked with shock. She couldn’t have enjoyed that. Could she? “That wasn’t necessary!”

  “Oh, it was. The marks will show you’re truly a slave. Besides, you needed the punishment. Don’t fool with me, Belmont. I can tell a true submissive from fifty paces. You’re turned on.”

  She turned her face away. “That’s not the point,” she said, sulky.

  Standing, he laughed. “That’s exactly the point.”

  * * * * *

  Two hours later, they hit the road. In keeping with his cover as a wealthy drug dealer looking for another supplier, Ross wore a navy Canali suit. He’d dressed Kathie in a rose-pink, wrap-style dress over outrageous black lace lingerie. Her demi-bra held her up but didn’t cover her nipples, which jabbed the dress’s thin fabric. No panties on her freshly shaved, tattooed pussy, but a garter belt supported sheer stockings. Lethally sharp fuck-me heels with pointed toes, useful as weapons. Chain bracelets on both wrists and one ankle. “It’s like a code,” Ross explained. “The chains represent your enslavement. In fact, they’re titanium, strong enough to bind you if necessary.”

  “As long as you’re the one doing the binding,” Kathie said. “I won’t be able to help much if I’m tied up.”

  “There’s a lever and spring hidden in each chain that releases it. Can you find them?”

  She fiddled with the bracelets until she could open them with ease.

  “Learn how to release them with one hand.” Ross’ eyes were somber as he stared at the road, his big hands steady on the steering wheel of the black Mercedes. “It could save both our lives. I want to get you into that dungeon as soon as possible.”

  “That should be easy enough. All I have to do is mouth off or forget to call you master.”

  “Yes, and as soon as you’re naked they’ll see you’re a true slave.”

  Kathie shifted, careful to keep her knees apart. The healing tattoo still stung, and the car’s air conditioning soothed the sore flesh. “Yes, sir.” She leaned forward in her seat belt. She’d already discovered that if she put her weight on her thighs, the stripes on her ass didn’t ache.

  Though they’d caused her pain, it hadn’t been bad. If pressed, she’d have to admit she’d liked everything that had happened. The foursome had been hot. Watching Darla get thoroughly fucked while eating Kathie out had been a major turn-on, even though sex with another woman had never been one of her fantasies. Darla clearly knew her way around another woman’s body. And, while Toby hadn’t had her, watching him buck in and out of Darla had been very sexy.

  Come to think of it, neither man had fucked or sucked the woman who wasn’t his. Must be some sort of convention in the alternate-sex community, Kathie mused. No nookie unless invited.

  And she’d invited Ross to do whatever he wanted with and to her, an invitation he’d accepted with competence and eagerness. The flogging had hurt, but he’d been right. She’d been turned on by the whipping, his dominance, his mastery. Even now she squirmed on the upholstery, brimful of unfulfilled cravings. He hadn’t fucked her after the whipping and hadn’t allowed her to touch herself to relieve her tension. Her nerves were drawn as tight as the bridge cables over the Tijuana River.

  She was anxious about everything—the mission and their odd new relationship at the top of the list. If it was a real relationship.

  She believed he’d keep his commitment to her, that he’d give her everything she needed. But he would also take everything he wanted… What would he choose? How would she feel? How would becoming Ross’ submissive change her? Would she still be an effective agent?

  As they drove to their meeting with El Silencio, she prayed that they’d both complete the mission safely to find out if there could be anything real between them.

  Their government clearances eased their way into Mexico, but night was falling when Ross turned onto a broad avenida in Zona Rio. At the end of the street, Kathie saw the fortress from the photos. Lit by orangey floodlights playing over high, desert-colored stucco walls, it was big, more imposing than in the pictures. For the first time fear clutched her heart. This was the most dangerous mission she’d been assigned. She and Ross could easily be killed.

  Her armpits dampened. She crossed and recrossed her ankles.

  He squeezed her knee. “You wouldn’t be here, Belmont, if you weren’t ready for this job.”

  She breathed in and out, slowing her heartbeat, controlling her fluttering pulse.

  Ross stopped the Mercedes at the entrance, a tall, iron-spiked gate. One of the two black-clad guards flanking it stepped forward to tap on Ross’ window with the butt of a semi-aut
omatic.

  Ross depressed a button, rolling down the window. “Buenas noches. Zack Guerrero to see El Silencio,” he continued in Spanish.

  “You’re expected, Señor Guerrero, and your woman as well.” The guard leaned over to eye Kathie. His tongue lapped his lower lip. “She is your hole?”

  “Yes,” Ross said, his voice cold. “All mine.”

  The guard jerked back. “Lo siento. I did not mean to offend.”

  “No offense taken. Shall we…?”

  “Sí, sí,of course.” The guard waved at an unseen gatekeeper. The gate opened, letting them into The Silent One’s fortress.

  Chapter Four

  The house was surrounded by flat lawns and minimal landscaping. The lush grass, a sign of opulence in this dry country, afforded no cover if they had to escape on foot. Kathie noted a few palm trees planted in clumps, with dramatic lighting. Stunning, but useless as hiding places.

  A pillared portico surmounted heavy wood doors. The windows were slits, easier to defend, she supposed. Ross was right. This was a fortress.

  The house’s fearsome appearance hadn’t stopped anyone who craved El Silencio’s wares. Several cars were parked out front, all new in appearance but unimposing, as if their owners didn’t want to attract attention. Drug runners, she guessed—mules. Perhaps partiers or johns. The exceptions were a Mercedes and a Jaguar, a gorgeous scarlet convertible that made her mouth water.

  Light and sound spilled out of the narrow windows. She heard a woman squeal, followed by the laughter of several men.

  Ross parked his Mercedes behind the rest of the cars, which would ease their escape. Valets opened their doors and one helped Kathie out, holding her elbow while looking her over. She let him lead her to the fortress’s door.

  Loud Nortec music blasted her ears before she’d even walked inside. Within was a debauched scene she couldn’t have imagined. Numerous couples crowded the house’s great room, most dancing so close together that they might as well have been fucking. Looking closer, she saw that some were. All the women were naked or nearly nude. If they were clothed they wore obvious slave garb, mostly revealing lingerie like Kathie’s, though one woman wore an I Dream of Jeannie harem girl costume and another, strips of fur like a cavewoman. The men were in various states of undress ranging from fully clothed on down. She’d never seen so many pairs of leather jeans in her life.