A soft whimper escaped her gag.
His hand cupped the heavy flesh of her bottom, squeezing, threatening. “He wants to make it his. All his.” He released her shoulder to grip each cheek in a hand, kneading her slick flesh in his fingers. “It is isn’t it, girl? This ass is ours, mine and Drake’s. And we’ll guard it jealously. You’ll never think of another man, when we get done with you.” He smacked her bottom harshly, Ashley’s pained grunt making his cock throb anew. He grasped the shaft, slapping her ass with it. “You’ll have all you can handle from us, girl. You’ll wish you weren’t blessed with an ass that calls to us like prey to a predator.”
He spread soap over the broad curves of her ass, squeezing the flesh between slippy fingers, the dusky bloom of his handprint against the pale background glistening in the light. Easing down her thighs, he roughly scrubbed a palm between her legs, his hand rasping against the hot softness of her labia.
“Spread your legs,” he whispered. “No, more. As far as you can.”
The weight of those beautiful legs posed, trembling on the balls of her feet, as he crouched behind her, coating the firm contours of her thighs, the bunched muscles of her calves shining with soap. His fingers tickled the vulnerable flesh of the soles of her feet, making her shake in her harness, a desperate squeak coming from behind her gag.
Ashley’s body jerked as he rose behind her, his hand clasping her pussy in his slick palm once more. His fingertips luxuriated in the soapy curls of her mound, catching the hard nodule of her clit between two fingers, stroking forward and back between her lush thighs. He kept at her for a few minutes, alternating stroking her clit with light slaps against the dripping sex, feeling her flesh swell yet further under his hand. Soon enough, her hips waved, rocking spasmodically in time with his stroking, her breath coming hard through her nostrils. He was going to show her what she could expect at his hands, at her Master’s hands — the unexpected.
His fingers thrust between the burning hot, swollen folds, searching for that sensitive bundle of nerves, knowing she was helpless against stimulation of that part of her body. He stroked it firmly, almost rough with her, his off hand clasping her hip hard, her flesh turning white under his harsh grip.
“Does this feel good, Ashley?”
She nodded against her arms, her wet locks sticking to her soapy skin.
“Do you want more? Do you want to come, girl?” He knew the answer of course, her hips now rotating with his thrusts, her broad buttocks twitching, her gag -muffled keening confirming her desperation. His voice lowered further, rasping in her ear. “Would you like me to fuck you? Do you want my cock?”
Her movements stilled, but her body shivered against him. Then she thrust her ass back at him as far as her spraddle-legged stance allowed, her emphatic nod whipping her hair against her back. The dark tones of his chuckle echoed in the close, humid space of the enclosure.
“I don’t think you deserve it, girl. Maybe I should just leave you hanging here, your ass thrust back like a mare in heat? Hmm?”
Her wail behind her gag made him smile, and he laid a gentle kiss against the wet hair plastered to her scalp. “Prove to me you deserve it, then.”
The feel of her plump labia against the burning length of his cock almost sent him over the edge as he thrust it between her thighs, the broad head spreading the soft lips on each plunge and retreat. He could feel the stiff clit at each thrust, and he paused now and then to worry it with the head of his penis. He loved that her clit was so prominent. Like breasts, he loved playing with a woman’s clit, and it fascinated him how so much sensation could be concentrated in that small bundle of nerves, how much control he could exert over a woman, helpless to the overpowering sensation flooding her body.
He leaned close, kissing the curve of her ear. “We’ve talked about piercing this clit, you know. Drake wants to put a barbell through the hood, just to tease you with it. But I wonder, girl.” He caught the cartilage of her ear between his teeth, nipping. “I’m not sure that would be the right thing for you. I wonder if you’d need more pain than that.” His tongue licked at the lobe, and he sucked it between his lips. “I think a nice, super thin needle right through the base might be what you really want. Is that right?”
Her head shook, and she whined behind the gag, every muscle in her body tensing.
“Perhaps soon we’ll find out, hmm? You’re thinking about it right now, aren’t you?” His fingers glided through her curls, pulling back the hood, a single fingertip circling the hard clit round and round. Her hips bucked again, the chains of the harness rattling above them. “You’re imagining that hard, bright burst of pain, wondering if you’ll be able to take it. Fearing how embarrassed you’ll be when we see how much that cunt gushes at the very idea. At the very idea that you need that pain. Pain from us, the men who own you.”
He knew it would probably be too much for her — at least right away. But she needed to know what being owned might really mean. She needed to understand, on an elemental level, that as his property she might have to endure that very thing. He’d never really hurt her, but if he decided she needed to have her clit pierced, then no matter what kind of pain that needle might cause as it impaled her flesh, she was going to have to endure. For him, for her — to show that she was his. All his.
Surrendered.
There would be time for that, time to explore those dark hidden rooms of her sexuality, those parts of her needs, her urges, her depraved dreams that even she wasn’t sure she could examine. He’d force her to admit all of it, show him what she was really made of, that the waters of Ashley’s soul were as deep, dark and storm-tossed as his own were.
But now he couldn’t resist further. She was his, and he didn’t have to restrain himself anymore. He grasped her hips in his hands, canting them so that the bright red of her sex shone between her shaking thighs, her big bottom quivering. Her long, lost groan as his cock slid into her, made him grin. He pushed as deeply as a man could go within his woman, then held her there, staked upon him, a trophy prize claimed by his cock. Her bottom clenched and released against his lower belly, the slick softness of her flesh making him want to squeeze their vulnerability in his hands again.
“Don’t move that ass, girl. This is for me, for taking the time to bathe you today. It won’t always be like this.” The slow thrusting within her hot depths was nearly undoing him already, and he grit his teeth, trying to resist the liquid delight of the clutch of her sex. He stroked within her at his pace, slapping her lush buttocks when she tried to thrust against him, his growled admonishments making her hang her head.
He liked her that way — resigned to her fate. Surrendering to him. Here in his arms she didn’t have to fight it anymore; she could be taken over, be used, controlled, brought to that elemental, primitive place that spoke to the feminine urge to submit. He knew not all women possessed that urge, but an astonishingly large number did — if you probed deeply enough.
And even fewer of them ever decided to embrace that proto-female need and make it part of their conscious lives. It made what Ashley was that much more rare, a precious gem he’d stumbled upon in a stroke of luck, something he was so grateful for, he’d not words to express it.
But right now anyway, she didn’t need to know that.
The movement of his cock within her was only for him, fast enough to have his balls tightening already, but too slow to really give her what she needed. He worked that hard clit with his fingers until her panting was obvious even with the gag, the slickness of her sex dripping off the both of them. Just as she threatened to fly off into outer space, he’d relent, stilling within her and enjoying the frustrated clenching of her desperate, deprived sex upon his hard cock. He’d spread her cheeks and circle the whorl of her anus with a finger, working the sweat and soap against the delicate flesh there. He delighted in the way it shrunk in on itself at his insistent stroking, the frightened clenching only goading him to probe her further. Parker shook his head, smiling to him
self at the way that ass was going to try to shrink away when Drake put that cock of his to it.
She’d be learning another lesson when that happened: that her body was no longer hers.
Ashley moaned behind her gag, the frustration in her tone flooding him with a rich pleasure, the satisfaction of a man opening the eyes of his submissive to new discoveries — ones she may or may not particularly like.
The discovery for her would be that whether she liked it or not, sometimes it wouldn’t matter.
He took up steady, slow plunges within the seething, flooded clench of her cunt, wishing he could stay like this forever, feeling her frustration at the urgency of her orgasm, held just out of reach. His Ashley was learning that sometimes deprivation held its own sweet rewards for her Master.
Soon, savoring the incoherent pleadings behind her gag, and ever mindful that his movements wouldn’t send her over the edge, he reached his climax, the attenuated surge of heat and pleasure surging behind his balls the price he was willing to pay for denying his slave her own orgasm.
His quiet groan, and the staccato jerk of his hips against her was fortunately not enough to allow Ashley her own orgasm, and he slid from the wetness of the clenching pussy, a mournful sound from her warming his black heart once more.
“Remember this, my girl: you come only if your Sir allows it.” He smoothed her soaked hair over her head, fingers tracing the way the gag’s straps galled the corners of her mouth. “You’ve been a good girl, but you needed this. Being mine means you won’t always get what you want — even if you think you deserve it.”
Chapter Eighteen
She needed to see about getting a softer chair for her desk. Ashley winced, wiggling her hips, trying to find a more tolerable position. Staying overnight at Parker’s certainly had its perks, but frequently there were drawbacks as well. Like today.
That morning, before Ashley had even been allowed to dress, Parker had decided that she was due some discipline. She remembered his grin at her questioning look. “Just to remind you who you’re accountable to. Now bend over.”
As the morning sun angled across the rumpled mess of the covers, warming her naked back, she’d prostrated herself over the edge of his bed. His cane had laid down lines of fire across the cool flesh of her bottom, making her cry out by the sixth and final cut. His hand palmed and squeezed her burning marks afterward, his growl of satisfaction giving her hope that’d he’d been satisfied with her obedience.
She’d tried to stand, eager to retreat to the bathroom to do what she could to soothe the marks that still swelled across her ass. But his big palm planted itself between her shoulder blades, the head of his erect cock brushing her inner thighs. A cruel hand smacked the swollen, sensitive lips of her pussy until she’d understood his requirements, spreading her thighs, the morning air cool against the wet sex between her legs.
The hard cock had taken her breath away as he took her, his touch rough, possessive, the hair of his belly fanning the flames of the weals stretching across her asscheeks. He’d bent over her, biting into her shoulder as he pounded her harder, the bed creaking with the punishing thrusts. Then he’d come, holding himself so deep within her she grunted at each spasm of his hips, the hot seed flooding within her.
Finished with her, he’d left the room with a stinging slap to her flank, telling her she was not to clean his come from her cunt.
So there she sat in her office, her boss ten feet away, while Ashley tried to find a perch that didn’t make the tramlines ache, trying to ignore the sticky semen plastering her panties to her pussy. She hoped it wouldn’t wet her twill skirt too.
Debbie, her boss, stepped out of her office, tilting her head toward the front door. “I’ll be gone the rest of the day. You okay with closing up the office tonight?”
“Yeah, no sweat,” Ashley said, distracted, biting her bottom lip at the throbbing pain of the weal that stretched down to her upper thigh. There wasn’t a single seating position that didn’t seem to gall it.
“See you tomorrow, Ashley.” Her boss flashed a wan smile, switching off the light in her office. Frigid air flooded the small space as the front door eased slowly shut behind Debbie.
There’d been several showings that day, which had been a mercy, really. Ashley had wondered what the young couple she’d shown the two bedroom ranch in Pateros to would think if they knew ropes of carmine stretched across the skirt-clad swells of Ashley’s buttocks, the white lace of her panties emphasizing the inflamed color of the marks. She’d stared at them so long that morning in the mirror, she’d almost made herself late for the first tour.
Walking through her day with a low background buzz of lust, remembering how his cock felt as it staked her to the bed, drove the breath from her lungs, the penetration deep, so deep.
She hoped her clients couldn’t smell Parker’s seed soaking the gusset of her panties, but the feel of him there, marking her, was in its own twisted way, a comfort. A part of him still with her. She hung her head in her hands.
Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with you girl?
They’d fallen into a pattern, a comfortable, yet exciting routine. Days were hers, but nights, increasingly, belonged to Parker. There were rules now, someone to be accountable to, and painful consequences for failing to meet muster. It was all new to her, the steady spotlight of attention on her from a man. Strangely, though she found herself thinking of Parker more and more, she tried to purposely keep him at arm’s length. There was something else going on here, a discovery that snuck up on her day by day.
She was feeling better.
Life could go on after an awful relationship. A fullness of being, a renewed enthusiasm for what might lay in her future, buoyed her spirits now. At first it had been only a glimmer, a faint ember of hope, but it had grown into a healthy fire with Parker’s help, his attention (both loving and cruel) a sort of lodestar, a beacon of hope for a shattered woman. A woman who’d once despaired of life offering anything but misery and heartbreak.
The clock showed five minutes to six, so she packed her laptop, gathered her purse and entered the security code. Pausing outside the front door, she clutched her coat closer against the chill, a fine, lazy snowfall underway. She decided to walk to meet Parker for dinner rather than drive, the cold of the winter evening something she savored, the crisp air invigorating to her lungs. Nobody seemed to walk anywhere anymore, even in a smaller town, so she had the route practically to herself, pausing only occasionally for a turning car, the tires crunching through the freshly fallen snow.
As good as she felt, as hopeful as the future now seemed, there were problems. She still had no concrete idea who this man really was, what drove him, what he cared about — other than her. He was in many ways, a cipher, never really letting her get too close. It was early in the relationship though, so she yet hoped one day (soon) to be able to access that inner sanctum, to really learn who Parker was, to see the man behind that steely facade of the Dom. Her nipples stood up under her blouse — he’d forbidden her bras unless the wobble of her unfettered breasts would endanger her job — at the image of his stubble-shadowed, clenched jaw, the cold glitter of those fathomless gray eyes, like those of a predator — pitiless, implacable.
She cut across the street, tiptoeing through a patch of slush around a steaming manhole cover, then hopping back up onto the smooth white of an untrammeled snow-covered sidewalk. The restaurant was in sight now, the dangling white of Christmas lights already blazing despite the fact that it wasn’t even Thanksgiving yet.
The mystery of Parker wasn’t all of it though, not by a long shot. There was the issue of Drake — she hadn’t seen him since that night in the shower. Parker told her he’d been called away on business, but she sensed it for the deception it must be. For some reason, he kept himself separated from them. Was Drake laying low, as confused about the situation as she was?
But was she really confused? Did the idea of being shared by these two men, being … subject to them both, ac
tually give her pause? If she were brutally honest with herself, she’d see her feelings for what, deep down, she knew them to be.
Extreme, almost giddy excitement, and an unsettling, consuming anticipation for what might come next.
Stupid girl. One man isn’t enough to break your heart? You’re going to risk it with TWO?
She wanted to see him though, talk to him, find out what he was really thinking about all this. Most of all she wanted to know what those masculine, powerful hands of his felt like on her flesh, claiming, controlling — taking. Her body shuddered at both the cold air licking around her legs, the thin tights not quite keeping the chill away (another rule of Parker’s: she wasn’t permitted pants anymore — ever), and the thought of what those hands were capable of. The heaven or hell his touch could inflict. When would Drake return and finish what they’d started? If the frequency with which his dark eyes appeared in her dreams were any indication, that day couldn’t come soon enough.
She reached the restaurant, with its wide, weathered stone steps leading up to the glass front doors. Despite the biting cold, the covered deck right off the entrance actually hosted a few hardy souls, all seated close to several propane heaters, the air around them shimmering with the welcome heat.
Her phone buzzed from the depths of her purse, and she stopped on the sidewalk to dig it out, stepping aside for a jogger to pass, white breath billowing in his wake.
The phone showed Tara.
“Hi Tara! What are you doing calling me? I thought you and Bri—”
“He showed up again, Ash.” Something about the evenness in Tara’s voice unsettled her.
No. Not now, dammit.
“Terry?” She knew the answer, even as she hoped that it wasn’t true.
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