“I’m right here with you, Claire. Just you and me. We’ll see this through.”
When her other arm was secured, he tested the restraints and asked, “What’s your safe word?”
The word she’d chosen slipped her mind until she looked into his eyes. He was her safety net. Her security.
“Security.” The word came out on a whisper. Claire cleared her throat and said it louder. “Security.”
“Good. If anything scares you, the very second you start to panic, use your safe word. Understand?” His serious, dominant tone left no room for anything but compliance.
“Yes Sir.”
He got right in her face again, carefully watching her expression. “Fail to use your safe word and you will be punished by orgasm denial, Claire.”
Oh Lord. He knew how much she hated that. And he’d do it too, she saw the determination in the taut line of his jaw.
She nodded rapidly. “Yes Sir. I understand.”
Once again, he asked for her safe word, drilling it into her head so she wouldn’t forget while he moved to strap her ankles down. Mason talked to her the whole time and remained within view as much as possible.
“Who is your Dom, Claire?”
“You are, Mason.”
“That’s right. And there’s only room for the two of us here. No one else. Just you and me.”
He was everything she wanted and needed.
Mason rose up between her legs, a sultry smile on his lips as his fingers toyed with the downy hair covering her mound.
“This pretty pussy looks lonely. I believe it’s in need of a kiss.”
“Yes Sir.”
They’d only become intimate in the past few weeks. During that brief time, she’d learned that her lover had a bit of an oral fixation. He delighted in spending hours with his mouth between her legs, taking her to the edge over and over again until she was a writhing, pleading mess. He had endless endurance and an insatiable hunger for her.
Up one side and down the other, bold sweeps of his tongue drove any remaining thoughts of the past far from her mind. Mason devoured her—body, mind and soul—leaving room for nothing else.
He licked and sucked at her folds then thrust his tongue as deep inside her pussy as he could go, humming his approval when her walls spasmed around him. Two fingers took the place of his tongue, curling upward to torment the most wonderful, sensitive bundle of nerves while his lips closed around her clit. His teeth held the erect kernel and his tongue lashed at the exposed head.
Close. So close. Her head thrashed back and forth on the padded bench and she moved to lift her legs, intending to wrap them around his broad shoulders, but was drawn up short by the leather bonds.
Air wheezed from her lungs and her safe word echoed though her head.
“Claire.”
The sound of her name, spoken loud and demanding, had her head snapping up, gaze locking in on Mason’s face, still between her legs.
“Who is your Dom?”
Mason.
“Y-you are, Sir. Mason.”
“That’s right, honey.”
“Mason,” she repeated. Claire sucked in several calming breaths while staring into his gorgeous blue eyes.
He watched her intently for several moments then nodded. “Do you want to say your safe word?”
“No,” she squeaked. “No Sir.”
His grin returned, along with something she hadn’t seen reflected in his gaze for the past few months. A confidence she hadn’t realized had been missing. And that’s when it hit her. She hadn’t been the only one to suffer.
The understanding caused something to shift in Claire. Her spine straightened and stubborn determination flowed through her. She would not let that sick bastard steal another moment of this incredible man’s self-assurance. Hell no.
She arched her brow, flashed her rusty, sarcastic grin, and prepared to poke the rattlesnake with a rather short stick.
“You want me to safe word out? What’s the matter? The big, bad Dom can’t handle the poor little tied-up sub?”
Mouthing off to a Dom, not a smart idea, but she’d gone too far, had too much on the line to stop. They both needed the same thing and she intended to make sure they got it. “Am I too much for you, Mason?”
Oh boy, she’d done it now. He rose up between her legs, every muscle tensed, his face an expressionless mask. A Dom mask. And yet Claire could’ve sworn the corner of his lips twitched with amusement. But it happened so fast and went right back to a smooth, calm expression that she couldn’t be sure.
“No need to beg for punishment, honey. I’m more than prepared to deliver everything you need.”
Claire closed her eyes and searched inside for some of the quality she greatly lacked—patience. She was going to require every ounce of it she could drum up to hold her orgasm at bay.
Mason pressed her legs farther apart, creating a slight strain in her thighs. He notched the tip of his cock at her fluttering entrance and held completely still. Forcing her eyes open, she met his steely gaze, hearing the fateful words in her head before he spoke them.
“You do not have permission to come.”
He continued to hold her gaze, letting her see his heart and soul reflected in his eyes, along with the reassurance that while he would dominate, he would never torture. She would be given all the pleasure she could handle.
“Yes Sir. I understand.”
Pride and joy flashed in his eyes as his cock drove forward, penetrating to her core in one fluid thrust. Mason gave her no chance to adjust, setting a punishing rhythm that grew more intense with each plunge. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, emitted only strangled sounds of ever expanding pleasure.
He rode her hard and relentless, her body cushioning each hammering impact, absorbing the aggressive energy, gathering the sensations at the center of her being. Electricity enlivened every nerve, which tingled with heightened awareness.
At the root of it all—Mason. The sweet and tender lover she’d come to know over the summer had vanished. In his place was a carnal, primal male beast, grunting and sweating in the most beautiful display of pure dominant passion.
Everything seemed surreal, like a dream, but one she lived. Alive, aware and bursting with sensation beyond anything she’d imagined or hoped for. A brilliant culmination, years of aching need, fulfilled by the powerful man giving her a glimpse of Heaven. Helpless to do anything other than meet his increasing urgency, take what he gave and hold on tight.
She should be afraid. Terrified by the rising aggression and heat radiating from his all-consuming gaze. The low, feral growls rumbling from his massive chest.
There was no fear, only eager anticipation. Her body held in suspended animation, waiting for the moment he commanded the epic release sure to devastate her.
Pressure mounted, Mason’s strokes becoming more frenzied. Claire’s body tensed, every muscle going rigid, her pussy clamping down on his cock, struggling to hold him deep inside. His rhythm faltered, movements becoming erratic, his ravenous gaze searing through layers of flesh straight to her soul.
Sweat dripped from his face, hot droplets landing on her belly. His tight grip on her hip released, fingers ruffling her tuft of curls, giving a sharp tug then settling alongside her throbbing clit.
“Now, Claire. Come now.”
Before the words had left his mouth, his cock swelled and convulsed, hot jets of cum filling her quivering channel, setting spark to the fuse. The implosion that began at the center of her pelvis blasted outward, diffuse percussive waves moving in all directions, touching every fiber of her being.
“Oh, Christ. Yes, Claire. Yes.”
Mason’s hips kept pumping, the chafing contact creating infinite shards of ecstasy, wave after dizzying wave of pleasure washing over her, sweeping her away in a tide of bliss.
How long she rode the seemingly endless euphoric peak was beyond her ability to comprehend. Claire surfaced from the haze to discover the restraints had been rem
oved and she rested in Mason’s bed, head pillowed on his chest, the steady beating of his heart lulling her toward sleep. He must have taken care of her, because her skin wasn’t tacky with sweat. She felt clean, comfortable. Cherished.
She drifted off gently, safe in Mason’s arms, surrounded by everything she needed. Claire floated in a strange place, somewhere between dream and reality, neither fully asleep nor awake. Almost outside herself, distant, looking down on her body that had been spread into an X-shape matching the St. Andrew’s Cross holding her in place.
Wary anticipation teased her senses. She couldn’t make out her surroundings but something felt off. An odd current of malicious intent hummed in the cold air prickling her too-tight skin. She peered into the murky, swirling shadows, unable to get an impression of time and place.
A sudden wave of nausea rolled through her detached body as distinctive scents filled her nostrils. Polo cologne and dank, musty basement.
Oh Lord, no. Please, not again.
On some level her conscious mind asserted itself, assuring Claire it was merely a return of the nightmares. She was safe in Mason’s arms, not in Carl’s dungeon being subjected to endless torture.
Muttered, incomprehensible words swirled around her head, like the incessant buzzing of a fly, trying to penetrate her mind. One feminine murmur, joined by another and another, multiplying until twelve distinct voices lifted in warning.
She strained to understand the whisperers, to find meaning in their soft yet urgent message. Nothing made sense.
The scene shifted. A familiar blonde reporter stood before Claire’s bloodied and beaten body, microphone in hand as she excitedly delivered the latest developments with a mocking smile.
“Here you see the Dungeon Master’s thirteenth victim, twenty-nine-year-old real estate appraiser Claire Hanson. The coroner has determined her cause of death to be severe blood loss from severed carotid and jugular arteries. Notice the deep gash opening her neck from ear to ear.”
She never had liked that overly dramatic, cold fish reporter and the gleam in her dark eyes as she delivered the most horrible news.
“It is said that Miss Hanson landed in the killer’s hands because of her impatience. She also failed to heed the warning whispered by the first twelve victims.”
“What the fuck do you know?” Claire yelled at the reporter from the unanimated body. “Stupid bitch. You never have managed to get one damn thing correct in your ridiculous reports.”
The reporter tsked. “Poor Claire. If you’d cleaned the wax out of your ears you might have heard what the other women tried to—”
Her irritation rose along with the sick feeling in her gut as the unmistakable sound of a whip splitting the air sucked all the oxygen from her lungs.
Lord, this time he wouldn’t let her get away. She’d be trapped in this creepy hell of a dungeon for eternity, doomed to whisper to other women who wouldn’t be able to get away either.
Panic stole her breath as she writhed and fought against the restraints and yet her dead body never moved. The whispers intensified, swarming around her like a horde of angry bees. Voices she’d heard so many times and knew well.
And then it happened, finally, the voices blended, the words becoming clear.
“Run.”
“Hide.”
“The Master.”
All twelve voices lifted, merging into one terrified cry.
“He’s coming back.”
Claire ripped free of Mason’s arms, shot bolt upright in bed and screamed at the top of her lungs.
The Dungeon Master wasn’t finished.
About Nicole Austin
Nicole Austin lives on the sheltered Gulf Coast of Florida, where inspiration can be readily found sitting under a big shade umbrella on the beach while sipping cold margaritas. A voracious reader, she never goes anywhere without a book. All those delicious romances combined with a vivid imagination naturally created steamy fantasies and characters in her mind.
Discovering Ellora’s Cave paved the path to freeing them, as well as manifesting an intoxicating passion for Romantica®. The positive response of family and friends to her stories propelled Nicole into an incredible world where fantasy comes boldly to life. Now she stays busy working as a certified CT scan technologist, finishing her third college degree, reading, writing and keeping up with family. Oh yeah, and did we mention all the hard work involved with research? Well, that’s the fun job—certainly a labor of love.
Nicole welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Print books by Nicole Austin
Brock’s Hellion
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Cougar Hunt anthology
Ellora’s Cavemen: Dreams of the Oasis I anthology
Holding Out for a Hero
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Ellora’s Cave Publishing
www.ellorascave.com
Fatal Submission
ISBN 9781419940439
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Fatal Submission Copyright © 2012 Nicole Austin
Edited by Jillian Bell
Cover design by Syneca
Photos: Syneca and Tiplyashin Anatoly/Shutterstock.com
Model: Nick
Electronic book publication August 2012
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