Wallbanger

by Sable Jordan

  The Mistress slipped a noose over Kasumi’s head, tugging until the knot rested at the girl’s sternum. “Were you courageous, pet?”

  “As courageous as my Mistress made me,” she replied, nodding. The length of rope dangled down Kasumi’s front. To the casual onlooker this event would have meant nothing, but to her it was the world. Her rightful collar and leash had been restored signaling she was again under the protection and control of her Mistress. As her Domme was above, Kasumi was below, and there was a return of dynamic balance.

  Another length of rope went around one wrist, circled again, before a knot was made and her arm positioned so her elbow pointed skyward and her hand touched her shoulder blade.

  “Have you forgotten the rest?”

  “No, Mistress.” So enraptured with the movements she’d missed her cue, her body trembled from the first contact. “A warrior must only take care that her spirit is not broken.”

  “And did your spirit break?”

  Nearly, but the wisdom of her Mistress saw her through. The loose rope grazed her back before it was firmly tugged between her cheeks and through her legs, a knot pressed into her anus, another against her clit. Her cunt twitched. “My spirit is strong and whole, just as my Mistress made it.”

  “Very good, pet. Continue.”

  The binding made its way toward her neck again, a tie made there before it branched off, each individual length going over one shoulder and reconnecting again. Her free hand was then yanked up and secured behind her back with both ends. Her brain barely functioned, overloaded with the sensations. She couldn’t wait for the caning to come, wet already at the thought.

  “He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how.” The Mistress pulled at her nipples, twisting and yanking and slapping until they were a bruised rose color against her light honey skin. She moaned with delight at the harsh treatment, juices seeping along the rope.

  “Next.” The Mistress gripped the knot between the girl’s legs and mashed it against her clit.

  “Thank you, Mistress.” She gasped. “A warrior takes responsibility for his acts, fo—”

  “Stop,” her Mistress commanded, tugging hard on the leash connected to Kasumi’s neck. The move pulled the girl flat on her stomach, and the Mistress roughly nudged her onto her back with a foot. “Bend your knees.”

  Face up, hands in an impossibly painful position behind her on the floor, she lifted her knees, causing the knot on her clit to press in a bit harder. Kasumi fought against rolling her hips to relieve the pressure. Still she was confused at the interruption, but dare not speak unless her Mistress wished it.

  The woman lifted one of Kasumi’s feet, pushing it back against her stomach as far is it would go. She wrapped one side of the excess twine from the leash around a tattooed ankle and secured it with a knot; repeated the process on the other side. It was a new position for Kasumi, but she loved the similarity to the prawn binding with the added novelty of her hands behind her. And she could not relax her legs, forced to hold the bent position or the rope could slip and strangle her. A test of her control—her Mistress knew how to stretch the limits.

  The Mistress rose. “Repeat.”

  “A warrior takes responsibility for his acts, for—”

  “Stop. Have you taken responsibility for your acts?”

  The submissive nodded. She had completed her task without hesitation. A threat to her Mistress was a threat to her. That threat had been eliminated, and her Lady could carry out her beautiful plan. She waited for the caning, but it didn’t start.

  “Tell me of those acts, beginning with the first.” The Mistress delved into a pocket of her robe.

  “I killed Xander’s submissive.”

  “You saw her dead?” The Mistress tugged on a taut binding.

  “I…I left her with Sacha. He killed many of the hookers before, he would surely kill her.”

  The Mistress dug her toes into Kasumi’s side. “So, mighty warrior, you were more cowardice than courage?”

  An uncommon anger flashed in Kasumi and she wanted to lash out. The Mistress behaved as though she hadn’t acted nobly. Eighteen months…. She’d almost lost her tongue! “I killed—”

  “Shut up.” She slapped Kasumi’s face with the back of her hand, rings welting the girl’s cheek. “There are things I simply cannot tolerate, pet. Failure is one of them. You have failed.”

  “How?” Kasumi demanded, earning another blow to the mouth. She didn’t look away, staring defiantly into the Mistress’ eyes.

  The other woman laughed. “Were you in St. Petersburg since leaving Helsinki?” Kasumi shook her head and the Domme continued. “Then you were not the one who killed Sacha. You failed.”

  This couldn’t be happening. She’d served her Mistress, watching Sacha and guarding against enemies she did not know the nature of. Gigi was more than a submissive—of that Kasumi was sure. But she’d set the charges, felt the explosion. Who could have survived?

  Yet, if Sacha had made it to St. Petersburg….

  “I am sorry, Mistress.” A soft whisper kissed the air before the bamboo cane slapped her exposed buttocks. “Oooohhhh….”

  “A warrior considers death when things are unclear. Are you thinking of death now?”

  Another blow and she struggled against the bindings. “No, Mistress.”

  “But you should, pet. Things are very unclear. You are not the warrior I believed you.”

  The cane struck her breasts and Kasumi curled her hips, rubbing her clit against the knot; aroused but simultaneously angered by the Mistress’ words. What did it matter? Sacha was dead.

  “You are an extension of me, kotenok. Sacha was to die at your hands—my hands. If the eye gives you trouble, gouge it out. If the tongue tells lies, cut it off. If you are not a noble enough warrior to consider death, I will do it for you.”

  Kasumi’s eyes flew open. In one hand the Mistress held the bamboo cane, in the other a Tanto dagger. The hilt of the short, curved sword was of a dragon, its tail curled round and round until it met the blade. On the scabbard was bronzed rope, it too wrapped several times around before ending in a knot on the top. The knife was traditionally used for one of two reasons: close combat fighting or suicide.

  “Please, Mistress” she begged, a true sense of fear overcoming her at being bound. In a flash the security she found in Kinbaku had become a nightmare.

  “Don’t beg—a warrior would not beg.”

  She chewed her trembling lips to stop the next round of pleading. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes, slipped down her temples.

  “What would you have me do, kotenok?” The Mistress stood directly before her, making a ceremony of it. “Be brave; be courageous. You are a warrior, and I am granting you an honorable death.” The knife hissed when she unsheathed it; hilt in one hand, scabbard in the other. Crouched over Kasumi, she held the sharp edge to the girl’s throat; dragged is along the skin just above the ropes.

  Kasumi whimpered.

  A quick slice severed the collar and her legs dropped to the floor, another strategic cut separated the beautiful Kinbaku.

  The Mistress set the knife and scabbard on the ground and rose. “You are no longer my submissive, no longer ‘kotenok’. That is the first death. Honor yourself and me, and die twice.” She turned and strode from the playroom without a backward glance.

  Ropes unraveled, Kasumi didn’t move, too confused by her Lady’s actions to register the pain in her oddly bent limbs. There was an upset in the balance that her Mistress alone could fix. She could not be below without her Mistress above. She wanted to run after her, to yell, to kick and scream, to curl into a ball and cry.

  To die.

  A heartrending sob escaped her throat and she rolled onto her side, maneuvering until she’d gained unstable footing. Through bleary eyes she ran after the Mistress, coming to the paper doors and stopping. She needed the Mistress to guide her, but she’d already been released. And begging wasn’t the warrior way. Everything wa
s out of alignment.

  A warrior considers death…. Die twice.

  Tears falling freely, she turned to the salvation on the floor. She should end this agony of a life. What would she do now that she had no Mistress, no Master?

  Taking up the dagger, Kasumi pressed it to her belly. That was the way of the warrior; plunge it into the abdomen and cut across, and then an attending fighter would slice cleanly across the neck, bringing the end rushing up toward you instead of leaving you to go meet it. But she had no attending. What would she do?

  Gripping the knife, Kasumi crumbled to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably as she tried to pull the pile of severed ropes around her to no avail. A warrior with no battle; a sub without a Domme.

  You won’t survive—You will.

  You need the Mistress—You don’t.

  Alone you can’t make it—You can.

  The warring thoughts ran round and round her head until they were so loud she simply stopped thinking. Everything was still. The only sound was of her feather-light inhales and the even lub-dub of her heart.

  In that moment, another of her lessons spoke up. A whisper at first, as though far away, growing closer the more her mind calmed. When the warrior learns to stop the internal dialogue, everything becomes possible; the most far-fetched schemes become attainable.

  A slow smile turning her mouth, Kasumi lifted herself from the floor; shed the tangled ropes.

  Dagger still in hand, the warrior stepped across the tatami mats and left the playroom.

  * *

  Book 3

  SAKE BOMB

  Coming

  2012

  About the Author

  Sable Jordan: Stories so Whet, you’ll want to Lick My INK!

  Quick and dirty, I’m a writer of multicultural erotica and seductive romances, and whatever else comes to mind. Tattooed vixen. Wicked humorist. Incurable humanist. Proud geek! Closet badass. (Shhh…) Lover of pit bulls, fast cars, all music, and candy. That’s the nut in a nutshell.

  I’m all about INKing stories with likeable characters, riveting plot, and steamy sex scenes. Come hang with me:

  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/SableJordan

  Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/SableJordan.

  Check out my website: http://www.SableJordan.com where you can read excerpts of all my work.

  Follow my Dripping Whet Ink blog: http://www.SableJordan.blogspot.com for all the updates in my wicked little world.

  What are you waiting for? Come on and #LickMyINK.

  Also from Sable Jordan:

  Available in multiple formats for your favorite eReader everywhere eBooks are sold!

  Coming Soon:

  If it isn’t Love…? — December 16, 2011

  The Price of Perfection — January 13, 2012

  Eros Fell — February 10, 2012

  If you liked WALLBANGER, you may also like…

  DIFFERENT SHADES OF GRAY

  By Sable Jordan

  A set of twins, one rich bachelor, a reality show and a favor…

  When aspiring model Charlene Roberts is running late for an audition, she begs her reliable sister to stand in for her at the casting for the reality show Free Money. Of course Charlotte, a.k.a. Charlie, can’t say no. She could never say no to Charlene, whose agent believes a television appearance will boost her modeling career. Free Money is much like all contemporary dating shows: twenty hot women living in a mansion doing everything they can to catch the eye of one filthy-rich bachelor.

  And that bachelor is the media’s favorite bad boy, the insanely sexy Jake Logan. The thirty-something business tycoon only wants one thing—to get his parents to stop meddling in his love life. What better way than to be trapped in a house with gorgeous women for two months, right? He’s already done the relationship thing, and has no intention of doing it again. That is, until he meets Charlie…who he thinks is a model named Charlene.

  Warning: this title contains graphic language, sex, and enough funnies to make soda come out your nose.

  Excerpt from DIFFERENT SHADES OF GRAY:

  “Mmmm. This is so good, Logan,” I said, savoring the first bite.

  “I really like the way you say my name.”

  “Jake?” I squeaked around the bite of food.

  He shook his head then turned his body toward me completely, resting one foot on the bottom rung of my stool. “Logan. It rolls off your tongue like honey, like you enjoy saying it. Do you?”

  I stared into his eyes, watching as his pupils started dilating. Medically speaking this could mean any number of things. Maybe he was having a response to some sort of external stressor, or that the room was darkening, although neither of us had turned off the lights. Or, it could mean he was aroused. Bingo. I dropped my eyes to the pulse point in his throat, noting the erratic throbbing, and dragged my peepers up in time to catch him licking his lips. The notion that I was turning this man on was turning me on, and adrenaline shot through my body in time with the alarms going off in my head. I needed to pull away fast. But try as I might, I couldn’t. Or wouldn’t.

  “You always this forward, Logan?” I purred, unable to resist.

  His lids lowered to half-mast, and he licked his lips again as if hearing me say his name was giving him the best ear-gasm ever.

  “I won’t forget that you didn’t answer the question, and I told you before, when I know what I want I go after it-”

  “And you get it with frightening consistency,” I finished. “So what exactly is it you want?”

  “You.”

  “How?” My mouth moves faster than my brain sometimes. The way it was intended was not the way it was interpreted.

  “Any way you’ll let me,” he retorted silkily, that easy grin returning to his face.

  I playfully slapped his thigh, cutting my eyes at him. “That’s not the way I meant that and you know it. I mean in what capacity? Just friends? Friends with benefits? Or something more? Cause I’m here for something more.”

  He didn’t respond, so I continued in a rush.

  “We did just meet, and I can’t imagine you’ve developed any serious feelings for me in less than a day. So, how and why, Jake?” I really hated doing that. Making a man think when all the blood was flowing away from his brain wasn’t exactly fair. But I had the feeling any second now we’d be on this countertop doing all the things I wanted him to do to me, and then Char would be screwed. Well I’d be screwed, but you know what I mean.

  Our eyes locked, deep brown to ice gray, each watching as lust built in the other, when Nicole rounded the corner and entered the kitchen. We both promptly returned to our omelets like teenagers caught making out under the bleachers.

  “Good morning, Jake,” she chirped as she came around the island, ignoring me completely. “How’d you sleep, baby?”

  I chuckled under my breath and Jake poked me in the side, chewing furiously to keep from laughing.

  “Omelets?” she asked, looking at our plates. “You cook, Charlene?”

  “Actually, Jake made these, and the mimosas.” I can’t lie. I got some satisfaction out of that. “They’re really good, too.” I never skimp on the frosting.

  Nicole poked her lip out into a pout. “Can I have some of yours, baby?” she whined, hugging him from behind and dropping her head on his shoulder. Then she cringed and backed away quickly, her voice returning to normal. “Why are you damp and sticky?”

  “Not for the reasons I was hoping,” he mumbled.

  I nearly choked on my omelet.

  “I didn’t get to shower after my run. Which reminds me about my earlier offer, Charlene,” he said the lust still simmering in his eyes.

  “Answers first, Jake.” Finishing my food and downing the drink, I pushed myself off the barstool and carried my dishes to the sink.

  Nicole started jabbering away as I cleaned up. Things were starting to get complicated. When Char came in a few days she’d be embroiled in a full-blown physical relationship if I weren’t careful. I pushed aw
ay a feeling of melancholy and refocused my attention on the reason I was here.

  This is Charlene’s thing, Charlie. You’re just a stand-in for the next couple days. Anything you feel for Jake is a fabrication for Char’s sake. Okay? Okay? Okay.

  Nicole came over and dumped Jake’s dishes in the sink causing the soapy water to splash up my arms, and then went back to chatting him up. The girl was purposefully grating on my nerves, but I refuse to let her see me bothered. I’d get my own back. I finished the dishes, drained the water and dried my hands.

  Leaving the sink I went behind Jake, dropping a quick kiss on his neck and interrupting his boredom, said a quick, “Thanks for breakfast,” and headed out of the kitchen.

  “You never answered my question, Charlene,” he called after me, stopping me in my tracks. “Do you enjoy it?”

  He asked that loaded question in a neutral tone that belied its origin. I glanced at Nicole who looked upset that I’d taken his attention and that she was once again out of the loop. Pleased, I turned back to Jake, seeing that same intensity in his eyes. “Yeah, Logan. I enjoy it.”

  I wasn’t lying.