Cuff Master

by Frances Stockton

  He added a second finger, only this time she heard the tear of foil. Wanting to ask what he was doing, Morgan bit her lip. If she waited, she’d find out the answer.

  Oil drizzled over her vaginal lips and along her clitoris, dripping and mingling with her arousal. Ethan bent lower, blowing warm air upon her mons. Heat radiated through her, becoming hotter with each and every breath.

  “Ethan, please!”

  “Please what, honey?”

  “Fuck me!”

  “No,” he told her, withdrawing his fingers completely to pick up the spreader. He showed it to her from where he sat. “Ready?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You can do this,” he reassured.

  “Then do it,” she agreed.

  The oil he’d slathered over her slit continued to send delicious heat up and down delicate nerves, making her far more aware of the heat and the bite of the clamp already on her clitoris.

  “It’ll be okay, Morgan. If it hurts too much, all you need to do is tell me so. I’ve no wish to hurt you.”

  Morgan bit her lip again, refusing to deny him the right to apply that small spreader to her labia. Though she was nervous, her submissive curiosity got the better of her.

  How much could the four tiny clamps hurt, and why was the idea of having her vaginal lips spread out for sensual torment so nerve-racking?

  Ethan concentrated on her pussy once again. As he’d done with the candles, he placed each clamp one by one. It stung. However, the heated oil dimmed the discomfort.

  She could take this! She wasn’t exactly sure how Ethan secured the spreader. She couldn’t quite see what he was doing down there. Four clamps were in place. There was a tug, then another and yet another.

  Despite the sting, the more he tugged, the more she liked it. The invisible cord that pulled taut from her navel to her clit vibrated with tension, making her think she might climax.

  Her vaginal opening was spread open wider than a blossoming flower, leaving her feeling so open and vulnerable that all she wanted in return was Ethan’s cock filling her up and relieving her of the haunting desire that built, refusing to crest.

  “Pretty as a picture,” Ethan pronounced.

  “Can you fuck me with that thing on?”

  “Sure I can. Will I do that? I haven’t decided.”

  “So hot, so fucking hot down there!” she shouted suddenly, overwhelmed by the intensity of arousal flooding her senses.

  “I applied arousal fluid to your labia and clit. It will increase the intensity of your orgasms.”

  “Not necessary, Master. I’m so turned-on right now, I might scream.”

  “You’ve been screaming.”

  “I have?” She had? “Let me come. Need to come.”

  “Not yet.”

  “It might happen anyway. I’ve no willpower.”

  “You are not to come without permission. Let the pleasure build and roll through you. Don’t rush, not tonight.”

  Morgan grunted. Easy for him to say that, Ethan wasn’t the one with his pussy spread open for whatever he wanted. He wasn’t the one whose quim was slowly turning into a fiery, wanton, creaming entity of desire.

  And he wasn’t strapped to a goddamn table!

  Ethan stood up, coming to stand by her side. He took the time to check her wrists and rub her joints and shoulders, then studied her face as thoroughly as he’d studied her pussy.

  “You still with me, honey?”

  “Right here and not going anywhere.”

  “In a little while, you’re going to be soaring so high, you’ll swear you went into orbit.”

  “You’re quite confident.”

  “As your Master, yes I am.” The hood of his cloak had been down when he first came back to the table.

  For reasons she didn’t quite understand, Ethan dug into the drawer and pulled out a leather mask. He put it on, reminding her of a blond Zorro.

  Morgan was dying to ask why he’d hidden his face. Then thought perhaps it was for protection. Protection from what was the question.

  He reached back and flicked his hood into place, covering his head and shadowing his face from view. Feeling his eyes on her, Morgan was strangely more aware of him and her predicament than if he she could see him entirely.

  “Let’s see what trouble we can get into, shall we?” he suggested, as if she had a choice.

  The thing of it was she did have a choice. She didn’t have to remain here. Calling a halt to all save sex was within her power.

  Rather than retreating from what frightened her, and she was scared, she knew she was safe because her Master was Ethan. She’d never wanted him so much, and that was saying a hell of a lot.

  A buzz of sensation coursed through her veins, tingling along her nerve endings, making her ten times more aware of the clamps, the throbbing, the need and the pleasure-pain dance of eroticism that had only just begun.

  She clearly didn’t expect Ethan to do nothing more than kiss her. One minute he was standing there. The next, he was leaning down and placing his mouth upon hers, gently whispering words and kisses.

  Again she tried to grab him up close. Cuffs forbid it.

  “Don’t fight, honey. Let go, all you need to do is feel.” He kept murmuring reassurances, kept kissing her, making her dizzy with it.

  His tongue lapped her lower lip, then her top lip. She became aware of the texture and warmth of his tongue, his taste and his smell. In the back of her mind, she was aware of peanut butter and bananas, fresh bread, hints of cinnamon and iced tea.

  But what she tasted was Ethan Maddox, her lover, her Master. His tongue slipped between her lips, showing no fear that she might bite. She didn’t dare! If she bit him again, he’d slow down further.

  Or worse, he’d stop!

  Vaguely aware that something heavy straddled her thighs, Morgan realized that the weight was Ethan. He’d climbed back up on the table and resumed the position he’d taken when she bit him to get him to react.

  Oh baby, he was so fucking sexy!

  When he was ready, he sat back on his haunches. He frowned. She wasn’t sure why. Then she watched him reach out to move her braid off her shoulder.

  With that, he knelt over her again, letting her feel the drag of his heavy codpiece as he maneuvered his hips in an enticing circle. The clit and pussy clamps tugged on her flesh, seeming to spread her wider. The cuff-ring remained snug to her entrance.

  “Fuck me, Master,” she begged.

  “You’re not ready.”

  Damn it, she was so freakin’ ready she wanted to scream it to all of Boston.

  “Discipline comes in stages, love. This is only the beginning.”

  “I was afraid of that,” she said.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he urged, bringing something else out.

  In his hand was a feathered whip. It was short, looked harmless and incredibly erotic.

  “That drawer of yours is magic,” she commented.

  “There are several drawers. Close your eyes for me.”

  She closed her eyes as told. Ever so gently, he began to paint her face with the feathers. There was no pain, no fear, nothing but soft caresses. The whip whispered over her skin, down her chin and all over her throat and chest.

  “Open your eyes now,” Ethan said, dragging the whip to her nipples. With utmost care, he flicked his wrist, causing the tiny, petal-soft tails to brush her breasts and nipples with delicious teasing strokes.

  Gasping at how nice and soft the feathers felt compared to the throbbing pressure on her nipples from the clamps, Morgan welcomed the alternate sensations of softness and stinging. Ethan paused and removed the clamps one at a time, then resumed using the feather whip.

  The rush of blood flow to her nipples amped up her internal buzz, the ever-soft strokes of a feathered whip calmed her, centered her. Ethan paused in his ministrations, leaned over her and sucked her left nipple into his mouth, pulling on her flesh so strongly that he almost lifted her off the table.
/>   “Ethan! Oh fuck,” she called out, unsure if she was loud or not.

  Ethan chuckled against her breast, licking and lapping at her engorged flesh. “That’s it, honey. Let out the naughty girl I love so much.”

  “Thought I was supposed to be perfectly obedient,” she grumbled.

  “Don’t you know that the naughty sub gets disciplined? Isn’t this what you wanted all day? Especially after the scene we engaged in with Alex and Ryan.”

  “You said you weren’t mad about that.”

  “I’m not mad. Still doesn’t mean you weren’t naughty for staring at Ryan’s huge cock. Did you even notice he was collared? Or that he has a tattoo on his hip?”

  “Collared? But I thought he was all Dom and Alex switches and becomes the submissive in that relationship.”

  “My guess would be that they collared each other so that their power is shared. Have no doubt though, more often than not, Doc is the more dominant.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  “That’s what I want with you, a shared commitment between Master and sub, neither one of us more important than the other.”

  “I’ve never felt less important than you. If anything, I feel treasured and safe.”

  “Excellent. Now where was I?”

  “Sucking my aching nipple,” she answered.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Really bad.”

  “Guess I’ll have to fuck them to get you off.”

  Morgan scowled at him. Ethan leaned back, unbuckled the codpiece and cast it off the table. Still in his mask and cloak, he looked masterful and incredibly hot. His muscles were taut and ripped. His cock was huge and dripping with pre-cum.

  Then he removed the cuffs from her breasts, setting them aside before scooting up her body. He reattached the clamps until they pinched enough to keep her constantly stimulated and palmed her breasts, pressing them together.

  She envied him the ability to move freely because all she could do was let him fit his cock to the narrow valley between her breasts and thrust. It was wildly erotic, incredibly frustrating and sexy to feel his cock sliding in and out of the valley he’d created.

  She didn’t know if it was the tit fuck or the clamps on her nipples, clit and pussy or arousal oil, but hell if she wasn’t about to come with the force of a lightning storm.

  “Have to come, Master. Let me, please,” she begged, wanting it. Needing it!

  “You may come when I do,” he granted with a smugness that damn near made her try to bite him if any part of him were close enough to her mouth.

  Since she couldn’t be bratty, she gave into the multiple sensations of being fucked without even being penetrated. Her pussy was empty and open and unfulfilled. But it didn’t matter to her happy clitoris.

  Ethan rocked harder, faster, squeezing her breasts tighter, harsher.

  Hot liquid ran down between her cleavage, Ethan came, was still coming as he reared back to stroke his cock so violently that she almost cringed. Warm creamy cum drizzled over her breasts, his face was beautiful while he milked himself.

  Excitement rippled through her from head to toe, centering deep in her core. Whoa, she came because Ethan did!

  Guessing he’d rub his jizz into her skin, she waited, but Ethan hugged her carefully and removed himself from the table. “That was beautiful. You are the most amazing woman. Thank me for letting you come.”

  “Thank you, Master.”

  “Very good, now for your next orgasm, sub,” he said, once again checking to see that her wrists, ankles and shoulders weren’t sore or needlessly strained. When he seemed pleased, he grinned wide.

  Dear god, she didn’t think she could survive whatever happened next. But she would. She would survive and love it.

  Ethan didn’t remove his mask, but he didn’t hide his cock with the codpiece either. Morgan watched him closely, searching for a sign of mercy or freedom. In all actuality, she didn’t want freedom. Not from this, not from him.

  Once again he reached out to stroke her face. His touch was familiar and sweet, gentle and unhurried. As he’d done with the feather whip, he traced the shape of her face, the arch of her cheekbones, even her lips and chin and throat.

  He used only his right hand. His left was placed on the table near her shoulder.

  “Are you still afraid?” he asked.

  “No.” She wasn’t. She’d forgotten about being nervous or afraid or anything negative.

  Ethan smiled, his gray gaze burning behind his mask. The candles burning beside the table cast a seductive glow over his face, despite the hood casting some shadows.

  “For that, you’ve earned yourself a treat.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He shook his head. Morgan watched helplessly when he moved to the head of the table, then lost sight of him. He hadn’t gone far. But she couldn’t tell what was going on. A door opened and closed. Ethan returned in an instant.

  “Take a taste,” he offered, presenting her with a humongous…cherry and white swirled cock-shaped frozen pop.

  She’d prefer to lick Ethan’s cock right now. But since he was offering a treat, she’d take it.

  Ethan held the pop out for her. Imagining what she’d like to do to him, Morgan licked the smooth crown. She kept licking, enjoying the coolness and taste of cherries and cream dripping into her mouth.

  Swallowing the juices, she wrapped her mouth around the frozen cock as Ethan fed her more of the length. Finding the thickness and length very similar to Ethan’s penis, she suckled and suckled, taking it as deep as he gave it to her.

  The rhythmic thrusting of his hand was as delicious as a mouth fuck. Even better, it nourished her, quenched her thirst. He withdrew it, damn him, but not far. He shifted it around so that she licked along the thick shaft, going all around, licking wherever it melted.

  “Enough,” he declared, taking the cock away to, holy cow, lick it himself.

  It was wildly, wickedly erotic to watch Ethan suck on the cocksicle. A flood of arousal sluiced through her, thrilling her by the decadence of watching him. He was not daunted or shy about such a thing.

  “More, feed me more, please, Master,” she pled.

  “I’ll give you more,” he promised, only she wasn’t sure he intended to feed it to her.

  Morgan guessed right. Ethan teased her mouth with the tip of the pop, intentionally making her salivate for it. Just when she thought he’d let her deep-throat the damnably delicious cock, he swept it away, dragging it down her jaw and throat.

  “Sticky,” she murmured.

  “Hmm, yes,” he agreed, bending low to lick the juices running down her throat.

  The chill of the pop and warmth of his breath and tongue delighted her senses. Oh that was nice, so nice.

  Regardless of the cum-splatters still on her tits, he ran the pop all over her, cooling her nipples.

  She was going to be a sticky mess when he was done.

  Not that she cared. As long as he kept running the treat all over her breasts, she was happy, thrilled. Cold as it was, it thrilled her, especially when he lapped up the juices with his hot tongue.

  Ethan wasn’t intimidated by the spots of jizz. He cleaned her up, lick by lick. Aware of how tasty that ice-pop had been, she almost envied him.

  Ice swept down her sternum, skipping the belt and aiming right for her navel. Sucking in a breath, Morgan took it, loving the way Ethan twirled the frozen treat around. Briefly, he set the cock aside, bent low at his waist and licked her bellybutton clean.

  “Ohmigod, ohmigod,” she muttered, absolutely awed by his undivided attention on such a small indent of her body.

  He kept going lower, kept using that cocksicle and his tongue to his seductive advantage. Lost in the warring sensations of wet heat and chilly cock, Morgan felt her eyes roll back, heard herself cry out until she was hoarse.

  Another pause, but Morgan couldn’t look, couldn’t even try. She heard Ethan go into one of his drawers-of-tricks. A crunch of foil followed.


  “You taste better than a cherry pop in the backseat of a car,” he complimented, his Bostonian accent thick and deep.

  Morgan giggled at that. “That’s quite a compliment, although I’d love to know how many times you had cherry pops in the backseat of your cah.”

  Intentionally switching her “r” to an “h” in “car” to mimic Ethan, she laughed louder. That was until Ethan tickled her side with the damn cherry pop!

  “Whoa! That’s cold.”

  “Isn’t it though,” he said, continuing to tickle her with the thing and finding her weakness.

  “Please, stop, mercy!” Unable to escape his devilish tickling, Morgan tossed her head, tried to bite her lip, anything.

  Nothing saved her, nothing, and Ethan, dammit, had no pity on her plight that only got worse because he’d moved to the bottom of the table.

  “Ethan?” she called out.

  “Shh, I’m busy,” he answered.

  “What are you doing?”

  Her answer came a second later as something cool, slick and hard slid down her vulva and penetrated her pussy on a deliberately slow thrust!

  “Ohmigod! Oh, oh Ethan, you fucker!” Amazingly, she loved the way it felt to be taken in such an unexpected fashion.

  “Complaining, sub? Should I stop?”

  “If you stop, I might hurt you when I’m off this damn table.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Ethan pushed the cock farther into her, moving it in delicate little circles, pushing it in deeper. Her first thought was that the pop should be too cold to take inside her body.

  But it didn’t hurt or burn sensitive tissue at all. It felt…divine, decadent, incredibly wonderful and blessedly cool, easing soreness from the constant stimulation from clamps.

  “It’ll melt in me,” she uttered.

  “I’d never allow that to happen,” he promised, continuing his gentle ravishment. “I put a condom and lube on it and made sure it wasn’t too hard and cold for you to take this way.”

  The cocksicle had rapidly become pliable and slushy, her body heat causing the dildo to feel more realistic. And, oh wow, it was amazing to be fucked this way.