Master Me

by Lisabet Sarai, Trina Lane, Elizabeth Coldwell, Charlotte Stein, Jane Davitt, Justine Elyot

  “Of course,” Connor said, bringing Helen’s thoughts back to the present, “I might make you sleep on the floor even when your behaviour’s been exemplary.”

  Helen smiled at him, not minding that he was teasing her, but her smile faded when his own expression remained serious. “But that’s not fair!”

  Connor put the list on the bedside table and raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

  “If I’ve been good, why would you punish me?” Helen said, striving to keep her voice level and calm. “That doesn’t seem to make sense.”

  “Only because you’re still compartmentalising,” Connor said. He made a face. “Sorry. Chalk that one up to spending too long talking to accountants this past week. Look, if I decided, just for no reason at all, right now, to spank you, would you mind?”

  “No,” Helen said truthfully. Her backside felt hot and tender, but she didn’t think that Connor intended to pull her across his knee and if he had done, she wouldn’t have struggled. She wanted Connor to push her limits.

  “Even if you hadn’t misbehaved? Even if I were doing it simply because I wanted the pleasure of watching your arse turn a delectable shade of scarlet and hearing you sob and yelp?”

  Helen couldn’t help squirming at the image Connor had created as if his hand were really smacking down against her flesh. “No, of course I wouldn’t mind.”

  “So why would you mind me ordering you to sleep on the floor, just to watch you submit gracefully to an order? I like having you asleep beside me if I wake in the night, even if you do have a terrible habit of turning over and dragging all the covers with you, but I’d get one hell of a kick out of you on the floor, too. More than I would if that was where you usually slept, as it happens.”

  Connor’s logic should have been confusing, but after a moment Helen nodded, understanding what he meant. “You wouldn’t be getting off on me being on the floor as much as me obeying an order.”

  “Exactly,” Connor said with a warmly approving smile. He sighed, the sound close to a groan. “You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to you submitting to me. Not just a superficial obedience with you rolling your eyes inside at my whims but a genuine, deep submission that comes from you and leaves you feeling as fulfilled as me.”

  “I want that too,” Helen said. She added tentatively, “Connor, could you—can I call you something? Something different, maybe ‘sir’, so that I know when we’re playing?”

  “We’re not playing,” he said. “And that would mean that you never called me anything but ‘sir’ because this isn’t something that stops and starts, Helen. This is the way it is between us. You’re my submissive, always, and I’m your Dom. No time-outs, no breaks. That’s another mistake I made, letting you feel that at certain times you could behave like a girlfriend. You’re not. I love you to the point where I hardly recognise myself at times, but even if we get married, which is certainly something I’m hoping we do in the future, I’m never going to want to be anything but your Dom.”

  Helen came close to pouting before she caught herself. She’s asked for something and Connor had said no. Accept not argue, she told herself and felt that decision resonate within her.

  “Yes, Connor,” she said and straightened her back even more.

  “God, you’re so beautiful,” Connor said.

  She could see that he was hard now, his cock visible through the folds of his robe. As she watched, he dropped his hand down to play with it, as unself-conscious as if he was alone.

  “I think we’ve done enough discussing for the moment. You can rewrite that list later, incorporating all the amendments and print off a copy for each of us, but right now…”

  “Yes, Connor,” Helen said again, her lips parted as her breathing quickened. What was he going to do? She didn’t know now that everything had changed between them, and the uncertainty was as much of a turn-on as the anticipation.

  Connor shrugged out of his robe and spread his legs. “Kneel between my legs and suck me. No hands, just your mouth,” he said.

  Helen moved, but he raised his hand, halting her. “When I give you a direct order, acknowledge it, please, unless you’re gagged or I’ve already told you not to speak, in which case, you can nod. Understand?”

  “Yes, Connor.” The repetition of those two words was like a drumbeat, a slow pounding reverberating, building tension. She could see herself screaming them, choking them out of a tear-tight throat, murmuring them brokenly as Connor made her body sing and soar.

  She got between his legs and put her hands behind her back, out of temptation’s way. Her long hair was loose and when she leant forward, bowing her back, it fell forward, brushing against Connor’s body even if her hands were forbidden to copy it. Connor reached down and pushed it back behind her ears.

  “It feels good on me, but I want to see you. Be imaginative and take your time. You know what I like.”

  Helen murmured, “Yes, Connor,” yet again and traced the head of Connor’s cock with the tip of her tongue as his foreskin slipped back, exposing it fully. With no hands, she couldn’t do everything that she wanted to, but she guessed that Connor wouldn’t want to climax like this anyway. The blow job was the starter, not the main course.

  His recent shower had robbed his skin of its scent, but his cock, with a clear fluid welling up from the slit, was already redolent of his arousal. She lapped eagerly at it, catching the rounded head between her teeth with the utmost care to hold it in place. Connor didn’t help her at all. He lay back against the propped-up pillows and watched her, his eyes narrowed, his hands by his sides, his fingers relaxed, cupping air.

  She released his cock and rubbed her closed mouth against it, balls to tip, then her cheeks, smearing them with a glaze of pre-cum, so that when he kissed her, he’d smell himself on her, taste himself. She loved being marked invisibly like this, appealing to him on a primal, visceral level.

  Connor had told her once that people washed too often. “Clean is good,” he’d said, “but there’s something about the way you smell after I’ve fucked you, all ripe and musky that I can’t get enough of. Perfumes try to mimic that, but they never get it right.”

  “Napoleon once wrote to tell Josephine that he was coming to see her and that she wasn’t to take a bath,” Helen had said, a piece of trivia she’d read somewhere floating up from her memory.

  “That’s right. ‘I will return soon from war. Do not wash.’” Connor had quoted with a nod. “He knew what he was talking about, though maybe Josephine would have been a bit too much for a modern nose after a couple of weeks without a bath.”

  Now, she mouthed and licked at the hard, jutting cock, shamelessly rubbing her face against it, getting it wet with saliva then finally taking it into her mouth. She wanted it deep, choking her, wanted to feel it inside her. Her favourite position for doing this was with Connor straddling her breasts, his hands gripping the headboard that her hands were bound to, as he fucked her mouth. He’d order her to lie still, but she never could, writhing against the sheets, revelling in being used, her empty, waiting cunt soaked and swollen.

  “Hold still,” Connor said, his voice quiet, the words dropping into the peace of the room like rain into a pool of water. He began to move, his cock sliding between her lips and back in an uneven, unpredictable way so that Helen couldn’t do much beyond shaping her mouth to fit the shape of his cock. Her hands were still in the small of her back, the fingers of one hand wrapped around the wrist of the other.

  After a few minutes, she could feel his climax approaching, aware of it not from the bitten-off gasps as his breathing became ragged, but the subtle hardening of his already rigid cock. He put his palm against her shoulder and pushed her back, away from him, his cock slipping free, glistening and dark red.

  “Enough.”

  Helen knelt back again, resuming the position he’d taught her to use when she was waiting for his next command. She didn’t wipe her face dry, but she did lick her lips, numb from use.

&n
bsp; “I want to give you a lesson in the relative unimportance of positions,” Connor said after a moment, sounding surprisingly back in control for a man who minutes earlier had been groaning her name.

  Helen waited. She wasn’t sure what he meant, but he would tell her if he wanted her to know.

  “You like me on top of you,” Connor said, his gaze locked onto her face. “Like feeling my weight on you or kneeling so that I can take you from behind.”

  Helen ventured a cautious nod and Connor smiled.

  “It doesn’t matter where I am, sweetheart. I could go to my knees in front of you and lick your cunt and I’d still be in control of the scene and you. I don’t think you get that, not deep down. You need to learn that no matter where you are and what you’re doing, I’m in charge.”

  Helen closed her eyes, picturing herself standing naked in the middle of the room, her legs spread, staring down at Connor while he buried his tongue deep inside her, sucking avidly at the drenched folds of her cunt or going behind her to tease her stubborn, furled arsehole open with his tongue. Standing there, told to be unmoving, silent, while he took what he wanted from her, dizzy with the need to touch the thick hair springing from his forehead or his wide shoulders, to whimper out his name.

  She wanted to tell Connor that she did understand, God, she did, but if he wanted to school her with the patient care she’d grown to love then she’d be the perfect pupil even if she did know the lesson by heart.

  “Ride me,” Connor said, his hands holding his cock away from his body so that it pointed up. “Keep your hands where they are.”

  Helen didn’t think that they’d ever used this position, though. Connor had once spanked her with his cock inside her, Helen on top of him, facing his feet. She’d been forbidden to move an inch and he hadn’t fucked her like that, just rained slaps down on her backside until she’d broken for him, the heat of her punished skin seeming to flood her body, a climax unlike any she’d experienced before, its source the sound of the slaps, crisp and sweet, and the wild, blazing pain.

  She moved into position over Connor and felt his cock ease into her as she sank down, filling her, so thick and hard. With a small moan, she began to ride him, too aroused to be patient, speeding up until she could feel her climax within reach.

  “Stop,” Connor said.

  Helen couldn’t. Not when she was already sliding down, impaling herself on him, craving every inch. Connor’s palm connected with the side of her arse, a sharp, chiding spank.

  “I told you to stop. Move up a little, no, more than that.”

  When the head of his cock was just barely inside her, he nodded. “Stay like that.”

  “How long?” Helen asked through gritted teeth, every nerve in her body jangling.

  That earned her another slap in exactly the same spot. “I gave you an order. What should you have said?”

  She gathered her scattered thoughts. “Yes, Connor.”

  “And why don’t you answer your question? How long will you stay like this, Helen?”

  Helen sighed, careful not to slump. “For as long as you want me to.”

  “That’s right,” Connor said. He tweaked one of her nipples. “Yes, I like this position. My hands are free and you’re very much available to be touched.”

  Helen was panting now, her thigh muscles beginning to protest and her body quivering with the need to slam down, hard, and take whatever consequences would follow.

  “I wouldn’t,” Connor said pleasantly, reading her mind. “If you move or come without permission, I’ll punish you. I’m enjoying this and I don’t want it to end for quite some time.”

  “I’m not sure how much longer I can stay like this,” Helen said, hearing the desperation in her voice. “Please, Connor. My legs are hurting.”

  “Yes, we need to work on your fitness,” Connor said. He continued to play with her breasts, slapping them gently and watching them sway, pinching her nipples sharply now and then. “I’m thinking of turning one of the rooms downstairs into a small gym. Both of us could use it in the normal way, of course, but I can certainly see some alternative uses for all that equipment. Ten minutes on the treadmill wearing clamps and weights on these pretty nipples would feel like much longer and if you flagged, I could apply some encouragement. Did you know that we have a birch tree in the garden? More than one, in fact. Not that a birch rod is actually made with wood from the birch tree. Did you know that?”

  Helen gasped as he squeezed both nipples at once, rolling them between finger and thumb. “N—No, I didn’t.”

  “Willow is one choice, though the wood that inflicts the most pain is hazel. We have those in the garden, too. We must cut a few suitable branches from all three and experiment. Such a traditional form of discipline.”

  His fingers delved between her legs, pinching her clit with a teasing, deceptive gentleness. Helen cried out, her eyes squeezed shut. Her legs were trembling but the fire in her muscles was nothing compared to the sensations washing over her at Connor’s touch.

  “Please, oh God, Connor, please. I’ll come, I can’t help it, please don’t touch me.” She gulped back a sob and felt her hips tilt helplessly forward, chasing his hand even as he withdrew it. The movement almost cost her the inch or so of his cock that she’d been permitted and she jerked back sharply.

  “Don’t touch you?” he asked, the words full of polite incredulity. “My sub’s telling me that I’m not permitted to touch her?”

  “No, I didn’t mean that, it’s just that I’m so close…” She wanted to throw back her head and howl at the moon, fucking herself on his cock until the ecstasy hovering so close crashed down over her, but she wanted to please Connor even more than either of those.

  “You don’t have my permission to move or to come,” he told her with an uncompromising glint in his eyes. “I want you to stay just like this while I touch you as much as I like. You’re allowed to cry and beg if it helps, but nothing you say will affect what I do. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Connor,” Helen said in a tense whisper honestly scared that taking a deep breath would be enough to trigger her climax. “Yes, anything you want, anything. I’m yours, all yours.” Tears were filling her eyes, trickling down her face and her cunt was so wet that she could feel moisture on her inner thighs. She was a mess, a flushed-faced, wild-haired mess, and Connor didn’t care, she knew that he didn’t, because he’d made her look like this.

  “Yes, you are,” Connor said with a nod. “Remind me tonight to punish you for interrupting me.”

  “Yes, Connor.” She was going to count how many times she said that tomorrow, treasuring the number as much as she treasured the strokes he administered to her curved, taut arse.

  He went back to tormenting her, brushing his fingers over her mouth then pushing them inside for her to suck before putting them, wet with her saliva, on her bruised, hot nipples or the slippery bud of her clit. Helen stopped listening to the clamour of her body and concentrated on Connor’s face, studying it feature by feature to distract herself from the merciless attentions of his hands. The week in the San Francisco sun had given his normally pale skin a hint of tan and there was a nick on his chin where he’d cut himself shaving. She was close to counting his eyelashes, her breath coming in hoarse pants, when his hands left her.

  “Ride me again, but slowly this time. Up and down counts as one and I’d like you to repeat that ten times.”

  Helen was torn between relief and trepidation. Moving would be bliss, as would getting to feel Connor’s cock deep inside her, but could she last that long without coming?

  She said, “Yes, Connor,” the words barely audible over the thud of her heart and sank down on him as slowly as she could. Counting in her head, she rose and fell, anguished, ecstatic words spilling from her without her being aware that she was saying them.

  She managed eight then broke, her cramped, numbed hands releasing their grip on each other to form fists as she shuddered her way through a climax that had hit w
ithout warning, sweeping over and through her, white-hot, intense. Her eyes were open, but she couldn’t see, sparks and flashes obliterating her view of Connor’s face, screwed up as he followed her over. He was holding her hips now and thrusting up into her, fucking her with a pent-up ardour that made her realise that she wasn’t the only one who’d been pushed to the edge.

  He gathered her to him, and let her stretch out on top of him, their hearts hammering wildly, their breathing ragged.

  “You almost made it,” Connor said eventually. “To be honest, I didn’t expect you to make it that far.”

  Helen had been expecting a scolding. She lifted her damp face from his shoulder and caught a glimpse of his profile. “Does that mean that I don’t get punished?” She watched him smile and heard him chuckle.

  “Oh, Troy. You’d hate it if I said ‘yes,’ wouldn’t you?”

  Helen smiled too, even though he couldn’t see her, already wondering what he’d dream up to do to her. “Yes, Connor.”

  Chapter Four

  From the corner of her eye, Helen could see Connor, his hands busy testing the cuff wrapped around her wrist and linked to the headboard of the bed, with a chain clipped to a hook for an easy release. The cuffs at her ankles and other wrist had already been checked and she could feel the distractions of the day begin to dim, her focus narrowing, sharpening to this moment, here on this bed, naked, held open.

  Her body was a scream of longing, but she’d learnt over the last few months to crave that wanting as much as the climax that she’d soon be begging for. Connor had sat beside the bed earlier and watched her use a vibrator on herself for endless minutes, his voice implacable as he told her where to touch herself and for how long. She’d been flinching, squirming desperately as she brought the tip of the vibrator to her nipples, the swollen bud of her clit, sliding through the slick wetness to dip inside her an inch, then two, before he made her push it deep and hold it there. The dull buzz had built until she could feel it hum through her body, the impersonal efficiency of the vibe a torment. Connor’s eyes had told her how much he was enjoying watching her and she’d felt the connection between them as if it were as tangible as the ropes he sometimes bound her body with.