As she watched, as she suffered, he dressed in expensive slacks and a white shirt that he left open at the throat.
He didn’t acknowledge her again. The door slammed behind him as he left.
Beast. Beast, beast, beast.
A moment later, the door opened, and her face fell when she realised it was Lionel.
It didn’t phase her that she was naked, with a world-class plug wedged between her ample buttocks.
“I thought perhaps there was an emergency.”
“There was.”
He grinned.
“Want to see?”
“Absolutely.”
She turned back over, a little gingerly. She properly presented herself to the manservant.
“Spread your cheeks,” he told her. “Ah. It’s as stunning as Master figured it would be.”
“You like it?”
“Spectacular. Mind if I eat you out?”
“What?” She glanced at him in the mirror.
“Master wants you relaxed and told me to relax you.”
“And he thought you should do it with sex?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I thought I should do it with sex.”
“He’ll skin us alive.”
He shook his head.
Suddenly, the image of him kneeling between her legs filled her. His beautiful brown skin would prove a stark contrast with hers. She wanted him. “Yes,” she whispered.
She watched as he knelt. Then he pulled her towards him. She saw his hands on her buttocks as he positioned her a bit better. He started by nipping her pussy lips, making her squirm.
Then he sucked on her clit while pulling down on her labia. The sensations were intense, just short of painful, but totally maddeningly sexy.
He inserted a finger and thumb, filling her pussy while pinching and suckling.
She came, crying out and tossing her head to the side.
“You relaxed?” he asked with a light laugh.
“Yeah…no.”
He helped her up.
“You’ll expect me to stand?”
“And walk.”
What was it with the men in this household?
She put on her shoes and finger-combed her hair.
“Now for the ornamentation.”
He brought out a pair magnificent adhesive-backed jewelled nipple covers. She’d never seen anything like them. They were shaped like a starburst, and there was an opening for her nipples.
“Master will be pleased.” He affixed the covers and nodded.
“He likes bling?”
“He likes you in bling,” he corrected. He checked his wristwatch. “Perfect timing. Shall we?”
Her feet felt leaden.
“Need another orgasm?”
“Then I won’t be able to move at all.”
He led the way downstairs.
He threw open the door to the parlour and all conversation stopped.
Candles blazed in the darkened room, and their reflection was bounced from mirror to mirror, stunning in its beauty.
The room was cool, her nipples erect, her pussy suddenly dry.
She felt Lionel’s hand on her back, preventing her retreat and urging her forward.
All eyes were on her naked body. Darius was standing, leashed, next to his Mistress. Mistress Beverly was petting Esma, who knelt at her side. Susanna wore a ball gag, a short skirt and shelf bra and looked at Marnie with lust.
Desperately she sought out Zachary, her Master, needing his strength, not sure she could go through with this.
From across the room he extended his palm in invitation.
She took strength from the approval in his eyes and from the nod of encouragement he offered. Marnie took a deep breath and made her decision.
Chapter Ten
Remembering his instructions she blocked out the people watching her. Her legs trembled with every step she took toward the centre of the room and the table looming there, in a consuming threat.
Her image was reflected every direction, reflections in reflections, reflections of reflections.
Still, wanting him to be proud, she stopped on the rug, bent over and grabbed her ankles. Then, after a count of five, she reached up to expose the butt plug. Each moment mortified her, but she forced herself to remain in position until she thought everyone had looked their fill.
The candlelight refracted off the crystals in a stunning visual treat.
Her back to the group of people, her heart racing, she climbed up onto the table and presented herself as he’d taught, stretching out her arms and showing her arse to his guests.
“You haven’t told me to go to hell.”
His words were so soft, only she could hear.
“No Master. The sub has chosen to submit to her Master.”
Lionel moved in and secured her to the table.
In the mirror, she saw herself and the people she’d met at Master Theodore’s home. Jennifer, Darius’s Domme, held a glass of champagne. She was as transfixed by the scene as Marnie had been just a few days before at the sight of Master Theodore dominating Susanna.
Then it was no longer about anyone else, it was only about her Dom. Only he mattered.
She was determined to please him.
“Honoured guests! Thank you for gathering to welcome my sub, Marnie.”
“Here, here,” Darius said. His Domme didn’t reprimand him.
“In the test of her ultimate trust, I’m going to hood her.”
She told herself to breathe as panic set in. How odd, just yesterday, she couldn’t stand the idea of having her eyes open while he examined her and fucked her. Now she wanted to be able to see.
He fitted the leather hood over her face, then tied the lace behind her. “What’s your safe word?”
“Monkey.”
“Would you like to use it?”
“No, Master.”
Deprived of sight, her world felt smaller and scarier.
She could see nothing, but everyone could see her, every reaction, her cunt, the red marks Master would leave on her arse.
“You’ll receive ten strokes for insubordination.”
As punishments went, she knew this was more instructive than real discipline. She deserved much more.
Her other senses became more attuned. She heard the rustle of his trousers.
She was securely fastened and couldn’t move even a few centimetres. Her own breathing sounded amplified in the hood.
But the worst was the absence of visual clues of whether Master found her pleasing, of where he was, of what he intended to do.
She had two choices. She could be a coward. Or she could trust he would do what he said he would and nothing more.
“Ready?” he asked.
She couldn’t tell where he was. Not beside her or in front of her, she was sure. Before she was ready, a smart smack landed on her right buttock. She yelped.
A second landed exactly in the same spot, followed by a third.
She cried out.
Wishing she could see him, and not knowing when or where the next blow would land, she moved about. Then she realised what a view she presented to the audience with her nether region swaying about.
His fourth slap landed lengthwise exactly in the middle of her cunt.
She screamed.
Master Zachary soothed her by dipping a finger into her cunt.
Oh God. Oh God. People were watching this. She desperately struggled in her bonds, trying to get away. He used her own moisture to soothe the injured area.
He spanked her left buttock twice, in quick succession, then landed the next two on her thighs.
“How many more, sub?”
“T…two, Master.”
“Where would you like them?”
She was crying quietly.
“Sub?”
“Wherever Master chooses,” she said miserably.
“Good girl.”
She screamed when he seared her again between the legs, forcing the pl
ug deeper.
She struggled against the unyielding restraints.
“Final one,” he said.
She waited. And waited.
She grew anxious. Just get it over with, she wanted to snap. But she didn’t. She waited.
She felt his hands on her buttocks, spreading them even farther apart. Even without the ability to see, she knew she was red and swollen. “A little redder,” he said.
She tensed in anticipation.
“We’ll wait as long as we need to, sub, for you to resume your position.”
She fought her own internal battle. She was unable to use the sight of her Master to soothe her nerves, so she had to use the memory of his expression to hold onto.
Knowing he had the same regard and belief that he always did, she pictured that image and deliberately relaxed.
The tenth and final stroke, on her cunt, broke her.
She cried and sobbed.
It no longer mattered who watched her. She was a humbled sub who wanted this more than anything.
She felt fingers on her bindings, releasing her.
Then she felt the lace of her hood being untied. She stayed in position, though, waiting for Master’s instructions.
After long moments, he removed her hood.
She blinked in the sudden brightness and the vision of him. She drank in the sight of him, searched his features for signs of disapproval. He smiled, then kissed her forehead. “I’m proud of you, Marnie.”
There was no one else in the room, she realised. Consumed with her punishment, she hadn’t noticed everyone else had gone away.
He soothed the hair back from her face. “I’ll help you to kneel.”
He was infinitely patient as circulation returned. She took her time getting into position.
“Do you recall the scene you told me about in your book?” he asked. “That’s how I knew this was what you really wanted.”
This had all been about her fantasies coming true?
“In regards to me claiming you publicly…” He trailed off and swallowed deeply. “If it’s acceptable to you, I would like you to wear my collar. I’ve never asked another to submit to me. I thought I never would.”
She was overwhelmed. “Never?”
“There was a woman…”
“You rescued her from behind enemy lines?”
“I think the story has been embellished to make me sound more heroic than I was.”
“Will you tell me about her?”
“Later. Seems she doesn’t matter like she used to.”
Marnie met his eyes. The blue had darkened with emotion. Her acceptance of his collar mattered to him. How could it not matter to her? For a man who bore himself with such military reserve, he was suddenly vulnerable. He was showing his trust, and she made a silent vow to continually earn it. “Truly, Master, it would be my honour.”
He crossed to the mantel and returned with a strip of black leather.
She lifted her hair and exposed her neck, staring at his reflection as he fastened the symbol of her submission in place. In that moment, she fell in love with him.
“Tell me what you see,” he encouraged, repeating the words he’d first used when he met her.
“I see a sub.” His reflection was everywhere. ”And her Dom. I see a woman who is happy to have found a man who knows what she wants. She wears his collar proudly.” Damn, she was proud of it. It was hot. H-O-T. “I see a man who knows he has the respect and trust of a woman he desires.”
“How do you see that?”
“Master’s cock is like a mountain in his pants.”
He laughed. “So it is.”
“I also see a woman whose arse has been well punished.”
“It is red,” he agreed.
“And a woman who will go mad if her Master doesn’t fuck her.”
“Mad?” he asked.
“Certifiably.”
“Can’t have my sub going mad.”
Taking the initiative, she opened the top button of his pants, then lowered the zipper. She got on all fours. “Fuck your sub, Master, let her see your dominance.”
Their gazes met in the mirror. “Voyeur,” he said. “I wonder,… ” He grabbed a condom that had spilled from his pants on to the marble floor. “…Who’s really in control here?”
“You are, Master.” She reached up to capture his balls. “I know that.” She squeezed them hard.
“I was captivated at first glance,” he said.
“Fuck me!”
“Indeed, sub.”
He hadn’t pointed out that she’d referred to herself in the first person. But she saw from the way his eyes narrowed that he had caught the slip. They both knew she’d pay for it later.
Nothing would get by him.
At least she hoped not.
About the Author
Born in Northern England and raised in the Wild West, Sierra Cartwright pens book that are as untamed as the Rockies she calls home.
She's an award-winning, multi-published writer who wrote her first book at age nine and hasn't stopped since.
Sierra invites you to share the complex journey of love and desire, of surrender and commitment. Her own journey has taught her that trusting takes guts and courage, and her work is a celebration for everyone who is willing to take that risk.
Email: [email protected]
Sierra loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.
Also by Sierra Cartwright
Naughty Nibbles: Fed Up
Naughty Nibbles: This Time
Walk on the Wild Side
Bound Brits: S&M 101
Signed, Sealed and Delivered
CARNAL CARESSES
Desiree Holt
Dedication
To Carol Lynne. Without you I wouldn’t be here.
Chapter One
Bree Sullivan drove through the wrought iron gates with the five and the S entwined in the centre and headed up the long curving driveway. The gates swished closed behind her, locking with a clang that while soft was definite and unmistakable in its message. She was in. Getting out would depend on her host.
She stopped in front of wide stone steps at the top of the driveway’s arc, where a tall, good-looking young man waited for her in precisely tailored black slacks and white silk shirt. Was it him? Was he the one? But when he opened her door and stood politely aside for her to exit, she realised he was just the valet, sent to tuck away her car somewhere.
“Good evening, Miss Sullivan.” His voice was quiet and well-modulated. “Jennifer is waiting for you at the door.”
As she mounted the wide steps, hearing her car being driven away, the broad, heavy oak door opened and an exotic-looking woman in a long strapless gown stood facing her.
“Welcome, Miss Sullivan.” She had a slight accent that Bree couldn’t place. “Welcome to the House of Five Senses. We hope you enjoy your evening.”
Yeah, so do I.
She stood in a high-ceilinged reception area with polished wood flooring and an Oriental rug that she was sure cost more than her condo. Another woman stood next to Jennifer, holding a tray with several squares of material. Bree took in a breath to centre herself.
She’d done it on the spur of the moment, caught up in the glamour, excitement and adrenaline of the charity auction. And of course egged on by her closest friend, Cilla the wild child.
“Oh, do it Bree,” she’d giggled, sipping on yet another glass of champagne. “A night at the famous, erotic House of Five Senses. My God, they’re so private no one but the members ever know what goes on. All we have is rumour.” She winked. “And lots of delicious gossip. I get wet just imagining the things they do.”
”I’m sure you all let your imaginations run away with you,” Bree giggled, “just like you always do.”
“Oh, no.” Cilla leaned closer. “I have it on good authority—and I don’t dare say whose—that absolutely everyth
ing and anything goes. You pick which of the senses you want to focus on and everything is geared towards that. There are no limits.”
“I don’t know,” Bree waffled.
Cilla jabbed her with her elbow when the next bid went up. “Put some spice in your life, kiddo. Have a once in a lifetime sexual experience. Things you’d never decide to do on your own. Go on, wave your little bidding paddle.”
And so she’d done it.
There were only five invitations available for bid, one for each of the five senses. Bree had chosen Touch when she’d filled out her card and handed over her check. When they’d handed her the envelope and her list of instructions, she had be told to read everything carefully, but she would not be allowed to ask any questions. Simply appear in the manner required and the rest would be up to the owners of the House.
For a week, she’d vacillated between erotic anticipation and nervous anxiety. The instructions along with the accompanying kit had been enough to make her rethink her impulsive decision.
Welcome to your evening at The House of Five Senses. Please use the enclosed light anal and vaginal douches, shave only your legs and under your arms and shower completely. Wear no underwear or hosiery or jewellery. Everything will be provided. You will enjoy not only what you touch, but what touches you. You will learn that pleasure comes with many different textures, and we hope to help you explore them all.”
Okay.
This afternoon, as she studied the instructions once more, Cilla had breezed in, determined not to let her friend back out and to help her prepare. So here she was, dressed in a nothing of a dress, bathed, shaved, perfumed, sun-streaked blonde hair brushed until it fell below her shoulders in shiny waves. Ready for whatever the night brought in this house of a thousand erotic tales.
“I’ll just take your purse and lock it in our safe,” Jennifer said, breaking into her musings. “One of the girls will return it when it’s time for you to leave. This is Holly.” She gestured at the woman beside her.
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