I approach a tall candelabra filled with crème colored tapers. After selecting one, I light a match and approach my bound submissive. He licks his lips and the orange flame flickers in his eyes as I draw near. Once some wax pools in the top of the candle, I tip it over his chest and let a small stream of this liquid trickle over his nipples, across his pecs, in a line down to his belly button.
He writhes now and clenches his teeth, huffing air through them as he strains in his bonds.
“Do you want me to continue, sub?” I ask, worried he’s in the wrong kind of pain.
“Yes,” he manages. “Please. More.”
“Are you sure?”
His steely eyes lock onto mine. “Yes.”
So I dribble wax across his lower abdomen, then skim close to his cock, letting some drip down his scrotum. He lets out a loud sigh but I don’t punish him this time. I suppose I’m too lenient a dom, but I figure he’s been tortured enough. Yet he doesn’t seem to mind at all and seems to relish in the challenge and ecstasy this pleasure / pain combination brings him.
His chains rattle as he pulls them taut in his struggle to overcome the stimuli assault, to internalize his bliss and obey my commands.
I finish up with the candle and then tease the wax away from his skin with the whip, flicking the hardened strips off with the frayed tail. His skin is red in places and I kiss and lick these fiery patches, soothing them with lips and tongue. He bucks up to meet my mouth and hisses from the contact.
“I should punish you again,” I purr, “but I’m getting impatient to fuck you.”
He grins that Cheshire grin. “May I speak, Mistress?”
I nod.
“Fuck me now. Let me cum. Come with me, please?”
I consider this as I draw the whip back up his torso. “Where are your condoms?”
He indicates a dark walnut bureau just behind me. I find them in the top right drawer and grab a foil wrapper from inside. After removing the cock ring, I open the wrapper and take my time sliding the condom on, just to add some last minute torment.
“I’m a terrible dom,” I say. “I shouldn’t give in to you so easily.”
I climb on top of the rack, my pussy now throbbing like mad and so wet my juices make my labia slick. After I straddle him, I tease him still, rubbing the head of his cock between my sleek lips, grinding it into my swollen clit. I moan and shudder as a ripple of pleasure moves through me.
“Please, Mistress,” his voice sounds pained now. “Fuck me. I need to be inside of you now.”
His cock juts up, edging closer to my sex, but I hold him off still, teasing him just a bit more before I finally give in and let his penis sink deep into my pussy. I sigh as I take all of him and my cunt stretches to accommodate his girth. He’s not too long but his shaft is thick and curved. So he hits my g-spot perfectly as I ride him.
“Play with yourself for me,” he whispers as I rock back and forth.
“I thought I was the dom tonight?” I taunt him.
He growls and begs me again. So I let my hands slip down my body, tweaking my nipples before I move lower, over my stomach and then down into the trimmed nest of hair between my legs. I pull the hood of my clit back and rub the exposed bead of flesh with two fingers. More intense pleasure rockets through me, making me ride his cock faster.
Soon we’re a writhing mass atop the rack. His hands strain at his chains as he obviously goes mad with the need to touch me. He thrusts his hips up, impaling me deeper still, making the pressure in my g-spot throb stronger. When an orgasm rockets through me, I have to lean forward and brace myself on his thickly muscled chest. The force of it makes me tremble all over and I let out a loud cry as juices gush out of me.
He thrusts deep inside me once, twice, and empties his cock inside me. When we’re done coming, I collapse on top of him, kissing the dark curls that pepper his chest before I lay my face against his pecs.
After we catch our breath, he says, “You should spend the weekend here. I could give you dominatrix lessons.”
I look up at him. “So I am a terrible dom?”
He laughs. “Not at all. But it’s a great excuse to keep you here and make love to you for two days.”
I smile. “Consider your offer accepted.” Then I shimmy up his body and capture his lips for another kiss before I let him free.
***
Surrender To His Proposition
Surrender Series Vol. 5
By Roxxy Meyer
New adult BDSM romance with billionaire doms.
***
Surrender To His Proposition
“Maya, could you come here?”
My brother’s voice sends a shiver of anxiety through my stomach. I know he’s trying to sound calm, but something is wrong. I dash off the couch and head into his kitchen. There I find him gripping the counter, blinking hard. His face is tense and he’s disoriented.
“What’s wrong?” I go to Xander and put an arm around his shoulder.
He gives me a quick smile that fails at covering his fear. “I … umm … I can’t see.”
My heart knocks harder in my chest. “Let’s get you to the couch.”
I help him walk the short distance from the counter into the living room, then help him ease down on the sofa. Sweat beads his brow and worry ages him.
One month ago, my brother was diagnosed with relapsing remitting multiple sclerosis. It’s the most common form of the disease, and it involves relapses, or attacks, where his neurological function worsens. These are followed by stages of remission, where the disease seems to almost melt away. But then a new attack occurs. They figure Xander’s had it for about ten years now, but because he’s one tough bastard, plowing through most of his pain and hiding it, the doctor’s only recently discovered he had MS. That and the disease is difficult to diagnose. The diagnosis came after my brother went temporarily blind while driving. A scary episode for him, his wife, and their two year old.
“That’s it, Xander,” I say, peeking at Josh’s playpen to make sure he’s still asleep. “I’m getting a second job and moving in here with you and Patty.”
“No!” His eyes flutter open and he sits up straight on the couch. I can tell he’s in pain. “You’re finishing college, getting your masters, and I won’t hear another word, sis.”
I touch his hand and worry over its shaking. “You and Patty have a new baby coming. You’re going to need a lot of help. I can take night classes or online courses while I work.”
“You’re already working part time at that day care center,” he protests, his low brow knitting in a concerned frown. “You can’t do everything, or you’ll burn out and your grades will slip. I won’t let that happen.”
I lean forward and kiss my big brother’s cheek. “Don’t worry. Let me do this. You helped Dad raise me when we were little. Now it’s time for me to help you.”
Our dad raised the two of us alone after my mom left him for another man when my brother was 10 and I was 2. She went to work one morning and never came home. Dad found letters from her boyfriend stashed in Mom’s office. My brother skipped college so he could help Dad pay the bills. Instead he got a trade as a welder, and thanks to a family friend he secured some lucrative contract jobs before he even finished high school. But with MS, it’s going to be harder for him to work the way he once did. His wife Patty is a legal secretary, but she’s pregnant with their second child and will have to go on maternity leave soon.
“I don’t like it,” my brother grumbles in response to my insistence. “You’re only 22. You’re too young to have this much responsibility heaped on your head.”
“And I don’t like that our genetics screwed you over.” I hug him, but not too tightly. I don’t want to hurt my bro. “But life isn’t fair, Xander. Let me help you the way you’ve helped me.”
He gets teary then, and the emotion spills over, down his cheeks. I have to swallow a lump in my throat. But Xander swipes brusquely at his tears and then takes me into a big hug.
“Deal.”
***
“So it’s definitely MS?” Ethan, my co-worker at the daycare, fellow student, and best friend, gives me a sympathetic look.
“Yeah, right now he’s definitely got relapsing remitting, and his prognosis looks good, but the doctor did let us know he could develop secondary progressive MS over the next 10 to 25 years. So it’s a day by day thing.” I shrug, though the heaviness of worry weights in my stomach and heart.
Ethan squeezes my hand. “I’m so sorry, Maya. What next?”
“I’m moving in with Xander and Patty and I’m looking for a better paying job.”
Ethan’s brow furrows deeper. He scratches the side of his blond, messy ‘do, which he always does when he’s concerned. “You’re not leaving school, though, I hope.”
I chuckle. “Now you sound like my brother. No, I won’t leave school, but I’m going to have to change my classes around. Take night courses or see about online options.”
Ethan pouts. “I’ll miss you.”
I squeeze his hand back. “I’ll miss you, too.”
Ethan and I are both pursuing our BA in Education at Silvercrest College, but we’ve been best friends for years. My ultimate goal is to be a teacher and get my Masters in Education. A dream inspired by my dad, who we lost years ago to heart disease. Pursuing a career in education is kind of like my homage to him, I guess. My dad was known as one of those teachers you never forget. He taught English at the middle school here in our town of Castle’s Garden. I remember coming home from babysitting only to find Dad tutoring one of my classmates in Steinbeck or Atwood. Or the finer points of grammar. Mr. O’ Bannon, as he was known, was well loved in our town.
Ethan’s long, lean face brightens, as do his crystal blue eyes. “You know, I might have just the job for you.”
I grip my coffee tight as excitement tightens my gut. “Really? You know I’ll love you forever if you do, right?”
He laughs. “You already will. See, there are these friends of mine and Tom’s… they need a live-in nanny, but they need someone to work afternoons primarily, and nights. So you wouldn’t have to change your school schedule at all. Tom won’t let me do it because he says there is no way he’s letting me leave him and live with two gorgeous men.”
“They’re gorgeous?” I raise an eyebrow. “Where do I sign up?”
Ethan smirks before he sips his coffee and checks his watch to see how much of our lunch break is left. “Isaiah and Sawyer are also absolute sweethearts. I think you’d love working for them, and I’ll give you a glowing reference.”
I can’t contain my enthusiasm any longer. I do a little dance in my seat then get up and place a loud kiss on Ethan’s cheek. A woman looks up from her ereader, from where she sits at the very end of the small coffee shop, and glares at us.
“Sorry. I’m so grateful I had to smooch you. Thank you so much. If you were straight, you realize I’d have to stalk you and make you mine, right?”
He laughs loudly at this. “Sweetie, if I were straight you’d already have been mine long ago. I’ll give Isaiah and Sawyer a call tomorrow. They’ve got three children between them that I know you’ll adore. I’ll call you by the weekend to give you an update.”
I jump up and hug and kiss my best friend again, much to the ereading woman’s chagrin.
***
Ethan calls on Saturday. Excitement is evident in his voice the moment after I answer my antiquated cell phone.
“I got you an interview with the guys!”
I wish I could pull him through the phone and hug him again. “Wonderful. Thank you tons again. I owe you a lasagna for this.”
“Will you use three cheeses and put extra on top?”
“You know it!”
I almost skip to my car as my hopes lift. Ethan gives me the time, date, and directions. The house is in an uber-rich part of Castle’s Garden, and I swallow over my sense of intimidation. I’m to be at Isaiah and Sawyer’s estate by 7pm on Monday. Thankfully the hour doesn’t conflict with any of my classes, and I’ll even be able to grab a shower and get all professionalled up before I go.
He tells me more about the couple, “They were in a polyamorous relationship, but their wife passed away two years ago. Brain aneurysm. She just dropped at work one day and that was it. So tragic.”
“That’s so sad.” I remember my dad and think about my brother and empathize with my potential employers.
“Isaiah is a tech entrepreneur. Comes from a family with a history in law. His dad was a lawyer and his mother a judge. Sawyer was a tutor and nanny for Isaiah and Rachel years ago then, well, the couple fell in love with him and there you go.”
Too bad they didn’t get their fairytale ending, I think. “So is Sawyer still teaching the kids also?”
“He takes the day shift. And he does some other work for Isaiah … but I’ll let the two of them explain all that to you.”
Ethan tells me Isaiah is none other than Isaiah Jackson, a prominent but reclusive billionaire, and that’s when I recognize the name. Isaiah Jackson is well known in our small town of Castle’s Garden, but not much is known about his personal life. He made his billions through technology, inventing a geo-tracking system that’s designed to get your anywhere accurately. Knowing this, I’m intimidated about my upcoming interview, but determined to do well.
***
Following Ethan’s directions, I show up at Isaiah and Sawyer’s mansion fifteen minutes early Monday evening. The place is done up in art deco design and looks a bit like a blocky apartment building to me, but one level has a curved face that adds some softness to the modern, clean lines.
I’m buzzed through the gate and drive up a long, paved driveway lined with well manicured hedges. After I park my car, I walk up a slight slope toward a front door made of glass and metal. I hit the doorbell and wait, wishing the nervous flutter in my stomach would calm down.
Footsteps sound from inside and my heart picks up its pace. My face floods with heat, knowing I’m about to be interviewed by the richest man in Castle’s Garden. I expect their butler, or whatever rich people call the help these days, will probably see me in and take me to meet Sawyer and Isaiah.
I practice my greeting three times before a tall man with a trim waist and broad shoulders comes into view. His low brow furrows as he spots me and opens the door. He’s dressed in an open throated white shirt and jeans. I didn’t realize the rich let their help go so casual, but I’ve never known anyone who made over $100,000 so what do I know?
“Hello,” I say, extending my hand. “I’m here for the interview with Mr. Jackson.”
His eyebrow shoots up and he gives me a bold up and down perusal before crossing his arms over his massive, well muscled chest. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”
I gulp, open my mouth to reply, shut it again. The man oozes power and intimidation. I wish I could melt into the pavement beneath my feet. Add to this he resembles that actor who played Khal Drogo in Game of Thrones, Jason Momoa, and you can see why I’m at a loss for words.
“Come inside.” He walks away, leaving the door open and me still gaping before I follow.
The man leads me to a lavish office done up in wood and leather. A stark contrast to the modern architecture of the house and furnishing I noticed in the foyer. He glides behind the looming walnut desk, rifles through some papers, then pins me with aquamarine eyes.
“Sit down, please.” He gestures to a button leather chair in front of the desk.
“You’re Mr. Jackson?” I squeak as I lower myself into the plush chair. The reclusive billionaire hardly ever poses for pictures, and the ones I have seen have been blurry profile shots at best.
His eyebrow shoots up again. Those lush lips form a pout and those startling eyes focus on me once more. “Who did you think I was? The hired help?” He pauses l
ong enough to sit and scan a few more papers laid out before him. “I may be loaded, but I can answer my own door.”
“Oh, of course!” I stammer, hating myself for being a nervous ninny and getting this interview off to a bad start. “I didn’t mean … I just thought…”
“I like to do things for myself, Ms.—” He scratches the stubble on his chin. “What did you say your name was?”
“Maya. Maya O’ Bannon.”
“Well, Maya.” He folds his large brown hands together and leans over the desk. His scowl transforms into a sexy smirk. “What is your preference when it comes to whips?”
I nearly choke on the nervous lump lodged in my throat. “Excuse me?”
Just at that moment, a shorter, pale man with sandy brown hair done up in a short, mess hairdo enters the room. He flashes me a wide smile filled with white teeth. His eyes are like black coffee and exude a natural warmth.
“Hi.” He holds out a hand. “I’m Sawyer. Did Surrender send you over? You must be new. I don’t recognize you, but then I haven’t worked any of the clubs or resorts in a long time.”
I shake my head. Look from him to Isaiah then back again. “Surrender? I’m confused…”
Sawyer tilts his head, glances at his partner, then at me. “What interview are you here for exactly?”
“I’m applying for the nanny position.”
Isaiah and Sawyer exchange another look, then a laugh rumbles up from Isaiah’s impressive chest. He glides around the desk once more, so quickly it startles me when he moves around front of me and captures my hand in his large one.
“Sorry, Maya,” he says, just before he dips his head to sweep a kiss over my knuckles. “We thought you were applying for … another job with us. I made the wrong assumption this time.”
His full lips send a shock of sensation through me. I almost pull away from the jolt that zips up my arm, but instead I let his touch linger, though it has such an intense effect on me I’m not sure I’m comfortable with it.
BDSM Mega Boxed Set Page 81