Dreamspinner Press Year Five Greatest Hits

by Tinnean

  He deserved to be kissed through his orgasm as well, so I leaned up and kissed the corner of his mouth until he granted me entry and I sucked his tongue in between my lips. I was still trembling with the aftershocks of my orgasm, and we came down from the high together, sharing increasingly more gentle and lazy kisses.

  I decided to be bold and reached up to smooth the hair back from his face, causing him to open his eyes and look into mine.

  “Wow,” he whispered, and I smiled.

  “Yeah. Definitely wow,” I agreed.

  Will frowned for a moment, and then his lips were on mine again. We were still sticky from where I’d come over both of us, but he didn’t seem to mind. I wrapped my arms around him, one on his back, one in his hair as I shared with him some part of myself I wasn’t sure I’d shared with anyone before.

  I was almost asleep when he pulled away and cleaned me up, only leaving me for a moment before his arms encircled me again. I didn’t want to sleep in his arms; I wanted him to sleep in mine, so I rolled onto my back and pulled his head to my chest.

  Will kissed my shoulder a few times, then hooked his leg around my waist, pressing his now-soft cock into my thigh. I leaned down and kissed his hair, inhaling his scent and letting it fill me as I fell asleep.

  I WOKE up knowing exactly where I was. I was in Will’s bed, I’d rolled over onto my side in the night, and Will was spooning me from behind. He was still sleeping, and his palm was pressed to my chest, his deep, sleeping breaths tickling my neck and my shoulder.

  I couldn’t move for fear of waking him up; the moment was too perfect for me to spoil it. Instead, I spent long minutes committing every part of him to memory—the feel of his knees hooked into the crook of mine, his naked hips against my ass, his warm stomach against my lower back, his arm holding me close.

  When he eventually woke up, he pulled me back tighter to his chest, and I sighed into his arms, lacing my fingers with his so he’d know I was awake. This was so, so much more intimate than anything we’d done together before. I could have rolled over and got out of bed while he was still sleeping, but I didn’t want that. Knowing Will, he’d slip back into his role as Master easy as breathing; I had maybe only moments until he pulled away.

  Maybe my Master would have pulled away, but Will held me close for another half an hour before I saw the time and realized I’d have to leave. There was no way for me to know what time Adele would get home, and I needed to have a shower and wash Will’s smell off me.

  Adele. I instantly felt guilty. Last night was more… more than just a session with my Dom. She was my girlfriend, and I might have been able to justify going elsewhere to be able to release my desires for kinky shit, but she didn’t deserve to have a boyfriend who was making love to other people. She was sweet and kind and lovely, and if she did know about this side of me, like I was sure she did, then she was accepting of it and letting it happen. I loved her, even if there wasn’t sparks and fireworks and crazy insane lust like there was with Will.

  I twisted in his arms and kissed his lips once, then silently got out of bed and got dressed. He watched me the whole time, not saying anything, and I offered him a small smile before walking out of the room and down to my car.

  The key was gone from the back door, so I had to let myself out the front, keeping my head down and trying not to look guilty. I had just gotten the door open when I heard him running down the stairs, and he appeared in the hallway wearing just a pair of boxers.

  “Stay,” he begged, grabbing my arm to keep me there.

  “You know I can’t,” I told him, trying not to look too hard at his naked chest.

  “No, stay here, with me. Don’t go home.”

  “Adele—” I started, but he cut me off.

  “Leave Adele,” he said, his tone of voice not one I’d ever heard from him before. “Move in with me.”

  “I’m a sub, Will, not a slave.”

  “I don’t want a slave, Jesse,” he growled.

  “And I’m not interested in a 24/7 relationship,” I explained gently. “I told you that when we met.”

  “I’m not talking about a 24/7 relationship.” He sounded frustrated now as he started tugging at his hair. “I want you to move in with me. As my partner, not my sub.”

  “As your….”

  “Boyfriend. As my boyfriend.” He laughed darkly. “You’re really dragging this out of me, Jess.”

  “I don’t know,” I said, too confused at his words. I rubbed at my scratchy jaw for something to do with my hands. “I’ve never really thought about it… I didn’t know that you felt that way about me.”

  “You don’t feel this way about Adele,” he accused.

  “You have no right to comment on my relationship with my girlfriend,” I countered.

  Will dropped his head. “You’re right. I’m sorry. But if this is about your need to have sex with a woman, that’s okay. I can take on a female sub as well.”

  My first reaction was a resounding no—I didn’t want to share my Master. But that he’d do that, for me, so I would be with him and not Adele….

  “I need to think, Will,” I begged him in a way that was entirely new to me. “I can’t just make this decision on a whim.”

  “That’s fine,” he agreed. “Just, don’t leave me, okay? Even if you decide to go back to her, please don’t leave. I’m sorry if I upset you. I can’t lose you.”

  I couldn’t make him any promises. I just nodded and left. His confession had rocked me in a place inside I had never considered before. There wasn’t any doubt that, whatever happened, things were going to change now. And I didn’t know what to do.

  IT WAS less than a week later that I found myself kneeling in the attic again, with a deep sense of foreboding. He had kept me waiting for longer than usual. I could feel the burn in my triceps from holding my arms in position and the ache in my knees from bone pressed into unforgiving hardwood.

  But I kept my eyes lowered and set my mind free, knowing he could walk into the room at any moment, and would probably wait until I was at my least prepared to do it.

  The click of the door was soft in my ears, the presence of my Master was everywhere. I needed this. I needed to be what I was when I was with him—it was the only time when I knew myself. He didn’t pause to touch me; instead, the sound of his heavy boots reverberated around the room as he crossed to a high-backed chair that had appeared since I was in here last.

  “Jesse.”

  I held my position. My name wasn’t any indication that I should speak.

  “Look at me, Jesse,” he commanded. I raised my eyes so that they were firmly fixed on heavy leather motorcycle boots, not his eyes. “Jesse.” He growled my name for the third time, and I reluctantly raised my gaze to meet his.

  It was what I needed to slip the rest of the way into my subspace—this reminder of our positions and who I was. I was the one naked on my knees in front of him; he was the one dressed, sitting, in the position of power. And fuck me if he didn’t look like the most edible thing in the world, all long limbs and tight T-shirt and those fucking gorgeous boots.

  “I want you to think about our rules,” he told me as I took the full opportunity of looking at his beautiful face, “about our contract. The conditions that were set in place at the beginning of our arrangement. Is there anything you want to tell me, Jesse?”

  Tell him? I wanted to lick his jaw, from the scruff on his chin to the softness of his earlobe, wanted to suck on his neck and kiss down his chest… my fantasies were broken by his deep sigh.

  “Eyes down, Jesse. Think.”

  I lowered my eyes obediently and, as I was told, started to go through the terms of our contract. I hadn’t broken any rules… only… wait, I had.

  “Master.” I was already begging for forgiveness.

  “Everything,” he said in a low, calm voice. “I want every part of you, Jesse. I want your successes, and I am here to correct your failures. Tell me.”

  There was no way I
could disobey a direct command.

  “I failed to… perform, with my partner, Master.”

  “What, did you fall out of step on a foxtrot?” he sneered. “Tell me everything, Jesse. That’s how this relationship works. Your mistakes belong to me too.”

  My heart was stuttering along with my voice now. I didn’t want to fail him, not ever. And this was a big part of my contract. “I failed to maintain an erection while making love to Adele. I was distracted by my commitment to you and by thinking about your offer. She was concerned about my well-being, and I didn’t offer to give her an orgasm with my mouth or hands.”

  I had no idea how he knew that there was something wrong, that I needed to confess this, but I did. It was weighing me down, and he would take it off my shoulders. There was something very ritualistic about my confession, his acceptance, and I knew that I would now be punished. It was deeply comforting that I had this to fall back on—to assuage my guilt.

  The condition that I would always pleasure my girlfriend was one that my Master had written into our contract. He demanded that I keep a regular, healthy sex life with Adele, partly because she was entitled to that—regardless of what I was doing behind her back—and partly because I shouldn’t neglect my duties as a boyfriend for those I had as a sub.

  Master stood silently and collected a few things from around the room. I was desperate for my collar and silently begged for it.

  “Stand,” he demanded from in front of me.

  I did so and dropped my hands and held onto each elbow behind my back, effectively freeing my neck for my collar. My eyes remained lowered; I knew I was far from being in his good graces.

  “You broke one of the rules, Jesse, so as your Master I will punish you for this, as per the terms of our agreement. You do not have the choice tonight on whether or not you wear my collar. I will take your submission, as is my right.”

  The soft leather was fastened around my neck, and I relaxed into the freeness it gave me. I needed this, so badly.

  “In accordance with the theory of the punishment that best befits the crime, I think it’s appropriate that, since you failed to bring Adele to orgasm, you are not entitled to one either.” He snapped a leather ring around the base of my cock. “You are not allowed to come, Jesse,” he repeated seriously. “Things will get much, much worse for you if you do.”

  I remained still and silent, accepting his will and my place. There was no need to respond to him. Master took measured strides across the room to collect a heavy wooden paddle, then sat back down on the high-backed chair. I knew what was coming, and despite his earlier warning, I felt my cock grow hard. He had not put any music on today, so the only sounds I would be able to hear would be those he was making, and the ones I would make in response. My cock got harder still.

  “Here,” he demanded.

  I tried to make my rise to standing as graceful as I could; then, keeping my eyes lowered, I crossed to him and arranged my body over his legs. There was something about this position, laid out across him, that added to the humiliation of the act. It was more a naughty child being punished rather than a grown man accepting his fate. Being tied to the spanking bench was more detached, meaning I could concentrate on the pain and the burn rather than his erection poking my stomach.

  Master’s strong hand ran from the nape of my neck down my spine (making me shiver) to gently caress my upturned ass. He spanked with his left hand. His fingertips explored the backs of my thighs to the crease where they met my ass cheeks, and I had to detach myself from the feelings if I was going to follow his orders and not orgasm.

  The first smack barely even registered. It was carefully placed, a warm-up, a teaser of what was to come. The blood rushed to the surface of my sensitive skin, and I bit back a moan. I was required to control myself.

  The second smack was given with a lot more force. I didn’t yelp, but my back bowed and my mouth dropped open as my eyes screwed shut for half a second, then I flopped back limply over his legs. The third and fourth were given while I was still composing myself, and this was so much what I wanted, so much what I needed.

  I relaxed into his body and let myself become just a big ball of nerve endings, feeling everything but thinking about nothing. This was subspace. I existed for my Master and for him only.

  The crack of the paddle against my bare skin was not enough to jolt me out of my space. I was expecting it, he had made sure I had seen it before he started to use the finely crafted piece of wood.

  “Who do you belong to?” he asked softly, pausing the blows for a moment.

  “I belong to you, Master,” I said, forcing my voice to be clear.

  “What are your safewords?”

  “Yellow and Red, Master.”

  “Good. This is a punishment, but those always belong to you. I will never take your safewords away from you, Jesse. Stand.”

  I did, wincing at the pain and heat now radiating from my ass.

  “I’d like to use this session to reaffirm your status as my submissive,” Master continued, making a slow circle around me. “Whatever else is happening around us, we both need to know our place. Spanking bench.”

  I immediately went and positioned myself over the bench, kneeling and presenting my red and sore ass for his inspection. He tied me up quickly, efficiently; this bondage was to keep me in place, not for pleasure or for show. It may have been my imagination, but the ropes seemed tighter than normal.

  “Cane or whip, Jesse?” Master asked. I winced. I wasn’t particularly fond of either, preferring the thud of a paddle or the sting of a flogger on my skin. But this was a punishment.

  “Cane, Master,” I said, trying to keep my voice even.

  His warm hand rubbed circles in the middle of my back.

  “You can be such a good boy, sometimes,” Master said musingly. He left me while he collected a cane, and I forced my breathing to even out. I craved the pain that would center me again.

  “I won’t leave any lasting marks,” he said as he walked back across the playroom. “But I’ll warn you now, this is likely to sting.”

  I was expecting him to start with my already sore ass, but instead the cane came down on the back of my thighs, causing an involuntary reflex in my hands as I gripped harder and grit my teeth against the pain.

  “Count, please, and thank me for your punishment. Start with the next stroke.”

  The swoosh of the cane alerted me to his swing and it thudded across the backs of my legs again.

  “One. Thank you, Master.”

  Again, hitting my ass this time, but the sting was dissipated by the warming it had already received.

  “Two. Thank you, Master.”

  He gave me ten strokes of varying strengths before rubbing down my ass and legs with oil to ease the tension. His fingers scratched my scalp lightly, making me almost purr with contentment before he moved on.

  “We’re not done here, just yet. Your body, Jesse, it does things to me. You arouse me like no one has ever managed to do before. I want to mark you so fucking much,” he growled, the cane now lightly tapping the soles of my feet. I tried so hard not to scream; I was unable to wriggle away from the sensation that both tickled and really fucking hurt.

  “Then fucking do it!” I exclaimed, the desperation for that act making me speak out of turn.

  The cane cracked down across my ass, making me howl before resuming its torturous beat on my feet.

  “You want my mark on you?” he repeated, my transgression forgotten already.

  “Yes, Master,” I said on a sobbing breath.

  The pain stopped. The sound of the cane stopped. The air around me stilled.

  I could hear him walking away, returning the cane to its place on the wall while the only sound was of my uneven breaths and the blood rushing in my ears. Then he was back. And he was naked.

  “Where to do it,” he murmured, his lips close to my neck. “Can’t make it permanent, of course. Not yet, anyway.”

  Master bit down
lightly on my shoulder. I whimpered.

  “No. Neck, shoulders, upper back… too visible. Too easy for people to see.” His hands and lips skimmed down over my body. “Back of bicep? Oh, now that would look pretty. What a lovely spot for teeth marks.” He put his tongue there instead. I knew he would never mark me in an obvious place.

  “Your ass is so pretty too,” he continued. “I love it. And look, you’re already wearing my stripes. But I think that has been tortured enough already tonight.”

  There were sounds in the room that I was only dimly aware that I was making. I craved him, his touch, whatever it was he wanted to give me. As he kissed down the back of my leg, I let myself float in my subspace, knowing that I trusted him beyond anything else. Then, finally, his lips came down on the inside of my knee.

  He sucked hard, breaking the blood vessels and causing the skin to bruise, and to finish, added his teeth to the mark. It was temporary, sure, and I could easily explain it away if needed, saying I’d walked into something. Only he and I would know how it had got there.

  Knowing that I would be wearing the result of his need for me around for the week or so it took to heal almost pushed me over the edge. I nearly came, but fought it back.

  “Yellow,” I gasped.

  Master immediately released my hands but left my other bonds in place.

  “Tell me where you are,” he said in a clear voice.

  “I was going to come,” I said. “I need a moment to back down.”

  “Shall I untie you?”

  “No, that would make it worse,” I groaned.

  “I’m here. If you need to end the session, use your word. There are no repercussions for using your safeword, Jesse. I’ll wait right here until you tell me you’re ready to continue.”

  His words reassured me, even though he was repeating what I already knew. I took advantage of the fact my hands were free and ran them over my face, pushing my sweaty hair back, then rearranged my body back over the bench, making sure my wrists were in position so they could be attached again without Master having to move me. Then I took deep, clearing breaths and fought my mind away from the situation I was in. I had a mental list of genuinely mundane things I could do in my head while I forced attention away from my cock, and picked the task of wallpapering a room. By the time I had finished mentally hanging the last piece of paper, I was ready to keep going.