Playing Hard to Master

by Sparrow Beckett

  Ambrose didn’t answer, but slowly unbuttoned her blouse, exploring every bit of skin he exposed with his fingers and mouth. He sucked on her clavicle, bit her shoulder, kissed her neck, until she was breathless.

  “But, Professor! What are you doing?”

  “Tasting you.” He stripped off her top, unfastened her bra¸ threw them both on the floor, and shoved her down onto her back. The skirt was next.

  So much for staying in costume for him. She’d gotten the right response though. The strapping had felt a little extreme at the time, but the way he’d made her take it, and the stinging heat it left now, were conspiring to make her want to submit deeper to him. But making it easy just wasn’t her style. She hid her breasts with her arm, and her pussy with her hand, and looked at him coyly. “But how is my being naked going to help?”

  He reached into the desk drawer again, and Everly just managed to avoid craning her neck to see what was next.

  She’d hated the damn strap. Almost enough to orgasm.

  Running and hiding was an option, but he hadn’t done anything she wasn’t secretly okay with. Yet.

  Ambrose thumped a bottle down on the desk beside her. Massage oil? He opened the bottle, and she caught the faint scent of coconut.

  “No more lotion!” She tried to dart away, but he caught her with an arm around her waist.

  “Shh,” he whispered in her ear. “This won’t hurt you. I promise. It’s coconut oil.”

  Reluctantly, she let him steer her back to the desk. “But how is that going to help me earn a better grade, Professor? Do you have a crick in your neck you need me to fix?”

  “I’ll give you a crick in the neck.” He smiled and wrapped a gentle hand around her throat.

  Even though he was making a dumb joke, the feeling of it made her shudder, and her eyelids flitted closed.

  “Are you mine?” he whispered in her ear.

  Her breath caught. “Yes, Master.” Was this part of the role-play?

  He hummed with satisfaction and bit her ear just enough to send sparks of lust through her.

  “I’m going to give you a massage, because I enjoy the texture of your skin.”

  She eyed the oil askance. “And that’s payment enough?”

  He snorted. “Of course not. We’ll see where things go from there.”

  When she was stretched out on her back, a towel under her and another folded under her head, he spread oil over her skin and started to work out knots she didn’t know she had. In no time, she was so relaxed it felt like subspace.

  Everly’s mind buzzed, but her body felt like it was asleep and having the best possible dream. Ambrose tugged at her nipples with his slippery fingers, making her squirm. He parted her legs and massaged her thighs, then moved upward, spreading oil along her labia and then nudged between them to oil her clit. He rubbed it between his fingers, trapping it, holding her open and exposed while he made little light circles over it with the fingers of his other hand. He teased her until she was gripping the desk with clawed hands and her hips were thrust as high as she could go, silently trying to convince him to let her come.

  Two fingers wedged up into her slick entrance, and she wondered how much of that slickness was his oil and how much was just her. He leaned down and flicked his tongue over her sensitized nub.

  “Oh God, Ambrose. Please let me come.” Fuck, begging for it was just turning her on more.

  “I will, sweetheart. But not yet. You can wait, can’t you?”

  She wanted to scream and cry and have a fit. Evil man! But the desire in his pretty blue eyes made her want to please him more than herself.

  “O-okay.” Why was she agreeing? Maybe if she said no he would have gotten her off right away. She was so damned close.

  “Good girl.” His approval was so thick he could have fucked her with it. “You’re such a good girl for me, Everly.”

  “Good enough to get a reward?” she ventured.

  “Soon, baby. Come on, turn over for me.” He urged her to turn over, then positioned her so her arms were down by her sides and her legs were spread. She didn’t complain. She needed to come so bad it hurt.

  Ambrose lifted her hips and wedged a pillow under her.

  “Mmm. Your poor, sweet ass is so red.” He spread oil on her back, over her ass, and down her thighs and calves, then started to work on the knots on that side.

  “A mean man beat my hiney,” she mumbled in a baby voice.

  He chuckled, tracing what were probably welts back there. It tickled and made her jump. She tried to draw her legs back together, suddenly feeling shy that he had a front-row view of everything she owned.

  Without hesitation, he moved her legs back where he wanted them. “No, Everly. You need to stay where I put you.”

  The correction made all of her subby instincts turn her into putty. Just words. He didn’t need to smack her to make his point. His command was enough.

  He worked the knots out of her shoulders until she was pretty sure she’d drooled on the towel. Maybe that was the real reason it was there.

  Her back was next, then her ass. Although the area felt bruised, he was gentle enough that she didn’t complain. Her thighs and calves followed. When he’d finished there, her whole body felt pliant, but also like she was floating. His fingers wandered up her thighs, and he caressed her ass, moving gradually closer to the cleft. She clenched.

  He kissed her shoulder. “Shh. It’s okay, Everly. I know someone hurt you here, but I’ll take my time.” One of his hands closed over the back of her thigh. A finger strayed into the divide and tickled its way down, skipped over her bottom hole and moved on to her clit. He caught it between two fingers and rubbed it until she was begging again, then he brushed his finger back up to her asshole. He touched her there gently, carefully, rubbing around it, over it, getting her used to him accessing whatever he wanted.

  “When I play with you, your whole body is mine, isn’t it, baby?”

  “Yes, Master.” She whined. “Please let me come, Master.”

  He groaned and grabbed a possessive handful of ass cheek. She gasped.

  “You make me crazy.”

  “I’m not sorry.”

  Instead of being upset, he chuckled. More oil dripped down the crack of her ass, making her groan as the coolness met her overheated skin.

  His slick finger traveled back and forth over her asshole, and eventually she couldn’t stay tensed against him anymore. He played with her clit and applied pressure to her anus. She covered her eyes as she felt her body give up its fight and gradually let his coaxing finger in.

  “That’s a good girl,” he crooned. “Look at that. It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “No, Master,” she mumbled into the towel. He planted several kisses on the globes of her ass, and it gave her the shivers. “But it feels strange, and I’m embarrassed.”

  “I know, pretty girl. But you’re doing what I want, so you should feel proud of yourself.” He started to fuck her ass with his finger. It made her horny and squirmy, but she didn’t dare move. “Damn. You’re so tight.”

  Why did it feel so good when he did it? She could never tell him. The unfamiliar, invasive sensation made her clit feel even more swollen and needy, and her pussy begged for the attention he was paying her ass. Pressure built in her lower belly, and what felt like seconds later she was coming, hanging on to the desk as the waves of pleasure and discomfort threatened to overwhelm her. More oil, and a second finger slowly joined the first, feeling like he was opening her impossibly wide. Even though it was uncomfortable, he convinced her it wasn’t so bad by toying with her clit. He fingered her ass through a second wicked orgasm.

  She was limp and dazed from coming, yet somehow still frustrated and wanting. His fingers withdrew slowly, moving in ways that made her sob. He dragged her down the desk, until her hips were at the edge and her legs dangled, her toes just touching the floor.

  “I’m going to try to fuck you here now, okay? If it hurts too much, you tell m
e and I’ll slow down, or we’ll stop and try again some other time.”

  At that point all she was capable of was whimpering.

  “Is that okay, Everly, or should I stop now?”

  He wanted a definite verbal yes? Could this be any more embarrassing?

  “You can try, Master, but I don’t think you’ll fit.”

  The tip of his cock slipped against her immediately, and the warmth and dominance of what he was planning to do made it hot instead of scary. Ambrose didn’t rush things, she reminded herself. Ambrose was careful and patient.

  “Try to relax and push out,” he murmured. He was easing into her so slowly it was like he didn’t care if it took a decade. The one guy who’d done it before had taken her by surprise, without making sure she was ready. It’d hurt, and she’d never really trusted him again after that. With Ambrose, she found herself getting horny and impatient, and pushing back against him.

  His dick felt like a huge metal bar, but his appreciative groans and swears as he broached her made the discomfort worth it. She breathed through it, trying to convert the ache to pleasure. He pulled out and slicked himself with more oil, reclaimed the inch he’d gained. It felt like every hair on her body was standing on end. Gradually, he was persuasive enough to convince her body to take every bit of him. When he’d made it all the way in, he stroked her back and her thighs, giving her time to get used to the ridiculous amount of dick in her ass. He moved, and she felt helpless and fragile.

  Ambrose covered her with his body, making her feel safe. He kissed her neck and behind her ear, and groaned when she shifted happily beneath him. This she could stand. This she might learn to love.

  “You’re such a good girl for me, Everly. I know that hurt a little, but now that I’m in, it’s not so bad, is it?” He bit her shoulder and she gasped, then squirmed beneath him. He eased out a bit, then pressed back in, moving in small ways to loosen her ass’s death grip on his cock.

  “I don’t like it, Master,” she lied. She whimpered, and she swore his dick grew bigger.

  “Mmm. That just makes it hotter.” He pulled farther out and back in, still gentle, but moving faster now. The sensation took her breath away, and her toes dug against the wooden floor. It felt too bone-meltingly good. Oh fuck, she couldn’t come like this, or there’d be no convincing him to lose interest in doing it again.

  Don’t come. Don’t come.

  He pulled out, then pushed back in, paused between strokes, then did it again, driving her out of her mind. She screamed in distressed pleasure, too far gone to care about later. He stopped to check on her, but she ground back against him, and he took that as an answer.

  “Fuck, you do like this, my little liar.” He grabbed her hips and thrust back into her.

  All she could do was submit to him and try to hold out, but when his fingertips dug into her skin and his thrusts became erratic, her next orgasm escaped her control. She came, milking his cock with her ass. He cried out hoarsely, ramming into her several more times before he gave a final helpless swear and pressed as far into her as he could get. She mewled at the feeling of his cock throbbing in her ass.

  “All of you is mine now, princess.” He growled in her ear and her eyes rolled back, her body agreeing wholeheartedly with his words.

  “Yes, Master.”

  “And sometimes I’ll take your ass, even though you . . . don’t like it.” He snorted, like he didn’t believe the last part in the slightest.

  She groaned. “If you insist.”

  “Oh, I do insist. Any questions?” He led her toward the bathroom, steadying her when her knees shook.

  “Uh-huh.” She bit her lip, feeling mischievous.

  He arched a brow. “What, little miss brat?”

  “Just one question, Professor. Do I get an A?”

  He grinned evilly and bit her neck. “A+, I’d say. But I have to do that again, just to make sure.”

  Damn it. Her and her bratty mouth.

  Regretfully, he left her to go start the shower. When it was steaming, he motioned her in. “Come on. Let’s clean you up.”

  “This is awfully personal for a professor.” She eyed him slyly.

  Taking her arm, he helped her in. “Now I’m just your boyfriend.”

  The warm water hit her sore body, making her wince. “Ow.”

  Chuckling, he moved the dial and made it a little cooler then got in the shower with her. “Sorry.”

  “You don’t look sorry.”

  “You deserved it.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. And anyway, the feeling of being used and abused was fucking hot. It’d been a long time since she’d felt this good.

  No, actually, she’d never felt this good. No man had ever managed to satisfy her so thoroughly. Sex had been boring with her vanilla exes and kink had been hollow with random play partners.

  But Ambrose . . . He blew her mind.

  He took his time soaping her up, gently and carefully, like he was taking care of an injured kitten. When his hands ran over the welts on her ass, she gritted her teeth and moaned. He frowned and she wondered if he regretted hitting her so hard. She didn’t.

  His words from a minute ago finally registered.

  Now I’m just your boyfriend.

  “So you’re my boyfriend, are you?” she asked, trying to sound cocky and indifferent, but wondering if it came out vulnerable, like she felt. Rejection was still a risk, and it knotted her stomach.

  He looked up from where he was kneeling while washing her legs. “I think it’s time to label it that way, don’t you?”

  A smile tugged at her lips. “Sure.”

  With a satisfied look, he stood up then pointed the nozzle so it rinsed the soap off her body. Each time it hit her ass, it reminded her how well he’d managed her. How he didn’t take shit, but didn’t try to squash her fun either. That she could expect laughter with him but also the stern disciplinarian she needed.

  She was starting to think that falling for someone wasn’t so bad. Sure, she felt a little out of control, but maybe that’s what love was. Free-falling and hoping someone would be there to catch you.

  * * *

  It was a little late to have Ambrose over, but he was coming anyway. She had to work tomorrow morning, so it was a good thing she wasn’t in the mood for sex. PMS did that to her. But Ambrose had practically been text-begging to see her. He’d sounded a little off, so she’d agreed.

  Nerves made her already sore stomach worse. What was so urgent that he had to come over at ten at night on a Friday? She knew he had a work holiday party that night, and that dates weren’t allowed, much to her disappointment, but now she was worried something had happened.

  Trying to resist pacing a hole in her living room floor, instead she poured herself a glass of wine to settle her anxiety. When a knock sounded at the door, she jumped and almost spilled it all over herself.

  She opened the door, knowing it was Ambrose, and he stumbled in. Far from looking like a blue-collar guy gussied up for an uncomfortable office party, his tailored black designer suit made him look like a high-priced hitman, or a celebrity. His style was too staid for GQ, but, hell, the sight of him was enough to make a girl sit up and beg.

  Too bad he was hammered.

  “Um,” she said, watching him sway a little. “Hi.”

  His eyes narrowed as he looked her over slowly. “You’re hot.”

  She’d purposely worn oversized pajamas so she didn’t give him any ideas. “Uhh. Thanks.”

  Something weird was definitely going on. He leaned in and hugged her, then sniffed her hair loudly. “Mmm. You smell like I remember.”

  Yeah, she could smell him too. Alcohol. “You’re drunk.” She pushed away.

  “A little.”

  “Did you drive yourself here?”

  “Of course not.” As if he owned the place, he plopped down onto her couch and threw his arms over the back of it. Clearly, he planned to stay awhile. “My friend dropped me off after the party.” />
  She watched him a minute, wondering what the hell was going on. He gave her a heated look. Was this a booty call? “Look, Ambrose. I have work tomorrow. I’m not interested in having sex with a drunk-off-his-ass idiot.”

  “No sex. Just sit with me a minute. I’ve missed you.”

  “I just saw you two days ago.” Still, she walked to the couch and sat carefully next to him, hoping to avoid being puked on, if he was that far gone. “How drunk are you?”

  “I’ve been worse.”

  He was barely slurring, but she had no idea what to do with him now.

  Leaning back, he pulled her so she was up against his chest, then he ran his fingers through her hair. She was worried he’d be too rough, but he was so gentle she could barely feel it—as if he knew he wasn’t totally in control, so he was compensating.

  “I missed you,” he whispered.

  “You said that already.”

  “My brother brought his girlfriend, and it made me jealous as fuck.” He sighed. “He’s always bragging about shit.”

  Brother? He never said he worked with his brother.

  “So I had to come see you. My fragile male ego was at stake.” Chuckling, he buried his nose into her hair again.

  Wait a minute. His brother was allowed to bring a date to the party and Ambrose wasn’t? “You said nobody was allowed to bring their significant others.”

  “Hmm?” he hummed sleepily. “Oh. It’s . . . complicated.”

  Ringing started in her ears. Her heart twinged with pain then felt like it sank down to her stomach. Tears pricked her eyes.

  He hadn’t wanted to bring her.

  Her chest hurt. Past rejections went spinning into her mind. All of them hurt, but this was the worst. Was he embarrassed of her? Was she too loud or forward or something? She could behave. Didn’t he trust that?

  “Is . . . is there someone else?”

  That seemed to perk him up. “What?” His body shifted under her. “No. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  If not that, was it her hair or the way she dressed? She’d have covered the pink if that’s what he wanted. All he had to do was ask.