Playing Hard to Master

by Sparrow Beckett

  “Why didn’t you want me to use the clamps? You seemed to like them the first time.”

  “I . . . I don’t know really. My nipples are really sore right after my period, and I was afraid you’d force me.”

  “You were afraid of anal before. Did I force you and hurt you, or did I ease you into it so you liked it?”

  He had a point. “The second one, Master.”

  While he spoke, he stroked her ass and thighs. Was he trying to relax her or turn her on? Or just keep her from getting bored, face shoved into the couch, answering his silly questions?

  “So next time you’re afraid or uncomfortable with something, what are you going to do?”

  God, the lecturing was worse than any pain he could give her. Couldn’t he just spank her and get it over with? “Talk to you, Master.”

  “Good girl.”

  His approval felt good, despite the trepidation the hairbrush was causing. The wood glided across her skin, making her flinch.

  “I want you to count,” he said. “‘One, I will not run from Master.’ Like that, okay?”

  “Yes, Master.” But what if she couldn’t breathe? “How many?”

  He paused, making her wonder if he hadn’t thought it through and if that meant worse for her. “Until I think you’re really sorry.”

  But I am now!

  Whack.

  “Ouch!” She flailed, unprepared for the first hit to be so hard. “Don’t I get a warm-up?”

  “Not for a punishment,” he answered then tightened his grip on her waist. “Besides, wasn’t the hot tub warm enough?”

  Ugh. Dom sarcasm.

  Smack.

  She grunted.

  “Start at one,” he said.

  Oh yeah. She was supposed to be counting. “One, I will not run from Master.”

  The next one hit right on her sit spot. “Ow! Two, I will not run from Master.”

  He hit harder with each one, and her voice went up at least an octave by ten. The pain wasn’t so bad—she’d had worse with the strap and with canes. But for some reason, the counting and the lecturing and the fact that she’d upset him made it a hundred times worse. It felt like real punishment. When other Doms had “punished” her it was in fun or in role-play, not a real, deep down authentic punishment because she’d done something her Dom had disapproved of.

  This felt real. With every hard smack, it sank in deeper. She’d hurt him and their relationship by running.

  “Twelve, I will not run from Master.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. Her voice quavered, and her ass felt like it was on fire.

  Whack.

  A deep sob escaped her and her whole body shook. “I’m sorry,” she blurted in a small voice.

  The brush dropped to the ground. “Good girl.” He smoothed a hand over her sore ass and whispered shushing sounds while she sobbed into the pillow.

  It hurt, but not as much as she’d expected. The sobs were more about regret than pain.

  He let her cry for a few minutes as he rubbed his hand down her thighs, over her ass, and even on her back. Then he lifted her so she was sitting upright on his lap. Unable to face him, she buried her head in his neck. His arms came around her, squeezing her against him.

  “You took that very well,” he crooned in her ear. Stroking her hair, he whispered sweet things to her, and eventually her sobbing slowed to the occasional hiccup.

  “A-are you . . .” She steadied her voice. “Are you still going to use the nipple clamps, Master?”

  “No. You have a legitimate reason for me not to.” He chuckled and pulled her back so he could see her face. “I’m not cruel.”

  She snorted. Her ass begged to differ.

  “I never want to scare you or traumatize you. You’re too important to me for that.”

  He hugged her again and an overwhelming feeling of warmth flooded her.

  “How important?” she mumbled into his neck.

  He sighed deeply before answering. “Very important.”

  “Why?”

  “Why? What kind of question is that?”

  “A valid one.” She cuddled her face more into his neck, enjoying how his scent calmed her, even after he’d lit her ass on fire. But for some reason, punishment felt like love. What a weird, fucked-up relationship they had.

  “Well . . . you’re important because . . .” He hesitated, making her whole body tense with anxiety.

  Did he feel as strongly for her as she did for him? Was her puppy-dog infatuation one-sided?

  “Because . . . I love you.”

  She straightened then grinned at him. “I knew it!”

  His brow creased. “Did you just manipulate me?”

  “I had to know for sure.”

  “Bad girl,” he said, chuckling.

  “You can’t be mad at me.” She bit her lip, a knot forming in her gut.

  “I can’t?”

  “No. Because . . .” With a deep breath, she said it. “I love you too.”

  Ambrose grinned, his eyes shining, and so blue she felt like she could dive into them. He watched her like she was the most amazing thing in the world. It was the most wonderful feeling—like she was the most important person in the world to another person. She’d had men say they loved her before, but with Ambrose she could see the adoration on his face. People said that real Dominants often worshiped their submissives, but she’d never seen it for herself. The link that was being forged between them made the other D/s relationships she’d been in seem like pale imitations of the real thing.

  He traced his finger over her bottom lip, his gaze never leaving her face. How could it be that his soft touches aroused her as much as the spankings and the sex?

  Before she had time to seriously contemplate that, he was brushing his lips against hers, taking her mouth as though it belonged to him. For a long while he did nothing but kiss her, and it was somehow as magical as she always thought a kiss should be.

  “You already knew I loved you?” he whispered against her mouth, sounding amused.

  “Only because you’ve been showing me that you do for weeks. You make me feel like you love me, which is more important than pretty words.”

  Ambrose smiled and stroked her hair. “That’s because it’s true, and sometimes true things are easier to show than say.” He kissed her again, briefly, then set her on her feet. “Now, I need you to hang on to all of those warm, fuzzy feelings, and try your best to remember I love you.” He got to his feet and started to lead her down the hall, back toward the pool area. When they got to the stairs they descended.

  “What are you going to do to me?” This didn’t bode well. His words had almost sounded like a threat.

  “Well, some mouthy little girl wounded my pride. So now we’re going to spend some time proving her wrong.”

  “But . . . I don’t think I like the sound of this.” She thought about trying to lag behind, but he had a firm grip on her wrist and seemed quite determined. “Aren’t you finished punishing me?”

  “Did I give you that impression? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mislead you, slave.” He had turned to look at her, and his expression was sinister.

  Everly would have come in her panties, if she were still wearing any. No one could look as truly evil as Ambrose did when he had a plan.

  She thought about whining, but the bastard would probably like that. Maybe giving him some satisfaction would make him feel more charitable toward her?

  He walked her to one of the support columns in the lounge area and backed her against it. “Stay,” he commanded.

  Oh God, why did it turn her on so much when he issued commands like she was his pet dog? Probably because she could tell by his expression and the way he held himself that he fully expected her to be an obedient little pet. She waited while he rooted around in his bag, pressing her thighs together to try to give her poor, aching clit some relief.

  How did she get herself into this? With a vanilla guy, she just could have said, “Dude, it’s fucking time,”
and the guy would do a back handspring then do pretty much anything she asked if it meant he was getting laid. She had a feeling even if she begged Ambrose for relief right now, it wouldn’t divert him from his plan. Masters were so damned stubborn.

  Ambrose returned with several silky-looking scarves.

  “No, Master, not scarves!” she begged in a mocking tone. “What’s my safeword again? I’m so scared.”

  He grumbled something about bratty slaves needing to be taught when to keep their mouths shut, but she stood on her toes and kissed his jaw, then down the side of his neck. He gave an un-Domly purr, and didn’t object when her hand groped at his hard-on. He bit her hard on the neck, and dry humped her against the column, frustrating the hell out of her. She felt a certain amount of satisfaction over the fact that he seemed to be suffering as much as she was.

  Desire spiked, and she wondered if she could convince him to forget about fancy bondage shit and just bang her already.

  Ambrose spread a staying hand across her upper chest and pulled away from her. “Bad girl. Quit tempting me.”

  “But, Master, what kind of slave would I be if I didn’t tempt you?” she simpered up at him, batting her lashes. “I live only to please you.”

  He chuckled in spite of himself and shook his head in exasperation. He tied one end of a scarf around her wrist, put it through something above her head, then pulled. Her arm was hauled upward, and he tied the free end to her other wrist. She felt like a sacrifice left for the minotaur. When she looked up to see what he’d looped the scarf through, there was a suspicious-looking O-ring conveniently anchored there. It didn’t seem to serve any other practical purpose.

  “You like that? I put that there just for you, for this.” He stepped back and thoroughly eye-fucked her.

  She quivered, frowning, ready to start begging.

  “Shh. Not much longer, sweet girl.”

  He gagged her with the next scarf, tying it behind her head, and used another long one to tie her ribcage against the column, so she was well and truly stuck.

  The last length of fabric he shook out and showed to her. “Do you trust me? Can I blindfold you?”

  She nodded.

  “Can you safeword? Try.”

  Her safeword came out garbled but understandable. Ambrose’s wicked grin was the last thing she saw before he covered her eyes and tied the scarf securely.

  “Look at what we have here.” He chuckled. “A present! Look at all the pretty ribbons.” Here and there, gentle touches came. Fingers, tongue, the tug of teeth, hands sliding over her skin, small pinches on the ass, plucking at her nipples, tickling the piercing between her legs. It was almost as though he’d hired a team of hands to help out. She widened her stance, silently begging for something more. “Mmm. What a pretty little gift.” His hand went around her throat. “Is this toy mine to play with?”

  Everly whined, feeling her sense of self slipping. She nodded her agreement. At that point he could have asked her anything, and she would have done it for him. He played with her gently, teasing, making her quiver and shake. Begging noises came, and when they won her no mercy, she fell silent, other than her breathing, which was loud in her ears. His fingers drifted to the cleft of her ass and followed it downward to her bottom hole.

  She whimpered and went up on her toes, but he just followed her movements and did what he pleased, sending jolts of electricity zipping through her. He dribbled something down her ass, and he slicked it back and forth then played there. Something was pushed patiently up inside her, and when it was in, he patted the end of it. It felt like a plug. He fiddled with it, and the damn thing started to buzz deep inside her.

  “Oh!”

  He chuckled in her ear, and she squirmed, trying to find him with her needy body. Stubbled cheeks grazed her thighs, and a tongue flicked over her slit. Fingers opened her wider there, and his tongue sought out her painfully stiff clit, brushing over it with short, teasing touches, toggling her clit ring until her breaths were ragged gasps. When she’d gotten the damn thing, she’d never realized how much evil a man could do with it.

  Just a little more . . . If he would just latch onto her clit and suck for two seconds . . .

  Then he was gone, and she shrieked in frustration.

  “What’s the matter?” His rough voice growled in her ear. “My toy sounds like she’s suffering. But I’m not hurting you, am I, slave?”

  “No, Master.” Her words were garbled but understandable.

  “So what, then? Do you need to come?”

  Fuck, she’d never had to come so badly in her life. “Yesss,” she hissed around the gag. “Pleeeeease, Master!”

  “That’s too bad,” he sighed with mock regret. “At one point I thought I could give you multiple orgasms, but you convinced me I was wrong. Now I may not even be able to give you one.”

  Fuck. Okay, well, maybe she deserved that for having said it in a bratty moment, but she’d learned her lesson. Really!

  The soft touching started again, and she began to scream and cry. She shrieked in frustration, and he laughed out loud.

  “Do you think your little tantrums are going to change my mind? You’re my toy, so that means we’ll play my games. Maybe I won’t let you come at all. Do you think you deserve to come, or have you been a bad, bad girl?”

  Desperation seized her. He wouldn’t let her come at all? He couldn’t be serious. But what if he was one of those Dominants who got off on days upon days’ worth of orgasm denial? They’d never really discussed it, and she hadn’t marked it on her list of limits, because she’d never thought of it as a serious possibility.

  “Please, please, please . . .” The begging turned into a high-pitched cry, and more sobs.

  “My poor little princess. What do you need, sweet girl? Do you need me to leave you alone so you can think about this?”

  “Nooooo! No, no. Need to come.” She could feel her hot tears prickling, soaking her blindfold, dripping down her cheeks the way wetness was dripping down her thighs. The thing in her ass was gently buzzing away, as though it had all the time in the world. She was so fucking horny her ovaries were blue. Fuck blue balls. Blue ovaries were ten times worse.

  What if this wasn’t even turning him on? What if he was just watching the effects of what he was doing and laughing at her responses?

  Master was cruel, and this wasn’t fair. He could fix everything and he chose not to.

  As he played, her mind started to haze over. That line of thinking snuffed itself out.

  Was it her place to question what Master wanted to do to her? Maybe she was a bad girl. Did she deserve to come? She had said terrible things to him. It had been a joke, but maybe goading him so far had consequences she needed to remember.

  Master had said he loved her, and he never lied to her. Not like the other men she’d been with. This one told the truth.

  Always.

  Clinging to that, she let go of everything she thought he should do, and instead accepted what he chose to do. Her body was his. If she believed that—truly believed it—she needed to learn to leave the choices to him.

  She relaxed, letting him replace her will with his own.

  “That’s right,” he whispered. “Let go and let me take care of you.” She heard some clicks. Was he taking pictures?

  Calm had spread over her mind, and she let him make that decision. Another buzzing noise started. He nipped her bottom lip and she opened her mouth, feeling his fingers probing it, feeling her teeth and tongue. She tried to suck his fingers, but the gag was in the way.

  The buzzing thing touched one of her nipples, and she jerked away then pressed toward it. A vibrator—strong enough to sand off her nipple if he kept it up. Instead, he used the thing to draw a path down her body, like a swarm of kinky bees attacking her.

  He got to her pussy, but lightened the pressure on the thing, holding it just far enough away to make her crazy.

  “Show me,” he rumbled.

  Show him what?

/>   “Get yourself off with it, slave. I’m not helping, except to stand here and hold it.”

  Nooooo. This was too embarrassing. But she needed to come so bad! He might decide not to let her come at all.

  “Show me how you come, sweetheart. Is your greedy pussy going to drip all over my hand?”

  Oh fuck. Two more fucking words. She wouldn’t even need the vibrator.

  She stood very still, but that wasn’t what he wanted.

  His hand went to her ass, toying with the plug vibrating there. Her body tried to get away from the weird sensation, and her hips shot forward. Clit met vibe, and she screeched, overwhelmed, tried to back away, only to have him fuck her ass with the plug. She tried to save her ass from him again, and pressed hard against the vibe a second time. She pinballed back and forth between the two, helpless to stop.

  “No, no, no.” The orgasm had built up too far, and now she was afraid. He tugged the gag down and the blindfold up, then crushed the vibrator against her clit.

  She shrieked, her whole body seizing up and holding there, as though the orgasm was too big and didn’t know how to get out. Her mouth hung open, and all there was for her was bright lights and buzzing.

  “Ohh, that’s a good girl,” Ambrose murmured. “That big one is trying to come out, isn’t it? Come on, baby, come for me.”

  Her body listened to his voice, and the orgasm rolled out like it had a mind of its own, holding her hostage while her body throbbed and trembled and spasmed. Pleasure of a painful intensity overloaded her, and her legs gave out. He pressed her back against the pillar, pinning the vibe between his thigh and her pussy, while he untied one of her wrists, then her ribcage. She came again, the second orgasm wringing out more than she’d thought she had left. Dazed, she didn’t protest when he laid her on a chaise and pushed her thighs back, exposing all of her tender parts to his gaze.

  He lightened his touch with the vibrator, and crouched over her, sucking and biting her nipples. A third orgasm was his reward.

  “Oh God!” She’d lost all jurisdiction over her body. She didn’t want to come anymore, but he didn’t seem to care.

  “I’m not a God. Just your Master. The master of your body, for now, at least. I wonder if I’m the master of your mind yet?”