In Control

by Michelle Robbins

  He kissed her then. She arched into his touch, her arms twining around his neck to pull him close. He tightened his grip on her, one hand cupping the nape of her neck to hold her, control her.

  "Master," she whispered between kisses, the word filled with trust, not fear.

  It was the sound of her acceptance of who he was and what he would be to her.

  Paradise.

  He pulled free of her mouth and twining arms to explore her hair. Short, puffy yet soft, just like the spitting kitten she tried so often to be.

  "What did you do to yourself?"

  "I cut it off last night with the kitchen scissors."

  He frowned, at a loss. "Why?"

  "Because you didn't like the black."

  He shook his head, amused by her reply. Entertaining, but often ridiculous...that was his Annabel. Zach gave one soft, springy tuft a gentle tug, then rolled her beneath him.

  "You nut," he said, on a laugh.

  The feel of her beneath him, willingly surrendered to his control, burned through him. He dropped his mouth to her breast and lapped, licked, and kissed the desire-tightened nipple. She keened and cradled his head; her body curved up from the bed and pressed tightly against him.

  He reached for her pussy, the silken soft skin of her labia calling to him with a siren-like appeal. Honey coated his fingers as he stroked and caressed. He eased two fingers inside and pumped gently. She filled around him, as mouthwatering as a juicy peach on a hot summer day.

  Her nails dug into his shoulders. "Master... Take me, please."

  Chapter 17

  It took Zach little time to rotate away from Annabel's body and snatch up a condom from the bedside drawer. Double quick, he rolled it on and returned to her. She cried out, twisting against him, as hungry to be possessed as he was to possess her.

  He used one hand and fitted himself to her. Her inner muscles clenched around his cock's tip. Three, short, firm strokes brought him deep inside her. She wailed as his cock hilted with a slap of his balls. Lightning sizzled through his lower back and traced a path down his shaft.

  Her pussy muscles rippled around him. He bit down on his bottom lip and set a brisk pace, the gut-deep hunger spinning through his soul demanding no less. The force of his penetration pushed her upward onto the bed with each thrust. He shifted his position, planted a hard hand on the bed to hold her still and resumed his task.

  Her shoulder knocked against his wrist with each demanding thrust.

  He fucked her harder, hungrier, and told himself he'd reached her womb when she screamed and her body convulsed around him within the cage of his arms, her nails pressing deep into the muscle and skin of his back.

  Zach rode the storm of her orgasm, the heat of her pleasure filling the god-dammed-so-fucking-good channel of her pussy. He felt the abundance of personal lube ease from her body and drench his balls. They tightened with a force that took his breath away. His cock pulsed so hard it curled his toes.

  It took everything he had to force away his impending climax and ride the waves of her decreasing pleasure, the fist-strong flutters of her muscles tearing at his control. The rapture of her orgasm played out across her face as well.

  He absorbed very flutter and blush and gasp, storing the memory of her first tumble into ecstasy from his cock's penetration into a special place in his heart. He locked that moment of time with a titanium bolt, sealing it inside him forever.

  She sighed and stretched her legs, opening her eyes and meeting his gaze with a blush. Her eyes still carried the indescribable haze of climax as they widened and sharpened from the awareness filling her.

  Bad, bad girl, he thought, but so fucking hot.

  "Oh! I'm sorry...so sorry," she gasped.

  A chuckle escaped him. He leaned forward and nipped her chin. "That's your one Get Out of Jail Free card. Going forward, you come for me. Only when I tell you."

  He eased back into the rhythm. Soon enough, he felt her begin to ripen around him. She tightened around his fuckmeat. Lights flickered behind his vision like firecrackers in the dark.

  A soft smile curved her mouth. Her eyes drifted shut. Her hands caressed his shoulders, journeyed down his back, and cupped his ass with a delicious, firm grip. He settled himself on his elbows and knees and proceeded to shaft into her with short, fast and firm strokes. The slap of his body against hers played a counterpoint to their mutual gasps and murmurs of pleasure, the sound of her fuck-moistened pussy easing his thrusts came as a husky, erotic melody to the ages-old symphony they played together.

  "Oh, God, Master!"

  He played with the penetrations, some short, some long, some hard and intense, some easy and replete with pleasure. His lips played across her cheek and earlobe. He nipped playfully along her neck. She danced around his cock, her hands restless and hot against his skin, pulling at him urgently, her mouth, tongue, and teeth fanning his hunger, those sensations, higher, hotter, more gloriously intense.

  Together, they sailed toward the glorious tides of timeless bliss--until his leg gave a hard warning by laying a hot brand of white fire across his thigh. Zach bit his cheek as the pain from his leg washed over him.

  Shit! Can't I even enjoy a good fuck? But it was okay. He still had one task to complete.

  He broke the rhythm and pulled out of her delicious, gripping channel. She howled a protest. He sat up, laughing. She threw a pillow at his head. He caught it and set it aside with a smirk.

  "Move up to the headboard," he instructed.

  She obeyed, but with a definite pout. Sparks flew from her eyes as she leveled a glare at him. His smirk widened. She'd wanted that orgasm. Hell, he'd wanted it, too, but first things first.

  Zach leaned over and plucked up the length of rubber from the floor. He used it to tie her collar to the headboard. She squeaked a protest, breathed a couple of barely audible curses, but beyond that she had no protest, which was exactly the point.

  His dick. His choice. His enjoyment...and a very enjoyable chore needed his attention.

  Finished, he sat back on his knees. The injured one roared a protest, pulling a grunt from his chest. He adjusted his position. His gimpy leg lay against the mattress, his foot on the carpeted floor; the absence of stress on the remaining muscles came as an immediate relief.

  The slave tugged against the collar and worried her fingers against the knot. It held firm. The pout on her lips deepened. She wasn't a fan of being hitched.

  That only made his dick harder.

  He delved into the nightstand drawer searching for a tube of lube he'd come across earlier. Seth, that kinkster, had left the condo amply filled with bedroom supplies in convenient places. I'll thank him later, he vowed. Maybe slip him a fifty to pay for supplies used when I'm paid.

  He jerked her closer to him. The rubber snapped as it went taut between the headboard and the collar. Her ass cheeks brushed his undamaged knee. He lifted her knees and set her feet on the bed, each one to the outside of his hips. The pink flush of her pussy lips snared his gaze. He swallowed a mouthful of drool.

  "Master, please," she whimpered.

  "You know the rules, girl."

  He twisted open the lube and squirted a large line of the silvery gel down her cleft. She twisted and moaned. Her leg muscles contracted. Her toes curled into the sheets. She set her fingers between her pussy lips and began to stroke. Her eyes fluttered shut. A blush stained her face and chest.

  "Don't do it," he warned.

  He watched and waited, observing her struggle with her body's demands and his expectations. With a hard shudder, she moved her hands away from herself prior to a climax. Restless and frustrated, she twisted knots into the sheets.

  "Please, Master..."

  Give this slave an inch and she tried to take over the entire house.

  "Business first, girl."

  "You could ignore ritual, Master, just this once."

  He was the man to tame this wildcat. Hell-fucking-yeah.

  "Ain't gonna happen."
r />   He tugged on a glove and slipped two heavily lubed fingers past her sphincter and worked to spread the lubricant inside her body. He had no concerns with her ability to take the initial penetration. She'd proved more than experienced with this bed trick. And she'd proved enthusiastic.

  In fact, the eager butt-slut was already humping his fingers.

  Zach withdrew his fingers with a sound of slick lube and a clenching body. He pulled off the glove. It snapped free, like the sound of a hand slap against a butt cheek, then went flying as he tossed it across the bedroom.

  He leaned forward and caught her chin in one hand. Propped up by the other hand placed on the bed, he watched her eyes, at first hazy with desire and need, clear as full awareness arrived. No excuses. No games.

  He fitted his cocktip to the portal of her ass. The muscles relaxed, easing his passage, but he stopped. The urge to range forward, to slide into the taboo area, clawed through him like a tornado of ragged-toothed saws. He cupped her buttocks and spread them wide.

  Not yet...not yet... He bit the inside of his cheek. He focused on the small flare of pain and used it as an anchor for his sanity. Tension thrummed through his body. She'd probably wear fingertip bruises later.

  "Now comes the question." He was conscious of the hoarse rasp of his voice. "The final moment you can step away from this dynamic in accordance with our community structure. You can exit using buyer's remorse now, if you want to. And so, I ask you: do you accept me?"

  The ritual question was more than words, at least to those in their lifestyle. It presented, for her acceptance or rejection, all the hungers and needs and wants and the burning intensity that was Zach Roberson. Would she accept those needs and demands as the lighthouse of her life?

  Would the slave accept him inside her body, her mind, and her soul?

  "Yes, Master."

  She offered up a sweet smile of obedience and submission. Her acceptance slammed into him with the same unexpected ferocity as the mountain of supply boxes had done back in the war. His heart wrenched from a startling realization. Her submission had taken something from him that he'd never realized he could lose: his ability to be alone.

  It didn't bother him to give up that part of himself.

  He would take her, just as thoroughly she'd taken him.

  "Mine," he said and pushed into her body.

  Around him, her muscles tensed, clamping down on his cock and bringing a flare of pleasure along the length of his spine. She moaned and clutched at her thighs, her knees, the bed linens. He rocked his hips, making small, gentle forays against the tight muscles. She loosened and he slid forward, inch by inch--her gasps and moans; his hungry growl--until his cock was fully sheathed inside her body.

  "Ah, God! Master..."

  "Good girl."

  He set a gentle but intense pace.

  * * * *

  Zach pushed into her, slipped back a bit, and pushed forward again. Each slide of his lube-slicked and condom-covered cock into her sensitive passage threw her farther and farther away from herself. Impaled on his relentless penetration, she could only writhe, moan...and feel. He plundered her awareness, tore her from her personal foundations and cast her adrift in a maelstrom of intensity, helplessness, and the knowledge that she, Annabel, no longer belonged to herself.

  The scent of sex filled the air and spun her senses. Their primal, hungry murmurs of need and desire played against the tempo of the headboard thumping against the wall.

  He rearranged his thumbs, moving them from her buttocks to her pussy and used them to spread her open. Cool air wafted across her hypersensitive clitoris. She forced her eyes open. The brightening sunlight glinted across the mountains and valleys of his chest and rippling abdomen. His gaze never left the action between their legs. He watched:

  The cock shuttling in and out of her body.

  Her body straining to accept and accommodate him.

  The folds of her pink and wet cunt.

  Her hairless labia flutter with the unconscious plea for a vaginal penetration.

  He watched.

  "Play with yourself. Come for me."

  She did...and did. His roar followed her over the edge.

  Together they fell into the golden dawn.

  Epilogue

  One month later

  Zach led Annabel up the three stairs leading to Mike's house. The community had decided to have a last brush with the sun by enjoying a poolside barbeque. The eight months of rain and gray would arrive with the turning of the leaves. Soon. Autumn lay on the horizon.

  Of course, Zach had been invited. His status as Jeremy's brother and Seth's lessee ensured his name on the guest list. Zach's acceptance had requested two settings and asked what they should bring.

  Mike's refusal had been firm. Zach need only bring himself and his guest.

  Beneath the light jacket she wore to protect her Portland pale skin from the infrequent sun and curious neighbors' eyes, the slave silks Zach had purchased fluttered in the brisk wind. Cotton ball-shaped clouds sprinkled the cerulean sky. Purple and scarlet streaks filled the western horizon from the lowering sun.

  Zach rapped on the front door and was welcomed inside. A chorus of greetings rose from the room's occupants, which he returned with pleasantries and his movie star smile. Her welcome wouldn't be so pleasant, she reminded herself, and pressed close to his straight and strong back.

  He turned his back to the room and shut the door behind him. With a hard tug, he stripped the jacket, her camouflage, from her body. She whimpered, feeling exposed and unsure of herself.

  "Relax," he whispered. "You're with me. C'mon."

  Obedient, she followed in his footsteps as he moved deeper into the house. Curious folks peered at the shadow behind Zach, trying to identify who he'd he brought. Her goal was to be equal parts composed and invisible, especially since Kaydee and Ceci had already arrived. Unfortunately, she failed with the invisibility part, if she was any judge of the venom in their expressions. The shortened mop of copper hair hadn't done much to conceal her face.

  Courage, chick.

  Annabel tossed her head. As hoped, the living room lamplight flashed over the steel collar around her neck. Those two still wore the leather indicating they hadn't been chosen by a master.

  Color flooded Ceci's face at the sight of Annabel behind Zach. Despite all her groveling to and begging a certain member of their community, she'd not been accepted. And Kaydee had been kicked out of her former master's house. "Topping from the bottom" had been the whispered reason, but the foul, lying bitch preferred the statement, "Released to do my own thing."

  Ugly to the soul, the both of them, living their ignominious lives of artifice. That could have been my fate if Zach hadn't come to town.

  She caught sight of Jeremy. He'd been coming through the door and had stopped short at spotting her. Both her presence and her garb must have come as an unwelcome surprise. She knew too much.

  She pressed close to Zach and tucked her hand into his waistband, needing contact with his aura. She felt cold. The ceiling fans stirred the air. She shivered.

  "You're fine," Zach said. "You're mine. Don't forget that."

  And with those words, yes, she was fine. He was her hero. He would defend his property. Protect it. In his steel, she was not afraid.

  Well, not too much...

  Zach stopped beside the food-laden table. He nodded at Mike, who stood behind a platter of grilled meats. He'd watched their approach and nodded a return greeting. Liz, in charge of ladling punch from a large crystal bowl on the sideboard, froze in the act of filling a plastic cup with the pink liquid. Her eyes widened. An ice cube fell back into the punch and splashed her silks, although she didn't seem to notice.

  A stunned silence filled the room. Music throbbed merrily, but it did nothing to lessen the suddenly brittle atmosphere. The scent of food cramped her stomach. Seth moved into sight from the hallway, Abby behind him. Annabel tightened her hand around Zach's waistband.

 
"Welcome, Zach," said Mike.

  Zach stood tall, his shoulders square and his spine straight. Pride filled the air around him. The open patio doors framed him, giving everyone a view of the superhero he was. "I pledge myself to this community," he stated. "Simply call me, and I'll help as best I can, however I'm needed."

  The ring of authenticity in his voice filled his vow with the sound of absolute commitment.

  "Your deployment is finished?"

  The muscles along Zach's back visibly tensed. He nodded. "Medical discharge."

  Sympathy flicked across Mike's expression before he quickly smoothed it away. "Who is that at your heels?"

  "I come with a slave. This is my Annabel."

  The weight of multiple pairs of eyes pressed against her. She removed her hand from Zach's waistband and knelt. The carpet beneath her knees blurred, Zach's proud public claim of ownership having brought tears to her eyes.

  Into the startled silence, Seth spoke. "Good girl."

  She raised her eyes from the floor and sought Zach's. His words were her comfort. His approval was her joy. He, her need.

  Zach smiled down at her. "Very good girl."

  Mike's voice boomed through the room. "Welcome, Zach. And welcome his slave, Annabel."

  Annabel smiled at the words. With Zach, anywhere was home.

  Michelle Robbins

  Michelle Robbins began reading romance novels in middle school. Her passion for that genre has continued to this day. Imagine her surprise when Romance blended with Erotica. Stories poured out of her!

  Michelle is a nerd by day and by night. Blessed to live among the glory and grandeur of the USA's Pacific Northwest, she shares her home with three cats, four fish, her dreams and many, many daily critter visitors.

  Come play among her imaginings. She promises that it won't hurt.

  For more information on Michelle, visit: