by Jan Bowles
“You know I do,” she whimpered as he finally forced his cock fully home. Facedown on the stairs, she rocked from side to side, trying to accommodate his massive prick, which felt wedged inside her.
He thrust harder and deeper before forcing a hand between her breasts and the stairs, his masculine weight bearing down on her.
“You’re heavy, you’re hurting me.”
He thrust inside her again as he mercilessly squeezed her nipples, his breathing fast and ragged. “Is that hurting you good, or hurting you bad?”
She threw back her head. “Hurting me good.”
“Believe me.” He thrust again, with such force that her stomach and hips pressed painfully, yet erotically against the uncaring mahogany wood. The sheer force of his exertions squeezed the breath from her lungs. “Soon, I shall take pleasure in stripping away each and every layer of your complex personality, until the raw natural beauty of the real Rebecca is revealed.” She felt his warm breath feather over her neck as he paused between each word, his lungs searching for air.
He thrust again, this time harder, his cock filling her so exquisitely she didn’t know where she finished and he began. “I demand to have the real Rebecca before me.”
The real Rebecca?
Tyler was right. Her secretive alter ego, the one he’d witnessed at Club Submission, the real Rebecca, stayed hidden from view until she could trust those around her.
Up until now, Club Submission had been the only place she could truly be herself. Introduced to the scene by a close friend, she’d blossomed under Mitch’s tutelage, until he’d found out the truth, and then her Master had dumped her.
I’m that sensual creature that Tyler Stone is fucking right now with such wonderful vigor. He makes me feel vital and alive. I’m aware of every single inch of my body, and I feel like I’m glowing all over.
“You have her, Tyler. This is who I really am.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, yes. Fuck me harder. It’s what I deserve. It’s what the real Rebecca was made for.”
Her forthright words seemed to spur him on, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, drawing her body closer to his. He nipped at her shoulder again, and growled in her ear, “Be careful what you wish for, Becca, because I am a man who will take you at your word.”
Rebecca shamelessly urged him on. “Go right ahead, I want you to.”
With incredible passion, he rode her hard and fast from behind. Christ, this guy has some energy. Grabbing hold of the step above her head, he then leveraged his body, doing pull-ups inside her. Like a man possessed, he pistoned into her with such animal strength, she couldn’t stop herself from whimpering and calling out his name.
“Tyler, oh God, Tyler. More.”
He responded, as she knew he would, fucking her harder still. Her whole body felt pummeled as his powerful physique banged her repeatedly against the solid hardwood. It hurt. Christ it hurt, but in a good way, and the pain mixed perfectly with the sheer sensual pleasure given by Tyler’s warm body caressing her back.
“Tyler.” Her words came out in a whisper now as she slipped into the twilight zone that he’d created with his magic.
Lying facedown and defenseless on the stairs, impaled by his huge cock, Rebecca submitted to his will. He slid a hand beneath her, and forced it down her quivering belly, until his finger connected with her soaking, engorged clit. Oh, dear God. It felt so swollen as he skimmed over the highly aroused bead, and she whimpered again. “Oh, that’s…oh that’s just…” Her head shook from side to side, and she gripped the stair tread even more tightly, totally unable to move. “Oh, that’s just so, so good.”
He rumbled in her ear, “Do it for me, Becca. I demand you do it for me.” Those words, that voice, how could she refuse?
She drew in a huge gulp of air as he continued to pleasure her clit, and fuck her closer and closer to the ultimate release. His cock felt huge as the unstoppable orgasmic pressure within her built until she could no longer hold it at bay. Her body felt burning hot and was covered with perspiration, and her face rubbed painfully against the mahogany stairs as she headed willingly and wantonly toward sexual ecstasy. “Ty, I’m there, I…I…I.” The pleasure when her orgasm finally broke was indescribable.
“Tyler.” She screamed out his name, her pussy milking his cock as wave upon wave of sexual pleasure enveloped her very being. His huge prick was relentless and unstoppable, his energy undiminished. She squirmed beneath him, totally under his control, enjoying submitting her body to him as he powered into her once more. She felt him suddenly tense, and he gripped her hips so tightly, digging his fingers so deeply into her flesh, it hurt, but wonderfully so.
From close behind her, she heard his guttural bellow of appreciation as he finally let go and jerked his seed inside her, with two deep, magnificent thrusts of his cock.
Chapter Nine
Tyler leaned down and scooped Rebecca into his arms. In her present relaxed state, she felt unable to resist as he lifted her from the stairs and headed for the bedroom. When she stared up into his golden eyes, she saw concern, but there was something else, too. Something she couldn’t quite discern. Whatever emotions warred in his mind, they would have to remain secret for now, because he smiled down at her as he crossed the galleried landing and shouldered open the bedroom door.
“Did I hurt you?”
“A little, but in a nice way. My bones ache though. You’re a big guy.”
He kissed her lips. “Time for some pampering, I think.” Tyler motioned toward the light switch set just inside the room. “Flick that on, will you?”
She did as he asked, and the bedroom suddenly filled with a subdued light, the type that cast a warm, inviting glow over the strictly masculine space. Just as downstairs, this room had a stark modern appearance, with very little in the way of embellishment. A simply designed alarm clock stood next to the largest bed she’d ever seen. The only nod to luxury was a beautiful, deep pile carpet presented in a pleasant oatmeal color, letting her know that Tyler Stone did, after all, enjoy some creature comforts.
He gently laid her on the bed. “This is more comfortable than the stairs.” Then he pulled open a drawer in the bedside cabinet. He patted her naked thigh to gain her attention. “Aloe vera or chamomile?”
“Excuse me?”
He held up the small bottle. “Most ladies prefer chamomile. It makes an excellent balm to soothe sore limbs.” Tyler sat on the bed next to her, and poured a little oil into a cupped hand. “Lie back, honey. I’ve been told I have the magic touch. I’ll soon soothe away any aches and pains.”
Rebecca stretched out on her back and sighed blissfully as he massaged the chamomile lotion over her stomach, hips, and thighs, never once taking his eyes from hers. “It’s cold.”
He laughed. “I know, honey. The stair treads have left some nasty indentations on your beautiful creamy thighs. I’ll soon get rid of them.”
“Thank you, kind sir. Ah, that’s sheer bliss.” She closed her eyes. “You’re making me so relaxed, I could easily go to sleep.” She opened one eye and teased, “You wouldn’t mind, would you?”
She could see he was still sexually aroused. His eyes burned like amber pools of molten lava, while his hair fell disheveled about his masculine face, giving him that devil-may-care look she liked so much. Tyler was incredibly sexy, and that thought alone made her wonder just how many women had lain exactly where she was now. She decided to ask—albeit in a roundabout sort of way.
Supine on the bed, she dreamily ventured, “Your home is very masculine. There doesn’t appear to be much feminine influence.”
Even with her eyes closed, she knew Tyler smiled as he sensuously applied the soothing balm. “This should stop any bruising. As for feminine influence, why don’t you just ask me what’s really on your mind?” She opened her eyes again and watched him sit back and fold his arms across his chest, waiting expectantly.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” she
said with a mock indignity she knew wouldn’t fool him.
He laughed. “Oh, come on. You just want to know about the women in my life.”
“No I don’t.”
He raised a brow. “You don’t?”
“Okay, so I’m curious. That’s hardly a crime, is it?”
“No.”
“Well, go on then.”
“Patience.” He waited a good ten seconds before continuing, letting her know who was in charge. “Her name was Lucy. We were together four years until we went our separate ways some three months ago. It was an amicable split.”
“Amicable split? Huh, there’s no such thing. That’s a cop-out if ever I heard one.”
“Ah, I see, still fishing for more information. Well, okay then, I guess you could say I finished the relationship because I lost interest in her.”
“Go on.”
“With hindsight we weren’t really suited to each other. She wasn’t really into the D/s scene like I was.”
“She was your sub?”
“Yes, but she was too selfish and immature.”
“Then I can see why you’ve taken an interest in me. After all, I’m a woman in my prime.”
He dripped oil into a cupped palm then massaged her breasts, painfully drawing out her nipples until they peaked. “In your prime, huh. So you are, and all the better for it.” His eyes sparkled mischievously as he looked at her, and she figured he had plenty of questions of his own.
Now thirty-three, Rebecca had spent most of her adult life pursuing a career. Unable to bear children because of an illness, she’d focused solely on her sphere of expertise, to the point of obsession. She believed herself to be one of the top five software designers in the US. Tyler believed this, too, which was why he’d agreed upon an extremely attractive employment package in order to bring her talents to Cerberus Technology.
Tyler’s strong, athletic body stretched out beside her on the bed. They were both still naked, and his remarkable powers of recovery meant he sported another impressive erection. He drew her into his arms, and she snuggled happily against his chest as he drifted his fingers through her hair. “Feeling relaxed?”
“Mmm.” Rebecca smoothed a hand over his bare chest, enjoying the thrill of sculpted physical perfection and not middle-age spread beneath her fingertips. For a guy of thirty-nine, Tyler kept himself in extraordinary shape.
“I like a man with stubble.” She idly ran her fingers across his jaw. “Although we’ve fucked, I guess I know very little about you, Tyler. What were you doing at Club Submission that night, and where did you get the dragon tattoo on your back?”
He laughed and slanted her a look. “So many questions. If I answer yours, then you are gonna have to answer mine.”
“Deal.”
He kissed her cheek and pulled her closer still. As he spoke, she felt the vibrations of his strong, deep voice, filtering from his body into hers.
“As you’ve probably guessed, I’m a natural Dom. I’ve been a member of a fet club in Houston for over ten years. While I was visiting Boston to interview you for the job, I stumbled upon Club Submission. It was advertised on a book of matches that a previous guest had left in my hotel room. So I suppose you could say it was just by pure chance that I happened to be there the same night you were. Coincidence or what?”
“Huh, coincidence? Sounds more like a lazy maid to me, but without her lack of care you’d never have discovered my secret life.”
He tenderly kissed the top of her head. “Probably not. But I like to think that fate played a hand in bringing two like-minded people together.”
She sighed. “Maybe, who knows. Tell me some more about yourself, Ty.”
“Okay, honey.” He pulled her closer. “Comfortable?”
“You bet.”
“Then I’ll begin. After leaving Harvard, I took a year off to explore Southeast Asia with a good friend of mine. Brad Miller and I wanted to discover and engage with the real world. Not the world you see depicted in some glossy travel brochure but the real world with real people. We traveled through Indonesia, taking in Borneo and Celebes before working our passage to Burma on a rusty fishing frigate, crewed by what seemed to be a bunch of cutthroat pirates. On one memorable expedition we fought our way through the impenetrable Burmese jungle before crossing the border into Thailand. That’s where I had the dragon tattoo done. Not in some fancy regulated tattoo parlor, you understand, but done by some respected village elder deep in the mountains.” He laughed, clearly recalling the memory. “To say it was painful would be an understatement, and it sure wouldn’t pass the health and safety regs we have today.”
“Wasn’t that dangerous?”
“Sure was, but I was young and crazy then. I’ve got no regrets.”
“I like the tattoo anyway. It’s sexy.”
“The following month, we found ourselves in Bangkok, and after a night of heavy drinking, Brad and I somehow ended up in a fetish club. What I saw there really opened my eyes, and it introduced me to the scene. From that day to this, I’ve never looked back.”
“Do your other friends Rob and Samantha know?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m proud of what I do, but just like you, I like to keep my sexual preferences private.”
“A wise decision.”
“People get the wrong impression. They think you’re some kind of out-of-control pervert when in fact, as a Dom, you’re a pervert who’s very much in control.”
Rebecca laughed at his sense of humor.
He turned on his side and looked at her, a satisfied smile on his face as his fingers casually swept across her cheek. “Enough of your questions, now it’s my turn. Why were you at Club Submission the night of the masquerade party? Were you looking for a new Master?”
“Master?” His line of questioning surprised Rebecca. “What makes you think I’m in need of a Master? What makes you think I’ve ever had one?”
“Todd, the barman at the club. The guy behind the bar is always an invaluable source of information. He told me you were a sub who’d finished with her Master. So I naturally assumed—”
“Huh, Todd is a great guy and makes a mean cocktail, but perhaps he should keep his opinions to himself. However, on this occasion he was right. I did have a Master. His name was Mitch Smith. He was the only one I’ve ever had. About five years ago, Carol, a good friend of mine, and a natural sub with a very handsome Dom of her own, suggested I experience the scene at Club Submission. She’d been encouraging me to go for years, and I finally relented. One day I thought, what the hell, why not? I was twenty-eight years old and had only ever enjoyed vanilla relationships up to that point. Carol would often laugh and say, ‘There’s a reluctant subbie inside you, Becky, just waiting to get out and smell the coffee. Go for it, girl.’”
“Hmm, I’m intrigued. Go on.”
“I met Mitch the very first night I visited the club with Carol, and I was immediately flattered by his charm and the amount of attention he paid me. Although I really liked him, it took me a long time to trust him enough to become his sub.” She smiled at Tyler. “Eventually, he persuaded me that he wasn’t some out-of-control pervert, just a pervert who liked to be very much in control.”
Tyler laughed at her use of his words then smoothed a hand down her cheek, before drifting a thumb across her parted lips. He dipped his head and kissed her with such passion, she knew he wanted to fuck her again. As their kiss deepened, his fingers caressed her breasts, massaging her nipples into hardened peaks.
He whispered in her ear, “How long did the relationship last?” Tyler pushed her breasts together then trailed his tongue between her aroused nipples. A delicate thread of his saliva briefly flowed across them, before magically disappearing.
“Almost five years.”
“That long, huh?” His tongue then circled her areola, sending a sexual signal from her nipples directly to her clit. She saw her aroused tits glistening in the soft light as her chest rose and fell in rhythm with her
breathing.
“Yes. We had some good times together.”
“So why the split?”
Her body tightened at his question. The one question she didn’t want to answer. She tried to make light of it, but she knew she didn’t do a convincing job. “Oh, you know. It was just one of those things. We saw life differently.”
“Go on,” he softly urged, drifting a finger inside her still-aroused pussy.
“There’s nothing more to tell.” Her voice cracked slightly and her body trembled as his moistened finger circled her clit. It felt so good, and her back arched involuntarily.
Tyler looked straight into her eyes, and she knew he understood her far better than she’d imagined. “I sense there’s more, but you don’t want to tell me right now. That’s fine, honey, you’ll tell me when you’re good and ready.”
Rebecca didn’t want to tell him that Mitch had unceremoniously dumped her because she couldn’t have kids. Her childhood leukemia had seen to that, but she’d always naively hoped that some sort of miracle would happen and she’d one day be able to conceive. How ridiculous was that? Her eggs had been irreparably damaged by the intensive chemotherapy when she was just ten years old. She’d been totally honest with him. Early on in their relationship, she’d told Mitch the truth. He’d been just fine about it, supportive even, but as time went on, she became increasingly aware he wanted children of his own, and his demeanor slowly became more dissatisfied and moody, until he eventually dropped the bombshell five years into their relationship. Bastard.
Truth be known, the knowledge that she couldn’t become pregnant sometimes made her feel less than a complete woman. Like some alien being that was superfluous to society. Seeing Rob and Samantha enjoying life with their beautiful children at the barbecue had hurt. Boy, had it hurt. They seemed to have it all. The perfect all-American family, in the perfect all-American house, with the perfect all-American kids. Their genuine happiness had twisted like a knife into her gut.