by L. DuBois
“Lovely,” he repeated before switching breasts.
“Master, please!”
He lifted his lips from her, but kept his mouth close so that as he spoke air brushed her saliva-wet nipple, making it hard as a diamond. “You may not come.”
“But, Sir.”
“Ask for what you need.”
“I…oh, I hate this…I need help to stop from coming, Sir.”
“And what will help you? What do you dislike?”
“That’s not a fair question, Sir.”
He chuckled at her disgruntled tone. “Of course it’s not. Now answer. This isn’t punishment. Merely something you would prefer I not do, right at this moment.”
She tossed her head, blonde ponytail swishing. “How do you know I’ll tell you the truth?”
He grabbed that hair, making a tight fist, and yanked her head back. She gasped. Their gazes met. He stared at her, his body crowding hers. She shuddered and lowered her eyes.
“Gagging, uncomfortable bondage, or ice,” she whispered.
“Excellent.” He released her hair, but slid his hand along her neck, his thumb under her jaw, keeping her head back. “These are things you enjoy because they make you feel more submissive, not because they bring you physical pleasure. They will not bring you to orgasm, but will bring you deeper into the scene.”
She started. “Yes. Yes, Sir.” She sounded excited. “That’s exactly how to describe it.”
“You’ve never had it put that way before?”
“No, Sir.”
“Well, I’m happy to help provide you with the language. This is going to be an important point for us as we undertake edging. I will keep you constantly on the verge of orgasm, which will involve bringing you to the brink and then pulling you back, just enough that you can’t reach fulfillment.”
“Oh no. That sounds awful.”
At her plaintive words he laughed and dropped a kiss on the side of her neck. “It sounds like great fun to me.”
He took a step back. She sagged in clear disappointment.
People outside the scene didn’t understand what an ego-stroke BDSM was, and it had nothing to do with power exchange. Having a submissive react to even the slightest touch could make a man feel like he hung the moon. And if he was a good Dom, it also made him want to treasure the submissive.
The relationship between a Dom and sub was more genuine, and far less dangerous, than a marriage.
Aram cleared his throat, bringing his focus back to Charlie, so he was fully in the moment. “Are you still on the verge of orgasm?”
“No, Sir.”
“I thought not. I’ve made a note of what you said, but there is no need at this moment.” It was both a pity and a good thing, given the lateness of the hour and what he still wanted to do to her before allowing either of them to sleep. “Very well. Remove your panties.”
Chapter Three
Charlie wiggled out of her panties, conscious of how her breasts and pudgy places jiggled. He was staring at her breasts. Thankfully.
The panties hit the floor and she stepped out of them. The panties hid many sins in the lower-belly region, particularly her little fat pouch. She waited for him to say something. Her normal partners all knew she didn’t like humiliation, and most of them were mature adults, not juvenile misogynists. They knew that she loved her body and having sex, but she feared putting herself out there. She feared being rejected because of this body she both loved and hated.
Luckily, there weren’t many here at Las Palmas who engaged in derogatory play. The few—very few—times she’d tried BDSM outside the rarified air of the club had been horrific. As soon as her clothes came off the men had acted like she need to be told her flaws. Her flaws as they saw them. She’d had one call her “slutty little piggy” and say, “you love to eat, so you’re going to eat my cock. Maybe all you’ll eat for the next week is my jizz. You ready for a diet?”
Another had cropped her so hard she’d screamed and safe-worded immediately. He’d looked shocked, and said he assumed she could take more abuse because of the “extra padding.” It had taken a few months of very patient attention from a few of the Doms here before she could trust anyone to come near her with a crop.
Master Green hadn’t been one of the Doms who helped her, but he could have been.
He looked her up and down. “Lovely.”
Silence filled the space. Charlie resisted the urge to fidget.
Master Green quirked a brow. Charlie raised her brows in question. He jerked his chin toward her.
Charlie looked down at her herself. Her fingers were knotted together at her waist and her legs were clamped together.
“Oops.” Charlie jumped into position, legs spread, fingers laced together on top of her head.
“Deliberate disobedience, or distraction.”
“Master Green, I—”
“It wasn’t a question. I was musing aloud.” He circled her, occasionally touching her. He cupped the right cheek of her ass, stroked the dip of her natural waist, pinched the underside of her breast, tugged her hair. “I think it was distraction, not disobedience.”
She didn’t reply. Charlie watched him circle her, her sex growing wetter by the second.
He moved with confidence, a man sure of his place in the world, and the power he wielded. There were a few Doms at Las Palmas who moved like big cats—elegant, deadly, and infused with the potential for violence.
Aram was more powerful than dangerous. He exuded confidence in that way some people did. A way that made those people intensely sexy.
“It seems I am having trouble holding your attention.”
“I was trying to think of what kind of animal you were,” she blurted out.
His footsteps paused, then he circled to her front. “Excuse me?”
“I was thinking about how you move. You’re confident, powerful. Some men are dangerous, like big cats—you know, sexy leopards. You’re not dangerous, you’re powerful. And confident. And sexy.” She was losing control of her tongue. Charlie focused on his face. His eyes were beautiful, a color she couldn’t name, between gray and brown, with a dark ring outlining the iris, and a silver color near the pupil.
Again he smiled, his sharp fine-boned features turning disarmingly handsome. “Traditionally lawyers are referred to as sharks.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to fuck a shark.”
“And you are sexually attracted to lions and tigers?”
“And bears, oh my! Sorry, had to. No, I’m not.” She made a face and blew at the wisps of hair on her forehead. He laughed. Oh, she liked that sound. It was so rich and deep and honest.
“It’s good to know you’re not attracted to animals, though you would make a wonderful puppy girl. It’s a shame we don’t have the letter P.”
He’d take a big plug, with a tail on it, and force it deep in her ass. Then she’d have to stay on her hands and knees and—
Master Green pinched her nipple. “Come back here, Charlie.”
She sucked in a breath. “Yes, Sir. But you started it.”
“Your argument is based on the assumption that the same standard of behavior applies to both of us. That assumption is flawed.”
Charlie’s pussy clenched. “Your lawyer talk is kinda hot.”
He stepped to the side and delivered a few quick swats to her ass. “As enjoyable as your tangents have been, it is late and I intend to finish what I’d planned for this evening.”
Charlie moved to the bed, but Aram’s hand on her arm stopped her. “No, on top of the dresser.”
There was a high dresser on the wall by the bathroom door. It was made of heavy, dark wood with black iron pulls. It was six drawers high, putting it level with Charlie’s shoulders. The glossy wood top was devoid of clutter.
He guided her over with a hand on the back of her neck.
“How do I get up there?”
Master Green pulled out the second drawer from the bottom. There was a lid on the drawer, with
a small keyhole in it. “Use this as a stepping stool.”
Charlie had a horrifying vision of the whole thing breaking when she put her weight on it. “Master Green, I don’t think it will hold me.”
He released her and stepped onto the drawer/box. “This drawer is reinforced—it’s meant to be used as a room safe. The whole piece is bolted to the wall.” He stepped down. “I weigh more than you and it was fine. No more excuses.”
There was no way he weighed more than her, but bless him for thinking so.
Grasping the top, Charlie tentatively put one foot on the drawer. Nothing cracked, so she stood on it fully and turned with her ass to the drawers. She braced the heels of her hands and tried to slide herself up onto the top. She was still a bit short. She bent her knees and Master Green put his hands on her waist.
When she hopped, he lifted, helping to guide her onto the top. Once she was settled, he pushed the drawer in and stepped back.
“Spread your legs. I want your knees at the corners. Lovely. Now scoot your ass forward. I want your pussy hanging off the edge of the dresser.”
Charlie grimaced as she got into position. With her legs splayed wide and her butt about to fall off, she was worried about taking a header.
“Sir, I’m going to fall.”
“No, you won’t. Do you need to ask for something?”
“I need to get down,” she said with irritation. She’d tried to adjust her legs, but that threw off her balance and she’d nearly tipped.
“Charlotte,” he barked. “I do not appreciate either that tone or that attitude.”
“This position is impossible.”
“Excuses. If you are having trouble, all you need to do is ask for help. Instead, you’ve decided to both question and disobey me.”
“I’m just trying to tell you that I can’t do this. Maybe other women can, but I can’t.”
Aram didn’t answer. He went to the chair by the fire and picked up the switch. Charlie’s stomach clenched.
“Sir, I—”
“You’re not to speak. I will take pity on you and give you what you should have asked for.” He leaned the switch against the side of the dresser and opened a few drawers, pulling things out. “I gave you the opportunity to ask for my help. I am a generous Master. If I set you a challenge, I will help you meet that challenge; you need only ask. However, you chose to behave in a manner which I do not find acceptable.”
Charlie felt slightly sick to her stomach. He was pissed—and he had every right to be. She wanted to apologize. To beg his forgiveness. But speaking when he’d ordered her not to would be a very bad idea.
He reached up and placed a cincher around her waist. It looked like a ten-inch-wide belt, and was made of black leather. He buckled it around her, with the upper edge positioned just under her ribs. One by one he closed the five buckles, making sure it was tight enough that Charlie had to hold herself up straight. This was going to make it even harder to sit up here, and tears started to form in her eyes. She was going to fall and it would hurt and be humiliating.
Next he lifted a short length of narrow chain. He looped it through the wall brace that held the dresser in place. The Spanish-style architecture of the room included thick baseboards that kept the furniture from sitting flush against the wall. Because this was California, there were metal L brackets attached to the top of the dresser and the wall, meant to prevent the furniture from tipping over in an earthquake. The short span of metal bracket between the dresser and the wall made a convenient tie point.
Master Green drew both ends of the chain toward her back. Charlie hadn’t realized there was a hook on the back of the cinch until she felt the tugs as he attached the chain. Now she couldn’t fall off. The chain kept her upper body from moving any farther forward.
Oh.
He’d probably planned to do this all along. He’d just wanted to reinforce her submission by making her ask for his help.
She tried to catch his eye, hoping he would see her regret and rescind the order for her not to speak. Then she could apologize properly.
Master Green picked up a coil of thin, green nylon rope. He measured it out, then started wrapping it around her leg. He made a figure eight above and below her bent knee, until there were five coils of rope. He fed the end of the rope through the space between the dresser and the wall, and repeated the binding on her other knee.
Before he tied it off, Master Green tugged the rope tight, pulling her knees open wide.
She was helpless and totally exposed. There was a false freedom in the fact that her arms weren’t bound in any way. Charlie braced her palms on the dresser slightly behind her so she was leaning back.
Master Green was tidying away the other ropes he’d pulled out, straightening the coils before replacing them in the drawer. Then he unbuttoned his waistcoat. His movements were casual and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. As if having a naked woman under his control, helpless because he wanted her to be that way, was an everyday occurrence. He was in total control—of himself, of her, of this moment in time. He was her Master, and he would use her when and how he pleased.
Charlie moaned.
“Charlotte, are you in pain?”
She shook her head.
“Are you uncomfortable? Be aware that saying you are may not change anything.”
She shook her head again.
“Why did you moan?”
She licked her lips and shrugged one shoulder.
He grunted. “I despise shrugging. It’s the equivalent of saying ‘interesting’—it means nothing. You may speak. Answer me.”
Charlie was starting to sink into that space where the world was a bit hazy and nothing mattered but pleasing her Master. Call it subspace, call it acute arousal. Whatever it was, it was a place she couldn’t always find, but Master Green had gotten her there in record time.
“There’s always a point where it’s terrifying,” she said. “Where you realize you’ve done something that is so stupid. I just let a complete stranger tie me up. There’s nothing to stop you from hurting me. Really hurting me. There’s nothing to stop you from killing me, or just walking away and leaving me to die.”
His eyes softened and he stroked her calf. “You’re safe with me, Charlotte.”
“I know, Master. And that’s the next part. There’s all this fear, and then there’s this crazy acceptance. Freedom. It’s freedom.” Charlie knew her voice was soft and a bit dreamy. Maybe he wouldn’t understand. Maybe only another sub could understand what she was saying. “After that…that’s when I let go. Stop fighting, or questioning.”
“A submissive state of mind.” His fingers drifted higher, over the ropes to trace patterns on the inside of one thigh.
“Yes, Master.”
“And that’s where you are now?”
“Yes, Master. I don’t always feel this way. Not this…intensely.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I feel like the rest of the world is gone. There’s just you, and me, and this room.”
His eyes widened, then narrowed in a flare of what she thought might be possessiveness. His hands settled on the insides of her legs, kneading her flesh. “I’m honored, Charlie. Tell me what made you feel this way.”
“You took off your vest.”
“I took off my vest? Explain.”
“It was so calm, so controlled. I felt it.” She shook her head, struggling to explain. “I felt your command, your domination, your mastery. Not just of me, but of everything.”
He hummed low in his throat. “Your submissiveness recognized my dominance in a primal way. Something beyond the toys and tools and rules.”
“Yes, Master.”
He dipped his head and kissed her mound. “You belong to me,” he whispered against her skin.
“Yes, Master.”
Just for now. Don’t get attached, Charlie.
“You will obey me.”
“Yes, Master.”
“I will use you as I see fit. Hurt you wh
en it pleases me to do so.”
He slapped her pussy. Charlie screamed in surprise, then moaned as the heat of the slap made her labia start to throb.
“Please you when it pleases me.”
She was so deep in subspace that she didn’t start begging, or trying to entice him to touch her, which she otherwise might have done. She simply waited. And he made her wait. Her Master would touch her when it pleased him, not before.
Master Green’s thumbs parted her outer labia, pressing the lips open to reveal the pink interior of her sex. He dipped one thumb toward her entrance, scooping up the creamy lubrication her body had created and moving it up, through the valley of her inner lips to her clit.
Charlie moaned as he thumbed her clit.
“You may not come, Charlie.”
His thumb stroked her clit, first up and down, then circling it. He kept up a perfect, steady rhythm. The orgasm built, tightening the muscles in her belly, ass, and legs. She clenched her teeth and fought her body for control. He’d put her in the sort of Catch 22 that Doms love—his physical, sexual prowess meant he was touching her in ways guaranteed to make a woman orgasm, but his command that she not come forced her submissive nature to fight her body’s reaction. She had to place obedience and pleasing her Dom over her own pleasure.
It was the heart of submission—the dark joke, the elegant torment.
“Good. Well done, Charlie. That can’t have been easy.”
She nearly sobbed in relief when his thumb left her clit. Relief that she’d pleased him, but also bitter disappointment that he hadn’t ordered her to come and given her the release she needed.
“You have a lovely vagina. What term do you prefer? Vagina, pussy, cunt?”
“Pussy, Sir.”
He inspected her as he spoke, pinching her labia in his fingers and opening her wide. He bent his head to study her sex, and it was both embarrassing and intensely erotic.
“Though it’s not totally necessary since we’re only partnered for the game, I find that I prefer you call me Master. The way you say it is rather addicting.”