by L. DuBois
She was breathing slowly and evenly, her body soft, compliant, and oh-so-submissive. He scooped up a handful of ice.
“I’m going to remove the chastity belt soon, but first I will soothe your skin.”
He flattened his hand against her chest, the ice pressed between his palm and her skin. Charlotte’s head snapped up and her eyes opened wide. Rivulets of water flowed down her skin as he moved his hand, sliding the ice cubes over her breasts, across her nipples, and down her stomach.
He let all but one ice cube drop. That last ice cube he held against the links of the chastity belt. The metal was warm from the heat of her body, but now it cooled and she started to shiver.
Keeping the half-melted ice cube in hand, he circled around to her back. Tracing patterns on her skin, he watched gooseflesh spread across her back. Aram trailed the ice cube down the line of her spine, into the sweet crevice of her ass. In one smooth, hard push, he forced the small ice cube up into her ass.
Charlie gasped and stood on her toes. He kept his fingers against her anus, teasing and prodding her rear entrance.
“M-master.”
“Yes, Charlotte.”
“It’s cold.”
“And it’s going to get colder.” He wiped his hand off with a baby wipe, then chose two more ice cubes. He popped the first one into his mouth, making sure the edges were smooth, then spread her ass cheeks and pressed it into her.
Charlie whimpered and shivered.
He patted her ass. “How are you feeling?” He reached around and used the second ice cube to tease her nipples.
“Cold, Master.” A fresh shiver shook her, and then Charlie whispered, “More, please, Master.”
He could. He could slowly stuff her pretty bottom full of ice, then use the handle of the whip to fuck her before finally letting her use the restroom. It would be another type of enema.
But that’s not what they were here to do.
“Perhaps next time, pet. For now it’s time to take your chastity belt off.”
Aram took the small key out of his pocket and unlocked the tiny padlock. The belt stayed in place, pressed into her skin. He tugged it free, rubbing the pink impression it had left on her.
The chain dropped, and for a moment the chainmail remained in place, clinging to her pussy, before the weight of the belt and gravity did their work.
Charlotte sighed in obvious relief. Aram reached between her legs and stroked her labia. Charlie gasped and leaned away from him.
Aram froze. “Charlotte, what’s wrong?”
“Sensitive. I’m so sensitive.”
Aram arched a brow. That was unexpected and delightful. He touched her labia again, stroking the plump outer lips of her sex. Charlie arched, thrusting her pussy into his hand.
Aram picked up the flogger, settling it in his hand so the glass dildo end was pointed at her pussy. Charlie looked down at it, then up at him.
“Please, Master.”
“Be specific.”
“Please fuck me with the whip.”
He rubbed her nipples with the cock-head end of the flogger, keeping them nice and hard. She arched her hips, begging without words, and he trailed the dildo down her stomach, over her plump mound, and slid it between the lips of her pussy.
He circled it around her clit, empowered and humbled by her electric response—her teeth clenched, her fingers curled around the ropes that bound her.
Aram dropped to one knee. He wanted to see this.
He slid the whip handle lower, until he felt the entrance to her body. With a deliberate slowness, he slid the dildo into her. He watched her inner labia part and stretch around the clear glass. She was stretched—shiny and pink, her pussy achingly beautiful.
With the whip handle seated inside her, he leaned forward and tasted her clit.
“MayIcomeohGodplease.” Her garbled words made him smile.
“Yes,” he said against her flesh. He didn’t know if she’d actually be able to hear him, but when his tongue swiped over her clit again, she screamed in pleasure. He could feel the orgasm quake through her.
The urge to yank the dildo out, hoist her up, and fuck her was strong. But this wasn’t the right kind of bondage for that—her wrists could be damaged if he forced her to take too much weight on them.
He nipped her clit, and she yelped, just as he’d wanted. Feeling a bit savage, he stood. Using a knife, he sliced through the ropes. He cut two feet up from each hand, leaving intricate rope bindings around her wrists, and enough of a tail that he could use the same rope to bind her again.
Charlie’s arms dropped to her sides, then she fell to her knees, looking up at him with eyes that were wide and submissive. Her parted lips begged for him to fuck her mouth.
But right now he wanted more than the encompassing heat of her mouth. He wanted to fuck her with the kind of abandon that necessitated fucking her sex, not her mouth.
“Come, pet. Follow me. On your knees.”
He saw her bite her lip before she leaned forward, placing her hands on the platform. He led her to the covered hallway that ringed the courtyard. He had a nice playroom reserved for them for the weekend. He’d made plans, a schedule.
But right now all he wanted was the bed. He wanted her spread open for him, soft and willing.
She crawled beside him, the ropes trailing from her wrists. He keyed open the door and held it for her.
“On the bed. Spread your legs. I’m going to fuck you.”
Chapter Eleven
Yes, yes, yes. She needed him inside her.
After nearly a week in the chastity belt, her pussy felt absurdly naked and exposed. And she liked the feeling.
“On the bed. Spread your legs. I’m going to fuck you.”
Charlie crawled to the bed as fast as she could, then climbed atop. Wanting to please him—wanting to not waste time having him position her—she stretched her arms straight up, the splayed tips of her fingers on the headboard. She bent her legs slightly, planting her heels in the bed.
Master Green approached the bed, his steps measured and slow. He was so elegant and effortlessly dominant. She wondered what he would have been in another time—not the blustering king, but the power behind the throne, manipulating and calculating.
And she would be his concubine slave girl accomplice.
The more aroused she got, the less sophisticated her fantasies.
Master Green shed his shirt, and his fingers trembled slightly. Charlie’s heart lurched to see it. He wasn’t totally calm. He was still in control, but he trembled with need the same way she did.
He shucked his clothes, movements becoming jerkier, until he was naked. She bit his lip, wondering what he’d do next.
He surprised her—surprised and delighted. Master Green—having slipped on a condom in that stealthy way he had—climbed onto the bed, planted his elbows on either side of her, then thrust into her. It was sudden and unexpected. Charlie’s toes curled, her pussy clenching around his oh-so-thick cock.
This wasn’t a delicate, choreographed dance—it was a raw, rough fucking.
She liked it. Oh yes, she really liked it.
Charlie bent her knees, dropping them open even farther, inviting him to fuck her deeper, harder, and faster. He buried his face against her neck and pumped into her. An orgasm claimed her. Charlie hadn’t even realized she was so close, but his cock hit her G-spot just the right way and a little orgasm rocked her.
“Master,” she gasped. “Master, I’m coming.”
“Again,” he demanded, pumping harder.
Charlie bit his shoulder as she came again. Aram growled, fucking her so roughly her body slid up the bed a little with each thrust. She had to brace her arms to stop from hitting the headboard.
She felt so full, so well used. Her skin was still sensitive from the warmth of the flogging and the cold of the ice.
“Again,” he snarled. “I want you to come again. I want to feel your pussy squeezing me.”
Charlie closed h
er eyes, focusing on the feeling of him—his pelvis slamming against her, rubbing her clit for a split second at the forward apex of each thrust. She focused on that feeling, waiting for the slight pressure against her clit.
When his thrusts sped up, an orgasm started to build. It was the kind of brain-numbing orgasm that only clit stimulation could create. Bit by bit it built, winding her body and mind into a tightly coiled spring ready to release.
“Charlotte. Lovely, lovely Charlie.”
Tears prickled her eyes. “Master. My Master. My Master.”
She repeated it, letting the words, the dominance and ownership implicit in them, push her over the top.
She arched up as she came, her body a hard, taut line. Her Master slammed into her one final time, shuddering. They came together, one’s orgasm feeding the other’s.
Tears wet the hair at Charlie’s temples, and her breathing was choppy.
He was hers, and she was his.
What the hell was he doing?
Aram rolled off Charlie, his still-hard cock sliding out of her. She made a sad little noise, as if she regretted losing his cock. He sat up on the side of the bed.
My Master. My Master.
What the hell was he doing?
This was entirely his fault. He should have known better. The first time Charlie slipped deep into subspace and called him Master he should have corrected her, ordered her to call him Master Green. But he hadn’t done that. He’d liked it too much. Instead, he’d ordered her to call him Master because the way it sounded coming from her lips made him feel powerful.
The way she said Master made it clear it wasn’t just a polite form of address. When she said it, she really meant it. She meant Master as in the man who possessed her, for whom she would submit utterly and completely.
He should have stopped her, but he hadn’t, because he liked it. He liked being her Master, liked that deep submission she found.
He couldn’t be her Master—they were together only for the game, and they weren’t well suited for anything beyond that.
And damn it all to hell, it was past time to explain that to her. This wasn’t going to go well. She would probably cry.
“Charlotte, sit up.”
Charlie stretched, then settled herself on the bed. She sat with one leg curled partially under her, the other to the side. Her pussy was beautifully exposed by the position. Her hands rested at her sides, her palms up. The cuffs of black rope were a stark reminder of her submission to him.
And the look in her eyes made it clear that her submission could be made permanent. He could collar her, take her as his bonded submissive.
“I want to make something clear. I’m not your Master.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Your choice of phrasing—’my master’—implies a more permanent relationship than we have. We’ll finish our checklist items this weekend.”
Charlie blinked at him. Aram let the silence stretch, wanting to give her ample opportunity to respond. When she said nothing, he continued.
“You are a lovely sub, but not someone I would take as a bonded submissive.”
Now she jerked, as if he’d pinched or struck her. “What?”
“I wanted to set clear expectations.”
“Wait, wait.” She swallowed hard. “We went to your best friend’s wedding together—”
“I made it clear that was just a convenient way to deal with one of the checklist items.”
“We talk every day.”
“Perhaps that wasn’t wise, since it clearly meant quite a bit to you.”
“So what, after today we’re just done? This meant nothing?”
“No.” He slashed a hand through the air. “This has been an incredible experience. As I said, you’re a lovely submissive. I’m simply making it clear that we will not be engaging in any sort of permanent partnership.”
“Permanent partnership.” She let out a bitter laugh. “Do you hear yourself, you asshole?”
“I will not be incited into spanking you.”
“You think I’m looking for a spanking?” Her hands curled into fists and she closed her knees, hiding her pussy from his gaze. “You lied to me.”
“No, I did not.”
“Okay, fine. Maybe you didn’t technically, but you’ve been acting like…acting like…” Charlie’s eyes filled with tears. “This is so humiliating.”
“It was never my intention to humiliate you.”
“Oh really? You can honestly say that you weren’t leading me on?”
“I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were!” She wiped tears from her cheeks. “I told you things I would never have told someone who was a casual play partner. You’ve been to my house. We had sex in my bed. I’ve never done that with a Dom. Only you.”
Aram felt sick to see her so upset. And his heart hurt, as if someone had punched him in the chest. This approach wasn’t working, and it wasn’t fair of him to now show that this decision hurt him too. He had to be strong. Be firm.
“Charlie, pet, I want you to know—”
“Don’t call me pet, you lying jerk.”
He slapped the mattress, some of his turmoil leaking into his voice. “Charlotte, listen to me.”
He watched her fight, watched her anger war with the part of her that longed to obey him. He softened his tone. “I have chosen not to engage in long-term relationships. If I did collar you, it would be for a few years, at most.”
She shook her head, and he didn’t know what that meant.
“And while you were mine, I would expect you to be celibate outside of the club. You wouldn’t date or have vanilla sex. You would spend your mid-twenties living the life of a nun, except on those occasions when our schedules allowed us to play.”
She raised her chin. “And what if that’s what I want?”
He stroked her cheek. “You’re so young.”
She slapped his hand away. “Fuck you. Fuck you for thinking that you know what’s best for me just because I’m a bit younger than you.”
“I do know what’s best for you.”
“I can make my own damned decision.”
Aram’s control slipped. He snatched up the tails of rope, jerking them toward him. She gasped as her arms were yanked forward. Her head came up, her lips parting as he met her gaze.
“I would enjoy nothing more than to make you mine. To own your pussy. To control every orgasm you have. To pierce those lovely nipples, put a collar around your throat, and make you mine.”
Her eyes were wide blue pools. “Then why don’t you?”
Damn it, Charlotte, don’t tempt me. I’m doing this for you.
“Because it wouldn’t be fair to you. You’re young.”
“And I’m not capable of making my own decisions? Of knowing what I want?” Her eyes glittered with rage and a fierce intelligence. Aram faltered. It was the height of misogyny to claim he knew what she wanted more than she did herself.
But it was the place of a Dom to protect his sub. To put her needs and welfare first.
“You need to date, to have relationships outside of BDSM, or perhaps find a man who is interested in both dating you and keeping you as a submissive.”
“And that’s not you.”
She got it. “No, I’m sorry, but it’s not.”
She yanked her arms back, startling him enough that the rope slipped from his grip. “Because I’m good enough to fuck and use, but not good enough to date.”
“That is not the point I’m making.”
“It’s exactly what you’re telling me—hey, Charlie, you’ve been fun to fuck, but you’re too needy, and I’m not interested in you as anything more than a disposable fucktoy.” She scrambled off the bed.
They were going in circles. Aram felt sick as he watched fresh tears spill down her cheeks. “Charlotte, you deserve more.”
“Well, I want—wanted—you. And like a stupid idiot, I thought that’s what we were working toward. And I was falling
in love with you. Silly, stupid, stupid me.” She turned toward the door.
“Charlotte, come here.” He couldn’t let her leave. He needed to comfort her, needed to pleasure her until the tears dried up.
“Fuck you, Aram.” She looked over her shoulder. “Red. There you go. I safe-worded out. Don’t have to deal with me anymore.”
Charlie walked away, her wrists still bound by his rope.
I was falling in love with you.
Aram sank down onto the bed. Damn it all to hell. That’s exactly what he’d feared. Love made people stupid and complicated relationships.
Come back, Charlie.
No, it was better this way. But if that was true, why did he feel so hollow and cold?
Chapter Twelve
“You know I think you’re nuts.” Aram handed Hadrian a black velvet box. It held the “collar” his friend planned to place on his once-again wife. Aram had agreed to pick it up from the jeweler and keep it so Cleo wouldn’t find it.
The necklace was three graduated strands of golden sapphires. Aram had nearly groaned when he saw the price tag. When Hadrian and Cleo imploded again and he once more negotiated their divorce, this damned collar was going to be a major financial asset that would have to be addressed.
The jeweler had several other pieces that could serve as collars—short necklaces that would lie heavily on a woman’s neck. There was a gold one that had evenly spaced pink gems. It made him think of Charlotte.
Don’t think about her.
Aram refilled his glass of red wine. “Well, if this doesn’t work out, I’m more than happy to handle your divorce. Again.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Your utter lack of faith in love is heartwarming.”
Aram smiled, but he knew it didn’t reach his eyes. “I really do wish you the best.”
“Thank you.” Hadrian sent him an almost pitying look. “And on that note, let’s go.”
Cleo was already waiting for Hadrian. She stood on the stage in the Iron Court, the most severe of Las Palmas’s various areas. The Iron Court playrooms were dungeon-like. Aram hadn’t used one in years. He liked the more comfortable furnishings in the other courts. He was getting old if he chose play rooms based on the type of armchair he could sit in. Or maybe he hadn’t had a sub that made him want to take the time to plan the complex, intense scene those rooms were designed for. He could imagine the way Charlie would react if he led her into a room with a large cage in the corner. She’d be scared and turned on, and she’d submit.