He aimed for her left nipple. This drew the first cry of actual pain, the breathy, erotic sound going directly to Donovan’s already hard cock. He let a series of drops follow the first, coating her nipple with the red wax. He did the same to the second nipple, as Jordan continued to gasp and jerk in her bonds. When Donovan was satisfied with the coverage, he let the candle glide down her body again, this time hovering over her smooth mons.
The first drop fell on freshly shaven skin. Jordan gasped. Donovan let several more drops fall, lowering the candle each time so she would feel the wax’s heat more intensely as it landed. When a drop splashed onto the hood of her clit, Jordan squealed, writhing in a vain effort to move away from the melted wax.
“Stay still,” Donovan barked. With his left hand, he spread Jordan’s labia wide to expose her cunt completely.
Jordan lifted her head to watch him with wide, frightened eyes. “No,” she cried, her voice trembling. “I’m scared. It’s going to hurt too much.”
“I won’t give you more than you can handle, Jordan. You can take a lot more than you think you can. You’re my brave girl. Show me how strong you are.” He watched her carefully. Her eyes were stark with fear. He waited a beat. If she said her safeword, he would set the candle down. But she said nothing. She nodded slightly and let her head fall back.
Thrilled, Donovan continued. He held the candle high to keep from burning her as he let drop after drop splash down onto the tender folds of her spread cunt. Jordan jerked, shuddered and moaned, but she was handling it beautifully. He didn’t stop until her cunt appeared to be covered by a red wax bowl.
Satisfied, Donovan blew out the candle and set it carefully on the table. He moved to the rack and selected a single tail whip. When he returned to her, Jordan lifted her head, her eyes coming into focus as she stared at the whip in his hand.
“Now,” he said with a wicked grin. “We whip it off.”
~*~
At first Jordan couldn’t feel the flick of the whip as its tip made contact with the layer of hardened wax covering her spread pussy. But she could hear it, and the snapping sound made her jump.
Then the wax cracked, bits of it falling away. The whip struck again, this time snapping against the tender skin of her mons. Jordan screamed. The whip moved, its tip flicking painfully over her stomach and breasts. Bits of red wax flew. When the whip curled around her nipple, Jordan screamed again.
She could feel the sweat prickling under her arms and pooling at the small of her back. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath, which shuddered from her in gasping pants. Her heart was thudding, skipping a beat with each fiery flick of the whip against her breasts, her nipples, her stomach, her mons. She strained in her bonds and whipped her head from side to the side, the only part of her body she could move.
The thought of her safeword slid into her mind but she shook it away. I can do this, she found herself thinking suddenly, furiously. I can do this!
But then the whip moved downward, returning to her cunt, flicking away the remaining wax. Jordan’s hands were curled into tight fists, her fingernails digging into her palms. Her body was shaking and her heart felt like it was going to explode out of her chest.
“Please,” she gasped. “No! Don’t do it. Don’t hurt me. I can’t take it!”
Donovan said only, “Trust me.” He continued to flick the bits of wax away from her spread, defenseless cunt. Somehow the Master managed to keep the fiery tip of the whip from making direct contact with her labia, though Jordan remained rigid with fearful anticipation.
The whole experience—being bound in that awkward, exposed position, feeling the sudden, wet singe of melted wax on her skin, and then the stinging kiss of the whip—had left her exhausted and terrified, but at the same time, also thrilled deep in her bones. Her body was thrumming with endorphins, but beyond the “runner’s high” of the erotic pain, something else was at play.
Jordan continued to tremble, but at the same time she became aware of the aching throb of lust deep inside her. Was it just system-overload at the hands of a pro? Was it just the fact she was naked and completely exposed to the relentless biting kiss of his whip? Or was it the man himself that pulled this fierce longing from deep within her?
Jordan’s mind began to empty as the Master continued to whip every bit of wax from her stinging, tortured skin. All she knew was that she wanted the Master with every fiber of her being. She longed for Donovan to set down his whip and instead drape her body with his. She ached to feel his cock thrusting deep inside her—filling her, claiming her.
As if reading her mind, Donovan at last lay down the whip. He bent over her, unclipping her cuffs and unbuckling the straps around her legs. But instead of stripping and positioning himself between her legs, Donovan put his arms beneath Jordan and lifted her from the spanking horse. He carried her a short distance to a large bondage table, where he lay her gently down.
Beside the table was another candle, this one set into a white square porcelain container about the size of a creamer, one corner shaped like a spout. Donovan lit the wick at its center. Jordan lay still, too spent even to protest, though she did not want any more hot wax dripped on her skin, which stung all over from the whip.
“You did great, Jordan,” Donovan said, his deep voice a sensual growl. He stroked her cheek, the tips of his fingers rough but welcome on her face, like a kitten’s tongue. “With each exercise you show me your true submission. Again and again I see it. Any Master would be proud to call you his sub.”
Though Jordan tried to tell herself his claims of her “true submission” were only so much nonsense, she couldn’t deny the hot rush of pride his words engendered. Not that she wanted to be anyone’s sub.
Did she?
“Don’t move,” Donovan ordered. “I’ll be right back.”
He said don’t move, but he didn’t say don’t look, and Jordan followed Donovan with her eyes as he walked to a corner of the large playroom. He opened a mini refrigerator and pulled something out of it. Turning on the tap in the small sink beside the refrigerator, he held whatever was in his hands beneath the running water for a few seconds.
When he returned to Jordan, he showed her what rested on a hand towel. Jordan stared at it, trying to figure out what the heck it was. It looked like a vibrator wrapped in a condom. “This is an ice dildo,” Donovan said, lifting the phallus from the towel and holding it up for her anxious inspection. “I love the dichotomy of fire and ice, of heat and cold, of pleasure and pain.”
He walked around the bondage table to stand between Jordan’s legs. “Feet flat on the table, knees bent,” he instructed, lifting her legs to help her into the position he wanted. He reached for a tube of lubricant on the nearby counter and squirted some over the head of the frozen dildo. Stepping between her spread knees, he placed the icy tip of it at her entrance.
Jordan tensed when he began to push the slick, fat ice pop into her. It didn’t hurt, but it filled her completely with its icy hardness. “Oooh, that’s cold!” Jordan blurted, shuddering. She started instinctively to wrap her arms around her torso, as if that would warm her, but Donovan stopped her.
“Arms at your sides. I’m not going to bind you on the table. You’re going to exercise self-control. You will lie still, arms at your sides, legs spread as they are now, feet flat. Make sure you keep that dildo inside of you. Don’t you dare push it out, no matter how cold it makes you. Got it?”
“Yes, Sir,” Jordan managed, though she shuddered as the frozen phallus chilled her from the inside out.
Donovan reached into the back pocket of his jeans and extracted a black sleep mask. “Once again,” he said, as he fitted the mask over her eyes, “I want you to simply accept what I do to you. Don’t anticipate. This blindfold will help in the process. Accept that you are my possession right now. Mine to do with as I will.”
Jordan let out a shuddery breath at this pronouncement, though in her bones she knew she was safe with this man. She could hear him mov
ing beside her, and she caught a whiff of caramelized vanilla that she presumed must be the candle wax. The ice was melting inside its latex sheath, but was still a shivery, invading presence inside her.
Jordan felt something splash on her stomach and she squealed with fear, waiting for the burn. But instead of scalding wax, whatever it was on her skin was deliciously warm. Jordan hiccupped in her confusion and relief. She felt Donovan’s hand as he massaged what she realized must be oil into her skin.
“You know,” he said softly, his voice near her ear, “there’s such a focus on the erotic pain and sexual aspects of submission. But there’s a bigger picture, at least there should be. To complete the circle of a D/s connection, it’s important that the pain and sexual tension be balanced by the sub’s knowledge that she is safe and cherished.”
Jordan couldn’t stop the soft moan of pleasure that escaped her lips as Donovan rubbed the warm, scented oil into her breasts and stomach. Her nipples stiffened to points beneath his palms and she could feel a rush of sexual heat steadily melting the ice dildo inside her.
As Donovan continued to massage and stroke her body, Jordan could feel her heart and breathing slow. Her sexual desire hadn't abated, but only coiled more deeply inside her, glowing hot at the core of her being.
She groaned with unbridled pleasure when the Master’s fingers, newly slick with the warm oil, finally grazed her cunt. His fingers stoked her lust back into a blaze, despite the ice still melting inside her. She began to shudder, the rise of an orgasm moving like liquid heat through her body.
Then the hand was withdrawn.
Jordan couldn’t stop the sudden cry of dismay. She felt the blindfold being removed and she blinked for a few seconds as her eyes came into focus. Donovan was standing just beside her head, his crotch level with her face. She couldn’t help but notice the substantial bulge in his jeans.
“Slide up on the table so your head is hanging off the end,” Donovan instructed. Jordan bit back the sigh of sexual frustration as she forced herself to move into the ordered position. What was he planning now?
Don’t anticipate.
Donovan pulled off his shirt, revealing his muscular chest, the pecs well-defined and covered with dark curling chest hair. While Jordan admired the eye candy of his broad shoulders and sexy chest, Donovan unbuckled his belt and then unbuttoned and unzipped his fly. Jordan watched hungrily as he pulled the jeans, along with his underwear, down his thighs. His cock was as big as the rest of him, the fat head bobbing inches from her face. He moved to stand just behind her head.
“Open your mouth wide. Don’t try to do anything except receive me. Keep your throat open. If you can’t breathe and it’s too much, you can close your hand into a fist and then open it. But only do that if you think you might pass out. Otherwise, accept that I’ll keep you safe. I’ll pay close attention to your body and your reactions. All you have to do is take what I give you. Can you do that, Jordan?”
“Yes, Sir,” Jordan breathed, her eyes fixed on his huge erection. She was good at giving head, and loved doing it. One of the things she loved about it was the absolute control it gave her over a man. But the Master had completely turned the tables on her, taking away every vestige of control by the position he’d placed her in, even down to controlling her very breath with his cock.
She opened her mouth and Donovan moved closer, placing the head of his cock against her tongue. He moved forward slowly, his cock filling her mouth and gliding along her tongue until the head was lodged at the back of her throat. He remained that way for several long seconds, during which Jordan realized she couldn’t draw her breath. In the position she was in, his cock was effectively blocking her windpipe. He was, as he’d promised, literally controlling her ability to breathe.
A surge of panic shot through her at a gut level, but she willed herself to remain calm. Time after time Donovan had proved she could trust him. I’ll keep you safe. He was paying attention. She didn’t have to anticipate or worry or think at all. All she had to do was relax and accept what he gave her.
A burning sensation began to mount in her lungs and desperately she willed herself to be calm. A silent scream was building inside her when he finally stepped back and withdrew his cock from her gaping mouth.
Jordan gasped for air, gratefully sucking in the oxygen. Donovan didn’t give her much recovery time, however, his cock again sliding back into her mouth. He repeated the exercise over and over, until Jordan’s entire focus, her entire world, was his cock filling her mouth and throat.
During one especially long time during which he kept his cock deep in her throat, Jordan felt herself becoming lightheaded. Even so, that initial surge of panic didn’t return. She could trust the Master. He would never let harm come to her. She was his vessel, to be used as it pleased him. This realization at once shocked and thrilled her. What was happening to her?
Finally he began to move faster, his rock-hard cock thrusting in and out of her mouth. At the same time she felt his fingers at her cunt, and then the ice dildo, now mostly melted, was pulled from her body, leaving her empty and aching to be filled.
“Lift your hips,” Donovan ordered in a husky voice. “Keep your legs spread and offer your cunt. Stay in that position, no matter what I do to you.”
Eagerly Jordan obeyed, so aroused she knew she would come from just a few strokes. She grunted in startled surprise against the cock filling her mouth when, instead of stroking her, he smacked her cunt hard. Instinctively she lowered her body, her legs slamming shut.
“Back in position!” Donovan barked. “Now!”
Jordan obeyed with a peculiar mix of reluctance and desire, her throbbing cunt still stinging from the blow. He struck her again, but followed up this time with a soothing, sensual stroke of his fingers, which instantly erased the sting. Again and again he alternated between stinging swats and sensual strokes. Jordan shuddered and trembled, struggling to accommodate his girth down her throat while processing the onslaught of pleasure and pain he delivered with his hand.
When he pressed his finger inside her, his palm grinding against her clit, Jordan realized she was coming, and there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop it. She couldn’t even ask permission, not with the Master’s huge cock thrusting in and out of her mouth. She bucked against his hand, mewling ineffectually against the shaft pummeling her mouth and throat. All at once he pulled out, leaving her gasping, tremors of her orgasm still wracking her body.
Leaning over her, he took his cock in his other hand, while still keeping one hand on her spasming cunt. He groaned softly and she felt hot spurts of jism landing against her chest and breasts. Finally he pulled his hand from her cunt. She could smell the redolent scent of her juices and his, and despite the orgasm, her cunt continued to ache with longing.
Donovan stepped away from her, returning with a hand towel, which he used to wipe away his ejaculate from her body. He reached beneath her shoulders.
“Can you sit?”
Jordan nodded and he helped her to a sitting position on the bondage table. From there he helped her off the table, keeping a steadying arm around her shoulders until he saw she could stand on her own.
He moved to stand in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “You doing okay?” he asked, looking into her eyes, his full attention on her.
Jordan nodded, realizing suddenly it was this complete attention to his charge that made him so masterful, as much as his technique and skill. “Yes, Sir,” she said, holding back a nearly overwhelming impulse to wrap her arms around him and never, ever let go.
He looked into her eyes a moment longer and then stepped back, apparently satisfied. He grinned suddenly, his eyes sparking with fire. “Time for a hot bath and then bed. You should get some rest. You’re going to need it.”
Chapter 10
Buzz, buzz…buzz buzz…
Donovan opened his eyes, his sleep-fogged brain trying to process the sound that was interfering with a very erotic dream. A part of his bra
in switched on, informing him it was his cell phone and he should answer it.
He sat up, reaching for the phone beside his bed, intent on sending the call to voicemail. He glanced down at Jordan, who was curled on her side at the foot of the bed, her cuffed and loosely chained hands tucked beneath the soft curve of her cheek. His cock, in full morning-erection mode, twitched with desire.
Buzz, buzz…buzz buzz…
Donovan focused on the phone screen, his finger poised over the decline call feature. Then he saw who it was. Shit.
Sliding out of bed, he grabbed the pair of boxer shorts he’d left on the floor by the bed and padded quickly to the bathroom as he took the call. He wasn’t scheduled for a shift today, was he?
“Gordon? What’s up?”
“Dude. Sorry to bother you so early but it’s kind of an emergency.” If Donovan hadn't seen Gordon’s name on the screen, he wouldn’t have recognized his voice.
“Whoa. You sound like shit. Flu?”
“I think so, yeah,” Gordon rasped. “I’m running a temperature. My bones ache.”
“Sucks. What can I do for you?” Donovan asked with a sinking feeling.
“It’s the Filmore Street Fair. I signed up for the vaccination tent but no way can I do it like this, obviously. Of course Mike will be there to run the thing, but with the crowds we’ve been having, he definitely needs a second volunteer. I tried Bernard and Mandy already, but neither one can get away this morning. If there was any way you could take my shift—“ Gordon interrupted himself with a long, phlegmy coughing fit.
Donovan glanced out the bathroom door at the sleeping beauty for whom he had lots of delicious, devious plans for the day. His brain was already forming his excuses when Gordon added, “Several of the homeless shelters in the area are working with us to get folks at risk for Hepatitis B vaccinated. There were lines around the block yesterday. The response has been huge.” When Donovan still didn’t answer, Gordon added, “It’s just for three hours, from ten to one. Can you cover for me?”
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