Holding the Cards

by Joey Hill

  The cool touch of wet sand, its soft plop of impact against her enervated skin, began to set off a spasmodic reaction. Her muscles leaped at each touch, despite her willing them not to move. The sand's impact acted upon them like the charge of a small electrode.

  The desire to part her thighs was beginning to climb into her belly. She wanted to let the cool waterfall patter upon her slick parts, but at the same time she did not want to interrupt his concentration. She was absorbed by his intent expression, the tension of his bottom lip, caught in his teeth. It stretched his skin across his face, further defined the high cheekbones, the straight nose.

  He was so beautiful, so gentle, and yet at the same time he contained a dangerous, explosive sexual power. She felt like stirring the water, to see if she could tease the beast to lunging for her.

  "You need a better view of what he's doing," Marcus said. "Here." He moved behind her and lifted her up by the shoulders, sliding his knees and thighs under her shoulder blades. It propped her up in a shallow, comfortable angle that did not disturb the work he had done on her abdomen and breasts, but permitted her a three dimensional view of Josh's efforts.

  It was not a castle, as she had thought. Josh's work had produced thin spirals that curled along her thighs and pubic bone in intricate, non-touching designs that reminded her of a henna paste. His artistry had a Celtic flavor, twining, curling, and flaring. He had framed her sex as the central piece of his design, and the continuous touch of water had kept the clitoral lips glistening and erect, and made it appear as if a delicate, half-open flower bulb was the centerpiece of the work

  He had not spoken or even looked at her face since he had placed his hand in the bucket, but Lauren did not feel ignored. His awareness of her was as immediate as the touch of the sand and sea. He was paying silent homage to her, wooing her, worshipping her and her sex with his artwork.

  He stopped, staring at his work. She swallowed, but before she could speak, he leaned forward and placed his warm lips against the cold ones of her pussy. She felt the electrical charge of the contact jolt to her toes and prickle the hair on her skull, though he merely laid his mouth against her skin. The kiss was as chaste and reverent as any laid by a knight upon the pale knuckles of his chosen lady.

  His eyelids lifted, but his lips stayed upon her as he met her gaze. As she watched him, he moved his mouth into a slow, sucking kiss, drawing the clitoris into his teeth, holding it up so she could see it. He flicked his tongue over it. Once, twice, three times. Her body arched, and a strangled moan came from her. He stopped, let it slide from the grasp of his teeth, and then breathed on her, the heat of his mouth washing over her quivering clit.

  Lauren's hands gripped Marcus's knees. She could well imagine that tongue inserting itself in her vagina, the broad part of it unfurling and giving her pussy a long, slow, and thorough lick from back to top. She moaned as his breath rippled over her again, pounding the image into her mind, and she caught hold of her land sliding control with her fingernails, cutting into Marcus's flesh.

  "Stand up," she managed.

  Now the bitter fight for control shifted. Her tension increased, seeing in his expression a struggle with the powerful desire to override her command and simply plunge his mouth into her. He could take control and lead her where he wanted to go. They both knew it. At this moment, with his mouth on her, she had no power to stop him.

  Perhaps Marcus might have spoken, and helped her take back the reins, but this moment was between the two of them, and she had the right to make the call. Lauren's breath clogged in her throat and while she could not say what hung in the balance, she knew it was important, a vital moment on which everything else might pivot.

  Josh's eyes shifted away at last, his broad shoulders rising and falling in one shuddering breath that, thankfully, was no longer directly over her clitoris. Otherwise, the force of it might have pushed her to orgasm.

  Lauren drew a slow, steadying breath of her own as he got to his feet. The leg openings of his cut off shorts had pulled up, exposing his thighs almost to where they joined to his hips, due to the size of his stiff cock. She could see the shadowed curve of one testicle behind the pale fringe.

  "Take them off," she murmured. "And make yourself come. Finish your sculpture."

  Marcus's hands convulsed against her shoulders, and she knew she had pleased them both. She felt her strength of will return, despite the strident pulse of need from between her thighs. She channeled it in the way she had once known how to do automatically, and used the power of the lust to drive them all.

  "Do it, Josh," she whispered. "I want to see you do it over me. You can't imagine how much it makes me want you to fuck me."

  His neck and chest were flushed in embarrassment, his eyes shifting like a nervous animal's. He gave her a half glance, a strangled chuckle. "Well, I'd be happy to do that, Mistress."

  "I know you would. I can see you would." Her gaze roamed downward, caressed him with a heated glance that made him groan. "But it's not time yet, and you must obey me, mustn't you?"

  Her eyes lifted back to his face, her brow arched. She knew the look she was giving him. There was a mixture of tenderness, and implacable sternness that clearly said, you will do what I say, and you will trust me.

  The look was successful only if it was genuine, and if the foundation to trust the Mistress had been firmly planted in the sub. In the real world, it was too soon to establish a moment as intimate as this. Lauren was going on faith, and the extraordinary strength of the attraction she had felt between them from the beginning. Whether it was the fantastical setting, Marcus's facilitation, or something else, something too good to hope for or think about at this moment, it did not matter. Some moments were spoiled by analysis. She simply held his gaze, waiting.

  Josh swallowed, nodded, and unbuttoned the jeans. He slid them down over his hips. His cock bounced free of the restraint of his clothes, enormous in its torment, full to bursting. Lauren shivered at just a thought of what a hot stream from it would feel like on her skin. His gaze followed the quiver, resting on her open pussy and she parted her thighs slightly, giving him more.

  "Fuck yourself for me, Josh," she said. "Use your hand and imagine it's my pussy stroking you. But," his gaze flicked back up at her sharp tone, "You better ask my permission before you come."

  God, she could barely breathe from the erotic sensation of her power over him. The surf roared and sparkled behind Josh, silhouetting his naked, tanned body. The miles of white sand stretched around them, and the palm trees rustled like feathers over skin. His long hair fluttered over his broad shoulders. His mouth was tight with craven need for her, and horrible shyness. He was so…everything.

  She tilted her hips, so his uncertain eye was drawn again to how much she wanted him, cherished him. She wanted to see him spurt over her in a moment of wild absorption, lacing the beautiful sculpture he had done on her pelvis with further proof of his devotion to her.

  "Come closer, down on your knees," she commanded, and spread her thighs to let him fit between them, giving his avid gaze a full view. "No, don't put your ass on your heels. I want you standing on your knees as long as they'll hold you." A wicked grin crossed her face, though the corners of her lips trembled with something more feral.

  He had gorgeous thighs, muscular from outdoor work. His right calf had a serpent dragon coiled from ankle to knee. From the tender joining crease of pelvis to mid-thigh, a tattoo of a sword had been stenciled. The jeweled hilt was drawn just below his hipbone. A latticework of ivy and pale gold flowers twined around the blade, and at its point the greenery twined into a tight vee that curled up into a dime-sized upright pentagram, a symbol of the elements and protection, which anchored the work on the inside of the thigh, just below the heavy nest of testicles.

  Once again, though the work was beautiful, she wondered at the artist who had not recognized perfection when it was plain before their eyes, needing nothing to adorn it. Her lips curved. If it were up to her, and at lea
st for this weekend, it seemed to be, she would have him walk around naked all the time to admire.

  He had a fine silken triangle of dark sable around his standing cock that she would dearly love to run her fingers through. But later. For now, she held herself still, and watched.

  Marcus had slid out his legs on either side of her so now she was cradled between his thighs. She felt his blatant, impressive reaction pressed against her lower back. Lauren reached up a hand and pressed it to his jaw, and smiled at the absent brush of lips against her pulse, with a hint of teeth, but her eyes did not leave Josh. She was sure his did not, either.

  "You let him touch you easy enough," Josh growled, desperation behind the snarl. "When I could touch you and mean it."

  His words shot pure fire through her vitals, but she kept her expression cruelly bland. "Put your eyes on my pussy, Josh," she said. "Don't take your eyes off it. I want you to watch it grow wetter with every stroke of your hand on yourself, watch it drip on the sand, all for you."

  He groaned. She knew he was not aware that his hand began to rub his shaft as she spoke, primitive instincts overriding the mind's embarrassment. She knew because he jerked, startled, when he realized it, but at her encouraging murmur, his hand settled to its work. That loose curl of fingers that showed how well men knew their bodies, just as women knew their own, the right pressure to stimulate themselves to orgasm. The pressure up his length that pushed the loose skin forward, creating friction against the velvet steel beneath. It worked his hips forward and made his breath quicken, get more harsh. Clear fluid collected on the tip of his cock and a drop fell, landing on the sand design, then another, this one landing on her clit, a tiny kiss that made the flesh quiver.

  Marcus's hands moved, cupped the outside of her breasts, pushing them together so the drip castle he created tumbled in on itself. He spread the sand across her skin, rubbing the grit gently into her nipples, the rough texture stiffening them further. Josh's eyes flicked up to them, his tongue coming out to wet his lips.

  "Stop," she snapped, albeit a bit breathlessly.

  His hand froze on his cock, quivering with its longing to continue, his body vibrating. He was so close; she could feel it like a heavy haze in the air, the stillness before an explosion.

  "Where is your gaze supposed to be, Josh?"

  He dropped his attention to its proper place, while beads of sweat rolled down his shoulders.

  "Tell me."

  "Your pussy," he said hoarsely.

  "You disobeyed me, Josh." A soft smile curved her face as Marcus continued to knead, cup and lift her breasts like water. She allowed herself a little mewl of pleasure at the sensation and wiggled her ass in the sand. She chuckled softly at the rumble of frustration, almost a whimper, from her submissive. "If you don't do it again, I will forgive you and let you continue. Will you do it again?"

  "No, Mistress. Fuck it, no." There was a primitive fervency in his voice that made it rough as gravel. "You're just so beautiful."

  "Then you are forgiven," she purred. "Continue. And I don't need to remind you that you need to ask before you let that bad boy go over."

  "No, Mistress."

  "Then keep going. You are the beautiful one, Josh," she added quietly, with fierce sincerity as she watched his intent features, the renewed movement of his hand. "You cannot imagine how watching you do this makes me feel. You'd drown in how wet I am. I'm adding to your sculpture already, aren't I?"

  His head bobbed once, a jerk, and his breath hitched.

  She loved it, loved bringing him to the edge of control with nothing but words and the sight of her spread, aching center. She could have offered Jonathan this, if only he had wanted it. Her vision faltered and for a moment she was uncertain again, almost self-conscious, then she heard him moan.

  "Please, Mistress…I need to…"

  She used his need as her rope, and pulled herself out of that quagmire.

  "Ask me, Josh," and she trembled with the anticipation of it, every vibrating nerve ending screaming at her to unsnap the leash.

  "I - want - to…come," he gasped, every muscle of his body flexing with his effort to maintain control. "Please…may I come, Mistress…Please, I can't—"

  "Come, Josh." It was merely a whisper from her dry throat.

  His name was lost in his cry, a mixture of growl, groan and shout. His cock spurted, the white fluid jettisoning onto the sand pattern on her thighs and mons, overlaying it, intertwining with it, spattering her pussy with his juices, giving her glistening lips a momentary pearlescence as the two secretions of desire met and merged.

  His legs buckled and he caught himself with a hand just outside her quivering thighs, the heel of his hand digging hard into the ground as he milked himself onto her body with furious, jerking strokes, the muscles rippling along his working arm mirroring the flexing of his facial features.

  Marcus's fingers had tightened on her nipples, shooting sparks of fire through her, proving beyond reasonable doubt he knew his way around the female form. She arched, the climax trying to roll up and over her, drawing tight the lines of nerve endings in her thighs and lower belly, her clit shuddering and her body flushing with the wave. She caught Marcus's hands, stilling them, and made them both watch Josh finish, until his forehead was touching her calf, his rasping breath tickling her convulsing pussy.

  Lauren reached out and lay her hand on his hair, a trembling stroke, her excitement communicating itself not just in their combined scents, but also in the erratic motion of her fingertips along his hair line.

  "You are magnificent," she murmured. "You please me so well, my love, and Marcus, too."

  "Absolutely," Marcus reached forward, along her arm, and rubbed his knuckles along the back of Josh's neck. "Beautiful boy."

  "You've earned some cozening," she decided. And Marcus had earned some relief.

  Josh lifted his chin a bit, sliding it through his artistry over her hip bone, and looked at her with a heavy lidded tomcat expression that had her suppressing a smile, even as her heart skipped a beat. His hand crept up, over where Marcus still held the weight of her breasts in his palms. Josh's fingers spread over the top of her left breast, the heel of his hand pressing against her heart, his intent expression focused on the response of the organ beneath it. It still tripped at a higher rate, due to the spin of watching his climax, and his lips pressed together, moistening, like a boy did when concentrating on an important task. She fought the urge to arch into his touch. Her tits ached for a mouth, for Josh's mouth. She wanted to be bitten, suckled. She wanted to know what Josh's hands would feel like on them, as Marcus's had been.

  A flicker in his gray eyes marked the increase in her heart rate. One finger ventured lower, stroked the tiny bumps in the soft darker flesh of her aureole. "Behave," she said, and the finger slid away. He gave her an unrepentant smile that did not quite dispel the turmoil in that storm cloud gaze.

  "I want you to lay on the towel here, next to me," she gestured. "On your stomach, without your clothes. Marcus is going to rub oil into your body. That is," she arched her brow at their engrossed archangel, "if it would please him to do so. I know it would please me, very much, to watch him do it."

  "Anything that would please you, dear lady, surely would please me," Marcus snapped out of his reverie with a smoothness she could only admire. "But in this case, I believe my pleasure to serve will exceed yours to command."

  At her suggestion, a wary look had stolen onto Josh's face. He eased up into a sitting position, as Marcus shifted. Lauren propped herself on her elbows as he left her to rummage through the duffel for the suntan oil she had seen in there when he removed the food.

  The easy familiarity of the moment was leaving Josh in the face of her new command, and she could see his apprehension building. She wanted to keep his cock jumping, that was how a sub was broken down, but the anxiety in his eyes reminded her that there was much she did not know about him. Strong attraction did not bring in-depth knowledge of a person's soul w
ith it. Did he know he could say no? She searched his expression for a clue.

  He was damaged, and she had no desire to be responsible for deepening the wound out of ignorance. Some subs were incapable of saying no. Inevitably, the worst of the dungeon sadists would find them. Staff people like Maria kept an eye out for those with a victim mentality, and they were no more allowed to return than the type of Master that would take advantage of their psychosis. They were trouble to a D/s establishment. Jonathan had been one of those hard to recognize, and once he was recognized, it was too late for Lauren's heart.

  She pushed that away and concentrated on the man before her, who was not Jonathan. Josh's glance darted toward Marcus, but she saw he was not looking at Marcus's face, but his hands, clasping and removing the suntan oil from the bag. Josh was thinking about those hands being on him. She could not tell if his anxiety was revulsion at the thought of Marcus's touch or fascinated concern with his own response.

  When she had first gotten into the D/s clubs, she had learned all the clinical terms. D/s was a game comprised of so much pure intuition, it was like a primal tribal dance. As a result, it had to have safe words. Jonathan had not been into safe words. He wanted her to turn him into a wanting, mindless, unfulfilled creature, something almost non-human. As a result, he had almost transformed her into the type of monster that would let a sub offer everything just short of death for a smile from her. That had been his game, and it had needed no safe words, because there was no rescue plan for a terminal illness.

  Lauren sat up, heedless of the sand that tumbled to her lap and thighs. She caught Josh's face in her hands as he started to lever himself over her legs.