by Christa Wick
"Your face suggested otherwise on the plane."
"That was a week ago," I offered. "I've had time to think about what I want from you."
He met my gaze, another surprised look dashing across his features. His hand took possession of my mound, firmly cupping my flesh. "What then do you want?"
The answer came quickly. I had understood why I wanted his rough, detached domination almost as soon as I realized I wanted it. He may have unlocked some submissive part of me, but, in the end, I would leave with one thing from him -- one thing I desperately needed.
"A cure."
**********
My training started the next morning. Within seconds of my answer, Collin had left my room, naked and carrying his shoes, his clothes folded over one arm.
"Eight," he had rasped before leaving. "My room. The black corset and heels."
I set my alarm for seven and had my first, gloriously full block of sleep in over a week. Lightly nourished, squeaky clean, my make-up flawless, I clacked across the marble floor to his room at seven fifty-five.
I had left the corset and heels for last in preparing, lingering over my make-up, my flesh hidden beneath an oversized robe until I no longer needed to look at myself. Then I stuffed every fold into the corset and put on the barely there triangle of black that served as underwear with all the careful skill of a neurosurgeon, certain that the outfit would explode at any second.
I stood outside the door, refusing to knock. Stark had to have heard the sharp click of my heels and would know I was waiting. Any second past eight I stood outside his door would be because he willed it. It wasn't my place to knock but to wait, the heels already torturing my spine, until he acknowledge me.
Two minutes past the hour, the door swung open and I almost passed out. Stark had arranged for more than just my outfits. He had on the tightest, most mouth watering set of black leather pants I could ever imagine. My tongue swelling to twice its size, I swallowed and began to choke.
"Don't fall to pieces so soon, Mia." His hand gripped my elbow and pulled me into the room. "I told you on the plane I had plans for you -- clamps, plugs, feathers, floggers ... chemicals to cool or heat your flesh when my touch or words won't penetrate."
I felt certain for a second that his touch and words would always penetrate, but then I remembered my purpose for staying. I didn't want Stark or any other man to hold this kind of power over me ever again. He would be my cure -- not my lover, not my friend, not the man who would break me before he reformed or abandoned me.
Just my cure.
I straightened my spine and briefly met his eyes before lowering mine to the floor.
"Better," he said then pointed to the corner. "You need a time out while I prepare."
Hiding the shake in my legs, I took up the same position I had that one time in his office. My face directed at where the wall met, I smiled to myself. That first visit to the corner, I had tried to analyze everything. That had been my means of escape me entire life -- analysis. It had directed my choice of degrees, soothed me when I was most lost.
Today, I would analyze nothing. I would feel, and like a drunk that has to consume alcohol to the point of death before he reaches his turning point, I would saturate my senses with Stark and the things he did to me. I would embrace the pain and pleasure, not examine it. I would feel his voice and hands smooth over me, not try to predict their meaning, intent or direction.
I would merely be, and in being, I would free myself from Stark and every lover I had ever settled for.
So deep was I in the affirmation of my plan, I didn't sense his approach. I only knew he was done preparing when I felt the brush of his fingers down my back, straightening my posture as a blaze of heat followed the trail of his flesh over mine.
"Legs open."
I widened my stance, accepting what would come next, not worrying which hole or if it was his hand or cock or a dildo of any size.
His fingers found me first, the tips coated with lubricant. He gently pushed them into my pussy, his touch twisting to ensure I was thoroughly saturated with the liquid.
"Not that you need a coating, baby. You're always wet when I touch you."
I didn't remark on his observation. Speech required analysis. I accepted his words and moved on to the next sensation. Cold latex pushed into me, the width not quite as impressive as Collin's cock. A moan bubbled up my throat and I further parted my legs within the tight confines of the corner.
"Legs together," he corrected once he had worked the dildo all the way up into my cunt. "Good girl."
He pressed his torso and thighs against me, both arms wrapping around my body. His lips trailed over my throat as he peeled open the left bra cup on the corset. His other hand sank behind the front panel of my panties. "You're still lying, Mia. To both of us."
Stark went silent for a few seconds, stroking my clit and pinching my nipple until my knees turned to rubber. "You don't reach this place in an about face. You don't run from it then turn around and embrace it."
His mouth found the other side of my neck and he licked a line up to my ear. "There's no cure, just more wanting."
No. I wasn't going to listen to him. I would let only his commands filter through my senses, not the taunts. His verbal jousting would be wasted. Touch was all I needed or wanted.
Abandoning my nipple, he continued playing with my clit as his free hand found the base of the dildo. A flick of his finger set the entire latex shaft to vibrating and wiggling inside me.
My legs started to collapse. His strength held me up.
"Have you touched yourself since we landed?"
I shook my head, not trusting my voice. I had come the night he took me roughly. I had replayed the taking once or twice since then. Heat had burned through me but the second I thought of sneaking a hand beneath the sheets, the warmth fled. The heat turned to cold and pain.
He gave my clit a hard pinch that made me buck. "Because you know this is my pussy."
"Yes." Pussy, ass, mouth -- his to use, his to possess, nothing in them unless he put it there. Only he would wring my climax from me, over and over until I became desensitized to the pleasure.
Stark backed away. "Turn around."
I did. He pointed for me to get onto the floor.
"Spread your legs all the way -- I want the base of that cock inside you touching the floor."
I complied.
"Sink it deeper, Mia."
I let my weight push me all the way onto the dildo, my body jerking wildly as I fought to control my onrushing orgasm. Stark helped me, one hand curling in my hair and yanking my head back. Still holding my head, he freed his cock then hooked my jaw and forced my mouth open.
The different heights of our bodies and the upward arch of my neck gave the thick shaft a straight channel to fill. He pushed into my mouth and buried half his length inside my throat. Bracing one forearm against the wall, he curled his upper body over me and took shallow pumps.
"Move that ass, baby."
He wanted me to dance, to grind my hips and force the dildo to mirror the thrusts of his cock in my mouth. I wiggled, bounced, moaning as I swallowed around the fat head of his dick. My fingers found his lean hips as my entire body began to vibrate.
"Deeper," he grunted.
I didn't know if he meant cock or dildo so I absorbed more of each into my willing, burning flesh. Tears streaked down my cheeks as my climax slammed through me. I seized, swallowed, came again, sucking and coming and swallowing in unison until Stark broke free, unspent, and grabbed my shoulders.
He lifted then dragged me toward the bed. Pushing me back onto my knees, he grabbed the base of the dildo and forced me to raise cunt and ass high in the air as he forced my chest onto the mattress.
"Time to fill this sweet ass, baby."
I whimpered but didn't protest. I didn't think about how the only object that had ever breached my anus had been Stark's fingers. I didn't worry whether it would hurt. Pain would heal me faster than plea
sure.
Or so I hoped.
**********
Hands bound, nipples clamped, I looked up at the man who, over the course of our second week in Dubai, had become my master. Not the head of my company, not my boss -- but the man who was Collin Stark in his most primal form, giving and taking pleasure mercilessly.
I closed my eyes, re-centering my thoughts to correct them. He was not my master. His body and touch were my tools, his passion my means to an end no matter how many times he had made me come over the last seven days, dominating me each night, again in the early mornings before he left for the work that had postponed our departure, and those sweet, stolen moments during the day when he returned to the suite.
I flattened my lips, trying hard not to think of those afternoons. They slayed me. Rather, his behavior during them threatened to end my search for a cure as he invariably pulled me onto his lap. Lifting the skirt, he would kiss my mouth, checking my comfort if he left a toy in me that morning. Some afternoons, he would suckle at my breasts, fingers gently exploring me, teasing me but never seeking his pleasure or letting me find mine. Sweet and relaxed, almost loving.
"Look at me, Mia."
Abandoning the memories, I opened my eyes. Stark dropped to his haunches, his all seeing gaze studying me.
"You still think there's a cure, don't you?"
"Yes." I would not change my answer to please him, taking my continued obstinacy as a sign of hope.
"Sometimes, I think you're right." His gaze drifted from my face to my body. With a measured slowness he extended one fingertip and whisper stroked my clamped nipple.
A shudder rolled over me, my head dipping back as my lips parted to release a moan.
"Then you go and do that, sweet Mia. Reacting like God himself caressed you instead of mortal me."
Fuck, when he had me like this -- at the precipice, bound, teased, stretched, stroked -- he was God as blasphemous as the thought felt.
"I won't always feel this why," I countered.
His hand dropped back to his side and his face went through a series of micro-expressions. I marveled for a moment at how I had learned them without trying. Having abandoned my careful analysis, I had reached a state in which I intuitively held an understanding of the man before me that never would have yielded to reason.
He had decided to change tactics -- the wry downturn of his mouth after a single blink told me so. "You said before, you didn't want my trust."
I nodded.
He breezed a finger down my bare side. "Why?"
Sensing a change in his voice, I forced myself not to look for its meaning or source. All week long, I had stayed true to the promise I made myself. No analysis -- just sensation. Every question he asked, and he had asked so many questions, I gave him the first answer that presented itself in my thoughts. In the process, I learned more about myself than I had ever known.
"I can't give you mine," I responded, my eyes drifting shut as he brushed the backs of his fingers against the fur of my mound.
"Trust?" His voice changed pitch again, startling my eyes open.
Don't think, damn it. Feel!
I forced another nod as a cold blanket of logic tried to wrap itself around the base of my skull.
Stark snorted. "Baby, you are on your knees, your hands bound, your throat collared, in a foreign country that..."
He stopped and swallowed down the heresy he had been about to voice.
"You have allowed so many things these last few days..." The hand at my cunt drifted toward the flogger, jealousy sparking along the surface of my skin as he stroked the toy's leather handle instead of my body.
Lifting the flogger, he let its suede tails brush up the length of the still flushed thighs he had finished heating just a few minutes before. "And you'll allow so many more before we leave."
He stopped and met my gaze as if waiting for a response.
I blinked then managed nothing more than a soft yes of acknowledgement that he had taken many liberties and I would offer him as many more as it took to overdose on Collin Stark.
"Love, how can you still think you don't trust me?"
My lips parted. I stopped breathing. He was wrong, but I would have to break my promise not to think if I wanted to prove to him that he had not received my trust, not once. My lips moved -- motions that should have been a response devolved to a quivering mouth.
He kissed me, dropping the flogger so that both hands could smooth along my sides, traveling up over the outward curve of my breasts to dust my shoulders before cupping my face and holding me motionless as the kiss deepened.
His hands moved behind me, one cupping a butt cheek as the other reached for something out of sight. Feeling the cold brush of metal, I knew which new toy he had taken from the tray on the floor. The collar should have given his intent away earlier, but I had been too lost in the crisp slap of the suede tails against my flesh to offer any thought at what might come next.
A hook -- nothing as harsh as it sounds, just a smooth metal ball welded to a curving bar that ended in a small eyelet. The ball would be in my pussy or ass very soon, with a D-ring hooked to one of the rings on my collar and to the bar's eyelet so that the slightest movement in my neck tugged at ass or pussy.
I groaned, trembling in anticipation of which hole Collin intended to fill. Releasing his hold on my butt cheek, he lubricated his fingers. I sensed him coating the ball and then his fingers found my anus.
"Fuck," I exhaled, a mad throb taking possession of my cunt.
Chuckling softly, Collin moved behind me, fingering my ass with one then two then three fingers. I couldn't remain still no matter how much I knew he expected me to. Or pretended to expect. I knew he took immense pleasure from my lack of control, each twitch, moan or climax serving as an excuse to continue playing with me.
"Fuck is right, love." Slowly, he teased the ball into my ass. "I'm going to fuck this sweet pussy until you release all over the floor."
It wasn't a braggart's boast. He had made me come like that more than a dozen times, knew just the right sequence of strokes and bites and rough thrusts it took to make the dam break and the floor flood.
With the ball in place, he pressed against my back and bottom, his pelvis playfully butting against the metal bar. His hands snaked around front to test the clamps. Finding me still sensitive to his touch, he gave a sharp tug and I cried out.
A quick jump of his hands to mine and he freed me from the wrist restraints. "On your knees, baby."
I dropped to the floor, my ass and pussy willingly, eagerly presented to him. He rubbed at my aching slit.
"Head lower, ass higher."
Crossing my forearms in front of me, I used them as a cushion and pressed one cheek to them. My breasts, the nipples throbbing from the clamps, brushed over the cold floor. I squealed, pussy twitching from the overload of sensations, but remembered to lift my ass higher before he could offer a correcting pinch or swat.
"Beautiful, love," Collin whispered right before the fat head of his cock breached my cunt.
Beautiful, love, gorgeous, baby, sweet Mia -- the words had lightly salted his sentences those first few nights after business delayed our return to the States. By the fourth night, we didn't make it through a full session of play before he had uttered each word at least once.
I no longer recoiled at any of them, didn't subconsciously or openly dismiss his sincerity. That was as much a part of the deal I made with myself not to analyze anything and just feel. When I stopped thinking about how the words should make me feel, it no longer hurt to hear them.
"Baby..." Draping his chest lightly against my back and the metal bar that separated us, he braced one arm on the floor, the other on my hip. "You feel amazing, so tight and swollen."
Swollen, yes. Collin had put a belt on me at lunch. No ordinary chastity device, it came with a thick plug that fitted snugly in my pussy and made me conscious of every minute of the eight hours that passed before he finished work and returned to the
suite.
Removing the belt, he had fingered me to my first climax of the night. Sweet, tender, nothing like the lashing that would soon follow, he had me lie on the couch, one foot on the floor the other tight against the back cushion so that I was fully open to him. He had suckled, too, as he fingered me, his tongue and lips busy teasing my clit.
More than my own release, I saw the tension he had walked through the door carrying ease from his shoulders the closer I approached to my climax.
So, yes, the plug and his fingers had caused the soft tissues inside my cunt to swell and now his thick cock was in me, locked tight as he buried it balls deep. His hand drifted from my hip to the clamp on that side. He ran his fingertip against the hard, aching tip, his lips planting a kiss between my shoulder blade each time a mewling whine escaped me.
He undid the clamp, then shifted his weight and supporting arm so that he could similarly tease the other needy nipple before freeing it. When both devices were off, he pushed down between my shoulder blades, forcing me to lower my upper body until the nipples and breasts were flattened against the cold marble floor.
The sensation made me tighten around him and buck. I pressed my lips together, fighting for control. He hooked a finger inside my mouth and pried it open.
"I want to hear you when you come, want to see your lips quiver and watch you take those hard pants of air because you don't want to let go and let the pleasure claim you."
Relaxing my jaw, I closed my eyes. He had transported me back to that earlier moment when I thought him my master. For the next few minutes, he would be that man. It was okay, too, that temporary surrender. Faced with a wall of pleasure, I had learned to forgive myself these momentary failings when all I wanted were these final moments with him before we both unleashed.
"That's it, love," he coaxed, his fingers sliding over my hip, across my lower belly to the center of my need -- my pulsing, aching clit. He stroked me there, slow and tender and relentless as his mouth found my neck and sucked. "I can feel you coming."