by Vonna Harper
“Damn,” he hissed and pulled out. Feeling lost, she took a chance on rolling onto her side. His erection was wet with her juices and her pussy quivered.
“On your back.”
As she complied, awareness of her collar became nearly as powerful as her readiness for sex. He climbed onto the bed and settled himself on his knees. Grasping her hips, he pulled her toward him until the backs of her thighs rested on the fronts of his with her bent legs behind him. She took care to keep her weight off his left leg. After running his nails from between her breasts clear to her mons and making her squeal, he rose up and hauled her even closer. Sweet pressure against her pussy had her lifting her buttocks in an attempt to increase the alignment.
Cock inside pussy. Completing her.
Thinking to mirror what he’d done, she aimed her nails at his chest. He shook his head. “Not this time, slave. I do, I control. You experience.”
He eased his hands under her buttocks and started thrusting. The attack consumed her. She ran her fingers into her hair and closed her eyes. In her mind, Master Reno loomed over her, watching her breasts jiggle and listening to her harsh breathing. She should do the same but these were deeply personal and vulnerable moments for a man.
This was her master, as mysterious as he was powerful. Better to dive into the images that had sustained her through all those lonely nights.
Pummeling his helpless captive, listening to her squeal, laughing at her futile attempts to break free of overwhelming and unending arousal. Showing no mercy, pushing her onward and onward until only release mattered.
Denying her.
Fantasy died. In its place came the realization that Master Reno cared as much about her pleasure as his own. Otherwise he wouldn’t have taken hold of her nipples, making her think of metal clamps.
“Feel,” he said softly. “Take the sensations into you.” His hold on her hard nubs tightened. “Let pleasure and pain melt together.”
What pain? Arousal spread over her until nothing existed beyond hot hunger. Master’s potent body hammered at hers. His cock abraded her inner walls until they wept. She opened her eyes, saw him, nothing but him.
Felt him. Rode with him.
When her climax struck she felt as if she’d charged unprotected into a storm. Hot wind and driving rain pummeled her, sent her flying.
He came with a series of jerks that held her hard against her own release and kept it going. Sweat burst from her pores to join with his. For a few seconds they were equals.
Then, finished, Master released her nipples and raked his nails over and down her body. Moaning, crying in delight, she let Master do as he wished with her.
#
“I’ve never hunted.”
“I’m glad to hear that but why not? Being surrounded by the wilderness the way you are, it would be easy.”
Reno looked up from whatever he’d been reading on his cell phone. “Is that something you think I should be doing? Bastard of a sex slave trainer blasts away at everything that moves?”
“No,” she hurried to say. She stood in the kitchen stir-frying the vegetables she’d found in his refrigerator. Even though she had on one of his T-shirts, his look stripped her. “I didn’t mean that. I’m just…”
“Trying to learn more about me?”
“Yes Master.”
He nodded. “Why?”
The easy way out would be to stumble through a non-response, but they both deserved better. Less than an hour ago they’d climaxed at nearly the same time and now, even though he’d said he wanted to see if she could cook, something was coming to life between them.
“That can’t surprise you,” she said. “You’re fascinating. Complex.”
He frowned.
“You don’t want to be.” She hurried her words. “You’ve always kept your slave trainees at arms’ length.”
After a glance at his phone, he again regarded her. “My job calls for me turning a trainee inside out, not the other way around.”
“I know.” She felt, not sorry for him, but much as she had while she was locked up. No one had cared about the confused and hurt girl with worthless parents and a boyfriend who’d lied and deserted her. Day by day she’d built a wall around her emotions. Maybe her coping techniques had manifested themselves in her need to turn her very existence over to a master. “How did you wind up working for Carnal Incorporated?”
He didn’t answer. Neither did he order her to stop asking questions. She still wore his collar and whatever he told her to do, she would. Their relationship was complex. Hopefully it would always be like that.
Always?
“I shouldn’t have asked, Master. I had no right.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. That smells good.”
“I told you I can cook.”
“Then I’ll keep you.”
The words hung between them. If he kept her, he’d want more than a cook.
A sex slave.
Someone to talk to.
To be part of.
“There.”
Pulled out of herself, she realized he was indicating at the phone. “What is it, Master?”
“Damek just got back to me. He wants us to work together.”
“Doing what?” Will you leave me?
Instead of reminding her, as he had every right to, that she had no business asking questions, he read what Damek had texted.
“Hell yes I want you. Why do you think I kept talking about the business? If you’re sure you’re ready to adjust and adapt your technique, how soon can you get your ass here?”
Unable to concentrate on anything except the ramifications of those words, she turned off the stove and walked over to Master Reno. He was sitting on one side of the counter while she stood opposite him. Marks still circled her wrists and heat from the stove had started the whip marks to itching.
“Damek and I have worked together for years. We sometimes clashed but haven’t for a long time. He’s as much of a bastard as I am.”
She covered his hands with hers. His warmth and life slipped into her, prompting her to press her thighs together. To anticipate. “You aren’t a bastard.”
“Aren’t I? Don’t forget what I did to you.”
“I loved it.”
His stare went on and on. “I know you did. We’re both fucked up.”
“Maybe.”
“No maybe to it.”
Unwilling to argue, she waited for him to continue. The log walls, stone fireplace, exquisite staircase, and handmade furniture said a great deal about the man who lived here.
“Damek and I will no longer be working for Carnal. We’re going to open our own operation.”
Doing what? She didn’t ask because Master might be displeased and she needed to please him. To fuck him.
He drew his hands out from under hers and captured her wrists. “There are a lot of women like you. They want the world to see them as standing on their own two feet but when they’re behind closed doors with—“
“With their masters?”
“If they have one. Thousands are looked for someone to belong to. They need to be trained so those someones will want them. That’s what Damek and I’ll be doing.”
Master would be touching other women, putting them through what he’d put her through? Jealousy and loss closed her eyes.
“I know what you’re thinking, slave.” He squeezed her wrists. “But you’re wrong.”
“I am?”
“Yes. Open your eyes.”
She obeyed. No, he wasn’t handsome, but she didn’t want him to be. Everything about him spoke to her, even the scars she now believed he’d tell her about. Some day—or night—he’d let her into his past just as she’d done.
“Those women will be clients. You’re mine because it’s what we both need.” He released one wrist and stroked her collar. “The one I’ll lock around your neck will be red. A combination of leather and metal.”
Her legs threatened to go out from under her. “With your name
on it so everyone will know I belong to you.”
“Yes,” he muttered and indicated she was to come around the counter.
She waited until he’d pulled her back against his chest and his hands covered her breasts. “Thank you, Master.”