by Cara Dee
Oh, right. So much for not delaying that reveal, as Master Cooper had requested.
Oops.
"It's my SLRN," I answer honestly.
At that, his eyebrows shoot up. "SLRN, as in…?"
I nod him along. He knows the answer, and he's silly for hesitating.
The hesitation in his eyes fades, thankfully, and it dawns on him. Hopefully he now understands that I'm goddamn serious when I say I know what I'm doing.
"You have a slave registry number?" He still phrased it as a question, of course. Domly types, man. And because he might've grown cynical over the years, the doubt comes next. He narrows his eyes. "It's new."
"The tattoo, yes." I don’t miss a beat. "But I registered four years ago. You can check the database if you want."
"Jesus." He backs away and runs a hand through his hair, his slightly widened eyes finding me quickly. Yes, that’s right. I know what I want, mister.
I place my hands on my hips. "When are you gonna stop looking for obstacles and reasons why we shouldn’t—" I haven't even finished the sentence before he closes the distance between us, cups my cheeks, and leans down to kiss me. Hard.
I let out a muffled umph sound, and it takes a couple seconds for my brain to catch up. But once I do, I throw my arms around his neck and return the kiss with all the passion I can. I moan as he strokes my tongue with his, his fingers digging into my hips possessively.
At the feel of his cock pressing against my lower abdomen, my knees get weak, and a dull throb of lust drops to the center of my body. Wetness dampens my pussy, and I instinctively wrap my legs around him and clench my thighs.
He groans into my mouth and bunches up my dress. "Fuck, baby. Hold on to the rope."
My breathing hitches. I comply. I release his broad shoulders and bring my hands high above my head, getting a good grip on the webbed rope behind me. Then I watch Rio retrieve his wallet from the inner pocket of his suit. God yes, please. Fuck me. He finds a condom, tosses his wallet on the chair in the corner, and inches away just enough to unbuckle his belt, then unzip his pants.
I take the hint and loosen my legs around him, though I try to pull him close the second he's pushed his pants and boxer briefs down his hips. His clothes pool around his knees, already forgotten.
My mouth waters at the sight of his long fingers rolling the rubber onto his thick erection.
"I won't return you to Mark," he tells me, slipping a hand between my thighs. All I can muster is a whimper as he traces my wet slit. He slides two soaked fingers up to my clit, then down again until he circles my hole and slams them inside.
"Fuck!" My head falls back against the rope. My body fucking trembles, and he's barely even begun. "Oh, God…"
"'Oh, Master,'" he corrects. His teeth gnash together when he replaces his fingers with his cock, and I cry out in pleasure at the intrusion. He lets out a panted breath and stills. "I won't be able to fight this anymore." Don’t ask me why he posed it as a threat. "I'll take it all."
"Good." I squirm and whimper, wanting more. "Please, Sir."
He grinds deeper and grabs my jaw. "You don’t get it," he grits out. "I've always been an all-or-nothing kind of man, and I've settled for nothing for a long time. If we do this…" He screws his eyes shut, his lips ghosting over mine. "My feelings for you terrify me, Chelsea." I swallow a gasp as he opens his eyes again, and the emotion swimming there is overwhelming. I've never seen him both so exposed and so predatory. "I'll want you in my house several days a week as soon as your training begins." Now we're talking. Fuck, at last. And…he finally starts to move inside me. "There'll be contracts and protocols." Yes, yes, yes. "I'll never be completely vanilla. When I take you out for dinner, every decision is still mine. What you wear, what you eat. And my idea of romance is anticipating your needs, knowing your wishes, and choosing when to give it to you." Holy hell, his words seduce me as much as his body does. "You don’t know how much power you have over me already, little rebel—fuck. Or how many of my own rules I've broken." He groans and shoves his cock deep. I mewl and meet every thrust. "But I don’t have to worry about you trying to take charge, do I?" He finally understands.
"Sweet Jesus—Master," I pant, flushed with arousal. "Of course you don't. My… My…" God, it's getting too difficult to speak. "My philosophy is—ungh—" I gasp as his pelvis rubs against my clit, and I can't help but close my eyes. "The sub's needs are as important as…as the Master's, but the Master's desires trump the sub's."
"Perfect." He kisses me hungrily and moves faster, harder. "Consider yourself my sub-in-training, beautiful." Those words trigger an explosion of happiness and euphoria to wash over me. "I'll own every part of you. You'll be my property. Only mine."
A needy whine slips through my lips as my orgasm threatens to set off, and my arms ache from holding myself up. "May I please come, Master?" A bead of sweat trickles down between my breasts, and my breathing goes from labored to barely there.
"No." He grunts and cups my ass roughly, then slides one hand up my front and pushes down the sheer material of my slave dress. "I can't wait to mark these." Dipping down, he palms one of my tits and sucks the nipple into his mouth. I groan in response, feeling his teeth graze teasingly against my sensitive flesh. "Out of this world," he moans. "Imagine how they'll look with my come on them."
I can't fucking take it. I'm right on the brink.
"Whatever you want." I suck in a shaky breath. My lungs burn, needing more air. "Oh fuck—please, Master!" My pussy tightens around his slicked-up cock as he rams forward.
No luck. He tortures me for half an eternity, alternating between quick, shallow thrusts and deep, I-can-soon-feel-you-in-my-throat ones. And what was once an ache in my arms and wrists from holding the rope so tightly is now a fiery throb that pulses and spreads down my neck and back.
When my fingers slip and I nearly lose my grip, I hiss at the rope burn and grit my teeth together. I will not fail him, goddammit. But it's clear that two yoga classes a week will soon be three.
"Good girl," he murmurs, outta breath. His eyes are warm with…approval? "You're not one to complain, are you?"
"I wanna be the best I can be for you. Even if my arms die." I manage an impish grin, though it's cut off when he strokes my clit. Oh God, oh fuck. My entire being seizes up, and I scream internally in protest at my climax surging forward. Any second, any second—
"Come." Rio—my owner—buries himself to the hilt and groans against my neck, and the last thing I'm aware of is his cock pulsing deep inside my pussy.
The ecstasy tumbling through me numbs out any pain. I lose my senses and awareness. Spots appear behind my closed eyelids, and I hold my breath for as long as I can, wanting the bliss to go on forever.
I don’t know for how long I space out. Sound by sound, feeling by feeling, I slowly regain consciousness. The delicious soreness between my thighs makes itself known. My arms aching when they're lowered. The music in the background. Screams of pleasure and pain around us.
When I come to enough, I notice we're not even by the spider web anymore. Master's seated in the leather chair, and he's cradling me close to his body. Black shirt and dress pants back in place, but his suit jacket is around me instead.
"My beautiful little rebel," he whispers against my temple.
I sigh blissfully and cuddle closer, pressing my nose into the crook of his neck. Never before have I felt this safe.
"Thank you for giving me a shot, Master." I nuzzle his jaw and press a soft kiss there.
I feel him shaking his head. "Thank you for being brave when I wasn’t. We wouldn’t be sitting here right now if it weren't for your determination and faith in us. I've grown cynical enough over the years that I sometimes don’t see a good thing even if it smacks me upside the head. Especially when it's a bright, gorgeous young woman who has her entire life ahead of her."
I smirk drowsily at the image of me smacking him anywhere—eeep!—and lift my head from his shoulder to look him in the eye. "I'
ve lived enough to know I wanna do the rest of my living with a collar around my neck." I kiss him on the lips. Kissing his smile. "And I've experienced enough instability and loneliness to know I wanna achieve the rest of my goals while serving at my Master's feet." Then, to make it playful, I chuff him lightly on the chin and say, "We'll find our balance, champ."
He gives me an incredulous look before barking out a laugh and squeezing me tightly.
Chapter 12
The outside world reminds us of its presence when Evangeline carefully peeks in and says, "Mr. Ford asked me to let you know it's almost time."
Oh!
I'd almost forgotten the birthday party Kayla and I planned for Rio.
"We'll be there in five," I answer. "Thanks, hon."
She grins and disappears again.
Master lifts a brow, the corners of his mouth tugging upward. "I believe it's up to me where we'll be in five minutes."
I lean forward and kiss his nose, just 'cause. "You can start bossing me around the second we get there, but you can't say no to this. You're the guest of honor, after all." With that, I hop off his lap, wince slightly at the soreness, and straighten my dress. "You wouldn’t wanna miss your own birthday party, would you? I made the cake myself." And I'm damn proud of it!
"My birth—" He closes his mouth, and his initial confusion is wiped away with a soft smile. "You amaze me."
It's my goal to keep doing that—and to keep that smile on his face.
"Come on, Master. Your friends are waiting." I hold out a hand for him.
*
True to his nature, Master gives me his first instruction right before we enter the Chamber.
"If I tap my thigh, it means I want you to kneel next to me. We'll work on poses later. You're free to speak, but keep in mind you have to ask me before you make any plans with your girlfriends."
Easy enough. Though, the one I'm most anxious to talk to isn't a girlfriend. At this point, I'm really fucking worried about Dylan, and his face is the first one I seek out the moment we enter the dimly lit Chamber. But he's nowhere to be found. Mr. Ford, Mr. Kingsley, Master Hill, Master Cooper, Mistress Judy, Master Dante, their subs…Gabriella—I'll have to ask her.
Seated with Mistress Judy's sub, Gabriella looks as happy as Mr. Kingsley does across the room—as in, not at-fucking-all.
"Happy early birthday, Master Rio!" Kayla cries out, bouncing in her seat. It's followed by a wince, so I'm guessing Mr. Ford didn’t go easy on her butt earlier. "Daddy, can I go hug him?"
Before friends swarm Master to congratulate him, I ask if I can go over to Gabriella and talk to her about Dylan. Master nods and tells me to hurry back.
I leave his side the second before Kayla and Evangeline run up to hug him.
I smile to myself, happier than ever. It's an amazing and close-knit community I've joined.
Making my way over to Gabriella, who's now alone, I sit down next to her on a couch and peer out over the room and the people around us. I catch Master glancing around, taking in the balloons, the banner attached between the two brass poles in the middle of the floor, the garlands, the small bar that has replaced the wax play station, and I see the smile he directs at the floor before he shakes his head dazedly.
Pleasure fills me.
"Hey." I nudge Gabriella's shoulder with mine. "I know you and I haven't talked much, but are you okay?"
She sends a polite smile my way and tucks a piece of her chin-length hair behind her ear. The shiny, dark hair looks like it's been straightened, not a strand out of place. "Perfect little girl" comes to mind with her baby pink dress, light makeup, and huge rock on her ring finger. But for some reason, I think her green eyes should be filled with mischief. The faint freckles on her cheeks and nose should be displayed proudly—not hidden under foundation—to show she just might be the hottest mix between Italian and Irish.
I wanna muss up her hair and remove the invisible corset that has her sitting stiff like a stick.
"I'm fine, thank you." She flashes her pearly whites. "My Daddy wanted to be here to celebrate Master Kelly, but he was held back at the office."
Uh-huh. According to Dylan, that’s a common occurrence.
"All right, sweets." I drape an arm around her shoulders and lean in a little closer. "We're still strangers, so I get the polite nonsense. But whenever you wanna cut the shit and talk about your Daddy Dom, or, you know, maybe Dylan and Mr. Kingsley, I'm here for you. Deal?" I stick out my hand for her.
Her eyes widen comically, her gaze flicking between my face and my hand. Then she composes herself, but not before I see a glimpse of hesitation and curiosity.
When she averts her eyes, I follow to where she's looking, and what a surprise, Mr. Kingsley's watching us with a small frown.
"Deal." Gabriella shakes my hand quickly and exhales shakily.
Maybe she will, maybe she won't. She's back to her schooled self, so she might be humoring the sub she only recently met.
"I didn’t mean to get pushy," I feel the need to add. "I came over to ask about Dylan, but I saw you lookin' sad, so…"
Another smile, this one more forced. Pained. "It's okay, Chelsea. Thank you for your concern." Man, she's formal. "As for Dylan…" There's that pain again. "He left for Texas this morning." That leaves me queasy in an instant. "He told me you two hung out after Master Kelly's party. He likes you." This time her smile is a bit more genuine.
"You can't have too many friends," I respond. "I like him, too." Looking down at my lap, I frown and wonder if Kayla has his email or something. Wait. I've friended him on Switch's web forum. I'll try there.
In the extremely short time I've known Dylan, I've already started feeling protective of him in a kid-brother sorta way. He's this cheeky yet vulnerable sweetheart, and a part of me wants to go over to Mr. Kingsley and give him a piece of my mind. But I don’t know enough about their situation, and it's none of my business to interfere.
That's Kayla's domain.
"He didn’t tell me when he's coming back, but he will," she says, nodding firmly. "He has to. He's got the Nationals this summer, the short-course World Championship in December, and then the tryouts for the Olympics next year. He wouldn’t go without his personal trainer for long."
Huh. So when Kayla told me Dylan's a professional swimmer, she really fucking meant it. I mean, the Olympics? Christ on a cracker.
"If you talk to him, tell him to PM me on Switch's site?" I ask, noticing both Mr. Kingsley and Master walking over.
"Of course—" Gabriella nods and purses her lips as the two Doms reach us.
Master taps two fingers on his thigh, at which my heart rate spikes and I quickly remember his instruction. Sliding off the couch, I kneel next to him and direct my gaze downward.
He strokes a hand over my hair.
Shiver.
"Everything okay here, princess?" Mr. Kingsley asks Gabriella.
"Yes, Sir," she answers demurely. "Master Kelly, my Daddy sends his congrats."
"I'm sure he did, little one." There's a wry smirk in Master's voice. "You're here—that’s what matters. Isn't that right, mate?"
I smile to myself.
"Hell, yeah." Mr. Kingsley's whiskey voice fills with a gruffness, and unless I'm reading too much into it, he's not happy with Gabriella's Daddy Dom. "Now, how about we get these girls some cake?"
*
Rio brings me home with him after Switch, and for the second time in as many nights I've spent at his house, I wake up in his bed alone, the moonlight shining through the wall-sized window.
After rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I see Rio standing by said window, hands in the pockets of his sweats. He's more of a silhouette than a person. His body is shadowed by the night, from his head and broad shoulders, past his narrow hips and muscular thighs, down to his bare feet. His hair sticks out a bit more than usual, either from sleep or from running a hand through it too many times.
Reaching for the black dress shirt he wore earlier, I slip it on
and leave the bed. The hardwood creaks quietly under my feet, but other than a small tilt of his head, Rio doesn’t move. He knows I'm awake now, though.
"Can't sleep, Master?" I ask softly.
He hums as I slide my palms down his back and around his middle.
"Just a few things on my mind." He covers my hands with his and brings them up to kiss my knuckles. I rest my forehead between his shoulder blades. "I was trying to remember the last time I felt this way—happy, excited…nervous." I feel his smile against my knuckles with another brush of his lips. "I suppose last time should've been when my fiancée was alive, but it's not. Far from it."
That’s sad.
"Did you leave BDSM for her?" Because I know his fiancée was vanilla, according to Kayla. And though Nicholas's suspicion of me being the reason Rio left the scene has wreaked havoc in my thoughts for days now, I can't wrap my head around that. It makes no sense.
"No." With a gentle tug on my hand, he silently tells me to face him. I kiss his back then sneak under his arm and peer up with a smile. "I left because of my reaction to meeting you."
That wipes the smile off my face.
I swallow, suddenly nervous as fuck. "What do you mean?"
He sighs and clasps his hands around me, resting them above my butt. "Like I started telling you before I…well, before I attacked you at the club—"
I can't help but chuckle, and I smack his chest playfully.
His eyes show both mirth and challenge. "That," he murmurs and nips at my fingers, "will get you punished when you begin your training."
"Which starts tomorrow, Sir," I point out, not deterred. "But okay. You were saying."
He inclines his head, his hands returning to their previous position behind me. "You're not the only one who remembers every minute of when we first met." He parts his lips to continue then changes his mind. "Come here." Guiding me over to the cushy chair in the corner near his closet, he sits down and draws me onto his lap. "I got into BDSM when I was nineteen, so I considered myself experienced at thirty." When we met. "I learned new things frequently, sure, but nothing surprised me anymore. I knew—I thought I knew exactly what I wanted. I played often, went to events, and had a few steady—very obedient—partners I scened with. Doctor by day, Master by night."