Jason hadn’t been her first Master.
In a way, turning herself over to him and letting him lock her in his dungeon was like going home. Maybe she was sick in the head…maybe that was the problem. Maybe she didn’t miss him, she missed the lifestyle.
No, that was bullshit. Laura tried not to bullshit herself when she could avoid it. Jason might not have been her first Master, but he’d been the best. She did miss the lifestyle, but she wasn’t yearning for any of the other Doms she met over the years. She yearned for him.
And now she was going back to his house. Step into my parlor said the spider to the fly.
If she had thought she was in any real danger, she wouldn’t have agreed to follow him back. But he’d only been interested in recouping the debt she owed him. A simple transaction. Just because he was always on her mind didn’t mean she was always on his.
He was waiting for her on the front porch. She stood from the car, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. She approached him with calm, even strides, returning his smile with a small nod as she walked up the stairs like she was in complete control of the situation. He moved a little stiffly, unlocking the door and holding it open for her to enter. As soon as she crossed the threshold, the air changed. His house smelled good, like him, and it was hard not to slip into her previous role as soon as the familiar scent tickled her nose.
He said nothing, only walked ahead of her to lead the way. There was an uncomfortable silence as she followed him down to the basement, her stomach flip-flopping, the hair on her arms and the back of her neck standing on end. Her cheeks felt hot, and her skin was tingling because she descended the stairs into the room that had been her home for a week.
Well, not quite a week. Because on the sixth day, he surprised her by taking her from her temporary jail cell, carrying her up the stairs to his bathroom, where he bathed her, and then to his bed where he’d done something completely unexpected. He made love to her, branding her with his fingers and his lips, claiming every inch of her body. She’d spent the entirety of her seventh day there in his bed, stretched out on his silk sheets, feeling more like a princess than a prisoner.
“Um, I’m not sure where it is. Like I said, I haven’t seen it.” He broke the silence.
“I’m pretty sure I left it under the bench over there. Can I look?”
He gestured at the room, silently allowing her to move freely through the space. She didn’t need to ask for permission, and he didn’t need to make it a point to give it to her, but she would have never walked through the dungeon without his specific permission. It wasn’t her domain. It was his.
Every piece of furniture in that room held a specific memory. He cycled her through everything he owned, used every toy, every weapon, every whip and bench, all of his chains. She used to stare at his impressive collection on the walls surrounding her, passing the hours he left her alone by trying to guess what he would use on her next. She was never right. He always surprised her. Always kept her guessing. She supposed that made sense—he was the only person who ever caught her clever work with the books. She was used to being the smartest person in the room. She was more impressed than angry, but more scared than anything, when he cornered her with his proof.
Laura found her bag tucked in a corner under a workbench—the kind you would normally find in a garage. This one had been repurposed for a more precise work; he used it to make his own paddles. He’d confided that it was a small side business, too, bringing him a steady amount of work. She assumed he made good money from it. Handmade leather paddles were always in high demand. Especially ones made with the balance and care he used. She had personal knowledge that it was truly a superior experience. Because he did the work there, the room smelled strongly of leather, and the tingling under her skin localized between her legs, molten heat making her melt from the inside out.
“Here it is. I’ll…thanks for your help tonight. I would still be stranded there if it wasn’t for you.”
“I was more than happy to help. If it happens again, you have my number.”
She laughed softly. “Thanks anyway, but I’m sure you have better things to do than be my white knight with jumper cables.”
“I don’t. And don’t laugh, I’m serious.”
“I…” She could see he was serious, but she didn’t understand why. He didn’t owe her anything. Before he made the accusations she couldn’t deny, he’d always been politely distant with her, available if she needed him but otherwise completely indifferent. It was his apparent indifference that made her think she could get away with skimming a little off every now and again. “So if I called you at three in the morning because I have a flat tire on the side of the 10…”
“I’d be there by a quarter after three in the morning.”
“Because I’m one of your valuable employees?”
He laughed. “Hardly. You’re probably stealing from me right now. As the guy who signs the checks, I’d be much better off with you stranded on the freeway.”
“Then why?”
He lifted his hand, revealing the black band around his right wrist. Slipping the band on was the first thing he did once he had her in the dungeon. She didn’t need him to explain the significance, but he had with a simple, “It’s a promise.” He wore it in recognition that he was her Master, and she was his priority. Nobody outside the lifestyle would even notice. Those who lived it would recognize the signal.
“Our deal was for a week.” Like she needed to remind him of the details of the deal he’d offered. “And if you don’t let me leave, it is kidnapping.”
He frowned, looking deeply unhappy at the comment. She wished she’d bitten her tongue. “I have no intention of holding you against your will. And I’m not asking for anything more than what you’ve already agreed to.”
“But you’ll still be there whenever I call…for anything I need? You’ll still take care of me like…”
“Like you belong to me.” He stepped closer, reaching up to brush her hair behind her ear. His fingers were warm, and it took all her restraint to stop herself from turning into his touch, seeking the heat of his skin. She felt caught, hypnotized by his dark eyes and the smell of leather and green leaved tea. “I always take care of what’s mine.”
Laura caught her breath. His declaration couldn’t have been clearer. Her body certainly got the message, and she wouldn’t be surprised if her arousal was strong enough that he could smell it. Now it was up to her. If she wanted what he offered or if she wanted to turn her back on everything he stood for, it was entirely up to her. This was the moment, and whatever she decided, she had to own that decision. No regrets. No second chances.
She shuffled her feet closer, pressing her body to his, her hand going to the back of his neck. He was only a few inches taller than her, but she still stretched up on the tips of her toes to press her lips to his. He opened to the kiss, and she delicately slipped her tongue into his mouth, melting against the solid wall of his body.
“You know what this means,” he asked, lifting his head from hers.
Laura nodded. She knew. “I…I felt more like myself with you than with anybody else in the past five years. I can’t stop thinking about you…I can’t stop thinking about what you do to me…for me.”
“I didn’t intend…”
“Me neither.”
Their lips came together again, his hands going to her hips. He lifted her off the floor, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, surrendering to his strength. His muscles flexed, bulging against her, and there was no mistaking the other bulge in his pants. He was hard as a rock, his pants tenting in front of him, his cock pressing into her thigh. She threaded her fingers in his hair, kissing him with all of her relief and hunger, pouring herself into the caress.
Her heart beat against her ribs, and her pulse jumped and skittered in her throat. She felt flushed and cold at the same time, waves of arousal flowing from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. She was an attractive woman, but J
ason made her feel like she was more than attractive—she felt like the personification of sex. As though she’d been built for one purpose, and it took Jason’s clever hands, his sharp brain, his knowing eyes and firm voice to unlock that true purpose.
She tugged at the buttons on his shirt, ripping them away without a second thought. He’d ordered her to undress him before, and she’d taken such care to slide the buttons free, to smooth the wrinkles from his fine silk shirt, to treat each thread like it was made of pure gold. Now she didn’t give a fuck. Instead of a fine piece of clothing that deserved to be treated with care, it was the unyielding obstacle keeping her from satin skin stretched over a wall of rock, solid muscle. She muttered a quick sorry as buttons hit the floor like raindrops, but he either didn’t hear or didn’t care.
Once the buttons were gone, she pushed the cream colored shirt off his shoulders, yanking it down his arms. He lifted one hand and then the other, allowing her to pull the material free and toss it indifferently to the floor. But once he was naked, she realized that her job was only half done. She yanked at her top with no more care than she showed his, ripping it off, exposing the tops of her full breasts to his mouth. He zeroed in on her straining tits immediately, the skin no sooner exposed than covered with hot kisses and teasing, maddening nibbles, tiny, hungry bites that had her twisting and arching towards the sharp points.
During their seven days together, he was never shy about hurting her. She never shied away from the pain, always making it a point to arch her body towards the whip, the flog, the paddle, the palm of his hand. She hadn’t done that because she knew it would please him—she only did it because it pleased her. Just the pressure of his teeth was enough to flood her pussy with fresh arousal, her clit throbbing for the attention her nipples received between his rows of pearly whites.
Laura unsnapped her bra and sent it to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. It felt like his mouth never left her body. Like it was everywhere at once. It was all so wonderfully familiar, but not what she was after. Or rather, not the only thing she wanted. Every detail of their week together stood out in stark reality in her mind, and yet the whole week passed in a blur of unfulfilled desire. There was one thing she desperately wanted to do. Perhaps he had known that. Perhaps he had purposefully kept her from indulging in her biggest fantasies. But he wasn’t going to keep her from her desires that night.
She dropped her feet to the floor, sinking down to her knees as he released his tight hold on her. He looked down at her with heavy eyes, his dark irises disguised by his thick fringe of blonde eyelashes. She had his full attention, and that fact sent a thrill down her spine that she couldn’t even begin to name. She recognized that look. She knew it because she always had his full attention. But it was still different, because now she knew it was about her and not a debt she owed him.
Laura yanked at his pants, pulling the button free and spreading the zipper open. They came down his hips with a rough yank, and his long, hard cock burst free, not confined by any underwear. His cock stuck straight out in front of him—a long uncut masterpiece. Her mouth watered at the thought of it, and she was practically drooling at the sight of it. He liked to blindfold her and fuck her with dildos, toys, the handles of his floggers, even items she was pretty sure came from the kitchen. But she always, always, always knew when his thick bulbous head spread her pussy lips open, nudged at the tight opening, and then slipped inside, invading her swollen, bruised channel.
She stuck her tongue out, licking at the clear liquid she found at the top, pulling the taste of salt and man into her mouth, licking it up like it was a treat more special than ice cream. In a way, it was. He never let her taste his cum, not once in their week together, and this was like getting a hint of ambrosia. And when it came to the nectar of the Gods, a hint was almost as good as a whole mouthful.
Laura dragged her tongue down his shaft, letting her lips glide over his shaft while she traced his throbbing vein from the tip to the base. Once her mouth was close enough to his heavy sac, she closed her lips around it, sucking first one ball than the other into the hot confines of her mouth. He moaned, his hips rocking forward, his knees bending ever so slightly. She lavished him with attention, gentle and then rough, sucking just hard enough to make him groan, and then whimper. The surprising sound was like a pointed arrow straight to her groin, and she squeezed her thighs together, trying to ease the new sense of throbbing.
She sat back on her heels, licking the taste of his musk from her lips, gripping him by the hips and spinning around before he even realized what was happening. She used the back of her hand to push his muscled thighs apart, and then spread the firm globes of his cheeks. She’d only done this once or twice before, but she wanted to pull more surprising whimpers from him. She wanted to do something surprising, something he’d never expect but would beg for from then on.
She pushed him forward, silently encouraging him to lean against the workbench and pop his ass out, making her task even easier. She blew warm air over his tight pucker, running her finger over the sensitive ring of muscle again and again, tracing the route she intended to travel with the tip of her tongue. He held himself perfectly still, not so much as a tremor betraying his excitement or anticipation. Had anybody ever done this to him before? Did he like it? Well, if he didn’t, he probably would have already stopped her. Besides, she wasn’t going to cross any lines with him…though to be honest, she didn’t know if he had any lines. Good Masters never, ever did anything to their slaves that they hadn’t already experienced themselves.
Laura replaced her finger with her tongue without warning, swiping the tip across his opening and then around the delicate flesh. He jerked like she’d stung him, or maybe she burned him with the heat of her mouth, sucking his breath in sharply and reaching behind him to grip her head. She paused, waiting for his ultimate reaction, wondering if he was about to rip her away from him, but instead of yanking her back he pushed her forward, pressing more of her mouth against his pucker.
She kept her tongue on the surface of his flesh, teasing and lapping, pulling an unbroken series of sighs and moans from him, until the pressure on the back of her head increased, pushing her harder against his ass. She let her tongue slide into his tight opening, fucking him with the delicate pink tool until he was panting hard—to her ears it sounded like he was on the verge of asking for even more. Maybe even begging. She was close to begging herself, rocking back and forth on her knees, rubbing her thighs together. She could have reached between her legs at any time, could have fingered her clit until she took the edge off. But he never gave her permission for that, and even though he’d allowed her freedom at the moment, her training as his submissive had been too thorough, too complete and intense. It didn’t even occur to her to try.
But she needed to do something with her hands. Her left palm went to his hip, her right to his thick shaft, her fist flying up and down the throbbing length. His grip loosened, and she took the opportunity to lift her head, quickly sliding her finger past the slick ring to sink into his hot channel. He moaned, dropping his head forward—a sign of surrender, the sort of complete submission she had never hoped for, and was definitely not expecting.
Emboldened by his response, she slid her longer middle finger inside, stretching him a little bit more open. She turned her palm downward, working her fingers in deeper and deeper until she found it—that little bundle of flesh that would make fireworks go off behind his eyes and under his skin. She pressed against it, pulled out, slammed her fingers forward and found it with a direct hit. The third time she did that, his body sort of leaned to one side, thighs tightening until she could actually see the cords of muscle standing out against the skin, the veins in his arms popping out. Warm liquid erupted into her palm, and she couldn’t help her little squeal of pleasure. Before he could stop her, she brought her hand to her mouth and licked the warm liquid from her skin.
He chuckled, turning his head to look down at her lapping at the cum in he
r hand like it was melted ice cream.
“You could have just asked if you wanted a taste.”
She lifted the corner of her mouth in a half grin and batted her eyelashes up at him. “Taking is so much more fun.”
“Don’t I know it.”
In the next instant, she was off the ground, effortlessly lifted and tossed over his shoulder. She yelped with surprise, though there wasn’t a single hint of protest in the sound, helpless to do anything but stare at the ground as he carried her up the stairs, through the house, and up another flight of stairs to the master bedroom. He flung her down to the bed, tearing her skirt from her hips as soon as her back hit the mattress. She stared up at him, on high alert, her breath caught in her lungs as she waited to see what he would do next.
Jason dropped down to the bed, trapping her in a cage made of his arms and chest, his mouth just inches from hers. So close, and yet not close enough to kiss. His cock nudged at her folds, the tip hungrily seeking entrance. She automatically spread her thighs, wrapping her long legs around his hips, angling herself so his cock could more easily find the heat it sought.
Filthy Smut (Vol. 4): 35 Erotic Stories (Over 400 Pages of Hot Sex) Page 2