by Livia Grant
It’s time to wipe that sass away, at least for a few days, and start to get back to normal.
In a flash he moved his hand from her waist to the back of her neck, squeezing hard enough through her long, tangled locks to ensure he had her full attention. She craned her neck to look into his eyes. He didn’t miss the first flicker of uncertainty as she waited.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen next. I’m going to explain to you where we are and why we stopped here. Then, we’re going to toast to the start of our honeymoon and then…” He waited long enough to see more of her sass receding from her eyes as she anticipated his plan. “And then you’re gonna fall to your knees and open wide so I can give you your first face-fucking as a married woman.”
He adored the full-body shiver that ran through her at his dominant promise. He’d missed her submission in the insane month leading up to their holiday wedding.
“About a month ago, I decided to reach out to some friends here on the West Coast to find out where one of the best BDSM clubs might be in town. As you probably noticed, we’ve had to pretty much put our D/s relationship on hold thanks to the holiday and wedding hoopla of the last month. Between visiting family, last minute hiccups, parties to plan and attend… well, you get the drift.” He softened his voice as he continued, “Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t change a single thing about the wedding. Everything you planned… the decorations, flowers, food, venue… Christ, your dress… it was perfect, Tiff. You did such a great job taking charge of all of the important wedding details and I couldn’t be prouder to call you my wife.” He saw a sheen of tears in her eyes at his words of praise.
“But now it’s time for you to relax—to remember how to hand over control—to embrace that sexy submissive side of yourself that I love just as much as my sassy Tiff. For the next two days, we’re going to make sure we welcome my dominance and your submission back into our marriage. We’re also going to enjoy playing in a new club where no one knows us and where we can maybe explore a few new kinks while reconnecting with the D/s dynamics of our relationship.”
In the old days—before Tiffany—he would have stopped his explanation there. But hell, since he wouldn’t even be on a honeymoon without Tiffany, he knew he had to add one final thing, because he’d promised not to keep secrets from his wife.
“And finally, tomorrow night I am going to be meeting some of the dungeon monitors from the club downstairs, Black Light, to see if any of them might be Dungeon Master material for The Pit. As you are painfully aware, it’s been like Mission Impossible’ trying to find someone to take over the leadership at the club. It’s been insane for both Derek and me to keep juggling that part of the business along with everything else. It’s bad enough that the instability of the shows has started impacting membership totals, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let it interfere with our marriage.”
One lone tear spilled over, streaking down Tiffany’s cheek as he felt her body melting against him. He’d half expected her to put up a fight to maintain her recent level of assertiveness.
“Thank goodness. I know it’s hard to find the right person and while I’ll cross my fingers that you find someone here in California who will be a good fit, don’t for one minute think I don’t know what’s really going on here.”
Okay, maybe she hadn’t shed her sass yet after all.
“Careful with that tone, little girl, or you just might be getting face-fucked with a welted ass.”
Her bright smile reminded him of just how far they had come in the nine months since they’d met. If he didn’t know better, he could swear his wife was aching for her first punishment as a married woman. Ever the hard-core sadist, his cock came to life at the mere thought of hearing her crying out as he put some of the many sex toys he’d brought along to use on her exquisite body.
“I was merely pointing out that I know you arranged to do work on this trip just so you could use a portion of the vacation as a business tax write-off.”
Lukus couldn’t hold back his bark of laughter. “Damn, I hadn’t even thought of that!”
Tiffany held up her glass with her free hand, trying not to slosh it down their clothes. “See, I’m not just a pretty face.”
“Oh baby, I knew that the second I met you. It’s why we’re standing here, on our honeymoon. I wasn’t gonna let anyone else elbow his way into your life once I knew the rare gem I’d found.”
“We really should buy Brianna and Markus a nice gift while we’re away. If they hadn’t fucked up their marriage so spectacularly, we might not have ever met.” They’d talked about it many times in the past, but he wasn’t surprised she brought it up again now.
Although the observation was accurate, he couldn’t resist falling back into the dominant role he’d recently been pressing down.
“While I couldn’t agree more, Mrs. Mitchell, I’ll take this opportunity to remind you that we have a no cussing rule for you in our relationship, do we not?” He adored the spark of surprise in her eyes. When she failed to speak, he added. “No worries. I’ve been keeping track for us, at least of the transgressions I heard. Consider yourself lucky that you’ll get away with the ones I missed.”
“What does that mean?” she asked warily.
“It means that you’ve earned forty-seven strokes for the forty-seven cuss words I’ve let pass in the last few weeks.”
“You kept track?” she squeaked.
“Of course, I kept track. What kind of Dom would I be if I let you get away with such total insubordination?” He tried his best to deliver his answer with the proper level of authority, but failed miserably when the smile he’d been holding back refused to be denied. There wasn’t one single thing he was truly upset with Tiffany about, which meant she was in for one good-girl funishment—of course, she didn’t need to know that quite yet.
Ignoring the trepidation on her gorgeous face, he moved his hand back to cup her curvy ass while holding up the flute of warming bubbly with the other. “Now, back to the toast. Tiff, you’re the love of my life. You challenge me in ways I never even knew I was missing, and I can’t wait to play our unique version of tug-of-war with you every single day for the rest of our lives.”
Those must have been the right words, because his wife ignored the sloshing champagne as she threw one leg around his body, yanking him even closer as she went on her tip-toe to crash her lips against his. It was no chaste kiss, but an oral assault of the passionate woman he loved. He thrust his hips forward, ensuring she felt the growing shaft that would soon be cutting off her oxygen when he shoved it down her throat.
There was just one problem. They needed to get rid of the damn champagne glasses, and that meant first pulling out of the scorching hot kiss. He stayed close, resting his forehead against hers as they each caught their breath for a second.
Finally, able to speak, he barked his first order. “Drink your champagne. We need to ditch the glasses.”
He didn’t need to tell her twice. They each lifted their flute, clinking glasses first before each downing every drop. Tiffany coughed as she finished, holding her empty glass up like a trophy. Ready to move things along, Lukus took her flute before taking a step away while ordering her. “Don’t move a muscle.”
It was tempting to rush, but he forced himself to apply the self-discipline that made him the hard-core Master of Masters when he wanted to be. Keeping his back to her, he poured himself another glass before walking a few feet to the straight-backed chair next to the dining table. Pulling it out, he arranged it to face the center of the suite before sitting, casually crossing his left leg over his right, his ankle resting on his knee as he leaned back to take in the vision of his bride standing awaiting his next instruction.
“Now, it’s time to unwrap my favorite present. For starters… take off your shoes.”
Tiffany had no problems with his first request, kicking her comfy travel flats towards the king-size bed. Like a good girl, she waited for his next instruction.
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��Next, lose the jeans,” he said before leisurely sipping more bubbly.
Here she took her time, seductively unbuttoning her pants and slowly wriggling out of the perfectly tight jeans before kicking them aside near her discarded shoes. If the sly smile on her face was any indication, his Mrs. was enjoying her little strip tease as much as he was.
“Time to unbutton that frilly blouse. You may have arrived here as a very lovely lady, but I’m about to remind that body of yours just how much it loves being my dirty girl.”
He didn’t miss the shiver that ran through her body as she slowly started at the top button. When she looked down, he recaptured her full attention with his one-word bark. “Eyes.”
Her ocean-blues snapped up to obey. Damn, he’d missed the flare of submission dancing there. He’d spent his entire adult life demanding complete submission from women, but not until meeting Tiffany did he realize just how much he’d been missing by only achieving submission from club subs. It was his wife’s constant internal struggle between her complex parts that reminded him how important her gift of submission truly was.
When she had all of the buttons unfastened, he instructed her again. “Slowly, peel that shirt open and let me see that lacy bra you have on.”
Complying, this time she let the fabric slip to the floor at her bare feet as she stood before him in her perfectly white, lacy bra and panties set.
He couldn’t resist teasing her. “Did you get that virginal-looking underwear set special for our honeymoon?”
She smiled. “My sisters gave it to me as one of my bridal shower gifts.”
Perfect.
“Well, they sure don’t know what a little sexual deviant you are when your husband gets ahold of you, now, do they?”
It was a rhetorical question. They both knew that despite her father’s old-fashioned desire to think of his little girl as a virgin on her wedding night, nothing could be farther from the truth.
Growing impatient with their game, he quickly added. “If you want to wear your gift another day, I suggest you take off that bra first and then those panties. If I have to take them off of you, they’re getting ripped.”
Despite his command, Tiff moved slowly, swaying her hips as she slipped out of her intimates until she finally stood before him in all her naked glory. Lucky for her they had eight feet of distance between them or he’d be tempted to grab her up too quickly. He wanted to make their night last.
He perused up and down her body, loving how her nipples pebbled in the open air.
“Put your hands up and cup those full boobs I love so much. Be sure to pinch those tits so they’re nice and hard for me.”
They may have had sex dozens of times in the last month, but they hadn’t truly played in all of that time. Life had been too busy to do more than just satisfy their urges with fast, opportunistic fucks. Tonight, that was going to change.
He watched Tiff sliding into her submission just as she’d slid out of her clothes—and it was sexy as hell.
“Spread your legs wider. I want that pussy available to me.”
She opened her mouth, tempted to speak. She wisely didn’t.
Lukus desperately wanted to strip out of his own clothes, too, mainly because it was uncomfortable having his aching cock crammed into his jeans. Tiff wasn’t the only one struggling with their slower pace. The only way to get a margin of relief was to stand, turning his back to the naked beauty waiting for him in the center of the room, and reaching for a small bundle of red grapes from the massive tray of finger foods.
Lukus closed the distance between them, never taking his eyes off her pinched nips. He wasn’t disappointed when he smelled a waft of her sexual juices already pooling in that bare snatch of hers.
“Open that dirty mouth of yours,” he commanded. Her attempted reply was pitiful. “Wider, like you’ll have to when I face fuck you.”
It still amazed him after all of the perverted things he’d done to her gorgeous body, he could still make his bride blush. He prayed she never lost that ability.
He placed a single grape in her mouth and as he expected, she started to chew. His free hand cracked the milky white skin of her ass in a rather lame swat. It did its job… it got her attention.
“I didn’t give you permission to eat yet,” he said as he popped a second, then third, and even a fourth grape in her open mouth. He let his finger follow the last one in, pressing it deeper as he commanded, “Now you can close. Chew around my finger,” he instructed as he slowly pulled the finger out before shoving it back in, emulating exactly how messy they’d be getting when his cock came out to play.
Once she’d swallowed, he repeated by feeding her another mouthful of grapes before finally stepping away from her and walking back to the tray of food. Next, he paired several squares of cheese with the gourmet crackers, turning to return to his wife.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. I didn’t tell you to lower your hands, did I?” he asked after seeing her arms at her sides.
When she didn’t answer, he raised an eyebrow.
“No,” she finally answered tentatively.
“No what?” he barked.
Indecision danced in her eyes until she answered with a quiet, “No, Sir.”
“Very good. This time, I want you to put your hands on top of your head. I want to see every inch of the body that is now completely mine to do with as I please.”
He’d known she was out of practice, so he wasn’t surprised when a last lick of defiance flashed in her eyes just before she pushed it down, replacing it with the soft acquiescence of her submission. Just like he’d taught her when showing her off in the past at The Pit, Tiffany stood tall, her hands on top of her head, her pert breasts pressed out proudly. It was the perfect slave display pose.
She remained still, allowing him to feed her in amicable silence over the next few minutes. In between her bites of black olives, Italian meats and cheeses, and luscious fruits, Lukus stole a few bites of his own until they’d consumed a good portion of the light meal tray. He ended by offering her a fresh glass of champagne, making sure to dribble some down her chin and bare chest so he could chase the wetness with his own tongue.
To her credit, her hands remained on her head as he sucked her pert nipple into his mouth, taking care to nip her tip with his teeth before repeating on her other side. Her moans of desire were like music to his ears, but he knew every good piece of music needed more than one melody to be perfect. He needed to add a new track… one of her groans of pain that would only enhance both their pleasure.
“Don’t move,” he commanded again as he forced himself to stand back, walking to his carry-on duffle sitting on the floor near their larger suitcases.
He had brought so many toys he couldn’t wait to play with, and while his first choice would be to pull the wooden paddle out to make a bold statement across his wife’s ass, he paced himself by pulling out her favorite flogger instead. After all, this was supposed to be a good-girl funishment, not a true punishment.
Pure lust flashed in her eyes as she glanced down at what he held as he turned back towards her. His sassy sub always fought her internal desire for him to use the harsher implements in his arsenal on her. He had proven to her over and over that he could make her love his leather belt, his wide array of paddles, and even a crop. But the one implement he never needed to convince her to submit to was the flogger. It’s inch-wide, well-worn leather strips never failed to help her fly high in record time, which was why he’d be starting with it tonight.
The long handle felt good in his right hand. The leather was heavy, substantial. He stood behind her, admiring the slight quivers in her naked body as she silently waited for him to begin. He paused until he saw her shoulders soften, releasing some of her tension, before lifting the implement and applying a thudding strap across her milky-white bottom.
Her moan confirmed he was on to something. Strikes two, three, four and five came faster, one after the other. As soon as the implement lay down at his side, T
iffany released a pent-up breath to accompany her longer groan.
Lukus repeated the assault on her bottom two more times before stepping closer to place his palm on her blushing ass cheek. The warmth felt good in his cupped hand. Confident of what he would find, he slipped his hand lower to the juncture between her still-open legs. His digits slipped through her slickness, confirming her body was preparing for his cock.
Ready to move things to the next level, Lukus glanced around the suite again, comtemplating the sitting area and other furniture, finally making up his mind. Taking Tiffany’s elbow from where she was holding her arms obediently above her head, he pulled them into motion, stopping at the long bench at the foot of the bed. Yet it wasn’t the bench he was going for; it was the tall, curved arm rests at either end that had drawn his attention.
Gotta hand it to the owners. This is a great piece of furniture to tie subs down on and have your way with them.
He silently led Tiff to the end, facing the long bench, before pressing on her upper back. He was pleased that despite his wife’s long legs, the armrest was tall enough that she had to almost stand on her tippy toes to place her hips at the top. Once he used his foot to scoot her feet farther and farther apart, Tiff was forced to use only her toes to keep her legs in place.
“Very nice,” he said as he stepped back to admire the sexy picture his wife’s wet pussy made while on display. “Oh, I’m going to like this position. I have a front row seat to enjoy turning your ass, back, and thighs a nice rosy pink. Now… I think you should be a good girl and ask me for your flogging.”
Tiffany’s groan confirmed she still had trouble verbalizing her sexual needs. Truly, it amazed him that after all this time, she could still get embarrassed with him, which—being the asshole he was—he thought was adorable.
“That’s okay, baby. If you can’t ask me for your flogging, then I guess I get to choose the implement of my choice instead. Now, let’s see if I can find the wooden paddle,” he teased as he took a step towards the duffle bag.