Master Chef

by Danielle Berggren

He had never blindfolded me before, and the loss of that one sense was enough to send my others soaring. I still had the vibrator within me, and he changed the tempo of the vibrations until I squirmed against my bonds.

  “We’re going to try something a little different today, Ms. Delaware,” he said. “But first, code check.”

  “Green, sir,” I gasped.

  He chuckled. “I can tell you want to come.”

  “I do, sir.”

  “Not yet,” he reminded me.

  I heard what sounded like something breaking, but it was accompanied by a sulfur smell. He came to my side, his body like a line of heat against mine, even though he was too far away to touch. I made a small noise as the vibrator dipped in intensity. I had been close, but now I was falling away again.

  “You’re lovely like that,” he said, his voice low and sultry in the darkness. “I can see how hot you are. You want my cock in you, don’t you?”

  “Yes, sir,” I gasped.

  “Later, perhaps, if you’re good.” He fell silent for a moment, and then said, “We’re going to try something new. I want you to tell me how it feels.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  His hand pressed down my body, hard against my ribs and stomach, then rose to cup my breast, his fingers brushing against one tight nipple. I almost didn’t feel the first drop of hot wax on my stomach, but then another fell, and another. I cried out, the pain and the heat blending into my own fire and pleasure like two sides of the same coin.

  “Ms. Delaware?”

  “Green,” I gasped, struggling against my bonds. It was a useless gesture, but I had to move, I had to try. “Oh, God, sir, that feels good.”

  “Does it?” He trickled more wax on me, drawing it in a line from my ribs to the top of my hips. “What does it feel like?”

  I licked my lips and tried to put the sensation into words. “It feels like fire, sir. It feels like you,” I gasped as another line dribbled between my breasts. “Like your hitting me and licking me at the same time,” I whispered. “And with the vibrator, sir, it almost feels like too much. I need to come so bad.” The last was in almost a whine.

  I heard the smile in his voice even though his tone was firm. “You forgot to say ‘sir.’“

  “Yes, sir,” I gasped as he poured more of the hot wax on my body. The last of the drops stopped just short of my nipple. Where the wax fell, it was with a finger of fire or the feel of hot semen on my skin. I squirmed more. “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “We’ll just have to remember that for later,” Ethan said. He made another line of wax against the unmarked breast and ran a finger along the edge. “Your skin is red beneath,” he murmured. “I wonder how long you will hold the mark.”

  He moved away and I heard him get something else. He traced something cool down my body, starting at my chin and moving down to my pussy. He pressed it to my clit for a moment and I bucked as hard as I could against my bonds, but they held me immobile.

  He clicked his tongue. “Now, now, Ms. Delaware. Be still.”

  “What is it, sir?”

  He ran a finger down my slickness and then further down. I gasped when I felt his fingers on my ass, circling the hole. “I’ll give you three guesses,” he said.

  He pulled the finger away and when it returned it was slick. He moved his finger around my ass but not inside. I whimpered, “Please, sir, I haven’t—”

  “Sh,” he said. “I know. Trust me.”

  We had discussed anal play, and I said I was open to it, but I wasn’t expecting this. Ethan’s finger probed at my opening and started in. I wriggled, but he was gentle, his touch kind, until he could insert two fingers with ease, playing them in and out of my ass while the vibrator continued to assault my pussy.

  It was an alien feeling, but one that fed the heat on and within me. He probed—gentle, careful, his motions tuned to my body. I whimpered and tried to get more, but I couldn’t move enough.

  I cried out when he withdrew his fingers, “Oh, please, sir,” I moaned. “That felt so good.”

  “Just stay relaxed, Ms. Delaware,” he reminded me. Something else, the same cool something I had felt earlier, pressed where his fingers had been.

  I relaxed still further, coaxed on by his gentle murmurings and the increased pressure on my ass. Whatever it was, it was larger than his two fingers together, but once it was in I closed around it and it stuck. I let out a long, almost feral groan and Ethan chuckled. “Any guesses, Ms. Delaware?”

  I could not get a proper breath, the feeling of being filled in two places overwhelming. I was so close to my edge that it was taking all my self-control to pull back, to hold myself from falling over. I licked my lips and panted, “Is it a plug, sir?” We had bought several.

  “Mm,” he said. “You are correct. Now how to reward you?” He stroked my clit with his thumb, moving it in slow circles, and reached in to remove the vibrator with the other hand. “Do you want to come, or do you want my cock?”

  I whined, “Oh, please, sir. I want both, sir, please.”

  “No,” he said, his thumb still working against my clit. “Choose, Ms. Delaware.”

  I gasped as his touch brought me higher, despite the lack of the vibrator between my legs. The space seemed so hollow without something there. The butt plug moved as my muscles contracted and I almost screamed at the sensation. “Please, sir,” I whimpered. “Please, I beg you, I want both.”

  “Last chance to choose, Ms. Delaware. Any more of this pleading and I’ll just leave you here with your legs in the air and a plug in both orifices. I do have to clean up the dinner dishes, after all, and maybe some light reading after that?”

  “No,” I cried. His thumb had stilled, though it still pressed against me, the pressure almost enough. Almost. “No, please, sir. Please, I want your cock. I want you, sir.”

  “Very well,” he said.

  I felt him move away a little, and the sound of his clothing being shed. To reach me, he had to be on his knees between my widespread legs. He ran his hands down my thighs to my ass and played a little with the plug, moving it in and out until I moaned and begged him to fill me.

  He did not go gentle as he had before. He thrust into me in one long, sure stroke. I screamed and fought against my bonds as the feel of him swelled within me. He began to move, his balls slapping against my ass and making the plug bounce and squirm.

  I was sure if I could have seen myself that I would look a mess. I could feel a trickle of drool fall from the corner of my mouth and could do nothing to wipe it away. My mouth hung open as he elicited cry after cry from my throat, his dick pounding into me without mercy.

  I screamed and begged. I no longer wanted to come, I needed to, or I would die from overstimulation. Ethan re-angled his hips so that he hit that perfect spot within me and I moaned long and loud. He growled back.

  “You are mine, Veronica.”

  “Yes,” I cried. “Yes, I’m yours, sir.”

  He did not slacken his thrusts. “All of you belongs to me.” He said, his voice thick with pleasure.

  “I belong to you, sir.”

  He slammed into me and I screamed. “Say it again,” he commanded. “Tell me.”

  I could feel my muscles tense against him as he swelled still further, filling me in ways that I had never been filled before. “Yours,” I gasped. “I’m yours. I belong to you.”

  His fingers dug into my hips, pulling me as tight against him as he could manage, still holding his relentless rhythm. “Fuck,” he growled. “You’re so tight.” He fucked me faster, hips pinioning, balls slapping against my ass. I felt so full, not just of his cock and the plug, but of a deep, almost contented pleasure. When I came I would come apart. I would shatter where I lay.

  I felt his finger find my clit and screamed anew, “Please!” I whimpered. “Please!”

  His finger moved in quick jerks over my clit, “Almost,” he breathed, just above a whisper. I felt him quicken, the motions becoming frantic. He was nearing his end.
I gasped against the onslaught of his cock and his finger.

  “Almost.”

  “Please, Mr. Craymore, please...”

  “Now.” He cried then roared, “Come now!”

  I came. I came as his finger pressed against my clit, as his hips slammed into me one last time. I came with my muscles contracting around his cock and the plug. I came and screamed until my voice failed me, and even then I still rode the pleasure, rode it into a state of almost complete unconsciousness.

  I slid back into myself as Ethan lifted the blindfold from my eyes. I was no longer bound. I blinked up at him and he bent, lifting me in his arms as though he were carrying a kitten. The plug was gone, but I was too limp to care where.

  Ethan carried me into his bathroom and set me down on the lip of the bathtub. I leaned against the wall and he smoothed my hair back from my face, catching my chin and tilting my head up so that I looked at him. “You are beautiful,” he said. He kissed me, his lips feather-light against my own. “And you were perfect.”

  I sighed when he pulled away and watched him start the shower. He knew what temperature I liked now. I looked down at my stomach and started to peel away the cooled wax. My skin was red underneath. It looked like I had been painted that way. I began to giggle. I couldn’t stop laughing. Ethan returned to my side and asked if I was okay.

  “I’m fine,” I gasped in between choked giggles. “It’s just... ah, I’m green... but I’m, I’m red too.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Ethan

  I helped her with the shower, washing her back and peeling away the last of the wax. She swayed on her feet, so I kept one hand on her at all times. I helped her finish washing and led her back to my room, tucking her into my bed naked. I returned to the bathroom to finish my own shower and when I got back, Veronica was on her side, arm outstretched, waiting for me. Her eyes were bright even in the dim light coming from the bathroom.

  “Do you need help cleaning up the playroom?”

  I shook my head, “I’ll take care of it.” I got her a glass of water and brought it to her. She sat up in bed to drink it and I watched her throat convulse as she swallowed. The blankets fell around her waist and I traced the red lines the wax had left on her stomach.

  Her skin twitched as I touched her and she shook her head. “You’ve got to stop doing that.”

  I smiled a little, “Doing what?”

  “Touching me. It’s distracting.”

  I took her hand and lay a gentle kiss across her knuckles, “I don’t think you’d like it if I stopped touching you, Ms. Delaware.”

  She sighed and leaned forward, placing the glass on the bedside table and running her hand up my thigh. She squeezed my leg, “Go. I know you want to clean up the room.”

  I nodded and gave her a quick kiss. “Stay here.”

  “Yes, sir.” She replied with a smile and lay back on the pillows.

  I cleaned the room and the toys, setting them in the dishwasher rack to dry. I’d clean them again before their next use, but, for now, I wanted to get back to Veronica.

  She was still awake, a book propped on her knees. She had finished Jane Eyre, then Wuthering Heights, and now was working her way through Madame Bovary. It was another book I owned, with a faux leather cover and gilt edging. My decorator had bought the collection to help ‘soften’ the rooms, whatever that meant. I went along with it because, while I liked my areas decorated, I couldn’t for the life of me figure it out on my own.

  Veronica was putting her own touches on things. She had requested a few photographs from her mother and had them framed. Most of them were in her room, but two were out in the living area among my own. The Delaware family reunion photo was next to one of my grandmother, and a photo of her and some friends from high school were squeezed next to my culinary certificate. She also bought flowers, just for herself, and placed them in vases on the coffee table, countertops, and on the desk in her room.

  I slipped under the covers and put an arm around her shoulders, leaning in to kiss her neck. Veronica murmured something and tilted her head so that I had better access. I inhaled her scent, like vanilla and almonds, that lingered on her skin even after a shower. “I love the way you smell,” I murmured against her skin, my lips close enough to brush her throat as I spoke. “And how soft your skin is.”

  She chuckled, “You say that a lot.”

  “I mean it every time.”

  Veronica marked her place with the book’s attached ribbon and set the volume on her legs. “Am I staying here tonight?”

  I nodded against her and pulled away a little so that I could see her face, “I would like you to.”

  She smiled and reached for my hand. Our fingers twined and she rubbed her thumb against mine. “I’ve never slept with you... slept with you in your bed—or my bed, for that matter.” She flushed, “Damn. You know what I mean.”

  “I do,” I said. I slid down onto the pillows so my head was level with her breasts. I wanted to trace my hands over them, watch the gooseflesh rise on her skin and her nipples harden, but I also did not want to pull my hand from hers.

  We fell silent for a while, just her hand in mine, our bodies warming beneath the covers with the soft sigh of the traffic far below. I had the shades parted enough to see the bright lights of the city stretched around us. The neighbors were too far away to see us without a telescopic lens and if they were going to such great lengths, who was I to stop them?

  “Ethan?” She asked, her voice timid.

  “Yes?”

  “What are we doing here? I mean—I understand that we’re sleeping together. Having sex. Whatever. And that’s good, but...” she hesitated, her breath hitched. “I don’t want to ruin anything by asking, okay? You know that.”

  I pulled my hand from hers and ran it up her arm. “I know that,” I repeated, voice soft. She sighed and leaned hard against the pillows, as though she were willing them to suck her back, away from my touch. I pressed my hand hard against her stomach. “Say what you’re going to say, Veronica. I won’t take it the wrong way, I promise.”

  She let out a breath and I felt her body relax beneath my palm. I propped myself up on one elbow so I could look down on her. She met my eyes and said in a rush, “You’re fantastic as a dominant. I never thought I could feel like this at the hands of someone else. I’ve dreamed about it, fantasized about it, and watched videos and wished I were the one on the receiving end, but I’ve never had it before. I want to keep that for as long as we still feel... still feel the same needs.”

  She took a deep breath, “And at work, you’re still a bit of a prick, but now that I’ve seen you at home, and talked to you, I kind of understand why. I like that...the understanding. But,” Her eyes flicked away from mine for a moment. “That’s the thing. There’s the sex,” she hesitated again. “But this feels like more. I don’t know if I’m imagining things, if you’re just treating me as a friend, or—”

  I stopped her with a kiss. She gasped beneath me and I felt my cock stir to life, drawn by her naked flesh and the small sounds that escaped her. I ran my hand over her breast, teasing her nipple, and she arched against me. I heard the thump as her book hit the floor. When I broke away, her eyes were glimmering like blue diamonds in the light of the bedside lamp.

  I smiled down at her, “You’re asking if this is lust only, or if I like you?” I grinned, “Like-like you.”

  She pushed at my chest, but I didn’t budge. She smiled back though her cheeks were flaming red and her breath leaving her in hard pants. “You’re so juvenile. We’re not in grade school.”

  “We’re definitely not. I never got laid this much in grade school.”

  She laughed.

  “Yes, Veronica,” I said. She paused, her hands on my chest, her fingers just skimming over the skin. She seemed to be holding her breath. “I like you. This hasn’t been just about sex for me, since day one.”

  Her breath left her in a rush. “Really?” She whispered.

  I b
ent and kissed her again, brief and hard. “Yes, really,” I said, rolling on top of her. I pressed my hardness against her leg and she let out a sigh, opening for me. “I love talking to you. I love how you’ve made yourself at home here,” I began to press into her and she groaned, her legs rising to wrap around me. She was so wet, so hot. She was always wet for me. The covers fell away. “I even love it when you call me on my temper.”

  She didn’t respond except to wrap her fingers around my biceps, her nails digging into skin. She gasped as I thrust home, the flush crawling down her neck to her chest. Her hips rocked up to meet me. “Ethan,” she whispered.

  I lowered myself until I sprawled on top of her. Her eyes met mine, “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since I first saw you.” I murmured, and kissed her. Her tongue met mine as I began to move in her, claiming her above and below. Her hands rose to my back, her nails running up and down my flesh, scratching. I growled into her mouth and she moaned back, her pussy contracting around me almost to the point of pain.

  I thrust into her until she ripped away from my mouth screaming, my name on her lips. I rose above her and fucked her until her head lolled to the side, mouth open, eyes wide but unseeing. I loved seeing that look of total abandon on her face and knowing that I was the cause. When I reached my end it was with the sight of her, head thrown back, hands fisted into the sheets, mouth open in an ‘O’ of pleasure.

  Veronica fell asleep soon after, wrapped in my arms, her head resting in the crook of my chest and arm. I breathed in the smell of her hair, still damp from the shower, and closed my eyes.

  Who am I kidding? She wouldn’t ask, and I was too afraid to say. Too afraid to voice the truth of how I had felt only days after meeting her, before I had ever touched her skin, or made her lips curl up into a smile. Before she had looked at me with a mixture of desire and contentment that I had never seen in a partner. Even Brittany, back in Boston, whom I had been with for years, had never looked at me like that.

  I had never been a big believer in true love or love at first sight. Lust, yes, but never love. It couldn’t be love.