Mistress of Redemption

Page 8

The weight of the dildo against his spine drove away the moment of triumph, reminding him that she was about to put that thing in him. What would they do if he bucked her off and plunged his mouth into that juicy cunt taunting his eyes, his nose? It took effort to discard the appealing notion. He had to convince Dona he could be an obedient sub. That was the way he played the game. When he stuck to that strategy, he always won.
That conviction had always been strong in his mind, like the first mark of a lead pencil on the page of a test. As he spent time with each Mistress, the page became filled with words, the right answers that would bring the right results. Now the thought bit at his gut, like the dull ache of an ulcer. The game had a structure, a rating, a result. But ultimately, what did it mean?
Five years in prison. Five years of lying in the darkness, being chased by shadows.
The same shadows that had moved under the water when they bathed him. Shadows that flitted through Dona’s eyes now as he looked at her.
What if he didn’t want it to be about the game? Maybe he just didn’t want to disappoint her.
Jesus Christ, Powell. Does she already own you?
Fuck the game. He’d knock Fiona back on her skinny ass and prove to Dona he wasn’t to be fucked with, her and her shadows. He wanted it to be between the two of them. He wanted to see if his Mistress could take him, bring him to heel when she went toe-to-toe with the savage animal that he truly was. No pretenses.
The desire to completely let go rolled over him with the force of murderous rage.
Muscles tensed in his shoulders, his thighs bunching to propel himself off the ground.
Dona sat up abruptly, laid her hand on his jaw.
“Sssh, my pet. Calm. You can do this. I need your mouth. I need you.” He met her gaze, that soft brown deer color, and he couldn’t follow through on it.
The bite of the passion was there, but with that one softly spoken command, she held him in place. While he couldn’t make his muscles move, he was afraid it wasn’t the weird magic of this place. In his chest was a burning that said he wanted to obey, to please her.
His moment of opportunity had slipped from his fingers with the simple touch of her hand. As Dona lay back, her hand falling away from him, Mischa positioned his ass even higher up in the air, the way they apparently wanted it for Fiona’s penetration.
Olivia and Fiona roughly jerked his knees out even wider, making him even more dependent on Fiona’s pressure on the leash to keep his balance. He coughed at the increased pressure on his throat, which kept him occupied with breathing. When he focused on that waiting pussy, his tongue swiped his own lips.
“First the pain. To earn my pleasure.” Dona’s voice, touching his ears like her fingertips.
Mariah knelt on one side of him, Olivia the other. Gripping his buttocks, they spread him open as Fiona backed up, the dildo making an oily path up his spine. He tried not to tense as she guided herself in, moving the strap of the leash out of her way between his buttocks. He thanked whatever deities might be responsible for her liberal lubrication, but it was a large cock and he was far from relaxed. Being well aware she couldn’t care less about being gentle made his tension worse.
The burning started, making him need more oxygen than he was getting. He managed the pain, his breath rasping in and out, in and out. Christ, it was excruciating.
He kept his eyes on the goal, the only thing that mattered. He’d give Dona pleasure for the pain, replace her cool reserve with gasping, wide-eyed arousal. He could smell how wet she was without that damned latex in the way. He sensed her anticipation and it fired his own blood to raging.
But, Jesus, the cat woman was going to kill him first, split him in two. Despite himself, a grunt of distress came from his lips as she slid forward another inch, the tight inner muscles giving way reluctantly. His eyes were tearing from the agony as she sank deep. It was a good thing he’d always been a hard-core sub, able to take extremes of pain and still come at his Mistress’s command, but this was pressing the boundaries of even his high limits.
“It’s in.” Her fingernails whispered down his back. Her thighs pressed flat against him. He’d never felt so invaded, his cock turgid in the harness and his ass impaled on the rigid phallus.
Dona’s voice was sex wrapped in silk. “It stays in until you make me come.” The lust surged through his blood, the fire of one dragon meeting the flame of another, red pain meeting red passion so together they became inseparable.
Fiona’s hold on the collar eased enough so his lips could reach Dona. Just barely, so he had to strain and work all the harder for it. He wanted to descend on her like a rutting stag, but something checked that impulse. Maybe it was the discipline of a lifetime he’d used to play upon a woman’s desires. Or maybe it was his own desire to see how much pleasure he could give her. He didn’t really give a damn about the whys at the moment.
Taking his head down a millimeter at a time, he let his breath caress her first, make her feel the promise of moisture in it. He saw her draw in a breath, hold it, her teeth biting her bottom lip. God if that sexy gesture didn’t make his cock pulse dangerously even in the restrictive harness. When his lips finally pressed against the mesh, he felt the give of her cunt lips beneath his mouth, the most intimate of kisses. He couldn’t help closing his eyes, drawing her aroma in through his nose. Opening his mouth wide now, he closed over her entirely and tickled her with the tip of his tongue through the netting, a tiny caress between those lips. A promise that he would thrust his tongue thick and deep into her if she’d just give him the chance.
Fiona started to thrust, which would have pushed him more aggressively against Dona’s pussy if he hadn’t held himself back. He didn’t want to go there yet. He wanted Dona to reach for him, show him he was making an impact. Though the parted lips, the elevated breathing and the arch of her back that tilted up those incredible tits were signs, he wanted more. He fought the pain for it.
“Ah, he’s a stubborn one, Dona.” Fiona breathed it, working in him, her nails pinching into the upper part of his buttocks while Mariah and Olivia continued to grip either side, keeping him spread, kneading him, crooning over what a fine ass he had.
Dona seized him, fingers grasping his bare skull. She pistoned her hips, burying his face in her pussy.
It was as effective as a barked order. His Mistress wanted his passion, the beast in him. The erratic clutch of her hands, the way she bared her throat with rigid intensity told him so.
He caught the mesh in his teeth, tore it away and thrust his tongue fully into her before there was time for her or Fiona to do anything to stop him.
She gasped, the sound music to his ears. Her grip tightened on his head, holding him as he fucked her with his tongue, sucked on her clit appreciatively and delved deeper into her cunt. The burning pain was so potent now he was shaking with it, his body covered with sweat, the nausea in his gut matching the guttural sounds of stress coming from his throat, sounds of raw need. Even as the lust drove him, he knew he couldn’t take much more of the torture without screaming for mercy.
Fiona unbuckled the strap-on and expertly wove its straps around his waist, hips and buttocks, creating a net of restraints to hold it in him without the pressure of her body. When she cinched in the final crosstie at the small of his back, it drove the dildo in deeper. He cried out. In mindless reaction to the terrible pain and lust intertwined, he bit Dona. Sinking his teeth into either side of her outer labia, he held on and kept his tongue deep inside her.
He should have been kicked away. Instead, his eyes flicked up wild and frenzied to see her lips draw back from her teeth in a primitive snarl. Her nails dug into his newly shaved scalp, drew blood of her own as she began to climax. With his breath hot on her pussy, his lips pressed to her, he felt her convulse under him. It made him feel something he couldn’t give a name. Didn’t want to. Through the clench of his teeth he tasted her. Sweet as Kahlua. Smooth, the bitter overlaid by the sweet.
She bucked against him, making harsh sounds of release, her lips parted. He watched her, caught between the lust tearing up his insides and a still wonder at the way she looked. Her breasts, moving generously with her body’s undulations. The curve of her throat, the way her cheeks and upper body flushed from the climax. So overwhelming to his senses even their torment couldn’t keep him from being riveted by it.
Only when she began to drift down did the grip of his jaws ease, his tongue lapping, mouth savoring that faint flavor, wondering at its mixture with her musky taste. His ass quivered, his inner muscles screaming even as they milked that dildo involuntarily, seeking a release.
Her legs now lay on his shoulders, one thigh trembling against his jaw so that it was the most natural thing in the world to turn his head, press a hard kiss to the skin, rub against her in jerky, aroused movements.
Her eyes opened and focused on him, watched him as he continued to kiss her there. Forcing himself to turn the volume down, he made the kisses more tender. His cock throbbed and his ass burned so badly his eyes were running with moisture that met his lips where they touched her skin. It was okay. He knew how to handle pain.
Could push it back to give her pleasure.
She probably didn’t know he knew about this part. That he didn’t understand the intense, indescribable feeling a male slave derived from serving his Mistress. There had been moments like this, when he’d gotten immersed in giving his Mistress pleasure. A part of him had known it contributed to the game he was playing with her head.
Another part of him got lost in the euphoria of it, seeing his Mistress arch into climax and knowing he’d been responsible for that ecstasy.
Her lips parted, tongue touching them as if she was wetting them to speak from a dry throat. But before she could, Fiona yanked at his collar, dragging him back from the touch of Dona’s body.
No, dammit. Throwing his weight forward, he toppled the feline woman against his back and earned an agonizing rocket of pain as she knocked into the strap-on.
He’d been at the high end of the scale with that dildo up his ass. This was like having a hot poker added to the mix. The agony drove away rational thought and left only a killing rage. He turned on Fiona. The abrupt movement yanked the tether from her grip, but without any way to balance himself he tumbled over, slamming to the ground onto one shoulder. Thank God Dona had dropped her tether at some point during his pleasuring of her, or his dick would have been yanked off.