To Command and Collar
Page 25
When he raised his head, his eyes were half-lidded with his passion. He smiled slightly and paused the movie. “I have a couple of toys to add to the evening. Stand up, please.”
Toys? When a man—a dom—said toys, he didn’t mean stuffed animals or baseballs. A shiver ran through her. His eyes narrowed in warning. She jumped to her feet.
He pulled a package out of the end table’s drawer. “Open.” He patted her thighs lightly to have her widen her stance, but this time he kept tapping until her legs were so far apart that she rocked unsteadily. “You may hold on to my shoulders to keep your balance.”
She rested her hands on his hard, hard shoulders, her loose hair falling over her arms. Her pussy felt open. Exposed. Oh God, what was he going to do? She bit her lip, trying to remember she’d asked for this. “Touch me some,” she’d said. You’re an idiot, Kim. Her fingers dug into his skin.
“Good girl.” The package held a small bullet vibrator. He slickened it in her wetness—and she realized she was very, very wet.
She had an instant of fear as his calloused fingers touched her so intimately, and then with a smooth move, he pushed the toy inside her vagina.
At her gasp, he looked up, studying her for a second, his hand still between her legs. His dark brown eyes held lust but also concern…for her. As he watched her, his finger traced through her folds, spreading the wetness, establishing that…that he could. Marking his ownership.
Her body tingled, top to bottom, with his slow stroking.
“Good sumisa,” he murmured. He patted her thigh, indicating she could stand up straight. Her thighs closed over her swollen, throbbing labia.
“Now put these on.” From the drawer, he brought out a black lace thong.
What an odd choice. As she pulled the thong on, she noticed something firm in the crotch. What the? She opened her mouth, and he shook his head no.
He set his glass of wine and two small boxes on the coffee table and pulled it closer. Resting his back against the sofa arm, he stretched out with his legs on the cushions. “Now sit here—silently—and we’ll watch the rest of the movie.”
She could feel the bullet inside her. The thing in the thong rubbed on her pussy as he took her hand and pulled her onto his lap. He leaned her shoulders against his chest, her legs between his. His thick erection pressed against her bottom, and her breath stopped. Then started. This was Master R.
He put her glass of wine in her hand and resumed the movie.
Five minutes. As she relaxed, she found she liked leaning against him. A rather lumpy chair rest, but warm. He had his right arm around her waist, and the coffee table was close enough he could pick up his glass of wine with his other hand. She told herself she wasn’t nervous—I’m handling this quite well, really—despite the quivers in her stomach and the way her mind kept replaying how he’d touched her pussy. After trying to sip, she realized her glass was empty. She frowned at it.
Even his chuckle seemed to have a Spanish accent. “You have no reason to be nervous…yet, sumisita,” he whispered in her ear and filled her glass. As she took it, he kissed her ear, sending goose bumps racing down her arms. And she was feeling the effect of the wine—not drunk, but…comfortable.
As he leaned back again, somehow he’d moved so the dark hair on his forearm tickled the undersides of her breasts.
On the big-screen TV, a man saw his wife on her knees, scrubbing a bathroom. He looked at her butt in the air and walked forward, his intent very clear.
“Perhaps you should clean the bathroom on your knees,” Master R murmured. The thought of him coming up behind her, bending over her… She took a slow breath.
He ran his finger over her naked stomach, making the muscles quiver, then reached sideways and picked up one of the little boxes.
The vibrator inside her came to life with a low buzz. She jumped at the weird sensation. Her wine sloshed in the glass, and his arm tightened around her ribs.
“It is not hurting you, gatita,” he said soothingly. “Relax and watch the movie. I will quiz you on the plot later.”
“What?”
That earned her a nip on her ear. “Silence.”
The vibrator buzzed inside her, making her…aware…but not rousing her nearly as much as the feeling of Master R’s arm so close to her breasts, his cheek resting on her hair, the sensation of his chest moving under her with each breath.
The buzz stopped, and she relaxed. Johnny Depp appeared, and the movie revved up much like her arousal. What did Master R have planned? She’d probably be okay with it, but damn, she wished she knew.
He set his wine down on the coffee table, and a second later, the lump in her thong hummed. It was a vibrator too, and oh God, it was almost against her clit. Her muscles tensed.
She froze completely when he reached around her, traced his fingers up her pussy, and resettled the vibrator directly on her clit.
Oh God, she couldn’t ignore that, not when he cupped her mound, pressing the vibrator into her. “Nooo.” It hummed on her, tightening her muscles, sending panicky feelings running through her.
“Yes.” He removed his hand from her pussy and took her wineglass before she spilled it. “Give me a number.”
Number for what? Fear. She started to speak, then remembered to show it, like he’d ordered. Six fingers—no, not really. A slow breath. Three fingers.
“Very good. Are you watching the movie?”
The thong vibrator stopped, leaving her clit tight, hard, as if the vibrations still continued. “Y-yes, Sir.”
His laugh rumbled in her ear. “Aren’t you a good girl.”
They were going to make love tonight. She knew it. Or maybe not. He was devious. She’d expected him to take her in bed the last two nights, and he’d held off, teasing her in the pool one night, on the shore the next. Leaving her scared yet aching with need and wanting more of his touch.
I want this from him. I want to move on—to get past being afraid.
He stroked her stomach, brushed his hand against the undersides of her breasts, trailed down under the black lace to her mound. Then lower, his fingers touching the beginning of her cleft. “You’re being very obedient, keeping yourself shaved for me. I like how nice and smooth you are, Kimberly.” His finger never moved lower, just teased the top. Her clit seemed to throb as if begging for a touch. His touch.
He took a sip of wine and set the glass down on the coffee table. The vibrator inside her came on, jolting her hips up. With his hand on her mound, he pressed her back down. His palm was on her pubic bone, and he fanned his fingers out, tiny touches over her pussy. The vibrations weren’t enough to get her off, but he’d turned the intensity higher.
“Ah, you feel it this time, don’t you, gatita?” he murmured in her ear. “Look how pretty.” His hand closed over her breast lightly, and she could feel the stiffness of her nipples. Bunched and aching. He ran his finger around each one.
“You are to be watching the movie, mi pequeña sumisa.”
Heat simmered under her skin as she tried to obey, but everything the actors did on the screen, even the way they bit into the chocolate pieces, made her hotter.
“Kissing you is difficult now,” he murmured, “but this will serve instead.” He rolled her right nipple between his fingers, and the edgy pain on the sensitive peak blazed fire straight to her pussy.
When Johnny Depp ate another candy, Master R rolled her left nipple. Kim moaned. Hunger pulsed in her bloodstream, and it sure wasn’t for chocolate.
The inside vibrator turned off.
She sagged against him, let out a sigh, but the thong vibrator started. “Damn you!” Oh, oh shit. “I’m sorry, Sir. Master. Please…”
“You are certainly grumpy at being aroused, aren’t you?” The amusement in his voice didn’t help her nerves any. Not knowing what a wicked sense of humor he had. “How should I discipline you, gatita?” His fingers tightened on her nipple in a stinging pinch, then moved to the other. Pain…need shot straight to her pussy. Her hips tried to rise, but his right hand stayed firmly on her mound, just above the vibrator. He fondled each breast, making soft circles around the areolae and then squeezing her nipples. Tugging. Rolling. He had her trapped, leaving her no choice but to accept whatever he wanted to do.
The vibrator hummed against her, bringing her up, teasing her, never quite enough. Nothing was enough. She was in his arms, being touched, using vibrators, and still not getting off.
She’d probably never get off again. The thought dropped her mood, and she sagged against him, her arousal seeping away.
His hands stilled. He kissed her hair. “Well, since you don’t like the thong, you may remove it.”
Her lips quivered, and tears stung her eyes. He’d given up on her too. Because he knew how hopeless it was.
He pushed her to her feet, stood beside her, and waited until she set the thong on the coffee table.
As he studied her, his gaze lingering on her breasts, she felt naked, really naked, because he was looking at her not as a servant, but as a woman. She followed his gaze and saw her distended clit poked out from between her labia, glistening with her arousal. A flush crept up her face, and she shifted her weight, wanting to hide.
Toys? When a man—a dom—said toys, he didn’t mean stuffed animals or baseballs. A shiver ran through her. His eyes narrowed in warning. She jumped to her feet.
He pulled a package out of the end table’s drawer. “Open.” He patted her thighs lightly to have her widen her stance, but this time he kept tapping until her legs were so far apart that she rocked unsteadily. “You may hold on to my shoulders to keep your balance.”
She rested her hands on his hard, hard shoulders, her loose hair falling over her arms. Her pussy felt open. Exposed. Oh God, what was he going to do? She bit her lip, trying to remember she’d asked for this. “Touch me some,” she’d said. You’re an idiot, Kim. Her fingers dug into his skin.
“Good girl.” The package held a small bullet vibrator. He slickened it in her wetness—and she realized she was very, very wet.
She had an instant of fear as his calloused fingers touched her so intimately, and then with a smooth move, he pushed the toy inside her vagina.
At her gasp, he looked up, studying her for a second, his hand still between her legs. His dark brown eyes held lust but also concern…for her. As he watched her, his finger traced through her folds, spreading the wetness, establishing that…that he could. Marking his ownership.
Her body tingled, top to bottom, with his slow stroking.
“Good sumisa,” he murmured. He patted her thigh, indicating she could stand up straight. Her thighs closed over her swollen, throbbing labia.
“Now put these on.” From the drawer, he brought out a black lace thong.
What an odd choice. As she pulled the thong on, she noticed something firm in the crotch. What the? She opened her mouth, and he shook his head no.
He set his glass of wine and two small boxes on the coffee table and pulled it closer. Resting his back against the sofa arm, he stretched out with his legs on the cushions. “Now sit here—silently—and we’ll watch the rest of the movie.”
She could feel the bullet inside her. The thing in the thong rubbed on her pussy as he took her hand and pulled her onto his lap. He leaned her shoulders against his chest, her legs between his. His thick erection pressed against her bottom, and her breath stopped. Then started. This was Master R.
He put her glass of wine in her hand and resumed the movie.
Five minutes. As she relaxed, she found she liked leaning against him. A rather lumpy chair rest, but warm. He had his right arm around her waist, and the coffee table was close enough he could pick up his glass of wine with his other hand. She told herself she wasn’t nervous—I’m handling this quite well, really—despite the quivers in her stomach and the way her mind kept replaying how he’d touched her pussy. After trying to sip, she realized her glass was empty. She frowned at it.
Even his chuckle seemed to have a Spanish accent. “You have no reason to be nervous…yet, sumisita,” he whispered in her ear and filled her glass. As she took it, he kissed her ear, sending goose bumps racing down her arms. And she was feeling the effect of the wine—not drunk, but…comfortable.
As he leaned back again, somehow he’d moved so the dark hair on his forearm tickled the undersides of her breasts.
On the big-screen TV, a man saw his wife on her knees, scrubbing a bathroom. He looked at her butt in the air and walked forward, his intent very clear.
“Perhaps you should clean the bathroom on your knees,” Master R murmured. The thought of him coming up behind her, bending over her… She took a slow breath.
He ran his finger over her naked stomach, making the muscles quiver, then reached sideways and picked up one of the little boxes.
The vibrator inside her came to life with a low buzz. She jumped at the weird sensation. Her wine sloshed in the glass, and his arm tightened around her ribs.
“It is not hurting you, gatita,” he said soothingly. “Relax and watch the movie. I will quiz you on the plot later.”
“What?”
That earned her a nip on her ear. “Silence.”
The vibrator buzzed inside her, making her…aware…but not rousing her nearly as much as the feeling of Master R’s arm so close to her breasts, his cheek resting on her hair, the sensation of his chest moving under her with each breath.
The buzz stopped, and she relaxed. Johnny Depp appeared, and the movie revved up much like her arousal. What did Master R have planned? She’d probably be okay with it, but damn, she wished she knew.
He set his wine down on the coffee table, and a second later, the lump in her thong hummed. It was a vibrator too, and oh God, it was almost against her clit. Her muscles tensed.
She froze completely when he reached around her, traced his fingers up her pussy, and resettled the vibrator directly on her clit.
Oh God, she couldn’t ignore that, not when he cupped her mound, pressing the vibrator into her. “Nooo.” It hummed on her, tightening her muscles, sending panicky feelings running through her.
“Yes.” He removed his hand from her pussy and took her wineglass before she spilled it. “Give me a number.”
Number for what? Fear. She started to speak, then remembered to show it, like he’d ordered. Six fingers—no, not really. A slow breath. Three fingers.
“Very good. Are you watching the movie?”
The thong vibrator stopped, leaving her clit tight, hard, as if the vibrations still continued. “Y-yes, Sir.”
His laugh rumbled in her ear. “Aren’t you a good girl.”
They were going to make love tonight. She knew it. Or maybe not. He was devious. She’d expected him to take her in bed the last two nights, and he’d held off, teasing her in the pool one night, on the shore the next. Leaving her scared yet aching with need and wanting more of his touch.
I want this from him. I want to move on—to get past being afraid.
He stroked her stomach, brushed his hand against the undersides of her breasts, trailed down under the black lace to her mound. Then lower, his fingers touching the beginning of her cleft. “You’re being very obedient, keeping yourself shaved for me. I like how nice and smooth you are, Kimberly.” His finger never moved lower, just teased the top. Her clit seemed to throb as if begging for a touch. His touch.
He took a sip of wine and set the glass down on the coffee table. The vibrator inside her came on, jolting her hips up. With his hand on her mound, he pressed her back down. His palm was on her pubic bone, and he fanned his fingers out, tiny touches over her pussy. The vibrations weren’t enough to get her off, but he’d turned the intensity higher.
“Ah, you feel it this time, don’t you, gatita?” he murmured in her ear. “Look how pretty.” His hand closed over her breast lightly, and she could feel the stiffness of her nipples. Bunched and aching. He ran his finger around each one.
“You are to be watching the movie, mi pequeña sumisa.”
Heat simmered under her skin as she tried to obey, but everything the actors did on the screen, even the way they bit into the chocolate pieces, made her hotter.
“Kissing you is difficult now,” he murmured, “but this will serve instead.” He rolled her right nipple between his fingers, and the edgy pain on the sensitive peak blazed fire straight to her pussy.
When Johnny Depp ate another candy, Master R rolled her left nipple. Kim moaned. Hunger pulsed in her bloodstream, and it sure wasn’t for chocolate.
The inside vibrator turned off.
She sagged against him, let out a sigh, but the thong vibrator started. “Damn you!” Oh, oh shit. “I’m sorry, Sir. Master. Please…”
“You are certainly grumpy at being aroused, aren’t you?” The amusement in his voice didn’t help her nerves any. Not knowing what a wicked sense of humor he had. “How should I discipline you, gatita?” His fingers tightened on her nipple in a stinging pinch, then moved to the other. Pain…need shot straight to her pussy. Her hips tried to rise, but his right hand stayed firmly on her mound, just above the vibrator. He fondled each breast, making soft circles around the areolae and then squeezing her nipples. Tugging. Rolling. He had her trapped, leaving her no choice but to accept whatever he wanted to do.
The vibrator hummed against her, bringing her up, teasing her, never quite enough. Nothing was enough. She was in his arms, being touched, using vibrators, and still not getting off.
She’d probably never get off again. The thought dropped her mood, and she sagged against him, her arousal seeping away.
His hands stilled. He kissed her hair. “Well, since you don’t like the thong, you may remove it.”
Her lips quivered, and tears stung her eyes. He’d given up on her too. Because he knew how hopeless it was.
He pushed her to her feet, stood beside her, and waited until she set the thong on the coffee table.
As he studied her, his gaze lingering on her breasts, she felt naked, really naked, because he was looking at her not as a servant, but as a woman. She followed his gaze and saw her distended clit poked out from between her labia, glistening with her arousal. A flush crept up her face, and she shifted her weight, wanting to hide.
