To Command and Collar
Page 52
“No,” she whispered.
“Yes, missy.” When she tried to pull her legs together, he kicked them open again and felt her tightening nipple press into his palm. The beast inside him said, Hurt this one and make her mine.
Dammit, not mine. I’m here to stall. Dragging his brains up from where they’d lodged in his balls, he diverted himself with a quick check of the restraints. Hands were pink, cuffs not too tight. Then to please himself, he cupped both of her breasts again, hearing her inhale, feeling her heat against his body.
“I’m going to make you hurt now, girl,” he whispered. Her breasts were heavy in his hands, and he tightened his grip until he heard her breath catch. “I’m going to whip you until you dance the dance, until your screaming wakes God himself.” He pulled her nipples, pinching cruelly.
Tears stood in her eyes—and her ass pushed back against his shaft. “No, please.” Her head whipped back and forth as she moved her body, trying to evade his grip.
He wanted to see her face. A shame he couldn’t walk around the cross and simply look at her; he preferred a chain station for that reason. But this was what he had. He grabbed her chin and turned her face toward him. Her eyes held the pain he’d given her, showing some fear—and more heat. Just right.
“Eyes on me,” he snapped. “And don’t look away.” He took one nipple, rolling it between his fingers. Damn, he wished the slavers provided breast clamps as well as impact toys. He squeezed harder, enjoying the whine in her throat. Pulled and pinched, studying her eyes to judge the right amount, and savored the blossoming of fresh pain in her eyes, her face, the way her body stiffened, muscles tensing here and there.
Sweat started to bead on her upper lip.
He smiled at her. “That’s a good girl. Let’s do the other side.”
“Master, please. My breasts are sensitive.”
He paused, knowing even now that she wouldn’t safe-word out, that this was the beginning of the dance, and he answered the need under her words. “I know they are, Linda. That’s why I’m doing this.” And he squeezed her other nipple.
“Eeeeee.” Her scream caught between her teeth as she shut it down. Her arms jerked with her efforts to escape. To push him away. Her knees sagged.
He stroked her damp face. “Those screams in there aren’t going to be buried very long,” he whispered into her ear. Her hair was silky, and he rubbed his cheek over it. “If we were somewhere else, afterward I’d fuck you hard…and pull on your nipples every time you came.”
The tremor ran from her breasts all the way to her fingers, and he smiled.
Stepping back, he ran his fingers down her ass, between her legs, to the dampness on her inner thighs. He teased the folds between her legs, nice fat labia—perfectly designed for clamps. His finger slid into her, earning a low moan and wiggle. Very wet. She’d be a joy to fuck. He played with her clit and cunt, the scent and little noises she gave upping his own desire.
She’d take more pain and last longer if he could keep her arousal high. Fucking slavers— he damn well didn’t want to be here.
He wiped her juices off on her leg and felt her flinch, remembered her word. Slut. He gripped her hair, pulled her head back. “I like you wet, Linda,” he growled. “And what I want is all you have to worry about right now. Clear?”
The way she moistened her lips to speak… The way her response flowed to him was getting to him. Hell. He took advantage of how he’d made her arch, and shoved his hand between her legs again—forcefully this time—pushing into her in a manner that showed exactly what he wanted to do to her.
A tremor ran through her as she clenched around him. More moisture wet his fingers.
She liked rough. Hell, maybe he’d add a little pussy pain while he was at it. Drive her high before endorphins shoved her head into the clouds.
He barely glanced at the two buyers who stood nearby as he strolled to his spot. Even turned away from her, he could almost feel her breathing. Feel how the ache in her breasts receded, but the memory lingered. Feel how she craved more.
After a second, he picked up the cane. Time to warm her up. A slow, slow warm-up. Damn them for not having his favorite toys available. But a light application would work well enough.
He started by sliding the rattan over her legs, letting her enjoy the smoothness of it, the hardness, before running it up her front.
She stiffened.
That’s right, girl. This is a cane. But pain wouldn’t come from it. It was just for warm-up to the whip.
Tapping lightly, occasionally giving her a feather-stroke touch, he woke up the flesh on her back, butt, and thighs. He followed the path of the cane with his free hand as her muscles gradually lost their tension.
Her breathing slowed.
He increased the intensity, keeping to the sting rather than the blow. Her body was still relaxed, and from the tiny curve of her lips, he knew the small smacking sounds of the cane pleased them both.
Her ass was turning a pretty pinkish red, a color that made a dom want to use his hand to see if he could darken it. Light play just didn’t do it for him. He glanced at his watch. How long could he drag this out? He saw an attendant talking to a buyer and frowning in his direction. Not long.
He tossed the cane off to one side and picked up the whip. A dragon’s tail—not his favorite but a good choice in tight quarters. About three feet of rolled leather opening into a swordlike shape and ending in the distinctive point. At least the leather on this was thin enough to give a whippy sensation. After rolling his shoulders, loosening his arm, he snapped the tail a few times, getting the feel, gauging his accuracy, smiling each time she flinched at the light crack. Hell of a lot lighter than a flogger—he could do this all day.
Then he let the end strike, enjoying the slapping sound, up and down her back, her ass, her upper thighs, finishing the warm-up in the medium range of pain. He moved into a good rhythm, watching her start to fog over. Her breathing deepened as he slowed his strikes.
He stopped and stepped forward quickly so the loss of the whip was balanced by his hand on her shoulder, the pressure of his body against her back. Rubbing his chest and groin on her reddened skin should give her a rush of pain from everywhere, different from the individual slaps of a whip. Her gasp felt as if it gripped his balls.
After checking her restraints and circulation, he turned her head, looked into her eyes. “You still with me here, Linda?”
She blinked and actually smiled at him. “That’s my name. You used my name.”
This one could tear a man’s heart right out of his chest. “That’s who you are. Linda.” He kissed her cheek and brought her back to the scene by taking her lips, taking her from lightness to hard and demanding. Her body melted into his, then revved with arousal when he cupped her breasts and teased her puckered nipples into jutting points—velvet softness, the bigger size said she’d nursed her babies. He wanted his mouth on them.
Instead, he ran his hand down to her pussy, beautifully wet and puffy. Her instinctive pulling away from the intimacy rubbed her soft ass right on his cock, forcing her forward again and onto his fingers. A nice predicament for a little sub.
But he solved it for her, removing her choices by leaning forward, trapping her even as he penetrated her with a finger. Hot, wet sheath.
He felt how her arousal, her need, vied with her wish to move away from him, to keep herself hidden from him. She made a sound he couldn’t interpret, then whispered, “No. Don’t.” Her words were negated by the low moan she gave.
“Are you asking for mercy, girl?” he whispered, pinching her clit lightly and sliding back in.
Panting, she hesitated. “Yes.” She shook her head. “No.”
“Then we continue. You ready for some real pain now?”
Her cunt clenched around his fingers, and he grinned.
After picking up the dragon whip, he did a set, up and down her body, bringing her pain level back to where she’d been before. Then he held the tip of the tail in his free hand and snapped it at her ass like a rolled towel. The end hit. Her skin jumped a split second before her jerk. A sob came from her, and he smiled.
“Not the same sensation, is it, missy?” Snap, snap, snap. “Feel a little like a whip?” Snap, snap, snap. Her first tear splattered onto the floor, then more. The dragon’s tail flicked its way down the backs of her thighs in pretty red streaks, the narrow leather giving barely satisfying cracks.
And up her legs, her ass, her back. Her first gasping scream.
“That’s a good girl. Give me more.” After easing up for a moment, not too long, he worked her into pain, into screams that satisfied his soul and squeezed his cock. By the time she tipped into a truly deep subspace, she’d stopped holding anything from him.
Her husky scream resonated in his balls.
He continued a little longer, watching closely now. A safe word wasn’t worth shit if a sub’s brain wasn’t awake enough to use it. He lightened up, finishing what they’d both wanted. Needed. Then even slower, gentling the strikes. Bringing her down.
Sweat made her skin gleam as if covered in oil. Her head sagged against her upraised arm although her legs still held most of her weight. Yes, she was no stranger to bondage and pain. He set the whip down and moved forward, feeling like a predator stalking his prey but also a man wanting to please a woman. Sadistic. Dominant.
“Yes, missy.” When she tried to pull her legs together, he kicked them open again and felt her tightening nipple press into his palm. The beast inside him said, Hurt this one and make her mine.
Dammit, not mine. I’m here to stall. Dragging his brains up from where they’d lodged in his balls, he diverted himself with a quick check of the restraints. Hands were pink, cuffs not too tight. Then to please himself, he cupped both of her breasts again, hearing her inhale, feeling her heat against his body.
“I’m going to make you hurt now, girl,” he whispered. Her breasts were heavy in his hands, and he tightened his grip until he heard her breath catch. “I’m going to whip you until you dance the dance, until your screaming wakes God himself.” He pulled her nipples, pinching cruelly.
Tears stood in her eyes—and her ass pushed back against his shaft. “No, please.” Her head whipped back and forth as she moved her body, trying to evade his grip.
He wanted to see her face. A shame he couldn’t walk around the cross and simply look at her; he preferred a chain station for that reason. But this was what he had. He grabbed her chin and turned her face toward him. Her eyes held the pain he’d given her, showing some fear—and more heat. Just right.
“Eyes on me,” he snapped. “And don’t look away.” He took one nipple, rolling it between his fingers. Damn, he wished the slavers provided breast clamps as well as impact toys. He squeezed harder, enjoying the whine in her throat. Pulled and pinched, studying her eyes to judge the right amount, and savored the blossoming of fresh pain in her eyes, her face, the way her body stiffened, muscles tensing here and there.
Sweat started to bead on her upper lip.
He smiled at her. “That’s a good girl. Let’s do the other side.”
“Master, please. My breasts are sensitive.”
He paused, knowing even now that she wouldn’t safe-word out, that this was the beginning of the dance, and he answered the need under her words. “I know they are, Linda. That’s why I’m doing this.” And he squeezed her other nipple.
“Eeeeee.” Her scream caught between her teeth as she shut it down. Her arms jerked with her efforts to escape. To push him away. Her knees sagged.
He stroked her damp face. “Those screams in there aren’t going to be buried very long,” he whispered into her ear. Her hair was silky, and he rubbed his cheek over it. “If we were somewhere else, afterward I’d fuck you hard…and pull on your nipples every time you came.”
The tremor ran from her breasts all the way to her fingers, and he smiled.
Stepping back, he ran his fingers down her ass, between her legs, to the dampness on her inner thighs. He teased the folds between her legs, nice fat labia—perfectly designed for clamps. His finger slid into her, earning a low moan and wiggle. Very wet. She’d be a joy to fuck. He played with her clit and cunt, the scent and little noises she gave upping his own desire.
She’d take more pain and last longer if he could keep her arousal high. Fucking slavers— he damn well didn’t want to be here.
He wiped her juices off on her leg and felt her flinch, remembered her word. Slut. He gripped her hair, pulled her head back. “I like you wet, Linda,” he growled. “And what I want is all you have to worry about right now. Clear?”
The way she moistened her lips to speak… The way her response flowed to him was getting to him. Hell. He took advantage of how he’d made her arch, and shoved his hand between her legs again—forcefully this time—pushing into her in a manner that showed exactly what he wanted to do to her.
A tremor ran through her as she clenched around him. More moisture wet his fingers.
She liked rough. Hell, maybe he’d add a little pussy pain while he was at it. Drive her high before endorphins shoved her head into the clouds.
He barely glanced at the two buyers who stood nearby as he strolled to his spot. Even turned away from her, he could almost feel her breathing. Feel how the ache in her breasts receded, but the memory lingered. Feel how she craved more.
After a second, he picked up the cane. Time to warm her up. A slow, slow warm-up. Damn them for not having his favorite toys available. But a light application would work well enough.
He started by sliding the rattan over her legs, letting her enjoy the smoothness of it, the hardness, before running it up her front.
She stiffened.
That’s right, girl. This is a cane. But pain wouldn’t come from it. It was just for warm-up to the whip.
Tapping lightly, occasionally giving her a feather-stroke touch, he woke up the flesh on her back, butt, and thighs. He followed the path of the cane with his free hand as her muscles gradually lost their tension.
Her breathing slowed.
He increased the intensity, keeping to the sting rather than the blow. Her body was still relaxed, and from the tiny curve of her lips, he knew the small smacking sounds of the cane pleased them both.
Her ass was turning a pretty pinkish red, a color that made a dom want to use his hand to see if he could darken it. Light play just didn’t do it for him. He glanced at his watch. How long could he drag this out? He saw an attendant talking to a buyer and frowning in his direction. Not long.
He tossed the cane off to one side and picked up the whip. A dragon’s tail—not his favorite but a good choice in tight quarters. About three feet of rolled leather opening into a swordlike shape and ending in the distinctive point. At least the leather on this was thin enough to give a whippy sensation. After rolling his shoulders, loosening his arm, he snapped the tail a few times, getting the feel, gauging his accuracy, smiling each time she flinched at the light crack. Hell of a lot lighter than a flogger—he could do this all day.
Then he let the end strike, enjoying the slapping sound, up and down her back, her ass, her upper thighs, finishing the warm-up in the medium range of pain. He moved into a good rhythm, watching her start to fog over. Her breathing deepened as he slowed his strikes.
He stopped and stepped forward quickly so the loss of the whip was balanced by his hand on her shoulder, the pressure of his body against her back. Rubbing his chest and groin on her reddened skin should give her a rush of pain from everywhere, different from the individual slaps of a whip. Her gasp felt as if it gripped his balls.
After checking her restraints and circulation, he turned her head, looked into her eyes. “You still with me here, Linda?”
She blinked and actually smiled at him. “That’s my name. You used my name.”
This one could tear a man’s heart right out of his chest. “That’s who you are. Linda.” He kissed her cheek and brought her back to the scene by taking her lips, taking her from lightness to hard and demanding. Her body melted into his, then revved with arousal when he cupped her breasts and teased her puckered nipples into jutting points—velvet softness, the bigger size said she’d nursed her babies. He wanted his mouth on them.
Instead, he ran his hand down to her pussy, beautifully wet and puffy. Her instinctive pulling away from the intimacy rubbed her soft ass right on his cock, forcing her forward again and onto his fingers. A nice predicament for a little sub.
But he solved it for her, removing her choices by leaning forward, trapping her even as he penetrated her with a finger. Hot, wet sheath.
He felt how her arousal, her need, vied with her wish to move away from him, to keep herself hidden from him. She made a sound he couldn’t interpret, then whispered, “No. Don’t.” Her words were negated by the low moan she gave.
“Are you asking for mercy, girl?” he whispered, pinching her clit lightly and sliding back in.
Panting, she hesitated. “Yes.” She shook her head. “No.”
“Then we continue. You ready for some real pain now?”
Her cunt clenched around his fingers, and he grinned.
After picking up the dragon whip, he did a set, up and down her body, bringing her pain level back to where she’d been before. Then he held the tip of the tail in his free hand and snapped it at her ass like a rolled towel. The end hit. Her skin jumped a split second before her jerk. A sob came from her, and he smiled.
“Not the same sensation, is it, missy?” Snap, snap, snap. “Feel a little like a whip?” Snap, snap, snap. Her first tear splattered onto the floor, then more. The dragon’s tail flicked its way down the backs of her thighs in pretty red streaks, the narrow leather giving barely satisfying cracks.
And up her legs, her ass, her back. Her first gasping scream.
“That’s a good girl. Give me more.” After easing up for a moment, not too long, he worked her into pain, into screams that satisfied his soul and squeezed his cock. By the time she tipped into a truly deep subspace, she’d stopped holding anything from him.
Her husky scream resonated in his balls.
He continued a little longer, watching closely now. A safe word wasn’t worth shit if a sub’s brain wasn’t awake enough to use it. He lightened up, finishing what they’d both wanted. Needed. Then even slower, gentling the strikes. Bringing her down.
Sweat made her skin gleam as if covered in oil. Her head sagged against her upraised arm although her legs still held most of her weight. Yes, she was no stranger to bondage and pain. He set the whip down and moved forward, feeling like a predator stalking his prey but also a man wanting to please a woman. Sadistic. Dominant.
