With This Collar (Mastered) Page 14

  “That’s a girl,” he said, matching the pace that she set.

  He delivered the last with a fury that left her screaming again, despite her intentions.

  He manhandled her, grabbing hold of her body, pulling her towards him, then flipping her over and placing her on her back.

  Before she could think anything through, he dragged her closer so her buttocks were perched on the edge of the table.

  She was barely aware of him kneeling. Then he lifted her legs and held them apart.

  He licked her cunt.

  She screamed.

  “Put your knees over my shoulders.”

  He held apart her labia and ate her out. She thrashed and screamed, trying to hold back her orgasm. She had never been more desperate to come in her entire life. “Please. Please! Oh, Sir.” She shuddered. “I need to come!”

  He inserted two fingers in her and thrust hard and fast, over and over.

  Her thighs shook from the effort of restraining herself. She wrapped her legs around him for support. She couldn’t…

  He continued to lick, to suck, to fuck. She was falling apart from the inside out. “Master Marcus! Master, Master, Master… Oh…” She grabbed hold of the edge of the table and dug in her fingers. She bit her lip to distract herself.

  “Come now.”

  He shoved a third finger in her, stretching her mercilessly.

  She reached for him as she orgasmed in a wet gush that left her panting, replete, unable to think or move.

  Nothing in her life had prepared her for the experience of hanging on the precipice for so long, only to have him shove her off it.

  “That will do for a warm-up,” he said, taking hold of her wrists.

  Chapter Seven

  Marcus had been determined to keep her on the edge, denying her time and again, but her use of the word Master undid him. Although he was formally known as Master Marcus at the Devil’s Den, he generally required his subs to address him as Sir. Master felt pretentious and implied a level of commitment in a relationship that he wasn’t willing to give. Perhaps it was similar to the way Julia drew a distinction between submissive and slave.

  He knew she hadn’t called him Master during a scene for any reason other than that she’d been overcome. She wasn’t asking for anything from him. She had no expectations. She was simply a sub having an overwhelming experience. Her naïvety and courage appealed to him. She had no pretences, therefore he was able to let down his guard. He was different with her than he’d been with any other woman, in or out of the lifestyle.

  He lowered her legs from his shoulders and helped her to sit. Since he was reluctant to let her go, he eased her out-of-control hair back over her shoulders.

  “I…”

  She leant forward, letting him take her weight. He kissed the top of her head and held her. He’d turned up the heat before she’d arrived, but she had perspired during their session. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “For?”

  She curled her arms around his neck, for support he imagined. He gathered that she wasn’t a woman who had been nurtured a lot, and he liked being the man who did it for her.

  “The orgasm,” she said. “It was…”

  Was he so arrogant that he wanted to hear her say it?

  “Spectacular.”

  He’d settle for that.

  “Probably the most intense I’ve ever had.”

  That was what he’d wanted to hear. He didn’t normally lick and finger-fuck a woman’s cunt until she’d climaxed. But then, no other woman had screamed out Master for the first time and begged for release like Julia had. His cock had been throbbing with need, but he’d forced himself to think about her satisfaction.

  Generally, as a Dom, he felt it was his obligation to keep a little distance, emotionally as well as physically. If his sub needed something, he had to be resourceful enough to provide it. He endeavoured to always keep his objectivity, stay in control, and to gauge his sub’s reactions so he could draw out every possible nuance of their experience. He wanted his subs to work hard for the orgasm and be shattered as a result.

  The way she’d grabbed his hair unthinkingly and had tightened her legs around his neck had sealed the deal. He’d concentrated on her and only her.

  She’d ground her pussy demandingly into his face while she’d begged.

  Quite probably he could have made her wait just a little longer, but suddenly nothing had been more important than guiding her as she had gone over the edge and had come for him, all over his face. Truthfully, this woman could get a lot from him that he’d never given anyone else.

  He picked her up and carried her back to the great room. “Stay here,” he instructed, placing her on the couch. “I’ll be right back.”

  “But—”

  He placed a finger against her lips. “No arguing.”

  “Sorry, Sir.”

  He grabbed a blanket and covered her. She looked perfect snuggled there, her hair an untamed mess, her lips slightly parted, her eyes bright blue as she looked at him with something that might have been comprehension, or maybe completion.

  Less than a minute later, he returned with a bottle of water, a hand towel and a warm washcloth. He made her drink half the bottle, then he moved part of the blanket aside to wipe between her legs.

  “I can do that, Sir.”

  He loved the way she blushed. After everything they’d done together, she still felt embarrassment? “One day, girl, you’ll stop arguing. Your keeping quiet when things are not open for negotiation will save us both a lot of aggravation. Or there’s always a gag so I don’t have to listen.”

  She wisely shut up.

  He dried the sweat from her body before saying, “Let me see your buttocks.”

  Soundlessly, she threw the blanket off her and turned over.

  “How did it feel?” he asked, tracing his marks and the garter belt straps. There were several marks and a couple of places that might have a slight bruise.

  “Unbearable. I’m sorry for being late. I’ve learnt my lesson.”

  “It won’t be mentioned again. The next time you’re late, you will realise I went easy on you.”

  “This was easy?”

  “There are other ways to punish you, Julia. And that may involve me withholding my attentions, or giving you a prolonged period of time to consider my wishes.”

  Her words were muffled by the cushion as she said, “Thank you for my punishment.”

  “I would rather give you a sensual experience. Through your behaviour, the choice is always yours.” He draped the blanket back over her. “Stay there.”

  He found some arnica in the bathroom linen closet then returned to rub some of the cream into her ass cheeks, paying special attention to the areas he’d chastised.

  “That feels good, Sir.”

  “You’re welcome, girl. When you’re ready, the playroom is prepared for you. Unless you’ve had enough?”

  “No, Sir!”

  He turned her back over.

  She scooted into the corner.

  “Before we go upstairs, I want you to clean up the mess you made in the dining room.”

  “The mess I made?” she asked, looking up at him.

  “Crawl to the kitchen. There are furniture wipes under the sink. I want the dining room to look as presentable as it did when you arrived.” He stood and folded his arms.

  She hesitated for a few moments, but then she threw back the blanket and lowered herself to the floor.

  “Stop.”

  “Sir?” She turned her head to the side.

  “You’d look nice on a leash.” He saw her suck in a breath. “Nothing fancy for my subs. Very plain. Very serviceable. I’m not into bling.”

  She hesitated for so long he wondered if she was going to use a safe word.

  “If it pleases you, Sir.” The words were clipped, and her tone implied that it certainly didn’t please her.

  “It
does. Kneel, please, and pull your hair up.” He fetched the leather pieces from the closet near the front door.

  He was pleased to see that she was kneeling as he preferred, with her knees wide, her gaze on the floor. She was using both hands to keep her hair off her neck.

  Even when he moved in, she continued to look down. “Your skill as a sub is impressive,” he told her.

  “Thank you, Sir,” she whispered.

  He fastened the collar into place and tightened it. He placed his index finger beneath it to be sure it wasn’t too tight. Seeing her there, wearing a collar that he’d bought for her, socked him in the gut. It fitted perfectly, as he’d known it would. And, more than that, he liked what it represented. This fiercely independent woman was accepting his domination and his punishment, if only temporarily. “How’s that?”

  “Fine, Sir. For a pet collar.”

  He dug his hand in her hair and forced back her head so she was looking at him. “Do you need to use a safe word? Or do you need a spanking to adjust your sour attitude?”

  “Neither, Sir.” She expelled a breath. “I apologise.”

  “Ask me to attach the leash.”

  He could hear her internal dialogue.

  But aloud she said, “Please leash me, Sir.”

  “My pleasure, pet.”

  The sound she made could have been considered a growl. He let it pass without a comment. He clipped the pieces together. “You may release your hair and drop your hands to your sides.” After she did, he wound the leather around his hand once to make it shorter. “This time I want you to crawl behind me. Stay close to my heel.” She’d been appalled by the male sub being leashed that night at the Den. He wanted to show her that, with the right attitude, it could be a pleasure. He traced one of her eyebrows with his thumb pad. “Earlier this evening, what did you tell me about your experience of kneeling?”

  “If you think about pleasing another, you can transcend your own feelings. That there are certain things you do because you want to please your Dom.”

  “Having you leashed pleases me. Are you willing to try this rather than fighting me?”

  “You are doing this intentionally,” she said. She pursed her luscious lips, and he watched understanding dawn on her face. “You want to do this because of what I said at Master Damien’s house. About Lana. About that submissive. And because of our earlier conversation about humiliation. You’re trying to prove a point.”

  “That’s part of it,” he conceded. “But also, I do think you look beautiful this way, as I knew you would. This is only a humiliating experience if you allow it to be one. But you alone have the power, Julia. You can stop this any time.”

  He waited her out. Eventually she got on her hands and knees. “Follow me,” he said. He moved quickly, forcing her to crawl faster than she had earlier. It would give her less time to think, and that was definitely in the plus column.

  At first, she barely kept up, and the leather was pulled taut. But when he didn’t relent, she moved a bit faster, creating some slack.

  In the kitchen, he paused near the sink. He waited until she found the furniture wipes, then said, “I’ll carry them.” He didn’t want her struggling with the container. “This time, I want you in front of me. Keep up a good pace, or you’ll feel my wrath.” He liked watching her movements. Lord help him, but he might keep her this close to him at all times.

  The dining room table was a mess from her tears, hands, knees and her orgasm. He wasn’t sure he’d ever enjoyed a sight more.

  He unclipped the leash and stood near a wall, resting his shoulders and watching her.

  Her motions were efficient, but methodical.

  Unless he was entertaining, he generally did his own housework. He found it restorative, and it was a project he could start and finish, unlike some of his construction jobs that took weeks or months. He liked the instant gratification of making his space look better. But after watching her move around in her lingerie, leaning over the table, he might rethink hiring a housekeeper, but not just anyone—Julia.

  Within a few minutes, she had the table back to its original state. He nodded towards a spot on the floor, and she knelt without protest. He appreciated that she’d understood his silent command and that she’d done as he wanted so quickly. She was more perfect than he’d dared hope.

  He pocketed her discarded thong then slid the chairs back under the table, but he left the candles and glass vase on the sideboard just in case he wanted to use her as a centrepiece. “Please put my belt back on me.”

  She picked up the leather strip and crawled to him. He noticed her fingers were a little unsteady as she fed it through the loops. She struggled with the buckle, and, helpless male that he was, he let her. Damn, he wanted to sheathe his cock in her. “Now, put your shoes back on.”

  Without standing, she managed to do so. “You’ve done well,” he told her. “I’m going to put you back on the leash, and you’re going to put away the furniture wipes.”

  She didn’t protest as she figured out how to crawl while holding the plastic container. Once he’d put it away and had closed the kitchen cupboard he said, “Since we’re now going upstairs, I’ll give you the choice. You may stand or you may crawl. There’s no right or wrong decision,” he assured her. “You won’t be punished. And I have no preference. Either way, you’ll be in front of me, and I’ll be able to see your ass.”

  “In that case, Sir, I’d like to walk.”

  He offered his hand. She stood, and he drew her against him. She leaned into him, her head on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her.

  It had been a long time since he’d held a woman. He liked having her snuggled against him. Over the last few years, he’d spent a lot of time avoiding getting involved in another consuming relationship. He now realised he’d missed some simple things about sharing space… Things like this, her warmth, the light floral scent of her shampoo, and her total trust.

  She eventually moved away, and she pulled her hair into a mock ponytail before letting it go.

  “After you,” he said. She led the way upstairs, one hand curved around the banister, and he enjoyed the view of her creamy, punished buttocks.

  At the top of the stairs she paused, and he said, “First room on your left.” Because he could, he took hold of her leash about halfway down, restricting her movements.

  He’d left the door open so that she’d immediately see the St Andrew’s cross he’d had constructed for her.

  His spanking implements were on a wall, behind frosted glass that had been etched with his company’s eagle logo. He’d had glass shelving installed on another wall, and he’d laid out his floggers on top of them. A couple of whips were arranged on hooks, their leather lengths fully coiled. Several crops and canes were attached to the wall, all horizontally so he could easily see their length and composition. Restraints and clamps were arranged in velvet-lined drawers.

  “Oh, Jesus,” she whispered, coming to an immediate stop.

  “A few days ago this room was empty. I designed it for you.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him.

  “Seriously,” he said. “You’ll notice the cross, built for your frame since you’re taller than most women.” He’d had the structure stained with a light pine gloss that would easily wipe clean. “There are also hooks attached to the walls and ceilings. Basically, I can tie you or suspend you virtually anywhere.”

  She glanced at each but said nothing.

  He had also selected a sturdy chair, as well as a spanking bench that could be adjusted into a number of different positions, including one that was perfect for blistering a submissive’s bottom.

  He nudged her across the threshold. He removed the collar from her neck, taking the leash with it. “Stand over there.” She seemed to do better when he issued instructions, and that worked well for both of them as he definitely liked giving direction.

  She remembered to pull back her shoulders and look straight ahead. For several seco
nds, he said nothing, letting her find her composure. When her breathing evened, he said, “Remove your clothes. You can put them on that shelf over there, and then stand in front of the cross. Face towards me.”

  While she undressed, he turned on a small space heater to ensure she didn’t get cold and selected a flogger. He flicked it several times to test its weight and responsiveness.

  He left the flogger handy while he affixed her to the cross. He was looking forward to this experience. Her backside was already red. Now her front would match. “You look every bit as wonderful as I imagined you might.”

  Her chest rose and fell, showing her state of nerves.

  “I want you to be very clear that this isn’t a punishment. This flogging is intended to arouse you. I want to give you an experience tonight. So if it becomes too much, stop it immediately.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Have you ever worn nipple clamps?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “We’ll start with a tweezer style. They’re not my favourite because they come off too easily. But they’ll be a good introduction for you.” He opened a drawer then took out a pair. He draped the chain over his index finger.

  She stared at them. “I thought you said this was meant to turn me on.”

  “Go with it.” He cupped her left breast then sucked her nipple into his mouth, laving the bud, making it hard.

  He smelt her arousal.

  She strained against her bonds.

  “Very sensitive little breasts,” he said. “I love them.” He pinched the nipple again, and she cried out. He placed the clamp then tightened it a bit so it stayed in place, but with only light pressure. “How’s that?”

  “I expected something much worse,” she said with a sigh. “I’m kind of wondering what the fuss is all about.”

  He smiled. She’d find out.

  He repeated the process with her right tit.

  When she was clamped, he stepped back and gently tugged on the chain. She winced slightly.

  “How does that feel?”

  “It hurts, just a little, Sir.”

  “Let’s see if this helps.” He stroked between her legs.

  “Oh. Yes! That helps. That’s… The pain in my nipples makes your hand feel more intense.”