Traded for Love Page 13

  The only familiar person I recognized was the one I cared the least to see—that other Master. He was lounging in a chair near a group of other patrons.

  I stood up, buttoned my coat, and made for him directly. He saw me coming and took his whole drink in one swig.

  He held up a halting hand. “Before you ask, I should tell you that she wasn't feeling well earlier. She hasn't shown up yet and there's no guarantee she will.”

  My ears burned. “I see.”

  “She said she didn't really enjoy being with you all that much. You'll be hard-pressed to get her to agree to see you again.” He had a grin on his face, one I wanted to smack right off.

  I struggled to maintain a cool facade. “She told you that, hm?”

  “She tells me everything,” he said.

  “Like any good slave would,” I added.

  “We're more to each other than that,” he pointed out.

  “Drake, was it?” I asked. He nodded. “What would you say to a permanent trade?”

  He quirked a brow. “Permanent?”

  “What if I bring my slave with me every night? Would you take her in exchange for Chastity?”

  Drake laughed. “You're a piece of work, you know that?” He shook his head. “Like I told you last time, any kind of arrangement would be up to her, and your slave.”

  I bored my eyes into his. “My slave will do whatever I tell her to, because I trained her to.”

  As if on cue, Julia came up to us and offered me a drink. She hadn't gotten one for herself. To illustrate my point, I turned to her, tipped my head in the man's direction, and said, “Julia, offer yourself to this man.”

  Without a moment's hesitation, she reached up to the zipper at her side and unzipped her dress. It fell to the floor. She was completely naked underneath. Half of the room went silent as they gaped at her.

  “Impressive,” Drake said, nodding his head. “Very nice,” he said to her with a smile. “Go ahead and dress yourself, honey.”

  She looked to me for confirmation, whether she could put her dress back on or not. I gave her a short nod, and she stooped to pull her dress back up.

  “Well?” I asked, tapping my wedding ring on the side of the glass I held.

  “While the offer is tantalizing, I would still leave it up to the ladies. I have no desire to sleep with anybody at this time, but I do like making new friends.” He smiled charmingly at Julia.

  “Can you call Chastity, so that we can discuss this? I'd rather know now rather than later.”

  “As I told you, Doe, she's not my puppy that I can whistle for whenever I like. She's—”

  “—Right here,” Chastity interrupted. “Talking about me when I'm not around? I'm flattered.” There was that sweet smile again, those gorgeous curves, this time encased in a modest, black bandage dress.

  “We were, in fact,” I said, stepping between her and the other members of our cluster. “I was asking Drake what the likelihood of seeing you every night was. He said it was up to you. I'd like at least one chance to convince you.”

  She reached out and took my drink from my hand, then drank the entire thing in front of me. I watched the tight skin over her throat stretch around each gulp. I wanted to kiss that neck, to feel the soft, creamy skin get hot under my lips.

  “I'll give you a chance, but no promises if you disappoint me.” She smiled innocently.

  I leaned down and whispered in her ear. “You have no idea what you're in for.”

  She giggled musically. “Oh, I'm sure I do.” Leaning around me, she smiled at Julia and Drake. “I think we'll be going into the back now. Have a pleasant evening, Master, miss.”

  Chastity took my hand and led me away from the pair, and to the hallway door.

  The heavy door closed behind us, and we were alone again. I already had a horrendous case of blue balls. I'd been hard since the moment I saw her, but tonight I was determined to take my time, determined to make her want me as badly as I'd wanted her.

  “Why don't we use a different room tonight,” she suggested.

  “Sounds fine,” I said, following her.

  We reached the fifth door, which was the last at the end of the hall. She unlocked it with a key which she procured from her pocket, and held it open for me as I walked in.

  It was a full-fledged BDSM dungeon, one so well-stocked that I was jealous. I didn't have a dungeon in my house, but now I was beginning to think it would be beneficial to do a little remodeling, especially if I was going to have Chastity in my life permanently. And I planned to.

  I crossed to the king-sized bed, reaching out to touch one of the four posts.

  “Those are made of metal,” she said from behind me.

  “Smart,” I said over my shoulder. “Better for tying someone up.”

  “They're strong enough to suspend a few hundred pounds, too. On that wall, there, are some tools I would hope you're familiar with,” she said. I turned in the direction she pointed.

  Floggers, whips, straps, canes—she hadn't been kidding. On a table was a silver tray bearing several bottles and toys; all kinds of lubes, vibrators, dildos, anal beads, clamps and— I grinned when I saw them: a dozen suction cups. Oh yes, these will do nicely.

  “So, I assume you'll be taking the part of the Dominant,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “What else would I be?” I sneered.

  “The submissive. Of course, I wouldn't be the right choice for Dominant. It isn't in my blood. You'd need more practiced hands, Drake perhaps.” She crossed her legs.

  I scoffed. “Him? I'm not submissive, or gay for that matter.”

  She rubbed her forehead. “Being dominated has nothing to do with sexual orientation. I'd have guessed you would have known that.”

  I didn't care what the hell she was saying. “To answer your question, yes, I'm going to dominate you.”

  She tipped her head to the side, tapping her stilettos against the floor. “Ground rules?”

  “Rules?” I chuckled. “I command. You listen. Those are the only rules I use.”

  One of her eyebrows lifted in question. “Fair enough.” Her small, innocent smile once more melted into something more sinister. “I'm at your disposal then … Master.”

  Just hearing that word on her lips almost made me lose it. I'd wanted her submission since I'd first seen her. I was a little like a kid in a candy shop, with all the options and no clue where to start.

  “Strip,” I said.

  She stood and slid her dress down her hips, then shimmied the skirt to her feet. “Heels, too, Master?” she asked.

  I swallowed hard as her enticing, naked body was revealed to me. “No. Leave the heels on.”

  “Very well.” She hooked the dress on her toe and kicked it toward the wall.

  I couldn't stop staring at her. Her ruby lips were shut, and her eyes were cast at the floor. Her soft breasts rose and fell with each breath. Her rosy-brown nipples stiffened when they met the cool air. The way she stood and the attitude of surrender she'd assumed were enough to make me tremble with anticipation. I rarely ever found myself in that position.

  My gaze fell to her hands, which hung motionless at her sides. I wanted them on me. Before I knew it, I let my next command slip from my lips. “Undress me.”

  I'd never had another person undress me, beyond the usual unzipping or taking off my belt. I'd seen it done before, but still had no idea what to expect.

  She stepped up to me, and without looking me in the eyes, unfastened the single button of my coat, then crept her fingertips under the sides, pressed her hands up my stomach, over my chest and to my shoulders. The coat slid up over her knuckles. She guided it down my arms, then took it away, draping it over the foot of the bed.

  Slowly, but deftly, she undid my shirt buttons one by one. She untucked the brim of the linen shirt, then repeated the shoulder maneuver, until it joined the coat.

  With the tip of her finger, she drew a lazy line between my pectorals, bumping down my
abs, brushing my bellybutton, until she tapped the metal of my belt buckle. I sucked in a breath, half-entranced, half-impatient.

  “Continue.” It sounded desperate, lacking the authority of a command. I cleared my throat and tried to regain some composure. At this rate, I was going to erupt the minute she touched me, and that simply wouldn't suit.

  She worked the buckle, slid the belt through my pant loops, and deposited it on the pile.

  I thought she might finish the procedure standing, but I suddenly forgot how to breathe when she lowered to her knees and began working the button and zipper of my pants.

  The pants fell to my ankles, leaving just my boxer briefs.

  She hooked the elastic in her fingers and pulled them down my thighs to the floor. My over-eager dick bobbed out in front of her face, the head of it glistening.

  Her mouth hovered inches away. I reminded myself that I had to wait, and that one move made in haste could make me lose it.

  I cleared my throat. “Bend over the bed.”

  She complied. As soon as she turned her back, I took a big, silent breath. The last thing I wanted her to know was how much she affected me.

  I set my clothes aside, and chose a whip from the wall.

  With no time to waste, I began, perhaps harder than I should have. The first time she let out a whimper, I mentally congratulated myself on my success. She was beginning to give in.

  The way she'd bent over, she was advertising her pretty pink pussy. I spent the majority of my time looking at that soft skin, once in a while giving it a slap with the whip.

  She'd always squeal at that contact. It wasn't enough. I wanted to hear her scream.

  I stopped with the flogger and set it aside on a cushioned stool. “Lie on your back on the bed.”

  Quickly, I returned to the table, and returned with a blindfold, four lengths of rope, and a ball-gag. After a minute or so, I'd tied her down, securing her arms and legs to each of the four posts.

  The next part of my plan would surely be different for her. It'd be only the third time I'd used suction on a slave, but I had a feeling it'd be far more fulfilling than my past exploits.

  I brought back a bottle of massage oil and squirted several lines over her. She jumped as the cold liquid dripped over her stomach and onto the rubber sheet.

  I spent five or six minutes rubbing it in, relishing the feel of her curves sliding under my hands. My hand stopped at her pussy. I remembered she hadn't come last time—or at least that's what she'd told me. I wanted to drive her crazy, and this would be the place to start.

  Dropping between her legs, I spread her with my fingers and licked every succulent fold in front of me. She tasted so goddamned sweet. I'd wanted to taste her last time, but had been too obsessed to take my time. Obsessed. That was a perfect word for my craving.

  I slid two fingers inside of her and she reacted by clenching. I moved my head away from her to watch her face. I wanted to see the orgasm in every part of her body. After not seeing much of a measurable response, I inserted a third finger. Quickening my pace made her back arch. That's more like it, I thought.

  Soon she was moaning. I reached down to give myself a calming tug. She was making me so hot it was hard to resist finishing right then and there. Her back arched again, then she bucked off the bed. Her clenching grew more pronounced around my fingers.

  But then I realized something—she'd exhibited these same signs last time.

  “Oooh, no, miss.” I chuckled. “You're not going to fake your way out of this. You're going to come, and that's a command.”

  She smiled around her ball-gag.

  I drew back my hand and slapped her thigh so hard that the sound echoed through the room.

  My hand wasn't enough, I realized. I had to try something else, so I slipped my hand out and left the oiled up beauty alone on the bed.

  I returned with a dildo, not a large one. I didn't want to loosen her up too much. Without priming her for it, I slid it inside of her. She spread her legs to accommodate its girth.

  Her nipples hardened into stiff peaks.

  That's more like it, isn't it, bitch? I thought.

  I began fucking her with it. Her wetness made the shaft of it shine as I fucked her. This time I noticed her breathing was more erratic, and her entire body was lifting off the mattress. I pushed harder, faster. Her face turned red, then the rest of her followed suit. By the time my arm began to ache, she was moaning and shivering.

  Finally, she stopped fighting it and gave in. She locked up around the toy. Her toes curled. Her calf muscles flexed as she let out little muffled curses.

  “I'll excuse the fact that you didn't ask for that one—this time,” I said, leaving her an undone mess on the bed. Next would come the suction cups … and finally it'd be my turn.

  I brought three small suction cups back to the bed with me. She was still covered in the massage oil.

  Perfect, I thought, setting a suction cup on each nipple. She jerked in response to the cold glass encircling each puckered bud.

  When I settled the third on her swollen clit, she moaned. She knew exactly what was coming, and the best part was that she wanted it.

  I attached the bulb and hose to the end of the first cup, and began pumping it in my hand. With each squeeze, her nipple was pulled by suction until it was engorged and the skin stretched by the pressure. I secured the catch, so no air would escape. As I repeated the motion on the other nipple, she threw her head back and writhed. I gave that nipple an extra pump, a maniacal grin on my face.

  Finally, I brought the bulb and hose to the cup on her clit. I pumped, watching as the tender nub swelled and bulged up against the glass.

  She'd moaned and groaned herself hoarse. Her breaths stuttered in and out of her.

  I tossed the pump over my shoulder and walked around to the foot of the bed.

  Whenever she moved, the cups would quiver, causing her to jerk in response. I relished the fact that I was the one who made her feel like this. I was the one who inflicted the agonizing, constant suction on her nipples and clit. I was the one who was stretching her resistance thin.

  I basked in the glow of having her entirely at my whim. I'd wanted her like this all night. I wanted nothing more than to watch her fall apart, for the facade she put on for everyone else to wither like the petals of a flower past its prime.

  Her thigh and arm muscles twitched. Only a woman consumed by ecstasy moved like that. But I wasn't even close to done with her.

  It was my turn to get mine, now.

  First, I teased her clit by thwacking the suction cup. Her legs shook as her sweat trickled to the sheets.

  “Beg for me,” I commanded.

  “Phlease!” she cried around the ball-gag. “Phlease, Master!” She tugged at the posters in vain. There was no way she'd get out of my knots.

  “Please, what?”

  “Phlease … fuck me.”

  I resisted the urge to plunge in immediately, but even I wasn’t strong enough to entirely resist her begging. I scooped her ass up, so I was lined up, and began easing into her.

  Hot, wet, gripping … so perfect.

  “Christ … ” I whispered, dropping my head back.

  It took me a moment to adjust to being inside of her. Torturing her had been just as torturous for me. The wait had been awful, but we were finally united, joined at the roots of our being.

  Fucking her was like second nature. She opened at my forward thrusts, and squeezed as I slid out. It was a perfect, fevered dance. I wanted to see her face without the impediments of the blindfold and gag, so I stopped moving inside of her.

  I lifted away the blindfold. She was dazed, looking at me with misted over eyes. Those beautiful brown irises were glued to me, searching for the moment I would release her.

  “Turn your head,” I said. She lay her cheek against the pillow, allowing me to undo the buckle on the gag's strap. I retracted the ball from between her teeth. It'd smudged her lipstick a little, but that made her loo
k all the more alluring. Destroying her was art. She looked how I felt inside yesterday—completely ruined.

  Her gaze was vacant.

  “Should I stop fucking you?”

  She shook her head. “Please don't, Master.”

  There was true submission in her voice. Fuck yes, I've done it, I thought, I've tamed her.

  “What do you want?” The strength of authority in my voice surprised even me.

  “Use me,” she whispered.

  It was too much. I lost all resolve and took little care for her comfort as I drove myself in. Still tethered to the bed, she bounced every time our hips met.

  I couldn't get enough of her, this sweet, tantalizing vixen. I gripped one of her tits as the suction cup on her clit slapped against my stomach.

  She screamed with reckless abandon, begging for me.

  Her back arched and I took the opportunity to open the catch on one of her nipple cups. She gasped as the pressure released. A few seconds later, without warning, I opened the other. Her pitiful moans only spurred me forward.

  The last to go was the clit device and she squirmed as her tender flesh was freed. As I fucked her to my heart's content, I slipped my thumb over the swollen bud. She tugged at the posters again. They creaked with the force of her pull.

  “Fuck yes! Just like that, Master!” she belted out at the top of her lungs.

  I'd struggled to keep it, but when she addressed me directly, my restraint broke. I folded under my own all-encompassing orgasm. My head fell back as I rode the waves washing through me. A few minutes passed before I remembered where I was.

  When I looked down, her eyes were half-closed as if she was on the edge of sleep. Her breathing was still heavy, though, leading me to believe she was just exhausted.

  We were both totally spent, which is exactly how I wanted it.

  I untied her arms and legs and she drew her arms and legs close to her body. The red welts across her ass, as well as the rope impressions around her wrists and ankles were testament of how hard I'd ridden her.

  Though I had no interest in cuddling, I had the distinct feeling I should ease our parting by doing something. I was at a loss as to what that something was. She lay on the bed, placid, quiet, breathing steadily. I settled in beside her, but didn't touch her.