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He grunted behind her, the tendons straining in his neck as his balls slapped against her. She gripped the slippery porcelain, trying to focus on his pleasure instead of her own. Suddenly, letting go of one hip, Master Damon brought his hand around her body, his fingers finding her sex.
She couldn’t stop the feral cry of raw pleasure as he pressed a finger inside her sopping cunt. His other hand came up to clamp her mouth. As their eyes met in the mirror, he whispered, “Shh.”
Keeping his hand over her mouth, he fucked her ass while moving his finger like a piston inside her spasming cunt. She trembled with lust as she mewled against his hard palm covering her mouth. She was going to come—there was absolutely no way around it. She couldn’t ask for permission with his hand pressed so tightly against her lips.
Her legs turned to jelly as a powerful climax took over her body. She would have crumpled to the ground save for his arms around her. A moment later, with a small, strangled cry, Master Damon thrust deep inside her and then gave a long shudder.
Dropping his hand from her mouth, he wrapped his arm around her. He leaned heavily against her, his face close to hers. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart against her back as they both struggled to catch their breath.
The door handle jiggled behind them, a feminine voice calling, “Is someone in there?”
Master Damon lifted his head, meeting Ellen’s eyes in the mirror. Grinning, he called back in a surprisingly clear voice, “Sorry. It’ll just be a minute.”
Releasing Ellen, he took a step back, his cock slipping from her ass. Reaching for the paper towel dispenser, he grabbed several sheets and handed them to Ellen. “Clean yourself up as best you can,” he said quietly. He tore off several more sheets for himself.
They stood side-by-side at the sink, both using soap and water to clean themselves while the doorknob again began to jiggle. With a chuckle, Master Damon again called out, “Be right out.”
He tucked himself back into his jeans and handed Ellen her coat. As she buttoned herself into it, he replaced the folding table back into its closed position and then flushed the toilet for good measure.
With a glance at Ellen, he unlocked the door and pulled it open. A heavyset woman in her fifties huffed, “It’s about time,” as he stepped out. When Ellen followed a moment later, the woman’s eyebrows shot up with surprise and then lowered with disapproval.
“Busted,” Master Damon said in a stage whisper as they retrieved their cart. In spite of herself, Ellen laughed.
As they waited in the checkout line, Master Damon placed his hand on the back of Ellen’s neck. She liked the feel of it, warm and possessive, against her skin.
The checkout clerk was a tall, gangly teenager with a prominent Adam’s apple. His name tag read: Chip. “Find everything okay?” Chip asked in a bored voice as he dragged the items over the scanner.
“Yep,” Master Damon replied.
When the clerk picked up the tube of KY, Ellen noticed with a sudden pang that it was obvious the tube had been used.
Chip glanced up sharply, first at Master Damon and then at Ellen. “This looks like it’s been opened.” His tone was somewhere between solicitous and accusatory. His Adam’s apple bobbed, his voice cracking painfully as he asked, “Uh, did you want to get a different one?”
Ellen ducked her head to hide her rising blush.
Master Damon, on the other hand, seemed perfectly relaxed, even amused. “We like to try some things before we buy them. That one will do just fine.”
Chapter 16
On their third day together, Damon decided to see just how far Ellen could go when it came to erotic pain.
He whipped her lovely breasts with a single tail, requiring her to hold them up in offering for each stinging kiss of the lash. She handled herself with enormous grace, keeping her lovely eyes trained on his face as he marked her creamy flesh. She blinked back tears as she thanked him for the marks, her voice strong and sincere.
Next, he bound her to the St. Andrew’s cross for a caning. When he asked how many strokes she could take, she replied, “As many as you see fit to give me, Master Damon.”
Intrigued by this open-ended assertion, he told her, “You’re going to control this scene. After each stroke, you may ask for another. When you’ve had enough, you will use your safeword.”
Some emotion crossed her face that he couldn’t quite parse. But all she said was, “Yes, Sir.”
With careful precision, he let the cane land with a whistling thwack across her ass. Almost immediately, a welt rose like a slash of dark pink paint across her flesh.
Her only visible reaction was a sharp inhale of breath at the moment of impact. After a moment, she said, “Another, please, Sir.”
Damon complied, his blood fizzing with sadistic excitement, his cock stiffening with arousal.
“Another, please, Sir,” she asked again, her voice still steady.
A third stroke. A fourth. A fifth. A sixth.
