AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She obeyed, and she couldn't stop shaking, needing. He took off his shirt, revealing fine, furred muscle. He opened his jeans, a quick slip of the button, a tugging of the zipper, the denim pushed down just enough to suit his intent. From the sinuous roll of his hips, the way he reached in to stretch out what was beneath, she anticipated and was not disappointed to see he was fully erect, thick and hard, the tip already damp with viscous fluid.
As he knelt between her legs, he gave her that implacable look. "You're my obedient slave," he murmured. "You don't move, except in whatever way I move you."
"Yes, Master." There was no hesitation, no sense that she was playing a game. She'd called him what he was, and he'd just as clearly told her what she was in this moment. Nothing in her objected or disagreed with it.
He slid his hands beneath her thighs to cradle her buttocks, and then he tilted her hips up. He had one knee on the couch, the other foot planted on the floor, in between her chained foot and the sofa so her ankle rubbed against his pants leg, the chain making its soft metallic music as she twitched, involuntary movements she couldn't control.
He pushed into her, holding her still as a doll, and she gave a tremulous sigh, a tiny pleading sound captured in the breath. He held her gaze, binding her to his will as he eased in all the way, lifting her higher and adjusting his own hips to navigate her channel, moving slow to protect her from pain, even as his size stretched her in a pleasurably less comfortable way. Then he stayed that way, deep inside her, his fingers kneading her buttocks. It made a swirl of sensation spin from the delicate anal region to her cunt, spreading out through her stomach, up to her breasts. He hadn't had her remove her blouse, but now, when his eyes finally moved to it, she anticipated his next order.
"Take it off."
She unbuttoned it and had to arch her body to shrug out of it, which impaled her further upon him. She let the fabric slide to the floor. His gaze rested on the bra she'd chosen tonight. It was all thin lace, not intended to conceal or cushion the shape of the nipples at all, so beneath the dark blue lace the circles of her areolae, the hard points of her nipples, were visible. The bra had a front clasp.
"Open it."
When the cups slid away, revealing her breasts, his gaze devoured them. He moistened his lips, and she jolted as if he'd put his mouth there with just the implication.
"Grip them as if you're offering them to me. Squeeze them and hold that tension on them so they'll swell out of your hands."
She obeyed, and his brown eyes glinted. "Keep that pose, and don't move." Then he began to thrust.
"Aahhh." The noise couldn't be contained, not that one, nor the ones she uttered afterwards. The other night he'd been gentle, building up to fast. Tonight, with her pose, with his orders, he was making it clear this was about his pleasure. Which, diabolically, made her even crazier with lust. Her pussy spasmed with each impact. He was going to make her come, disobey the instructions entirely, because she could take nothing but pleasure from this. But she lacked any will to stop him, to protect herself from anything he might do to her, and somewhere in her lust-fogged brain, she understood that was the point.
It was impossible not to move during an orgasm, but she fought hard to obey. As the waves started to build, about to crash over her, she was pushed over by his own hard, fast release, his cock convulsing inside her, spewing hot seed over her cervix and channel, making her cry out, her body bow up impossibly as she still held her breasts on display for him, fingers leaving pressure marks in her soft skin.
As she went over her own crest, his other arm snaked under her waist and, still pumping, he bent and captured her right nipple in his mouth, making her scream as he bit down, lashed at it, licked at her tight fingers. She worked her hips on him, her other leg coming up to hook his hip, but he shoved it down, held it pinned in the position he proscribed. It made the orgasm a long, never-ending toss in the surf, where she kept surfacing for air and then was pushed down again, drowning in the pleasure, rolled over and over.
When she was at last done, floating, her body jerking with tiny movements as if recovering from a seizure, he guided her hands from her breasts, letting her arms fall limp as they needed to do. He kept kissing her breasts, teasing nips, then he caught his fingers in the chain, tugging against the collar so she opened her eyes, focused on him. She was utterly lost, with him her only chance of rescue from this vast sea of nothingness, a place she would dwell forever at his behest.
"Logan . . ." Her voice was barely a whisper.
"It's all right, love. Ssshhh." He fingered the lock, keeping his weight on her without inhibiting her breath, as if he knew she needed the anchor of his body holding her to the couch. "I've half a mind to keep you like this for the next week or so, but I don't think I'd get any work done, knowing you were back here, waiting for me to do whatever I want to you. And Troy would swallow his tongue if he saw you."
She trembled harder, and felt an odd reaction, tears. "What's wrong with me?"
"Not a thing. Not a fucking thing in the whole world. You're perfect." He stroked back her hair, and his words just made the tears come spilling right out of her eyes. "It's like I told you that first night at your house. You're still working through things. This is still new to you, completely opening yourself up like that. This is the way it feels."
"Did you cry the first time it happened to you, on the Dom side of things?"
His eyes crinkled at her. "I think a Master feels it a little differently."
"Oh."
"Not less intensely. Different. For that one moment, when you gave yourself fully to me. . ." He paused and she latched on to his expression, the inward focus that told her he was genuinely attempting to explain something that was difficult to put into words. She knew the feeling. "I would have killed anyone who tried to hurt you. I wanted to protect you, possess you, cherish you, with everything I am. And I thanked God for the gift of you."
Never in her life had a man spoken to her so simply, honestly, with such genuine feeling. She lifted her hand, touched his face, traced his jaw, his lips. He kissed it. "I can still smell your honey on your fingers," he said. "I like it."
He withdrew with a regretful look, tucked himself back in and refastened his jeans before fishing out the key. She put her hand over the lock, a move she made before she even thought about why she did it, but she knew she didn't want him to remove it. The world was far more confusing and painful without it, and she was loath to return to that reality.
His countenance gentled, though he put firm fingers over hers, pulled hers away. "It won't be the last time I put a collar on you, Madison. I promise you that. If you decide you genuinely want it there," his gaze met hers, "It will be there, all the time. You'll feel my ownership no matter what you're wearing, or not wearing. Do you understand?"
She didn't, but she wanted to. However, his words were helping to ground her some, bring her back to reality, making her a little abashed at herself, at the intense, uninhibited way she was feeling and expressing herself.
He touched her face. "The way you're feeling right now, it's called subspace. It's like a high, the good kind. But sometimes, afterwards, you can experience a crash, especially if you're still resolving a lot of emotional issues, if it's happening too fast, which this is, in some ways. So I want you to promise me something. If you get home tonight, and things feel wrong or sad, you call me. Even if it's just to hear me breathing on the other side of the phone, neither of us saying anything, that's okay. All right?"
She nodded. "Can you . . . would you leave the collar on for a while?"
In answer, he slipped off the padlock, removed the chain but left the collar, and then shifted onto the couch, pulling her into his lap. From that position he unlocked the chain around her foot, let it fall to the floor. Then he gathered her more securely in his lap, her knees bent up against her body so she was almost in a ball against his chest, her bottom nestled into his lap. Wrapping those strong arms around her, rocking her gently, dropping kisses along her hair, he said nothing more, just held her. She had her hands folded against herself, her fingers playing with the D-link of the collar, the buckle on it. Laying her head on his shoulder, she pressed her face into his neck and let her mind float.
