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He nodded. His gaze still held anger and frustration, but he obeyed, rising to his feet. He took off the cuffs first, dropped them to the blanket. Violet lowered herself to one hip, watching him intently as he took his hand to the button of his jeans and worked it loose with those large, capable fingers. He lowered the zipper, then pushed the jeans down his hips with his underwear, freeing his cock so it stretched out in full magnificent rigid glory.
"Unbutton the shirt so it's not in my way," she ordered softly.
He obeyed, and she watched him become longer and harder, his body responding to her commands and her perusal. She touched her tongue, just the tip to her top lip, and his testicles contracted.
"Now." She lifted her lashes. "Lace your hands behind your head. And don't move them unless I tell you to do so. And you are not allowed to look down. Not even once."
"Yes, Mistress."
"I like it very much when you call me that." She slid over along the blanket, ran one finger along his length, felt his heat, the iron hardness of him, noted the drop of moisture gathering at the tip. She smoothed her knuckles down the side of his hip, the top of his thigh. "Two of the ladies that will be there tonight are twins. They work in tandem, and they like pain. They're good at administering it, and they like to share subs. How do you feel about me sharing you with them, Mackenzie?"
She watched his face, saw the shadow, saw it masked. "Whatever pleases Mistress."
"Hmmm. This does." She took up the white plastic spreading knife and spread some of the blackberry preserves on the top of his cock, just the length of the shaft behind the head. He drew in a breath as she covered him with her mouth, bringing his flesh and the tartness into it, circling the base of his cock with one small hand and squeezing firmly as she sucked and licked the condiment from him.
"Jesus Christ."
She smiled, drew back just enough to speak. "Keep your hands up there, Mackenzie. I want to play with you a bit. You're mine, aren't you? My plaything?"
"Yes, Mistress. God...yes."
She licked a long stroke down the underside to his scrotum, as if she were enjoying a lollipop. "Close your eyes. I want you to be totally focused on where I lick you next."
He obeyed, though the effort it cost him was visible.
She brought her hands around him, her palms caressing his thighs, his hips. They trembled with the strain of keeping completely still as she'd ordered, while she slid her lips up and down his impressive length. His fingers clenched behind his head, the bicep muscles bunched in a way that made her want to rub oil all over his body again, polish those muscles to gleaming. In an ideal world, a Mistress could keep her slave stripped and oiled all the time, in public or out of it. She wouldn't mind the envious stares of other women, knowing she owned that erect cock, all that beauty and power at her command.
Well, if she could ever get him to stop being so damn stubborn, it would all be at her command. She glanced up to make sure his eyes were still closed and reached into her purse, running the base of her tongue along the ridge of his engorged head as she did so, and made the adjustments she needed with the bottle of lubricant.
She took her hands up his thighs, caressing his hips and curled around those muscular buttocks. He jerked at the cold touch of the new plug, his muscles starting to tighten, but she had already inserted the head of it and used his movement to thrust it past the relaxed muscle before it could clench up. It was a smaller plug, but large enough to be noticeable to the wearer.
"Violet," he made a strangled noise. "Not again."
"Eyes closed, Mackenzie, and keep your hands up there."
She kissed the tip of him, licked the hand gently once more, and then used her hold on his waist to stand up, letting his bare cock brush her jean clad hip. She worked his underwear and jeans back up his legs, over his hips and delectable ass, buttoning and fastening the jeans so their snug fit and the tight hold of that powerful muscle would keep the plug in place. She had to maneuver the zipper carefully over his erection and put her hand in a couple of times to ensure it was tucked in properly. She felt his apprehension, saw the quiver of his arms as he restrained himself, fighting against instinct to relinquish himself to her hands.
"I won't use the remote," she said, taking her time buttoning his shirt, fondling his damp heated skin. "Unless you pull that crap with me again. You can't charm your way out of things with me, Mackenzie, and you won't drive me away by being threatening and surly. You can choose to walk away, and that's it. A polite, courteous break of contract because two people no longer see the benefit of being with one another, as one or both feels they have nothing left to offer the other."
His hands were faster than she expected. Before she could blink, they were gripping her upper arms hard, and he'd lifted her to her toes. "I did want to make love to you," he snapped. "It wasn't bullshit. It wasn't a game."
"I'm glad to hear it. I told you before. To me, none of this is a game. Even when you try to play me, it's not a game." She stared up at him, used her elevated position to press her lips to his hard, angry mouth, nipping at him until they changed, yielded, opened. Abruptly he was consuming her, his arms sliding from their grip on her upper arms to clamp around her body, holding her against his taut, roused one. She played her fingers over his broad back, over his hips, clutched his ass and pressed on where the plug rested, exerting stimulating pressure and also making sure there was no visible indication he was wearing it. She didn't want to humiliate him, just enforce that he was hers.
"Violet," he groaned against her mouth, and it was hard for her to maintain a ration
al thought in his embrace. He was all-encompassing, the press of his torso an eclipse of heat that gathered her in, made her want to stay inside those strong arms, inside the span of his attention, for a few centuries. She stopped worrying and gripped the muscles of his wide back, clutched shirt and skin and surrendered to her own ferocity. Meeting his mouth with tongue and teeth just as furiously, her body quickened at every touch of his. His large hands dropped to squeeze, knead her buttocks, as possessive of her as she was of him.
It was insane. She'd never been so mad for anyone in her life. She wanted to eat him alive. She pulled away to suck in air. "Are you sure you don't wear some type of pheremone cologne?"
His grin was quick, feral, as distracted as a wolf taking a moment to acknowledge his joy in the hunt before the charge, the lunge to take a throat. Hers, in this case, his lips pressing on the vulnerable artery, biting the mark he'd left on her, this time nursing it, offering her an apology with his gesture even as his tongue flicked fire around it. She arched her throat and as she did it, turned her body, so her upper thigh was pressed against his prominent cock. His hand cupped her left breast, stroking, molding it, her nipple sliding between his index and middle fingers to squeeze with an intensity that was ruthless in its determination. He moved his thigh and it was between her legs, rubbing, setting off screaming nerves everywhere.
"Come for me," he whispered roughly. "For God's sake, give me something."
It was a savage whispered plea. It came from the place inside him she desperately wanted to make open to her, so when she heard it, she wanted to reward him for that, and give to him.
As if her internal decision to grant his wish slammed down a lever, her response gushed forth, flooding her blood stream, tensing her muscles in that perverse way a physical release did, as if it was pulling energy from the body as quickly as a drawstring, taking the elasticity from every muscle and tendon.
She played the game so well that she did not permit herself orgasm often, so when she came it was hard, shattering. In this case, she could not say whether she had permitted it or he had won her surrender with his whispered words, his strong hands, his overwhelming determination to claim something of her, make her his Mistress.
