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The path of his eyes coursed down the front of the velvet dress, but he took another step closer, so close she felt his hand at his side brush her hip. Felt his fingertips take the liberty of caressing the lace top of her thigh high, seeking to trace the bare skin just above it, below her dress's short hem.
"I'd kneel at your feet and eat your pussy until you came in my mouth, your hands clutched in my hair, nails digging into my skin. I'd listen to you scream my name. Mistress."
His fingers inched higher, his eyes gauging the rise in her pulse rate, which she felt beating against her throat as clearly as she knew he could see it.
"You need to learn some manners." She caught his wrist in a firm grip.
The tether was similar to the nylon ropes found in a horse barn, only this one had a cuff at the end of it. She fitted it around his wrist. "Turn outward so your back is facing the back of the stall, and put both arms behind you, crossing your forearms."
His fingers flexed as she laced the cuffs on his wrists securely, making sure he had blood flow, but tight enough he could feel the restraint, send the message to his mind that it was the first step toward the total domination she intended to exercise over him tonight. As she did the lacing and checked the pressure, her knuckles were brushing the ass hugged by the denim. It was too tempting. She allowed herself to free one hand, close it over the curve of one buttock, grip it hard, enjoy the feel of it flexing tensely under her touch. The fingers of his cuffed hand reached, found
her other hand wrapped in the loose end of the tether, and he caressed her palm, seeking a grip.
She drew out of his reach, wrapped the slack of the ropes around her fingers and tugged him further into the stall. He turned his head, meeting her gaze as she moved him, her palm sliding around to press against his stomach just above his waistband to guide him backwards. There was no escaping the mental comparison of leading a stallion within proximity of a mare, his eyes dangerous and intent on hers.
Steady, girl. He's big and strong, and he knows what he's doing, but you can handle him. You know what he needs, even before he does. That's what a good Mistress did. Break him down to the core, so he was open to her, both finding ultimate completion in a total connection of the mind with the body.
Tyler's words, but her pounding heart had a different name for it, which went beyond words to pure feeling.
For a Mistress like her, it wasn't about getting off. She knew true Doms were artists who used a variety of methods to break subs down to the bone and drive them to a level of fulfillment they never could have experienced with their emotional and physical shields in place. For such a Master or Mistress, the stimulation came from that successful breakdown of a sub, so that he was completely linked with the Dom's desires. At its heart, that was what she hungered for, getting the sub she wanted to willingly surrender all to her, more than he even knew he had to offer. She wanted to tame the stallion that could not be tamed.
"I didn't give you permission to meet my gaze," she said. "Face forward and eyes down."
Mackenzie held her eyes one more moment than was appropriate, then shifted his attention to the floor. His bare broad back faced her, the smooth taper to the firm waist just screaming for her touch.
She threaded the loose ends of the tethers through a ring above her head on the stall wall and drew the ropes tight, drawing his shoulders back and up so that she crossed his arms as close to the elbows as she could, a just short-of-uncomfortable posture that got his attention. It bent his body slightly forward, which she could tell he didn't like, for it put him off balance. He was going to be a lot more off balance when she was done.
It was an effective method of restraint, because with his arms crossed nearer to the elbows than the wrists and his arms pulled up at the uncomfortable angle to his shoulders, he could not move back. The lack of slack kept him from moving forward.
"I want you uncomfortable, but not in pain," she said, testing the ropes, drifting her hand across his back. "You'll tell me if you begin to hurt. Answer me."
"Yes, Mistress," he said roughly.
"Good." She moved around to his front, stepped back five paces and then simply stood a moment, enjoying him. "You've got a beautiful chest," she noted. "Those incredible shoulders, the cords of muscle at the neck. Long thighs, impressive cock."
Standing in the shadow of his body with her spike heels, she was a bit taller than she wanted to be. She bent over, her back to him, to lift the hem of her short skirt and take down the back zipper of the first boot, well aware that he was seeing her thighs all the way past the top of the thigh high. The posture revealed the elongated almond shape of her pussy in the green satin thong, the base of her ass cheeks.
The rings clanked as he tested how much slack he had, and she hid a smile when he came up just short, as she knew he would. She unzipped the other boot, stepped out of them and kicked them out of her way, turning before he could get the bright idea to try to use his legs to rub a knee up the seam of her thighs. She wouldn't put it past him to be so impudent.
Taking up the brush with stiffer bristles again, she ran it down the center of his chest, tugging the bristles through the curly hair there, down the abdomen, tickling the waistband of his jeans, her fingers playing in the area between denim and hard muscle. She placed the brush at the juncture of his shoulder and neck area, and this time brought the brush down over the nipple. The area drew taut immediately, and she felt his muscles clench against the pain as the hard bristles scraped over the sensitive skin. She alternated as she had before, going down one side, then the other, letting her fingers trail behind so the harsh scratch was followed by the soft caress of her fingertips, soothing him.
It also allowed her to note the increased rise and fall of his chest, the thunderous pounding of his heart beneath her palm, the instinctive moistening of his lips, the shift of his body to relieve the pressure between his thighs.
"Be still," she commanded. "Keep your eyes down."
His lids flickered. "But I like looking at you, Mistress."
She ran a hand along his jaw, the smoothly clipped line of his beard, wondering how it would feel against her most sensitive areas of skin. "I'm glad to hear it, but I'll decide when. Are there things you're not comfortable doing I should know about?"
"With respect, same answer as before, Mistress. I'll do all you ask of me, or I'm not worthy to be your slave." His gaze briefly flicked up to hers, then quickly back down before she could chastise him. "You choosing me to serve you, bring you to the highest level of pleasure, those are my only desires."
It was so close to what she wanted to find in a lover, she barely managed to control the shiver of reaction that went through her vitals at his words. She knew of subs who would let a Dom do anything to them. Most clubs revoked their memberships once they found them, because the wrong Dom would push them past physical and emotional endurance, and could cause them serious physical harm. But Mac didn't strike her as that type. He had limits in there somewhere, he had just somehow managed to keep Mistresses from running up against them. The strength of her concern surprised her, as did the wave of protectiveness that barbed her words.
"That's stupid, Mackenzie. If I have you gagged and decide to ram a railroad spike up your ass, it's going to be a little hard for you to change your mind."
"I trust you'll do what's best for me, Mistress. Whatever you feel is appropriate."
A good kick in the ass for being that unsafe. However, she suspected now was not the time for a lecture. Maybe if they spent more time together.
