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The flat of his hand struck the bare curve of her buttock, the most fleshy part so it wobbled, sending frissons of sensation across the whole area. It didn't really hurt but of course that wasn't what she had feared about it. He did it again and changed sides, striking her across both buttocks.
The icy ball dissipated under the clever manipulation of his fingers on her clit as he did his spanking. The strain on her back tendons increased as she tried to stay up on her toes for him. Urgent arousal unsated from this morning was grasping her, a need to come all over those fingers that somehow knew her body. She wanted to take the hand striking her, suck and bite at the flesh that was creating a stinging sensation across hers.
He hadn't given her time to get too panic-stricken over it, springing it on her as he did, but he'd also taken the time to explain and reassure her in an odd way. And now, what she never would have expected, the stinging slaps were arousing a reaction of genuine, strong lust with the most shameless desire to lift her hips up further to his touch. It happened to her subs of course but she'd not expected it in herself. The bark bit into her fingers as she curled into it.
He stopped, rubbed his hand in slow circles, kneading her buttock, his fingers tracing her wet labia and clit. "Don't come, angel. You don't have permission to come. "
"What if I do anyway. . . " A breath rasped out of her as he pinched her gently. "By accident?"
"I'll just have to tie you back down on the bed like I did last night and tease you for hours, not letting you come until you're screaming for it. Do you want to come for me?" She could not answer such a question. She couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't a game or just a weekend, that the control of a lifetime was slipping away before her eyes. Before his eyes.
; His fingers sank deep into her and she moaned. "You'll answer me, Marguerite. " His thumb passed over her clit and she couldn't help it. The shudders started coming from deep within her, a place she couldn't control.
"I'm sorry. . . I can't. . . " Her voice rose in desperation.
"Come for me. Now. " One of his other fingers pressed against the rim of her anus, penetrated, just the tip.
She held on to the tree, her fingers scrabbling for purchase as her hips wantonly rocked against the pumping of his fingers, the working of her clit. It wasn't enough. She wanted him inside her. Her nipples ached for his mouth against the restriction of the sports bra. The pleated edges of the skirt whispered against her thighs in front as he kept it pushed up her back, exposing her to him.
Her legs were quivering at the exertion of staying on her toes. When the hardest wave hit, her balance went, the ankle weakened from the mugger's attack giving way.
In an instant he had her around the waist, his body hard against hers, his hand still insinuated between them to draw out her climax. She writhed and cried out, feeling the heat of his body, the massive size of his cock against her ass and wanted it. Just wanted it. She bit her tongue to keep from saying so and tasted blood in her mouth.
When the reaction finally ebbed to the point some sanity returned, he had her leaning full against the tree, his body pressed against hers, holding her up. Guiding her, he moved her back to the bench, eased her to a sitting position. It was then she raised her disoriented gaze to Aphrodite and noticed an important detail she'd missed.
The beautifully sculpted goddess was wearing a collar, connected with delicately wrought chains sculpted in the metal to manacles around her wrists. Her fingers twined in the strands of her hair and played over her sex. Not hiding it as Marguerite had assumed at first glance, but stimulating herself.
What she'd thought at a distance was simply a reproduction of Greek statuary was an original interpretation. Her mouth was open as if gasping her pleasure, her lips in a pleased smile. Marguerite recognized the style.
"The artist for The Zone must be a personal friend," she said, trying to regain some sense of herself.
"He is. And can you imagine anything more explosive to a man's fantasies than to have the honor of mastering a Goddess, bringing her pleasure, bringing her ecstasy after ecstasy until she might willingly become yours forever?"
"I think you better watch out for lightning strikes. You might make that particular Goddess angry. "
He went on to one knee by her, pushing her legs apart and putting his hands on her waist, drawing her to the edge of the bench so her throbbing center pressed against his hard abdomen. "Put your arms around my shoulders. " He tightened his hold so she had no option but the one that offered itself, to lay her head on his shoulder as he held her in the close embrace that shattered her, made tears rise in her throat. He kissed the side of her head, his lips gentle on her hair. "I worship this particular Goddess. There's nothing she could ask that I wouldn't do for her. I'd be devoted to her forever, never worshipping any other. "
"Tyler - " She squeezed her eyes shut and gripped him more fiercely with her arms, though she told herself not to do so. There was the urge to do the same with her legs, hold on to him with both the fervency of a lover and the neediness of a child. "Please don't do this to me. You know this is just the false intimacy of sex, the way it makes you believe things you shouldn't. "
"But it's never affected you that way before, has it?" He rubbed his cheek against her. Sitting back on his heels, he rose, drawing her to her feet. Backed her into the tree again and kept her close enough that she was still leaning into him, so she wasn't completely bereft of his presence. "You smell like. . . What is that?"
"Tea tree," she managed. "Scented with - "
"Jasmine. Just the faintest whiff, like the call of the Grail to a knight's heart. " Wooing a woman with poetry should have lost its effectiveness with the jaded cynicism that had infused the latter half of the twentieth century. But here in his garden with the willingly bound and pleasured Aphrodite looking over them, it was as if that time of bards had never left, the modern world merely a stray bit of garbage that had been pushed away to reveal the world Tyler had created for her.
His hand came to her face and she smelled the scent of her climax on his skin.
"Take my fingers into your mouth, Marguerite. Suck on them. "
She did, tasting herself now, feeling him grow impossibly thicker and harder against her.
When he withdrew, she struggled to get some type of a grip on the situation. "You really are insufferable. You must know that. "
His eyes coursed over her hard nipples appreciatively, pressing against the thin stretch fabric of the sports bra. With the flat of his hand against her lower back, he lifted her so her clit was pressed against his arousal. She uttered a cry of pleasure as a hard aftershock tightened her body against him and he sandwiched her against the tree.
"You've got plenty more of me to suffer before Sunday, angel. Tell me you want me to fuck you. I want to hear it from those beautiful lips, those lips that have sucked my cock but not given me one free kiss. Let me inside you. " It would be so easy. She could claim it was just part of the weekend but he'd know it wasn't. It was a line she just couldn't cross. As long as kissing on the mouth and sex were not part of it, she could keep this in perspective, make it work. But all those rationales were drowned by the scream of her body for his.
