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When she turned to lay the latigo down on the rack, the dark shadow between her buttocks made his blood boil closer to the surface. The way the fabric creased and moved with her ass, rode up high on her thighs in the back. If she bent over, he knew he'd get a view of her soft, delectable pussy.
He could almost sense the reaction of the crowd above. She was a vision. She always was. Her beauty didn't rest in a feature or group of features. It was in her otherworldly quality. He stood in a room with something not quite of this earth.
Perhaps an angel with a broken wing, forever consigned to walk among humans, puzzled by them, never quite in sync.
All the miserable things he'd seen, all the things he'd been unable to prevent, had given him what he needed to be the man who could love her and care for her forever.
He knew it. He would fight the demons in her dreams for her, give her back her smile as a gift she'd earned a thousand times over. It wasn't egotism or wishful thinking, he simply knew it as truth. He just had to get her to believe it. When he looked at her he saw his own soul looking back at him, the lost piece of himself.
"I want you. "
She stilled for a moment, but then she lifted her arms, her back still to him, to tuck up the tail of her hair in a knot. When she turned around, her arms still raised, he swallowed, noting the way the dress stretched tight over her breasts. She came to him, her eyes on his cock, not acknowledging him or his words. Slowly she moved her body against his, rubbing her mons along the length of his turgid arousal, the fabric of her dress the thinnest of barriers. She bent her knees to rub her nipples against his hard abdomen, then straightened, taking them up his chest, tilting her head back a little so he could not reach her with his mouth.
"I want to fuck you. Now. " He growled it.
Marguerite managed, just barely, to prevent her body from giving itself away with a shudder at the words. She was ravenous for him, too. And he was hers to touch, wasn't he? With her free hand she curled her fingers around his oiled cock while his breath drew in. She felt his eyes on her face. After a moment, she ducked under his arm to his back. Running her palms up each side of his tense buttocks, she eased her now oiled knuckle in between the cheeks.
"You don't follow direction very well, Tyler. I told you not to speak. What if I decide to fuck you? How would you like that? What if I want you to come for me? Your seed jetting out into the air. What if. . . "
She didn't want any of those things. She wanted this. Pressing her body close against his back, she rubbed her pubic bone against the seam of that delicious ass, raised on her toes to seize a handful of his hair in her hand. Yanking his head back, she sank her teeth into the juncture of his shoulder and throat. This was savage need, the desire to draw Tyler's blood and essence into her, keep his taste on her tongue forever, hoping it would still the restless desire raging through her. Her other hand came up, collared his throat to hold him at the uncomfortable angle, pressing, restricting his air as she sank her canines in deeper, tasting his blood, his life.
Focus, Marguerite, focus. The roaring was hard to push back but she did it. Abruptly she released him, listened to him take a harsh breath to pull air back in his lungs, watched his broad chest expand. Stepping back into the shadows, she wiped the back of her hand against her bloody lips as she walked it off, circled in the darkness. Her body trembled, her breath coming as rapidly as if it were her air that had been constricted.
She stopped when she was straight across from him again. Her eyes drifted down to find him even more hard and erect.
Obviously, she hadn't frightened him. She raised her lashes and found the same look he'd had when she first removed his blindfold. Possessiveness. Even chained, his eyes made it clear he considered her his. And he was waiting. Waiting for what? Blood ran down his shoulder, over his nipple. She raised a hand to her mouth, feeling it there again, seeing it smear on her hand. Looking down, she saw a stain of it over her left breast.
"You put anything in my ass, angel - " He spoke now, low and dangerous, as if she'd just asked the question. "And you'd better keep me tied until you're in the next state. And even then, I'll find you. You won't walk comfortably for a week. "
"I'm not your submissive. You don't spank me. Not ever again. "
"I don't need to spank you to make it hard for you to walk. " The amber had become gold fire. Just as a lashing could rouse a slave's submissive devotion to fever pitch, it had fully roused the Master in him, the Dominant male. She knew if he were free right now, there was nothing she could do to escape him, to keep from being shoved to her back, her legs parted and his body thrust into her, fucking her into submission. The thought made her quiver hard and deep down in the dark places of her soul. Something primal was moving in his eyes but a wave of the same was raging through her body, taking her over.
"I didn't give you permission to speak. Do so out of turn again and I'll gag you. "
"Do I get to choose what you gag me with?" He cocked his head. "The silk of your hair would make a lovely gag. The full ripeness of your breast, your nipple for my pacifier. . . your plump cunt. Are you still smooth for me, Marguerite?"
She seized the latigo from the shelf. As it uncoiled with a hiss, she snapped it out of the shadows, making sure the tail struck the base of the scrotum with stinging accuracy.
He flinched but it just increased the challenge in his eyes. When he bared his teeth, she was flooded by the turbulent storm moving within her, driven by hurricane-force winds of emotion. She didn't step back to let it settle. Not this time.
"Is this how you respect a Mistress? Challenging me, daring me to top you like a green submissive? Did you expect me to buy that bullshit line about honoring the Mistress in me?" Her voice did not sound steady, even to herself. She stepped deliberately out of the shadows, every part of her going still, zeroing in on one objective. To give the power within her an outlet.
Focused on the blatantly male display before her, she swung the whip.
His eyes never left her face. Not as she landed strike after strike on his front, knowing exactly what level of pain would be felt. A man could be hit harder than a woman because their skin was less sensitized. Using her well-practiced skills, she striped his body with red marks, never breaking the skin but delivering the maximum amount of pain. While she didn't touch his genitals again, she abraded the skin near them with harrowing frequency.
But throughout the flogging, though his breath began to labor as the pain level increased, he remained still. The more he didn't move, the more the energy vibrated off him
until it filled the room with heat, fueling the thing building in her and between them.
His body gleamed in sweat. Her dress had become transparent as she became damp with her own reaction, the stress of the scene, the demand of her own desire.
Stepping back, she picked up the tawser in her free hand. Tyler knew she was considering another round and where to place it. The whip moved with her, coiling around her calves like a sinuous snake permanently enamored of Eve. Or Lilith. His nerve endings were roused, vibrating, affecting his emotions as well as his body. He could admire her ability, her stamina, even as he knew he was losing the ability to hold on to his own control, driven to the edge by pain and his own alpha lust. The desire to become a raging beast, tear the chains from the wall and take her over, was becoming as excruciating as the rawness of his skin.
He could read her emotions through the strikes. Anger. Controlled anger for the moment but definitely teetering on the brink. Frustration. With herself as much as him as she struggled to reach the state of mind she wanted. Pride was part of this, too. He'd mastered her and she needed to balance that, to prove to him she was a Mistress. He'd suspected that would be a component of tonight's session even before they started. He also suspected he'd become the manifestation of the things that frightened her. He'd stirred them up, things perhaps she'd never allowed herself to want. And then he'd let her go, left her to deal with that alone. This was his penance. He wasn't going to leave her like that again, damn it, no matter what.
She lifted her gaze, met his with eyes like a blue wasteland. "Do you know what pain is, Tyler? Really know? You're so fucking determined to be inside of my head. But you give me nothing. "
