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Bending closer, he moved his hand down her body as he pulled his other hand free of her mouth and wrapped it around her throat. The dominant gesture sent a shudder of raw, submissive desire through her body. She adored a man’s hand on her throat, especially this man’s hand.
Keeping his grip firmly in place, he tapped at her thighs with his other hand. “Spread your knees wide. I’ve never seen you come, slave Abbie. I know you have an issue with doing it yourself in front of someone else, but what about if he does it for you, hmm?”
He cupped her smooth cunt with his large hand, his palm pressing hard against her clit as his finger slid easily into her slick, hot passage. She groaned, melting into his touch. He added a second finger, moving them in tandem as he had in her mouth, while rubbing his palm against her throbbing clit.
She panted, her breath slightly constricted by the tight grip of his other hand still firmly around her throat.
“You want this, don’t you, you sweet little slut? You desperately want to come.”
“Yes, Sir,” she managed to gasp, her body trembling uncontrollably. “Yes, please, Sir.”
His fingers moved inside her, finding her sweet spot, making her groan. His palm was perfect, moving like a tongue against her clit.
Oh yes, oh god, oh fuck, oh yes, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop…
Seconds away from orgasm, she managed to beg in a ragged pant, “Please, Sir! May I come?”
All at once, he pulled both hands away and sat back.
“No, slave. You may not. You haven’t yet earned that privilege.”
“Wha—?” she cried with outrage, frustration making her forget herself. She very nearly ordered him to return to what he was doing, but managed to catch herself in time. She bit hard on her cheek as she struggled to regain control.
Master Ryan was watching her intently, his expression difficult to read. The bulge at his crotch betrayed his own arousal. Maybe he was going to have her worship his cock first. She could do that. Yes, she would very happily do that. And then, maybe, she would have earned the right to come herself. Maybe he would even make love to her!
His eyes crinkled in the hint of a smile but his words were stern when he spoke. “I’m surprised at your lack of control, Abbie. I thought you were better trained than that.”
She caught her breath at the rebuke, aware he was perfectly correct. She’d come within a hair’s breadth of questioning her Master’s wishes. This wasn’t a game they were playing. He was giving her a real chance to discover if she had what it took to become a full-fledged slave and there she was, focused solely on her sexual pleasure.
“I’m sorry, Sir. It won’t happen again, Sir.” She looked down, blinking back sudden tears.
“Apology accepted,” Master Ryan said gently.
After lunch, they took a long walk on the beach. At first, their talk focused on their time together so far, and Master Ryan’s plans for continued exploration. He didn’t mention her attempted deception, except to note that she’d handled her correction with grace. He was confident, he told her, of her honesty going forward. His words were like an absolution—washing her submissive soul clean.
After dinner, Master Ryan asked her to show him the slave positions she taught the trainees at the resort. As she demonstrated the various presentation, display and examination poses, she was keenly aware of his intense gaze, which was like a sensual caress over her skin. The few times he offered a slight correction with a touch of his hand, the physical connection sent an electric current of lust down her spine.
They retired to the bedroom soon after. Abbie was unsure if she would be expected to sleep on a pallet on the floor, as some Masters required. Happily, Master Ryan welcomed her into his bed. She fit perfectly in the crook of his arm, her head resting on his shoulder, her leg draped over his body.
When his shaft hardened beneath her thigh, he said, “You may worship my cock, slave. Make sure to swallow every drop.”
She happily obeyed, her cunt throbbing all the while. When he came, she trembled with expectation that she might be allowed similar release.
He flipped her onto her stomach and said, “Strike three,” his words followed instantly with a hard, stinging smack of his palm against her ass.
The erotic pain only served to further excite her. She fairly vibrated with lust as he shackled her wrists loosely together in front of her.
But instead of making love to her, he lay on his back with a contented sigh. Reaching for her, he pulled her once more into his arms.
Determined to accept his choice with grace, Abbie closed her eyes, using her yoga meditation techniques of acceptance to let her lust go. She focused instead on the pleasure of the cuffs at her wrists that would remind her, even in sleep, of her status as his slave girl.
