Chapter Eight

On Tuesday, muggy evening air formed a damp cloak over Raoul’s skin as he took a seat on the patio. The outdoor lights flickered on, and the pool turned a clear blue around the young woman swimming laps. Kimberly looked strong and healthy. And she was never happier than when near the water. That was why he’d created erotic pool tag for her, and why their protracted make-out time last night had been on the beach.

He stretched his legs out. Aside from scenes in the club, how long had it been since he’d kissed and fondled a woman without making love to her later? Years? Even longer since he’d been so uncomfortable he had to jerk off in the shower. But his gatita had a stronger effect on him than any woman before.

She’d become nicely hot last night. He’d concentrated on her breasts, venturing lower at times. Over the past weeks, she’d become accustomed to his hands, but not to having him deliberately arousing her. When she’d started to panic, he’d stopped and held her, and she’d quieted. She looked to him for comfort now, and that pleased him…perhaps too much. He shouldn’t get attached to this woman. When the slavers were no longer a threat, she’d return to her own life.

It would be difficult to let her go. He liked having her curled in his arms, showering with her, teaching her weight lifting and fighting. She was as affectionate and fun as the kitten he called her, and her need to give was spiced with a delightful temper.

She’d changed in her time with him. As she’d grown comfortable with his commands, she’d also acquired a submissive’s trait of always being aware of her master, as he was aware of her. He’d forgotten the beauty of the constant perception between a dominant and his submissive.

Because of Alicia. His mouth flattened at the bitter taste brought by the memory of his marriage. He and Alicia had been happy at first, master and slave. Things had changed. Much was his fault. Having had a slave before, he knew—thought he knew—what a relationship required. Too in love to be cautious, he’d yielded to Alicia’s pleas and jumped right in. Husband and master.

But he hadn’t married a slave.

With one hand on the edge of the pool, Kimberly stopped to catch her breath. She saw him watching, waited a second in case he wanted her, then launched into another lap. Determined little submissive.

Alicia hadn’t been submissive at all. New to BDSM, she hadn’t realized that submission didn’t punch her buttons; pain did. After they figured it out, he hadn’t tried to continue as her master, but had hoped they could still have a good life together. Foolish Sandoval.

And when she’d betrayed him, she’d changed his memories of what had been good into something ugly. Then she’d gone one step further and turned his family against him by revealing his lifestyle.

Raoul tilted his head back. The setting sun was a red gleam along the horizon, disappearing as if washed away by the waves. A shame that memories didn’t disappear so easily. Eventually…someday…he’d get into a Dominant/submissive relationship, would love someone again. But, like a ripped muscle, his desire to launch into a new relationship had been weakened, wasn’t ready to bear the burden. Until then, he was content with the casual relationships he had with various submissives.

The streak of light slowly disappeared, leaving only gray ocean meeting the dark sky.

A splash drew his gaze to where Kimberly had climbed out of the pool. She dried herself off and came over to kneel at his feet, cleverly bringing the towel to protect her knees from the concrete. Smart gatita. Her eyes were down, her body relaxed.

He smiled in satisfaction. Her first week she’d been constantly braced for a blow. Now her fears appeared in response to something new he proposed, but not until then. She trusted him.
Yes, he would miss her. It was good she wouldn’t be with him much longer.
“There’s a bottle of wine chilling in the refrigerator,” he said. “Why don’t you bring it into the living room? Two glasses. We’ll watch a movie.”
“Yes, Master.”
When had her stutter disappeared? As she rose smoothly and headed for the kitchen, he remembered he wanted to add dance back to her day’s routines. He’d enjoy watching her.
In the living room, he checked the end table drawer—no, the little minx hadn’t found the toys he’d left there—and flipped off the lights except for the wall sconces.
Kimberly walked in a minute later. She set the tray on the coffee table, poured a glass of wine, then knelt and offered up the drink.
“Thank you, chiquita. That’s beautifully done.” He smoothed her hair, the ends damp from the pool, although she’d had it pinned on top of her head. Her skin was still glowing from her exercise. Her breasts were filling out, and her abs and thighs showed muscle definition. Pretty sumisa, now comfortable with her nakedness in his presence. “You may pour yourself a glass as well.”
“Yes, Master. Thank you.” She started to say something and hesitated.
“Go on. This is our room to relax together, so you may speak freely. Although respectfully would be in your best interests.” He touched her nose, and she wrinkled it at him. “What were you going to say?”
“I haven’t had wine since—since before.”
“Well, I hope you like this one then.” He took a sip and approved. “One of the Shadowlands’ submissives became engaged last month, and her mother brought out a crate of California wines as a present for her son-in-law-to-be.” A bribe to delay the wedding a month so she could help plan it. Nolan had been kind enough to share a couple of bottles.
Kimberly tried the wine, and a pleased smile lit her face. “It’s really good.”
Raoul walked over to the dark walnut entertainment center to decide on a movie. Just to get a reaction, he pulled out a World War II film. “Maybe some battles?”
“Ugh. How about Runaway Bride?” She burst into laughter at his expression. “Miss Congeniality? She’s an FBI agent. You should like that.”
When he shook his head in disgust, her giggles bubbled over like champagne. Was this what she had been like before her trauma? What kind of people would damage someone so bright? So sparkling with energy. He should have been there to protect her.
He cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should watch a Chuck Norris film. You can take notes and learn something of fighting?”

Fighting? Such a typical man . “Well, maybe we should watch chick flicks. You can learn more about women.” Kim grinned. That should get him.
Master R raised his eyebrows and stepped close enough that her bare breasts rubbed on his shirt. Her nipples bunched in reaction.
“Do you feel my knowledge of women is lacking, gatita?” he asked softly. His dark eyes caught hers and held…held as every bone in her body turned into melted butter, and the promise in his gaze blanked her mind. When he cupped her chin and kissed her, so gently, lingering for a second before he retreated, her nerves started to fire in random bursts. “Kimberly? I asked you a question.”
“Mmm?” Question: Did she think he needed to know anything more about women? If he did, God help them all. “Um.” She shook her head, trying to throw off the sensual haze. Her nipples throbbed. “Perhaps not.”
He chuckled and handed her a DVD. “How about this one? Chocolat.”
That was a strange choice. She blinked and nodded.
“Very good.” He inserted the DVD, took his place on the leather sofa, and patted the cushion beside him.
Snuggling against him, as he liked—and she’d started to really like—she sipped her wine and watched the film.
“I know women go crazy over chocolate,” Master R said after a bit, “almost as much as men obsess about sex.” He pulled her onto his lap, leaning her back against his left arm. She stiffened, then relaxed. “Since you’ll enjoy a chocolate movie more than me, I should get a treat for every time they eat candy.”
“Your logic isn’t—”
He cupped her face with his free hand, and his lips took hers, lightly in the way she’d grown used to. Then his tongue stroked insistently. He tasted of wine and of himself. Her hands curled around his forearm as heat rose inside her.
Lifting his head, he smiled down in her eyes. When he tried to move his hand, she realized she still clung to his arm and had to force her fingers open.
Shifting slightly, making her fully aware of the erection pressing against her bare bottom, he refilled her glass. She tried to check his, but it was behind her, on the end table. After handing over her drink, he resumed watching the movie. Jerk.
Before Kim had more than a few sips, the heroine talked someone into sampling her wares, and Master R kissed her again.
How much chocolate do they eat in this movie?

A lot. Each kiss grew more drugging, wetter, deeper. No longer teasing, he took her mouth hard, ravaging until her toes curled and heat flushed her skin.

She felt the wetness growing between her legs. Her fingers tangled in his black hair; her other hand pressed against his chest and the iron muscles that flexed as he lifted her closer.
When he raised his head, his eyes were half-lidded with his passion. He smiled slightly and paused the movie. “I have a couple of toys to add to the evening. Stand up, please.”
Toys? When a man—a dom—said toys, he didn’t mean stuffed animals or baseballs. A shiver ran through her. His eyes narrowed in warning. She jumped to her feet.
He pulled a package out of the end table’s drawer. “Open.” He patted her thighs lightly to have her widen her stance, but this time he kept tapping until her legs were so far apart that she rocked unsteadily. “You may hold on to my shoulders to keep your balance.”
She rested her hands on his hard, hard shoulders, her loose hair falling over her arms. Her pussy felt open. Exposed. Oh God, what was he going to do? She bit her lip, trying to remember she’d asked for this. “Touch me some,” she’d said. You’re an idiot, Kim. Her fingers dug into his skin.
“Good girl.” The package held a small bullet vibrator. He slickened it in her wetness—and she realized she was very, very wet.
She had an instant of fear as his calloused fingers touched her so intimately, and then with a smooth move, he pushed the toy inside her vagina.
At her gasp, he looked up, studying her for a second, his hand still between her legs. His dark brown eyes held lust but also concern…for her. As he watched her, his finger traced through her folds, spreading the wetness, establishing that…that he could. Marking his ownership.
Her body tingled, top to bottom, with his slow stroking.
“Good sumisa,” he murmured. He patted her thigh, indicating she could stand up straight. Her thighs closed over her swollen, throbbing labia.
“Now put these on.” From the drawer, he brought out a black lace thong.
What an odd choice. As she pulled the thong on, she noticed something firm in the crotch. What the? She opened her mouth, and he shook his head no.
He set his glass of wine and two small boxes on the coffee table and pulled it closer. Resting his back against the sofa arm, he stretched out with his legs on the cushions. “Now sit here—silently—and we’ll watch the rest of the movie.”
She could feel the bullet inside her. The thing in the thong rubbed on her pussy as he took her hand and pulled her onto his lap. He leaned her shoulders against his chest, her legs between his. His thick erection pressed against her bottom, and her breath stopped. Then started. This was Master R.
He put her glass of wine in her hand and resumed the movie.
Five minutes. As she relaxed, she found she liked leaning against him. A rather lumpy chair rest, but warm. He had his right arm around her waist, and the coffee table was close enough he could pick up his glass of wine with his other hand. She told herself she wasn’t nervous—I’m handling this quite well, really—despite the quivers in her stomach and the way her mind kept replaying how he’d touched her pussy. After trying to sip, she realized her glass was empty. She frowned at it.
Even his chuckle seemed to have a Spanish accent. “You have no reason to be nervous…yet, sumisita,” he whispered in her ear and filled her glass. As she took it, he kissed her ear, sending goose bumps racing down her arms. And she was feeling the effect of the wine—not drunk, but…comfortable.
As he leaned back again, somehow he’d moved so the dark hair on his forearm tickled the undersides of her breasts.
On the big-screen TV, a man saw his wife on her knees, scrubbing a bathroom. He looked at her butt in the air and walked forward, his intent very clear.
“Perhaps you should clean the bathroom on your knees,” Master R murmured. The thought of him coming up behind her, bending over her… She took a slow breath.
He ran his finger over her naked stomach, making the muscles quiver, then reached sideways and picked up one of the little boxes.
The vibrator inside her came to life with a low buzz. She jumped at the weird sensation. Her wine sloshed in the glass, and his arm tightened around her ribs.
“It is not hurting you, gatita,” he said soothingly. “Relax and watch the movie. I will quiz you on the plot later.”
“What?”
That earned her a nip on her ear. “Silence.”
The vibrator buzzed inside her, making her…aware…but not rousing her nearly as much as the feeling of Master R’s arm so close to her breasts, his cheek resting on her hair, the sensation of his chest moving under her with each breath.
The buzz stopped, and she relaxed. Johnny Depp appeared, and the movie revved up much like her arousal. What did Master R have planned? She’d probably be okay with it, but damn, she wished she knew.
He set his wine down on the coffee table, and a second later, the lump in her thong hummed. It was a vibrator too, and oh God, it was almost against her clit. Her muscles tensed.
She froze completely when he reached around her, traced his fingers up her pussy, and resettled the vibrator directly on her clit.
Oh God, she couldn’t ignore that, not when he cupped her mound, pressing the vibrator into her. “Nooo.” It hummed on her, tightening her muscles, sending panicky feelings running through her.
“Yes.” He removed his hand from her pussy and took her wineglass before she spilled it. “Give me a number.”
Number for what? Fear. She started to speak, then remembered to show it, like he’d ordered. Six fingers—no, not really. A slow breath. Three fingers.
“Very good. Are you watching the movie?”
The thong vibrator stopped, leaving her clit tight, hard, as if the vibrations still continued. “Y-yes, Sir.”
His laugh rumbled in her ear. “Aren’t you a good girl.”
They were going to make love tonight. She knew it. Or maybe not. He was devious. She’d expected him to take her in bed the last two nights, and he’d held off, teasing her in the pool one night, on the shore the next. Leaving her scared yet aching with need and wanting more of his touch.
I want this from him. I want to move on—to get past being afraid.
He stroked her stomach, brushed his hand against the undersides of her breasts, trailed down under the black lace to her mound. Then lower, his fingers touching the beginning of her cleft. “You’re being very obedient, keeping yourself shaved for me. I like how nice and smooth you are, Kimberly.” His finger never moved lower, just teased the top. Her clit seemed to throb as if begging for a touch. His touch.
He took a sip of wine and set the glass down on the coffee table. The vibrator inside her came on, jolting her hips up. With his hand on her mound, he pressed her back down. His palm was on her pubic bone, and he fanned his fingers out, tiny touches over her pussy. The vibrations weren’t enough to get her off, but he’d turned the intensity higher.
“Ah, you feel it this time, don’t you, gatita?” he murmured in her ear. “Look how pretty.” His hand closed over her breast lightly, and she could feel the stiffness of her nipples. Bunched and aching. He ran his finger around each one.
“You are to be watching the movie, mi pequeña sumisa.”
Heat simmered under her skin as she tried to obey, but everything the actors did on the screen, even the way they bit into the chocolate pieces, made her hotter.
“Kissing you is difficult now,” he murmured, “but this will serve instead.” He rolled her right nipple between his fingers, and the edgy pain on the sensitive peak blazed fire straight to her pussy.
When Johnny Depp ate another candy, Master R rolled her left nipple. Kim moaned. Hunger pulsed in her bloodstream, and it sure wasn’t for chocolate.
The inside vibrator turned off.
She sagged against him, let out a sigh, but the thong vibrator started. “Damn you!” Oh, oh shit. “I’m sorry, Sir. Master. Please…”
“You are certainly grumpy at being aroused, aren’t you?” The amusement in his voice didn’t help her nerves any. Not knowing what a wicked sense of humor he had. “How should I discipline you, gatita?” His fingers tightened on her nipple in a stinging pinch, then moved to the other. Pain…need shot straight to her pussy. Her hips tried to rise, but his right hand stayed firmly on her mound, just above the vibrator. He fondled each breast, making soft circles around the areolae and then squeezing her nipples. Tugging. Rolling. He had her trapped, leaving her no choice but to accept whatever he wanted to do.
The vibrator hummed against her, bringing her up, teasing her, never quite enough. Nothing was enough. She was in his arms, being touched, using vibrators, and still not getting off.
She’d probably never get off again. The thought dropped her mood, and she sagged against him, her arousal seeping away.
His hands stilled. He kissed her hair. “Well, since you don’t like the thong, you may remove it.”
Her lips quivered, and tears stung her eyes. He’d given up on her too. Because he knew how hopeless it was.
He pushed her to her feet, stood beside her, and waited until she set the thong on the coffee table.
As he studied her, his gaze lingering on her breasts, she felt naked, really naked, because he was looking at her not as a servant, but as a woman. She followed his gaze and saw her distended clit poked out from between her labia, glistening with her arousal. A flush crept up her face, and she shifted her weight, wanting to hide.
The sun lines at the corners of his eyes deepened. “Since I intend for you to come tonight—and I do—and the thong doesn’t agree with you, I’m afraid you’ll have to suffer from my personal attentions.”
He hadn’t given up at all. Oh God. Her eyes widened as he moved the wine and the remotes to one side, then lifted her and stood her in the middle of the walnut coffee table. “Master!”
“Yes, sumisa?” He sat in front of her, almost on her toes. “Open for me.” He mercilessly pushed her legs apart until her feet were at the edges of the square table. He moved closer, his face right…oh God, right at her groin level. After pulling one of the remotes closer, he turned the bullet vibrator on. The buzz hit inside her, and she moaned.
“Master R, I don’t think—” She bit her lip, feeling like an idiot, feeling the thing buzzing inside her. “I can’t. This isn’t going to work.”
He laughed, actually laughed. “Then I’ll simply enjoy myself with my little sumisa’s body.” His thumbs parted her labia as his fingers curled around her hips, anchoring his hands…and her as well. The feeling of his thumbs pulling her open sent heat spiraling through her again.
“If you start to lose your balance, you may put your hands on my shoulders as you did before.” He looked up at her, his lips curving, “I thought of asking for a number, but I can see fear isn’t what’s on your mind at this moment. “
Fear? Embarrassment, maybe, but this was so far from what any of the slavers had done it held no comparison. It was Master R touching her.
As he leaned forward and blew a stream of warm air onto her exposed clit, the sensation shot across the nerve endings, making her toes curl. Before she got used to that, his mouth closed loosely over her.
“Oh, God.” Hot, oh so very hot. His lips pressed and released, creating a circle of heat and pressure around the nub—so, so soft yet tightening more with each repetition until her clit was trapped. A flicker of his tongue over the top weakened her knees, and she grabbed his shoulders, bending over slightly to keep from falling.
“That’s right, cariño, hang on tight.” His breath teased her pussy, and then his tongue slid up and down one side of her clit, flickering over the very top, before moving to the other side. Blood swelled her tissues until they felt too tight. Bursting tight.
A whine escaped her, and his only response was to let go one hand and turn up the vibrator.
“No…” It shook her from deep inside. He put his hand back, fingers curving around her hip, thumb opening her labia even more firmly. As if trying to match the vibrator, his tongue rubbed at the edge of her clit, moving the looser hood back and forth, no longer teasing but demanding a response.
The pressure grew inside her, her climax approaching as inexorably as a rising tide. Her toes tingled, and the muscles of her thighs trembled until she wondered if she’d fall. She couldn’t seem to care. Everything in her tuned to the movements of his tongue as it rubbed one side of the bundle of nerves, then the other. His lips closed around her, trapping her clit in heat, tightening.
Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, her hips giving little jerks, needing…more. She wanted to pull him closer, needed to, but he held her ruthlessly, doing exactly as he wanted.
Slowly his lips tightened, pinching the nub. He sucked lightly, and his tongue butterflywinged over the very top, and everything in her tightened, tightened. The roaring of surf sounded in her ears.
He sucked—oh, God—sucked strongly, and sensation gripped her spine like a fist until it exploded; everything spasmed in massive waves around the humming thing at her center, shaking her in an earthquake of sensation.
His thumbs released her, and his hands curved under her ass, holding her up—holding her against his mouth as he flicked her gently again, making it last. Her legs gave out entirely, and his rumbling laugh against her clit made her come again. Without any effort at all, he lifted her. “Put your legs around me,” he said in a firm voice. She was shaking too hard to fight him.
She’d had orgasms. She’d been afraid that part of her life was over. But he’d done what she asked and gone further even. Aroused her—pleasured her.
His eyes had darkened to almost black; satisfaction filled his smile. “You taste very nice, cariño. Since we’ve crossed over this bridge, and several days remain where you are still under my command, I will enjoy having my mouth on you often.”
A shudder of anticipation ran through her, and his firm lips curved up.
As he set her on the sofa, pushing her back, she realized the vibrator inside her was off. He pushed her legs apart. She was so wet, his fingers slid inside easily, despite the way she clenched around him. He removed the bullet and laid it on the end table. Then he sat beside her, pulled her against his side, and kissed the top of her head. “You did very well, sumisita mía. I’m proud of you.”
The joy of pleasing him mingled with her own satisfaction.
“Do you want to continue?” He moved to see her face, his eyes intent, waiting for her answer…and expecting an honest one.
Continue. That meant he would… Her mouth went dry. “No. Yes. I don’t know.”
“Do you trust me, Kimberly?” he asked softly.
She’d never trusted a man the way she trusted him. When had that happened? “Yes, Sir.” She tilted her head up, reached to touch his stern jaw, feeling the slight scrape of his five o’clock shadow. “I do.”
“Let’s see how far we can go.”
Oh God. No. Her breathing sped up, and then he asked, “What’s your safe word?”
Safe word. He’d stop if she panicked. She swallowed and said firmly, “Cramp.”
“Very good.” He stood and started to unbuckle his belt.
Fear turned her cold as memories drowned her: men surrounding her, undoing their pants, pulling out… Her feet drew up, and she scrambled into a corner of the couch.
His hands stilled, and he watched her. So silent. After a long minute, he held his arms away from his sides. “I would like your pretty hands to unclothe me, gatita.”
Me?
Not moving, he waited, his gaze never leaving her face. Patient. After a minute, he prompted, “It will be my pleasure, Master. Is this not what you say?”
He can hardly do anything with clothes on, she told herself, the sweet sense of satiation gone completely. I wanted to do this. I can. She swallowed and whispered, “It will be my pleasure, Master.” So, so not true.
It felt as if it took her an hour to stand up, naked in front of him. Another hour before she touched him. She’d seen him before, she told herself. They showered together, after all.
His lips curved when her hand reached his belt. “You smell like flowers, cariño. I like the shampoo you brought with you. What do I smell like?”
She blinked, diverted from the icy terror surging up and down her spine. The end of his belt slipped loose. She unzipped his pants. “Um. Clean. Not flowery, more like a—the ocean. Not sweet.”
His hand cupped her cheek; his thumb touched her lips lightly, a gentle kiss of skin. “And I am not sweet, mi pequeña sumisa.” His eyes caught hers, dark and intent. Determined.
A shiver of fear—of heat—went through her at the thought of him inside her. His cock sprang free, and she realized he’d gone commando. This was it. She felt like a statue, frozen in stone.
“You have a choice, sumisa,” he said gently. “We have both been tested, and your birth control is still active. Do you wish a condom or not?”
No longer a question of if they’d have sex, but just what way. It felt as if she was being pulled into a whirlpool. “Um.” Memories spinned into the circle with her…the plastic, slick horrible feel of the…others. They’d worn condoms. Their…they hadn’t felt real, just evil. “No. No condom.”
He looked surprised but simply took hold of her and moved her so he could sit in the center of the couch. “Kneel on the sofa. Straddle me, Kimberly,” he said, his voice so very gentle.
Her hands had gone numb; her lips tingled like she’d been sucking on ice. She put a knee on each side of his thighs, trying to not see the thick erection raised between them, the piercing glinting in the light. He gripped her behind her thighs and pulled her forward until her pelvis pressed against his erection. “Look at me, little one,” he said softly. “Who am I? My title, my name.”
Her mind blanked, until his intent gaze captured hers again. “Master R.”
“Bueno. Whose cock are you rubbing against?” A smile curved his lips. “Whose cock have you washed in the shower every morning?”
She had. She’d touched him, washed him. The words came easier under his dark brown gaze. “Master R’s.”
“Good. Kimberly, are you afraid of Master R?”
“Sometimes.”
His laugh rang out, the darkly male one she loved that meant she’d surprised him— delighted him. His grin flashed at her. “There’s an answer to warm a dom’s heart.” With his eyes still dancing with laughter, he nodded at her. “Time’s up. Lower yourself on me, chiquita. You may go as slow as you want…as long as you don’t stop.”
His hands were still curled around her thighs, not moving except for his thumbs stroking her skin gently. She was shaking uncontrollably, but his laughter had freed her mind. He’d put her on top. Pulled her into position, because he’d known she wouldn’t be able to force herself. But now, he’d let her set her own pace. Her fears of being held down, tearing, ripping—she shuddered.
“Eyes on me, Kimberly.”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered. She reached down, between their bodies, and gripped his shaft, touched the piercing, and frowned. “Why couldn’t you be little or without this…thing?”
His laugh burst out again, heartening her enough that she raised up and set him at her entrance. She was very slick, still sensitive from his mouth and lips, and a quiver ran through her…not of fear.
“As slow as you want—”
As long as I don’t stop. She let herself down, feeling the stretch. His piercing caught for a second. Then he was in. The metal pressed on her as it passed in, the sensation strange, and the rest of him followed, hot, velvet covered, sliding into her, increment by increment. The stretch, the feeling was—she froze, skin going cold.
He cleared his throat, breaking into her thoughts, and she nodded. Master R. She lowered farther. “You’re so damn big,” she whispered.
“Why, thank you, cariño,” he said. He moved his hands then, massaging her bottom in a way that sent a quiver through her as it added to the sensations. She took more of him in.
Her mouth was even with his, and his hand curved over her nape, pulling her closer for a kiss. A real kiss, and he pushed his tongue inside as aggressive with his mouth as he wasn’t with his cock.
Her head swirled, trying to take in everything: his hands on her bottom, his shaft in her, his mouth on hers. She lost focus and dropped down faster. Her cry of surprise let him deeper into her mouth, and he possessed it totally, then lifted his hips, filling her completely with his cock.
No! Tearing her mouth from his, she pulled up instinctively until she was almost off his shaft.
He gave her a half-lidded, lazy look. “That’s very nice. You may continue doing that.”
“You…” Evil monster. She held there, trembling. But it was impossible to hold her anger—or even her fear—when seeing the satisfaction in his face, the humor in his eyes. She gripped his shoulders and lowered herself down again. God, he was so big.
And she was very slick. Up and down, emptiness to overwhelmingly full, and about the third or fourth time, he felt…good. She went a little faster.
He hummed his approval and moved his hands between them to fondle her breasts and tease her nipples. A slow pinch sent a shock of heat to her pussy, and she clenched around him.
“Very nice. Do that—squeeze me—as you’re lifting,” he instructed. His resonant voice had slowed into a winding warm river of sound, smoothing the last jagged crests of fear.
She tightened herself around him and rose. Lowered slowly. God, she could feel the metal. The piercing slid over an area that made her shiver. Like it was rubbing at her clit from inside her.
“Again.”
No pain, and the unexpected sensation of pleasure kept increasing.
“Slow up, faster coming down,” he murmured. He leaned his head against the couch back, his gaze wandering over her eyes, her mouth, her body, the intent look at odds with his obvious enjoyment. He didn’t want to lose control enough to stop caring for her well-being.
But he liked what she was doing. The realization thrilled through her. She had something to offer—something to give. And she wanted to. She lifted, then dropped onto him hard, the sudden penetration making her vagina spasm around him.
His pupils dilated, turning his eyes almost black. “Exactly that, cariño. Ride me.”
Her voice came out husky. “Yes, Master.” She gripped his shoulders and obeyed, working for his climax, wanting his pleasure, and with each slide down onto his shaft, arousal began unfurling again in her own body. That piercing was too…too… Her inner thighs quivered as heat punched low in her belly and sweat moistened her skin.

The little sub was incredibly tight, hot, and wet. Her small hands on his shoulders felt…just right. He saw how his orders took precedence over her fears and found the knowledge even more erotic than the way her pussy worked his cock with soft sucking sounds. She watched him with a woman’s desire to share a connection during lovemaking, and her eyes held as much vulnerability and need to please as any submissive he’d met. She didn’t serve from fear, but because the giving fulfilled her.

She’d grown wetter, and his groin hair was matted with her juices. Her face was flushed, and—so telling—an occasional shiver ran through her when her clit bumped against his pelvis.

He smiled slightly, pleased. “I didn’t plan to push you, but if you want to join me…” Then you’re going to come again, gatita.
She looked at him blankly, and he sighed. She was so out of touch with her own body.
Needing space in which to work, he slid down on the couch until he was half-lying, and she stayed upright. He released her ass and moved his fingers to her front, touching the wetness around the base of his shaft, then her swollen pussy. Her spine went rigid, as if he’d used electrostim on her rather than just his hand. With his fingers covered in her juices, he edged up toward her clit. The thickness of his erection had forced the nub completely out of hiding. He swirled one finger around it.
Her breathing stopped, then went totally erratic, and she dug tiny fingernails into his shoulders. Her trust in him—to let him rouse her at all—shook him to the bone…but he didn’t stop the slow slide of his finger over her clit. Someday she might like erotic surprises, but today, she’d had enough. He stayed with a steady rhythm, rubbing the right side of her clit as she rose off his dick, the left when she lowered.
That worked well until she got too excited. Wiggling replaced the rise and fall as her rhythm totally disintegrated.
He grinned. But her squirming was making his balls feel as if they were going to explode, so he’d better stop stalling. With a palm under her ass, he raised her up, almost off him, then yanked her down as he thrust his hips up.
She moaned. Her breasts wobbled with the impact. And his cock hardened to the danger point.
The next time, he held her high, barely on his shaft, and used his fingers on her clit to push her toward her climax. She was panting with little moans. When she started to convulsively grip his shoulders, he dropped her down onto his shaft and had to grit his teeth as his own climax surged near breaking. She was right on the edge when he pushed her up and teased her clit with rhythmic strokes.
Then, tilting to get the most pressure on her G-spot from his piercing, he slammed her down.
Her back arched. Her head tipped. Her breathing stopped.
He murmured to her, “It’s time to come, sumisita,” and as if given permission, her cunt contracted around him like a hot fist; the walls battered at his cock as she climaxed violently. She didn’t scream, not this little abused slave, but a tiny mewl escaped her as she rubbed harder against his fingers, took him deeper, obviously not wanting it to end.
He gave her more, until she loosened her hands on his shoulders, until she was gasping for breath. Por Dios, she was beautiful.
“My turn now, gatita.” Her eyes were still glazed when he took her hips between his hands to lift her, then yank her down. Up, down. Her vagina contracted around him with each thrust, giving her aftershocks of pleasure that he saw reflected in her flushed face.
Up, down. His balls contracted against his groin; his erection swelled, ready to burst. He rode the edge, unwilling to release as the pressure at the base of his spine grew and then blasted out of his control, ripping through his cock in hard spasms. The feeling of his hot seed filling her soft cunt shook him.
When his mind cleared, he managed to move, lifting and turning on the couch so he could flatten out. He puffed a pillow under his head, brought his leg up onto the cushions. Still sitting on his dick, she sagged, her eyes closed, only her arms holding her upright as if she’d frozen into that position.
Or feared to lie on him?
“Come here, cariño,” he murmured, pulling her hands from his shoulders and letting her drop down on his chest. She started to push up again.
“Shhh.” He placed one hand on her ass, keeping them pinned together so his softening cock remained in her cunt as he coaxed her to put her legs between his. Finally she lay flat on top of him. Yes, he could have withdrawn and arranged them more easily, but he wanted to stay inside her, reminding her of their connection—one of pleasure, not pain.
He curved his hand at the back of her head, nudging it onto his shoulder. When he put his arms around her and held her firmly, her last bit of resistance fled, and she lay quietly. Hot and sweaty and slick, this soft woman whose curves fit him in all the right places. He couldn’t have designed such a fine melding.
He lifted his head. Her eyes were closed, worries gone. “I like being in you, Kimberly,” he said softly. “You’re warm and soft, inside and out.”
She stirred, and he saw the tiniest curve of her lips.
He stroked her hair, seeing the way the light glinted off it, dispelling the perception of complete black. Some strands were brown, some with a reddish tint. “You were afraid of having me on top of you, no?”
The instant tensing of her back muscles saddened him.
“Shhh.” He kept the slow movement of his hand, kissed the top of her head. “Now tell me.”
“Yes.” Her face pressed closer into the hollow of his shoulder as if she were a small animal needing shelter.
His arms tightened, reminding her that she had his protection. “Because of the way they took you?”
A tiny nod. “On my back or like a dog. Both…places.”
Anal and vaginal. “In your mouth?”
Her snort of derision held tears as well. “I bit him.” She tensed again. “And then he used…he…”
Raoul’s jaw tightened until his teeth ground together. Of course. The asshole had strapped her in a device to hold her mouth open while he face-fucked her. Cabrón. “He is unworthy to call himself a man.” Her shoulder muscles relaxed under his slow, careful massage. “If you might recall from your…excursion…into my toy cabinet, I do not own such a thing.”
“Oh.” More muscles went loose. Her breathing slowed, a small waft of warmth on his skin.
“But, although I like being inside you here”—he wiggled the soft remainder of his erection, and her responsive pussy clenched, pushing him all the way out. He grinned at her tiny sound of loss—“we might also have fun with my cock here.” He squeezed an ass cheek, making her jump. “Will you trust me to take you carefully, Kimberly?”
This was why he’d decided to speak of such matters now—to prepare her for the next step while her body resonated with an orgasm, and while his so terrifying dick was soft and melting between her legs after having brought her only pleasure.
“I—” She sighed. “Okay.”
He gave her the tiny growl he knew she’d recognize.
“Okay, Sir.” A pause. “Master.”
Satisfaction was a gentle evening rain, and headier than the wine they’d had earlier. “And?”
“I know.” Her voice was husky. “You’ll want my mouth too.”
He snorted. “Only if you promise not to bite.”
Her lips curved again, more this time. “Yes, Master.”