Marc couldn’t resist reaching out to cup her breasts, brushing his thumbs across her nipples. His cock throbbed as the peaks became more erect. Focus, man. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Trust me, bella.”
She closed her eyes and nodded, taking a deep breath. “I’m trying.”
“I know you are, cara. Thank you.”
Marc felt her tremble, whether from fear or excitement, he didn’t know. Probably a little of each. He bent down and kissed her on her unbruised cheek, his arms brushing up and down her upper arms, trying to infuse warmth into her cold limbs. Fight-or-flight reaction? She didn’t try to escape his touch, so she’d definitely decided to stay. Now the question was whether she’d stayed to fight.
If she would let herself experience the sensations he’d planned for the scene without letting fear consume her, he knew she’d find it sexy as hell. But he also knew overcoming those fears and seeing they were unwarranted would help deepen her trust in him. He didn’t want to think about why that was so important to him, given they only had this one night.
Truth to tell, he looked forward to experiencing the scene with her, more than he’d looked forward to anything in a long while. The woman brought out feelings deeper than any he’d ever felt before.
Marc chose not to explore those feelings at the moment. He reached down to pick up the sash, hating to see her begin shaking again. Definitely fear this time. He damned Sir Asshole to hell and back for making her feel such fear, because Marc didn’t think she’d been fearful before the flogging last month. The BDSM lifestyle had piqued her curiosity if she’d agreed to go to a club. His job was to restore that curiosity and allow her to embrace the submissive trapped inside.
“I promised not to hurt you. Correct?” She hesitated for what seemed an eternity, then nodded slowly. “Good girl. Now, one of the best ways to heighten your senses is to deprive you of the one you need the least.” He took the wide red sash into both hands and stretched it in front of her. “This blindfold will intensify the sensation play.”
Panic flashed from her eyes. “I don’t think I can…”
“No more thinking, bella. From now on, you will only feel.”
Knowing he needed to get this scene moving before she went into a full-blown panic attack, he walked around behind her and tied the sash around her head, covering her eyes, being careful not to pull too tightly because of her blackened eye and bruised cheek. Asshole bastard.
Marc took a breath to regain control of his anger and relaxed his fists as he reached for her arm. “You’ll be amazed how much more intense your experience will be when you don’t know what’s coming next or exactly what is being done to you.” He guided her onto the edge of the bed, then instructed, “Crawl onto the bed directly in front of you and lie on your back.”
She held her hand out, as if not certain there truly was a bed in front of her. Trust me. But she did as he told her and he smiled. Her beautiful breasts begged to be touched again, but Marc held back. His heart hammered in his chest as adrenaline began pumping through him. He loved setting up and executing the perfect scene for a sub, and knew this was just what Angelina needed.
He knew how hard it was for her to trust him after Asshole had violated her the way he had. That she was willing to put herself in his hands, to place her trust in him, broke something loose in his heart.
Focus.
“With honor bondage, it is I who will have to trust you. Give me both of your hands, Amore.”
He froze. Love? Why had he used that term of endearment? She wasn’t his love. He’d do well to keep his emotions in check, as he would with any unattached submissive he were training at the club.
Marc’s cock hardened as she lifted her hands toward him. Could this little sub be getting under his thick and scarred skin? He shook off the ridiculous notion. She merely needed him to help her overcome her aversion to the lifestyle and he wanted to get her to recognize and embrace her beautifully submissive sexual nature. Neither of them was looking for commitment. Even if she wasn’t Luke’s, just like all the women before her, he’d have grown bored—or scared—in time. He always did, about the time she demanded more of him than he was able to give.
Melissa had caused him to lose control; Pamela had demanded more than he could give. He needed to be in control—of his body, his mind, his emotions. Most of all, of his life.
Anxious to exert his control right now, he said, “You will keep your hands where I place them, pet.” With that, he took her hands and brought them to the intricate heart-shaped design of the Italian iron headboard. Dio, he loved that she had a bed tailor-made for bondage scenes.
“Hold onto the bed, here,” he placed her left hand on the cold iron, “and here.” She wrapped her fingers around the iron design where he had spaced her hands, about six or seven inches apart, over her head. When she released a pent-up breath, he grinned. She was strung tighter than a loaded crossbow.
Marc trailed his fingertip down the underside of her right arm, raising gooseflesh along his path. Her tiny gasp as he tickled her made him smile, but her knuckles turned white as she held on for dear life.
“Very good, pet.”
Her chest rose, as if reaching out to him, begging him to touch her breasts. He didn’t, but grinned at her neediness before his smile faded. Not yours. “You agreed that I could use restraints on you if you do not obey me. If you let go of the headboard, I will use sashes or belts to restrain you.”
The pulse in her neck thrummed. She nodded her head. He knew she’d find honor bondage preferable to physical restraints. His gut twisted when he remembered finding her bound and struggling on the cross at Masters at Arms.
Trust me, little sub. I won’t let that happen to you ever again.
“If you want us to stop at any time, you will say ‘Red.’ That will be your safe word. If you say it, we stop and that’s the end of the scene. Do you understand?”
Angelina nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
He knew she wouldn’t need it for the sensation-play scene he had planned, but wanted to get across she still had power. He knew without a doubt she’d spoken her safe word with Sir Asshole, but the bastard had ignored her. Her body tensed as she appeared to be lost in memories of the same scene.
Marc leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Stay with me, pet.” He nipped the skin on her neck with his teeth. She whimpered. When he stood up again, he saw her nipples had become engorged. So damned responsive.
Marc stretched her legs open on the bed.
“The same is true for your legs. If you move them without permission, I will have to restrain them. It will be harder for you to control your legs than it is your hands, because they have nothing to hold onto. So beware. I will tie them to the footboard if necessary in order to proceed with this scene. The choice is yours.”
* * *
Angelina held her breath. Choice? She had choice left?
Total darkness. Just like at the club. When she did remember to breathe, her breath hitched. Marc isn’t Allen. He wants to bring you pleasure. You can trust him. Marc isn’t Allen… The affirmations did little to steady her accelerating heartbeat and shallow breathing.
“Relax, gattina.” Marc’s lips brushed against her ear, his scratchy whiskers sending a zing straight to her clit. “Remember, you need only say ‘Red’—like the traffic light—and I will stop. But this isn’t a pain session, pet. Only pleasure.”
You can trust him.
“Are you okay to continue?”
Marc isn’t Allen.
“Cara, answer me.”
She took a deep breath. What was the question? She drew her lower lip between her teeth. What should she say?
“I asked if you’re okay to continue?”
Oh, thank you, Sir! She nodded and said, “Yes, Sir.” Now, she’d better stop letting her mind wander. Thankfully, he’d left her legs free.
He kissed her cheek, his whiskers scratching the curve of her neck. “I’m proud of you, pet. I know how hard this is for you.”
His praise spread over her like warm honey. He didn’t know the half of why she was freaking out, but he seemed very aware of her anxiety level and always brought her back down.
Back to him.
“Now, you will not argue with or disobey me. That will never be tolerated when we…when you are in a scene with a Dom.”
Who me, argue?
He never referred to anything beyond tonight. This was merely a training session, like Karla had said one of the masters at the club did with unattached bottoms and submissives. What if she did disobey him? Would she be punished, even though he wasn’t her real Dom? Dread knotted her stomach. How? Spanking? Belt? Worse? She didn’t want to incur any type of punishment, so she would definitely obey.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl. Now I need to get to work so you won’t wander off in your mind so often. Also, it would be best if you spoke only when given permission or if you need to use your safe word. Is that clear?
“Y—” she stopped herself before too late and nodded her head instead.
“Excellent.” Marc tweaked her nipple, causing her to suck in a breath as she felt blood rush to the sensitive peak. The heat in the pit of her stomach spread lower. Marc chuckled. “I love to watch your body response to my touch, pet.”
She wasn’t sure what had happened to turn on her body’s sexual circuitry all of a sudden, but now she just wanted to bask in the light.
“I love seeing you stretched out for me. So beautiful.”
Lying this way, as if tied, and wearing only the blindfold sent a thrill through her body. Even though he didn’t touch her, she could almost feel his hands on her. With her hands stretched above her head, she imagined her girls were lifted and almost perky. She smiled, less concerned about how she looked and beginning to anticipate his lesson or demonstration or whatever this was with a little more enthusiasm now.
Marc’s lips brushed her right ear. “That’s right. Relax, cara.” Marc’s scruff abraded her cheek and ear in the most sensual way. Heat pooled in her core and she tilted her pelvis toward him, begging for his touch.
“Lift your hips.”
Trying to keep her legs where he had positioned them made it impossible to do as he told her very easily, but she raised them as much as she could. His strong hand lifted her higher and he slid a pillow under her butt, leaving her pussy exposed even more. Her heart began to beat faster and her tongue licked across suddenly parched lips.
She felt the mattress sink under his weight, then he straddled her hips, then bent his upper body over hers. One hand cupped her left breast, teasing her nipple, while he brought his mouth down to her right nipple and suckled. Heat from his body enveloped her, the hairs from his chest tickling the skin on her torso and abdomen. He tugged on her nipple with his teeth, stretching her breast to the limits of comfort, then let the tender peak go so that her breast bounced back into place. He repeated the motion again and yet again, just as he had done with his fingers on the sofa last night.
“I love your breasts, pet.”
Gee, I hadn’t noticed.
He gave her swollen bud another nip with his teeth, then, with a sigh, sat up again. His hand skimmed over her abdomen, just barely brushing the tiny body hair and sending gooseflesh over her entire body. Her hair even stood on end. Then his hand brushed lower, tickling her and causing an instinctively defensive move as she pulled her knees up to protect her pussy. If he weren’t sitting slightly on her thighs, she’d have disobeyed him.
“Ticklish there, are we?”
Her face flushed as she nodded.
He sighed. That didn’t sound good. “Pet, I’m sorry, but more than likely, I am going to need to restrain your legs.”
“No! I’ll keep them down this time.”
“I did not give you permission to speak, did I?”
Frustrated, she groaned, then shook her head.
“If you defy my commands, I will gag you, as well.”
She shook her head vigorously. Not that! How would she speak her safe word if she were gagged?
“Don’t worry, gattina.” His voice grew gentle again, as if he smiled. “When I…When your Dom introduces you to the gag, you’ll be given a safe gesture to use instead of a word.”
How did he always know what she was thinking?
“You aren’t ready for that step, so if you simply do as I say, we can dispense with that tonight. But this is your last chance on both counts.”
No leg restraints. No gag. And just what did he do, travel around with ball gags on him? Or would he improvise? She forced herself to relax her tensed muscles and sank back against the mattress and pillows. Marc moved off of her hips, stretching out beside her, and returned his finger to just below her breast where he began trailing it down across her abdomen. When he came close to her mons, her legs bolted up. Oh, no! Tears of frustration sprang to her eyes. How could she control the damned reflex if he kept tickling her like that?
Without a word, Marc got off the mattress and she heard his footsteps heading toward the nightstand. She grew tense once more as he took one of her ankles and she felt the coolness of satin or some other cloth quickly warm against her skin. He tied the sash or belt around her ankle, then pulled her leg open wider than she thought comfortably possible. When he had secured her binding to the footboard, she tested her range of motion and found it to be less limiting than she’d expected. He really was trying not to scare the bejeezers out of her.
So sweet of you, Marc...er, Sir.
At least her hands were still free. She didn’t feel as vulnerable knowing she could at least inflict some serious damage with her hands, not unlike what she’d done to Allen earlier tonight, if Marc so much as…
“Relax your leg.”
She didn’t realize she’d tensed up again and did as he ordered. After he attached another cloth belt to her ankle and restrained that leg, she felt his fingers slide between the sash and her ankle on each side as if testing the tightness. The mattress sagged under his weight on her right side moments later.
“Nod or shake your head. Are you okay with the restraints?”
She nodded.
“I’m proud of you, cara. You’re being very brave.”
Brave? He was only the second person to tell her that in her entire life—and the first one was a figment of her imagination. Before her mind could process his praise, his hand glided down the inside of her right thigh to her knee, causing chill bumps to rise in its wake. When he began a slow, upward advance toward her pussy, she held her breath. Please, don’t!
Don’t stop!
Pent-up tension built to fever pitch. Even though he had yet to touch her clit, the needy bit throbbed, waiting to welcome him. She’d been anticipating his touch for so long while kneeling on the floor that now when she was so close to…something she couldn’t even name…the sensations were nearing torture. She would come at the slightest pressure against the place where she needed him most. She tilted her hips, begging silently. Now! Please!
Nothing. The hand touching her thigh left her. She arched her back, raising her chest toward him, hoping he would touch her nipples again. Bite them. Touch or bite her anywhere. Instead he got off the bed again and she ached at the loss.
Two days ago, if someone had told her she’d be tied to her bed—or half tied, in this case—craving a man’s touch like this, she’d have told them they were delusional. When had she become so depraved? So…submissive? So wanton?
Dear God, she’d become a wanton woman.
No, a wanting woman. And what she wanted more than anything in the world, even chocolate, was Marc’s touch. Where had he gone anyway? What was he doing? Then she felt him climb back onto the bed and his weight pressed into the mattress near her right leg. She relaxed her contracted muscles and smiled. A short-lived reprieve because, rather than feel his hands or mouth on her body, what felt like cold sharp steel traced lightly over the skin from her left sole, causing her to squirm at the ticklish, yet prickly, feeling. She heard a slight squeak, as if it were a wheel of some type, tracing a path from her ankle to the inside of her knee. Sharp, but not breaking the skin, although it probably could cut her if he exerted enough pressure.
She sucked in a gasp of air and held still, holding her breath, not wanting to be cut by whatever he was using. The pinpricks rolled up the insides of her knees, her thighs. Oh, God, not her pussy! She tried to close her legs against the invasion, but couldn’t move them.
Exposed. Vulnerable. Restrained.
She knew she couldn’t stand the bite of that thing against her clit. Could she? Then the wheel rolled along the uppermost ridge of her hipbone and onto her abdomen. Her legs reflexively fought the restraints, but she was unable to defend against his ticklish onslaught. She gripped the headboard tighter, trying not to break into screams—or giggles. He rolled the damned thing lower, toward her mons, and she nearly came undone.
Mind over matter. In her mind, she prepared the batter for an Italian cream cake. After adding the first few ingredients, she was able to control her response to the ticklish stimuli.
“Very good, cara.”
Warmth spread over her, then the wheel marked new territory again as it traveled upward. The ticklish sensation gave way to a more biting pressure as the wheel rolled around the edge of her right breast where it met her chest wall. Every hair on her body stood on end.
A finger from his other hand brushed the inside of her knee and moved upward, bypassing her pussy, as well. She moaned in frustration. His fingertip skimmed lightly over her hip, across her abdomen, unerringly along the same path the steel object had traced seconds ago, as if following a pattern across her skin. Was the instrument marking a path on her skin in some way?
The pinpricks skittered across the underside of her left breast, then traveled over the space between her girls and onto the top of her right one, circling around the base of the breast and back to the other one. He was making repeated figure eights. Her nipples tightened, aching and waiting.
Please! Touch me there!
Then his fingertip traced the same figure either around her breasts before replaced by the metal instrument again. This time, it came oh-so-close to pricking the skin of one areola. Thankfully, the area wasn’t as sensitive as other parts of her breast. Then the pricking spiraled closer and closer to one sensitive peak and she felt the bud rise up to meet the steel instrument, without even being touched directly. What was that about?
The steel was replaced by his warm mouth as Marc flicked his tongue over first one nipple, then the other. He blew air onto her nipple and it stiffened as the cool air kissed her wet bud. Angelina felt his soft lips almost reverently pull her nipple into his hot mouth again, just before pinpricks of steel rolled over her other nipple, harder.
Angelina’s lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, but she was afraid to breathe for fear of being cut. How could he do two things at once? The difference in the sensations between his soft, warm mouth on one nipple and the sharp, cold steel on the other caused her clit to spasm. Her hips strained upward, even though she cringed mentally at the thought of his using that sharp instrument on her clit. She wouldn’t be able to stand pain like that.
Would she?
Angelina knew she had her safe word. Of course, she could let go of the bed at any time and remove the object before it reached her clit. She hadn’t agreed to cutting and no way could that touch her clit without cutting. But he hadn’t broken her skin. Yet. She would wait and see what happened next before bailing out.
A niggling doubt plagued her. If she used her safe word, would he honor it? Should she test him? No. He said he’d end the scene immediately and, at the moment, the delicious sensations rampaging through her body made it clear she had no desire to end this anytime soon.
She was pulled out of her thoughts when the sharp instrument rolled over her nipple again. Surprised, she gasped, and her chest arched upward suddenly—toward the pain, rather than away—causing the sharp object to press deeply into her sensitive peak.
“Ow!” She cried out against the unexpected pain, then the torture device was gone, replaced with Marc’s gentle hand on her breast and his warm tongue laving and flicking at her aching nipple until the pain receded.
Pain.
Pleasure.
She moaned and his mouth left her.
“I’m sorry, gattina. That was not intentional.”
She whimpered; her self-control gone. How did he turn pain into pleasure so quickly? His words registered that the pain had been accidental. He’d even apologized for the relatively tiny hurt. Allen had inflicted so much more pain and told her it had just been a misunderstanding on her part.
“Stay with me, pet.”
His mouth sucked her tender nipple, but her pussy clenched in response, aching to be filled. She couldn’t speak her wishes, but moaned as she tilted her pelvis upward, hoping he would take the hint. He released her nipple and cold air caused her well-loved peak to swell even further.
For a moment, he didn’t touch her anywhere. She waited. What next? Her body missed the sensations of his hand, mouth, and even that painful metal device.
At last, he was touching her pussy, spreading her folds open, and exposing her erect clit to the cool air. Yes, touch me there! His finger stroked directly against the sensitive nubbin, spreading something cold on her. He took his hand away. That was all? Why didn’t he stroke her more? Help her to come? She knew she could reach an orgasm now and wanted more, damn it.
Suddenly, a strange warmth spread through her clit. It grew warmer and warmer, almost to the point of being uncomfortable. What had he just put on her clit? The sensation made her want to beg him to touch her again. Oh, God! She was on fire!
Then cold! What felt like wet ice brushed over her mouth, sending a trickle of water down her cheek and around her ear. Yes, definitely ice. And she smelled mint, which didn’t make sense. Marc pressed the melting cube over her chin, gliding it slowly down her throat leaving a trail of cold as the runoff trailed to the back of her neck. He moved the cube at a glacier’s pace. Would he ever reach his destination, wherever that was? Then the ice came to rest at the base of her neck, above her collarbone, where he left it to lie and melt, trickling cold water around her neck and to her back.
Her clit was on fire. Her upper body was freezing. The mixed signals short-circuited her brain. She shivered, but whether from the cold or her burning clit, she didn’t know.
His warm lips brushed over her cold ones causing hers to tingle and warm quickly, then he trailed kisses over her chin, down her throat, stopping to press a kiss against her pulse, and continuing on until he came to the pool of melted ice at the base of her throat. His tongue lapped at the water in the hollow and then the ice was gone.
His lips, colder now as they moved down her body, avoiding her breasts, which confused her. As he reached her abdomen, his legs straddled her again. She could tell he hadn’t removed his pants yet. Then all thought fled as his unusually cold lips brushed over her mons, closer and closer to her fiery clit.
No! Just as the thought occurred to her that fire and ice don’t mix, his frigid tongue licked the hood above her clit.
Her hips bucked up on the mattress, then she tried to get away from his mouth, but movement was impossible. “Ohhh! Ohh, God, no!!!” No escape. The disparate temperatures, the sensations, the restraint were all too much, nearly sending her mind over the edge.
She realized she’d spoken, well, screamed was more accuate. But he hadn’t reprimanded her. She wouldn’t have been able to restrain herself if she’d tried, though. Maybe he made allowances for cries of passion.
Avoiding the most sensitive part of her clit, his tongue slid down to her pussy and he pressed it inside her warm vagina, leaving his tongue there without moving. As the coldness of his tongue disappeared, he moved his tongue, flicking on a path back toward her clit. This time, when he laved the area around the hood, his tongue was warmer, but still cooler than her clit because of whatever he had put on her to make it burn.
Unable to remain still, she pressed her pussy toward his tongue. More. Oh, God, she needed more. He gently nipped her clit. “Ahhh!” The pit of her stomach tensed as the sensation coursed through her, sending ever closer to the elusive edge again. How much more could she take before he brought her the release she needed?
Please, Marc! I need you!
When she thought she could almost come without further stimulation, his mouth was gone and his weight shifted. She groaned as if in pain, then tensed, waiting to see what Marc would do next. She didn’t have to wait long. His finger rubbed something cold onto her clit again. Seconds later, it began to warm. Only this time, he removed his finger, then returned to spread even more of the first-cold-then-hot substance between the outer lips and moving toward the opening of her pussy. Oh, no! Surely he wouldn’t put that on her va…
The smell of mint reached her sensitive nose. What on earth was he using? She remembered he’d gone into the front part of the house, but there wasn’t anything with mint there. The bathroom. Toothpaste? Who would think of putting toothpaste there?!?
Marc, apparently.
Slowly, heat spread like wildfire from her clit to her vagina. No longer capable of coherent thought, her head thrashed against the pillow. She was out of her mind with want. Why didn’t he at least put his finger inside her? But she knew she wanted more than a finger. She wanted him. Inside her. Now!
“Please don’t make me wait any longer, Marc! I want you inside me.”
Angelina froze. Oh, God. Had she spoken aloud? What would he do now? Tears of frustration filled her eyes. She wished she could see him. Judge his reaction.
Marc left the bed. “Pet, not only did you disobey by speaking, but you also neglected to respect me by calling me Sir. I will give you two choices for your punishment.”
Her heart pounded against her chest as she waited for him to tell her what those choices were. What could he possibly do to her that wouldn’t involve pain? But he’d promised not to hurt her. If she obeyed him. She hadn’t. As she waited, her mind tried to imagine other punishments. Did Doms use timeouts like she’d had in kindergarten? Spankings, certainly.
Whatever he had put on her clit, continued to burn, making her want Marc’s touch more than she’d ever wanted anything. Her hips bucked upward as if with a will of their own. How much longer would he make her wait?
“Your first choice is for me to stop now, untie your legs, and let you go to sleep while I go back to sleep on the sofa.”
More tears sprang to her eyes. How could he leave her wanting like this? Didn’t good Doms always make sure their subs’ needs were met? Well, she needed to come, damn it!
“Your second choice will give you the mind-blowing orgasm you crave—“
Yes, that one!
“—but you must submit to an over-the-knee spanking. Bare ass. Five swats.”
Oh, God! No way!