Yes, Master, page 5
“Okay, my precious. I can’t make you wait another minute. You’ve been such a good girl. Lie down.” He maneuvered me around, forcing me onto my back. “Condom. Now.”
At last, I would have what I wanted, what I needed.
5
My legs were trembling as Tristan eased them apart. He was standing up, and I was lying on my back, my ass on the edge of the mattress. I felt as if I had a fever. I was hot and cold, burning and shaking. Desperate and a little scared.
His gaze started on my face. It was dark, full of hard male need. It didn’t stay on my face for long. It wandered lower, settling on the tender flesh between my legs.
A part of me longed to clamp my thighs together, to hide that part of myself from his eyes. My muscles twitched, tightening a little. I felt his hands resisting, holding my legs.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured. “I won’t have you hiding from me. Not if you’re mine.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant by that. At this point, with such overwhelming need pounding through my body with every heartbeat, I didn’t care. All I knew was I needed him to fill me, to stroke away the ache.
He fingered my pussy, flicking his thumb over my clit. My spine tightened. My legs and stomach too. My hips lifted toward his hand. “It’s going to hurt. I’ll go as slow as I can.”
“Please,” I mumbled. “I hurt now.”
“I know, baby.” He bent over me, dragged his tongue down my slit, and I swear, I saw stars. He’d told me the torment was over. Why wasn’t he keeping his word? Before I found the strength to say something to him, he straightened back up, pulled on my hips so I was even closer, and slid the head of his sheathed cock up and down my pussy lips. “Open your legs wide for me. Yes, like that.” My insides clenched, my breath hitched as I did as he asked, rotating my legs open, knees pulled up. “Relax, sweet girl.” He fisted his cock, holding it against my entrance. With his other hand, he drew slow, deliciously sweet circles over my clit. Oh, so good.
I felt myself relax a little, enjoying the pleasant whoosh of heat each circle pulsed through my body. His cock inched into my opening then stopped. I tensed again. My pussy burned, the skin stretched. I clawed at the sheet. Tears gathered in my eyes. He’d hit my hymen, was pressing against it. I could feel my body resisting his invasion. “Oh God,” I heard myself say.
“It’ll hurt less if I go fast.”
If I didn’t ache for him so badly, I might have told him to stop. In fact, I almost did anyway. I felt like my insides were being torn open. I clamped my lips and nodded.
He shoved his hips forward and searing white heat blazed through me. A fullness followed. Uncomfortable. I lifted my hips, tried to pull away. But Tristan held me in place.
“Shhh. Give it a minute. Don’t move.”
“Hurts.”
He pulled out a little, and the fullness eased somewhat, making it more bearable. “Better?”
I nodded.
“Open your eyes.”
I’d closed them? I lifted my lids. He was standing over me, bent slightly at the waist. His gaze was locked on mine, his eyes searching, full of concern. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. It seemed that was all I could do.
His cock slipped out a little more. The movement inside produced a tiny spark of pleasure.
“Oh,” I said.
“Good?”
“Yes.”
He withdrew until it seemed only the tip of his penis remained. He shook as he moved. His arms, his chest, his stomach muscles. A fine sheen of sweat covered his skin, glimmering in the low light. He looked incredibly sexy, almost too beautiful to be real. I could hardly believe he was here with me, this man. Why me?
A sigh slipped from my lips, and his mouth curled into a hint of a smile.
“Now, that’s more like it.” Holding my knees, he eased into me again, one glorious inch at a time. As he glided deep inside, he stroked me there, where I’d been aching to be stroked. The tiny spark grew.
“Yes,” I murmured.
“That’s it, relax. Take me.” His head fell back. “Damn, you feel so good. So tight.” Moving with nearly excruciating control, he fell into a slow rhythm of inward thrusts and retreats. In and out. My inner walls rippled around him when he plunged deep, and each time, my temperature notched up another degree or two. “Damn it, you’re killing me,” he grumbled.
For some reason, that made me feel empowered, extremely satisfied. Not only was he torturing me, it was going both ways. Having some notion of its effect, I concentrated on those inner muscles, deep inside. I tightened them, like a fist, around his cock. He growled. Halted.
Then he licked his index finger, set it on my clit, and began drawing those magical circles again. ’Round and ’round, while his cock slid in and out. Oh, what a delicious combination. Within seconds, I was writhing beneath him, huge waves of erotic heat crashing over me.
“You’re going to come for me. You’re going to come now, before I lose control.” His voice was husky, ragged.
As if my body couldn’t resist his command, it began trembling. A flash of searing pleasure blazed through me, and my pussy spasmed. I heard myself cry out as intense, heart-shattering pleasure zinged up and down my nerves, from the soles of my feet to the roots of my hair.
His thrusts became rougher, but I didn’t care. I was being tossed around in a sea of pleasure-pain, lost in sensation and completely surrendering to it. But when I heard him cry out my name, felt that final deep thrust, I opened my eyes, flung my arms around his neck, and pulled him against me. He shook. He huffed. He whispered sweet words in my ear. And when his climax eased, he wrapped his strong arms around me and held me tenderly as he caught his breath.
Kissing my hair, he said, “My little Alice. Sweet Alice.” His weight pressed into me, making me sink into his luxuriously soft bed. I felt at complete peace, comfortable, safe, sleepy.
Sadly, he stood. Grimaced as he slowly pulled out. My skin burned. I must have winced. His gaze sharpened. “I was too rough.”
“I’m okay.”
He pulled off the condom, went to the bathroom. I listened to the sound of running water as I pushed myself back so my legs weren’t hanging over the edge of the bed anymore. He returned within seconds, a washcloth in his hands. “Open.” His hand rested on one of my knees.
I drew them apart slightly.
“Wider.”
A little quiver of sensual heat rippled through me. Did I really want to go again? So soon? Did he?
“It’s cold. It’ll help ease the pain.”
I lifted my knees and slid my feet apart, and he pressed the cloth to my tender tissues. At first, the cold was shocking. Too cold. I jumped. But he pushed it more firmly against me.
“Don’t move.”
I stilled. Already, I could feel the pain easing as the cold seeped in.
“Yes, that’s it.” Leaving the cloth in place, he climbed up on the bed, lying next to me. “Leave it there for about twenty minutes. It’ll ease the swelling.”
I didn’t want to talk about swelling. I wanted to talk about what had just happened, about what it meant to Tristan, what would come next. Was he disappointed? Did he want to see me again? I knew he’d orgasmed. But that didn’t mean anything, did it?
“Tristan?”
He was lying next to me, on his back. He pulled on my arm, coaxing me onto my side so that I was resting against him. “Hmmm?”
“Do you still want to . . . Did you still want me to become your submissive?”
He stroked my hair. “I don’t want to talk about that now. If you’re worried you failed in some way, you didn’t.”
I was glad to hear that. “O-okay.”
“Rest. It’s late.” He gently ran his hand over my eyelids, so they closed. “Sleep.”
In the darkness, I focused on the sound of his breathing. I fell asleep, cocooned in his arms.
The next morning the sound of birdsong woke me. I was vaguely aware that I was alone. I confirmed that fact when I opened my eyes. Tristan was gone.
I headed into the bathroom, took care of the necessities, including brushing my teeth with my finger and taking a long, hot shower. The shower was nothing like the one at home. It had jets shooting at me from every which way, and one of those soothing rain heads too. I stayed in there until I was all pruny and, thanks to Tristan’s scrumptious-smelling shower gel, I came out smelling just like him. I wrapped myself in a fluffy towel that felt like heaven and barefooted out to the bedroom, in search of my clothes. I found them folded neatly on top of the dresser, along with my purse. Opting to go without panties, rather than wear my dirty ones, I wadded up the scrap of lace and shoved it into my handbag, then dressed and headed downstairs, following the scent of coffee like a hound trailing a rabbit. Coffee. Caffeine. That was the first order of business.
It felt like I hadn’t slept. And I was sore all over, but especially between my legs. I hadn’t been awake for long, and already I was looking forward to a nap.
I located the coffeepot, discovered a cup and saucer sitting next to it, along with a tray of baked goods. But Tristan was nowhere to be seen. After draining half my coffee and refilling my cup, I took my bagel and coffee and headed toward the back deck, thinking some fresh air and sunshine would help wake me up.
Juggling my breakfast in one hand, I pulled open the French door and stepped out onto the deck. As I was padding across to the table, I saw him, on the grass not far away. He was dressed in a pair of sweatpants, no shirt, and he was stretching. At least, that’s what it looked like. I settled into a chair, making sure I had a good view of him. It was quite a sight, him reaching and bending and flexing like that. Could there be a more beautiful man on the earth?
I watched him for a few minutes before he realized I was there. His lips curled up into a ghost of a smile when our gazes met. I thought he’d come over to join me, but he didn’t. He carried on with his workout, the movements become more strenuous, more complicated. I began to wonder if it wasn’t some form of martial arts. By the time he did finally come to join me, my cup was empty, so was my plate. And his skin was coated in a sheen of sweat. I glanced at the lake behind him, thinking it might be fun to jump in.
He bent over me, cupped my chin, and lifted it. “Good morning. You’re up earlier than I expected.” Before I could respond, his lips were grazing mine in a kiss so soft I barely felt it. That didn’t stop my heart from doing a flip-flop, though.
Even hot and sweaty, he looked good, he smelled good, and, when my tongue skimmed my bottom lip, I discovered he tasted good too. “Good morning to you too,” I said, grinning up at him like a goon. “I don’t sleep deeply when I’m away from home. What time is it?”
“A little after six.”
No wonder I was so sleepy. “I didn’t realize it was so early.”
“That’s okay. It gives us a little time to be together before we have to head back.”
Back. Did he have to mention that? My mood soured a smidge. Only a little, though. This place was so peaceful and quiet. I didn’t want to leave. “Do you have a busy day planned?”
“Work. It can’t be helped.”
“I understand.”
“We have a couple of hours before I have to get you back home. Is there anything in particular you’d like to do?”
My gaze flicked to the lake.
“A swim?” he guessed.
“But I don’t have a bathing suit.”
“You don’t need one.” He took my hands in his, coaxed me to my feet. “My property is completely private. No one will see us.” He grasped the bottom of my shirt and, not waiting for me to object, lifted it over my head. Within seconds, I was standing there completely nude. Outside. In broad daylight. I started to cross my arms over myself, but he stopped me with a soft touch and a shake of the head.
“How long will it take you to see what I see? A beautiful body that shouldn’t be hidden?”
“I don’t know.” I was blushing. I could feel it.
He untied his pants and shucked them. “There, now we’re both naked.” He took my hand in his and led me down the path to the edge of the lake. “Do you swim?”
“No.”
“Not at all?”
“I sink.”
Hand in hand, we descended into the water. It wasn’t so cold it shocked me too bad. Tristan released my hand when we stopped. The water was mid-chest depth. Not too deep that I’d drown, but deep enough for me to paddle around a little. He dove under the surface, swam away, flipped around at the floating dock bobbing on the surface not too far away, and headed back to me. I watched his sleek body glide through the water as he approached. He skimmed his hands up my legs before surfacing right in front of me. His hands continued up, over my hips to my waist. He pulled me flush to him, stared into my eyes.
“I want you. I want you like I’ve never wanted another woman. I don’t know what it is . . .”
I liked the way he was looking at me, and how he’d said those words. Inside, my nerves were buzzing and zapping. My heart was galloping in my chest. I looped my arms around his neck. And then, just because it felt so damn good, I wrapped my legs around his waist. The friction between his hard body and my pussy just about made me melt. It did, in fact, have me seeing stars, and wishing I could slide a little lower and get that thick, hard cock of his buried deep inside me. When he cupped my ass, I thought maybe, just maybe, that would happen right there.
No such luck.
He did, however, smash his mouth against mine and kiss me like he meant it. His tongue didn’t just slip inside my mouth, it shoved its way in. And it didn’t merely tease me, it plundered, it tamed. The kiss was feral, out of control, and I loved every heart-slamming second of it. As soon as it ended, I was wishing for another.
He walked me toward the shore, fingers kneading my ass. “I wasn’t going to do this. I shouldn’t.”
“Shouldn’t do what?”
“How sore are you?”
“Not sore enough to stop you, if that’s what you mean.”
His smile turned evil. Good evil. The kind that made my insides warm up even more. “That’s exactly what I meant. Okay, Alice. Let’s go play.”
6
My head was a little spinny when we stepped into Tristan’s playroom. My palms were sweaty too. And I wasn’t sure whether I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life. Would I hate this? Would it be too much? Too painful? Too intense?
I wanted, oh how I wanted, to enjoy this experience, to be whatever it was Tristan wanted me to be. Was I crazy for wanting that?
My gaze jerked from one piece of equipment to another as Tristan led me deeper into the room. We passed the kneeling thingy. And a bench thingy. And a swing thingy. We stopped at a chair. Just a plain old chair. The back was wood, carved in an intricate pattern of swirls and curves. The seat cushion was covered with black leather. It looked like an antique kitchen chair—except for the leather seat. And of all the pieces of furniture in the room, it was probably the least intimidating.
“We haven’t gone through the rules yet, so I am not going to get into anything too intense. We’re just going to play a little. My focus is going to be only on you, your pleasure, your needs.”
That sounded good to me.
“Nervous?” He was smiling at me. It was a kind expression, not at all wicked or naughty.
“Yes, a little.”
“You’ll learn to trust me.” He patted the seat. “Sit.”
I sat, crossed one knee over the other.
He raised one brow. His lips sort of curled up on that side a bit too.
I uncrossed my legs.
“Better.” Sporting a hard-on that made my mouth water, he motioned toward the armoire. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.” I watched him walk across the room. The view was lovely. Firm butt, broad shoulders, narrow waist. Did they come any more perfect that that? Once again, I wondered, Why me? Why was I the one here with him now? I’d had a few boyfriends. They’d been attractive, sure. But nothing like Tristan. Not traffic-stopping, model-perfect gorgeous. Nor had they been as successful as Tristan. Or as powerful. Outside of the bondage thing, Tristan was my secret fantasy man, and this was as close as I’d imagined I’d ever come to having my childhood wish of being swept away by Prince Charming realized.
It was almost too good to be true.
He returned within moments. In his hands he held rubbers and lube, a wrapped oblong package, and several lengths of two-inch black satin ribbon.
Nothing looked particularly intimidating, outside of that package. It wasn’t large—a little bigger than a box for a bracelet, maybe. But there was no telling what might be in it.
“First, let’s get you positioned properly.” He reached under the chair and something went click. Next thing I knew, part of the bottom opened. Now I was sitting on a chair with a big hole in the center, almost like a toilet. “Scoot a little forward.” I scooted. “That’s it. Now, your hands. Put them down at your sides.”
I let them hang on either side of my hips and watched as Tristan tied a pretty bow around my wrists, fixing them to the rails of the chair. I admit, as I watched him, my pussy pulsed. Heat throbbed through my body. Once he finished, I tested the restraints to see how well they would hold. For not being too terribly tight, they sure did the job.
He checked each one before kneeling in front of the chair. “Now your ankles. Spread your legs.”
A bigger wave of heat crashed through me. I was nervous, yes. But also breathless and tense all over, and anxious to see what would happen next. I parted my knees so that my lower legs were on the outside of the chair’s front legs.
Tristan’s gaze followed one leg up from the floor, halting at the juncture of my thighs, which was now fully exposed, thanks to the trapdoor underneath. “Mmmm. Perfect.” Deft fingers tied pretty bows around each of my ankles. Then, he trailed a fingertip up one of my legs, following the straight line of my shin, up over my knee and around to my inner thigh. By the time it was inching closer to my pussy, I was breathing really hard. I was also shaking a little, all over.
