Yes, Master, page 8
Much better, maybe. But I was dying. I lifted my hips off the bed. I couldn’t control my body anymore. My muscles were spasming. Tears were streaming from my eyes. But I hadn’t come. I was close. So close. I gritted my teeth harder, determined to earn the reward I knew would be mine if I could just hold out a little longer.
One more minute. Only one.
“If you keep this up, you’ll have your reward.”
He’d said that before. I wanted my reward now, dammit. Hadn’t he tormented me enough? Who would’ve thought pleasure could be a punishment? And pain a reward?
“Yes, you’ve pleased me. I have something for you.”
I waited, my eyelids clamped tightly, arms and legs trembling. I heard the crinkle of plastic. Then fingers parted my labia. My heart slammed against my breastbone. Yes, oh yes. At last, he would caress away this horrible ache.
Something hard probed me, pushing past my outer lips, dipping into my tight channel. My inner muscles clamped around it as I tried to hold it in place. The skin on my chest warmed. Sweat trickled from my brow, down my temple. The hard thing—a toy?—eased deeper. During its plunge, it stroked that spot deep inside, and I jerked.
Can’t come. Do not come!
“Control, Alice. Look at you. My beautiful girl. Fighting the pleasure. When you come, you are going to fly high. Just a little longer.” He pushed the toy deep inside me.
Full. At last.
My body held on to that invading toy as if my life depended upon it. It felt so good. I nearly cried when it slid back out. And I did cry when it slammed back in.
The toy was fucking me hard. And my legs were tight. My feet were cramping. My stomach was burning.
I couldn’t take another second. Not one more thrust.
“Please,” I begged. “Let me come.”
The toy stopped.
I gasped.
I whimpered.
I writhed.
The cuffs were biting into my wrists. But the pain only made my need that much worse.
“Alice.” His voice was sharp.
I forced my eyes open. His face was impassive. There was no playful twinkle in his eyes. No hint of a smile on his lips. He was unhappy with me? For what? For begging for something he’d promised me over and over? For buckling under the weight of his torture?
“Are you angry?” I asked.
“No. But I’m displeased. Our session is over.”
Over?
Over!
My pussy was still throbbing. My body was one huge knot of need. And he was finished? No!
“I’m sorry,” I said. And did I ever mean it. But I tried. I really did.
“No need to apologize.” Reaching up, he smoothed my hair. “My beautiful Alice. You’re learning so quickly. I hadn’t expected you to last as long as you did.”
He’d planned to tease me like this? To torment me and then to leave me?
I hated this game. Despised it.
Through gritted teeth, I grumbled, “You are so—”
He lifted his brows.
I clamped my lips tight. A word was trying to slip out. A not nice word. And I knew if it did then my punishment would be even worse.
He unbuckled my wrists and helped me sit. “You need to rest. Tomorrow, we’ll start early. It’s going to be a long day.”
I wanted to pull away from his strong hands as I stood. But the problem was, I was way too shaky to stand on my own. He’d reduced me to a quivering mess.
Supporting me with an arm around my waist, he escorted me out of the room, down the hall, and into a lovely guest room.
“You’ll sleep here. The bathroom is there.” He pointed at a closed door. “You’ll find everything you need to prepare for me in there.” Once he had me safely on the bed, he smiled. The expression took my breath away. “Thank you, Alice. Thank you for trusting me.”
Thank you for torturing me and then leaving me hanging. Meanie.
He leaned over me, eyes delving deep into mine. His lips settled over mine, pressing softly. The tip of his tongue flicked, but when I parted, welcoming him to deepen the kiss, he pulled back, cupped my cheek. “Sweet dreams, Alice.”
After checking my wrists—for sores?—he left.
Sweet dreams? How could I possibly fall asleep? I was away from home, in a strange bed, and burning up with need.
If I were home right now, I’d finish things off myself. But no, I couldn’t do that. It was against the rules.
Stupid rules.
Stupid, unfair rules.
Luckily, this little experiment would end in just over twenty-four hours. I could not live like this permanently. No way. More importantly, I didn’t want to.
But if I had learned one thing tonight, it was that I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Tristan Stark’s brand of discipline ever again. It might not leave any cuts or bruises but I sure as hell hurt.
I woke to the sound of Tchaikovsky. “Dance of the Swans.” I stretched—oh, was I sore—blinked a few times, and focused on the man standing at the door.
“Good morning, Alice. It’s seven o’clock. Will you join me for breakfast?”
He was wearing old jeans and a snow-white T-shirt. Never had I seen jeans and a plain shirt look so good. His hair was a little messy, like he’d just rolled out of bed. And dark stubble shaded his chin and jaw.
Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. Insanely gorgeous.
Remember, he’s a merciless, torturing jerk.
I yawned, stretched. Blinked bleary eyes. “Breakfast. Sure. But it’ll have to be quick. I have an appointment at eight.”
He beamed like a boy who’d learned he was getting a new bicycle and I edited that last comment. He was still merciless and torturing. But maybe not such a jerk. “I promise I won’t keep you long.”
As I hurried into the bathroom to take care of a few essentials, I couldn’t help thinking about how odd Tristan Stark was. One side of him was a hard, demanding man. The entrepreneur. The dominant. The cruel bastard who’d teased me to tears. But somewhere inside was the boy I saw every now and then, who still loved to play and laugh. Oddly, I didn’t think I could appreciate one side without the other. Like my favorite Thai dish, sweet and spicy, it was the combination of two very different aspects that made the overall effect so intoxicating.
I just hoped I wouldn’t fall for this man too hard too fast. The boy inside Tristan might look for more—a girlfriend, a wife—but the businessman, the Dom, ran the show. And all he wanted was a submissive.
My heart sank.
A submissive. Would that be all I’d ever be to him? Someone to play with? When he became bored, would he toss me aside and find someone new? After last night, I didn’t even like his torture games.
This was probably the one and only weekend I’d ever spend with Tristan Stark.
My gut twisted.
Stop thinking about this stuff. It’s pointless to be worrying about tomorrow, next week, next month.
After freshening up and making use of the brand-new, wrapped toothbrush I found sitting on the smooth stone counter, I wandered back out.
Tristan was standing at the door, waiting. His smile brightened when he saw me. “Did you sleep well?”
“Surprisingly, yes.” Nude—and assuming that was the way he wanted me to remain—I met him at the door. When his gaze wandered down my body, I felt myself blushing. “Did you want me to get dressed?”
“No. No clothes. You’re lovely, just as you are.”
Today, I would eat breakfast in the nude. Another first. But, I supposed, not my last—if Tristan were to offer to make this arrangement a more permanent thing. If. And if I were to accept. A bigger if. “Okay.”
Both barefoot, we descended the curved staircase. I followed him to the kitchen. It was a kitchen out of a magazine. I swear. All polished chrome and stone and glass tile. He motioned for me to sit at the breakfast table at the far end of the room. After pushing my chair in for me, he left to prepare our breakfast. I watched. Thoughts buzzed around in my head. Questions.
So far, this experience hadn’t been as horrible as I’d imagined. In fact, at times it had been good. Although Tristan acted the part of a dominant for much of the time, he’d switched out of Dom mode this morning, enough to allow me to relax, to develop something of a connection with him. It wasn’t all, yes, Sir; no, Sir. Nor was it all pain and no pleasure.
Risking the rules, I thanked him when he brought me a cup of hot coffee. That deserved a heartfelt thanks.
He reacted with another brilliant smile. “You’re welcome, Alice.” After going to the counter for two plates, he returned, placed one in front of me, one opposite, and took his seat. While I checked out the contents of my plate—fruit, cottage cheese, some kind of funky-looking scrambled egg concoction—he sipped from a tall glass. In it was a thick green liquid. Didn’t look consumable. I felt my lip curling.
He must have seen it because he lifted the glass. “Seaweed smoothie. Would you care to try it?”
“No. Slimy and green don’t do it for me, thanks. I’m assuming you drink it because of its health benefits?”
“I do. But I won’t bore you with the details.”
“I’d prefer to stick with land-grown veggies, thanks.” I poked at the eggs—which I guessed weren’t eggs, after all—and reluctantly brought the fork to my mouth.
“It’s an egg substitute. I found it to be acceptable.”
I nibbled. Not bad. Tolerable. I took another bite. And another. I wasn’t big on experimenting with food, but this morning I was really hungry. Who knew, if he’d set a glass of the seaweed goo in front of me first, I might’ve tried it. Might’ve gagged, or worse.
“May I speak freely now?” I asked between forkfuls of faux eggs. “Or are we still in game mode?”
His chuckle vibrated through me. “You may speak freely. What do you wish to tell me?”
I briefly considered telling him off for what he’d done last night. But I decided to let that go for now. “Nothing in particular. I just wanted to know if I could talk.”
“You may.” He set down his glass and we ate for a moment in silence.
“This stuff isn’t half-bad,” I said. “What’s it called? I may buy some the next time I go shopping.”
“I buy it from a food wholesaler. It isn’t available to retail consumers. I’ll have some delivered to you.”
“That’s not necessary—”
He cut me off. “It’s my pleasure.”
“Thanks.” It seemed he did get pleasure from small acts of kindness. And larger ones, I reminded myself, thinking of Estefan. “Speaking of kindnesses, you’ve been very good to Estefan. I respect that.”
He tensed up, his jaw visibly tightening. “I didn’t do it to gain anyone’s respect.”
“Of course you didn’t. I didn’t mean to imply you had.”
“Of course you didn’t.” His smile returned. It was a weird, sudden shift from happy-go-lucky to defensive and back to happy again. This man rode an emotional roller coaster that made Space Mountain look like a kiddie ride. Don’t get too close. You’ll regret it. “I’m sorry. I’ve been attacked in the past for supposedly using my money to buy friends.”
“Who would say such a thing?”
“No one important.”
I didn’t buy that.
“Who?” I pushed.
“My brother.” Tristan placed his fork and knife on his plate.
“He’s jealous.”
“He shouldn’t be. He says he has everything he wants. A beautiful wife. A good job. A nice home. Two great kids.”
“He’s lying.”
“Maybe. We don’t talk much.”
“I can tell that bothers you.”
He didn’t respond right away, and I wondered if I’d crossed a line. Sure, Tristan had brought up the topic, but I wasn’t letting it rest. Maybe he’d rather I did.
“We used to be extremely close. We’re twins. According to our mother, I spent nine months with Troy’s foot in my face.” He chuckled. It was a wry, mirthless laugh. “Then Troy spent the next thirty years with his foot in his own mouth.”
“I’m sorry. Sometimes siblings are our best friends, and sometimes they are our worst enemies.”
“So true. I’d say Troy is more friend than enemy.”
I didn’t respond to that statement. Anyone who put Tristan down that bad wasn’t a friend of his in my book. The fact that a man who had so much going for him, had such tight control of all other aspects of his life, including his lovers, would struggle so much with this one issue made Tristan seem . . . more human. And infinitely more relatable.
“I have an older sister I haven’t spoken to in years,” I confessed. “She thinks I was spoiled by our parents.”
“Were you?”
“I don’t believe I was. I am the baby of the family. There’s just the two of us. But Mary is ten years older than me. I guess our parents were very different when they raised her. Stricter. And more demanding. By the time they had me, they’d relaxed a little. I had more freedom. But I still had to earn everything I got, including the private high school I wanted so badly. I went, and they paid, but they told me they would pull me the minute my grades dropped. Same with dance. I didn’t exactly tell you the whole story last week, about why I quit. My parents paid for my classes. But I had to ‘earn’ the opportunity to go every year by meeting their expectations. The summer before my senior year in high school, I failed. I never went back because I knew I wasn’t capable of what they expected, and because I was tired of the pressure of holding the four point grade average and dancing six hours every night.”
He reached a hand to me, across the table. I accepted. He said, “I’m no expert, but to me you seem to have a gift for dance. Have you thought of returning to it now?”
“I have. But for what purpose? It’s not a career option. I don’t have the commitment. And I’m out of shape. Ballet is extremely hard on the body.”
“I imagine.”
“But I do miss it. If I could find a place to dance just to keep in shape, to keep up my flexibility and maybe perform a little, that would be nice.”
“Hmmm . . .”
“What are you thinking?”
He gave me an “I’m innocent” look.
I wasn’t buying it. “Don’t give me that ‘who me?’ look. I haven’t known you for long, but I know you well enough to know when you’re pulling my leg.”
His expression changed. He glanced at the clock as he stood, circling the table. “Would you look at that? It’s after eight. You’re late for your appointment.”
“Oh no.” I feigned panic. “I am in so much trouble.” I started to stand, but he stopped me, holding me in place with a hand on my shoulder.
“I can put in a good word for you.”
“That’s very kind, but I wouldn’t dream of asking you to do that. I’ve always had to solve my own problems. Better not to let someone else start doing that for me now, right?”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind.”
I wanted to wrap my arms around him and hug him right there. That boy inside Tristan was a sweet little thing. And I hoped I’d get to know him better, to understand where the harder, colder Tristan had come from. After this conversation, I had a sneaking suspicion what had happened.
“I’d better go.”
Tristan nodded, watched me leave.
I heard him following me as I headed for the playroom. I pushed open the door, went to the spot where he’d had me kneel last night, and took my position.
At this point, I wasn’t so wound up, scared, intimidated. I was fairly relaxed.
Tristan strolled in after I’d been kneeling for a few minutes. I glanced at him, noted he was carrying some things. He set them down on the bed, circled me, then squatted directly in front of me.
He cupped my cheeks. “Before we begin, I just want to—” He smashed his mouth against mine, and the air left my lungs in a rough huff. The kiss softened almost instantly, going from a rough claiming to a gentle seduction. His tongue slipped inside my mouth, stroked mine. The kiss was intoxicating. It made my head spin and my body tremble. And I was devastated when it ended.
My eyelids lifted, and I looked him in the eye.
He appeared as breathless as me. “I . . . enjoyed breakfast this morning.”
“Thank you. So did I.”
“I haven’t spoken to anyone about my brother in a long time.”
And yet, he’d trusted me. This was significant. I could tell. I wasn’t just a plaything to him. I was more. “I’m glad you felt you could trust me.”
“I do.” His voice rose, as if he was surprised. He nodded, gave me a little kiss on the lips, then stood. I checked his face. He didn’t have his Dom face on yet. Was he struggling with this?
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
“No.” He stepped back. He turned toward the door, turned back around again, came closer. “I need a few minutes.”
“Okay.” I remained exactly where I was.
He left the room but returned almost immediately. This time, when I checked, I saw his game face was in place. He was ready now. “I’m guessing you didn’t enjoy last night’s punishment?” he said as he sauntered closer, that little crop thing in his hand, swinging softly next to his thigh.
“No, Sir.”
He dragged the tip of the crop over my shoulder. “Last night you pleased me, Alice. Very much. Today, you will learn how it feels to receive a well-earned reward.”
10
A reward.
I was finally going to receive a reward.
I just knew it was going to be wonderful. My whole body shuddered, anticipation dancing up and down my spine. What would he do next? Would he lick and nip me from head to toe until I begged him to stop? Or would he just go for the big event, shove that big cock into my pussy and pound away the ache throbbing deep inside me?
I was good either way.
“Come with me, Alice,” Tristan said, offering a hand. I took it, marveling at the happy tingles that swept through my body at the simple touch. He led me to an apparatus that looked a little like one of those swings for grown-ups. But this one had just a couple of little straps for a seat and back.
