Текст книги "Her Web Master"

Автор книги: Normandie Alleman

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Whether it was because it had been such a long time coming, or whether he was really that good of a kisser I wasn’t sure, but Quentin’s lips left a scorching trail of lust wherever they touched and I couldn’t get enough. Darting into my mouth, he penetrated me with his tongue. I devilishly sucked on it, but he pulled back slightly, letting me know he would be the one leading this dance.

He tugged on my lip before leaving a trail of hot kisses down my jaw all the way to the hollow of my throat. I wrapped my arms around his neck and clung to him, fearing this moment wouldn’t last. Giving me a final squeeze, he slapped my bottom and stepped back.

“I’d like you to undress for me,” he said, walking over to the bed to sit down.

“Here?” I stalled, remembering that he’d never seen me naked before. I had successfully avoided the cam sessions, and even though we’d been intimate in numerous ways, I’d never shown my body to him.

My soul yes, but my body no.

My body was something I was neither proud nor ashamed of. Average in many ways, and about ten or fifteen pounds heavier than I would have preferred, but I did have an hourglass shape. Each summer I survived bathing suit season, and every few years took advantage of a gym’s January specials. I usually only went a few times before the rest of my life got in the way. Mostly I relied on my walks with Felix to keep me in shape.

Since I knew I would be meeting Quentin, I got a full wax a few days ago, so at least I had confidence in the grooming aspects of my appearance. In a moment, he would be able to inspect every inch of me, the way a farmer would inspect his livestock.

Quentin held up his wrist to look at an invisible watch. “Anytime…”

I started to unfasten my skirt, but he held up a finger. “Not so fast. Put on a show for me.”

A show? My gut tightened. I was no exhibitionist, and unlike Shelby, I let the whole pole-dancing classes craze pass me by. I gulped, and slowly let my skirt fall to the floor then began unbuttoning my blouse, trying to make it as tantalizing as possible, but fearing that I was failing miserably.

He observed me in silence.

I let my blouse drop, unhooked my bra, and wriggled out of it. As I stood there in my panties and heels, he motioned with his finger for me to continue so I kicked my shoes into a corner, hooked my fingers in my panties and pulled them off.

“Good,” he said, but I was unable to read his reaction. Did he find me attractive? His expression gave nothing away as he strode over to a suitcase resting on a luggage stand, retrieved a few items, and placed them on the bed.

“The first thing I’d like you to do is choose which of these tools you’d like me to use on you first.” He beckoned me to come toward the bed, where he laid out three implements. One looked like a long reed, the other was a black riding crop, and the third was a silver stick with a wheel made up of tiny tines. As much as I enjoyed our play with the forks I wanted to try the last one, so I reached to pick it up.

“Ah, ah, ah!” He held up a finger to stop me. “That’s not how you’re going to show me. Choose the one you’d like me to use on you first, then I want you to pick it up with your teeth and bring it to me.”

Odd instructions, but I felt a stirring between my legs nonetheless. Climbing on the bed, I tried to pick up the wheeled toy with my mouth. Several times I almost had it, but then dropped the blasted thing. It was almost impossible to get it to stay in my mouth. Finally, I caught it between my teeth and crawled toward him with it.

He removed it from my mouth and patted me on the head, which felt better than it should have.

“Now pick out the next one.” I turned and looked at the two items left on the bed. At this point, I based my decision on which would be easier to pick up and carry in my mouth. The reed looked difficult to get hold of, but I was afraid the crop would be too heavy, so I went for the skinny bamboo-looking stick.

I sucked it between my lips, clamped it tight, and brought it to him proudly.

“Good girl.” He petted my head and stroked my hair in a way that made me want to nuzzle him like a cat. “Now, lie down on your back, spread-eagled, and raise your arms above your head.”

Getting into the position he choreographed for me, I felt more like a performer than myself, a magician’s assistant—part of the act. The whole thing was so surreal. Especially because Quentin had turned out to be so good-looking. It was like being trapped in the dream sequence of a movie.

I was disappointed to see that he remained in his clothes, but since I tasted his cock earlier, I expected to see it again. My mouth began to water as I pondered how it was possible to have two such incredible surprises in one day.

He took some rope from his bag and wrapped it around my wrists. I loved the feel of the rope, there was something about it… something raw and sensuous that made my pussy clench. The rope he used was made of hemp, and it was more coarse than the silky white rope I’d been eyeing at the hardware store, fantasizing about. He secured the ropes under the bed, and made sure my restraints were sufficiently tight, but not so tight they cut off my circulation.

As I lay there with him kneeling over me, working on my wrists, his crotch loomed centimeters from my face. I wanted to nudge him with my chin, but I knew better so I lay there patiently, aching to touch him, but knowing I had to earn those privileges.

Moving down my body, he made a production of letting the coarse rope scrape across my nipples. The rope slid over my skin, lightly scratching me, making me arch my back for more, but instead he turned his focus to my ankles.

“You’re very responsive. That’s good. I want you to feel everything I do to you. Everything.” He went back to securing my left ankle then he teased me with the rope on the other side, making my nipple harden into a tight bud.

He groaned and bent his head to taste me. His lips covered my breast, flicking over the hard point of my nipple with his tongue. Then he bit down, trapping me between his teeth, and gently gnawed at me, sending jubilant waves through my body and making my cunt throb with need. His hands caressed my neck, my torso, my other breast, and I lurched against my bonds, trying to touch him back. Biting my nipple, he rose, stretching it away from my body until I yelped in pain, then he released me from his grasp and went back to work binding my other ankle.

I wanted to complain, to yell at him not to get me all worked up, then leave me there helpless with no way to satisfy myself, but I knew this was precisely the state he aimed to put me in.

Once he had me bound, he sat at the edge of the bed between my legs. I felt so vulnerable, with my pussy exposed, no way to close my legs. Modesty was nonexistent in our relationship, but I’d grown up with the concept so ingrained in me that it was hard to ignore my wish for it now.

“Close your eyes. Focus on the sensations.”

“Yes, sir.” I had no idea what would come next, but I shut my lids and tried to breathe evenly.

He took one of my feet firmly in his hands and began to massage it. Rubbing the length of my sole, he squeezed and worked my heel, kneaded inside my arch, pressing his thumbs in just the right spot. I relaxed completely, savoring his touch. He massaged the balls of my feet, then wiggled each toe, stimulating them in places I didn’t even know were there. He blew on my little piggies and rubbed the crevices between them. It felt like I’d died and gone to heaven. Then he gave the same amazing treatment to my other foot.

When he finished, he must have picked up the wheeled toy I’d first chosen because, even though I didn’t dare open my eyes, I felt the cold steel run up the bottom of my foot then up to my thigh. He ignored my pussy, but dragged the wheel over my breast, and up to the top of my head via my hairline.

“Is that what they call a Wartenberg wheel?” I asked.

“It is. Do you like it?”

“So far…”

“Yes, it can be evil as well. It depends on how you use it.”

He raked it down my other side, down my other breast, over my abdomen, down my inner thigh, ending at the bottom of my foot. Each place he’d rolled it over had awakened and it invigorated my skin.

Suddenly something cold and wet entered my vagina. A hard object, definitely not human. I stiffened, trying to keep myself from peeking. “What is that?” My voice trembled.

“A nightstick, actually. Not as pliable as a dildo, I know, but it will suffice for now. If you’re a good girl, you might earn the real thing.”

“A real dildo or a real cock?” I asked, half joking.

“My cock.”

A shiver of anticipation zipped through me. God how I wanted to have his cock inside me now, though my body did seem to be responding to the current intruding object as he fucked me with it. I tried to relax again, to focus on the fucking. I was happy that it was my Master doing it, pleasuring me…

But my thoughts were interrupted by a vicious roll of the Wartenberg wheel zinging across my breast. This time he dug in deeper, and it hurt. Well, it almost hurt. Confusingly, it felt rather nice at the same time. Another zinging combination of pleasure and pain.

He fucked me with the nightstick while he wheeled that baneful tool over my nipples one at a time. I tugged at my arm restraints and groaned through tight lips.

“Relax. It will hurt less if you do.” He finally stopped with the wheel, but as soon as he did, I felt the whack of what must have been the crop on one breast, then the other.

“Aye-yi-yi!” I cried out.

“Do you need to be gagged while I abuse your body, sub? If you make too much noise the hotel is going to send someone up here, and I don’t think you want me to explain to them that there’s a naughty little schoolteacher in here who needs her cunt fucked relentlessly, but that she has to earn it first. Or do you?”

I shook my head wildly. I must be quiet. There was no way I wanted him to explain that to anyone!

“Then be silent.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, and he went back to swatting my breasts with the crop. Each blow stung, and I was certain my skin was bright pink by now.

Then as quickly as he’d started, he stopped.

The “cock” in my pussy slowed. He dipped a finger into my cunt and smeared my juices on the rest of my lips, coating me with my sweet nectar all the way to my clit. I felt my folds being spread apart, and to my dismay I felt the mean little pricks of the wheel rolling slowly, menacingly, across my clit.

I let out a shriek.

“What’s your safe word?” he asked.

“Bluebird,” I managed through gritted teeth.

“Do you need to use it?”

“No!”

“You sure?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sure.”

He rolled the wheel back and forth over my clit, making me jerk against my bonds. Growls erupted from my body, but then his tongue lapped gently at my tortured nub, and I felt tears well up in my eyes. The combination of rough play mixed with tenderness—that was what captured me, bound me to him. It wasn’t just about pleasure and pain. It was about the sweetness of the juxtapositions of mean and thoughtful, hateful and loving, giving and receiving. For a split second it was as if he’d opened the door to the deep, dark secret of the world. Then it was gone as fast as it came when he rolled that freaking instrument over my pussy again.

I howled, which got a washcloth shoved in my mouth, and just when I was about to utter a muffled safe word, he put his tongue to work again, licking and sucking me. The more he pleasured me, the more I forgot about the pain. All that was left was that ultrasensitive little bud and him. He pulled my clit into his lips, rolled me around in his mouth, released me, then licked me up and down again. Finally, using the tip of his tongue, he located my most sensitive button and made teeny circles around it until finally every muscle in my body tensed and I collapsed.

“Take a breath, but don’t worry. I’m not done with you yet.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Sunday morning, I awakened to a tray of bacon and eggs as well as pancakes, served by my beloved Sir along with tall glasses of frothy mimosas.

I stretched like a cat, the corners of my mouth stretching wide across my face. “Breakfast in bed?” I asked. “You’ll spoil me.”

He tilted his head. “You’ve earned it this weekend, my dear. You’ve been quite the compliant submissive.”

That thrilled me. “I really want to please you, sir.”

“Well, you have. Now eat up your breakfast. I have many more things I want to do to you, and we’re running out of time.” He speared a bite of eggs on a fork and offered it to me.

“Yes, sir.” I sat up and, not bothering to cover myself, took the bite he fed me.

After we finished breakfast and he’d gotten rid of our room service tray, he asked me to lie on the bed spread-eagled again, but this time on my tummy.

I did as he asked, and I felt the fwap of several silky fingers landing on my skin. The impact made a light thud as it hit me. “What’s that?” I asked.

“It’s a flogger,” he said, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him wield it in a deliberate arching motion before its tails landed on my rear end.

“Awesome! I’ve wanted to know what those felt like. I kept seeing people use these online and I was dying to try one.”

“I know. And, while they aren’t as useful for cyber, I knew you would enjoy getting acquainted with this one.”

“What’s it made out of?”

“Leather. All right, enough talking, girl. Silence. I want you to focus on what I’m doing.”

As much as I hated to be shushed, he was right. I needed to focus my attention on the delicious blows he delivered to my arms, back, legs, and tush. The rhythm of his strokes mesmerized me, and when he was finished he almost had to wake me up again.

He rolled me over. “What did you think?”

Gazing up at him lazily, I managed, “I loved it.”

“Each swat triggered a pain receptor in your brain.”

“But it didn’t hurt that badly.”

“That’s because I made sure to straddle the line between pain that makes your brain say ‘Danger! Danger!’ and pain that barely gets the brain’s attention. The goal is to make your brain release endorphins. That’s what we want.”

I nodded, still feeling slightly out of it.

“My god, you are tempting,” he said, placing a hand between my legs to inspect my pussy. “Nice and wet. Such a good girl. You know, you haven’t had my cock the whole time we’ve been here.”

I stuck out my bottom lip. “I know.” Since we’d been in the hotel room, he’d made me come a dozen different ways, but he’d yet to actually fuck me with his cock. He’d shot his load down my throat, on my breasts, even on my face, but he still hadn’t given me what I wanted most.

“You’ve been such a good girl, maybe if you keep being good you’ll get it,” he said. Climbing on the bed on top of me, straddling my face with his hips, he shoved his cock between my lips. “Get it all nice and wet. Make it hard, bitch.”

His words had me wriggling with excitement underneath him. I opened my jaw as wide as I could and took him in my mouth. He plunged forward until the head of his cock nudged the back of my throat. I tried not to gag, and soon he pulled out and smacked my breasts with his erection before kneeling between my legs.

“Just a minute.” He got off the bed, rustled around in the bathroom, then I heard the unmistakable sound of a condom wrapper opening. He returned to the bed, a predatory gleam in his eye and his cock sheathed in a rubber. My stomach tightened. This was it. I was finally going to have him inside me.

Shamelessly, I opened my legs wide, beckoning him with my wetness to enter my folds. He licked his lips and pushed my thighs apart as wide as they would go. Then he positioned himself between them and pushed the head of his cock inside me.

Immediately, I lifted my hips to take him deeper. He met my efforts and drove farther into me.

“Your cunt feels so fucking good,” he said, his voice husky.

“Yes, sir. Your cock… It feels incredible.”

He nodded, consumed with the sensations. I could see his control slip for a split second, but then he got it back and began to pound into me.

His technique was amazing, the way he paced his thrusts and hit my G-spot with each one, but I think it was feeling the heft of him on top of me that I liked most. The way he spread my thighs as his hips ground against my pussy. The way he grunted into my ear as his balls slapped my ass.

“Is this what you wanted?” he taunted me as he fucked me harder.

“Yes, sir,” I whimpered.

“Then say it. Ask me. Beg for it.”

“Please, sir. I need you to fuck me. Please let me have your cock,” I pleaded.

Then he paused and I felt him slide something under my bottom, but I couldn’t see what it was.

The next time he pressed his cock inside me, I felt them. I knew those suckers so well, there was no mistaking them. The bastard had set a pair of forks underneath each of my butt cheeks so that each push brought an extra scrape and sting.

“Ouch!” I yipped.

He covered my mouth with a hand. “Quiet, you little bitch. Do you need me to gag you again?”

I shook my head and tried to squash my cries each time he plowed into me and those wretched forks bit into my ass.

He was right about the combination of pleasure and pain. Even though it hurt like the devil, I felt my arousal ratchet up a notch with each assault on my backside.

Just when I thought those forks would lead me to the Promised Land, he lifted my legs and hooked my ankles around his neck. This angle allowed him to dive even deeper into me, and every few thrusts I felt his cock bump my cervix. It hurt, but it felt good at the same time, and I felt I was drowning in a sea of pleasure and pain.

Balanced back on his knees, he reached out and grabbed my nipples between his fingers. First he squeezed and pinched them until they were hard as stone, then he pulled them high above me, as if attempting to lift me off the bed by my nipples. I cried out in a combination of agony and ecstasy, and he dialed it back to twisting them, all the while fucking my cunt like he owned it.

Soon I could feel him speeding up the pace, which told me he was close to his own orgasm.

“May I come, sir?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said in a strangled voice. “Come all over my cock. I want those fuck juices all over me, trickling down everywhere. Do it! Fucking come now!”

His commanding voice always did it for me. That trigger helped release all the tension that had been building inside me. One more stroke broke the dam in a gush of silken girl-cum.

“You’re so fucking delicious,” he growled in my ear as he leaned over and kissed me. His tongue danced with mine as he buried himself as deep as possible inside me and, I could tell by the familiar catch in his throat, we fell over into the abyss together.

A few hours before Quentin’s plane left, we sat together on the couch in our room. I huddled next to him under a blanket. We were both naked, as I had been ninety percent of the weekend.

“I love the harsh way you talk to me. It makes me feel so dirty. I love it,” I giggled.

“It’s even more important when we’re not together. It establishes my authority, and reminds you of your place. As long as you’re a good girl, you will earn your pleasure and my soothing words. But if I believe you’re not giving me your all or you need more pain, you can expect my words to be mean and nasty.”

“Yes, sir.”

He tugged at my lip and I swung myself astride him, letting the blanket fall to the side.

“You’d better ride me, little girl. Ride me hard.” He smacked my bare bottom, and the slapping sound rang through the room.

I lifted up and fit his erection snugly inside me.

“That’s it. Ride me, you little bitch,” he snarled, but he wore a crooked grin on his face that made me unsure whether I wanted to kiss him or slap him. As if reading my mind, he grabbed my wrists and began pumping into me from underneath. The way our bodies joined together, moving as one, our passion for one another spilling until it was hard to tell where one of us ended and the other began.

I raised and lowered myself onto him.

“Fuck me like your life depends on it,” he growled.

“Yes, sir,” I said, and in that moment, as my hips undulated over him, taking his cock deep inside me—it did.