Текст книги "Her Web Master"

Автор книги: Normandie Alleman

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

His words made my nipples pebble under my shirt, and I was glad I was sitting down, otherwise my knees might have buckled underneath me. I gulped down the rest of my drink as he paid the check, then took my suitcase from me and led the way to the parking lot.

Dusk was giving way to night, and the air outside felt different that it did where I’d been that morning. Cooler. Less humid. A blanket of stars shone down as Quentin held a hand out to me. I clasped it and let him walk me to a parking lot at what seemed like a far corner of the airport.

“You sure parked far away,” I said as the lights of a black Mercedes S550 Hybrid we were approaching flashed and the locks clicked open.

“Because I thought you’d prefer a touch of privacy with what I’m about to do to you.”

“What’s that?” I asked, uneasy.

“Lean over the hood of the car and you’ll find out.”

Even though it was dark, the parking lot was well-lit enough that I could see the gleam in his eye as he spoke. With a wink, he placed my suitcase in the trunk and closed the lid, latching it shut.

I ambled toward the front of the car, both nervous and excited. I wasn’t a fan of public displays, and I certainly didn’t want to get caught doing anything like what Quentin seemed to have in mind.

“Bend over,” he growled. Instinctively, I sprawled my torso over the hood of the fancy car with my ass in the air.

He lifted my skirt and ripped my panties off. He could have just pulled them down, but I doubt my heart would have been racing as hard if he had.

“It’s a little dark for a visual inspection, but spread those legs wider and I’ll give you a tactile one.”

Drawing a ragged breath, I opened my legs a few inches more apart.

“Good girl,” he whispered, and his fingers disappeared into my folds.

I gasped as he entered me, fucking me with one, then two, then three fingers. His middle finger wiggled against my G-spot, torturing me with a pleasure that made me feel completely out of control.

He worked my pussy hard, then pulled out, traced my lips, and let his fingers dance across my clit. Those hands made me whimper and grind my ass back against him, muttering, “Fuuuuuck.”

Then I felt the head of his cock teasing me. He flicked it against the opening to my cunt, but when I tilted my hips back toward him, he smacked my bottom hard. “Hold still, you greedy little bitch.”

A needy whine escaped my lips, and he smacked me again.

“Please, sir,” I begged.

“Finally. She asks for what she wants.” He swatted my other cheek. “What is it you want?”

“I want you to fuck me. Please fuck me.”

“After I make this juicy ass nice and red.” He spanked me several more times, and I held tight to the car, trying to hold still. The pain. My mind centered on the pain, and after a few swats it melded with my arousal.

As I started to float away, I felt his cock enter me. The relief of it made me cry out, and he pushed inside me, hard as steel and just as unforgiving.

I adjusted my ass, giving him a better angle, and he thrust inside me again and again. In the back of my mind I recalled another time when I’d bared my ass to a man in a parking lot. The night I’d gone out with Shelby and her friends and I’d met Brett, the guy who had introduced me to BDSM in the very beginning. How very different this was with Quentin. My first encounter had been tentative. I’d been clueless back then, but now in this moment, I was all in. I belonged to my Master completely. He’d molded me into a plaything who was perfect for him, and I reveled in my submission.

Quentin’s cock pulled out slowly, driving me wild with desire, aching to have him inside me again. He pressed into me hard and fast before repeating the movement over and over again—first slow, then fast. My pussy clenched tight around him and I could feel my muscles grabbing frantically at him each time he pulled back, teasing me.

Then I felt something nudge at the opening to my back door. He knew I wasn’t a huge fan of ass play, but he liked to push my buttons. Gritting my teeth, I wriggled my ass against him, and he slowly entered my rear with what I guessed to be his thumb. The added stimulation to my other hole while he continued to plunge into me took me to a new level of ecstasy. He played my body like a musical instrument, and I gave myself over to him completely. I lay against the car, willing him to keep doing what he was doing.

“What do you think people would think if they saw you here, on my car, getting fucked from behind in public like this?”

Oh crap. I’d gotten so lost in the moment I’d forgotten that anyone could walk by and see us. I swallowed hard. “They’d think that I was a dirty whore.”

He slapped my ass before grabbing my hips and picking up the pace. He fucked me deep and hard, his balls slapping against my clit. “That’s right. You’re my dirty girl. You’ll take what I give you. You’ll do whatever I say. Isn’t that right, doll?”

“Yes, sir,” I managed, though it was hard to speak clearly when he was pounding my body so hard. It was the first time he’d ever called me doll, and the combination of that little endearment combined with everything else sent me over the edge.

The night sky exploded in front of me, stars floating everywhere while my body shook with tremors of bliss. I hugged the hood of the car and cried out an unintelligible call of joy. As I rode the waves of my climax, it occurred to me that I forgot to ask Quentin for permission to come. But in the midst of the sexual high I was experiencing at that moment, that didn’t matter. If he wanted to punish me for that, I would take it. At that moment, everything in the world was fine. If I had looked up and seen a crowd of people gathered watching me, that would be fine too.

That made me giggle, and the thought of it made the next wave of my orgasm hit me even harder.

All the while, Quentin continued to rock his cock in and out of my pussy. As I started to come down from my own release, I noticed he was still using my body for his own pleasure, and that turned me on—not only lubricating my cunt for him, but switching on something in my brain. I wanted to be his, and I wanted him to use my body for his own release.

“Please, sir. Use me.”

With a snarl he pumped his hips against me once, then again a final time before he shot his seed toward my womb and stilled. The only sound in the parking lot then was his labored breathing.

“Thank you, sir.”

He withdrew, went around to the side of the car to fetch some napkins, which he handed to me, presumably to help me clean myself up. Then he lifted me up from the car hood and kissed me on the forehead.

“Welcome to Seattle. Want to get something to eat?”

About twenty minutes later we were sitting in a chain restaurant chatting like old friends, which was nice. Doing something “normal” like this was comforting, if kinda weird.

“So what else do you do, besides your work?” I asked.

“Lots of things. I try to stay active. I hike, go to the gym, read. I like sports, soccer in particular. I don’t live my life in Dom mode.” He shook his head. “Do you think I go to restaurants and spank the waitress if she gets my order wrong? Bark at people all day long?”

I conjured up a mental image of this and laughed. “I don’t know. Maybe you tell the waitress ‘good girl’ when she gets it right.”

He scooted around the circular booth to pull me to him. “I only do that with you, though I do like the idea of you kneeling at my feet, and me feeding you your dinner if you are a good girl.”

“You’re terribly kinky, you know that?”

He nodded. “It’s a curse.”

“Maybe, if you find the right partner, it doesn’t have to be. But seriously, I want to get to know the side of you that’s not always being kinky.”

“I am kinky a lot of the time. That’s why I want to interact with you so often during the day. I like to keep it going.”

“So you’re highly oversexed. I get that, but everyone has to deal with real life stuff and some situations don’t have room for sex. Like paying the water bill. Doing the dishes. Taking out the trash. Taxes. Some things are not sexy, and for you to pretend like everything in a relationship needs to be about sex is bullshit. You’re lying to yourself if you think it’s enough.”

He sighed. “You’re right.”

“I am?”

“Yeah, you’re pretty smart, you know that?”

I nodded.

“Maybe I need a smart little subbie like you to keep me in line.”

“Probably.”

“So what do you propose? How are we going to work this out? You’re about to start teaching again… I have a life here.”

“Have you ever heard of this thing… it’s called the internet. It helps people connect.”

“But I thought that wasn’t enough for you. I’m not sure it’s enough for me anymore.”

“What if we meet up on weekends sometimes? See where things go…”

He took a long, deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

“Really?” I couldn’t believe it, and I was filled with happiness.

“I think it’s a good place to start. I know with school, your schedule isn’t as flexible as mine. I can fly down to see you some weekends.”

“You’d do that?” I wasn’t sure how it would turn out, but at least he wanted to give it a shot.

“Of course. You’ve given so much of yourself to me, Sophie. It’s the least I can do.”

I stared into those amazing brown eyes of his. “You, sir, are full of surprises.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he said, lifting a brow.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Being around Quentin definitely affected my appetite. I hadn’t been hungry during dinner. At least not for food.

When he walked me to the car and opened my door for me I appreciated his manners, and it reminded me that whether he was spanking me or humiliating me in a public place, he did it because he believed I needed it. He wasn’t a mind-reader, but he’d gotten to know me well enough by helping me get in touch with my darkest desires that he made superb educated guesses about how to take me to new heights sexually, often putting my needs over his own. That was chivalry in my book, albeit a slightly warped and kinky version of it. Not exactly what Bunny would be teaching the young men at Junior Cotillion, but chivalrous nonetheless.

We drove for about thirty minutes, up windy roads and into the woods.

“Do you have a fireplace?”

“Of course.”

“It hardly gets cold enough where I live to build a fire, even during winter.”

“Well, it gets cold enough up here.”

“Do you chop your own wood, or is that just on television—the sexy lumberjack outside swinging an axe?” I could totally picture him doing that, his muscles pulsing under his shirt as he went outside, hunting and gathering, preparing his home for the long, hard winter.

“I’ve been known to do it on occasion.”

Now that was something I’d like to see.

When we arrived at his house, a few lights lit the parking area, but mostly I could see the log cabin from the light of the stars. The wood structure was engaging, with a big, long porch that took up the whole front of the house. It looked like the set of a movie. “It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

He laughed. “Thanks. But you don’t have to whisper.” He stepped ahead of me and unlocked the door, holding it open for me. “Actually, way out here you can be as loud as you want. Welcome to the house of pain.”

My stomach clenched. “What the…?”

“Just kidding. I wanted to see if you were paying attention.” He chuckled.

“Seriously? Now, after I’ve come all this way, trusted you with so many things, now you’re going to turn out to be a serial killer?”

“No. I was just teasing. A little Dom humor. Not very funny apparently.”

“Yeah, not funny.”

“I’m just excited to show you my dungeon toys.”

“Your what?”

“Yeah, I made them just for your visit.”

I didn’t know whether to be flattered or creeped out. “Huh.”

“I’ve never liked the things other people come up with, so I created my own—I had a bench made with iron rings for bondage, and I made my own set of stocks—you know, like they used to have in the village square with the place for your head and hands to go through. But mine have a place to lock your ankles in too, giving me easy access.”

My mind automatically imagined the things he could do to me with equipment like that. I stared at him. “My God, you’re perverted.” Then I rushed toward him, taking his face between my hands and kissing him hard. His mouth welcomed my attack and instigated one of his own. He lifted me up by my ass, and I hooked my legs around his waist. I held him tightly between my legs, grinding my pelvis against the bulge in his jeans.

“I thought you’d like it,” he mumbled between slashes of his tongue against mine. Clutching my bottom, he carried me to a closed door just off the main living space, somehow managing to open the door and turn on the light.

As the room became illuminated, I looked past him, my eyes transfixed by the tufted chaise lounge with multiple iron rings attached to the sides, the assortment of tools and rope that hung from hooks on the wall, and the large contraption in the middle that took up most of the room.

“What do you think?” he asked, and I slid down his crotch and walked around the room, wanting to get a closer look at everything.

“I think it’s amazing. Kinda scary, but mostly amazing.”

He tucked his hands in his pockets and tried to look modest, but his face beamed.

“How long have you had this? This mini-dungeon?”

The corners of his mouth turned down. “I’d call it a playroom.” He shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of this stuff for a while, but these pieces are new.” He pointed to the chaise and the stocks. “I got them for you. I was using this room for storage, but sometime after Houston I decided this would be a better use for it.”

“So, you’ve never brought any of your other subs here?”

“Not to this room. I think one came to my house once, but only for coffee.”

“Coffee?” Did he really expect me to believe that?

“Yeah. During the get-to-know-you phase. I don’t usually play at home. I prefer hotels. Gives me a chance to leave whenever I want.”

“So why bring me here?”

He rolled his eyes. “My God, Sophie, don’t be a pain in the ass. Because you’re different! I made these things for you. I want to redden your ass with this.” He pulled a riding crop off the wall. “I want to tie you down to this and drip hot wax all over your naked body,” he said, pointing at the chaise. “I want to make you my prisoner, lock you into this thing, make all of your holes available to me, take you in all of them. Do you want to know why?”

I could feel my pussy dampen, and I squeezed my thighs together. Words refused to come so I simply bobbed my head “yes.” My knees weakened, and I took a gulp of air.

He closed a hand on the back of the neck. It made me nervous, but comforted me at the same time. “Because I need to make you mine.” His voice, that familiar snarling, menacing voice that had rocked my world over the miles all summer, reverberated directly in my ear.

Overcome with emotion, I dropped to my knees in front of him. “Please, sir. Make me yours.”

He patted me on the head. “Since you’re my guest, little one, I’ll let you choose. What should we use first?”

I glanced around the room and pointed at the stocks. “I’d say that one, but you just did me from behind a couple of hours ago…”

“Ahh, but it’s versatile, my pet. I can lay you on your back as well.” A wicked smile spread across his face. “Go to the restroom and prepare yourself. Come back, naked, when you’re finished.” He helped me to my feet and showed me to a small restroom down the hall.

I went to the bathroom, stripped off my clothes, ran my fingers through my hair, and walked back down the hall to Quentin’s kinky room.

“Good girl,” Quentin said, and I was disappointed to see that he was still dressed. I’d hoped he would have at least taken off his shirt so I could get a good look at his amazing abs. “Now lie down here.” He indicated the padded bench part of the stockade. It looked rather narrow and I was afraid I might tip to one side and fall off, but I needn’t have worried because as soon as he locked my head and wrists in the wooden stocks, he pulled out some foot rests that reminded me of the stirrups at my OBGYN’s office.

“Rest your feet on these while I get something.”

The stocks that were clapped around my neck and wrists kept me from seeing what was happening to my feet, but the edges were padded and my head did have a thin padded cushion behind it so my head and neck hopefully wouldn’t become sore.

I stretched to watch him grab some coils of rope off the wall, then return to my feet where I couldn’t see him anymore. “Close your eyes. I want you to focus on feeling me tie you up. Think about what I’m doing to you, what I’m going to do to you. Think about your safe word.”

Closing my eyes, I laughed softly. “Bluebird.”

“Do you need me to stop?”

“Just practicing.”

“All right. Keep it to yourself unless you mean it from now on.”

“Yes, sir.”

He lifted my right leg and positioned it the way he wanted it. I was a doll with bendable limbs, and when he got my leg the way he wanted, he secured it with rope. He started by wrapping the soft rope around my thigh, and each time he wound it around my leg it felt like a caress, a lover’s kiss, and I heaved a happy sigh as I anticipated the next pass. After capturing my thigh, he pressed my calf up next to it and wound the rope around it as well. Finally he attached the configuration of ropes together so that one side of my lower half was trussed up like a frog, wide and open.

Next he proceeded to do the same with my other leg, sliding each bit of rope so delightfully over my skin that my entire body came alive, leaving my senses alert to every nuance of his touch.

“You’re already so wet and I haven’t even touched your pussy,” he observed. “That’s a good girl.” Pinching my erect nipple, he said, “See? These are the sorts of things I miss when our play is cyber.”

“And your touch, sir. I crave your touch.”

To my surprise he leaned down and kissed me. My eyes were closed so I didn’t see his mouth descend on mine, but he quickly pushed roughly between my lips and claimed me with his tongue, curling it over mine, licking, tasting, devouring me. I returned his passion with my own, and when he pulled back I reached up for more. Taking my bottom lip between his, he tugged and sucked it before finally biting mine and letting me go.

I whimpered, as much from his retreat as from the nip of his teeth.

“I’ve missed my little slut. I have to admit I didn’t realize how much I would crave having you in real life, until I had the chance and then it was gone. Since then, I’ve stayed up so many nights thinking of what I would do if you were here. And now you are—all tied up with nowhere to go.”

A moan leaked from my lips. Damn, I wanted this so badly, whatever it was he was going to do to me. But the instant I felt something smash against my naked pussy, I considered changing my mind.

“This implement is something you smack yourself with frequently in our cyber sessions. Can you guess what it is?” he asked, smacking my goodies again.

I tried to think, but it was difficult with my nether regions smarting like that.

Swat! Swat!

“Come on. Give me a guess.” Another smack. I started adjusting to the whacks, and my memory sputtered back to life.

The feel of the black plastic struck a nerve… “A spatula?”

“Good girl. I can see you’re paying attention now.”

He swatted me a few more times before burrowing his finger inside me.

Finger-fucking.

“And I know you’re not a huge fan of anal, but I think I have the perfect thing to get you on the right track there.”

“Not a huge butt plug, please,” I begged, thinking I didn’t want to have to use my safe word. I really didn’t, but I had such a tiny butt.

First I felt a cold finger, goopy with lube, enter my anus. I cringed and gritted my teeth until the discomfort abated. Then he removed his finger, and I felt something thinner, with bumps, go back up in there.

After a few more swats to my pussy, he clamped two hellish clips onto my nipples.

“Hmm. Which hole to fuck?” he pretended to ponder.

“Whichever one you like, sir.”

“I haven’t felt your mouth yet today, I choose that one.” He moved around the stocks and lowered the headrest so I could tilt my head all the way back.

“Open.”

I parted my lips and felt the head of his cock rub around the rim of my mouth, taunting me. I tried to be a good sub and simply take whatever he dished out, and soon I was rewarded when he pushed the length of his shaft into my mouth, all the way to the back of my throat.

With my eyes closed, I allowed the sensation of him fucking my mouth to consume me. Inhaling his musky scent, I used my tongue to give him pleasure and I imagined my mouth was my cunt and each of his thrusts increased my arousal.

His cock moved up and down my throat, and I heard him groan.

“Such a thirsty girl, trying to swallow my cum. I’m not through with you yet,” he grunted and withdrew his dick. Then he walked to the other side of me and I felt a pair of forks rake over my thighs and zip up my sides. He laid them on my belly and removed the clamps from my nipples.

Blood rushed to my nipples and it hurt like hell. I shrieked, but instead of giving me a break, he pinched then licked my sore little buds.

“Do you want the forks?”

He knew I loved playing with the forks on my breasts most of all. But this was a test of sorts to see how much pain I would take on my freshly tortured nipples. Knowing I might soon regret my decision, I answered, “Yes, sir. Please may I have the forks?”

I could hear the smile in his voice as he praised me. “What a good girl. You’re becoming a regular pain whore, aren’t you?” He scraped the ends of the forks across my chest, ending in the center then pressing down and twisting. The exquisite combination of agony and ecstasy made me howl.

He did this several times until I thrashed my head from side to side, screaming at the top of my lungs. Then he set them aside and toyed with me by rubbing his cock along my opening while he stimulated my clit with a finger.

My cunt dripped with need, and my hips bucked as much as I could possibly move them, bound the way I was.

“Go ahead—try to get away,” he taunted. “I’ve got you tied up tight. But that pussy of yours belongs to me now, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, sir.”

With the head he traced words or shapes—something I couldn’t make out—on my lips and I thought I might die if he didn’t fuck me right then.

“Say it. Tell me who your cunt belongs to.”

“You, sir. My cunt belongs to you,” I whimpered, and he rewarded me by driving himself into me. I cried out in ecstasy, so elated was I to have him inside me again.

“I want to turn you into a cum factory. I want those walls to come crashing down. Grip me with your cunt when you come. I want you coming hard and long, the scent of you filling this room.” His fingers dug into the skin on my legs as he pumped into me, and I felt like my every nerve ending was a live electric wire. No one had ever made me feel the way he had, and I gave myself to him completely.

His cock felt like it was made from steel as he rammed into me again and again. Each time, my cunt clenched around him, and that thing in my ass tickled and stimulated me simultaneously.

He must have felt me start to tremble as the pressure inside me started to erupt because he said, “Those are anal beads I’ve shoved in your ass. When you start to come, I’m going to pull them out slowly, one at a time. It should make your orgasm even more intense.”

I wasn’t sure what he was talking about until I felt my climax begin, and he pulled one out.

“Oh my God,” I cried.

Then he pulled out another one, and I whimpered loud. Each time, it felt like he bumped up the intensity of the waves of bliss that coursed through me. He pulled them out slowly, savoring what it did to me each time my asshole puckered over another bead as he removed it.

“Sir, oh my God, sir,” was as coherent as I could be, my head wildly thrashing and my entire body shook with what felt like an earthquake of pleasure.

He pushed into me hard and fast like a jackhammer. When his hot semen shot into me, I was so high from what he’d done to me that it took a while to come down to earth.

The last thing I remember was him untying me then picking me up and carrying me to his bed.