Bound in Blue (4 page)

“Oh, Master,” she cried out as the cane
landed in a line of stinging fire.

It hurt so badly, but it felt perfect. For
her, perfect meant terribly painful, but not so painful that she
couldn’t bear it. She could even feel a whisper of the cane against
her clit, a bit of sting but no injury. What a controlled touch.
She’d assumed he was experienced at exchanging power, just from the
way he talked and the effortless way he took control of her. Even
his physique spoke of authority and power. This guy worked out and
took care of his body. He was perfectly made, from the top of his
broad shoulders to his cut abs to his sculpted thighs and calves.
His skin was golden and flawless, his complexion marred only by a
bronze scruff of stubble she’d explored with light fingers.

Her boss had taken one look at the
well-dressed, towering
Amerik
and told her to get him
plastered, so they could lure him into one of the private rooms. In
the three weeks she’d worked at the club, she’d seen it done seven
times…hapless, passed-out tourists charged an exorbitant amount of
money for sexual favors they didn’t even receive. But she could
tell right away that Jason Beck was a kind man, that he was noble.
She hadn’t been able to do what her boss asked.

And now here she was. Unemployed and sprawled
on his hotel room floor with her ass in the air.

“
Owww.
” The next cane stroke caught
her by surprise. Her body surged with adrenaline and her pussy grew
even wetter. She ached for him to take her. Big muscles, big body,
big cock. She wanted him to push it inside her while her ass cheeks
still smarted from his punishment. He was the first dominant man to
arouse her to such a fever pitch. And how? A few curt orders, a bit
of pain.

More than a bit. He gave her another fiery
stroke, then tapped her on the small of her back. “Don’t tense up.
Spread for me. Open yourself to it.”

“Yes, Master,” she whispered. She wanted to
be open for him. She
wanted him
. She looked back over her
shoulder, a look meant to entice, even though she knew it might
anger him.

He made a low sound in his throat. “You’re a
greedy little slave, aren’t you? You want my cock? You want to be
fucked?” She shuddered as he stroked her clit again with the tip of
the implement.

“Oh, please, Master,” she begged. She wanted
to grab the cane and masturbate against it, slide along its length
as her bottom throbbed. He was so good at this...

“Aren’t you being punished for lack of
self-control? If you want my cock, you need to learn your lesson
first, don’t you?”

“Yes, Master.”

But she couldn’t control herself, not when he
tapped just so at her clit, just enough to hurt her and tease her
and make her ache in the exact, perfect way. She arched against the
cane with a sob. She heard his tsk just before she felt the
white-hot pain of the next stroke.

“Master, I’m sorry. Please!”

“Please? There’s only one person here who
needs to please, and that’s you. Be a good slave. Be still and let
me touch you as I want to. Control yourself.”

Sara squeezed her eyes shut, feeling close to
tears as the cane’s tip molested her most sensitive parts. She
truly felt he was her Master and she wanted to please him, even
though all of this was a game. She gritted her teeth and steeled
herself not to arch and press against the blessed relief of the
implement’s caress.

“That’s right. Still and docile. Fulfilling
my pleasure, not yours.” His low voice thrilled her, gave her the
fortitude to hold motionless as he teased her, on and on and on. It
was maybe a minute, but it felt like an hour that he toyed with her
clit. She heard him laugh, felt the cane disappear and then felt a
light tap across the soles of her feet. “Uncurl your toes, good
girl. That’s over. The teasing anyway.”

But not the—
oww
! He gave her a solid,
burning stroke, so she howled and twisted out of her required
pose.

“No,” he said. “Try again. I thought we were
getting somewhere. Kneel straight and open yourself for Master. For
Master’s will and Master’s punishment.”

Something about his voice hypnotized her, or
bespelled her. Something about him touched her so deeply that she
resumed her position, even knowing the pain to come. She’d never
cried during any scene in her past, but her eyes felt hot and
prickly. She felt a few tears squeeze through her tightly-shut
lids.

How much more would he give her? How much
more could she take? Her ass felt huge and hot, each stripe of the
cane a throbbing weal. What she wanted more than anything was to be
joined to him physically, to take his power and mastery into her
body in the ultimate surrender. She wanted the memory of his
possession, a memory she could treasure forever. She wanted to cry,
“When will you fuck me?” but he didn’t want that. She understood
that he didn’t want her demands and greediness, her horny weakness.
He wanted her submission. He wanted her to be a pleasing,
well-behaved slave.

So she gave him well-behaved. She groveled on
the ground, ass up, hands still, his name on her lips.
Master,
Master, Master...
He gave her five more strokes, solid, burning
ones, and she accepted each one of them with a dignity that came
from within, that she never really knew she had.

“My God,” he murmured when he was done, and
she echoed him silently.
My God, I never knew I had that in me.
I never felt enslaved by someone until now.
She’d scened with a
few local men in the lifestyle, submitted to their barrage of toys
and playthings, clamps and whips and handcuffs and ball gags, but
it had never felt
real
. This man had brought out her deepest
submission with one rattan cane. He lowered it beside her head and
tapped at her cheek.

“You made a mess of this. Clean it up.”

Oh…wow.
She opened her mouth and he
inserted the tip, watching her lick and suck it in a shameless
dramatization of what she wanted to do to his cock. Meanwhile, he
placed a hand over her spread, exposed pussy. She almost bit off a
piece of the cane when he thrust a finger deep in her cleft. His
hand was so big, his finger so thick and long. She squeezed on it
but she didn’t dare hump it the way she wanted to.

Then the finger was gone. She saw his boxer
briefs hit the floor, and she heard him putting on a condom. She
turned to see his thick cock jutting out from a thatch of dark
hair. Her breath caught in anticipation.

“Are you done cleaning that off?” he asked,
inspecting the cane. “Good. Now hold it between your teeth, to
remind you about the perils of being greedy with Master’s
cock.”

He drew her head back by her hair and made
her open wide, and set the cane far back in her teeth so it acted
as both gag and reminder.
Don’t be greedy. Don’t do anything.
Let him manipulate you.

He rearranged her on her hands and knees,
still holding her hair so her chest was lifted off the floor. “Now,
stay,” he said. “My pretty little plaything.”

And then he played with her, until her teeth
ground against the rattan barrier in her mouth. He traced her sore
cane marks, taking his time to study every one, then slid two
fingers into her pussy. Then three. It wasn’t only the fullness
that aroused her, but the aggressive, careless way he did it. She
truly was his plaything, his toy to poke and explore at will. He
didn’t touch her clit, which was certainly on purpose. “You’re so
wet, little slave. So tight and hot and wet down there. What about
here?”

He withdrew from her pussy and pressed a
finger against the tight ring of her ass. She tensed but he drove
it in anyway, using the copious wetness of her pussy to ease the
way. She squirmed and twisted as he pressed deeper. “Enough,” he
said sharply. “Whose pleasure do you serve?”

“Yours, Master,” Sara whimpered, going still.
But oh…
wow
. He resumed his “pleasure” while she shook and
accepted it. “Very, very tight,” he said in an approving voice,
when she was fully impaled. “Nice and tight for Master. I wonder if
you could handle two fingers?”

She waited in a silent panic as he withdrew
the first finger and added another. She felt discomfort,
stretching. A bit of fear. What if he tried to put his cock in
there? She’d done anal before, but not with any guy as big as him.
He slid his fingers out a bit and then thrust them back in,
mimicking anal intercourse. She took quick breaths, biting on the
cane. She was still trying to accustom herself to the invasion when
she felt his cock at the entrance to her pussy.

Yes, yes, please take me.
He eased
forward, his cock stretching her pussy just as his fingers
stretched her asshole. She felt so full, so controlled. She
couldn’t cry or beg, or say anything, only make shuddering gasps
past the implement in her mouth. He pressed all the way in, until
she felt his thighs against the back of her legs. At the same time,
he teased her asshole with his fingers, driving them in and
out.

It was shameful, raunchy. And it was
him
, which made it wonderful beyond belief. The gorgeous,
commanding
Amerik
was joined with her, something she’d
wanted since she first gazed into his eyes. She tensed her ass
cheeks, keening behind the cane. The stripes on her ass tightened
and ached with the movement of her muscles. She turned to watch him
fuck her, his rippling torso tapering to sculpted hips that banged
against her cheeks.

Now that his cock and his fingers were both
comfortably buried inside her, he fucked her faster, harder, so she
never had any relief from the fullness of his possession. She
braced her tethered hands against the floor and bit down on her
gag. She wanted to stroke her clit but she didn’t dare, not without
his permission. In some way it was the frustration and discomfort
that fanned her arousal so high. She was a masochist. She got off
on this.

“Please, Master,” she cried, her words
distorted by the cane between her teeth.

“If you’re begging me for anything, you’re
welcome to continue. But I’ll do exactly as I like, and I’ll let
you come when I like.
If
I like.”

She danced on his hand, on his cock, his
erotic puppet, and yes, it seemed he held everything in his hands,
her desire, her will, and definitely her ability to orgasm. “That’s
a good girl,” he said as she shuddered with the knowledge. He
reached around and caught one of her nipples with his free hand,
and squeezed it hard, twisting it. She threw back her head in
agony, but her pussy clenched at the same time. He pinched the
other nipple, brutally hard, brutally uncaring.

“You like that, don’t you? Being hurt? Being
used for Master’s pleasure?” he asked. “I can feel you squeezing my
cock. I want you to come hard enough for me to feel it. I want to
feel your ass clamping down on my fingers too.”

All she could do was groan and obey him. He
held her completely in his hands. One hand tortured her nipples as
the other frigged her asshole. He pounded her pussy with his huge
cock, pounded her so hard she had to brace against the floor.
Master, Master, Master...that hurts. Please, hurt me.

Her submission and his mastery meshed
together into one consuming flame and her orgasm arrived, torment
and pleasure melting together. The cane clattered to the floor as
she cried out at the power of her climax. This was worth it,
surely, the loss to follow. Behind her, her Master reached his own
completion, driving deep inside with shattering thrusts. She felt
so much joy at satisfying him that she paid no attention to how
rough he was.

It was pain. It was pleasure. It was
service...and it had never felt quite like this before.

For a while they were still, shuddering
together, gasping for breath. Then he ran a hand up her back and
eased out of her, first the fingers in her asshole and then the
thickness of his cock. She sank down to her stomach on the scratchy
carpet, feeling empty. She heard him behind her in the bathroom,
washing up.

She didn’t want to move, because then this
would be over. She was the one who had insisted,
one night, one
time
. She hated herself for that, but it was self-preservation.
She heard him pulling on his boxer briefs and then his pants.
Goodbye, beautiful cock. It was nice knowing you.
He came to
her, sat beside her and stroked her hair.

“So,” he said in a low, warm voice. “Real
enough? How did you like that?” When she didn’t answer, his voice
took on a note of concern. “Was I too rough?”

She rolled over and looked at him, but she
didn’t say anything, because she was afraid of the ridiculous,
lovelorn things she’d say. He drew her into his arms, cradled her
against his chest so her cuffed hands nestled between her breasts.
She pressed her head against his shoulder, enjoying the comfort of
his embrace. Ah, his hair was so soft, and it smelled so good. She
sniffed it furtively, imprinting the scent of him in her
memory.

“Struck speechless, are you? I guess that’s a
good thing.”

“It was fun. Very fun.” It hurt to belittle
their incredible scene, their incredible connection, with an
adjective like “fun,” but it would hurt more to give voice to the
depth of her feelings. He might see how infatuated she was, and how
foolish. “Are you going to uncuff me?”

He drew back from her. “Not yet.”

“I have to go.”

“Not yet,” he repeated. He helped her up and
drew her over by the bed. He sat on the edge of it and tugged her
forward until she was standing between his legs. He was dressed
now. Well, half dressed. His chest and muscles still beckoned her.
She could have traced them for hours, never tiring of exploring
him. He looked bemused when she finally dragged her gaze up to
his.

“Still set on one time? I’m not trying to
talk you into anything, but…you’re sure?”