Authors: Lila Dubois
DangerousLust (4 page)
“No, Master Clay. I think you know it hurts.” I spoke
quickly, trying not to take a deep breath.
“That means that right now I want to hurt you. I want you to
feel pain.”
“Yes, Master Clay.” The words wavered and I had the horrible
feeling that I was about to cry.
His free hand forced its way between my legs. The movement
was rough and demanding. Two fingers dug into my pussy, sliding roughly over my
clit before forcing their way up into my body. Quick as a lightning strike,
pain morphed to not just pleasure but a dark enjoyment. Yes, he was hurting me.
It was forbidden—men should never hurt women—and yet Master Clay abused my
breast with impunity. It was as if the laws didn’t apply to him.
When his thumb rubbed my clit while his fingers were buried
in me my whole belly clenched. It was a deep, throbbing pleasure—as if
everything else I’d ever felt was the waves breaking on the shore and this was
the deep darkness a mile under the surface of the ocean.
“Do you feel that?”
“Yes, Master, yes.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Each word was a struggle. I
was caught between my desire to egg him on, to have him do something else,
something more, and my desire for him to stop toying with me and throw me down
and fuck me.
“I think it’s time I have a proper look at you.” Master Clay
withdrew his fingers from my pussy. “Over to the St. Andrew’s.”
He let go, and I hissed as a fresh wave of pain shot through
my nipple. I watched as it went from white to angry red.
“Leona, now.”
He spanked me, two hard swats.
I had to clench my teeth to keep from saying something.
Frustration that he’d made me feel something so intense yet not brought me to
orgasm was burning inside me.
Stepping out of the discarded camisole, I made my way over
to the St. Andrew’s Cross. With each step I took the frustration melted away
under a fresh onslaught of anticipation.
Master Clay touched my back, urging me forward. For a second
I resisted before giving in and letting him push me another foot closer.
“You’re reluctant.”
“I’m sorry, Master Clay.” My voice trembled. “I’m…”
“You’re scared. Aroused and scared.” He stroked my breasts
as if I were a cat he was petting. “I will show you how it works. Remain where
you are but spread your legs. Arms behind you, cross your wrists one over the
other at the small of your back.”
I did as he ordered, waiting as he inspected my posture.
“Arch your back, push your breasts forward. Better.”
With the posture belt on I was aware of how my back arched,
aware of my rib cage and each breath I took.
“This is a St. Andrew’s Cross. As you can see it’s not a
true cross but an X. The lower pieces are longer than the top, ensuring that a
sub’s ass is blow the center when bound to it. This ensures easy access to her
pussy and ass.”
Master Clay circled the cross, moving between shadow and
light. His eyes never left me. He reminded me of a panther stalking prey in the
jungle and I was the prey—prey so foolish and eager to feel the panther’s touch
that I’d go willingly into the trap.
“This one is more elegant than most.” He stopped by one side
and tapped his foot on something on the floor I couldn’t see. The cross rotated
back, the lower pieces lifting until it lay flat like a bed. Another tap of
Master Clay’s foot and it rotated back to vertical.
“There are a few more little tricks, but I find that this
offers me complete control over a sub’s body and the flexibility to improvise
within a scene.”
Master Clay started pulling open the Velcro straps. Each
rip
made me flinch. When he was done he faced me.
“Well, Leona? Are you ready to really submit?” He gestured
to the cross.
Before I could give in to the fear I walked into the light.
“Yes, Master.”
His lips quirked. “Turn, back to the cross. Stand on these
steps.”
I backed up until my skin hit cold leather. I reached up and
held the upper pieces as I stepped up onto the small platforms on the bottom of
each leg of the cross. The posture spread my legs lewdly. My pussy throbbed.
“Lovely.” Master Clay dropped to one knee and strapped my
legs down at ankle, below the knee, above the knee and thigh. Next he added a
strap across my waist, over the posture belt. The second layer across my
midsection made me feel as if I couldn’t take a deep breath. I found myself
breathing quickly and only from the top of my chest. Somehow that seemed to
make me more aroused.
“Raise your arms, lay them along the upper pieces.”
I did as he ordered. Instead of Velcro straps he attached
short chains to the D-rings in the cuffs, meaning my arms were far less
fettered than my legs.
Master Clay took a step back, examining his handiwork.
“There’s something missing.”
He took the collar from his pocket. It wasn’t until that
moment that I’d realized all we’d done was talk about the collar.
“As I was saying, a permanent collar isn’t a physical thing,
though it can be. To be collared is to give up all control.”
I opened my mouth to ask something, but remembered my orders
and pressed my lips together.
“Very good, Leona, but I’m curious to hear what you were
about to say.” He slid the collar around my neck, buckling it in place. “You
may speak freely until I say otherwise.”
The weight against my neck was unfamiliar and almost
frightening. “Thank you, Master Clay. The collar is when a sub becomes a
slave?”
He tipped his head to the side, seeming to consider my
question. Rather than answer, he went to the cupboard. When he came back his
hands were empty, but his left pocket budged slightly.
“Slavery as opposed to submission can mean many things. A
collared submissive is not necessarily a slave. While a submissive gives
herself to a Dom when she is collared she may have hard limits that her Dom
would not cross. I had a lovely sub named July who wore my collar for a few
years.
“July enjoyed public spectacle and being shared pushed her
deep into sub space, though she did not necessarily enjoy it. Once she was
collared I shared her regularly. I knew it was not a hard limit for her, though
it was not something I would have done if we were merely playing. Do you
understand?”
“But…did she like it?”
“Like?” Master Clay raised one eyebrow. “I liked it, and she
was serving me.”
The reprimand was clear in his words. I dropped my gaze,
embarrassment heating my cheeks.
“A slave is often a woman who enjoys degradation play. I do
not. So often slave girls are a dirty mess. I don’t enjoy that aesthetic.”
I was still pondering what he’d said when Master Clay took a
small white object from his pocket.
“Do you know what this is, Leona?”
I looked at it—the size and shape of a large egg with a wire
coming out of one end.
“No, Master.”
“This is an egg.”
“A chicken egg?” The question popped out of my mouth before
I had time to censor it.
Master Clay laughed—a short, barking sound. “No. It’s called
an egg due to its shape. This one vibrates.” He held up a little box connected
to the egg by a wire. When he flicked it on I heard the hum of vibration.
“The egg goes in your vagina. The vibration will be enough
stimulation to keep and heighten your arousal, but not allow you to come.”
My whole world had shrunk until it was nothing but his
words, his mastery.
“I will spend some time inspecting your body. I may choose
to use you or I may choose to test some of your pain limits. The egg ensures
that you will not pull away. Arousal is a drug, perhaps the most dangerous one.
It inhibits the self-protective instincts, decreases inhibition and makes a sub
easier to control.”
I wanted to push back on his words, wanted to say that he
was wrong, that I was more than that, that I wasn’t so easy to control. But I
was afraid he was right. Even now I was aware that if my body hadn’t been
pulsing with need I would have been disgusted by his casual arrogance and
dismissal of me and my self-possession.
That part of me was gone. No, not gone. Lying dormant until
I’d satisfied my submissive.
Master Clay rubbed the blunt tip of the egg over my lower
belly, then slid it down my pussy lips. I strained to lift my hips, to fuck
myself on the toy, but the restraints didn’t allow me to move.
I moaned as he pressed the egg up into my body. The fullness
felt good—it was a tease of what I really wanted, which was to be fucked. I’d
never craved a man’s cock pounding into me. I craved kissing and fingers and
lips on my clit. Usually after foreplay I lost interest, but right now I knew
that if Master Clay fucked me I would feel something I never had before.
“What a lovely reaction.” Master Clay flicked the vibration
on and deep inside me the egg started to rumble. “Lovely, just lovely.”
I couldn’t respond. I was too focused on trying to take what
I was feeling and turn it into the orgasm I so desperately craved.
My eyes were closed, my entire focus on my pussy, so I only
vaguely heard Master Clay walking away. I opened my eyes when he flicked my
nipple.
“You have lovely breasts. Nice and firm. In future any
lingerie I allow you to wear will need to display these lovely nipples.”
“Thank you, Master.”
“Your instincts are good, Leona.” He pinched the base of my
right breast, then leaned down and took my nipple in his mouth.
I screamed in pleasure—the feeling was more intense than
orgasms other men had given me. For a moment I thought I’d come just from that,
but there was no relief, only more need, more want.
Master Clay switched to the other breast, sucking my nipple,
biting it gently, then flicking it with his tongue. When he pulled back, the
tips of my breasts were damp.
He fisted a hand in my hair, holding my head steady. His
free hand dipped into my pussy. Lifting his hand, he pressed his index and
middle fingers, both wet with my body’s juices, against my lips. I opened,
accepting his fingers into my mouth.
He pressed them deep, deeper than I’d expected, and I
started to gag.
“Swallow,” he barked. “I don’t allow gagging, and when you
take my cock in your mouth I will expect to be able to fuck you as deeply as I
want.”
I fought the urge to gag, my eyes watering. His fingers
thrust in and out of my mouth. It was uncomfortable, and his hand on my hair
meant I couldn’t escape, yet I found myself no less aroused than I had been a
moment ago.
When he released me I sucked in a breath, the belt at my
waist squeezing me as I did so, reminding me that I was owned, controlled.
Master Clay released my hair and went to the controls for
the cross. A motor whirled to life and I could feel the faint vibrations of the
machine, a pale echo of the vibration of the egg, as I was tipped back. There
was nothing supporting my shoulders and head and I strained to keep myself up.
“Would you like some support for your back?”
“Yes, Master Clay.”
“There’s a price for that.”
“A price?”
“Yes. I will allow you to choose the payment. Your options
are no orgasm tonight or wearing an anal plug for one hour tomorrow.”
“No orgasm?” I gasped.
“Is that your choice?”
“No!”
I let my head drop so I was staring upside down at the far
wall. My shoulders and back were already starting to cramp. I realized this was
a trap. He’d given me a choice, but it wasn’t really a choice at all.
“That offer has expired.”
“What?” I lifted my head. Master Clay stood in the shadows
and I couldn’t see his expression.
“Your options, if you’d like back support, are now no orgasm
tonight or an anal plug
and
nipple clamps tomorrow.”
“Anal plug and nipple clamps.” I rushed out the words, not
wanting to have the price rise a second time.
“Good.”
Master Clay came around to my head, reached under the cross
and released something. In the next moment there was a padded bar beneath my
shoulders. My head was still unsupported, the weight of the collar increasing
my discomfort.
“I intend to use your mouth, so I will not offer you head
support.” He flicked my nipples casually, then circled to stand between my
spread legs.
I lifted my head to watch as Master Clay knelt, now at eye
level with my pussy. He examined me in detail, stroking my pussy lips, then
spreading them open to examine my core. He pushed at the hood of my clit, then
pinched the base, tugging my clit away from my body. Next he hooked his index
fingers in me and spread me open, seeming to peer into me. It was strange,
almost clinical, and that slightly forbidden feeling made it all the better.
There was a snap and I looked up to see him putting on
gloves.
“I’m going to finger your ass. Have you ever taken fingers
up your ass?”
“No, Master Clay.”
“Then what a privilege I have being the first to use you. I
will go slower than is my wont, due to your inexperience, but I enjoy anal play,
so it will be in your best interest to work to prepare yourself to be used
anally on a regular basis.”
“Y-yes, M-master.” I couldn’t stop the tremble in my voice.
There was a
click
and then he laid an open tube of
lube on my belly. I saw his fingers, encased in white gloves, glistening in the
light.
He pressed open the globes of my ass. Two slippery fingers
slid along the crease of my ass before he pressed one finger against my anus,
holding it there. I was clenched tight, waiting for the pain.
“I want you to relax, Leona. Relax and push against my
finger with the muscles of your anus.”
I tried to obey but I couldn’t. I was frozen with dread.
“Leona, relax.”
“I can’t, I’m scared.”
“Focus on the egg in your pussy. Can you feel it inside
you?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Clench your pussy around it. Does it feel bigger when you
do?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Now as you exhale I want you to relax your pussy.”
I blew out a breath, unclenching my muscles as I did so.
Master Clay’s finger pressed into my ass. I yelped, tensing
once more. As I did so I was intensely aware of his finger buried inside me.
When my anus clenched him, a little bolt of pleasure shot to my pussy.
“Oh!” I exclaimed.
“What do you feel?”
“It almost felt good, when I…when I realized that you…”
“You enjoy either the physical stimulation of my finger in
your ass or what it represents—my understanding and domination of your body.”
A strange calm settled over me. That was exactly what I
felt. Master Clay knew me, knew my body. I gave myself over, letting my head
hang down. “Yes, Master.”
“Good.”
He withdrew his finger and pressed it in again, this time
going deeper, opening me farther. When he added a second finger I cried out in
pain. My body didn’t want to stretch that much. Master Clay spanked my pussy.
“Obey me, Leona.” His tone was hard, offering me nowhere to
escape.
There were tears in my eyes as I forced myself to relax. I
knew doing so would mean he’d push his big fingers in deep, opening me farther,
making me hurt, but I did it. I obeyed. I couldn’t stop myself from crying as
he entered me to the knuckle.
Even as it hurt I was aware of the way my pussy was
throbbing. Master Clay bent his head and blew on my clit. My whole body shook
as a wave of pleasure washed over me.