Going Deep (12 page)

“That’s good,”
he said.

 Oh, how she
wished he’d give her his cock instead, but she’d take any part of him she could
get. Her tongue swirled and licked.

“Do you like
that?” he asked, pulling his finger free.

“Yes, Sir. Thank
you.”

“Have you ever
tasted another woman?”

“No…no, Sir.”

“I think I’d
like to see you go down on a woman sometime. That would please me very much.”

Her arms, clasped
behind her back, trembled.

“Does that
disgust you?”

Did it? She’d
never thought it a possibility. But for him…. “I’m not sure, Sir. It…I…If it
would please you, Sir, I….”

He stroked her
cheek with the back of his hand, bringing her scent to her nostrils. “Maybe one
day, Carrie, but not for a while.”

Oh, how she
loved the sound of her name on his lips, and she was glad he’d used it now,
instead of his usual, “girl”—proof he saw her as a person, not an object.

“I won’t lie. I’d
love to see you with another woman, eating each other, maybe fucking, sucking
tits, but not now. You’re mine, and I’m not ready to share. I can see you aren’t
ready for that either, no matter your brave words.” He drew a finger across her
mouth, tweaking her plumped lower lip. “I said I would push your limits, and I
will. But we have all the time in the world. I won’t rush either of us.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“No need to
thank me. It’s purely selfish on my part right now. I want you all to myself.”
He helped her to her feet. “Hands out in front.”

He fastened
fur-lined leather cuffs around her wrists, hooking them together with a clasp. Goosebumps
rose on her arms.

“Relax,” he
said, lifting her arms up by the connecting chain. “Keep your hands high.”

An electric hum
filled the air then he fastened the cuffs to a bar. After wrapping her fingers
around the bar, he raised it a few inches so her feet touched the floor, but
her torso stretched taut.

“Spread your
legs,” he said, urging her feet farther when she stopped short of his
expectation. “There. I wish you could see how beautiful you are. And you’re all
mine.”

Something
plunked onto the floor in front of her. “I need you to remain perfectly still,
no matter what,” he instructed. “This is a delicate operation. A steady hand is
required.”

She smiled at
the playfulness in his voice. This was a side of her master she hadn’t
witnessed yet. “Yes, Sir. I’ll do my best.”

 When he lifted
one foot to his lips, she clutched at the bar for support.

 “Mine.” His
breath tickled then he sucked her big toe into his mouth, and she would have
fallen if not for the restraints. His tongue swirled around the digit, teasing
and taunting like she teased his cock the other day. He took his time, tasting,
licking, nipping at her toes, across the arch of her foot, to her heel,
stopping short at her ankle. She let her head fall back, giving herself over to
the sensual onslaught.

He finally
released her toe, but replaced the sensation with another. She focused on the
feeling.

“What?” she
questioned.

“Relax. I’m just
claiming what’s mine.” He resumed his strange work. It took a few minutes, but
she figured it out. He was using a marker to draw on her skin. He placed her
foot on the floor, and proceeded to do the same with the other. When he finished
there, he moved on to her ankles, the slope of her calves, her knees—claiming
her body an inch at a time.

* * *

He was on a
mission to claim what was his in a way she would never forget. On her thighs, he
drew arrows pointing to her pussy from every direction, labeling each one with
the single word, “Mine.”

A yellow daisy
sprang up around her navel, its green stem rooted in the neat curls of her
mons. So close to her pussy, he couldn’t resist a little playtime there, too.
He eased the barrel of a marker through her folds until it glistened with her
juices. Parting her with his fingers, he slid the marker inside, startling a
gasp from her.

“Remain still,”
he cautioned. “You’ve been so good…” He added two more markers to fill her. He
pumped the plastic tubes in and out, establishing a slow, steady rhythm. Soon her
body picked it up, and her hips began to move. He grinned. He’d punish her for
that in his own sweet time.

“I can’t…oh,
God, it feels so…good.” She cried out, moving with her body’s natural
inclinations. “Please,” she begged.

“Not yet.” He
slipped the markers out before he pushed her completely over the edge. She
bucked and writhed against her restraints.

Chapter Nine

A solid “thwack”
stung her ass.

“I said to be
still.” His voice came from behind her. When had he moved?

“That hurt,” she
said, angry with him for denying her what she needed then hitting her for
trying to find it.

“You’ll learn to
do as you’re told.” He landed another sharp hand on the other cheek. Before she
could protest, he cradled her hips in his palms, and his warm breath against
her spine documented his descent. His lips soothed where a moment ago his hand
branded her flesh.

“God, you are so
beautiful.” His big hands held her steady while his thumbs brushed over her
sore ass. “I wish you could see this. My handprints on your ass.” His lips
pressed where she imagined his palms must have made contact. “You really should
see this.”

He began to draw
on her ass, and she clenched her cheeks tight.

He swatted her,
playfully this time. “Relax. This is too good,” he said with childlike
exuberance. “You’re going to love this one.”

Like she had any
choice. She consciously relaxed her butt cheeks, trying to envision what he was
drawing. He made big loops across her skin, followed by a series of short,
choppy lines. A flower? She groaned. Lord, she hoped this would wash off.

When he finished
his masterpiece, he parted her cheeks and set to work there, too. Her skin
heated. He’d examined that part of her thoroughly before, but this was
different. She tried not to think about what he was doing, or what he was
seeing. Swirls, strokes, long ones, short ones, all punctuated by the
occasional chuckle while he amused himself with her ass, and she silently
begged him to go lower, to give her more of what she wanted.

A click signaled
he’d capped the marker. His voice came from farther away, maybe a few feet.

“Extraordinary,”
he enthused.

“How are you
doing?” He closed his hand over her ass again, giving it a little squeeze.

“My arms….”

“It’s been a
while. Let me take you down for a few minutes.”

She sighed when
he lowered the bar, allowing her arms a respite. He didn’t remove the cuffs,
but kneaded her sore muscles from just above the cuffs to her shoulders.

“Promise to stay
still, and I’ll leave your hands down until I finish with your back,” he said.

At that moment,
she couldn’t move if her life had depended on it, so she nodded. “Yes. I’ll be
still. I promise.”

“Good.” He moved
behind her again, shifting her hair over her shoulders, so he had full access
to her back. Marker lids popped, and he resumed drawing. Curves and lines and
dots. She couldn’t follow it, couldn’t discern a pattern. She sensed his total
concentration on his art and did her best to remain still, even when the
markers veered dangerously close to ticklish spots along her ribs.

“There, all
done,” he said, capping his markers. They clattered against others near her
feet. How many did he have? A scraping sound on the floor, one she’d heard
before—a cardboard box perhaps, sliding around in front of her.

The click of a
switch and her arms rose above her head again. “A few more minutes, then I’m
going to fuck you,” he promised.

Her clit
throbbed at his raw declaration. “Please, Sir.”

A laugh rumbled
from his chest, just inches from her face. She didn’t know this playful Master,
but decided she liked him.

“Don’t worry,
angel. I’m going to spend the rest of the night fucking you.”

He stepped away
from her and she shivered from the loss of his heat.

“Hmm,” he said. “What
should I do with those? It’s almost a shame to embellish them. Hell, your body’s
a work of art all by itself, but I’ve come this far, I might as well finish the
job.”

“Please, Sir.”

His laugh almost
masked the sound of lids popping. A cold felt-tip slid along her rib cage. He
drew and drew on her torso, leaving her breasts untouched. She was just
beginning to think he wasn’t going to embellish them, when he cradled one in
his hand and brushed his thumb across the nipple until it grew diamond hard.
Again, she tried to make out the pattern, but like the game she’d played when
she was a kid—spelling out words in the palm of a friend’s hand—she failed
miserably. He took his time with one breast before switching to the other,
giving it equal attention. She wanted to arch her back, thrust her breasts in
invitation, but she’d promised to remain still.

He lowered the
bar again, guiding her to her knees, keeping her arms stretched above her head.

“Open your
mouth.” Strong fingers clamped her jaw, insuring her compliance, before he
thrust his cock inside. “You can do me, while I do you.”

She closed her
lips around him. The salty tang of pre-cum thrilled her. It was nice to know
their play affected him, too. She used her tongue to taste and tantalize,
savoring every hiss and curse her actions elicited. He fisted her hair and
bucked his hips, controlling the rhythm.

God, he tasted
good, like warm sunshine and outdoors. She wondered if he spent a lot of time
outside to acquire the scent. His body was firm and well formed, leading her to
believe he worked out, or maybe he did some kind of manual labor—construction
perhaps. That would account for his physique. She clenched her fingers, wanting
to touch him all over.

* * *

He tried to
concentrate on the artwork he wanted to draw on her arms, but it was an impossible
task with his cock halfway down her throat. But damn, it felt good. He finally gave
up and focused on the pink angel lips wrapped around his cock. He held her
still, pumping his hips, torturing himself with pleasure. God, his balls ached.
His little brain argued for coming down her throat while the few remaining
cells in his big brain reminded him about his promise to this angel—to see to
her pleasure. Punishment aside, he’d vowed to never leave her unsatisfied.

He released her
hands from the bar, leaving her wrists shackled together. Her mouth felt like Heaven,
but there was a place he needed to be even more.

“Enough,” he
said, jerking her head back by her hair. Pulling her to her feet, he steered
her to the platform bed on one side of the room. “Face down, on your knees.”

He stared at her
perfect bottom displayed for him. The skin inside the outline of his handprint
was faintly pink where he’d spanked her earlier. He framed her hips with his
hands. “Beautiful. I love seeing my handprints on your ass.”

She groaned,
rocking back on her knees, trying to get closer to his touch. “Please, Sir.”

He caressed her
cheeks. Please what?”

“Fuck me,
please, Sir.”

He entered her
in one swift thrust that caused her to clutch at the edge of the mattress. He
withdrew and slammed back in. This is what he needed, to take her on his terms,
to claim what was his without reservation. He’d give her what she wanted, too,
but she’d vowed to serve him, and she was doing it well.

He traced the
curve of her spine with his index finger, slipping between her cheeks to find
the tight bud there. She tensed. He gently manipulated her backdoor while
stroking her back with his free hand, coaxing her to relax and accept him.

“So tight,” he
said, pressing his finger harder against her anus. “I was going to wait, but I
can’t.”

Carrie cried out
when he withdrew from her and left the bed. She pushed to her elbows, listening
to his movements. A zipper. Muffled curses. Then he was back, landing a solid
blow to her ass with his hand.

“Did I say you
could move?”

“No, Sir.” She
slid down until her cheek rested on the mattress again.

“Much better,”
he said, resuming his position between her splayed knees. Heat shot through her
when his fingers found her pussy, exploring, driving her need higher with each
erotic motion.

“You’re so wet,
I don’t think I’ll need the lube.” He coated her anus with her own juices, and she
groaned.

She couldn’t
believe how aroused she was, knowing how closely he examined that part of her.

His fingers returned
to her pussy, spreading her. “I think the best lube for the beads is your own,”
he said. Something cold and hard slipped inside her. “Relax, angel. It’s just
anal beads.” A lump formed in her throat, imagining the beads inching their way
into her vagina. She’d seen the plastic toys before but never used them. Her
butt cheeks clenched, knowing where the beads would go next.

She flinched
when his hand came down hard on her ass.

“Relax.”

He pulled the
beads from her pussy, and spread her wide with one hand. There was a slight
pressure against her anus then the first small bead breached her. Her insides
twisted and her pussy gushed. Fingers swiped along her slit, collecting her
juices and re-depositing them at the point of entry.

More pressure
then the second bead joined the first, followed by another, and another. With
each one, Master added lubrication collected from her pussy. She counted to
herself. Her greedy ass took each bead—six in all.

“Christ, that
looks hot. Are you okay?”