Karma (31 page)

Mike
assumed a commanding aspect. He sat up straighter, his expression proprietary
and almost predatory, yet there was mischief in his eyes… and burning hot lust.

He
wanted her.

Everything
about him drew her attention. Strong, overwhelmingly male and dominant, he was
strangely intimidating. Struggling to maintain her composure, Marcy shivered.

"Okay,
well this is the fantasy game we're going to play," he said, pulling her
up onto his lap. He cradled her back against his chest and kissed her temple.
"I am a rich and powerful King, and I have tons of slave women that I use
for sex."

March
giggled, and her tension relaxed. It was a just a game after all. "Is that
right?"

"You
betcha," he said in a husky low tone, "but you are my favorite sex
slave." The lazy pleasure in his voice was so arousing. For her, Mike was
the ultimate turn-on anyway. Would she ever get over how much she constantly
lusted for him?

Mike
smoothed her hair away from her nape, and wound the thick wavy locks of it in
his hands. With a firm grasp he pulled her hair, tilting her head to the side.
Nuzzling his nose against her, Mike breathed her in. With one hand in her hair
and one arm wrapped around her waist, he bound her to him as effectively as thick
rope.

Marcy's
pulse quickened, banging away in her chest, bringing heat to her face. As he began
to lick, bite and kiss the sensitive skin of her neck and throat, she gasped.
He nuzzled her and his breath trickled, teasing her in the hollow behind her ear.

Helpless
against this sensual assault, Marcy arched against him. Ears, neck, jaw and
throat were all major erogenous zones for her. Mike had figured that out. He
also knew that she loved having her hair touched or pulled.

Was
he the best lover of all, or what? So male. So sexy. So in tune with what she
wanted. With what her body needed.

When
Marcy began to moan in earnest, Mike let go of her hair. He put both warm palms
under her shirt, flat against her stomach. Fingers spread he slid them upward,
across her rib cage until he reached her bra. It was a front clasp, and he
quickly unfastened it. As her breasts spilled out he cupped and kneaded them
with both hands.

"Ummm."
The noise came from somewhere deep in her throat.

He
lightly pinched her nipples, making her squirm. Then he soothed the ache with
soft caresses. Meanwhile his mouth, and teeth and tongue continued to torment
her neck and behind her ear. Occasionally he tasted her collarbone, and nipped
her shoulders.

"Do
you like this, my gorgeous sex slave? Does it feel good?" His warm breath
teased over her in a dark seductive whisper. Her body flushed with goosebumps.

Marcy
moaned. "God, yes." The sound of him, the feel of him as he ravaged
her was divine. Her body hummed with arousal.

Mike
unzipped her jeans and put his hand down between her legs, cupping her sex. The
other hand continued to fondle her breasts and tug her nipples, as he sensually
tormented her nape.

His
ability to make her body respond didn’t surprise her anymore. Mike knew what she
liked even better than she did. The man had been paying attention. He teased
the sensitive flesh of her pussy, his fingers dancing and circling over her
clit.

One
long, thick finger slid inside her and she blew out a breath. Helpless to this
new pleasure, Marcy's tight channel sucked him in, pulsing with need. Within
minutes she was arching and shivering, trembling uncontrollably. God she was so
close to climax!

Mike
brought her to the edge and stopped. Brought her to the edge and stopped. An
orgasm was building, her internal walls pulsed in short almost painful
contractions that gave no relief. Tormenting her sensitive tissues, he
continued this cruel assault until she was unthinkingly writhing and begging
for release.

When
he pulled his hands away she made a sound of protest. He kissed her neck. "Want
to hear the rest of the rules?"

"No!"
she laughed. "I forgot that we were even playing. You make me so mindless
I can’t remember what day it is, much less my own name. Please, Mike, I need to
come!"

The
quick dark chuckle he gave her was followed by a wicked smirk. "All in
good time. But you have to remember, I am the King. You don’t get to come
unless I say you can. If you want to climax you have to beg me for the
privilege."

Marcy
made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a snort of protest. "Fine!
Please, Sire, I beg you. Will you let your slave come?"

"Ummm,"
he breathed in her ear. "I like the sound of you begging very much."
He brought his fingers to his lips and inhaled. They had been in her pussy and were
shiny with her slickness. "Nothing smells better than the scent of aroused,
needy slave," he said, and licked his fingers.

Jesus.
Marcy squirmed, and her pussy pulsed.

"First,
the rules." He grinned. "You need to remember them, even if you are
mindless."

"I
don't know," she snickered. "I forget everything when your hands are
on me."

"If
you don't remember, I'll punish you," he said sternly. "Then you
won't forget."

This
erotic threat made Marcy's body stiffen with nervous tension, and even more lust.
What the hell was that about? All she could think of was Jennifer Whittington
being disciplined by André with the riding crop. Did Mike have a riding crop?

Fuck.
She turned sideways on his lap to face him. Mike had all her attention now.

"Here are my rules. First, you call me, Master. Two,
you will speak only when spoken to. If you have a question you can ask for the
privilege of speaking to the King."

Mike accented the word 'king,' and raised and lowered his
eyebrows. It was amusing, yet there was something dangerous in the way he
spoke. He wasn't fooling around. For this game, she had to obey.

"Three," he continued. "When I give you an
order, you do exactly as I say – immediately. No hesitation. No pause. You must
completely submit to your Master. Four, you cannot look at the beneficence of
the King. Always look down as befits a slave girl – unless I tell you to do
otherwise. Any questions?"

Marcy's
mind was blank, filled with lust.

Her
brain cells were off somewhere with her hormones, probably engaged in a fertility
dance together.

Why
was this crazy scenario such a turn-on? Was it just the idea of being sexually
dominated? Of letting Mike own her like a possession, and use her as he wished?

Marcy
wanted to please him. She wanted watch his face as he came, to feel the hot
need he had for her as he desperately drove himself inside. To hear the noises
he made as he climaxed.

I
want to submit. How unexpected.

Mike
was watching her. He seemed to be able to read her damn mind. "As my slave
you are under my complete control. As your Master I own you, body and soul. Your
job is to please me. You are my property. You cannot do anything, not even
climax without my permission." He gave her an intent, sexy smile that was
a combination of love and lust, in equal parts.

"But
you have nothing to worry about," he said, his voice low. "I cherish
and care for what is mine. You are my most beautiful and desirable slave – my
prized possession. Now," he pushed her off his lap and on to the couch.

Mike
surged to his feet, throwing a couple pillows on the floor. His eyes met her
gaze. "I am going to go get some toys. When I return I expect my slave to
be naked, with her hands behind her back, kneeling on those pillows. I want her
shoulders back, her legs wide apart and her eyes facing down. Remember not to
look at me unless I ask. As for the rest, you don't have to do anything. Your
only responsibility is to obey me."

"What
about a safe word?"

"Sure,"
he gave her an easy grin. "That's a good idea. I'll stop any time you want,
but use 'red' if you like." With that he left.

Marcy
quickly stripped off her clothes, and knelt on the floor as he had instructed.
He was still rummaging around in their bedroom. Anticipation curled in her
belly and she began to breathe in short and shallow breaths. What was he doing in
there?

The
moisture against her thighs began to cool on her skin. He had brought her to
the edge of climax and left her there. Now she felt needy, excited and a little
frightened. Just what was he going to do?

Mike
strode back into the room at his usual confident male grace. Eyes lowered, Marcy
could only see his feet and part of his shins. He carried a pillow case full of
who knew what. He put the case down.

"I
see that my slave is naked, and positioned exactly as I like; on her knees with
her hands behind her back, her legs spread, and her eyes lowered." He
stroked her head, petting her much like he would his dog, Ziggy.

"What
a good slave you are."

His
praise, authoritative manner and dominance sent a thrill of arousal through
her. To Marcy this entire scene was really hot. Not only that, he had already
gotten her so worked up that she was having a hard time holding still.

"Put
your hands out in front of you," he ordered.

When
she did so, Mike reached into his bag and brought out padded cuffs. He fastened
them, one on each wrist. "Put your hands behind you," he ordered.
When she did he walked behind her and locked the cuffs together behind her
back. The entire time he kept at least one hand possessively upon her.

"Do
you know why I cuffed you, slave?"

"No,
Master."

"I
like my slave to always be cuffed or collared to remind her of her submission
to me."

To
Marcy's surprise, he began to braid her hair. "I like to have something to
hold on to when I fuck you, too. That is why I am braiding your hair. Would you
like me to pull your hair while I fuck you?"

Marcy
held back her moan as her core heated and pulsed. Could she be any more turned
on?

He
gave her braid a tug that was just this side of painful. "I asked you a
question, slave. You must always answer when I ask a question. And you must
always do as I command instantly."

"Sorry,
Master," she said in a shaky voice. It had to be the flash of adrenaline running
through her veins that made her whole body involuntarily shudder. "Uh,
yes, Master, I like you pulling my hair."

"Why
didn’t you answer before?"

"You
distract me, Master. I'm seriously horny right now!"

His
dark chuckle of pleasure made her body heat further. Jesus, why didn’t he just fuck
her already? This game was driving her crazy.

"You
are a very good slave girl," Mike said in a husky voice. He stroked her
head and Marcy trembled. "Shall I reward you? Do you wish to suck the
royal penis?"

This
unexpected humor was too much. Marcy, who had been on the knife edge of orgasm,
cracked up.

Mike
cupped her chin in his hand. "Look at me slave," he said in a deep, stern
voice. When she met his gaze he looked implacable, but there was a twinkle of
good humor in his eyes. "Are you laughing at the royal penis?"

"No,
Master," she said, shaking her head. She pressed her lips together to try
to stop smiling.

"Well,
I am going to have to punish you. I didn’t tell you to giggle, did I? You
cannot make a single sound without my permission."

With startling speed, Mike picked her up. Marcy gave a little
squeal of surprise. He sat down on the family room couch and flipped her over,
so she lay across his lap, head down.

"Mike," she said, startled out of the game. Her hands
were cuffed behind her back, and she felt out of control, vulnerable and
defenseless. It frightened her more than she realized.

"I am called Master, slave."

"Red," Marcy said.

As fast as he had tossed her across his lap, he sat her up on his knees,
one hand on her back. He cradled her on his lap.

Why had she stopped the game? The idea of a spanking didn't
totally turn her off. Everything Mike did aroused her. Yet there was just
something wrong about a man hitting a woman. And she felt helpless. Mike was
already much bigger and stronger. He already overwhelmed her.

"Speak to me, Marcy, my love. What are you worried
about?"

Marcy frowned. "I'm not sure that I want to be spanked."

"Why not?" Mike asked, "Have you ever been spanked
before?"

"Never."

A slow smile spread across Mike's face. "Good." He
stroked her back and used her braid to pull him toward her. Framing her face,
he kissed her. As usual his kiss eased every thought she had into sensual
oblivion. Her hands were still bound, but now she wasn't frightened, she was
eager.

The tension in her body that she hadn't even been aware of,
relaxed as she melted against him.

With her eyes shut, Marcy moaned.

"Do you trust me?" Mike asked.

"Yes," Marcy said without even thinking about it. She
trusted him completely, not because she loved him – but because she knew that
he loved her. There was nothing but the feeling of safety and protection from
that all-encompassing love.

"Do you imagine that I will hurt you?"

She shook her head. "No."

"I gave you a couple of slaps before, between the legs if you
recall. You didn’t mind them. They didn’t hurt at all. In fact, they gave you
great pleasure."

Marcy thought about that. André told her that pain broke down
barriers, and increased the pleasure of orgasm. What barriers did she need to
break down now? Because Marcy felt as if she had already given herself to Mike
completely. Yet if this was a test, she intended to pass it.

"Submission is the ultimate in trust," Mike said. "In
the Master/slave game you are completely under my sexual control. Your only job
is to ignore your own will and submit to me completely. Trust that I'll take
care of you." Mike stroked her back lightly, gently. "Trust that I'll
give you what you need, while I take what I need." He gave her braid a teasing
little tug.

Marcy could feel the bulge of his massive erection against her
hip, from within his jeans. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and his chest hair
brushed lightly against her torso. He was so beautiful. She had an overwhelming
urge to give him anything, everything.

"Are you ready to submit, slave?" he asked in a low
voice. His palm held her cuffed wrists, emphasizing his possession. His
ownership. It was a game, but it wasn't. Mike had bound her to his will.

"Yes, Master," she said softly. "I'm yours."

His eyes flared with a combination of triumph, joy and raw lust. Her
heart kicked. Mike had changed her whole life. She loved him to death. Why had
she held back? What could she possibly be afraid of? Marcy desperately wanted
to please him.

"Lay across my lap, slave," he ordered.

"Yes, Master."