Manhattan Master (4 page)

I should be mad. Instead I
surrender to exploring your taste and texture while you do business
as usual.

How can you sound so casual
when I'm trying to make you moan? Once or twice, I hear the catch
in your voice as I rake my teeth over you. It satisfies me. You
know I'm there.

Finally you're done. With a
sigh you pull your hardness from my mouth. You look down at me, at
my mouth that's still held wide open, shining from the
oil.

You open the tiny lock. I
feel the slack in the harness, then you're removing the prongs from
the corners of my mouth. In a few motions you free my hands,
relieving the ache in my shoulders.

"Come on out," you say,
offering me your hand.

My knees tremble as you help me stand.
Once more I can see the city down below. I look longingly at your
cock, shiny and hard from my suckling.

I expect you to say no, but I can't
stop myself from looking in your eyes and wheedling,
"Please?"

You lean back in the chair,
your eyes raking over my bare, lightly sweating body. When you
frown, I look down too. I'm shocked at how swollen my nipples are,
at their angry red-purple hue.

In my distraction under
your desk, I've barely felt them. They throb like twin
coals.

"Don't worry, it will come
off," you soothe, pulling the small knife out of your pocket. "It's
just going to hurt for a minute, that's all."

When you cup my breasts in
your hands, the pressure pushes my nipples out. With slow
deliberation you lick them both, pulling at the tortured flesh
until I give a little shriek.

Even so, the pull and tug
of your fingers is driving me crazy with lust. I don't know how to
handle what you do to my body. The pain and pleasure tosses me
between them, like foam on the surf.

You work the little knife
under the twine. I grit my teeth, thinking that in a moment it'll
be over. Then you stop. The blade is wedged under the string,
tightening it unbearably, but you make no move to cut
it.

I look into your eyes,
pleading with you to be finished.

"I'm almost done," you
assure me. "Just one cut and it's gone. Does it hurt?"

"Yes," I say, trying not to whimper,
but tears are in my eyes.

Your fingers tap the knife
handle. The vibration travels up into the blade, jiggling my bound
nipple until I bite my lip to hold back a scream. Sliding your arm
around my waist, you pull me to you as your soft, full lips close
over my other nipple, bathing it with wet, smooth heat.

My hands clench your dark,
crisp hair. I cup your head as I sway in your grasp, your mouth and
hands pleasuring and torturing my tits. My clit swells against the
twine, and I realize that I'm about close, so close…

"Not yet," you mumble around my
breast. With a quick jerk, the blade slices the twine and frees my
nipple.

I groan as the blood
circulates into my sore flesh, the burning tingle making me whimper
again. Your lips find that ache, suckling the bruised flesh as I
struggle between the pain and the pleasure.

"One more to go," you murmur. The
blade slips under the noose on my other nipple, slicing with
another quick thrust. Again I feel the roaring ache of returning
blood.

Your mouth travels between my nipples,
worsening the sting but heightening the pleasure.

"Are you still close?" you ask between
the licks.

I nod, not trusting my
voice.

"I bet you want to ride me
so bad right now, don't you?"

Again I nod, a wash of heat
bathing me.

"So tell me. Tell me what you want me
to do to you."

"I want you to fuck me," I
say, low and breathless. I can't stand it anymore. My hand tries to
dip down between my thighs, to rub that ache. Your teeth on my
nipple stops me.

"Put your hand down, you
greedy little bitch." The tone sends a thrill through me. I've
never heard it quite like that, but I know it immediately. It's the
voice of my master, a voice that won't be denied.

My hand drops to my side.
Your gaze seers me until drop my eye to look at my feet.

"Look at me and tell me you
want to fuck me."

With effort, I meet your
eyes.

"I want to fuck you," I
say. "I want to ride your cock. Please."

"Why should I let you?" you
ask. I notice your hardness is like a rod of steel against your
belly. Despite the stern tone, I see the hint of a smile in your
eyes.

You don't stop me as I step
forward, straddling your thighs and easing myself down astride your
lap. The pressure reminds me of the toy still inside me.

I lean forward until I'm
pressing you hard into your chair. My lips brush your cheek, your
neck, your ear.

"Please let me ride you.
Pretty please?"

Your breathing quickens,
and your hands tighten on me. My clit is on fire as your fingers
find the vibrator. You give it one good push that almost makes me
leap off your lap.

I use my legs to turn your
chair, pushing us across the floor. I strain, expecting you to
help. Instead you grin and cross your arms behind your head,
letting me do the work of taking us both to where I think we should
go.

My legs struggle to push us
both, and sweat sheens my body. I hope I'm ruining your suit
forever.

Finally I have us where I
want to be: right in front of the plate-glass, floor-length window
that makes up the entire back wall of your office.

I'm panting for breath as I
glare at you. "You could have helped!"

"I was just seeing what
kind of a load you can pull. Who knows when I might need a
ponygirl?" you say with a dark little smile.

I decide I'd better shut up
while I'm ahead.

My body rubs against you,
my lips covering your cheeks and chin with quick little kisses,
trying to get around you with sweetness.

Underneath those kisses,
your stern demeanor softens. Your hands find my waist, pressing me
down against you, rubbing my belly against it, slow and
warm.

"Tell me why you moved the chair over
here," you say.

"Because I want everyone to
see us. If they look out their windows to see what the weather is
doing, I want them to see me fucking you."

It's the raw truth, but I
can't believe I'm admitting it.

You smile into my eyes
then, rubbing me. Every movement of your hands makes the toy slip
and slide as you maneuver me.

"That's a very good answer.
Anyone looking will see. You gonna do a good job?"

I nod feverishly. I don't
dare touch myself, but my hips won't stay still, quivering with the
need to mount you, to ride you.

"Raise up," you say.

I lift my body with my
thighs. Underneath I feel you grip the shaft of your cock, holding
it upright, brushing the wide, smooth tip back and forth against
me.

"When I say 'down' then you
come down. One hard motion. Got it?"

That's when I feel my
juices really let go, dripping down over you. Soft, wet pearls that
fall slowly, making you ready for me.

"Down," you say, yanking on my
hips.

The weight of my body
carries me down hard, your cock plowing up into my wet softness. I
reckoned without the dildo still in my ass, making me feel so full.
I stop to catch my breath, getting used to your hardness in me,
filling me so tight I can barely work you.

Your lips are against my ear as you
pull my body completely against yours.

"Mine," you growl. "All of you is mine
now. Mine alone. Do you understand that, Gabrielle?"

I shake my head yes, hardly able to
breath with the sensation of you having just filled me so brutally,
so fully.

"I understand," I say. My
voice is breathless, uneven.

You spread your knees, taking my
thighs with you, stretching me wide. I writhe on your cock, but you
press me down hard.

"Stop moving," you say. "I
want to just sit here and feel being inside you."

You lean back and close
your eyes, your hands still holding me down. That look of
satisfaction on your face. The excitement inside of me. It's all
too much.

My climax starts before I
think to ask permission. I can't stop. It's been too long, and my
body won't stop. I twist on you, impaled, grinding you into
me.

Your hands hold me down,
not letting me ride, only to grind and wish for more. The curve of
your hardness jerks inside of me, pressing into me. I grind, unable
to get enough of what you're doing to me.

I collapse against you, my
body churning with wet heat around your shaft. I bury my face
against your neck, drowning in your scent as I go again, my legs
wide and straining. You're deep in me, bruising me, and yet I can't
get enough of you. I want more, more...

The pleasure fades inside
of me, and my body relaxes. I'm sprawled across you, still trying
to hold you and the toy without letting either of you slip out.
Your hands soothe me in long, slow strokes.

I kiss your shoulder and
neck, leaning up to whisper in your ear, "Thank you, Master. Thank
you."

I feel your smile press against my
cheek. You ease me back so that I'm sitting astride you again,
disheveled and spent.

"You're welcome, Gabrielle.
Now what about me?"

I put my hands on the back
of your chair for leverage, raising my legs off the floor, wrapping
them around your waist. I ease them behind you, between the small
of your back and the chair.

When I'm done, I'm pressed like a
second skin to you, my ankles locked at the small of your back,
your cock pressed as deep into me as I can make it go.

I grind against your hardness, rubbing
up and down against your belly and chest, and now your hands don't
hold me still. You cup my ass and squeeze, helping me to ride
you.

"You seem pretty lively in
spite of that twine," you remark, one hand slipping down to caress
between my folds to rub my clit.

You're right. It tingles
and throbs, but there's no sign of the intense pain I felt in my
nipples. The twine keeps me tight and excited.

Reaching behind me, you
slip the dildo out of my ass. It feels strange to have the
vibrations gone, but I can feel you better without the distraction
of the humming.

You drop the dildo on the
floor and take my ass in your hands, squeezing roughly. I press my
lips over yours, my tongue darting into your mouth when you
moan.

At long last, your control
crumbles. With a grip like steel, your hands bite into my ass,
grinding me down on your cock. The smooth, curved hardness punishes
the softness inside of me in a way that makes me so close again, so
very close to cumming.

"Do it, my little slut.
Fuck me."

Your voice takes on that
tone again. The one that makes me weak, that makes me obey. It's
the voice of my master, the voice I find impossible not to
obey.

I speed up my riding,
bouncing on your lap and grinding hard, squeezing you with every
ounce of energy I can muster. You tense under me, driving me up
like a bronco, straining as you lift me high. An agonized groan
rises from deep inside you as I feel your heat mixing with my
own.

"Oh God…" is all I manage
to say, squeezing you to get every drop. Your thrashing under my
threatens to throw me off, but I cling, riding you.

Gradually you slow under
me. I try to get off of you, but your hands hold me like a vise.
You open your eyes and smile, pressing me down.

"Don't worry about it," you
say. "I keep a clean suit on the back of the door in case I ever
have to change for a meeting. Don't get up. I want to sit here and
feel you, being inside of you."

You wrap your arms around me, holding
me so tightly I can barely breathe.

"You were worth every
moment of the wait, Gabrielle. You're not going back to Atlanta.
We'll discuss that over dinner. Right now I just want know I have
you here in my arms. That you aren't going anywhere."

You close your eyes and
sigh as you pull me against you. I relax into you and close my
eyes, listening to the sounds of traffic below. Your breathing
slows, pulling me further into the spell you've woven around
me.

The afternoon is deepening
into evening. Down below the city is coming alive in the night.
Across the street our hotel room is empty, and the toys are waiting
in the dark. Your plans for me are a mystery yet to
unfold.

But all of that is for
later. For now we're the only two people in our private world high
above the city. In that strange and thrilling new world, everything
is right.

The End

If you liked this story,
please keep reading for an excerpt from MASTERFUL by Jesse Joren.
Now available online.

MASTERFUL