Protege (16 page)

“That's it, peach. Relax.”

Her shoulders tightened with tension as he lengthened and pressed deeper into her mouth. She shifted to lift her head, but he increased the pressure on the back of her neck.

“Not yet. I want to see how you control your reflexes. I'm staying perfectly still, which allows you a great deal of control. However, anxiety will increase your likelihood of gagging.” He applied a touch more pressure. “Open your mouth wider, peach.”

Saliva built as her lips stretched and slid lower. She breathed hard as her eyes began to water.

“Is your pussy wet, Collette? Is this what you like? To be told to open your mouth for cock? Does it make you feel like a good girl to please a man by doing something so naughty?”

She moaned. He was right on all accounts.

“Come up, peach.”

Her head lifted and she licked her lips, her gaze lifting to him for direction. He grinned and brushed a finger along her jaw.

“That was beautiful. I want you to understand the dynamic of D/s, Collette. It is not the power that makes a Dom great, but his honor and integrity, his willingness to meet his sub's needs and draw out the needs she doesn't know she has. Same as it's not a sub's obedience that makes her valuable. It's her devotion and trust. You just displayed beautiful trust—a testament to your belief that I will not cause you physical harm. I think you're a natural submissive, peach.”

It was difficult to follow his point, now that she'd had his cock in her mouth. All she wanted was to finish him, snap a bit of his impeccable control, but also watch to see if—perhaps—he really was unbreakable. Still, his words, when they reached her, warmed her. She preened, liking that he saw her as a natural.

“Sit back for a moment, peach.”

She lowered herself to her heels as he spoke, his cock leaning heavily toward his right hip.

“Asserting control can stem from a narcissistic manifestation, but such a selfish motive would be wrong. Equally wrong would be the act of dominating another person solely for the hedonistic pleasure of it. Dominance and submission are multifaceted behaviors.

“Kneeling, for instance, as you are now, should be done
not
because I order it, but rather, because you honor me by doing so and trust that I hold the key to the desires begging to be unlocked inside you. Before we can share a physical exchange of power, there must be an emotional exchange. That doesn't come with brutality or humiliation, despite what you may have read.”

She'd read a lot of literature, mostly on the Internet. While the physical aspect was intriguing and definitely held sexual appeal, it was the domestic aspects and emotional elements that drew her in and made her sigh with longing.

“Fernweh is not interested in what the pornography industry calls BDSM, nor do we treat romance novels as nonfiction. We're interested in truth, human nature in its rawest form. No behavior or fantasy is judged, so long as it's consensual and no one's being placed in immediate danger, danger being defined by each individual's carefully outlined limits. While we all have some degree of kink inside us, our purpose is larger. We want to unveil the fulfilling truth of our sexuality in an environment that's accepting of diversity.”

And she desperately wanted to find a home among such acceptance. Though she didn't know how to qualify her sexuality or her kinkiness, she knew this was where she belonged. “Yes, Sir. I want to find my true nature.”

“Good. Then let me make this clear. You will only kneel when
you
feel compelled to do so. While I recognize it as a sign of trust and honor, I don't want it if the gesture isn't genuine. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir. And I'm happy to kneel for you now.”

“Then I accept your gift, so long as we agree that submission isn't ordered, but granted. In time you'll understand the difference between punishable disobedience and an inclination to reserve your gifts until I've proven myself worthy to receive them.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He nodded and situated his erection back in his pants, shifting to tighten the button and lift the zipper. As he buckled his belt she frowned.

He stood and held out a hand. Slowly placing her palm in his, she rose. “You did very well, peach. I think you're progressing nicely. You may do as you please for the next hour, but your body will remain unclothed so that I can admire your beauty as I choose.”

“Yes, Sir.” Her voice was small as she turned and left the room.

He'd done it again, abruptly concluded their intimacy sooner than expected. Was there a purpose for that? Perhaps to leave her wanting and aroused? She wanted to believe so, but deep down she sensed it had little to do with her internal struggles and everything to do with his. Why, if he was the Dom, would he allow himself to suffer when she—a willing sub—was at his disposal? It didn't make sense. There had to be a greater purpose she wasn't seeing.

Over the next hour, she made his bed and her own, marinated the meat for dinner, and chopped vegetables for lunch. There was something liberating about being naked. The château was so large and private with tall ceilings and bare floors that echoed with each step, she learned not to skulk around like a lost mouse, but embrace the openness, savor the liberating sense of oneness. By the end of the hour she was greatly enjoying the caress of air over her naked hips and breasts, as well as the cool press of tile against the soles of her feet.

As she busied herself with light household chores, her mind returned to Jude. He was so much kinder than she'd expected. There was an unarguable air of pride to him, but not enough to consider arrogant. She recognized in Jude an awareness of self, an evident belief that he was worthy of others' trust, and in turn his confidence provoked the trust of others.

She'd never known someone to leave such an impression in such a short time. Strange to trust someone she'd just met so fully—or perhaps that made her a fool.

She was coming to understand that, beyond the physical kink and past the power exchange, there was a deep emotional bond in a genuine D/s relationship. It was interesting to see Jude mimic this for her education, and a testament to how experienced he must be.

She wanted that bond with a Dom in real life, wanted the permanency of such a situation. Hopefully, if she fulfilled this training and met all the requirements, her application would prove fruitful and she'd no longer be alone.

He'd zeroed in on such hidden parts of her, parts she'd assumed no one else could ever understand. Jude got her unrequited need for more in past relationships, which gave her hope that others would get her too.

The way he comprehended the pain she experienced when trapped in a relationship with a gentle lover . . . it was like coming up for air after spending a lifetime beneath the surface of a frozen lake. To know that someone else understood that pain, knew what it was to have the emotional attachment, but not the physical or vice versa, was the greatest relief of her life, because said man also knew the solution. It was Fernweh.

As time went on, she found herself lingering outside the library, hesitantly lifting her hand to knock but fearing that the disruption might upset him.

It had only been about forty minutes, but she . . . missed him. Taking a deep breath, she quickly rapped on the door and winced.

“Come in.” Turning the knob, she waited for him to look at her before entering. Slowly his gaze lifted from a book he was reading. He glanced at his wristwatch, checking the time. “Do you need something, Collette?”

Her words escaped her, as did her courage. He waited, and it was her duty to answer. Softly, she whispered, “May I sit with you, Sir?”

His head tilted to the side as though her request surprised him. He waved a hand to the chair where her clothes remained. “Of course. Help yourself to a book if you'd like.”

She padded into the room and paused at the chair, staring at her clothing folded neatly on the seat. Glancing back to him, she considered his earlier words and lowered herself to the floor, her shoulder pressing against his thigh.

She sensed him staring at her but lacked the nerve to meet his gaze. Perhaps he'd find her behavior needy and demanding, like a cat trying to get fed.

She stared at the carpet, holding her breath, wondering what possessed her to kneel beside him in such a manner. The touch of his hand was feather light and almost reverent as his palm softly brushed over her curls. Her chest filled with warmth as he silently accepted her presence.

The book closed with a quiet clap of worn pages. “Come here, Collette.”

She turned and lifted her weight off her bottom, rising on her knees. He placed the book on the table and took her hand, lifting it slowly and directing her to his lap. He fit his arms around her as she settled her weight on his thigh, her legs falling between his.

He considered her for a long moment and she quietly trembled under his intent inspection. His hand slowly lifted and softly pinched the tip of her nipple. Her spine extended, her lungs filling with desire.

His gaze turned to hers as he pinched harder, causing her lips to part. Leaning forward, he gently licked the tip of her distended nipple, never taking his eyes from hers. The quiet moment seeped into her as his gaze held her in place and his touch awakened stifled longing begging to be set free. His teeth slowly closed over the sensitive nub as his head pulled back. She whimpered when the pain became notable, and he gentled his bite.

His lips closed over the tip as he sucked, his mouth opening and closing as the pressure intensified. Her fingers gently ran through his soft hair as he continued, harder, pulling, building the suction until her tips felt wet and more sensitive than ever.

As he switched to the other nipple, his hand cupped her other breast. Glancing down, she noted how dark he'd made her areola and how sharp and elongated he'd gotten her nipple. When his thumb brushed over it she gasped. A rush of blood under the surface stimulated the skin.

He sucked the other nipple just as hard and her sex pulsed so deeply she felt the throbbing arousal all the way to her shoulders. His hands slid to her ribs as his mouth pulled away from her breast with a plucking
snap
. He admired his work, using both hands to lift her breasts.

His gaze rose to hers and she wanted to beg him to fuck her. He had to feel the arousal seeping from her body. Their attention dwelled on each other for an extended second, an invisible thread tethering them tighter and tighter until finally something snapped.

He lifted her as he stood, driving his mouth to hers and forcing his tongue over hers as their bodies twisted and her back was suddenly against the chair. His hand squeezed her breast as his clothing chafed her bare skin. The clatter of his belt buckle was the only warning before he wrenched her thighs wide and jammed his cock deep.

She cried out, her head tipping back as he thrust greedily. Her sex stretched to accommodate his girth as her body folded into the chair, her knee suspended in the web of his thumb and index finger as he held her leg in the air. His other fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs, squeezing deliciously as he claimed everything he wanted of her.

She cried out as he took her relentlessly, his body probing with rapid jabs of his thick cock. He drove into her so fast her body slid lower in the chair, folding under him and bending to his whim. The closer her bottom came to the edge of the seat the more he bent over her, her knee now pressed into her shoulder.

When she couldn't bend any more, he pulled back and abruptly withdrew. His hand released her thigh and her foot lowered to the ground, her body slipping off the last inch of the seat. She squatted, feet on the floor, keeping her back to the cushion of the chair, and watched as he stripped off his shirt and toed off his shoes and socks.

Shucking his pants and briefs, he kicked them aside and stepped in front of her. “Open your mouth.”

Trigger identified. Her sex flooded with arousal as she parted her lips wide and he filled her mouth. His strong fingers caught her wrists and lifted them, pressing her hands into the seat and bringing her breasts up.

He again leaned over her as he forced his cock deep, gliding over her tongue as she sucked and moaned. “Such a good girl when it comes to doing naughty things, aren't you, peach?”

She moaned and he pressed deeper.

“Swallow. Let me feel your throat close over me.” Forcing her throat to contract, he groaned and dipped in and out. “You have an incredible mouth. Swallow again.”

She noted the moment his control quivered. His hands tightened on her wrists as he leaned farther over her, blocking out the light of the room. He fucked her mouth hard and she loved every second of it. There was no fear that he might think her a whore or tell his friends how slutty she behaved. There was only a sense of total freedom to give over and be who she truly was.

His cock pulsed and he immediately withdrew from her mouth. Her neck extended, wanting more. He released her arms. “Roll over.”

Tenderly, despite his urgent need, he assisted her onto her knees and guided her arms to the cushion of the chair. Kneeling behind her, he filled her in a solid thrust and her body rocked forward.

His stamina was commendable. He pounded into her so long her strength waned. Sweat clung to her body, making her arms and belly slick as his flesh pressed to hers. His fingers dug into her ass and when she shut her eyes and let him go, he slapped her behind hard.

Her head reared up on a gasp and he smacked her ass again. “Am I boring you, peach?”

“No, Sir. Just tiring me out.”

His cock thrust hard and remained buried inside her as he slowly rotated his hips. “You came in here, tempting and lovely. Did you expect me not to take what you offered? You should understand what your body is saying, peach.”

He withdrew and thrust deep, his balls smacking into her clit as his hips snapped forward. “I understand. I wasn't complaining, Sir.”