Switch Master: 6 (Ink and Kink) (13 page)

“I believe you would.”

“We’ve made progress. We’re going to be fine, Samantha.
You’re family now. Nothing’s going to change that.”

Minutes went by, Sam wasn’t sure how many, yet he continued
to fuck her ass and tease her clit. While making her aware that with each
two-fingered thrust, Taran’s cock began to thicken.

Rather than rush the inevitable, she let him take his time,
enjoying the moment until his erection was rock-hard.

“Now it’s time, doll.”

She agreed with a sigh and a nod. He withdrew his hand,
carefully grasping her hips to guide her up and onto her knees. Taran settled
in at her back, his cock nudging her slit.

Sam shifted, lowering her forehead to the super-soft pillow
closest to her, submitting. Without preamble, he entered her pussy on a swift,
deep thrust, filling her, completing her.

Thrilled to be taken from behind, Sam groaned, taking him
deep and hard and exactly how she wanted it. Taran rocked into her, keeping her
close with his strong, strong hands at her hips, being certain she felt the
depth and thickness of his shaft.

He freed her hips, drawing back to catch hold of her hair.
“I’m gonna ride you hard now, take it. Take it real good.”

As if her hair had become his trigger for rougher sex, he
tugged on the locks hard enough to raise her head up, fucking her harder,
faster. She was right there with him.

“Harder, Master, I can take it.”

He growled that tiger-like sound in his throat that sent
delicate shivers of awareness dancing across her skin. Freeing one lock of
hair, he slid his hand down her side and between her thighs, finding her pussy
and pinching her erect, pulsing clit.

“Ohmigod, need to come, Master Taran. May I?”

Taran lay down over her back, brushing a kiss to the back of
her neck and setting off a delightful tummy tingle within her.

“Scream my name. I want all of Southie to know who’s fucking
you!” With that, he bit her and Sam came with a ferocity that ripped through
her with such force she really did scream his name, bracing herself for another
orgasm.

She shouted again, louder, excited by the clatter of the
metal bedframe against the wall and the scrape of heavy furniture legs digging
into a wooden floor. She didn’t know if all of South Boston could hear them,
but imagined his neighbors sure did.

As if someone had spurred him, Taran slammed into her,
shouting her name as he trembled, cum splashing within her pussy as they
collapsed to the mattress.

Settling on top of her, he pressed sizzling kisses to the
back of her neck and shoulders, his cock still pulsing within her, her vaginal
walls fluttering around his length. He hummed in satisfaction, neither moving.

“I’m never going back to condoms, doll. You’re the only one
I trust to go without one.”

“I hope you don’t feel cornered. Safe sex is always a good
thing to practice, even with me.”

He nipped her shoulder hard enough to leave another mark.
“Samantha! If you doubt for a moment that I’m not in this for all the right
reasons, then I’ve fucked something up.”

“Oh no, Taran, I’d say you fucked me just right. I’m still
getting used to the fact that you’re my lover. Forgive me?”

“Always when you ask so nicely,” he said, apologizing for
his bite with a sweet kiss.

He suddenly withdrew, causing her to sigh. “No, don’t pull
out yet, Master.”

“Have to. Will you come with me to the attic?”

“Okay,” she agreed, sitting up and watching the way he
rocked back on his haunches.

“Do you trust me, Samantha?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Are you willing to prove it?”

“How do I do that?”

Taran bent over and searched through the bedside table
drawer, withdrawing a soft blindfold. “Will you wear this for me?”

Panic welled within her gut. “I…can’t, Taran. I’m afraid of
the dark.”

“I’ll be with you the whole time.” He didn’t push her to
accept the blindfold. “Here, touch it, feel how soft and nonthreatening it is.”

He gave it to her. Tentatively, she stroked the fabric. It
was long, black and made of silk. It wasn’t scary at all, at least not when he
was still touching it.

“Why should I wear this? Is this a test or something?”

“Yes. I can’t be a good Master to you if you don’t trust
me.”

“I do trust you. But the dark is not my friend. I need a
nightlight to fall asleep when I’m alone.”

“You won’t need to sleep alone anymore. Try not to worry.
I’ll make sure there’s a light on at night. Trust your senses, trust me, to
take you upstairs and guide you into your first scene.”

Trust wasn’t easy for Sam. Yet this was Taran. He wouldn’t
ask something of her that would cause her harm.

“All right,” she agreed. “Please don’t leave me alone.”

“I will not,” he promised.

It took only a second for Taran to take the blindfold from
her hands and tie it into place, blackening the world around her. Because she
felt him near, she didn’t freak out about the darkness.

Soon, she became more aware of the softness of the covers,
the closeness of their bodies and the sweat they’d worked up after their
doggie-style romp. It was dark behind the blindfold, but she could feel the
warmth of the lights in the room on her face.

The entire time Taran held her hand, refusing to let go.
Sweetly, he raised it. Masculine lips touched her knuckles.

“Come on,” he invited, guiding her to the edge of the bed.
“Put your feet on the floor. That’s it, steady now.”

Sam didn’t know what was going on. She remained there with
her feet touching the floor and Taran close by, her hand in his. She heard the
drawer open and close.

“Spread your legs,” he requested, and she did so, sighing
softly when something cool and damp touched her mons, cleaning away the traces
of cum along her labia and inner thighs.

“That feels nice,” she admitted, spreading her legs wider.
His touch was kind, nurturing and attentive, something she found endearing
about him.

“Everything okay, doll?” he asked. “If the blindfold’s too
much, I’ll remove it.”

“I’m okay, Master Taran. You’re here.”

“Yes I am.” Helping her to her feet, he guided her away from
the safety of the bed.

He shifted around to walk behind her. Giving her quiet
instructions to walk forward, step up, wait, step up again, all while keeping
both arms around her waist.

Up they climbed. The lure of their first scene drew on her
curiosity, a pang of longing as if they hadn’t just fucked sang through her
pussy, making her wet, her knees trembling.

What would happen in the attic, she couldn’t say.

She couldn’t wait to find out.

Taran hoped he hadn’t pushed Samantha too fast about the
blindfold. As her Master, the moment she resisted he’d needed to ease her fears
and find out how receptive she’d be to rely on him during more intense D/s
scenes.

In all his experience with her, finding out she was afraid
of the dark had taken him by surprise, and was something he’d consider whenever
they were negotiating a scene. He’d like to know what scared her about the
dark, but he was intensely proud of the way she’d bravely taken the first step
into a world that would scare her at times.

When she was more comfortable with him, he wanted to take
her to monthly meetings held at Druid Creek Castle known as munches. Munches
were basically a gathering of likeminded individuals or couples seeking to
learn more about BDSM in a safe, low-pressure environment.

Taking her up the spiral stairway to his dungeon, he
realized he could no longer see it as his. Same as they’d share a bed, the
dungeon was theirs. Depending on the scene, their bedroom would become their
playground.

“Everything okay, doll?” he asked, touching base with her.

“Fine, thank you,” she answered, walking more confidently
now that they were at the top of the staircase.

“We’re here.”

“Do I need the blindfold?”

“A moment longer,” he said. “Do you know where I’ve brought
you?”

“Your dungeon,” she answered bravely, lifting her chin some.

“It’s ours now.” He used one hand to open the door, nudging
her inside with his other. “Until you are trained, you’re not to come in here
without me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” she answered softly though confidently.

The lights inside the dungeon were motion-activated and came
on as they entered. Keeping his hand at her back to guide her, he pressed an
elbow against a digital light switch to dim the glare but made sure she’d see
clearly when he took her blindfold off.

If she preferred it, he could light the many candles he’d
strewn about the dungeon to create a calm atmosphere. Some Doms wanted their
dungeons to be a dark, scary place. Taran wasn’t one of them.

“Nothing can hurt you in here because I won’t let it, but
you could be injured if you decided to experiment alone,” he assured.

“I wouldn’t know how to,” she admitted, this time shyly.

“Once you start training, you’ll want to test my boundaries
and yours. Don’t do anything alone. You do, there will be no sex, no orgasms,
no flying, nothing, for weeks.”

“You wouldn’t,” she objected, frowning, perhaps at the idea
of no sex.

“I would to teach you a lesson,” he stated, meaning it.

Taran shifted behind Samantha, hugging her up against him.
He loved her nakedness. He loved the smell and softness of her skin and the
ripe fullness of her breasts, long svelte legs and the unexpectedly lush swell
of her womanly hips.

He smoothed his hands down her body. Her abdomen was taut
with well-honed muscle, a tribute to the hard work she put in to keeping in
shape.

She was the ultimate female, a woman made for him. He was
not necessarily the gentlest of Masters. But he sure intended to love her exactly
as she’d need.

“Taran, may I ask you about flying?”

“You can ask anything you wish. Flying is a natural high
submissives often experience due to an intense endorphin rush, only more
enhanced.”

Samantha stayed quiet for a minute, seeming to be thinking
about what he’d said.

“Do you get to fly, Master?” she asked, her concern for him
touching him deeply.

“Yes, in a way. I go into Dom-space, a state of mind where I
communicate on an unexplainable level with you, my sub. The come-down for a sub
can happen gradually or all at once and can be scary. I won’t let you go or
leave you to handle it alone.”

“Thank you for answering my questions. May I see the dungeon
now?”

Glad she asked so nicely, he reached up and untied the
blindfold, letting it fall away from her eyes.

“Keep your eyes closed for a moment.”

“As you wish,” she said.

He stepped around to the front of her. “Open your eyes.
Don’t look anywhere but at me.”

Slowly, she opened her eyelids, her gaze zeroing in on his
face. She had pretty eyes that reminded him of emeralds. “Before you take
another step into our world, Samantha, understand something.”

“I’m listening.” She was. Better yet, she’d obeyed his
instruction to keep her eyes on him.

“As your Master, I will push you beyond what you think you
can take. Always remember I’ll never be cruel or make you feel anything less
than beautiful and wanted.”

“I’m not afraid you’ll hurt me, Taran. If I understand
correctly, everything we do during a scene is negotiable and I can use my safe
word.”

“Yes. That doesn’t mean you won’t face something that scares
you, as the blindfold scared you.”

“It was the dark that scared me, not the blindfold.”

“What eased your fears?”

“You promised not to leave me.”

“Exactly,” he said. “Now you must trust me to protect you
whenever we are here.”

“I do.” She inclined her chin slightly.

“You need to prove it.”

“How, Master? I very much want to please you.”

“Take my hand, follow me,” he said, offering his hand and
she accepted.

“When can I look around?”

“After you fall,” he answered honestly.

“What do you mean?” she demanded nervously.

“Eyes on me, Samantha, come on. Be brave, follow me.”

He looked back at her, glad to see her take a step. It was
difficult for her not to look around, yet she didn’t break eye contact. She
looked a little dazed, her eyes widened by curiosity. Her sub streak had risen.
That was good, very good.

Taking her to the raised platform he’d built as the
centerpiece of the dungeon, he guided her up the steps. Depending upon the
need, the metal archway overhead and a few conveniently placed poles could be
modified into a type of restraining device.

In storage drawers beneath the stage, he had spreader bars,
ropes and poles that could be fastened together to become a bondage cross.
Whips, cuffs, rings, hand holds, paddles, crops, floggers, chains and feathered
ticklers hung from hooks along the wall at the back of the stage.

Beside the platform was a bondage chair, which could also be
secured to the stage. His intention when he built the stage was to make
Samantha centermost in the room, to raise her up instead of pushing her down at
his feet.

Making sure he stayed close, he moved her to stand in the
center of the dais before giving her his next instruction.

“You may look at the wall now, nowhere else but the wall,”
he said. Samantha obeyed as he’d wanted her to. He didn’t expect her to flip
out.

“Beach!” she shouted, darting to the right and taking a
flying leap off the stage, heading for the door.

“Samantha, stop.” He pursued because he had to. She was
already at the door, pulling on the knob to no avail. “The door’s not locked,
love.”

“I can’t. I can’t do this with you. I’m sorry, Taran, I’m
sorry.” She kept pulling, apologizing and scaring him. She was genuinely
panicked and he had no idea why.

“Samantha, you don’t have to do anything,” he coaxed, moving
up behind her to take her into his arms. “Calm down. It’s okay.”

“No! No, I won’t be chained to a wall again. I will not.”

He reached around her to turn the doorknob, opening the
door. “I wasn’t going to chain you, baby doll. If you need to go, I won’t stop
you.”

Even though the door was open and she continued to struggle
against his hold, she stayed, as if she didn’t realize she could leave at any
moment. Taran waited her out until she calmed.

“Please don’t turn me into a slave. I can’t do it again. Not
with you,” she cried, suddenly turning around and wrapping her arms around him,
holding on for dear life as she wept on his shoulder. “Please don’t, Master
Taran, please.”

“Swear on my mom and dad’s graves, you will not be my
slave.”

“Then what were you going to do?” She relaxed a little more,
laying her head against his shoulder.

“I was going to teach you how to trust fall, Samantha.”

“I don’t understand,” she uttered.

“Come back to the stage and I’ll show you, please?”

“You won’t chain me?”

“No, I won’t. Whenever you’re ready, you can look around and
decide what stays and what goes in our dungeon. You should never be afraid in
here. If necessary, I’ll toss everything and start from scratch, chains
included.”

“Actually, I’m not afraid of dungeons. I’ve seen them at
Alex and Ryan’s castle.”

“Have you? Do you know about the monthly munches?”

“Yes, Alex mentioned them to me. He also showed me a thing
or two during a behind-the-scenes tour of the castle.”

“But you didn’t become a member of the club without me,”
Taran said, remembering what she’d told him earlier that night.

“I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the only man I can trust submitting to.”

“Then come with me to the stage. Let me prove I will catch
you.”

Samantha thought about it. She was aware that he’d opened
the door. If she turned and ran, he’d have to let her go.

“If I say my safe word, can we go back to bed?” She stepped
back, wisely keeping her focus on him.

“Absolutely, I’ll make love to you for hours if you’ll let
me.”

“Can I finally brush my teeth when we go downstairs?”

“Yes,” he said, smiling.

“Okay, we’ll try the trust fall. Fair warning, you rattle
one chain, I’m gone.”

“You have my word, Samantha,” he said, offering his hand.

“A Maddox never breaks his word,” she said, placing her hand
in his. Grateful, he brought her hand to his mouth, kissing her knuckles.

“Thank you for your trust. I will not break it.”

Leading her away from the door, he helped her up onto the
platform, turning her toward the wall. He let go of her hand, remaining close
if she needed him.

“Watch, I’m going to remove the chains from the hooks.”

“Thank you, I appreciate your efforts,” she replied, her
relief palatable.

Carefully, he took the chains off the wall, setting them far
out of reach. “When we’re done here, I’ll melt the damn things if you need me
too.”

“If you put them where I can’t see them that should be
enough for now,” she said.

“That’s good, doll, real good. Now stay here and focus on
the wall.”

She nodded. She could see the other bondage devices he’d
had. The cuffs, the ropes and the holds he’d fashioned into the wall didn’t
scare her. The metal arch that was more than capable of suspending her didn’t
frighten her.

Curiously, he noticed her attention stayed on the ropes. The
crimson Shibari ropes would be soft to her skin but strong enough to hold her.
Only the chains had frightened her enough to use her safe word.

And that pissed him off because it meant some sonofabitch
had chained her up as if she were an animal. It wasn’t that much of a stretch
to assume she was kept that way in the dark.

“Master Taran?” she asked, breaking into his thoughts
exactly when they’d gone too dark.

“Yes, baby doll?”

“What happens next?”

Taran climbed off the stage, moving around to the front of
it. Raising his arm, he kept his fingers spread wide.

“Next, simply back up until you feel my hand, go no
farther.”

It took her a minute or two to decide and slowly shuffle her
way to the edge of the platform until her ass connected with his palm.

“That’s it. Cross your arms across your chest. I’m going to
withdraw my hand. When I say so, close your eyes and fall backward.”

“You’ll catch me?”

“Swear it, Samantha. Phalen taught this to Ethan and I after
our parents died. We learned no matter our petty arguments over girls or who
used up all the hot water in the shower, we could count on each other to get us
through the worst of times.”

“Phalen is a wise man. I adore him, you know?”

“Me too, without his help I might not have become a lawyer
or learned how to get along with Ethan,” he admitted.

Samantha stayed very still. “For the record, if this goes
badly, I’m grabbing that riding crop hanging on the wall there and having my
way with your pretty ass.”

Taran smiled. There she was. Samantha, badass derby babe and
red-hot switch, had emerged.

“If I don’t catch you, Samantha, I’ll drop to my hands and
knees and let you use that crop.”

“I trust you, Master Taran,” she said, crossing her arms as
he’d told her a minute ago.

“Thank you, Samantha. I’m going to back up now,” he warned,
doing so only after she inclined her head. Bracing his legs and stretching his
arms out, he gave her the count.

On three, she let herself fall backward. He caught her
without missing a beat, scooping her up and holding her close.

“You did it, doll. I’m proud of you,” he praised, kissing
her face.

Samantha laughed, outright laughed and then rested her head
against his chest.

“Swear, Taran, for a second it felt as if I was flying. It
was wonderful and here I am in your arms where nothing can ever hurt me.”

“Here you are,” he murmured. “If it’s all right with you,
I’m going to take you up on that platform and fuck you.”

“If you don’t, I might get that crop.”

“You can’t switch until you’re trained how to, Samantha.
Training requires you to submit. Are you willing to do that completely?”

“I am,” she said with absolute confidence.

Carrying her up the steps, he carefully set her down on the
broad surface of the stage. “I’m going to need some loving from my baby doll
first.”

“What do you require, Master Taran?”

“Will you kneel like this for me?” he asked, first kneeling
to show her how she should present herself.