Switch Master: 6 (Ink and Kink) (36 page)

“I’m not flirting,” Alex assured. “I’m soothing.”

“You’ve been warned once. Test me and Mistress Samantha will
witness what happens.”

“Don’t hurt him! Alex was only trying to make me feel more
comfortable, Ryan,” she said in Alex’s defense, wanting to protect him as he’d
done for her.

“My warning stands. He’s mine. Not yours.” There was a
not-so-subtle challenge there that she couldn’t ignore.

“My apologies, Master Ryan,” she said.

“Forgiven,” Ryan declared. “Alexander, get on with it. We
mustn’t keep her sub waiting.”

Alex obeyed, dressing her in the bustier, garter belt, black
thigh-high stockings and knee-high black and red boots. It was a little like
having a male fairy godmother. By the time he was done, she was transformed
into a beautiful sex goddess.

“Mistress, might I aid you in selecting something from the
assortment of whips, floggers or crops?” Alex offered. “If you dislike anything
on display, my Master and I can easily find whatever you prefer.”

“May I ask for Master Ryan’s advice?” she responded,
noticing the way Ryan lifted his chin.

“Come,” Ryan agreed, offering his hand.

Samantha strode forward on boots that a glam-rock star might
wear. It was a miracle she didn’t turn her ankle or fall. Admittedly, taking
Ryan’s hand helped. He held her tight, silently promising he wouldn’t let
anything happen to her.

With his encouragement, she went through the display,
choosing a crimson multi-tailed flogger made of the same type of rope she’d
seen at the Shibari workshop. The handle felt nice, heavy, thick and natural in
her hand. The tails were tightly corded toward the handle, but the ends were
soft and wispy.

She played with it. The ends tickled nicely.

Testing it, she smacked the corded ropes against her own
thigh, the heat following the strike reverberated, thrilling in its intensity
and nearly reawakening her inner submissive. Swatting herself a second time
with the frayed ends, healing the sting.

“I know you received some instruction from Phalen,” Ryan
said. “But have you used this type of flogger?”

“No, Master Ryan, it’s the most beautiful I’ve seen. Please,
will you show me?”

“Absolutely, Mistress,” he agreed. “Alexander, remove your
shirt and step forward.”

“Wait,” Sam objected, breaking her Mistress demeanor. “I
don’t want him to be flogged, do it to me.”

“You misunderstand, Samantha. You are to watch,” Master Ryan
stated. “Dare I or Alex take a whip or flogger to you, Taran would have our
heads on a silver platter.”

Alex came up to them. “It’ll be fine, Samantha, don’t
worry.”

Samantha glanced over, refusing to gape at him. Alex was
shirtless. She didn’t know what happened to his shirt. But, hot damn, the man
had ripped muscles, pierced nipples, kung fu-inspired tattoos on his arms and
an oriental dragon on his hip that disappeared below his belt.

“Face the wall and brace yourself,” Master Ryan commanded of
his sub.

Alex didn’t hesitate. He turned, placing his hands against
the wall, offering his back.

“Watch, Samantha,” Ryan implored. “This is how you’ll use it
on Taran. If you lose focus, if you wrap him or don’t communicate with him at
all times, you could hurt him.”

Slowly, beautifully, he flogged Alex Grant, landing the
tails of the flogger in strategic places, avoiding his sensitive kidney area.
Alex only had one kidney, but Samantha knew that on anyone, kidneys were
vulnerable to serious injury.

Given that, she studied the way Master Ryan’s arm extended,
rose and fell, eyeing the warm marks that crisscrossed Alex’s back from the
corded rope and the way Ryan continuously touched him with his free hand, all
the while whispering words she really couldn’t hear whenever he ran the
softened, whisper-thin tails over his back and shoulders.

When the flogging ended and Ryan turned him around,
Samantha’s gaze strayed down Alex’s front. She had to fight the urge to drool
or pant. Before the flogging, Alex had been mellow, her caretaker, now he was
all male, aroused, his eyes on Ryan, pleading.

“I need you, Doc,” Alex whispered.

Samantha watched, spellbound, as Master Ryan handed the
flogger to her. A second later, he pressed himself up against Alex, French
kissing him, praising him between breaths, his hands running all over him.

She thought for sure they were going to fuck, yet somehow
they got it together and drew apart, not that she’d object if Ryan stripped
Alex naked and bent him over.

“You’re beautiful. Thank you for your gift,” Ryan said
aloud, brushing his hand through Alex’s short blond hair.

“You’re welcome, Master. Thank you for releasing me,” Alex
replied.

Dare she look down to see if maybe he’d gotten off with that
kiss? Yes, she had to. She
had
to. She was Mistress Samantha right now,
not Sam the do-good detective.

Letting her eyes coast down the front of Alex’s sweat-soaked
chest, she saw a huge wet spot on the front of his designer suit pants.

Sam nearly swooned. Samantha issued a Maddox growl. That’s
what she wanted to do to Taran. Bind him. Flog him. Fuck him. Make him come, in
that order.

“I need to see my pretty boy now.”

“So you shall,” Ryan said, breaking character to chuckle.
“He’s been waiting for you. You needn’t worry about your things. Alex and I
will get them to yours and Taran’s room.”

Alex ducked out of the way long enough to grab his shirt and
pull it on, likely to cover the huge cum stain on his pants. The two men
flanked her on either side, taking her elbows.

Master Ryan returned in a flash, his stance and leather
clothes making him seem taller than Alex when in reality it was the opposite.
They walked on, guiding her out to the conference room.

What awaited her inside stole her breath, compelling Alex
and Ryan to keep her on her feet. The room had been transformed into a dungeon
with black curtains strewn about the walls.

Everything a dungeon needed was there, but the one thing she
really wanted to see wasn’t. She wanted her Master, and she wanted him
submissive to her tonight.

Movement drew her eye off the bench, a curtain in the back
of the room split apart. Taran Maddox, donning a black cloak and carrying a
long slender black box in his hand, looking strong, virile and superhuman,
strode forward, coming to stand before her.

Master Ryan in Dom gear was hot. Taran, in little more than
a cloak and tight little leather strap of a male G-string, was scorching.

Breathe, in and out, breathe
, counting silently,
trying to remind herself she was Mistress Samantha. If she wasn’t careful, she
was going to become a big, gooey, girly puddle on the floor at
his
feet.

Taran shook his shoulders, his movements causing the cloak
to part, his long brown hair flipping back out of his face. Samantha stopped
breathing. Her heart went pitter-pat, forgetting her count, forgetting
everything.

“Mistress Samantha, I come before you humbled, as you are
the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, the only one I’ll ever submit to,”
Taran said, going down on his knees, offering the box in his hand. “Will you
accept my symbol of loyalty to you?”

Adjusting the flogger so that the strap fell from her wrist,
she touched the box, allowing time for Taran to open it. Heart still racing,
she saw an array of body piercing jewelry, his and hers. The feminine jewelry
matched her engagement ring, the emeralds and diamonds sparkling within their
nest of black velvet.

“Is this my collar, Taran?” The body jewelry was exquisite,
intriguing. Admittedly, there was an element of danger and pain that both
tempted and frightened her.

“And mine,” Taran said, nodding. “Tomorrow I want to take
you to Phalen’s tattoo shop in Salem, where we can finish off our collaring
ceremony with tattoos.”

“I want the piercings and the ink. Is it safe to do all at
once?”

“Tonight, I’ll only pierce your ears and navel,” Ryan
answered. “Along with the piercings, there are nipple rings that clamp. Taran
can put them on you when you wish it. If you like how they feel, I’ll pierce
your nipples when your bellybutton and tattoo heal.”

“Are you sure you want Doc to pierce your nipples, Taran?
That’s going to hurt.”

Even on his knees, Taran grinned wickedly, reminding her
that though he’d switched for her tonight, her Master would return soon enough.

“Doll, I’m never afraid of a little pain. As long as you
hold my hand, everything will be fine.”

“That’s not all I’m going to do to you,” she warned, showing
him the flogger she’d carried with her. She’d seen Alex’s back. The flogger
would leave marks if she wanted it to.

“Do to me whatever you wish. Mistress Samantha, will you
accept your collar as I will accept mine?”

“Rise, pretty boy, I will,” she pronounced proudly, taking
his hand to bring him to his feet. “May I ask who goes first?”

“Your sub, Mistress,” Ryan said, coming forward to taking
the box of piercings and set it on a table next to a silver dome. Lifting the
dome, he showed them an array of medical supplies, including needles, sterile
starter earring piercers and latex gloves.

Samantha stayed at Taran’s side, holding his hand, watching
while Ryan set everything up with the skill of a talented surgeon who’d not
fail at something as delicate as nipple piercing.

It took a couple of minutes for him to measure, disinfect
and grasp Taran’s right nipple with wickedly sharp-looking forceps. Samantha
winced on Taran’s behalf. That had to be excruciating.

Incredibly, Taran remained stoic, squeezing her hand when
Ryan Hathaway followed the surgical needle he’d used for the first piercing
with a small-gauged nipple bar.

“Doing okay, Taran?” he asked his patient.

“Fine. Could you hurry, I really want to fuck my fiancée,”
Taran urged.

“Uh-uh, pretty boy. It’s my turn to fuck you,” Samantha
reminded.

“How about we compromise and fuck each other?”

“How about you zip it so I can finish the other side?” Ryan
suggested.

“Good call, do it, Doc.”

“Mistress Samantha, would you care to assist?” Ryan asked.

“What can I do?” she replied.

“Take that icepack, break it open and hold it against
Taran’s newly pierced nipple,” he said, pointing to the icepack.

She grabbed it and smashed it. In an instant, the pack was
cold and she pressed it against Taran’s chest as told.

“Does it help?” she asked Taran.

“Yes, Mistress, thank you.”

He remained still, bravely taking the pain. The look in his
eyes told her that he felt it, though it didn’t frighten him away. A glance
down his front revealed that his G-string barely contained his hard-on. Yeah,
her pretty boy was fine and dandy.

Ryan continued on, piercing Taran’s left nipple as if he was
unaware of the state of Taran’s cock. As he’d done before, Taran squeezed
Samantha’s hand, releasing her fingers when Ryan secured the bar.

“While I work on your fiancée, Taran, keep these ice packs
in place,” Ryan told him, breaking open another icepack before handing it to
Taran.

Samantha was floored. Wow, wow, seeing Taran with his
nipples pierced was lethal, even though icepacks were now pressed to his chest.
If anything, he responded more to the packs than the piercings. He actually
seemed to
like
getting pierced.

It took every ounce of strength in her to let Ryan steer her
away from Taran, she was that aroused. Then she realized it was her turn,
boldly facing Master Ryan, letting Mistress Samantha take over.

A delicious, dreamy undercurrent caught hold of her, making
her feel superhuman, a beautiful Domme, one with her sub. Loving the sensation,
she allowed herself to get lost imagining all the wicked things she was going
to do to Taran.

While her special surprise, a dildo and harness made for a
woman to fuck a man, hadn’t arrived yet, she was willing to bet the dresser
beside the bondage bed had plenty of sex toys.

Later, she’d let her submissive side reign. Right now, she
was Mistress Samantha and she was going to claim her man.

Taran was the first to admit he was a little demented when
it came to sharp objects piercing his skin. Tattoos etched close to the bone,
ankles, rib cage or shoulder blades were the most painful and he’d welcomed it.

Nipple piercing produced the same electric rush as tattooing
did for him. Watching Samantha stand before Ryan, bravely determined to remain
still as he pierced her ears was especially rewarding, adding to the endorphins
speeding through his system.

Her earlobes looked really pretty. True, the starter studs
were cubic zirconia, but he’d fix that once it was safe to switch the starter
earrings out for the diamond and emerald ones he’d bought to complement her
engagement ring.

Seeing the ring on her finger, feeling it in his after
dropping the icepacks and grabbing her hand to offer support, he felt more of a
man than he ever had before.

This amazing woman was going to be his wife, his lover in a
lifestyle she was embracing with all her heart. She was going to be a foster
mother to Luke, possibly more kids and a baby if they were able to adopt.

When it came to her bellybutton, Taran shifted around to
hold Samantha around the waist, offering support. It didn’t take long for Doc
to pierce her navel. Samantha winced, going very still until the navel ring was
in place.

Pressing his mouth to her ear, he murmured how proud he was
of her. The image of Samantha decked out Dominatrix-style with a red partially
frayed rope flogger hanging from her wrist was forever etched into his retinas.
Holding her as Ryan pierced her bellybutton had him close to coming in his G-string.

Balls drawn tight, his cock was hard as a freakin’ hammer,
he really hoped Doc and Alex vacated the premises soon. As it was, he could
smell cum, male cum. One of them had climaxed recently. He’d bet it was Alex.

Samantha’s scent caught in his nose, overpowering the male
musk. She smelled of sweet spices and feminine arousal. Her skin was super
soft. He knew because he couldn’t resist catching her up close and pressing his
nose into the curve of her neck and taking a little nibble.

“You do that again, pretty boy, I’ll have Master Ryan pierce
something else on you.”

“I’d look silly with a bellybutton ring,” Taran objected.

“I’m not talking about your bellybutton,” she warned,
turning her head to show some teeth.

Feisty little thing when she switched. Hot damn, he couldn’t
behave, it wasn’t in his nature. Deliberately provoking her, he nipped again.

“Doc, are you done yet?” Taran asked, deliberately using
Ryan’s nickname.

“Finishing up,” Doc said.

“Good. Go fuck your husband. You know? Alex is pretty all
disheveled like that. Maybe you two should stay…”

“Careful, sub,” Doc warned. “I’m dangerously close to
piercing you wherever Mistress Samantha wants. I’ve got the tools to do it.”

“Okay, okay, sorry.” Since he didn’t want his dick or family
jewels pierced, he shut his mouth.

Doc backed away, giving last-minute instructions to Samantha
on how to take care of her navel piercing. As he’d done with Taran’s piercings,
he gave her an icepack.

“Anything else you desire, Mistress Samantha?” Doc asked.

“Could you and Alexander do one more thing for me?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Alex answered, stepping forward to lend a
hand.

“Take pretty boy here and fasten him to that cross. Use
ropes. Make sure he can’t move…much. Oh the things I’m about to do to him will
make him weep.”

Taran couldn’t believe he was permitting it to happen. Alex
and Doc caught hold of him, dragging him across the room to the St. Andrew’s
cross mounted to a specially weighted dais to give a sub lift. Surrounding the
dais was a swath of black cloth that hid where it was secured to the floor.

Patrons who stayed at the bed-and-breakfast or dined here
would balk if they knew some of the things that went on at Druid Creek Castle.
Taran didn’t balk at anything, ever.

He wouldn’t flinch from being mounted on the cross and bound
in place with intricately woven ropes at his arms, wrists, legs and ankles.
Small footholds braced his feet. A padded pillow resided between the X of the
cross, giving him something to lean back on.

He tested things, nope, moving wasn’t an option. Freedom was
in Samantha’s hands. Taran knew he had to trust her right now.

The buzz that’d begun upon seeing Samantha in a bustier and
those killer boots was only increasing. The headiness of it was similar to when
he was in charge of a scene, keeping him in tune with Samantha’s deep, even
breathing.

“Leave us,” Samantha suddenly demanded of Doc and Alex,
causing Taran to remember the men were still there.

Ryan tore Taran’s cloak off his body, leaving Taran hanging
there practically naked, bound…ready. The G-string didn’t hide his hard-on. It
wasn’t meant to. It was meant to give his Mistress something to play with.

Samantha noticed his erection. He’d seen the way her eyes
went to his cock. The way they stayed there while she licked her full scarlet
lips, as if she was ready to take a bite. Her makeup was different than it’d
been at the roller rink. It was sexier, accenting her eyes and mouth.

As quietly as possible, Ryan and Alex left the room, leaving
Taran alone with his Mistress. Samantha walked to the center of the room, bold
as she pleased.

Stopping there, she squared off with him, thumping her
flogger against her thigh. A tremor of need zipped through him strong as a
lightning strike, ramping up the endorphins buzzing under his skin.

“Do you know what I’m going to do to you, pretty boy?”

“Fuck me, I hope.”

“Eventually, yes, I will. You’re allowed a safe word. Pick
one, fast.”

Taran thought about it. It wasn’t easy. He’d never needed
one before.

“Fast!” Samantha commanded, slapping her palm hard with the
handle end of the flogger. She winced a little. Taran shuddered, not liking to
see his fiancée in pain.

“Sorry, Mistress,” he apologized. “My word is tort.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, you’ve no idea how excruciating tort law is.”

“Very well, tort it shall be.” Marching up to him in those
impressive boots, she was every inch the Domme he needed her to be. Her flogger
in hand, she sidled in close enough to smell him.

“You smell of cum, pretty boy. Have you been fucking around
on me?”

“No, that’s pre-cum, Mistress,” he assured swiftly.

“Why are you aroused?” She reached out with her free hand to
stroke his covered cock, intentionally being a little rough. He liked rough,
too much sometimes, but there it was.

“You’re standing before me looking sexier than any
Dominatrix I’ve seen,” he answered, swallowing hard when her strokes increased.
“You’re beautiful, mine and that piercing looks sexy on you. I want to lick and
bite it when it won’t hurt you to do so.”

“As do yours. I can’t wait to attach the chains I saw in
that box. Will you wear them for me?”

“I’d do anything for you. As you will be required to wear
them at times, I want your body bound and chained to mine.”

Thankfully, Samantha’s bustier was cut in such a way that
her abdomen was exposed. It’d made it easy for Doc to pierce her navel. Hell,
it made for a better view.

For all intents and purposes, it felt as if they were
already married after Ryan and Doc witnessed their collaring ceremony. He
couldn’t wait to plan a wedding with her, though he hoped they didn’t wait too
long.

Mistress Samantha wasn’t thinking about white dresses and
flowers right now, not when she continued to smell him. She nuzzled his abs,
his ribs, his bellybutton, licking him.

Being on the cross gave him elevation. She remained on the
floor, putting her at a level that allowed her to nuzzle his hard-on. Using her
teeth, she jerked the G-string down, tearing it off.

“This is for me?” she asked, tonguing his shaft.

“Always for you, Mistress mine.”

“Good answer, I shall reward you.”

“Please.”

She straightened up, lifting her hand with the flogger.
Teasing him with it by running the silky-soft ends up and down his body, she
avoided his pierced nipples.

Deep within him, the power of submission took root,
expanding his mind and his perception. Acutely aware of Samantha, he loved the
feel of the flogger sweeping up and down his cock, all around.

Taran didn’t want delicate, he longed for the thump of rope
cords against his skin. He wasn’t afraid. He wanted his body to sing with
absolute erotic sizzle.

“Fuck,” he whispered, refusing to demand anything more than
what she was doing. Her gentleness was nearly his undoing. He wanted to
command, test her and push her.

But he wasn’t in the position to demand. He was in the
position to take pleasure and make it his, ultimately sharing it with Samantha.
He refused to look away from her face, watching the wonder of dominance take
over her expression.

“Stay with me, pretty boy. It’s going to be a long night,” she
warned, brushing her lips over his dick instead of the flogger. “I’m going to
flog you, do you understand? I’m going to flog you and suck you and fuck you.
Do you grant permission?”

“I’m with you, doll.”

She suddenly gripped his cock with a strength that rivaled a
man’s, putting some strain on it. “That wasn’t the answer I need. Do you grant
permission for me to proceed?”

Growling low in his throat to avoid the very real concern
that she might damage his dick if she tried to bend it farther, he grounded out,
“Yes, permission…granted.”

“Then hush,” she scolded, easing up, some. “I’m gonna make
you feel real, real good.”

Taran didn’t fight the burning, driving need consuming him.
Thought and sensation now revolved around Samantha, his Mistress, who’d begun jerking
him off with the precision of a concert pianist.

Naturally dominant, he fought the need to take over and tell
her to suck him off. He wanted to. Dammit, it was hard letting her have
control, harder than anything he’d known, yet surprisingly freeing.

At last, Samantha bent down, her mouth gobbling him up. She
wasn’t easy on him. She nibbled all around the sensitive skin of his inner
thigh and on up his shaft to his cock head.

She cupped his balls, gently licking and kissing his crown
until it disappeared inside the warmest, wettest, hottest mouth in the fucking
universe. Unbidden, his hips surged, but he couldn’t do much more than that.

“Don’t move,” she warned, having backed off.

“Trying not to,” he ground out.

Samantha gripped his balls hard enough to incite his fight
or flight reflexes. “Do not move! And don’t you fucking come. You come when I
tell you, understand?”

“Understand,” he murmured, thinking he might pass the hell
out before she was done.

Samantha dropped back, freeing him. In an instant, he missed
her touch, her mouth.

She lifted the flogger, showing it to him. “Ready?”

“Not really going anywhere, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

She cracked the flogger on his thigh, brilliantly combining
the snap of the corded ropes and the tease of the softened ends exactly fucking
right.

Fuck! That stung. It beckoned. His cock throbbed, his balls
ached.

“Fucking hell, Samantha, you’re going to pay for that!”

“You say that as if I’m going to be disciplined for this.”

“Tomorrow, you will. Tomorrow, after I teach you to ink a
Celtic band on my left ring finger, I’m going to bind you in Shibari ropes and
fuck the ever-loving hell outta you.”

“What? No flogging? I’d like it, you know? I like the sting.
Do you?”

She cracked the harshest ends of the flogger against his
hip, sending splinters of sensation through him. Closing his eyes, taking it
all in, he let her flog him again, losing track.

Partly, he wanted to know who’d taught her to snap the
dual-purpose flogger with such accuracy, making it both sting and please at the
same time. Mainly, he prayed she’d do it again.

“Answer me, Maddox! Do you like the sting? Or do you prefer
the brush?” Deliberately, she held back, skimming the frayed cords all over his
dick and balls. Feeling his eyes pop open, he watched, mesmerized.

“Yes, Mistress, I love it! All of it, the bite and the
brush.” It shouldn’t have surprised him to discover submission was as heady and
thrilling as dominance.

Samantha continued to brush his balls, gently, not hurting
him at all. All it would take for her to elicit the worst pain was a turn of
her hand, a snap of her wrist. She drew back her arm.

The next crack to his thigh would have stung worse than
hornets if it weren’t for the fact that most of the blow was absorbed by the
ropes binding him to the cross, setting his blood on fire beneath his skin as
he absorbed it deep down in his soul.

“Did you make this flogger, counselor?” she asked, her voice
deep, aroused, spurring him on more.

“Yes, all of them,” he answered, hoping she got what he’d
meant. “Every whip, every flogger, all of it are yours, ours, hell, you know
what I mean.”

With the skill of a courtesan, she swatted the flogger on
his thighs, ankles, then his feet and parts of his ass she could reach from the
side. Sometimes she’d strike harshly, others she’d flip the softened ends
sensually.

She soon discovered that she couldn’t get to his back and
shoulders well enough while he was on the cross. She didn’t strike his breasts
due to the tenderness of his nipples. It took a minute or two for her to step
back and tilt her head, seeming to consider what she should do next.

“Down with you,” she decided.

She must’ve watched how Doc and Alex fastened him to the
cross. She managed to unwind the multitude of ropes without asking how and
assisted him to the ground. He swayed on his feet, the room taking a weird
spin.