To Command and Collar [Masters of the Shadowlands 6] (36 page)

Her heart melted right down into a puddle. Never, ever would she tire of hearing that. “I love you, Master.”

When she finally looked away from him, she saw the tables and chairs on the patio had been moved to form a semicircle, leaving a large open area. For a whip.
“Master Raoul.” Z stood a few feet away. His dark gray eyes held hers as he said, “Tell your submissive what you wish to use so she might bring you the proper tools.”
Tools
? Things he’d use on her. To hurt her… She wrenched her gaze away and realized people had congregated around the patio. Watching. Like at an exhibit or a slavers’ stage. Her horrified gaze fell on Gabi.
Gabi jerked her chin up and then deliberately made a fist, arcing it in the tugboat hand signal for
full speed ahead.
Kim blinked.
Well
.
Next to her hard-faced dom, Beth had her hands clasped together, and her lips moved,
You can do it.
Andrea gave her a firm nod of encouragement.
Kari’s eyes had tears in them, but she waggled a baby monitor emphatically and mouthed, “Yes. Do it.”
Jessica was alternating glaring at Z and nodding vigorously at Kim.
Not an exhibit. I have my own set of cheerleaders.
“I think you agreed on whips?” Z asked, as if deliberately rubbing her fears raw.
A shudder ran through her, but she forced steel into her spine.
I fought the Overseer and Greville and won. Can I be less brave in going after my dreams?
Master R’s face held only fury as he stared at Z, but then he sighed and smiled. “Remind me to hurt Z after this.”
Master R is on my side. He always is
. But she could…almost…understand the pressure Z was putting on her. This was her opportunity to prove herself to them both, and Master Z would make it a proper test. She raised her chin. “Can Master describe his wishes?”
His hand touched her cheek gently, his gaze intensifying, as if he assessed her determination, and his lips curved with approval. “My gatita makes me proud.”
God, everything in her melted, and she felt as if she’d drown in his eyes.
Master R thought a minute. “I want you to bring me the flogger with a faint yellow stripe on the handle, a crop—one with soft leather—and the bullwhip on the leftmost side. You will do this to please me, Kimberly.”
The bullwhip. Her mouth was too dry, so she gave him a jerky nod and walked off the patio. Her legs didn’t seem to belong to her, but they were moving, and that was all she could ask.
The dungeon was cool. Quiet. And, oddly, held no fears, just memories of Master R: Leaning against a wall and counting with his fingers as she walked around the room. Massaging her on the bondage table.
“You’re not going to fall into pieces if I touch your breasts.”
He’d led her out of panic each time—her wish to please him would work that magic again. It must.
The crop was easy and she picked one with the softest leather. The flogger he’d actually teased her with once and let her play with. The bullwhip…
She got near and couldn’t touch it. Had to circle to get close. Another circle. Did he even know how to use a whip? What if he—No, this was Master R. If he used something, he’d be superb. She’d never seen him practice though.
That was scary. During the next detour, she frowned at the empty space on one side of the room. She’d never wondered why it was there. A newspaper was clamped chest-high on the wall, thin strips of it dangling like streamers. She shivered. Maybe he did practice.
Another circle.
Enough stalling. I will do this
. She brought up in her memory the approval on Master R’s face.
“You will do this to please me.”
The need to see that approval again grew, slowly outweighing her fear.
Her fingers closed on the whip, and she whispered a vow to herself. “I’m going to learn to use this damned thing. Rip up some newspapers myself. See if I don’t.” Her hand tightened on the leather.
As she stepped out onto the patio in the bright sun, she saw Master R in the middle. He’d taken his shirt off to get ready for the scene, obviously never doubting her courage. The sight of the contoured muscles on his chest and arms made her stop. So powerful. She smiled, remembering when she’d said that to him. He’d laughed and picked her up so, so easily, murmuring into her hair,
“The better to hold you with.”
A thin pink ridge ran across his left ribs where Greville’s knife had cut, an atrocity on his beautiful, tan skin, and anger flared in her. Then she huffed a laugh, glancing down at her own scar. They were definitely a matched set now.
The people around the patio went completely silent as she crossed to him. She knelt at his feet. “I brought your tools as you asked, Master.”
“You did very, very well.” He took everything from her, setting it all on the ground off to one side. His stride was as she’d remembered in her dreams—unhurried, steady, and solid.
With an easy yank, he lifted her to her feet, then rested his hands on her shoulders, massaging lightly. “You will take everything I give you today,” he said, holding her gaze. His eyes were filled with a dark promise of pain and pleasure.
A thrill of anticipation went through her. He’d never pushed her in the dungeon, but now, now his eyes promised he would today.
Oh God
. “I will, Master.” It was a vow for both of them.
I will.
He guided her under the chains, facing her toward the ocean and away from the audience. After restraining her arms over her head, he secured her legs apart, opening them widely, before tightening the chains to her arms. He circled her slowly, looking her over, his gaze like a caress on her bare skin. He stopped in front of her, cupping her chin in his palm. “I’ve dreamed of seeing you here, like this,” he said, his voice a little rough. “Open to me, wanting what I can give you.”
“I want that,” she whispered, every cell in her needing to please him. And she’d take whatever he asked so he’d be proud, would know how much she loved him. The need to give, to accept, filled her.
He kissed her, his tongue taking her, his lips demanding but so, so sweet. When he lifted his head, her breath came thick and hot. Obviously someone had turned the humidity up on the patio.
His hand glided over her shoulder, then her back, as he walked around her, and then lower: her bottom, her legs…
When he stroked up her inner thighs, she jerked.
“Be still, gatita.” Warm hands. Firm touch.
Just like her dreams. She realized her pussy was wet with her arousal.
“Very nice, Kimberly. I like this.” His fingers slid through her folds, making her shiver. The murmur of conversation came to her, then disappeared under the rush of heat as his fingers pressed her labia open and ran over her clit. She bit her lip as electricity sizzled through her.
He teased her clit and then eased a finger inside her and out.
Legs wide apart, she was exposed to anything he wanted to do, and…it was the most erotic thing she’d ever felt in her life, knowing she’d willingly given him the power.
He rose to his feet.
Oh no
. Her thoughts stuttered at the memory of the
tools
. “Wait.”
The smack on her ass stung. “Who?”
“Master R. Master, what are you going to do?”
“Whatever I want to, sumisita mía.” His voice wasn’t mean, just that firmness that sent quivers into her stomach and more wetness between her legs.
He chuckled and pressed his body against hers from behind, his erection pushing on her buttocks, his muscular chest heating her back, his arms surrounding her. “Pretty gatita, are you ready?” His fingers tweaked her nipples, and his touch sent streaks of pain straight down to her clit.
He gathered her hair and moved it forward over her shoulder. Baring her back. She tensed, but he only ran his hands up and down, waking her skin, making her breasts sway.
He slapped her bottom lightly, a tiny sting, then harder, and more, until she wanted to move away from the burning. She arched away—uselessly.
“Sí, I like knowing you have to stay put to take what I give you,” he murmured and walked around to face her, his hand always on her, stroking from her back to her shoulder. Her bottom burned, and her skin was so sensitive that even the touch of the sea breeze felt like an icy kiss.
His lips brushed hers. Then he captured her mouth with hungry urgency. “I’ve missed kissing you. So…you will tell me if the pain becomes too much, no? What is your safe word?”
“Cramp.”
“Very good.” His grin flashed at her. “Which will make you scream first, gatita—the sting of the lash or the fury of your orgasm?”
Oh boy, how could he terrify her and turn her on at the same time? Sensuality darkened his face as he regarded her, not hiding the pleasure he got from playing with her. Not hiding his intention to exercise his power as her master.
I can’t believe I’m here. Doing this…wanting this
. Yet the more she surrendered, the more she felt a part of him.
He knew. He touched her cheek, his gaze softening.
She stared at him helplessly, bound with more than physical restraints.
The flogger he used next didn’t hurt. Like a million elves drumming on her skin, the strands of the flogger moved from her back to her front.
She stared at him, almost mesmerized. So big, shoulders broad, his chest and arm muscles rippled with each movement. His control was absolute, his focus totally on her and the flogger as if it connected them like an umbilical cord.
He lightened the strokes over her stomach and thighs, even lighter over her breasts, making them swell and throb. The very lightest flick between her legs sent her up onto her toes with surprise, followed by a hot rush of pleasure.
He saw, and a smile softened his stern features. As he circled her, her skin grew more sensitive, started to burn. And somehow her pussy throbbed as if it had swollen too much.
A pause. His hands stroked her body, soothing the ache. He moved in front of her and studied her for a silent moment. Then the corners of his eyes crinkled. “You are very beautiful, all aroused and ready for the bite of the lash.” His palms covered her breasts, and he watched her intently as he pinched her nipples lightly, then harder, rolling the peaks between his fingers.
She closed her eyes as pleasure washed through her.
“Look at me.”
She forced her eyes open, stiffening as his hand moved to her pussy, sliding through her folds. The streak of sharp pleasure was almost painful, unexpected, and she made a protesting sound.
“Shhh, gatita. You want this—there is no shame in it, in being a woman. In letting your master rouse your body.” He smiled, fingers pushing intimately inside her, then out and over her clit. Over and in, repeating until her hips pressed forward into each movement.
Oh God, I need more
. She hadn’t dreamed she could get so hot, so needy.
Then he smiled. “Very good. You’re ready.” His gaze was level, direct, utterly in control and confident.
And she nodded. She could handle pain if he was in charge.
He kissed her slowly and then ravenously. “Sumisita mía,” he said, tipping her chin up. “After this, I intend to take you.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Hard.”
Her vagina clenched. As her gaze dropped to his groin, delight rose inside her. “As Master wishes.”
“Yes, my gatita’s submission—and body—makes me needy.” He touched his nose to hers, took in her breath. “I’ve missed taking you every morning before breakfast.”
She closed her eyes and breathed, “Me too.” Waking alone, wanting him so much she’d slept with an extra pillow to have something to hold.
He pressed another kiss to her lips, then walked away. A second later, she heard the crack of a whip.
Panic rolled over her, drowning her in memories. Slicing pain after pain, screaming. She pulled frantically at the chains, her breathing a tropical storm turning into a hurricane.
“Kimberly.” His voice cut through the winds. “You will take this for me.”
Silence grew around her, the fears held at bay with just his voice…and her need to please him. Master R, not Greville. Master R would stop if she needed him to…and so she could go on. “Yes, Master. I will.”
The first touch of the whip was a flicker: here, there, up, and down. A little sting, the rhythm almost soothing. A brush over her skin like a rough kiss. More. She’d never watched whipping scenes. Who knew it could be so…sensuous?
After a while, he walked forward to rub her back. Played with her breasts, sending new sparks of arousal flickering through her body. His erection pressed into her from behind, and he ground it against her bottom, making her feel the lingering burn from her spanking. His fist closed in her hair, tugging her head to the side. His voice was low and ruthless, sending a thrill through her. “Now, I’m going to push you, Kimberly. And you will take it—for me.”
He obviously felt her shiver; his laugh was guttural. Terrifying.
Hot
. He moved away, but she could hear him. “That’s my good girl.”
A crack, a tiny whoosh, then the sting, pain blooming beneath her skin. She gasped, a little shocked
. That hurt
. He kept on, over and over, like the bite of flame from the fireplay, the whip was a flash of pain that almost seemed to light her up inside.
Down her ass, a few touches on her thighs that zapped straight to her clit until—oh, God, she was shaking with the need to come.
The intensity increased. More. Sharper. She sucked in her breath to keep from yelling. He eased off to the sweet brushing strokes. Harder again. Stinging, shocking, burning…
pain.
Nothing moved, but she fell backward, tumbling into the ocean, surrounded by softness. Her eyes half-focused on the tide rolling in on the white shore, and she realized his strokes were timed to the ocean waves. The pain hit and rolled over her, flowing back out before the next one. So wonderful yet so arousing. The whip strokes slowly moved down her ass, her thighs, and back up.
His body was against hers again, warm, holding her.
“Eyes on me,” he said, turning her head. Brown gaze, calm and wonderful.
She smiled at him and savored his grin.
“Look at you. Even under a whip, you trusted me enough to hit subspace,” he murmured, kissing her until the ground disappeared from under her. “I’m very proud of you, gatita.” He pulled back. “Tell me your safe word.”
“Cramp. Only I don’t need it,” she confided.
His eyes crinkled. “I’m going to give you five more, and they will hurt.”
A worry started to rise in her. She heard the sharp crack behind her, but nothing hit.
“Take a breath, gatita.” Firm. Her master.
An orgasm seemed to be floating inside, waiting, as she inhaled.
“Let it out.”