Velvet Submission (15 page)

Gregori moaned, his mighty muscles flexed, but he didn't break his position.

"Oh, sugar, you please me," Megan murmured against his skin. Before he had time to process what she was doing, she'd scooped up the nipple clamps, and had tugged one copper nipple taut, closing the clamp over it with erotic efficiency.

Megan had a theory about clamping the various tender places on a submissive's body. She could spend her time preparing them, but that took away from the exquisite pain. Instead, Megan preferred minimal preparation. She liked to slowly clamp the tender, unsuspecting flesh and watch the flush rise to the surrounding skin as her submissive became aware of the erotic pain in slow degrees.

She watched Gregori now, catching the flinch of his eyelids, the jerk of his cock, and the long hiss of painful pleasure that finally escaped him as his body adjusted. She gave him a moment to settle, then repeated the process on his other nipple, drawing an even more dramatic response from him and kindling an even more violent fire in herself.

Beautiful man
, she thought, watching his chest heave. Sitting back on her heels, Megan lifted the cock-and-ball strap and trailed the supple leather down the center of his body. He jerked under the caress, and she gave a little laugh.

"I guess it's a good thing I came prepared, isn't it, Sug?" She wrapped the strap snugly around his balls, laughing again in pure pleasure when they drew up tight at her touch, then wrapped the rest of the length around the base of his cock. "Without this little bit of help, you wouldn't last, would you?"

"I would try, Mistress," he replied, his voice more a groan than actual words.

Megan shifted back and lifted the final apparatus from the couch to show him. His eyes flared, but that was the only reaction he gave as she ran one finger down the realistic looking cock attached to a very special strap-on harness.

"I'm going to fuck you, Gregori," she whispered. His eyes blazed. "I'm going to own every inch of that beautiful body." She slid the tip of her finger over the tip of Gregori's erection, smearing a drop of pre-cum over the head before lifting it to her lips to lick off. He groaned, a low, guttural cry. "And you. Will. Not. Come," she added with finality.

*

He was going to die. His heart was going to explode. His brain was going to liquefy and shoot out his dick. He would not survive her ownership, he knew that now.

His chest was burning, his nipples on fire from the bite of the clamps. His dick was in agony, his balls so full and hard they felt as if they were trying to crawl up inside his body. He was primed and ready and, at some visceral level, terrified. He'd been whipped, flogged and even caned. He was a sensation player, always had considered himself more than a bit of a pain whore. But somehow, though he'd been penetrated and plugged, he'd never been fucked anally. And clearly Megan had taken him at his word on the night she'd plugged him, because the strap-on she was currently buckling around her lush hips was
not
beginner-sized. It was fucking huge, at least to his mind.

Once she was buckled up and ready to go, Megan moved to stand in front of him again. The giant dildo bounced gently in front of him, a threat and a promise all rolled into one. A slight smile creased his lips. She'd managed to find an extra large strap-on in her signature baby blue. Only his Megan…

She must have caught a hint of the apprehension in his eyes, because Megan cupped his face tenderly before speaking.

"Are you mine, Gregori?"

"Completely." He didn't even have to think about it.

"Then you must trust me." There was no compromise in her voice, or in her eyes. Gregori felt his smile grow full.

"Of course I trust you," he agreed. "But where would the fun be if you couldn't scare me a little?"

Megan's laughter rang out, delighting him. It all twisted together inside of him; the pinch and burn of the clamps, the howling in his balls, the joy expanding in his chest like a star gone supernova. She cupped his chin as her laughter softened.

"Gregori," she said, stroking her thumb over his mouth. "I want you to suck my dick." His breath caught, and his eyes immediately dropped to the dick in question.

"Lick it," she told him, and he did. She'd lubed it lightly, and a tingle of peppermint teased his tongue, almost disguising the flavor of the gel-like rubber. He traced the simulated vein that wound up the dense underside of the cock, played with the closed slit, then swooped down to mouth the base. His nose brushed against her silky folds, parted and firmly compressed by the base of the dildo. He let his tongue sneak out to tease her labia, and fierce satisfaction filled him when the long muscles in her thighs grew tight.

She wrapped her fist in his hair and tugged his head up roughly. "Suck it, sugar." She guided his mouth to hover over the tip, then paused to smack lightly against his cheek with the phallus. "Make me wet for you." She rubbed the tip against the seam of his lips, and as if in a trance, he took her in. "Make me so wet I'll just slide right inside that gorgeous ass."

There was an odd comfort in the motion; hands behind his back, strong suction on the rigid gel shaft almost soothing. Her hands in his hair, guiding him in an ever-increasing rhythm, added to the madness overtaking him.

"I'm gonna take you now, sugar," she told him, tugging his head back until he was gazing helplessly into her eyes. "Bend over the seat of the couch. Stretch your arms up and hold onto the back." Moving like one hypnotized he obeyed, spreading himself as a willing sacrifice to her lust and his own love.

Her hands slid over his shoulders, slick with lube and cool with peppermint oil, and he moaned and pushed back into the contact. Her fingers were surprisingly strong, though he knew he shouldn't be surprised. She was a nurse, strong and competent; efficient and commanding.

She shaped his muscles firmly, dragging her fingers down the groove of his spine, sending tingles along his nerve endings with each movement. He forced himself to relax when she used her thumbs to part his cheeks, slicking slippery fingers along the sensitive crease.

"Reach back." She sounded every bit as mesmerized as he felt. "Hold yourself open for me."

He reached back, tensing his core muscles to maintain his position hovering over the seat of the couch as he held his ass cheeks open for Megan's pleasure.

A cool rush of sensation, a wash of lube tingled over his anus, causing the muscles to twitch in reaction. Then her fingers, rubbing, probing, playing with the tough ring of his sphincter until it gave in and she sank first one, then two fingers deep into his clenching depths. Those long, strong fingers scissored relentlessly, relaxing him and opening him until he was unconsciously pushing back into the thrust.

"Fuck me, Mistress." He heard himself as if from a distance, mumbling, begging. She picked up the pace, fucking him with three fingers now, glancing little blows over his prostate and sending ecstasy jolting up his spine and down his bound dick.

She stopped all at once, and he cried out in denial, a hoarse, guttural sound he barely recognized as human, let alone as his own voice.

"Are you ready for me, Gregori?" Her fingers slid free, and he felt the nudging of something wider, cooler, and foreign at his opening.

"Yes, Mistress," he panted. She nudged harder. He could feel the flex of her body in the grip she took on his shoulder and waist. "Please," he groaned, shifting back into the burn. Harder she pushed, until the broad head of the dildo breached him with a burning pop.

"Take it, sugar," she panted right along with him, impaling him deeper, with short surging thrusts. "Take every bit of it until you're so full of me you'll never be empty again."

And then he was filled with her, the dildo merely an extension of his Mistress' will. Her hips pressed tight against his ass, her breasts squashed soft against his back while her nipples dragged like hard little berries with each shift of her weight. She surrounded him, enveloped him, and he had never felt so safe and so threatened all at once in his life.

"Grab the back of the couch," she ground out, moving with him so the gel-cock stayed lodged deep. "Hold tight, sugar," was the only warning he had before the damned thing began to vibrate.

He howled like a wolf denied his prey, screamed like an eagle plummeting from the heavens, shrieked like the souls of the damned. Somehow, with some magical ability, Megan had managed to place the soft bump on the underside of the dildo square against his prostate, and when she flicked on the vibrating function, it nearly blasted off the top of his skull.

He lurched forward, catching himself on his elbows on the seat of the couch, his dick pressed painfully between his body and the edge of the seat. He welcomed the pain; it, and the cock-and-ball strap were all that kept him from spraying what felt like gallons of cum over the towel she'd thoughtfully draped over the couch.

After an endless time in which the world went black shot with silver stars, he realized that she'd slid one arm under his, wrapping her hand up and over his shoulder to pull him back into an upright position. Slowly, having to concentrate on every movement, he planted his hands on the back of the couch again. Then he had to stop and breathe through the fireworks the shift in position caused along his spasming chute.

She waited for him, waited until he was breathing again, even though it was ragged and uneven. Then his Mistress fucked him. She rolled over him like a tidal wave, worked him with a rhythm that pressed past pain and into a dark ecstasy he'd only come close to under the bloody lash of the whip. He spat curses, profanity and praise with each stroke, and she was right there with him, crooning encouragement and promises until he was sure that, cock ring or no, he was going to come explosively, now, endlessly.

Once again she seemed to read his mind, stopping at the deepest point of her thrust. One rounded thigh climbed his hip, wrapping around his waist until she was plastered against him. A flick of her fingers and the vibration ramped up. He was bellowing, and she was screaming, jerking against him and the knowledge she was coming was enough for him to drag himself back from the edge. He didn't want to miss a second of her climax.

*

The orgasm crashed through her, leaving her wrecked against the only solid thing in the universe, Gregori's body.

He trembled beneath her. His cheeks flexed visibly around the dildo that still impaled him. His breath came in low grunts of effort. Still, he supported them both on one strong arm, having pressed the other over her arm, clutching her hand over his heart.

He was such a gift, Megan thought.

Slowly and carefully she withdrew from his shuddering body. His low moans were like music to her Dominant soul. With gentle hands she guided him to his back on the floor. She thought to flick the nipple clamps, but his anguished expression tore at her heart.

"How would you like to come, sugar?"

His eyes met hers, his mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, before he managed to rasp, "Inside you, Mistress."

"Can you hold it if I remove the strap?" She indicated the strap confining his cock, which was swollen to painful looking proportions and wept great pearls of pre-cum.

"No," he gasped. She knew then that he was truly at the end of his control.

"Okay, sugar," she whispered. "It's all right. I'll take care of you." It was her right. Her responsibility. Her privilege. Moving swiftly, she pressed his shoulders to the floor and moved to straddle him. She had no plans to make him wait any longer, but she still had to pause a moment and savor the feel of him solid and strong between her thighs.

Using the lightest of touches, she positioned him, setting the angry head of his cock just at her entrance. Reaching out to him she said, "Give me your hands," and then wove their fingers together, using his strength to provide the leverage she needed to take him in one smooth stroke.

The instant he slid home, Megan knew it would take only a few strokes to rocket her back into orgasm. The feel of him inside her, filling her with his living heat, had her more than halfway there already. The strap pressed against her, digging into soft flesh and sending her spiral still higher.

Keeping her grip on his hands, she began to move. She didn't bother with fancy moves or exotic technique. Neither of them needed it. Instead, she pushed against his hands and found a slow, steady rhythm that quickly had her pussy clenching along his length.

His head dropped back, neck arched. His skin flushed red, streaked with sweat. His breath heaved, hitched, and shuddered out of him. "Please," he all but sobbed. "Mistress,
please
…"

And then the crisis was upon her, upon them both as she pulled one hand free and reached back to jerk loose the straps holding his pleasure at bay. It consumed her, first her own pleasure, then his. He was magnificent, overwhelming.

His hands fastened on her hips, digging in hard enough to leave bruises, and she loved it. His grip tightened, slamming her against him as he rose to meet her, until he froze buried heart-deep inside of her. His face twisted in such lines of agony and ecstasy he was almost too beautiful to look at. And then he was coming, scalding, powerful pulses of semen branding her as his, marking her as surely as she planned to mark him.

*

Much later Megan propped herself up on Gregori's chest and looked down into his lazy, sated eyes.

"I love you, Gregori," she said softly. "I didn't mean to say it to my father first," she added with a wry smile. Then her face went quiet and adorably serious and she continued, "I was wrong. For so long I believed that to love someone, to give them that power over me, would make me weak. You showed me it was hiding from my feelings that made me weak." She smiled down at him. "With you, I'm strong enough to move mountains." She laughed and added, "And obstinate southern businessmen." Gregori couldn't choke back his snort of amusement at the memory of Beauregard's face when Megan informed him she was the one doing the ass-paddling.

Slipping to the side, Megan reached for a heavy velvet box that had fallen to the floor next to the couch. He vaguely remembered seeing it as she'd begun her preparations, but the sudden vulnerability in her expression gave it added significance.