Comfort Object (31 page)

“Bless her heart, then, Jeremy. You know Greek's never been my thing.”

Jeremy laughed, then dragged me over to the cake before I could ask him about her stalker comment. After a drunken, rousing round of “Happy Birthday” from my party guests, I blew out the twenty-nine candles on my cake. Jeremy cut me a big piece and eyeballed me as I ate it. His pale blue eyes traveled up and down my curves, barely concealed by the toga I wore.

“I want to smear that icing all over your fucking body and lick it off.”

“Because I'm so sweet, yes?”

He chuckled. “Very sweet. You melt when it rains, sugar.”

“Mmm,” I said, tracing his golden forearm with one soft fingertip. “I'm actually feeling a little wet right now, Jeremy. A little meltish.”

I loved his face when I made him horny. Intent eyes, tense lips. He leaned close to me. “I think you have a birthday spanking coming. Twenty-nine licks, isn't it?”

“Twenty-nine licks?” I pulled a small pout. “I don't know. That sounds so…sadistic.” I looked right into his eyes. “If they were hard ones, I might not even be able to sit down afterward.”

He drew in a breath. His chin jutted out as his jaw tensed. I wanted to lick it, bite it between my teeth.

“Teasing is a very, very naughty habit. Little girls who tease sometimes live with regret.”

I barely held him off until we got to the hotel room. If our surly taxi driver looked in the rearview mirror, he probably got a glimpse of ass cheek and groped boobs. Jeremy lifted me in his arms in the elevator. He pulled my legs up to encircle his waist and dug his hand into my slit.

“Jeremy, someone's going to see us!” I was sopping wet, and his fingers were already making me throb. “Jeremy, stop!”

“
Jeremy, stop
is a contractually forbidden phrase,” he said.

“Jeremy, I'm serious, if someone gets on this elevator—”

My voice cut off as he closed his mouth over my lips. He kissed me, then sucked on my tongue. He set fire to my pussy with his fingers until I completely forgot where we were. If anyone did get on the elevator, I was too far gone to know it. When the hotel room door closed behind us, I began to grind against his hips. His erection stuck obscenely out of his toga. He'd decreed earlier that I could not wear panties; apparently he decided to forgo underwear too.

I was wild for him. I craved his cock; I wanted to taste it. I wanted to feel it in my mouth. I wanted to feel it slide deep in my throat. I knelt, took it in my hands.

“Well,” he said. “Forward little slut, aren't you? Birthday or not, you don't get to help yourself to whatever you want. Do you, girl?”

My gaze flew to his. How had I gotten so carried away?

“I'm sorry, Jeremy.”

“I'm happy to hear you're sorry, but does sorry take punishments away?”

“No, Jeremy.”

“No, it doesn't, does it?”

I shuddered at his feet, but when I looked up from under my lashes, I saw a glimmer of humor in his eyes. He wasn't really angry. But would he capitalize on my fuckup? I had no doubt. His face took on an imperious expression, and he looked down his nose at me.

“Naughty little slave girl. Abase yourself. On the floor. Show your master how sorry you are.”

I drew in my breath.
Ohhhh
. Best birthday present ever. He knew it was my biggest fantasy. I'd told him during one of our long talks. My pussy flooded, and my heart burst with gratitude. I peered up at him, and he stared back at me. Playing scenes with actors was a complete rush. He never broke character. I tried to hold up my end, sinking to the floor with a forlorn look. I knelt and then bent forward, legs spread, ass out. I made no motion to draw the toga back over the parts of my body that were exposed.

He stood a long time and looked before he fetched the cuffs and knelt to secure my hands behind my back. Then he stood in my line of sight and kicked off his sandals. A pause. He moved his foot forward in a gesture I could hardly fail to understand. I swallowed and leaned forward on my knees. I kissed his foot, ran my tongue across the top and down to his toes. After a moment, he drew it back. Held it out again, just beyond my reach. I had to shuffle on my knees to reach it. I was being toyed with, and it made me white-hot. My tongue came out. I kissed the proffered foot again. I started lapping. I felt his shudder all the way down to his toes. His arousal fell down over me in waves of electric energy, or perhaps it was my own arousal I felt. The other foot came forward, thrust under my nose. I worshipped it, licked it. I ran my tongue over the arch, around the ball of his foot. I poked it between his toes. With a soft breath, he pulled his foot away from me. I bowed my head back to the carpet. He walked away.

I waited. My pussy was so hot. I felt empty without his cock inside, especially when I felt like this. The musk of my own arousal permeated the air. A primal moan rose up inside me and I swallowed it down, not wanting to make so much as a sound without permission.

Jeremy returned. I heard his feet on the carpet beside me. He knelt next to me and unwrapped my loose toga. I quivered wherever his warm hands brushed against me. When I was nude, he ran his hand across my back and up to my shoulders. Then he ran it down the other way, slid it between my ass cheeks and down to my pussy. He thrust two fingers inside, and I grasped at them, keeping my hips perfectly still. Perfectly arched.
I'm your slave. I'm for your pleasure, not mine
. He took his fingers away, and I squeezed my eyes shut from the ache he left behind. Then he put a hand on my neck. I felt something rough against my skin. I smelled the tang of leather. I couldn't contain my gasp as he drew up the circle and buckled it around my neck.

A collar. Emotion welled up inside me.
For you, Nell
. He didn't say it, but I heard it plain as day.

“Come.” He pulled me up by a large ring on the front. “Bad slaves get punished.” He brought out something else. A leash.
God, help me
. Could my pussy get any wetter? He clicked it onto the ring he held, then wrapped the long strap around his fist. He pulled me toward him so sharply that I stumbled. I stared into hard blue eyes. “Twenty-nine licks for a very bad slave girl.”

He picked up a whippy crop from the bed. He wrapped the leash tighter around his fist, so I was held close and fast by the strength of his arm. He brought the crop down with a
whap
on my left buttock.

“Ah!” I yelped.

Another crack came, and another. Stinging pain bloomed across my shifting hindquarters. He flicked first one cheek and then the other, so I danced at the end of my tether. I sought his muscular body, tried to press against him for shelter, but he only yanked me back into position and continued his assault on my ass. I was overcome with an almost painful lust, straining there on the end of his leash. My neck was chafed and scratched by the stiff leather, but it felt like heaven.

“Oh! Oh!” I cried. My body lurched. I shifted from one foot to the other. My ass sizzled as the crop fell again and again. The short, hard cracks seemed to fall on every inch of my thighs and ass. I grew quite certain he'd long since passed twenty-nine. “Please, please, Master!” I finally burst out.

His arm went still. My cuffed hands struggled to soothe my blazing ass cheeks. Again he yanked me to attention. His hot breath rasped against my ear.

“What? Don't you enjoy being whipped, slave?”

“No, Master!”

“That's a shame for you, isn't it? Because I love to whip you.” He laid the crop across both cheeks with a fiery stroke.

I wailed, an incoherent, desperate sound. It spoke more of my horniness than my aversion to the crop.

“Hush,” he said, shaking me by my collar. I fell silent. I felt his tongue trace up my ear. I shuddered and whimpered.

“Well, girl,” he said. “There is something I enjoy every bit as much as whipping your ass.” His hands grasped my flesh and squeezed it. I struggled, tensing my buttocks and dancing away from him. He ignored my protests, drawing me in again and tracing across my welts with his fingernails. Then he gathered some of my pussy juice on his digits and pressed two thick fingers into my ass. I felt stretched open, defiled. My tight hole ached from the invasion. I pulled against the cuffs and threw my head back.

“No, no! Oh no, please…”

“Slave girls don't say no.”

I groaned as his fingers pressed deeper. He withdrew them and pushed me down, letting out the leash. He tore off his toga and stood before me in all his glory, a Greek god. He gave me just a moment to look before he shoved me to my knees. “Suck me. Use lots of spit, girl. It's the only lube you're going to get when I ram it into your ass.”

I opened my mouth to accept him. I sucked him and caressed him with my tongue. I worshipped. I lapped at the bulging head of his cock and then took him deep in my throat. I salivated on his huge tool so it could more easily rend my asshole. I could have worshipped him that way for hours, in thanks for his party. For the leash and collar I wore. For fulfilling my fantasies. But a moment later, he jerked the leash and pulled me back from him. He stood me up and bent me over.

I gasped, struggling for breath. He held my hips in his hands and trapped the dangling end of the leash under his foot.

“Oh please! Have mercy.” I didn't know if I was playing the slave girl anymore or if it was actually me crying out for release. He drew the copious moisture from my pussy and rubbed it up over my nether hole. He pressed the head of his cock against me and, with a grunt, popped the head inside.

The pain was terrible and wonderful. He stopped, let me adjust. I moved my hips back toward him. With a groan he drove forward, then back. He began to fuck me, quick, bucking strokes that made me totter on my feet. My arousal was already at a fever pitch; my pelvis ached with the weight of my excitement. I squeaked and moaned as his hands grasped at my hips. Soon I began to pant.

“Master, Master!”

He reached down for the leash, yanked me upward. He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind and squeezed me back against him. My hands were crushed against his abs. I could feel his trail tickling against my ass cheeks. I scratched at the hard muscle I discovered beneath my fingertips. He growled and wrapped a fist in my hair. He shook me hard. He put a finger through the ring in my collar and held me, while the other hand reached around to grasp a straining nipple and twist it. Frantic sounds rose up in my throat.

“Come for me. Come now, right now, slave girl.”

A shock of release rolled over me. I convulsed as pleasure emanated out from where he was buried in my ass, rolled up to my tits. It traveled to the swollen clit at my center and even up to the collar chafing my neck. He held me with a hand splayed over my throat as I yowled and jerked against him. His cock convulsed in my ass.