Ice Queen (6 page)

Somehow, he knew he would have. Even as he knew he wouldn’t now, despite the sexually charged atmosphere.

He suspected either he was losing his grip on reality or the pathway to Marguerite’s soul was a truth like the law of gravity, something so obvious that it took really looking at it to see it.

36

Ice Queen

Down below, Marguerite ran her fingers down Brendan’s bare spine, watched his quivering increase. Sometimes she knew she could stay nearly motionless like this by a sub, watching and feeling as he succumbed, entering a peaceful trance while she merely trailed a line up and down his spine, along the sweep of ribs, the curve of buttock, the straining thigh. The tranquility would enter her as well. She could absorb its emanations and take it home as nourishment until the next week.

The ceiling being open for public viewing did not disturb her. The more she needed those emanations, the deeper she could go into the scene. She reflected she had been in need of an exceptional catharsis tonight. While she was the only Mistress approved to do scarification at The Zone, she did not doubt Brendan’s honesty or his devotion in asking her specifically to do it. It added to the power of this moment.

“Watch her,” Lisbeth whispered to Tyler. “She’s there, but she’s not there. She neither loves nor hates him. Simply accepts him. She’s inhuman.” Tyler’s fingers caressed the stem of his glass but he didn’t respond. He kept his gaze fixed on every nuance of the tableau below. Myriad emotional and physical reactions boiled through his system as he watched her build to her finale.

Marguerite positioned one mirror before Brendan, one behind, angling them so he could see the affected area of his back, the first brand and the smooth expanse of skin where the other two would go.

“It looks beautiful on you, Brendan.” She picked up the next brand. One step, two steps. “Keep watching this time. Don’t take your eyes off of it. And again, no sound, no movement.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he said hoarsely.

Tyler noticed that this time some of the audience had to look away as the brand came down. Jeremy actually covered his nose and mouth with a handkerchief out of Brendan’s view range. Though she held no watch or timer, Marguerite appeared to know exactly when to lift the brand. Tyler suspected the temperature gauge he’d seen her check on the teakettle the other night was only for her staff or if she got interrupted.

While concentrating like this, she probably could calculate milliseconds in her head.

Brendan’s eyes watered with the effort to keep them open. A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth where he’d apparently bitten down on his tongue to keep from screaming. When his breath came like a rasping bellows, Marguerite nodded to Jeremy, assuring him that the young man was fine, that his response was normal. She handed him the iron and went back to the head of the bench.

Stroking Brendan’s sweaty hair off his brow, her hand descended and covered his mouth and nose, cutting off his air and causing a surprised exclamation from the audience.

His body jerked in shock but Marguerite kept her face close, her voice a whisper that nevertheless carried well over the speakers.

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Joey W. Hill

“Take the pain into yourself, Brendan. Make it one with everything you are. Breathe in and out of your soul. If you want my brand there, you have to let it reach deep down into you, past the flesh. Burn the deepest part of who you are.” As she spoke the words, Brendan’s eyes started to roll, the precursor to a faint.

Marguerite took her hand away, a smooth move without hurry. She spoke in the imperious voice of a Mistress. “Your deepest breath, Brendan. Now.” His chest expanded. He gasped, his eyes blinking, focusing again. Tyler noted without amusement that there was a rush of air as the audience around him and on the main floor below drew in almost at the same moment Brendan did, not realizing until then that they were holding a collective breath.

Miraculously he did look more tranquil, even as his body continued to make convulsive jerks from the pain and the near-orgasmic state of his body.

“Mistress,” he said, just gazing into her face. “Mistress.” She brushed her knuckles against his cheek, rose. Stopped and let him press his lips with passionate adoration to her thigh, just above the knee, continuing his quiet chant.

Not her name but the one word that represented all she was to him at that moment.

Marguerite turned, bringing her other leg to the opposite side of the low bench so she was straddling his head, facing toward his buttocks. Sinuously she laid her body down along the length of his, her elbows on either side of his hips. Taking hold of the plug, she seated it more deeply, beginning slow thrusts in and out which inspired his buttocks to clench, his hips to rise to meet her, the little amount of movement that his bonds permitted. Tyler could see Brendan’s eyes, his brow and the bridge of his nose as he continued to work kisses along the inside of her thigh, covered with the thin white barrier. In her position, her pussy was pressed against the back of his neck out of the range of his mouth but Tyler was sure the young man could smell her scent. He would be hyperaware of where she touched him, the crevice of her buttocks brushing the hair on his skull, her belly pressed between his shoulder blades, her breasts just above the brands.

She raised up, putting pressure on his skull as she effectively sat on the back of his head. Taking the zipper of the one-piece bodysuit down to her waist, she spread it open. The lace bra she wore was for support, not coverage, the cups open as he’d suspected. She held out the edges of the suit to keep the zipper from touching him as she lay back down on him, using the strength of her upper body alone to hold herself.

Just barely putting her bare breasts against the raw wounds, she dragged her soft nipples over the area, tracing the skin outside of the brands.

He stiffened from the pain but even as he did, the shuddering desire on his face registered that he knew what she was doing. She lowered her head, using her mouth to deftly move the plug. Despite the obvious torment he was feeling, Brendan writhed at the stimulus, whimpering between lust and pleading. The angle at which Tyler sat showed Brendan’s erection was enormous, ready for release.

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Ice Queen

“Astounding.” Lisbeth shook her head. “Brendan’s never been into large amounts of pain. This threshold… I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I know the lightest touch brings pain, Brendan.” Marguerite’s voice came through the speakers. “Do you wish me to continue?”

“Ah… God, yes, Mistress. You feel so good to me.” Brendan’s face was contorted with the conflict between torture and pleasure.

Tyler was sure that the touch of the Ice Queen’s bare breasts meant that the fires of hell could have been consuming Brendan right now and his cock would have been hard, straining to spew for her. To one of her submissives, it was like getting the best parts of heaven and hell together.

“That’s enough now. I’ve no intention of causing you infection. And it’s time for the last one.”

Marguerite rose. As if rewinding, she took her leg back over his face with the same graceful movement and posed there at his side. Elegant, haughty and bare-breasted.

The restrained man nuzzled her thigh, tears of pain running down his face even as his body shook uncontrollably from head to toe.

“He’s in the zone now.” Tyler heard another Domme near them comment.

“Zone, hell.” Lisbeth snorted. “That poor baby is gone. Up in the tornado, hell and gone from Kansas.”

Putting her hand down, Marguerite cupped his jaw and broke the contact. She circled him, let him watch her as she picked up a rigid rubber phallus, a jaw-stretching size.

“Are you close to coming?” Marguerite asked her captive.

“Yes… Yes, Mistress.”

“I thought so. You’re very hard.” She reached down, gripped him. He groaned.

“That’s when I’m going to lay the last one down, when come is shooting out of you.”

“Mistress…”

“Yes, Brendan?”

“I…you’re giving me such a gift. I know you’ll think I’m selfish. But when it’s over, if you’ll consider it, I want…I wish…” His gaze flicked up to her, Whatever it was he wanted, he mouthed it, for it didn’t come through the speakers. Her body was positioned where Tyler could not see his lips. But whatever he said, she reacted to it.

Something like pain crossed her face for just a moment before it was gone and she was the Ice Queen once again.

“You’ve asked a great deal of me, Brendan. Sshhh. Just let this happen. Open up.” He obeyed and she inserted it. “Bite down. You’ll hold that cock in your mouth through this last one because I won’t have you going through your tongue.” His eyes looked down, ashamed of his weakness. “No, you’ve nothing to feel guilty about.

You’ve given
me
a great deal tonight.” When she turned, Tyler saw the faint gleam on 39

Joey W. Hill

her abdomen from Brendan’s perspiration. For some reason, where nothing else had, seeing that dampness made his loins stir with territorial need.

“She’s being more intimate with him.” Lisbeth put a name to what his fogged brain could not. “I’ve never seen her interact to this level with a sub before.” Jeremy had the last brand handle in his grip but she gestured to him to hold it in the fire a bit longer. Instead, she came back behind Brendan. Out of his line of sight, she picked up a strap-on cock as big as what was currently protecting his tongue and stretching his lips. She ran the straps around her hips, between her legs, her hands smoothing, molding her curves as she did so, testing the fit of the crotch strap with one finger to make sure it wasn’t pinching her labia. The caressing motion made several of the audience groan in reaction. Tyler shifted, crossing his leg back the other way while Lisbeth hid a smile.

Then she stepped forward at last, removed the plug and slid her strapped-on cock into the greased opening. She eased in, her thighs pressing against his, leaning over him, her body arched over the branded area, breasts hanging loose, wobbling with her movements.

Jesus Christ. Tyler was hard as a rock. He wanted to put his hands on either side of that slender rib cage to lift her onto him, impale her inch by inch on his rigid cock, which felt as enormous and stiff as what she was taking to the hilt into Brendan now.

Brendan’s breath rasped around the gag as she seated herself home and began to stroke him, in and out, her hands gripping his buttocks, spreading them, thumbs playing around the rim, nails digging in. Brendan’s face conveyed the intensity of it, the agony of the pull near the burn wound warring with the incredible pleasure she was causing him. Reaching down, she wrapped a fist loosely around his organ. Coming away with some of his cream, she brought it to her lips.

Tyler was on his feet before he realized it. Up to the railing as others gave way before him. As if she knew, her gaze rose, met his. Putting the fingers in her mouth, she sucked. Let them slide out, down. Using her damp fingers, she wet her nipple, played with it as she rocked in and out of Brendan, whose breath was beginning to rasp with the same rhythm. As Tyler’s burning gaze fastened on her fingers, the nipple elongated, tightened. She jerked her attention from him, back to Brendan.

“Mistress…” It was a muffled cry around the gag but Brendan’s distress was clear.

“Come for me, Brendan,” she said, her voice even, cool, caressing, as if the raw moment had never happened. “I want to hear you this time.” His body stiffened and she gave a quick nod to Jeremy. Never breaking her rhythmic thrusts in and out of Brendan’s backside, she took the handle of the brand.

Lifting it above her head, her lower body changed its pattern, undulating in the S-movements of a belly dancer. She swept her gaze over the crowd above her, ignoring Tyler this time. Slowly she brought the iron down, pressing it to Brendan’s skin.

He screamed, a scream of torment and pleasure mixed. Like an animal, without understanding of what he was experiencing, if it was pleasure or pain, or beyond 40

Ice Queen

comprehension of either. His cock began to spurt, his orgasm sweeping over him, drowning him in all the mixed sensations.

Still thrusting, she handed the brand back to Jeremy. Loosening her hair from the ponytail so waves of white silk cascaded down her back, she dipped her head like a beautiful, coquettish mare. The strands rippled over the raw area. Tyler knew the touch of silk would be like the scrape of razors against skin throbbing from the simple touch of the air. Brendan bucked, the muscles rippling along his back, his thighs, his shoulders arched as he kept spurting, groaning, crying her name.

“Mistress. Mistress…”

And then Tyler heard it taken up, echoed, whispered among the faithful clustered around the expanse of glass.

Mistress. Mistress.
An acknowledgement of her absolute Dominance, her ability to command total capitulation from the soul of another. A remarkable gift that had been offered by a sub whose body she likely would never touch again. Maybe never even exchange a greeting with him, for subs were not supposed to address Masters or Mistresses unless they were addressed first.

She pulled out slowly at last, twisting, bending at the waist so her hair rippled down his back, over the brands, over his buttocks and thighs. When she straightened, tossed it back, she had her eyes closed. When she opened them, she stared straight at Tyler.

The look in her eyes said it all. This was her swan song here. She was snubbing her nose at him and The Zone requirement, leaving them the memory of a Mistress who was a force of nature to herself. A Goddess laughing at man’s pitiful attempts to teach her what she already knew, possibly had created herself. The message was clear.

Fuck you.

His jaw tight, Tyler turned to find Lisbeth looking at him peculiarly.

“What?”

“I think I’m losing my mind.”

“And why is that?”

She tapped her manicured nails on the side table. “I believe I just saw one of our strongest Mistresses bratting for one of our most powerful Masters, throwing down a gauntlet and daring him to do something about it. And him standing there looking at her as if he was going to pick it up, turn her over his knee and use it on her. What’s going on, Tyler?”