Mistress of Redemption (8 page)

cage, one handler holding tension

from behind while one maintained it

forward. Dona spread her legs,

showing him her pussy through the

sheer fabric. Her fingers lay on her

thigh, a whisper away from caressing

herself.

The sunlight glistened off the silken

netting, denying him a fully

unimpeded view.

He had the unexpected thought he

would walk on his knees forever to

reach such an offering. He balked,

despite his body’s scream of protest.

Why was she affecting him this way?

She’d come to get him at the prison

because she wanted him. She’d said

so.

Why would that unbalance him so

much? Other women had wanted him.

Other women had wanted Jonathan

Powell. She had come for Nathan.

Fiona shoved him forward abruptly.

Before he could land face first on the

blanket, he was brought up short by

her firm grip on the collar, her nails

scratching his skin. Her brace against

the tether put an aching tension from

cock to arms to throat. The collar

hobbled his air flow enough she

could control him, but he hovered

right over Dona’s cunt, his ass in the

air as she’d described. In his current

position, he could only stare at those

pink folds of skin, the tender lips

compressed behind the mesh. As he

breathed shallowly, he could smell

her arousal. That aroma matched the

intent look of her eye, her parted wet

mouth. Those beautiful breasts rose

like gentle hills above the satin

terrain of her abdomen. He could see

the jutting nipples as she reclined.

Straining forward like an eager dog

in truth, he felt the muscles in his

shoulders bunch with the effort.

He cursed as a crop snapped sharply

down on his flank. Mariah stood off

to the side with it, tossing her red

hair over her pale shoulder.

“Behave, slave, or you’ll eat nothing

but dirt.”

When he snarled, they laughed at him,

but he noted with satisfaction that

Fiona decided to change her position.

The woman’s tawny legs came down

on either side of his hips, her thighs

pressing against him to give her

better leverage to hold him back.

The weight of the dildo against his

spine drove away the moment of

triumph, reminding him that she was

about to put that thing in him. What

would they do if he bucked her off

and plunged his mouth into that juicy

cunt taunting his eyes, his nose? It

took effort to discard the appealing

notion. He had to convince Dona he

could be an obedient sub. That was

the way he played the game. When he

stuck to that strategy, he always won.

31

Joey W. Hill

That conviction had always been

strong in his mind, like the first mark

of a lead pencil on the page of a test.

As he spent time with each Mistress,

the page became filled with words,

the right answers that would bring the

right results. Now the thought bit at

his gut, like the dull ache of an ulcer.

The game had a structure, a rating, a

result. But ultimately, what did it

mean?

Five years in prison. Five years of

lying in the darkness, being chased by

shadows.

The same shadows that had moved

under the water when they bathed

him. Shadows that flitted through

Dona’s eyes now as he looked at her.

What if he didn’t want it to be about

the game? Maybe he just didn’t want

to disappoint her.

Jesus Christ, Powell. Does she

already own you?

Fuck the game. He’d knock Fiona

back on her skinny ass and prove to

Dona he wasn’t to be fucked with,

her and her shadows. He wanted it to

be between the two of them. He

wanted to see if his Mistress could

take him, bring him to heel when she

went toe-to-toe with the savage

animal that he truly was. No

pretenses.

The desire to completely let go

rolled over him with the force of

murderous rage.

Muscles tensed in his shoulders, his

thighs bunching to propel himself off

the ground.

Dona sat up abruptly, laid her hand

on his jaw.

“Sssh, my pet. Calm. You can do this.

I need your mouth. I need you.”

He met her gaze, that soft brown deer

color, and he couldn’t follow through

on it.

The bite of the passion was there, but

with that one softly spoken command,

she held him in place. While he

couldn’t make his muscles move, he

was afraid it wasn’t the weird magic

of this place. In his chest was a

burning that said he
wanted
to obey, to please her.

His moment of opportunity had

slipped from his fingers with the

simple touch of her hand. As Dona

lay back, her hand falling away from

him, Mischa positioned his ass even

higher up in the air, the way they

apparently wanted it for Fiona’s

penetration.

Olivia and Fiona roughly jerked his

knees out even wider, making him

even more dependent on Fiona’s

pressure on the leash to keep his

balance. He coughed at the increased

pressure on his throat, which kept

him occupied with breathing. When

he focused on that waiting pussy, his

tongue swiped his own lips.

“First the pain. To earn my

pleasure.” Dona’s voice, touching his

ears like her fingertips.

Mariah knelt on one side of him,

Olivia the other. Gripping his

buttocks, they spread him open as

Fiona backed up, the dildo making an

oily path up his spine. He tried not to

tense as she guided herself in,

moving the strap of the leash out of

her way between his buttocks. He

thanked whatever deities might be

responsible for her liberal

lubrication, but it was a large cock

and he was far from relaxed. Being

well aware she couldn’t care less

about being gentle made his tension

worse.

The burning started, making him need

more oxygen than he was getting. He

managed the pain, his breath rasping

in and out, in and out. Christ, it was

excruciating.

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Mistress of Redemption

He kept his eyes on the goal, the only

thing that mattered. He’d give Dona

pleasure for the pain, replace her

cool reserve with gasping, wide-

eyed arousal. He could smell how

wet she was without that damned

latex in the way. He sensed her

anticipation and it fired his own

blood to raging.

But, Jesus, the cat woman was going

to kill him first, split him in two.

Despite himself, a grunt of distress

came from his lips as she slid

forward another inch, the tight inner

muscles giving way reluctantly. His

eyes were tearing from the agony as

she sank deep. It was a good thing

he’d always been a hard-core sub,

able to take extremes of pain and still

come at his Mistress’s command, but

this was pressing the boundaries of

even his high limits.

“It’s in.” Her fingernails whispered

down his back. Her thighs pressed

flat against him. He’d never felt so

invaded, his cock turgid in the

harness and his ass impaled on the

rigid phallus.

Dona’s voice was sex wrapped in

silk. “It stays in until you make me

come.”

The lust surged through his blood, the

fire of one dragon meeting the flame

of another, red pain meeting red

passion so together they became

inseparable.

Fiona’s hold on the collar eased

enough so his lips could reach Dona.

Just barely, so he had to strain and

work all the harder for it. He wanted

to descend on her like a rutting stag,

but something checked that impulse.

Maybe it was the discipline of a

lifetime he’d used to play upon a

woman’s desires. Or maybe it was

his own desire to see how much

pleasure he could give her. He didn’t

really give a damn about the whys at

the moment.

Taking his head down a millimeter at

a time, he let his breath caress her

first, make her feel the promise of

moisture in it. He saw her draw in a

breath, hold it, her teeth biting her

bottom lip. God if that sexy gesture

didn’t make his cock pulse

dangerously even in the restrictive

harness. When his lips finally

pressed against the mesh, he felt the

give of her cunt lips beneath his

mouth, the most intimate of kisses. He

couldn’t help closing his eyes,

drawing her aroma in through his

nose. Opening his mouth wide now,

he closed over her entirely and

tickled her with the tip of his tongue

through the netting, a tiny caress

between those lips. A promise that he

would thrust his tongue thick and

deep into her if she’d just give him

the chance.

Fiona started to thrust, which would

have pushed him more aggressively

against Dona’s pussy if he hadn’t

held himself back. He didn’t want to

go there yet. He wanted Dona to

reach for him, show him he was

making an impact. Though the parted

lips, the elevated breathing and the

arch of her back that tilted up those

incredible tits were signs, he wanted

more. He fought the pain for it.

“Ah, he’s a stubborn one, Dona.”

Fiona breathed it, working in him,

her nails pinching into the upper part

of his buttocks while Mariah and

Olivia continued to grip either side,

keeping him spread, kneading him,

crooning over what a fine ass he had.

Dona seized him, fingers grasping his

bare skull. She pistoned her hips,

burying his face in her pussy.

33

Joey W. Hill

It was as effective as a barked order.

His Mistress wanted his passion, the

beast in him. The erratic clutch of her

hands, the way she bared her throat

with rigid intensity told him so.

He caught the mesh in his teeth, tore

it away and thrust his tongue fully

into her before there was time for her

or Fiona to do anything to stop him.

She gasped, the sound music to his

ears. Her grip tightened on his head,

holding him as he fucked her with his

tongue, sucked on her clit

appreciatively and delved deeper

into her cunt. The burning pain was

so potent now he was shaking with it,

his body covered with sweat, the

nausea in his gut matching the guttural

sounds of stress coming from his

throat, sounds of raw need. Even as

the lust drove him, he knew he

couldn’t take much more of the

torture without screaming for mercy.

Fiona unbuckled the strap-on and

expertly wove its straps around his

waist, hips and buttocks, creating a

net of restraints to hold it in him

without the pressure of her body.

When she cinched in the final

crosstie at the small of his back, it

drove the dildo in deeper. He cried

out. In mindless reaction to the

terrible pain and lust intertwined, he

bit Dona. Sinking his teeth into either

side of her outer labia, he held on

and kept his tongue deep inside her.

He should have been kicked away.

Instead, his eyes flicked up wild and

frenzied to see her lips draw back

from her teeth in a primitive snarl.

Her nails dug into his newly shaved

scalp, drew blood of her own as she

began to climax. With his breath hot

on her pussy, his lips pressed to her,

he felt her convulse under him. It

made him feel something he couldn’t

give a name. Didn’t want to. Through

the clench of his teeth he tasted her.

Sweet as Kahlua. Smooth, the bitter

overlaid by the sweet.

She bucked against him, making harsh

sounds of release, her lips parted. He

watched her, caught between the lust

tearing up his insides and a still

wonder at the way she looked. Her

breasts, moving generously with her

body’s undulations. The curve of her

throat, the way her cheeks and upper

body flushed from the climax. So

overwhelming to his senses even

their torment couldn’t keep him from

being riveted by it.

Only when she began to drift down

did the grip of his jaws ease, his

tongue lapping, mouth savoring that

faint flavor, wondering at its mixture

with her musky taste. His ass

quivered, his inner muscles

screaming even as they milked that

dildo involuntarily, seeking a

release.

Her legs now lay on his shoulders,

one thigh trembling against his jaw so

that it was the most natural thing in

the world to turn his head, press a

hard kiss to the skin, rub against her