OnlyatTheCavern (11 page)

Once he was laid out, she secured his arms by his sides,
placing a kiss onto the center of each palm before wrapping the cuff around his
wrist and tightening it into place.

Just because she could, she ran her hands over his body,
enjoying the varying textures and the play of his muscles and body hair under
her palms. His contented sighs made her skin tingle and when he closed his
eyes, she let loose with a wicked grin. He was so putty in her hands.

Earlier that evening she had hidden a few supplies in the
drawer under the table. From inside the drawer she withdrew a condom and ripped
open the top. The wrapper fluttered to the floor as she rolled the latex down
his throbbing length with a firm squeeze.

“Good God,” Marco gritted out and bucked his hips.

Next she took out a leather and metal contraption that had
his eyes widening in surprise.

“Wha—” he bit back the question with a grimace. The man was
learning to hold his tongue.

She slipped the metal ring down the shaft of his cock until
it fit snugly around the base. Around each thigh she wrapped the straps and
cinched his balls with the cage into a nice, tight package. As he twitched on
the table, she removed her skirt. Dressed in only her corset and thigh-high
boots, she climbed onto the table and sat astride him like a rider on a bucking
bronco.

Sweet heavens, she couldn’t hold back any longer.

She grabbed his cock and aimed the tip at the entrance to
her pussy. With Marco’s gaze fixed at her juncture, she began the slow descent
down his shaft, her greedy pussy gobbled up every inch until she hit bottom.
Oh, the stretch burned so good. This first time was going to be quick.

She rolled her hips to the right and left, back and forth,
taking her sweet time in searching for the perfect fit, and when she found it,
her breath caught and her fingers dug into his sides. It was times like these
when she wished she could grow her nails out longer. The style was not
productive in the medical field, but, oh, how she’d love to draw blood as she
rode her toy hard.

And he was her toy, he belonged to her. Marco was nothing
but a beautiful instrument of pleasure. Built to serve her in whatever manner
she wished. As she rose and fell, getting closer and closer to the edge, she
reveled in his torture. The muscles in his arms bulged, straining against his
bindings. His head thrashed against the table and his hips jerked beneath her,
trying to plow his cock further inside.

“Do not come,” she barked and worked her hand between them
to rub at her clit. “Do not come.”

The direction ended on a moan as the rush of electricity
swept up her body and set her ablaze. She slammed her hips down, trapping the
throbbing length of his erection in her pulsating sheath. Blood rushed in her
ears and her vision swam, but underneath it all was the unrelenting hunger for
more.

“Yes, more,” she said out loud and began the rise and fall
on his cock.

“Oh God. God,” Marco began to chant and shake, his
sweat-slicked body slid between her thighs with sporadic jerks.

She dug her fingers into his flanks and bent over to take
one of his sensitive nipples into her mouth, taking care not to rip him to
shreds. His cries made her feral, ravenous, almost violent as she licked and
bit his flesh, leaving streaks of red lipstick to mark her territory.

The delicious curve of his cock filled her again and again,
the head stroking her G-spot and hurtling her to another orgasm with breakneck
speed. His name flirted with her lips as she caught fire but she held it back.
It was too soon to use his name, no matter how much she wanted to scream it to
the sky.

Spots floated in her vision and her lungs burned as she
crashed to his chest. Little jolts of energy twitched in her muscles and her
pussy continued to suckle his cock that was still as hard as marble in her soft
sheath.

Above her came the sounds of Marco muttering. Only a few
words were understandable, such as sodium, chlorine and iridium.

Was he reciting the periodic table? She lifted her head and
saw his eyes were tightly shut and his teeth clenched together as he rattled
off element after element.

Now this was new, and unexpected. Using sports statistics as
a distraction from coming was not unknown. This scientific method was most
certainly intriguing.

“Rookie. Look at me,” she demanded with a twist to his
nipples. “Are you ignoring me?”

“No—no, Mistress,” he gritted out. His face was shiny and
flushed, the skin of his cheekbones drawn tight as he fought to remain in
control. “Please. Please…”

Oh, they were so pretty when they begged.

She climbed down and waited for her legs to steady before
crossing to the foot of the table. She made a great show of pulling the stirrups
into position. The loud click of the metal snapping into place made his body
jerk. After she placed his feet in the holders and tied them down, she lowered
the end of the table and stepped between his spread legs.

At his groin, his cock pulsed hot and heavy. The shaft was
so thick and red it was almost obscene in appearance, and she did love obscene.
She ran the tip of her finger up the seam of his sac and smiled as he
whimpered.

From her drawer of tools she withdrew a small anal plug and
a tube of lubricant. When he saw the appliance in her hand, he began to
struggle in his bonds and let loose a stream of curses. The restraints creaked
and the skin around his wrist turned bright red, but she sensed that all of his
snarling was not caused by pain. That was until she flicked the cage around his
ball sac with her fingers.

“Silence,” she said in what Madeline called her Maleficent
voice. Deep, booming and unforgiving.

Once his moans settled into whimpers, she teased his
puckered hole, around and around with the tip of her finger. Oh, there was
nothing more delicious than watching a big, strong man squirm as he had his
asshole played with. Despite his protestations, he was loving it, judging by
the way he pushed back against her. She added a generous amount of lubricant
then inserted the small plug in a slow glide. She flipped the switch on the
bottom of the plug and grabbed the base of his cock and squeezed hard.

“Are you ready to come, Rookie?” she asked and worked his
shaft up and down with her hand.

“Fuck yes.”

“Where do you want it?”

His feverish stare nailed her in the eyes. His nostrils
flared and the tendons of his neck stood out in stark relief as he snarled,
“Down your throat. Every drop.”

If it was possible to orgasm by words alone, she did so as
he raged at her like a raving beast. There was no doubt in her mind that if he
were free, he’d be on her in an instant, tearing her apart as he fed his lust.

And sweet heaven above, she wanted him to. She wanted him to
hold her down and pillage her body for his relief.

But not today. Tomorrow she would examine these newly found
longings this beautiful man aroused within her. Today she was in charge and she
would take from him what she wanted.

Her hands shook as she released the straps and slipped off
the cock ring and condom.

Precum oozed from the tip, opaque and creamy. “Watch me and
come,” she said and swallowed his cock until he hit the back of her throat.

His hips lifted off the table as the first stream shot out
so hard, she didn’t even taste it. The second and third were just as fierce but
spread across her tongue with a sweet aftertaste.

As he bellowed, she smiled. He had done as instructed and
drunk the juice before he arrived.

She used both hands and a firm suction to milk him of every
drop, just as he wanted. The plug in his ass kept his orgasm going for several
long seconds and added another level of ecstasy she could see turn him inside
out.

The power she held over him was like a drug heightening the
senses. Her vision was sharper, her skin more sensitive. She couldn’t get
enough of his texture, his taste, the sounds he made as he continued to jerk in
his bonds. The dichotomy was amusing. She, a mere woman, made this big, strong
man turn into a sobbing heap and made him love it.

Whether he realized it or not, she just made him her slave.
Only she had the power to make him feel that good, that elated, that treasured.
Who wouldn’t kill for an opportunity to feel that way again?

But as Spider-Man often said, with great power came great
responsibility. Riding a high of endorphins made him a danger to not only
himself but to her as well. One brief loss of focus on her part could result in
an injury to them both.

As if she was in any shape to take care of either of them.
Her legs shook as she walked to the bar to retrieve a set of warm, wet towels.
The weakness made her smile in victory. What better indicator of success than
feeling as if her quadriceps were on fire?

Aftercare was one of her favorite moments of playtime.
Seeing the results of her work, demonstrating to her sub that they meant more
to her than a plaything, even though she may have treated them as such not
moments before. But she truly cared for her lovers, and this was her preferred
method of showing them her affection.

“I’m going to step away to call a steward to carry you to
the bed,” she said once he was unbound and the last bit of lipstick was removed
from his skin.

“No.” He latched on to her wrist with surprising strength.
“I can make it.”

“And fall to the floor the second you try to stand.”

“I can make it.” He dark gaze sought hers. “If you’ll lie
beside me. I can make it. Even if I have to crawl.”

Her breath caught and a shiver stole across her bare skin.
“This time,” she conceded and stepped away from the table.

At least he took his time in sitting up and waited with a
few shallow breaths before trying to stand. He wobbled the few steps to the bed
but made it under his own power before collapsing onto the mattress.

She stifled a chuckle and crawled in beside him then drew
the covers over their bodies.

“That’s nice,” he murmured and drew her close. Sleep tugged
at his eyelids and she expected him to pass out at any second.

Only he didn’t fall asleep. He lay quiet in her arms as she
traced the lines of the muscles in his chest and shoulders with the tips of her
fingers, yet his lips quivered and his brow furrowed as if he had something on
his mind but didn’t know how to ask.

“How are you feeling?” she asked and brushed his hair off
his forehead.

“Amazing. Light.” He let go with a dry chuckle. “Humble. I
had no idea… I guess I should turn in my man card.”

“Why? Because I penetrated your ass?”

He laughed. “No. Because I bawled like a kid and felt
completely helpless.”

“And you liked it.”

He looked into her eyes. “I loved it. I just didn’t realize
I was so weak.”

“Being submissive is not a sign of weakness, remember?” She
reached out and twisted his nipple. “A weak man would have run, not reveled in
the pleasure.”

“Right, right. I guess I never considered how…intense this
whole experience would be.”

“And we’ve only begun.”

“I won’t survive,” he moaned, but his smile suggested he
wouldn’t mind, then the smile faltered. “Am I performing as you expected?”

Ah, man-speak for “do you like me?”

“Yes. You are.”

“Better than expected?”

“No.”

“No?” His brows shot up. “What do you mean no?”

“I expected perfection.”

“Oh,” he breathed out on sigh, then his eyes widened as he
understood her meaning and a smug grin spread across his lips. “Good. That’s
good.” He melted deeper into the mattress. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You may.”

The smile turned into a smirk at the subtle correction of
his grammar. “How was your day?”

“How was my day?”

“Yeah.”

How was your day?

Each word on its own she understood. Even those words
combined into a query, she was able to comprehend, yet at the moment it was as
if he were speaking a foreign language.

“How was my day?” she repeated with a pause between each
word.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a simple question. Did you work today? Did you run
errands or meet with friends? Was it good, or did you have one of those days
when you want to bitch at the world, or did something neat catch your eye that
made you glad to be alive?”

“My day was…fine,” she answered slowly, still uncertain as
to the motivation behind the question. “Why do you ask?”

“You go to great lengths in taking care of me and I wonder
who takes care of you?”

She drew back in surprise. “I do.”

“Then where is your release? When are you able to step away
and relax?”

“Being with you like this is my release.”

“And afterwards? Who bathes the sweat from your body? Who
tucks you into bed? Who is there for you to lean on and make sure you’re
getting what you need?”

“I, um…I—” Her throat closed up and suddenly it felt as if
the blankets wrapped around her chest tightened to steal her breath away.

The relationship Marco was describing was what “normal”
people had. It was coexisting, long-term, intimate on a level far greater than
what the two of them shared, yet far more superficial as well.

There was only so much time she had to devote to another
person. It wasn’t fair to pretend to offer more than the brief moments she
painstakingly carved out for her submissives as she did now. Did she ever long
for more? On occasion. And then she’d see one of her colleagues at the hospital
embroiled in a spat with their significant other, and the longing died.

However, lounging besides Marco’s warm body, with his sexy
half-smile just inches away from her as they shared the same pillow made her
question her “Cavern only” policy.

Foolish thoughts. She swallowed against the lump in her
throat and shrugged as if the idea amused her. “You want to give me a bath?
That can be arranged.”