Still (16 page)

“Ahhh. Grasshopper begins to see truth.” Her tone was glib, but her eyes were serious. “Now take that one step further. If I need you, then you have power over me, don’t you?”

He didn’t like thinking about it like that, it made him feel…not right. “I don’t want power over you, Domina.”

“Let me tell you the worst kept secret in the BDSM community. At the end of the day, with all the bullshit pushed aside, the bottom is the one who holds the power in the relationship.”

“What do you mean?”

“Wyatt, if you say 'no' and mean it all play stops.”

“How will you know if I mean it?”

“Why your safe word…oh, damn...which you don’t have yet.” She groaned and smacked her forehead. “My mentor would whip my ass for that one.”

Confused, which seemed to be his normal state of mind around Michelle, he studied her beautiful face. While she kept her expressions guarded, he was beginning to know her well enough to read her slight cues. Right now the smile tilting her lips was one of fondness. “Mentor?”

“Yes. When I started into the lifestyle at twenty I joined a local BDSM club. Being as green as grass, they had me train with an experienced Dom before I got near any submissives.”

“Trained you, how?”

“Well, among other things, anything I wanted to do to a sub I had to have done to me first…” Her gaze went distant and hot. “And I wanted to do a lot.”

“Wait. You mean you had sex with this guy?”

“Why, Callahan, are you jealous of something I did when I wasn’t even old enough to drink? Should I ask about every woman you’ve been with?”

“No, no you don’t have to do that.” He scrambled to get off that subject, knowing women never liked to hear about men being with someone else. In his case, a lot of someone elses. “So did you enjoy it?”

“Yes, I did”

“But you don’t want to be a submissive?”

“No. I can play the submissive role now and again, sometimes I even crave it, but I’m a Dominant through and through. Eventually, I’ll want to be on top.” She must have seen his hopeful look because she shook her head with a rueful grin. “Uh uh, buddy, that’s a big treat. You’re more likely to win the lottery first. Besides, I’d never let you touch me without proper training first.”

“Would you train me?”

“Nope. My head wouldn’t be in the right place. I’d be more worried about your pleasure than if you were using proper technique. While my mentor was a friend, and we did have sex, there was nothing romantic between us.” She leaned up and nipped his lower lip. “I’m rather fond of you and, you, my submissive, need a safeword. It’s a word you use during play when something is majorly hurting you and you need it to stop. It’s not a wimp-out word, I’ll expect you to take some discomfort for my pleasure, but if you need everything to stop and need to talk or be held, then you will say that word. It should be something you remember, but don’t use a lot.”

He chased her lips with his own, the teasing sweep of her tongue in his mouth setting his blood to boil before he backed away enough to speak, while keeping her close. “Santa.”

She laughed, her body moving against his in a maddening manner. “Santa as in Claus?”

“Yep.”

“I guess that’ll work as good as anything.” She stepped away and moved to the middle of the room, her rocking ass holding his gaze. “What piece should we start with?”

He leaned against the wall and looked around the room, trying to imagine what she would put in her dungeon. “Do you have woodworking tools?”

She tilted her head to the side. “I might. Yuki has tools, but I’m thinking you’d like your own.”

“I would.”

“Then I’ll buy you some.”

“With all respect, Domina, I’d rather use mine.” He steeled himself for an argument, running over his reasons in his mind.

“I can understand that. Do you have someone who can bring them here or should I send James for them?”

He frowned. “Why can’t I go get them?”

Her bright blue eyes darkened a shade, but it wasn’t with desire. “Because you agreed to stay here for a month and I’m holding you to it.”

He shoved off the wall, stalking across the room towards her, his erection still stiff and proud thanks to the cock ring. “So you’re going to keep me fucking prisoner?”

She straightened and closed the gap between them, standing less than a breath away. Looking up at him she should have seemed less intimidating, but that wasn’t the case. He felt like he was about to get chewed out by a superior officer. “No, I’m not keeping you prisoner and I’m insulted that you would even phrase it like that. You're here of your own free will and you can leave anytime you want, but if you do you can’t come back.”

“Oh that’s fucking fair. So I have to stay here as your bitch or you toss me to the curb.” He closed his hands into fists, fighting to remain clam, something that had become next to impossible since he’d gotten back from Walter Reed. His temper had become hair trigger, going from a little angry to fucking pissed in no time flat.

The anger morphed into rage and he struggled against it, but it seemed like the part of his mind that regulated his emotions had checked out for the moment. Adrenaline pumped through his body and he desperately wished there was something in here he could break, something he could hurt like he hurt. He needed to move, he needed to get the fuck out of here, he needed her to stop fucking pushing him.

He
really
needed a fucking bottle of whiskey.

Michelle calmly watched him, which added more fuel to the fire. She was the one who made him feel like this. Why couldn’t she have just left him the fuck alone? Didn’t she know how broken he was? How much of a danger he posed to her? A very dark, sick spot in his soul whispered that he could make her afraid, that he could drive her away so she never bothered him again. No, no he would not do that.

He would never, ever strike a female.

He had to make her leave before he did something that he would regret. Letting his emotions wash over him, allowing her to see the dark beast she’d roused, he snarled at her, “Who the
fuck
do you think you are!”

“I’m your Mistress and it’s time I remind you of that.” She stepped back and tilted her chin. Her voice was absolutely calm. “Turn around and put your hands on the wall and spread your legs.”

“What?” God, couldn’t she see that he hung by a thread? Already he was losing his struggle against his fucked up mind inch by inch, trying to hang onto sanity with bleeding fingernails. If he hurt her it would be the final nail in his coffin for sure. He could never live with himself.

“I suggest you turn around right now or you will sleep on the floor again tonight.” Not even a hint of emotion behind her words.

The aggressive, scared animal part of his mind screamed at him to tell her to fuck off and get out of this crazy ass house, but his heart shattered at the thought. Caught between two impossible situations he spun around and placed his hands on the wall. He knew if the raging beast of his anger remained in control he was going to lash out and hurt her either physically or emotionally. One of these situations was going to come to pass; he knew it and his self-disgust knew no bounds. The drywall cracked as he pressed his palms against the wall, trying to channel his strength into his hands and away from Michelle.

She walked up next to him and raked her nails down his back, hard enough to sting, while fondling his balls at the same time. He groaned, at once hating her and wanting to do anything to make her continue touching him. For some reason it also helped calm him a tiny bit, though his chest still continued to heave and sweat dripped down his face.

“You get ten spanks.”

“Fuck you. I’m not gonna stand here and get paddled like a kid.”

“Eleven.”

“You can’t really—”

“Thirteen.”

“That should have been twelve!”

“Fifteen. I suggest you shut up and take your punishment, Wyatt. You disrespected me, you know that, and I won’t tolerate it.”

“Michelle…” He hated the need, the desperation in his words but she was the life raft of sanity in the whirling vortex of his mind.

She moved next to him and ran a finger down his ribs. “I’m here, Wyatt, and I’m strong enough to take whatever you have to dish out. Trust me.”

Unable to answer, he gave a jerking nod and, in truth, he had to use the wall to hold himself up because his legs had turned to unresponsive lead. The first smack of her hand against his ass wasn’t that bad. It stung, but he’d endured way worse. Then she began to stroke his cock in time to her spanks.

She’d hit, then rub the sore spot, all the while jerking his dick at a leisurely pace. He rested his forehead against the wall, widening his stance and groaning as she made a pleased murmur. Up and down slid her hand, her clever fingers driving away the anger and replacing it with passion one ball-clenching sensation at a time.

“That’s right, Wyatt, let it go. Focus only on me, on what I’m doing to you. Nothing else matters right now.” She gave his cock a hard squeeze that had his back bowing before releasing him. “I want you to jerk yourself off, I want to watch how you please yourself. You have no idea how much this turns me on.”

“Want...to fuck you,” he spat out, but he replaced her hands with his as soon as she moved away. Another slap to his ass, harder this time, bringing the blood in his lower body to a boil. She moved her hand over his ass, pinching the sore spots, driving him higher and higher. The slide of his aching dick through his hand blended with her hits and he began to anticipate the sting of her palm followed by a harsh flare of desire.

“You are doing so well, Wyatt.” She smacked him three times in rapid succession, making his hips jerk as he cupped his sensitized balls and almost came in his hand.

“Not gonna be able to hold out,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Oh yes you will, because if you do you’ll be rewarded well.”

“God dammit, Domina, have some pity.” Even as he said that his brain checked out, fantasies of what she would do to him rushing through his brain in a rough burst of pleasure. He slowed his strokes, making each drag of his calloused palm against his dick an exquisite torture, his rage draining away, morphing into the need to fuck. He was almost savage with the primal urge to claim her, to establish dominance, but he had enough sense left to know that if he did that, this would end and he would shatter her trust in him.

He became lost in the slap of flesh against flesh, of her fingers kneading the muscles of his butt, making the sting a burn. Unable to help himself, he let go, became lost in her. His whole world was her. He wished he could see her, that the walls of this place had mirrors. Even the thought of his undoubtedly red ass aroused him because he knew it aroused her. He could smell her arousal, hear her unsteady breath, and he loved the little purring noise she made when she touched his ass.

“Done. You did very well, Wyatt. I’m proud of you.” Her voice was husky with desire. She brushed her knuckles down his cheek. “Turn around and lean back against the wall, your hands behind your head.”

His body did as she commanded seemingly without any conscious thought from his mind. Everything in him had drawn up tight, the need to spill his seed reaching a painful level, but the rest of him somehow floated. The painted wall was cool against the heated flesh of his back and he widened his stance, wanting her to see him, wanting the reassurance of her pleasure.

When he looked into her intense blue eyes his muscles clenched at the fierce desire burning there. Holding his gaze, she gracefully folded to her knees and turned her attention to his cock. Despite their positions he felt more like a bewildered knight with his queen kneeling before him than a man with a woman on her knees. Pre-cum dripped from the tip and she licked it away with a delicate stroke from her tongue. He almost came right then, but the damned cock ring somehow kept him from having his release. Instead he shook as if he’d touched an electrified fence, the agonizing sensation of coming without being able to actually release making him shout.

“Shhhh, I’ll take care of you.”

Her long, slim fingers slipped around the base of his cock and the pressure on his dick and balls eased. Bracing her hands on his thighs she looked up at him. “I don’t want you to come for the count of ten, can you do that?”

“Yes, shit, please just touch me, Domina, please.” He’d never begged in his life but it was becoming a disturbingly regular thing with Michelle.

Without another word she opened her mouth and swallowed him whole in one long gulp. Desperately he counted, digging his nails into his palms, pressing his sore ass against the wall, doing anything he could to avoid displeasing her. He wanted to last, wanted to prove to her that he could, needed to prove to himself that his will was stronger than his animal instinct.

At the count of five she began to fondle his sac, sizzling bolts of raw lust detonating in his blood. He was hyperaware of every slide of her lips, the way her tongue stroked at the underside of his cock, how her soft fingers stroked his ball sack.

Unbelievable, the best thing he’d ever felt.

“Ten!” he shouted loud enough to hurt his throat.

She slid her mouth all the way down his cock until his dick filled her throat. Everything built and built, leaving him mindless as he fucked her face. Her nails dug into his thighs and that was what he needed to push him over the edge.

He fell, diving into an ocean of pleasure like he’d never imagined. Each spurt from his dick was more intense than anything he’d ever experienced before. Nothing existed but him and Michelle. He let himself float in the hot currents of satisfaction that her mouth brought as she continued sucking on his dick, hormones overloading and sending his mind off into some state of intense relaxation.

It was only when Michelle finally released his cock from her buttery soft lips that he realized he’d slumped down the wall at some point. Michelle stood before him, a very satisfied smile on her face. He stared at her, dazed at what she’d done for him, incredibly grateful that she’d turned his rage to lust before he’d done either her or himself irreparable harm.