Taming Emma (11 page)

He moved, changing position and even swinging with his left arm. Her words made no sense as she choked on tears, but the worst was yet to come. Her ass burned and throbbed, but when he began to mark her thighs, the pain went to a whole other level and she knew she would never in her life forget that sound. It took all she had not to call out. Instead, she fisted her hands and tightened the muscles of her legs, clenching her buttocks and releasing while he covered her from the middle of her thighs to the top of her buttocks. She closed her eyes and began counting, arching her back in one breath and tucking under in the next, not knowing whether she wanted him to stop or to beat her harder. Although the sound and the crop’s bite didn’t fade away, she found a peace in the rhythm and her body relaxed, taking her punishment and almost relishing in the pain.

When he stopped, it was as instant and with as little ceremony as when he’d begun. She opened her eyes, her bottom throbbing, on fire.

He dropped the crop to the floor. She lifted her head from the bed and waited, suddenly aware of the heat inside her pussy. She wanted him to pound into her with the same force he’d used to punish her; she wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

“Seven,” he said from behind her.

She listened to the sound of him undressing, then that of a condom being unwrapped.

“Seven strokes before you cried,” he finished.

His naked thighs pressed against the backs of hers and she stiffened, sucking in a breath. But the next sensation, that of his fingers pushing into her pussy, made her muscles clench, the pain of her punished bottom mixing with pure need.

“Now,” he said, withdrawing those fingers and sliding them upwards. “I’ll take what I wanted yesterday,” he said, his fingers rubbing her juices over her asshole.

She moaned when he next applied a spicy lubricant. “It burns,” she said, but she enjoyed the sensation, the burning inside and out as his finger prepared her passage, first one, then two and soon, the head of his cock.

“I’m going to fuck your ass now, Emma. And you’re going to take it, you’re going to let me fuck your ass and you’re not going to come until I tell you. Do you understand?”

“Yes…Master,” she begged, the thick head stretching her well-lubricated asshole, hurting her. But all she wanted was more. “Fuck me,” she said, arching her back.

“Push against my cock.” She did. “Good girl, just like that. Oh fuck, yes, just like that. Give me your tight little asshole,” he said. He filled her, then retreated, again and again, slowly claiming inch after inch. It hurt and it felt so good. Her muscles were already tensing around his thick cock and she wanted to come so badly.

“Let me come,” she begged.

“I knew you’d like this,” he said, making a sound as he pushed once, harder than he had before. “I’m in Emma, I’m all the way in,” he said, slowly pulling out and pressing in again, just as slowly. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want…aahhh, fuck me, Master. Fuck me hard. Please, I need it.”

“Good girl,” he said, drawing almost all the way out. “You can come, as many times as you like,” he said, and he thrust his cock deep and fast in and out of her asshole.

“Master,” she called out even while her body lurched forward and she cried out as orgasm took her, lost in a world of sensation, of pain and pleasure, of darkness and light. “Master.” And she knew, as another orgasm followed on the heels of the first and the second, that she loved this man. That he, Luke Roark,
was
her Master. It would only ever be him.

Chapter Ten

“I don’t want a bath,” she said. “It hurts.”

“You need a bath, Emma. Kneel,” he said, “I’ll wash you quickly and it probably feels better than sitting down.”

She knelt, her bottom and thighs throbbing and swollen. He ran warm water and, with the manual showerhead, washed her body and hair before shampooing. They didn’t speak while he worked, his hands, slippery with suds, sliding easily all over her.

“Lean forward,” he said.

She didn’t hesitate, putting her hands on the edge of the tub while he gently cleaned her most private parts. She trusted him; he was as sure of that as he was of the sun rising each morning. She trusted him enough to ask him to punish her.

“Are you sore here?” he asked, his finger hovering over her anus.

“A little.”

“And here?” he asked, his hands a little rougher when he cupped a buttock.

“Ow. Yes.”

“Good, then I hope you learn a lesson and don’t make me chase you across the country again.”

She didn’t say anything, didn’t have a response.

Luke drained the water from the tub before wrapping her in a thick white towel. Once he was finished patting her dry, they walked to his bedroom, a very masculine space, all gray and white.

“Lie down on your stomach,” he instructed, pulling the covers back.

She dropped the towel and lay on the bed. He went into the bathroom and returned a moment later with a jar.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” she asked when he sat down and traced some of the welts.

“Yes,” he said. He opened the jar and scooped some of the ointment onto his fingers. “This will sting at first.”

She flinched and tensed her buttocks and thighs at his first touch. “No.”

“Relax. I promise it will feel better afterwards.” He imagined the throbbing heat she felt and kept his touch as light as possible. He remembered well the pain of a beating, but that was years and years ago. And what he did with Emma was something different entirely. He started at her ankles and rubbed the ointment over her calves, kneading the muscles there before moving higher, his touch softer over the tender flesh he’d whipped. She parted her legs when he probed, his thumbs circling the ointment over her buttocks and sliding into the cleft between. He smiled. She was ready for him again. She wanted him again. But now wasn’t the time.

Replacing the lid on the jar, he set it on the nightstand, slipped into the bed, and pulled the thick comforter over them. Their faces were inches from one another, her eyes soft with sleep.

“Emma,” he said.

“Yes?”

“Why did you run away from me?” he asked.

She studied him for a moment. “It wasn’t you. I would have run from anyone.”

“I’m not anyone.” The words tripped off his tongue while she listened.

“No, you’re not.”

He brushed a strand of hair from her face and when his hand touched her cheek, she turned to kiss his palm. “Thank you.”

They were silent for long moments, only looking at one another without words. Luke switched off the lamp beside the bed.

“Luke?” she asked when it was dark.

He could hear the sleep in her voice. “Yes,” he answered, petting her hair.

“What now?”

“Now?”

She nodded.

“Now, you sleep for a while. When you wake up, we’ll have dinner. What you’ve been through the last few days, Emma, it has an emotional toll, not to mention physical. That punishment was not an easy one. Not for either of us,” he said. “Rest now, there’s plenty of time to talk later.”

* * *

The room was dark when Emma opened her eyes. She still lay on her stomach, but Luke was gone. It was almost ten o’clock. She moved to rise and flinched at the throbbing pain on her backside. She’d have bruises, there was no doubt about that.

Slowly, she got herself to the edge of the bed and, biting her lip, climbed to her feet. She found her way to the bathroom, switched on the light and met her reflection in the mirror there. She washed her face and, finding his toothbrush in one of the drawers, brushed her teeth. Her hair was still a little damp from her bath, but he’d combed it through well enough that there weren’t too many knots.

Once she was reasonably satisfied with her reflection, she slowly turned her back to the mirror and sucked in a breath. Her backside was crisscrossed from the middle of her thighs up to the tops of her buttocks from her whipping, each stroke a clear stripe on her otherwise pale skin. This was going to leave a mark, at least for a little while.

Her stomach growled. She’d had lunch hours ago and now felt ravenous. She went back into the bedroom and rummaged through one of his drawers to find a long t-shirt of his and slipped it over her head. She couldn’t wear panties if she wanted to and imagined sitting was going to be more than a little difficult. Switching the light out, she went to find Luke.

Soft music came from the living room, but he wasn’t there. The light in the kitchen was on and the scent of simmering curry drew her to the stove. She lifted the lid off the pot and, taking the wooden spoon nearby, stirred, then sampled.

“Yum,” she said, savoring the rich flavor. Indian food was her favorite and apparently, Louisa could cook.

Replacing the lid, she checked the pot next to the curry to find basmati rice seasoned with cumin seeds and a yogurt raita in a pretty bowl on the counter. She dipped her finger into the mixture and tasted. She’d need to find Luke fast because she wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.

“Luke,” she said into the apartment. No answer. She walked toward the balcony, but the door was locked. He must be inside somewhere. She found another bedroom, empty again, knocked on the bathroom door, which was empty, then reached the last of the doors. “Luke,” she said when she got closer, but he still didn’t answer.

She pushed the door, which wasn’t closed all the way. He had his back to her and was talking to someone on the telephone.

“I don’t know why you thought you should call me, Evelyn. You know I don’t care.” The door creaked open and he turned. He froze when his eyes met hers. His expression told her he’d been unaware of her presence. “I’m sorry; I have to call you back.”

A few moments later, he hung up.

“Emma,” he said. Although his expression went a little softer at seeing her, she could see he was worried.

“What was that? Who’s Evelyn?” she asked, sounding more jealous than she intended.

“Do you always lurk in doorways and eavesdrop on people’s private conversations?” he asked, rising to his feet.

“I try not to make a habit of it,” she said, watching him closely. She didn’t want him to be angry with her, but she’d obviously walked in on something she shouldn’t have overheard and wanted to know more. Especially about Evelyn. “Everything ok?”

“How long were you standing there?”

“Not long.”

He studied her as if trying to figure out if she were lying. “Everything’s fine.” He stood. “I’m hungry. How about you?” he asked, leading her out of the study.

“Starving.”

“Let’s eat, then.”

“I’m not sure I can sit for a meal,” she said, a hand on her bottom.

He smiled. “You weren’t going to be sitting anyway,” he said.

She followed him to the kitchen. He took a large plate out of the cupboard and loaded it with rice and curry. “Can you grab the raita and get some beers from the refrigerator? Louisa makes a spicy curry. We’ll eat out on the balcony.”

“What do you mean I won’t be sitting?” she asked, taking the items and following him outside. The balcony was large and wrapped around two sides of the building. The view was remarkable and she was sure she would have enjoyed that had she not been so busy with what she’d just overheard and the sitting down comment.

He set the plate on the table. She put the beer and raita down and waited for him to finish.

“You’ll kneel at my feet. I’ll feed you,” he said. “But first,” he looked her over, “take off the shirt. If I wanted you dressed, I’d have given you clothes.”

One thing at a time
, she told herself. “Ok, so let me get this straight.” She folded her arms across her chest and he stood just a little taller. “You expect me to strip naked and kneel at your feet out on your balcony while you feed me dinner?”

He nodded like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Are you nuts?”

“Careful, Emma,” he said, his expression not amused.

“What if someone sees?” she asked, surprised at her question. She should just be telling him no, shouldn’t she?

“You signed a contract, Emma. You wanted to explore this lifestyle, if I didn’t misunderstand our conversation earlier this weekend. What exactly is the problem?”

She looked at him, blinked several times then turned away. She stripped off her shirt while he situated himself at the table and pointed to a spot by his feet. She knelt slowly, feeling the tightness of the skin of her buttocks and thighs along the way. She found she had to kneel up rather than resting on her heels; it was the only way she could stand it.

“Good girl,” he said, spooning raita over the rice. “Put your hands behind your back.”

He opened one bottle of beer and brought it to her mouth. She leaned her head back and sipped. He drank from the same bottle, then set it down. Taking a forkful of curry, he held it out for her. She opened her mouth and took it, closing her eyes while her taste buds worked.

“Mmmm.”

Luke smiled. “She’s a hell of a cook. Makes up for her big mouth,” he said, but even through his remark, she could see his affection for Louisa.

“I thought she was nice. Wait,” she said, looking at him. “Are we just talking now, I mean, can we, while we eat?”

“That’s fine,” he said. He took a bite and served her another.

“What were you talking about on the phone?” she asked. “You seemed agitated.”

“None of your business,” he said with a teasing undertone, but she knew it was more serious than he let on.

“It wasn’t your business to call my brother either,” she said.

He considered. “It’s complicated,” he said.

“I’m sure I can handle it. And besides, you know more about me than anyone else. I want to help you like you wanted to help me.”

“Don’t feed me my own words, Emma. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Who’s Evelyn?”

“My aunt.”

“Oh,” she said, taken aback.

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“I suppose I assumed you were talking with another woman. A girlfriend or something.”