Chapter 14 #3
The grip on her shoulder tightened. The deep whisper was silky smooth. “My body, you said, which makes those orgasms mine to deny, ma petite. Punishment for disobedience is also my right this evening, mmm?”
Heat shuddered through her, at his words, at the threat—with the memory of his hands on her body, paddling her and arousing her at the same time.
The slow, soft vibrations on her clit changed, escalating from low to high, pausing, and starting over again at low.
Maybe this was good? She never got off from the oddly patterned speeds some vibrators had. One of hers had over a dozen rhythms. Who needed that?
With this vibe’s pattern, she wouldn’t have an orgasm in front of everyone.
She gave a whuff of relief, tried to move and got nowhere. His legs kept her pinned in place…and the floor felt as if it’d dropped a foot.
Drake’s hands closed on her breasts. “Tonight, you will take everything I give you. Unless you safeword out. Otherwise”—he tugged on her nipples, rolling them gently, sending shocks of pleasure coursing through her—“you will have an orgasm.” His voice held only complete certainty.
She started to turn, to look at him.
“Mmm-um, eyes down.”
And then he was talking to the other Doms. Greeting someone else. She couldn’t even see who was present. Could only…feel.
Gods, she needed to come. Only, I don’t want to. Do I?
His hands were so strong, so warm, so…expert. Her breasts swelled, the skin tight. Sensitive. Sometimes his touch was gentle, dancing lightly over her nipples until she wanted to strain forward for more. Except she was trapped in place.
Sometimes, his touch grew rough, pinching her nipples until she tried to draw back—and again—couldn’t.
The sense of his controlled, ruthless power made the molten pool in her pelvis grow deeper.
And the vibrator didn’t stop. When it increased in speed, it sent her to the precipice, but then it’d pause and slow. Damn Master Drake, this was driving her crazy. Her thighs clamped together, and she barely managed to suppress a frustrated whine.
The bastard was talking with the other Doms. Laughing.
More cycles. Sweat beaded on her skin. And she really wanted to turn and…and hit him.
The hands on her breasts tightened. His voice murmured in her ear, “Do not move, make no noise—and come for me.”
The vibrations changed, hard and fast. No pattern, no pauses.
From teetering on the peak, she was tossed right over the cliff in a flood of sensation. Don’t move, don’t move. She barely kept her hips from bucking as overwhelming waves of pleasure swept through her, over and over. Her vision went white.
She gritted her teeth—and the effort of not making a sound made the orgasm last. Forever.
Her heart pounded so hard it roared in her ears and was all she could hear. Her breaths were still fast and shallow when the vibrator stopped.
The air moving around her made her realize she was covered in a fine sweat. Her muscles were seriously overcooked noodles. Closing in on mush.
Spine, stay straight.
And, oh man, her panties were soaked. Had anyone seen her getting off? Hopefully not. She’d been quiet, right?
“Thank you, Aralia. You are beautiful when you come,” he said.
Freaking buggering spit, Master Drake hadn’t lowered his voice at all.
“Excellent control. The quivering was adorable,” a woman said.
Oh no, no, no, the others did see me.
“The little squeak, yeah, great sound,” came from a man.
More chimed in, and the blush scalded her face.
“Thank you for sharing with us, Drake.”
“My pleasure.” Drake leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Your specialty in crafting is wood art with a living edge. Mine is…edging the living.”
No, he did not go there. She sputtered a giggle, tried to choke it down, and totally failed.
Probably only she heard him chuckle before he straightened and started talking to the other Dominants again. “So what did you think of our new workshops? The one on primal play and Blaize’s panel on degradation.”
She managed to regain control, although her stomach still quivered with the need to laugh. Edging, my ass.
A few minutes later, she realized she needed to pee. Rather urgently, actually.
Before she’d squirmed more than a couple of times, he bent. “You seem uncomfortable, bébé.”
She turned to whisper in his ear, “Restroom, please?”
“But of course.” He rose and lifted her to her feet. “It’s been good to see you all here. If you would excuse us, please.”
With an arm around her waist, he guided her across the room—responding to greetings with smiles and short comments. But not stopping. Thank you, Master.
At the door, he curled his fingers around her nape and kissed her lightly. “I’ll be nearby, reading my messages.” He motioned to a table. “Take the time you need.”
She looked up at him, startled at his…kindness. “Thank you, Sir.”
His fingers trailed down her cheek, then he stepped back. “Off you go.”
Once inside, she gave a sigh of relief as the door closed out all the noise and activity. After peeing, she used a few paper towels to clean up as best she could.
Why, oh why, do guys get the fun, stand-up-to-pee appendage and gals the drippy-messy-innie and hard-to-locate-fun bits? It wasn’t fair at all.
Leaving the stall, she tossed the towels and washed her hands. As she took a moment to finger-comb her hair, she checked out what fetwear the other women were wearing. And recognized some of the women.
Uh-oh, one was Justine, Drake’s ex.
Her stomach dropped as Justine looked back at her. And scowled. “Oh, look what the cat dragged in. Didn’t you look smug sitting at my Master’s feet. As if you belonged there, in your slut clothes.”
Damn, I used to love a hearty Boston accent, and she’s ruining it for me.
One of the other submissives turned. “Justine, it’s roleplay night. What she’s wearing is perfect. I’ve seen three other maid outfits.”
Justine ignored her, keeping her gaze on Ray. “Skank. He’ll get bored and dump you. Or he’ll get tired of all your drama, how loud you are. I hear you can’t even remember your head unless someone screws it on for you.”
Ray’s shoulders hunched to weather the too-accurate attack. How can she know all my faults?
Had Drake complained about her?
She shivered. Too often, she’d heard Pa grumbling about her to his friends. Her boyfriends had too. Theodore even criticized her in front of others.
If Drake had…then she was wrong about him.
Stomach knotting painfully, she walked out.
“Look at her run, the cowardly bitch.” Justine’s voice scraped like a blade. “Worthless.”
A coward. Am I? Uh…maybe?
Drake’s eyes and smile warmed at the sight of her. “Shall we walk around in the dungeon, and you can tell me what intrigues you.”
Everything inside her wanted to take his hand and ignore what Justine had said. Only she couldn’t.
Trust…it was important.
“Ma chérie, what is wrong?” He moved closer and ran his hands up and down her arms, as if he could tell how chilled she was.
And she could feel the urge to run again. No, I won’t run. I’ll ask him what I need to know. She stiffened her spine. “In the restroom, some women were saying you’d get tired of my drama, how loud I am, how forgetful, and I thought maybe you’d been complaining about me and, and I need to know if…”
“Ray.” He took her hands, as if wanting the physical connection to her.
“When I have talked about you—and I have, oui—it’s to tell my friends how pleased I am to have met you.
How you’re everything George said—more, in fact, considering your mentor didn’t see you as an intriguing woman or a fascinating submissive. ”
Seriously? She stared at him in shock.
And his lips quirked. “You don’t believe me.” He pulled her slightly closer and kissed her forehead. “You’ve been hurt by criticism from those who should love you. Such behavior between lovers isn’t honorable. Is…mmm, toxic, is the word. Non, I do not behave in such a way.”
“Oh.”
His expression was open, his gaze steady, his hands warm around hers.
“I assume, eventually, we will find things to complain about, but Aralia”—he released one hand to cup her chin, lifting her head, holding her gaze—“I haven’t found anything yet.
You are…eh, dramatic because you feel intensely, not because you seek attention.
You can be forgetful when involved in work.
” His shrug said he didn’t care. “You are never boring, which I very much appreciate.”
Warmth was growing inside her, so much warmth. Tears burned at the backs of her eyes.
No, no, I can’t cry here.
He pulled her into his arms and laid his cheek on top of her head. “Mon petit chou. Perhaps there are times your thoughts are as erratic as a spring wind, but…your emotions, your loyalty is as solid as the mountains.”
That did it. She felt the first tear slide down her cheek. Gods, I love this person, this Dom. She opened her mouth to say it—and nothing came out. Nothing.
He chuckled. “There will come a time when you won’t choke on whatever you want to say to me.”
Smiling, he kissed her forehead, laced their fingers together, and led her across the room.
It was a good convention this year. Sitting in the pre-function area, he sipped his drink and enjoyed the buzz of conversation around him. Nodded at the greetings from various people.
And scoped out possible choices for play in the dungeon later tonight.
A young woman with auburn hair caught his attention. Ah, yes, the redhead named Ray. She was heading for the dungeon with Drake. The know-it-all bastard did have good taste. The French maid outfit set off all the cunt’s best attributes.
Earlier he’d enjoyed watching her climax—although spending the time and energy to get a woman off was time wasted. If he wanted to display his control over a submissive, he’d demand she give him a blowjob.
Drake pampered the submissives. In fact, it was galling how contented the bitch looked.
Yes, it had been several years, but he remembered her. She’d recovered far too well. He took pride in his ability to break a woman and to leave her so confused in her head she’d know she was violated but still feel as if she asked for it. Might even remember begging.
He smiled slowly.
The redhead might not be broken now, but…
Wouldn’t it be interesting to do it all over again? Only go much further the second time.
Oh yes.