CHAPTER EIGHT
The last week of the semester was filled with stress that helped to block out thoughts of the blonde woman. Finals were keeping me busy, and there were several nights I was so tired from studying I almost forgot to text Damien before I went to sleep. It was odd to think that over four months had passed already. In just one semester, I had managed to lose my virginity, have two love interests, sleep with one of my professors, and now I was his submissive. I could only hope the following semester wouldn't be so crazy.
Friday couldn't come soon enough. With my last final over, I sighed in relief, a grin of accomplishment spreading across my lips. Now it was time to celebrate.
Despite my dislike of Vinny, I went out with him and Tanya and a few other classmates for burgers and chitchat. It was nice to spend time with a college crowd, even though I didn't know many of the people who were there. One of the guys was even a bit of a hottie, and I could sense some interest as he stole glances of me while we ate and conversed.
What it would be like to date a guy my own age, I thought as I watched Tanya and Vinny together, laughing and cuddling and kissing and being normal. Then I found myself stealing a few of my own glances at the dark stranger. His name was Colton, and I could have sworn I had seen him around campus before, though I couldn't say where. He was tall and lanky, with dark-brown hair and eerie green gray eyes. I had never seen any shade like them before. They were soft and almost hypnotizing, complemented by his olive skin. My gaze lingered a bit too long, and when he caught me looking at him, my face grew warm from embarrassment.
Tanya and Vinny dominated the conversation, though that was to be expected. They both had larger than life personalities. We all went along with it, laughing and contributing where we could until our food was eaten, and it was time to part ways. I gave Colton a final glance as I walked out to my car, and blushed a second time when I noticed he was doing the same. Oh well, it was nice to look, but there would be no touching. My heart belonged to Damien—my body as well.
The next day, I celebrated the beginning of holiday vacation by lazying around and eating copious amounts of junk food. By the time I had to leave to go to Damien's house, I felt like a whale. Hopefully, he wouldn't want to do anything too strenuous, I thought, a bit peeved at myself for killing my sex drive with carbohydrates.
When I arrived on his doorstep with my definitions in hand, he didn't look as happy as usual, which was to say that he appeared to be downright miserable. I kept forgetting that though the end of the semester was a celebratory time for me, it signaled the end of his career teaching as a professor at the college that I attended. For him, the end of the semester meant the end of a paycheck.
“How'd your finals go?” he asked, taking the paper from me and leading me back to the classroom.
“I think they went pretty well,” I replied, trying to keep a positive attitude despite his gloomy demeanor.
“Good. Hopefully, my forcing you to get to bed on time served some purpose in helping to you to focus better.”
While I hadn't really had issues sleeping before Damien enforced that rule, I decided to agree with him. It was obvious he wasn't in the best of moods, and I didn't want to make it any worse by arguing with him.
When we got to the classroom, he sat in his usual spot, staring up at me with no sense of warmth. I went to sit on the bed, but he stopped me in my tracks by saying, “Stand.”
Reflexively, I assumed the position, locking my fingers behind my back and placing my legs shoulder-width apart. Damien stood up to circle me, making sure that my posture and body placement was to his liking.
“You have on last final to take this weekend,” he told me, making me groan internally. “This final will include ten positions and ten vocabulary words. If you get them all right, I'll reward you by giving you the night to relax. No calling me Sir, for a full twenty-four hours. We'll go out to dinner and have a nice evening. Then, I'll do whatever you want me to to you in the bedroom.”
My clit twitched at the thought, and I fought back the urge to rub my thighs together. That was quite a reward. No stuffy BDSM crap, an actual date, and Damien Reed under my control in the bedroom. My mind raced with the possibilities—my body hungered for the reward.
He continued, “If you get them wrong though, the rewards will diminish with each wrong answer. The first reward you'll lose is not having to call me Sir. The second will be the bedroom benefit. The third will be dinner. For all that you get wrong after that, you'll earn punishment.”
My face fought back a scowl. I knew there had to be a catch. There was always a flip side to the coin. Never an option for pleasure without the chance of punishment.
“Which test would you prefer to take first, the vocabulary words or the positions?” Damien asked me.
A ball of nervousness quickly formed in my stomach. For as poorly as I had done on every other test he had given me, I wasn't feeling too confident about this one either. Not to mention the fact that I hadn't been studying any of the old vocabulary words Damien had given me. If he only quizzed me on the last list, I might have more of a chance.
“Let's start with the positions, Sir,” I said with a sigh.
“You don't sound too confident,” he noted.
“I'm not,” I admitted, keeping my eyes to the floor.
“Perhaps you should have studied harder then.” There was no remorse in his voice. Damien stood in front of me, facing me, assessing my every move. “I'll be kind and count the Stand command as one of your ten positions. That means you only have nine left to get right.”
It was a small kindness, but I appreciated it. Most of the positions were basic enough. I hoped he'd only give me the ones that he required and not everything that had been on the list he had sent me home with. If Damien was anything though, he wasn't fair in regard to my quizzes and how he graded them. Many times already, I received punishment for getting answers only half right. There was no doubt in my mind that he would take the same approach with this test. I might as well kiss all of those nice rewards goodbye. The thought was depressing, but there was nothing that could be done about it.
Damien took a few steps away from me. “Your first position command is Come.”
Of course, it wasn't something from his personal list of requirements. This one was straight from the position packet he had given me, and I had no idea what to do besides to step forward, standing directly in front of him with my hands to my sides and my head bowed respectfully.
“Good,” he said, to my surprise. I wanted to grin giddily, but didn't want to give him an indication that my getting it right had been a complete fluke.
Again, Damien stepped back. “Your next command is Crawl.”
I quickly got down on my hands and knees, keeping my eyes to the ground as I crawled toward him with one steady hand in front of the other. This one also hadn't been on his personal list, but I was pretty sure I remembered it.
“Good,” he praised me, and suddenly I was beginning to feel hopeful. Maybe I could make it through this after all.
“Your next command is At Ease.”
I stood, taking the traditional military at ease stance, with my legs spread shoulder-width apart, my head forward, and my arms clasped loosely behind my back.
“Excellent.”
I could hear the pleasure in Damien's voice, and it only elated me more. Four down. Six to go. There was still so much room for error.
“The next command is Guard,” he said.
My heart dropped. I had no idea what that position was. Doing my best to fake it, and hopefully redeem myself, I straightened my posture, drawing my arms up so that my hands were in the middle of my back, my elbows jutting out. By the time I had assumed the position, I was less sure of it.
“This position would be used on command to keep watch over something if Sir requested it, right?” I asked.
He smirked at me. “Correct. I haven't really specified a stance for it, but I am impressed that you came up with your own.”
A trick question. I wanted to frown at him, but refrained. Sometimes, I swore he wanted me to fail. Perhaps he enjoyed punishing me more than he let on.
“You're doing very well, Cheyenne. I must admit I'm impressed.” He walked around me. “Five more to go. Your next position is Humble.”
Oh great, another one I didn't know. I relaxed my stance, looking towards the floor, having no idea what to do. Being humble made me think of slumped shoulders and sad eyes, though I wasn't sure why. Something told me I couldn't talk my way into making him think I knew this one.
“I kind of didn't expect you to get this one right,” he admitted, stepping in front of me to grab my arms and outstretch them to the side. “The humble position isn't used very often. You stand with your legs shoulder-width apart and your arms outstretched. I prefer if the submissive keeps her eyes to the floor in this position.”
“Yes, Sir,” I replied meekly.
“Moving on. The next position is Whip.”
I felt myself growing increasingly grumpy the more the test progressed. None of these positions except for the Stand position were ones he normally used. Why should I be expected to memorize them?
Unsure of what to do, I held the Humble position and simply said, “I would bring you your whip before punishment, then I would stand with my body outstretched so that you would have access to all areas of my body for punishment.”
“Only the first part of that is correct. I would probably make you retrieve the whip. However, the position is all wrong. There are two positions for the whip command. I would have accepted either one.
“The first position is the standing position, where you stand against the wall, bracing yourself with your hands. Your back and buttocks remain exposed for whipping. The second position is the kneeling position. That position would put you on all fours. You would keep your head close to the floor and bring your hands beneath your body to protect them.”
I half expected him to give me two marks off for not knowing either position, but when he didn't say anything about it, I figured I had miraculously gotten off the hook. There was only one reward left to lose before I entered punishment territory. Things were beginning to look more and more bleak.
“The next position is Sit,” he told me, all hints of being impressed now gone from his voice.
For a second, I thought about sitting on the edge of the bed. But that was wrong, I realized at the last minute. Instead, I sat Indian style on the floor with my hands on my thighs, my eyes to the ground.
“Your hand position is wrong,” Damien informed me. “Your palms should be facing up.”
Damn. I groaned internally. And with that, all of my delicious rewards were stripped away. Anything wrong beyond this would just earn me more misery.
“The next position is Punishment Knees.”
I climbed up onto my knees, laying my hands palm down across my lap.
“Wrong again,” Damien said. “The position is the same as Whip on your knees, except for you'd kneel instead of being on all fours. You've earned your first ten minutes of punishment.”
It took everything in me not to throw a tantrum. This had gone from exciting and fun to being a nightmare. What horrible punishment would Damien come up with for me this time? If it was between the penny and the ping-pong ball, I hoped he'd be nice enough to give me the penny. At this point, even a hard ass spanking might be better than the ping-pong ball. I had grown to loathe that little thing so much.
“Your last position is Heel.”
I climbed back up to my feet and stood at his right side, thinking about how much this made me feel like a dog.
“Close,” he told me, “but you should be standing a foot back.”
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. A half wrong was a whole wrong in Damien's eyes. I couldn't fight back my scowl any longer. Twenty minutes of punishment, I'd earned, and there was still the potential for over an hour more.
“You may sit on the bed while we go over vocabulary.” Damien took his seat in the corner, and I hesitantly, eased myself onto the bed, wondering if I should be assuming the Teach position. At that point, I was fed up with positions, but I feared more punishment. Better to be safe than sorry, I thought, pressing my knees together and crossing my hands over my lap.
Damien's gaze was icy cold, showing little expectation of the remainder of my performance. The way he was looking at me made me feel kind of sad, like I had gotten his hopes up only to drop kick them into oblivion with my poor performance. Unfortunately, my self-confidence had fallen with his expectations. I wasn't even sure if I really wanted to try anymore.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
As ready as I'm going to be. “Yes, Sir.”
“Your first term is 24/7.”
I distinctly remembered the term from my very first list of vocabulary words, though I couldn't quite remember what it meant. Hopefully, my guesswork would be good enough to avoid adding to my punishment.
“24/7 means being submissive to the Dominant at all times,” I said.
“That's correct.”
I sighed in relief.
“Your next term is age play.”
There was no way I had forgotten that one. It had been a term I partially failed last time Damien had quizzed me on it. That made it all the more memorable.
“Age play is a scene between two people where one takes the mentor role while the other assumes the role of the learner. Different scenarios can be used to accomplish an age play session, though incest themes usually aren't a part of them. It's more about the emotional relationship between the two in regard to the age difference.”
“That's a bit wordier than I would have put it, but close enough.” Damien nodded in approval. “The next term is auction.”
“An auction is an event where Dominants auction of their slaves and submissives to other Dominants for a specified period of time.”
“Yes. Next word is bondage.”
I was becoming more confident by the minute. Most of these terms he had quizzed me on before. It was a lot easier to remember the ones I had been punished for forgetting.
“Bondage is the use of ropes, chains, or any other apparatus to restrain a submissive.”
“Bondage can be used for total restraint, or only to restrain certain parts of the body,” Damien added. For a moment, I worried he was going to count it as a half-right, but thankfully, he pressed on. “Your next word is chastity.”
“Chastity involves the denying of the ability of a submissive to touch or pleasure themselves via verbal command or a chastity device. The submissive must remain chaste while the command is in place.”
“Good enough. Next term is consequences.”
“Consequences are the direct result of a submissive's behavior. If the submissive displays bad behavior, the consequence is punishment. Consequences are often decided by the Dominant beforehand.”
“You're only half right,” Damien said. “There are two kinds of consequences, natural consequences and logical consequences. Natural consequences occur as a result of our everyday actions and are controlled by our environment. Logical consequences are those that result from purposeful bad behavior as outlined by your Dominant. Having said that, I'm adding five more minutes to your punishment time for not knowing both types.”
Five minutes wasn't as bad as ten. With only four more vocabulary words remaining, I was doubtful my punishment time would be more than an hour, which was making me oddly happy, considering the dismal situation.
“Your next word is discipline.”
This is another two-parter. “Discipline is the act of disciplining a submissive to correct behavior. It is also about having control over oneself.”
“Discipline is a type of training wherein the submissive is taught to obey through various methods set forth by the Dominant,” Damien corrected me.
Damn. I was almost certain I had gotten that one right. The punishment toll increased yet again.
“The next word is dungeon,” Damien said.
“A dungeon is a place where BDSM furniture is kept and scenes are carried out. Dungeons can be used for both punishment and pleasure.”
“Good. Only too more left.” He sounded almost as relieved as I was. This was turning into a long game, and I was ready to take my punishment and move on to better things. “Your next term is erotic spanking.” Damien grinned lecherously, causing a blush to spread over my cheeks.
This was a term I was very familiar with—a term I quite enjoyed.
“Erotic spankings are those given for pleasure,” I replied confidently, feeling a pulse between my legs from the memory of the erotic spanking Damien had given me a few weeks back.
“I didn't think you'd forget that one.”
“No, Sir. I would never forget that one.” I smirked.
“Your final term is goals.”
“Goals are planned milestones that a Dominant and submissive come up with in regard to the progression of a submissive's training. They can be set and revised at the Dominant's discretion.”
“Very good.” Damien smiled at me, and I thought I saw a hint of appreciation in his eyes. Perhaps he didn't think I had done so bad after all. “I think you know what happens next,” he told me.
“Yes, Sir. I am to be punished for the questions I missed.”
“You did really well on your definitions. It's the positions you failed on mostly. That's partially my fault for not making you practice them.”
“If you don't mind me saying so, Sir, most of the positions on the test were not ones you typically require me to use.”
“No. But I would like for you to learn them, none the less. Perhaps we should try to incorporate them more in our sessions. And just so you know, there will be another test like this one before the end of your training. At that point, you will be expected to have everything memorized. If you don't, your training will be extended.”
My smile sank, though it didn't quite make it into a frown. Six months was a long time to learn all the positions. If I couldn't retain them by then, then I really would be a fail as a submissive.
“I believe that's fair, Sir,” I said finally.
“Good. Have you brought the journal I requested you to keep up with?”
I cowered slightly at the mention of it. To be honest, after signing the training contract, I had forgotten about the journal completely. The thought of more punishment was daunting though. Should I lie or tell the truth?
“I forgot it at home,” I replied, opting for the answer that I thought would earn me the least amount of additional punishment. “I'm sorry, Sir.”
“I'm adding ten more minutes to your punishment time for forgetfulness. Bring it with you tomorrow.”
“Yes, Sir.” I nodded.
Though dishonest, it would be easy enough for me to make up journal entries for all the days prior. While Damien might have cameras in his mansion where he could watch my every move, he didn't have them in my house. No matter how good he was at figuring me out, I doubted he would be able to tell that the entries were all created in one afternoon.
“Now it's time for your punishment,” Damien continued. “Since today should be a day for celebration, I'm not going to be too hard on you. I want you to stand in the closet for the next forty-five minutes. You can assume whatever position you wish while you're in there. However, you have to leave your phone out here and remain completely quiet.”
“I understand, Sir.”
I walked over to the closet and opened the door. Inside were a few jackets that I had never seen Damien wear. Carefully, I pushed them aside and squeezed in with them, closing the door behind myself. Damien moved on the other side of the door. Whether he left the room or not, I couldn't tell, but it didn't really matter.
The next forty-five minutes were spent in dark silence, and I was thankful I wasn't claustrophobic or prone to irrational fears. I slid down the wall, hugging my knees and resting my head, closing my eyes and trying not to fall asleep.
Eventually, Damien's footsteps returned and the closet door opened. He offered me a hand to help me up. Then he sat me back down on the bed to discuss a few more things before our kink session.
“What are you to do now?” he asked.
“Thank you for my punishment, Sir. I earned it for not knowing all of my submissive positions and vocabulary words. Would Sir like for me to write definitions for the words I missed?”
“Yes.” He seemed genuinely pleased. “Before you leave here today, I want you to write down your schedule for me for the coming week. If anything should change throughout the week, you will text me and let me know. Now, I know this may seem a little invasive, but don't worry. It will be very rare that I disapprove of your activities, if ever. This is more an exercise in trust and learning to give yourself over to me completely.”
“Yes, Sir.”
In all honesty, I wasn't really worried about it. I couldn't picture Damien going out of his way to stalk anyone. More than likely, he'd take the schedule, look it over, and not think anything else of it until he received the next one the following week.
“Remove all of your clothing and Lay Down,” he said.
I did as I was told, shedding my garments and folding them neatly before I assumed the position on the bed. While I was doing this, Damien rummaged through the chest of drawers, pulling out a red square pillar candle, a lighter, and a candle holder. He lit the candle and placed it in the holder, waiting for me to finish obeying his commands.
“Can you guess what we're going to do tonight?” he asked, glancing over at the candle.
I had an idea. There was only one reason Damien would have brought out a candle, and it wasn't to set a romantic mood. My stomach twisted nervously, watching the flickering flame.
“We're going to play with wax today,” I replied, making it sound more like a question.
“Mhm. You forgot to call me Sir again.”
“Sorry.” I cringed, praying he wouldn't force me into the closet for another round of punishment. “I mean, sorry, Sir.”
“You're impossible.” He shook his head. “Anyway, have you ever played with candle wax before?”
“No, Sir, though I've seen it in music videos.”
It was sexy in music videos. A hot chiseled guy would be laying shirtless, usually the singer, and a gorgeous model would be pouring wax down his chest. Those scenes had always made my pussy throb with excitement. I wasn't sure what it was about seeing it that turned me on, but it was damn appealing.
The only thing was, I had never seen it done to a woman before. Always, it was a man on the receiving end, wincing and looking yummy and just laying there and taking it. I bit my bottom lip, thinking about it.
“Chey.” Damien drew my attention back to him.
“Hm?”
“You looked like you were spacing out a bit.”
“Oh, sorry, just thinking.” Thinking deliciously wicked things. How about you let me pour it on you instead, like in the videos? I bet it would look so much better on you.
He approached me with the candle, and all naughty thoughts melted away, replaced by the fear of pain. My mind scanned back to all the wincing expressions I had seen in those videos. No one kept a straight face when the drops of wax fell, which meant it couldn't possibly be pleasant.
Damien sat on the side of the bed and held the candle over my chest. Instantly, I sucked in. When he dipped it to let the wax fall, my fear got the better of me, and I squirmed away, forcing him to jerk the candle back up before it spilled its contents.
“Stay still,” he told me.
“I don't think I want to do this.” I cowered a bit.
“Why not?”
“It's going to hurt, isn't it?”
“A little bit. It will only hurt for an instant though. And it won't leave any permanent marks. By the time the wax hits your skin, it's not hot enough to cause any damage.”
“A-Alright.” I hesitated before settling back down on the bed, watching the candle with frightened eyes.
Damien tipped it again. All I could think about was how much it was going to hurt. My mind was going wild with doubt, and I found myself squirming away once more.
“You do it first,” I said. “I'd feel a lot better about it if you went first.”
He smirked at me, finding my apprehension funny somehow. “Fine. Look. It doesn't hurt that bad.”
Damien held out his forearm and dipped the candle, letting a few drops of wax fall on his skin. In my peripheral vision, I watched his face. The expression was there, the sudden wincing when the wax hit its mark. It hurt. I could tell.
“Are you satisfied?” he asked.
“You're not going to be putting it on my arm. It's not the same.”
“Chey, come on. It's really not that bad.”
“Nope.” I shook my head. “I mean, no, Sir. Let me do it to you first, then I'll think about it. It's different when someone else is doing it to you.”
He gave me an annoyed look but relented, holding the candle out to me. I sat up, taking it from him. For a moment, we just sat there staring at each other.
“Take off your shirt,” I told him.
Damien gave me a sarcastic look. “You can't possibly mean to pour it on my chest. It'll get tangled in the hair.”
“That's how this is going to work. If you want to do this to me, then I get to do it to you first. If you don't want it tangled in your chest hair, then go shave.” I huffed, showing him I was serious.
A sudden burst of laughter filled the room, and I stared at Damien like he was crazy, wondering what was so damn funny.
“You're such a brat sometimes.” He kissed me on the temple and then stood up, grabbing the bottom hem of his T-shirt and pulling it over his head. Just the sight of his shirtless body made my loins ache, and I chastised myself for being so easily taken by him. Before I had a chance to drool much though, he was disappearing out the door, presumably going to his master bathroom to shave.
I stared at the candle's flame, feeling suddenly vulnerable and cold. The silence was deafening, and I found myself reflecting on our relationship up to that point. I could still remember the time when Damien had told me about all the different kinks he wanted me to experience. How excited I had been. Not all of them were pleasant though, like the ice . . . and this. Now I found myself wishing we could have a vanilla night for once. Just one night without BDSM and kink. One night of normalcy.
Damien's footsteps padded down the hall, and I turned my attention to the door. When he stepped into sight, I thought I was going to have an orgasm right then and there. He leaned against the door frame, naked except for a pair of loose-fitting pajama pants that clung to his hips. His smooth chest looked oh so kissable, the muscles of his abs far more defined than I could have ever imagined without that bear pelt covering them up. It seemed like five years of age had come off with all that hair.
Take me! My body screamed shamelessly, and I found myself almost subconsciously parting my thighs, my imagination already racing with thoughts of him pressing between them.
“Come. Now,” I stuttered, completely forgetting about our Master/submissive relationship. “Come now.” Like a pathetic sex crazed fool, I set the candle down and made grabby hands at him.
“You like?” he asked, strolling casually toward the bed.
“I'm going to rape you,” I said, crawling to the edge of the bed and wrapping my arms around his waist to nuzzle my head against his stomach. His muscles were so hard, like he was chiseled out of stone. It took everything in me not to drool. When I pulled back, I tugged at the strings of his pajama pants. “Sex now,” I demanded.
“No.” He grabbed my hands. “Wax play now.”
“Wax play after. Sex now.” I pouted.
“Chey, you're being bad.” He gave me a disapproving look.
“I don't care. Sex now.” Defiantly, I jerked my hands out of his grasp and tugged at the side of his pants, only to have him step away, scowling.
“You're being very unruly.”
“It's your fault for being so sexy.”
“I did what you wanted, now you need to do what I want, or no sex.”
Those words had never sounded more horrid before. There was no way he could deny me. Not looking like . . . that. I didn't care if I had to roofie his drink, I was getting the D, whether he liked it or not.
“Hurry up then,” I complained, falling back on the bed. “But can you fuck me while you're pouring wax on me? I'm sure it would be a lot better if you were fucking me while you're doing it.”
He laughed, all tension melting away. “You are the most insatiable woman I've ever met.”
“Seriously, if you pull that denying me shit on me, I am crawling through your window tonight, tying you to the bed, and taking it.”
Damien smirked. “Oh really?”
“Really. Now hurry up and pour the wax on me, so I can get mine.”
“You are being very not submissive,” he reminded me.
“Sorry,” I cringed a bit. “When I saw you come out like that though . . . everything just kind of went out the window.”
“I noticed.” He sat on the bed beside me, taking the candle back in hand.
My confidence was quickly fading, but I knew the quickest way into his pants was to let him pour the wax on me and get it over with. As the candle ascended over my stomach, I found myself pressing back into the bed, wanting to squirm away again. When he began to tip it, I closed my eyes. The first drop of wax made me gasp in shock. It burned like fire for a fraction of a second, then cooled just as quickly, as if it had never been there at all.
“Are you alright?” Damien asked, looking at my expression.
“That sucked. Not quite as much as I thought it would, but I didn't like it.” I scrunched my face in displeasure. “Can we fuck now?”
“I'm far from done,” he told me in a serious tone.
I was afraid of that. There was nothing I could do but sigh and take it. Hopefully, he'd get bored soon, and we could get on to better things.
Damien trailed the candle higher up my body, over my breasts. Liquid fire landed on my chest, causing me to squirm. Oddly, I found the wax less painful on my breasts than it had been on my stomach. Still, each drop made me wince and hiss in pain. It was far from unbearable, but nothing I could derive pleasure from.
What I could derive pleasure from though was the sight of Damien Reed shirtless. I stared shamelessly at the muscles in his chest and stomach and arms as he moved the candle up and down my body, delivering small drops of pain. Even his tattoos looked somehow better, though they had nothing to do with his shaved chest. Maybe I was just horny.
When Damien finally put the candle down, I sat up to take it in hand.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Don't think you're getting out of this. I didn't make you shave for nothing,” I told him.
“But I already poured the wax on you. That makes you needing to pour it on me null and void.”
“I have a source of fire in my hand. I'd lay down if I were you.” I smirked at him.
For half a heartbeat, I thought he was going to argue, or worse, get upset at me for challenging his authority. Instead, Damien sighed and crawled up onto the bed, laying down where I had previously been. I examined my canvas with pleasure. Dear God, he was sexy. Maybe I should just skip this and go straight to the fucking. I had wanted it so badly earlier—still wanted it so badly. But I doubted I would ever get another chance like this, and I was curious to see Damien covered with wax, like in all of those sexy videos.
He put his hands behind his head, cradling it and looking up at me with a cool cocky expression. “Well, are you just going to stare?” Damien asked with a grin.
“I am enjoying the view,” I admitted before taking the candle and tipping it over his stomach.
Mimicking what he had done to me, I watched the first drop fall. Damien's reaction was much the same as my own. His muscles contracted, despite being ready for it, and I could hear him hissing, though my expression had been nowhere near as delicious as his was. Even though it was painful, he seemed to like it, licking his lips as his body relaxed again.
I trailed candle wax up his stomach, then across his chest. He was dealing with it so much better than I had. Where I had wiggled and had to fight the urge not to squirm away from him, Damien just laid there, watching and breathing heavily as I painted him with wax. When I got to his nipples, his reaction was a bit more dramatic, but damn was it sexy. He arched his head back, exposing his Adam's apple, and all I could think about was how I wanted to kiss it. Too much—he was too sexy. I couldn't handle it anymore.
With my sex drive on overcharge, I placed the candle back in its holder on the bedside table. Damien propped himself up on his forearms, but I pushed him back down, gripping at the front of his pajamas and pulling them over his flaccid cock. Within seconds, it was in my mouth, and I was moaning around it.
“Jesus, Chey,” Damien breathed, but beyond that, all I heard was moaning from him as he relaxed against the bed.
Before long, he was hard and dripping, his gorgeous prick throbbing. I sucked it as if I was trying to force the come out, pumping his length in time with the strokes of my mouth. He was all I could taste, all I could feel, all I could desire.
“Stop,” he said abruptly, making me pull away.
“What's wrong?” I asked, sitting up.
“Nothing,” he panted. “You were just going to make me come is all. That was . . . completely unexpected.”
I grinned stupidly, satisfied with myself, though the result would have made me have to wait even longer for sex.
Damien pushed himself into a sitting position. The wax on his stomach cracked as he moved, and when I looked down at my own body, I realized we were making a mess.
“Do you want to take a shower first?” he asked.
“Nope. Need sex now,” I insisted, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him to me for a heated kiss.
It was all the lead Damien needed. He wrapped his hand behind my neck, crushing his lips against mine, stealing my breath. We worshiped each others mouths, making crude noises as we kissed. His hand slid to my inner thigh, rubbing and causing burning desire to rage through me. Then he began to lower me onto the bed, kissing down my throat and chest as he went.
He stopped for a moment to pick the wax off my breasts. It felt strange when the small caps it had made over my nipples were being pulled off, far more pleasurable than the wax pouring itself. Damien put the pieces of discarded wax on the bedside table, though I know a lot of it ended up on the bed as well.
Satisfied with the amount of skin he had uncovered, Damien sucked my nipple into his mouth. My pleasure sensors fired off, sending signals down to my pussy to moisten. His teeth pressed the erect nub into submission, causing me to arch my back and cry out. Unlike the wax and ice, this pain was completely pleasurable.
As soon as Damien's mouth left my nipple, his fingers took its place, gently caressing and rolling it between them, sending shock waves to my clit while his tongue worked to lick a path around the wax on my body. Occasionally, he'd kiss and nip at my skin, having found a waxless patch large enough to do that. Then his mouth traveled back up, his tongue finding a new path, and his focus returned to my breasts, kneading and sucking and kissing them.
I moaned and tried to suppress a grin. For once, it felt like he was submitting to me more than I was submitting to him. He'd bent to my will on so many levels; the chest shaving, the candle wax being poured on him, and now the fucking. It was a nice change, though it did make me question how submissive I really was. An image of Danica flashed through my mind, about what she had said about Damien not being able to tame her. No. Not now. Don't think about this now. He's yours and you're enjoying this way too much to let her ruin it.
When Damien stuck a hand between my leg and began rubbing my clit, the thought was easily dismissed. From that point on, it was a game of give and take. His strokes between my legs were so calculated that I didn't even have to tell him when I was about to come. He stopped naturally, kissing me and sucking on my nipples while my nub calmed down before his hand returned to tease it again.
By the time he was ready to take things further, I was dripping for him. He pulled me up onto the bed, laying me on my side and grabbing one of my legs to hoist it into the air and rest it over his shoulder. I watched his naked body move on top of me in sheer bliss, focusing my eyes on his cock as he pressed it to my waiting hole. When he slid inside, I moaned shamelessly, relaxing on the bed while he began thrusting, his balls slamming against my ass as he pounded me.
Wanting to please him, I warned Damien when my first orgasm was coming on. He took the opportunity to change positions, lying down on the bed and making me get on top of him in a modified version of reverse cowgirl. Instead of sitting upright, I was leaning back, propped up on my arms. When he entered me again, I thought the pressure of his cock against my inner channel was going to break me, it was so tight. This position kept the friction from reaching my clit, but the fullness was almost overwhelming. Damien bucked up into me, making me cry out from each thrust. His cock felt ten times bigger, and while part of me didn't think that I could handle it, a darker part of me didn't want him to stop. I let my head hang back, drowning him in my hair, moaning and feeling the weight of my breasts bounce as he jackhammered up into me.
Eventually, he tired, and I found myself having to take the reigns, though the position was too awkward for me to accomplish much. Seeing my struggle, it was time to switch again, and I end up on my hands and knees taking it doggy style. The bed screamed defiantly beneath us as Damien rocked almost violently behind me. Delicious heat and soreness were building up in my pussy, and I wondered how much more I could take before I had to tell him to stop.
Damien's breathing was erratic, and for a moment, I thought he was about to blow. That's when he stopped and turned me around, getting in a position that would finish us both. I knew the look in his eyes—knew his intentions.
Just the sight of him moving on top of me was enough to make me lose it. With me on my back and him between my legs, I could see all of him, the pleasured expression on his face, the way his muscles tensed and contracted, the slightest glimpse of his cock as it slid in and out of my moist pussy, a sheen of sweat glowing on his gorgeous body, and of course, dozens of dots of red candle wax.
When I warned him this time, Damien didn't stop me. Almost the second my contractions began, he was pulling out, shooting a stream of seed onto my stomach and chest. I panted, rushing a hand between my legs to milk out the last few earth-shattering contractions while he squeezed his own orgasm from his cock. The moment was so in sync that it reminded me of a sexual duet.
Damien licked his lips, breathing heavily, and I stared up at him in admiration—in love. Now that the fun was over, I just wanted to be in his arms—to have him beside me. In a normal relationship, this would be cuddle time. But in Damien Reed's world, it was shower time.
I sank back into my submissive role as we went to bathe, remembering the steps I must take when shampooing his hair. There was no shower sex. No more warmth or romance or excitement. It was just a shower.
Damien Reed ran hot and cold. Even now, after we had been together for so long—after I professed my love for him. I still had no idea if he loved me or not, but sometimes, I felt like he went out of his way not to show it. Like now.
For a while, everything had been perfect. We had felt like equals, the way a man and woman should. After the wax play was over, we had shelved our BDSM roles for an hour of pure uninhibited passion. I had loved it. Had he? Or had he only done it to please me?
And then the thought returned to me. Maybe I shouldn't be a submissive after all.