Chapter Fourteen

 

Tamara

He’s wearing a towel wrapped around his waist, and I’m still naked. He leads me down the hall and opens a door that’s usually locked. I’m not wearing the collar or the ankle cuffs. We go to the end of another hall and into an enormous bedroom of breathtaking beauty.

It’s all rich mahogany and lush fabrics. The windows are blocked off, which sends a surge of frustration through me. I haven’t seen the sun in so long. The sky, the clouds, trees… What’s out there? It must be so beautiful.

I glance longingly at the windows, then look back him. I did what he wanted. I begged. Can’t I just have this one little thing?

“No,” Joshua says, shaking his head.

I nod in submission.

Instead, I feast my eyes on the gorgeous oil paintings on the wall, the enormous hand-carved four-poster bed, the beautiful red-and-cream Oriental rug. Just being able to see something new makes me want to weep with gratitude.

Still holding my hand, he walks me over to his bed. “Climb on,” he says. “Hands and knees.”

I scramble to obey. He climbs onto the bed behind me, spreads my cheeks, and begins to lap at me from behind.

“Ahh,” I moan.

“You taste like honey, baby.” His voice is a low, sexy croon.

He caresses me with stroke after stroke of his tongue, and it’s slow, sweet torture. I need to come. Pleasure blooms between my legs, a gathering heat like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I clench at the silky bedspread and moan with pleasure, squirming just a little. He seizes my hips with his hands and holds me in place so he can keep suckling at me. I’m helpless, I can’t move, and it magnifies my pleasure a thousand-fold.

When my moaning increases in pitch, he pulls away, and I squeak in protest.

It hurts. I want to come so badly, it’s agony.

“Lie flat on your back, knees up,” he commands me. In a trance, I obey.

He moves so he’s between my thighs, and gently parts my pink, smooth lips. His tongue caresses me, back to front, then presses at my opening. I groan as it slides in, and he fucks me with his tongue while moving his thumb up to stroke my swollen, aching clitoris. I’ve never felt pleasure like this before. I’m floating on a wave of pure ecstasy that’s lifting me higher and higher.

My hands drift down and tangle in his hair. Is that allowed? In the moment, dazed with pleasure, I don’t care. I’ll take the beating if I have to. This sweet intimacy, it’s to die for. I could lie here all day like this.

The way he’s sucking at me, so hungrily, makes me feel delicious, like a sexy goddess. I love that he can’t seem to get enough of me. The heat builds until I’m just seconds away from release.

Again, he drags me to the edge of ecstasy and stops. He moves back, waiting, his fingers gently stroking my inner thighs. My whole body pulses with need. I want him inside me now. I picture his huge, thick cock thrusting into me, slamming again and again. The final explosion of pleasure that I’ve been craving for so long.

“Master, please,” I whimper.

“Please what, baby?” he whispers, and the heat of his breath warms my tingling sex.

And I remember him saying that soon, I’d beg him to fuck me.

No.

“Please, it feels good. I love it,” I mumble.

“I know.” He sits up, smiling lazily at me. “I’m very good. Lots of practice.”

A lance of jealousy stabs at me, and I flinch. What is wrong with me?

He trails his fingers along the seam of my inner thigh. “Jealous, baby? None of them tasted as good as you.” Making sure I know that he can peer inside my head and see everything. Or so he thinks.

He runs his tongue along his upper lip.

“Thank you, Master,” I whisper.

“And now, I want you on your knees.” He shifts position, kneeling.

I groan as I realize that he’s really going to leave me like this, with my sex swollen and achy for him, because I refused to beg him to fuck me.

I scramble to get into position to take him in my mouth, and stifle a whimper of frustration. My deep-throat technique is getting better, though. I can hold my breath for almost two minutes. I know this pleases him, which is a good thing. Anything I do that pleases him means less pain for me.

He holds my head in place as he thrusts his cock all the way down my throat. I gag and tense, but force myself to relax, and he strokes my head as a reward.

“Very nice,” he groans as I start bobbing my head up and down. “You’re getting so good at this, baby. Oh. Yeah. Like that.”

He breathes faster and faster, his body going rigid right before he comes, pouring a river of thick, salty semen down my throat.

Then he withdraws ever so slowly and stands there stroking my hair with infinite tenderness. After a minute or two, he heaves a contented sigh. “Wait here, baby.”

Baby. He called me baby. Yes. Tears spring to my eyes.

And then he returns, with a smaller, narrower collar. He’s holding ankle cuffs, but the chain between them is twice as long.

Emotion floods me, and I start crying as he buckles the slender black strip of leather around my neck. I sob and sob and can’t stop. “Thank you, Master. Thank you, Master.” Horribly, humiliatingly, I sink to his feet and kiss them without even being asked.

Then I freeze. Will I be punished for my presumption?

No. Apparently he likes it when I act submissive. “I like that. Do it again,” he says calmly.

I kiss his feet over and over, and my hot tears splash on them. I press my lips over every inch of the tops of his feet, tasting the salt of my tears, sobbing and kissing and sobbing.

He stands there, accepting my utter degradation. Finally he says, “You may stand up.”

Oh God, I’ll never say no to him kissing my pussy again. I’m so grateful. So relieved. There’s an evil ache between my legs, but the freedom to move my head up and down, and take complete strides when I walk, overwhelms me. It’s afternoon before I realize that I didn’t even think to mentally deny that he was my master for hours after I left his bedroom.