“So then, he starts running this feather up my thighs and he won’t let me squirm or talk and it’s driving me cra-zay,” I snag another chip, dip it in the salsa, and pop it in my mouth, “and just when I think I’m going to break and start laughing, he switches over and starts kissing his way up my thighs. You guys, I have never had such wonderful sex in all my life. He is amazeballs in the bedroom.”

“Wow,” Lisa says with a sigh. “I wish Diesel would use feathers.”

“Maybe you could just have him pluck a few from that feather boa you have draped everywhere,” Ashley says with a teasing grin. Lisa sticks her tongue out at her, but I ignore it all.

Ten days. Ten days of heaven. Ten days of happiness. Ten days of pure fucking joy, in all the ways you can take that statement. It shouldn’t have surprised me that I’d love all the kinky stuff this much. I mean, I did read Dark Angel for a couple of years now. Kinky stuff is what I got off to for years…when it was just me and a vibrator and my imagination. 

But between my blowjobs and the occasional ass fucking, it just never went there. The guys I was with seemed more focused on me wrapping my mouth around their dicks and sucking them off.

Which, we’ve been doing plenty of that too. I mean, getting his giant-ass schlong down my throat has been quite the feat, let me tell ya. He’s porn-star territory. In fact, I think if he were comparing dicks with a porn star, it’d be the star who’d be jealous of Victor.

The only thing I’m sad about? Not being able to do the “real thing.” I mean, I know that all other sex is just as real, but there’s a part of me that wants to beg him to fuck me and fuck me hard, and have him slide inside my vay-jay. Maybe it won’t be as amazing as ass sex has been. Maybe I’m building it up to be more than it is in my mind.

But I don’t know if I want to give up my vagina virginity to someone else. Is that making me clingy? I have to wonder if I’m just going to end up driving him away if I tell him that. I can’t risk it. 

No, I have to stay away from that. He’s here to train me how to be a proper sex slave – nothing more. He probably wouldn’t want to do it with a virgin anyway – I mean, it’s okay to fuck me in the ass or go down on me, but when it comes to sticking it inside of me? He probably doesn’t want that any more than Johnny did. 

It’s better this way – I can sell my virginity to someone who actually wants it. 

I ignore a feeling of wistfulness as I hear my phone start to ring and I pull it out to check it. I’m a big girl; I don’t need anyone or anything.

I see Master Victor’s name pop up at the top, and then underneath, a simple message made to send me scurrying: Be better home soon, Kitten, or you’ll be in trouble. I feel my panties instantly dampen. Ohhhhh…I loved it when I got in trouble. Which isn’t to say that I won’t hurry anyway. Really, it’s a win-win situation. 

I shove my phone back into my purse with a shit-eating grin. “Well, ladies, it’s time for me to hit the road. Victor apparently has some more…training for me, if you know what I mean.” There is a chorus of catcalls and whistles from the group, and I can’t help the slight – okay, brilliant red – blush that creeps up on my cheeks as I head for the door. I cannot wait to see what he has in store for me this time.

I’m already pulling up the Uber app as I walk outside into the cool evening air. The possibilities are racing through me – a vibrating ass dildo? Nipple clamps? Spanking me with his hand? I’m sure my need is so strong, people three blocks over are smelling it right now. 

After a cab ride of painfully overwhelming desire, I pull up in front of Victor’s apartment, and I hurry, hurry, hurry, through the front doors and into the elevator. I can’t touch myself – not yet, it’s Victor’s rules – but I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to be able to keep my fingers off my own clit. It’s just begging me to rub myself into ecstasy. 

I burst through the front door, panting from exertion and from need, and find Victor on the couch, a taunting, sexy grin on his face. “Hi, Kitten,” he says, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. I close the door and lean against it, staring up at him as he advances towards me. I want to launch myself at him, but I don’t allow myself to do so. I have to keep myself in check.

“You sure took a long time,” he says in a tone of voice that tells me even if I’d somehow managed to get here 30 seconds after he’d texted me, I’d still have been “too slow.” 

Oh yes, this is exactly what I wanted. On trembling legs, I walk towards him, head bowed, and say softly, “Sorry, Master Victor, I tried to hurry. I’m sorry I didn’t live up to your expectations.” 

“Very nice. Very, very nice,” he says sexily. “And I don’t just mean how far you’ve come since becoming my sex slave. I also mean…” He snatches my arm and yanks me up against him, staring down at me and whispering, “Your ass in that skirt.” I grin. I did look good in this skirt.

With a lightning fast move that I didn’t see coming, he throws me over his shoulder so casually, I might as well have been a throw blanket from the back of the couch. “Victor!” I grunt in surprise as I “oof” down onto his shoulder. “You can’t carry me around like a caveman,” I protest, except I’m not sure how much of that he heard, as he casually spanks me and moves back towards the couch. 

“I don’t believe you can protest,” he says, settling down on the couch and settling me down, ass-up, on top of him. “I do believe that as the master, I can do as I wish.” He pulls up my skirt, getting it settled in around my waist and as much as I’m squirming, worried that this will hurt, I’m also squirming with desire. 

Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…

“Whatever” smack “I” smack “want” smack “to do” smack “I can” smack “because” smack “I am master.” smack 

My ass is a brilliant red by now, I’m sure, and I don’t even care. Turns out, the pain is part of the pleasure. Or the pleasure is part of the pain. But what I do know is that I want it – I want it all.

He begins rubbing my ass in slow circles, soothing the pain away, and I relax down into him, my body like cooked spaghetti.

Until I remember.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” I say, flailing around on his lap, trying to reach my Kindle and failing. Finally, he takes pity on me and hands me the ereader. I slide it open. “Can we do what’s in Chapter 12?” I pull up my bookmarks and quickly get to the scene in question. 

Yeah, I have the scene bookmarked. Don’t tell me you don’t bookmark your favorite scenes. Everyone has one (or seventeen) on speed dial for those lonely nights.

“Oh. Ohhhh…” He’s reading and his soft-on is quickly turning into a hard-on. “Oh, I think we can make that happen.”

Ohhhhh yeeeaaaahhhhhh…