Lean on Me

She aroused so nicely and in so many ways. Now she could get off in another.

He pulled out, then opened her buttocks, and squirted the lube onto the pretty asshole.

Her back arched. “What are you doing?”

“I think you know, love. You've enjoyed the anal plugs; it's time to see if you also enjoy this.” He pressed the head of his cock to the tightly puckered hole. Resistance. “Push back against me, sweetie, it'll be easier.”

He pushed steadily past the entrance, and then with a cock-squeezing plop, he was in. Her ass squirmed under his hands, the muscles clenching. He held there, just inside, waiting for her shock to pass, and enjoying the hell out of the tightness.

Her whole backside felt impaled, pinned to the plastic, burning like fire. “Oh, Dios. Yellow—please, yellow.”

“All right, sweetie, you let me know when you're ready.”

She'd actually used a safe word. The world hadn't ended, and he hadn't called her a wimp or snorted in scorn. He didn't push into her any farther. She tried to catch her breath, her fingers scraping the plastic igloo for something to latch on to. There was nothing.

She started to move, but that just made it worse, and his hands tightened on her hips, holding her still. “No, love, give it a minute.”

But he didn't shove in.

“O-okay.” She closed her eyes. This wasn't fun or pleasant or anything, but if he liked it…she'd try. For him. “Go on.”

“Brave little tiger.” His hand stroked over her back, comforting her. “I'm proud of you for using your safe word. Use it again if you need to, pet.” He withdrew slightly, not all the way out, and then pushed in more, over and over, a tiny bit each time until his hips rubbed against her bottom.

“There we go,” he murmured.

“I don't like this,” she whispered.

“Some do, some don't.” His hands massaged her sore butt cheeks, making her nerves quiver, confusing her as the pain inside and outside slowly became…erotic.

I don't.

“I like it as a treat occasionally, and as your master, I want you to try it at least twice, and then if you still hate it, that's all right.” Cold lube drizzled down between her cheeks again, slickening his cock as it slowly slid in and out. The burning decreased slightly. But it was still so uncomfortable.

“Some women can get off just from anal sex alone, others need more.” He increased his pace, and a weird, exciting sensation joined the discomfort. “Either way, it adds a whole bunch of nerves to stimulate.” She felt him pick something off her back and then reach around her leg.

Tiny, squishy nubs pressed into one side of her clit, and she jerked, making his cock slide inside her. Don't move, stupid. But the jellylike things hadn't added anything to get her off—they weren't even moving.

A hum sounded, and then every tiny jellylike nubbin sprang to life. A million tiny taps on the side of her clit. Oh, Dios, a vibrator. The sensation yanked her right out of indifference, into arousal, and into need.

He chuckled. “Enjoy that, do you?” He shifted the vibrator and placed it on the other side.

She actually felt her clit harden like a man's cock. Oh, carajo, the feeling. Her hips wiggled, and she squeaked when it moved his cock inside her.

“Looks like you're ready, love.” With the vibrator pressed against her clit, he pulled his cock back and thrust into her. Fiery discomfort still, only now every nerve in her whole lower half had ignited. His withdrawal left burning in its wake, and his next thrust made her vagina clench, pushed her down against the vibrator. Brutal pleasure shot through her.

When he pulled back again, she caught her breath, waiting for the next shocking burst of sensation.

Her hips wiggled uncontrollably, trying to get more—more of something—more pressure against her clit, more sliding. His hand tightened on her hip, holding her down as he thrust back in.

Everything in her coiled together, waiting for just…just a teeny bit more. He slid in and out, and the nerves surrounding his cock seemed to merge with her clit, pushing her inexorably toward that moment.

He shifted the vibrator over until it lay right on top of her clit. A second later he thrust hard into her, raising her up on tiptoes, shoving her into the vibrator.

Her body gathered, drowning out everything else except what he was doing to her, coiling tighter, tighter—and then it all exploded into shocking, terrifying waves of pleasure. Her hips thrashed under his hands, as the storm of sensation surged outward until even her hair seemed to tingle.

She managed to catch one breath and another, and then his hands gripped her hips, and he hammered into her. He roared as he came, a thrilling sound, and the furious jerks so deep inside her set off more spasms.

Her head dropped down on the plastic as she gasped for air.

Dios, she'd never come so hard in her life. How many people died this way? How would he ever explain to the ambulance crews that he'd chained his girlfriend out on the deck and killed her with too many orgasms?

His big hands massaged her bottom, and the pain from the sore skin set her off into another rolling aftershock. She moaned and arched up as he slowly pulled out of her, leaving her empty and aching, quivering inside.

A minute later, he undid all the cuffs and lifted her against his hard body, holding her up as her knees buckled. Her hands grabbed his shoulders, feeling the iron-hard flex of his muscles, and she rested her forehead on his chest.

She'd never felt so small and helpless in her life. Not just helpless, but…different.

She'd started defying him as a fun way to take his mind off the day, but then she couldn't back down, and he'd not only mastered her, but he'd stolen more than she'd dreamed of giving.

The way he'd taken her and used her in such an intimate way—in so many ways—showing her that every part of her was his to use. And the way he'd forced her to respond… When he'd been inside her like that, she'd had absolutely no ability to control anything, to say anything, to do anything, except take what he gave her. To move where his big hands put her, to accept his cock, his fingers, to come when he wanted.

A shiver ran through her at how different his hands felt as they stroked her body now. Different, but the difference was in her.

* * *

In one of his huge, terrycloth robes, Andrea curled into a deck chair. The padding was soft, the chair oversize to fit Cullen's tall frame. The moon hung low in the sky, glinting across the dark water, turning the sand to silver. As the waves washed quietly against the shore, she could hear Hector's low breathing from where the dog sprawled next to her chair.

The toys had been picked up and cleaned—her job, Señor had informed her with a grin—and the doghouse shoved back in the corner of the deck. Andrea frowned at it and huffed a laugh. He'd taken her on a doghouse. From behind. Did that make her a bitch?

He'd taken her damned hard too. Her insides felt battered, and the rest of her felt limp, like an undercooked tortilla.

The light from inside flicked off, and Master Cullen strolled out onto the deck, a bottle of water in each hand. He handed her one.

After setting his water on the small end table, he picked her up and sat down with a contented grunt.

Finding his legs even harder than concrete, Andrea squirmed. Her bottom hurt, inside and out. In addition, it still felt odd to sit on a man's lap. But nice. Somehow both safe and sexy.

Definitely sexy, she thought when his fingers, chilled from the cold bottles, slid under her robe and caressed her breast. She felt the nipple tighten. He shifted her slightly so she could rest her head against his shoulder. The sound of music spilled out through the open doors, soft and mellow, and the sensation of his chest moving with each breath was as comforting as the murmuring waves.

“Don't you have to work in the morning?” she asked.

“I do. But since I worked overtime today, I'll go in late tomorrow. After a good night's sleep.” He brushed his knuckles over her chin with a smile. “Thanks to you, I will sleep.”

Warmth filled her at knowing she'd helped. But, compliment or not, he shouldn't get off so lightly. She frowned up. “But you beat on me. Some thanks.”

A finger under her chin nudged her face up, and he kissed her, taking his time. His lips were firm but velvety smooth, his tongue demanding. He withdrew only to nibble on her lips, sucking gently on the lower one, before plunging deep again. His arm around her waist tightened as he played with her breast, as he took her mouth, and the feeling of being held for his pleasure made her head spin.

He pulled back, relaxing his grip, still cupping her breast. “Little tiger, I thoroughly enjoyed beating on your cute, round ass, and I intend to do it as often as the occasion requires.”

The tremor started in her stomach and radiated outward. Do it again? Have the pain twisting together with the pleasure; have him doing what he wanted with her body, giving her no say in what he did. “Well”—her voice came out breathy, and she cleared her throat—“maybe I've learned my lesson.”

“Doubtful. You're a sassy sub.” He tipped her back so her head lay against his arm rather than his chest. He studied her face for a moment before smiling. “You managed to use your safe word. I'm pleased, sweetie.”

The memory of her panic and begging made her mouth tighten. She'd wussed out completely.

His eyes narrowed. “But I also saw how dizzy you were when you walked across the deck. And you didn't ask for help. You were cold before I brought you the robe, and you didn't ask for help. That displeases me.”