Marcy's pulse quickened, banging away in her chest, bringing heat to her face. As he began to lick, bite and kiss the sensitive skin of her neck and throat, she gasped. He nuzzled her and his breath trickled, teasing her in the hollow behind her ear.
Helpless against this sensual assault, Marcy arched against him. Ears, neck, jaw and throat were all major erogenous zones for her. Mike had figured that out. He also knew that she loved having her hair touched or pulled.
Was he the best lover of all, or what? So male. So sexy. So in tune with what she wanted. With what her body needed.
When Marcy began to moan in earnest, Mike let go of her hair. He put both warm palms under her shirt, flat against her stomach. Fingers spread he slid them upward, across her rib cage until he reached her bra. It was a front clasp, and he quickly unfastened it. As her breasts spilled out he cupped and kneaded them with both hands.
"Ummm." The noise came from somewhere deep in her throat.
He lightly pinched her nipples, making her squirm. Then he soothed the ache with soft caresses. Meanwhile his mouth, and teeth and tongue continued to torment her neck and behind her ear. Occasionally he tasted her collarbone, and nipped her shoulders.
"Do you like this, my gorgeous sex slave? Does it feel good?" His warm breath teased over her in a dark seductive whisper. Her body flushed with goosebumps.
Marcy moaned. "God, yes." The sound of him, the feel of him as he ravaged her was divine. Her body hummed with arousal.
Mike unzipped her jeans and put his hand down between her legs, cupping her sex. The other hand continued to fondle her breasts and tug her nipples, as he sensually tormented her nape.
His ability to make her body respond didn’t surprise her anymore. Mike knew what she liked even better than she did. The man had been paying attention. He teased the sensitive flesh of her pussy, his fingers dancing and circling over her clit.
One long, thick finger slid inside her and she blew out a breath. Helpless to this new pleasure, Marcy's tight channel sucked him in, pulsing with need. Within minutes she was arching and shivering, trembling uncontrollably. God she was so close to climax!
Mike brought her to the edge and stopped. Brought her to the edge and stopped. An orgasm was building, her internal walls pulsed in short almost painful contractions that gave no relief. Tormenting her sensitive tissues, he continued this cruel assault until she was unthinkingly writhing and begging for release.
When he pulled his hands away she made a sound of protest. He kissed her neck. "Want to hear the rest of the rules?"
"No!" she laughed. "I forgot that we were even playing. You make me so mindless I can’t remember what day it is, much less my own name. Please, Mike, I need to come!"
The quick dark chuckle he gave her was followed by a wicked smirk. "All in good time. But you have to remember, I am the King. You don’t get to come unless I say you can. If you want to climax you have to beg me for the privilege."
Marcy made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a snort of protest. "Fine! Please, Sire, I beg you. Will you let your slave come?"
"Ummm," he breathed in her ear. "I like the sound of you begging very much." He brought his fingers to his lips and inhaled. They had been in her pussy and were shiny with her slickness. "Nothing smells better than the scent of aroused, needy slave," he said, and licked his fingers.
Jesus. Marcy squirmed, and her pussy pulsed.
"First, the rules." He grinned. "You need to remember them, even if you are mindless."
"I don't know," she snickered. "I forget everything when your hands are on me."
"If you don't remember, I'll punish you," he said sternly. "Then you won't forget."
This erotic threat made Marcy's body stiffen with nervous tension, and even more lust. What the hell was that about? All she could think of was Jennifer Whittington being disciplined by André with the riding crop. Did Mike have a riding crop?
Fuck. She turned sideways on his lap to face him. Mike had all her attention now.
"Here are my rules. First, you call me, Master. Two, you will speak only when spoken to. If you have a question you can ask for the privilege of speaking to the King."
Mike accented the word 'king,' and raised and lowered his eyebrows. It was amusing, yet there was something dangerous in the way he spoke. He wasn't fooling around. For this game, she had to obey.
"Three," he continued. "When I give you an order, you do exactly as I say – immediately. No hesitation. No pause. You must completely submit to your Master. Four, you cannot look at the beneficence of the King. Always look down as befits a slave girl – unless I tell you to do otherwise. Any questions?"
Marcy's mind was blank, filled with lust.
Her brain cells were off somewhere with her hormones, probably engaged in a fertility dance together.
Why was this crazy scenario such a turn-on? Was it just the idea of being sexually dominated? Of letting Mike own her like a possession, and use her as he wished?
Marcy wanted to please him. She wanted watch his face as he came, to feel the hot need he had for her as he desperately drove himself inside. To hear the noises he made as he climaxed.
I want to submit. How unexpected.
Mike was watching her. He seemed to be able to read her damn mind. "As my slave you are under my complete control. As your Master I own you, body and soul. Your job is to please me. You are my property. You cannot do anything, not even climax without my permission." He gave her an intent, sexy smile that was a combination of love and lust, in equal parts.
"But you have nothing to worry about," he said, his voice low. "I cherish and care for what is mine. You are my most beautiful and desirable slave – my prized possession. Now," he pushed her off his lap and on to the couch.
Mike surged to his feet, throwing a couple pillows on the floor. His eyes met her gaze. "I am going to go get some toys. When I return I expect my slave to be naked, with her hands behind her back, kneeling on those pillows. I want her shoulders back, her legs wide apart and her eyes facing down. Remember not to look at me unless I ask. As for the rest, you don't have to do anything. Your only responsibility is to obey me."
"What about a safe word?"
"Sure," he gave her an easy grin. "That's a good idea. I'll stop any time you want, but use 'red' if you like." With that he left.
Marcy quickly stripped off her clothes, and knelt on the floor as he had instructed. He was still rummaging around in their bedroom. Anticipation curled in her belly and she began to breathe in short and shallow breaths. What was he doing in there?
The moisture against her thighs began to cool on her skin. He had brought her to the edge of climax and left her there. Now she felt needy, excited and a little frightened. Just what was he going to do?
60. Play
Mike strode back into the room at his usual confident male grace. Eyes lowered, Marcy could only see his feet and part of his shins. He carried a pillow case full of who knew what. He put the case down.
"I see that my slave is naked, and positioned exactly as I like; on her knees with her hands behind her back, her legs spread, and her eyes lowered." He stroked her head, petting her much like he would his dog, Ziggy.
"What a good slave you are."
His praise, authoritative manner and dominance sent a thrill of arousal through her. To Marcy this entire scene was really hot. Not only that, he had already gotten her so worked up that she was having a hard time holding still.
"Put your hands out in front of you," he ordered.
When she did so, Mike reached into his bag and brought out padded cuffs. He fastened them, one on each wrist. "Put your hands behind you," he ordered. When she did he walked behind her and locked the cuffs together behind her back. The entire time he kept at least one hand possessively upon her.
"Do you know why I cuffed you, slave?"
"No, Master."
"I like my slave to always be cuffed or collared to remind her of her submission to me."
To Marcy's surprise, he began to braid her hair. "I like to have something to hold on to when I fuck you, too. That is why I am braiding your hair. Would you like me to pull your hair while I fuck you?"
Marcy held back her moan as her core heated and pulsed. Could she be any more turned on?
He gave her braid a tug that was just this side of painful. "I asked you a question, slave. You must always answer when I ask a question. And you must always do as I command instantly."
"Sorry, Master," she said in a shaky voice. It had to be the flash of adrenaline running through her veins that made her whole body involuntarily shudder. "Uh, yes, Master, I like you pulling my hair."
"Why didn’t you answer before?"
"You distract me, Master. I'm seriously horny right now!"
His dark chuckle of pleasure made her body heat further. Jesus, why didn’t he just fuck her already? This game was driving her crazy.
"You are a very good slave girl," Mike said in a husky voice. He stroked her head and Marcy trembled. "Shall I reward you? Do you wish to suck the royal penis?"
This unexpected humor was too much. Marcy, who had been on the knife edge of orgasm, cracked up.
Mike cupped her chin in his hand. "Look at me slave," he said in a deep, stern voice. When she met his gaze he looked implacable, but there was a twinkle of good humor in his eyes. "Are you laughing at the royal penis?"
"No, Master," she said, shaking her head. She pressed her lips together to try to stop smiling.
"Well, I am going to have to punish you. I didn’t tell you to giggle, did I? You cannot make a single sound without my permission."
With startling speed, Mike picked her up. Marcy gave a little squeal of surprise. He sat down on the family room couch and flipped her over, so she lay across his lap, head down.
"Mike," she said, startled out of the game. Her hands were cuffed behind her back, and she felt out of control, vulnerable and defenseless. It frightened her more than she realized.
"I am called Master, slave."
"Red," Marcy said.
As fast as he had tossed her across his lap, he sat her up on his knees, one hand on her back. He cradled her on his lap.
Why had she stopped the game? The idea of a spanking didn't totally turn her off. Everything Mike did aroused her. Yet there was just something wrong about a man hitting a woman. And she felt helpless. Mike was already much bigger and stronger. He already overwhelmed her.
"Speak to me, Marcy, my love. What are you worried about?"
Marcy frowned. "I'm not sure that I want to be spanked."
"Why not?" Mike asked, "Have you ever been spanked before?"
"Never."
A slow smile spread across Mike's face. "Good." He stroked her back and used her braid to pull him toward her. Framing her face, he kissed her. As usual his kiss eased every thought she had into sensual oblivion. Her hands were still bound, but now she wasn't frightened, she was eager.
The tension in her body that she hadn't even been aware of, relaxed as she melted against him.
With her eyes shut, Marcy moaned.
"Do you trust me?" Mike asked.
"Yes," Marcy said without even thinking about it. She trusted him completely, not because she loved him – but because she knew that he loved her. There was nothing but the feeling of safety and protection from that all-encompassing love.
"Do you imagine that I will hurt you?"
She shook her head. "No."
"I gave you a couple of slaps before, between the legs if you recall. You didn’t mind them. They didn’t hurt at all. In fact, they gave you great pleasure."
Marcy thought about that. André told her that pain broke down barriers, and increased the pleasure of orgasm. What barriers did she need to break down now? Because Marcy felt as if she had already given herself to Mike completely. Yet if this was a test, she intended to pass it.
"Submission is the ultimate in trust," Mike said. "In the Master/slave game you are completely under my sexual control. Your only job is to ignore your own will and submit to me completely. Trust that I'll take care of you." Mike stroked her back lightly, gently. "Trust that I'll give you what you need, while I take what I need." He gave her braid a teasing little tug.
Marcy could feel the bulge of his massive erection against her hip, from within his jeans. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and his chest hair brushed lightly against her torso. He was so beautiful. She had an overwhelming urge to give him anything, everything.
"Are you ready to submit, slave?" he asked in a low voice. His palm held her cuffed wrists, emphasizing his possession. His ownership. It was a game, but it wasn't. Mike had bound her to his will.
"Yes, Master," she said softly. "I'm yours."
His eyes flared with a combination of triumph, joy and raw lust. Her heart kicked. Mike had changed her whole life. She loved him to death. Why had she held back? What could she possibly be afraid of? Marcy desperately wanted to please him.
"Lay across my lap, slave," he ordered.
"Yes, Master."
61. Spanking
Marcy stood up, walked around and lay face down. He held her, so that she was able to lie down gently, despite having her hands cuffed behind her back. He pressed one firm hand on her, holding her tightly against him.
She had freaked out there for a moment, but she was aroused once more. The potency and power of his control was a massive turn-on.
Marcy wanted to curl her arms around his strong male legs. With her wrists bound behind her back she couldn’t, yet she pressed her face against his jeans. The scent of him stirred the memories of all the carnal pleasures she experienced in his bed.
"I'm going to spank you, slave, for my pleasure, and yours," Mike's deep voice took on a dangerous purr. "You'll want to climax during this spanking. If you beg well enough I may even let you."
Marcy gasped at that whispered promise. She melted against him, hyperaware, yet sensually relaxed. Whatever he wanted, she decided. He was in control. Her belly tightened in anticipation of the first blow. Her erect nipples rubbed against his jeans. She was nervous. Would it hurt? Licking her lips, Marcy decided that it didn’t matter if it did. She had decided to give all power and control unconditionally over to Mike.
Mike shifted her slightly so that her ass was high in the air. "Spread your legs, slave. I want to play with my pussy." It was a demand, it was a command. She didn’t want to disobey.
"Yes, Master," she said.
"You are such a good slave," he praised.
His hands gently rubbed, smoothing over her buttocks, caressing the plump cheeks of her backside. He began to squeeze and rub harder, massaging her backside. It was incredibly erotic the way he touched her. He murmured in a gravelly voice as he examined her, commenting on the color, and beauty of her "sweet white ass" and how he intended to make it red and ready for him.
"And after I spank you," he said in a conversational tone, his voice deep and low and seductive, "I'm going to place you over the arm of this couch. Then I'm going to fuck you from behind. You're going to want to be ready for me, because I'm going to fuck you harder than I've ever fucked you before."
Marcy moaned, surprised by the sound of it. Had she just made that noise? The erotic way he was talking, the feel of him playing with her body, and his demanding need had her super horny.
"Are you ready, slave?" he asked.
"Oh, yes, Master." The words choked out of her somehow. It was odd because she was ready. Super ready. Ridiculously ready. Marcy was up for anything.
Slap, slap, slap, he began along the edge of her buttocks.
It didn’t hurt. It stung a little, but if anything it felt good. Was she too drunk with sexual arousal to feel pain? Or was he holding back?
Rhythmically Mike's hand struck her, sending shockwaves through her body. Slap, slap, slap. Her entire ass stung and burned, but it was her pussy that held her attention. It was on fire with need, it was just so damn empty. Right then she was ready and willing for anything, a
s long as she eventually got what she craved.
She wanted him to fuck her.
From time to time he stopped and soothed her butt with his palm. When he did he ran his fingers in between her cleft, tracing her sopping clit and labia. Running his fingers around her slit, Mike teased her entrance, but never quite went in. His tantalizing touch made her channel clench. Her breaths were short and desperate.
"Do you like your spanking so far, slave?"
"Jesus, yes! God!"
His quick dark chuckle was filled with amusement, yet all the while he continued delicately stroking her folds. "You call me, Master, slave. Not Jesus, or God."
"Please, Master!"
"Please what?"
"I need to come," she begged. "Let me come, please, Master."
"I'm going to spank you a bit harder now. If I'm right, when I slap directly on the middle of your buttocks, down low, you're going to feel it in that sweet needy pussy of yours. It may even make you climax. Your King grants you an orgasm. That is to say, you are allowed to have your release, if you can."
For a moment his thumb was on her clit, pulling back the slippery hood. Her belly clenched, her pussy wept and pulsed and all the while Mike stroked her. When he inserted two fingers within her wet channel she cried out. When her needy pussy latched on tight, he laughed.
"Ready slave for your punishment?"
"Yes, Master, please." The whining, desperate pleading in her voice didn’t matter. Marcy was too far gone to care.
Slap, slap, slap! Marcy felt as if her womb contracted with each one, her buttocks clenching to the seductive beat. Mike kept up a steady, predictable rhythm, slow at first, and then faster.
From time to time Mike held her wrists on her lower back. Holding her to his will.
Mike began to strike her hard, then harder, the flat of his hand hitting her rounded buttocks, making them shake. Marcy focused on trying to accept this spanking because she trusted Mike. He would take care of her.
She was so wet that Mike bathed her sex with his hand, making it slick with her own juices. He was spanking her with one hand and fondling her sex with the other. She constantly moaned and whimpered now - aroused to fever pitch. Red hot lust rolled through her. The stimulation to her pelvic region was like nothing she had ever known.