Mastering Her Senses (Blasphemy Book 2)

  Heat roared over her at the thought of all that might mean, and her heart tripped into a sprint.

  “Let’s push up against those boundaries, Cass, but don’t let yourself get to the point of a panic attack. Do you understand?” She nodded. “Good. Then give me knees and elbows.”

  Arousal flooded through her as she moved for him, getting onto her knees, her legs spread, and then sinking her upper body lower yet, until she was resting on her elbows. She felt his gaze like a physical caress, even though he hadn’t touched her.

  And then he did. Two swats fell against her ass. “Arch your back further, Cass. Open yourself up to me.” She did. “There it is,” he rasped. A vibrator sounded out in the quiet, and then those sensations fell between her legs.

  Cassia cried out, her whole body going taut at the contact.

  A smack fell across her ass, this one stinging where the others had just been meant to catch her attention. “Be still,” Master Quinton said. “And do not come until I give you permission.”

  A whimper spilled from her lips. Orgasm denial was so not one of her strong points. But she would not fail. Not at this. So as he tormented her clit with the thick head of the vibrator, Cassia gritted her teeth and counted breaths and traced the tiny lines in the concrete floor. Anything to distract herself from what her Master—her freaking Master—was doing to her body.

  Cool liquid dripped against her ass. His touch jolted through her as he rubbed the slick wetness against her rear hole. It had been a long time since she’d taken anything there—anything more than his finger, at least—but something about the dirty decadence of ass play had always gotten her off in the past. So when he slid a finger into her, she heaved a deep breath and submitted to his desire.

  “Good girl,” he said. “Just breathe and feel, Cassia.”

  God, all she could do was feel. His finger sliding in and out of her hypersensitive asshole, the strokes teased and pushed against the ring of muscle there, all while the vibrator stimulated her pussy and made her drip. And then he added a second finger. Cass moaned at the stretching sensation, her brain racing through the possibilities of where he was taking this. Would he take them all the way? Her cunt contracted at the thought, revealing that no matter the discomfort she might feel, it aroused her, too.

  Jesus, it was making her burn.

  “One more, baby,” he said from his position behind her. “Take it for me.”

  Her whole body shook as he eased a trio of his thick fingers into her asshole. “Oh, fuck, Master. Oh fuck.” Fleetingly, she wondered if he was going to incorporate his trademark sensory play. Not that she needed it to enjoy what was happening. Not at all.

  “Don’t come,” he bit out, sliding those fingers deep. His other hand pressed between her shoulder blades. “Upper body to the floor and use your hands to hold your ass open for me.”

  Shaking and dripping and needier than she’d ever felt in her life, Cassia shifted into the new position, her face and shoulders against the cool concrete, and her hands reaching back to grasp her cheeks.

  “Christ, that’s hot, Cassia. I’m going to reward you so good. Just hold on a little longer.” Pulling the vibrator away, he fucked her with those three fingers again and again. Going deep and turning his wrist to vary the sensations. Even without the attention to her clit, she was on the verge of giving in to the desperate, alluring promise of release.

  After several long moments, he eased his fingers free of her, and Cassia cried out at the loss. “Master,” she gasped.

  “I know, little one. We’re not done yet. We’re not done by a long shot.”

  Something hard nudged against her asshole, and then pushed in. It opened her wider and wider and wider until she wanted to scramble away from the pressure, and then the plug was all the way inside her, filling her and making her moan.

  “Yes, good girl. Rise, Cass.”

  She almost couldn’t make sense of the words. Shaky and needy, she forced herself onto her feet again, though without as much of the gracefulness with which she normally tried to move. And, oh hell, the fullness was so much more pronounced when she took a step, moving to face him again.

  And then she was facing him—facing a man who looked as painfully aroused as she felt. His cock made an impressive bulge in the front of his jeans. His eyes were dark fire. His muscles were tense and his jaw tight. “Where are you, baby?”

  “Green, Sir.”

  He nodded, his gaze hungry and approving. “Then follow me.”

  At the back corner of the room, Master Quinton opened a door, leading her into a dark dressing room. He turned on the light, revealing a sink, a shower, and a metal-looking wall with another door, this one raised off the floor and oval in shape. It reminded her of a hatch you might see on a ship. He closed them into the small room, and then opened the hatch.

  Light spilled into the breach, revealing a larger-than-usual tub.

  “It’s a flotation tank,” he explained. “The water is very high in salt content, so it makes you float. In fact, you can’t sink. Between the buoyancy and the consistency with your own temperature, most people lose the ability to perceive their body while they’re floating.”

  Cassia inhaled deeply and wrapped her brain around what he was laying out. She knew where he was going with this without him having to tell her, because there weren’t any visible light fixtures inside the tank. “So, if you were in the water in the darkness…you’d be totally deprived of your senses.” Just saying that out loud made her belly flip-flop. And she’d wondered if he intended to incorporation sensory play…

  Be careful what you wish for, apparently.

  “Exactly,” Master Quinton said. “This, Cassia, is the ultimate mindfuck. But it’s also very freeing. And if you lay totally still, you won’t hear the water either. It’ll be totally silent inside.”

  “Okay,” she said, her pulse kicking up under her skin. “I’ll try, Sir.”

  He took her chin in his hand. “You don’t know how much that pleases me. But we’re going to start out with light, baby.”

  The breath she unleashed nearly made her light-headed. “Oh. Okay.”

  He kissed her ear, then spoke in a whisper. “Brave fucking girl. Get in and lay down.”

  God, the way he could build her up with just a few uttered phrases. Holding on to the door frame, she stepped into the shallow water. Not quite knee deep, it was warm to the touch, which made it easy to immerse herself as she lay back long-ways.

  Master Quinton was right, she couldn’t help but float. The water held her up from head to toe, just surrounding her face but not anywhere close to covering it.

  “How’s that feel?” he asked, peering in through the open door.

  “Really good,” she said. “It’s kind of a weird sensation. Being totally weightless.”

  “Yes, exactly. It’s good for sore joints and muscles, too,” he said, his tone more conversational. And then that tone changed, becoming more commanding again. “Now, take a deep breath, Cassia.” She did, blowing it out long and slow. The water cradled her body in warmth, even though it was hard to perceive it against her skin. She moved her toes just to be able to feel a part of her body. “Be still.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

  “From here on out, no talking, except for safewords. No moving. And I would like you to try to close your eyes and keep them closed if you can.”

  She did, and the nothingness was suddenly and utterly encompassing. Her heart beat thundered, and it was the oddest thing because she heard her pulse in her ears against the water there.

  For a long moment, she just floated in the quiet, and she had the strangest thought that she could fall asleep there, perfectly suspended, almost disassociated from any awareness of time or space.

  And then Master Quinton said three words. “Do. Not. Move.”

  She was just wondering why he’d repeat the command when it started.

  Vibrations.

  Inside her.

  She cou
ldn’t help the whimper that ripped out of her, or the way her muscles flinched against the erotic onslaught. The water rippled around her.

  Jesus. It was a vibrating butt plug. And it put a match to the embers of arousal he’d ignited earlier. It only took a few precious seconds to make her desperate because the sensation was intense, powerful, penetrating. She couldn’t perceive her hands or her arms or her feet or even her breasts. The combination of the sensory deprivation with the plug reduced her to her basest nature—to the nerves and need between her legs. To that plug in her ass and the way it was making her lose her mind.

  And she was, she was losing her mind and herself and her control. But he hadn’t given her permission…

  Ohgodohgodohgod.

  “Come. Come freely. As much as you can,” came her Master’s gritty voice.

  Soaring with the granted freedom, she shouted out the orgasm, and the sound was echoed within the tank. Her whole body shuddered and shook, on and on and on, causing her to make waves. It was one of the most intense orgasms of her life, in part because all the deprivation took away every single other thing she might’ve perceived or paid any attention to.

  Breathing hard, she opened her eyes and tried to get her bearings.

  But then the vibrations became more intense and the light dimmed.

  Cassia cried out, already on edge, completely disbelieving that she could handle another release of that magnitude again. She clenched her eyes tightly shut, trying to brace against the assault, but it was like the vibrator had become an extension of her cunt and her ass, and it wrung another orgasm out of her whether she thought she could handle it or not.

  The vibrations strengthened again, and she had no time at all to adjust. She’d entirely become carnal sensation, and the third orgasm exploded her into pieces. Her eyes flew open as she screamed and shook, and the light was much dimmer than it had been, almost so dim that it was hard to perceive. And between the deprivation and the darkness and the maddening elation and drain of the orgasms, it was suddenly all too much. “Yellow, Sir. Please, yellow.”

  The vibrations shut off, and Master Quinton was right there, helping her up, pulling her into his arms. “I’ve got you, baby.”

  “Holy fucking shit,” she said, her body still shuddering. “Sir.”

  He chuckled. “You did so damn good.”

  “I…I…” She swallowed hard, struggling to pull herself together. She was floating right on the edge of subspace. It was enough to make her feel pleasantly drunk but nowhere near the emotional shattering she’d experienced before.

  “Take a deep breath, Cassia,” he said. “Pace your breathing with mine.”

  For several long moments, she did just that, reveling in the feel of him, the way he cared for her, and his small, tender attentions. Finally, she had to tell him. “I think I could’ve handled the dark, Master. I really think I could’ve gotten there,” she rasped.

  Master Quinton nodded. “And you will, but not tonight. Your words said yellow, but your tone said red, Cass. Which meant you did just what I asked you to do—used your safeword before you got to the point of a panic attack.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m proud of you.”

  Beaming at the praise, she let herself be wrapped in an oversized bath towel and guided out of the tank.

  “Brace your hands on the sink and bend,” Master Quinton ordered. When she did, he gently removed the plug and dropped it in the sink for cleaning. An aftershock wracked through her, and as much relief as she felt to have it out, she also felt utterly empty.

  A whimper spilled out of her.

  “What is it, little one?” he asked, pulling her to face him again.

  The affectionate concern in his gaze undid her. “Too empty, Master.”

  “Cassia—”

  “Too empty,” she whispered, shaking her head and pleading with her eyes.

  “You need me,” he said, eyes burning.

  Oh, God. She did. It seemed like it should’ve been impossible after everything he’d just done for her, but she did. “I need you.”

  When he stepped back from her, she whimpered at the loss and at what she was sure was going to be his argument against going further. And then he stepped out of his jeans and turned on the shower. He crooked his finger, beckoning her to come to him.

  Dropping the towel, Cassia crossed the small space, her gaze dropping to where his cock jutted out towards her.

  “How do you want to be filled, little one?” he asked, his voice a low scrape.

  “However it would please you, Sir,” she said, relief racing through her veins at the question. Because it meant he wasn’t ending things between them for the night.

  “No. Answer my question. Say the words.”

  She didn’t think. She didn’t debate. She didn’t even consciously choose. Her answer was pure instinct and need. “I want you to fuck my ass, Master.” Because it was the only place she hadn’t yet had him. And she didn’t want there to be a single part of her he hadn’t claimed.

  “Jesus, Cassia. You’re a fucking dream to me. Do you know that?” he asked, backing her into the warm, streaming water.

  “And you make me feel as strong and brave as you think I am, Sir.”

  He cupped soap in his big hands and rubbed her whole body down, washing away the salt that was already making her skin feel tight. And then he treated her hair to the same attention, scratching her scalp with his fingertips until she was nearly purring at the goodness of it.

  “Stand and face the wall, Cassia.” Master Quinton turned off the water as she obeyed, and then he retrieved something from the cabinet over the sink. Her insides shook with the need to please him as little noises sounded out from behind her. The tearing of a condom wrapper. The wet slicking of lubricant.

  After a moment, wet fingers fell against her asshole. She jumped at the touch, but almost immediately she eased into being explored there again. Because she wanted it so damn bad.

  Master Quinton tugged out her hips, and his height allowed him to take her right there up against the wall. He lined his cock up with her ass and penetrated her inch by bone-meltingly good inch. She moaned at the stretching fullness. It started with a stinging pain that almost felt intolerable just before it became decadently good. Despite the way the plug had opened her up, it took a few minutes before he could go deep and set a faster pace, and she adored his patience and the way he took care not to hurt her.

  “So fucking tight, Cassia.” She could only moan her assent. “Every part of you is mine,” he rasped in her ear.

  “Yes, Master,” she said, loving the sentiment. Loving…him. “Every part.” Would he hear what she wasn’t saying?

  He didn’t give her a chance to wonder any further, because just then, he picked up the pace of his strokes, hammering his cock into her ass deeper, harder, faster. He wrapped his arms around her, anchoring his grasp around her throat and her breast, and let his hips nail her mercilessly and frantically, as if something inside him had snapped.

  “Touch yourself,” he growled. “Make yourself come while I take your ass.”

  Her hand slid down the wet wall. On a moan, she followed his command, her fingers immediately circling hard against her clit. And despite the intensity of those earlier orgasms, the slick friction shoved her toward the edge. The desperation and urgency of his movements, the shockwaves of his thrusts inside her, and the way his breathing sawed in and out of his lungs, all pushed her harder. But she wasn’t falling until he did.

  “Can’t last, Cassia. Can’t last because you fucking own me, too.”

  His words, those beautiful, soul-bearing words, did her in. “Coming, Master. Oh, God, I’m coming.”

  As her release pulsed through her in a long, rolling wave, Master Quinton nailed her in a series of punctuated thrusts then buried himself to the hilt on a broken shout. “Fuck, baby. Fuck.” His cock jerked inside her over and over.

  It was all she could do to remain upright.

  But he didn’t let her fall.
Of course, he didn’t. Master Quinton cleaned her up a second time, and then he wrapped them both in fresh towels and carried her out to the couch where they’d so often sat together. They talked and relaxed for a long while, completely comfortable and at ease together. No matter what they did—however extreme or normal—Cassia always felt like they fit, and that wasn’t a feeling she’d had this strongly ever before in her life.

  She adored it. And Quinton.

  He came home to her house again that night. And once again she slept without the lamp.

  Because this incredible, handsome, adventurous man she’d found—he was her light in the dark.

  Chapter Twelve

  Everything he and Cassia had shared on Tuesday night had been so amazing that Quinton had barely been able to sit still on Thursday in anticipation of seeing her again. Which was maybe why he found himself at a jewelry store. Just browsing.

  At least, that’s what he was telling himself.

  Except, he was clearly browsing for something in particular, because the case in front of him was filled with rather stunning diamond choker necklaces. He knew he wanted diamonds. The hardest of the gemstones. Absolute gorgeous brilliance created under pressure.

  Just like Cassia.

  “May I help you?” the woman behind the counter asked.

  And just like that, he knew the answer. He was doing this. Because it felt right. Because she felt like the everything he’d been looking for but never truly believed he would ever find.

  He considered more than a few pieces, felt their weight in his hands, and imagined each and every one around Cass’s neck. Until he found the perfect one.

  Now it just remained to decide when to give it to her.

  Quinton chuckled at himself as he had to resist the urge to drive to her right this fucking second and place the collar around her neck. Damn, he had it bad.

  And he was absofuckinglutely okay with that. More than, in fact.

  Quinton couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment that it’d happened, but he knew he cared for Cass as more than just his submissive—though that meant a fucking lot all by itself. Maybe it had been on the dance floor the night of their first scenes. Or maybe it was the way she’d followed him, so trusting despite her vulnerability, around the back of that building off the side of the highway. Or maybe it was the way she’d surrendered to his every dirty whim the other night. Or, perhaps, it was any one of a million times she’d faced her fears and beat—or weathered—them, finding solace and comfort in his arms again and again.