Authors: Joey W. Hill
so he arched her away
from him. Her pelvis pushed against
his groin as he settled
his mouth on her throat, and he
savored the soft gasp of air
from her parted lips, the loose way
she gave herself over to
his support of her body. “Even that
might have been overkil .
You’re such a responsive slave, I
could have col ared you
with the brush of my lips here. And
when I left you in the
morning, I’d put one drop of my
aftershave there as wel , so
you’d be captured by that scented
mark.”
Al of that was true, but he also knew
she craved a
physical col ar, something exactly
like what he’d described
to her in his office. That Neanderthal
part of him wanted her
wearing one, just as much. However,
like the removal of the
condom, al of that would have its
time and place.
“That touch of aftershave, the way
you’re reacting to how
I’m kissing you now… You already
understand the way of it.
Most people focus on cunt, cock, the
same singular way
they focus on the sex itself. The goal
isn’t physical, though
that’s a pleasurable side effect.
Divine intimacy is the true
ecstasy. A divine intimacy with each
other and the energy
that brings us together.”
Sliding his hands into her hair then,
he let it spil over his
hands. She’d caught on now and
remained utterly
motionless, her eyes closed, her
expression concentrated
on every contact point he was giving
her. “You know al that
though. You know that I could press a
chain of those same
kisses around your wrists and ankles,
and you would
consider yourself as restrained as if I
used steel. If we’re at
a restaurant, and I slide your blouse
off your shoulder and
make you leave it that way so I can
toy with your bra strap,
I’m exercising my right as your
Master. That’s a caress you
feel in your soul. Your orgasm comes
al the way from there,
if I’m doing it right.”
“You did it perfectly right last night.”
Her voice thick, she
lifted her lashes to gaze into his face.
“Jon. I want to touch
you. I want to give you that
experience as wel .”
“You have. You do. And you wil
again. Practice with me
here first.” He stroked his knuckles
along her cheek. “Do
some sun salutation cycles with me.
And then I want you to
practice a Tantric position of my
choice.”
A tentative sparkle passed through
her beautiful gray-
green irises. “But remember my
flexibility is impaired this
morning. Your fault.”
“I accept the blame. Now and in the
immediate future.”
Giving her a wicked smile, he lifted
his arms, planting his
feet once again.
He saw her gaze travel over the
stretch of his body, linger
on every part. True to their
discussion, though she noted his
cock, firm and prominent under the
boxers, her attention
was a covetous slide of sensation
along his arms, his
throat, down over his abdomen, the
angle of muscles at his
waist, his thighs, al the way down to
his feet. Standing with
only a foot between them, the energy
between them was
heavy, languorous, as if they were
rays of the sun that had
simply spil ed on this porch, ready to
twine together as
common elements. He wanted her
badly, but the wanting
was a pleasure of its own, one to
prolong.
Raising her arms, she took a matching
position.
Shoulder to shoulder, they folded
forward together, moved
into the Down Dog
asana
, to Plank,
to Al igator, then
Cobra, then Swan, back up into the
starting position, palms
folded together overhead. Some
gurus practiced the
sequence or one like it hundreds of
times a day, but after
about twenty sets, she was
perspiring, and her body was
quivering, which was what he
wanted.
“Last rep.”
She nodded, eyes closed, deep in that
zone. As they
came back up, his arm brushed hers
as they did the Swan
movement. Sliding his arm under
hers, he clasped her
forearm to turn her so they faced one
another.
“Now for that Tantra position you
promised me. Fol ow
my lead, and use my strength.”
Centering his weight on his left foot,
he raised his right
knee. He extended his foot past her
hip, then bent his leg,
sliding his calf across her buttocks,
forming a triangular
brace support around her, his ankle
resting against her
opposite hip.
When he nodded, Rachel lifted her
right leg, mirroring the
position by sliding her bent leg
behind him, her heel
pressing into the side of his buttock,
twining them together.
Guiding her arms around his neck, he
gripped her thigh
with one hand, and slid his other arm
around her back,
pressing her breasts into his chest
and lifting her up enough
to align them properly. At a brush of
hardness, she realized
if he was naked, he could fit the head
of his cock into her
pussy at this angle. But that
awareness was a smal part of
the intimacy of the position.
“This presses the sacral chakras
together and, as a
bonus, the solar plexus and heart
chakras.” He smiled
down at her, his eyes warm and
intent. She focused on her
balance, but she didn’t need to
devote much energy to it.
He was so wel -grounded on the sole
of one foot, he was
able to steady her with both his
strength and confidence.
They were two paral el currents, but
in this moment the
energy snaked together, brought even
closer by al they’d
shared last night.
But the general meaning of Tantra
was
weaving, wasn’t
it? The idea that two energies could
intertwine. Of course
she was sure the spiritual aspect of it
was man intertwining
with divine energy, but she couldn’t
think of any better way
to do that than this.
Oh Goddess. She loved him. Deeply,
fiercely, a journey
that had been going on for wel over a
year, but it was
undeniable in this moment.
“It’s al right,” he said quietly. “I
won’t let you fal , Rachel.”
Too late.
* * * * *
After they’d finished up their
practice, he shared her
smal shower with her, and final y
gave her leave to touch
him as she wished. Every fine line of
muscle, length of limb.
The man’s ass was sheer artistry,
worth lingering over,
exploring with every one of her ten
fingertips. When she
made the shy request, he gave her a
tender look, turned his
back and put his palms on the shower
wal so she could
slide her hands unimpeded down his
back, down to trace
that tight seam. Then she molded her
palms over his hip
bones so that she could press her
back to his. His buttocks
fit into the curve of her stomach as
she ran her hands over
his chest, exploring the ridges of his
abdomen, then down,
to find him more than ready for her to
slide her hands along
his cock, over his heavy testicles.
When he turned, so ful y aroused it
seemed daunting
because of how sore she was, he
lifted her up against the
wal , coaxed her to relax for him.
“Wil you refuse your
Master, Rachel?” The sensual threat
against her temple
was met with a vehement shake of
her head, her nails
biting into his back. He sheathed
himself so careful y,
building her climax like a spring rain,
a slow but thorough
soaking of the ground so it was ready
to be seeded. The
initial ripple of feeling expanded into
a breath-stealing
climax with shuddering intensity. He
came right after her but
kept himself stil , every muscle like
iron under the wrap of
her hands, her legs.
She clung to him like a child as he
moved them both out
of the shower, slid her feet to the
floor so they could dry.
Taking the towel from her, he rubbed
it between her legs,
dried that area himself, then knelt,
holding her hips as he
licked and nuzzled her there, making
her body sway like a
wil ow over him, her wet locks of
hair brushing his head, his
shoulders. He stopped when she was
breathing deep,
shuddering, and rose, threading his
hands in her hair to
stroke it from her face. “Cats like to
mark humans by
rubbing their faces against them after
they shower. It
restores their smel upon them, so
other cats know that’s
their human.” He kissed her, so she
tasted herself on his
mouth. “I have a similar ritual.
Bagels and tea, or a ful
breakfast?”
Not sure she could contemplate a ful
breakfast with an
army of happy frogs doing pirouettes
in her stomach, she
chose bagels and tea.
He chose what she would wear,
going through her closet
and picking out a gauzy thin cotton
dress that fol owed the
curves of hip and breast as wel as the
line of her thighs as
she walked. It was a very feminine
dress, the hem flaring
out to swirl around her calves. In the
long-forgotten back of
her lingerie drawer, he found a lacy
ice blue thong with the
tag stil on it. But he refused to let her
wear a bra, no matter
how much she hedged. It bothered
her, not so much that the
dress would reveal the shape of her
nipples, but knowing
that her breasts didn’t sit as
attractively high and rounded
as they did in a bra.
When he made her admit that worry
to him, he gave her a
look from the chair where he’d been
sliding on his hiking
shoes. Max had left him an overnight
bag outside the door,
and he now wore jeans and a faded
blue T-shirt with an
earth-colored representation of the
Mandala
mudra
on it, a
pair of hands joined in the circular
symbol of wholeness.
“Come here.”
When she came close, he took her
hand, pul ing her
between his knees, and then made her
gasp as he put his
mouth over the nipple, right on top of
the dress fabric. The
moist heat dampened it as he suckled
leisurely. It didn’t
take her long to be whimpering,
writhing against him. He
kept her stil with his hand spread
across her ass and
gripping her firmly, reminding her of
the stil uncomfortable
places where he’d spanked her with
the brush as wel as
his ruler. After long moments, when
she was gasping, he
moved to the other, gave it equal
treatment until she was
making pleading noises in her throat,
her pussy soaking the
lace thong so that the wetness
dampened her twitching
thighs.
As he lifted his mouth at last, he
nuzzled her jutting nipple
one more time before considering
them both. “I should have
brought clamps for these,” he noted.
“But I won’t mind
devising more organic ways to keep
them erect through the
day.” Now his gaze rose, and that
Master’s expression
stil ed her. “This is the way I want
you, Rachel. I want to see
what’s mine, have it soft and ready to
handle, whenever I
want to touch it. When we sit down at
breakfast, you’l keep
your knees parted beneath the table. I
won’t embarrass you
in public, but your body wil always
be accessible to my
demands. Al right?”
She nodded, put her fingers up to her
throat
unconsciously, before she realized
she’d done it.
“Is it easier with the col ar?”
“In a way, though I don’t real y
understand why.”
He took that hand as he rose and
kissed it, a touch of his
tongue between two fingers. “I think
you do. But today, you
do it without the col ar. Until I give
you the one I real y want
you to wear.”
On that unsettling note, he took her
out of her apartment
and out into the world. The bagel
place was a short walk
from her place, but she found herself
conscious of everyone
they passed. Early morning