Authors: Joey W. Hill
belonged to him.
He’d make a Master’s decisions for
her, because he’d
never let her hide from her own
desires. And there was a
freedom in that type of bondage
impossible to explain, but
it was something her heart had
understood for a very long
time.
“To give yourself to me, you have to
believe in your power
and freedom, Rachel,” he said, his
eyes very close. He was
squatting next to her, trailing his hand
along that open line
of her body, as if admiring a
sculpture, too tempting not to
touch. “I believe in your courage,
even if you don’t. I’m not
afraid of your pain and memories.
You can trust me with
them, know that I’l help you with
them.” He held her gaze
now, showing her the truth of it. “And
I promise I’l love you
al the more, seeing what you’ve
endured, yet what you’re
becoming when you let yourself love
again, let yourself be
the submissive you’ve always known
yourself to be.”
She shuddered at the idea, wanting so
badly to believe.
To hope. Her arms were starting to
tire. He straightened
and slid his arms under her, taking
her weight when she
began to falter. She abandoned the
pose entirely, wanting
to touch his face. Reaching up, she
traced his temple, his
jawline, and he caught her thumb in
his teeth, nuzzling it with
his tongue.
“Give yourself to me, Rachel,” he
repeated. “Tel me
you’re mine, just once, and I promise
to be with you, no
matter what you need. You just have
to be wil ing to try, to
trust me.” That intent expression fil
ed up her entire
universe. “Do you love me, sweet
girl?”
She couldn’t lie to him, not here, not
like this. And though
the pose was broken, the feeling
wasn’t. He was right. This
was where she’d found her truth, her
center, when she’d
had to put her life back together. And
now she found she
was no longer alone in that center.
She swal owed. “Yes,
Jon. I love you. I love you so much.”
His eyes deepened to that midnight
blue color. The
energy that came from him went
through the soles of her
bare feet, pressed into the mat. It
almost made her smile,
made her want to laugh. To cry. To
celebrate and yet be
held, quiet and stil , in his arms.
Joined with him in the most
intimate way possible.
He was holding her in one arm, and
as if reading her
mind, he now slid the other hand
back over her mound,
caressing her. She gripped his
biceps, held him harder. He
lowered her to the floor but gave her
the unspoken direction
to keep her legs closed together with
the pressure of his
hands on her thighs. Then he slipped
her yoga pants off her
legs, stroking her thighs and calves,
the soles of her feet.
He took the panties with the pants.
Then he removed her
snug tee, making her arch her body
and stretch her arms
back. He closed his hand over both
of her palms, pressing
her knuckles to the floor to keep her
arms over her head.
Rising, he stripped as wel . Her gaze
devoured every
inch of him, down to his aroused
cock, and the lean ropes
of thigh muscles that he would use to
thrust into her. When
he turned and bent, pul ing something
from his backpack,
she savored the delectable view.
“Close your eyes. I don’t want you to
see this for a
moment, and I want you to feel
everything.”
She obeyed, heard a metal ic tone as
something was
laid near her head. But then her
attention was pul ed from
that when he brought his body ful y
down upon hers, naked
flesh to naked flesh. With his hands
on her hips and upper
thighs to remind her to hold her thighs
closed together, he
positioned himself so that his cock
slid into the narrow
opening between her thighs, slowly
finding the moist path to
ful penetration.
In this position the angle was higher
and yet somehow
deeper. It was a Tantric position, one
she’d seen before in
her studies, where the lovemaking
was prolonged and
more excruciating, because it was a
helpless position as
wel , everything concentrated in one
narrow section of their
connected bodies. She made a soft,
inarticulate sound that
had him curving his hands against her
head, tangling
fingers in her hair.
He thrust in, rotated, and slowly
drew back, then went
back in, seating himself as deeply as
the position al owed,
making her groan of need deepen.
“That’s it, sweet girl.
You’re so wet for me. I wanted my
cock deep inside of you
when I did this. You remember I told
you that velvet col ar
wasn’t your permanent one? I
finished the permanent one.
Open your eyes.”
She did, immediately. He propped
himself on one elbow,
breast to chest with her, and showed
her a choker of
sterling silver wire, yoked at
intervals by vertical supports
made of gold. Several strands of the
silver wire had been
twisted into a decorative band
running horizontal y through
the center of the col ar, flanked by the
simple straight lines
of the others. A sapphire pendant,
bound in a sinuous
pattern of silver wire as a setting,
was attached to one of
the gold supports.
“It has a screw-down lock in the
back.” He lifted it to show
her, his weight resting on his arm so
he wasn’t crushing her.
As he did, he moved inside of her,
making her catch her lip
in her teeth. But her eyes didn’t leave
the col ar as he spoke
again. “Once it’s on, only I can
remove it, with a tool I
designed specifical y for the lock. On
the gold support
closest to it, I’ve etched the Sanskrit
word for “owned”,
because I saw how you responded to
that at the club. You
want me to own you, heart, body and
soul.” His eyes delved
into hers, pinning her soul in truth.
“And that’s a good thing,
because it’s what I ful y intend to
do.”
“When did you do this?” she
whispered. The col ar, his
words, the proximity of his body—al
of it was a barrage on
her senses.
“I started working on it a few months
after I met you.” His
lips twisted. “I knew it was wrong,
because at the time I stil
thought you were married. Even if I
never gave it to you…
Wel , I didn’t want to send any
energy your way that would
disrupt your marriage. But I made it
anyway. I guess I know
why now.” He gave her that look of
mild reproof and heated
passion that had her pussy muscles
constricting around
him. He made a movement, one slight
press against her
leg, a flex of his thigh muscle, and he
settled in deeper,
making her gasp.
“Like that, do you?” His voice was
almost a growl, but he
brushed the smooth metal against her
cheek, continued in
a deceptively milder tone. “The
velvet col ar gave me the
exact measurement I needed, and so I
adjusted it yesterday
and put it on a mold to test it for
scratching or pinching. I
won’t say I want the fit to always be
comfortable,” his eyes
gleamed, “but I want you to always
want to wear it.”
The problem wasn’t wanting to wear
it. She wanted it so
badly, she could already feel it on
her throat. But stil she
hesitated. In response, he shifted
again, laying the col ar
next to her. He settled his hand in its
place, letting her feel
the fingers press there. She lifted her
chin instinctively and
he registered it, with a flare of desire
in his gaze. He slid
back out, just an inch or two, then
back, slowly compressing
her clit, sending a ricochet of
reaction through that area and
deep into her womb. He was so deep
and shal ow inside
her at once, it was maddening.
“You already know it when I put my
hand at your throat,
Rachel. Don’t deny the truth. Tel me
you’re mine, and I’l put
this on you. After that, you won’t
ever shake me.” His fine
ebony brow lifted, his eyes sparkling.
“Though, for the
record, you’re not going shake me
even if you refuse it.”
He bent now, hand stil on her throat,
and his mouth
paused over hers. When her lips
parted, he increased the
pressure of that restraint, keeping that
barely there distance
between their lips. “You know I’m
gentle and patient, but I’m
also a Master. I’m not going to let
you run from me, or
yourself. I think you want and need
that. Almost as much as I
want and need you.”
She wet her lips and glanced toward
the col ar. He’d
been working on it for months. This
wasn’t a whim. It was…
everything to him. It was in his face,
his intensity. She was
afraid, but how could she possibly
turn her back on what
might happen, what could be offered
here?
Will you refuse your Master,
Rachel?
He was her Master. She knew it.
Who was she kidding?
She was going to have to trust him,
no matter her fears.
“Yes,” she said, her voice barely
over a breath, but she
found the courage to meet his gaze.
“Yes. I’m yours,
Master.”
That sculpted jaw tightened further,
his brow drawing
down as he moved, made her gasp.
“This is mine? This
pussy?”
She nodded, her cheeks heating a
little at the directness
of it. He bent, kissed the top of her
breast, then dipped to
suckle her nipple, giving it a sharp
nip that drew a little cry
from her as his cock thickened,
shifted. “These breasts?”
he asked, ruthless.
“And the heart beneath them,” she
promised. “Every part
of my body, my heart, my mind, my
soul. Goddess help me,
it’s always been yours, Jon. Please,
don’t let me…don’t
leave me alone.”
“I won’t.” He moved again, that
slow, smal thrust and
withdraw that was building to such a
painful pressure in her
lower bel y. “The way you ran from
me the other night? That
won’t happen again.”
“No, Master.”
“And you’l accept punishment for it.”
Gladly.
His lips quirked. “You squeezed
around me like a fist,
sweet girl. You need the punishment,
don’t you? Ask for
your col ar, and your Master wil give
you everything you
need.”
She swal owed. “Please, let me wear
your col ar, Master.
I’m sorry I took the other one off.”
His expression softened then, his
fingers brushing her
cheek. “I’m sorry that evening got
ruined. I expect we’l have
to do it again, give you plenty more
memories to erase that
one.”
Thinking of how many times since
then her mind had
returned to everything that occurred
before
Cole appeared,
she thought she might not want al of it
erased. But…a
different sensual encounter with Jon
and the Knights? If he
needed to feel better about it, then the
least she could do
was help.
Since her lips were trembling against
a smile, he didn’t
have trouble reading her mind. He
gave her a narrow look,
but there was a warm humor in his
eyes that added to the
mélange of positive feelings building
in her—love, arousal,
happiness.
“You might be an even bigger
monster than Dana.”
She wanted to chuckle, but he was
done playing. He did
that deep press again, trailed the col
ar down her sternum,
teasing the pendant over her stiff
nipple, then he replaced it
with his mouth, a firm lick there, a
quick press of lips over
the nipple to pinch it into his mouth,
give her moist heat.
“Jon…” It was a long, breathy sigh,
and her legs pressed
together, squeezing him inside her.
The desire surged up in
her, impatient and not wanting to be
banked any longer.
Her gaze fastened on that col ar.
“Jon, please. Master.
Please put the col ar on me so I can