Bite the Bullet (10 page)

When she had oiled him thoroughly, she returned the vial to the nightstand drawer and picked up a slim tube of lubricant. It, too, was scented with lavender, the essence of which would warm his rectum when she prepared it. And the heat would move its way to his cock and his balls, enhancing his level of arousal.

Using the fingers of one hand to spread the cheeks, she rubbed lube into the anal opening, working into the tight ring of muscle until she felt it ease slightly. More lube, and she slid two fingers inside his ass. As soon as the sensation of her fingers and the lavender hit his nerve endings, Clint’s entire body tightened and a groan rumbled up from his chest.

She played inside the hot channel, moving her fingers this way and that, scissoring them to assure every inch of tissue was thoroughly prepared. Stretched and relaxed. Satisfied, she picked up the larger of the two butt plugs she’d chosen, generously applied the lubricant, then, spreading the cheeks of his ass again, began to gently push it inside.

She heard the groan again, a sensual sound of need and hunger. She worked the plug in slowly, easing it out then sliding it in a little more, teasing, teasing, until it was completely inside of him.

“How does that feel?” she asked.

“It feels…very good.” The words sounded harsh. Edgy.

“Very…arousing.”

“Good.” She smiled. “It’s supposed to. So you enjoy being fucked in the ass?”

It was a rhetorical question but she’d wanted to hear his answer.

“Yes because it gives my Mistress pleasure.”

“Oh.” She chuckled. “How noble of you. No pleasure for the willing sub.”

“Perhaps…a little.”

“You are such a player, Clint. I can see by the condition of your cock and the flush on your cheeks exactly how very good it feels to have that plug shoved into your ass. From now on, when I ask you a question, I expect an honest answer. Understood?”

“Yes. Understood.” His body was so taut he almost quivered and his cock bobbed in response.

“Turn to face me.” When he did, she showed him what she was holding in her hand. “I’ve been saving this for someone special. I haven’t had anyone special for a very long time.”

Damn. Why did I say that?

“I had this specially made,” she continued. “Look at it, and you’ll see it’s in the shape of a bullet. I like a gag like this because while it prevents conversation it doesn’t hold back the delicious sounds of pain. Open up, Clint.”

He opened his mouth, and she placed the object on his tongue. “Bite the bullet,” she commanded, and he did so obediently. Then she tugged his head down so she could fasten the straps at the back of his head.

“All right, my magnificent sub. Stand facing the headboard, arms outstretched.”

As soon as he was in position she fastened two silk scarves around each wrist and tied them off to the posts rising at the foot of the bed.

“Ankles next,” she told him, repeating the procedure and tying the ends of the scarves to the clawed feet beneath the box springs.

Standing behind him, she ran her hands over his body again, wondering if she’d ever get enough of touching him.

He vibrated with energy, like a stallion trembling to break loose. Sniffing the air for the scent of a mare in heat. He reminded her of Red Blaze, the Brahma bull that was the champion of their stock. Red Blaze went wherever his cock took him, absorbing any punishment if it led to the coupling he craved.

She stared at him for a long moment, inhaling the aroma of the candles before picking up the short tire tread paddle.

She knew by now, inhaling the lavender-scented air had arouse Clint’s senses, the lavender oil in and on his body working in tandem with it to stimulate every part of his body.

“I particularly like this one.” She held the paddle in front of his face. “It leaves an interesting pattern on the body. Let’s see how it feels.”

She struck the backs of his thighs, his body jerked, and the muscles of his ass clenched. A pattern of red emerged on his skin almost at once, an intricate criss cross design. “Shall we do ten? Can you take ten for me, Clint?”

He nodded stoically, but excitement blazed in his eyes. Oh, yes. He was definitely into pain.

“Ten it is.”

Thwack!

The sound of the paddle kissing the flesh made her pussy quiver and the liquid of her arousal trickle onto her thighs again. She wondered if Clint could smell her arousal over the scent of the candles.

She varied the pace of the strokes, never giving him the opportunity to count the seconds in between, keeping him off balance. With each stroke, his groans of pain became louder, even filtered through the gag, and his jaw tightened each time he bit down on the bullet. And every time the paddle slapped his skin, his buttocks clenched around the plug.

When she reached ten, she had a layer of perspiration covering her skin and she was breathing heavily. Clint’s muscles were so tense she could see the definition of each one of them.

Placing the paddle on the bed, she moved to his side and slid her hand across his abdomen, down through his thick pubic hair to grasp his hot, swollen cock. Excitement had thickened it, and more fluid seeped from the head. The muscles in his shoulders flexed with impatience, and his buttocks clenched again and again around the thick plug. He had to be very close to coming, but he was a disciplined sub who would control himself until his Mistress gave him permission for his release.

She squeezed his ass, pinching it where it was the most reddened. His breathing ratcheted up as he rode the edge of pleasure. She rubbed her fingers over his sac, watching his face and the action of his jaw as he bit down even harder on the bullet.

“I know you want to come,” she murmured, her gaze locked with his.

He nodded, teeth gripping the bullet gag.

“But a good sub does not give in to his release until his mistress gives him permission. Isn’t that right?”

He nodded, but the strain of denial etched lines in his face.

And in his eyes, she still saw the edginess of a man determined to keep a tight control on his innermost person.

Damn!

Montana gave his balls a final squeeze and turned away, before he saw what was in
her
eyes. Why was it so important to her to open up that last part of him? She was determined there couldn’t be anything more than this between them.

Once burned, forever shy, right? Yet how did she ignore the immensely powerful connection that seemed to bind them like invisible threads?

Deliberately banishing the thoughts, she walked behind Clint and reached beneath her short, leather mini skirt to touch herself. She was dripping, her thighs coated with her cream, her clit so swollen that just the merest brush of her finger made her gasp.

Clint groaned at the sound and tried to say something, but the bullet gag made everything slurred and mumbled.

Teasing herself as much as him, she grasped the flange of the plug and eased it slightly from his clutching rectum, then slid it back in. Once. Twice. Her pussy twitched in response, and Clint growled, the sound rumbling from his chest.

Stepping away, she lifted the cane and was preparing to use it but abruptly changed her mind. The longer she made him wait, the more on edge he’d be, and when he finally came, the orgasm would be the most powerful he’d ever had.

At least, that was her intention. Something to imprint her indelibly on his mind.

Of course, it meant denying herself, too. Of many things.

But she was sure it would be worth it. And maybe give her the means to finally make him let go completely.

If you probe his secrets, you’ll have to tell him yours.

Irritated with herself, she consciously brushed that thought away.

We’ll see.

Very deliberately, she ran the tip of her tongue along the line of his shoulders and down the length of his spine, circling the tiny indentation just above his ass. Her hands skimmed his hips, taking note of the way his muscles jerked in reaction to her touch. Slowly, she untied each of the silk bindings, rubbing his wrists and arms then his legs, soothing the muscles. Loving the slightly rough feel of the dark hair on his calves and thighs.

“Turn around,” she ordered.

He turned and stood there, immobile, allowing her to study every beautiful line of his body. God, no man should be that tempting. He was like a living sculpture, every muscle defined, bronze body glowing from the thin lather of sweat. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and fire blazed in his eyes. She knew without a doubt that he wanted her to finish his punishment and order him to fuck her until she couldn’t breathe.

Not just yet.

Carefully, she unfastened the straps holding the bullet in place and removed it from his mouth.

“I think we should eat dinner now.” She was pleased that her tone was smooth and even, despite her galloping pulse.

His eyes widened. “But—”

“I’m hungry.” She shook her head so her hair rippled down her back. “I need my strength to continue.” She held out her hand. “Come. We’ll go into the kitchen.”

He glanced automatically over his shoulder, as if reminded her of the plug.

She smiled. “That stays in. It will please me to know that while you sit across from me—naked—your ass is filled and the plug is stimulating you.”

He bowed his head. “As my Mistress wishes.”

He squirmed slightly when he lowered himself into the chair at the table. She knew the plug was lodging itself deeper and his ass was still stinging from the blows she’d applied. Especially because the tire tread paddle left a vivid criss crossing pattern just like the tread it was named for.

But he sat stoically, watching her with hungry eyes as she mixed the dressing into the salad, sliced the lasagna, and carried the plates to the table. Bending her own rules for once, she poured each of them a glass of wine.

“Just one,” she emphasized. “As a reward for your good behavior so far.”

“Then I’ll use it to toast you.” He lifted his glass. “To an excellent Mistress.”

Watching him sitting across from her, completely naked, his glass raised, arousal turning his eyes blacker than obsidian, she had to bite her lip to keep her own excitement at bay. She was already imagining the thick feel of his cock inside her, his mouth on her nipples as he plunged into her like a rutting bull.

She ate slowly, watching the movement of his jaw muscles as he chewed each bite, his throat when he swallowed. He had a very refined way of eating, cutting his food precisely and maneuvering it to his mouth. When a dab of red sauce beaded on his upper lip, she rose from the table, leaned over him, and licked it with the tip of her tongue.

He shivered at her touch and fisted his hands to keep from touching her without permission. She allowed herself to trail a fingernail down one arm before taking her seat again, gratified to see his cock flex in response. It was so swollen, the head so dark, it wouldn’t take much to tip him over the edge. She’d need all her wits about her to make sure that happened the way
she
wanted.

“I asked you this last Sunday night. Perhaps in your present state you’re more willing to answer my question now.” She lifted her wine glass, swirling the ruby liquid. “How is it that a man as obviously sexual as you are, so evidently a submissive, doesn’t have a permanent Mistress in his life?”

His eyes took on a shuttered look, and she could almost see the walls come up.

“I find it works better for me this way.” His voice was completely uninflected, which told her more than any anguish or passion could.

“And if I told you I wanted an exclusive arrangement with you? What would you say?”

“Your file says you haven’t had a long relationship with a sub since your divorce. I’d say that you’ve made the same choice I have. That’s why this would work for us. An occasional…session.”

“Occasional.” She repeated the word slowly. “Session.”

Like any available hookup at a private club. Her stomach knotted. Was that really how he saw this? What about the unknown cloud of emotion surrounding them? That powerful connection they’d both felt the first night at Rawhide?

He nodded. “No strings. No ties.”

“Despite the fact that we both know there’s something here more than rampant sexual attraction.”

“You and I both know that’s all it is. Nothing more. Neither of us wants to test deeper waters.”

Maybe you don’t, but you’re probably the only man that
could make me change my mind.

Montana knew enough to switch topics at that point or the rest of the evening would be a disaster. But something settled in her stomach like a lump of concrete.

All right, then. If he just wanted to play, she’d give him a night to remember.

After she’d cleared the plates, she stood beside him and bent her head. Her lips settled on his, tasting the flavors of the lasagna, the salad dressing, and the wine. And Clint. His own special taste. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, gliding over the smooth surfaces, urging his to dance with hers. She took the kiss deeper, not touching any other part of his body but swallowing his responsive groans with satisfaction.

When she’d eaten her fill of his mouth, she straightened. “I think we should return to the bedroom. I haven’t nearly finished your punishment.”

The fire was back in his eyes, and they gleamed with lust.

He rose then bowed his head. “I await your pleasure.”

She’d left the candles burning in the bedroom, and the air was still redolent with the scent of lavender. She inhaled deeply, holding the aroma inside herself before slowly releasing it and turning to Clint.

She decided to use the nipple clamps, taking each hard bud into her mouth to pull it to full erection before attaching each tiny set of teeth. She was rewarded by the involuntary tensing of muscle as each clamp was fastened in place. She allowed herself the pleasure of gliding her hands over his body once more before reaching for one of the silk scarves.

Replacing the bullet gag in his mouth, she buckled the straps in place behind his head. This time, she bound his hands in front of him, bending him over the foot of the bed and stretching the ends of the long scarf to the headboard where she fastened it. She left his ankles free but nudged them wide with the toe of her boot. When she picked up the fiberglass cane, she drew it across the coverlet to let him look at it.