Controlling Krysta (11 page)

“You’ve had your orgasm. Anything else I can do for you?”

His eyes sparkled, but there was something sincere in his expression.

He wanted her to ask for it. Maybe he needed to know he hadn’t come in and overwhelmed her with his hotness. Maybe he needed to know that even after he’d satisfied the hell out of her, she still wanted him.

“I was hoping you’d make love to me. Or fuck me. Or, just take me.”

“Take you?” He smiled. “If I take you, I might keep you,” he warned.

“You’re my only master,” she said in the sultriest voice she could conjure.

When his breathing accelerated, she knew that had been exactly the right thing to say.

“Then wrap your legs around me and I’ll give you the best reward a slave girl can get.”

She squeezed his hips with her thighs and hooked her ankles together behind his ass.

“You are so cock-eee…”

He’d plunged into her on the last word, turning her voice to a squeal on the final syllable.

He grasped her face firmly in both hands and tilted it. His lips came down hard upon hers.

He thrust his cock farther into her, sparking nerves that hadn’t been affected in the first round. His tongue pressed in, forcing hers down, showing her who was boss.

He was taking her, like she’d wanted.

His movements quickened, his cock thrusting into her faster, his tongue matching the speed.

She was being ravaged, suffocated, burned alive from the heat of his body. And she didn’t mind as long as he didn’t stop touching her.

His lips finally left hers. Panting with exertion, he found her hands and threaded his fingers through hers. His palms against her palms, he pressed the backs of her hands into the mattress.

Their fingers intertwined. So intimate.

She inhaled and her lungs shook with emotion…arousal…unimaginable pleasure…

He began thrusting into her so fast, she couldn’t match his movements. He squeezed her fingers so tightly, she nearly cried out.

He rocketed into her. Jolt after jolt of hardcore pleasure screamed through her.

Suddenly, her muscles tightened, then she was coming again, her body convulsing under his.

As soon as her pussy contracted on his cock, he was lost, too. He let out a ragged moan and shuddered, pumping into her a few more times to milk the final fabulous sensations from their bodies.

He collapsed, breathing roughly into her ear.

“I hope you wanted me back,” he finally panted. “Otherwise, you’re gonna have a rough time convincing me we’re not made for each other.”

She was unable to answer, since she couldn’t get enough air with his body weight on hers. But she didn’t want him to go, so she squeezed his fingers tightly.

The stables were as gorgeous on the inside as on the out. Fancy archways curved high above my head, and the doors to each stall were attached with hinges to posts carved in ornate detail.

I’d braced myself for the pungent odor of horses and horse shit, but was surprised when fresh hay was the predominant smell. Leave it to Mason to all but deodorize a horse barn.

Mason carried a brand new gym bag that he hadn’t bothered to explain. I carried nothing.

Earlier, he'd given me a few minutes in the shower. When I stepped out, he handed me a men’s robe and a pair of his cowboy boots, which were now causing me to shuffle to keep them from falling off my feet.

He led me to the back to a large, square stall that was more like a sparse storeroom.

A high square table sat in a corner to my right, a rectangular table in the middle, both made of wood. The lack of chairs for it convinced me it was being warehoused, or maybe recently refurbished, in this room. A faint smell of varnish hung in the air.

Miscellaneous items—mostly made from leather—hung from hooks on the walls.

Two sawhorses took up the corners at one end, each holding a beautifully shined saddle—one brown, one black.

Mason set his bag on the corner table. Eying it, I wondered if whatever was in there would give me satisfaction or pain, or both.

He moved the sawhorses diagonal to two corners of the rectangular table.

“Come here,” he said.

I moved over to where he stood next to the black saddle.

“Robe.” He put his hand out to take the robe from me.

What was I doing out here? Was I in danger of being seen by those ranch hand types that worked here? And did I really want to get naked out in a barn—excuse me, stable— with Mason in charge?

“Now,” he said.

Desire whooshed through me so suddenly, I felt dizzy. It still disturbed me that I had such an extreme sexual reaction to his commands.

Yet, I couldn’t refuse him. I pulled the robe off my shoulders, wondering how far I was willing to go to satisfy these weird sexual needs. And to spend time with Mason Maddox.

He took my robe, folded it once and laid it neatly on the corner table. I felt ridiculous waiting for him, naked except for a pair of giant cowboy boots.

“First, your punishment.”

“For what?” I asked.

“For violating the agreement. The contract states you are to obey me and will be punished for any insubordination. You didn’t obey me in the bedroom.”

I didn’t have any response, since my brain was stuck on the words “obey me.”

Obey me…

“Lie across this saddle,” he said, motioning with one hand.

After examining the saddle for a moment, I laid my stomach on it crossways as he had indicated. The leather seat was surprisingly comfortable against my abdomen.

“Hands on the table.”

I stretched out my arms and found that only my fingers could make it to the corner of the table. He seemed satisfied with my position.

He walked over to the corner and unzipped his bag.

“This is my latest acquisition.”

Acquisition? I hoped it wasn’t some sort of dead animal.

When he turned, he was holding a leather whip in his hand. Instead of the riding crop I would have expected, there were dozens of leather strips attached to the handle.

He walked toward me, slowly, but purposefully, and stopped behind me.

I braced myself for pain. The soft tickle of the tips skimmed down my back.

They slid over my ass and floated away. Seconds later they teased the back of my knees, then slid up my thighs, soft and light.

Pop!

A flick of Mason’s wrist had snapped a hundred little stings onto my ass. I startled, grunted and jerked forward, causing the saddle to shift a bit. Liquid rushed to my pussy.

“You can stop this anytime with an apology.”

I didn’t want to stop it. Not yet.

“I have nothing to apologize for.”

Pop!

Like scalding raindrops, the leather poured down on my back. I wanted to touch myself, but even if I were allowed, the saddle was in the way.

Pop!

The backs of my thighs were seared with unexpected attention. One rogue leather strand had hit the place where my ass curved into my pussy lips. What a cruel taunt.

Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!

One assault after another stung my ass as it flexed defensively.

Sweet misery!

After a few more flicks of Mason’s whip, my skin was raw. I was sure he wouldn’t actually take the skin off me—at least not on purpose—but I needed to stop this.

“I’m sorry,” I called out.

“What are you sorry for?”

“I don’t know.” The scorching sensation on my backside was distracting.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

I didn’t understand how I could be so desperate to stop this and desperate to be fucked at the same time.

“Please, Mason! It’s too much.”

“So you’re sorry you disobeyed me?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

“Are you sorry you signed the contract?”

This was a loaded question. If I hadn’t signed it, Mason and I wouldn’t have gotten closer physically or emotionally.

“No,” I said.

Pop!

“I mean, I’m not sorry I signed the contract to be your sex slave,” I rushed on, “but I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you.”

“Stand up,” he said.

I lifted myself gingerly from the saddle. When I ran my hands down my ass, I found no cuts or abrasions. The sting was already diminishing.

“Lie down on the table,” Mason commanded. “Head up there.” He nodded to the other end.

I shuffled around, pulled myself up to sit on the table and let the boots fall off my feet.

When I started to lie down, Mason’s voice stopped me.

“No. Ass down here.” He tapped the very end of the table closest to the saddles.

I scooted down, wondering if he expected me to dangle my legs off the end. When my rear end reached the spot he’d indicated, he took my thighs in hand and hung each of my legs over the saddles.

Now I understood his diagonal positioning of the sawhorses. They held my legs apart, my pussy lips spread wide open.

My clit wiggled, curious at the possibilities. I shivered with either fear or anticipation, I wasn’t sure which.

The whip lay next to me on the table. Mason picked it up and allowed its tendrils to slither over me, from my collar bone, over my breasts, down my stomach…

When it skimmed over my pussy lips, I shuddered.

The corners of Mason’s mouth turned up a bit and his lids became hooded. He was changing from my master and disciplinarian to something else.

“Krysta.” He moved in between my thighs. “I have something to prove to you.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant, but his fingertips connected with the skin of my inner thigh. His hands moved up, slowly caressing.

His hands. Mason’s ungloved hands.

The idea that Mason’s bare skin was touching mine made my thighs shake.

“I don’t think I’ll be needing that bubble.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to the inside of my right thigh.

“Oh, God,” I moaned as he sucked my flesh into his mouth. “Oh, my God…”

He trailed his tongue slowly upward until I could feel his breath on my slit. Then he moved to the left knee and started up my other thigh.

I shivered, even though my body was now an inferno.

After what felt like an eternity, his face moved up and paused centimeters from my pussy.

An involuntary pelvic thrust told him what I needed. His tongue traced a leisurely path along my pussy lips. I needed him to do something more. Faster.

I lifted my pelvis toward him repeatedly, desperately.

He placed his hands on my thighs in a calming gesture. Then he peered up into my lust-dazed face and smiled.

It was beautiful and sexy and promising. Since I’d seen it more often on his brother, it reminded me again of how much he and Dix really did look alike. And I suddenly knew how much I could love this family—Mason as my lover, my best friend, the keeper of my darkest secrets, and Dix as the pesky, lovable brother I never had.

Tears popped into my eyes at the idea.

I’d do my damnedest to love this Tessa, too, if that’s who Dix decided on.

Before I had a chance to talk myself out of my ridiculous romantic feelings, Mason’s mouth made full contact with my crotch and all thoughts flew away.

His tongue flicked lightly back and forth across my clit. Then it skimmed the ridge from bottom to top.

His moist, warm strokes circled round, inside my pussy lips, spreading its erotic message out to my limbs. My shoulders jumped with every new contact and my thighs experienced non-stop quakes.

He sucked, and my body tensed, ready for orgasm. He released the tender nub and the feeling dissipated.

A second time, he pulled me inside the warm, wet heaven of his mouth. When he let go, I moaned miserably.

“Krysta?”

“Yes?” I wondered why we were talking instead of fucking.

“Tell me you love the games we play…our little perversions. I want to hear you admit it.”

“No!” I said violently, then questioned why I’d reacted that way.

It was that word. “Perversions.”

My extremely religious parents were always using some form of that word to describe the worst actions and the worst kind of people—“perverts,” “perverted,” “perversions.”

Mason had stood up and when I met his gaze, his head was cocked and his eyes were narrowed a bit. Was he trying to psychoanalyze me now?

He reached out and picked up the whip, causing the leather strips to slide down my belly.

“So, you’re saying none of this does it for you? The leather, the domination, the pain…?”

“No,” I said, even though we both knew I was lying.

“Why do you let me do these things, then?” he asked slyly.

“The contract,” I said stubbornly. “I always honor my word.”

He turned the whip around and caressed my pussy lips with the butt end of it.

“So you have no kinks at all?” he asked innocently.

“No.”

He leaned forward and grasped one of my nipples between his thumb and forefinger, pressing the whip handle into the entrance of my pussy.

“Oh!” I cried out as he pinched my nipple hard. My hands went numb and I was sure it was because all the blood had rushed south.

“I guess this doesn’t feel good at all, then.”

He pinched my other nipple while pushing the whip an inch farther into my pussy.

Every nerve ending in the vicinity ached, crying out for more. And the thought of Mason’s leather instrument of discipline inserted into my private parts…

Some stuttered syllables escaped my lips before I stopped them. I’d almost begged for it.

He pulled the handle out a bit, then plunged it in deeper.

Such exquisite ecstasy. I moaned.

It stopped moving.

I squeezed my vaginal muscles to try get some action, but the whip remained still.

Realizing my eyes were closed, I opened them and blinked up at Mason.

He released the whip. It hung, partly inside me, pulling downward, gravity threatening to steal it away.