Decadent Master (10 page)

“Rolf called,” Wynne said over the box. “He rescheduled for tomorrow night.”

“Excellent!”

Wynne smiled as she dropped the heavy load onto the bed. The contents clanked and rattled. “At least I’ll have a well-stocked kit.”

Kristy sat on the bed and dug through the box, lifting a pair of thick leather wrist restraints. “He’s going to put you through hell with all this stuff.”

“Is that a good thing or bad?”

Kristy’s expression was undeniably wicked. “Most definitely good.”

U
nlike last night, tonight Master Rolf was waiting for Wynne the moment she stepped through Twilight’s front door. He pretty much ambushed her the second her foot crossed the threshold. “I heard what happened! Are you okay?” Taking her hand, Rolf gave her a long, scrutinizing up and down look.

“I’m fine. Didn’t get a single scratch, thanks to your brother.” She did a little turn to let him see she was 100 percent injury-free.

“It was damn good he was out there.” Evidently convinced she was okay, he took her duffle bag and started toward the dungeon.

“Yes,” she agreed. “It was no less than a miracle.” She motioned toward the bag. “A lot of the things you bought for me were ruined, but Master Dierk replaced them and added a lot more. I think he’s feeling a little guilty.”

“Oh really?” That seemed to surprise Rolf, which, in turn, stunned her. Surely Dierk’s own brother knew what a caring man he was, how honorable and generous and kind.

“I guess he figured, since he’s the manager, he was somewhat responsible,” she reasoned, intentionally avoiding the mention of the shoes.

“Sure, that must be it.” The corner of Rolf’s mouth twitched. Turning around, he continued through the dungeon and out into the hallway leading to the private suites. He let them into his suite and Wynne presented, as she’d been taught, waiting for Rolf to tell her what to do next.

“Undress.” He took her kit to the raised table and began searching through the contents.

While he checked out her new gear, she removed her clothing, folded it, set it in a neat pile on a nearby chair, and returned to her position.

“This way.” He motioned toward a piece of furniture that looked like a two-sided bench. The horizontal kneeling surfaces were slanted slightly, angling down toward a raised, padded center beam. The beam’s sides angled out a little, reminding Wynne of a saddle stand. It was narrow enough for her legs to fit around it, but wide enough to support her bottom.

When Rolf walked toward her, he held a vibrator in his hands. Clearly, he had some more orgasm control training in mind.

Kristy’s words echoed in her ears.
He’s going to put you through hell with all this stuff.
Wasn’t that the truth. Kristy had known all too well how fiendish Rolf could be. There were quite a number of tools in that bag that could deliver downright painful lessons. Wynne was hoping he’d stick with the ones that would produce more pleasant sensations today.

“I sanitize this after every use. Down here.” He patted the top of the horse, near one end. “I want you lying face down, legs resting on the side supports.”

She swung up and took the position he described, back up, bottom toward him, pubic bone resting on the very edge of the cushion, knees bent, legs supported by the slanted side supports.

It was a very sexy position, making her feel vulnerable and exposed. Her pussy started to thrum, her inner walls clenching as she closed her eyes and imagined Dierk standing behind her, holding that vibrator.

“Whatever is said between us is kept between us, Wynne. There is no reason to keep secrets from me.”

“The cameras?” she pointed toward the visible equipment, mounted in the room’s corner.

“Off.” He dragged the vibe down her spine, little humming vibrations buzzing through her back.

“What do you want me to tell you, Master? What do you want to know?”

He moved the vibrator up, slowly, drawing lazy circles on the back of her neck. Little shivers skittered up and down her limbs. “All of your secrets. Every one of them, starting with who you think about as you masturbate.” He whispered. “What face do you see when you close your eyes and touch yourself?”

“M-Master Dierk’s.”

“As I suspected.” He slid the vibe down her side, skirting around the outer swell of a flattened breast. “Close your eyes now. Picture him.”

“Yes, Master.”

“You are under his control, powerless to escape. But even if you could, you wouldn’t want to, would you?”

“N-no.”

“You’re shaking from the need for his touch, his kiss, his dick thrusting inside your wet pussy.”

“Yes.” She rocked her hips forward, rubbing her aching groin against the leather. She bent her legs more, pulling her knees up toward her shoulders. “Yes.”

“He wants you, but he can’t have you. You’re his temptation, his weakness. He must fight his need.” Something touched her bottom. Hard. Vibrating. She shuddered and arched her back.

“Dierk, take me, please.”

The hard thing, the vibrator’s tip, found her clit, and a burst of erotic need shot through her body. She went instantly hot, tight, and breathless, for one, two, three seconds.

Then it was gone and she dragged in a deep breath.

Rolf teased her with the toy again, but just like last time, it wasn’t the buzzing, zapping sensation that was sending her blood pumping and heart racing, it was his words. “You torture him, Wynne, with your sweet face and wicked little body. Your tits. He aches to pull on those pink nubs. Feel them harden on his tongue. He can smell your need, and he draws in the scent, desperate for more. He hungers for a taste of your honey, the nectar like a gift from the gods. He needs to eat it away, to push his fingers into your slick pussy, to test your tight passage.”

She could see Dierk doing all those things, could feel him. It wasn’t a plastic toy circling her hot pussy; it was his fingers. And she was going to die if he didn’t take her now.

The touches stopped. She lay panting and tight and in agony, waiting for him to return. Up above her head, on the opposite end of the long horse, she heard something. She glanced up and through need-fogged eyes watched Rolf strap a thick dildo to the horse, positioning it straight up.

“Ride his cock,” Rolf demanded.

She was all too eager to obey. She sat up, straddled the dong, and slowly lowered herself onto it. Her breath left her in one drawn-out moan.

She curled the fingers of one hand into a fist, and bracing it against the horse’s padded top, used it to balance herself as she raised and lowered herself onto the rubber dong. With the other, she stroked her clit, quick, little circles, eager to reach release.

It didn’t take long, not with the image of Dierk playing in her mind. He was lying on his back and she was straddling his hips, not wood and leather and padding, and she was slamming down on him, his cock filling her so perfectly she had to grit her teeth against the temptation to scream his name.

“Don’t come,” he whispered. “Not until I tell you to.”

She felt her body go tight all over. She was close, so close. She dragged her fingernails down his chest, raking the smooth, tanned flesh.

He moaned, and she joined him, throwing her head back as she fought against her body.

“Don’t come.”

She clenched her knees, locking them against his hips, and stilled. Her pussy twitched around his hard cock. She sucked in a breath, two, jammed her fingers through her hair and squeezed her eyelids tighter.

He was such a cruel Master, denying her what she’d waited for, needed, for so long.

“Please, Master.” She tightened her inner muscles, imagining his eyes going dark with hard, male need.

“You may begin again.”

This time, she was determined to find release.

Letting herself be carried away by her fantasy, she vowed to drive him crazy so he couldn’t stop her. She rode him hard, bending over and flattening her tits against his slick, hard chest. Her racing heartbeat pounded in her ears. Her hands trembled. Her body quaked. She ground against him hard, rubbing her pussy against his groin, the delicious friction sending wave upon wave of erotic heat blazing up her chest.

“Do not come,” he repeated, sensing she was close again.

“Bastard,” she whispered.

“Do not come.” His voice was sharper.

She reached back and fingered her anus, dragging some of her cream back to lubricate it. “Will you fuck me here, Master?”

“Do. Not. Come.”

She pushed the tip of her finger into her anus. “Oooooh!” She squeezed her thighs and froze, unable to move a single muscle, not even to breathe. If she did, she knew she would come, and Dierk would be displeased, and she so wanted to please him. So, so badly.

“Now.” His voice was hoarse, gritty.

She pushed her finger deeper, and a light flashed behind her closed eyelids. A deep tingle erupted into a whole-body spasm.

“Sparrow,” he shouted, just as the spasm took hold of her. “Sparrow.”

She quaked and moaned and shook and shivered, completely lost in a tempest of ecstasy. She enjoyed every beautiful second until slowly the sensations eased, the heat cooled, the spasms gentled, and her mind cleared.

She opened her eyes.

She was alone. On top of her clothes, she found a note, succinct and emotionless and a tiny bit unsettling.

Friday night, Wynne sat in her car and checked the clock for the third time. Seven fifty-eight. She had two minutes to decide. Should she? Or shouldn’t she?

She’d spent the last six days and nights recalling every minute of her session with Rolf. Truth be told, she couldn’t stop thinking about it, about how real he’d made it for her. She’d heard Dierk’s voice. Felt his caresses. Smelled that intoxicating scent that came from only him.

What was it about him that stirred her so deeply? And why, oh why, was she allowed to have him only in her imagination?

This sucked. In the worst way.

She shook her head. That sounded way too much like the beginnings of a pity party for her liking. She gritted her teeth, nodded her head, and scooped up her bag. That was it. This girl did not hold pity parties under any circumstances.

She headed inside the building, checked in, and walked through the dungeon. It was a busy night at Twilight. There were groups of people clustered around the Saint Andrew’s Cross, the bondage table, and the cage in the corner. In the center, a woman was tied in an intricate web of ropes, balanced on one leg with her arms tightly bound to her body. Wynne hesitated in order to watch for just a moment, intrigued but afraid to stick around too long. She was already late for her session with Zane. Some form of punishment was sure to come.

Fascinating. She decided she wanted to try that rope bondage sometime. Shibari. She’d read a little about it. But she didn’t want to try it with just anyone; she would wait. Until she’d found the perfect Master.

She hurried on, fully aware of every second that ticked by. When she finally stepped into Master Zane’s suite, she knew she was in trouble.

Master Zane was sitting on the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him, one arm thrown over the sofa’s back. If not for the flogger in his hands and the dangerous look on his face she would have thought he was simply sitting there relaxing. Their gazes met and a little quiver of excitement shimmied up her spine.

She had never realized she was such a glutton for punishment, in the most literal sense.

Immediately, she dropped her gaze. “Master, I apologize for being late.”

“Undress. Leave on the G-string.”

She started stripping off her clothes.

“You will never be late again.”

“Yes, Master.”

As soon as she had her clothing off, he ordered her to the wall. She went quickly, hoping to appease him, turned to face the wall, and extended her arms out to the sides. Her breathing quickened as each wrist and ankle was bound.

“Tonight you’ll get a taste of my wrath.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Maybe two. Nervous energy tangled her insides into knots. “Please, forgive me, Master. Please.”

“What a pretty plea, coming from a pretty mouth, a pretty face, a pretty little slave.” His voice was even, hollow, icy.

Wynne heard the leather thump on her back before she felt the pain. A tiny fraction of a moment later, sharp stinging pain gripped her, searing along her spine.

Too much.

“Please, Master. Not so hard. Yellow.”

“Is this better?” He struck her again, and more pain—no less severe than the first time—sliced through her body.

Tears instantly sprang to her eyes, and she cried out, “Red. Red!”

This was more than she’d bargained for, way too intense. When he released her, she practically crumpled to the floor, clapped her hands over her face, and cried. To her surprise, he held her tenderly, whispering words she was sobbing too loudly to hear. When she was finally able to stop, she uncovered her face, finding a very different-looking Zane kneeling beside her.

Ever so gently, he wiped her tears from her face with his hand.

“I’m sorry,” she sputtered, her voice still shaky. “I don’t think I’m the right submissive for you.”

Master Zane nodded and helped her to her feet. “It’s okay.” He helped her to the couch. While she rested, he gathered her clothes and handed them to her. Then he sat, his gaze politely averted, and waited for her to redress.

Just before she left, she touched his arm. “You taught me something about myself. Thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome.” He gave her a hint of a smile. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“Me, too.”

She stepped out into the hall and shut the door behind her, knowing he was right. She’d started this journey thinking she was headed in one direction, but now she was going in another. She still wasn’t absolutely positive what she was doing here, or what she was hoping for. But she could say one thing for sure: what she needed wasn’t what Master Zane had to offer.

“Wynne.”

Dierk?

She spun around, finding he was standing no more than a few feet away. His jaw was clenched, his fingers curled into tight fists.

“Is something wrong?” she asked. “I’ve been meaning—”

“This way.” He caught her elbow and tugged her toward the end of the hall.

Something inside her snapped. “What is your problem?” She yanked her arm out of his grip and dug in her heels. This hot and cold game was getting really annoying. She would’ve had enough even if she wasn’t edgy after that session with Zane. As it was, she wasn’t in the condition to deal with any crap, from anyone.