Have Gun, Will Travel (The Bare Bones MC Book 5) (17 page)

“Oh, Sir!” I cried out sincerely. “I didn’t mean to ask such a giant favor from you. I know I’m in no position to ask anything of you. You were right, I was wrong. Can you forgive me?”

But we were in scene mode, and he was about to make me go under for him.

His first lashes were soft, gentle. The falls of the suede flogger almost caressed my small breasts, puckered my nipples, made my clit quiver. This was nipple torture par excellence. Not to mention, each lash made his arm and chest muscles ripple, and that was a mesmerizing sight.

“There can be no forgiveness for such impertinence. But I can train you not to be so presumptuous again.”

I didn’t want to beg him to stop—at first. Roscoe had never lashed me this gently, this sensuously. So I didn’t want to promise him anything, either. In fact, I wanted to be a brat, to push back, to play the Force-Me Queen. “But it’s true, Sir. I
am
jealous of other women. Why can’t I have you all to myself?”

“Why would you deny me my pleasures in other cities when you won’t even know it’s happening? This is my life, my business, Sister. What you do is my concern. And I’m telling you I don’t want you seeing that Roscoe assmuncher anymore, period.” I was crestfallen when he paused to unbutton my little skirt. I helped by lifting my hips off the stool, pulling myself up by the cuff chain. He dispensed with my skirt and panties with one movement, standing back with a critical eye.

“I’ll give up my Sir, Sir, if you give up your subs.” I was challenging him, I knew. And it worked.

Fury clouded his face. He whipped me harder now, the falls stinging my pubic mound, my upper thighs. Yet I spread my legs to show my submission. I didn’t care if the falls whipped my engorged, wet clit. I jumped and hissed in air every time the suede ribbons struck between my legs, but each strike brought me higher and higher into subspace. I almost thought I might be able to come this way. I was laid out so vulnerably, utterly trusting to Sax’s skill and manipulation. The more vulnerable I was, the more virile he became. It was the true yin and the yang of things. We were in perfect balance with each other.

“You’re an impertinent little girl,” he growled. “You dare to rebel against my authority?”

I wasn’t sure if I was lifting myself by my chain to shy away from his blows, or to get closer to them, to offer myself up. I was truly and thoroughly naked, not even a collar to hide my bald desire, a fact that the whipping was stirring up.

“I just want you all to myself!” I cried, sounding even more like a young girl, a girl sobbing with selfishness and immaturity. This man pinged every pleasure center in my brain. I’d never, ever been driven to such heights before, certainly not by Roscoe, and not even by Baldy before him. “Is it wrong for me to want my delicious, tasty Sir all to myself? I don’t think so!”

Was it my imagination, or did his blows soften, the rage drain from them? Now the falls caressed my moist pussy lips, the suede becoming so drenched in my juice they snapped me like a wet towel. I did not close my thighs, though I jumped like drops of water in a hot cast iron pan. “It’s not wrong, slave. It shows how passionate you are for me. But to ask me to do the same in return is just arrogant.”

I whipped my head to face him. Genuine tears stung my eyes. “But I
do
want you to give up those women! Do you know how I feel, imagining you touching another slut’s tits? It makes me want to throw up! I know they were there before me, but that was then, this is now, and I want you all for myself!” I was crying like a little brat, almost kicking my feet in a tantrum. No wonder I drove Sax over the edge.

Tossing down the flogger, Sax’s hand went to the fly of his jeans. His nipples stood out like bullets, and a sheen of sweat seemed to coat his pecs, his biceps. Excitement mounted in me, my eyes growing huge, my jaw slackening.

But he seemed to have a better idea. He kicked out the stool from under me. It went flying and I dangled from the coat rack suddenly, my knees barely grazing the cement. A few quick adjustments to my bonds and he’d given me a couple more inches of slack, enough that I could kneel comfortably. In this position I could sway and twist and turn. I could cringe away from him if I wanted to.

I stayed as still as the eye of a hurricane as Sax stepped up to me, his bulging crotch inches from my lips. I actually felt my lips tremble as Sax first undid his buckle, one of those elaborate pewter things depicting a scene, this one of miners or some such thing. He lifted the wifebeater to display his washboard abs, the painfully beautiful line of hair arrowing from his navel to his thick bush, trimmed into a slight Brazilian, maybe for show at the clubs he frequented. Jealousy stabbed me again, but I was dumbfounded when he started unbuttoning his jeans, revealing inch by inch the root of his naked cock. He’d gone commando, I hoped for me, and when he slid his hand completely into the fly to caress the entire length of his penis, I just about fainted dead out.

“Let me suck,” I said weakly. “I want you, Zane! Stop torturing me and let me suck!”

“Do I owe you any favors? I don’t think so.” Sax took his impressive prick completely out into the air, thumbing the bead of come that glistened at the tip. It struck me what he’d said earlier. Something about
do you like to watch…do you like to view men’s bodies?
My heart was pounding clean out of my chest as he started using the come as lube, stroking the entire length and breadth of his tool, keeping it just inches from my mouth. I could lean forward, strain against my bonds, stretch my neck as far as it would reach, and still he kept the alluring horsecock just millimeters from my tongue.

This
was pure torture.

“You don’t owe me,” I panted, “but you’ve got a kind heart. Don’t you want to please
me
as well?”

“This isn’t about pleasing you, sub,” he said sternly. Pressing his fingertips underneath his cock’s mushroom head, Sax squirted out a few more drops of delicious jism. Now he spread the lube in an overhand manner, lengthening his penis, drawing it out, down, even massaging his own balls with the other hand. “This is all about
my
pleasure, and don’t you forget it. I like to torment you with my body. I like to molest you and provoke you until you’re crazed with desire.”

“Well, you did it, Zane. You fucking did it. Now give it to me. Let me suck.”

Instead, he increased his pumping. Now he stroked his hard-on in earnest. Angled up toward his abdomen like that, I could see the vein that ran underneath, and it seemed to throb with urgency. If I couldn’t participate, if he was going to make me dangle here like a pointless sub, then I would damned sure join in the only way I could. Verbally.

“Our father in heaven,” I sighed, “you are one fine piece of work, Mr. Zane. My mouth waters to taste you. I want to lap at your balls, I want to lick your asshole, I want to suck on that big dick until you shoot in my throat.”

He was serious now, concentrating on his work, giving me room to improvise.

“You are the most buff, handsome, and macho man I’ve ever run across. How can you live with yourself without constantly touching yourself, constantly jacking off? I’d be looking in the mirror night and day, watching myself shoot against the glass. You’re irresistible, Zane, that’s why I need to claim you. Why can’t I put a
PROPERTY
patch on you? I want you all to myself because you’re the most built, brave, and free-spirited man I’ve ever met. My face is the only one I want you to come on.”

Just as I said that, it was like he obeyed. He went off like a shot, splashing me right in the eyeball until it stung. Another jet got me right in the mouth, so I quickly learned to shut my eyes and open my mouth and just let the warm, creamy jizz splash me. Soon it was dripping down my jawbone, absolutely sliding down my bare chest, a trickle of it dribbling between my tits. And more jets kept coming. It was like he hadn’t come in weeks—or so I hoped.

“Oh,” I gasped after gulping a hearty swallow. His jism was sweet, not tangy like Roscoe’s. Like he had a better, cleaner diet. “Lord. I’m filled to the brim. Please let me lick you dry.”

But he had no desire for anything like that. Grasping my shoulder, Sax twisted me so I faced the wall. Suddenly he was on his back below me, between my thighs. Propping himself on his shoulders, he gripped one of my hips and buried his face in my muff.

Our father in heaven.

His tongue snaked expertly around my clit, caressing me, tickling me, exciting me beyond my wildest dreams.

Never having been in this position before, I exploded almost instantly.

SAX

T
he sweet, innocent woman came almost right away.

Sax wasn’t surprised. He doubted that buttmuncher Roscoe ever bothered pleasuring his sub. And he knew she hadn’t been away from the abbey long enough to rack up many other sub-pleasuring tops, such as him. He was a rarity. He liked to flip the tables, to exchange the power, if only briefly enough to make his sub crave him more…more.

He knew when to withhold, and when to give. Now was the time to give, just a little, enough to ingrain the memory onto Beatrix’s brain banks for time immemorial. She’d
never
forget this skull job, and she’d give him whatever he wanted to get another one again.

So yeah, he wasn’t totally unselfish. He had greedy motives. And pleasuring her would please him, as well. There was nothing more aesthetically pleasing than a helpless, squirming, bound woman queening one’s face, simultaneously topping yet bottoming. The dichotomy of such a scene never failed to excite Sax, and his prick, amazingly, started hardening again as he licked her sweet, virgin clit.

Her orgasm sent her into a frenzy. She squirted into his mouth and he lapped it up gratefully, feeling powerful and virile, able to create such a reaction in the virtuous woman. Her hips shimmied and shook like a twenties flapper. Her mouth a perfect
O
, she seemed jolted into unconsciousness, as though she gripped a live electrical wire.

Sax let her down slowly, skillfully. He slowed his lapping until he could finally break away completely. No reaction from her. She still twitched and sucked in air as she hung from her suspension cuffs. She’d been strung up there long enough, so Sax unhooked first one cuff, massaging the life’s blood back into her shoulder, then the other. Soon she was lying in a sexy, beautiful, naked puddle in his lap, draped across his half-erect cock like a woman cut down from the gallows.

Sax stroked her forehead, her perfectly white throat. “Maybe this isn’t the best time for this.” He wasn’t even sure if she heard him. It depended how far into sub-drop she’d gone. He leaned over to finger something out of a cut pocket. It was a
PROPERTY
OF rocker, minus the name, suitable for an old lady’s jean jacket, or leather if she preferred. If she accepted it, Maddy could help her find a “Sax” patch. “Seeing as how you have nowhere to put it. But here, Bee. I hope you wear this in good health.”

He slid the patch between her sleepy fingers. The slight touch seemed to wake her up. Her eyelids fluttered like Sleeping Beauty. He kept talking in a droning, reassuring tone. “I’m going to get the Box of Rocks ready to open once I nab Tormenta for you gals. We got close to him yesterday, but some idiocy prevailed, and he got away. I put a tracker on his vehicle, which isn’t to say he’ll take that exact vehicle. But once all this shit’s over with, I intend to run the Box of Rocks myself. With an assistant of course—”

“Cassie,” Bee mumbled as though drugged.

“Excuse me?”

Bee stirred, struggling to sit up. She looked at the
PROPERTY
patch as though she’d never seen one before. “Cassie Hasselbeck, the sweetbutt who was first maimed. She likes you, and she’s fascinated by geology. She knows about agate bookends and amethyst towers.”

Sax chuckled, stroking Bee’s hair. Some people thought that’s all there was to gemology—pyrite samples, amethyst geodes, bears carved from obsidian. “Does she, now? But she’s got her life in Flagstaff.”

Bee snorted. “Some life. Now that she’s maimed, which brother is going to want her for his old lady? She’s history, Zane. Wait.” She sat up straighter and turned to face him. “Why are you handing me this patch? Why are you telling me about your rock shop?”

Sax speared his fingers through her hair. He hadn’t exactly made up his mind about the Box of Rocks until this very second. He had trusted sellers all over the states and Canada, South America. He could trust their shipments, or they could send a rep to Pure and Easy to show him the latest batch. Suddenly, he was done with the nomad life. He couldn’t be a voting member of the Flagstaff chapter as long as Leo was around. Leo wouldn’t allow it. But he could still rock the nomad patch, live in his home in Kachina Village, and work in Pure and Easy.

Still, he couldn’t believe his own ears. These words coming out of his mouth were foreign and strange. “I’m getting sort of sick of travelling. It’s not a romantic life, Bee. Same old hotels day in, day out.”

She touched the tip of his nose. Her tone was light. “The beds of subs.”