Kaylee's Keeper (14 page)

Her sex spasmed so hard, she could feel the edges of the strap cutting into her. “Never,” she admitted, blushing hot.

“You said you had no objection to being sodomized.”

The servants stared at her, both now with trousers fully tented.

“Yes,” she whispered, unable to look at any of them without her traitorous body reacting. She’d never done the things he was suggesting, but she’d always felt the desire.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Louder,” he prodded.

Humiliation burned her. Her pussy dripped and ached, eager and empty. “Yes, sir.”

“Have you ever fucked a virgin ass?” Though Master Marshall never took his gaze off her, everyone in the dining room knew exactly who he was talking to. “Do you know how to make it feel unforgettably good?”

The second servant nodded slightly. “Yes, sir.”

“Hm.” Marshall studied her. His fingers skimmed back and forth along the harness strap that cut between her buttocks, skirting the sensitive edges of her anal opening and drawing all of her awareness there. “I’ve changed my mind. I think I’d rather be her first. Perhaps it shouldn’t even be pleasurable. Perhaps I should make it a secondary punishment, something to be endured while her ass is burning and all those beautiful tears are pouring hot down her face.”

Click. He turned the vibrator on again, and back Kaylee shot, back to the very edge of climax. Only now it seemed as if the sensation were centered under his fingertips, pressing in against her anus and vibrating the way the strap was vibrating.

Showing his true sadistic side, Master Marshall dismissed both servants, preferring instead to take her once more to the razored-edge of cuming before turning the vibrator off.

“On your knees,” he said, and she dropped to his feet without a second thought. Her hips rocked helplessly to the phantom hum of the torturous instrument inside her. “Keep your hands on me. You will not touch yourself.”

She let go of her dress and grasped his thighs, riveted by the motion of his hands as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. His cock sprung into the opening, thick and hard, jutting proudly toward her eager mouth.

“Open.” He combed his fingers back through her hair, fisting it while he teasingly brushed the swollen head of him back and forth across her lips. “Your mouth is my dessert; my cum will be yours, and you are going to swallow every drop.”

Kaylee was not a virgin and this was not the first time she had opened for the head of a man’s cock, but she wasn’t exactly a champion at this either, and she had never swallowed. Up until now, she rather likened ingesting someone else’s bodily fluids as the height of all things gross. But there was something different about Master Marshall. She liked the way his fist felt locked in her hair, his palm cupped around her jaw, the smooth glide of his burgeoning head as it pushed over her tongue. He wasn’t asking her permission. He wasn’t coaxing her to give in. He was taking, commanding, showing her what he liked with minimal instruction, and Kaylee readily obeyed. She trembled just to touch him, trailing her hands up from his thighs to grip his length, exploring the sensation of smooth wrapped around hard, cupping when he told her to and fondling the heady heat of his balls already grown tight with need.

He tasted so good. Salty, masculine…she hadn’t known masculine had a flavor. She flicked him with her tongue, sampling the tiny drops of pre-cum as they dripped onto her tongue, stroking with one hand and massaging with the other, bobbing on him with greater confidence.

“Good girl,” he breathed. “Just like that.”

She opened wide and engulfed him then, wanting to see how much she could take, how deep she could hold him. And when she chanced a quick glimpse up at his face, oh, she almost came. The look on his face was dark with a desire so primal that she could feel it electrifying the air between them. It made her want to quicken the slide of her mouth and pumping hand so she could taste all the faster the proof of his enjoyment.

He growled a groan, his fist tightening in her hair. “Mind your teeth.”

She corrected herself, relaxing her jaw and tucking her lips in to guard him better. She hummed and swallowed around him when he told her to, eagerly learning what he wanted, what he liked, living in the moment just to hear him groan like that again. And then she felt it, that heady thrill when his fingers locked even tighter against her scalp.

“Are you going to be a good little pet for your Master?”

Though disguised as a question, Kaylee heard the underlying demand and it was one of the most sensual ones that anyone had ever given her. She pulled her hungry mouth from his cock only long enough to pant, “Yes! Yes, sir!”

Then she was on him again, sucking, licking and pumping at his shaft with her hand.

Click.

Kaylee moaned her scream as the vibrator jolted back to life. She almost forgot herself, letting go of him in a spastic bid to grab between her own legs. She barely stopped in time and changed directions, seizing his hips instead.

“Good girl,” he praised, the dominant in him seeming to thrill at how easily he could make her lose control. “Open your mouth. Relax your throat. Daddy’s going to fuck you now and you’re going to swallow every drop.”

One hand on her head and the other cupping under her jaw, he began to thrust. Short and shallow jabs at first, Kaylee quickly adapted herself to the rhythm. She struggled to concentrate only on him, to ignore the unignorable vibrations wending through her pussy, suffusing the folds of her sex, rattling along the harness straps to strike at her clit just right. She gasped, and he fucked a little deeper, a little harder, using her.

No one had ever done that before. No one had ever taken command or shoved himself so far into her mouth that he butted up against the back of her throat. Her eyes watered. She even gagged, but he didn’t care. He simply thrust in deep again, growling long and low while she briefly panicked around his cock, her hands clutching and rubbing at his pumping hips, fighting to relax when all other instincts were screaming for her to either jerk away or grab his ass and pull him so far into her that he filled the back of her throat and she could no longer breathe.

Abruptly, he stopped. He caught his breath, a ragged expulsion that accompanied the hard locking of his muscles just before he pulled almost entirely from her mouth. Only the head of his cock remained at her lips. She opened her mouth wide, frantic to prove how obedient she could be, even more frantic to keep from cuming while thick salty spurts jetted over the back of her tongue, washing over her bruised throat. Kaylee had never, ever wanted to experience the taste of a man’s semen before, but there was nothing like this. Nothing like the fierce look of pleasure and pride on his face, or the strength in his hands as he yanked her head back to watch as she swallowed him, every drop, exactly as he’d told her.

And there was absolutely nothing like the orgasm that shuddered out from her sex, ripping out through her womb into all the rest of her when he demanded her, “Cum. Right now.”

Hers was a long, shuddering string of climaxes so intense that, had he released his conqueror’s hold on her face and hair, she’d have bowed under the spasming weight of them. She’d have fallen at his feet and writhed there.

Her hands stayed locked on his hips. She wanted so much to touch herself—to soothe or prolong, she didn’t know—but she didn’t dare. And she didn’t look away, not even when the tears began to pour from her. They blurred him out, though she fought hard to blink them back, but she knew he continued to watch her until every last flinching orgasm had been wrung from her wilting frame.

He left the vibrator humming, singing inside her, just to make sure. He contented himself, softly stroking her hair, praising her while she wept, and at one point, even bent to catch a tear with the tip of his tongue, tasting it.

No one had ever done anything like this to her before.

She loved it.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Kaylee woke gradually, breathing in deep before rolling into her pillow in one last attempt to block out the morning light. Birds were singing. Outside the window, people were talking, laughing. Sleep refused to be reclaimed; she groaned and then she raised her head.

Lying on her belly in an unfamiliar bed, it took a moment before she remembered where she was and why she was completely naked. No, not completely. She still wore Master Marshall’s collar; comfortably warm against her skin, she almost couldn’t feel it. Though her wrists were no longer clipped to rings in the headboard, she still wore the leather restraints. Likewise, her ankles were no longer bound to the footboard, but when she drew up her knees, she felt the cuffs catching on folds in the cotton sheets. The pillow that had elevated her hips for most of last night was the same one she’d been hugging while she slept, and her body felt…magical—strained in some places and tender to the touch in others, but wonderfully sated over all.

Kaylee sat up slowly, breathing in the heady smell of dark-roast coffee brewing. Master Marshall was already gone; her only hint that he had slept the night beside her being the rumbled blankets on his side of the bed.

Oh, the things he had done to her…his mouth…his hands…Kaylee blushed, feeling so sated and sensual and mortified and aroused all at once. She slid her legs toward the edge of the mattress, but stopped, stiffening when she felt a strange pressure…down there. The butt plug—the little one, or so he’d said—it was still inside her, held in place with the aid of a long thin neck that allowed her sphincter to close in tight between the bulbous tip and the glass-cut jewel that crowned the base. It was an odd feeling, sitting with that still inside her. Odd, but sexy too.

She rubbed her face, blushing, wondering if she should take it out now. Unable to find either her clothes or the brocade dress she’d worn to dinner, she was just about to wrap herself toga-style in the top sheet when, from the doorway, Master Marshall said, “It’s in the living room.”

She hadn’t heard him come in and Kaylee startled a little, instinctively pulling the sheet up as she turned. Naturally, he would be fully dressed—pants, vest, white long-sleeved shirt, thin gold chain linking his pocketwatch to his belt. Yesterday he had looked resplendent in black; today, he was even more so in gray.

Shoulder propped against the doorjamb, a cup of coffee in each hand, he watched as she tried to cover herself and the attempt made him smile. “You still wear my collar, pet.” It was a statement—a reminder—not a question.

She reached up to touch it, suddenly feeling so very delicate, so deliciously vulnerable, a Gorean slave girl in bondage.

“Lower your hands,” he said, and she knew it wasn’t really her hands that he wanted lowered.

She wrung the sheet just once before shyly pushing the cotton cover down around her waist, baring her breasts to his warming gaze. Unabashedly, he looked his fill. Caressed only by his eyes, her nipples still grew taut.

Pushing off the door frame, Master Marshall stalked the bed. “Stand up. Hands behind your head. Feet apart. I want to see my beautiful pet in all her morning-after glory.”

Her cheeks burned hotter, the flames spreading out to lick at every part of her. Would she ever be able to look at him without blushing like this?

Unwrapping from the sheet and leaving it on the bed, Kaylee stood. It was a strange thing, feeling both silly and sensual as she turned to face him. Tucking her hands behind her head amplified the quickening rise and fall of her breasts and the slight flinch of her stomach as her nerves began to tangle and knot. She watched him come, his mouth smiling, his eyes appraising. Leaving the coffee cups on the dresser, he came to her.

“You’re a beautiful woman, Kaylee. Show your master how proud you are to be his.” With a gentle hand, he adjusted her stance: tucking his finger under her chin to tilt it higher, tapping at the small of her back until she arched a little, pushing her bottom out and offering up her breasts. When his hand moved down to cup between her legs, she caught her breath, coming up onto her toes before moving her feet apart.

“Tender?” he asked, stroking her softly with the flat of his fingers.

“Sex bruises are good bruises, right?” She wanted to be funny, to pretend she was as relaxed as he was, as if he wouldn’t be able to feel how she trembled when he touched her. A wittier woman probably could have come up with something better, but he chuckled anyway.

“Yes, they are.” He gave her pussy a fond pat and then took his hand away. “Follow me.”

He removed her choice by hooking his finger in her collar ring and pulling her along behind him, out of the bedroom and into his adjoining bathroom.

Master Marshall’s quarters were like a mini apartment—complete with kitchenette, living space, bedroom and master bath—all located within the main Castle structure. It wasn’t fancy, but it was modern and tidy, and fully functional for a man who had no reservations about expressing his BDSM proclivities. He had everything, from the bondage bench in the living room to the closet in his bedroom which, last night, had yielded an eye-popping variety of spanking implements, wax candles, floggers, dildos, vibrators and wands, restraints of all sizes and styles, and body and nipple clamps that ranged from simple clothespins to alligator clips with tiny pin-like teeth.

She’d be lying if ever she said her first look at all that didn’t leave her a little scared.

She shouldn’t have been. By the time the last panting gasp of her final orgasm had bounced off his bedroom walls, her mental Worldly Experiences List could safely check off not only the vibrator and butt plug, but the clit and nipple clamps, arm sleeve, Loopy Johnny, and a vibrating massager unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Her first orgasm on that thing had been mind-blowing. Her second had taken her to the brink of tearful intensity. When she’d tried to push it away, Master Marshall had responded by tying her facedown to the four posts of his bed. With her hips propped up on pillows and that vibrating wand tucked right up against her clit, he had forced her to cum again and again and again. He did it, because he wanted to. Because he could. Because she wore his collar and because she didn’t say no—actually, she did say no. She not only said it, she screamed it, sobbed it, bucked and thrashed and moaned it. The only thing she never did manage to say was her safeword.