Love Bound (10 page)

“Of course, I am a Dom. It’s part of the job requirement.
Plus it’s quite obvious what you need. You’re closer to coming than you’ve ever
been in my bed. What’s stopping you?”

Staring up at her flushed tear-streaked face, Dom knew he
should be ashamed of the distress he was causing his love, but he wasn’t going
to let her tears sway him as they had in the past. He was going to break her
free of her own self-imprisonment if it was the last thing he did.

“Look at me, slave.”

He waited for her to open her eyes and look at him. He
knew her control was now held by mere threads. It wouldn’t take much to snap
them, but he wanted her total attention the first time she slid over the edge. He
wanted her to know who was responsible for her pleasure - him and him alone. Her
dazed eyes finally focused on him. “That’s right, now come for your Master.” Swiftly
pulling the clamp off her clit, he savagely thrust two fingers inside of her as
blood rushed back to the swollen flesh and her muscles gripped, rippled and
spasmed around them.

A guttural moan filled the playroom as she started to
convulse with her first woman’s orgasm. Fumbling with his zipper, he finally
freed his close to spewing cock and quickly pressed down at the base of his
shaft trying to forestall his own release. He had to see this first release
through, only then he could fuck his little sub’s brains out.

As soon as she sagged back against her bonds, he jerked
the leather restraints off her thighs and ankles then lifted her legs up and
wrapped them around his waist. With his tux pants hanging loosely around his
hips, he slammed every inch he had inside of her in one slippery thrust. Her
head tossed when she started to climb once more. Chest heaving he gauged how
close he was compared to her new ascent and knew his time was limited. He had
to make her orgasm again before he climaxed himself. He had to prove to her he
was her master once and for all.

“Look at me Adalia!’

Her glazed eyes focused dimly on him.

“Who am I?” His demand was almost a plea. If he didn’t
get her to admit it this time, he was lost for he could no longer deny his
body’s overwhelming needs.

She licked her dry lips, before giving him what he
desired. “Master.”

“Yes!” As if a spring had snapped, he began to thrust
against her desperately, letting his own needs now rule. Through his stunned
eyes he could see her struggling to peak for the second time. Letting go of one
leg, he gave her still weighted nipples a sharp tug. She immediately tensed.

“Please, Master, can I come?”

The ritualistic words had him throwing his head back.
“Yes!” The playroom was soon filled with her very real feminine scream of
release followed closely by his deep masculine bellow.

* * * *

Sagging against her bonds, Addie tried to catch her
breath. The amazing pleasure still was coursing through her veins when Dom
finally withdrew from her. How did it keep getting better? She nearly mourned
the loss of his wonderful body heat until she caught the look on his face. He
was examining her body with a frown. His hazel eyes were concerned. “What level
are you at slave?”

“Green.” She smiled at him. “I’m fine, Master.” She was
quick to reassure him. Whoever said that Doms needed aftercare as much as
slaves was right on the money. She’d pushed both herself and him to the limit
tonight.

He looked up. “Are you sure, sweetheart?” He reached for
the silk tie which still held her bound.

“Of course, Master. I know my safe word and you didn’t
hear me yelling it, did you?”

He ruefully shook his head as a tired chuckle escaped
him. “Of course not. Come on let’s get you down from there.” Untying her
wrists, he lifted each one of her hands to his lips as if in apology for the
slight bruising her thrashing had caused. “Let me get the witch hazel oil.”

She sighed as he left the room but quickly brought the
ever-familiar bottle back with him. He popped the cap on it. Using the silk tie
he’d tied her with, he poured some of the fragrant smelling oil on it before
dabbing it first across her wrists then the red marks across her tired but
satiated body. When he finished, he closed the bottle, lifted and carried her
across the playroom, pausing only when he tossed the ruined tie into the
garbage can beside the door.

“You know Master, it’s a good thing you have so many
ties.”

Dom chuckled. “I know. We seem to ruin at least one every
year don’t we?” He shouldered past the door into their bedroom. Crossing to
their bed, he set her on the turned down sheets. Tucking her into bed, he
quickly disrobed. The sound of metal hitting metal had him chuckling. “Some
private investigator you are, slave.”

Addie smiled sleepily. “I’ve been stuck in the office
since I went and got married. No more field work. I’m rusty. Sorry Master.” She
snuggled back into the pillow. Contentment filled her as she felt Dom crawl in
bed behind her. He carefully gathered her in his arms. He was always aware of
her physical state and knew what she needed most of the time before she even
did. Maybe that was why they reenacted the night of her claiming every year.
Despite her happiness at being his submissive the inner minx in her demanded
she test his control. It wouldn’t be happy until she pushed him hard enough he
had no other choice than to reinstate his claim over her. Every year it more
but her Master always rose to the occasion and she loved him for it.

Just as in the beginning of their relationship, he
refused to let her self-control come between them. He’d patiently taught her
the difference between him and her father. Over the past five years, he’d made
sure to drive home the fact the only strings tied to his gifts was their mutual
pleasure, and oh the pleasures they shared. Her Master had no problem giving
her the raw edge of pain she needed her pleasure laced with. Snuggling closer
to his warmth, she was on the verge of sleep when he tugged her even closer and
found her left hand under the layers of soft bedding.

“I love you Mrs.
O'Shanahan.” He
pressed a kiss on her shoulder while she felt the familiar weight of the ring
which had started it all slide back onto her ring finger before he placed her
hand on top of the blankets. In the flickering light of the fireplace, the
diamond marquis ring twinkled.

“And I, you, Master.”

About Dakota Trace

Dakota
is a simple Midwest girl, who has found her passion in storytelling at a young
age. Her father was always saying she was making up the craziest stories. Most
remained unwritten though as writing wasn’t Dakota’s strong suit. That all
changed in junior high when she took her first typing class. Problem solved for
the dyslexic Dakota. There was no stopping her after that. She wrote her first novel
her freshman year about a girl who could speak to animals on an old electric
IBM typewriter and never looked back. Writing in several different genres, she
is now a published author with multiple books under belt. When Dakota isn’t
writing she’s a crazy mom of three wild Indians who are posing as children, a
loving wife to the man of her dreams and a full time student.

To
find out more about Dakota visit her at
dakotatrace.com
.

First Bite

By Jack Osprey

He watched her from his pew as she
knelt in prayer inside the island's only Catholic church. Seated to her left,
across the frayed crimson carpeted aisle, he had a good view of her as she used
the worn kneeler, her hot body driving him wild as he watched her tight
cranberry-colored skirt inching upward, baring the dark tops of her nylons.
Above, her open jacket did little to hide her teasing breasts, straining
against her demure white blouse. He almost blushed, his dark desires anything
but pious in a house of God.

He waited for her outside, standing
quietly at the edge of the dismal graveyard, half hidden behind the crowd of
leaning lichen-choked crosses and statues. He tapped his feet impatiently as he
waited in the chill late October drizzle. Eventually, he saw her coming out of
the old stone church's vestibule, saying her good-bye to the pudgy bald priest
and exchanging a few words with several of the doddering blue-haired matrons,
before beginning her scurry towards her parked car. Suddenly, the brisk wet wind
whipped her coat and cranberry suit jacket away from her lacy Victorian-style
blouse, her large breasts jiggling invitingly as she scampered towards her
Altima.

God, she's so lovely.

Stepping from behind a statue of the
Madonna, her doleful face and outstretched arms looking as though she was
pleading, Philip Weazel stepped directly into the path of the hurrying school
teacher.

"Miss Rodriguez—if I might have a
word, please? Lacey?"

"Mr. Weazel...ah, Philip—I'm
sorry. I didn't see you standing there."

As she stood before her boss, one
nervous hand splayed across her throat, the other holding her mist spattered
glasses, Philip tried not to stare at the smaller woman's breasts, focusing
instead on her graceful legs; knees clamped together like a virgin nun's,
mud-spattered white high heels with the toes pointing inward. Feeling confident
of her answer, Constance Paine's vice principal cleared his throat to speak.
Stop
staring at her tits, you jerk, and ask her. You can think about her tits later.

"Miss Rodriguez—Lacey,—I was
wondering if you'd care to go to the faculty Halloween party at the Bonnets'
with me? Being the newest member of our staff, I thought maybe—"

"I'd love to go, Philip."

Being the newest teacher at the
island's elementary school and living outside the center of town at a fairly
isolated farmhouse on Sweet Bottom road, Lacey hadn't had many opportunities to
make friends, much less look for romance. Of all Grim Island's males she'd
seen, Philip Weazel was certainly in the top two or three as far as hunky good
looks. In all honesty, the only other truly hot male Lacey had seen was one of
the local cops, and he didn't even know she existed. Why would he bother to
check out a four-eyed school marm with her rimless glasses, and prissy school clothes?
On the other hand, she certainly had noticed him.

* * * *

"That's great, Lacey. Super. I'm
planning on going as Captain Defender, every kid's hero. You know; bright blue
cape, purple muscle shirt and tights. Ah—I've already rented two costumes from Lucinda's
in Providence. Hope you don't mind going as Lady Liberty?"

"I-I'm sorry, Philip—I have no
idea who she is. I'm afraid I'm not up on my superheroes."

"Well, she's not really a
superhero—look, you'll look absolutely beautiful. Of course, you look beautiful
already"
Turn on the charm, you handsome stud, you.

"I-I guess it's all right then.
Long as the costume's not too skimpy. It's not, is it? I mean, being a teacher
and all, I don't want to offend— "

"Naw. You'll love being Lady
Liberty."
At least I know I will, little lady.

Naturally shy, Lacey blushed, and
fiddled with her spotted glasses. "Okay then, I'm your Lady Liberty, I
guess." She started to go, but then turned and looked at Philip, almost
catching his smug leer. "Thanks for inviting me, Philip."

Noticing for the first time the rain
was getting serious and doing exciting things to Lacey's flimsy blouse, Phil
dragged his eyes from her chest, and smiled into huge dark eyes.

"My pleasure, Lace. Oh, and
you'll have to lose the glasses. It'd ruin the whole superhero effect, I'm
afraid. Besides, you have such gorgeous brown eyes."

Certain she was blushing, in spite of
the freezing rain, Lacey answered, "Okay, I'll just take them off before
we get to the party."

"Don't you have contacts?"

"Not yet. I'm saving up though.
Credit card's already pretty maxed, and this is my first teaching job. I've got
a hell of a student loan to pay back."

"Oh—okay. Anyway, I'll see you
tomorrow after class. We'll finalize our plans then."

* * * *

Philip lied. Lacey hated the costume,
it was scandalously brief. Unfortunately, he'd waited until late in the
afternoon of the party to actually give her the costume. The high red boots and
gloves—a definite Wonder Woman rip-off, were all right, as were the choker with
its twinkling rhinestone interlocking Ls, and the blue satin mask with a star
field of glittery silver stars. The provocative satin bottoms styled like a
draped American flag seemed vulgar; while the white satin corset, trimmed in
bright red ribbon, flaunted her breasts and was way too tight. She almost
called Phil on her cell, but realized he was probably already halfway to her
house.

Thirty minutes later saw her sitting
uncomfortably next to him as they sped towards the Bonnets' sprawling old
colonial just south of Break Neck Hill. With Rapp music booming from his
five-year old Cherokee's radio, Lacey felt the crawling fingers of a headache
beginning to match throbs with the pounding rhythm. Apparently, Philip felt
since she was a quarter Puerto Rican, she'd love Rapp music. Boy, was he wrong!
Unless,
he
liked it.