Master of Desire (9 page)

First, a large, ornate bed—unlike any she’d  ever seen. Large posts rose from its four corners, the wood carved so that it appeared to twist ‘round and  ‘round. Some six feet up, each post curved inward, the four winding cylinders of wood meeting in the center and then wrapping around one another until finally coming to a sharp point at the top. Above the bed—dear Ares—she saw a large viewing glass pieced together and mounted on the ceiling!

Another spot in the room contained a small  table, two chairs on either side. Nothing too heinous about that, but then came the next, larger table—or she guessed it was a table anyway. But it was covered, padded with soft, brushed leather. Expensive metal chains extended from the table’s four  corners—she had no idea why, only the faint sensation that it looked  forbidding.

Beyond that  lay a wall mounted with countless pegs and shelves and cabinetry, on which were displayed leather riding crops  of  various sizes and styles, and—oh my!—an assortment of the clay  cocks Bella had introduced her to, and other items she didn’t even recognize. The sight of  the play cocks tightened  her chest and, Ares help her, her cunt. The entire chamber, hung and covered with rich silks and leathers, seemed made for a sort of fucking she could not quite comprehend—yet somehow she already felt it seeping into her. She knew instinctively that whatever happened in this room would change her, become a part of her forever. Her next shiver was not one of arousal, but of cold, stark fear. Fear of her new husband.

It was then  that he drew her firmly to him, his large  hand closing over her bottomas he pressed a long, hard kiss across her lips. Her practice with Bella seemed useless in this instance as there was nothing to do  but succumb to Ralen’s demanding mouth.  Despite herself, his kiss and the very power behind it poured down through her like a rush of warm wine, and when his other hand  closed over her breast, it was pleasure that shot to  her cunt and made her gasp beneath him. He ended the passionate meeting

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of mouths with a soft, sensual bite on  her lower lip that seared her—and seemed to  promise more to come.

She  felt  dizzy  by  the  time  he  stepped  back  to  loosen  the  sash  at  her  waist,  slowly untwining it until the flowing red silk  spilled straight down her body, no longer highlighting her curves. She felt almost chaste for a moment—until he  reached for the  shoulder straps, drawing them swiftly down  until the  whole dress dropped in a red  heap at her feet.

She suddenly stood naked before him, wearing only  the colorful wrist and ankle bracelets he’d given her. Her skin  prickled with the shocking sense  of being put bluntly  on display. She was torn between desperately wanting to cover herself and brazenly  wanting him to see her. He drew back to look  his fill,  his eyes like flames, burning her skin.

“As lovely as I imagined,” he said, but his  voice was void of emotion, leaving her as  uncertain as she’d felt since discovering his  rancor toward her. “And now, your hair,  wanton.”

She swallowed nervously. She’d  wanted it down so badly for so long, yet now, as he stepped behind her to unbraid it, his fingers in her tresses felt ominous.

“You showed me your unbound hair on our first meeting,” he purred near her ear.  “Do you remember?”

She merely nodded, feeling her nudity—and fearing the loss of her braid would somehow add to it, making her even more vulnerable.

“This time it will
 
stay
 
down,” he said firmly, reminding her that after tonight, noone need ever think  her a virgin again.

Once it had been freed, Ralen turned her to  face him, then lifted his hands to fan his

large fingers through her hair, spreading it  across her shoulders. “Yes,” he  said. “No

one will be fooled into thinking you innocent any longer.”

Taking her  hand, he led her to the padded  table with the chains. She drew in her breath, wondering what awaited her—but even in fear, her pussy began to warm with a strange, indecipherable longing.

How could she want whatever tortures her barbarian husband would dish out to

her? How could she desire him even now? Perhaps it was the dark mane of  hair, or the  eyes that seemed to match. Perhaps it was the raw virility that  hung about him. Or maybe, maybe…it was even the
 
danger
.

She’d seen it instantly on the  night they’d met, had somehow instinctively known  he was a dangerous man, and she’d wanted him
 
because
 
of it. It almost frightened her to  think she wanted that even now—his danger,  his punishment, whatever he had to give.  But the truth was…she did. She wanted Ralen of Charelton, her  beast husband. She wanted him however  she could have him.

“Lie down,” he told her, his voice as dark as the rest of him.

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Her nipples  beaded under his scrutiny as she climbed  up on the table, her pussy as hungry as ever. A glance down reminded her  it was as bare as the day she’d been born,and—dear Ares—the soft skin was parted of  its own accord, revealing the pink flesh inside. She’d been yearning for him for two long years, and it would seem it took more than a little  fear to squelch such deep-seated want.

As she lay  back on the soft leather, Ralen instructed her, “Raise your arms above your head.”

She did as she was told, unflinchingly. Shaena had told  her to obey, so she didn’teven think about protesting. Even  when she  heard two firm clicks and looked  back over her shoulder to see that the chains had been  attached to her jeweled bracelets. Which, she suddenly understood, weren’t really bracelets in the traditional sense at all. He’d given her gifts to aid him in chaining her up.

Her heart seemed to sink to her stomach and it was difficult to breathe.

Chaining her. He was chaining her to the table.

All desire fled and her next impulse was to try to break away, somehow try to slip

free of the bracelets and escape from the brute she’d just wed. But she knew already the  bracelets were too tight—she was not a small-boned girl and they’d clasped snugly  about her wrists when he’d put them on. Same for those at her ankles.

She was trapped. Chained to a table, and Ares only knew what he intended to do to  her—only that she would be totally at his mercy when he did it.

Two more loud clicks and her ankles were  locked as well, her legs spread toward the corners, her body making a perfect X  shape on the platform. When she tugged  slightly at her wrists, she discovered she couldn’t move them at all—she lay utterly  helpless before him.

Her heart beat wildly as she watched Ralen pull his black silk wedding shirt over  his head to reveal broad shoulders, a strong chest and arms more muscular than any  she’d ever seen. He looked as if he could crush her with one small embrace and the  thought made her thankful he’d not done so—at least not yet.

Offering a short, speculative glance in her  direction, he walked to the pegboard and  selected a small riding crop. Her stomach  churned—was he going to beat her? He’d  spoken of punishment. Making  her a sex slave. A beating, she feared, might seem an  effective way to start both processes.

She tensed as he stepped to the end of the table, dropping his  gaze to her parted thighs. She wondered if her pussy  glistened, even amid her brittle fear.

Please, please, let me loose!  Let me go! Don’t hurt me!
 
The desperate pleas lay on the tip  of her tongue, and it was a struggle to  hold them back, but  she did—because of  Shaena’s advice.
 
Obey  him. Difficult as it is. Take whatever he metes out.
 
And even had she  begged, she didn’t think Ralen was the sort of man to show mercy.

When he held the black leather crop over her, she closed her eyes and waited for the  first strike to cut into her tender flesh. When, instead, the  thick fringing at the end was

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dragged gently, almost caressingly, between  her breasts, she opened them again,  peering down, and let out the breath she’d been holding.

Her gaze followed the trail of the small whipping device as Ralen drew it across her  stomach—making circles, curves, then one long line that stretched from neck to navel and extended—in sensation only —down into  her cunt.
 
What are you doing to me? What is  this all about?
 
she wanted to ask, but bit her tongue once more.

As her husband glided  the soft tip of the crop slowly from her shoulder to her wrist,  then gently  up her arm, the touch echoing pleasurably through  her, something in her began to relax. Relax and almost even enjoy. She had not known the same leather they made clothing and bedding and household items from could be so …sensuous.

Moving the crop’s fringed end to the center  of her chest, Ralen dragged it slowly  around the edge of one breast in a wide arc,  then circled it slightly inward, in soft,  tightening curves that grew closer to her nipple with each orbit. She drew in her breath,  watching, feeling the slow pleasure begin to escalate.

When he reached the pink bud, he nudged  it, once, twice, then raked the hard end of the crop, hidden beneath the fringe, around  the stiff point. Teesia wondered if her  arousal would leak from her pussy to the leather beneath her as darts of delight spread  outward from her breast.

Ralen soon began the same exquisite torture on the other breast, and though Teesiastill watched, she tried to hide her emotion.  Perhaps because Ralen, this day,  had beenso emotionless with
 
her
. Suddenly, she didn’t want to  let him witness her feeling

anything, didn’t want to let him know  he had any power over her in any way.

Even if she  was chained to a table by his  hand. And even if hiding her response got  harder with every second. She pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth to keep from sighing her  enjoyment, but the erotic sight of  the crop pleasuring her receptive breast  only added to her reaction.

“What is my name, vixen?” he asked without warning, his voice menacingly low.

She flinched beneath the crop and got an unexpected burst of pleasure in her pussy  as a result. “R-Ralen,” she managed to eke out, then realized she’d been holding her breath again.
 
Not
 
holding it made  her feel every nuance of the crop’s touch even more.

“Say it again,” he commanded in a deep  voice as the crop reached her turgid  nipple.

“Ralen.” Smoother this time. But it was a  miracle, given that he now nudged her  nipple back and forth with the tip of the riding tool.

“Good,” he said, still flicking the crop over the puckered tip of her breast. The  pleasure, at once both cool and hot, burst through her with each and every graze.

Next, he lay the length of the crop flat  against the same rounded mound of flesh he  already teased, dragging the strip of hard, braided leather across her nipple  until the pink peak popped free on the other side. She  let out a small cry—against her will, drat!

Pleasure or  pain? She wasn’t even sure what she was responding to. A bit of both?

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She refused to look him directly in the eye, but sensed his gaze turning darker, his expression more feral, at the sound.

“My name is the answer for all questions tonight,  wanton,” he said slowly. “ Nod if you understand that.”

Pulling in her breath,  she gave  him the silent reply he sought, then flinched when the braiding raked across her sensitive nipple  once more. Ares in heaven, how much of this lingering, heated torment could she take?

“Who do you desire?” he asked.

She clenched her teeth slightly, hating the  truth behind the answer as much  as she hated obeying his stark command—but she said  it quickly, lest she anger him. “Ralen.”

She watched her husband’s well-muscled  arm as he slid the crop downward, gliding the fringe over her sensitive  stomach again. “Who do you crave?”

“Ralen.” It came easier this time, just part of his game.

The crop next moved in a tantalizing line over her hip, making  her cunt spasm slightly as he asked, “Who do you belong to, vixen?”

“Ralen.”

“Whose cock belongs in your pussy?”

“Ralen.” It came out huskier this time, drat it all. The mention of his cock and her  pussy left her a bit breathless.

“Who do you worship?” He dragged the riding crop’s  fringed end down her outer thigh, calf, in one long, even stroke that  seemed to radiate through her entire body.

“Ralen,” she said, then softer, “Ralen.” Why twice? She didn’t know—it had simply

come out.

“Who is your master, my wanton bride?”

“Ralen.”

“And whom do you serve?”

Now he moved the crop slowly up her
 
inner
 
thigh. “Ralen.” It was a quivery  whisper, her cunt tickling with desire as a  wave of harsh delight raced up her leg.

“Whose cock will fuck your mouth?”

She flinched, that particular question  catching  her  off guard. She had the foreboding sense that his cock was going to  be much bigger than  anything hanging  on  the wall, and she found herself wondering if  it would even be possible for her to do  what he’d just said. And indeed,
 
fuck
 
her mouth? The same way she’d fucked Bella’s  pussy with the clay cock? Bella had never referred to pleasures given by the  mouth in  exactly that way before and Teesia hadn’t  imagined Ralen’s shaft moving between her  lips of
 
his
 
volition.