Mina's Heart

Safe Word: Oasis 5:

MINA’S HEART

Michele Zurlo

www.loose-id.com

Safe Word: Oasis 5: Mina’s Heart

Copyright © March 2013 by Michele Zurlo

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

eISBN 9781623002183

Editor: Tamzin Mitchell

Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs

Published in the United States of America

Published by

Loose Id LLC

PO Box 809

San Francisco CA 94104-0809

www.loose-id.com

This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning

This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id LLC’s e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

* * * *

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Acknowledgments

For HB, my rock.

And for Jolo—we miss you rolling around.

Chapter One

Present day

The door slid shut behind her, its hiss warning her of the precariousness of the situation. Mina took two steps into the large room. It was dark. Strange shadows populated the landscape, but the path to the center was clear, as was the single pot light casting a small circle on the floor.

“Stand in the spotlight.”

His voice played over her nerves, simultaneously soothing and alarming. It took her back to simpler times, when she hadn’t minded compromising her goals in order to be loved by a man.

Without speaking, she moved to the center of the room. Her legs felt leaden, as if she were trying to run in a dream, but she forced them to obey. Everything was on the line tonight.

Using the edges of the darkness as a guide, she centered herself in the narrow band of light. It was just wide enough to fit her petite form. Time ticked by as she stood there. With the light cascading directly down her body, the shadows became even darker, less distinct. He was somewhere in the room, and not necessarily where he’d been when he’d spoken last.

She felt his hand on her waist and the pull of his body behind her, and she struggled not to give in to the desire to lean back, to throw her arms around his neck and ask if they could turn back time.

He walked around her, dragging his fingertips over her lower back until the feeling dropped away. She wanted to turn her head, to meet his sea-green eyes so that he could issue silent reassurance. But he’d warned her against doing anything he didn’t specifically command, and besides, she wasn’t sure he had any comfort to give her. She’d asked for this.

“Remove your shoes and stockings.”

Mina crouched to unbuckle the straps of her high heels, mentally berating herself for not wearing slip-on shoes. She’d wanted to impress him, and these heels made her legs look long and sexy. She set the shoes next to her, just out of the spotlight, her stockings folded neatly on top of the shoes.

A scraping sound drew her attention. Thank goodness it was directly in front of her. Everett positioned a conversation chair a few feet away and sank down in it, his lanky frame dwarfing the small piece. He sat back and folded his hands over his stomach, completely at ease in these surroundings that were so alien to her.

“Now the dress.”

Her entire outfit had been designed to impress him. Six years earlier, when she’d known him as her kind and tender boyfriend, she never would have entertained the thought of wearing tight clothes or a short dress. This one was both. It was the little black dress that every woman was reputed to have, only she’d purchased her first one two days ago.

It hugged her form, accenting her slight curves in a way that made them seem more substantial. She hated to take it off just yet, but she couldn’t refuse to follow an order. Even hesitating was grounds for punishment. And she’d voluntarily agreed to those terms. No impact play. Spanking—the duration and severity to be determined by her Master—was to be the primary means of punishment.

She reached behind her, groping for the hidden zipper.

“You’re forgetting something. Slaves with bad manners will be punished.”

She lifted her gaze, searching the darkness, trying to read his expression, but she couldn’t see him well enough. He hadn’t sounded angry. Perhaps he was being tolerant because he knew it was her first time. He’d been so understanding when he’d taken her virginity. “I don’t know what I’ve forgotten.”

“When you’re given an order, you must acknowledge it.”

Then she remembered. Isla had coached her, bullying her half the time and scowling the other half. Mina despaired of getting anything right. Worry had kept her up most of the night before, and now the prophecy was fulfilling itself. “I’m sorry, Ever.”

“Master. You must remember to use my title, little slave. When I tell you to do something, you say, ‘Yes, Master,’ and then you do it.”

She nodded. “Yes, Master. I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology. Please continue.”

She shrugged out of her dress, catching it as it fell down her body. She folded it carefully and added it to the steadily growing pile next to her.

Only her black lacy bra and matching panties were left. This set of lingerie was the raciest she owned, though she fully admitted it wasn’t that racy when compared with other things out there. The bra cupped her breasts, but the lace barely covered her nipples, and it left nothing to the imagination. The bikini-cut panties were made from the same material. She liked this shade of black. It made her skin look lighter, nearly obscuring the yellowish tones that came out when she wore orange or red. Except now that she was standing here, she remembered how much Everett loved to see her in red.

He liked her skin tone. He thought it was sexy.

She stood still, aware that he was watching her. He would look at her for as long as he wanted, and she could do nothing but stand here and take it. She wished he would talk. When he used to make love to her, he always spoke to her, his voice rough with passion. He would murmur the sweetest things, telling her how beautiful she was, how soft, how perfect. How much he loved her.

“Take off your bra. Slowly. Entice me.”

Except for those five blissful months with Ever, she had never thought of herself as a sexual being. With any other man, it had been a chore. With Ever, it had been addictive, something she wanted every time she saw him. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She had wanted more than sex.

But now wasn’t the time to think about what she’d wanted. She’d thrown it away, and if she didn’t get this right, she’d be fucking up a second chance with him.

“Yes, Master.”

She cupped her breasts through her bra, lifting and kneading them as he would do. Then she pinched her nipples lightly, rolling them between her thumbs and forefingers until they were hard little peaks.

She searched the darkness for signs of his reaction. The light only gave her pieces—one bent knee, the shape of his shoulders, a glint from his cornea. She wished she could see his expression, but that was another privilege she would have to earn.

Crossing one arm over her breasts, she reached behind her and unhooked her bra. The straps slid down her arms, and she adjusted so that she once again cupped her breasts. Now she was the only thing holding the scrap of fabric up.

“Drop it.” He growled the order. She wasn’t sure whether that was a good sign, but his tone sent a shiver of anticipation through her. He’d always been commanding, and she’d mistaken his dominant tendencies for Neanderthal characteristics. It had taken her many years to appreciate the subtle differences.

“Yes, Master.” She let the bra drop, guiding it to the stack of her clothes on the floor to her right. Then she stood still, letting him drink in the sight of her.

“Remove your underwear, put them in your mouth, crawl over here, and offer them to me.”

This was the first time he’d expressed an interest in her panties, but she knew his order wasn’t at all about that tiny bit of lace. He wanted her complete submission, and she wanted to prove that she could give it.

“Yes, Master.”

She hooked her thumbs under the bands holding her panties up and let them whisper down her legs. Then she knelt on the floor, noting how cold and hard it was. He’d thrown a rug over the cement instead of putting in wood or carpet.

Gripping her panties with her teeth, she crossed the impossibly wide gulf between them in the space of several seconds. She wasn’t sure how close she was allowed to get, but now that she was out of the spotlight, she could make out his figure better.

His feet were bare. They stuck out of his jeans and were planted firmly on the floor. His legs, long and lithe like the rest of his body, were parted. She crawled between them and dropped her panties on his crotch. The way he was sitting and the lack of light went a long way toward hiding any evidence that her presentation made him hard.

She eyed his hands, still folded over his stomach, and waited for him to accept her offering.

Moving slowly, he wrapped his fingers around the soft lace, which was moist with her juices. He lifted it to his face, buried his nose, and inhaled deeply. The move rocked her to the core with its intimacy and promise. She remembered how much he’d loved to bind her wrists and lick her pussy.

“Stand up, slave.” His eyes glittered hard, but she couldn’t find evidence of any emotion.

“Yes, Master.” She rose to her feet as gracefully as she could, mindful that she was still on display.

“Lift your leg. Put your foot here.” He patted his thigh.

The position he indicated would open her farther, though she wasn’t sure how much detail he could see. Her heart seized a little because she recognized his thoughtfulness. The first time he’d gone down on her, he’d blindfolded her to save her from being overwhelmed by embarrassment. Except that she was older and wiser, this was no different. She still had only a theoretical idea of what to expect from this encounter.

“Yes, Master.” Her voice shook. Since she’d left him, sex had become a quick act committed in the secrecy of her dark bedroom.

She lifted her leg and set it on his thigh. The act of exposing herself like this made her feel vulnerable, but it also sent a rush of desire to her core. She imagined all the ways he would touch her, the gentle glide of his fingertips across her skin as he explored her calves and inner thighs. Given his reach, he could spend time getting reacquainted with her pussy and her breasts.

Open and ready, she awaited her Master’s touch. One click, and he trained the beam of a small, powerful flashlight between her legs. She struggled not to squirm out of that warm spotlight.

“Touch your pussy, slave. Show me how you pleasure yourself.”

She didn’t pleasure herself. She’d tried before, but it just didn’t work for her. But she couldn’t tell him that. Failure tonight was not an option. The repercussions might just destroy her.

“Yes, Master.”

She thought back to the ways he’d touched her, the pressure and patterns he’d used to bring her to orgasm, and she put those lessons into play. Grazing her finger lightly over her clit, she coaxed it to a throbbing peak. Then she drew her finger through her juices.

Some of the light reflected back onto his face, showing her nothing but a mask. His gaze focused on her pussy, but his expression, so often open and flirty, was shuttered. She wanted to know she affected him, but even a glance down failed to reveal the state of his arousal.

His lack of reaction killed her passion. She’d swallowed her pride a long time ago. “Master, please help me.”

He lifted his gaze and his eyebrow. She couldn’t tell whether he was amused at her request or angry that she’d spoken without permission.

“This doesn’t turn you on?”

He’d cautioned her to be honest. She shook her head. “No, Master. I need your touch.” His embrace, his kisses, his words of praise and love whispered in her ear. Suddenly she felt every moment of the past six lonely years without him. It had been her choice, and she bitterly regretted it.