ShotgunRelations (2 page)

She stared down at her pink ballet
slippers. They weren’t the least bit sexy. She’d chosen them so she could look
up at Jack. Men were supposed to get turned on when they felt strong and protective.
Of course they were also supposed to get hot over big boobs and hourglass
shapes, and she didn’t have either. The nicest compliment she’d ever been given
was that she should have become a runway model, and nobody in her right mind
would think those bags of bones were sexy. Liz sighed, crossed and uncrossed
her legs and wondered when the hell Jack was coming back in here to let her
down.

It was obvious to her that he’d had second
thoughts about fucking her. Nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs,
she adjusted her pink chiffon skirt. It had looked so flirty on the model in
the designer salon at Neiman Marcus when she’d bought it in Dallas last month,
but had garnered her not one single compliment today.

“How about getting more comfortable? There’s
a robe like this one on the hook in the powder room over there.” Jack had
changed from his suit into a black silk kimono that reached halfway down
muscular thighs dusted with short, black hair. It had red and gold embroidery
on the back—a dragon, she thought.

She smiled when she noticed what looked
like a raging hard-on tenting the thin material. Her mouth watered and she
wondered if he was wearing anything at all underneath the kimono. So much for
worrying that he’d decided he didn’t want to fuck her.

She stood and started toward the door he’d
indicated, then she noticed the tray he’d set on the cocktail table held not
conventional snacks but a couple of feathers, four neckties, a handful of
wrapped condoms and a miscellaneous collection of bottles in various shapes and
colors. One of the bottles caught her eye. It was a full honey bear with a red
cap and a grin on its sassy, painted face. “What?”

“They’re flavor enhancers for the main
course.” He sounded amused, as though he thought she might not have the vaguest
idea what he meant by “main course”. She did, and her pussy tingled when she
imagined him lapping the honey from it.

Imagining how that honey might taste when
she licked it off the head of Jack’s cock, she smiled as she opened the
bathroom door and saw the kimono he’d mentioned. “I’ll be right back.”

With trembling fingers, she unzipped her
dress and let it drop to the floor. For a few seconds she hesitated, then she
took off her bra and panties as well.
I might as well live dangerously. It’s
not as though I didn’t practically beg him to fuck me. Or as if I’ll be the
only one of us who’s naked under skimpy black silk.

She belted the kimono around her waist and
looked in the mirror. It barely covered her pussy. If she moved at all Jack
would get an eyeful of her pubes. Oh well, he’d see them soon enough anyway.
And her barely-there breasts. Sighing, she headed out of the bathroom, back to
him.

Her fierce desire for sex with him trumped
her fear that she wasn’t woman enough to grab him and hold on.

* * * * *

“Come here.” Jack patted the spot beside
him on the sofa, not sure whether Liz would obey or make a beeline for the
front door.

The tentative smile she gave him when she
sat down told him better than words that she wasn’t too sure about this. He’d
heard that submission could help to overcome inferiority complexes and social
phobias, and he hoped that would prove true with Liz. She reminded him of the
black-eyed Susans that sprang up along Texas roadsides, sturdy on the surface
yet with a stem that bent easily in the wind. He didn’t intend to snap that
fragile foundation by going too fast.

He took her hand and laid it on his bare
thigh. “What do you know about BDSM play?”

“Not a lot, other than what I’ve read in
books.” She paused, as though considering whether to say more. “I’ve heard
rumors that you play at the Neon Lasso.”

“One of the pitfalls of rural living,
honey. Everybody within a hundred miles has a pretty good idea about what
everyone else is doing. Have you heard I’m a sexual Dominant?”

She looked over at him with those
expressive dark-brown eyes. “Yes.”

“Do you know what that means?” Cupping her
chin, he steadied her for a long, easy kiss. She tasted like champagne and mint
and smelled of some light but incredibly erotic designer scent.

When she licked her lips after he broke the
kiss, the simple gesture kicked up his arousal almost as much as if she’d bent
down and sucked his dick. “I—I think so.”

“I don’t believe you do, but I’m going to
tell you. Masters and Mistresses have a need to dominate, and integrated with
that need is a desire to push a sub’s limits and help them discover the
pleasure they can’t find as easily outside of that interaction. That’s a
textbook definition, but the important part of it is that Doms are driven by
the need to push their subs to discover the ultimate in sexual pleasure.” He
slid his hand higher and played with her soft pubic curls. “It’s been years
since I felt a furry pussy. You’d enjoy me eating you much more if you kept it
shaved or waxed.”

“Really? I heard most submissives shave
down there to please their Masters.”

He liked that she wasn’t afraid to dispute
with him. “That too. You see, BDSM is a power exchange. The extent of the
exchange is driven by limits set by the sub. You said you wouldn’t set limits
with me, but honey, you’ve got to do it or I’ll eat you alive.”

She met his gaze, then smiled. “Maybe I’ve
set too many limits in my life. Maybe I want to explore feelings I’ve only
fantasized about.”

Alarms went off in Jack’s brain. “Tell me
you’re not a virgin.”

“Of course I’m not. I’m twenty-eight years
old. Why on Earth would you ask me that? Do you think I’m so undesirable nobody
has ever wanted me?” She looked and sounded righteously indignant, as if he’d
insulted her.

He picked up a feather and rubbed it along
the column of her tanned, slender throat. “Of course not. I asked because you
said you want to experience things you’ve only fantasized about. If you’ve had
cocks inside your pussy, you’re not only fantasizing about them, now are you?”
He put his arms around her and pulled her over onto his lap, letting the
feather drift along her thigh. “Do you dream about coming over and over, until
you’re so drained you can’t think, just feel? Do you fantasize about all the
different ways your master might stimulate you sexually?”

She felt like putty in his hands, malleable
and as desirable as any partner he’d played with in recent memory. He found he
didn’t mind that she wasn’t voluptuous or a raving beauty, or even that she
lacked the level of experience he usually demanded from his playmates. She got
him hot and that was good. Really good.

When she sighed, her breath felt warm and
damp against his chest. “I’ve dreamed about everything you just said.”

“Then let’s play. My job, as your master,
will be to create a setting where we can both explore all your wildest
fantasies. First you have to set limits though. Tell me what you don’t dream
about, what acts I might want to commit on your body you absolutely won’t
allow, and which ones you don’t think you would like but you might under
special conditions.”

She pulled back a little and met his gaze.
“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“You’re a delightful little innocent.” He
gathered her hair in a fist and tipped her head back. “You said before that
you’d let me tie you up and tickle you or spank your backside. Would you give
me head and shave your pussy and let me eat your cunt?”

“I—I think so.” She paused, a small frown
knitting her brow. “Yes. Of course I would.”

“How about doing all those things in front
of an audience?”

“I don’t know.” She hesitated again, as
though considering his question pretty thoroughly. “I guess I would. I’ve
always wondered what it would be like to play at the Neon Lasso.”

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Reaching
behind her, he found her puckered rear entrance and circled it with a finger.
“Tell me, honey, would you let me fuck you here?”

“No!” She sounded horrified, which didn’t
surprise him.

“Even if I told you that was one thing that
gives me a lot of pleasure?” He circled the tightly closed bud again. “What if
I persuaded you that having my cock inside you here would feel incredibly good
to you?”

She looked doubtful. “Maybe someday.”

“Okay. That’s an example of a soft limit.
You won’t do it now, but you might consider it under the right circumstances.
What I want you to know is that if you’re sexually aroused, all kinds of
stimulation can enhance that arousal, even things you might think of as being
painful, such as flogging and serious restraint and sensual
deprivation—blindfolding and muffling your hearing.”

“Is there anything that ought to be a hard
limit?” She sounded thoughtful—and the friction of her slender thigh against
his dick and balls had him eager to be done with the talking and on to the
play.

“Anything that’s likely to cause you
permanent injury or death. Anything that seems crazy. Most important, anything
you absolutely don’t want to do becomes a hard limit. BDSM is consensual. No
sane Dom will force a sub to do anything that exceeds his or her limits. I like
to believe I’m sane.”

For a long minute she seemed to consider
what he’d said. Then, when she met his gaze, her soft, submissive expression
made her look truly beautiful in his eyes. “I trust you, Jack. I’d like for you
to be my master.”

“It will be my pleasure. And yours.”

* * * * *

Half an hour later, Liz lay on Jack’s
queen-sized bed, her legs spread while he sucked and licked honey off her inner
thighs, nibbling every now and then on her clit and probing her cunt with his
tongue.

She stroked the sides and back of his head,
fascinated by the softness and warmth beneath her fingers. The shadow of dark
hair under his taut skin made it look as though his hair had been closely
clipped a little shorter than the almost-black stubble on top, when in fact it
was clean-shaven. She loved the smooth feel of his scalp against her fingers
and knew then why she’d always thought the Marines on the recruiting posters
looked so sexy. She’d fantasized about touching one of them this way, but the
reality of exploring Jack was so much hotter.

She wished he’d take off his kimono, but he
seemed in no hurry to uncover himself, even when he moved up her naked body and
massaged fragrant, strawberry-scented oil into her nipples, pinching them until
they hardened and elongated.

“Your nipples are incredibly sensitive.
Maybe I’ll have these pierced,” he said, almost as though he was making a
mental note. “Feel good?”

The oil heated her flesh practically to
burning. It felt different but terribly arousing, especially when he licked it
off her nipples and massaged it into her breasts with strong, agile fingers.
“Oh yes.”

“Yes, Master.” The gruff reminder came with
a hard pinch to first one nipple, then the other.

“Y-yes, Master.” When he lowered his head
she noticed a good-sized silver hoop dangling from his left earlobe. She’d
never seen him wear an earring before. “I didn’t know your ear was pierced.
Master.”

“You didn’t notice because I never wear an
earring out in the vanilla world.” He lifted a hand to his earring. “My first
BDSM lover gave me this thirteen years ago, when I was just eighteen. I don’t
think I’d impress potential clients, much less juries and judges, if I wore it
out in public.”

He straddled her then and drew her hand
beneath his kimono. She cupped his smooth, full scrotum, weighing the firm,
twin orbs inside as they shifted against her palm and enjoying the hot
sensations that were beginning to course through her body. When she explored
further, she realized he had on something hard, warm and metal that bit harshly
into the base not only of his scrotum but also of his rigid, fully erect penis.
“More jewelry?” she asked.

“It’s a cock ring. Haven’t you ever seen a
man wear one before?”

“No. Doesn’t it hurt?”

He shifted enough to untie his kimono and
spread the silk apart. “I’m used to it. I’ve worn one so often for so long that
I like the way it feels. Not only that, it keeps me from shooting off too fast
when I’m pleasuring a lover.”

He had a beautiful cock, long and thick
with bulging veins and a purplish head that glistened with a pearly drop of
lubrication. His scrotum was bright pink, plump and almost heart-shaped. Both
cock and balls looked as though they were straining to get free from the ring
that dug into the taut flesh. She couldn’t help noticing that his entire groin
felt as baby-soft as the sides of his head. “Oh!” she exclaimed when she saw
his tattoo.

“Like it?”

It was a small, highly detailed,
red-and-gold dagger etched into the flesh above his cock. Its point disappeared
beneath the cock ring. Liz had never seen a tattoo up close before, and she
couldn’t resist tracing it with her forefinger. “Its texture is just the same
as the rest of your skin. I always wondered if a tattoo would feel…different.”

He covered her hand. “So do you like it?
Would you like to lick it with your tongue, to make sure it’s really smooth?”

“Yes.” She couldn’t resist bending and
sampling that intriguing, colorful tattoo that pointed to his impressive
erection, or making a detour and tasting the drop of lubrication that glistened
in his slit. “It is. Between this and your head and face, you must spend a lot
of time shaving, Master.”

He laughed. “A little. I’m used to it
though. I’ve been doing it for over thirteen years, ever since that first lover
marked me. Until I started my law practice, I shaved my entire head every day
as well. The bald look didn’t go with my professional persona any more than
this earring, so I decided to go with the shortest hair I could get away with
and still look professional for my job. I have the barber clean up my haircut
twice a week now, since it’s hard to clip the top myself. It’s hell, having
dark hair that grows as fast as mine.”