The Club Sin Series 4-Book Bundle (13 page)

He dropped down to make quick work of securing her legs to the loops in the floor, putting her in an inverted Y. Once he was finished with the binds on each ankle, he looked up to her and switched the vibe on to medium speed. “Now, you won't move, will you?”

Her eyes rolled back in her head. “No, sir.”

Leaving her gasping under the force of the dildo's beads spinning inside her, while the clit stimulator assaulted her little bud, he turned to the tray and grabbed the four-foot bullwhip off the cart, which he preferred because the shorter whip gave better accuracy.

He was skilled with the whip—he practiced on a tree and removed leaves to keep his skills sharp—but hitting a spot he didn't intend to hit wasn't in his plans tonight. Which was why he bound her legs; keeping her still meant safety. He didn't need to feed his pride by showing off with an eight-foot whip. He wanted to teach the Club Sin members that a safe scene resulted in a happy submissive, not one in need of stitches.

The whip in his hand—the weight and feel of it—was the perfect extension of himself, and that was what he loved about the whip. The whip did what he told it to do, hit at the force he wanted and where he wanted it. He controlled the whip on a submissive's body, and that was why this toy was his favorite to use during a scene.

He closed in behind Presley, pressing his body against her back to allow her to feel his comfort. He swept her hair over her shoulder, and her vanilla scent sped through his nostrils as he kissed the back of her neck. In the same moment, he slid the whip over her arm so she could feel what he planned for her.

Her breath deepened at the touch of leather and maybe, when he slid it over her breast, the sight of it. She wiggled her hips against him in an urgent request, and he smiled at her sweat-coated flesh.

After one last kiss on her shoulder, he put distance between them, then he cracked the whip. She tensed, giving him the reaction he wanted. The crack of a whip awakened a submissive as no other sound could.

He'd always thought the single tail was powerful in a scene for that very reason. It was frightening and exciting for a submissive. The kiss of a whip could be as gentle as a tongue or as
deadly as a knife. That was how the excitement fueled the power during play.

The unknown, the anticipation, and the concern drew intense emotion, which, mixed with arousal, brought the submissive to a deeper type of pleasure. He studied Presley now, restrained completely for his pleasure. He could easily split her skin, but he was no sadist. More important, permanent marks were a hard limit for Presley. Years of skill and practice had brought him control, and the marks he'd leave on her body tonight would fade by morning.

He paused, waited for her posture to relax, and the second the dimple in her bottom smoothed away to silky flesh, he got into position. Keeping his feet flat on the floor, knees flexed and arms relaxed, he flicked his wrist.

A jerk against the ropes caused the hook to rattle, and a scream, so honest, surrounded him. He knew she'd feel a burn—as if kissed by a flame—where he marked her. Christ, he knew it well.

“Now that you know how to use a whip without cutting yourself in the process, and before you dare touch a submissive with it, you will understand the degrees of force first,”
Charles had said. Dmitri had never forgotten the lesson he had received. The two scars on his back were a constant reminder to always practice in order to keep his skills sharp.

As the end of the whip returned to Dmitri, he glanced out at the crowd, and it came as no surprise that they were leaning forward in interest. He had put Presley on display tonight not only for Presley, not only for the show, but because this submissive was damn well perfect with her sincere responses. While some women held their pleasure inside and fought against it, she unleashed it without any hesitation.

He raised the whip…
whoosh…snap
.

Presley's low moan all but vibrated along the floor. Once she settled and relaxed, he sent the whip back out to her, slightly upping the force. Nothing to raise welts or to cut her but to leave lovely red lines decorating her flesh with his markings.

Her head was bowed as her legs trembled in the way he'd seen before, and the crowd around him faded away as the sounds of her moans mixed with the whoosh of the whip carried him away to a place equally high.

With her trembling increasing, he gathered the whip in his hand. Her arms and legs rocked with tremors, and the marks on her bottom and upper back made him proud. He tucked the whip under his arm, ensuring that the end didn't touch the floor, and approached her.

He settled in front of her, then he trailed his finger along her neck. Her glossy eyes, bright red cheeks, and puffy mouth greeted him. That sexy look of near begging remained, and he smiled in approval of her acceptance under the whip. “You're beautiful, Presley.”

“Thank you, sir,” she rasped, sounding clearheaded.

He removed his finger from her neck, and she moaned deeply. Confident that she was
fine and still with him, he reached down along her thigh and pressed the highest speed on the vibrator.

He grinned when she jerked and gasped, then he moved in behind her again. He didn't want to shield her from the crowd. She needed the visual to drive this scene, and he sure as hell wanted to allow the others to experience her blow.

After another kiss along her hot and sweaty shoulder, he put distance between them. Once behind her, he raised the whip and sent another stroke out to her. A hard tremor rocked her again, totally out of control but still aware. When he increased the force slightly, she hissed against the kiss of the whip. On the next flick of his wrist, the single tail danced through the air, nipping at her skin, and the harsh sounds from her mouth spoke to the dominant in him. Yet he paused as she quaked in the binds.

He had expected her to request permission to orgasm seconds after he turned the vibe on full speed and kissed her flesh with his whip. Instead, she shook violently in the restraints, appearing stuck. Her screams of pleasure had faded away, and she sucked in huge deep breaths.

Dmitri studied her a moment longer, then he realized that this submissive had blindsided him. Presley didn't have his eye contact, nor did she have his touch, and it became clear that these were triggers for her climax. His heart thudded, and his cock throbbed in approval over her submission.

Dropping the whip on the tray, he immediately went to her and stepped in next to her, not to shield her from the crowd. Her features were rich with lust, her desire practically dripping off the sweat coating her sexy body.

Locked in the depths of her eyes, his soul reached out and touched hers, and the crowd behind him was silent.
This
he hadn't expected. Sudden awareness crashed into him, as if the puzzle pieces to this woman had all come together.

His experience with her returned to him in a wild rush of memories. Presley had appeared relaxed, settled, and eased only when he touched her. All other times, she panicked, stressed, and became nervous.

In the dungeon her first night, she was fearful and ready to leave. Nothing she saw that night turned her on until Dmitri touched her. With his touch, the thought of being put on display heated her. Her dark desires came alive only when she felt comfortable, and she felt that way only in his presence. His touch made her burn. His stare on her ignited something inside her. Right now she told him all he needed to know: Her submission, body, heart, and soul were his for the taking.

His ex, Katherine, craved his mastery, greedy of it, demanding it all the time, but Presley didn't. She patiently waited for him to offer it. Her telling signs that she craved to submit to him and be loved by him were right there, waiting for him to claim them.

Maybe he liked that, too.

The journey with Presley hadn't been forced but had come down to the beautiful rawness between a Dom and a submissive. Presley offered her submission and heart to him in the simplest form she could, by showing him with her body, and right now, in this moment, the force of it stunned him.

This wasn't only a D/s relationship in which he was her Dom. He was her Master, explaining why, when she said that word, it held the weight it did. She had spoken right to the center of his soul. She needed his touch; she found freedom and happiness under his mastery; and her needing all that from him gave him purpose.

His pulse slowed as warmth spread through his veins, and only she remained, her gaze awaiting his order. Leaning in toward her, he pressed his mouth over hers, and he poured all of his emotions into his kiss. He sensed her melt beneath him and surrender to his claim.

Once he broke the kiss, her eyes were soft and warm, welcoming him to do anything he wanted. He was done with the crowd and finished with his show of her perfection. Now he simply found himself lost in this woman, and an emotion of pure possession flooded his veins.

Remaining transfixed, he cupped the side of her neck, trailing his thumb across her hot, sweaty skin, and murmured, “Come for me.”

One second she held his eye contact. The next, her head tipped back, and she exploded into a thunderous scream. Her body bucked with the hard waves of her climax, and time halted around Dmitri as she thrashed and jerked, her muscles straining as the ropes pulled tight to support her.

When she dropped from her high, her body hung, and if the ropes hadn't been there to restrain her, she'd be a heap on the floor. He pulled off the dildo, then he tucked a finger under her chin to command her gaze.

Dozy eyes watched him as he slid his fingertip down the front of her neck, and he realized how much he'd been doing that move. How right it felt to have his touch right
there
and that it wasn't her skin he craved to feel but rather the touch of his collar.

Charles had always told him that he would know when he found his submissive whom he was meant to love, as Charles had found Mary. Until now, Dmitri hadn't understood what he meant.

Now he did.

He hadn't found her.

She'd offered herself to him.

Once Master Dmitri released Presley from the binds, she would've toppled to the ground without his hold. It took a good ten minutes of his holding her on the stage and whispering soft words, while she was wrapped in a blanket, for her to have any sense of her mind return. It took another twenty on the couch, wrapped in two blankets, for her body to stop trembling.

When her coherent thoughts returned, they brought a heat to her cheeks at the reminder that she'd had the most impressive orgasm of her life under watchful eyes. Her embarrassment didn't last long, as Club Sin members asked Master Dmitri for permission to talk to her.

For the last twenty minutes, remaining in his arms and listening to the soft rock music, she'd been overrun with compliments. They said she'd given them a fine show, they praised Master Dmitri on his skills as her Dom, and an odd sense of contentment overtook her.

She'd been brave—even though, in the early moments of her scene, she had been terrified—and she witnessed the pride in Master Dmitri's eyes. The reward of his approval made her blissfully happy. Her first scene had made her quiver in all the right places, but in front of the crowd, she'd come completely undone.

Somehow, it wasn't about the people watching her but that Master Dmitri had placed her in front of the crowd. The sensation of the whip had awakened every nerve ending. It burned in a way that raised a wicked heat in her core—exciting her and scaring her all the same—and the dildo had delighted her, while the vibration on her clitoris had set her aflame.

After the crowd had departed and silence settled in, Master Dmitri smiled at Cora, who bounced her way over, dressed in black lingerie. He turned that sexy half-grin to Presley and said with the even sexier arch to his brow, “I need to leave you for a moment. Will you be all right here with Cora?”

Presley nodded as she snuggled up in the blankets wrapped around her, and after Master Dmitri removed her from his lap and stood, Cora dropped down in his place. He'd been oddly quiet after the scene, giving her long looks, making her feel more examined by him than she ever had. Something had changed in him, subtle but obvious.

Presley followed him with her gaze as he strode through the dungeon. She loved how powerful he looked with his fluid stride, and she especially loved how his ass looked in his dress pants.

Cora's slap on her thigh made Presley gasp and drew her attention to her friend's shit-eating grin. “You looked incredible tonight.”

Presley groaned. “Lord help me, you saw that?”

Cora nodded with a laugh. “Master Aidan and I just caught the end, but damn, girl, you looked so beautiful and so submissive.” She nudged Presley's thigh, continuing to grin like a fool. “See, I told you that you were made for this.”

Presley tried to find the humiliation that she thought she should feel, considering her best friend and roommate had seen her be restrained, whipped, and all the rest of it. But compared to the position she'd seen Cora in on her first night in the dungeon, Presley's scene didn't seem all that bad. “You're right, you did.”

Sitting with Cora now and maybe feeling a tad emotional, Presley was grateful. She'd become so happy all because her friend, who'd taken her in when she had nowhere else to go, had introduced her to Dmitri and given her a new life. “You know, I want to thank you…for all this.”

“Oh, sweetie, you're most welcome.” Cora's head tilted with her sweet smile. “I'm happy to see you like this.”

Presley smiled in return, pulled the blankets up to her chin, and shifted a little more on her hip not to lie on her sore bottom. “All of this feels right.”

Cora leaned forward and gave Presley one of her warm hugs before she sat back in her seat. “Besides, I love that we have this in common now. It makes us…” She shrugged. “Closer, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

Presley hadn't ever felt this close to any woman. She'd known her best friend in Apple Valley since she was two, and even they didn't have this type of bond. Her smile felt more real than it had in some time, and Cora had been the reason for it, not something she'd ever forget. As odd as it was, she had a connection to Cora in a way she'd never experienced—sisterly, almost—and it had been so instant. Perhaps that was because they both were submissives.

“Come with me now, doll.” Master Dmitri had returned, and smiled before he added, “You're very ruffled from our scene. It'll feel nice to freshen up.”

With Dmitri's mention of it, her skin did feel clammy, and her back and bottom burned. The idea of putting water anywhere near that sting wasn't appealing, but washing the sticky sweat out of her hair was a great idea. She turned to Cora. “Are you almost ready to go home?”

“You'll be staying with me tonight.”

At Dmitri's stern voice and even firmer look, a slow heat burned her, and that shocked Presley—how could she possibly find any further arousal after the scene she'd just had? Turning to Cora, she said, “So, I guess I'll see you at home tomorrow morning.”

Cora's smile beamed as she looked to Master Dmitri, then she scanned the dungeon. When she spotted Master Aidan on the other side of the room with Master Kyler, her eyes
darkened, and she bounced in her seat. “Yep, tomorrow. Sounds good.”

Presley chuckled, since Cora had said that without looking at her, and she watched her friend pounce off the couch and hurry to Master Aidan's side. With grace, Cora knelt at his feet, and Presley witnessed the smile curving Master Aidan's mouth, plus the approval in his eyes, even if Cora couldn't see it.

“I don't get why they aren't a couple.” She turned to Master Dmitri. “They seem to like being together.”

Master Dmitri offered his hand, and after she slid into his strong hold, he assisted her to her feet. He removed the blanket from her shoulders, tossing it into the laundry basket beside the couch, then he led her through the dungeon.

“I'm not aware of anything more than the D/s relationship between them, but while in the club, Master Aidan does enjoy topping her.” At her furrowed brow and scrunched nose, he chuckled. “Does that confuse you?”

“A little bit.” She liked when he pulled her into his side, nice and close. “I just don't understand why, if you get along so well in here”—she waved around the dungeon as they neared the exit, passing members lounging on the couch—“you wouldn't try and make a relationship out of it.”

Master Dmitri opened the dungeon's door, and once they exited, he let it slam closed behind them. They strode through the hallway and toward the basement steps, and she wondered if she'd said too much, because his stare became hard.

After a long, somewhat awkward pause, he said, “I happen to agree with you, Presley.” His eyes softened as they made their way to the main floor, then he continued as they headed upstairs, “Morals in a submissive are a good thing. There's nothing wrong with wanting to find love within a D/s relationship.”

There, in his eyes, was that shift in him. He entered the bedroom and she followed. Once they were inside, her thoughts stuttered as she admired the space, more aware than she'd been the last time she was in his room. She remembered the dark furniture that filled the large masculine room with the dark gray walls. But the sleigh bed impressed her, as did the fancy pillows on top. “Wow.” She turned to Master Dmitri. “Quite the room you have.”

“I'm pleased you approve.” He leaned down close to her face and winked. “Even happier when you're not running out of it.”

She laughed and followed him into the bathroom off to the right. When she entered, her astonishment grew. She was surrounded by marble floors and countertops, a fancy mirror, a soaker tub, and an all-glass shower made for two. Master Dmitri approached the shower, turned it on, and played with the temperature while Presley waited off to the side. She couldn't help but scan over him standing there, dressed in his black dress shirt and pants. The man was gorgeous.

When he turned to her, clearly content with the water temperature, he unclipped his belt, and she stilled. His mouth twitched. “Don't look so worried, doll. I've used you up quite a bit tonight. We're here to shower, nothing more.”

Without so much as a moment's hesitation, he kicked off his shoes, removed his socks, dropped his pants and his black boxer briefs, then his erection sprang free. Presley's mouth dropped open as she stared at a very,
very
large erection. She doubted her hand would fit around him; it looked as if it were ready to stab her. “Sir…I…you…”

“Have a large cock,” he offered, and at her slow nod and deep swallow, he chuckled. “Like I've told you, Presley, compliments from a sub are always welcomed.”

Taking her hand, he pulled her into the shower and took the showerhead off the holder. “Come and bend your head over. If the fragranced shampoo runs along those pretty marks I've given you, it might sting.”

With a dry mouth, still processing the length and girth of him, she obliged and he got right to work. Part of her felt like a child as he washed her hair, but the other, much stronger part, relished his touch and care. His hands were gentle; no doubt this wasn't the first time he'd washed long hair on a woman, since his movements weren't jerky and awkward.

Once he finished, he dropped the showerhead so it hung, and wrung out her hair, placing it over one shoulder and off her back. “Stand now, nice and slow.”

With his hand on her arm, he assisted her, and the world spun as the blood left her head to rush back into her body. After she steadied, he pumped soap into his hands from the soap bottle and lathered her up. His hands skimmed her intimate places and cleaned them thoroughly, though not in a sexual manner. What he'd said about simply bathing her was true, and she loved that about him, how solid his word was.

However, as his erection rested against her side, guilt consumed her. How many times had he gotten her off, and now he was being the sweetest man ever. Turning to him as he finished washing the soap off her belly, she said, “Sir, if you'd like, we can…”

One sleek brow arched. “Fuck?”

“Yes, sir,” she managed.

His smile was as gentle as his touches, as was his voice. “While I love that you have it in your heart to release the state I'm in, I'm fine, doll.” He gestured toward the bench at the back of the stall. “Go and sit there while I shower.”

Not taking her eyes off him, she set her bottom down on the cold tile and watched as he shampooed his head, lathering all those muscles with soap. The man looked incredible out of water, but dripping wet…Her mouth went dry.

Her attention drifted lower. His erection looked
sore
, so tight the veins along the side bulged. It only increased her guilt. Steven had been led with his dick—an erection meant the
need to come—and she appreciated Dmitri's control.

He turned his back to her to wash his face and Presley noticed two thin long white marks on his back, and she wondered what had caused those scars. As he faced her again, her thoughts became only about
this
man.

He finished with a final scrub of his hair, put the showerhead back in its holder, and she got another view of his thick cock. She licked her lips, intrigued by what he'd taste like, how he'd feel in her mouth, and how he'd look lost in his own pleasure.

With his shoulders drenched by the water, causing droplets to run down his chest to his six-pack, he was enticingly gorgeous. Standing from her spot on the bench, she whispered, “Sir,” then she approached him.

She stared up into his face, and he arched a curious brow down at her. While at first she acted out of guilt, she realized that wasn't her real motive. He looked uncomfortable. She didn't like that. Yes, she was grateful for all he'd done for her, but her desire now was simply to have that beautiful cock in her mouth. She wanted to make him feel good, just as he'd made her feel good.

Trailing her hands over his thighs, she lowered to her knees, and the hard tiles were warm beneath her. She angled her head back, and sinful eyes peered down at her. “Sir, may I pleasure you?”

His eyebrows drew together, a sweet edge warmed his features, and he brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “I'm pleased to see you think of me, Presley.” His touch feathered over her bottom lip, and his stare held there a moment before he glanced into her eyes. “How can I deny a woman looking at me like that?” His head tilted down, and he grinned devilishly. “If you want to suck my cock, doll, I won't refuse you.”

With a smile, she looked toward the mighty erection in front of her face, and she wrapped her hand around him, as much as she could. Leaning forward, she licked up his length, and his guttural groan encouraged her.

As she licked up the veins bulging on the side, the dampness from the shower helped her tongue carve a spectacular path up his shaft. She swirled her tongue along the tip of his cock to draw in the salty liquid, and she moaned in delight.

Using her mouth and her tongue, she familiarized herself with his penis, inhaling his musky scent, and he hummed low as she traveled. She located each vein, memorized every part of him, and discovered the ridges of the head and how soft the skin was there.

The need to prove herself worthy of his domination captivated her, and after she ran her tongue up his shaft, she drew the tip of his cock head past her lips and sucked hard. He thrust his hips forward, throwing his head back on a delicious growl.

She bobbed just there, working her hand up and down his thick shaft in a slow movement
to pull at his desires. He wrapped his hands loosely in her hair, and she took him all the way into her throat, sucking in her cheeks around him. He grunted as his hold tightened.

Slowly and utterly cruel, she pulled her lips back, and he allowed her the right to explore him. Up and down she moved, caressing his cock, curving her tongue around him while her hand followed.