Visions of Destiny (Complete Series) Page 26

  “It’s new, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “Yes, Sir.” Rachel couldn’t keep the pleasure that he had noticed out of her voice. Over the weeks, she had tried to pay attention to the way he reacted to what she and other women wore, and she had been sure, when she had seen the bustier in an online catalogue, that he would like it.

  “You look gorgeous in it,” he said warmly. “Almost as gorgeous as you do out of it.”

  Picking up the suede flogger at his side, he extended his arm and trailed the falls along Rachel’s thigh, slowly rising until he was caressing her breasts. She held her breath as her nipples tightened at the gentle touch.

  “One of these days,” he said idly, his casual tone better suited for a water-cooler conversation than bedroom talk, “I think I’ll put nipple clamps on you.”

  She wasn’t sure what caused her to shudder: the finality of his words, as though this had already been agreed upon and he was only stating a fact, or the idea of the act itself. By sheer reflex, she started raising her arms to cover her breasts—as though any such gesture could protect her—but managed to stop herself before she could earn a punishment.

  “It scares you, doesn’t it?” Master David asked very low, and she knew he had noticed her half-gesture.

  It didn’t occur to Rachel to lie. “Yes, Sir.”

  “I thought it might. But I also think you’d like it. You trust me, don’t you?”

  The answer, again, came automatically. “Yes, Sir.”

  Master David’s arm rose a little higher, so that the soft falls were now caressing Rachel’s neck. “We’ll see,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe soon. But you’ll have to earn it. Be really good for me. The boots now.”

  She felt conflicted by his words. She liked to be good, liked to do exactly as she was told—she even needed to; it brought her mind a peace that nothing else could surpass—but she didn’t want to earn this particular reward.

  Taking a deep breath, she pushed the whole idea from her mind. When the time came, she would still be able to pull back with her safeword. And if by some chance she decided not to… Well, Master David had taught her to enjoy things she would have never dared try without a little persuasion.

  She started bending down to unzip her boots, but Master David stopped her with a word.

  “Wait.”

  He scooted back on the sofa and parted his thighs, then tapped the seat between his parted legs.

  “Here. Right foot first.”

  She obeyed at once, resting the tip of her right boot between his legs, so close to his erection that she would barely need to shift her foot to nudge it gently. She would never have dared, though. She was his to touch as he pleased; she only touched back if invited to do so.

  The square tips of her boots were scuffed from kneeling, but he didn’t comment on that and ran both his hands up her booted leg and bare thigh, all the way up so that his fingers brushed against the sticky wetness on the inside of her upper thighs. The small noise that rose from his chest this time was unmistakably appreciation, and warmth spread through Rachel. Her cheeks were burning, and as she kept her gaze lowered, she could see that her blushing extended down her chest.

  Master David’s hands retraced their path downward, and when he reached the top of her boot he took hold of the zipper and pulled it down. Lifting her leg off the bench, he tugged the boot down, his fingers running over her calf to the back of her knee before he allowed her foot to touch the floor.

  He repeated the same gestures with her left leg, and by the time he finished, she was breathing heavily and trying not to shake. He had only offered her a few touches, and her mind was already dazed from lust; the evening promised to be as special as he had said it would be.

  He finally stood and guided her to the center of the room. The flogger remained on the sofa, but at that moment she didn’t care, nor did she care that he was locking the chains suspended from the ceiling in place above her.

  Or at least, she tried not to care.

  “Raise your right arm.”

  She clenched her teeth for a few seconds but forced herself to let go and raised her arm as he had demanded. His hand was gentle but firm as it guided hers into the fur-lined cuff. She shuddered when it clicked shut.

  “Now the left.”

  Each click had a final ring to it, as though it would never open again. She felt very exposed all of a sudden, and it didn’t have anything to do with the fact that she was naked. She would have felt exactly the same if she had been clothed, she knew from past experience. It wasn’t about not trusting him, either; she did, or she would not have been in this position to begin with. But knowing, intellectually, that she was safe, that she could stop this any time she wanted, did not stop her body from reacting the way it always did.

  She started to hyperventilate, a cold bead of sweat slithering down her back.

  Master David stepped directly in front of her. He cupped her face in both his hands, angling her upward so she had to look at him. “You have a safeword,” he reminded her gently but forcefully. “You can say it at any time. You know that, don’t you?”

  Rachel tried to answer, but her lips felt too dry. She licked them before letting out a quiet, “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good girl,” he crooned, running his thumb across her cheek. He held her a moment longer, never breaking eye contact, then asked, “Better now?”

  Her heart was calming down, and her breathing was back to normal. She gave a small nod as she said, “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good girl,” he said again, now caressing her mouth with his thumb before he pressed a quick kiss to her lips and turned away. “You wanted the suede one first,” he said, picking up the toy again. “I will grant you that much.”

  She watched his hand run over the falls, very much like she had done earlier, and her own hands closed over the cold chains as she remembered the softness of the suede. In a moment, after he was done warming her up and started flogging her, the suede would feel entirely different.

  “But after that, it’s my choice,” he continued. He walked around her and ran a hand down her spine. “I’m not following anyone’s script. Do you understand, Sheila?”

  Rachel had to stop herself from pushing back against his hand to increase the contact. “Yes, Sir.”

  What she loved about the suede flogger was the duality of it. Master David used it to caress her, as though it had been nothing more than an extension of his hand. He circled around her, and if the soft falls sometimes left her skin, they always returned before she could even miss them.

  She was tempted to close her eyes and focus on the sensations only, but she would have needed to ask for permission, and she didn’t want to interrupt Master David. The toy touched every inch of her skin, following the lines of her legs and arms, the long falls curling around her neck like a necklace then circling her breasts. When Master David stepped behind her to caress her back, she knew he would soon switch to small strokes, and a thin, impatient smile touched her lips.

  At first, the flicks of his wrist were light enough to rouse every nerve from her shoulders down her back and ass and to the top of her thighs, until every inch of her skin felt nice and warm, as though she had basked in the sun all day.

  She never felt as alive as in this moment, when a scene started and her body awakened. Sometimes, when her schedule didn’t allow her to come to the club for a long time, or when she couldn’t find a Dom to play with her, she felt like the world was a little less pretty, the colors less bright, the sounds muted. Everything tasted like chalk, smelled like water that had been standing still for too long. It was only when she felt those first touches again, when she knew that before long her entire world would be sensations, that she could truly breathe again.

  Master David always seemed to know when she was ready to move on. When every inch of her body was thrumming, energy crackling just underneath her
skin, he hit his hardest yet, two strikes, one on each of her ass cheeks, that coaxed a small, surprised cry from her throat.

  While Rachel tried to control her ragged breathing, Master David stepped away from her, and she didn’t have to look back to know he had gone to pick up his next toy. Which one would it be? They had played, at one time or another, with most of the instruments on that wall. Master David had a fondness for the paddles, and he had mentioned wanting to push Rachel hard tonight. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he picked one of those, whether it was the wide one, padded in leather, or one of the plain ones, the wood smooth as silk from fine sanding as well as repeated use.

  When he came back, however, and she felt a small but firm leather strip caress up the back of her leg then across her ass and down her other leg, she knew he hadn’t picked up a paddle but a crop.

  The crop was another one of her favorites—another thing that Master David had taught her to love. She used to be scared of its sting and also scared that it could cut skin and draw blood, as she had seen, once, on her very first visit to a BDSM club. The sub on that night had asked for what he had been given and had enjoyed every minute of the scene. For a long time, however, all Rachel had remembered were the droplets of blood on his ass, like jewels on his pale skin, that the vampire Dom had licked with tiny flicks of his tongue. Rachel was not afraid of blood, but seeing her own spilled was beyond what she was ready to do.

  In one of their first scenes, after she had broken one of his rules, Master David had asked her to point out to him which instrument on the wall she would least enjoy. She had hesitated between the whip and crop, before finally pointing to the whip. He had noticed her hesitation, however, and rather than picking up the whip, he had taken the crop instead. Before the end of that night, he had made her come twice, with nothing but that crop, and it had been one of her favorites ever since.

  The leather hissed behind her as it parted the air. She knew it was useless to try to brace herself, but she could never stop. The very end of the crop skidded across her ass, tracing a line of fire. She jumped to the tip of her toes before she could stop herself.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said after the first hit, and struck again before the last syllable was out of his mouth.

  With every strike, he continued to talk to her, telling her what a good girl she was for him, and how proud he was that she was taking the crop so sweetly, with such lovely cries, such pretty shivers running over her body.

  His words were even gentler than the caresses he offered every so often, stroking her neck, her arms, her breasts with his open hand, the touch so fleeting it was gone before her mind even registered it, the counterpoint of the crop striking in time with her next heartbeat.

  The sting of pain faded into heat. It pulsed through her, a fire whose flames were fanned by Master David’s movements and words. The flames crackled and buzzed, licking her mind and body with tongues of sensation.

  “Would you like permission to come?” Master David asked, and the breathiness of his words gave away his excitement. “Ask, Sheila. Just ask and I’ll let you.”

  Such a simple, basic thing, really. Master David had never forbidden Rachel from coming, but he required her to ask before she did. After all these months, saying those words and hearing the permission that always followed were as good as a trigger, Rachel’s body basically conditioned to come on command.

  “Sir…” She gasped at his next strike; fire was already roaring inside her, only waiting to explode. “May I please come?”

  “Yes, baby.” He only ever called her ‘baby’ when granting this permission. “You may come now.”

  He punctuated his last word with a hit that landed flat across her ass. A small orgasm sparked through Rachel, originating where the hard leather had landed and spreading through her. Fire coursed through her veins, and each new strike added to it until she couldn’t stop her body from jerking through a series a continuous orgasms growing in intensity.

  She barely noticed that the blows had stopped falling. The fireworks were still erupting in her mind, trails of color and fire that she could feel from her scalp to the very tip of her toes. Only when she felt both Master David’s hands on her, stroking her left wrist as he freed it, then the right, did it occur to her that he had stopped. She wanted to protest, wanted to tell him she could take more—she wanted more—but her throat was parched and her mind too sluggish to form actual words.

  “Open your eyes,” he murmured, and she realized she had closed them; she wasn’t sure when or why.

  She blinked several times, clearing her vision. Master David was there, smiling at her, murmuring again how proud he was.

  “Here,” he said and raised a water bottle to her lips. “Careful, now. Don’t choke. That’s my good girl.”

  She gulped down the water, and as tepid as it was, it felt as fresh as though from a mountain-cold spring.

  “Thank you, Sir,” she murmured when she had had enough, and she hoped he knew she didn’t mean only for the water.

  Nodding, he took a step back and set the bottle on the bench. Rachel folded down to her knees, her body acting on instinct while her mind was still too fuzzy to think. Just as thoughtlessly, she started to lower her gaze, but a few words stopped her.

  “You can look at me, if you want.”

  If you want. The words echoed through her head, and for a little while they didn’t make sense. If she wanted? Of course she wanted to look at him, wanted to watch him undress. He was gorgeous, muscles rippling under latte-colored skin. She could have watched him all night, but it usually wasn’t up to her. To be offered this was a treat.

  His mesh shirt came off first. It was woven so tightly, it always seemed like solid fabric at first sight, but the tiny openings gave glimpses of the skin and muscles underneath. A few times—too rarely—after they were both sated, he had allowed her to touch his body with her fingers and mouth. She would never get enough of the gently defined muscles of his abdomen or the way they rippled under the softest of touches.

  Next was his belt, and another tremor shook Rachel as she watched him pull it free, one loop after the other. He always wore the same black leather belt, with a large but plain silver buckle. The buckle, like the leather, had a look of age to it. Once, he had used it to tie Rachel’s hands. Another time, when Rachel had, not entirely by accident, broken rule after rule, he had wrapped the belt two or three times around the buckle in his hand and used it to whip her. She had cried hard, that night, but she had been grateful, too.

  Lost in her memories, she missed his fingers unzipping his pants, and brought herself back to the present just as he stepped out of them. His legs were thick, solid, and she never failed to think of a tree when she watched him stand in front of her; nothing could make him move.

  Only his boxers were left, and now that the pants didn’t restrict him anymore, his cock was standing at full attention, tenting the black cotton. He had allowed her to finish undressing him before, and Rachel mindlessly flexed her fingers on her thighs, hoping that maybe this time again…

  “Go ahead,” he said quietly. “Careful, now.”

  With a rush of gratefulness, Rachel shuffled forward and reached up, one hand sliding inside to hold his cock, the other easing the boxers down. He was hard and thick in her hand, and precome dampened the tip. At that moment, she would have given the world to take him in her mouth, taste him, swallow around him until she made him feel just as good as he had made her feel.

  Again, though, it wasn’t for her to take, only to accept and be grateful for what he offered her. His fingers brushed through her hair, pushing her bangs back, forcing her to look up at him. She showed him with her gaze how much she wanted this, and the message must have been received clear and loud because he chuckled, the sound low and rich.

  “Greedy,” he said simply.

  For a second, she thought he would give her permiss
ion, and she started salivating. He was already pulling away, however, and she could only watch him—watch his ass, firm and tight—as he crossed the room to go sit on the loveseat where he had left his jacket earlier. At a word from him, she followed on her knees, and when she reached him, he had already rolled a condom over his cock.

  Hands on her thighs, she knelt between his parted legs and eyed the hard flesh he was stroking idly, wondering if now, maybe, he would give her permission to take him in her mouth. It was not to be, however.

  “Come up here,” he demanded, his words low and gravelly. “Sit on my cock.”

  Rachel had some trouble containing a quiet moan as she scrambled up onto his lap. With Master David’s impatient nod of approval, she rested her hands on his shoulders and raised herself over his cock, lowering herself down onto it as he guided it inside her. She was still sopping wet, and he slid in easily. Even so, she could feel him press and push against her inner walls.

  He was big, enough so that she needed to slow down before he was fully inside her. She was tempted to close her eyes and focus solely on the feel of him, but Master David would have reprimanded her for hiding from him, and so she kept her eyes open, kept looking at his face, and could only see her pleasure reflected back at her on his features.

  Usually, he would make her lie on her back at the end of a scene, and she’d feel every stroke he had offered her again as he fucked her and rocked her sore body against the wood of the bench or the fabric of the sofa. Now, instead, his hands reawakened the heat of mixed pain and pleasure as they stroked up and down her back.

  They both let out quiet moans when she pushed down onto the final inch of his cock. Master David clutched her ass cheeks in his hands—such large, strong, beautiful hands—and Rachel moaned louder still as the fires inside her that had started to cool down flared up again, sending waves of sensation through her trembling body.

  “So warm and wet for me,” he murmured. “And just for me this time, isn’t it?”