“Yes, yes.” My pleas for more echoed through the quiet solitude of the hotel room.
My hands were bound behind my back and tied to the chair, my ankles secured to the legs in the same manner. Blindfolded, I couldn’t see the binding, but the scent of leather spiraled up my nose. Of course, the flogger. I should have known.
Allowing my mind to wander, I imagined Master D looming over me, big and powerful. The whip in his hand sliced through the air before delivering the next kiss of pain to my naked thighs.
I didn’t know his real name, knew only the moniker he used in the bondage chat room, Tie Me Up. Two months had passed before I’d worked up the nerve to introduce myself to the online members. Until that day, I’d been content to lurk. No, that’s a lie. I’d planned to emerge from the shadows and confess my darkest fantasy. No matter, I was here now, living the fantasy, reveling in the pleasurable pain.
“Your knees are touching again,” he said, low-voiced. “So far, I’m not impressed by your lack of obedience.” Master D grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked. “Why should I waste my time with a woman who has no desire to submit?”
“I put the blindfold on as instructed, didn’t I? Took my clothes off?”
“Don’t play games with me, Zoe. You’ll lose.”
Zoe wasn’t my real name. I’m sure he knew that, had known long before I agreed to meet the infamous Master D in this five-star hotel. The man had good taste; I had to give him that.
I writhed and arched my back when the flogger whistled through the air. It connected with my skin like a caress. God, I understood why he chose the name Master D. Right now, I didn’t believe any man in the world had mastered the delivery of the whip so well. Not once had the leather snake landed in the same spot, but rather it crisscrossed my breasts, abdomen, and thighs. He meant to tease me, torment me. And he had from the moment he entered the room. My nipples were hard and swollen, and moisture had pooled between my thighs long ago.
His calloused hands wrenched my legs apart, his muffled voice piquing my curiosity even more. I heard him shuffle around me, and felt him loosen the binding around my wrists. “Slide forward on the chair until your cheeks are resting on the edge.” Again I heard him move to stand in front of me. “Now, open your legs wide. I want to see those pink, swollen pussy lips.”
A shiver ran up my spine, then another, as I obeyed. I wanted to prove I could be the submissive he wanted. I’d die if he left the room now, decided I wasn’t worth the trouble.
His breath quickened. That pleased me. Did he like what I showed him so willingly? “Don’t move, not a muscle. If you slide back a fraction of an inch or twitch a muscle when I finger you, I’ll leave you here trussed up like a turkey. Do you understand?”
“Yes, master, I understand.”
I stifled a shudder and clenched my eyes tight when he pushed a finger inside and stroked my wet tunnel. Oh, God, concentrate. Of their own volition the muscles of my pussy tightened around his thick digit. With a growl, he inserted another finger, pushed, and probed, driving me mad with desire.
He would pick just this moment to question me, knowing I’d tell him the truth rather than run the risk of losing him before . . . .
“You’re a beautiful woman, Zoe, which makes me wonder why you’re here. Huh, why did you agree to meet me? Your old man isn’t into kink? Can’t deliver like you want him to?”
I shook my head, didn’t want to talk about Michael at a time like this. Oh, Michael, where did we go wrong? What happened to the love we once shared? I love you still and will until the day I die.
His voice sounded desperate and . . . something else. “It doesn’t make sense—a woman as lovely as you coming to a stranger to get her thrills. Tell me, Zoe, is that it? Your man won’t do you like I can? Won’t give you what you need, crave?”
His mesmerizing voice and the wicked motion of his fingers inside me made me forget I wasn’t supposed to move. My hips lifted up and a gasp of pleasure pushed past my dry lips when he applied pressure to that special spot inside me, the one I found the nights Michael didn’t come home from work.
It was after one of those nights I’d dragged my body from bed and wandered into the computer room, praying he’d sent me an e-mail. How I longed to see the words had to work late again. I turned the computer on, intending to go directly to my e-mail, but instead an unfamiliar screen came up—Enter the bondage chat room Tie Me Up now?
My heart fell to some unknown place beneath my knees. Was this the reason Michael had been pushing me away? Was he into something I didn’t know about, bondage, kink and-and other women? Anger replaced my pain. I clicked the mouse and entered the room, using my middle name, Kathryn Zoe McDougal, to register. And the rest is history, as they say.
One thing led to another, and soon I met Master D. I was drawn to him immediately, his commanding presence, his authoritative demeanor, even though I never joined in on the conversation. Master D was like a flame and I the moth. He wooed me, seduced me, drove me crazy with his talk of domination and decadent pleasure. He knew what I needed, he said, would have me begging him to fuck me after thirty minutes. Damn if he wasn’t right.
He withdrew his fingers so fast I gasped again. “What did I tell you?” Without waiting for an answer, he walked behind the chair and ripped the ties from my wrists. I concentrated on his movements, realizing he was in front of me now, on his knees, and untying the rope around my ankles.
Without another word, he dragged me to the bed by an elbow and pushed me roughly onto the mattress. On my back, I wanted desperately to pull the blindfold off, look at him. Just once. Did he have long, dark hair like I imagined or the total opposite, short with strands of golden honey from the sun?
He must have read my mind. I didn’t doubt for a minute that he had such capabilities. He must have done this a thousand times before. I didn’t care anymore. I wanted him to fuck me. And while he did, I’d pretend Master D was my Michael, my tall, beautifully built Michael who once loved me with all his heart.
“Don’t take that blindfold off until you have my permission.”
Oh, God, I felt his weight on the bed, his knees pushing into my hips on both sides, his warm breath against my cheek. I was trapped. He was going to fuck me, and I couldn’t wait a moment longer. “Hurry, Michael,” I said, not realizing the words slipped out until it was too late.
He went perfectly still. “What did you call me?”
Now I froze, my body, the air in my lungs, even the words stuck in my throat.
“Did you call me Michael, Zoe?”
Time stilled, along with my heart.
“Huh, did you, Kathryn Zoe McDougal?”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. It couldn’t be. Not Michael, not my Michael.
“You can take the blindfold off now, Kate.”
Kate, he hadn’t called me Kate for years. My heart soared.
My Michael had finally come home.
****
Keta Diablo writes Erotic Romance and Gay Fiction. You can find her on the net at the following places:
Keta’s Haunt, Author Home, http://www.ketadiablo.com
Keta’s Keep, Erotic Romance Blog, http://ketaskeep.blogspot.com
Keta’s Facebook Fan page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/
Keta on Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/
Her latest paranormal shifter, Where The Rain Is Made, has been nominated for a Bookie Award by Authors After Dark in the Best E-novel category. You can read more about Where The Rain Is Made here on Kindle: http://amzn.to/gu3acT
Copyright © 2011 by Keta Diablo
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.
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This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.
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