Bondage Anniversary (17 page)

“Um, I think you are, Laura. I think you want a pussy Dom that you can walk on. Perhaps you need something to wash down dinner.” Bending down, he used the karaka to hoist her off the floor. “You belong to me. You will do as I say, submit to me in every way, or safe word. I will not allow you to disrespect me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.” She began panting, trying to hold off her orgasm. Being carried to the bedroom was causing the rope to stroke her clit. His sudden, firm dominance, the reminder that she was completely in his care, just about sent her over the edge.

Once he had her on the bed, she waited while he double-checked each binding to make sure none of the rope had twisted or curled. He touched her extremities, probably checking her circulation. The relief in his expression touched her deep inside.

“Open wide, Laura. You will suck my cock dry, every last drop. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master, please fuck my mouth.”

With his escaping groan, Laura felt a rush of satisfaction.

“You’re killing me, woman!” He unlaced his fly. “Open.”

She loved that he practically shoved his dick down her throat. The rougher he got, the more turned on she became. Using his hands on her shoulders, he controlled the rhythm and depth. He set a brutal pace. Each time he rocked her forward, the rope was stroking her clit.

Her muscles were tightening. She was ready to come. She felt his orgasm swell. His cock grew and his balls spasmed. As the first jet of hot semen reached her throat, he tugged on the crotch rope, sending them both spiraling into pure bliss.

Her scream vibrated around his cock.

“Son of a bitch!”

As reality came back into focus, she noticed his legs were quivering as he continued to rock in and out of her mouth. Maybe he didn’t notice. It made her happy to have that deep an effect on him.

She swirled her tongue around his sensitive ridge, savoring the taste of him.

He fisted her hair and pulled out of her mouth. “You’re going to kill me one of these days, Laura.” With his eyes, he inspected her body. “Laura, are your hands numb? They’re a little pale.”

She felt him pull on the slip knot, releasing her legs from the karaka. Next, he moved to her arms and released the knot there too.

He started massaging her arms and legs. So heavenly!

“Are you okay?”

“No, I may never be all right again.” She knew she had to start talking or he would freak out. “I never knew it could be like this.”

“Woman! I swear my heart stopped when you said no. I would never forgive myself if I hurt you.” He may have tried to sound casual, but the truth was clear.

His anguish gave her courage to be more daring. “The more demanding you are, the hotter I get. I didn’t think it would work that way. And that flogger, oh, my God. I think that’s my new favorite toy. More of that please!”

“With that smart mouth of yours, I’m pretty sure you’ll be well acquainted with the brush of leather. And it’ll be my pleasure to deliver it to you.” Knowing that he enjoyed it as much as she did gave her a warm feeling all over.

His hands were busy untying the karaka. Once she was free, he wrapped her in his arms and held her tight. She melted against him, her bones mere putty.

“I love you, Master.” She snuggled against his chest and slipped into a peaceful sleep.

* * * *

The doorbell rang and a persistent knock demanded a response. Looking over at Nick, she knew he was out for the count. She stumbled out of bed, noticing the clock shining five a.m.. Tossing on a robe, she went to the door.

“Mrs Branson?” a bright-eyed bell clerk asked.

“Yes,” she growled back. How could anyone look so awake and perky at this hour? It didn’t matter that she needed to be up. Morning people bothered her.

“Package for you, ma’am, please sign here.” He handed her an electronic pad and a package about a foot square and four inches deep.

“Who is this from?” she asked, while signing.

“I’m not sure, ma’am. I was told to deliver it at five a.m. sharp.” He looked at his watch, obviously pleased as punch that he’d followed his instructions to a T.

She tipped him and shut the door. She looked around and realized Nick must have cleaned up sometime during the night. The living room looked back to normal. She let out a sigh. She was going to miss this suite.

Nick was sitting up in bed, waiting for her to return. “What have you got there?” he asked.

“I suspect it’s a gift from my loving husband who chose to ignore our decision to skip the gift giving this year in lieu of our weekend together.”

“Dom,” he stated proudly, as if that explained everything.

Laura ripped the paper in a very unladylike fashion. She’d never been one to carefully ease the tape off hoping to keep from ripping the paper. Seriously, it wasn’t like she was ever going to reuse it. What was the point? She opened the box and stared at a delicate Mardi Gras half mask. It was adorned in blues and gold’s. “Oh, Nick, it’s exquisite.” She reverently ran her finger along the mask.

“Try it on,” he insisted.

Very carefully, she put it to her face and turned so he could secure it in place. “What do you think?”

“It’s almost as beautiful as you are, Angel. Try on the rest of it.”

She looked in the box and noticed there was more. Taking it from the package, she found a corset, thong and a completely sheer skirt. The colors perfectly matched the mask. “What is this about, Nick? Do you want to go to New Orleans?”

He smiled. “You’d be arrested wearing that on the streets of New Orleans. Well, on second thought, probably not. No, Angel, I was thinking we would attend André’s party at the club.”

She started to cry. “Oh, Master, I love you so much.”

Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:

Mastered: With This Collar

Sierra Cartwright

Excerpt

Chapter One

“And now, friends, Lana will offer her submission to her new husband,” Damien Lowell said.

Julia scowled. Submission?

Lana and Julia had chatted on the phone earlier in the week to discuss the final wedding plans. Lana had warned that the union would be a bit untraditional. She’d been vague about the details, but she’d made Julia promise to say nothing during the ceremony.

They’d been friends since they were ten, and there was no way Julia would miss the festivities, even if they were a bit odd.

Until now, everything had been what she’d expected.

Lana and Ben were being married at their friend Damien’s mountain home. Damien was also performing the ceremony.

About two dozen of the couple’s closest friends had gathered in the great room and, at dusk, Lana had descended the stairs of Damien’s picturesque home, carrying a single, beautiful, white rose to match her full-length gown.

The only gift requested had been a candle. In a romantic gesture, the pair had said they wanted all their friends to light their way into their future.

As Ben and Lana had joined hands and faced Damien, fat snowflakes had fallen from the cloudy sky. The vows had included the word obey, which was somewhat unusual among their circle of friends. But everything else had been normal. Lana had placed her rose on the mantel behind Damien before she and Ben had exchanged rings.

“Lana?” Damien prompted.

“Yes, Sir,” Lana said.

‘Sir’?
Until tonight, Julia hadn’t met Damien. She knew he was a friend of the groom’s, and he was drop-dead, movie star handsome. The man had rakishly long, dark hair that curled at his nape, and he wore an indefinable air of command as easily as he filled out his charcoal gray suit. But still, for her friend to call him ‘Sir’…?

Lana cast her gaze at the floor and gracefully turned her back to her new husband.

Ben undid the row of tiny buttons that held her gown closed.

What the hell?

Ben drew the material from Lana’s shoulders and let the dress fall to the floor.

Lana, wearing stacked heels, a merry widow and stockings, stepped out of the dress, and another man scooped it up and laid it across a chair.

Like Damien, this man was also ridiculously tall. That was where the resemblance ended. This man had an olive complexion that hinted at a Mediterranean background. His head was shaved. He wore black jeans and a black T-shirt that revealed a number of tattoos. A thick, knotted silver bracelet adorned his left wrist, and a silver stud pierced his right earlobe. He could have been a pirate in a former life.

Suddenly
unconventional
took on a whole new meaning. Julia had never been more distressed. Part of her wanted to make an escape, and a bigger part of her wanted to shake some sense into her friend. But she was riveted in place by her promise to remain silent.

With a grace that spoke of practice, Lana knelt.

Jesus.
All through college, they’d each vowed to keep their independence. They’d pushed against the glass ceiling, and they’d fought for their positions in corporate America. And now her friend was kneeling in front of her husband, almost naked, for their guests to see?

Julia wondered if she was the only one who was frozen in shock.

Lana spread her legs a bit farther apart, and she leaned forward to kiss one of Ben’s shoes.

Julia gasped.

From the front of the room, Damien looked over his shoulder at her, his eyebrows raised.

Firm, relentless hands landed on her shoulders. Her heart rate increased with her panic.

“Be quiet,” a man whispered harshly into her ear.

“I—”

“I said be quiet.”

She gritted her teeth. The man’s tone was commanding.

He pulled her back a bit, and she inhaled the unmistakable—and sexy—scent of leather.

In that same rich and rough, for-her-ears-only voice, he added, “Or else I’ll haul your sweet ass out of here and turn you over my knee.”

For the first time in her life, she was rendered speechless.

“Lana’s doing this of her own choice,” he continued.

She struggled against his grip, but he dug his fingers deeper into her flesh.

“Surely she told you to expect some unconventional things.”

“But—”

“Trust her,” he urged. “Like she trusted you.”

When Julia had given her promise, she’d had no idea what that had meant or how difficult it would be to keep her word. Julia spent her entire life in control, and she hung out with women like herself. And now a powerful man had her imprisoned while her friend was on her knees in front of a roomful of people. The experience was surreal.

With unshakable force, the man pulled her back a few steps so they were several feet away from the rest of the guests. He held her firmly against his body.

She still hadn’t caught a glimpse of her assailant.

“Do you really want to make a scene and embarrass yourself as well as your friend?” he asked softly. “Nothing you do or say will stop tonight’s proceedings. So I recommend you behave yourself.”

“Damn you.”

“Last warning,” he said.

His tone rang with an authority she didn’t dare question. He was speaking quietly, but that made his words all the more terrifying. He’d threatened to turn her over his knee, and in that instant she believed he’d do it. She stopped fighting. “Who the hell are you?” she demanded in a whisper.

“Marcus Cavendish. A Dominant, and friend of the groom’s. I met Lana about six months ago. She’s come a long way in the lifestyle. Ben’s a lucky man to have earned the submission of such a lovely woman.”

Julia felt as if Marcus were speaking a foreign language.

“If you promise to behave yourself, I’ll explain what’s happening.”

She nodded.

At the front of the room, Lana stood and faced Ben.

“Would you like to offer your submission?” Ben asked.

Lana tipped back her head. “Yes, Sir, I would.”

Damien picked up something from the mantel and offered it to Ben. Julia stood on her toes, trying to get a better look.

“To the vanilla world it looks like a silver necklace with a lock on it,” Marcus said. “But those of us in the lifestyle recognize it for what it is. A collar.”

“Collar?” Julia repeated. The word startled her so much that she didn’t think to ask what he meant by lifestyle.

“Some people use dog collars from the pet store,” he said.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Deadly.”

She wrapped her arms around her middle. “In this case, it appears to be an ordinary piece of jewelry, but it likely has a hex screw so that she can’t remove it.”

Ben accepted the necklace from Damien and passed the chain through the flame of an enormous candle.

“He’s purifying the metal,” Marcus explained. “And then he’ll ask her again if her submission is given of her own free will.”

Ben looked down at Lana and captured her chin before saying, “I offer you this collar as a symbol of my love, and as a promise to be a kind, consistent and honorable Master. In return, I will demand your servitude. I will enforce the rules we have agreed to, and I will never touch you in anger.”

Lana linked her hands at the small of her back, while she continued to meet her new husband’s gaze. Firmly she said, “I accept your gift. In return, I offer my humble devotion and a promise of my servitude.”

To Julia, the words sounded just as practiced as their traditional vows had.

“We’re here in front of our friends and mentors, and I want everyone to hear your assurance that you are willingly agreeing to be my slave.”

The blood chilled in Julia’s veins. As if Marcus sensed it, he tightened his grip on her. Oddly, the touch reassured and grounded her rather than annoyed her.

“I am joyfully agreeing to be your slave, Sir.”

Even from the distance and in the dim lighting, Julia saw Lana’s smile.

“In fact, I’m begging for the honor. Sir, please collar me.”

“Lift your hair,” Ben told Lana.

Lana did. As Ben secured the lock in place, Lana looked up at her husband with an expression of surrendered bliss. Julia wondered what had happened to the woman she used to know. The two of them had sat on their dorm room couch eating popcorn, drinking wine, and making fun of old 1950s television shows where the wife cooked dinner in high heels and a dress. And now a man was placing a collar around Lana’s neck, and she’d asked him to do so.