Cries of Penance (9 page)

Sensation slashes through me, pain verging on need, need verging on me begging him to stop. I imagine my babies, needing to nurse, and me turning my back on them. None of the books Jackie gave me said anything about breastfeeding being painful.

He nips, biting lightly.

“Oh God!”

He sucks harder, thinking I am enjoying the sensation.

Pregnancy is ruining everything. I don’t want to have sex, I don’t want to have my nipples sucked.

Final y, he stops and I suck in a deep breath of relief…but then he pul s my other nipple into his mouth.

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“Oh God. Stop, stop, stop.”

The thought rol s through my brain that ‘stop’ is not a safe word…is this real y worth safe-wording over?

He leaves the couch, squatting beside me, stil sucking. My breast has started to pulse and ache, but strangely my pussy is equal y pulsing and aching. I need fil ed.

Master seems to know what I need because I feel his hand push between my thighs, his fingers teasing past my clit to find my dampness. He lifts my bottom, making room for his hand, and his fingers slide deep.

Yes, yes, yes .

I lift higher, repositioning without permission. Bad, Kit en, bad.

Obeying, disobeying, waiting for permission to do anything, al of our Master-slave protocols always weigh so heavily on my mind. How are we going to do this with babies in the house?

“Lean over the couch cushion.”

I obey, laying my upper body on the sofa, lifting my ass to him.

Behind me, Master pushes his face against me, licking the length of my slit, his tongue probing my clit but not sucking, just licking. He teases lips and tongue over my labia, licking, licking, finding my anus to rim me gently.

“Oh God. Yes, Master.” I should be silent. We’re not in the bedroom. I can only speak so freely in the bedroom. How many infractions am I up to now?

I hear the door and jump, startled, but am trained too wel to overreact. I stay in position. It doesn’t matter who sees. Hearing the shuffle of paper bags and the toss of keys, which clink loudly into a ceramic bowl stationed on top of a smal 79

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table near the door, I assume it is Enrique, the houseboy. But what if it was a nanny returning from the park with our babies?

I am acutely aware of the erotic tableau, Master pressing into my most sensitive places, making me gasp and moan. He stops licking, sliding over me to press kisses to my shoulder. His fingers slide over my saliva slicked ass. I arch, pushing against his hand, wanting him to fil me, anus, vagina, it doesn’t matter. I want this. I suddenly feel like a cat in heat, so different than a moment ago when I didn’t want sex at al . Every bit of me is stil too sensitive—my nipples, my pussy, my ass—painful y so, but the ouch has turned into an ohmyfuckinggod.

“You make me so fucking hot, Kitten. I walk around with a perpetual hard-on, thinking about you naked and when I see you, I just have to have you.” He rims my asshole with his finger, and I push against the weight of his hand, wanting him to push that finger inside of me, needing it. I close my eyes tightly. I don’t want to see if Enrique stops on his way into the kitchen with the groceries to watch. I don’t want to imagine a similar scene with a nanny hastily covering our children’s eyes with her hand. We have to talk about this! Soon. How is this ever going to work with babies in the house?

“I’m fat,” I argue. “Not attractive.”

“Not fat.” He grabs my chin and forces my face around. He kisses me, then meets my gaze. “As far as I know, I’ve never had a pregnant bel y fetish. To be honest, I’ve never real y thought about it, but seeing your baby bump something snapped in my brain. At first I was afraid to have sex with you, afraid you might lose the babies…but as time has passed, I’ve realized those are foundless 80

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fears…and as your waistline has expanded, I’ve had to face this need inside of me.”

What am I supposed to say to that?

“You are so sexy.” He pushes his finger into me, stretching my anus, demanding I al ow the intrusion, but my mind is stil trying to wrap around his admission. “I’m not the only one. I see how some of our clients watch you as you crawl around The Oasis, your swol en bel y so obvious, your hips ful er, your tits swaying.”

He pushes his finger inside and I moan, trying to not think of the lingering glances I receive when I’m at the club and failing because I have noticed. I moan as he pumps his finger in and out of me. I’m so very tight, but it feels so good.

Master whispers against my ear. “They want you. They want to fuck you.”

Yes, yes they do. I should feel ashamed, affronted, but as his finger slides in and out of me it is obvious my body finds it pleasing to think about.

“Oh God.”

He slides in a second finger, stretching me more and I push against his hand, opening for him.

“Does it make you feel sexy? Desirable? Knowing those men would fuck you in a heartbeat if I would al ow it?”

“No,” I lie and he chuckles, making me feel like he doesn’t believe me.

His free hand wraps around my middle, rubbing my bel y, and one of the babies kicks against the weight of his hand. It feels so strange, knowing there are little babies rol ing around inside of me, reacting to the attention Master is paying my body. I shouldn’t be enjoying this. I should be cloistered in a nunnery for the 81

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duration of my pregnancy. Untouched. A sil y thought I suppose since I’ve never been Catholic.

I push it away…al of it…al the random thoughts, and concentrate solely on Master’s touch. Or lack thereof. He pul ed his hands away, and I understand why when I hear the slide of his zipper. He doesn’t make me wait long. I feel the head of his cock pressing against my ass.

This position, doggy style, is easier now that I’m pregnant and my bel y is in the way, but usual y he pushes into my vagina. It’s been months since he’s fucked me in the ass.

I like it when he does, but I feel so tight today.

Too much thinking, my head just can’t drop into the blissful headspace I need to be in for everything to be perfect. I’m too worried about babies and nannies, or if Enrique is in the kitchen putting away groceries, or if he pul ed up a chair and is watching from behind. He wouldn’t do that!

Stil , I’m thinking too much and am not surprised when Master commands,

“Relax.”

Hearing the command, need tightens low in my bel y. His voice always does that to me, and I focus on the command, wanting to be mastered, wanting to feel owned.

He pushes in, just the tip of his cock, waits for me to relax, and pushes deeper. It stil feels like only an inch. He’s reached the tight internal muscle band that doesn’t want to let him penetrate me.

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He smacks my ass, and the sting takes me by surprise. Heat flairs over my hip and in that instant, while my mind is stil focused on the smack, he pushes deep, fil ing me.

It’s been so long since I’ve been spanked, smacked, flogged.

“Master! Please!”

I don’t have to tel him what I want. He knows me. He smacks my ass again, pushing his cock even deeper, and this time I cry out. The sting. Oh God, yes, the sting flaring through my hip, but also the stretching and fil ing of my ass.

He pushes in, pul s out a little, to push deeper on his next thrust. I feel every inch of the glide as he goes deep. His hands close around my abdomen, holding me tight, control ing the rhythm with his hold on me.

I fight to not even register the flip-flops and bounces happening inside of me.

Stop touching my stomach.

Touch my clit.

Oh God, I want to come.

Impaled completely, I push back against him, feeling the soft hair that covers his thighs on the back of my legs. He sets a rhythm and his bal s swing, a caress on my labia.

My ass contracts around his cock, and I reach to touch my own clit. He doesn’t slap my hand out of the way and I wonder for a moment if he even noticed the infraction, but then my pleasure is rising, a blissful vortex lifting me.

I know the moment he starts to come because I’m right there with him, encouraging him to fuck me harder with the rhythm of my hips, pushing him, pul ing him. “Oh God, oh God, oh God!”

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“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of il ness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.”

Anias Nin

I am like a bitch in heat, waiting for her stud. Any glimpse of Mistress Morgana would do it for me, but as I wipe counters, take orders, and fil drinks, I am disappointed again and again each time I scan the room, seeking the bright flash of her hair.

“You okay tonight, man?”

My co-bartender has noticed my distraction, the sloshed drinks, and lack of conversation with our customers. “I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind.”

Morgan and I have kept our meetings secret, waiting until after work to play, even going so far as to spend our days off at various hotels far away from town.

It has to be that way, I know it does. I understand the rules in place here. I also know I need to see her.

She put me in a chastity cage our first night together. Now she holds the key to the plastic cage around my cock. I never realized before how many erections I have in the course of a day. Especial y here. I could keep a permanent hard-on…if not for the cage…and now, I am forced to divert my eyes, divert my thoughts, or else there are painful consequences as the plastic denies my body’s attempt at a ful erection.

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If she wanted my thoughts to be on her every moment of every day, she wouldn’t have had to gone to such lengths. I would have thought about her anyway. Three weeks later and I stil haven’t fucked her. Even masturbation is out. I feel like I am losing my mind.

She tortures me, she al ows me to serve her. She doesn’t al ow me to pleasure her, which makes me wonder who she is having sex with. She doesn’t own a pet…and I doubt she’s owned. What if she has a partner completely away from Lewd’s? That thought makes me more insane than al the others.

I sleep at the foot of her bed, a good dog, and the entire time I want nothing more than to hold her, but she doesn’t let me.

She’s a nightmare of pain, but when I’m with her I feel some salvation is imminent.

Dozens of beautiful bodies flirt with me every night—men and women—I could have my pick of partners, so why am I so obsessed with this one?

I close my eyes, remembering our last scene. She’d put me in the damn box, my wrists and ankles secured in the corners, my throat caught in a center col ar. I was spread, balanced precariously and completely at her mercy.

She unlocked and removed the cage from my cock but there was to be no pleasure in the moment. She immediately attached clamps to my scrotum.

Stroking my face, she’d said, “Enjoy the pain I cause you.”

She stroked my cock and I rose to the chal enge, even when she added the low vibrating hum of electricity through my cock and bal s her threat had seemed inconsequential. She worked me up, making my cock so hard it felt as if it might 85

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break off. Then she added more electricity and any pleasure I was feeling plummeted, my erection fel .

She slapped my sagging flesh. “You’re such a huge disappointment.”

She turned the electricity completely off and disconnected al the wires. My guts clenched, fearing the worse. I’d failed any chance of being hers. But she wasn’t playing fair. I had no idea how to please her.

“Please, Mistress. I want to please you.”

She col apsed the box’s wal s, leaving me stil anchored at corner posts.

Another snap and the half of the cage bottom folds down. “You want to please me?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“I’m going to fuck you senseless, mutt. If you want to please me, you won’t come. You’l deny yourself al pleasure.”

“Yes, Mistress.” I was bound and helpless, my cock deflated. It didn’t seem like such a hard request.

She zapped me with a long handled animal prod, again and again, on the inside of my thighs, the backs of my arms and legs. Each jolt is a painful surprise.

“Fuck,” I cursed. “God damn.”

She laughed at any attempt I made to pul my wrists or ankles free of the cuffs, and after a while al I wanted was free of her torture. She must have sensed the moment I quit because she backed off, walked away. She returned with lube. Standing in front of me, she spread a liberal amount over the prosthetic cock she had strapped to her hips. “Do you like it up the ass, mutt?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

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Leaning over me, her face close as she met and held my gaze, she spread lube on my anus. She rimmed my hole with her slick fingertips. “I don’t believe you.”

Slowly, she slid a finger deep inside of me and wiggled it. My muscles clenched against the intrusion.

“Say you love my finger in your ass.”

“I love your finger in my ass, Mistress.” I hated it that my voice cracked.

Strangely, my chest felt heavy with emotion I didn’t understand. I’d been fucked up the ass before. It wasn’t that I was an ass-fuck virgin, but my body was responding with nervousness, fear. Vulnerability. I didn’t understand why I was feeling the way I was or why it was so important for me to experience it with her, but it had seemed since the first moment I’d seen her that she had to be the one.

I’d just seen myself control ing her.

Was it real y that simple? The power exchange happening between us was mind-fucking me?

She pushed the head of her rubber cock against my anus, just pressure, not entering me. She sighed against my face. “Do you want this, mutt? Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She pushed harder, stil not entering, and my cock sprang to life. Need harsher than I’ve ever felt wel ed in my middle. I pul ed on my wrist restraints, wanting freedom and knowing if I was free that this game would end now. I would fuck her senseless, and she would beg for mercy.