Dexter (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (31 page)

My wife crawls to slide behind me with her legs on either side of my hips. Monica tugs at my t-shirt in demand and I grip the back on the collar with a couple of fingertips and pull it off. I groan loudly when her sharp, little nails scratch around all the itchy wounds.
“I swear I co
uld cum from this,” I groan
when she hits a super itchy spot. I wish I could purr.

She licks close to an untouched spot and my hips thrust up off the
sofa from the pleasure of it. Fo
r the
first time ever my favorite leathers pop open
on their own
-
unleashing my straining, dripping cock.
“You’re going to kill me, wife,” I half laugh- half cry.

The sound of knees dropping to the slate floor distracts me
. I look down to see Katya abas
ing herself at my feet.

“I’m sorry, Dexter, for my untrustworthy behavior. Please accept my sincere apology.” Katya has tears swimming in her eyes and shame written across her face. My hand rests on her cheek and my thumb wipes a tear away before the thought even crossed my mind.
“It’s alright. You aren’t used to topping in that situation. I’m almost healed. I’m glad I could be a lesson for you.”
“But I haven’t been punished,” she croaks out.
“Punishment is for when you willfully do something wrong. In
this case, it was all our
faults for not training you properly. I think the way you feel is punishment enough, Kat.
Retain the lesson of staying in control of yourself and
your
submissive during a scene and all will be
forgiven.
You now see what can happen if you lose control of a scene- it can be a disaster.
”

I reach a hand out for her to take. She reluctantly places her hand in mine. I can see the thought that I may be tricking her cross her features. I smile genuinely and pull her to her feet. I tap my cheek with a fingertip a couple of times in a hint. She scrunches up her face trying to figure out what I want and I can’t help but laugh. She laughs at herself
for being daft
and
she leans forward and kisses my cheek.

My hand finds the nape of her neck holding her in place. I whisper in her ear low enough that no one else can hear. “Even with the pain and possible scaring I would do it again. Kat, I want to do it again,” I moan in her ear. I draw her tiny earlobe between my lips and suck. I nip her with my teeth and only my hand on her neck keeps her from falling.

She pulls away as gives me access to her eyes. I see the need and lust swirling in their depths. My eyes find her Master and
hubands
. The three men look at us quizzically trying to figure out what our exchange is about. Comprehension dawns on Marcus and his gives us a nod-
yes, you can do it again sometime.
The naked relief on Kat’s face makes me wish I could read her mind for a few minutes. She quickly sits on
Ezra’s lap as if all her energy fled her body
.

Monica cuddles up to the back of me and contently sighs. I lean back
wards
and restrain
her between the sofa and my back
.
“I fantasize about watching you two again. It’s alright with me if you do. I’d wait a bit for you to heal up first though,” she laughs into my ear. I shiver as her breath tickles the small hairs on the side of my neck.

“She’
s frightened to dominate again. You both need a do-over to prove that she won’t do irreparable harm.” Marcus replies to my earlier thought on why Kat was so relived. The bastard reads me too easily. He smirks in my direction reading that thought too- bastard.
A guttural cry draws our attention to the center of the room. Whitt and Dalton are double penetrating Kristal
,
standing up in the center of the dungeon. The look of utter bliss on Kristal’s face informs me she loves Dalton in her ass and Whitt in her cun
t. She screams as she climaxes.

The cry that sounded seconds earlier is
repeated
. I shake my head in shock. I know the
sound
that
Whitt makes when he comes- a deep moan from his chest. What shocks me is that the cry is spe
wing out of Dalton’s mouth. It’
s mournful and so filled with longing that my chest aches from
its tone
.

I know the noise Dalton makes as he comes and this isn’t it. It’s that fake grunt
and
scream
he has perfected. I’
m taken aback when I realize that the cry is the real Dalton. Whitt’s moan joins the symphony. His fingers latch onto Dalton’s hips and even from this distance I can see that it’s going to bruise. He stares intently in Dalton’s eyes drawing another cry from the man’s chest.

Everything else is silent. We voyeurs look around at each other in shock. Devlin abruptly stands up and claps.
“That’s my boy,” he joyfully yells at- Whitt? Dalton? I don’t know, but he looks fucking proud for some reason.

Dalton quickly tucks himself in
to
his pants and zips up. He tries to leave, but Whitt’s hand on his arm stops him.

“Kristal, clean Dalton up. We don’t want his cum to stain his pants.” Whitt slips into dominant mode effor
tlessly.
“No… no…
that’s okay,” Dalton says frantically trying to pry Whitt’s hand off his arm. Whitt gives him a look and the struggle ceases.

“Clean me, Kristal, don’t leave a drop behind.” Whitt commands happily.
We all watch in fascination as Kristal takes Whitt in her mouth and starts sucking. She continues for a few minutes as we restlessly look at each other in confusion.

A groan from the center of the dungeon brings my eyes back
to
Whitt. He
’
s coming again. Fuck young men and their ability to recuperate almost instantly. I feel inadequate as Whitt finds his second release with no down time in between.

“Kiss Dalton in thanks,” Whitt commands Kristal as soon as she sucks his cock dry.
Dalton tries to flee again and one look from Whitt has his feet frozen in
to
place. Kristal leans into the reluctant man and kisses him lightl
y.

A second later he latches on
to her mouth and violently devours her- drinking her down his throat. He abruptly releases her and turns his back to us. She almost falls from the force. Whitt ca
tches her, but his interest is
with
Dalton.

Dalton’s
back ripples with effort to still his movements and stifle his cry. Whitt looks smug as Dalton tries to cum without
making
a sound.

The humiliated man shoves his palms
into Whitt’s chest and glares. Astonishingly t
he force shoves Whitt several feet.
“Did I pass your test? Are you fucking happy now,” he hisses between his clenched teeth and practically runs from the room.
The look on Whitt’s face says, yes- yes, he definitely passed the test. I shrug in confusion at Whitt’s behavior. I’ve never known him to be malicious and to enjoy another’s humiliation. But, it was humiliating Dalton
, so for that I’
m thankful. 

A few minutes later we disband because no one can top whatever the hell that was.

“I’ll be right back. I need to get something from my room.” I say to my wife and I give her a soft kiss on the lips.

I grab my cell from my room and hurriedly rush down the hall. A conversation stops me in my tracks. Dalton’s door is ajar.
“I’m trying my best, Master,” he pleads. “Please don’t be disappointed in me. I will get us the information.”
My blood runs cold and then fiery from the pits of hells as Dalton outs himself as the mole.
“You should have shut your fucking door,” I hiss as I skirt into the room and kick the door closed. I don’t
need
to have a mirror to know my eyes hold his death.
“Dexter, it’s not what it sounds like. It’s not what you think.” His voice is pleading as he holds out an arm in front of him in a stay motion.
“Oh, it’s
exactly
wh
at I think,” I say low and dead
ly.

I can’t contain my
inner-
caveman any longer. He unleashes his fury on the fucker who manipulated our wife and abused her before our eyes. We kick him in the chest with all our
might and he falls to the ground. We hear a snap and know a bone broke. We smile in satisfaction as his eyes tear from the pain.

“It’s not what you think, Dexter.” He tries to reason with me again even as he lies on the floor broken and in pain. He isn’t in enough pain and he will never be broken enough for us.
“I’d fight back if I were you,” I hiss menacingly and attack.
“Master, help me,” he s
creams into his phone.

~
Dalton
~
Master of Restraint

Teaser

My phone rings a Cabaret song. I immediately fumble for the device in my back pocket. The song is like Pavlov’s dog. I hear the sound and the invisibl
e leash that is tethered to my M
aster’s hand
is
yanked tight in her fist.

“Master,” I breathlessly answer.

“I call for your nightly report,” her French accent is
thicker than usual. I know she’
s worried. I can feel it in my soul.

“I’m sorry, Master, tonight was fruitl
ess.” As I speak with her my
accent thickens and becomes pronounced. I will forever be Font with her. I can’t hide in her presence.
“Soon it will be too late,” she sighs out heavily. I wince for failing her.
“I’m trying my best, Master,” I plead. “Please don’t be disappointed in me. I will get us the information.”

A sound jars me from my conversation. Dexter is standing in the doorway with my death in his eyes leaking menace.

“You should have shut your fucking door,” Dexter hisses as he pushes into the room and kicks the door closed. He bears his teeth at me and growls.
“Dexter, it’s not what it sounds like. It’s not what you think.” My voice is pleading as I hold out an arm in front of me in a stay motion. I know it will do little good. I’ve done too much to him for him to see reason. He is beyond
reason now. I can see that he’
s not in control of his own actions. His instinct is his driving force.

Fire spreads through my left side and I collapse to the floor. He kicked me in the ribs and I heard a telltale snap. I wait for the agony to set in as I slip into shock. Tears form in my eyes because I will finally receive the atonement for all the evil things I’ve said and done in the name of my Master.

“It’s not what you think, Dexter.” I try to reason with him again. The glazed hate in his eyes screams my defeat. I
’ve
come to terms with my fate.
“I’d fight back if I were you,” he growls menacingly and lunges for attack.
“Master, help me,” I scream piteously into my phone.
“I love you,” she says in terror and the call ends.
The blows rain down heavily all over my entire body. I curl up in the fetal position and protect my head. Fist… boot… boot… slap… wrenches silent screams from my chest. I feel my flesh part beneath his clenched fists. All the while he screams and hisses his hatred at me.

My breathing becomes shallow as each breath fires agony into my lungs. I concentrate on the sensation of my tears slipping down my cheeks. I imagine the cool wetness draining from my flesh as my body’s way of weeping- blood not tears.

My vision is clouded with pain. My mind swirls with all the bad deeds I’ve committed, all the sins I’ve yet to pay for. I close my eyes and seek my final atonement praying for absolution.

The pounding ceases at the same time I hear my salvation. I whimper in thanks to my Master.

“Don’t move or I will beat you and you won’t like it any more than the child did.” His deep rumble is a comfort even in its fury.
“Child?”
Dexter says in confusion.
“You don’t understand what’s going on, Dexter. You’ve allowed your emotions to cloud your judgment. Dalton is not the mole. And he is the child. You’re beating the hell out of someone who isn’t fighting back and is fifteen years your junior. Wake up and get some fucking control.”

I blink several times to clear my vision. Dexter is held at arm’s length by the huge man.

“He has to be close to my age. No fucking way is he a kid,” Dexter says dismissively. If I could work my mouth I’d tell him that he’s wrong. What the members of Restraint see is Dalton Thompson- not Font.

About the Author

Erica Chilson spends most of her time inside her own imagination, whether awake or asleep. Her love of reading and writing for her book review blog, Wicked Reads, inspired her to begin writing again. Not one that enjoys the norm, her favorite things to read, write, and dream about are on the edge, claws and fangs, and wickedly entertaining things.