Indulgence (138 page)

Stepping toward me, I see that there’s some kind of box in
his hands, a good-sized, wooden box. Gesturing at me, he entices me to reach
for it, and I take it in my flattened palms, his hand resting on the lid of the
box. Once I’m holding it, he opens the lid and takes out something sparkly.

It’s a massive necklace covered in what looks like diamonds,
and when he fastens it around my neck, it fans down and across my chest like a
huge collar. Next comes a pair of earrings to match it, their dangles brushing
the tops of my shoulders, followed by two large cuff bracelets, which he snaps
around my wrists as I continue to hold the box. I can’t imagine that there
could be anything else in the box.

I’m wrong. The last item he pulls from its depths is a
tiara, and it’s huge and gorgeous. He places it gently on my head, then clips
it in place. Even without shaking my head, I can tell it’s more than secure
enough to stay on through . . . well, whatever it is that he’s planning to do.
My jewels firmly set, he takes the box from my hands and places it on a small
table to the side, then spins back to look at me.

What I see in his face takes my breath away. It’s as though
he’s mesmerized by the sight in front of him, and yet it’s just me, just plain,
boring me. Before I can move or even think, he takes my hands and leads me out
to the balcony.

I’m horrified. I know logically that the rest of the city is
probably asleep – well, most of it anyway – but still, I’m naked, dripping in
jewels, and standing on a balcony on the fifth floor. If it were the sixteenth,
I might feel better, but it’s just the fifth. Anyone driving up in the drive
could easily see us up here, and yet it doesn’t seem to bother him one bit.
Hands on my shoulders, he turns me to face the outside, then sinks to his knees
in front of me. “Hands on my head,” he orders, and when I comply, he parts my
lower lips and presses his face into me.

The intensity makes me gasp as his tongue finds my clit and
teases it to misery, making me squirm and wiggle. A yelp escapes my lips as his
hand comes down with a firm slap on my ass. “Hold still, princess. And not a
word.” I concentrate on not only staying still and quiet, but also on staying
upright in those shoes. They weren’t meant for sport, but it seems that’s what
we’re into tonight. I’m getting closer and closer, and I groan when he stops. He
stands and, with a wicked glint in his eye, he just says, “Turn around. Hands
on the railing and legs shoulder width apart.”

I know what’s coming, and I grip the metal tightly,
listening to the now-familiar sound of latex snapping. I know what’s happening,
and I’m torn. Part of me wants his cock buried in me, and part of me is
terrified that someone is going to see us, see me because I’m on the outside
and closest to the railing. That terror just feeds my arousal, and I struggle
to stay steady on my feet and in my mind. His body is hot and hard when I feel
him behind me, and he moans out, “Take it like royalty, princess.”

He takes me like I’m a common whore, and my body responds to
it like a lit match to gasoline. Behind me, pounding into me, he’s muttering,
“I’m gonna fuck you, girl. I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk, you hear
me? I’ll come in you so hard I’ll lift your feet right off the ground. Like my
big, thick cock in your pussy, girl? Hmmm? Like it? Want it?” He told me to be
silent, so I just wait. “Answer me, princess. Do you want to be fucked like a
whore?”

“Yes, Master, fuck me like a whore,” I manage to breathe
out. “Oh, god, fuck me like a whore. Fuck me hard, Sir.”

“I’m going to fuck you so hard and so long that your teeth
will rattle. I’m gonna tear that pussy up with my hard dick. Take your hand off
the rail and play with yourself until you come. Pinch and pull on those nipples
and then flick that clit. And I wanna hear you telling me about it, girl,” his
voice snarls out, and everything in my body concentrates on that one sensation
of his cock dragging out and plunging back into my channel.

When I manage to pinch one nipple, I let out a groan. “Say
it, slut. Tell me how it feels to touch yourself.”

“Oh, god, Master. Oh, god, I’m so turned on,” is all I can
squeak out.

His thrusts are hard and relentless. “Turned on? You’re not
turned on. You’re horny, that’s what you are, whore. Horny as hell. You’re a
horny little slut who wants me to fuck her.”

“Yes, Sir, I’m so horny I can’t stand it.” That’s no lie at
all. I’ve never wanted to be fucked more in my whole life. “I want you to fuck
me hard. Fuck me hard, Master, please? Please fuck me so hard it hurts.”

He shifts positions and I realize he’s stooped a little bit
and fucking up and into me now, his hands on either side of me on the railing
to brace himself, his breath hot on my spine as he slams into me, nearly
lifting my shoes from the concrete. I’m all decked out like a proper princess,
and I’m getting a world-class fucking on the balcony of the Ritz-Carlton. Holy
hell. Talk about a fantasy come true. Suddenly I’m overcome with the desire to
somehow see his back as he uses me. I can just imagine the muscles bunching and
releasing, the contours of his skin, the sweat glistening on it as he pours
such a huge amount of energy into pounding my pussy raw. It’s got to be an
amazing sight. I’ve been mindlessly pinching and twisting one of my nipples,
and he snarls, “Get those fingers down to your slit and find that hard little
button of yours. I want to hear you scream when you come. Get to it, slut.”

I send my hand downward until it finds my wetness. For just
a few seconds, I reach on downward to my cunt and lay a finger against his cock
so I can feel it as he works in and out of me. There’s a nip on my shoulder and
he growls, “Don’t be feeling my cock, girl, just diddle yourself until you
come. Hear me? Don’t make me punish you.”

“Yes, Sir.” I trail up from my introitus to my clit and
start to circle it with my finger. The pressure is rising as I gasp out, “Oh,
oh, oh. Oh my god. Oh, god. Oh, please, oh god.”

It’s doubling back on itself, his dick still ripping into
me, and he calls out, “Stop! Don’t you dare come yet. Your orgasm belongs to
me. You won’t come until I tell you to.” I don’t know what to do now, so I drag
my hand back up and pinch and pull my nipple. “Good girl. You’re a good slut.
You know how to keep yourself horny for me. You like this fucking, girl? Hard
enough for you?”

“Harder, Sir,” I pant out. “I want it harder and faster,
Sir. Fuck me hard and fast, Sir.”

“Fingers back to your clit, girl. Work yourself fast and
hard.”

“Yes, Sir.” I go back to stimulating myself, and it takes
almost no time for my body to respond.

And just when I think I’m going to tip over the edge, he
stops me again with, “Hand to your nipple, whore. No coming for you yet.
Understand?”

“Yes, Master.” I’m so needy that I feel like I’ll explode
and I groan out, “Oh my god. I need to come.” The orgasm is right on the
surface, and yet I can’t have it. God, I want it so bad.

“Not until I tell you to. Work that nip. Stay hungry for it.
Like this cock, girl? Want more?”

“Oh god, yes, Sir. More, please, more,” I plead. I feel his
finger dip into my juices and, to my surprise, he rims my asshole with it. I
just moan loudly and beg silently for him to force his finger into me, but he
doesn’t, just rims me and fucks into me with that amazing cock.

Finally, when I’m so wound up that I feel like I’ll
collapse, he growls out, “Hand back to that button. Ramp it up. And when I tell
you to come, I want you to do it and keep stroking. Don’t stop. Understand,
whore?”

“Yes, Master, I understand.” Oh, god. This is going to tear
me apart, I can just tell. I tease and torment my swollen nub while he pounds
me so hard that I’m having trouble staying on my feet. Just when I think I
can’t take another minute, he barks out, “Come with me, slut! Do it!” and slaps
me on the ass.

My pussy clamps down tight and stars burst in balls of fire
behind my eyelids. My hips are churning beyond my control, and I hear Jaz
remind me, “Keep going. Don’t stop until I tell you to.”

I can’t help myself; I shriek and cry out, “Oh god, fuck me,
Sir! Fuck me so damn hard, Sir, please!” My finger’s still working my clit when
I stammer out, “Oh, please, Sir, please let me stop? I can’t stand it anymore,
Sir, please. Please? Oh god, no more, no more, please?”

“Keep going. You want it, you know you do.”

I shake my head violently, my hips still bucking. I can
barely speak when I answer, “I.Want. It. Sir. Please. Oh god, please, let me,
oh, oh, OH GOD!” My body convulses for a second time, and all lucid thoughts
stop. It’s like my fingers are working of their own accord, and the sensation
of his shaft piercing me so hard and so fast intensifies everything. I’m
getting lightheaded and weak, and the contractions in my belly are so strong
that I’m bowed into myself, my mound pumping forward, my body trying to fuck
him harder and deeper. With no warning, he grabs my hair and yanks my head
backward, sending me over the edge again.

It’s all rewarded when I hear him cry out, “Oh, god, god,
god, baby, I’m coming. Fuck, girl, fuck, fuck, fuck. Yeah, babe, YEAH!” His
fingers grind into my hips as he gives me a half dozen slams that really do
bring my feet up off the concrete, and then he grinds into me, the head of his
dick buried in the end of my silky depths, pressing upward on my cervix and
shifting everything inside my pelvis until I almost faint. In my climax-induced
stupor I hear him say, “Hey, stop, babe. You can stop. Kimmie? Kimmie, stop.”

My hand drops from my slit and dangles, limp and spent.
Knees trembling so hard I can barely stand, I wait while his hands hold me
steady, his cock still buried in me, and I try to gain something that might
look like composure. I don’t want him to pull out; I want him buried in me
forever, but when he finally does, he tries to spin me to face him and my hand
won’t turn loose of the railing. That makes him snicker, and he spends a few
seconds prying my fingers free, then turns me. “Baby, look at me.” I’m trying
to make sense of everything and he repeats, “Baby, look at me. Kimmie? Baby?
You okay?”

“I, um . . . uh, I,” I stammer. The words just won’t come
out of my mouth; they’re right there, but I just can’t get my lips to form
them.

“Kimmie, look at me.” When I finally get my head to
cooperate and force my gaze to his face, he’s got this amused look in his eyes
that sends a smile careening across my heart. “Hey, baby, I love you.”

“I love you too.” Finally – my mouth’s working again. “That
was . . . um . . .”

“I don’t know about you, but it was awesome for me!” He’s
grinning like a loon, and I find it absolutely charming.

“Jaz, holy shit. I mean, holy shit. What the hell? That was
crazy!” Now I’m sure I’m grinning like a loon.

“But did you enjoy it?” There’s a bit of concern on his
face, and I almost giggle.

“Enjoy it? Yeah. You could say that.” I keep him dangling
for a few seconds before I snicker out, “Can we do it again?”

He laughs right out loud and sweeps me into his arms. “Next
time maybe you can be a prisoner and I’ll be a guard. How ‘bout that?”

“You fuck me like that and I’ll be whatever you want me to
be,” I whisper and curl into his chest. I can hear his heart beating and its
rhythm remind me of how much I love him and how much I never want to be without
him.

“I’ll fuck you like that every time I get a chance. And may
I say, you in those jewels and heels, naked and on this balcony? Oh my god,
baby girl, I’ve never fucked a hotter piece of ass in my life. I think the only
word that’ll do you justice is glorious.”

Me. Glorious. He can fuck me on the lawn of the Field Museum
in a chicken suit if he’ll call me glorious again. Holy hell. All I can do is
wrap my arms around him and press my face to his chest. And then, out of
nowhere, it hits me and I’m so weary I can barely stand. I think he feels me
sag and he says, “Let’s get you into bed. It’s been a long day and I’m pretty
tired too.” In one smooth motion, he lifts me off my feet and carries me to the
big bed, placing me there and, if I’m not mistaken, arranging my body to his
liking.

I listen while he blows out the candles and snaps off his
condom, and I can feel him working to take my shoes off and then my jewelry.
That reminds me of a question. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Yes, baby.”

“Is that jewelry real?”

He chortles. “Yes. It really is jewelry.”

“No, no, I mean, are they real diamonds?”

“Do you want them to be?”

I shrug and grin. “Yeah. I want them to be.”

“Then they are. They’re real diamonds and you’re a real
princess. I don’t know what that makes me, but . . .”

“You’re the king who fucked the princess and turned her into
a queen,” my semi-lucid mind directs my lips to say.

“And gets to keep her?”

I giggle. “And gets to keep her.”

“Yay me! Scoot over, babe.” When I’ve managed to wiggle over
a bit, he crawls into the big bed and pulls me up against him. It’s become
automatic – my cheek rests on his chest, my free hand coming up to stroke the
dark patch of hair spread across those hard pecs and down the center of those
amazing abs. In the darkness, his arms holding me tight, Jaz whispers, “I love
you, Kimmie. I never want another woman. You’re all I’ll ever need.”

“Thank you, Master. You’re all I’ll ever need too.”

A sweet, soft little kiss finds its way to my forehead and
he whispers, “And you’re the absolute best submissive any Dominant ever had.
You’re perfect, babe, perfect in every way.” His hand comes up to rest on my
cheek, and the heat from his palm sends a shiver of arousal through my
exhausted body. “Get some sleep. Morning comes early.”

Lying awake there in the darkened castle of a room, I
snuggle into my king’s arms and bless the universe for letting me be his queen.