Sedition (19 page)

I nod, shocked at his confession. It’s so typical Cash, all calm and quiet and matter-of-fact. “I’m glad, too.”

“It was a bold move, coming here. I’m not surprised, but I’m glad you did it. I’m surprised it worked. Keep in mind, though, if you
ever
take off like that while I own you, I will track you down with a team of slave hunters and I will beat you within an inch of your goddamn life.”

I grin. I wouldn’t run away from him, but it’s amusing to see how strongly he reacts. “You wouldn’t,” I challenge him.

He smiles back. “No, you’re probably right. I wouldn’t need a team.”

I don’t miss the part where he didn’t deny the threat, but it doesn’t bother me. If I run away from Cash, I probably deserve to be beaten within an inch of my life.

“You’ll really let me talk to Abriel?” I ask. It’s such an uncommon thing for a slave to be allowed to do.

He nods. “As long as it isn’t interfering with anything else. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to or not, and I didn’t want to put you on the spot. You can tell him that I won’t let you if you don’t want to.”

So now he’s not only protecting me, he’s protecting my pride. “Again, thank you.”

He shrugs. “You’re welcome.”

We’re mostly quiet through the rest of dinner, enjoying one another’s company. Was it really awkward with him before? It was so long ago, I can barely remember. The absence has highlighted how different things are now, how close I feel to him. I guess it snuck up on me, but I do.

“Maybe we’ll go shopping tomorrow,” he muses as I clear away his plate. “About time to get you some new things, anyway.”

I just smile. Honestly, I probably left enough things here that I don’t
need
anything else, but if he wants to shower me with gifts, I’m not going to complain.

He’s gone by the time I return from doing dishes, and I wander down the hall to find him in the bedroom, reclining in bed and reading something on his tablet. I pause in the doorway, taking in the sight of him. He’s every bit as handsome as he was when I first set eyes on him.

“Finally finished?” he asks, not bothering to look up.

“Yes, sir.” His voice alone is enough to get me turned on.

“Come over here and kneel,” he orders, sounding casual.

It’s an unusual request, but I do as he asks, dropping to my knees next to him, waiting for his next command. He takes his time, finishing up whatever he’s doing, before setting the tablet down and glancing at me.

Without a word, he stands up, pulls his shirt over his head, and strips off his pants and boxers. Naked, he sits back down on the bed, his legs resting on the floor.

I go to him, prepared to move between his legs and take his cock in my mouth, but a firm hand on my shoulder stops me.

“Don’t move unless I tell you to.”

His tone is calm, but it still carries the edge of a threat, and I feel my heart start to race. I freeze in position, and he waits until I start to tremble before he delivers the next order.

“Put your arms above your head.”

I obey instantly, curious of what will happen next. I’m rewarded by a soft ripple of fabric brushing over my stomach as he lifts my shirt, removing it without touching me. I shudder.

“You may lower your arms,” he says quietly, his eyes fixed on mine. “And then stand up.”

I do exactly that, standing in front of him and feeling strangely exposed. The feeling only increases as he unbuttons my pants and slides them down, his thumbs barely grazing my hips.

“Step out of them,” he orders, and he offers me his arm to support me as I do so.

Lightly, he touches my legs, starting in the front, and then working his way around to caress my ass. He’s driving me crazy, barely making contact, definitely ignoring my cock. I want to jump on top of him and fuck him.

“Cash,” I moan, needy and desperate. I reach my hand out to him, startled when it is slapped away.

“I told you not to move unless I told you,” he reiterates. “Now, turn around.”

My breath becomes shallow and tense as I do as he asks, suddenly afraid of what he might do to me. He doesn’t seem angry, and he’s never hurt me in a bad way during sex before. He’s certainly never punished me for anything. But I’m scared, scared that maybe he wants some sort of payback for the time I was gone, or the hassle I’ve caused him. I’m scared that I overestimated him, that I overestimated myself. After all, I am just a slave.

I’m trembling for real, now, not just because I’m horny, and my arousal is fading just as quickly as I start to spiral into terrible possible futures.

A sharp voice draws me back to reality.

“Turn and look at me.”

I cower at the tone, even as I turn, and I’m relieved when I see that my master’s face has softened. He reaches out, gripping me tightly with both hands on my waist.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Sascha,” he says, resolute. “I’m just playing. I’d like you to play along, but I won’t be angry if you don’t. You can ask me to stop, and I will. Are you all right?”

The trembling stops, and I feel my body relax into his hands. “Yes, sir. Sorry.” I make such a big deal out of things sometimes.

“You’re mine,” he says, his voice dangerously possessive. “Your body. Your movements. Your pleasure. Every part of you belongs to me, and I want you to remember that.”

I stare back at him, nodding slightly. I wonder if nodding is considered movement.

“Now, I believe I left off here…”

He resumes the light touching where he left off, his hands grazing my ass, coming together to cup it lightly before sliding back around to the front. He explores between my legs ever-so-briefly before sliding up, across my chest. I’m dying to just throw myself on top of him, to thrust into his hand, but I don’t, I keep up with the game he is playing, letting him control my every move.

After an agonizingly long time, he grabs my cock, stroking it quickly and roughly, too roughly, and I bite back a cry. I can’t tell whether it feels good or painful.

He strokes me with one hand and reaches around to grope my ass with the other. It feels so good, so perfect after waiting so long, and I move in time with his hand, thrusting twice before I feel the warmth of his skin disappear.

I open my eyes and look up at him, checking his face for a reaction.

His face is stern, and he raises an eyebrow at me. “I did not tell you to move.” But this time, there’s a slight smile at the edge of his lips. “Turn around.”

I feel much more calm as I turn this time, secure in the knowledge that he’s not going to do anything awful to me. More than anything, I’m curious, waiting for his next command. My curiosity grows as I hear him get out of bed, standing behind me.

I don’t dare speak or turn my head, but my breath catches as I feel him close to me, so close I can feel the heat from his body, but not close enough to touch. I feel the hairs rise on the back of my neck as he leans in, his breath tickling my shoulder, and then his lips touching my skin ever so lightly.

He’s gone as soon as he appeared, and suddenly he’s in front of me, a devious smile on his face. I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from begging him to fuck me.

“You will stay
very
still, is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” I reply, not caring what I will be staying still for. I’ll wait for it. It’s not like I have another choice, not in this game we’re playing. It feels so good I don’t even dream of calling it off.

He waits, staring me down for a moment until he’s satisfied. Then he drops down to his knees, wraps his arms around my legs, and wraps his lips around my cock.

There have been times in the past where putting up the effort to move in bed has been difficult, but the effort it takes to
not
move is tremendous. I’m suddenly aware of every inch of my body, the way it feels, the parts that feel good, and the parts that are a little sore, and the parts that feel
amazing
, like I’m going to explode at any moment.

I blink my eyes, feeling a little bit like I’m cheating as I fight the urge to thrust, to hold onto something, to cry out in agony and joy and defeat. My legs start to feel weak, and I struggle to catch my breath as I feel my master’s head bobbing up and down over my cock, his tongue swirling patterns across the tip. The slightest whimper escapes my lips, but I force myself to remain standing.

“Put your hands on my shoulders,” he says, leaning back from my cock just enough that I can still feel the little puffs of air with every word. “And stop locking your knees. You’ll pass out and break my neck.”

I stifle a laugh as I do as he says, rewarded by more insistent sucking on my cock. I let myself relax into his touch, squeezing ever so lightly on his shoulders to keep myself grounded. The man is a genius with the things he does.

All too soon, he stops, dragging his tongue up over my cock and trailing a thin, sticky line along with it.

“Put your arms at your sides and stand up straight.”

I want him to fuck me now!

“Close your eyes.”

My world immediately goes dark, and it’s strange how powerful the sensation is. I know I could simply open them, but I won’t. He’s given his order, and I intend to comply.

I startle when I feel something cold and wet on my ass, which I realize a second later is lube. The tension and the lack of sight makes it feel different, and I shudder as my master’s hand creeps in closer, spreading the slippery stuff around as his other hand steadies me by my hip.

“Spread your legs.”

I gasp as his finger enters me the second I do so, and it’s all I can do to keep from rutting against him.

“Farther.”

A second finger joins the mix, and I lose what little control I have, pushing back against him desperately, needing to increase the contact.

He withdraws his fingers and slaps me lightly on the ass, barely enough to make me jump.

“Turn around.”

The command is becoming annoyingly familiar, but this time I turn toward him, rather than away. I open my eyes to look at his face, and the crease in his brow indicates his disapproval. I close them immediately.

“Lean across the bed,” he orders, his voice stern. “Then reach back and hold yourself open for me.”

Jesus Christ. I move quickly, situating myself as comfortably as possible, and struggle to follow his orders due to the amount of lube spread across my ass. I wait for him to fuck me.

He keeps me waiting. I lie there with my eyes closed, listening to his footsteps going away, the sound of water running, a cabinet being opened. I’m confused, but no less aroused. I know he won’t leave me like this.

A soft piece of fabric touches my eyes, and it takes all my self-control not to pull away from it. He’s blindfolding me, and it’s more threatening than keeping my eyes closed myself, even though I can remove it as easily as I can open my eyes.

I’ve barely adjusted to this when I feel something warm on my ass.

“Move your hands,” he orders. The second I do he is wiping carefully at my skin, wiping away the slick lube that was giving me such difficulty. “Put them back.”

I do, waiting for his next move.

I feel the bed compress next to me, and my master’s hands are in my hair. “You should really see yourself like this, Sascha,” he says conversationally. “You’re always beautiful, but there’s something about this—you’re arranged like a piece of art. I could look at you for hours.”

I hope that’s not in his plans, because I could imagine getting sore in a while, not to mention dying of lust. Still, the thoughtfulness behind the compliment is appreciated, as is the gentle touch he’s gracing me with.

He lets me sit there for a while longer, until my arms start to get sore. Without a word, I hear him get off the bed, standing behind me again. The telltale click of a lid gives me a slight heads-up, but I still yelp with surprise as his fingers thrust inside of me again. It’s all I can do to stay in the position he’s given me.

A few agonizingly pleasurable minutes pass as he continues to work his fingers into me, starting with careful stretching and preparation, then escalating up to calculated teasing, then fucking me with them until I want nothing more than to feel his fingers replaced with his cock. Finally, he stops, filling me with sadness as much as relief. I await his command.

“Stand up, but keep your hands where they are,” he orders.

It’s strange and uncomfortable, but I do it. I’m caught off-guard when he thrusts his fingers back inside of me while I’m standing, the position making me extra tight. I whimper.

“Hands at your sides,” he orders, his fingers still inside me.

The second I drop my arms, he reaches around me, grabbing my cock and stroking it as he works my ass with his fingers. I want to squirm, want to move, but I force myself to stay still, waiting for his next command.

“Good,” he whispers in my ear, stopping suddenly and withdrawing both hands. “Now, get on the bed, on your back, and pull your legs up.”

I do as he asks, trembling like a goddamned virgin. I feel him joining me, between my legs, his arms coming up to trap my legs.

“Relax your arms,” he orders. “You can let your legs rest on my shoulders.”

I’m surprised by how comfortable I am. The sensation is only increased as he leans forward, brushing his cock against my ass, and removes the blindfold.

“Open your eyes.”

He’s half-smiling, the playful look I’ve come to associate with good sex and a happy master. I want to smile back, but I’m not sure if it’s allowed, and I definitely don’t want this to stop.

“Stay still,” he warns, gripping my legs as he enters me in one long, slow motion.

I manage to stay still, but a strangled noise emerges from my throat anyway. The noises only get louder as my master starts moving in and out, slowly at first, letting me get used to the fullness he’s created. It’s a monumental effort to stay still.

When I think I can’t handle it anymore, I sink to begging.

“Please,” I whimper, my cock aching as it presses against my master’s body. “Please, master.”

“You want to come?” he taunts, his movements slowing to almost nothing.

“Yes!”