Sweet and Dirty (13 page)

She twitched, exhaling harshly with the effort to remain still. Down, down went the fingers into her folds, even as he continued to flick at the skin just above her clit in time to the music. She could feel her mouth open in a wordless moan, yet she tried to stay motionless and silent.

Until his fingertips stopped teasing. He tapped her clit directly, in the same steady beat.

It yanked a gasp from her and despite herself her hips moved toward the source of pleasure.

Master Andre slapped her on the ass.

The crack of sound startled her almost as much as the sting. It didn’t exactly hurt, but it surprised her. A second later, a strangely compelling, almost itching heat covered her ass where he’d slapped her. It radiated out, bringing a tingling to her every extremity. He spanked her again, then five more times.

His fingers working between her legs never missed a beat.

Where the two sensations met—the feeling of his devilish tapping and the radiating heat of the spanking—rose a feverish wanting for more.

On the same wave rode an odd dismay at disappointing Master Andre so much that he had to spank her.

She was panting, ashamed of her desires but unable to keep herself from making the galvanized little leaps in response to his fingers.

“You keep moving. I’ll to have to restrain you, Nora.”

N
ora nodded, fierce joy blooming in her at the thought of this man binding her. This S and M thing was starting to make a whole lot of sense to her. It wasn’t Chase and Capture, and Master Andre wasn’t Sylvester, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so excited with someone else in charge of things.

Gently, Master Andre buckled a snug, soft contraption around one of her ankles. Fleece-lined restraints? Tight, but comfortable. Then he moved her other ankle farther out, and buckled another restraint closed. What was this? A cool breeze against her moist sex. She tried, but couldn’t close her legs.

“It’s a spreader bar. What a gorgeous ass you have, what an amazing body.” He fondled her, and she felt diminished, embarrassed, just a sex object on display…yet achingly alive to his touch. She shivered and moved against him as best she could. He immediately spanked her again. Ten this time. “You need more binding.” She could only gasp, awash in sensation.

He pushed her head to the table, guiding her gently down with his palm on her forehead to cushion the impact. He pinned her arms behind her exactly as Ryan’s had been earlier, only Master Andre used the same snug restraints he’d used on her ankles. She tried to wriggle out, to no avail.

“Yes.” She heard her own voice, low and satisfied, and marveled at it.

“Am I going to have to gag you, too?” Amusement tinged his voice. “I’m beginning to believe you want me to punish you severely.”

There wasn’t much she could do to stop him, she thought. Her helplessness combined with the obscene position he had her in made her feel flustered, yet intensely aroused. She wriggled with delight as he ran his fingertips once more between her legs, down into her slit and up, his deliberate provocation impossible to resist.

Suddenly a line of fire bloomed on her ass cheeks. A moment later, the sting sank deep, and she gasped for the first time in true pain. “A rattan cane,” Master Andre informed her, “offers a unique twofold sensation: the first strike offers a simple sting, and then the exquisite and deeper unfolding of a pain that fades almost immediately to an addictive, piquant buzz of warmth. You’re feeling it now, aren’t you?”

She nodded, marveling at the metamorphosis of pain into the sensation he described. Fearsome, yet delicious. She whimpered when he brought his hands into play again, plucking at her sensitive nipples, sliding clever fingers between her legs. Again, she couldn’t stop her hips from moving.

This time, he slapped her with something wider, something that made a startlingly loud clapping sound. It didn’t hurt, at first, not like the cane. But he continued, hitting her on the same fleshy spot of her ass until she heard herself making a small sound of distress. He stopped immediately. She heard his sharply indrawn breath when she twitched her ass at him, longing for more touches, more slaps, more of anything he cared to give her. God, she was feeling like an animal, pinned down and ready to mount, bound and helpless. Shudders of delight wracked her. If he were Sylvester, just the thought of his rough penetration and hard use would be enough to send her flying right over the edge.

But he was Master Andre, expert at bondage and torture and dominance, and sex was not on the agenda. Sex was an ending, in her experience, and she didn’t want this to end. Curiosity consumed her. She wanted him to take her farther, show her more, diminish her completely. If he could.

“More,” she whispered.

“Oh, you are precious.” He ran the toy over her ass, letting her feel its thick, uneven rubber surface, its rough edges. “This is a tire tread slapper. Made from recycled tire rubber. I can tell you want to obey me, and yet you also seem to enjoy testing me.” He whapped her with the slapper again, this time between her legs. Gently, repeating the blows in rhythms of one-two-three, he reached under her to tweak first one nipple, then the other, until she cried out.

“Such a very bad girl.” With a cool, delicate touch, he quickly removed her wrist restraints. “You’re enjoying this too much. Up, to your hands and knees.”

She was quick to obey him. Of course she enjoyed it; even now his clever fingers slid over her skin as if unable to resist touching her in this new position. “So beautiful, so hot and wet and perfect.” He traced a tiny figure-eight on her clit until she vibrated with urgency. “So responsive.” He slipped a blindfold over her head, adjusted it over her eyes. The world went dark, and then his touch began again. The enforced blackness ratcheted up the intensity.

“How are you doing?”

“I’m…fine.”

“What is your safe word?”

With her nerve endings singing to his touch, she had to make a huge effort just to remember the simple word. Her slow voice sounded thick and unfamiliar. “Red.”

“Very good.” A heavy cascade of leather strands fell on her back, slipped down her side to the table. Then again, slipping down over her ass to the table. “This is a flogger. If at any time the sensation becomes too much, I want you to remember your safe word.”

“Okay.” She shifted, bereft without his magical fingertips. “Flogging,” she murmured. “You’re known for your Florentine style.”

“That’s right. And you’re going to be sorry if you continue to disobey me. I’d seal that mouth with a penis gag, but I have a better idea of what to put inside you. No, not that, you dirty-minded brat.” He slapped her ass with his hand, reproving. “Though I said no sex, I did not say no penetration. Want to say your safe word yet?”

The smile in his voice both excited and worried her.

She remained silent.

He began the flogging.

It started slowly. The merest kiss of leather against her backside, gentle strokes in time to the music. One on her right cheek. One on her left cheek. Occasionally she’d feel just the leather tips skim her skin, and it stung. Then the heavier fall of leather began to sting, too. Master Andre let just enough time go by between strokes for the sensation to fade…and then his rhythm doubled in speed.

“This is the Florentine style. It allows for a faster speed and a graceful strike. It takes coordination and strength to do properly. Your ass should be heating up quite nicely.”

It was. Without the recovery time in between, the heat seemed to build and build. She made a sound of distress, but this time Master Andre ignored it.

She twitched her hips, trying to relieve the fire, but he went on, remorseless. Her panting was audible to her own ears; couldn’t he hear it? Her ass must be blistered and lacerated from the feel of it. And yet, the stinging fire seemed to refer to her nipples, to her clit, and she rejoiced when the sensation built upon itself, fire upon fire, steady and unstoppable.

At least until he stopped. “Would you like to say your safe word?”

“No! Keep going.”

He didn’t immediately. “Teaching brats respect is another of my specialties. A labor of love, even.” She heard steel chains clanking, and metal against plastic from the direction of the toys. “Ah, yes. Nipple clamps.” He made the clamps snap next to her ear. “These have nasty little claws, and should help keep your mind on matters other than defying me.” He reached under, massaged her nipples. “Still rock hard. That does make it extra easy for me to do this.”

The sweet, biting pain of the clamp pinching her nipple made her gasp, half in shock, half in wonder. Master Andre was right. They demanded her attention, insisted on it. The pain almost exceeded her threshold, worrying her—would she lose circulation? Would her nipple be severed?—but the pleasure spiking out quickly overcame the pain, though it still pinched cruelly.

Then the second one closed on her, and she couldn’t restrain a whimper.

“Don’t worry,” he said, as if reading her mind. “They’re adjusted to nearly the loosest setting, believe it or not. I can tell from the compression of your nipple the clamps grip you firmly, but not excessively. Even so, if you feel too much discomfort, you must say your safe word.”

But she’d already gotten used to the steady pressure. The fierce pleasure of it seemed linked in some erogenous referral to her belly, her lungs, her crotch, and nerve endings she didn’t know she had. She also felt a sinking pleasure at being naked and pinned and clamped, on display, a shameful and exhilarating sensation that excited her further.

He tugged the chains attached to the clamps. It won a cry from her, of pain and pleasure.

Master Andre patted her ass, approving. “That’s right. Hmm.” He fingered between her crack from behind. “One more thing.”

She heard the impact of metal on padding and felt the weight on her nipples increase, a piercing sweetness. He’d let go of the chain. She heard him move to the toy rack. Then she heard a zipper, and a thump of plastic and rubber. Straining to determine what diabolical new instrument of torture he’d grabbed, she almost didn’t register the vibrating noise.

Vibrating noise?

She didn’t realize she was trying to close her legs until the inflexible bar between her ankles resisted her efforts.

Master Andrew returned, gave a single sharp tug on her chain. “Now, that’s no way to obey.”

A thrill of fear and excitement flooded her. What would he do this time? Would he really use a vibrator? She could feel the wetness between her legs at the thought. He had to do something extreme, something to satisfy the cravings he’d woken. Why wasn’t he getting on with it? She frowned, listening. Silence.

Then she felt a warm, heavy length of something hard against her thigh. She jumped. Ready, Master Andre jerked on her chain. “Naughty. This isn’t what you think. Feel it.”

As if she could do anything else while bound and blindfolded, she thought. But she obeyed, and in the next moment her nerve endings informed her the hardness was rubber rather than man. A dildo. And yet, its dimensions were wrong. Maybe it was some sort of lumpy cane.

She wanted his clever fingers back on her. Even a dildo, if it pleased him. His sliding, thrusting motions with it made her want it embedded in her, whatever it was. Who knew giving up control could feel so rapturous, she thought. She moved sensuously against the length of rubber.

“It’s an anal plug.”

Another yank of the chain when she tried to close her legs.

“It’s a small one, as they go. Only an inch in diameter. Lubed and ready. Would you like to say your safe word?” He caressed her with it, a deliberate touch that aroused.

Anal plug. She’d never experienced any kind of anal activity. Not for her partner’s lack of trying. Whenever Ryan had attempted it, she’d shifted away and given him a quelling look.

But now, despite her reflexive fear, she found herself curious. More than curious.

She shook her head: there would be no safe word just yet.

A small, nearly subaudible moan reached her ears. She wondered at it. Was she affecting him so much as all that, just by enduring his erotic tortures? She felt Master Andre’s body heat as he leaned in close. “You are superb,” he whispered, and she marveled at the emotion in his voice, even as his talented hands brought her once more to the brink, rub-tapping her clit with the plug, tugging at her in the same rhythm with the chain attached to the nipple claws.

Then the lubed, hard rubber pressed between her ass checks. “Relax,” he instructed, pushing it harder. The hard tip wouldn’t be denied, though she tried to resist it for a moment, imagining it was Sylvester forcing himself on her.

She shouldn’t have imagined that.

Her body trembled violently. Nora moaned, whimpered, and panted, the sensation and the fantasy together taking her higher and higher.

“Are you okay?” Master Andre’s solicitous query interrupted her, and she nearly snarled at him until she remembered she wasn’t supposed to speak.

She nodded instead, her hips moving of their own accord, following the delicious sensations. She pressed back.

Master Andre pushed the plug into her ass.

Her eyes opened wide behind the blindfold.

The rigid length of it invaded her, stretching her to the point of pain, but the pressure also shocked her nerve endings awake. It felt foreign, and very hard. Invasive. When she clenched, she could feel just how tightly it was lodged. When he wiggled it, it made all the fine hairs on her body stand at attention.

It was in her ass, for anyone to see. She suddenly felt grateful for the blindfold. She was impaled on a butt plug. Shame made her face heat, at this further reduction of her to sex object. She surely couldn’t bear to meet anyone’s eyes.

A flap of heavy leather landed on the middle of her back, and she wondered for a moment if it was a saddle as Master Andre looped it down around her waist, cinching it tight. A belt?

Suddenly the tugging on her nipples increased to a steadily biting sweetness, as Master Andre looped the chain down through her legs, up over the base of the butt plug, and up farther to fasten it to a point in the middle of the belt. His fingers, tugging always at either the chain or her clit or both, as he worked at the attachment, caused a white fire to rise in her mind.

He finally spoke with satisfaction. “There! Now you’re ready.”

She felt ready. Ready for anything.

“Beautifully done. She hardly seems like the same person.”

Her breath stopped in her chest. That wasn’t Master Andre.

“Sylvester! So good of you to join in our reindeer games.” He sounded sincere. “What brings you out of the shadows? Usually you lurk worse than Mage does.”

“He’s here, too. Are you surprised?”

A grunt was Master Andre’s reply.

“My compliments on your technique.”

She fought down her panic and the galvanized response to try to close her legs; she’d learned how ineffective that was. Sylvester watched. Close enough to touch, by his voice. He was watching, damn him. Her shame swelled a thousandfold. How embarrassing, to have him see her like this. And yet, stimulating beyond anything else. Would he touch her?

Her body tingled at the idea.

The thought must’ve occurred to Master Andre as well. “You seem intrigued. Would you be interested in helping with this next bit? Nora has been exceptionally disobedient, a brat actually. I propose to show her what happens to naughty little brats. Though she’ll probably enjoy it, slut that she is. Or…not.”