Authors: Sorcha Black
The Dom with the Kink Monsters
Copyright © 2014 by Sorcha Black
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in review, without written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and events in this book are fictional. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. This book contains scenarios that should not be attempted or emulated
Edited by Nerine Dorman
Cover design by Leia Shaw
Dedicated to Th
e Badass Brats Street Team,
brats running amok in the world.
Trapped in his web, Winter wriggled, but Mack’s rope work was flawless, as usual. His eyes shimmered in the candlelight. So did the knife. The drool that had pooled behind her ball gag was dribbling down her chin. At the first touch of the weapon, she squealed. It had been in the freezer for hours, along with several other things. She hated cold. He loved that she hated it.
He traced the blade along skin that was already abraded and bruising from his earlier work.
There was no doubt he’d cut her, but when? She groaned then panted around the gag. Mack’s exquisite face was twisted into a cruel mask. The expression in his eyes alternated between emotionless and cold, to intense and arresting. To someone who didn’t know him, they’d assume he was a psychopath with the lack of emotion he showed as he made the first shallow cut. Carefully, very carefully. He didn’t like leaving scars, although she already had a few by his hand.
The slice in her skin
burned and stung, mixing with the sweat that sheened her body. She bit back a scream, clamping her teeth on the gag. The strangled noise caught his attention and he chuckled.
“What’s the matter? Should I stop or do you want more?”
She babbled behind the gag and he laughed darkly.
“You’re fucked, Winter. I can’t understand what you’re saying when you get this excited. I hope you can safeword if you need to.”
Bastard. He knew they had a non-verbal one too, but he had a bad habit of pretending he might not notice. It was all part of the Mack experience. He didn’t want her to trust him, but she did implicitly.
He flicked the clamps
carefully off of her throbbing nipples and she squealed. At least he was mindful of her piercings. The knife went onto his tray of sterilized toys and he popped an ice cube in his mouth and attacked her nipples with his chilled tongue.
Squirming backward in her bonds got her nowhere. He snickered then bit the ice between his teeth and slid it over her skin, down her belly to her throbbing clit.
Winter whimpered but he dragged the ice back and forth on her defenseless slit until she was screaming garbled profanities at him. The bastard knew what she wanted and he was making her fucking wait. She fought to smack him, knowing she wouldn’t be going anywhere until he untied her.
Mack spat the ice cube back in the glass and ran his long,
slender fingers over the sterile blades on the tray. The caress was sensual and Winter often felt he loved touching the sterile metal almost as much as he enjoyed touching her. Watching him do it felt as dirty as secretly watching someone masturbate. Did he even know he was doing it?
The blood in her veins itched and she shivered once, hard. Mack with a scalpel in his hand made her heart beat oddly. Her breath came fast and a keening wail escaped the gag even as heat flashed through her body.
“You want to feel this don’t you, twisted girl. You want me to cut you, to
slice your skin.”
She was panting now, unable to decide if she wanted the blade or his cock. The pull of different pleasures warred for a moment then she grounded herself by concentrating on the
cold cement floor under her feet. There was no need to choose. She was entirely at his mercy. Her fate was his decision.
The scalpel traced over her skin, scratching slightly but not
cutting. She tried to lean into it, but there was little slack in the rope.
“Please?” she begged.
The word was clear enough, even with the gag.
He leaned down and whispered in her ear. “Should I cut you now or go take care of supper?” Mack untied
the ball gag and threw it on the knife tray.
“Please, cut me? Just a little. Just one more?”
Slowly, he licked her bottom lip then stood back and looked at her thoughtfully. His faint scent of sweat and lust addled her brain.
“Please, Mack. Cut me, fuck me
...don’t leave me like this.” She whimpered and he chuckled, tracing her face with the handle of the scalpel. As he dragged it lower, the feel of cold metal against her skin hardened her nipples and made her more hyper-aware of her body.
“But Winter, my love, we have to eat then go pick up that new guy downtown. Do the possibilities he represents mean less to you than coming?”
“Coming always means more, you know that.”
“If you’d never coaxed me past vanilla, you wouldn’t love me as much. Admit it.”
She was mildly offended, but didn’t deny it.
“Luckily for you I turned out to be a monster.”
monster.” She narrowed her eyes and smirked. “And I know you want to cut me and fuck me before we go act all normal with the new guy. Do you really want pizza more than you want me?”
He crouched and bit a path along her ribcage. “There’s no meat left on you. You need to eat.”
Fuck. The bastard was going to leave her hanging. Literally.
Faster than her hazed mind could follow, his face was between her legs and he flicked at her clit with his tongue.
“Mmmm, no! That’s not what I want!” A moment later his well-versed tongue was proving her wrong and she writhed, trying to get his mouth where she wanted it. He stopped and she stilled in her bonds, hoping he’d choose to finish her off. Keeping her on edge was one of his kinks, and he’d been known to keep her horny for days. It amused him.
“Hold still now.”
“No,” she whimpered. “Don’t. I changed my mind.”
Mmm... I’m going to, and you’re going to like it.”
“I don’t want to like it.”
He ripped open alcohol swabs and disinfected several patches of her skin. Would he use all the spots he’d cleaned or was he just trying to make her worry? When he was done, Mack’s eyes took on the bloodlust haze that made her skin crawl and got her so fucking horny she didn’t know what to do with it all. His hand came up and he sliced down the front of her thigh so artfully that for a moment her body didn’t register what had happened. Then the pain came, the burning, the small trickle of blood.
His tongue on her clit, then his teeth clamping down on it. The ache and arc of pleasure perverted by the pain, twisting it into a cascading, barbed heat that enveloped her body. She screamed and arched against his mouth, pressing
her hips as far toward him as she could manage. Again he cut her and she shrieked until her voice broke, the pain an orgasm of the skin in its own right. He bit her thighs and her hips. Between his mouth and the knife she danced for him, a dying moth still enchanted by the candle flame.
When she could piece
together her thoughts, he was working fast, slicing rope, freeing her lower limbs. He caught her staring at the blood on his mouth and he kissed her, letting her taste it. His fingers drew another orgasm from her and he spread her newly freed legs and wedged his hips between them, then shoved his hard cock up into her. Using his rope web and her hair for leverage, he fucked her with a violence that stole her breath. By the time he was finished with her, she was a brittle leaf, fragile after his storm.
untied the ropes at her wrists, in less of a hurry than before. Deliberately, he slid his naked flesh along hers while he worked, making her sigh and shiver. When she was free, he pulled her into his arms and carried her to the mattress in the corner. The room was warm, but he used his body to blanket her as she trembled in the aftermath.
He slicked her
sweat-damp hair back from her face, peeling it away from where it clung stubbornly to her neck. His lips traveled over her eyelids and she sighed and leaned into the caress. Who else would do this for her – explore the dark side that lurked beyond what was acceptable? Who else would love her enough to not only accept the depraved side of her passions but cater to it?
When her tremors had quieted away, the stillness washed over her, gluing her to the mattress at every point. He bit her collarbone, her neck, then licked the itchy, drying track of tears on the cheek nearest him. They lay together a long while, staring into each other’s eyes, nose tips touching. She kissed him again and
again and he rumbled in pleasure.
“We have to get up, my sweet nympho. He’s going to be waiting. We’ll have to eat later.”
With a groaned protest, she let him go. He rolled to his feet and searched the room for their discarded clothing and tossed hers onto the bed beside her.
“I need a shower.”
“No time. I’m going to disinfect your love marks, then we have to go.”
“But I smell like nasty sex!”
“Good. Maybe he’ll take a hint. I’m tired of having to fight off your pack of admirers.”
Winter stretched leisurely and gasped at the ache of her muscles and the soreness between her legs. He went to the first aid cupboard and fished out the rubbing alcohol and a few cotton swabs.
She gave him a mock glare as he came back to where she lay. “Not hydrogen peroxide?”
“Not this time. I want you feeling me when this guy is sitting in our living room, talking about band stuff. I want you to think about what I would have done if we weren’t in a rush.”
“Mmm!” She thrust her groin at him and glared at him meaningfully.
“No more fucking.
” He spoke slowly, as though she didn’t understand English well. “Go get drummer now.”
“But Winter’s not done yet.”
“Winter always wants more. Winter has to wait.”
She stuck out her tongue and he flashed her a dazzling smile. “This is probably going to hurt.”
He dabbed at her new cuts with the alcohol-sodden swab. Winter screeched, her body tensing as the disinfectant seemed to burn a pulsing path into her bones. Her eyes rolled back and fresh sweat sprung up on her cooling skin.
was still shaking when he helped her dress.
The drive into Cobalt Harbor felt short, but she had accidentally taken a nap. Mack had bundled her into the back seat and tucked the car blanket over her lap. It was a chilly September, and she hadn’t quite come all the way down from the pain yet. Some of her cuts throbbed against the press of her jeans, and her sore and sticky privates were an interesting reminder that she hadn’t had a shower yet. Mack had driven with the windows partially open, at her insistence, but she still worried that the stink of sex was rolling off them.
e was a bruised sunset – the violet, purple and blue mixing together that spoke to her in ways that a lot of people wouldn’t understand. The colors of pain and bliss. She sighed quietly and snuggled down further in the blanket.
Mack’s brown eyes watched her in the rear view
mirror. “You were out cold. I kept talking until I realized you’d drifted off on me.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know it was coming.”
“I know. You always get tired afterward. It wasn’t important anyway. I was just filling the quiet.”
She pressed at the ache between her legs. “You fucked me too hard,” she whined.
“You loved it.”
She put on her best
Southern belle accent. “Why sir, I declare you are no gentleman!”
“Why miss, I’m a cad, but you usually enjoy that.” Mack pulled their old,
beat-up truck to the curb in front of the coffee shop. “It’s a good thing Malachi and his women weren’t asleep yet. You would have woken them up again. As it is, poor sweet Reece was probably curled into a ball and hyperventilating.”
Living in a house at the same end of the property as the landlord’s house got embarrassing sometimes. Luckily they were kinksters too, and never complained about the noise.
“It’s not my fault! You’re mean.”
your fault I’m mean.” He turned off the motor, opened his door and slid out, then he helped Winter out of the back. “I was a perfectly nice young man before I started dating you.”
“This sounds like such an abusive relationship.” She grimaced and he ran his fingers through her tangled hair. Fuck – she’d forgotten to brush it. Nice impression she’d make. She probably looked possessed.
As they went in, she did her best to not noticeably limp, although her sore clit made it difficult to walk normally. Mack flicked a wave at a couple sitting at a table near the back of the café. They grabbed coffee at the counter then went to meet them.
The guy rose to his feet as they approached, which struck Winter as funny. So formal. He was a hulking brute of a man – all muscle and long blond hair. His attitude reminded her of some of the guys from the Norwegian death metal bands they’d hung out with. The man had cheekbones almost as broad as his shoulders.
“Winter, this is Ramsay. Ramsay, this is my woman, Winter. She plays bass.”
Ramsay nodded to her, his blue eyes cold and assessing. Hopefully he wouldn’t be the kind of dickwad
who thought the only place for a woman in metal was on her knees sucking cock.
“This is my girl, Saya.” His voice was gravelly and Winter noticed a scar at his throat.
She turned to Saya and nodded. The doll-like brunette smiled shyly and dropped her gaze, which didn’t bode well for them becoming friends. Winter had no use for fluff. The guys settled into their chairs, and Winter sat cautiously, gritting her teeth before her ass made contact with her seat. She was proud she hadn’t winced, but when she looked at the new couple, she could tell they’d noticed. Saya was peeking out at her from under long, dark lashes and smiling in a way that was either ‘please be my friend’ or ‘please don’t eat me’. Winter often had that effect on women, though.