Going Deep (Mustangs Baseball) Read online

  “Christ, that looks hot. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, Sir. It feels…good.” It did feel good. Better than she’d expected.

  He twisted the end protruding from her asshole. The sensation, the naughtiness of it wrenched a moan from her. She sensed his heated gaze on her ass. He played with the beads, tugging gently but not pulling them out, swiveling them around inside her until she thought she might go mad.

  “I want to fuck you there,” he said. “But we’ll work up to that. For now,” he said, his cock nudging against her pussy lips, “this will do nicely.”

  He inched inside slowly, and when his cock touched her womb, he resumed playing with the beads. She buried her face in the mattress, new sensations washing over her. He tugged and swirled the beads in sync with his thrusts. She could only imagine what it would feel like to have his cock filling her there. The beads made her feel full and possessed in a way she’d never experienced before. Her muscles were so weak it was all she could do to maintain her position. As if sensing her weakness, he curled an arm beneath her waist, supporting her.

  “You feel so damned good,” he said, pumping into her harder.

  With each thrust, his balls slapped against her clit, sending shock waves through her body. The erotic slide of his shaft in and out, the sensation of him possessing her over and over along with the beads in her ass was too much. An orgasm built. Her muscles coiled tight.

  “That’s it, angel. Come for me.” His voice sounded strained but still deep and commanding, triggering something inside her.

  Her body shuddered and contracted around his thrusting cock. His balls tapped her clit, the sensation magnified by her orgasm. And with each wave of spasms, he tugged a bead from her ass. One at a time, the beads popped free, and each one added a new jolt of excitement. She cried out, muffling her screams with the mattress.

  The orgasm seemed to last forever. When it subsided, she realized he was still hard inside her, his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her. His cheek rested against her back, his heated breath brushing softly against her skin. She felt safe and…cherished. He nuzzled her nape. One hand slipped to her hip, down her thigh and back again.

  “My turn now,” he said. “Ready?”

  “Yes, Sir. Please, fuck me. Fuck me hard.”

  He couldn’t do anything but fuck her hard. What little control he’d managed to hold onto, his angel had sucked right out of him when she came. The anal beads had been the perfect touch for a backdoor virgin, and he couldn’t argue with the results. Feeling the ripples of her orgasm clench his dick had almost done him in. Somehow, he’d managed to stall his own release in order to push her further. Now that she knew the delights of anal play, he looked forward to extending her education.

  Gripping her hips with both hands, he pulled out and slammed back in. He loved the sound of skin on skin, loved the way her ass cushioned his thrusts, the way his balls flayed against her clit. After her orgasm, her clit had become even more sensitive, and each time his balls had touched her there, she’d moaned and writhed. Letting his thumbs stray to the cleft of her ass, he pushed against the tight rosebud so recently breached and was rewarded with a gasp.

  “I’m…going…to…come…again,” she panted. “I…can’t…stop…it.”

  Shit. He’d never expected this kind of response from her. The muscles in her thighs clenched, as did the ones across her belly. He slipped a hand beneath her for support.

  “Let it come, angel. Let it come.” He pushed his thumb past the barrier.

  She gripped his cock in a velvet vise. He clenched his jaw tight, grinding his teeth. A fireball ignited in the small of his back and rocketed through his groin, setting his balls aflame.

  “Fuck.” Pleasure blinded him, and he shot off like fireworks on the Fourth of July. His body jerked and thrust, each ball of flame erupting from his cock. He fell on top of her, wrapping her in his arms, and she collapsed beneath his weight.

  He rolled to his side, pulling her with him. After releasing her wrist cuffs from their restraints , he lazily stroked her breasts, her stomach, her mound. His fingers flicked across her clit.

  “Ahh,” she cried, thrusting toward his hand.

  He rolled her to her back and settled between her thighs. “Again. I need you again.”

  “Yes.” Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her legs around his waist, and he slid inside her.

  He’d never get enough of this woman.

  * * *

  She dropped her shoulder and craned her neck in an effort to see the drawings on her back. Unless she opened the drapes on the two-way mirror, which she wasn’t going to do, she would have to wait until she got home. Her legs still trembled from the awesome sex, but she couldn’t fault Master for that. He’d held her for a long time following their last fuck—though she had to admit, calling it a fuck didn’t feel right.

  All the other times, yes, but the last time—that had been more like making love. The way he’d touched her had been different than the times before. It seemed as though he really cared about her, like she were more than an occasional fuck.

  Oh, how she wished that were true. Up until today, she would have been happy with their previous arrangement, but after the things he’d done to her, with her…she wasn’t so sure. Looking down at the artwork on her front, smeared now with sweat and other bodily fluids, she couldn’t help but smile. Along with colorful flowers and hearts strategically drawn all over her, he’d staked his claim in no uncertain terms. She lost count of the number of times he’d written the word “mine.”

  She belonged to him, in every sense of the word. Whoever this Master was, he owned her, body and soul, and…heart. She pulled on the sweats she’d worn on the way to the Dungeon, slipped the blindfold into her purse, and waved goodbye to Janette on the way out.

  “I have something for you,” Janette said from behind her desk. “Master J left it for you.”

  She thanked the receptionist and took the padded envelope she held out. Hand printed on the front was a note—“Do not open until this evening at eleven p.m.”

  Chapter Ten

  Talk about distracted. Carrie closed her eyes then opened them again. Sleep wasn’t going to happen. Why try?

  But the envelope wouldn’t leave her alone. She stood in her walk-in closet, her chin on her shoulder, admiring the red lines on her ass in the full-length mirror. Not the flowers she’d thought, but handprints. Master’s handprints. Neatly outlined on her ass cheeks with colorful markers.

  Even after all they’d done, the handprint outlines remained. They were smudged in a few places, but were in better condition than most of his artwork. She couldn’t bring herself to wash the handprints off—not yet anyway. She carefully removed the stickiness from her thighs and the markings from the rest of her body, but the handprints remained.

  She’d never been spanked before. Todd had taken a flogger to her once, but that had felt different—the flogger putting distance between them. The touch of Master’s hands on her skin had been personal. She enjoyed a bite of pain during sex—had enjoyed the flogging Todd had given her, but she couldn’t remember ever experiencing the intimacy she’d felt when Master spanked her.

  Everything her master did seemed personal. She loved the feel of his callused hands against her skin, abrading but at the same time gentle, as though he knew he could easily overpower her but chose to seduce her instead. Even the slaps to her ass had been delivered with care. He’d reined in his strength, providing her with a measure of discipline she wouldn’t forget, then tempering it with kisses and careful handling.

  She closed her eyes, remembering the press of wet lips on her hot skin after he spanked her. The kisses were praise for her bravery in accepting her punishment—not a request for forgiveness. He didn’t apologize, and he didn’t expect her to either. If she did what he said, there would be no need to make amends. And if he performed his duties well as her master, he, too, would have no need to request forgiveness. And he was very goo
d. They both might be novices at the lifestyle, but Master seemed born knowing how to pleasure her.

  She eyed the envelope again. Fifteen long hours to wait before the contents were revealed. She’d go mad if she sat around remembering the night before and waiting. She could go into her office and work, but the idea of seeing people today didn’t appeal—not that anyone could tell how she’d spent the last two nights by looking at her. But she knew, and here, alone in her apartment the knowledge was a cherished secret she wanted to keep all to herself. One she could examine any time she wanted without anyone asking questions.

  The decision made to work from home, she pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. Trying her best to push thoughts of Master and the mysterious envelope aside, she searched the Internet for the information she needed for her steroid article.

  She set up interviews with researchers and medical professionals with the credentials to lend integrity to her story. She’d only touched the tip of the iceberg, but it was a place to begin. Once she had the facts, she would tackle the issue of steroid abuse from a more personal side. She compiled a list of athletes, amateur and professional, who’d admitted using the illegal substances, and a few who’d maintained their innocence. Last, she made a list of families who had lost a loved one because of steroid use. She wouldn’t contact them until the story was nearly finished. By then, she would have a list of questions to ask based on the latest research.

  She worked through lunch, only stopping when she couldn’t ignore the rumblings from her stomach any longer. After nuking a frozen dinner, she turned on the television for company and sat on the floor to watch the evening news with her back to the sofa and her dinner on the coffee table.

  The lead stories were the usual—fires, murders, and robberies. Not exactly great dinner companions. She was looking for the remote when a name caught her attention. Martin McCree.

  * * *

  Crouched behind the plate, Jason signaled the pitch to his brother on the mound. One more out and the Mustangs would record another win. The pitch came in low and inside—unhittable, but that hadn’t stopped the batter from swinging.

  He threw the ball back and grinned. Piece of cake. His brother was better than ever following surgery on his elbow. All that physical therapy and forced workouts had resulted in a world of good for both of them.

  At first, Jason accompanied Jeff to his workouts to offer his support, and maybe to keep his brother from giving up, at least on mending his physical self. But he realized early on the extra workouts benefitted him, too. After that, he went because he’d wanted to. As a result, both brothers had never been in better physical shape than they were this season.

  Adjusting to the psychological changes had taken them both a little longer. He had to hand it to his brother. Jeff had seen the error of his ways with Megan a lot sooner than he had with Stacey. Marrying Megan had been the final key to Jeff’s recovery—and the reason Jeff had returned to the Mustangs’ bullpen with a real shot at the record book and the Hall of Fame.

  Another swing and a miss brought the Mustangs one pitch closer to the final out. Jason signaled to his brother and raised his glove in readiness. He couldn’t have asked for a better throw. The ball came in fast, spinning on a certain trajectory only the two of them knew would shift at the last moment giving the batter insufficient time to adjust his swing. He focused on the ball, not even the arc of the bat cutting through his line of vision broke his concentration. His palm stung as the ball smacked into his glove. Before the plate umpire confirmed the final out of the game, he was on his way to the mound.

  “Great pitching,” he said, grabbing his brother in a macho hug. “Damn, it’s good to have you back.”

  “I’ve been back for a while now,” Jeff said, returning the hug. “You weren’t so bad yourself tonight. Four-for-four with two homers and three RBI’s. You’re on fire, man.”

  Jason shrugged. “The season started off shitty, but it’s looking up.”

  The team surrounded them. He smiled and offered his congratulations to everyone for a job well done. This was the fun part, celebrating with his teammates, but a gaggle of reporters waited for him outside the dugout, and he’d have to make an appearance on the local station’s post-game show as well.

  He’d answered the same questions a dozen times, doing his best to keep a smile on his face and put the credit for the win on the entire team, while his internal clock told him Carrie would be waiting for his call. By now, she would have opened the envelope he’d left for her and found the prepaid cell phone. He’d purchased another one for himself. He hated acting like a drug dealer, using untraceable phones, but he couldn’t risk what was shaping up to be the best season of his career on a potential scandal. If the press, who had just spent the last hour building him up as a hero, caught wind of his sexual preferences, he’d go from hero to zero faster than a homerun ball could fly out of the stadium.

  Wouldn’t they be surprised to learn those same sexual preferences were responsible for his success this season? Like he’d told his brother, the season had started off shitty, despite being in top physical condition, because his head hadn’t been in the game. When Stacey left him, his confidence had gone with her. But now he had it back, all because of his angel. Carrie’s sweet submission and the way she’d accepted him for who he was without censure or judgment had bolstered his confidence like nothing ever had.

  It was a simple formula. He was happy. Correction—he was on top of the world, and that translated into improved job performance. But he couldn’t tell the press that. Instead, he credited the improvement in his hitting to those extra workouts with Jeff and good old-fashioned practice. It was true to a degree, and it was all the explanation they were going to get. His private life was just that—private.

  * * *

  She slit the seal on the envelope and upended it on the coffee table. A cell phone, a tube of lube, and a small pink butt plug slid out, along with a folded note. She clenched her thighs tight to quell the instant need and quiver of nerves that accompanying the sight of the little plug. Unable to sit still, she walked to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine, and leaned against the counter to read the note.

  Prepare yourself for my call this evening. Remove your clothes and slip into bed. Take these items with you. No need to be nervous, angel. We’ll do this together.

  Desire and anticipation shuddered through her. His note was as forceful and domineering as he was in person, yet he’d taken the time to address her fears. She dropped to her knees and read the note again, imagining him speaking the words. His voice filled her head, strong, commanding, and reassuring, and her pussy creamed. She could do this. They would do it together.

  Clutching the edge of the counter for support, she rose to her feet. Her whole body trembled, and clutching the wine glass with both hands, she took a fortifying sip, then another. She refilled the glass, the bottle clinking against the rim. On shaky limbs, she returned to the living room and the objects on the table.

  Grabbing the hem of her T-shirt, she lifted it over her head and dropped it on the sofa. She shimmied out of her jeans, which unceremoniously joined her shirt. Another sip of wine and her bra and panties topped the pile of clothes. Naked, she gathered his gifts and the wineglass and walked down the short hallway to her bedroom.

  Between the cool sheets, she sipped the fortifying drink, and waited. With each minute, the need to touch herself grew greater. Master would be disappointed if she did. He might spank her or maybe he would think of another way to punish her. Did she dare defy him? The phone rang, startling her, and put an end to all thoughts of disobedience.

  “Sir,” she said, deferring to him at once.

  “Angel.”

  Her pussy creamed at the sound of his voice and the wealth of meaning in his tone. She was his, even outside the Dungeon.

  “I followed your instructions, Sir.”

  “I knew you would. I wish I could be there tonight to do this for you, but this will have to do. I�
��m sure you’ll accomplish the job to my satisfaction.”

  Anxiety mixed with anticipation fluttered along her skin, the reality of what she was about to do setting in. “I’ll try, Sir. I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  “That’s not a problem. The plug is small. It won’t cause you any discomfort once you have it inserted.” He paused, and she thought she heard a sigh. “Angel, before we go any further tonight, I need to let you know…I have to be out of town for the next five days. If you need me, call me using the phone I gave you. My number is programmed in it. If I don’t answer, leave a message and I’ll return your call. If it takes me several hours, don’t think I’m ignoring you. I’m not. I want to talk to you more than you can imagine, so don’t worry. I will return your call when I can.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “You’re welcome. I want to know everything you think and feel while I’m gone. If you’re horny, I want to know. If you experience any discomfort from the plug, I want to know.”

  “Yes, Sir. I promise to share these things with you.”

  “That makes this trip almost bearable, angel. Now, I’m going to talk you through inserting the plug. I want you to wear it until you wake in the morning, then you may remove it. You’re to wear it every night while I’m gone. Each night, I want you to call and tell me when you’ve put it in. I want to know how it feels—in detail. Remember, I’m not there. I can’t read your body language over the phone. I need to know everything you’re feeling—good or bad.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good girl. Now, tell me about your bed. Do you have a headboard or a footboard?”

  “Yes, Sir. I have both.”

  “That pleases me. I want you on your knees, facing the headboard, close enough you can touch it. Spread your knees wide. Do it now.”