Going Deep (Mustangs Baseball) Page 9

  He shelved his helmet, using the after batting routine to savor the moment privately. It was just one homerun, but he knew it was the first of many. He couldn’t really pinpoint the change, but something had shifted inside him. He felt different, more alive, more in charge of his life and body. Until that feeling had returned, he hadn’t noticed it’d been was missing. Funny how a person could go through each day without giving a thought to whether they were happy or not. Then—Wham! Happiness hit him like a fastball to the helmet, and his whole world had shifted into focus.

  An image of Carrie, naked and on her knees, flashed in his mind. She truly was a work of art. A plan formed in his mind for the next time they were together. No punishment, just pleasure. Lots and lots of pleasure. Yeah, life was good.

  * * *

  Carrie waited, none too patiently, to be with him again. Her work had kept her busy the last few days, but she’d found her mind wandering back to her first session with Master, reliving it until her body ached with need and she was tempted to bring the vibrator out. If all his punishments were like the one he’d dealt out the other night, she would have to be a very bad girl. Remembering the disappointment in his voice, she knew she never wanted to hear that tone again, no matter what kind of punishment accompanied it.

  She was proud to be his sub and wanted him to be proud of her. So when the email arrived instructing her to meet him at the Dungeon the following day, she jumped for joy. He’d given no indication of what he had in mind, leaving her to dream up scenarios of her own.

  * * *

  “Hello, angel.”

  Her skin tingled at the sound of his voice.

  “How have you been?”

  He closed the curtains over the two-way mirror, and she followed the sound of his footsteps across the room.

  “I’ve missed you, Sir.”

  His footsteps halted in front of her. “What exactly did you miss about me?”

  “I missed your touch and your voice,” she said. I want to see you.

  “My voice? You like my voice?”

  “Yes, Sir. Your voice….” Couldn’t he see what his voice did to her? Her skin prickled in another one of those damnable full-body blushes.

  “Tell me, girl. There’s nothing but honesty between us.”

  She nodded, glad for the blindfold. “Every time you speak, it’s like a touch. I feel it on my skin, and it makes me horny.”

  “Is that so?” A smile tinged his words. “I’ll have to remember to speak to you often because I want you horny.” He shifted something in his hands, and his knees cracked when he squatted. “Are you horny now?” He flattened his palm over her stomach, nearly singing her skin with his heat “Let me see.” His hand slid down to cup her mound. “Spread for me,” he said, slipping his fingers between her legs when she complied.

  He flicked and played in her damp heat, drawing a whimper from her.

  “You’re wet,” he said, spearing his middle finger inside. “I’m pleased.”

  She moved her hips, seeking deeper contact.

  “Be still,” he warned, continuing to play between her legs. His voice, deep and confident assured her, but his words…oh Lord, the combination of the two demolished her self-control.

  “Keep still. Tonight I’m going to see and touch every inch of you. I’m going to mark you as mine.” She struggled to control her body’s natural inclinations, closing her teeth over her bottom lip to keep from begging for what she wanted. With his finger still buried inside her, he leaned in close. “And when I’m through, if you’ve been good,” he whispered in her ear, “you’ll get much more than a finger inside you.”

  A strangled sound gurgled past her lips. Her inner muscles clamped his finger, and she came in his hand. He pulled her to him, cradling her cheek against his solid chest. He cupped her until the last muscle spasm eased, then slipped his finger from her.

  He inhaled deeply and let it out audibly. She dared to breathe, taking in the tangy scent of her arousal mingling with the starch from his crisp shirt and the outdoorsy fragrance she was beginning to associate with him.

  “I love to smell you on my hand,” he said, filling his lungs again.

  If he would let her, she would rub herself all over him.

  “Open your mouth.” He urged her bottom lip down with his index finger. “You taste so good.” He inserted his wet middle finger into her mouth. “Taste yourself on me.”

  She closed her lips around his finger.

  “That’s good,” he said.

  Oh, how she wished he’d give her his cock instead, but she’d take any part of him she could get. Her tongue swirled and licked.

  “Do you like that?” he asked, pulling his finger free.

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

  “Have you ever tasted another woman?”

  “No…no, Sir.”

  “I think I’d like to see you go down on a woman sometime. That would please me very much.”

  Her arms, clasped behind her back, trembled.

  “Does that disgust you?”

  Did it? She’d never thought it a possibility. But for him…. “I’m not sure, Sir. It…I…If it would please you, Sir, I….”

  He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, bringing her scent to her nostrils. “Maybe one day, Carrie, but not for a while.”

  Oh, how she loved the sound of her name on his lips, and she was glad he’d used it now, instead of his usual, “girl”—proof he saw her as a person, not an object.

  “I won’t lie. I’d love to see you with another woman, eating each other, maybe fucking, sucking tits, but not now. You’re mine, and I’m not ready to share. I can see you aren’t ready for that either, no matter your brave words.” He drew a finger across her mouth, tweaking her plumped lower lip. “I said I would push your limits, and I will. But we have all the time in the world. I won’t rush either of us.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “No need to thank me. It’s purely selfish on my part right now. I want you all to myself.” He helped her to her feet. “Hands out in front.”

  He fastened fur-lined leather cuffs around her wrists, hooking them together with a clasp. Goosebumps rose on her arms.

  “Relax,” he said, lifting her arms up by the connecting chain. “Keep your hands high.”

  An electric hum filled the air then he fastened the cuffs to a bar. After wrapping her fingers around the bar, he raised it a few inches so her feet touched the floor, but her torso stretched taut.

  “Spread your legs,” he said, urging her feet farther when she stopped short of his expectation. “There. I wish you could see how beautiful you are. And you’re all mine.”

  Something plunked onto the floor in front of her. “I need you to remain perfectly still, no matter what,” he instructed. “This is a delicate operation. A steady hand is required.”

  She smiled at the playfulness in his voice. This was a side of her master she hadn’t witnessed yet. “Yes, Sir. I’ll do my best.”

  When he lifted one foot to his lips, she clutched at the bar for support.

  “Mine.” His breath tickled then he sucked her big toe into his mouth, and she would have fallen if not for the restraints. His tongue swirled around the digit, teasing and taunting like she teased his cock the other day. He took his time, tasting, licking, nipping at her toes, across the arch of her foot, to her heel, stopping short at her ankle. She let her head fall back, giving herself over to the sensual onslaught.

  He finally released her toe, but replaced the sensation with another. She focused on the feeling.

  “What?” she questioned.

  “Relax. I’m just claiming what’s mine.” He resumed his strange work. It took a few minutes, but she figured it out. He was using a marker to draw on her skin. He placed her foot on the floor, and proceeded to do the same with the other. When he finished there, he moved on to her ankles, the slope of her calves, her knees—claiming her body an inch at a time.

  * * *

  He
was on a mission to claim what was his in a way she would never forget. On her thighs, he drew arrows pointing to her pussy from every direction, labeling each one with the single word, “Mine.”

  A yellow daisy sprang up around her navel, its green stem rooted in the neat curls of her mons. So close to her pussy, he couldn’t resist a little playtime there, too. He eased the barrel of a marker through her folds until it glistened with her juices. Parting her with his fingers, he slid the marker inside, startling a gasp from her.

  “Remain still,” he cautioned. “You’ve been so good…” He added two more markers to fill her. He pumped the plastic tubes in and out, establishing a slow, steady rhythm. Soon her body picked it up, and her hips began to move. He grinned. He’d punish her for that in his own sweet time.

  “I can’t…oh, God, it feels so…good.” She cried out, moving with her body’s natural inclinations. “Please,” she begged.

  “Not yet.” He slipped the markers out before he pushed her completely over the edge. She bucked and writhed against her restraints.

  Chapter Nine

  A solid “thwack” stung her ass.

  “I said to be still.” His voice came from behind her. When had he moved?

  “That hurt,” she said, angry with him for denying her what she needed then hitting her for trying to find it.

  “You’ll learn to do as you’re told.” He landed another sharp hand on the other cheek. Before she could protest, he cradled her hips in his palms, and his warm breath against her spine documented his descent. His lips soothed where a moment ago his hand branded her flesh.

  “God, you are so beautiful.” His big hands held her steady while his thumbs brushed over her sore ass. “I wish you could see this. My handprints on your ass.” His lips pressed where she imagined his palms must have made contact. “You really should see this.”

  He began to draw on her ass, and she clenched her cheeks tight.

  He swatted her, playfully this time. “Relax. This is too good,” he said with childlike exuberance. “You’re going to love this one.”

  Like she had any choice. She consciously relaxed her butt cheeks, trying to envision what he was drawing. He made big loops across her skin, followed by a series of short, choppy lines. A flower? She groaned. Lord, she hoped this would wash off.

  When he finished his masterpiece, he parted her cheeks and set to work there, too. Her skin heated. He’d examined that part of her thoroughly before, but this was different. She tried not to think about what he was doing, or what he was seeing. Swirls, strokes, long ones, short ones, all punctuated by the occasional chuckle while he amused himself with her ass, and she silently begged him to go lower, to give her more of what she wanted.

  A click signaled he’d capped the marker. His voice came from farther away, maybe a few feet.

  “Extraordinary,” he enthused.

  “How are you doing?” He closed his hand over her ass again, giving it a little squeeze.

  “My arms….”

  “It’s been a while. Let me take you down for a few minutes.”

  She sighed when he lowered the bar, allowing her arms a respite. He didn’t remove the cuffs, but kneaded her sore muscles from just above the cuffs to her shoulders.

  “Promise to stay still, and I’ll leave your hands down until I finish with your back,” he said.

  At that moment, she couldn’t move if her life had depended on it, so she nodded. “Yes. I’ll be still. I promise.”

  “Good.” He moved behind her again, shifting her hair over her shoulders, so he had full access to her back. Marker lids popped, and he resumed drawing. Curves and lines and dots. She couldn’t follow it, couldn’t discern a pattern. She sensed his total concentration on his art and did her best to remain still, even when the markers veered dangerously close to ticklish spots along her ribs.

  “There, all done,” he said, capping his markers. They clattered against others near her feet. How many did he have? A scraping sound on the floor, one she’d heard before—a cardboard box perhaps, sliding around in front of her.

  The click of a switch and her arms rose above her head again. “A few more minutes, then I’m going to fuck you,” he promised.

  Her clit throbbed at his raw declaration. “Please, Sir.”

  A laugh rumbled from his chest, just inches from her face. She didn’t know this playful Master, but decided she liked him.

  “Don’t worry, angel. I’m going to spend the rest of the night fucking you.”

  He stepped away from her and she shivered from the loss of his heat.

  “Hmm,” he said. “What should I do with those? It’s almost a shame to embellish them. Hell, your body’s a work of art all by itself, but I’ve come this far, I might as well finish the job.”

  “Please, Sir.”

  His laugh almost masked the sound of lids popping. A cold felt-tip slid along her rib cage. He drew and drew on her torso, leaving her breasts untouched. She was just beginning to think he wasn’t going to embellish them, when he cradled one in his hand and brushed his thumb across the nipple until it grew diamond hard. Again, she tried to make out the pattern, but like the game she’d played when she was a kid—spelling out words in the palm of a friend’s hand—she failed miserably. He took his time with one breast before switching to the other, giving it equal attention. She wanted to arch her back, thrust her breasts in invitation, but she’d promised to remain still.

  He lowered the bar again, guiding her to her knees, keeping her arms stretched above her head.

  “Open your mouth.” Strong fingers clamped her jaw, insuring her compliance, before he thrust his cock inside. “You can do me, while I do you.”

  She closed her lips around him. The salty tang of pre-cum thrilled her. It was nice to know their play affected him, too. She used her tongue to taste and tantalize, savoring every hiss and curse her actions elicited. He fisted her hair and bucked his hips, controlling the rhythm.

  God, he tasted good, like warm sunshine and outdoors. She wondered if he spent a lot of time outside to acquire the scent. His body was firm and well formed, leading her to believe he worked out, or maybe he did some kind of manual labor—construction perhaps. That would account for his physique. She clenched her fingers, wanting to touch him all over.

  * * *

  He tried to concentrate on the artwork he wanted to draw on her arms, but it was an impossible task with his cock halfway down her throat. But damn, it felt good. He finally gave up and focused on the pink angel lips wrapped around his cock. He held her still, pumping his hips, torturing himself with pleasure. God, his balls ached. His little brain argued for coming down her throat while the few remaining cells in his big brain reminded him about his promise to this angel—to see to her pleasure. Punishment aside, he’d vowed to never leave her unsatisfied.

  He released her hands from the bar, leaving her wrists shackled together. Her mouth felt like Heaven, but there was a place he needed to be even more.

  “Enough,” he said, jerking her head back by her hair. Pulling her to her feet, he steered her to the platform bed on one side of the room. “Face down, on your knees.”

  He stared at her perfect bottom displayed for him. The skin inside the outline of his handprint was faintly pink where he’d spanked her earlier. He framed her hips with his hands. “Beautiful. I love seeing my handprints on your ass.”

  She groaned, rocking back on her knees, trying to get closer to his touch. “Please, Sir.”

  He caressed her cheeks. Please what?”

  “Fuck me, please, Sir.”

  He entered her in one swift thrust that caused her to clutch at the edge of the mattress. He withdrew and slammed back in. This is what he needed, to take her on his terms, to claim what was his without reservation. He’d give her what she wanted, too, but she’d vowed to serve him, and she was doing it well.

  He traced the curve of her spine with his index finger, slipping between her cheeks to find the tight bud there. She tensed
. He gently manipulated her backdoor while stroking her back with his free hand, coaxing her to relax and accept him.

  “So tight,” he said, pressing his finger harder against her anus. “I was going to wait, but I can’t.”

  Carrie cried out when he withdrew from her and left the bed. She pushed to her elbows, listening to his movements. A zipper. Muffled curses. Then he was back, landing a solid blow to her ass with his hand.

  “Did I say you could move?”

  “No, Sir.” She slid down until her cheek rested on the mattress again.

  “Much better,” he said, resuming his position between her splayed knees. Heat shot through her when his fingers found her pussy, exploring, driving her need higher with each erotic motion.

  “You’re so wet, I don’t think I’ll need the lube.” He coated her anus with her own juices, and she groaned.

  She couldn’t believe how aroused she was, knowing how closely he examined that part of her.

  His fingers returned to her pussy, spreading her. “I think the best lube for the beads is your own,” he said. Something cold and hard slipped inside her. “Relax, angel. It’s just anal beads.” A lump formed in her throat, imagining the beads inching their way into her vagina. She’d seen the plastic toys before but never used them. Her butt cheeks clenched, knowing where the beads would go next.

  She flinched when his hand came down hard on her ass.

  “Relax.”

  He pulled the beads from her pussy, and spread her wide with one hand. There was a slight pressure against her anus then the first small bead breached her. Her insides twisted and her pussy gushed. Fingers swiped along her slit, collecting her juices and re-depositing them at the point of entry.

  More pressure then the second bead joined the first, followed by another, and another. With each one, Master added lubrication collected from her pussy. She counted to herself. Her greedy ass took each bead—six in all.