Enticement (Master Class Book 2) Page 5

  She crossed her legs.

  “That’s not turning your toes in,” he said. He dropped his knees and helped her to stand.

  “Sir…”

  “The plug, Ella.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she mewled.

  He watched as she walked up the stairs, taking her own sweet time, exaggerating the sway of her hips.

  When he’d agreed to Morgan’s desperate pleas for him to come home for the weekend, he hadn’t been expecting this. He might accept a few more of his pesky sister’s invitations after tonight.

  Ella moved around upstairs, and it seemed she was taking more time than necessary. “If you touch that pussy, I will cuff your hands for the rest of the night!”

  She called something back. It might have been, “Yes, Sir.” But it easily could have been something else.

  Within a minute, she was standing in front of him. The slender piece of silicone wasn’t much thicker than his forefinger. It would do. For now.

  He extended his palm and she gave him the requested items.

  “Are you—?”

  “Over my lap.”

  She looked at him.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Do you need me to repeat my order?”

  “No, Sir.”

  She stared at the plug for a few seconds before doing as he’d asked.

  “We’ll continue the exploration of your body,” he said. “Reach back and spread your buttocks.”

  “I’ll fall.”

  “I won’t let you.” He put his free palm flat against the middle of her back.

  “It’s been a long time since I did anal,” she said.

  “If you want me to use lube, you’d better do as you’re told and quit stalling.”

  She lifted her hands from the floor for a couple of seconds, but then she quickly dropped them again.

  Pierce waited.

  Then she reached behind her with a little more confidence and spread her cheeks, giving him a glimpse of her tiny, tight anal whorl.

  “I’m going to keep this in you for the rest of the night,” he warned. “Not all physical punishments are about spanking.”

  “I was afraid of that.”

  He waited.

  “Sir,” she added in a faint whisper.

  He reached for the lube, flipped the top then drizzled the viscous liquid over the plug. “Relax as much as possible,” he informed her. “It’s going in, and it’s up to you how much of a struggle it is. Bear down.” He pressed the tip against her hole.

  “I…”

  “It’s a third of the way in already.” He pulled it back a little until she drew a breath, then he pressed forward again.

  As the thicker part of it started to breach her, he fucked her with it, creating a rhythm she could cope with but with the progress he wanted.

  “This sucks,” she protested. “I don’t remember it being this uncomfortable.”

  “Good.”

  “What?” She moved around, and he took the advantage to sink the toy all the way in.

  She yelped.

  “You’re there.” Pierce settled the base between her cheeks. “I like the way it looks. I think I’ll make you wear it to my parents’ party tomorrow.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Yeah. That settles it. And a short skirt or dress.”

  “What have I gotten myself into?”

  “I’m rather enjoying it.”

  “Because you’re diabolical.”

  “Getting more so by the minute. I want you face up on the coffee table.” He helped her to stand.

  “I thought…”

  “That you’d get rewarded with an orgasm?”

  She scowled at him.

  “I’ve got a dozen planned for you. How many of them you receive is up to you.”

  “Is this my incentive to behave?”

  “I don’t know.” He lifted a shoulder. “Is it?” Either way, he was fine with it. He enjoyed being inventive with her punishments almost as much as he liked playing with her to begin with.

  He went into the kitchen to wash his hands, aware of her gentle sounds behind him as she moved the toys to the couch and got into position.

  When he returned, she looked exactly as he’d envisioned. Her feet were on the floor, her hands dangling at her sides, her tangled hair in that wild mess, her eyes wide, mouth parted, chest rising and falling in shallow bursts, her nipples hard and begging.

  In this position, she was open to him, vulnerable. Perfect and compliant. Almost as good as actual bondage. “Show me your pussy.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She brought her hands forward and spread her labia.

  “Touch yourself.”

  Ella dipped a finger into her pussy then circled her clit.

  He loved watching the nub swell and turn a dusty pink color. “Keep going.”

  With a soft moan, she closed her eyes.

  “More. Give me a show.”

  After a few seconds, she began to move her hips. She made faster, tighter circles on her clit. Her breathing became more erratic.

  He let her continue until she lifted her hips, tightened her buttocks and slid a finger inside herself. “That’s enough.”

  She pursed her lips but didn’t protest. Nor did she move her hand. “Ella,” he warned.

  “Just a minute. I’ve been out of my mind since we were at the Neon Moon.”

  “I said stop.”

  “But, Sir…”

  Pierce could smell her arousal. Was there anything sexier than a woman waiting for a man to pleasure her? “Is there a reason you’re being a deliberately disobedient sub?”

  That got through to her. She froze and opened her eyes.

  “That’s better. Now let your arms drop to your sides.”

  Ella sighed.

  With her body exposed and her breaths even, he took a couple of steps toward her then bent over to stroke between her folds.

  With a keening moan, she arched toward him.

  “So your clitoris doesn’t need as much stimulation as your nipples?”

  “Not at all. But since I was touching myself, I’m already aroused.”

  He pressed his thumb to her clit while sliding a finger inside her wet cunt. “And this… Is this what you want?”

  “Oh.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. Yes, Sir. That’s what I want. Thank you.”

  Her pussy clenched around his finger. Because of the plug in her ass, she was tight, and he was certain that had to make his movements more invasive.

  How long had it been since he’d been with a woman this responsive? If he wasn’t careful, he might become addicted.

  She fisted her hands.

  “How close are you to an orgasm?”

  “Seconds, Sir.”

  He moved his thumb even faster and inserted a second finger then started fucking her hard. “Wait for my permission.”

  “I… No. That’s not—”

  “Wait.” He touched a finger to her G-spot and saw her lift off her heels, silently demanding more.

  “Sir!”

  “You may come.”

  His woman—his sub—convulsed. She screamed, arching, seeking. Pierce watched, giving her what she needed until her shoulders relaxed again. Then he took his hand away from her. “I think I’ve learned a few things about you,” he said. “And you’ve earned more of those orgasms. Now we can play.”

  “Now?” Ella repeated. Her body had never been more soft or supple, and her mind was at peace in a way it hadn’t been since Lance had broken up with her. “Then I’m not sure what it is that we have been doing, Sir.” She was already so content she’d be happy to snuggle into his arms. Maybe they could make love before they drifted off to sleep.

  “Ella, I haven’t even started with you.”

  His face appeared more relaxed than it had earlier. Tension was no longer grooved next to his eyes. It seemed he’d shut out everything but her.

  Pierce picked up the cuffs. She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think I�
��m going to like this.”

  “Maybe you will.” He took his time securing her wrists. As she’d come to expect, he double-checked that the bonds weren’t too tight and that her shoulders were comfortable. Then he attached the cuffs to her ankles. “Damn. These shoes…”

  She suppressed her grin.

  With his thumb, he made a tiny circle on her right ankle. “I may take them back to North Carolina with me.”

  “And masturbate to the sight of them, Sir? Remembering me?”

  “Ella, there’d be no forgetting you. Ever.”

  He secured her feet to the coffee table legs.

  She lay there, a bit uncomfortable and helpless. There was nothing more thrilling than being this man’s captive.

  His motions exquisite and tender, Pierce rubbed her breasts and her tummy before flipping the hem of her skirt out of the way so that her thighs were exposed.

  She watched him intently, fascinated by the way he studied her. His deliberateness ignited her senses.

  Then he picked up the crop.

  Ella had been afraid it might appear ridiculous in his masculine hand, but it didn’t.

  Then she noticed his gaze was focused on her pussy. “Uhm, you can’t mean to use that on my…”

  “Pussy?” he supplied.

  The pretty bright red heart had seemed fun at the store, but now it terrified her. “I’d meant for you to use it on my butt, Sir.” Someplace where there was plenty of padding.

  “I’m sure you did.”

  He stood over her and trailed the edge of the heart down her chest then over her belly before dipping between her legs.

  Ella tried to keep still and failed. Even though she’d just orgasmed, her nerve endings reignited. She’d never been with a man who understood her or her body this well.

  He tapped her breasts, her nipples, her legs, her pussy. Terror vanished as if it had never been there. “Oh…”

  Then he smacked the inside of her thigh hard. It didn’t burn—it was a dull, achy, fabulous thud.

  He caught her again, on the other thigh.

  Before she was ready, he brought it down on her already-throbbing pussy. She screamed, clenched her ass cheeks—making the silicone shift inside her—then thrust her pelvis forward, offering her body…her trust.

  “More.”

  “That’s a perfect response.”

  The hurt had been exquisite, maybe because he’d already tormented her pussy so much.

  He moved on to her breasts, cropping them, hitting her nipples, making her tremble with the need to come again. Pierce rained kisses of torment down her belly, then again between her legs, not just her clit, but all of the exposed, sensitive flesh.

  “What do you want?”

  “My clit,” she pleaded.

  “Be clear.”

  “Spank my clit with the crop, Sir.” She couldn’t believe she’d asked for that. Couldn’t believe how much she needed it.

  “How many times? Just once?” He tapped her lightly.

  “Sir!” Frustrating. Maddening. She looked up at him, but he wasn’t watching her face, he was focused on her pussy.

  “How many, sub?”

  “Five, Sir? Six?” A dozen.

  Just when she was afraid he wouldn’t give her what she had been begging for, he parted her labia.

  Common sense urged her to backtrack, tell him she’d changed her mind. But raw desire crowded every thought from her brain. “Do it.”

  Pierce lowered the heart then pulled back and gave her a stinging slap.

  She yelled. It burned. It stung. And she ached with the need to come. “Pierce. Sir. Sir, sir, sir.”

  “Your pussy is bright red, swollen.”

  “I need…”

  He placed the crop on her stomach then crouched to lick away the pain, soothing her, driving her mad.

  Tension coiled in her body. “I have to come.”

  All of a sudden, he stopped.

  “What?” She shook her head and pulled against the restraints. “Sir?”

  “I like having you this aroused.”

  “You can’t leave me like this.”

  “No? Having you on the edge will make it easier for you to take the cane marks that I intend to give you.”

  Cane? Fear wound through the arousal, making her vibrantly alive.

  “It’s a kindness, if you want to think of it that way.” After he released each cuff, he took a few seconds to rub her skin to ensure her circulation was fine.

  “Everything’s fine. Except for the fact I’m stuffed full of a plug and I need to come.”

  “You said you didn’t have a gag?”

  She clamped her mouth shut.

  He grinned.

  “Let’s go upstairs.” He offered a hand, and she accepted it.

  Even just a few minutes on the wooden surface had left her a little sore.

  He picked up the toys and the water bottles before following her up the stairs. The unnaturally high heels forced her to be careful. Between them and the plug he’d mercilessly shoved up her ass, her movements were slow and somewhat exaggerated. She’d never been more aware of being a submissive, never been more aware of her femininity.

  This experience was so much more than she could have ever imagined.

  “Condoms?” he asked when they reached the bedroom.

  “I’ll get them.” She hurried into the bathroom. Unsure how many he’d need—just one? Two?—she decided to grab the whole box.

  He was sitting on the foot of the bed, arms folded.

  After placing the box on a nightstand, she stood in front of him.

  “Strip for me,” he said. “But leave the shoes on.”

  “You definitely have a thing for them.”

  “Wasn’t joking that I might take them home.” There was no teasing in his voice.

  Ella reached behind her to unhook the shelf bra. She would have let it fall to the floor, but he reached out a hand to catch it.

  Then she unzipped the skirt. She shimmied her hips and the material dropped to the carpet. Then, being bold, she hooked it with her shoe and lifted it.

  He took the skirt from her foot. “You’ll be the death of me.”

  Maybe they could meet in hell.

  “How does your pussy feel?”

  “You had to mention it,” she replied.

  “And your tight little butthole? In fact, don’t answer. Spread your legs then bend over and grab your ankles.” He moved behind her. “Let me see for myself.”

  Pierce, relentless and dominant, pushed on the base of the plug. She grunted in an unladylike way and grasped her ankles tighter so she didn’t topple over.

  “Looks gorgeous.” He turned it back and forth several times, like a corkscrew inside her.

  She gasped. It hurt, and at the same time was erotic.

  “You may stand.”

  Even as she did, he stroked his fingers over her pussy.

  She clenched, on the verge of an orgasm again.

  “Turn toward me.”

  When she did, he tweaked her nipples, much, much harder than he had earlier, and she cried out. It wasn’t so much from the pain as the shockwaves of awareness.

  Just when she was ready to plead with him to release her or let her come, he dropped his hands. “Sir…”

  “I want you face down on the bed, Ella.”

  He picked up one of the lengths of silk.

  “Wrists crossed above your head.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her heart doing a slow thud, she crawled onto the bed and into position.

  “I’m going to tie you up,” he said. “And give you eight strokes with the cane. You might not think you can endure. But you can. You will. And the reward you earn will make you so damn proud.”

  Ella buried her face in the mattress. She wanted it every bit as much as it terrified her.

  Expertly, he tied the rope, ensuring it wasn’t too tight and that she couldn’t pull free.

  “What’s your word for slow?” he asked again.
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  “Yellow.” And before he could prompt her again, she added, “And stop is my safe word.”

  The mattress sank under his weight as he sat next to her.

  He ran his fingers down her spine, between her cheeks, across the backs of her knees.

  Then he secured her feet. Unable to resist, she tested his work, pulling, wriggling.

  He said nothing.

  “I didn’t need to worry about your competency with the rope.”

  “Ella, I know at least twenty ways to tie a knot so that you can’t get away, no matter the material—silk, hemp, bamboo, nylon. In a pinch, I can use a pair of your stockings. And I’d be willing to bet I could figure out how to keep you in place with just your pretty bra.”

  “What other mad skills do you have, Sir?”

  “Let’s find out.”

  She thought he might begin right away, but she realized she should have known better. He paced himself, refusing to rush.

  He smoothed his hands over her skin before rubbing vigorously. He massaged her deeply, and she knew it was to ensure a good blood flow. No doubt the man was a master at what he did.

  “I know you’re not all that experienced and it’s been a while since you’ve played, I’m going to give you a few warm-up taps. They won’t count toward the eight strokes I promised you.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  As he delivered the first few, she exhaled. She’d suspected he would know how to use the cane, but this exceeded her expectations.

  They weren’t as hard as she’d feared they might be, but much harder than she’d anticipated.

  “When the caning begins, none of the marks will be a third more harsh than the previous one. To manage it, breathe. Remind yourself you wanted it. Surrender. To the extent possible, keep your fists unclenched, your fingers spread, your body relaxed. Going through an ordeal is ninety percent mental. Perhaps more.”

  “Is that something you have experience with?” she asked. “From your military training?”

  “It’s about the story in our heads, Ella. If we are convinced we can’t do something, then it will never happen. On a forty miler—that’s what we call a forty-mile march—you concentrate on each step, not the entire journey, otherwise the pack, no matter the weight, would be unbearable.”

  She nodded then moved around, getting more comfortable, preparing herself.