Page 8 of Mastered By Lust

I gesture that Leah should take a seat. Gingerly, she sits. The chain hanging between her breasts sways before settling against her skin. When I reach forward to tug it again, her entire body tenses.

“You need to learn to embrace the bite of pain.” I tug gently. “It will transform you. And this isn’t even the worst I can do.”

“It hurts, Sir.”

“Does it hurt enough to use your safe word?”

“No, Sir.”

I bite back my smile. “Spread your legs.”

Once she does, I drop to my knees in front of the chair.

“I’m going to feast on this delectable cunt.Thenyou can tell me how much it hurts.”

3

Leah

“Please,” I breathe.

Maybe if he’s eating me out, he won’t think about tugging on that cruel chain attached to my nipples.

Except he did say he was going to punish my nipples until I come.

I was going to leave without a conversation. The punishment is just, deserved.

His glasses frame those beautiful brown eyes. “Get ready, baby girl.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He leans forward and presses his mouth against my bare mound. His beard is scratchy, and the texture turns me on. He finds my clit and sucks. My hips buck forward, my body seeking more contact. I’m so full, and that dildo is not moving. I wish it would—I crave friction, the erotic slide of a cock.

I wonder, again, why Gage doesn’t fuck me. But the question dissipates in a fog of lust when he reaches up and tugs the torture chain.

The tingles of agony from my nipples mix with the sparks of pleasure radiating from my pussy. My cry of pain transforms to a moan.

He said it would transform me.Thisis what he meant.

The pain takes me apart, piece by piece. My soul. My body. My need. My desire. Fractured.

The pleasure washes over and through me, bringing it all together again.

And when I come on his mouth, riding the fake cock that doesn’t move, my nipples abused like he promised?

I am made whole again.

* * *

Dmitri

“Look, Patrick,” I say, “I don’t know what plan you’re talking about. And it looks like you’re in deep with…something.”

His torn T-shirt, black eye, dirty ball cap—he’s definitely in some kind of trouble. A shallow cut makes a red line next to his arm tattoo. It’s a dagger and crown—a symbol of the Aseyev family. I have the same one on my bicep.

“Yeah, some assholes tried to get smart. Don’t worry, I gave back as good as I got.” He rubs a hand over his tattoo.

The tattoo rubbing is Patrick’s nervous tell. Maybe he gave back as good as he got during his fight. But he isn’t as tough as he sounds.

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