Page 53 of At Her Will

She put herself against him, her hips curved behind his ass and thighs. Her clothes slipped against his skin, her scent in his nose. She slid her touch down his chest to his stomach. Slipping the fastener of the slacks, she pushed the zipper down before the heel of her hand rubbed over him through the underwear. He stifled a groan. Her knee pressed into the back of his leg.

“I’m taking your pants and boxers down, Rev.”

She waited. She was giving him a chance to use that safeword. Code 15. He didn’t say it, but when the tip of the cane touched his bare back, a short sting of reproof, he realized she required an answer, for or against.

“Yes, Mistress.”

He stared straight ahead and imagined Bastion drawing deep on the cigarette, bracing his hand on the two people submitting to his desires while he thought of what he’d do with the control they’d given him.

The air was cool against Rev’s ass, testicles and cock as Veracity pushed his clothes out of her way. When she stepped back and the cane hit his bare ass, he swore he heard her purr at his sucked in breath, his groan. She liked that reaction. He was being hurt…and it was arousing him. Because he liked the pain, or he liked showing her how much he enjoyed giving her what she liked?

Did he have to decipher it? It simply was. Like when he sang, and he knew the Power that had given him that voice liked hearing him lift it to the Heavens, stretch himself to the limits.

Blasphemy? Or just evidence of how much the joys of earth hinted at what awaited them all in Heaven, if they could ever get there.

He lost count of the cane strikes, his body moving with it, the pain lashing fire across his flesh. Then she was pressed to himagain, her pelvis pushed to his buttocks, her hand taking control of his cock to rub and stroke.

“Mistress.” He choked out the word, a warning.

She gripped his base and dug her nails into it, a bite that could have competed with a crab’s pincers. An entirely not-good pain, but it served its purpose. He was able to choke back the climax that had tried to boil forth.

“Take a breath, Rev. Easy and slow. The night is young.”

“Apologies, Mistress.”

“Rev, if you do something wrong, I’ll tell you. I will require an apology, and a punishment to ensure the sincerity of that apology. Otherwise, you don’t apologize to me, because you don’t know you’ve done something wrong until I tell you that you have. You understand?”

She eased her hold, stroking him up and down. It was torment, because that climax had been contained, but was an animal still more than ready to break free. The strain of keeping it locked in showed in his voice.

“I don’t want to give you more to do. I’m…supposed to serve you.”

“You’re not abdicating responsibility for your behavior. While this ground may feel familiar, the terrain, the exact address, my desires, aren’t. So you follow my lead.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good. I’ll reinforce the point. Sometimes a pre-punishment is a good idea.”

And reinforce it she did. With ten more strikes of that cane, followed by the swish of the flogger. His ass and back, his upper thighs, went from surface fire to deep, stinging burn. When he was twitching under the blows, she stopped. As she adjusted his underwear and slacks back over his ass, zipped and fastened the pants, the cloth rubbed the abraded skin. Sitting down was going to reinforce that punishment.

“The club has vampire claw cushions,” she said. “We put one on a chair when we want our sub to sit beside us, but not get too comfortable. They have to sit still, too. Sit up straight, not distract their Dom with evidence of discomfort. Having a sub do that while I enjoy a cocktail with friends, knowing he’s aroused and suffering at the same time…that has an appeal. Release the bars and turn toward me.”

When he did, she was holding his shirt. She stepped close enough to rub his erection with a thigh. As she put a hand on his face, he wanted to kiss her wrist. He asked if he could.

She said yes, and he did, but his knees trembled, which he hadn’t expected. He wouldn’t grab onto her, but she held him, easing him to his knees, a much better place. He’d retained her wrist, and had his mouth against it. Her other hand went to his head. “You’re okay,” she murmured. “You’re doing fine, Rev.”

“What’s the matter with me?”

“Not a thing.” The emotion in her voice, the curl of her hand, told him it was truth. “You took far more than I expected. You may be more of a masochist than I realized.”

“Is that bad?”

“No,” she said softly. “I’ve suddenly found a reason to become more of a sadist.”

CHAPTER TEN

“Are you watching this?” Cyn murmured. She knew the question was merely a request for input, because Ros had followed Vera and Rev’s progress through the club as closely as she had. Vera was usually a private session kind of Mistress, but she’d chosen to do a low-key scene with him in a spot with a clear view to their booth. “He’s completely new to it, physically. But she’s right. Mentally, he’s been there a while.”

“Most members here know that feeling,” Ros responded. “I haven’t seen her get attached this quickly. Ever.”

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