Page 53 of Cruel Master
“Kneel and thank me properly.”
Of course.
There’s no hesitation in my mind as I settle myself between his spread thighs. This has become as much of a ritual as kneeling for him or calling him Master. When he does something nice, I thank him.
It feels right, and it’s one of the many things I’ve stopped beating myself up for enjoying. Maybe it’s just how he’s conditioned me, but the taste of him and his skin on my lips feels like a reward.
He pulls the laces open on his trousers, and I catch sight of his tattooed skin before I get to work. Just a flash of vivid color. I rarely see any of him undressed—he makes sure of that—but his ink fascinates me. I want so badly to see the man beneath the costume.
He tangles his hand in my hair as I set to work taking his cock with the slow, firm strokes I know he enjoys. The light, salty taste sends a thrill through me, and I press my thighs together as I take him deeper. He won’t let me come today—I’ve already had a reward—but knowing that doesn’t make mesquirm any less.
Quite the opposite, in fact.
Knowing he holds the keys to my pleasure makes everything more intense. I’ll spend the rest of the day frustrated, but it doesn’t make me angry. There’s something about the needy haze he leaves me in that satisfies me. It makes waiting for his next visit exquisite torture, exactly as I always thought it would in my fantasies.
He tightens his grip on my hair, drawing me back to the present and the task I’m supposed to be completing. Shit. I focus on him, breathing in his familiar scent as I hollow my cheeks, adding more suction. He controls me with his grip, pushing me deeper, deeper, deeper until I’m right on the edge of gagging.
I control it, though. I’ve gotten very, very good at this.
I recognize the telltale hitch in his breaths as he approaches the edge. I find just the right pressure, the perfect speed, and I’m ready when he moans and spills into my mouth. His taste fills me, and God, I wish I could touch myself right now. It’s hard keeping my hands where they’re supposed to be.
He doesn’t let go of my hair, keeping me in place as I struggle not to spill a drop. His fingers caress my cheek, then slide lower to play with my aching nipple. “That’s a good doll.”
I whimper as he toys with me, stoking the ache in my pussy that I know full well he won’t do anything about. It’s a special kind of torture, knowing he’s winding me up on purpose. I lean into it, though. I’ll take all the sensations I can get.
Too soon, he loosens his grip and stops his slow teasing. I swallow and lick my lips as he tucks himself away, costume complete once more. My whole body aches for his touch, and I find myself checking the ceiling, working out how long it will be until his next visit. Too long.
My gaze lands on the tank, and an idea hits, distracting me from my upcoming loneliness. What about a spider companionfor one of the characters in my new game? That would be fun. I can think of just the one, too. Mentally, I’m already sketching it.
“You’re a good girl, doll.” Saldar pauses, watching me, then adds. “I’ll be back later. Think of a name for her in the meantime.”
I smile. “Yes, Master.”
I have plenty to keep me occupied until he returns.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Hadrian
NexttimeIseeJuliet, I’ll strip off the Saldar suit and show her who I really am.
My hands shake as I undress, imagining the moment. It could be the end of everything I’ve been working toward—or the start of something amazing.
Saldar is a comfortable disguise, almost a second skin that I can slip in and out of as easily as putting on a new pair of shoes now. But keeping myself separate, cold, and aloof from Juliet gets harder every day.
I want her. Not just her body,her.I’m sick of the short visits and the one-word answers. I want to pull my little doll onto my knee and talk to her for hours. I want to hold her in her sleep.
Fuck.
I’m drowning, and the hardest part is still to come.
I watch her on the monitors, scribbling furiously on her paper, shooting glances at the vivarium. I wanted to give her one last gift as Saldar, something important, to remember himby. And when Juliet’s new pet moves into our apartment, she’ll always remember the moment.
Will she be impressed I got over my crippling arachnophobia for her sake? Probably not, but it was worth the exposure therapy I put myself through just the same. It took weeks, but I can now let a spider run across the back of my hand without freaking out. Progress.
She’s not getting a tarantula, though. The line has to be drawn somewhere.
I tear myself away from the monitors. I still have work to do before my big reveal. Unfortunately, the world hasn’t stopped so I can focus on Juliet. I have a meeting booked with Kendrick, and I can’t be late.
