Page 178 of Brie's Submission
Brie kissed him again, reveling in the fact her body was pleasing to Master. She began to move up and down his thick shaft, using the power of her legs. Sir helped guide her with added force so that each stroke was fully realized. No movement was wasted, making it incredibly intense.
She cried out as time after time his cock surged into her, filling her completely. He began thrusting faster as he threw his head back. A low groan rumbled in his chest.
Oh, God!To watch Sir come…
He suddenly stopped and held her hard against his rigid manhood. The pulses that had been building inside her could not be halted. She bit her lip, having not been given permission to orgasm. He opened his eyes and grinned as he started the thrusting motion again. It distracted her enough to stave off the climax.
She let out a small gasp, remembering his previous lesson.Even my orgasms answer to him. She trembled at his control.
Brie leaned over to give him another kiss, but felt her pussy contract when his tongue parted her lips. She had to pull back. Brie closed her eyes.Do not come. Donotcome.
Sir’s hands glided over her skin, caressing her stomach before moving up to her breasts. He flicked the nipples with his thumbs as he squeezed her ample breasts. “You’re breathtaking, téa.”
She automatically responded to his praises by kissing him again. This time he grasped the back of her neck as he parted her lips, claiming her mouth. She instinctively struggled to get out of his embrace in an effort to prevent what was about to happen.
“Relax,” he whispered between kisses.
The instant she let down her defenses, her orgasm crashed over her. It was powerful, having been denied before. Her pussy continued to pulse long after her climax had ended.
Sir released her and grabbed her hips again. She followed his lead, moving slowly up and down his shaft, whimpering softly because of the sensitivity of her freshly-come pussy. He threw his head back again, closing his eyes and groaning loudly. Through gritted teeth he told her, “When I tell you to stop, don’t move.”
“Yes, Master,” she breathed.
Brie watched Sir intently as his whole body stiffened. “Stop,” he grunted as he pushed deep into her. She braced her hands against his chest and became still. He clenched his jaw, breathing heavily. Sir opened his eyes just before the spasms began. It was incredibly hot to gaze into Sir’s eyes as he came deep inside her.
Afterwards, he turned her around without disengaging (a hidden benefit to the oddly shaped chair) and wrapped his arms around her—one around her waist, while his other hand rested comfortably around her neck in a possessive embrace. Brie closed her eyes and drank in his loving ownership.
They lay like that, in a state of peaceful harmony, for what seemed like hours. There was nothing but the beauty of now and Sir’s embrace. He let out a long, satisfied sigh.
Her body flushed in response. Connecting like this with Sir was amazing, and it made her crave even more intimacy with him. Questions pricked her consciousness and she broke the pleasant silence by asking the one foremost in her mind. “Master, may I ask about your father now?”
She felt his whole body tense, but he answered evenly. “Yes.”
“How did he die, Sir?”
He paused for a second. “My father committed suicide.”
Brie felt her heart crush inward. The mood in the room had completely changed with his revelation. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m sorry, Sir.”
“No.” He sighed quietly. “It’s important you know. Continue.”
“Thank you, Sir.” She paused before asking her next question, not wanting to upset him. “How old were you?”
“Fifteen.”
Her sympathy poured out to him as she imagined what it must have been like to lose his father at such a pivotal age in his life. “What about your mother, Sir?”
His voice dropped an octave. “She is dead to me.”
Brie shivered and stopped the line of questioning. She squeezed the arm he had wrapped around her middle.
Sir continued of his own volition, “My father was…extremely talented, a world class violinist.” He readjusted himself, holding her tighter. He added, almost as an afterthought, “An unusually gifted musician who was idolized by his fans.”
Brie imagined an Italian hunk with dark hair and dark, soulful eyes, standing on stage alone, playing for an enraptured audience. She couldn’t help wondering how that had affected Sir growing up. Had he been close to his father or had the man been absent from his life? Had the constant traveling caused an estrangement between his mother and father? There were so many questions to ask, but at the moment she felt only empathy for Sir and remained silent.
His voice was distant when he spoke again. “I still find it difficult to believe he’s gone. Such a force in the world. How can that disappear as if it never existed?”
Brie suddenly felt inadequate, not knowing what to say but feeling a need to break the deafening silence. “Death is cruel, Sir.”
