Slave To Her Wicked Desires Page 2
“Stand, slave, and move away from the chair.”
With head down and gaze focused on the floor, she did as he told her. Eric moved like a lithe cat as he strode behind her and sat in the spot she’d just vacated.
“Turn and face me.”
She obeyed, trying not to stare at his thick, pinkish brown erection. Her eyes wanted to rivet to the fat, purplish head that was pierced. Soon it would be inside of her, the steely ball through the glans rubbing her g-spot perfectly until she could contain the orgasm no longer. Her cunt shuddered with the need to be filled by him.
As if sensing her thoughts, he reached between his legs and stroked his magnificent cock. “Do you want to fuck it, slave? Are you hungry for that? Tell me.”
Her voice was hoarse when she spoke. “Yes, please, master. I want to fuck it so bad.”
His chuckle was dark and cruel. “Suck it first. Let your mouth show me how much you want this in your pussy. If you do a good job, I’ll let you ride me and make sure you come hard.”
She nodded and dipped to her knees. Her gaze molded to his erection as her hand wrapped around the shaft and she took the glans in her mouth. She swirled her tongue beneath the ridge, tongued the piercing jutting from his head, and he growled out a moan. His hands fisted in her hair and he pulled her down farther on his cock until the glans rubbed against the back of her throat and she nearly choked on his girth.
She swallowed around him and he groaned again as he thrust in and out, fucking her face with slow, deep strokes. Her mouth tasted every inch of him and relished it. Salty pre-cum trickled down her throat. When she deep throated him again, her tongue swept out over his balls. This made him fuck her face swifter, harder, until she gagged a few times from the force of his pumping.
“Very good, slave,” he said, drawing his cock from her lips. He tucked his fingers beneath her chin and made her look up at him. “I am pleased, so now you’ll receive pleasure too. Come hard for me. Cry out. Show me your bliss.”
He pulled her up by her shoulders then his fingers dug into her hips until it stung. He commanded she put the condom he handed her on his cock, and she was delighted to do so. Touching him was always her dark heaven. With a rough jerk forward, he positioned her over his thick shaft and rammed all eight inches of his hardness deep inside her. She cried out, hoping to please her master with her show of bliss. As he fucked her, he took one abused nipple between his teeth and tugged hard on it, rolled it between his pearly whites until tears sprang into her eyes. Then he switched to the other, torturing it until she shivered atop him and shrieked out loud and long.
His hands molded to her ass and he spanked her—one strike, two, three—while their lovemaking grew more carnal. She folded over him now, growing limp from the overload of ecstasy. Her face buried into the curve of his neck. Once more she hovered on the brink of orgasm, only this one threatened to be so intense it would shatter her world wide open.
He guided her up just enough so he could reach between them with one hand, while he continued to spank her with the other. The one now nestled between them pinched her clit hard, making her gasp and whimper. No part of her was safe from this sublime torment he delivered.
He drove his cock deeper, harder, and her eyes fluttered closed as they rolled back in her head. With another slap and another cruel pinch to her clitoris, she came hard as she rode him. Her every muscle quivered from the explosive release. She clung to him, gasping for air as he fucked her until he too found climax.
They sat still joined in the chair, their bodies heaving as they regained their senses and breath.
“Perhaps this punishment was a mistake,” he whispered after he kissed the side of her ear. “I may have led you to misbehave again.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and snuggled as close as she could. “I’m beginning to think that was your motive. I could get used to more discipline like this.”
“Then come on tour with me,” he said before biting her shoulder.
She gasped out, surprised by this fresh pain. “Of course, master.” Her heart flooded with renewed bliss at this prospect. Night after night of sweet torture. “If it pleases you, it pleases me.”
***
If you enjoyed this BDSM romance short from Anita Lawless, try out more BDSM erotic romance from the Wild and Lawless Writers in the Surrender Series. An excerpt from Surrender To His Pleasure (Surrender Series Volume 7) follows. Be sure to also grab Surrender To His Demands: Surrender Series Volume 6, Surrender To His Proposition: Surrender Series Volume 5, Surrender To His Game: Surrender Series Volume 4, Surrender To His Command: Surrender Series Volume 3, Surrender Ever After: Surrender Series Volume 2, and Surrender Forever: Surrender Series Volume 1. Or you can get more Surrender for less money by picking up Surrender: Bad Boys, A Surrender Novella Collection, Surrender: Man Love and Menage, A Surrender Novella Collection, Surrender Series Omnibus: Surrender Series Volume 1 - 3, or Surrender Series Omnibus No. 2: Surrender Series Volume 4 - 6. Keep reading for more info and excerpts.
***
Look for our books on Amazon, Kobo, Smashwords, Barnes & Noble, All Romance Ebooks and Bookstrand. Or visit http://wildlawlesswriters.blogspot.com/ for a complete list of our titles. Read on for bonus material from Wild & Lawless Writers.
***
Read an excerpt from a sizzling Wild & Lawless bdsm erotic romance release, Surrender To His Pleasure (Surrender Series Volume 7) by Anita Lawless.
Surrender To His Pleasure
By Anita Lawless
“And then she said ‘Your dress is too short, honey,” the little blonde at his side chirped. “Can you believe it? Who is she to tell me whether my dress is too short or not…”
Her words melted into the blur of voices surrounding him. At one time, Nash would’ve already sweet talked her phone number out of her. She was cute, even if she was a chronic chirper. Instead he just let the woman yammer on about whatever and gave a noncommittal “Ummhmm,” when he thought he should. His mind wasn’t on getting laid tonight. Hadn’t been on it in a while. Not since Fiona walked out of his life six months ago.
Sure, there had been women. There had been sex. But every partner he took to his bed wore her face. His ex-wife was determined to haunt him to his grave.
His brother Thomas appeared in the crowd and moved swiftly toward him. Just as the little blonde wrapped a hand around his bicep, Thomas stopped in front of him.
“You busy?” Thomas’ gaze darted from Nash to the blonde.
“Nah, what do you need?” Nash stood up and the little blonde pouted. He murmured, “Sorry, honey,” to the tiny chirper and then focused on his brother/boss.
“Got a situation in one of the private rooms.” He pointed a thumb toward the balcony that wrapped around the second floor of the club. “I need some muscle to back me up.”
Nash called to Bernie, who was deep in conversation with a curvy brunette near the bar. “Take over for me.”
Bernie nodded and left the lady to take up Nash’s post. The little blonde brightened when the tall, well muscled Scandinavian took the stool Nash just vacated. She reached up and rubbed Bernie’s bald head and snuggled close.
Nash followed his brother through the crowd toward the wrought iron, spiral staircase that led to the private rooms. He’d worked as a bouncer at Claim Me, a Surrender Inc. BDSM club, for a few months now. His brother bought the place to add to his list of investments. Thomas mainly earned his money in casinos—something Nash teased him about, saying this made him a walking cliché: an aboriginal who acquired his wealth through a string of gambling joints. But now he was moving into the domination and submission trade with this place. Then main floor was a night club, complete with a bar, dance floor, booming hip hop, and bodies writhing. Scattered through it were faux rooms with glass walls through which patrons could watch BDSM scenes. A femdom flogging her submissive. A towering dom spanking his mistress. Whatever your pleasure, Claim Me had it. But the real action happened in the private rooms upstairs.
Thomas led him to Room 9 and stopped before he turned the knob. “The woman’s got a gun. She’s holding one of my best switches and her client hostage. We have to be careful.”
Nash frowned. “I thought you said you screened everyone thoroughly. How the hell did this shit get in?”
Thomas sighed. “The guy lied. Told us his divorce was final. Said his wife wasn’t cool with spanking him, so he had to get it elsewhere. Everything checked out. Anyway… See for yourself.”
Thomas opened the door and the screeching started.
“Get out! This is between me and them.” A pretty woman in tight jeans and a leather jacket whirled toward them, pointing a pistol right at Nash’s waist. At six foot seven, the woman would have to look up and aim higher to get his chest.
“Ma’am, put the gun down.” Thomas took another step into the room. “We can all talk about this in my office.”
When Nash’s gaze swept to the pair she was holding hostage, his stomach tightened and his heart squeezed in his chest, but he didn’t show it. Instead he stared at his ex-wife, Fiona, and she stared back with a riding crop poised just above the bare ass of her balding client.
“Rebecca!” the prone man shouted at his distraught wife. “Put the gun down and get out of here now. I won’t press charges if you just walk away.”
“You promised we’d try and work things out.” The lady with blonde chunks running through her black hair sobbed.
“Sweetie, there is nothing left to work out,” her husband continued. “We both tried. But we’re from different worlds. I need this.” With his head, he motioned to the riding crop Fiona had ready to strike. “You can’t do it. Opposites attract, sure, but they don’t always make it for the long haul.”
While the husband tried to talk her down, and Rebecca’s focus was solely on the man, Nash managed to slip around behind her slowly. For a big man, he was stealthy. He remembered when he and Fiona lived together he could often sneak up behind her without his wife realizing. She used to say he was too light on his feet for her own good.
“Put the gun down, ma’am.” Nash wrapped a big hand around Rebecca’s and forced her to point the weapon at the ground before she could react.
A shot went off, booming through the room and piercing the hardwood beneath them.
“Fuck!” Thomas shouted. “Get that gun away from this crazy bitch.” Then he ran out of the room to see if anyone was wounded below, leaving Nash to deal with his ex and the mess alone.
Rebecca was reduced to tears and easily gave up the pistol as Nash led her to a spanking bench and sat her down.
Fiona helped her client out of his straps and he quickly dressed then came over to his wife. He glanced warily at Nash as he spoke, “I’m so sorry. I’ll get her out of here.”
Thomas reappeared just as the man was leading his wife toward the door. He glared down at the guy. “Consider your membership cancelled. I better never see your face in here again.”
The guy nodded and mumbled something before he and his crying wife disappeared.
Thomas heaved a sigh of relief and ran his fingers through his blue-black hair. Nash looked at him then at Fiona. She cleared her throat, glanced down at the riding crop she still held. His ex-wife was scorching hot in a tight black corset and leather pants that clung to her curves. Her red hair fell in a cloud of curls around her pale, freckled shoulders. He wanted her so bad in that moment.
And he hated his brother for not telling him Fiona was here.
Nash gave Thomas an accusatory glare.
Thomas smirked. “What? I figured you two would run into each other eventually.” Then he shoved his hands in the pockets of his expensive dress pants and walked out.
Nash stared at her. She stared back. As if willing him to be the first to look away, she held his gaze and refused to blink.
The last thing Fiona needed was a surprise like this. She hadn’t seen Nash Falcon in over six months, though she’d tried to get a hold of him after the accident. Damn, he was as gorgeous as she remembered—all towering muscles, brown skin, and hair and eyes as black as midnight. She hated herself for wanting him so badly. Her heart sped up at the sight of him and her lower belly tingled, but she refused to show it.
“What’re you doing here?” he snapped.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“My brother owns the place.”
She bit her bottom lip, as if physically chewing on her words. No way would she tell him why she was working in Thomas’ BDSM club. But she didn’t need to give him a reason anyway. She owed him nothing. Their relationship was over because he was a hypocrite and she was stubborn.
“How’ve you been?” she asked.
“Changing the subject.” Nash shook his head as he sat on the edge of the spanking bench. “Classic Fiona.”
Anger spiked in her belly. “You did a lot of subject changing during our marriage. Nice to know you’re still a hypocrite.”
This sent him flying to his feet. “I am not a hypocrite.”
She took a step closer. “But you do have double standards.”
Their argument referred to the situation that broke their marriage. Nash had been a player. Fiona knew that when she married him, so she’d insisted if they were going to have an open marriage it had to be open on both ends. Nash wouldn’t stand for that. He could sleep with other women, but Fiona was his and his alone. Fiona said to hell with that. If he could mess around with other females then she could take home other males. Nash went nuclear at the idea.
“You’re my wife!” he screamed one night, just before the divorce, as she was packing her things up in their two bedroom townhouse.
She’d whirled on him. “And you’re my husband! If you want a threesome, want to sleep with other people, then I should get the same fringe benefits. This marriage has to be equal. And since you can’t handle that, I’m leaving.”
Nash had broached the subject of a ménage a trios. Fiona and him with another woman. Fiona had agreed, just so long as Nash returned the favor. Nash said no way. And if her husband couldn’t treat her as an equal in all aspects of their relationship, Fiona wouldn’t stay with him.
“I loved you!” he shouted now, dragging her back to the present. “We could’ve worked things out if you had stayed.”
“We tried, Nash.” She sighed and placed a hand just below his chest. “You wouldn’t budge. Neither would I. And I got tired of catching you in bed with other women. We became oil and water.”
He sneered. “You could’ve at least called after the accident.”
She slapped him hard in the gut then. “I tried! You didn’t answer my calls. And how about when I came to the hospital, hmmm? You told them I wasn’t family so they wouldn’t let me in. The divorce wasn’t even final yet.”
He let out an ‘oof’ from her punch and his shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry.”
She rubbed the spot she’d hit. “So am I.”
He sat again on the bench, took her hand, and this time she joined him.
“How’s it going at Strength Inc.?” He couldn’t look at her when he asked.
Her throat tightened in time with her stomach. She couldn’t tell him the truth. “Good. I’m managing less fighters these days. So I came here. Wanted to try something different.”
Strength Inc. held a big place in their lives during their three year marriage. Nash and Fiona had met back when he was still working with the rez police on the reservation he’d grown up at. On weekends, he’d come to the matches a local wrestling circuit held. She was a promoter with the small time organization and she’d spotted the massive man not long after he attended his first event. She’d approached him, asked if he’d ever thought of getting in the ring? Nash had told her he’d carried a lifelong dream to be a fighter and she’d encouraged it, taking him all the way to the International Fighting World Championship. He’d been a mixed martial arts star in no time.
But that was before the divorce, and the motorcycle accident that
left him with major spinal cord trauma and a leg broken in eight places. The trauma was bad enough that, despite physical therapy, Nash would never be able to fight professionally again.
“Truce?” he said, holding out his hand.
She smiled. She wanted that. For them to at least be friends. “Sure.” But instead of taking his hand, she stretched her short arms around his massive torso and wrapped him in a hug.
He smelled so good—a mixture of something spicy with sandalwood underneath. His warm skin melted her. His touch brought comfort, felt like home.
She lifted her head from his shoulder and gazed up at him. For a moment, all the pain and betrayal were forgotten. Her fingers slid over his grizzled jaw, sweep up his high cheekbones, and she pulled him close for a kiss.
Their lips molded together perfectly. They anticipated each other’s movements as if they’d never been separated. She sucked on his bottom lip while his tongue flit inside her mouth then explored. His big hands roamed up her back and she pressed closer to him, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders.
Someone near the door cleared their throat.
A burly man almost as tall as Nash stood just inside the threshold, leaning against the entrance with arms crossed over his brown, naked chest. His aquamarine eyes flashed fire in Nash’s direction. Light brown hair streaked blond fell to his shoulders. The guy looked part Hawaiian.
“Am I interrupting?” His gaze narrowed in on Fiona.
Nash didn’t like this, and he moved to confront the guy, but Fiona stopped him.
“It’s nothing, Eli.” She stood and walked toward the towering dom clad in leather pants. “He’s an old friend.”
“Old friend?” Nash snorted. “That’s rich.”
She whirled on him and angry fire had returned to her gaze. “Nash, this is Eli Watson. My boyfriend.”
Her words withered his hope, turning it to a sour ball that sat heavy in his stomach. Without a sound, he rose from the bench and made it to the guy in two big strides. Then he punched him in the nose.