Disciplining the Beast: Taming the Beast, Book 5 (10 page)

“I’m wearing a mask.”

“Not any longer.” He pulled it off and tucked it into his belt.

She licked sweat off her upper lip. “Don’t crush my feathers.”

“You seem to have forgotten who the Dom is.” Using his superior height and weight, he backed her into the stone, his lips on hers, hands cupping her boobs. He played with the rings in her nipples and drove his tongue so deep within her mouth she couldn’t make a noise. If she had, the sound would have betrayed how much she enjoyed him as a Master, PO, man, lover, friend.

Her plan was tanking badly, and she couldn’t seem to get on track. She cradled his silky cock, the column rock hard with more heat pouring from it than a furnace. Heedlessly, she stroked the back of his crown.

He juddered and pushed her hand away. She brought it right back. On a rough growl, he pulled his mouth from hers. “You need to behave, I mean it.”

“No, you don’t. Not unless you’re ready to discipline me with a whip, cane, crop, or all three.”

His color drained.

What do you know, she’d finally found his Achilles’ heel. He may have talked big while they’d been at the office and played the Dom part before they’d gotten into the club. However, actually meting out punishment was another matter entirely.

“As you wish.” He grabbed her collar ring again and pulled her forward.

Fuck. She should have run in the other direction rather than tremble with excitement. “You don’t know where to go.”

He stopped and looked over. “Behind us is Yardley. The club’s in front of us. There aren’t any detours. We’re going in the right direction.”

“What or who is Yardley?”

“The bouncer, video guy. Come on.”

After a short walk, they entered a cavernous area, candles in the hundreds barely eating away the shadows. This was only the first room of many in this place. The mildest too, for newbies.

A circular stage dominated the center area, torches lighting the wooden frame, glinting off the chains and manacles at the top for wrists, the bottom for ankles. Nearby were straps and paddles.

She snuck a peek at Rafael.

He stared at a table to the side. A were was bent over the top, ass raised, a woman between his thighs, an impressive dildo secured to the belt around her hips. Red marks crisscrossed her plush ass.

Like a good little sub, she’d see to her Dom’s pleasure now.

At the other tables, vamps, reapers, demons, and shifters flogged each other, screwed like maniacs, enjoyed their drinks, or ate seared steaks, prime rib, stuffed chops, barbeque pork, and countless meat variations while waiting for the main attraction. A Dom displaying his or her sub on stage, punishing, and then leaving that person spread eagle and chained so others could squeeze the sub’s whipped cheeks, suckle nipples, balls, or cocks.

Rafael’s was fully erect, so hard the damn thing pointed at his head. If he got any more excited, he’d pass out.

“Do we grab our own table?” He glanced around. “Or is there a maître d’?”

“We need to move on.”

“Why?”

“Too tame in here.”

He took in the stage and the fornicating crowd, his head practically spinning on his shoulders like that kid in
The Exorcist.

The next room was more intimate, no chairs or tables, just beds. Chained to the head and footboards were men and women, facedown or up, depending on how their Doms preferred to discipline them.

One guy had clamps on his nipples and balls. He begged for more. His Dom clamped the head of his cock. Rafael shuddered and dragged Wynona to a bed with a redhead on her knees, head bowed, ass lifted to her Dom. A huge black guy with a killer smile, a dimple carved into one cheek and flames in his eyes. He squeezed her whipped ass, the cheeks practically glowing red.

She moaned. “More, please.”

He squirted a pinkish lotion over the scarlet marks and rubbed. She shouted and squirmed, unable to get too far away. Thick chains held her in place.

Her Dom growled. “Keep still.”

She sniffled and settled. He rubbed the concoction on her again, a pepper-and-salt mixture Wynona was more than familiar with. The sub recoiled from the burning sting and then pressed closer, moaning ecstatically.

Rafael turned to Wynona, eyebrows raised.

She shook her head. “Too tame.”

In the next chamber, subs were chained to the walls. A line of Doms stepped from one to the other like an assembly line, meting out their punishments with paddles, canes, whips, and riding crops. Cries and moans chorused in the heated air. Staffers served beer or mixed drinks to the Doms. The subs earned a sip of water if they got through three swats without shrieking or crying
and then
begged
for more of the same.

Few remained quiet in this room. An exceedingly popular area.

Rafael drank everything in, his eyes as wide as hers had probably been when she reaped her first soul. “This can’t be too tame.”

“Yep.”

He rubbed his temple. “Maybe you should show me what you had in mind.”

“Not liking this, huh?”

He gave her a look and gestured to his cock that was not only pointing at his head but also leaving a dent in his belly from being so hard.

Great. “Come on.”

He pulled her back. “I refuse to hurt you.”

“No pain, no gain.”

“Be serious.”

“Do you see me laughing? This is who I am. If you don’t want to discipline me, fine, I’ll pay someone else. You can watch.”

He pulled her back again. “No one’s touching you except me.” He stroked her cheek.

She should have pulled away but couldn’t.

They were getting in deeper by the second, and she only had the coming minutes to convince him how wrong he was to want her. How screwed up was that? From the beginning of her existence, she’d hoped for someone who’d stick with her no matter what. No one had answered her prayers. Fucking fate had brought Rafael to her instead, giving her two impossible options. No, three. Hurt him, herself, or both of them.

She waved down a server. He was naked like the others, except for his collar, a harness around his shoulders and an extender on his cock, guaranteed to add two inches to a guy’s length. If it didn’t kill him first.

His face was red, shoulders drawn in. Despite all his color, his fangs showed. A vamp.

Poor thing. “Hurting?”

“It’s worth it. Once I’m long enough, I get a bump in pay.”

Amazing what folks went through for money, even supernaturals. “Is the Double B free?”

“All yours. Want us to make an announcement or do you plan on an intimate date?” He slid his gaze to Rafael and licked his fangs.

Wynona smacked the vamp’s arm to get his attention. “Make an announcement. The more the merrier.”

“Hold on.” Rafael frowned. “No announcement.”

“This is who I am.”

He tightened his jaw.

“Go on.” She flicked her hand at the vamp. “Do as I said.” She turned to Rafael. “If you don’t want to do this, you can—”

“I’m not leaving, I’m not handing you over to someone else and I’m not going to discuss this with you any longer. What’s the Double B?”

“The room we’re going to. Double B is a nickname we use.”

“What’s the proper name?”

“Bucking Bronco.”

“I’m not following.”

Few good angels would.

“Attention, attention, attention.”

Rafael glanced up at the voice coming over the intercom.

“We have a treat tonight. The Double B is booked.”

Hoots and hollers rose. A few dudes dashed toward the room.

Rafael looked at her questioningly.

She wanted to hug him but kept her distance. “It’s easier for me to show you than explain.”

He trudged after her, forgetting he was the Dom. It sucked to do this to him, but she had no choice.

In the candlelit room, fifty or more supernaturals waited, all male. Some cradled plates piled high with their dinners. Others held drinks. Their chairs circled a large ebony statue of a horse, its head thrown back, hindquarters slightly down. Protruding from the neck was a phallus easily reached by a rider’s mouth if she bent from the waist and leaned forward. She’d have to in order to raise her ass for punishment. The cock was to keep her from crying out.

Two more phalluses jutted from the saddle, one for a woman’s pussy, the other to fill her anus and confine her during punishment. Riding crops, whips, canes, and paddles hung from hooks bored into the stone wall. A huge mirror on the right reflected the scene so the sub could witness her punishment, the Dom her reaction.

Rafael stared.

Chapter Ten

Wynona waited as long as she could for Rafael to scream at her or finally take off. When he did neither, she had no choice except to make a move. The audience was getting unruly. Feet smacked the floor, grunts and growls rocketed through the room. In a few more seconds, the guys would battle each other to take Rafael’s place as her Dom. After her punishment, the braver ones, or those no longer alive, might want to mount her.

That scene had played out here in the past. What would happen next was anyone’s guess, but it sure as hell wouldn’t be pretty.

She shrugged out of her jacket, waved it above her head, and tossed it into the crowd, her lavender scent rolling toward them. Several spectators leaped to catch her garment, bumping each other’s shoulders and elbows. A fight broke out in the back row, the reapers yanking each other’s hair, shrieking like teenage girls battling over a boy. Two burly staffers rushed inside to restore order.

Wynona glanced at Rafael’s reflection. His face was slightly gray, expression stony, erection massively thick and hard. Uh-oh. If he was repulsed, it wasn’t by this room or her but his arousal. Part of her worried he hadn’t fled, another part was grateful that he’d accepted who she was and wasn’t.

No way would she ever be good.

The guys smacked their feet again, demanding more action than her seesawing emotions.

A vamp in front hissed lustily. A demon shot to his feet, flames blazing in his black eyes. “Ditch the clothes and climb on.”

“Not on the horse.” A reaper stroked his erection. “On this bad boy.”

Everyone talked at once, bitching about what they wanted.

Rafael cracked his whip. “Quiet.”

His roar cut through the whining like a laser through butter. The creatures fell silent, their attention zipping from him to her and back, respect suddenly in their eyes. A little fear too.

Damn. She’d had no idea Rafael could be so commanding. He’d been such a sweetheart with her.

No more. He tapped the whip in his palm, gaze raking over her, brutal need on his face. Clearly, showtime had arrived.

Suddenly shy, she took her time removing her garter belt and then easing down her thong, the satin and lace clinging to her damp skin. Once she pulled off the dainty thing, Rafael put out his hand. She dropped the underwear in his palm, her fingers trembling.

Murmurs rippled through the audience.

Rafael buried his face in the thong and inhaled deeply of her scent. Applause broke out. He glanced over. Everyone fell silent, though some did lean forward in their chairs. Rafael ignored the lot, making them and her wait for his next move while he indulged. Pre-come seeped from his cock. Bold and unashamed, he stroked the silky fluid over the head, on the fast track to absolute corruption.

Worry overcame her again.

Finished, he tied her thong to his belt and pointed his whip at her boobs. Her nipples had already peaked. Now, they stung.

Dutifully, she unclasped her bra and her breasts fell free, the steamy air in here not nearly as hot as his gaze.

A lone whistle, low and lingering, flowed through the room. Numerous guys raised their hands, encouraging her to toss the bra. She gave it to Rafael, her Master, her only love.

After this was over, she’d find a way to break into Heaven and talk to his superiors, confess how she’d bought wishes, used potions and spells, even poisoned his food and drink to destroy his purity. She’d keep at it until they relented, invited him back into the fold and condemned her to hard time in Hell.

Before she began her sentence, she’d convince Constance to remove his memories of these hours. Then he could return to Ursula and their corny romance, no worse for the wear.

Though bummed, Wynona was also determined to enjoy her last moments with him. She stood mostly naked, completely defenseless, awaiting his command, wanting his strong hand as much as she did his tender kisses.

Nothing was soft about him tonight. Slowly, he circled, stopping in front, slipping his whip between her legs. The cords skimmed and tickled the backs of her knees. She didn’t dare giggle or move, uncertain what he might do. The crowd loved it, eating their food more quickly, finishing their drinks, lifting the empty glasses or bottles for more. The servers weaved in and out, delivering the booze. Rafael pressed the whip handle against her thighs, wordlessly commanding her to spread them.

A familiar ache settled in her pussy already congested with heat and desire. She slid her feet apart, exposing herself further.

He circled around to the back and ran the handle down the furrow between her cheeks, lingering on her anus. She locked her knees to keep steady.

The server she’d spoken to earlier padded to where she and Rafael stood. The guy carried a silver tray heaped with phalluses in varying thicknesses. The attached gold chains helped keep those babies in place once inserted into an orifice. There was also a container of heavy-duty lube.

She knew what that meant and shivered in anticipation.

The server leaned toward Rafael. “These are on the house, to stretch her tightest opening for the horse.”

The audience erupted in wolf whistles and applause.

Rafael stroked the thickest device then turned to her. “Bend over, ass lifted.”

Her head spun. Two servers hauled in a small table for her to use as support, which she did, gripping the edge. After placing the phallus next to her, where she couldn’t miss it, Rafael waved the staffers away and tossed his whip on the table.

The thing clack-clacked.

She flinched.

He dipped his fingers in the lube and rested his hand on her ass. Perspiration rolled down her cheek, excitement and disquiet flooding her. Arousal won. She gripped the table harder and lifted her buttocks.

The lube was slippery and wonderfully cool on her fevered flesh. He worked his finger into her anus, oiling her good. She whimpered. Quickly, he swatted her butt, his message loud and clear. He’d tolerate no sounds from her unless he allowed them.

Wynona bit her lip and held back a delighted squeal.

He slathered the phallus with the lube, close enough for her to watch, his strokes uber slow, building her anticipation.

Rustling noises rose from the audience. Guys shifting in their seats or leaning up to see better. A few cleared their throats. None uttered a word.

Rafael held her anus apart with one hand and worked the phallus into the narrow passage with the other. The pressure was so insane and sinfully wicked, her jaw dropped. Fully enslaved, she relaxed as much as possible to ease his task.

He worked her with surprising expertise, finishing with the flared end flush against her body, her opening stretched mercilessly, the chains skimming her thighs. She shuddered and pulled in another shallow breath, unable to manage more. He draped the chains over her hips to her tummy, securing them beneath her bejeweled navel. With his thighs pressed against hers, he confined her further and stroked her clit.

Pleasure shot through her, exploding into pure bliss. She gasped.

Feet slapped the floor, chair legs scraped, the guys edging closer.

Rafael straightened and backed away from her. She waited for his bellow telling everyone to clear out, leaving her and him to themselves. Unless he’d finally come to his senses and was ready to take off. She snuck a look at his reflection.

He faced the other guys, his eyes hooded, breathing hard. “Those who want a closer look can come up here and get their fill.”

She gaped.

“One by one though.” He pointed. “No touching. Break that rule at your own peril.”

The line formed quickly, the guys holding their hands behind their backs.

Rafael concentrated on the BDSM tools hanging from the wall. He stroked a cane and then a riding crop while she cooled her heels and entertained the troops.

They grinned and leered.

Never had she felt as exposed or been as wet. For a newly sullied angel, Rafael had some amazing moves. That porn film must have been quite the tutorial and a bad decision on his part. Now she’d really have to pour on the charm with his superiors when she tried to get him out of this mess. She lowered her head.

“No.” He strode to her. “Face lifted, eyes on the mirror to see them look at every intimate part of you.”

Her cheeks couldn’t have gotten hotter. A hunky demon bent at the waist and studied her impaled ass. Her chest grew uncomfortably warm. Even her nipple rings heated up.

Rafael selected a long paddle with holes in it to eliminate drag and increase thrust. He whacked the thing against the table.

She jumped.

He couldn’t have looked more serene or imposing. “Everyone back to their seats.”

A were stood his ground, shoulders pulled back. Rafael crowded him, his expression lethal. The guy pivoted and hurried to his chair.

Rafael returned to the table. “Do I need to gag you?”

Probably. Another squeal rose in her throat, ready to break free. She shook her head.

“Not one sound or word, got it? You’ll not only accept my punishment, you’ll crave it.”

She already did.

He pointed the paddle at the mirror. “Watch for each lick. Anticipate and raise your ass to greet every one.”

God, he was way past hot, clear to the other side of fan-fucking-tastic. She turned to the mirror.

He pushed the cape over his shoulders and affected a conqueror’s stance. Feet apart, back straight as an iron rod, his sex brazenly hard and irresistible. Focused on her ass, he lifted the paddle.

The hair in his pit was dark and silky, his chest glazed with perspiration, muscles corded. Hell, he was better than a god. He was Master of the freaking universe.

He whisked the paddle down and air whistled through the holes. The thing connected with her right cheek, producing a loud thwack.

She froze at the blow, not feeling a thing. Hold it, she did, the sting rough and deep. Wincing, she stared at her reflection, eyes rounded, face ruddy, teeth clenched against a wail, and then a sigh as warmth washed over her, replacing the hurt.

She lifted her ass and welcomed the next lick.

Rafael felt as if he were having an out-of-body experience or had stumbled into an erotic twilight zone. He stared at Wynona’s ass, her milky skin pink from the paddle. His balls twitched. He turned to his reflection, not recognizing the beast looking back at him, hair in disarray, pupils dilated, chest heaving, lacy underwear tied to his belt, cock hardened to the point of pain.

He’d never looked as good. She looked even better. Soft, feminine, yielding. Who would have thought he’d like this and would crave more? Not as a steady diet, but an occasional detour from their vanilla lovemaking, which they’d always return to. Nothing could compete with real intimacy, tenderness, belonging to another person you could trust with your most painful secrets and failings.

After tonight, there’d be no going back to Heaven for him. His feathers were probably already solid black, possibly corroding too if the odd twitches in his back were any indication. If they turned to ash, he didn’t care except for how that would affect Wynona. She’d blame herself when he was responsible.

Maybe there was a place somewhere where they could be together and belong. Like what Maria and Tony sang about in
West Side Story.
Beautiful tune that hadn’t helped their romance. Poor Tony had died before they’d even had a second date. What a downer.

Rafael frowned. He and Wynona would have their happily ever after…somehow.

She wiggled her ass

He stroked the phallus base, along with her sensitive flesh. She sighed breathily. Male power pulsed through him as it never had before. Her submission was so empowering to him, he couldn’t believe he’d ever lived without this or her. No more.

Again, he brought the paddle down, the crack ringing through the room. She arched her back. The guys pounded their feet and applauded.

Rafael should have told them to leave. This was wrong on so many levels. Curiously, their presence excited him even more, not that he’d let them get too familiar. He shot a warning glare for them not to budge from their seats.

Choirboys couldn’t have been more reserved.

Rafael swatted her four more times, twice on each cheek to make things even, and tossed the paddle. Two guys jumped up to catch it. The winner pressed his face to the business end of the tool. Hoping to catch her scent?

Her enticing musk and sweet lavender enveloped Rafael, coaxing him closer, as deep as a man could go. For him, even that wouldn’t be far enough. She was part of him, had been from the moment they’d met. More necessary than honor, righteousness, purity, salvation.

He mounted, driving his shaft deep into her pussy. They moaned together. She pushed her ass into him, taking the last of his length inside. Dizzy, he leaned down, lacing his fingers through hers. “You all right?”

“Is it possible to die of happiness?”

He chuckled. “I don’t think so. Want to try?”

“I’m game. Don’t stop, please.”

Never. Not even if the Big Guy showed up and ordered Rafael away from her. He’d risk everlasting obliteration for a second more of her softness and heat.

He kissed her hairline, released her hands and pumped lazily despite his ringing ears and aching rod. Each stroke threatened to send him over the edge, heaviness and tension building too quickly in his balls.

One of the guys held up a smartphone. Two others followed.

“Hey.” A server pointed at them. “No recordings.”

Good man. Rafael figured the second his grimace and Wynona’s dazed expression hit Facebook or YouTube, they’d be shit out of luck. Heaven checked those sites for vulnerable souls. Could be Becca did the same to see what her staff was up to.

Wynona tightened her sheath around his cock, urging him to go faster, harder. He brushed her clit. She whimpered. They rocked in time, lost in a primal dance meant for them alone. She came first, crying wildly.

He resisted his release and pulled out, his cock rigid as hell, slick with her juices. Guys in the back row stood and craned their necks to see better.

The server with the torture device on his cock hurried over. “Are you through? Need a chair?”