No Safeword: Matte - the Honeymoon (17 page)

“Mmmmm.”

How could he say so much with just a sound? Every time
she opened her mouth, it was with the intention of trying to make him stop
hurting her asshole, even when she was asking him to do it. To truly submit,
she needed to be quiet and just take what he gave her.

Every muscle in her body was taut as she hopelessly
tried to escape the lash, and she forced herself to relax her fingers and toes
first, then her calves and forearms, and slowly worked from her thighs up her
back, then up her front, and finally her face and scalp. She wiggled her toes
and fingers before running through her body once more to make sure nothing had
tensed again.

Amazingly, the heat at her asshole began to spread,
and she instinctively arched her back to give him better access. The rhythm of
his strikes hadn’t soaked in before, but now she realized it was four medium
lashes followed by two hard strokes and then two brutal blows of just the tips.
Once she figured out the pattern, she was ready for them as they came, and felt
her consciousness sink into the waves created by the strikes. Sound waves, pressure
waves, impact waves…everything melded together to become a beautiful song of
pain and agony, heat and desire, owned and owner. Sam still screamed, cried,
and thrashed, but she accepted the pain as she became one with it.

He sank a lubed finger into her a few times, as if
checking the temperature, but quickly fell back into the same rhythm. When he
at last deemed her asshole hot enough, and his cock spread her impossibly wide,
she welcomed the stretch and burn. He owned her, and it was his right to enter
her,
possess
her, in whatever way he wished. 

Ethan kept one hand on her left leg, the other on her
right hip, and let the suspension bondage work with his tempo. He slammed into
her and pushed her away from him with the same movement, and used his hands to
pull her back to him as he retracted his hips and thrust forward once more. Sam
had no control over the motion, depth, speed, or momentum. Her arousal level
grew in increments, and while she thought she was close to coming dozens of
times, she kept skyrocketing towards the outermost edges of space, with no sign
of a final release on the horizon.

It wasn’t until Ethan’s voice penetrated the fog,
ordering her to come, that she finally coasted into the most blissful orgasm
ever. This wasn’t an explosion of fireworks, but the space shuttle taking off
and soaring into the eternal void as her body rocked and twisted, and just as
the rocket ship hit some kind of outer limit of total weightlessness, Ethan
growled his own release and her body went tumbling into another ethereal,
otherwordly release.

Ethan took only a few seconds to recover before he
was cutting the plastic wrap on her left leg with the paramedic shears. She was
higher now than when she’d started, so he put the step stool under her foot as
he cut her right leg away from her body, and held her with his other hand to be
sure she didn’t fall when the plastic gave way.

When she was standing on both feet, he finally cut
the plastic above her body, and easily scooped her up and carried her, still
mostly encased in plastic wrap, to the bed, where he cut the rest of it away.

“You look all floaty,” he said, with a touch of
cockiness in his voice.

“Mmmm. I am, Sir. Thank you.”

He chuckled, kissed her forehead, and returned to
cutting the multiple layers of plastic off her torso. “You’re most welcome. I
think you need a short nap before we continue, but I want to sit you up and get
some liquids into you, first.”

* * * *

Sam didn’t know how long she’d slept when she
awakened to a warm tongue on her pussy, and she wasn’t terribly interested in
asking.

She awoke not too far from an orgasm, and didn’t know
if she still had permission to come at will, or whether she needed to ask. As
she was about to ask, he placed his hand on the flat of her stomach and a nice,
relaxed, orgasm slid through her.

Sometimes Ethan made her orgasms escalate, but he let
this one materialize and fade before he backed off, rested his cheek on top of
her thigh, and said, “Good afternoon.”

Sam eyed the window, but couldn’t tell time of day
with the rain still coming down. “Surely it’s evening by now?” She turned to
look at the clock, saw it was barely three o’clock.

“Wow, we still have a lot of the day left, Sir. Do
you want me to pull the steaks out of the fridge and get them started?”

Ethan smiled and caressed her other thigh. “The grill
is under the patio roof, cleverly situated so the rain doesn’t blow in. The
steaks should be finished in about ten minutes, and the veggies are on the
stove staying warm.”

Sam reached down and ran her hand through his hair.
“You’re too good to me.”

He kissed the inside of her thigh and pushed up with
a mischievous smile. “No, just showing you how special you are, and making sure
you have enough energy for the rest of the day.”

He stood and gently helped her stand. “Use the
bathroom, brush your teeth, wash your face, and pull your hair into a bun at
the back of your head. Doesn’t have to look good, but no loose strands.”

Sam’s libido perked up at the orders, even though he
hadn’t been using his Dom voice. “I suppose that means no clothes, either?”

He raised an eyebrow and swatted her bottom enough to
sting. “I wouldn’t advise it.”

When Sam stepped into the kitchen she took in his
steak on a plate, and hers cut up into pieces in a bowl. Stir-fried veggies rested
beside his steak, while hers were in a separate bowl.

“Good,” he said as he looked up and met her eyes.
“You look rested and awake.”

“I am, Sir. Thanks for the suggestion to wash my
face, it helped wake me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Suggestion?”

Sam grinned self-consciously, looked down, and then
raised her gaze back to his with a small shrug. “Okay, it was an order, but the
gratitude still stands.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, before thoughtfully
adding, “Is it easier to thank me for a suggestion than for an order?”

The answer was more complicated than she wanted to
get into at the moment, so she simply answered, “Yes, Master.”

Ethan tilted his head and considered her. Sam’s
nerves drew taut as his perusal lasted longer than she was used to, but he
finally nodded his head once and said, “You don’t see my orders as commands you
must obey, do you? You see them as sensible suggestions you’re choosing to
follow.”

So much for not getting into the complicated part of
the question. He wasn’t going to like her answer, but she wouldn’t lie.
“Sometimes, Master, but not always.”

“Explain to me when you see my orders as orders, and
when you see them as
suggestions
.” He ground out the last word, but his
deep voice had struck her from the first time she’d heard it, when he
apologized for running into her backstage at the arena.

“When I’m–” She cut herself off, paused, and
said, “Do we have to talk about this now, Sir?”

“Finish your sentence, Samantha.”

His look was warning enough, and Sam focused on her
feet and said, “When I’m horny and into it, I see them as demands. When I’m
not, I see them as suggestions. Sir.”

“And did you just realize this, or have you known it
all along?”

Again, she went for the whole truth and not just the
easy part. “I must’ve known on some level, but I never really thought about it
until you asked, Sir.”

“I see. Well, first off, I’m pleased you were honest
with me, so there won’t be a punishment or consequence. However, you have to
know I’ll be structuring things in the future so you’ll
know
when I’m
merely suggesting something, and when I’m giving an order.”

He didn’t seem pissed, and Sam smiled, happy she’d
found a master who knew how to handle her without being an ogre all the time.
She needed someone who wouldn’t let her get away with shit, but it was nice to
have her honesty valued.

“Of course, Master. I’d expect nothing less.”

He smiled back, blew her a kiss, and motioned to the
floor. “Hands and knees. Crawl to me.”

Well, there was no way she could convince herself
this was a suggestion. Of course, his voice and the gleam in his eye had her
blood warming nicely, so she didn’t really mind the order.

He had her kneel up when she reached him, and he
proceeded to use bondage tape at an odd angle around each fist and forearm.
When he ordered her to crawl again and follow him, she discovered she couldn’t
put weight on her fists without hurting her wrists.

She looked to him for help and he said, “My
apologies. I should have clarified the shift to your forearms and knees.”

His smirk was anything but an apology, but she looked
down before her eyes betrayed her annoyance. Crawling on her forearms was
harder, but he didn’t lead her far, thankfully.

He placed her two bowls — one with steak and
the other with veggies — side by side in front of her on the floor, along
with a lidded tumbler with a straw, and then casually strolled back to the
kitchen island. Sam didn’t move for several long moments, and he finally said,
“Excellent. You may eat, Samantha.”

The steak was cooked exactly the way she liked, and
had cooled just enough to not burn her mouth. He’d timed it perfectly and she
was about to compliment his cooking skills when he said, “Tell me, do you think
I suggested you eat, or ordered it?”

“Neither, Sir. You gave me permission to do so after
cooking a steak exactly the way I like it.”

He chuckled. “I gave you permission to eat like a
dog? Really? Should I give you permission to sit up and beg, next?”

Sam felt her face grow hot as she realized the truth
of his words. She’d once again subverted his authority by convincing herself
she wasn’t being ordered to eat from a bowl on the floor, but was choosing to
after he graciously gave his permission.

He’d positioned her facing away from him, with her
ass towards him, and she was glad her face was hidden as she took another bite,
unsure how to respond.

“As much as I like this view, I’d like you to make
your way around your food as if you were a clock hand moving from six to
twelve.”

Was he reading her mind now? Shit. She circled
awkwardly around the bowls and clumsily mouthed the straw before guzzling enough
water to help wash down the steak.

He alternated forbidding eye contact, with making her
look at him while she put her face into the bowl, grasped the food with her
lips and teeth, pulled it into her mouth, and chewed. The arbitrary directives
further hammered home the fact he was just giving her orders because he could,
and as she neared the end of her meal and he once again changed his mind and
ordered her to look down and not make eye contact, she glared at him defiantly
a few seconds before lowering her gaze.

“Hmmmm,” he said, considering. “I counted to three in
my head before you looked down. I’m inclined to call it three strikes of the
cane, my beautiful, defiant little submissive wife.”

Sam’s heart skipped a beat at his words, but she’d
known he wouldn’t let her get away with it. Maybe she’d needed a reminder of
what happened when she took her own sweet time submitting?

Sam picked up another piece of steak with her teeth,
and used her lips and tongue to pull it the rest of the way into her mouth,
though she suddenly didn’t feel like eating.

“Finish your dinner, Samantha,” he said, his voice
gentle and caring. “We’ll deal with your punishment later.” After a few breaths
he added, “Just to be clear, I’m not ordering you to eat everything in your
bowls. When you’re finished, you may stop, but I don’t want it to be because
you’re stressing over something yet to come.”

He was right, of course. One thing at a time. She
started to look up, remembered she didn’t have permission to make eye contact,
and leaned sideways a little to get a drink. When she’d swallowed her food she
said, “Thank you, Master, for reminding me to focus on one thing at a time.”

“You’re welcome. Tell me how you feel about being
made to eat from the floor.”

“If you made me do it a lot, I don’t think I’d like
it, but it feels right for today.” She lifted some broccoli with her lips and
teeth, chewed and swallowed, and added, “The arbitrary rules have been harder
than the actual kneeling and eating from the floor. Also, the fact I have to
stay on my forearms, I think. It puts me lower than hands and knees, even.” She
shook her head as she realized she wasn’t explaining how it made her feel, only
talking about what he was making her do.

“I’m doing a poor job of explaining my feelings, Sir,
and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re going around the bush to get
there, but I’m willing to be patient while you work it out in your head.”

Sam took another bite, and had to avert her eyes at
the last minute to keep from looking up again. “Can I please have permission to
make eye contact while I’m making my way around the bush, Sir?”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Sam
bent her head to get another piece of steak. Finally, he answered, “Permission
denied. You want feedback, but I’d like you to answer without the benefit of
checking in with me visually. Eye contact will result in one strike of the
stainless cane for each occurrence under one second.”

Well, damn. He was right about her wanting feedback,
of course. Sometimes it was awesome how he knew her so well, but at times like
this it was downright annoying.

She swallowed, took a breath, let it out, and finally
said, “I honestly hadn’t realized I was subverting your authority by convincing
myself I wanted to do what you were requesting. The constantly changing eye
contact thing today has really made me confront how it feels to be forced to
follow rules.”

She ate in silence several minutes, considering, and
finally added, “I asked you to add a psychological element, and I had a feeling
I wouldn’t like whatever you chose, but…”