The steel was replaced by his warm mouth as Marc flicked his tongue over first one nipple, then the other. He blew air onto her nipple and it stiffened as the cool air kissed her wet bud. Angelina felt his soft lips almost reverently pull her nipple into his hot mouth again, just before pinpricks of steel rolled over her other nipple, harder.
Angelina’s lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, but she was afraid to breathe for fear of being cut. How could he do two things at once? The difference in the sensations between his soft, warm mouth on one nipple and the sharp, cold steel on the other caused her clit to spasm. Her hips strained upward, even though she cringed mentally at the thought of his using that sharp instrument on her clit. She wouldn’t be able to stand pain like that.
Would she?
Angelina knew she had her safe word. Of course, she could let go of the bed at any time and remove the object before it reached her clit. She hadn’t agreed to cutting and no way could that touch her clit without cutting. But he hadn’t broken her skin. Yet. She would wait and see what happened next before bailing out.
A niggling doubt plagued her. If she used her safe word, would he honor it? Should she test him? No. He said he’d end the scene immediately and, at the moment, the delicious sensations rampaging through her body made it clear she had no desire to end this anytime soon.
She was pulled out of her thoughts when the sharp instrument rolled over her nipple again. Surprised, she gasped, and her chest arched upward suddenly—toward the pain, rather than away—causing the sharp object to press deeply into her sensitive peak.
“Ow!” She cried out against the unexpected pain, then the torture device was gone, replaced with Marc’s gentle hand on her breast and his warm tongue laving and flicking at her aching nipple until the pain receded.
Pain.
Pleasure.
She moaned and his mouth left her.
“I’m sorry,
gattina
. That was not intentional.”
She whimpered; her self-control gone. How did he turn pain into pleasure so quickly? His words registered that the pain had been accidental. He’d even apologized for the relatively tiny hurt. Allen had inflicted so much more pain and told her it had just been a misunderstanding on her part.
“Stay with me, pet.”
His mouth sucked her tender nipple, but her pussy clenched in response, aching to be filled. She couldn’t speak her wishes, but moaned as she tilted her pelvis upward, hoping he would take the hint. He released her nipple and cold air caused her well-loved peak to swell even further.
For a moment, he didn’t touch her anywhere. She waited. What next? Her body missed the sensations of his hand, mouth, and even that painful metal device.
At last, he was touching her pussy, spreading her folds open, and exposing her erect clit to the cool air.
Yes, touch me there!
His finger stroked directly against the sensitive nubbin, spreading something cold on her. He took his hand away. That was all? Why didn’t he stroke her more? Help her to come? She knew she could reach an orgasm now and wanted more, damn it.
Suddenly, a strange warmth spread through her clit. It grew warmer and warmer, almost to the point of being uncomfortable. What had he just put on her clit? The sensation made her want to beg him to touch her again. Oh, God! She was on fire!
Then cold! What felt like wet ice brushed over her mouth, sending a trickle of water down her cheek and around her ear. Yes, definitely ice. And she smelled mint, which didn’t make sense. Marc pressed the melting cube over her chin, gliding it slowly down her throat leaving a trail of cold as the runoff trailed to the back of her neck. He moved the cube at a glacier’s pace. Would he ever reach his destination, wherever that was? Then the ice came to rest at the base of her neck, above her collarbone, where he left it to lie and melt, trickling cold water around her neck and to her back.
Her clit was on fire. Her upper body was freezing. The mixed signals short-circuited her brain. She shivered, but whether from the cold or her burning clit, she didn’t know.
His warm lips brushed over her cold ones causing hers to tingle and warm quickly, then he trailed kisses over her chin, down her throat, stopping to press a kiss against her pulse, and continuing on until he came to the pool of melted ice at the base of her throat. His tongue lapped at the water in the hollow and then the ice was gone.
His lips, colder now as they moved down her body, avoiding her breasts, which confused her. As he reached her abdomen, his legs straddled her again. She could tell he hadn’t removed his pants yet. Then all thought fled as his unusually cold lips brushed over her mons, closer and closer to her fiery clit.
No! Just as the thought occurred to her that fire and ice don’t mix, his frigid tongue licked the hood above her clit.
Her hips bucked up on the mattress, then she tried to get away from his mouth, but movement was impossible. “Ohhh! Ohh, God, no!!!” No escape. The disparate temperatures, the sensations, the restraint were all too much, nearly sending her mind over the edge.
She realized she’d spoken, well, screamed was more accuate. But he hadn’t reprimanded her. She wouldn’t have been able to restrain herself if she’d tried, though. Maybe he made allowances for cries of passion.
Avoiding the most sensitive part of her clit, his tongue slid down to her pussy and he pressed it inside her warm vagina, leaving his tongue there without moving. As the coldness of his tongue disappeared, he moved his tongue, flicking on a path back toward her clit. This time, when he laved the area around the hood, his tongue was warmer, but still cooler than her clit because of whatever he had put on her to make it burn.
Unable to remain still, she pressed her pussy toward his tongue. More. Oh, God, she needed more. He gently nipped her clit. “Ahhh!” The pit of her stomach tensed as the sensation coursed through her, sending ever closer to the elusive edge again. How much more could she take before he brought her the release she needed?
Please, Marc! I need you!
When she thought she could almost come without further stimulation, his mouth was gone and his weight shifted. She groaned as if in pain, then tensed, waiting to see what Marc would do next. She didn’t have to wait long. His finger rubbed something cold onto her clit again. Seconds later, it began to warm. Only this time, he removed his finger, then returned to spread even more of the first-cold-then-hot substance between the outer lips and moving toward the opening of her pussy. Oh, no! Surely he wouldn’t put that on her va…
The smell of mint reached her sensitive nose. What on earth was he using? She remembered he’d gone into the front part of the house, but there wasn’t anything with mint there. The bathroom. Toothpaste? Who would think of putting toothpaste there?!?
Marc, apparently
.
Slowly, heat spread like wildfire from her clit to her vagina. No longer capable of coherent thought, her head thrashed against the pillow. She was out of her mind with want. Why didn’t he at least put his finger inside her? But she knew she wanted more than a finger. She wanted him. Inside her. Now!
“Please don’t make me wait any longer, Marc! I want you inside me.”
Angelina froze. Oh, God. Had she spoken aloud? What would he do now? Tears of frustration filled her eyes. She wished she could see him. Judge his reaction.
Marc left the bed. “Pet, not only did you disobey by speaking, but you also neglected to respect me by calling me Sir. I will give you two choices for your punishment.”
Her heart pounded against her chest as she waited for him to tell her what those choices were. What could he possibly do to her that wouldn’t involve pain? But he’d promised not to hurt her.
If
she obeyed him. She hadn’t. As she waited, her mind tried to imagine other punishments. Did Doms use timeouts like she’d had in kindergarten? Spankings, certainly.
Whatever he had put on her clit, continued to burn, making her want Marc’s touch more than she’d ever wanted anything. Her hips bucked upward as if with a will of their own. How much longer would he make her wait?
“Your first choice is for me to stop now, untie your legs, and let you go to sleep while I go back to sleep on the sofa.”
More tears sprang to her eyes. How could he leave her wanting like this? Didn’t good Doms always make sure their subs’ needs were met? Well, she needed to come, damn it!
“Your second choice will give you the mind-blowing orgasm you crave—“
Yes, that one!
“—but you must submit to an over-the-knee spanking. Bare ass. Five swats.”
Oh, God! No way!
Chapter Twelve
Marc paused, giving her time to process the image of her naked ass high in the air over his knee as he spanked her. Shit, the image was now branded on his brain as well. His cock strained against his zipper, as if he hadn’t already been turned on. He’d prided himself in being able to control himself, ever since he’d lost it that night with Melissa just before he’d enlisted. But with this woman, he wasn’t sure he could.
He hated that she’d put him in a place where he’d have to punish her. But he’d excused a number of slips and wouldn’t be a responsible Dom, even if a short-term one, if he didn’t show her there were consequences for a lack of obedience. He had to follow through.
Hopefully, forcing her to choose her own punishment—orgasm deprivation or a spanking with an orgasm—she wouldn’t compare him to an abusive Dom like Sir Asshole. One option didn’t involve pain—well, not the physical kind anyway. Knowing how inexperienced she was with orgasms in the first place, she might be content to just go to sleep and forget about getting off tonight. Chances were slim that she’d choose the spanking option. Which was fine with him. He preferred to save spankings for “funishment,” or fantasy role-playing scenes, instead.
If she did choose the spanking, though, he couldn’t go easy on her. Would that shatter her ability to trust him—or other Doms, since they only had tonight? But she needed to learn that trust went both ways and, if he promised something, he had to deliver on that promise, good or bad.
“Which do you choose?”
She wouldn’t have believed him if he’d told her she’d probably get off on the spanking. She’d have to experience that for herself. Would she be brave enough to trust him?
She took her full lower lip between her teeth and her brow furrowed above the sash covering her eyes. When he saw the stain of tears on the red blindfold, his gut twisted.
“Pet. Your answer. Now.” The longer she conjured up images in her mind, the more frightened she would become. Reality would be better than anything she could imagine.
Her chest rose as she inhaled a deep breath. “Please, Sir…,” she drew another breath, “I want to come.”
Oh, shit.
“And?”
Her breathing stopped. “A-a-and to be spanked for speaking when I wasn’t supposed to.”
Marc’s side hurt and he realized he’d been holding his breath as well. He relaxed his lungs and smiled. “You need to know what you’re being punished for. What else?”
“I called you a name other than Sir…Sir.”
Good girl.
“Thank you for trusting me,
cara
.”
Now if only he could deliver her punishment without losing that trust. He returned to the bed and began to untie her legs. He didn’t explain himself right away, but had decided she wouldn’t be able to enjoy herself and come if she had the upcoming spanking scene in her head. The woman could hold onto a runaway train of thought, especially one that scared or worried her, longer than any sub he’d ever met.
To her credit, she didn’t ask him what he was doing. Did she know what he had in mind? Well, she’d know soon enough. He released her other leg and went to the head of the bed. “You may let go now.”
When she didn’t move, he reached out to pry her fingers loose from the stranglehold she had on the headboard. He’d venture a guess she’d forgotten she could have let go at any point. Her mind and body hadn’t been able to tell the difference between real restraints and invisible ones.
Good little sub
.
“Now, as your Dom, I need to show you that disobeying me has consequences.”
She tensed and opened her mouth to protest, then snapped it closed again. Fast learner. Perhaps they could make even more progress than he’d expected in their short time together.
“In order for a Dom/sub relationship to work, you have to communicate fully and openly with one another. You need to tell me what you are thinking, what you like, what you don’t like, what scares you, and so on. So, you are permitted to speak during your punishment. I want to know how it feels, how you are doing. Do you understand?”
She nodded her head.
“Speak.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
He reached down to push the blindfold off her eyes. She blinked several times to adjust to the light. Her wet eyelashes stuck together from her tears. He didn’t usually let a woman’s tears affect him, but this woman’s did.
Not good.
He helped her sit up and massaged her shoulders where her muscles were tight from holding her hands over her head for so long. She moaned, definitely not in pain. She gathered her hair to one side and lowered her head, giving him easier access. He saw where her beautiful olive skin was bruised from Asshole’s attack and he pulled away, afraid he would hurt her.
Marc sat on the edge of the bed and motioned for her to climb onto his lap. When she started to crawl face down across him, he took her arms and guided her ass onto his lap. “We need to talk first, pet.”
He read confusion on her face. Normally, he’d want to build up a healthy level of trepidation about what was to come, but given her high level of anxiety already, he found himself wanting to talk with her first.
He placed his fingers under her chin and raised her gaze to his. Her chocolate brown eyes were like an abused puppy’s and he felt a moment of disgust with himself for putting that look there.
No, he wouldn’t accept that blame. Sir Asshole had put that expression there. Now Marc needed to try and remove it.