“Hold up your hair.”
Her hair?
She did as he asked. But then he reached through her arm and put the cravat around her neck. She stood completely still as he tied and knotted the soft fabric around her neck—snug, but not too tight.
He lifted his brow. “Better?”
She looked down at the cravat falling between her breasts. One long end brushed her thigh. As with her bonds the previous evening, the sight of it, and the comfortable snugness around her neck, worked some sort of calming magic upon her.
She looked up at him with a small frown. “Yes. I don’t know why; but, yes, it is better.”
His lips curled slightly. “There are many levels of submission, Patience.” His voice was gentle yet firm. “The first is passive. This is what you experienced last night. Tied, you submit while I give to you and take from you. This is relatively easy because you must do nothing but react and respond.”
Yes. It was so much easier.
He moistened his lips. “The next level, however, is active. In this case, I do
not
tie you, and I require you to do things that please me—things that may or may not involve sex. As you have discovered, this can be more difficult. But”—he stroked his thumb across her lower lip—“only at first—only until you recognize that your misplaced pride is a hindrance to your happiness and fulfillment. Once you learn to take pride in your submission and obedience, all will be well. For now”—he touched the silk at her neck—“think of this collar as a stepping stone. You aren’t tied, but it serves to remind you of your place, and the fact that I can bind you at any time I choose.”
Patience listened intently. She found everything he said fascinating and stimulating. “You said ‘many’ levels.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Lust? Excitement? “The next level entails surrendering to your punishments.” His gaze probed hers. “You will do this because you will discover that punishment is good for you. Punishment keeps you soft, secure, and obedient. But punishment also strengthens you—just as tempering strengthens steel.” He stroked his hand over her hair. “You will learn to love your punishments as dearly as you love your pleasures.”
Patience remembered how, the night before, he had stopped stroking her when she had given him unsatisfactory answers. Her clitoris pulsed. “Have I not already experienced punishments?”
“Punishments come small and large. What you’ve experienced is a mere slap on the hand, my sweet.” He adjusted his erection in his trousers. “Once you’ve suffered a proper punishment, you’ll know it.”
Patience’s heart pounded in her breast and her quim let down a rush of moisture. What were these punishments?
“Enough conversation.” Matthew held out his hand and his eyes darkened. “Put your leash in my hand. And know, as you do so, that you are subject to both my wishes and my whims.”
Patience lifted the trailing piece of fabric, and then looked at Matthew’s open hand. A chill raced down her back. Then she laid the silk across his palm.
“Good.” He pulled her to him and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Now, my brandy, if you please.”
Patience almost forgot that she had left it on the hearth. As she began to bend her knees, Matthew pulled on the silk. She glanced at him. His expression had a hard intensity. “Bend at the waist. And don’t turn from where you now stand.”
Patience felt her face flushing. She looked down at the snifter and wished she hadn’t put it there. Before she could consider further, she quickly bent. Her leash fell free and, as fast as she reached the glass, Matthew was behind her, his hands caressing and squeezing her bottom. As she began to straighten, he pressed her back down. Then, with his foot, he slid her petite footstool before her. “Stay.”
Patience bit her lip and reluctantly placed her palms atop the low little stool. Matthew’s long fingers kneaded her flesh, squeezing it hard and grabbing it. It felt so good, but her position made her face flame with embarrassment. Still, he rubbed her and smoothed his hands over her bottom, following the outer and inner curves.
Sucking in her breath, she tried again to straighten.
Again, Matthew’s hand moved to her back. “I said, stay.” His voice sounded tight. Then he squeezed her bottom again, drawing a moan from her at the strength of his grip. “Does it feel good, Patience?”
“Yes,” she gasped.
“But you feel embarrassed.” He released her, only to grip her again. “Vulnerable.”
“Yes!”
“You’ve no need to feel embarrassment, for I find every part of you beautiful. And there is no indignity in pleasing me, ever.” His grip eased, and, closing her eyes, Patience tried to relax. “Your vulnerability, however, is something you must learn to embrace.” His hands swept over the curves of her hips and her lower back. “Vulnerability will both soften and strengthen you. Not to mention”—he bent over her and kissed the curve of her back—“that it is amazingly beautiful to behold.” His hands slid over her shoulder blades as he pressed another kiss along her vertebrae. “And those who can be vulnerable, despite their fears, are oh so rare.” He pulled back, his hands sliding firmly along her sides. “Now, don’t move.”
Patience’s eyes flew open and widened as Matthew crouched behind her. Despite his words, she felt like her face was on fire.
“Oh, Patience,” he said thickly. “My sweet, Patience.” His hands gripped her bottom again, pushing up to better expose her quim. “You’re so swollen and wet.”
Groaning, Patience lifted her head for a moment. Her whole sex felt like it was ballooning.
“God, I’ve never seen such a beautifully needy cunt. It makes my prick hurt just to look at it.”
His hands left her, and looking back down, she saw him tip his knees to the floor and undo his lower trouser buttons. Then he pulled out his magnificent cock and scrotum. The thick trunk was hard, while the knob, dark and red, wept steadily. His cods looked tight and full.
Patience lifted her head and swallowed the saliva that had filled her mouth. She cried out as Matthew squeezed her bottom with one hand and jerked himself vigorously with the other. But just as quickly, he released himself and gripped her other buttock tightly. Then Patience leapt in her skin as she felt the broad stroke of his tongue near the inside of her thighs. Breathless, she trembled as he licked the moisture from her legs, then nibbled and sucked her skin. The warmth of his mouth sent her embarrassment fleeing in the face of her desire.
Softening her elbows, she bent lower. Keeping her legs straight, she pushed out her hips. Her hair brushed the ground, the muscles behind her thighs stretched, and her breasts felt heavy. As he laved her other thigh, his hips lifted toward her and his prick swayed ponderously. She couldn’t resist it. Sucking in her breath, she reached between her legs and curled her hand around him.
Matthew moaned and then, as if in reward, laid his tongue in broad, wet strokes right on her aching and swollen folds. Patience groaned and shuddered, then pushed against him as she squeezed and stroked his truncheonlike cock. It felt so heavy in her hand, and she adored the cords of veins that fed its magnificence. God, what might it be like to be penetrated by such an organ?
Her cunt clenched and watered. Her heart was pounding and she felt almost frantic for release. Matthew’s hands briefly eased on her buttocks, only to move and grip her hard again as he thrust his tongue between her nether lips, lapping up the wetness she couldn’t stop. And all the while, her clitoris, hidden and untouched, throbbed ever more painfully.
Panting, and almost crying, Patience pushed against him, trying to reveal more of herself. His tongue thrust deeply and she could feel the rough press of his chin, but it wasn’t enough. Her hips bucked, and her tears began to fall again. Suddenly she felt full of want—desperate want, old want, new want, want she’d never known she had. And her hidden, inaccessible clitoris represented all of them.
She struggled and writhed, and tried to jerk against him, but then he ran his tongue over the curve of her buttock. Groaning her anguish, she was stroking him frantically when he suddenly bit firmly into the flesh of her bottom. Patience sucked in her breath and let it out on a whimper as the sharp little pain shot straight to the aching heart of her sex, making it throb violently—making it respond though it could not be touched. Gasping, she thought the sensation would take her to release, but, instead, it hung her suspended on the brink as Matthew opened his mouth and sucked hard on the flesh of her buttock.
Patience shuddered, and tears of desperation continued to fall as Matthew suddenly pulled away. Getting quickly to his feet, he gripped her bottom a final time then kicked the footstool closer to the fire. “Stand on it,” he ordered, brusquely.
She almost forgot about the brandy, but then she picked it up as she straightened. Her legs trembled with the strain of having been stretched and her bottom tingled with a delicious soreness. She could feel it, almost as if it were swollen and large. She looked at Matthew through her wet lashes as she handed him the brandy. His eyes were dark fire. As she stepped carefully onto the footstool, he quickly placed the brandy toward one end of the mantel.
No sooner had she stepped up than his hands were under her arms. “Jump,” he commanded.
Jump?
She could barely stand. All her energy was held prisoner between her legs. She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“Do it,” he growled.
Patience felt more tears fall. She couldn’t stop them, even as her heart beat with anticipation. Gathering her strength, she jumped, and at the same moment, Matthew lifted her.
Her bottom landed atop the wide marble mantel with a soft
thwap
. Matthew supported her for a moment then released her. Her legs dangled, but the fire had burned so low that she felt no excessive heat, and the mantel was deep enough that she was in no danger of falling. Brushing away her tears, she shook as she stared down at him.
He paced a little, stroking his cock with short, quick strokes. “Spread your legs and rest your heels on the edge of the mantel,” he ordered.
Patience wanted to reveal herself, yet she suddenly didn’t know if she could. But she must, mustn’t she? Trembling uncontrollably, she obeyed.
Matthew’s nostrils flared as he stared at her. “Bring your bottom closer to the edge and lean back against the wall.”
God!
Patience carefully positioned herself. Again, a hot blush heated her face. Her legs were open, her hips tipped up, and her cunt fully exposed—and she was sitting on the mantel, like a piece of art positioned for his view.
Matthew moistened his lips as he stared hard at her sex. “Christ, that’s fucking beautiful,” he said thickly, more to himself than to her. Finally, he raised his dark, intense gaze to hers and Patience felt her blush darken. “You will learn to be completely comfortable in your nakedness, Patience.” He pulled firmly on his cods and stroked himself steadily as he spoke to her. “Many women can only bear their own nudity during the throes of their passion. You, however, will relearn what it is to be Eve. Eve, who was created to pleasure and serve her husband in all things. Eve, who was created to
be
pleasured and protected by her husband in all ways.”
Her husband?
“Your nakedness is perfection,” Matthew continued. “Clothing is only for covering what is mine from the world. But when we are alone together, you will learn to take pride in your nudity.” Releasing his incredible phallus, he bent a stern frown upon her. “And unlike earlier, you will soon go happily about the fulfillment of my will, knowing that you do so just as God intended you—with a naked body and an obedient heart.”
Yes!—just as God made Eve.
Patience moaned and tilted her hips wantonly as Matthew moved away. The aching between her legs was so acute that she couldn’t stop moving. She slowly rocked and gyrated her hips in an attempt to ease the excruciating want that he had been driving in her for hours. It was torturous, and her tears flowed at the intensity of her feelings, both physical and emotional. For as much as her body pined for release, her heart thrilled at her surrender.
And surrender she had—wonderful, willing, feminine surrender. She felt the sweetness of her vulnerability. She felt the comfortable snugness of her collar, and despite her sensual distress, touching herself was out of the question.
He
must do it. Only him.
She followed Matthew with her eyes as he moved across the room, unbuttoning his waistcoat. He walked with an easy, yet dominant grace. Her heart skipped as she watched him. He was the lord of her pleasures, and she would have her release only when, and if, he allowed it. She must show him the extent of her longing. Perhaps then . . .
Seemingly engrossed in his own thoughts, he did not look at her as he shrugged out of his waistcoat. He laid it with his jacket and then paused before her dressing table to remove the diamond studs from his shirt. The longer pieces of his hair had fallen forward, framing his brow and temples with the wavy strands. She drew in her breath as he took off his shirt, the muscles in his chest and arms flexing. He removed his shoes and socks then his hands went to his trousers. Bending, he swept them down and laid them atop the rest of his clothes.
Patience couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was so beautifully built—and so clearly comfortable in his own skin, which was golden in the dim light of the room.
Though he acted as if he’d dismissed her, his beautiful erection proved he hadn’t. It lifted solid and proud before him, and when he walked back toward her, it barely moved it was so thick and hard.
As he approached, Patience tilted her hips and thrust up her quim in a silent offering and plea. She moaned at his nearness, but he didn’t touch her.
Picking up his brandy, he stood back before her, sipping it as he stared at her bloated and dripping sex. “I’ve never seen a virgin in heat before.” He moistened his lips. “Your clitoris is so full, like a ripe raspberry ready to be eaten.”