The Plume: The First Anthology (10 page)

The glistening sheen of her wetness nearly undid him, inviting him to bury himself deep and take what he wanted.

Rex stepped back and took a breath. He never lost control like this.

He grabbed one coil of ribbon, bending to bind her wrists together. He knotted the ribbon to the far leg of the chair, ensuring that she was balanced precariously on its back, ass in the air.

Then he spanked her hard, harder than he’d intended to do.

When she was trembling, he instructed her not to move and took pictures of her. She was sprawled over that chair, red butt in the air, one foot dangling above the ground. She looked off-balance, seized and used as he wanted.

It wasn’t nearly good enough.

Rex felt edgy, domineering, angry that she had tried to control him. His body was still pumping, his dick hard and his lust unsatisfied. He wanted to make this last, needed to protect the Plume, had to collect his own thoughts.

He had to take the edge off his lust. He instructed her to stay still. She quivered, her puss even more glistening wet than before. He stared at it as he smoothed a condom over his erection. He spread Joanna wide with his hands and licked her, flicking his tongue against her hard clitoris.

She was trembling with her arousal, and he realized that she had been as excited by sucking him off as he had been. She writhed, and he locked one hand over each cheek, gripping her and holding her captive. She tried to grind herself against him, bucking her hips in a way that fed his own lust. She struggled against his grip, kicking futilely, and he could only imagine really training her to his will.

It was an intoxicating possibility.

He lifted his head and held her open to his gaze. “Tell me I am your Master.”

“You are my Master,” she repeated.

“Beg me to begin your training.”

Her voice caught, her tone taking an note of vulnerability that drove him wild. “I beg you, Master, train me to serve your every pleasure. Please, Master. I’m yours.”

Rex slid himself into her slick heat, loving how she gasped in surprise. She took him all, everything he had, and he squeezed her buttocks once he was buried in her. She was tighter and hotter than any of his fantasies and he knew he wouldn’t last.

“You’re forbidden to come,” he whispered. “Behave yourself or there will be discipline.”

Her breath caught in an enticing way. Her head was turned and he could see that mouth opening and closing, just as it had when her lips had been locked around him. He gripped her hips and moved with slow power, trying to hold on for as long as possible.

“Are you helpless?” he demanded.

“I am helpless.”

“Are you mine?”

She swallowed. “I am yours.”

“What if I never let you go?”

She flushed. She shuddered. She struggled instinctively, tugging at her bonds and writhing beneath him in a way that made his blood boil. Her hips were rocking, her snatch tight around him, her legs kicking. He reached around and touched her clitoris.

And she moaned. The sound slipped from her throat like it had been stolen from her.

It finished him. Rex came with a roar, his fingers digging into Joanna’s hips as he crushed her between himself and the velvet chair. His orgasm was fast and hot and only the beginning.

He smiled with satisfaction, his chest heaving as he stepped away from her.

Now, he could concentrate.

Chapter Four

The Master was huge. Joanna thought she’d had boyfriends who were well-endowed but none of them came close to the Master. She’d found it surprisingly thrilling to suck him off, to take his strength in her mouth and feel him respond to her caresses. She knew it was because he hadn’t forced her. His skin had been smooth and he had tasted clean, his responsiveness to her touch an unexpected aphrodisiac.

She loved that even as a hooded slave, she had held him in thrall. She’d felt a surge of power, one that made her want more than even this.

He’d recognized it too, and frankly she hadn’t been surprised to be spanked and taken – even if she was still aching with lust. She obediently sat on her knees as instructed after he untied her, not nearly convinced that he was done disciplining her. She wasn’t really surprised when she heard the slick swish of satin.

“You’re not helpless enough,” he said, his voice low and silky. It wasn’t rough anymore, wasn’t strained. He was totally in control. “Let’s get you trussed, exactly the way I want you.”

Joanna shivered.

He bracketed her waist in his hands, lifted her to her feet, held her until she had her balance in the shoes. “Hands in the air,” he instructed and she lifted them for the sky.

She’d only get her own release if he was pleased with her.

Joanna inhaled as the wide band of satin wrapped around her waist. She felt him step around her, felt him tie a knot in the ribbon. He tugged it slowly, working the knot so it was right against her skin. The ribbon was smooth and flat, surrounding her waist.

He tied another knot, the second half to what must be a square knot. She felt his breath on the small of her back as he bent down. His teeth brushed against her skin and the ribbon was given a sharp tug, one that made it cinch tightly around her.

He was holding one end with his teeth, so he could knot it more securely.

So he could bind her.

The ribbon slid around her again, smooth and cool, encircling her just above the waist. This time, he knotted it in the front, giving it that little tug to make it an increment tighter.

Again the ribbon was tugged tightly around her and knotted at her spine.

He was making her a corset, one round of ribbon at a time. She thought of the Countess’s corsets, the way her breasts were cupped and framed by the boning, how alluring and feminine and sexy they looked.

The ribbon went around her torso again and again, knots front and back, the sheath of ribbon rising over her ribcage. Finally, it was knotted right beneath her breasts, and Joanna like their weight hung heavily over it in front. They’d always been bigger than she’d wanted.

She could hear the Master breathing, could feel the heat of his body as he moved around her, checking his work. He slid his fingertip beneath the ribbon, checking how taut it was, making her realized that he had knotted it so that she could barely breathe.

She thought of Rafael liking his women bound so that they couldn’t even shiver.

She trembled again, her sex pulsing as he claimed her.

The Master slid another round of ribbon around her body. It wrapped around her above her breasts, locking her in, encasing her tightly. Joanna swallowed as she remembered the clerk talking about a purple satin mummy. The ribbon went over one shoulder then, and between her breasts, the next two rounds crossing over her chest.

Again he walked around her. Again he checked what he had done.

Deliberate.

In control.

Commanding.

“Good color for you,” he said and grasped her hands, tugging them down and folding her arms behind her back. He bound her left wrist to her right elbow, then her right wrist to her left elbow, always ensuring that the bond was secure but not hurting her. He wrapped the ribbon firmly around her forearms, trapping them against each other and to her back.

“Struggle,” he commanded, his tone impassive.

Joanna squirmed. The ribbon was tight, smooth and soft, locked in place. She was encased in satin from shoulders to waist, bound and helpless. The realization both excited and terrified. She wriggled a little more, panicking that she couldn’t make any difference to her bound state.

“Go for it,” he said, amusement in his tone.

She thrashed and fought, but not one inch of ribbon budged. She felt again that sense of excited futility, the knowledge that everything was out of her power. It both calmed and excited her.

Just as before.

“Perfect,” he concluded and kissed her lips quickly. The fleeting taste of him teased her with what could be, reminding her of the heat he could rouse in her with his lips. He ran his hands over her head again, framing her skull so that she felt snared by the satin and by him. It was a delicious sensation.

“Tell me it’s perfect,” he whispered in her ear.

Joanna swallowed. “It’s perfect,” she murmured back and was shocked to realize that it wasn’t a lie.

“How do you feel?”

“Captive,” she admitted. “Claimed.”

“And we’ve only just begun,” he said with promise.

His hands were around her waist, unfastening the garter belt. His warm palms swept down her thighs, easing the stockings down to her ankles. He guided her to sit on that table again, the cold shocking her once more, then tugged off her shoes and the stockings with them. He rolled her over and she felt the cold of the marble on her chest in all the gaps between the ribbon.

The stone coffee table was a platform for a statue.

And she would be the sculpture he made.

The Master wrapped ribbon around the arch of one foot, knotting it before he slid its cool width around that ankle, knotting it again. More sliding satin and her ankles were bound together, her feet wrapped in smooth captivity. The satin ribbon fell on her buttocks in waves, then he wrapped the ribbon from her ankles around her waist, tying this knot a little tighter than the original one.

“Hog-tied,” he said, his voice a breath beside her ear. “Just as you requested.”

Harnessed and hog-tied.

He flipped her over and tossed her onto the velvet couch so that she landed on her back and bounced slightly. Then he wrapped her, truly encasing her in the satin, wound the ribbon around and around so that she was completely surrounded by it. It could have been her second skin, the ribbon bound so tightly around her body that she thought she would explode.

Only her nipples, her mouth and her sex remained exposed.

It was impossible that anyone could be more securely bound than she.

Joanna adored the sensation.

She should have guessed what he was doing when he propped some pillows beneath her, but still the flash of the camera surprised her. He took three, four, maybe five shots of her trussed up in that ribbon, then rolled her over and took more from the back.

The pictures worried her all over again, agitating her with possibilities.

The Master seemed to sense as much. He kissed her ferociously, then when her mouth was swollen and open, he took a shot of her in her hood. Joanna was sure she looked like she was loving it and wanting more. She thought of those pictures, tried to imagine what he would do with them, and shook.

“For our scrapbook,” he said. “Joanna bound a thousand ways.”

Joanna moaned. She was trembling and hot when his fingers closed over her clitoris in a tight pinch. He caressed her with ease, driving her crazy with her helplessness and his power. “You’re forbidden to come,” he said, teasing her so adeptly that she wasn’t sure she’d have a choice.

He bent and ate her, a hundred times more masterful in his touch than Rafael had been. Joanna moaned and he put one hand over her mouth, his fingers smelling like her sex and the Plume’s body wash. His hand locked over her lips, ensuring her silence, and opened her mouth to rub her teeth against his fingers.

She couldn’t even think as he flicked his tongue across her hard clitoris, and she gasped when he closed his mouth over her completely. She felt his teeth and his tongue, his breath. His hands held her butt, his thumbs caressing her labia, and Joanna knew she couldn’t last any longer.

“Who owns you?” he whispered, his breath against her sex, driving her crazy.

“My Master owns me,” she replied, wishing he’d just finish her off.

“What can your Master do to you?”

“Anything he wants.” She improvised into the silence. “Anywhere he wants. Anytime he wants. I am his to command. I am his possession.” She pumped her hips and moaned. “Master, please.”

His heat moved away and she heard the crackle of a package. Her breath caught with the conviction of what he would do. A heartbeat later, he moved up the length of her, settling his weight atop her and driving his strength inside her.

He was as hard and thick as he’d been before, but he dragged himself against her sex slowly as he moved in and out. The condom tugged a little bit against her thickened lips, too. He was tormenting her and she adored it. He locked his hands around her head, bracing his weight on his elbows, moving with surety and power and complete command.

He drew out of her then drove in, his strength making her gasp. He made the same move again, his hips rolling against her and the satin, the miserable satin, holding her captive to whatever he wanted to do. Joanna was floating in her satin bonds, consumed by sensation and beholden to the Master’s touch.

Helpless.

He dragged his strength across her clitoris, doing it so slowly that she groaned. Again and again and again he repeated the move until she was sure she couldn’t stand it anymore. She started to shake, vibrating from a point deep inside herself.

“Please, Master,” she dared to beg.

She heard him chuckle, felt his mouth graze hers. “Come, slave,” he commanded, driving deep inside her.

Joanna did exactly as she was told, weeping as the orgasm ripping through her with savage force. Her release went on and on and on, making her cry out in pleasure. When she felt the Master explode inside her once again, she moaned so loudly that he locked his hands around her head again and kissed her to silence.

It was perfect.

* * *

Rex carried Joanna into the bathroom, his limp lover bound in purple satin. He laid out the thick bathrobe on the floor, taking his time to unknot the bonds. He took a few more pictures, unable to resist. When she wore only the hood, he filled the tub with warm water.

She stirred when he lifted her into the tub, then nestled her head on his shoulder with a touching confidence in him. He washed her slowly and thoroughly, liking that the washcloths were thick and soft. The brush of them against his own skin aroused him all over again, especially with her sweetly slumbering in his arms.

He knew she was awake when she pressed a kiss to his throat, her lips lingering against his pulse. He lifted her out of the bath and set her on her feet, drying her off with so much care that she giggled.