Sierra Cartwright - Doms of Dark Haven

If he weren't careful, she'd bring him to his knees.

He shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on top of a bench. He then moved around to the front of her. “Remove my belt.”

Her eyes opened a bit wider, but she reached for the buckle. “Master's cock is hard.”

And getting harder.

She took her time drawing the leather back through its loops. Torture. Pure torture.

She offered the belt to him with one hand, and with the other, she grabbed his cock, squeezing hard.

He curled a hand over hers. “Later.”

“But—”

“No topping from the bottom,” he reminded her.

She obediently dropped her gaze. He could have come instantly.

After taking his belt from her, Torin detached the leash from the collar. “Now that the dress isn't in your way, you can crawl to the wall.”

Her mouth dropped open. “Crawl?”

“Do I need to repeat my order?”

She shook her head. “My stockings—”

“Can be replaced. Crawl. Now .”

She sank gracefully to her knees before moving onto hands and knees, doggy-style. He fully intended to take her that way. Soon.

She moved across the uneven stone floor with a flawless class that made his dick physically ache. Her pert rear swayed slightly. He admired the length of her leg muscles, and he wondered how her thighs would feel wrapped around his waist.

When she arrived at the wall, she stopped and waited for further instruction.

“Stand and face the wall. Arms above your head. I want you totally flat against the wall; press your breasts into the stones.”

She hesitated only seconds.

“Legs shoulder width apart.” While she stood there, held only in place by the force of his will and her obedience, he grabbed two sets of restraints from the pegs on the adjoining wall.

He moved in behind her. “You've got a hot body, Mira.”

“Thank you…Master.”

Master . He liked the sound of that much better than “Sir.”

He crouched to wrap the restraints around her ankles and then secure them to the hooks in the floor.

He trailed his fingers up the inside of her right thigh. Her legs trembled. “Are you still wet?” He drew a finger across her pussy lips.

She jerked and gasped, dropping her hands beside her.

“Keep your arms above your head,” he instructed her. “You are wet, Mira. Will you still be that damp after I whip you? Or will you be wetter?” He then parted her pussy lips. He pressed the pad of his thumb against her clit. She jerked convulsively.

“I… Please. I need…”

“On second thought, drop your arms. Reach behind you and spread your ass cheeks.”

“Master?”

“Do it.”

Slowly, she brought down her arms, then reached back to grab her buttocks.

“What's your safe word?”

She spread her buttocks apart. He closed his eyes momentarily to get control of his libido. He wanted to plunge deep inside her, slamming her against the wall, pounding out his orgasm, and taking her with him. “Mira? Your safe word?”

“Sangria.”

“Sangria?”

“Sangria,” she said. “It's red.”

And it was a drink her country was famous for. Of course. “Anything off-limits?”

“Permanent injury. Strangulation. Knives. Unsafe sex.”

“Nothing else?”

“No.”

“You're an extreme player, Mira?” Or she just thought she was.

“I like to push the edges. I have a safe word.”

Fair enough. Unable to wait any longer, needing to possess her, he plunged a finger inside her damp pussy.

She jerked.

He felt a moment of pure male satisfaction. He liked having this woman respond to him so completely.

Torin drew a deep breath. He was in control of the scene, and he intended to control himself as well. “How close are you to orgasm?” he asked softly. He moved his finger, feeling her internal walls constrict around him.

“It's been a long time,” she said, her breaths becoming more and more shallow as he explored her insides. “M-Master Blake warmed me up.”

Torin growled and impaled her with a second finger. The idea of Blake taking any liberties with this woman, his sub, infuriated him. “You're here with me now.

You'll not come without permission.”

When she didn't respond, he asked, “Am I clear?”

“Yes, Master. But…”

“Problem?”

“I come easily.”

“You'll come when I say you'll come. Keep your ass cheeks parted !” He knelt to lick her while he finger fucked her.

“Master!”

He stopped short of letting her orgasm.

“Master is a beast.”

He grinned but was glad she couldn't see him. She delighted him, made him want to please her. “Did you have permission to speak?”

“No,” she said.

“And…?”

“The sub apologizes.”

“Apology accepted.” He loved the way she referred to herself in the third person; she was suddenly getting into the scene as much as he was. “We'll just add another two lashes for insubordination.”

She made a funny sound, somewhere between a mewl and a protest, but didn't say anything else.

He stood then pulled out his fingers from her cunt, trying hard not to think about how badly he wanted to replace them with his cock.

He pressed a damp finger against her anus. Her muscles tightened, but instead of pressing forward and into the wall, trying to escape from him, she took a breath and pressed back in silent invitation.

Lust filled him.

He wanted her. “Bear down,” he told her.

“Yes,” she whispered.

As she followed his instructions, he pressed his finger deeper, past his first knuckle. She moaned and wiggled. Could she be any more perfect for him?

“More,” she begged softly.

He entered deeper, stretching her wider, sinking his finger all the way to the hilt.

“Mas…Master… May I come?”

“No chance.” He pulled out.

She groaned in protest.

“Being an impatient sub will prolong the amount of time until you are allowed an orgasm. If you want to come, play it a little more obediently, Mira.”

“Yes…Master.”

After wiping his hands on a moist towelette, he returned to her. “Arms spread, Mira.”

He saw her shoulders rise and fall. Although she hadn't made anything ordinary off-limits, he knew he was pushing a boundary now. They'd never played together before, and all she had to operate on were her instincts. He was pissed, as he'd told her. She was wise to be wary. “I'm waiting,” he said softly against her ear.

Slowly, as if it were mind over matter, she moved her wrists toward the shackles attached to the walls.

Beating her was going to be a pleasure.

And the scent of her arousal only made him that much more anxious to get on with it.

Mira forced a breath deep into her lungs. The breath didn't help calm her nerves. So she did it again.

She'd studied yoga for most of her life. Five years ago, she'd learned to meditate. Every day, even in inclement or blazing weather, she trained physically hard, keeping her body and its responses at their peak. She knew how to manage her stress, her emotions, and her energy. And right now she couldn't remember how to do anything other than gulp oxygen. Her brain felt like scrambled eggs.

She'd wanted this. She'd wanted to play with Torin Carter.

When she'd learned from Hawkeye himself that she and Torin would be partners, she'd almost swooned. She might actually have done just that had she been the type of woman who would ever swoon. As it was, she'd locked her knees momentarily, nodded politely, and pretended to be a professional.

She'd had a crush on the big, bad, mighty Torin Carter for several years, since he'd taught a training course she'd been forced to attend. She'd been young, green, not as physically strong as she'd thought. They'd participated in hand-to-hand combat, and he'd instantly and completely subdued her. Her ego had been as bruised as her body. She had used that experience to fuel her determination to be tougher, to be better. And while she knew he didn't remember her from back then—