Cherise Sinclair - The Dom's Dungeon

“Ah.” He smiled at her. “I like the trust I see growing. Now, I promise I won't hurt you while you're restrained here on the table. Do you trust me to keep my word?”

A whore learned to read people well. She usually knew when someone lied to her. He wasn't lying. “Yes, Sir.” She swallowed. “What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to take a little more control from you, MacKensie. I will ask you to keep your eyes closed.” From under the table, he lifted headphones. “You won't be able to see or hear, just to feel my hands on your body. My mouth on your pussy.”

Her breath hitched at the image.

“You have your safe word, little cat. Now close your eyes.” She did. When the earphones covered her ears, she heard the rhythmic sounds of the ocean: a low roar, then hissing. All she could hear was the ocean; all she could see was black. Had he left her? Her eyes popped open, and she looked right up into Alex's amused face. Like he knew she'd panic.

She caught a breath of Alex's rich aftershave just before his hand cupped her cheek, and he kissed her, gently, coaxing the response he knew she could give. After a minute, he lifted his head and touched her temple in an unspoken command.

Dammit, she wanted to be able to see.

He waited.

After giving him a glare that made his lips quirk, she closed her eyes.

His mouth covered hers again. As he toyed with her lips, nibbled on them, her anxiety diminished. And after a minute, many minutes, he moved. She had a second of panic. Then his hands touched her breasts, the feel of his slightly rough fingers already familiar. His lips closed around one nipple, his tongue hot against the sensitive tip as he sucked.

His mouth withdrew. Coolness over the wet nub, then…a pinching sensation. Not his fingers. The compression tightened right to the edge of pain and didn't loosen. A clamp . Like that other sub had worn. The steady pressure created a sizzling river of sensation between her breast and her groin. His hot mouth sucked on the other nipple, then the pressure again. The ache in her pussy increased.

His hand stroked down her stomach, trailing across the top of her skirt, then past and over her bare leg. He'd moved to the foot of the table, she realized, as his hands massaged her hips. When he stroked the exposed undersides of her thighs, it brought home how high and wide he'd parted her knees, leaving her open.

She tried to move her legs, and none of the straps gave, and the ocean rolled through the darkness as his hands moved closer to where she ached.

His hand pressed against her pussy for a second before stroking her thigh, leaving a wet trail in its wake. His silent way of showing that she was aroused, and he could continue. Oh frak, how could she want to run so badly and yet be so excited?

He returned to her pussy, a finger stroking through her folds. She kept waiting for groping, for his hand to rub her crotch as if sanding wood.

He didn't. Instead he used just a slickened fingertip, ever so slowly. Featherlight, it circled her clit, clockwise, then counterclockwise, never actually touching the aching nubbin of nerves. Her hips tried to push up, and the restraints held her completely still as his finger circled, then stroked down through her folds, making a figure eight, circling her opening, then up and around the increasingly sensitive nerves and back down in a rhythm that rolled through her like the ocean sounds rolled through her head.

She could actually feel her pussy swelling, engorging with blood until the tissues became painfully distended. Until…

Something touched her clit, right on top, a shocking warmth and wetness. She cried out, and the waves drowned the sound; she could only feel as his tongue stroked over her, lapping one side, then the other. Right over the top.

A seething tension grew inside her with every maddening, burning repetition.

He stopped, and then she felt something prodding at her opening. She drew in a breath, the muscles in her legs tightening. She knew this feeling. He was going to fuck her now, shove his cock in and—

It slid in, and she pulled in a breath at the exquisite feel of him sliding through her sensitive, swollen tissues. Her hands closed on the edge of the bench as the in-and-out movements sent her higher.

Then his cock somehow doubled in size, and his mouth came down on her clit again.

The piercing shock flamed through her. Her back arched, jostling the nipple clamps and sending electric sizzles to her pussy where his tongue flicked over her clit and his—not his cock, she realized with a startled breath—his fingers. He had his fingers in her and was pumping them slowly in and out as his tongue stroked her up and down.

The pace slowly increased, as did the wet pressure over her clit. His tongue drew an agonizing line of heat up one side as his fingers pushed deeper into her.

The sensations from his mouth and her insides merged, forming one desperate bundle of nerves. Another stroke of his tongue and slide of his fingers. Each ruthless touch sent her higher. The muscles in her vagina contracted until they ached, and her fingers scrabbled at the table as she tried to arch higher to his mouth. Needing, needing…

His tongue flicked directly on top of her clit.

The coiled-up ecstasy released as if launched from a cannon, shooting heat and pleasure through her in shattering spasms until her toes curled and her neck arched.

He licked over her again. And again. His fingers thrust deeply inside her, and her pussy clamped around him. She shuddered as more waves of pleasure broke over her helpless body.

When the fingers inside her could no longer elicit a quiver, he patted her thigh, and she felt the strap fall away. He did the other restraint and lowered her legs. For a minute, he massaged her aching muscles, and then he closed her thighs over her wet, swollen pussy, making her moan.

When he pulled the earphones off, all the noise of the club burst over her like a storm of sound.

“Look at me now, MacKensie.”

She opened her eyes and stared into a gaze of molten blue. He stroked her hair back from her face, his lips curving in a faint smile.

He would want to get off very badly by now, she realized. He needed to take her, and she'd let him. He deserved it.

“I got off,” she whispered, as if he didn't know. But she still couldn't believe it. Or what it had felt like, like the boundaries of her universe had expanded in the chaos of coming.

He nodded, his expression solemn, only a hint of laughter in his eyes. “I know.”

She started to move and realized that her arms remained strapped down. “Why don't you release me?”

The dimple in his cheek grew as if he was smothering a laugh, and his eyes glinted. “Remember how I said I wouldn't hurt you?”

She nodded. A tremor moved through her body as she thought about all the whips and canes being used in this place.

“Well, I won't. But removing the breast clamps…might.” And he undid the one on the left.

As blood surged back into the pinched nipple, nerves fired. Painfully . Her arms strained against the straps as she tried to touch the pain. And couldn't.

He smiled into her eyes before licking the throbbing nipple. Her back arched high, her arms held immobile, the sensation indescribable. As his tongue circled the swollen peak, the pain mingled with pleasure until she couldn't tell them apart.

“Brace yourself,” he murmured. The second came off, and oh frak, it felt as if her nipple had ballooned into a huge, aching nerve. When he licked over the peak, a high whine escaped her.

A minute later, he released the rest of the straps and helped her off the table. Her knees buckled.

He caught her, picking her up easily. And carried her away from the table.