Dana didn’t think she could get more aroused, but the constriction of a corset made the impossible possible. As he wrapped it around her and began hooking it down the front, his knuckles teased her breasts. Clear desire trickled over her thighs, earning an approving growl from him. He took his time, as he had earlier with the fondling and suckling of her breasts, working his way down, finishing mere inches above her pubic bone. Then he turned her and went to work on the laces.
He told her the strapless corset was a copper color. As he tightened the laces, her breasts were bound and displayed at once, in that high pillow-top way that men found irresistible.
Risking punishment, she lowered one hand to feel it, and suppressed a smile when he grunted a rebuke, one with a growl of lust in it. She raised the hand again. She couldn’t stop herself from responding to his every touch. Her enhanced sense of taste and smell made it worse. If he grazed her breast, she arched. If he slid a palm over her buttock, she pushed back into his hand, wishing she could grind down on him. Every lacing made her feel more restrained, and his, at once, and damned if he wasn’t right. Being encased in it lifted her body, straightened her spine, made her feel as if she could do anything.
Including be beautiful. Her Master would cherish her, keep her from harm.
A long time ago, she’d wished for one night of a fairy tale. She’d gotten her desire, but she wondered if tonight would truly be the answer to her dreams, in the gods’ sometimes tragic way of granting wishes. It didn’t matter; she’d take it.
Let me be lost in this, if only for tonight. Forget everything else and believe I can see. She could already imagine how he looked in every detail. Somehow she knew his every expression, though she hadn’t had the opportunity to see many. Maybe it was because she’d fantasized so much about him, all those many months. But she wanted the opportunity to put her fingers on his face, actually feel what his facial muscles did as he smiled, laughed, frowned, concentrated . . . came.
She mewled as he removed the vibrator and harness, caressing her before setting them aside. “You’re so fucking hot and sexy, sweetheart. I wish you could see yourself. Every man there’s going to wish you were his to fuck.”
The unadorned male evaluation, spoken straight from his cock, was more believable than a hundred praises calculated to charm. When nylon rope stroked against her cheek, he let her touch it, follow it to the end to find the metal fastener. Without a command, she dropped her head back so he could attach the tether to the ring on the collar, above the St.
Christopher’s pendant.
He placed his lips there first, the sensitized skin above the collar, and she cried out, but kept her hands above her head as he’d ordered. When he drew back, he made an approving noise. “This is yours, sweetheart. When we get there, you’ll wear this at all times. You’ll feel my touch through it. It’s ten feet long. Inside any range I pay out, you can touch and explore without fear.”
When his fingers collared her even above the strap, she dipped her head, touched the tip of her tongue to his knuckle. “I intend to show you off, and take fierce pleasure in knowing you’re mine. Mine to fuck in front of them if I want, or have you suck me off at a table while I share a drink with my friends. Sit you on my lap and let you go to sleep when you get tired. Dwell on the pleasure of having you in my bed.” She’d never had a Master she trusted enough to go quite that public. So the searing pleasure of the idea with Peter surprised her. Belonging to him, serving him in front of others. She would feel their eyes upon her, the heat of their lust pressing on her as she served her Master.
As if he could follow her thoughts—and maybe he could, because she was sure her face reflected her arousal—he spoke in a voice laden with demanding lust. “Practice being on this leash. Give me the lap dance of my life, as if I’d ordered you to do it there. Grind yourself down on me the way I know you want to, showing those other guys what they’re missing. And always remember—you belong to me.”
She’d been a good dancer, but that had been then. Self-consciousness arose, but at an encouraging murmur, she grasped for confidence. It didn’t hurt that he had her so jacked up from his touch and that vibrator, she was a creature of pure sex right now.
He must have had a remote on the bed, because though he hadn’t moved, the reverberation of a bass line came through her soles seconds before the music reached her ears, drowning out everything but what he wanted her to do. It was a hard rock piece with lots of drums, a blatant pounding sex rhythm. Letting the music penetrate, she swayed, shifting from one hip to the other, getting the sense of it. She visualized nightclubs where she’d worn silky, scanty dresses, danced with friends, or found a good-looking boy and enjoyed rubbing herself against him in some outrageous dance moves.
But even then she hadn’t wanted just hot, sweaty sex. She wanted the guy who would tolerate only so much teasing, the flashes of ass and leg goading him to take her over, take her in hand, make her feel the invisible bonds he had on her at all times, with or without a collar.
Of course, if that boy had been Peter, she would have let the strap of her dress drop off her shoulder, the neckline of the dress getting dangerously low, drawing his eye to the wobble of the breasts in danger of full exposure.
Now, though, she didn’t have to imagine such a thing. She wore his corset, binding her from breast to low on her hips, making her hyperaware of her exposed cleavage, the curve of her buttocks. All on display for him.
She let desire flow through her like water, guiding her body into the first steps. As she rocked into it, she backed up, putting her hand on the leash. Letting it slide through her fingers, she registered how it drew taut as she reached the limits. She liked the idea of using the leash, knowing the man on the other end of it was holding on to the control, his attention on her as tensile as that strap. Turning, she wrapped herself in it, let it bind her arms and upper torso, augment the corset’s constriction. When she reached him, her hands were trapped at her sides. One restrained hand found his spread knees and she turned, slid her backside low, down his abdomen, then lower. She put her ass in his lap and executed a rotation that gave her a mouthwatering idea of how hard his cock was.
Straddling his thigh, she teased her wet pussy along the line of the denim, then turned in a relatively lithe move she might not have been able to pull off before the morning’s workout. Or tomorrow, when every muscle would be sore. Now she brought her thigh up against his testicles, shimmying down and up against them, imagining his eyes on her breasts, nearly in his face. She could feel his hot breath on them. Then she turned again, dancing back from him, unwrapping herself, only to follow the leash back in, her slim fingers teasing along it until she found him again.
She liked how the corset restricted her breathing, all of it a reminder she had nothing to fear, that he had her heart and soul encased in that satin cage. She sat herself down in his lap again, and this time used her hands braced on his knees to grind and bump herself against him.
“There’s a mirror in front of you, sweetheart. I’m getting the best fucking view of your tits in that corset, the way you’re bent over like that. Keep working your ass against my cock. I’m going to explode.” A stinging slap on her thigh resulted in a pleasurable spasm in her pussy. “Not too much of the same rhythm, now. You keep your mind on pleasing me and not getting yourself off. That’s for later.”
Easier said than done. Damn, he was too intuitive. She varied the rhythm, but kept on with the dancing, switched back to a front straddle and rocked herself in front of his face.
Holding on to his shoulders, she got her knees up onto the bed, her back immediately supported by his hands as she leaned back into his strength and figure-eighted her way across his cock. She had to be dampening his jeans, because she was soaked again.
Before her accident, she would have had the stomach muscles to hold the position for a longer time. Now, though, her muscles burning, she had to back off, but he slid her down and around, to cradle her in his lap. Closing his hand on the strap, he tugged on it near the D-ring, his fingers playing in her deep cleavage.
“Whose sweet slave are you?”
“Yours, Master,” she said hoarsely. God, she remembered how she’d wondered if she’d ever find this, the one who could chain her, yet make her feel like her wings could stretch farther than she’d ever thought possible. Was it still possible to fly if you had to see yourself another way, through another’s eyes?
Lust suddenly torn between something more serious, she touched his face, the slope of tough jaw. Felt him still as he picked up on her mood. “If I’d known it was going to be the last time I was going to see you . . .”
“It wasn’t.” Cupping her hands, he pressed them harder to him. “If you let me into your soul, let yourself be inside mine, you’ll always see me more clearly than anyone.”
“How do you know that?”
He brought his mouth close, touched hers. “You were miles and miles away for over a year, but I saw you every day, sweetheart. Every fucking day.”
Ten
They were meeting at Lucas and Cassandra Adler’s home, and taking a limo from there to the club. Peter had helped her don a wrap-around short black dress that was open in the front to show the corset’s tenuous grasp on her breasts, and stockings with slim garters.
He’d also left the collar on. She was a little discomfited, but he told her she looked like a sexy woman with a penchant for Goth jewelry. From his possessive, lingering touch on her thighs as he helped her don the stockings, she realized he’d integrated them for her confidence, not because he felt any part of her needed concealment. When his hands touched her, all she felt was his desire and pleasure in touching her flesh.
As he handed her into his car and made sure her seat belt was secure, then dropped a kiss on the top of one breast, she drew in a shaky breath. The butterflies in her stomach were throwing rock grenades. She inhaled Peter’s aftershave as he got in, a big man getting behind the wheel, making the car rock. He’d already turned on the seat heater for her, and she was grateful for the warmth coming through the upholstery, since the evening air had a nip.
