The Dom's Dungeon

Chapter Eighteen

“Uh, I don't know… I'm tired and…” Mac's heart rate increased when Alex pushed the dungeon door open and the scent of leather drifted out. The lights in the sconces flickered over the St. Andrew's cross, the benches, the wall of whips and floggers. All that equipment gave an entirely different impression when you had a Dom beside you than when you were just exploring. She shivered as she realized he could and would use all the equipment in here.

Her excuses only caused his grip on her wrist to tighten as he pulled her into the room.

Damn. She should have been warned yesterday when he'd looked up at her and said, “You realize dragging your Dom off to have sex isn't the usual behavior of a submissive, even when celebrating.”

It had been a fine, fine celebration. She shivered a little just remembering how she'd straddled him and ridden him like a cowgirl. Yeah, she might have gotten away with jumping him and being so demanding. He'd enjoyed himself as well, after all.

But then when he'd told her they would attend his mother's supper party, she'd refused. Flat-out refused. And oh boy, apparently he'd make her pay for it today.

Did she really want to let him do this domination stuff? At just the thought, her insides started to melt like ice cream in the sun. Frak, she was so screwed.

He put her in the center of the room and gave her a look from determined blue eyes. Dom eyes. “Don't move.”

Her breath quickened.

From the cupboard, he removed several things and put them into his pockets. He picked up a set of wrist cuffs, then returned to stand in front of her. “Strip.”

All those men she'd undressed for and never felt a thing, but with this man—just that tone of voice made her nipples tighten to aching points. She pulled her T-shirt off, threw her bra on top of it, and wiggled out of her jeans and panties.

When she stood naked before him, he nodded approval, then walked around her slowly. Inspecting her. Rather than try to hide, she raised her chest and her chin. And wished he'd touch her.

“You're a beautiful woman, little sub,” he said quietly. His words created a warmth inside her and increased her desire to be touched. He stopped behind her, buckled on the wrist cuffs, and clipped them behind her back before turning her to face him. The feeling of helplessness made her wet, an effect she still couldn't understand, but it didn't seem to matter. Not when he looked at her like this, a faint smile on his lean face.

“Hold still,” he warned before he bent and took one nipple in his mouth. Hot and wet.

She jolted backward, earning herself a brisk slap on the side of her thigh. And the sting sent little claws into her clit. Biting her lip, she planted her feet and kept motionless.

His lips demanding, he sucked on her nipple until it peaked, long and taut. From his pocket came a breast clamp: tiny sparkling jewels and bells on a chain below the tweezerlike prongs.

Her mouth dropped open. He hadn't used those since the club.

He fastened the clamp over her nipple, sliding the little ring upward until she tried to retreat from the pain. He left it there for a heartbeat and then loosened it. The pain changed to a pinch that throbbed with every beat of her heart. When he did the other, she realized the biting ache made her aware of her breasts…constantly.

He stepped back, his gaze on her face, and he smiled. “Spread your legs,” he said softly.

She bit her lip. She knew he wouldn't really, really hurt her, but with her hands cuffed behind her back, it seemed…

“Now.”

Her feet moved apart. He gave a nod and then touched her down there. The sensation of his hand against her bare pussy still startled her. His fingers slid very, very easily across her folds, showing she was very, very wet. His eyes held amusement. “I thought you'd enjoy having clamps again.”

“Alex,” she whispered, not having any idea of what she wanted to say. His expression didn't change, yet she could feel his disapproval, and she hastily said, “Sir. May—”

He held up his hand, and she bit back her words. He shook his head. “You do not have permission to speak. In fact…” From his pocket, he pulled out a leather gag.

“Wait.”

“Open.” He put the thick strip of leather into her mouth and tied it behind her head. “If you need to stop, you may either yell or scream. Three times in a row is your safe word, or you can squeeze this.” He tucked one of Butler's squeaky toys into her cuffed hands.

She felt so strange. Not able to talk. Hands behind her back. Legs apart. Breasts aching. Helpless and scared and excited.

His hand cupped her cheek, and he moved up against her, his body warm and strong. “Do you trust me, little sub?” he asked softly.

Did she? Yes. She nodded, and the tightness compressing her lungs eased when his eyes crinkled. “Good girl.”

Her gaze caught on the whips and floggers on the far wall. Oh God, how far did he plan to go?

He turned, following her gaze, and huffed a laugh. “You're not ready for any of those, little cat.”

Thank heavens. Would he really want to use something like that on her? The fear inside her at the thought mingled with a funny excitement. She met his gaze and saw how he watched her with a faint smile.

“Yes, MacKensie, you'll get a chance to see how they feel someday. But this is not the day.” He unclipped her wrists and pulled her over to a square platform about three feet high. “Crawl on,” he said quietly.

Her heart picked up as she did. The top was covered with brown leather, smooth and cool under her hands and knees as she assumed a doggy position.

He bent down to look her in the eyes. “MacKensie, I am going to restrain you now. Do you trust me to keep you safe?” His eyes were steady as his hand stroked her hair.

She wanted to give him what he wanted, wanted to please him. Could she endure this? Be brave for him? She closed her eyes. How far would she go for this man? After a second, she sighed and nodded.

“That's my girl,” he murmured. “Stay on your hands and knees.”

As he buckled on cuffs just below her knees, his fingers kept brushing against her pussy, and the tiny touches kept her constantly aroused. He attached the cuffs to ropes on the table corners and pulled her legs farther apart. Her one attempt to rise was prevented by a stern hand in the middle of her back. Cool air drifted past her inner thighs, touched her wet labia lightly. God, what was she doing with her butt exposed like this?

But somehow the feeling of the cool air on her pussy changed her focus. She couldn't move, couldn't struggle, couldn't even complain or tell him what to do, and slowly her surroundings faded until all she could think about or feel was that open area between her legs.

He squeezed her bottom, and she gasped as his fingers traced down her inner legs to where she had started to throb. The flat of his hand pressed against her pussy, then touched her hip, leaving wetness behind. His way of keeping his promise to only proceed if she was aroused. As if he did anything these days that didn't arouse her.

And being restrained had excited her—really excited her, she realized, as his fingers slicked up and down her folds, as he spread her moisture over her clit. On hands and knees, her butt in the air, her pussy was open and exposed.

Very exposed. She jerked when he slid a finger into her. Oh God.

“Give me your left wrist,” he said, one warm hand splayed on her ass cheek.

More? He wanted to do more restraints? Suppressing a whimper, she put her weight on her other arm and held her left arm back to him.

“Good girl.” He hooked the wrist cuff to her knee cuff on that side, leaving her balancing awkwardly on her knees and only one arm. After moving in front of her, he knelt to where he could meet her eyes. “Anything too tight? Tingling? Numbness?”

She shook her head, losing herself in the blueness of his gaze.

“All right, then.” He gripped her shoulders. “I'm putting you into a position where your head rests just over the edge of the table.” He patted a leather pad there that she hadn't noticed. “Lay your cheek or forehead on this. Now relax and let me lower you down.”

She couldn't smother the whimper this time, but she let her elbow bend and felt him take her weight. He lowered her shoulders down and pulled her hair away from her face as she laid her cheek on the leather pad. As her body tilted, the weights on the nipple clamps shifted, and the unexpected tugging sent streamers of exquisite pain shooting through her.

A second later, he buckled her wrist to the other knee. When he curled her fingers around the squeaky toy, she tried to remember how to breathe, because, frak, this was just plain scary. With her wrists hooked to her knees, she couldn't raise up if she wanted to. Couldn't move her legs. She tried to lower her butt and managed to move it from side to side. The tiny bit of movement made her feel a little less controlled.

He chuckled and patted her bottom, then buckled a cuff on each thigh just below her hips. When something clanked, she twisted her head around, trying to see. He pulled two chains down from a ceiling rafter and attached one to each cuff. When he took up the slack, her butt lifted higher into the air. Most of her weight remained on her knees, but she couldn't lower her bottom at all. He'd taken away her last bit of real movement.

“Is anything too tight, pet?” he asked, once again kneeling in front of her.

Her breath seemed to be coming too fast as she tried to think past the fear. Too tight… Nothing cut off her circulation, but every restraint held her securely. Only her head was free to nod.

He caressed her cheek. “I love seeing you in restraints, tied for my pleasure. Open to anything I want to do.” His cheek creased. “You're very wet, little cat,” he said softly. He kissed her lips, the softness belying the heat in his eyes. When he pulled back, he ran a finger over her lower lips. “Remember, your safe word is three hoots or pressing the squeaky toy.”

She nodded. He wasn't lying; she could feel the wetness of her pussy. Nonetheless, she gripped the toy a little more and heard him chuckle.

“I'm pleased you trust me this far,” he said. “Now we'll go a step further.” He placed a thick, large, blindfold over her eyes, tying it securely behind her head. The last thing she saw was the faint smile on his lips.

Blackness. She almost hooted right then, but he hadn't moved. His hand stayed on the knot behind her head, his fingers laced firmly through her hair. His other hand rubbed her naked back in long strokes. “I'm here, little cat. I want you to trust me. Relax into the ties and the darkness. All you can do now is hear and feel. And since your body is mine to play with, I will decide what you hear and what you feel.” His voice had deepened, taken on that Dom authority.

Inside her, something loosened. She couldn't do anything. Maybe she knew she shouldn't do this, that perhaps it wasn't right, wasn't wise, but there was absolutely nothing she could do. He held all the reins.

“That's the way,” he said softly and squeezed her shoulder. She heard him rise, and the subtle warmth of his body and breath disappeared, leaving nothing behind. No sound. No touch. Had he gone?

Her body tensed, and at the same time, her heart rate slowed. Couldn't do anything. No control. The straps and cuffs held her in place, confined her, and yet freed her into a relaxation she hadn't felt before. Almost like when he held her so tightly she couldn't move.

Time passed. A minute? More? Then a touch on her cheek. His warm breath touched her ear as he said, “You're doing well, sweetheart. Very well.”

He hadn't left her. His hand caressed her cheek; a finger ran over her lips, making them tingle. Making them long for his mouth.

Silence.

A hand slapped her bottom lightly, and she yelped in shock. Then his fingernails skated across her hips, her buttocks. He massaged her cheeks, trailed down the tender inner flesh of her thighs, coming close…so close. Oh please. Oh yes. His fingers went deeper, sliding through her folds, grazing her clit in erratic patterns until she could feel it engorging.

She tried to move her hips, to rub against his finger, and even though the chains held her in place, he must have felt her attempt. He laughed and slapped her bottom again. The sting seared right to her clit.

“This is my body to use,” he said and thrust a finger into her so hard and fast, she felt like she should go onto tiptoes. But the only thing that moved was the clench of her vagina in shock.

“Your ass is in the air for my pleasure. You'll come when I want you to and not before.”

Heat flared through her as his finger moved inside her. But she needed more than just that.

He pulled his finger out and slapped her again on the other cheek. She moaned and then heard nothing. Felt nothing. Again. Her bottom burned from the swats, yet she could feel how wet she'd grown.

Silence. Then a tug on the breast clamps brought her attention back to them, to the aching, pulsing feeling, and the sensation set up a sizzling pathway from her breasts to her pussy. “Such pretty breasts. Your nipples are bright red and plump, little sub.” He gently squeezed her breasts, and his thumb brushed over the clamps every now and then, sending stabs of brutal pleasure across her nerves. As her breasts swelled, the clamps seemed tighter, yet the humming pain made her ache down below. Grow needier.

Then he was gone again. Silence. A rustle. Silence. Her breasts throbbed and matched the pulsing in her clit. Having her butt in the air seemed to make everything worse, as if it waited there to be filled. Wanted to be filled.

The touch on her pussy came from nowhere, jolting her so the chains rattled. A deep laugh as he slid a finger into her, then withdrew.

Then she felt something pushing at her entrance; a second later, it slid smoothly into her. Fat ball, then thinner. Cool and hard like metal. And heavy—when he let go, she could feel the weight leaning on the entrance to her vagina. With her shoulders against the platform, her butt tilted up, just the weight of the dildo kept it in her.

A hand pulled one buttock away from the other. Something cold and wet drizzled across her anus. She squeaked in shock and tried to jerk away and couldn't move anything, not even when something pushed against her tight hole. Nooo.

“Your body is mine, MacKensie,” he repeated. He squeezed her butt. “This is a very small plug. Now lean back against it.” And he didn't wait for her nod or agreement but pushed the thing right into her. Her nerves quivered around it in shock, the sense of fullness so much worse with the dildo inside her too. She moaned.

And he left her there, her openings filled, and quivers running through her. As the shock died, each tremor sent pulsing currents of excitement through her system until she ached with the need to come.

A warm hand pressed on her bottom. A deep voice. “Come for me, MacKensie.”

She heard a loud hum and then something pressed against her clit, the vibrations so fierce that her body exploded with blazing sensation, the spasms hitting the hardness inside her and pushing her beyond. She tried to arch, tried to move, and nothing gave.

The humming stopped as she panted in the aftermath of the brutal orgasm.

“Good girl,” he said, caressing her and then moving away. Oh God, what was he doing to her? She listened for him, realized she'd been listening, wanting his deep voice, his touch. Her muscles felt limp, but everything held her in place.

And somehow, just that short climax wasn't enough. Her body wanted more.

A touch on her breasts made her jump. Nothing else happened.

Suddenly he pulled the anal plug partway out, then pushed it in. Again and again. Her hands clenched as those nerves reawakened and started to burn with arousal. He switched to the dildo. He slid it in and out slowly, probing until the end found an incredibly sensitive spot. She gasped as heat flared through her.

He chuckled. “That sounded about right.” He continued stroking the dildo across that ball of nerves. over and over. Her vagina clamped down as her need spiraled up like a geyser.

“Come for me,” he commanded. A hum. The vibrator pressed against her clit, and every muscle in her body went taut. As the vibrations pounded through her and merged with the exquisite torment from the dildo, her body gathered, drowning out everything. Tighter and tighter. Everything inside her flamed out of control and she shattered into pleasure. She could hear her screams, muffled by the gag.

“Very nice.” He rubbed her bottom, patted it. Silence.

She felt like hot Jell-O in a glass, knowing if he released her, she'd melt all over the platform. A little tremor rushed through her, making her clench around the dildo and anal plug. The spasm ricocheted back and forth between them.

Her heart rate slowed. Her forehead was slick with sweat.

Hands touched her hips. She moaned in protest and got a slap on her bottom that stung all the way into her vagina. The hard, clenching reaction made her moan again.

“This is my body to play with, little cat.” Just his voice sent a quiver through her. Frak, he could read a newspaper to her and she'd get hot.

He moved the dildo again, in and out, pressing against that same oversensitive spot, and suddenly the anal plug moved too. Different nerves sparked to life as the two things inside her rubbed in different, conflicting patterns.

She tightened inside, her vagina clenching around the dildo. Her anal muscles quivered, the nerves confused with the unfamiliar sensations. She started to pant as her arousal grew, more and more, harder. Then the dildo stopped, and only the anal thing moved inside her, keeping her arousal high, right on the pinnacle.

“Come for me, MacKensie.” The command again. A hum. Vibrations against her clit, erotically painful against her engorged flesh, and the thing in her anus added different sensations as the vibrator swept her into an orgasm and the violent spasms swept from her anus to her clit, back and forth, shaking her so violently, surely the chains would break.

“Good girl.”

She whimpered. Her body didn't feel like her own anymore, but his. Yet he didn't hurt her, just forced pleasure upon pleasure on her. Controlling everything.

How could that seem so exciting? So freeing?

He walked around the bench soundlessly, touching her hands, her feet, running a finger under the straps. Checking her circulation, she realized. A warm hand stroked her neck, squeezed her shoulder. Lips brushed her cheek, a finger under the gag moved it slightly to a new place. “You're doing well, little one,” he murmured. The platform squeaked a little as he sat down beside her.

She could feel the warmth of his hip against her shoulder. As he stroked her back in long, slow sweeps, the tension drained out of her. Were they done now? But the things were still in her. What was he planning?