belongs to a 54
Natural Law
friend of mine. I want to bring you. You don’t have to go,” she added. “If it’s too soon for you to go off site, I’ll understand, and we can keep playing here.” She softened her tone, stepped forward, and dared to get close enough to twist his hair in her fingers. He licked her wrist, bit down on her palm, the jerky movements of a man being pushed to climax and fighting to hold back.
She hesitated, then plunged forward, ignoring all sense, caution. She focused only on those beautiful eyes, so angry and needy, all at once. “If you’ve still got the guts, meet me out in front of The Zone, at 4pm.”
“It’s too soon for you,” he said, surprising her. “You don’t know me well enough.
You should be more cautious about going off alone with strange men.” She squatted, met his burning gaze, and felt his fingers strain against his bindings, whisper at her ankles to caress her. “I can handle you, Mackenzie. Now, you think about tonight and what you did to deserve this punishment, and maybe you won’t have to go through it again in front of four Doms this weekend, but I suspect you will. You’re just that goddamned stubborn. Bring that plug with you Friday. If you’re a good boy, I’ll just put it back in my bag.”
Her lips twisted at the expression on his face, one step away from murder. “I’ll be thinking of you when I’m in bed tonight,” she murmured, “making myself come with the fingers touching you right now.” She pressed her lips to his, the briefest of contacts, before she drew back, taking her ankles out of his reach, and stepped toward the door.
“Mistress…Violet…son of a--- don’t do this.”
“Good night, Mackenzie.” She glanced up. “Looks like a large crowd tonight. I think they’re going to enjoy the show.”
55
Joey W. Hill
Chapter 7
Five times. God, her knees were too weak to get her out of the car and take her into her house. She’d stayed, stuck to the shadows alone with her glass of wine, and watched over him as the hour passed. No way would she ever leave his care to someone else, unsupervised, but he hadn’t needed to know that. The plug had brought him to orgasm five times, a tremendous response rate, and she had sent Mariah down with water for him at two twenty minute intervals instead of only once. He’d mesmerized the club crowd, positively stolen the show of other open rooms. Who could resist watching a powerful man, a gladiator restrained, sexually stimulated to climax again and again? The build up of the sensations until he could not help himself, until he had to let his ass plunge and clench as if he were thrusting into a woman, the broad shoulders flexing, back muscles rippling, the head pressed down hard against his chest, refusing the natural desire to throw it back and let them see his face. On the fourth time, he had ten minutes left to go and she didn’t believe he could go again, not without full collapse.
The body was the locked gate to the soul. Break the body, and the soul would have to defend itself. She wanted that vulnerability, wanted to show him what gift that truly relenting to a Mistress would bring him. She believed she’d done the right thing, but then the fifth climax took him and his body merely shuddered through it, a man too tired to resist the inevitable. When Mariah released him, he simply lay down on the floor. She felt eyes look toward her, felt judgments being weighed as to what she’d done.
She wanted to be down there helping him, but with a grim smile through the tears welling in her eyes, she watched him shrug off Mariah’s help, snarl away the two male attendants she’d sent down. He snapped at them like a pit bull in truth, struggled to the room controls on his own and darkened the ceiling, shutting them all out. But not her.
She could feel his exhausted heart pounding in her own chest, feel his trembling muscles in her own thighs. This was either battle or courtship, or
Natural Law
friend of mine. I want to bring you. You don’t have to go,” she added. “If it’s too soon for you to go off site, I’ll understand, and we can keep playing here.” She softened her tone, stepped forward, and dared to get close enough to twist his hair in her fingers. He licked her wrist, bit down on her palm, the jerky movements of a man being pushed to climax and fighting to hold back.
She hesitated, then plunged forward, ignoring all sense, caution. She focused only on those beautiful eyes, so angry and needy, all at once. “If you’ve still got the guts, meet me out in front of The Zone, at 4pm.”
“It’s too soon for you,” he said, surprising her. “You don’t know me well enough.
You should be more cautious about going off alone with strange men.” She squatted, met his burning gaze, and felt his fingers strain against his bindings, whisper at her ankles to caress her. “I can handle you, Mackenzie. Now, you think about tonight and what you did to deserve this punishment, and maybe you won’t have to go through it again in front of four Doms this weekend, but I suspect you will. You’re just that goddamned stubborn. Bring that plug with you Friday. If you’re a good boy, I’ll just put it back in my bag.”
Her lips twisted at the expression on his face, one step away from murder. “I’ll be thinking of you when I’m in bed tonight,” she murmured, “making myself come with the fingers touching you right now.” She pressed her lips to his, the briefest of contacts, before she drew back, taking her ankles out of his reach, and stepped toward the door.
“Mistress…Violet…son of a--- don’t do this.”
“Good night, Mackenzie.” She glanced up. “Looks like a large crowd tonight. I think they’re going to enjoy the show.”
55
Joey W. Hill
Chapter 7
Five times. God, her knees were too weak to get her out of the car and take her into her house. She’d stayed, stuck to the shadows alone with her glass of wine, and watched over him as the hour passed. No way would she ever leave his care to someone else, unsupervised, but he hadn’t needed to know that. The plug had brought him to orgasm five times, a tremendous response rate, and she had sent Mariah down with water for him at two twenty minute intervals instead of only once. He’d mesmerized the club crowd, positively stolen the show of other open rooms. Who could resist watching a powerful man, a gladiator restrained, sexually stimulated to climax again and again? The build up of the sensations until he could not help himself, until he had to let his ass plunge and clench as if he were thrusting into a woman, the broad shoulders flexing, back muscles rippling, the head pressed down hard against his chest, refusing the natural desire to throw it back and let them see his face. On the fourth time, he had ten minutes left to go and she didn’t believe he could go again, not without full collapse.
The body was the locked gate to the soul. Break the body, and the soul would have to defend itself. She wanted that vulnerability, wanted to show him what gift that truly relenting to a Mistress would bring him. She believed she’d done the right thing, but then the fifth climax took him and his body merely shuddered through it, a man too tired to resist the inevitable. When Mariah released him, he simply lay down on the floor. She felt eyes look toward her, felt judgments being weighed as to what she’d done.
She wanted to be down there helping him, but with a grim smile through the tears welling in her eyes, she watched him shrug off Mariah’s help, snarl away the two male attendants she’d sent down. He snapped at them like a pit bull in truth, struggled to the room controls on his own and darkened the ceiling, shutting them all out. But not her.
She could feel his exhausted heart pounding in her own chest, feel his trembling muscles in her own thighs. This was either battle or courtship, or
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