Cherise Sinclair - Dark Citadel

Before she realized what he intended, he thrust into her, thick and hard. She felt herself stretching inside as he speared all the way to her cervix.

She yelped, pulling against the straps, the cuffs. “Too big, Master. Please…”

He chuckled. “Compliments from my sub?” His shaft moved inside her. Painfully. He pressed one hard hand down on her bottom, holding her in place. “Don't move, sweetling; your body will adjust.”

Her whole lower half throbbed as if he'd shoved all her insides over for his possession, filled her to bursting.

Ignoring her little whimpers, he leaned over, his chest hard and hot against her back as his hands cupped her dangling breasts. “They just fall into my hands like ripe fruit,” he murmured, squeezing gently, and she shivered.

Strapped, impaled, flattened from his weight, and now her breasts pressed upward from his hard hands. Surrounded entirely. Something opened in her mind. As she surrendered completely to his will, brutal arousal shocked through her and every nerve in her body violently awakened. “Master.” She panted. “Master, I need—”

“Shhh. Soon, little sub.” His breath seared her shoulder as his rough fingers abraded her sensitive nipples. When he pinched the points between his fingers, jolts seared through her until she squirmed uncontrollably, trying to rub her clit against the table. More, please, more. She rolled her forehead on the leather.

Murmuring something against her back, he bit the nape of her neck, holding it between his teeth, sending chills down her arms.

And then he finally, finally started to move, sliding his cock out of her so gradually, it seemed to take forever, then back in, an excruciatingly slow, circular motion. Her hands fisted on the straps as her body shook with unfulfilled need. Moaning, wanting more, faster, harder. She wiggled uncontrollably.

He pressed an unyielding hand against her butt, holding her in place and eliminating even the tiny movements she could make. “Little sub, you're so tight and slick, you're threatening my control.”

His speed increased slowly, too slowly, and she tried to raise her butt, but she couldn't do anything. Whatever he wanted to do to her, she had to take it.

The thought sent her over, and she came with a fast rush, writhing against the leather of the sawhorse.

His hand stroked down her back as he straightened a little. “No, that was an inadequate climax, sweetie,” he said, massaging her buttocks.

He wanted more from her. She wasn't sure whether to cheer or cry.

“You'll give me a better one,” he said with certainty. Then he pressed his hips against her, thrusting deeply, and she moaned, his size no longer painful, just incredibly pleasurable.

With a low laugh, he pulled out, then rammed into her and continued, withdrawing, then burying himself. Hard, fast. His balls slapped against her swollen labia. His thickness inside her was thrilling. Sensation built on sensation until her vagina tightened around him.

He shifted slightly, and suddenly his fingers were on her, sliding in her wetness all over her oversensitized clitoris. The overload was too much and everything contracted and convulsed inside her, and she was coming so violently that she screamed over and over.

With a final thrust so hard that he actually moved the sawhorse, he came too, and the hot jerks of his penis spasmed against her insides again and again until only twitches remained.

He rested against her, his breathing controlled and hard. She could feel his heart pounding against her back.

“Now that was a worthy climax,” he said, his voice even deeper than normal. He kissed her shoulders, her neck, before pulling back.

As he withdrew, sliding out of her acutely sensitive tissues, she shuddered. After disappearing into the bathroom briefly, he undid her restraints, then removed her wrist cuffs. With careful hands, he helped her dismount and held her up when her legs wouldn't work.

“There now,” he murmured in his rough voice. A soothing voice. Why did she feel so…so vulnerable now, like she'd break into tears any minute?

Cupping her chin with his hand, he tilted her face up. She blinked frantically against the burning in her eyes.

“Ah, baby.” He picked her up, cradling her like a child, and oh, she needed that so badly. Cuddling her close, he sat down in the chair with her pressed against his chest.

She let her head drop onto his shoulder. Heard her breath hitch as she tried not to cry.

Holding her firmly, he rocked the chair and talked to her, his voice a low, soothing murmur, filling the empty spaces that had opened inside her. “You are a beautiful woman, Kari… I love that soft, rosy body of yours… You have such a gentle spirit… I am grateful that you trusted me enough to give in to what was inside you. All that passion, sweetheart, you shared with me… Do you know how beautiful you are when you show me your need and when you come without hiding anything?”

Not asking her for any response, he just continued talking, telling her of his pleasure, his pride in her, until the horrible feeling of vulnerability dissipated and she felt like she was herself again.

When she sighed, his arms tightened around her, and he kissed the top of her head. They rocked quietly for a few minutes, the silence warm. She'd never felt so close to anyone in her life.

Eventually her brain turned back on with an almost audible click.

Her brain wasn't happy.

She felt…funny. Like too much had happened, like the world wasn't what she'd thought. She wasn't who she thought.

“Tell me,” he said quietly, cupping her face. He kissed her temple, ruffling the tiny hairs with his breath. He snuggled her closer, his body warm where she was starting to feel cold. “Kari?”

“This isn't me,” she whispered. “I'm not like this.”

“Like what, sweetie?”

“I'm a teacher. I'm educated and smart. People don't boss me around.”

“Ah, that. Being smart, educated, even having authority at work has nothing to do with what you like to do in private or in bed, sweetheart.” He stroked her cheek, tucked her hair out of her sweat-streaked face. Wiped the tears running down her cheeks. She was crying?

“In your case, I figure you have three reasons that vanilla sex doesn't work for you. First, you really are submissive, for whatever reason. Some think it's just part of a person's personality, like being an introvert or extrovert. Others say it's upbringing. Doesn't really matter. You are what you are; you need what you need.”

His words hit her almost like a sentence of doom: You're submissive. There's no escape. Live with it.

“Second, you, little nun, have guilt added into the mix. Your father's lectures, your religion disapproving of anything carnal—all inside you.” He put his big hand between her breasts. “Right there.”

She put her hand on top of his, could almost feel the big lump of judgments, criticism, scorn right under her ribs.

“And third, since you're an intelligent woman, your body wants to enjoy sex, but your brain never stops working and worrying.” He rubbed her shoulder, stroked down her arm to take her hand. His fingers rubbed her knuckles. “Is that true, Kari?”

So true it was frightening. She could never stop thinking about what she should do, what he could do better, how hot the room was, what music was playing…

His dark brown eyes studied her face. When she sighed, he nodded. “It's hard for an educated woman to turn her head off. That's part of the joy of being a submissive. None of the decisions are yours. When you can't refuse anything and can't even move, those voices in your head go silent. All you can do, and all you are permitted to do, is feel. And you felt everything, didn't you?”

She nodded, but he didn't need her answer. He'd known every little twitch she gave. She rubbed her cheek on his chest gratefully. Understanding why she'd reacted so strongly helped a little. A little.

She listened to the slow beat of his heart. Surrounded by his arms, his scent, her body relaxed into him. Something about his strength, his understanding, his concentrated focus on her and her needs, was almost too overwhelming. Refusing to think further, she burrowed closer and let herself float away.

Sometime later, a chime sounded. Master Dan shook her gently. “It's midnight, Cinderella, and the dance is over.”

“What?” She blinked at him.

He helped her to her feet. Her legs shook. She looked up at him, feeling lost. His eyes softened, and he hugged her, kissing her deeply. Gently.

“I wish we had more time,” he murmured. “But the DMs will be around soon to drag slowpokes out.” He kissed her again, this time with his hand curled around the nape of her neck, holding her in place. “I'm going to go find your clothes. I'll be right back.”

By the time she'd used the bathroom to freshen up, he had returned. After she dressed, he escorted her down the stairs.

“Hey, Dan!” Standing by the front door, a familiar-looking woman in a black bustier and leggings waved them over. Kari recognized the DM from Monday.

“Olivia,” Master Dan said.

“Nice to see you using the private rooms again.” Olivia gave Kari a disconcertingly slow and appreciative look before she turned back to Dan. “If you're interested, I'm throwing a dungeon party Sunday afternoon. Bring your pretty sub and come play.”

“Ah—” Sir started.

“Don't say no. It's been far too long since you partied with us,” the DM said. “We miss you.”

Kari looked up. Surprise and what looked like guilt flickered in Master Dan's eyes. His muscular arm went rigid, then dropped away from her waist.

“I can't make it. Sorry.” His voice sounded as if the life had drained out of it.

“Oh, honey, I'm sorry too.” Olivia patted Sir's arm gently and moved away.

“Let's go,” Master Dan said to Kari.

As she stepped out into the night, the humid air blanketed her, the scent of tropical flowers and swamp almost overpowering. The loss of Sir's touch created an ache inside her as he silently walked beside her to the tree-lined parking lot. Others were leaving also, faceless figures in the shadows and moonlight. Cars moved down the drive in a slow string of lights.

Taking her keys, he unlocked her car and opened the door. She looked up, hoping for a kiss, a hug…something…but his gaze was as remote as the distant moon.

“Thank you for the evening, Kari.” His fingertips brushed her cheek, featherlight.

Her lips tightened. No more sweetheart from him. The ache increased, and she tightened her lips against a betraying quiver. He had only promised an evening. The evening was over, and she never caused scenes. All those etiquette lessons from the nuns hadn't gone to waste. She slid into the car, then forced a smile and a cool tone, “Thank you for the lesson, Master Dan. I do appreciate the time you've spent with me.”

His eyes were distant, but sadness lingered in the lines of his face. “Drive carefully.” He put her keys into her hand and closed the door softly.

Dan's chest ached like he'd cracked all his ribs. He rubbed his sternum as he walked back to the Shadowlands. Why Olivia's invitation had hit him so hard, he didn't know; after all, he'd been fending off well-meaning friends for three years now.

Fending off subs too. He remembered Kari's expression a minute ago, how her big eyes had filled with confusion, then hurt. His mouth tightened, and the frozen feeling inside him increased. Being with her a second time had been a mistake. For both of them. It wouldn't happen again.

Not bothering to knock, Dan walked into Z's office. “Got a minute?”

Z set down the paper he'd been reading. “Daniel. Did you have a good evening?”

“Fine.” Dan raised his hand to run it through his hair, stopped halfway, and lowered his arm. Subs weren't the only people who Z could read like a grade-school primer. “Just wanted to give you a heads-up. I won't be able to make the dinner on Friday or be here on Saturday.”

“Is there a problem?”

“No.” The terse answer with no explanation was rude, but he had no damned explanation. Just that he needed to not be here for a while.

Z studied him for a minute before asking, “Was little Kari a disappointment to you?”

Damned mind-reading psychologist could be like a cat with a cornered mouse. “She'll make someone a wonderful sub, I'm sure. I'm not in the market for one, though, and you fucking well know it.” He winced at the raw sound of his own voice.