Sierra Cartwright - Doms of Dark Haven

“Can you smell them? Hear them?”

She shook her head.

“Use your senses, Eva. You can smell me, can't you?”

He saw legs encased in black suit pants making their way down the stairs. His hackles rose as the scent of the first man flooded his senses. “He smells like gun oil and hair product. Old Spice and sautéed onions. His right shoe squeaks just a little.”

He moved to her right and ran a hand down her cheek, smiling as she instinctively followed his touch. He'd been right about pain; the light flogging hadn't fazed her at all. She continued to instinctively challenge her bindings. She didn't like being helpless. On impulse, he swatted her ass with a bare hand.

Her wild-anger scent told him that she didn't like that at all. He'd found the chink in her armor. He grinned and laid his head next to hers. He felt the blood pulsing through her veins and pressed a kiss on her throat. He caressed her lips with the feather.

“Can you locate him?”

She frowned, cocking her head and focusing on her senses. “I hear him to my left. He's not on the stairs anymore. Sir.” Her whisper was as soft as his had been.

“Very good.” He turned her face and kissed her lightly. He then slapped her face sharply. She pulled her head back at the abrupt transition.

“That hurt!”

So he did it again. She jerked hard against her bindings.

“Be still!” he growled.

She took a series of deep breaths and stopped struggling. He didn't praise her obedience. Moving away, he then reached into his bag and brought out a cane. With the tip, he stroked up the length of her stockings, watching as she reacted to the feel of it on her inner thigh. She squirmed and then went very still when it passed lightly over her labia. Grinning, he pressed it up a bit tighter, watching her jump as it settled directly over her clit.

Without any preliminaries, he removed it and flicked it smartly over her ass.

“Shit!” She wiggled, trying to avoid the sting, but Harte was persistent, varying the blows, never falling into a predictable rhythm. He loved watching her shimmy and flinch, a private dance just for him and the slender, flexible wand.

A scream rang out, nearly shattering his concentration. At the station next to him, Master Patterson was laying into his sub hard—no warm-up, no warning. The man's face was stoic, and his sub for the night faced him as he flogged her breasts.

She stared intently into his face. Some were like that, and that was Patterson's style; he liked to administer a hard beating. He'd seen subs line up for the older man's services, and Patterson would tirelessly oblige.

“She's just venting. Remember, she's here because she wants to be. If she needs to stop, she'll tell him.” He'd noticed that Eva's attention had also been diverted.

“I know. She smells…excited.”

He stepped close again and ran his hands up her bare shoulders. His breath ruffled her hair. “What else do you smell?”

“You.”

That was a bit obvious. “And?”

“Someone furious. Angry.” Harte glanced around and spotted Master Torin marching a new sub to the Medieval Room. He wasn't dressed for the theme, and Harte stifled a grin at the thunderous expression on the human's face. His little sub had pissed him off royally.

Torin was bagged and tagged.

“There's only one hunter down here. He's…down by the bed where Kevin took me.” She paused and swallowed. Harte returned to his bag and pulled out a bottle of water. He opened it and gave her a sip, visually checking the bindings around her wrists while she drank. He'd take her down soon, after the hunter left.

“How do you see the world around you, Eva? What senses do you use?”

She paused to swallow her water. “Sight, hearing, smell.”

“No, that's the human way. They see, hear, smell, touch, and taste. We work in a different order.” She was attentive now, her focus completely on him. “Like wolves, we rely on our sense of smell, followed by hearing, sight, taste, and touch. It sometimes varies, but that's the general order.”

He took the bottle he held up to her and set it on the floor. While he was down there, he wrapped his hands around her ankles, just above the bindings. Slowly he ran his hands up her calves and circled around to the outsides of her thighs. She was very still, and her fragrance was sweet and alluring. Slowly he circled to the insides, finally cupping her mons through the silky fabric of her thong. She was wet.

“You're drenched. You're dripping into my hand.”

“Adrenaline does that. So does fear.”

“But you aren't afraid, are you, Eva?” He rested a cheek against her bare buttock, then rolled in to give her a light nip. She jumped. He kissed the spot he'd nipped, and moved his fingers, sliding the scrap of silk aside. She went very still. He slid one finger through the slick folds of her labia, hissing when she flexed automatically. She made a small, animal-like sound. He doubted that she was even aware she'd made it.

His fingers brushed lightly over her clit and then circled back to her entrance.

He pushed the tip of one finger inside, caught the juices, and pulled them backward to her ass. He pressed lightly just to check her response. She tightened and jerked away from his hand. Harte chuckled at her reaction. This was going to be fun.

Harte stood and began to loosen her restraints. “I'm taking you down now.

Don't take off the blindfold. Just get your balance.”

When she looked steady on her feet, he led her across the room to a padded table. It was low enough for her to drape over comfortably. “Panties off.” She looked reluctant but didn't hesitate to obey, and reached out to orient herself to the table as she slid the thong off her hips. He carefully guided her into place and then used the shackles that were bolted to the floor to hold her immobile. They had a spreader bar and held her feet far apart.

Carefully, slowly, he unlaced the back of her corset, admiring the exquisite work of the piece. She sighed as it came off, and he sighed at the sight of her tiny waist and slender back. He still hadn't seen her breasts. He'd save that treat for last.

There was a drop cloth under their feet, and Harte decided to make use of it, pulling a half-burned red candle and a lighter from his bag. When he lit it, her head came up anxiously. He watched the wax pool under the wick and then stroked her back, relaxing her just a bit. He reached out, centered the candle over the curve of her spine, and tipped it, watching the red wax drip onto her ivory skin.

She screamed. Finally.

“You fucker!” She didn't scream the words, not exactly, and she kept her face buried in the vinyl of the table.

“What was that, sub?”

Eva shook her head wildly, trying to process the sensations that were sparking along her skin.

“You fucker, Sir!”

In reply, another trickle of fire hit her shoulders and dribbled down her back.

She stomped her feet as much as the shackles allowed. Her fisted hands pounded on the table.

“Are you saying your safe word?” His voice was low and silky in her ear.

“No!”

“Good.” Another spatter of wax hit her back and trickled toward the crack in her ass. Now that she'd adjusted to the shock, it wasn't so bad. Eva went still in surprise. In fact…

“Sir?”

“Yes, Eva?” He sounded a bit disappointed, like perhaps he had expected her to call a stop to their play.

“It only hurt because I expected it to burn, right?”

“Very good. And I appreciate your stifling that scream. A second black suit just came down the stairs. However, there is that little matter of language…”

She went still, trying to catch a scent that was slightly familiar. All of a sudden, it hit her. “Black licorice. Cigarettes. A gun.” She ignored the comment about her language. It would come back to haunt her soon enough.

“That's right.” His hand slid down between her legs again, and his fingers glided into her slick pussy. Her eyes nearly crossed at the sensation. Her ass tilted, and inwardly she cursed at her body's eagerness to take him. Her wolf was awakened; she'd called on it to scent, and now it was up and aware of the alpha who was wreaking such havoc on her body and mind. Never in her life had she felt so connected to the animal.

She shivered, feeling the sudden need to shift, to escape out into the foggy streets of the city. Surely she could shake the tracker if she could only run…

The tickle of fur started on her skin, beginning on her neck and chest. Eva whimpered in fear. What if she shifted here in front of witnesses?

“Sh… You're all right, Eva.”

A wave of warm, reassuring comfort flowed over her, helping Eva to push the wolf back. He covered her from behind, his huge body wrapping her in an embrace that nearly brought her to her knees. Harte stroked her throat and whispered softly in her ear until the urge to shift passed. She panted with the effort it took.

“Excellent, Eva. You controlled that well.”

She'd done it with his help. Usually Eva avoided any situation that might trigger her wolf. She'd never been able to pull it back once the shift started. She sighed in relief.

“A reward for doing so well…” His tongue stroked slowly down along her throat, further adding to the confusion of sensations that Eva was experiencing.

Harte moved away, and she immediately missed his presence. Just a second later, she felt him kneeling between her legs with his back to the table, his face turned up into her crotch. She tried to pull away—she'd never allowed that before.

“No…”

He ignored her, and his tongue slowly passed over her vagina, up to her clit.

He flicked his tongue quickly, taking her up the slope of arousal so fast that she gasped. A heartbeat before she could no longer hold back, he stopped and dipped a finger into her juices, then trailed up to her ass. Why the hell was he so fixated there? She squeezed hard.

“Relax, Eva. Let me in.”

She shook her head mutely.

Once again he was tonguing her, taking her back up to the peak. She plunged and bucked and moaned in frustration when he stopped. His wet finger returned to her ass. It pressed and slipped in a tiny bit.

“Push against it, Eva.”

“Fuck. Fuck!” She twisted, still fighting the finger when his mouth began its cruel torture yet again. She whimpered, lost in the sensations that flooded her body.

Her back was heated from the wax. Her belly was heavy and tight from the blood flowing to her pelvis. Her legs were locked into place; she couldn't even protect herself. Her pussy clasped on emptiness, and his damned finger was now up to the knuckle in her butt! He pumped in and out as his tongue flitted over her clit. When he pulled the finger out, a second joined it on the way back in.

She was coming and coming fast with him there between her legs.

“Come, Eva.”

She fought it with everything she had.

His free hand swatted her ass, and the climax began deep, wrenching hard through her belly. She didn't pant or whimper; Eva let out a deep, hearty groan as the orgasm drew out endlessly. She couldn't bring herself to be mortified when the burn turned to pleasure, and she rose to meet his pumping fingers. Her hands clutched at the far edge of the table; her fingernails dug into the vinyl. When it finally peaked, she froze, completely unable to breathe or move or to even think.

Finally she gasped and ground her clit against his face, desperately chasing the last, fleeting sensations of the shocking release.

Eva dropped her head to the table, panting and spent. After a moment, she felt movement as Harte unbuckled her feet. He rose and stood at her side, gently stroking her back. He picked the hardened wax off her skin and slipped off the blindfold.

“That was…” She trailed off, too confused and drained to summon words.

“I know. There's nothing quite like it, is there?” He leaned down and kissed her—their first kiss, and she tasted herself on his mouth.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Oh, Eva. Don't thank me now. There's still the matter of your language.”

“Do you need a drink? Bathroom?” He helped her up onto the table, smiling when she curled up on her side. Her dark hair cushioned her cheek, and he found it difficult to look away. She looked young enough to be in her teens, but she was sexually mature, putting her in her mid- to late twenties.