Unbuttoning the flannel pajama top, she slid out of that so her hair brushed her bare shoulders. He could see her breasts, the pink tips drawn tight from the chill, though she wondered if it was also the heat of his regard affecting them. Pulling the drawstring loose on the bottoms, she let them drop so she was standing in her plain cotton panties and socks. Then she slid them off, balling them up and putting them in the hamper behind her. She turned toward the shower. She would not think about the fact she was standing naked in her bathroom, in front of Jon Forte. She would jump in the shower and—
“Stop. Put your hands behind your back, fingers laced, and spread your legs shoulder width apart.”
Her breath caught in her throat. It was a standard submissive pose, allowing the Master access to his slave however he wished. It made those butterflies in her stomach go wild, even as that throbbing tightness in her chest and throat started anew. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be, because she’d wanted it for too long. She was playing a game that had already passed her by.
She shook her head, fumbled for the towel on the bar. “Jon, this isn’t going to work. I can’t—”
His hand closed over her wrist. He shut off the shower, then he wrapped his other hand in her hair, pulling at the scalp in a near painful way, though his movements remained calm, unhurried.
“Down.”
She wasn’t sure at first what he meant, but the pressure of his hand, moving to her shoulder, made it clear. She couldn’t resist him, and suddenly she was kneeling on the lavender carpet before him, his hand tethered in her hair keeping her up on her knees, her buttocks brushing her heels. The steam created by the shower caressed her bare skin with heat.
His fingers flexed. “Do you want to kneel to me, Rachel? Have you fantasized about it? Don’t think, just answer.”
“Yes.” Her throat was clogged with tears again.
“And what did you do when you were on your knees?”
“I…put my mouth on your… You put your c-cock in my mouth.”
“And what did you call me? What name did I demand you call me when you begged for more?”
Once again, it was stymied, too much debris washing in with the very thought. She couldn’t speak.
“Did you masturbate when you fantasized about me like that, Rachel?”
He’d let her have that one, a pass card. She got the feeling he wouldn’t give her another. “Yes.”
“And did you ask my permission to come?”
“Yes.” She licked her lips. He’d told her to keep her eyes down, but she was very aware that if she looked up she’d be staring right at his cock, beneath the fabric of his trousers. She wanted to see him hard and thick, swipe away the viscous fluid collected at the slit with her tongue.
You’re a f*cking whore…
She flinched, pulling back from his touch. “No,” she said brokenly. “Please don’t.” Don’t ruin this.
“Rachel.” Jon was kneeling with her then, his hands on her bare shoulders even as she tried to get away from him, mortified, vulnerable beyond repair. “Ssshh. Listen to me. Hush and listen.”
She stopped only because it was clear he wasn’t letting her go, and he was far stronger and more determined. He had one knee on the carpet by her right knee and the other bent leg hemming in the opposite side.
“We have a long way to go, don’t we?” That firm mouth had a kind curve now, his eyes compassionate. However, the intensity remained, indicating his compassion wasn’t the pity she dreaded.
“You know that place of utter stillness, the one you find in meditation?” When she managed a jerky nod, he continued. “It’s a place where you’ve let everything that burdens your mind free. All those thoughts, good or bad, peaceful or disturbing, can wander in and out of your mind like an open room. You don’t try to hold onto anything or push it out. You release your will and simply be. Take a breath. Slow, even, deep. Let it go.”
She managed it, though her fingers remained clutched on his forearm. Her gaze stayed on her knees, lowered as he’d demanded.
“You’ve been a submissive for a long time, haven’t you?”
He didn’t say, “you’ve wanted to be a submissive”. He acknowledged that she was one. He spoke it as truth, validating it, pulling back every doubt, fear, accusation and ugly word as if it were rusty barbed wire that had been bound around that part of herself. Now he was pulling the barbs out, making her bleed.
“Yes. I think so.” Her voice broke.
He put his mouth on the tear rolling down her cheek. It had reached the corner of her mouth, but she couldn’t turn her head, make it into a full kiss. She was paralyzed, not knowing what to do.
“Yes. You are. And as far as you’re concerned, from here forward, you are ‘one of mine’. You understand?”
She shook her head. “You never said what that means.”
“You know what it means.” He straightened up so she only saw his legs, clad in the tailored slacks. Despite his command, she couldn’t help letting her gaze lift when she saw he was loosening his tie further and unbuttoning his shirt. “It means I’m your Master and I’m going to take care of you, starting right now.”
As the buttons were slipped, pale marble skin was revealed. A thin mat of black hair on his chest artfully narrowed to that silken line over his striated abdomen and disappeared in his slacks. There would be a tangle of black coarse hair around his cock, a light layer over his heavy testicles, unless he shaved that area. Despite her words earlier, trying to push him away, this was a grown man, not a boy. And it was clear exactly which one of them held the reins.
“Didn’t I tell you to keep looking down?”
“Please, let me look.” The whispered plea came before she could stop herself. “I’ve wanted to look at you for so long.”
As he rested his hands on his belt, her attention zeroed in on the diagonal lines of muscle at his waist. “You have looked at me, Rachel. You and that wedding ring hoax put me through hell, every time I’d catch you checking me out with those hungry eyes. I had to exercise some serious mind games to keep from reacting. Those cotton pants don’t hide much.”
“No, they don’t.” A tiny smile bloomed in her heart, then on her lips, surprising her. “Particularly during Sleeping Thunderbolt.”
He gave a snort. “Well, everything is wide awake now. This time, you may look. But only if you get into a submissive kneeling posture. Hands laced behind your head, ass on your heels, knees spread shoulder width apart.”
She complied, mouth dry once again. He didn’t give her long to look, moving around her, pausing outside of her range of vision. One fingertip drifted up her spine, a tingling sensation that made her shiver, arch.
“Better. Some Masters want the back ramrod straight. I like this, where your breasts are tilted up and there’s a strain in the muscles, keeping your mind focused. I want your mind only on my desire and will, nothing else. Until I release you, there’s nothing else but that. Understood?”
“Y-yes.”
A pause. “I’ll let you get away with not addressing me properly for now, but only because I want the pleasure of hearing it come spontaneously from you the first time, when your mind truly lets go.”
She was thinking her mind had let go already, but she was willing to embrace the temporary insanity. When he stepped back in front of her, he unbuckled his belt, unhooked the trousers. She could tell he was already aroused, because the smooth pleated line of the linen was no longer smooth. She didn’t know a body could reach a starvation point so quickly, but it was a ravenous ache in her stomach, the strain in her thighs and arched back intensifying as he toed off his polished shoes, removed his socks with the slacks low on his hips, the tongue of the belt hanging loose, the buckle making a faint clinking noise as he lithely bent to set the footwear aside. If he’d let her, she’d take down that zipper with her teeth, use the excuse to mouth him even through the cloth.