As a woman on a limited budget, Rachel had learned to appreciate the pleasure of window shopping, the occasional indulgence of walking in and buying something modest on impulse. She’d never experienced shopping with a handsome, wealthy and attentive man who was adamant about paying for everything. She suspected it might ruin her for window shopping ever again.
Though she tried to be conservative, she quickly learned his caveat—that he had the power to approve or disapprove a purchase—didn’t mean he would deny her the things she liked. On the contrary, it meant he would refuse her something she’d chosen for self-critical or price reasons, hand it back to the solicitous salesperson and then choose the item she’d really wanted all along. He hadn’t allowed her to bring her purse, had pocketed the key to her apartment, so she had nothing to carry, no responsibility beyond anticipating his desires.
It was overwhelming, flustering. It swept her off her feet, made the sun brighter, the breeze softer and everything about the world seem better, more hopeful. And her mood warily became more hopeful with it.
“So, exactly how rich are you?” she teased him, stopping at a jewelry store window to point out a garish collar of diamonds on a velvet display. He eyed the piece with lifted brow, gave her a sidelong glance.
“If you promise to wear that tacky, overstated thing to the next K&A board meeting, I’ll get it for you. But it’s the only thing you can wear.”
She laughed. “I don’t think it’s my style. The necklace, that is. I won’t say a word about the other.”
“But it excites you, doesn’t it?” He bent to brush her ear with his lips. “The idea of that.”
She cleared her throat. “I’m surprised you didn’t take me to a place with…toys.”
“I don’t care for most of those places. I don’t think you do either. And you’re avoiding my question, Rachel.” He touched her chin, a gesture she’d noticed he did whenever she most wanted to avoid eye contact. But when she most wanted to look at him, like last night, he increased her pleasure with denial. A balance of her needs against her wants.
“Jon, you’ve already made me feel better about things I didn’t expect to feel better about, ever. I know you need me to trust you, but…” She went silent, the old pain stirring.
“But he made you feel ashamed of those cravings. As if it somehow made you faithless or…” Though Jon spoke softly, it didn’t make the truth any less harsh.
“Wrong.” She got the word out. “He made me feel it was dirty, immoral, twisted. That I was…a perverted freak.”
He’d used a lot of other, worse words than that, but she couldn’t bring them to her lips. She didn’t need to do so. The frost in Jon’s gaze said he understood. He turned her fully toward him, resting his hands on her shoulders.
“All right then. Let’s deal with that. Here’s another thing you need to know about me.”
When it came to Jon’s far-less-gentle side, she was fast learning that he gave no warning. The frost vanished, replaced by fire. Gripping her hair with both hands, he yanked her head back and set his teeth to her throat, an open-mouthed demand that had her swaying into him. One arm dropped, cinched around her waist, anticipating her jerk of surprise when he bit, suckling her hard. She closed her eyes, not wanting to think about passersby and their reaction, not wanting anything to interfere with the incredible surge of heat he sent through her body.
As he lifted his head, he pressed his lips together, obviously savoring her taste. Raising her hand without thought, she touched them, slid her fingers over the moist, firm heat. At his pointed glance, she lifted the other hand to her throat, felt the mark he’d left there.
“Despite all sorts of spiritual perspectives I have that might make you think otherwise, I am possessive.” The flame in his eyes matched the fervor of that marking. “But I think you already understand that. I want to be the Master of your pleasure, of your protection, of your happiness. If I determine that controlled situations where you receive pleasure from others is part of that equation, if I know that would excite and please you, then you’ll likely find yourself having that experience. But whether or not I ever agree or disagree with a fantasy you have, it will be guided by those tenets. There is nothing you can imagine that I will ever condemn or make you feel is wrong. All right?”
“All right.” She knew it would take time to believe him, because Cole’s repelled countenance was branded in her head. But hearing Jon say the words was something she’d never experienced before, so she’d accept that as a first step. She cleared her throat. “Okay. Then I admit to a deeply personal fantasy about writhing in pig entrails under a full moon.”
“You perverted freak.”
It made her laugh out loud, swat at him. She was happy to be gathered back under his arm, have him press a lingering kiss to her temple, even as he squeezed her ass, a quick admonishment. “Brat. Now tell me why you don’t like sex toy shops.”
She shrugged. “Even the ones that are supposedly welcoming to women still have a cheesy, wrong-vibe feel to them. Like they still don’t quite get it, you know?”
“That’s part of why I don’t go to them. That, and I’d rather create the toys myself.”
“You should open your own store. You could call it The Toymaker.” She grinned up at him. Putting a hand on his chest, she trailed her fingertips under the neckline of the worn T-shirt, such a relaxed movement she’d done it before she thought about it. His eyes warmed on her at the intimacy. “Though you’d probably have to have a foyer area with candy,” she added. “You know, to give to the kids who wander in, thinking it’s their kind of toy store.”
“A good idea, but unfortunately, I can’t pursue such an entrepreneurial opportunity. We’ve all pledged our eternal souls to Matt. If we try to leave K&A, we’ll explode in flames the moment we step out the revolving door in the lobby.”
He kept her laughing at things like that as they continued to stroll down the sidewalk in the merchants’ district, her leaning into his side, her skirt occasionally fluttering across his legs. The sun was on her hair and back, the wind ruffling through her hair, and Rachel thought she’d never felt so content in her life.
“I’ll take you to a place in Florida that’s a true women’s erotica boutique,” he said at length. “Not a storefront with fluorescent lighting and the feeling that you need a shower. The owner is a Wiccan priest.”
“Seriously?”
“You’d really enjoy him. Maybe too much. So you’d probably need to keep in mind his wife is the town sheriff.” He bumped her hip. “Justin doesn’t call it a sex shop, and that’s not pretentious semantics. It isn’t a sex shop. Eroticism is a state of being, a sacred one, that pervades the entire relationship, and he gets that, in a way you feel all the way through when you visit his place.”
She’d love to visit it with him. Travel with him. She’d also love to walk on this sidewalk with him throughout eternity, his arm around her. He stopped then, fishing in one of their bags. “Here, close your eyes. Since you’ve denied my offer to buy you tacky diamonds, I’ll give you a truffle from the shop we just visited. Part your lips, just a little.”
When she obediently closed her eyes, he teased her with it, smearing the slightly melted coating over her lip, letting her have a small bit of sweetness on her tongue.
“This is like first love,” she said, keeping her eyes closed. “Everything so vibrant and amazing, everything sensual…”
“That’s all you, sweet girl.” Putting his mouth on hers, he tasted her and the chocolate. His hand on her jaw kept her still, merely experiencing the way he did it, and when he broke the contact, she knew from the touch of his breath he was studying her face at close range, his thumb slowly moving over her cheek.
“You’re more than a dream come true,” she whispered. “I’m not sure if I was ever ambitious enough, even in my dreams, to believe in something like this.”
“Well, that makes two of us.” She heard a thickness to his voice that tightened his hold around her heart, even as his words gave her a jolt of shock. Apparently he registered that, for he gave her that reproving squeeze again, leaving his hand on her ass to stroke the most rounded part of the curve. The intimacy in such a public place, indecent enough to invite tsks but not interference, took the simmering of her blood up a notch. He was testing her, she realized. Figuring out what kind of cravings she had in small, subtle ways. Voyeurism, exhibitionism…being shared. And while he was doing that, he was engaging her emotions, like now.
“Why are you surprised by that, Rachel? You think I ever expected to find a woman with so many of the things I wanted in a relationship? Your sexual nature, your spiritual outlook, your beauty, inside and out. And some things I didn’t even realize I wanted until I started taking your class. Every week was the opportunity to learn something new about you, to see if it fit the mold. But most weeks what I learned broke it, and created an even better one.”
“You’re going to take my breath away.”
“That’s all right. You can have mine.” He slid the rest of the chocolate in her mouth, but before he could withdraw, she dared to catch his thumb in her teeth, suck the chocolate left on it, a tease from her own tongue that won her a heated glance…and another kiss.
Though last night had been all about denial, today he was so generous with his touch and kisses, gentle or demanding, or ones like now, where he coaxed her mouth open with sexy lassitude. She didn’t care who saw, didn’t even know there was anyone to see as she leaned into his body, let his arms come around her so sure and steady, so strong and right.
When at last he lifted his head and she opened her eyes again, he gave her that quirk of a smile that sent striations of light through the multi-hued blue of his eyes. “So, now that we have everything you need for tonight, are you ready for me to take you to my roach-infested house and let my dirty socks and unwashed dishes change your mind about me?”
“If you’ll show me your workshop. Geppetto.” The taunt won her an even deeper, more sexy smile. “But at some point I need to get my makeup and a few other things.”
“We’ll stop on our way to my place. I don’t want to be away from you. You’ll spend the afternoon with me and get ready at my house. All right?”
She took a deep breath, trying not to think about what she was getting ready for. “As long as you haven’t been fooling me all along and you’re really a serial killer.”
“Don’t judge. I’ve only taken out competitors who annoyed Matt.”
“Rachel, Jon. Wait up.”
As Jon turned, he recognized Sarah and Ellen from the Wednesday morning class. The women were headed toward them, both loaded with shopping bags.
He registered Rachel’s instant tension, how she was warring with herself about whether or not to pull away from him. Of course, as smart as she was, she had to realize the women had seen them walking together like lovers. He ran a reassuring hand down her back, satisfied despite her apprehension. As much as his reluctance to share her amused and surprised him, he wanted her to be seen by those she knew, to help her get over this hurdle.
“Have you gone over to the dress shop on the corner? They are having a to-die-for sale on gorgeous shrugs. And the shoes…”
She blinked, visibly amazed as the women rattled on for several moments, the same way they would if she’d met them by herself. Sarah put a hand on Jon’s arm, closing their affectionate circle, a way of acknowledging him, even though the subject was of female significance. But after several moments, Ellen beamed at them both.
“We’ve been hoping the two of you would get together for the longest time. Every time you use Jon to demonstrate poses in class, the way you work together…” Ellen sighed. “I’ve told Sarah a hundred times, haven’t I? They are just perfect together. It’s as clear as a children’s picture book.”
Sarah jumped in then. “And my husband, Bob—you remember Bob, he came to the class that one time with me—I told him what Ellen said, and Bob said ‘well, isn’t she married?’ I told him then I’d bet my best pair of shoes that she’s not, that she just wears that ring to keep men from hitting on her, because she’s so beautiful.”
Rachel flushed, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know about all that, but yes, I’m not married. Not anymore.”
“Oh I always knew it, no doubt at all.” Ellen nodded. “You never talked about him. Your husband. Whenever you talk to a wife, at some point the husband comes up in the conversation. He’s such a part of you, it’s like you’re talking about yourself.”
Sarah made a noise of agreement and glanced at Jon, giving him a conspiratorial elbow. “She never did that, not in the three years I’ve been taking her class.”
“Apparently, some things are more obvious to women.” He gave both women a fond smile before he turned a much more intent look toward Rachel. “Otherwise I would have gone after her much, much sooner. I’m making up for lost time, trying to sweep her off her feet.”
Ellen laughed. “Well, any woman who doesn’t go for that offer is crazy. You let me know if she turns you down. We’ll help console you.”
While the women were obviously pleased with him and the whole situation, Rachel was struggling to keep up, to figure out how to feel about this. Unlike those twenty-somethings, these two women, who had a regard for her, a long-term acquaintance, obviously felt this was a good match. A perfect match. It left her thoughts on all of it topsy-turvy again.
As if he’d picked up on it, and of course he would, Jon bantered with them, a few easy and complimentary exchanges, and then he had her moving down the sidewalk again, though not before Sarah gave her a hug, putting a quick whisper in Rachel’s ear.
“You look so good together. You let yourself have that one, you hear me? You deserve something that nice.” She met Rachel’s eyes, and though she didn’t say it, Rachel heard it echo in her heart.
Someone so much a part of you, it’s like talking about yourself.
* * * * *
When they arrived at Jon’s house, she was given even more to think about. And to despair about. His home was not only perfectly suited to him, it was the type of place she’d love to call home. Cedar siding, and a custom architecture that blended into a forested twenty-acre lot. The house had lots of screened-in outdoor porch area on all three levels, with a carport under the pilings where he parked the silver car. As they drove up, she noted a widow’s peak that would give an even more vast view of the surrounding woods.
“I have an infrared scope up there. At night, you can watch all sorts of wildlife. Deer, fox, raccoons. I do my yoga in the mornings on the top porch. The bird calls and swamp frogs are so loud, sometimes I feel like I’m in the middle of a symphony. There are nature trails, and several of them lead to a manmade pond with a little boat. I’ve got a mooring buoy in the middle of the pond, so I can tie the boat to it on a long line and then lie down in it, float and think. Sometimes I’ll even go to sleep, and occasionally the alligator that lives in the pond will bump against it, wake me up.”
Delighted by his enthusiasm for his home, the rapid-fire list of things he thought would attract her, and did, she laughed. “That would wake me up, for sure. I’d paddle back to shore so fast, I’d set records.”
“I think he’s saying howdy, being neighborly. He’s only about six feet long, so he’s still a junior.”
“Oh well, six feet. I feel much better.”
He shepherded her up the stairs to the second level. She could tell from the variety of things on the first-level porch, as well as the dust on the windows, that must be where his workshop was located. In contrast, the front door on the second level was flanked by clean diamond-paned glass that had a single om etched into either side, the powerful yoga symbol that represented everything, the unfolding or expanding of the experience of life. Seeing that somehow underscored the significance of crossing his threshold, such that she hesitated, needing a moment before taking that step.
“Did you have this built after the K&A offices moved from New Orleans?”
“You’ve been doing your research.” His quick look made her cheeks flush. “No, I’ve had this house awhile. Since it’s a short trip from New Orleans, it was my weekend getaway.” Jon shrugged. “My parents were from here, so I wanted some roots in this area. Fortunately, that meant I had great contacts to help us switch our main office after Katrina. Matt liked it so much, we’ve stayed longer than expected. It helped that Savannah also had a satellite office here she could transition into her base.” He opened the front door from a keypad, and then swept his arm forward. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He’d been teasing her about the dirty dishes of course, but it was unexpected all the same, in an amazing way. He had a potted forest of delicate, spidery Japanese maples that accented the dark wood futons and comfortable floor pillows. Several stone table fountains and a large sculpture fashioned of various curved metals blended into the environment. It gave the open area a tropical, misty feel. To the left, she saw a spacious silver kitchen, and to the right, a stairwell led up to a loft bedroom.
Skylights and tall rectangular windows allowed light and forest views at all angles. On either side of the bed upstairs were two tall plates of dark blue textured glass, over which water poured, lit from the bottom to make the drops sparkle. The bed was a canopy, but like nothing she’d ever seen before. The head posts were two smooth and twisted branches that arced over the mattress, crossed and then dove down to form the foot posts as well. She suppressed a smile, noting a couple of silk ties carelessly thrown over the lower arc of one of them.
“Couldn’t decide yesterday?”
“Well, I had a very important date. I wanted to impress her with my fashion sense.” He set her bags on an entryway table. “Want something to drink before we head down to the lower level, where I cut the bodies into little pieces? I have wine, beer, water, soda…pretty much whatever you want.”
“A lemonade?”
He smiled, that gesture that made his breathtaking features even more so. She expected she could sigh like a girl over them all day long. “I sure do.”
As she watched him cross the room to the kitchen, she could tell this was where he was comfortable. This was home. It made him, and the place, all the more appealing. When he came back to her, she wanted to touch, but she wasn’t sure what the rules were here. As usual, he anticipated her. Wiping the top of the bottle with a napkin, he offered it to her. “What do you want, sweet girl?”
“I want to touch you. I want…” Her gaze went upstairs, to that bed. She wanted to be straddling him, wanted to feel his hands on her hips, driving her down onto his cock. She wanted him to tie her wrists to those curved posts with his silk ties and make her crazy with those clever lips and even more clever hands.
Sliding a hand around her nape, he drew her to his mouth. Right before the distance closed, he spoke. “Show me what you want.”
The words broke it all open inside of her. The blatant though affable envy she’d seen in Sarah and Ellen’s eyes. Hours of shopping, filled with conversation as well as casual or far more intimate touches, keeping her body alert to his. The way he’d gazed at her selections with serious eyes and firm mouth, evaluating her choice not just as her companion, but as her Master.
She slipped her arms over his shoulders, digging into muscle, and gave him every bit of what she was wanting, conscious or unconscious. Pressing her breasts against him, the aroused tips, she ground her stomach hard against his groin, her leg sliding to the inside of his as his other arm banded around her waist and closed that nonexistent distance even further. It took him less than a second to take over the kiss, cupping her head to take it deeper, make it even rougher, more demanding. She moaned in her throat as his other hand dropped to her skirt, closed over her buttock, that tender area she was ready to have him make even more so, if he felt she needed it.
He broke the spell first, lifting his head to stare down at her flushed features. While he was obviously aroused, a look entered his gaze she didn’t expect. It worried her a little bit, the considering speculation in it. “I want you to test something for me.”
* * * * *
His workshop was a stark contrast to the simplicity and open space above. It was a conglomeration of parts, electronic gizmos, computer screens and open testing areas that had shards of what alarmingly looked like charred, blasted metal and shattered wood pieces swept into corners.
In one section, however, there was a cleared platform. On it was a straight chair and an adjustable podium, the height set proportionate to the chair. A copy of the Kama Sutra was on the podium. She lifted an eyebrow at that, but he opened a utility closet, fished around an array of clothes to pull out a thin body suit in black. “This is something I’ve been working on. There’ve already been a couple prototypes at different adult trade shows, but I wanted to take the idea a little further.” He straightened, his tone changing. “Take off all your clothes, Rachel. Here, in front of me.”
Her hands were nervous, curling in the fabric of her dress. When she hesitated, he added, “You want to be the type of submissive who’s always ready to obey her Master. You’re not used to the way of it, but it’s there in you. Give yourself over to that. A small test for tonight.”
Tonight. That nebulous concept was back, flitting around in her stomach while all sorts of provocative imaginings darted through her mind.
She slid the dress off her shoulders, pushing it down to her waist. His gaze followed it, down the slope of her bare breasts, lingering on their heavy weight, the jutting nipples. She stepped out of her shoes before she hooked the waistband of the dress and shimmied out of it, letting it pool around her ankles.
“Turn around as you take off the panties. Bend over, show me your pussy as you do it. Make me hard, Rachel. Stay in that position.”
She pivoted on her foot, her hair brushing her shoulders as she complied, easing the cotton lace down her thighs, bending forward and balancing on one foot as she took the undergarment off, adjusting her stance so he could see what he demanded. When he approached, she shivered in anticipation as he parted the folds of her cunt, and his fingers slid inside of her. Along with something else. It felt like two quarter-sized pieces of fabric being pressed against her labia, and then they were inside of her, as he pushed them against the walls of her vagina. When he slid free, he did the same thing to her anus, using the lubrication of her aroused pussy to slide the small pieces inside.
He stepped back. “Now straighten, only do it in a way your Master would like.”
She came up slowly, keeping the arch in her back as long as possible, then tossed her hair back so it slithered in waves over her shoulder blades. Lifting her arm, she gathered the silken strands and looked over her shoulder at him.
Any worries she had that her wanton display was comical at best were dissipated by his reaction. He had his head tilted, and she saw that intriguing combination in his gaze again, the man appreciating her display with blatant lust, the engineer making some type of calculation based on what he was seeing. Then he came forward with the garment in his hand. “All right, step into this. Hold into my shoulder if you need to do so. It’s tight.”
It certainly was, such that he helped stretch the fabric over every curve. It outlined her pubic mound, her breasts and nipples, the cleft of her ass, as if she was wearing paint instead of clothing. She felt a little self-conscious about the unavoidable mid-section thickness that came with being a mother in her forties, but he brushed her concerns away as he adjusted the body suit here and there, indulging himself with a far less functional caress or squeeze, a stroke or pinch that had her arching into his touch and drawing erratic breaths.
Distributed inside the fabric of the suit were more thin wafers. They had some type of metal component though, because he was adjusting their placement with a magnet, moving them here and there, so that when he finished they were centered at her nipples, her clit and her throat, for the suit came up high under her chin. More were at her wrists, ankles, the base of her spine…over two dozen places, including chakra energy points, she noted.
He’d commanded her to remain utterly still while he made the alterations, but after he finished, he wanted her to move. A full forward fold, where that magnet and the brush of his fingers moved along her spine, to the impression at the top of her buttocks, then lower. Then a twist of her upper body, a lift of her arms, showing the full range of movement. He did something else with the device she’d assumed was only a magnet, and suddenly it felt as if all those points, and the fabric itself, had melded to her, the wafers moving with those erogenous points. It was a little claustrophobic, like getting an unexpected second skin, but as he encouraged her to keep moving about, it became more comfortable.
“All right, how’s that?”
“Good. May I ask…what does this do?”
His expression reflected his approval at her deference. “The easiest explanation is it simulates sexual stimulation and intercourse through a combination of direct contact and acupressure.”
Rachel blinked. “What?”
He gave her an absent half smile, studying something on his handheld and scanning her body with the magnet sensor at the same time. “I was going to use Dana or Cassandra for the first test, but a much better option presented herself.”
She glanced over at the props. “And the podium and book, what are those for?”
“Take a seat and I’ll show you.”
She sat in the wooden chair as he adjusted the podium so that she could view the book at eye level. When he opened it to the middle, she saw the pages were blank, the Kama Sutra cover a façade. Before she could ask about that, he’d moved to a monitor on a workbench nearby. When he hit several keys, she heard a beep. “There you are. As we do this, it will record data on your reactions. I can use that to make the suit even better.”
“Have you named your invention?” She tried to ask it casually, though she was feeling more than a little unsettled, thinking about what he said it could do.
His lips twisted. “They call the one at the conferences ‘the sex suit’. Pretty unimaginative. I’d like to come up with something far more aesthetically pleasing to a woman’s ear. If I have Justin market it in his store, maybe he can help me come up with a proper name.”
His attention went back to the monitor, fingers tapping, hair tousled over his brow. A man in T-shirt and jeans who nevertheless looked as in control of his environment as he did when in a suit. “Keep your hands on the chair arms and put your heels outside the legs, so your knees are spread. Don’t be alarmed by this next step.”
“What—” She gave a short yelp as her wrists and ankles were suddenly immobilized.
“I used that technology first at a board meeting where Lucas was winning over Cassandra. The suit doesn’t require bracelets on the wrists and ankles though. It uses highly sensitized magnets to hold the arms and legs to the chair. Don’t worry about tipping it. It’s anchored to the floor.”
“Okay, the serial killer thing is coming to mind now. Only it’s an elaborate Hollywood movie where he chooses diabolical, complicated ways to immobilize his victim.”
Hearing the note of panic beneath the desperate humor, he glanced up at her, those blue eyes blinking through a few strands of dark hair. The silken brows drew down and he came to her then, moving with his lithe grace to take a knee between her restrained feet. Cupping her face with his strong fingers, he brought her attention to that commanding touch, his serious features, the firm, sensual mouth. “Unless it’s for your pleasure, like a spanking, I will never hurt you, Rachel. I promise.”
“You scare me. On so many levels. You’re…so much at once, you know?”
“You’ve been imagining me in your mind well over a year. And I’ve been imagining you. So it’s not at once. It’s just we’re finally making it real.” He gave her that look that scared her most of all. “In a few moments, I’m going to make you mindless and crazy with desire in a way you’ve never felt before. And that will be far bigger than any fear or worry. All right?”
“Okay.” She swallowed. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Because I’ve got you restrained where you can’t run, you’re going to hear me say this for the first time, but it sure as hell isn’t going to be the last. As much as you deny it, you know exactly what kind of Master I am. I don’t say something important unless I’ve given it a great deal of thought, from every angle. You’re what I want, not just until I find the next pretty face. I love you, and you better get used to that, and everything it means.”
He’d been so absorbed in his invention, she hadn’t been expecting such a declaration, though even if she’d had some type of warning, she didn’t think it would have prepared her. As she stared at him, stunned, he leaned forward, dropped a provocative kiss on the rise of her breast before he raised his head, his face inches from hers. His intense gaze registered her gasp, the widening of her eyes as he slid his hand down over her pussy, a firm, possessive grasp rather than a caress, holding the pressure there as her heartbeat quickened, the pulse of her clit fluttering wildly against his touch. “You don’t believe me now,” he said quietly. “But I’ll have plenty of time to punish that doubt out of your head. A lifetime.”
Did he understand how knocking her off her axis like this could dredge up the debris of her life? Maybe he did, because he’d chosen to tell her now when, as he’d pointed out, he’d restrained her so she couldn’t run. Before she could find words, he rose, returning to his monitor. “Now, focus on the book. Let that take your mind wherever it will. Instead of getting bogged down in thoughts and emotions you don’t want to deal with right now, that you don’t have to deal with right now, start imagining something else.”
He’d given her an out she was more than willing to take, dangerous as she knew that could be. But the lights were dimming, putting the platform in the spotlight and Jon in the shadows. As that happened, the white pages of the book shimmered, an electronic tablet. It had a similar theme to the Kama Sutra, however, because the first image was a sketch of two people in coitus. The female was on her hands and knees, the male entering her from behind, his fingers pressed into the generous curve of her buttock. Rachel could see his cock partially entered into her, and her hair was thrown forward, her breasts hanging loose, begging to be squeezed and touched.
On the edges of the platform, vertical streams of air started up, wavering with light that formed images, making the workshop disappear entirely. Deer, bounding through a field of lavender flowers on one side… A rainbow delving into a valley… Clouds slipping away directly before her, as if she were flying.
She let out an amazed sound, watching the holographic images dance around her, but there was more. A ripple of sensation passed along her throat, her wrists, as if she was being caressed there. She tipped back her chin, feeling the sensation of it drift down her sternum, past her breasts and along her rib cage. A stroke along her hips and upper thighs, behind her knees, like a lover’s scattering of kisses, awakened her body without touching any of the more typical erogenous zones, thereby heightening their need to be touched further. As always, for her, Jon knew denial was the most powerful aphrodisiac.
Remembering his command, she returned her gaze to that tablet. Another page, this time a man on his knees, eating a woman’s pussy. Both beautiful, sexy and sensual figures, absorbed in what they were doing. While she lay on her back, her legs were pointed straight up and crossed at the ankles, a rope attached to a ceiling hook holding them in that position. It reminded Rachel of the Legs-Up-The-Wall pose, or viparita karani. Her arms were stretched out to either side of her, each wrist held by another man, both naked. All three were fully erect, implying that each would have his turn with her.
Her pussy contracted, and then she gasped, because it wasn’t coming from her, not exactly. The picture helped her easily identify what she was feeling. It felt as if a man was stroking her with his tongue, teasing her clit, then sliding down from there to push his tongue inside of her, lap and lick, thrust, getting her ready for his cock. Arching up into the feeling, she found the restriction was not limited to her ankles or wrists, but included her back and thighs as well. She was totally immobilized, except for her head and neck, her tightly curling fingers and toes.
Now it felt like a man’s hands were caressing her lower back, another’s sliding along her throat. The soles of her feet were being teased by nibbling lips, though the body suit only came to her ankles. The pressure points being stimulated were awakening other parts of her, things that had no sensors on them all. It increased the sense of helplessness, the feel of being totally, deliciously out of control. He could do anything to her. She could die of pleasure here. Her body was making tiny jerks, her mind spiraling among all the different sensations, her pussy throbbing hard. She felt like kundalini energy from the strong sacral chakra was dancing through her body in a swirl of deep ginger color. It coated her skin, engaged her mind and deeper.
He’d told her he loved her, had known how deeply that would disturb her, and yet now he was wrapping it up in this, something impossible, magical, a near out-of-body experience that was happening in her body, because the last thing she wanted to do was leave her body at the moment. It made the impossible possible, and she realized how clever he was. She didn’t have the brain cells to resist it, or him.
Her nipples began to tingle and then respond as if being pinched by unseen fingers, stroked, plucked. “Oh…” she cried out as the sensors he’d put in her anus came to life as well. It was as if a man’s thick finger, lubricated and ready, had slid into her there while his mouth was so busy at her pussy, more hands and mouths on her nipples. Suckling, teasing, as other places were stroked, gripped and pulled. She snapped her head back on her shoulders, then rocked it forward, her hair tangling around her face. The book had changed to match the image she was feeling. Two men, taking a woman from the front and behind, as others closed in, pressing a kiss along her thigh, sucking her fingers, biting her throat.
This time it was a scream he wrested from her, as those sensations descended upon her in full force, engaging her imagination and taking it even further. The tongue was replaced by a definite penetration, a sense of a man’s cock stretching her, his testicles pushing down on the outside, his cock stretching her enough her clit felt the pressure, the friction. At that same moment, the finger now deep inside her rectum withdrew…she felt it withdraw, and then it was replaced. Burning, as if a thick cock had pushed into her from behind, taking her ass at the same time another man took her pussy.
The suckling feeling on her nipples increased, as did the sense that a hand was closed on her throat, holding her, reminding her she was her Master’s slave, all of this done by his will. The stimulation was incredible, overpowering, overwhelming. She was vibrating in the chair, responding to the thrusts, even if she couldn’t move much.
The holographic images around her had changed, no longer gentle, sensual nature scenes. It was a crowd of men, rough-looking, raw, alpha men, men with lust in their eyes, watching, waiting, because they would take her like this, over and over again, at her Master’s behest, bringing her to climax until she was overcome from too many brain-shattering orgasms. She could feel their hot breath, the heat of their lust, sense the arousals pressing against constricted jeans, visualize the flex of muscles under their T-shirts. Many were shirtless, an outright display of virility. She imagined those muscles rippling, firm buttocks pumping as they shoved into her, took her to ecstasy, again and again. They would take, because her Master had decreed they could, because he fed off her pleasure like a drug.
Where was he in all of this? She needed to see him…she knew his hands were on the controls, but things were so crazy now, had become so fantastic, she needed to see him, needed the reality of him.
“Master…” she cried out for him, again and again, until suddenly the hologram shimmered to darkness, the tablet gone. She let out a glad cry, tears inexplicably springing to her eyes as his very real hands closed over her throat, his lips on her open mouth. His tongue tangled against hers and she shattered in that red and dark womb of pure lust and need, sheer feeling. Though the hologram was gone, the thrusting, licking, pinching, stroking never stopped, and she screamed out the orgasm, so harshly she felt the pain to her vocal chords, still raw from last night, but she couldn’t stop. Right now there was no conscious thought of that, of anything but how his hands, that flesh and blood collar, and the demand of his lips, made it all his demand, his desire…
It took her past orgasm and into an even more intense realm, like a trip to the fairy world where time passed so differently. She wasn’t sure if she ever finished. Her body simply reached the limit of its endurance. She continued to weakly jerk and whimper, emitting sudden long and plaintive cries as she was hit by short, intense aftershocks. It was as if the cocks were still fucking her, the mouths suckling her nipples, the hands elsewhere on her skin, but now they all moved in unhurried, deep rhythms, the suckling and caresses a soft squeezing instead of harder pinches. Those hands on her back, arms, legs, were kneading, like when Jon gave her the massage. She was limp again, waiting for the next onslaught with no ability to resist it. If he was going to cut her into pieces now, she had no objection.
At long, long last, everything came to a slow, teasing halt. She lay against the chair, her head back as Jon’s mouth cruised over her brow, her lips, her nose. She was released from the chair, but she had no ability to do anything. He stripped the suit off her, leaving her naked, and lifted her in his arms. Guided by dim wall lights, he carried her back up the stairs. Her eyes were half shut, her body hanging in his grip, but she realized he’d ascended the stairs to the loft when she was laid in his bed. Looking up, she saw the natural twists of the canopy, the crossed arms of a tree. Those two tall plates of dark blue glass shimmered with the fall of water, a soothing whisper of sound.
Her arms fell out to either side when he laid her down, because she didn’t have any strength, but she tried to part her legs, knowing she needed to be in that position. He’d told her so, right? Always accessible.
“Good girl,” he said. His expression and voice were as raw and rough as any of those fantasy holographic images. Then he was lying down upon her, and he was as bare as she was. She made a yearning noise as his cock, enormous, hard steel, pushed into her soaked pussy. The inner tissues were so stimulated she kept making the cry. His size was because of watching her reaction. Because of her.
“Just lie there,” he said. “Take your Master.”
She wanted nothing else, nothing but to feel him inside of her, the way his cock’s head pushed through those tight walls, then dragged back, then forward again. She couldn’t possibly orgasm again so soon, but sensations almost as deep and intense as those aftershocks rippled through her. Having him inside her, taking her like this…there was something as fulfilling and satisfying about it as even the strongest orgasm she’d ever experienced. This was the one thing the marvelous device he’d created couldn’t provide, the most important thing. Intimacy.
“Jon…Master. Please…my arms…”
He understood. He slid his arms around her waist, up under her shoulders, giving her the support she needed to lift her heavy, quivering arms and wrap them around his neck. She gazed up at him as he held her eyes in his, that midnight blue, the pupils dilated in determined lust.
“Call me that again.”
“Master.” She had no hesitation about it right now, not with everything open to him. And he hadn’t torn her open, as she’d feared would happen. He’d simply opened her like sunlight opened a flower, an inexorable compulsion toward life and growth, something no living thing could truly resist. The way he reacted to her calling him that—the flex of his jaw, the concentration in his eyes, the way his thrusts became more demanding, asking more of her body than she thought possible but wasn’t—made it all so worth it.
When he came, seed jetting deep inside of her, she realized he hadn’t worn a condom. But there was no need. Whatever came from this union, she would want with every ounce of her being.
Only a fool protected herself from something sacred.