"You are a portrait of perfection, as I knew you would be." He covered the distance to the chair in a few strides. He took my hands in his and drew me up to stand in front of him. "You see, today you were innocently naked in the sun. Now, with just a few small things . . ." He ran his hand across my nipples and tweaked them to an even tighter peak. "you've become a courtesan."
Desperate to play his game well, I replied "Here to serve your every need." I reached up to stroke the bulge at his groin but he roughly swatted my hand away.
"Rules for tonight," he growled. I knew how well he could role play; I'd seen him on stage in front of hundreds of people. I waited. "You don't speak. You don't ask until I tell you to ask. You don't initiate. You take my commands."
God, what I wanted to do was flop backwards onto the bed and just splay myself open to him. The voice. The fucking voice. I nodded, accepting whatever he had planned for me. All I really hoped was that it would end with his cock buried to the hilt in my body.
He put his hands on my shoulders and firmly pushed me onto my knees in front of him. Loosening the string on his pants, he dropped them to his feet and kicked them aside. His cock was half erect and growing harder in front of my face.
"Suck. Suck it hard." He took my head between his hands and brought my mouth toward his groin. I reached up to take him in my hand but he pulled my hand away. He reached down and took my other wrist and pinned both of my arms behind my head. With one hand he restrained me and with the other he brought my chin forward as he entered my mouth.
He was hot and swollen. At first he guided my head with the hand holding my wrists at the back of my head. The taste of him . . . the smell of his musky male flesh infused my senses. I could feel the slick of my desire slide down my thighs as I pursed my lips around him. When he drew back I heard the pop and smack as the seal of my mouth broke. It was the undeniable sound of sucking, hard and needy sucking, like a hungry animal at a teat.
He began to thrust deeper into me, moving from side to side, poking his cock against my cheeks. His free hand cupped my cheek, feeling the slide of his glans inside my cheek. I stretched my lips over my teeth and tightened my mouth around his shaft, trying to give him as much sensation as I could deliver.
"God, yes, you're good. Such sweet service for my cock." He moaned as I pulled harder, pressing my tongue against the veined underside of his member and flicking it back and forth when I found the edge of his crown. He plunged deeper into me and hit the back of my throat. I felt the tears of my gag response at the corners of my eyes, but I didn't want to stop. I swallowed back the sensation and tried to open my throat. I wanted to give him my everything, even as my reflexes rebelled. He pulled away from me. I knew he had sensed that I was trying to do something my body wasn't quite prepared to do.
"Another time, we'll practice. The porn stars make it look a lot easier than it is." He led me over to the bed and positioned me across the wedge, face down. He turned my face toward the door and placed my hands above my head. "Leave your hands and your head exactly as I've placed them. When I want you to move, I'll tell you. Otherwise, we'll just call this 'voluntary' restraint."
For a few moments, he didn't touch me at all. He stood at my blind side but I could feel his eyes covering every inch of my flesh. My knees were on the bed and my ass was stuck up into the air. My nipples strained into the bedcovers, knotted in heat. Tristan's hand parted my knees as wide as they would go against the support. I was utterly vulnerable and oddly excited because of it.
The sound of the drawer opening riveted my attention. I waited in an agony of anticipation for what he would draw from the assortment of toys and instruments I had barely glimpsed. Tristan ran his hands down my thighs, his thumbs massaging strong circles into the taut ribbons of muscle there. When he reached the top, he drew the moisture from the folds of my sex up into the crack of my ass. Wickedly, I hoped he would go there again, claim my dark intimacy as he had before.
I felt him tickle my very exposed ass with something. Even though I wasn't blindfolded, it was impossible to see exactly what he was doing in the position I was in. It could have been a feather, it could have been the streamers of the small cat-o-nine tail I had spied in the drawer. The answer came in the form of a stinging little smack on one of my ass cheeks. I squeaked, more in surprise than in pain.
"This is all about sensation, my queen. Trust me. I don't do pain. Not in any real sense, and only to elevate your arousal. Do you understand?"
I nodded. There wasn't much choice about the trust, anyway. We were alone on a boat halfway around the world from anything I knew. If Tristan wanted to hurt me, it wasn't the physical kind that was my biggest danger.
My flesh became hot under the slaps of the little flogger. There was a lingering sting, a lot like the feeling I used to get when one of my fellow lifeguards snapped a wet towel on my thighs. When the tickling of the strings returned, it made goose bumps rise on my backside. If I had to say why I found it arousing, it would be because of the element of surprise. That and the fact that I knew this game was turning Tristan on--big time.
He let me know by his gravelly one word comments. "Gorgeous." "Sweet." "Succulent."
He told me with his body. Interspersed with the tickles and smacks of the cat-o-nine tails was the unmistakable feeling of his cock against my flesh. He stroked it between my thighs and down the crack of my ass. He slapped the hot rigid shaft against my buttocks. He slicked the dewdrops from the head over my skin.
The next feeling was like nothing I had ever felt and if I hadn't 'cheated' and looked in the drawer I would never have guessed. It was a prickling feeling. It didn't fit in the category of pain. It was neither soft nor hard but rather the sensation of hundreds of tiny pin points rolling in circles on the globes of my ass. I tried to twist my head to confirm what I thought he was using on me.
"Head down!" Tristan ordered. It didn't matter, no contortionist in the world could have twisted enough to get a look. In the drawer I'd seen a small steel object that had a little wheel on the end of a handle. The wheel was covered in tiny spikes. That had to be what was making every nerve on my backside jump to attention.
"Tell me what you feel," he demanded. His voice was almost hoarse with lust. Without seeing his face, I knew the look it wore. Intense concentration, dark and clouded with the mystery of desire.
"It's like all the nerves are standing on end. Like they're reaching for something," I answered. It wasn't adequate. "I'm sorry, it's almost indescribable. It makes my skin feel . . . firey."