It was the first time anyone had ever whispered to me when they begged, and it turned me the fuck on. My hips went faster and harder, and my balls drew up until I thought I’d explode, but I held back and denied myself for the longest, just so I could hear those pathetic little whispers begging for mercy, and the whines she held in when I was particularly rough on her poor little clit.
Chapter Thirty-One
Ember
Saturday night, the team and I did way too many tequila shots, and then D tore my asshole up when we finally made it back to our suite. He was also pretty damned rough on my clit, but it was exactly what I needed and wanted. We hadn’t had sex in two days and my body craved his hands, his cock, his strength. D’s rough, demanding voice was like the whipped cream on top of it all.
Sunday, we saw two matches, did some shopping and sightseeing, and I think we ate five times — twice with my teammates. Still, we were back in our suite well before midnight, and this was the night he chose to celebrate our blood bond. I don’t generally like gentle, sweet sex, but he mixed it in with the rough stuff enough, I thought my heart might melt. How could someone so damned good at rough sex also make love? His eyes, his lips, his fingers, his voice. I didn’t think it was possible to love anyone more than I loved D.
And then came Monday and Tuesday. The team had gone home and now it was just us, and he checked us out of the hotel and into a kinky bed and breakfast. He’d shipped a box to the B&B so he could properly work me over with his whips and paddles, and so he could keep me where he wanted me with my wrist and ankle cuffs. I still sucked at staying still, but he didn’t seem to mind having to tie me down to whip me.
He kept me dressed in nothing but a collar and my cuffs the entire time we were there. Well, he put me in super-high heels when we left our room, but not a stitch of clothing. Towels were draped over the seats of the dining room chairs for those submissives allowed to sit at the table. Some kneeled beside their Master’s chair and were handfed. Others were given food in a dog bowl. I’d done both plenty, and I was glad Dementor wanted me by his side, eating like a human.
Okay, so I was a tiny bit jealous of the pets and slaves being handfed, but I was still happier in the chair. Probably.
Our bedroom had a cross, an elaborate spanking bench, a cage, and a pillory set so you bent over and your neck and wrists were locked in, leaving your butt in the air for spanking or fucking or whatever.
And the king-sized bed had tons of attachment points all the way around.
At first, I worried the B&B was going to make some of my old baggage resurface again. We heard other submissives being whipped, heard them begging for an orgasm, heard them screaming in pain, and then saw them at breakfast. They heard me, too. It’d been a long time since my submissive status had been an open book, and this combined with my nudity brought back feelings I’d buried.
And yet, Dementor treated me like the love of his life. He put my food on my plate and he knew what I’d want. He had his arm around me when we walked through the beautiful mansion, or while we explored the well-manicured grounds with him in jeans and no shirt, and me naked save for the collar.
Our time at the B&B was a healing experience rather than a painful one, and it made me love him even more.
Of course, the fact he tortured me far past what I thought I could possibly handle also made me fall in love with him all over again.
And his dominance didn’t end when we left the B&B. He was clear that our fun-with-power-exchange time wasn’t up until the morning after we arrived home, which meant the plane ride was also a torture session. Not only was my pussy, asshole, nipples, and clit so sore I had a hard time focusing on anything besides them, he’d put a glass plug in my ass and fine grain sandpaper inside my bra.
And he had a hard-on most of the way home. Not granite, but more than a semi. A few times, he put my hand on it so I’d feel him rock hard, usually when I was particularly uncomfortable and he could smell my arousal and pain blending together.
On the plane, he put my lightweight jacket over his lap and had me slowly rub him most of the flight. I was allowed to stop when someone walked down the aisle towards us, but otherwise, he wanted a nice, slow, constant stroke, and the only way I was getting orgasms that night was if I kept him sufficiently on edge all day. He had the window seat and I was beside him, so it worked out okay, but damn.
Oh, and he draped the jacket over my lap once so he could push on my raw and inflamed clit. Every once in a while, he’d ordered me to squeeze my asshole around the plug, too.
I got one more night of the most exquisite sexual torture when we arrived home, and then he had me change into a swan and back to human before breakfast the next morning. I’m pretty sure he didn’t want Aaron and Sophia to scent so much raw skin, or to realize my asshole and pussy were so sore I felt them every time I moved.
After a nice breakfast, we went to the house I’d been living in when I met Dementor. Sophia was waiting for us, sitting on the steps. After hugs and greetings, we followed her to the artificial waterfall behind the pool and let her hold our hands as she walked us through. We arrived in Faerie, and she warned us to hold our breath and close our eyes. The next thing I knew, we stood on the edge of a stone shelf at a much larger waterfall. We walked through it, took a short hike through what appeared to be a tropical forest, and came to a large meadow at the edge of the trees. Aaron and two men I didn’t recognize stood in the shadows.
“We’re on an uninhabited island in the human realm, far from civilization or shipping channels. It’s safe to fly as our dragons here,” Sophia told us as we crossed the meadow.
“This is Myrddin,” Aaron said, his hand on the large man’s arm. He looked to the other man and added, “And this is Gavin.”
Dementor squeezed my hand and I picked up on bad vibes.
“Concilio.” Dementor’s voice clearly expressed his displeasure. It was an accusation, not a question.
Myrddin nodded to us. “I am. I’m also closer than you can understand to Aaron, and only a few years younger than him. Today is about dragon business.”
“A dragon must bite or scratch the swan while the latter is transforming from human to swan. We’ve found it works best if both happen during the few scant seconds of the change,” Aaron told us. “Myrddin usually has sex with the swan maidens. He changes to his dragon form as their change starts, he bites them and then holds the swan in his claws as he takes off, making sure at least one talon pierces the skin. However, in this instance, it would seem more appropriate for the two of you to have sex, and for Myrddin to be close enough he can bite Ember while she changes.
“That’s pretty damned close,” Dementor noted. He didn’t sound happy.
Sophia stepped forward and put her hand on D’s arm. “I wanted you here. It would’ve been simpler to do it without you, and have Gavin remove Ember’s memory of having sex with Myrddin, but I didn’t want...” She took her hand off him and stood a little taller. “You’re important to Ember. I wanted you to be part of this.”
“I was told you were accustomed to performing in front of people?” Myrddin asked while looking at D instead of me.
D shook his head. “Before Ember, yeah, I guess. It wasn’t performing, it was just—” He looked at me, clearly worried he’d say something to upset me.