Paris Promise: Paris Trilogy: Part Three Read online

  “Master?”

  Ignoring her query, Solomon reached for her breasts. He cupped and squeezed them before grabbing the zipper between them and jerking it down six inches. Her breasts spilled free, naked and vulnerable. It was lewd, and sexy as fuck, with her standing there tits and pussy exposed. At any time she could have simply slid her wrists out of the strapping loops, but she didn’t, because the physical bondage was just a representation. The power exchange was about something far more complex than being unable to move.

  That thought, and the emotions that went with it, had their place, but it wasn’t here in the middle of a rough, hard fuck.

  Solomon grabbed her by the waist, lifting her once again. Vivienne wrapped her legs around him, hooking her feet together at his back. Solomon stepped into her, letting his body weight press her hard against the padded wall. Her nipples were tight pebbles against his chest, her breasts soft and yielding.

  Cupping her ass, he angled his own hips, and then his cock once more slid down the valley of her pussy, finding the entrance to her body.

  For the first time since she entered the dungeon, Solomon kissed her. Her mouth yielded, and he swept his tongue inside, letting her taste her own arousal. He licked her lower lip, kissed the corner of her mouth, then once more thrust his tongue into her, at the same time as he shoved his cock deep into her warm pussy.

  Vivienne jerked her mouth from his and screamed as she came, and the sound of her climax pushed him over the edge. He wanted it to last longer than three thrusts, but they were both primed and ready to ignite. Her pussy clenched on his cock, he buried his face in her neck, and shuddered as pleasure wracked him.

  Around them the lights danced, the music pounded, and Solomon’s doubts about what he was about to do disappeared.

  Chapter 7

  Vivienne groaned in protest as Solomon forced her to stand up. He adjusted her skirt, pulling it gently down to cover her. She was sweaty, and the latex was stubborn. He tugged it down enough to cover her pussy in the front, but she could feel cool air on the bottom curves of her ass where he hadn’t been able to tug it back into place.

  In a small act of rebellion she slumped back against the padded wall where he’d so recently fucked her. When was the last time she’d come that fast? Been fucked so perfectly?

  “I’m not done with you yet,” he murmured.

  Her body, wanton thing that it was, perked up at those low words. Her pussy muscles clenched. She shifted her weight from heel to heel, and that small movement was enough to have her slick labia rubbing against itself. Solomon had left her leaning against the wall and walked off. Probably to dispose of the condom, since when he came back, his lovely cock was tucked away and his leathers were laced up once more. He’d also turned down the music a bit, so it was a pleasant background thump, thump, thump, and the pace of the lights had slowed to match.

  Solomon held out his hand and she slid her fingers into his. As he drew her away from the wall, she became aware of the aches he’d left her with. He’d bitten her neck, breast, thigh, and pussy. She’d probably have bruises. She hoped she did. She wanted to wear the proof of what had just happened between them on her skin.

  “I’m going to inspect you. Get in inspection position,” Solomon ordered, drawing her into a static pool of white light.

  She hadn't expected the command and it took her a moment too long to react. One dark brow arched, and then the crop she hadn’t noticed he was holding snapped through the air, striking the side of her left thigh. Vivienne gasped at the sudden, unexpected spark of pain. Followed on the heels of that was a deep satisfaction.

  She craved this—giving up control, and being reminded of that delicious helplessness in the most primal physical way.

  “Inspection,” he ordered.

  One-word position commands were common in high protocol BDSM play. She learned the positions back when she was first exploring the lifestyle after he introduced her to it. They’d never really engaged in high protocol, and she hadn’t sought out that kind of play in the five years since they broke up. That meant it took her a minute to remember what the “inspection” position was. The delay earned her a second crop strike, this time to her right thigh.

  Vivienne raised her hands, lacing her fingers together at the back of her head under the long fall of her hair. She spread her legs hip distance apart, which was a sort of middle ground because she was fairly certain some Doms preferred inspection where the submissive’s legs were spread wide, while others expected their ankles together. Because they hadn’t often used it, she didn’t remember what Solomon liked.

  His gaze ran over her hot and ready, and she realized that she did know what he liked.

  He liked her.

  If his note was to be believed, he loved her.

  Before that train of thought could distract her from the moment, Solomon reached out grabbing the bodice of the latex dress. His arm muscles bulged, and the latex ripped, with a shockingly loud squeaking tear.

  She jerked forward as he split the material. There was a zipper, but she knew why he’d ripped the dress off her rather than unzipping. She knew and she liked it.

  The useless dress fell to the floor, his statement clear. He wanted her naked so she would be naked. He’d destroyed the only garment he’d allowed her to wear, ensuring that she had no choice but to remain nude and vulnerable.

  Vivienne let her eyes slide closed, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. His knuckle tapped the underside of her chin, tipping her face up. Vivienne kept her eyes closed, but bit her bottom lip, letting it slide from between her teeth.

  “Vivi baby, you should be very—” He kissed her forehead. “—very scared—” The corner of her mouth, “—of the things I want to do to you.”

  She opened her eyes. He was so beautiful. “I’m not scared. Not of this. Not of being with you like this.” The way he was looking at her, with such tender longing, made her throat tight with tears. She was about to drop her hands and wrap her arms around him, hold him tight.

  Solomon’s gaze shifted, sliding down her face, lingering on her lips for a moment before dropping down her naked body. When he raised his gaze to hers once again, there was a hot darkness in the depths of his eyes that burned away those tender feelings, leaving something far more primal in its place.

  He lowered his face to hers, his fingers trailing down the line of her throat.

  “Then get on your knees, sub.”

  Vivienne sank to the ground, her body responding to his command without a conscious decision by her mind to obey.

  He traced the curved of her cheek with the tip of the crop, and she didn’t bother to hide the small noise of excited fear that prompted. The fear wasn’t real; it was the fear before skydiving, before a rollercoaster drop—fear but with a safety net. Solomon wouldn’t strike her face—that was one of his hard limits, a line that he wouldn’t cross.

  It was why he hadn’t hit her back when she’d given him that scar.

  “Open,” he commanded.

  She parted her lips and he placed the crop between her teeth. “Bite down.” His lips quirked in that half-smile of his. “I want you to hold this for me. In case I need it.”

  She closed her teeth carefully around the shaft of the crop. She could taste the leather, and it was light enough she thought the core was probably fiberglass rather than cane.

  Solomon wrapped her ponytail twice around his palm, then tugged, forcing her face up. She stared up at him from her knees, hoping he could see how willing, how eager, she was to be used.

  How much she wanted to believe in his love. But love hadn’t been enough. Not for them.

  “Damn, you’re beautiful.”

  She mumbled something around the crop, just to make him smile. It worked, and his smile pulled her from the dark place her thoughts had gone.

  “And you’re mine.”

  Solomon gave her hair one controlled jerk. Her scalp tingled with pain, and that wiped away the last of the stomach-cl
enching thoughts that had been doing their best to pull her out of the moment.

  She stared into his eyes, then deliberately lowered her gaze to the floor.

  He released her hair and stepped back.

  “Crawl to me.” He growled the command, and the tone of his voice made her pussy clench. If she hadn’t just come, she would have been desperate with arousal.

  Crop still between her teeth, she dropped her hands from behind her head and started to crawl. The thump, thump, thump of the music matched the beat of her heart. She crawled out of the circle of still, white light into the shadow and swirling colors. For a moment she was blind as her vision adjusted, but she didn’t need to see, all she needed to do was follow him.

  To obey.

  To submit.

  “Kneel up.”

  She straightened, her arms soft at her sides, her shoulders relaxed. He took the crop from her mouth and traced the tip along her collarbones. She got only glimpses of his expression as the colored lights swiped slowly over his face. What she saw made her long for him, desire him, and fear him just enough to add a bite to that arousal.

  The crop trailed down one arm, then jumped to her stomach, tracing up from there to tap the underside of her breasts.

  “Up,” he commanded.

  Using only the muscles of her legs, she stood.

  “Bend over the barrel. Face down, ass up.”

  It wasn’t until he pointed that she noticed a pair of ale casks about three feet to his right. They weren’t large enough to be wine barrels—and Vivienne Deschamps knew wine barrels. One was set up on blocks, a spigot tap bored in to the side. The other was standing on its end, with a circular cushion fit into the top to make it a stool.

  The one on its side was raised up high enough so the top was roughly level with her hips. She could play dumb and ask him which barrel, but that would just elongate the foreplay.

  She sauntered over to the tapped barrel and lay facedown over the curve. The wood was smooth and cool under her belly. Her toes barely stayed on the floor, and she reached out blindly, searching for something to brace her hands on. There was a thick dowel connecting the supports holding the barrel up. She wrapped her hands around the dowel, holding tight, and letting her bodyweight slide her forward a little bit. It lifted her ass higher, and she wouldn’t be able to stay inverted like this for long, but she trusted her Master to know that.

  The music changed, sliding from a thumping techno to a classical piece. The low, almost mournful notes of a cello solo slid through the air, and a moment later the lighting changed. Instead of the club-like shifting colors, the whole dungeon was lit by uniform pale gold light. Vivienne shook her head, trying to get her hair out of her face so she could watch him. She didn’t manage to catch sight of him, or any new toys he might have grabbed, before his hand landed on her thigh, then slid up to her butt cheek. He gave it a playful squeeze, then ran his fingers lightly up and down the crack of her ass, hinting that soon he would venture further.

  “I want to remind you of something,” he said, surprising her.

  “What’s that, Master?”

  “I want you to remember what it’s like to let me take care of you.”

  Vivienne twisted, trying to catch sight of him, but he was behind her and between the angle and the barrel she couldn’t see him. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I want you to remember that I can give you release.”

  “I never forgot what you could make me feel,” she whispered. “I went looking for it, but I couldn’t find it.”

  His lips skimmed her back and he nipped her ass. He said something, but she couldn’t quite make out the words. Then the strange turn the conversation had taken was forgotten as she heard the familiar click from the cap of a tube of lube being opened.

  He spread her ass cheeks, slick cool liquid dripping between them. His fingers stroked over her anus, spreading the lube.

  “I’m going straight in with the plug. You relax.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  The cold, blunt tip of a plug poked at her, teasing, but he didn’t apply pressure yet. “Do you want to know what I’m planning to do to you?”

  “Only if you want to tell me, Master.”

  “Hmm, well, I did tell you to mind your manners. Relax.”

  The plug pressed in, invading her ass. She yelped as he kept pressing, forcing the plug in with hard, steady pressure.

  “Too much?”

  “No, Master. I like it. I like it when you hurt me.”

  He shoved the plug in, and her body closed around the neck. Pain pulsed from her ass, heat that spread from her butt to her pussy. A sweet sense of peaceful submission swept over her.

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured. He huffed out a laugh, toying with the plug. “Well, I do, but…” He spanked her, five quick smacks to each cheek. “You’re making me go out of order.”

  “There’s an…agenda?”

  “Yes, and next up, I’m going to take some time exploring what’s mine.”

  Her pussy clenched at the possession in his words. “Explore?”

  “Just like this.” Solomon started to stroke her, his broad, warm palms covering every inch of her back, ass, and thighs. His hands were firm, sure, and intimate. He left no hollow or curve untouched, his fingers dancing along her underarms, skimming the sides of her breasts and her ribs. His thumbs traced up the inside of her thighs, coming close, but never touching her pussy.

  “I love it when you touch me like this,” she whispered.

  “I’m glad, though you should know that this is just for me. I’m a selfish man.”

  “You’re not, Master.”

  “Oh, but I am. Let go, I’m going to flip you over.”

  She released her grip and he rolled her onto her back. Her stomach muscles stretched as she was arched back over the barrel and she let her hands dangle, nearly brushing the floor.

  He spread her legs, helping her brace her heels so her knees were bent. “How does your ass feel?” he asked.

  “Full, but not as full as I’d like.”

  He circled around to her head, squatting down. It was dizzying to look at him upside down. He stroked her cheek. “Trying to tempt me to fuck your ass?”

  “Is that on your agenda?”

  “It’s not, but maybe it should be.” Still crouching, he reached for her breasts, casually toying with them the way some people idly clicked the cap of a pen. She gasped as he pinched her nipples, plucking and twisting them with casual cruelty.

  He gave each breast a friendly pat and rose. She made a frustrated noise, hating to lose the contact. Solomon brought over the other barrel, setting it down by her legs. Once he sat, she couldn’t see him, but she felt him. Felt his hands slide from her knees to her inner thighs. His thumbs spread her labia, exposing her core. She was still wet from their first rough fucking and his fingers slid easily over her slick flesh.

  She was settling in, preparing to enjoy the slow torture of having him rub her pussy the way he rubbed her back ass and legs, when he applied the first clamp.

  Because she couldn’t see, she didn’t at first know what it was. There was a bite of pain and she jumped, almost sliding headfirst off the barrel. He grabbed her thigh, wrapping an arm around her leg to keep her in place.

  “Shhh, Vivi baby,” he soothed. “Just a little clamp.”

  “Hurts,” she whimpered. “A…weight?” It wasn’t just the pinch of the clamp but the way it pulled down that was causing those little lightning shocks of pleasure-pain to rip through her.

  “Not a weight. A chain and strap.”

  Cool leather slid around her thigh, like a garter.

  “Spread your knees wide. Wider.”

  As she obeyed she felt the chain between the garter strap and the clamp first pull taut and then pull on her pussy lip, spreading her open.

  Solomon made a pleased noise. “That’s a pretty sight. Now for the other side.”

  This time she was ready for the b
ite of pain as he applied the clamp, and without the distraction of the surprise, the pain was perfect. He added the strap to that thigh.

  “You tell me if you start to feel lightheaded,” he ordered. “And I want you to rest your hands on your stomach so they don’t start to hurt.”

  Carefully she moved her hands, aware of just how helpless she was, bent backwards over the barrel—and now that she thought about it, there was an expression in English about “over the barrel” being a bad thing.

  She wouldn’t call her current situation “bad” but it certainly made her feel vulnerable.

  “Spread.” He barked the command, shocking her into opening her thighs.

  The chains pulled tight, her pussy lips stretched. She felt flushed with both need and embarrassment at being so lewdly spread.

  “Stay like that. I’m going to take my time on your pussy. Your clit.” Something tickled the inside of her calf. “With this.”

  She raised her head until she could see what he held aloft. A single black feather. It wasn’t a fluffy plume, but simple and straight, the type of feather that would have in the past, been turned into a writing instrument.

  “I’m going to play with you until you come. But I’m not going to make it easy on you.” He brushed the tip of the feather back and forth over her knee in little sweeping motions. “And as soon as you start coming, I’m going to start fucking you. I expect you to come on my cock. It was one of the things Nerio added to the contract. That we come together, with my cock in your pussy.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “And then, when we’ve both come again, I’m going to put you in bondage so tight you’ll never get away.”

  He was leaning in, she could tell from the sound of his voice. She held her breath in anticipation.

  “And then, Vivi baby, there are some things I’m planning to say.”

  That sounded rather ominous, but his words were forgotten the moment his tongue touched her sex. He licked her, slow, languid strokes from her entrance all the way up to her clit. He licked her like an ice cream cone, and she wanted to wrap her legs around his head the way she had when he’d had her against the wall, but she couldn’t. He ordered her to spread, ordered her to keep not only her legs but her labia parted, which she did by virtue of the clamps and chains he’d applied to her most intimate flesh.