Quickies

I knew what to do. I quickly released his cock from his trousers-he was semi-hard already-and worked him into my mouth. The machine buzzed between my legs and I whimpered, rocking, rubbing my clit along the surface.

“Dirty whore,” he murmured, thrusting deeper into my mouth. “You love having all those holes filled, don’t you?”

I flushed, but nodded, admitting my humiliation. I did love it. I did.

“Let’s try these on for size.”

I didn’t stop sucking as he pulled something from his shirt pocket, but I did gasp around the length when he attached a nipple clamp to first one, then the other. They stung, almost burning, and I writhed on the machine.

“Keep sucking.”

The surprise and pain had distracted me, and I went back to work, using just my mouth, the way he’d taught me, taking him deep, letting him fuck my throat when he

wanted to, following his lead. I saw his foot move on the pedal and the machine between my legs kicked it up a notch, making my whole body buzz alive with pleasure.

This was punishment? I didn’t think so.

“You’re not allowed to come until I say,” he murmured, running his hand through my long, dark hair. I nodded, gulping down his length. I knew that. It was always the rule. “No matter what I do.”

I groaned, understanding his mad method of tortured punishment now. My pussy was already on fire, and still, he pressed the foot pedal, taking me higher, higher. My nipples ached, every pulse sending waves of sensation down between my legs. I didn’t know how long I could stand it.

But he was the epitome of control, even with my hot, wet mouth working over his cock. He watched my face, every reaction, and adjusted the settings accordingly, pushing me forward, back, forward, back, until I thought I would go mad with longing.

"Master!" I moaned, pressing my cheek to his belly. I only called him that when we were here, like this, after he had ordered me down. "Oh please, please…" I begged him, needing that release just out of my reach, the one he held out for me like some dangling carrot.

"Not yet," he mused, toying with the chain between the nipple clamps, tugging gently, making my hips buck. I groaned, gave in, submitted to his will and continued to fight the rising tide between my thighs. My whole body shook with the effort.

"Stroke me."

I did, my hand moving fast, the tip of him wet, making it an easier slide. He gave a soft sigh, moving a little closer, aiming his cock toward my breasts.

"Are you ready, Jen?"

"Oh god yes please," I begged, arching my back, eyes pleading. He tugged a little harder on the chain, giving it a steady tension, pulling. I gasped, feeling it right in my clit somehow, as the nipple clamps slid off, leaving my chest burning in their absence.

"Now," he commanded, and I surrendered, my body wracked with my climax, shuddering and moaning with the final, blissful release. He thrust into my hand with a deep, determined grunt, splashing my aching breasts with his cum, burning my nipples with the heat. I cried out in pleasure and pain, completely his in that moment.

He turned off the machine and I whimpered, leaning forward on it, still shivering.

Then he undid my collar and told me, "Up."

I went to him, whispering his name, "David, David," over and over as he cuddled me in the crook of his arm and led me to the bed. We rested there a while, quiet, the room filled with the musky smell of our sex. God, I loved the smell of us together.

"So you like my new toy?" he inquired.

Flushing, I nodded, "I'll say."

"Perhaps you'd like to ask for permission to use it when I'm gone?"

Smiling, I nodded. "Yes. Please. May I?"

"Of course." He kissed the top of my head, breathing in my scent. "All you had to do was ask."

I bent my head, resting it against his heart, and submitted to his will. It was what I was made for, what I was born for. I loved it, and I loved him, beyond sex or words or

even life. He was my life, and I knew neither of us would ever have been satisfied having it any other way.

Core Deep

Twenty-six degrees below zero, almost total darkness and white-out conditions, but Mary didn't notice any of it as Finn trudged up behind her, the thick cloud of his breath misting over her shoulder as he watched her work.

"What's your depth?" He had to yell to be heard over both the drill and the generator running it, but Mary didn't acknowledge his question, too engrossed, determined. Another ten feet. And then another. She'd pulled two cores on her own already-they were bagged and tagged on the sled she'd dragged along behind her on the snowmobile to the site. Both her shoulders and her head ached, but she didn't care.