And he kissed her again, a sweet kiss that turned forceful, his tongue taking complete possession.

When he stopped, she couldn't move, could only stare up into his intent gaze.

Why did surrendering to this man feel so right?

After studying her, he nodded and said softly, “That's my sub.” And the utter assurance in his claim terrified her when she couldn't find any disagreement inside her.

He picked up a strap and buckled it just below her breasts. A softly lined cuff went on each wrist, and he secured them to the top of the table over her head. Then he walked to the foot of the table.

She eyed him nervously, again aware of the people watching. “What are—”

His stern glance strangled the words in her throat. Silence. Don't talk. But…

Her knees bent as he pushed her feet upward toward her butt. Then he restrained her ankles to the edges of the table, the position far too like the one her gynecologist used, only even more spread open—the width of Simon's table was twice that of a medical one.

She pulled on her arms and legs, suddenly feeling frighteningly helpless.

“Ah, lass.” He walked back and held her face between his hands. She looked into his eyes. Calm and confident.

“Nothing will happen that you won't enjoy, Rona. If you become too scared, you can use your safe word. Tell me what it is.”

She swallowed. His thumbs stroked her cheeks as he waited for her answer.

“Houston. It's Houston.”

“That's right, my lass.” He held her head between his hands as he enjoyed her mouth in a leisurely kiss, as if he had all night, as if people weren't waiting for him.

When he let her go, her resistance had melted away. The knowledge that right now she'd submit to anything he wanted chilled her a little. Master Simon knew exactly what he was doing, and she wasn't sure if she resented or admired his power.

He looked into her eyes and smiled. “Thinking again?”

She watched him walk toward the end of the table, and every one of those eased muscles started to tighten again. When he undid the laces of her thong and pulled it off, a sizzle of excitement shot through her system. Her moan almost sounded like a whimper.

His eyes crinkled. He didn't touch her, though, and she was glad—really—

although everything down there throbbed in need.

“Let's start with your nipples,” he said. He picked up a small glass, bell-shaped cup and set it against her left breast. The coolness drew her nipple tighter. Shaking his head, he chose another size and fastened something that looked like a caulking gun with a gauge to the pointed end of the glass.

Unexpectedly, he skimmed his hand over her pussy, making her gasp. “Nice and wet,” he said. He ran his now-damp fingers around the glass rim before pressing it firmly to her breast. “Ready, lass?”

Her body burned with arousal even as anxiety shot through her. She gave him a nod and stared down at her chest.

“Tell me if it starts to hurt. For now, you are permitted to speak.” He squeezed the handle.

One pump and her breast felt like someone was sucking on it really, really hard. Her nipple swelled into the bottom third of the clear cup. “Oh my God!”

He chuckled, his gaze intent on her face as he squeezed again. When the suction increased to near pain, she tried to push the cup away and rediscovered that she was restrained.

“That's obviously enough.” He twisted the pump off, leaving her nipple fat and red inside the vacuum cup. “Next.”

The other one went the same way.

“That looks so strange,” she muttered, staring at the cups on her breasts. Feels strange too. Like someone constantly sucking right there.

He walked to the end of the table, and her hands clenched into fists. Her legs were splayed wide, her pussy on view for everyone to see. And he was going to do…that to her. Her breathing sped up again, yet somehow the fear only increased her arousal.

He ran his finger over her folds, smiling as her hips jerked. “You're very wet.”

After being aroused all evening, she felt swollen and almost too sensitive when he slid a finger into her. Oh God. Her legs quivered, but the ankle cuffs kept her from moving. Watching her face, he thrust in and out with excruciating slowness, ramping up her burning need. Her hips strained upward. More, more, more.

A corner of his mouth curved upward in a smile. “I believe you're ready for the next step.”

He picked up a cup, twisted on the pump, and then seated the cold glass firmly around her clit, wiggling to get an adequate seal.

Oh God, she was really going to let him do this. The restraints, his hard hands, his control, the strange cups… She bit her lip, feeling more aroused than she'd ever been in her whole life.

His fingers flexed on the trigger.

Sucking and pressure and tightness. “Oooh.” Her hips strained upward, and her eyes closed as the shocking sensation blasted through her. The vacuum increased until her swollen tissue throbbed in time with her pulse.

“Look, Rona.” He twisted off the pump, leaving the cup on her clit.

She stared down. Pink flesh half filled the cup, pressing up against the sides.

“That's me?”

“Oh yes.” He tapped the cup with a finger, and she jumped at the zing of pleasure. “It will remain that size for quite a while after I remove the cup.” His eyes glinted at her. She tried not to imagine his fingers on her clit afterward.

“How long do the cups stay on?” She should have asked more questions before starting this maybe.

“Oh, awhile yet.”

And she'd just sit here and stare at them?

“Don't worry; I'm not going to let you get bored.”

The crowd around rippled in laughter.


Simon smiled as Rona's blue-green eyes showed her arousal—and her anxiety.

With her body open and exposed, bound for whatever he wanted to do to it, she displayed her trust in him—trust he hadn't yet earned, but that she'd given him freely, without logic or reason.

Yet he wanted more than her arousal, more than her trust.

“What are you—”

He interrupted her. “Unless you're answering a question, I want you silent now, pet.”

She bit her lip, and a tremor ran through her as her worry and arousal both increased. Lovely. How would she deal with additional stimulation? With pain? He picked up a thin cane from his toy bag. “Remember your safe word?”

“Yes.” When he lifted an eyebrow, she hastily added, “Sir.”

“Excellent.” He brushed the thin wood across her ankle, up her calf. He glided the tip over her pussy beneath the cup, up her torso to spiral around the cups on her breasts, and then back down.

Her stomach muscles quivered under the teasing strokes. Her gaze was fixed on the stick.

He lifted it and tapped her thigh lightly. She startled, and the movement wiggled the cups. He could almost see the sensation break through her like a wave.

Very nice. He struck softly then, up and down one thigh, moved to the other, continuing until the skin pinkened and her hips strained upward.

Her eyes slowly took on the glazed look of a submissive overwhelmed by sensation and endorphins.

He removed a glass dildo from his bag, wet it in her juices, and slid it in.


Ahhh! Rona jerked back to awareness as every nerve in her pussy shocked to life. She tried to move, couldn't, and her breathing sped up. She'd been drifting as the rhythmic sensations of pain from the cane somehow merged with the aching feeling from the cups and sent her somewhere else.

But now the dildo tightened the skin around her clit, her vagina throbbed, and each beat of her pulse pushed her closer to coming. Her eyes closed as she shivered.

“Look at me, Rona.” His darkly masculine voice caressed her as surely as his warm hand on her face.

She opened her eyes. God, he was so gorgeous, like a blade, but not a bland kitchen knife—more like a medieval dagger. Elegant and deadly, but the look in his eyes was so caring. Almost loving. She smiled.

“There, that's better.” He patted her cheek. “Keep your eyes on me, lass. And by the way, you do not have permission to come.”

It took a minute for the meaning of his words to percolate through the molasses in her brain. Not come? “But—”

“No. No coming.” His grin flashed. He stepped back and brushed that wicked, thin cane across her breast and then struck the side.

Unh! The sting echoed through her breast. He slapped the cane harder, circling around the cups on her breasts. Each sharp pain knifed through her, and yet all she could process was the thick intrusion in her vagina and the squeezing of her clit. She tried to wiggle, but the straps over her ribs held her implacably in place. And each erotically painful blow increased the coiling inferno inside her, brought her closer to coming.

“Oh pleeeeease.” The moan broke from her. “I need—” Need to come, need just a little more.

He stopped.

Panting, she stared up at him, trying to order her thoughts.

He closed his warm hand over her restrained ones. “Now, sweetheart, you have two choices. I can bring you off here and now…or you can join me upstairs, and we can make love.”

“Have sex?”

His eyes darkened, and he repeated, “We can make love.”

The phrasing didn't sound right, but oh God, just the thought of his hands on her… She shivered and whispered, “You.”

His gaze lingered on her face. Then he brushed a kiss over her lips. “You please me more than I can say, Rona.” He released the vacuum on the cups and popped them off, one by one. The dildo slid out, leaving her empty and aching. He tossed everything in a nearby pan of water.