He made sure she watched as he gave his erection a long stroke, the evidence of her arousal still glistening on it. “It’s been a long time since I’ve fucked you for my pleasure alone, so let’s make sure you remember the ground rules.”

  He gave her pussy a hard slap. “Who does this cunt belong to?”

  “It’s yours, Sir.”

  “Damn right it is.” He slapped it again. “Who owns your pleasure, your orgasms?”

  “You do, Sir.”

  “Who’s ready to serve her Master by allowing him to use her however he sees fit?”

  “I am, Sir.” And she would die if he didn’t take her soon.

  “The thing is,” he said, a hint of warning in his voice, “you have no idea what I have planned. But you’re about to find out.”

  Seven: Cole

  Cole watched her eyes darken with desire at his words. She didn’t know his plans, and she didn’t care. He’d told her she wouldn’t be able to climax, and still she offered herself to him. Such was the trust she had in him and it was humbling. Though humble wasn’t the word he’d use to describe his current state of mind.

  Keeping his eyes on hers, he once more plunged fully inside her, letting out a groan of satisfaction. He grabbed hold of her thighs, pulling her toward him with each thrust of his cock. He needed to get deeper, to fuck her harder. She squeezed her eyes closed, no doubt in the hopes it would keep her silent. She would manage, he knew, without question. She was a stubborn woman when she wanted to be, his Sasha. And he loved every inch of her. She worked her hips in time with his movements, wanting more. Correction, he loved every fucking inch of her.

  “That’s it, little one,” he ground out. “Take your Master’s cock, and take it deep.” He increased the speed of his punishing rhythm. “But I need more. Be a good slut and take it harder.”

  He pounded her into the mattress, allowing himself the freedom to fuck her a way he seldom did. She writhed under him and though he would have been happy to finish, that wasn’t his plan.

  With a deep breath and a lot of willpower, he managed to pull out. Her eyes flew open in surprise even as he moved up her body. Stopping with his cock at her head, he commanded, “Open.”

  She obeyed, her eyes never leaving his length.

  “Close.”

  She’d already inched forward and jerked to a stop in surprise.

  He swallowed a chuckle at her delayed realization that her mouth was still open.

  “Just keeping you on your toes,” he said when she closed it. “But since I want you prepared, I’ll tell you what’s coming next. I will use your mouth because you need to clean yourself off my cock.” He gave himself a stroke. “It’s going up your arse and I need to lube it without your pussy juice in the way.”

  He’d used all of her holes in the span of a day before, but never in one session. Surprise, acceptance, and finally, desire flickered across her face.

  He continued, “Your throat will be fucked for as long as I see fit. When I pull out, you will immediately move to your knees, face down, and hands behind you. You will ask for your arse fucking by holding your cheeks open, offering your tiny hole for my use. After I manage to work my length up your arse, you will be fucked and fucked hard. And remember, no sound from you at all, except to safeword. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She trembled, but not in fear. Every part of her, from her heavy-lidded eyes to the wetness he knew he’d find between her thighs, to the huskiness of her voice, spoke of need and want. He had told her this was for him, which was why he wouldn't allow her to come. And while that was true, she didn’t know the pleasure he had in store for her later that day.

  “In that case.” He shifted closer, so close if she stuck her tongue out, she’d lick him. “Open your throat for my dick.”

  She had mastered deep throating him early in their relationship, but it’d taken longer for her to be able to properly receive a throat fucking from him.

  He placed his hands on her head and slowly fed her his cock. “Yes,” he hissed as she engulfed him in the wet heat of her mouth. Her tongue twisted around him, cleaning him the way he’d told her. “That’s good. Now swallow.”

  She hummed as she did, the resulting vibrations adding to the already intense pleasure.

  “Keep doing that when I start to move.” It would be a challenge, but she was up to it. Plus, with something new to focus on, maybe she would find it easier to keep her orgasms at bay.

  When she’d taken him all, he stilled, allowing her to find her breath. Satisfied she was breathing through her nose, he edged out about an inch. Grabbing her by her hair, he pulled her toward him while rocking his hips, determined to fuck her just up until she became a sobbing mess.

  She’d confessed once not understanding how he didn’t get turned off at the sight of her following a scene when he’d fucked her throat. “All the snot, drool, and tears smeared all over my face can’t be attractive.”

  He’d quickly set her straight, and just in case she’d forgotten, he was prepared to give her a refresher.

  “Watching you take my cock like this is such a turn on.” He’d set a steady pace, stopping every so often for her to catch her breath. “Your eyes water as you hold your breath, unable to fill your lungs while being fucked by such a big dick.” He stilled, starting to thrust again after she inhaled. “You’re already drooling from having to hold your mouth open for so long. A few more strokes and you’ll be blowing snot bubbles. That’s when I’m able to see straight to the heart of your beautiful submissive soul, and it leaves me breathless.”

  He ceased moving, and she inhaled. “But we’re not going there today because I still have one last place to fuck.”

  He pulled out of her mouth and reached for the lube on the bedside table. No other words were spoken while she hurried to get into position and he slicked his cock with the lube.

  It wasn’t likely he’d last very long. Already his balls felt heavy and ached for release. Instead of focusing on them, though, he turned his attention to Sasha and ensured she was ready for him.

  He slowly pushed into her. Biting her pillow to ensure her own silence, she only had a slight hitch in her breathing when the head of his cock pushed through her resistance. As he rode himself to a hard and fast climax, all he could think about was how he could reward her enough for all she gave him.

  Eight: Sasha

  “I rung a few places while you were in the shower,” Cole said to her at breakfast, about an hour after they made it out of bed. “How do you feel about getting your ink the day after tomorrow?”

  “Really?” she asked. “That soon?”

  He gave a little shrug. “It helps to know people.”

  “You know more than people, Sir,” she teased. “You know everyone.”

  “Which also comes in handy.” His eyes glimmered with mischief.

  Parts of her body felt deliciously sore as a result of the way they spent the morning. It relaxed her, and she felt comforted by the lingering aches that spoke of his pleasure. Funny how it didn’t upset her that he hadn’t allowed her to climax. He would take care of her. She had no doubt.

  “I think the day after tomorrow will be perfect,” she said.

  “You’ve come a long way, little one.”

  His praise warmed her all over.

  “With your help, Sir.”

  “All I’ve done is to give you a push every once in a while. You’re the one who actually did the work,” he replied.

  She placed her hand on top of his and gave it a grateful squeeze. It was her battle, but she hadn’t been alone during it. She wouldn’t have gotten so far without him. “I love you.”

  He lifted her hand to his lips and placed a small kiss on her knuckles. “I love you.”

  For the next forty-eight hours, she tried to keep her mind occupied. Anything she could find from cleaning their already spotless house to reorganizing the bookshelves worked. The more time she had to think, the more she feared she’d work herself up over nothing.

  All that stopped when Cole realized what she was doing. He took quick action, reminding her in no uncertain terms that ignoring something didn’t make it go away, it only made it grow bigger. Then he assigned her a paper to write detailing her current fears.

  Even though she wanted to balk, she put her thoughts on paper and was pleasantly surprised. It wasn’t thoughts of the tattoo or the bullwhip that bothered her, but rather her potential reaction. Once she figured that out, the anxiety left.

  When the time came to leave for the appointment, she was more excited than nervous. Though the shop wasn’t all that far from their house, the drive seemed to take forever.

  Finally, Cole pulled into the parking lot and turned to her once he shut the car off. “Ready?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She had been ready since that day by the lake.

  He helped her out of the car and together they walked into the shop. Cole had told her the artist was a Dominant in the lifestyle and came highly recommended. He was new to the area, having recently moved from San Francisco.

  “Cole Johnson,” a young woman at the front desk said after Cole gave their names. “The journalist? I love your work! Lance told me we had a special customer coming today, but I had no idea it was you.”

  Sasha mentally rolled her eyes. She would have done it for real if Cole hadn’t mentioned Lance being a Dominant. But he had and not only would it be rude to roll her eyes at one of Lance’s employees, but the action would reflect badly on Cole.

  “Thank you,” Cole said in response to the admin who was still gazing at him with stars in her eyes. “I’m always delighted when someone recognizes my work. However, I’m not the customer today. My wife is, Sasha Johnson.”

  “Wife? I don’t remember hearing you got married.” Her eyes moved Sasha’s way long enough to give her a quick look over before returning to Cole. “When did that happen?”

  “Almost a year ago.” He slipped his arm around Sasha, pulling her close. “If you could let Lance know we’ve arrived?”

  The admin hesitated a second before flashing a smile. “Yes, of course. If you don’t mind filling these out?” She handed the papers in their general direction and Cole took them. “And congratulations,” she added as they turned to find a place to sit and wait.

  “Cole? Sasha?”

  Sasha immediately stood up when a middle-aged Black man covered in tattoos called her name. Cole greeted him first, and she waited for him to introduce her. “Lance, this is my Sasha. She is my everything. It is rare for me to place her care in another’s hands and not something I do easily.”

  “I am deeply honored and vow to be worthy of the trust you place in me.” Lance’s voice was low and gravelly, but his eyes were warm and friendly. “May I?” He directed his question to Cole, but nodded toward her.

  “Yes, of course,” Cole replied before turning to her. “You may speak freely, little one.”

  “Your Master sent an image of the sketch you made,” Lance said. “Beautiful work.”

  Her cheeks heated. “Thank you, sir.”

  “If you both will follow me, I’ll show you what I’ve done with it and while you look over it, I’ll review the papers you’ve completed, and then we’ll get started.”

  He led them to a curtained off area toward the back. Sasha first saw the large table she’d be on and the the extra chair at its side.

  Cole directed her to sit down. “I’ll stand until we’re ready to start.”

  It didn’t take long for them to get through the preliminary work. Sasha was delighted with what he’d done with her sketch and called it perfect.

  “I’m glad you like it.” Lance turned away. “If you’ll undress from the waist up and lay face down on the table. I’ll place the stencil so we can get the positioning correct and check the size.”

  She stood up and started to unbutton her shirt, but Cole batted her hands away and took over. The shirt fell from her shoulders, followed quickly by her bra. He kept a hand on her as she climbed onto the table. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  She closed her eyes, nearly humming in pleasure when Cole dug his fingers into her hair. The familiar sensation soon had her relaxed and floaty. Something pressed against her back, while Lance and Cole murmured above her, even as his fingers continued working their magic.

  “Would you like for me to take a picture so you can see how everything looks, little one?” Cole asked.

  “No need,” she said, keeping her eyes closed. “As long as it looks good to you.”

  Cole whispered in her ear, “It’s perfect.”

  The moment the tattoo needle touched her back, her heart jolted.

  “Breathe, little one.”

  At his reminder, she took a deep breath, filling her lungs with air. He was the anchor that kept her steady, one that gave her freedom while at the same time ensuring she remained within the confines of safety.

  While Lance worked on covering her scars, Cole stayed by her side, squeezing her hand, checking in on her, and stroking her knuckles whenever she winced from the pain. Twice, he requested water for her, and both times she drank her fill, thankful for the small breaks. She had to admit that at some points, the process got a little tough to endure.

  But not once did she consider stopping, and she appreciated Cole for not asking. Finally, she’d be able to show her back, and to do so with pride.

  Happiness and relief flooded her when Lance told her she could take a look at the final product.

  Cole helped her slide carefully off of the table. Her back burned slightly from the continuous drag of the tattoo needle but wasn’t too bad. She walked to a nearby mirror and put her back to it. She paused before looking over her shoulder for a second. How long had it been since she didn’t dread looking at her back?

  Cole stood in front of her with a knowing grin and nodded.

  One last deep breath and she peeked over her shoulder, stunned at the delicately beautiful ivy crossing her back done completely in black. The lines were sharp and defined, and the shading was subtle. “COLE’S” was visible, but just barely, and she wondered if she saw it only because she knew where to look. It was everything she had imagined. “I love it.”

  Cole came up next to her and placed his hand on her hip. “I think it looks perfect.”

  She felt almost weightless, which seemed strange until she realized she’d finally let go of a burden she’d carried far too long. “I can’t believe how good I feel.”

  “It was what you needed to do,” Cole said in a soft voice.

  She nodded and turned to find Lance standing off to the side, quietly waiting. “I can’t thank you enough,” she said. “It’s magnificent.”

  “Seeing the look on your face just now was all the thanks I need,” he assured her.

  She felt like skipping when she left with Cole after Lance wrapped her back and went over after care instructions. “I wish we didn’t have to wait.”

  “You have to be fully healed before we do anything with the bullwhip and that means another few weeks,” Cole said. “If I were to use it while you were still healing, it would only cause more scars.”

  “I know.” It would be torturous waiting those few weeks, but the last thing she wanted was an infection or more scars.

  Cole glanced at her. “I see you’re counting the days. I can’t believe you want to hurry into this.”

  “It’s all I can think about,” she replied before getting into the car, and easing herself against the seat, being careful of her tattoo and her tender back. She didn’t want to do anything to mess up the beautiful artwork.

  Cole got into the driver seat. “You’re amazing. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Because you give me the strength and courage to believe in myself. With you, I’m brave.”

  “You’ve always been brave to me.”

  She placed her hand in his, and turned her face to watch him. He gave her hand a quick squeeze before turning on the car and pulling out of the parking lot.

  As he drove them home, she shifted in order to peer out of the windshield, though every so often, she’d peek out of the corner of her eye to catch a glimpse of Cole. The tattoo experience had gone better than she’d ever dared hope. Was it too much to hope she would be able to say the same about Cole using a bullwhip?

  Nine: Sasha

  A little over two weeks later, after being somewhat tyrannical about caring for her tattoo - Cole claimed he had to help because she couldn’t reach everywhere - was deemed healed.

  “Really?” She twisted around as if she’d be able to see.

  “Yes.” He lowered her shirt down, covering the ink, and dropped a kiss on her nape.

  Just in time for their anniversary in four days.

  The knowledge her tattoo had finished peeling and healing, left her feeling equal parts excited and nervous. “I’m ready.”

  He cupped her face in his strong hands. “I’ll bring out the bullwhip when I want to do so. When I think it’s time, little one. My rules, remember?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  His eyes smiled at her. “Besides, part of the experience is the anticipation.”

  He was teasing her, trying to work her up so that she could forget her anxiety. It worked a little, but her stomach still fluttered with nerves. “You don’t think we should treat it like a bandage and rip it off, all at once?”

  “Have you ever done that?” he asked. “Ripped a bandage off all at once?”

  “Yes, and it hurt like hell.”

  “Exactly, and since I’d be the one doing the ripping, I say no. This isn’t something to treat like a bandage. You have to be patient.”

  Perhaps he wasn’t ready yet. Or maybe he wanted to wait for the actual day of their anniversary.

  “I don’t always do patient so well, Sir,” she said.

  “Then consider this a much needed lesson.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “What time is everyone coming over?”