Open Doors (Suncoast Society #27)(9)

For his part, his cock was hard, dripping. A couple of times he’d had to pause, catch a drop of pre-cum from the head before it fell and hit the floor, and reached around to her lips for her to lick it from his fingers.

She flinched when he laid the cool wood of the paddle across both of her flaming hot ass cheeks. “Ready?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir,” she mumbled, deep in subspace. She would absolutely sleep good tonight when they finished.

He took several teasing, light test swings, mostly because he enjoyed watching her tense and flinch, her knowing he was doing it deliberately because he enjoyed the mind f*ck.

Finally, the real thing. The crack of the paddle landing against her flesh, and her head shot up, a howl escaping her, but no safeword. He repeated it on her other side, back and forth, slow, steady strokes, until she was sobbing and squirming and struggling to stand still.

That was when he put the paddle down, stepped between her legs, and fed his cock into her ready * with one hard, deep thrust.

She collapsed onto the bed, her moans now ones of pure pleasure. He took his time, f*cking her hard and fast, alternating with slow and steady strokes, holding back and loving the feel of her scorching flesh against his. Actively f*cking back against him until he planted a hand in the middle of her back again and shoved, hard, pinning her to the bed.

“What’s slave supposed to do?”

She squirmed harder. “Hold still like a good girl while Sir f*cks her.”

Yep, deep and hard. Full-on subspace always triggered what he called her “slashy speak” mode.

“Is slave holding still?”

“No, Sir,” she admitted, her voice sounding tiny. “Feels too good.”

He reached under her with his other hand and found her clit. “Then get it out of your system.” He pinched her clit, making her howl, this time with pleasure as her * clamped down on his cock and her orgasm started.

Then he backed off, gently rolling her nub between his thumb and fingers, keeping her going, knowing from the way she was still trying to arch her back and rock her hips that she was completely gone.

He smiled, struggling not to start f*cking her again. He loved this, loved the complete and utter abandon she only showed in times like this, her complete and utter trust in him not to harm her, her easy acceptance of his sadism and control.

“That’s my good little slut,” he said. “You show me what you want, and I’ll keep giving it to you.” Now her fingers clenched and unclenched as wave after wave of pleasure kept coursing through her. He knew if he could see her toes, they’d be clenching and unclenching, too.

It was fun, sometimes, to spank her, then tie her up and do forced orgasm torture on her with a vibrator. In those instances, he always forced her to safeword before he stopped.

It was too much fun lying there, letting the vibrator do all the work, and watching her flying in that deep, dark emotional place only he got to see.

Finally, after a couple of minutes of this, he realized she was wearing out. He sat up again, grabbed her hips, and started f*cking her, hard and fast, until he buried his cock deep inside her with one last thrust and shot his load into her *.

Both of them were breathing heavily when they climbed up onto the bed. She curled up into his arms, her face pressed against his chest, his arms safely encircling her.

“Love you, Sir,” she whispered, already sounding half asleep.

He rubbed his chin against the top of her head. “Love you, too, baby.”





Chapter Five


Wednesday evening, a handful of volunteers had gathered in the warehouse space to begin the process of transforming it into a dungeon in less than two weeks.

“Okay,” Derrick said. “Tonight’s project is to put up the base coat of paint, the dark charcoal, on the walls, floor-to-ceiling. The good news is, there’s no worries about trim work on the walls. The bad news is, there’s a lot of damn wall to paint.” He indicated all the walls with wide, sweeping gestures.

“Most of us are going to start painting the south wall.” Derrick pointed to the scissor lift that Kaden had rented for them, another donation to the project. “Kaden and Kel are going to start on the far north side, doing up high.” He pointed at the north wall. “By the time we work our way around there from the south wall, they’ll have moved and be following us so they’re not dripping paint on our heads, and they’re not in our way while we’re trying to paint the bottom of the walls.”

Rusty McElroy held up a hand.

“Yeah?” Derrick asked.

“What about the floor?”

“We’ve got drop cloths. That’ll be step one, getting those taped down.”

Rusty gave him a thumbs-up.

Pat Donnelly, who in his day job was a seated family court judge for Sarasota County, held up his hand.

“Yeah, Pat?”

“I was promised pizza,” he joked, making everyone laugh. “I’m here for the pizza.”

“Yes, your Honor. Pizza is imminent.”

That Pat likely wouldn’t be attending the club very often, yet still opted to show support for their efforts by coming out to help with the prep work, spoke a lot about the man’s character.

I’m glad he’s a judge.

With everyone working together, it only took a few minutes to get the drop cloths taped down. While Kaden and Kel got onto the scissor lift and headed up on the north wall, everyone else picked positions on the south wall and started painting.