Page 8 of Her Fire Master (Master Me #5)

His place is nice—small, but very clean and neat, with decent furniture. A little on the spartan side.

“Were you worried I wouldn’t?”

He reaches for a lock of my hair, which I wore down tonight, and twists it around his finger. “I might’ve sweated it a bit. You ready for your punishment?”

I nod. My mind’s been going crazy over the past four days since our date, trying to figure out what this all means. What’s Blaze’s deal? Is he only in this for the kink? He offered me the option of coming or having him never mention it again. Us dating the normal way wasn’t on the table.

Or am I overanalyzing this?

Probably.

He lifts his chin toward an open door. “The bedroom’s in there. I want you to go in, shut the door, and take off all your clothes but your panties. If you need to use the restroom, do that first. Then kneel in the corner and wait for me.”

The flutters in my belly surge, my whole pelvic floor lifts and squeezes. This is really happening.

He’s serious.

Part of me wants to run for the door as fast as I can.

But I’m no chicken.

And besides, I want this.

It’s way more than a curiosity. Way beyond seeing what makes the captain tick. This is for me. When he mentioned punishment, something I never knew was inside me woke up. It was like he was speaking a secret language to me.

And yes, absolution for my sins sounds wonderful.

So does having it delivered by the sexy captain.

“Yes, sir.” I walk on wobbly knees to the bedroom and shut the door. This room is like the rest of the place. Clean. Comfortable. Simple.

I feel like I’m at the doctor’s office, where you strip as fast as you can because the thought of not being in the appropriate garb when the doctor comes back is embarrassing.

I want to get this right.

Do whatever Blaze asks of me.

And yeah, the kneeling gave me pause. But only for a second. And then it turned me way the hell on.

I take off my clothes and fold them up. In the corner, I see he’s put a small pillow on the floor.

It’s so freaking thoughtful, my chest tightens. Heart pounding, I drop to my knees on it, facing the juncture of the two walls.

Blaze comes in and shuts the door. I listen for his footsteps, but they don’t come to me, they head toward the bed.

“Come here, little girl.”

I stand up, heat burning my cheeks. It’s one thing to play sexy cock tease and goad him into spanking me at the station.

It’s quite another to be called on the carpet this way.

The fact that I’m almost completely naked and he’s fully dressed makes it all the more squirmy, which I’m sure is his intent.

Still, he’s warm. Almost inviting. He spreads his knees wide and reaches for me, pulling me to stand between them. He cups my ass in his hands, kneading possessively.

“Do you know what a safe word is?”

I nod.

“I need a yes, sir. ”

“Yes, Daddy.”

His lips twitch. “What’s yours, baby?”

I nibble my lip. “Um... fire truck.”

Another quirk of his sexy mouth. “Fire truck. Got it.” He continues to squeeze my cheeks roughly, inciting a flare of heat so powerful it’s a wonder I remain on my feet. When he pulls me closer and applies his lips to one of my nipples, I let out a wanton moan.

He sucks and flicks it with his tongue, then scraps lightly with his teeth. “I know you might be reluctant to call it, so I’m going to be careful with you, Sparks. I’ll be paying attention. Okay?” He applies his lips to my neglected nipple, which sends a zing straight between my legs.

I drop my head back and pant, and my brain doesn’t process that he asked me a question. Or maybe I thought it was rhetorical.

He slaps my ass lightly and raises his brows.

“Oh, um, yes, sir!”

He releases his delicious grip on my ass and gathers my wrists behind my back. It thrusts my breasts forward and he feasts on my nipple once more.

I shift, twitching my inner thighs against one another, seeking relief.

“Were you a good girl this week, Lia?” He scrapes his teeth lightly over my beaded nipple again.

“Um…” I’m panting, hardly coherent.

“Did you touch your pussy?”

“Oh! No. I was good, I promise.”

He makes an approving hum and pulls me down over one leg so my torso rests on the bed, my ass is draped up over his knee, raised and angled perfectly for his hand.

Yum.

Or so I think, but then the first swat falls.

Harder than I expect.

It’s like it was in the station—a little too much. A little hurtier than I want, but not enough to mind. I wriggle over his knee, trying to dodge the firm slaps. He holds my wrists caged at my lower back and slaps my ass over and over again.

“Why am I punishing you, little girl?” His deep voice reverberates through my body.

I whimper, not from the pain, but from the question. I really don’t want to talk about this. It will definitely take all the fun out of this experience.

“Were you playing with matches?”

Okay, that’s still fun. It has way more of a naughty girl vibe to it than Did you burn down your parents’ house with your family still in it?

Did you leave permanent scars on your mother’s arm?

Did you destroy all the family photos, heirlooms and property just because you have a fascination with fire?

“Yes, sir,” I gasp, suddenly wanting it harder. Wishing he’d spank this fire, this wicked obsession right out of me, forevermore.

He spanks me with steady, firm smacks and each one seems to reach that deep hidden place inside me, the one where I stuffed the darkness, tried to pretend it didn’t exist. It penetrates to the cache of guilt, the horror, the burden I carry every day.

I moan but not from pain. More from satisfaction. Because it feels so right to receive this discipline, the hard, stinging smacks, the relentless focus on my redemption.

“No more, Lia.” His voice is firm, almost a touch angry. “Not in my fire station. Not at home. No. More. Matches.”

I stop breathing, don’t even move except for the involuntary jerk of my hips under his smacks.

Is he really asking me to give up my matches?

I can’t!

“Did you hear me?”

I don’t answer, because I can’t. I’m choked up, a little frightened of the magnitude of what he’s asking.

He pulls me back up to stand, cupping my hot ass in his hands. His touch is gentle this time, not the hot, rough kneading of before, but gentle squeezes. “Look at me.”

I can’t meet his eyes.

“Lia.”

I swallow and drag my gaze from his shirt to his face.

“You can do this.”

Oh God, he understands . The fact that he knows how big his demand is, that he doesn’t just think I’m being defiant, makes this easier.

“You want to light a match, you come see me. I’ll give you what you need.”

My stomach flutters, wondering if this is what he thinks I need. More punishment. More pain.

I think he may be right.

I give a wobbly nod. “Okay.” It comes out as no more than a whisper.

“That’s my girl.” Blaze pulls me into him, as if for an embrace, but he affixes his lips to my right nipple again. I clutch the back of his head and wiggle my hips.

He pulls his lips off with a pop and pushes my hips back a few inches. Then he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of my panties.

My breath hitches as he pulls them slowly down to my thighs. I got a Brazilian two days ago in preparation for this date at the advice of my bestie from high school. She’s a hairstylist and swears by waxing for a hot date.

Judging by the expression on Blaze’s face, I’d say she was right.

“Oh, baby,” he croaks, lightly running the pad of his thumb over the smooth seam of my pussy. “Did you do this for me?”

“I did,” I murmur, slowly swaying my hips, trying to get my panties to drop the rest of the way.

Blaze groans. “Not yet, baby. Your punishment isn’t over. I need to spank you with your panties down now.”

Ho boy! I’m not sure why that’s exciting to me, but it totally is. I let him arrange me back over his left knee, moisture seeping between my thighs.

He starts spanking again and it’s even better than before. Yes, it’s stingier because my panties are down, but I’ve had a chance to get used to the sensation now, and I welcome each smack as if he were delivering pleasure, rather than pain.

I now totally understand how people can get off on pain. Especially—or maybe only—when it’s delivered by someone who’s ultimately interested in pleasure. Both his and mine.

I surrender more to the sensation, to Blaze.

He spanks harder, which makes me realize he was holding back before, warming me up slowly.

God bless him.

And holy shit! The man can smack hard.

I’m juicy wet with arousal, squirming for release, but it seems like he’ll never stop. My ass is on fire and yet each smack feels like it’s not enough. I want more. Harder.

“Blaze,” I moan.

He stops spanking, rubbing a slow circle over my twitching ass. “Are you okay, baby?”

“Yes,” I breathe. “I need?—”

“Tell me what you need.”

“More.” I almost curse the word as it tumbles from my lips. “You,” I say quickly, to cover it up.

“You’ll get both.” He pulls me up to stand and tugs my panties the rest of the way off. “Kneel in the corner again.”

I do it. I don’t even hesitate. I guess that means I really trust this guy. Or else I’m too horny to argue. I hear him moving around the room, hear the jingle of metal.

“Come here, baby.”

When I turn around, I see he’s built a mound of pillows in the middle of the bed. Leather cuffs with buckles and chains are attached to the corners of the bed.

My clit throbs and my knees almost buckle.

“This is going to be the hardest part of your punishment, baby. But when it’s over, I promise I’ll reward you. All night long, if you want.”

My cheeks heat even as a smile stretches my lips.

He pats the pillows. I have no doubt what he intends, and I comply without complaint, draping my body over them so my ass is lifted high in the air. He binds each wrist and ankle to the bed restraints and I’m now naked, spread eagle and presented for his punishment.

What will it be?

He grips both my asscheeks and spreads them wide.