Page 33 of Vengeance of Childhood Proportions (Till Death Do Us Part #7)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Holly

I was still screaming as he lifted me into the air, my body wildly shaking from not one, but two orgasms. Delivered almost simultaneously from his wicked tongue. I had lost count how many times the bells on my wrists and ankles had jingled.

The utter disappointment I had felt when I’d reached for his hair was nonexistent.

I would accept my punishment gladly, even though I’d been doomed to fail the challenge from the start.

Without weights or anything to subconsciously remind me of the scrunchies, I was undisciplined and had been too lost in the pleasure of his mouth to remember them.

I heard Master Mal’s chuckle as if he was off in another room, though I was currently in his arms. “You need more practice, Little Owl.” I felt the soft cushion on my back and blinked up at the white ceiling of the room.

I was lying longways on the horseshoe couch, my legs hanging off the edge.

My eyes searched for him until I found him walking back over to me, ripping a condom wrapper open with his teeth.

“Don’t worry,” he said as he lowered the zipper of his dress pants.

“I have no intention of letting that be the last time I put my mouth on you.”

He put his knee on the cushion between my splayed legs, fishing his cock out of his pants. As he rolled the condom down his long length, I realized he was planning on fucking me like this.

“Wait.”

Though I hadn’t said my safe word to slow down, he paused. That reaction, just like at the bar the night before when he thought there was a danger to me, was why I felt safe with him. Why I hadn’t panicked when he’d pulled a knife from his pants to cut my thong.

“What is it, Little Owl?”

I stared up at him, wondering what it would be like to hear him call me ‘Holly’.

“Sir, could you…” I sat up on my elbows. “I want to see you. Would you mind if we were undressed?”

This wasn’t the first time we’d had sex, but I had an irrational need to be unclothed this time. Like this was our start.

He studied me for a moment. “Does that include your mask?”

I blushed, turning my head away from him.

“Eyes on me,” he snapped. I turned back to him, my heart thundering. The harshness in the order surprised me. “You’ve already earned twenty-five swats from my paddle tonight, pet. If I have to tell you one more time to keep your eyes on me, I’ll bring it up to fifty.”

My eyes widened and I focused on him with renewed intensity. “I’m sorry, Sir. I am used to having to look away or to avert my eyes. I will strive to do better.”

His sheathed cock still hanging from the zipper of his pants, he reached forward to touch my cheek.

“You’ll learn, Little Owl. There will be more discipline in the beginning of any new relationship.

It’s to be expected and nothing to be ashamed about.

Now, if you keep looking away from me several weeks from now, then we have something to work on.

Do not feel like you have failed me or failed expectations just because you are making mistakes today. Do you understand?”

I nodded, relief replacing my stress. “Yes, Sir. Thank you. I will still work to do better.”

“Good.” He crooked that smile at me that put a small dimple above his scruff. “You’re supposed to.”

I couldn’t help but smile at him. I brought the conversation back to his question. “Sir, I need the mask to remain on.” Then, even though I had no intention of saying so, I stipulated, “For now.”

He stood back up. Slowly, he started to unbutton his dress shirt. My fingers twitched, wishing I was doing that for him.

Taking the shirt off, he tossed it over my head to land where his jacket was. Reaching for his pants button, he cocked an eyebrow. “I do believe you said something about we being undressed?”

I leapt to my feet, standing in front of him. I reached for the hooks on the front of my corset.

Master Mal toed off his shoes and shucked his pants.

Surprising the shit out of me, he knelt in front of me and unhooked the suspenders holding up my black sheer stockings.

He did not remove them, though. Instead, he brought my ruined thong down to my knees, reattached the suspenders, and then lowered the thong the rest of the way down to my feet.

I lifted one foot, then the other, for him.

Standing, Master Mal brought my thong up to his nose, sniffing my most personal scent.

As if he hadn’t gotten enough when his nose had literally been right there minutes ago.

Then he tossed my thong onto his pile of clothing behind me.

Reaching forward, he helped me the rest of the way with my corset.

He was now entirely naked but for the condom on his cock, while I was still wearing my mask, garter belt, suspenders, and stockings.

“The mask is your choice,” he explained. Turning, he tossed my corset across the room to where I had my jeans and boots by the door. Apparently, he was claiming my ruined thong. Facing me again, he continued, “The garter belt is my choice.”

Despite my mask still being in place, I felt exposed for the first time in years.

I thought Jason had broken me of the habit of modesty.

But there was a moment as Master Mal’s eyes traveled slowly down my naked form where I felt insecure, revealed.

Were my boobs too small or too big? Was I too lean or not lean enough?

Was I too muscular, too effeminate? Was I more beautiful with my clothes on or off?

While these questions were floating around in my head, my eyes also took in his naked body. Master Mal was the epitome of male anatomy. Tall, muscular, he stood strong and sure of himself. His cock was long, thick, and cut.

He crooked a finger at me.

I approached him. Both of us now in bare feet, I looked up the thirteen inches of our height difference at him. Walking reminded me of the scrunchies still around my limbs. Lifting my wrists, I asked, “Do you wish me to remove these, Sir?”

Master Mal hooked his arm around my waist, lifting me up so we were chest to chest. My arms automatically went around his neck to help steady myself, though he was plenty strong enough to hold me.

He lowered me back onto the cushioned couch. This time, he followed me down.

“You may leave them on. One day soon, I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to have to keep them silent.” He lined his cock up with my soaked core. “Best learn now just how difficult that’s going to be.”

He surged up inside of me in a single, powerful thrust. I gasped, my body still having to stretch to take him.

“Oh God, Sir!”

Master Mal rose up over me, his right hand going to the nape of my neck.

For less than a moment, I thought he was going for my throat to choke me, but he never went higher than my collar bone.

It was a pressure, a way to hold me down.

He drew back before snapping his hips, driving himself back inside me.

My hands came up, the motion making my wrists jingle. Fuck, he was right about the difficulty of keeping the bells from jostling. I gripped his right wrist with both hands, needing to hold on to him. Our eyes met and my breath caught.

This was fucking. Down and dirty. It was fast, hard, and rough.

I’d had various types of sex over the years.

After my twenty-first birthday when I’d decided I wanted to try to have a sex life, I realized I would have to come to terms with men being inside me again.

It wasn’t that I felt like penetration was the only way I could have sex again, but my attack had taken enough away from me.

My freedom, my sanity, my baby . I did not want it to take anything more from me.

As Jason trained me, I grew stronger physically but also mentally.

Even though Master Mal was on top of me, holding me down by his palm to the nape of my neck, I knew that I could remove him if I desired. Before, with the other Doms I was with downstairs, I was always looking for that escape.

I knew in that moment, as I gripped Master Mal’s wrist, that I didn’t want to get away. I wasn’t looking for that escape because I didn’t have to. Master Mal was giving me something far more precious than the pleasure of his thrusts inside me. He was giving me back my freedom.

To let go.

To relax.

To soar .

My eyes rolled back into my head as I flew, anchored by this man, who, ironically, could also take away my freedom with the slap of a pair of handcuffs.