Master R: Chapter Seven

 Warnings: Graphic language, adult situation, not for under 18 years of age. Please forgive any typos.

Charlotte shivered at the zing of leather running through belt loops. The sound always had that effect on her. Sometimes her response was fear. Sometimes anticipation. Except when Carson removed his belt, handed it to Richard, her belly hollowed out. She felt nothing.

Wayne Trembill had changed her long ago. She hadn’t seen him for over two years, and yet the ingrained pattern of his damage remained. First, indignation arose. Then fear. Then … emptiness. With a snap of his fingers, he could turn her into a shell.

Richard’s large hand clasped over the belt in Carson’s outstretched hand.

Carson didn’t let go of it. One side of his mouth inched up. “This is a Forzieri. Italian leather.”

“Of course it is.” Richard’s face remained unreadable.

Carson sliced his eyes her way. “So make it good.” He dropped his hold, stepped backward, and nodded once.

More sounds slipped through a growing haze. The scrape of a chair that Sarah brought over to her Master. With a thunk, it settled upright, and she gave Charlotte a small smile. A bit of encouragement, perhaps?

Derek dragged over two chairs, the screech of their legs on the tile echoing against the high ceilings of the chamber. Derek straddled one backward, tipped it forward, his face as serious as a funeral.

Carson took the other, swung it so he could face her. He settled himself, adjusting his jacket, then swung his foot over a knee. Casual, like he was just watching a football game.

Alexander remained standing behind the two of them. His face was still as ever, his eyes as blue as a glacial lake boring down on her.

Richard’s hand grasped her chin and yanked her gaze to him. “So. You believe Wayne has something over me?”

What? “No. I—”

“No? One look at him and you still believe he could harm you? Get in our way?”

Shame spread to every corner of her body. “I…” She couldn’t finish the sentence because the answer would have been ”yes.”

Men’s shouting broke through the blood rushing in her ears. Marcos sauntered in, dragging Wayne inside by the lapels. But at least they were alone. His two goons were gone.

Wayne sported a bruised cheek, the smug look gone. “Unhand me.” Spluttering, eyes furious, face red, Wayne still felt he could do something? With these men surrounding him? Unlikely, her brain delivered. But that rising ache between her legs? Vanished.

Richard was right. Somewhere deep inside, she believed Wayne could still get to her.

Marcos pushed him forward… “Sit.” He pointed at a chair. When Wayne didn’t move, Marcos roughly pushed him into it. At least it was a good distance from where she and her Master stood.

“Hey. Watch yourself,” Wayne growled.

She swallowed hard. This scene was surreal, as if she was on the outside looking in.

Familiar faces surrounded her. Not a single person was unknown to her. How much time had passed? Did the place empty that quickly? Then again, when the Dominants in the room wanted something to happen, it did.

“Thought you were taking out the trash,” Richard said calmly to Marcos.

Wayne tried to spin. “Fuck this, I’m leaving.”

“I said sit your ass down.” Sat him down again like he was in the naughty corner. “Wouldn’t want to violate the restraining order, would you? 500 feet.”

“There’s no such—”

“There will be in about 20 more minutes.”

Richard glanced over at Carson.

Carson lifted one shoulder. “Guess it pays to know an attorney.”

Derek smirked. “And judges.”

Restraining orders meant little to someone like Wayne. She’d had them before and they hadn’t worked. What were they thinking? What was Marcos thinking? Bringing Wayne here at all?

Marcos looked straight at Richard. Something unspoken passed between the two of them.

“Make him pay,” Marcos finally said.

Richard nodded once. He then settled into the chair, and patted his knees.

A spanking, seriously?

“Go ahead. Roll your eyes at me,” he smiled up at her, held the belt up. “There’s only one thing that can stop this, and you know it. Tell me what it is.”

She tipped her chin, not understanding. Oh. “My safeword.” Something she didn’t have one with Wayne.

“Very good.”

Two small words that instantly filled her with warmth. She settled across his lap, her ass up in the air. Strong legs and a hard erection pressed against her stomach. Such a familiar setting, yet not. Still, as if on cue, her legs ached to spread. Despite the emptiness in her soul, one thing remained. Her mind may have emptied, but her body responded to being handled by him.

He placed his hand on her neck. His voice was even—easy. “What is your safeword, Charlotte?”

She blanked. She glanced up. Caught the concentration on the men’s face. Steffan, Laurent, Sarah hovered nearby. Their faces, too, were unreadable.

Marcos strode over to her, knelt, and brushed hair off her damp forehead. He shook his head slowly, tsked. “Your Master asked you a question.”

A sound slap on her ass, and air flew out of her lungs. It dislodged something from her brain. “Yes. Yes, sir. Diamond.”

It was a word she’d uttered only one other time. Now it sat on the tip of her tongue, waiting in case she needed to stop the action.

“Remember it, Charlotte.” A slice of panic cut through her sternum. They were words he’d uttered many times to her. Usually they comforted. But today wasn’t a usual day.

Then, the belt came down. She cried out. She hadn’t expected him to start so hard.

“Count,” he gritted out.

She let her head fall down, her hair covering her face. “One.”

Wayne’s sick laughter echoed. God dammit, she shuddered in response.

“Just breathe,” Marcos whispered into her hair. “Remember who you are. Where you are.” He rose and the view of his shoes disappeared. His footfalls grew distant.

Another blow to her ass and she puffed out, “Two.”

Another crack resounded through the room. And it hurt. God, it hurt. He wasn’t being careful with her. He wasn’t striking her in one place and moving on to the other.

“Th-three.” Her nose ran, and twin tears ran down her cheeks until they hovered on her chin.

Wayne’s sick laughter filled the room.

She gripped the chair leg with one hand, Richard’s strong calf with the other. Warmth from his body seeped through. She tried to tune into the heat from his thighs, anything to get away from feeling like she was back in the past. Back to when Wayne laughed at her—at her pain.

As he continued to whip her with the belt, her back arched to get away from the fiery sting.

She wanted to surrender to Richard, give everything to him. Her Master expected nothing from her that didn’t also help her.

But Wayne was here. Watching.

The belt came down on her, snapping like a firecracker against her flesh. She didn’t know how long it went on for, just chased that moment when the pain would morph into what she knew lay on the other side.

“Breathe,” she said to herself. She gulped in air, let it out in a rush.

There’s a moment when the sting turns. She’d first shrink from it. Then she’d grow desperate to lean into the burn. The sensation would build to a crescendo, and then, inexplicably, she’d be sliding down the other side of it, a delicious rising of pure pleasure.

God, she needed that pivotal moment. That’s when she’d know she was his, and he was hers. It was as if they were meeting in the middle of a dance floor, bodies clashing together in pure ecstasy.

But it wasn’t coming even if her clit began to wake up.

She couldn’t forget that all these people were watching her get a punishment for—for what? For remembering the torture Wayne had put her through?

No, for believing it could happen again.

But her Master wouldn’t let that happen. Even if the man was sitting 500 feet from her, she was as safe as if only she and Richard were the only other people in the room.

She writhed a little trying to change her position, get a little friction against that growing ache between her legs. But Richard held her firmly with one hand, while the other continued to rain blows.

So much warred inside her. She was growing wet. She was scared. Pain, yet not.

A shudder ran through her, and she couldn’t stay still, even with his tight grip keeping her in place.

“Who do you take this pain for?” Richard asked calmly.

“You. Master.”  She loved this man who was setting her ass on fire.

Her Master would do anything for her, and she for him. And he was doing something for her right now even though her mind couldn’t have formed words for what that something was.

Her body shifted again under another blow. Her nipples, now hard peaks, rubbed against his trouser pant legs. But it wasn’t enough and she groaned in frustration. Her clit began to throb,

“One more, il mio tesoro,” he whispered.

It was going to be the hardest. It always was. The leather came down on the tenderest part of her ass. Her legs kicked and she bucked as the fire nearly consumed her.

She panted, her chin now wobbling. The floor under her gaze wet with her tears.

Richard let the belt clatter to the ground. His hand left her back, fisted her hair anew. He lifted her head. “Look at them. All of them.”

So many eyes on her. Assessing her.

“Do you think anything can happen to you here?”

“Plenty,” she said, forcing a tease in to her voice.

His eyebrows furrowed. Okay, not what he wanted to hear. But it was true.

Alexander’s blue eyes bore down on her. Carson, hadn’t moved an inch. But Derek leaned forward, his arms crossed across the back of the chair. His eyes glistened with something. Pride. That’s what she saw.

She shifted her gaze. Sarah, Steffan and Laurent stood as a group on the other side of the room, their faces still though Laurent’s glee couldn’t be contained. And Marcos, the man who rescued her from Wayne all those years ago stood next to the man, still guarding him.

She had so many people in her corner. Nothing horrible could happen to her here. Her brain knew this.

But she couldn’t stop her inner vigilance with Wayne in the room. His shoulders hunched from defeat, yet the same judge-y disgust colored his face.

Richard slapped her flesh, and she cried out as flames seemed to lick at her skin. He slid a finger down her ass crack, to her folds. “So much pain. Yet…” His finger swirled in all the wet. Of course, her body would respond to his handling this way.  “Who is this for?”

Wayne chuffed, and Derek’s chair slams to the ground. His eyes never left Charlotte, though.

Wayne shifted uncomfortably, perhaps waiting to be jumped. So strange. That’s how she’d always felt. She’d walk by him on the couch, never knowing if she’d be yanked to the ground, told to crawl up between his knees. Make him come.

She once held a plate of nachos as the men were watching a game. They tripped her so she ended up over their laps, the cheese and chips going everywhere. They held her there for long minutes, all their hands on her, tickling her, trying to strip her….

But it was all a game to them, wasn’t it? To humiliate her?

“You. Only you,” she whispered. The words felt hollow even though they were true.

He thrust his finger in and out of her pussy. She was so damp, the sounds of her arousal filled the room. “All this for me.”

He moved to her ass, thrust that thick digit, wet with her juice, inside her. “And this?”

She gasped. He was never this harsh, usually warming her up slowly. But his hard erection pressed against her belly, his grip on her ribs tight and controlled, told her his patience was thinning.

“You,” she barely whispered.

“Who do you come for?” Richard growled, his pelvis arching slightly up at her. His desire was evident. He wanted her, too.

“You. Always, my Master.”

There wasn’t much Charlotte was certain of in life but his desire for her was one of them. Yet he’d hold himself back for hours if needed.

His finger moved in and out. He then began to really torture her.

For more long minutes, he brought her to the edge again and again with his hands. He’d pinch the welts on her ass, then move his fingers in and out of her pussy, her ass. Going back and forth until she was nothing but raw need and electricity and didn’t care who was in the room.

He brought her to the state he wanted: to be fucked—hard.

“P-please,” she begged.

“Don’t you dare hold back.” His thumb pressed against her clit as his middle finger curled inside her.

She let go, shuddering on his lap, nearly falling off if it wasn’t for his strong grip around her torso. Her hands wrapped around one chair leg and one of his legs as she rode her release.

He let her come?

Wayne’s sick laugh ruined it. “All these guys next?”

Her gaze shot up, panic setting in.

Marcos, standing nearby, clocked Wayne on the side of his head. Wayne yelped, folded over his legs, spluttering and swearing.

Marcos dipped one chin toward Richard. “You get next time.”

Richard cupped her chin, lifted her gaze. “Look at him. Really look.”

Under hooded, tired eyes, the man who’d ruined her, stared at her. His snarl, teeth stained with blood, almost didn’t look real. He was like a cartoon character.

She waited for the shudder, the warning that the fear was still there, mocking her from the inside. It didn’t come. Maybe because she’d just come, her insides still fluttering a bit?

Perhaps it was because she was splayed across the lap of her master, safe.

Or perhaps it was because not a single person looked at Wayne. All eyes trained on her. They didn’t care about him. The full weight of her control, her agency, in that moment clicked into place. These men—and women–were here for her. Richard was here for her.

She glanced back at Wayne, and the only word she could think of shot into her consciousness.

“Broken,” she whispered. That’s what Wayne was. He’d tricked her into believing that was her mantle to carry. But it wasn’t true.

She twisted to peer up at Richard, her Master, her love, and he let her.

His lips twitched in a hidden smile. But then he turned serious. He ran his hands over her ass, slowly, reigniting the burn there. God, she loved this man. If she could crawl into his chest, stay there forever, she would.

“Master?” she whispered. “Will you…”

“Yes, tesoro.”

She hadn’t even asked him what she wanted – to be claimed once more. Right now. Oh, she’d been collared, played with, served in only the way she needed, which was to serve him. But not in front of the only person on the planet who had tried to interrupt that full commitment. It was time for Wayne’s hold on her to end.

Richard grasped her around the waist and yanked her up. He dragged the chair so the back faced the crowd. He spun her so she faced it—and all the people who’d gathered around.

So many people in the room, all dead opposite of Wayne’s crowd. Carson, Derek, Marcos, Steffan, Sarah, Laurent and Alexander all watched her as if they hadn’t a care in the world, as if they didn’t have any other place to be.

Only Laurent looked a little undone. He licked his lips, his hands twitching by his side as if he wished to join in.

Where were the other women?

Sarah was here, her face as placid as ever. But London, Samantha and Isabella, all mated to the other men, were not here. Why did she know an army of guards likely had them sequestered some other place?

Because that’s what these men—and Sarah—did. At the first sign of danger, they protected.

“Wayne Trembill,” Richard called. “You’re don’t get to watch me fuck her. Because that’s what I want. And I always get what I want where Charlotte is concerned.”

Marcos leaned down yanked Wayne up to standing, spun the chair so he sat facing away from everyone. Instead, he would be forced to stare at a wall. “Listen and learn,” Marcos said to him.

Amazingly, Wayne let it happen. Perhaps he knew he was outnumbered. The only way out was to fight, and there was no chance of winning.

His suit coat bunched around his waist, the back of his greasy head a few hundred feet away. She almost giggled at the sight. He really did look like he faced the naughty corner. Like a toddler who needed to learn a lesson. It was… sad.

Richard pinched the bruised skin on her ass and she yelped. “Grab the chair seat and spread those legs.”

The rasp in his voice had grown, likely from playing with her and yet having to hold his own pleasure back. There was a line, however, that once crossed and he could ravage her on the Capitol Steps in front of the Capitol police without a care.

She leaned over, her hand curling around the wooden back. She widened her stance.

He brought his lips close to her ear. “And right now, my little girl, you’re going to give it all to me. Let him hear you. Tell him how much you belong to me.”

Something shifted in her, as if the building blocks of who she thought she was had rearranged somehow on the inside.

She didn’t settle on that thought long as a finger pressed into her ass. Oh, my God. This is what he meant?

They’d not done much anal play before – and never with witnesses.

His hand were still wet from her coming all over him but, Jesus… The stretch was just this side of pain.

The zlip of a zipper being lowered was next. “Will you let me here, tesoro? Let do anything to you?” He curled his finger inside her ever so slightly.

She could utter her safe word but did she want to?

With her Master she always had choices. She stared at the back of Wayne’s head. That man thought he could just take anything from her. But Richard didn’t have to take. She gave him whatever he desired. This was the life she wanted—where she got to choose.

But this…

She peered under her arm, caught one of his thick brows arching above his beautiful dark eye. She could stop this. But then they’d be back to square one, wouldn’t they?

“I will not ask twice.”

She blinked at him. “Anything. Always.” Then she faced the chair back, widened her legs a bit more, though that made her ass tighten around his intruding finger. She clenched a little around it.

Richard murmured, amused. “Careful, there. You want me going slow.” Still, he inserted a second finger and she gasped. “I don’t suppose…”

Sarah strode forward, instantly enveloping Charlotte in her scent, an expensive French perfume. “Of course, Master R.”

The click of a bottle top opening. Lube. Of course, their community was prepared for anything at any time.

Cool gel touched her backside. Richard’s eager, slick fingers returned to massaging her tight hole.

He slipped in two, then three fingers, pressing and probing until she whimpered.

His whole body moved closer, the head of his cock nudging at her opening.  He was going to be too big. Her knuckles whitened from their clutch on the chair seat.  “I love you, Charlotte.” He pressed inside and she clenched hard. “Now breathe me in. Take me in.”

He gripped her hips and pressed forward and breached the tight muscle. She muffled a scream, tried to still her legs but they danced against the burn.

“Christ, so good,” he hissed, his shirt tails brushing against her bare ass.

He pulled back a little and then pressed in again. His fingers dug into her harder and tried to hold her still. But she couldn’t. It hurt so much.

She kept her eyes on the floor, mentally traced the patterns on the tile. Breathe, she had to remember to breathe. He started slow, long strokes as his hands runs up and down her spine, like he was petting a horse he was riding. Using her.

His touch was always possessive, loving even when inflicting pain.

The message was clear. She belonged to him and he’d use her, love her, play with her anyway he liked. He wasn’t about to let anyone or anything touch her—even the man with his back to her in the room. Now she knew it.

She wouldn’t want anything else ever again. She’d let the burn take her over. Burn her to ashes as he used her.

He hissed behind her, then gave her ass a hard spank. “Fuck you’re beautiful. You should see your ass, spread wide to take me.” She was just so full.

He pulled out and then went back in again, this time her body seemed to get it. It still hurt but not as much. She felt his hair, his root, his entire possession in that moment, and a trickle of juice ran down her inner thigh.

This man raised up so many things in her, time and time again. Taboo. Forbidden. Filthy. All words that danced in her mind at what they were doing. God, she wanted it. With her Master she wanted everything.

Her forearms fell to the seat of the chair, and she began to push back to greet his thrusts. Her breath was now freely blowing out of her lungs in puffs. She arched her back more, lifted her chin high. She’d grown half mad with lust, half unbalanced with discomfort.

Her Master bent down, nipped at her shoulder. “That’s a good girl. Love what I’m doing to you.”

He didn’t have to direct her around that. She did despite she might be split in two, her hips bruised with fingerprints from his tight grip.

He picked up the pace until he was truly fucking her. His balls slapped against her ass and her clit throbbed anew.

The pleasure-pain combination blanked her mind. Memories, feelings… all got lost in the maelstrom. Only one thing, like a mantra, kept beating inside her: His. His. His.

Her legs trembled. She was going to fall, pitch over the chair. But the drumbeat grew louder and louder until she was chanting aloud. “His. His.”

A slap on her ass had her yelp. It jostled his cock inside her a little, a knife of pain arrowing through her center. “Whose?” He thrust, hard until she had to catch herself before her head slammed into the chair.

“Yours. Only yours,” she called out. To prove it, she clenched inside, sucking on his cock a little with her internal muscles. She didn’t know where she got the strength. Her legs shook with fatigue.

“Everything inside you is mine,” he hissed, and then he let go. His cock jerked inside her, filling her with his release.

It was such a powerful thing, to have a man become undone for a few seconds. And in that moment, as if he had passed on a message, she got it. He’d grown her strength with every test, with every experience. Every time she gave up her control, her power to her Master, it grew inside her. To give him more, she had to be more.

Her past would never leave her, but it could no longer touch her the same way. Because she wasn’t the same person anymore. The lost little girl was Richard’s submissive, lover, friend and soon… wife.

Richard eased out, lifted her to standing. She nearly crumbled into his chest. He held her there as she caught her breath. Sweat had seeped through his shirt, and his belly was tight from exertion.

He pulled her face back, one hand pushing hair roughly off her cheeks. “Whose pain do you take?” His voice was nothing more than a rasp.

“Only yours.”

And, if he’d let her—and Charlotte already knew her Master wouldn’t let her—next time she’d take out the trash herself.

Keep reading (Chapter 8) by clicking here.