Chapter 32

Chapter

Thirty-Two

It's a good thing Darien wagered against me. Well, not exactly against me. What he banked on is that Damn-the-Consequences wanted her moment in Olympic history. She won the gold in sass.

The added bonus of scoring a sassy gold medal in the first event was my preclusion from the remainder of the Olympics. I spent them in what could only be described as stocks. Hello, Medieval Renaissance Faire! Of course, this is only appropriate if the Ren Faire included people spanking the bare ass of the naked individual bound in the stocks in a public square.

At least I wasn't gagged. Well, not until I hurled a stream of truly impressive profanity at Scarlett when she took her turn smacking my butt with a paddle.

That was my public punishment. Now, I receive the private kind.

Darien strolls around my body as it stretches from a low hook in the ceiling of the Spice Room, a small vibrator in his hand. The hum of electricity makes my skin tingle when he trails it along my back. I twist as he comes around my side, low at my hip, trying to position the device so it rubs my pussy.

He chuckles, shifting his arm so the vibrator hits my stomach. "I may have won my wager, but I have to wonder why you didn't try for the gold. Didn't you want to go to Elysium with me?"

The device drifts to my breasts, circling my nipples. I bite my bottom lip.

"Answer me." He teases me by drifting down my chest and belly to my mons.

"Yes. I wanted to go with you." My hips move forward, seeking that electric purr.

He runs the vibrator over the soft pooch of my belly, and I groan in frustration. "I was disappointed to see you pulled from the games so quickly. I had hoped to watch your tits swinging in the egg and spoon race."

The vibrator moves back to my mons and slips between the lips of my pussy. My head drops back as a delicious current flows through my clit. Then he turns it off.

"I feel cheated." Darien sets the vibrator on a small table. I look at it longingly, trying to mask my irritation, when he takes my chin and forces me to look at him. "I want to see you run." His hands move to my breasts, lifting and stroking their heavy weight. "I want to see your tits swing as you race across this room."

It's then I notice the furniture is moved aside to create a path from the door to the bed. I wonder if Zed did that before I arrived this evening. "I don't run unless someone's chasing me."

"I was hoping you'd say that." His voice is husky as he reaches up and uncuffs my wrists. "Do you see the spoon over there on the table?"

I look where he's pointing. Sure enough, there's a large spoon next to what looks like a bowl of water balloons.

"I want you to run from the end of the bed to the door and back again without dropping a balloon."

I lick my lips. "I noticed there's more than one in that bowl."

"I didn't want to make this too easy for you." He goes to a cabinet, removes a long, flexible leather paddle, and smacks it against his hand. "You said you want to be chased."

"I didn't say want." My voice comes out in a breathy whisper.

Darien walks toward me like a jungle cat. Picking up the spoon and a balloon, he places them in my right hand, then leans in to whisper, "Run, little mouse."

I bolt, the balloon jiggling dangerously. He laughs, letting me get a few paces before his body unlocks in pursuit. I squeal when the first blow lands on my ass, legs leaping forward to escape another stinging swat. The balloon goes flying, landing with a splat on the floor.

I stare at it.

"Run and get another, little mouse."

I hate running, but when the sexiest man alive tells you to move, you move. I race to the table and grab another balloon, shouting in frustration when I grab one too roughly, and it pops into the bowl. The paddle comes down, and I squeak, reaching for another. When it's cradled in the spoon, I take off, boobs swinging, ass jiggling, ears trained for the hiss of the paddle as it moves through the air.

I get to the door this time and make my way to the bed, the paddle smacking my ass as he keeps pace with me.

"Run, little mouse, run!"

My legs scissor, thick thighs rubbing against each other. I reach the door, turn around, and run toward the foot of the bed when Spastic Spice makes an entrance. My toe snags on the bare floor because that's how she rolls, and my body jolts forward, sending the spoon and water balloon flying. They hit the bed with a thump, water bursting onto the coverlet.

"My little mouse is not so fleet," Darien says, coming behind me and rubbing the paddle on my reddened cheeks. He wraps his arm around my side to fondle my breasts, tweaking the nipples. "It appears the egg and spoon race is not your best event. I did enjoy seeing your tits bounce with every step."

He squeezes my breasts, and I groan, fisting my hands to keep them still. After a month as his Novice, I know my boundaries.

"Perhaps you're more of a bird than a mouse." His voice is rough with need. "Maybe a swallow." His finger trails my chin to my lips, where he gently parts them. "On your knees."

I go to the floor. He unlaces his loose pants, letting them pool around his ankles. I stare at his cock; the sight of it makes my pussy ache. He puts his hand against the back of my head and gently pulls me forward. My mouth latches on, tongue laving, mouth suckling. I've gotten very good at this. I love the sound of his groans, the jerk of his hips, the trembling of his legs. He may be my Master, but I have power equal to his.

His body tenses, his hand on the back of my head gripping my hair. I feel his cock harden, then the burst of cum on my tongue. I swallow it, relishing how his muscles spasm, how my name is ground out between his clenched teeth. My name . Always my name.

Darien loosens his hold and steps back. "Get on the bed and spread your legs."

I don't mean to be an eager beaver, but this chick's beaver is really fucking eager. I don't even mind the wet spot. I shove scraps of the balloon and the metal spoon on the floor and flop onto my back. From my prone position, I watch him pick up the discarded vibrator and then see him select a dildo. I open my legs as far as they can go when he turns towards the bed.

He hands me the vibrator. "Turn it on."

You bet your ass I will. I press the bottom and switch to my favorite setting, a strong, constant thrum.

"Rub your clit."

He's the engineer of this train, and I'm the happy passenger. Choo-choo!

I run the tip of the vibrator between the folds of my pussy, finding that perfect position against my clit. My eyes drift close as I relish the sweet hum. Darien watches me for a few moments, then lubes the dildo and slides it into my pussy. I groan at the sensation of the vibrator and smooth thrusts—such a perfect pairing. Half-lidded eyes track every shudder. Every hitched breath. Every moan as his hand works the phallus in time with the delicious electric hum. It doesn't take long for the orgasm to come. It's so hot, I work myself up for another while Darien slides the dildo in and out of my pussy.

"That's it." It's more of a growl than words. "Work that clit." He thrusts the dildo faster.

It's so good. My clit throbs under the current. I open my eyes and watch him watching me. His pupils are black as he works my pussy. Pressure builds and bursts. I scream with it, riding out the wave until my body jerks.

Satiated. I switch off my toy, my body pulsing in the aftermath.

"I love to watch you come," Darien says, leaning down to kiss my mons.

We curl up on the bed, as is our habit. We talk softly in these quiet moments, but he remains a mystery no matter how much I coax or pry. That he enjoys my company, I have no doubt. From the books he leaves in my room for my book dragon hoard to the care he exhibits in countless ways, I know I mean something to him. Something more than our roles on this island.

I am an open book, and he, well, the lock that hides his pages is frustratingly hard to pick.