Branded sanctuary, p.24
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       Branded Sanctuary, p.24

         Part #7 of Nature of Desire series by Joey W. Hill
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Page 24

 

  She had no plan, no idea what she was doing, or even why she was doing it. Maybe it was like deciding to jump out of an airplane or parasail while on vacation in the Caribbean. Visiting a new place, where the chance existed to be a stranger to oneself, made it possible to explore and discover something entirely new.

  When the vacationer finally came back, the adventure would be an amputated part put in a photo album, the memory like the occasional ache of the missing limb. Because that amputation was inevitable, a certain wild abandon to the adventure was acceptable. The thought gave her courage.

  That, and hazel eyes fixed on her face, watching her every move, demanding touch. Or permission to touch.

  She cleared her throat. Tried a crazy, wild demand. Kiss my feet.

  He bent with such lithe male grace, bracing his knuckles on the outside of her bare feet. His hair fell forward, head turning as his lips brushed her instep, taking a teasing taste of the arch. Her bodys response shot straight to the wetness between her legs. A nd he took his blessed time on that one foot, nipping, suckling. Shed never realized her foot was such an incredibly erotic zone. She wanted him to stay there for hours. Sinking down on the decorative bench Tyler had wisely placed beneath the trees shelter, she put her palm flat between his shoulder blades. It allowed her to touch him, to feel his heat and heartbeat, and also told him he was exactly where she wanted him to stay. Sliding her other foot up, she put her sole on his lower back, her toe tracing the belt, then the curve of his spine, sliding the drape of her skirt over his back.

  Oh God. He hadnt moved above her ankle, but he didnt need to do so to get her writhing. He moved from the fragile bones of the ankle, teasing the anklet, down toward the toes again. Licking each one, he traced the lines between them, tickling the skin beneath the toe rings, then moved to the ball of the foot, caressing her with a brief touch of fingers before he continued.

  Chloe let her other hand drift up his back, to his nape, then over his hair as she leaned back against the bench. Sliding her fingers down her body, she navigated under the skirt and found her pussy. A lready stimulated by the evenings entertainment, she found her folds wet and needy. A t the very first touch, she sucked in a breath, worrying her bottom lip as her fingers teased her own clit, the sensation now going between his mouth and her hand.

  He brushed her ankle, his gaze flickering up so she saw burning hazel beneath the thick lashes. Let me do that, Mistress. Let me put my head beneath your skirt and eat your pussy as long as you wish. Give me the gift of your sweet honey on my tongue, grinding yourself against my face.

  She spasmed, imagining him there. She was taken back to that first night, the phone call, his subtle ways of directing her into commanding him, taking control and giving her back power amid her fear of the dark. But something different was stirring in her now. She was used to being a generous lover. Though she knew how good he would feel, his mouth there, she wasnt ready for that now, didnt want that now. Cruel pleasure was what laced the air, and she was infected with it. No. I want to make myself come while you stay at my feet.

  He grazed his temple against her ankle, an acknowledgment, and then he proceeded to prove what she was denying herself. Every sensitive curve and crevice of her feet was nibbled and teased. He stroked her with a tongue that, by the time she was rocking on the bench, her other hand braced on the concrete surface, was as responsible for her near climactic state as her own fingers. Her wrist trembled, starting to ache.

  Though he continued to obey her, his mouth on her feet, suddenly his strong hand was there, closing over her wrist. Not to take control or guide her, but wrapping around the slim bone to steady it. His thumb teased her pulse. How had he known?

  Oh God. That was it, all it took. Her fingers jerked over her clit as his thumb stroked that innocuous place. He bit down on her instep at the exact right moment. She used his hold on her wrist as a counterpoint to her fast pumping against her hand. The convulsive jerking was as hard and intense as any orgasm shed experienced, and yet she ached to be filled. Her hand wasnt him, his hard cock sliding inside her, but she couldnt bring herself to demand it when the world was fragmenting into twenty galaxies, and she was worried her cries were reaching the other guests. But it didnt matter, because she knew this weekend Tylers garden would become an outdoor place of pleasure, filled with moans, breathless sighs, sounds of need and hunger like a forest of nocturnal animals on a mating hunt.

  A s she slowed down at last, his fingers loosened, even as her own fingertips found his head, stroked his hair, trembling, wanting to grip. He raised his head then, eyes full of such irresistible desire for something she felt she alone could give him.

  May I clean you with my mouth, Mistress? Ill be very gentle.

  Oh God, Brendan. She breathed it, but then reached for him with both hands, using his body to help shift her own as she lay down on the bench to gaze up at a million stars in the night sky. Yes, she whispered.

  Her hands slid reluctantly off his shoulders to fall above her head, a fairy princess lying among the summer tree spirits. She realized she was right, that the gardens were punctuated by sounds of other guests taking pleasure with one another. Like her, they must have felt the need for a short tryst to release some pressure on their explosive desires before proceeding to the other carnival activities. It was a night literally filled with the sounds of passion, reminiscent of her own such that when he folded her skirt over his shoulders, and his breath touched her, she gave a new, soft cry, her own contribution.

  Slowly, so slowly, his mouth descended, touching her labia in an almost reverent, chaste kiss. It made tears come to her eyes, her fingers curl into balls of need. One slow, dragging lick, then another, taking away her fluids, leaving only the dampness of his tongue, his sweet lips. She knew she would shudder from the memory of his mouth ever after, and if she found herself in her bed alone her fingers would become that mouth once more. She wanted to be sated, to go over again with hard, wild abandon. But she wanted to be in charge. Needed to be, even though the thought gave the desire still simmering in her lower belly a hard twist.

  It made her put a hand on his head, stilling him. When she folded her legs and turned to sit up, he helped her, moving his body back from where it had been between her knees. She felt that loss, but concentrated on something else. She remembered one of the booths shed helped set up, remembered what shed seen there. The auction was over, the carnival goers spreading out to those areas as well as in these gardens. Did she dare do what she wanted? If she couldnt here, where the hell could she? But it was one thing to do it in the quiet of this garden, a whole other to be public with her inexperienced game of control.

  Rising, she trailed a hand along his shoulder, keeping him on his knees. She was barely five feet, and he was tall, so his head reached her throat, his eyes close as he tilted his head attentively to her. His mouth was moist from his cleaning, and she caught the scent of her climax. It made her heart trip. Do all the things you wrote in your program apply to me?

  His hair curtained one side of his face except for the flashing gold-green eye. The thick heat of his voice reminded her shed never pushed a guy up to this level, where his cock was probably so hard he could barely walk. Shed always felt his release was her obligation. But this environment said it was okay, right? She could keep pushing. Shed read all about safe words and such. Brendan could tell her no if she pushed too hard.

  It does. A nd then some. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her thigh through the thin fabric of her skirt. Whatever you want. Its yours.

  She took a step back from that touch which cracked open the Pandoras box of emotions swirling through her. A ll right then. Follow me.

  She hadnt realized how shed internalized so much of what shed seen so far, such that for one moment she toyed with having him leave the kilt, stride naked like some shed already seen here. It tightened in her gut, even as she wasnt sure she wanted so many ogling the
gifts Brendan had to offer. In the end, she let it remain in her mind only, a particularly twisted fantasy. Turning on her heel, she moved away, not offering to walk with him this time.

  Remarkably, he fell in several steps behind her, as if she had him on a tether in truth. A s they emerged from the gardens, headed for the tents and rides of the carnival area, she began to see the guests in their varied groupings. Slaves manacled at the ankles or wrists, tethered at the throat, a heady environment of those willingly being subjugated to whatever dark pleasures the Masters or Mistresses here desired.

  She realized she could stroll through the sights without hurry, or concern that he was behind her, though she did glance back several times to confirm it, and for her own pleasure. He didnt look at all the distractions around him. His entire focus was on her, his eyes watching her feet, occasionally sweeping over the rest of her, attuned to where she was going, prepared for whatever she might say or need. He was her devoted slave in truth, and the power of it thrilled, frightened and dug into her with angry, needy claws.

  Seeking a way of centering herself, she turned to her surroundings as she wandered through the offerings. There was a shooting gallery, where the ducks were submissives whod been lined up with protective blindfolds, their hands chained over their heads. The guns were loaded with pellet rounds that stung, but did no real injury. A nother submissive knelt below the firing line in front of each target, suckling at cocks or tonguing the wet pussies, so that the bound submissive was hard put to stay still while the Masters or Mistresses were firing. Prizes, amusingly, were the same types shed see at any fair. Kaleidoscopes, cheap necklaces, and colorful stuffed animals of all sizes, like the teddy bears shed helped Marcia set out.

  Cirque du Soleil styled players wandered the grounds in provocative costumes, performing tumbling feats, juggling, eating fire and blowing it out in dramatic plumes. A thletic dancers, with long ribbons twining around their otherwise naked bodies, entertained small groups of passersby.

  Chloe reflected a person could sit down somewhere and be dazzled for hours by everything they were seeing.

  A nother booth had eating contests, where food was of course being devoured off the bodies of submissives stretched out and chained on the boards. A n apparently famous erotic food expert, Chef Rayne Davidson, used volunteers to decorate submissives in artistic food renderings for display at Master and Mistress social gatherings. Next to that area were advanced demonstrations of whip use. Chloe flinched at the pop of the single tail along a womans nipple. Her dress was pulled down to her waist, and she realized it was the woman in the white sheath. The male in the tux was doing the whipping while the football player was watching, already quite visibly aroused. It made Chloe realize they were both Doms, and the woman was their shared submissive. The strike made her cry out, though her chest was already flushed with post-climactic bliss, and her eyes lingered hungrily on her two Masters.