move on. My hands opened the dress to the air, the man's enjoyment, to Cara Mia's entrance.
With a moan that sounded more like a woman surrendering everything, she squared her shoulders and stood straight, her arms falling to her side as she took refuge behind the domino, the name, the thought of what was at stake.
I whispered, "Brave Cara Mia," in her ear. She considered it, looked to Don Coil, and she sighed, resigned. My heart lurched. I wanted not resignation, but an embrace of her body, the pleasures I evoked, and the opportunities we could find there.
I wanted her to stop this ridiculous adherence to rules that served to do nothing but keep all that passion bottled up where it did no one any good.
Sadness washed over me, which made me angry at my failure. Perhaps I was wrong. She couldn't overcome the stupid rules that kept her so bound up.
But she hadn't let them go. She just kept holding on to them, like she was adrift in a sea of passion and they were her life preserver. I think she was afraid of what would happen if she dove straight down into the heart of all that passion.
I had to tear her away from that, force her to swim free in all of that hunger, that warmth she felt, sail away with me on a tide of pleasure.
With a harsh cry, I pulled the edges hard, and they tore, catching on the Mandarin collar and following the seam around her neck.
Stepping back, I pivoted her to see the full extent of my work. Her eyes were wide, the whites gleaming in the dull light, her hair escaping the clips that held it in place, her face smeared with black.
The dress barely hung by the shoulder seams, the neckline looking like an elegant collar on a beautiful woman, ripe and ready for the taking.
I pulled her to me roughly, feeling her cool flesh against the smooth softness of my shirt. I rubbed against her, the mounds of her breasts mashing against my chest. My dick lurched in my pants and I held her hips to me tightly, feeling the surge of pleasure as my hips rocked in small movements against her.
Her muscles worked under my hands as she met my strokes. I wanted to fuck her, fuck her hard, fuck her amidst the grotty concrete walls with the screams of pain and pleasure rising up around us.
I wanted to fuck her in the remains of the dress I had bought her, the dress I had cut and torn to reveal the woman I knew was there.
I stepped back, breathing hoarsely, concentrating on not coming, on not stepping forward and finishing the job I had started on her dress so that I could have her, here, now.
I heard boot steps and looked to see Master Louis approaching. He didn't look to me, but watched Cara Mia.
Chapter 12
She started to pull her dress together, but paused, and then nodded to him. He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes flicking to me and then back to her, questioning. She nodded again, gave him a little smile and offered a hand to me.
I met her eyes, unbelieving that she would be so forward, then took it, and she pulled me to her for a kiss that traveled down to my neck, then boldly reached a hand for my cock, a place she had never ventured before, preferring to allow me all the liberties.
She cupped my balls, running a nailed finger up the length of my cock. Her skin was hot where I slipped my hands beneath the shredded dress. My hands fit perfectly around the sides of her waist, resting on her flared hips.
It was time. I pulled her with me as I walked back to the back corner of our space, then turned her. She looked at me, questioning as I pushed her forward until she spread her hands against the wall. The red tips of her nails stood out, shockingly bright against the dull gray of the concrete walls. Her bracelet caught bits of light and twinkled gaily.
I lifted her hips.
"Wait," she said, and kicked off the heels. "Ahhh," she groaned. "Much better." I wished I could bring the mat to her, but realized it would ruin the moment. She shook her feet out and flexed her toes before taking up her position
With a moan that sounded more like a woman surrendering everything, she squared her shoulders and stood straight, her arms falling to her side as she took refuge behind the domino, the name, the thought of what was at stake.
I whispered, "Brave Cara Mia," in her ear. She considered it, looked to Don Coil, and she sighed, resigned. My heart lurched. I wanted not resignation, but an embrace of her body, the pleasures I evoked, and the opportunities we could find there.
I wanted her to stop this ridiculous adherence to rules that served to do nothing but keep all that passion bottled up where it did no one any good.
Sadness washed over me, which made me angry at my failure. Perhaps I was wrong. She couldn't overcome the stupid rules that kept her so bound up.
But she hadn't let them go. She just kept holding on to them, like she was adrift in a sea of passion and they were her life preserver. I think she was afraid of what would happen if she dove straight down into the heart of all that passion.
I had to tear her away from that, force her to swim free in all of that hunger, that warmth she felt, sail away with me on a tide of pleasure.
With a harsh cry, I pulled the edges hard, and they tore, catching on the Mandarin collar and following the seam around her neck.
Stepping back, I pivoted her to see the full extent of my work. Her eyes were wide, the whites gleaming in the dull light, her hair escaping the clips that held it in place, her face smeared with black.
The dress barely hung by the shoulder seams, the neckline looking like an elegant collar on a beautiful woman, ripe and ready for the taking.
I pulled her to me roughly, feeling her cool flesh against the smooth softness of my shirt. I rubbed against her, the mounds of her breasts mashing against my chest. My dick lurched in my pants and I held her hips to me tightly, feeling the surge of pleasure as my hips rocked in small movements against her.
Her muscles worked under my hands as she met my strokes. I wanted to fuck her, fuck her hard, fuck her amidst the grotty concrete walls with the screams of pain and pleasure rising up around us.
I wanted to fuck her in the remains of the dress I had bought her, the dress I had cut and torn to reveal the woman I knew was there.
I stepped back, breathing hoarsely, concentrating on not coming, on not stepping forward and finishing the job I had started on her dress so that I could have her, here, now.
I heard boot steps and looked to see Master Louis approaching. He didn't look to me, but watched Cara Mia.
Chapter 12
She started to pull her dress together, but paused, and then nodded to him. He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes flicking to me and then back to her, questioning. She nodded again, gave him a little smile and offered a hand to me.
I met her eyes, unbelieving that she would be so forward, then took it, and she pulled me to her for a kiss that traveled down to my neck, then boldly reached a hand for my cock, a place she had never ventured before, preferring to allow me all the liberties.
She cupped my balls, running a nailed finger up the length of my cock. Her skin was hot where I slipped my hands beneath the shredded dress. My hands fit perfectly around the sides of her waist, resting on her flared hips.
It was time. I pulled her with me as I walked back to the back corner of our space, then turned her. She looked at me, questioning as I pushed her forward until she spread her hands against the wall. The red tips of her nails stood out, shockingly bright against the dull gray of the concrete walls. Her bracelet caught bits of light and twinkled gaily.
I lifted her hips.
"Wait," she said, and kicked off the heels. "Ahhh," she groaned. "Much better." I wished I could bring the mat to her, but realized it would ruin the moment. She shook her feet out and flexed her toes before taking up her position
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