Bound Guardian Angel by Donya Lynne Page A

will submit to me as you’ve never submitted to
anyone.” He began walking a slow circle around him. “You think you
need pain for your power, but with me, you will come to love it for
what it is. You will love it for the pleasure I infuse within it.”
Micah’s palm caressed the top of Trace’s freshly shaved head, his
hand warm on his damp skin. “You will need it for more than just to
keep your power at bay, Trace.” His hand trailed down to Trace’s
neck and shoulder as he stepped around him from behind. “I will
bleed your mind more than your body, and then you’ll see what true
submission is. The Doms you’ve used before me may have been
capable. Some might even have been superior. But no one can give
you what I can, Trace. You’re mine. You belong to me now. Do you
understand?”
    A chill raced up and down Trace’s spine.
“Yes.”
    “Yes what?”
    “Yes, Master.”
    “Very good. From now on, when we’re here, in
my dungeon, you will call me Master. Only here. Not at AKM. Not in
the rest of my home . . . except if you need me in
that way. Do you understand?”
    “Yes, Master.”
    Micah caressed the side of Trace’s face,
across his forehead, and then rotated his wrist and brushed the
backs of his fingers down his cheek as he walked another circle.
“Tonight, I will give you just a taste to get you through your
needs, and then we’ll talk. Since I can’t get inside here, yet”—he
tapped Trace’s head with the tip of his index finger—“you will tell
me your limits, if you have any.” Micah stopped in front of him,
his toes firmly planted directly below Trace’s eyes. If Trace
lifted his head, he would come face to crotch with Micah. “I will
tell you my limits now.” Micah reached under Trace’s chin
and urged his head up. As he suspected, Micah’s crotch was only an
inch away from his face. Micah’s expression remained stern.
“Despite what you’re used to from your previous male masters, I
will not fuck you. That part of me is for Sam. Do you
understand?”
    Trace nodded, and his chin grazed the cotton
fabric of Micah’s pants as Micah tilted his hips ever so slightly
forward, as if he were teasing Trace with what he’d just vowed he
would never give him. “Yes, Master.”
    “Good. And you will not fuck me,
because . . .” Micah’s right eyebrow ticked upward
as his mouth quirked. “Well, because I pitch. I don’t catch.” He
gave a subtle smirk. “But . . .” He slowly lowered
himself until he was crouched in front of him. They were eye to
eye. Hell, they were almost nose to nose. “Oh, but Trace, I will
make you come.” He leaned forward and let his scruffy cheek rub
against Trace’s freshly shaved skin as he whispered in his ear, “I
will use what you told me before you went to prison, about your
attraction to me, as well as to Sam, and I will use it well.”
    “Yes, Master.”
    Micah’s lips caressed the lobe of Trace’s
ear. “You revealed yourself ever so little that day, but ever so
much.” He ran his lips down Trace’s jaw then brought his face
around so that he looked Trace squarely in the eyes, their lips so
close Trace could feel the warmth from Micah’s skin. So close they
shared the same breath. “To you, these sessions might be about
keeping your power at bay, but to me, they will be equal parts
agony and pleasure. Pleasure no other Dom has ever been able to
give you like I can.”
    “Yes,”— gulp —“Master.” Trace’s eyelids
had grown heavy. He was more aroused from Micah’s words than his
last mistress had been able to get him by flogging him.
    “I will push you, Trace. Not just
physically, but emotionally. Mentally. But I will never give
you more than I think you can handle.” He edged closer, and their
lips touched, but not in a kiss. “I will earn your trust, and I
will break you. And you will never want for another master for the
rest of your life.”
    “I already don’t want for another master for
the rest of my