Free The Journal (Her Master's Voice) by Liv Honeywell, Domitri Xavier Page B

mouth, which was fully open now, just like the rest of her.
    Those prominent breasts enticed him there again. He put his hand under her dress and caressed them. He made her lick his fingers, then rubbed her nipples, gently, painlessly, lovingly. But then the pressure became firmer, stronger; irresistible, and his long, slender fingers caressed her whole breast and she fell back against his body, weak and longing. He knew she would be able to feel his erection as she slid her body against his. But he was not ready for that yet.
    “Look at me”, he said quietly and giving her no clue about what was about to happen. “Look at me”, and as soon as those trusting eyes met his, he slapped her across the face, not painfully, without aggression, but clearly marking his territory. She returned her face to look at his. He slapped her again, and again, and again. Each time her eyes came directly back to his as if saying to him, “If this pleases you, Master...” And it did please him. He struck her because it pleased him.
    How many times would she come back for more? Again, he slapped her on the cheek, one side of her face after the other, using both the palm and back of his hand. He knew that she would come back until her face burned. She would come back to please him, simply because it did please him, with no thought of herself. He kissed her again on the mouth, this time like a maniac, thrusting her face in every direction. They were both in a moment - a special moment that belonged only to them. He slapped her again then kissed her again.
    They were both aroused but she was not to show it without his permission. His hand went back between her legs and he washed her face with the dampness, smudging her lipstick like a child’s painting. Again he did it and again. He held the back of her head and lowered her so that she was almost horizontal, then he smeared her face again with her own juices. She began to cry and her tears became part of the unholy mix.
    Gently, he let her fall to the ground. She lay there, bound and helpless, her face a glorious mess because they moulded it together.
    He sat on his chair a little distance away, watching her lay as still as she could, knowing she would not dare to look in his direction...

 

     
    L ook at me.”
    The words I had been half hoping for, half dreading. Would he be able to tell what I was thinking? I opened my eyes and looked up at him, letting him see how vulnerable I was before him and how much I wanted to please him. The expression on his face almost stopped my breath. There was so much love in his eyes, such emotion, and I swallowed against the lump in my throat and blinked back tears of joy mixed sickeningly with guilt. How very much I loved this man, and what I had done to him…
    He swept me into his arms and kissed me hard, his hands roaming my body again. Our tongues tangled; his determinedly invading my mouth, mine softly yielding to his touch. I leaned against him, wishing that I could hold him too. I pressed my body against his, wanting to show him how much he meant to me, hoping that would be enough.
    He broke the kiss and moved slightly, his hand slipping between our bodies to tease me between my legs again. I was soaking wet. How could I be otherwise? He did not even need to touch me to provoke this reaction. When we were together, his presence was enough and, when apart, just the thought of him was all I needed. My body was not mine any more. It responded to him, ached for him, whether I would wish it or not. I could deny him nothing.
    He lifted his hand to my mouth; his fingers wet, and gently painted my lips with my own juices. I tasted my arousal on my tongue but would have no more dared to wipe it away, than I would think to say ‘no’ to him. I stood with my mouth open, my juices trickling down my chin, awaiting his pleasure.
    He pressed his fingers further into my mouth, probing deeply and I tried to relax, to let him penetrate where he would, but I choked