Returning from the Dead: His Secret Lover novel Chapter 671

I turn the vibe on, to a low setting, tracing my outline through the dampening fabric. Then pulling the crotch to one side, I make a show of sliding it inwards.

My Master sits silently, watching me from his desk, chin propped on his hand, his expression unamused.

Standing suddenly, he strides across the room and grabs me by a wrist, pulling me up, then propels me forwards, through the door of the mirrored room. Leaning me over the end of the bed, he pushes me down, roughly.

“Bend over.”

“Master?”

“Do as you’re told. Bend over.”

Beginning to worry, I lean over the foot of the bed. My Master extracts cuffs from a drawer; not the usual fur-lined, leather cuffs I am accustomed to, but plain, steel cuffs which click tightly shut around my wrists, and then around the bedposts.

He shoves my ankles apart; again, no gentleness, and, from the same drawer, takes out a spreader bar, snapping the cuffs closed around my ankles, forcing them wide apart.

“Master….”

“Spread ‘em Charlotte…. wider….”

My ankles are stretched far apart, much wider than I am used to. Hips aching a little, I totter, and would fall were I not supported by the bed footer.

My Master stands behind me, pushes up my skirt, his hands massaging my lower back and butt. They linger over my butt cheeks, and he trails fingers between over my pussy and clit. His mere touch makes me gasp and wriggle, but I know there is something amiss. There is a jerk and a tug, then another, as with shock I realise that he has simply ripped off my panties.

A single finger hovers around my rapidly swelling clit, circling it, revolving, and my pussy warms and moistens. But although the action is so like Michael’s of only a few hours ago, I sense a different intent.

From behind me, my Master leans over, his chest resting over my spine. “Charlotte, this is what you wanted. But this is going to be about my pleasure, not yours….”

I do not understand what my Master is saying to me, but try to dismiss it, as he kneels behind me, fingers parting my cheeks, opening my swelling folds, displaying my core.

I know what he is doing. He has asked me several times to open myself for him, to display my glistening lips for his enjoyment, as it heats and flows under his attentions. I picture him, behind me, enjoying the view inside my folds as he prepares to fix his lips around my gaping pussy.

As I anticipate, his fingers stretch me open, displaying my welling core, before, after an experimental probe of my pussy, the fingers glide to my clit, flicking, manipulating, squeezing gently.

Panting now, my breath coming quickly, and a flush of arousal spreading up my belly and breasts, I think of my Master’s warm tongue and mouth slipping over my lips and bud. His face is close now and as his tongue skims over my pussy, I gasp and shudder.

My pussy is flowing, hot and free, my clit, quivering in anticipation, and deep inside, the promise of climax vibrates through me.

My Master’s tongue weaves circles around my clit, probing, lapping, licking and, with a shudder, my orgasm arising, I start to moan. To get this twice in a day; how much more could I ask for?

“Did I give you permission to cum?”

???

A little uncertainly, “No Master. You didn’t.”

“You will not allow yourself to climax until I instruct it.”

How do I do that?

“No, Master. I’ll try.”

“You will do better than try. You will not allow yourself to climax.”

His tongue swirls inside my lips, lapping over my clit, working its magic over my engorged vulva.

Orgasm arises in me, welling up from deep within.

“Master…. I……”

“No.”

“Master, I don’t know how to stop it….”

“Learn. You may not cum until…. and unless…… I give you permission.”

My Master’s tongue continues to work my swollen bud. His breath is hot over my core and inner thighs.

Oh, God!

Oh, God!!!!!!

Back arched as I strain and quiver, “Master please.”

“No.”

“Master…. I can’t stop it.”

My orgasm wells and blooms, exploding upwards and outwards from my core and….

He releases his hold on me, stands, and slaps me across the buttocks, hard.

Slap!

And with that, he licks and sucks at my pulsing folds and clit, winding me again up the curling path to climax. And as I brink and hover, again, my Master stands and smacks again, hard, at my glowing butt.

“Please Master…”

“No.”

“Master…please…”

“Do want me to gag you?” And he slaps again, still harder, and again on the same tender spot. “Or would you prefer me to use a flogger?”

I scream at the pain. “No Master, please, no.”

My hips are quivering uncontrollably, as I feel his two hands sliding between my cheeks, pulling them apart, stretching them open still further. Fingers scissor between my folds and push inside me, probing, waggling at my sweet spot, sending further electric waves ripping through my exhausted flesh. Pulling them out, he sucks them clean of my juices.

“Not wet enough yet. Let’s see if we can up the ante eh?”

??

What can he possibly do that….??

Almost despairingly, I hear the whirr of the vibe coming to life. For a second or so it licks around my entrance, and over my clit, sending my trembling hips into further helpless spasms, then it is withdrawn and again, the hard Slap! of my Master’s hand over my sore flesh.

There are footsteps.

Bent over, upside-down and behind me, I see Michael step into the room, carrying a couple of large, brown paper bags. He smiles at first, then his expression changes as he sees the force of the next Smack! my Master delivers to my incandescent bottom and hears my cry as the blow lands.

“What the….? James….?”

“Stay out of it, Michael. Charlotte and I have a little disagreement to settle. A small dispute over the appropriate exercise of good manners.

And he drops again to his knees, sucking at my clit, probing my core with the vibe, then again…. Slap!

Beside myself, as my Master continues his work, my breathing frantic, my need to orgasm driving me crazy, becoming close to unbearable, I can do nothing. And the pain of the spanking only grows as each blow lands on the same tormented, sore, skin.

The hard metal cuffs bite into my wrists and ankles. Even bending over the bed, I am having difficulty supporting myself. “Master…. I can’t stand…”

“Tough.” And he pushes my ankles further apart, destabilising me entirely so that I flop over the end of the bed, simply hanging over the bed footer.

What do I do?

I can’t take much more of this.