Betrayed by Love (6 page)

Roman reached around and grabbed her breasts, one in each hand. The ropes around her legs took her body weight as he held her up so he could fuck her ass. He pounded into her, the ropes creaking, his breath heaving in and out. Through it all Savannah begged and pleaded for him to fuck her.

Her words, the passion that oozed from her, brought him to blistering climax. As he came he looked around, meeting the gaze of the other Doms.

Yes, she is mine, all mine. Envy me.

They clapped when he brought her to a second orgasm with his fingers on her clit. Savannah hung limp as he and John got her down. Other couples had retired to bed, so Roman picked her up, something she rarely let him do, and carried her to their room. He washed her with a warm washcloth, then took a quick shower before climbing into bed beside her.

Savannah curled against his chest, her breath coming in small puffs as she drifted to sleep.

Roman lay awake in the dark. Was Mr. Wilcox right? Was he not pushing Savannah enough?

* * * * *

Savannah woke with protesting muscles and skin that was tender to the touch. She stretched, smiling as Roman’s hand smoothed down her belly.

“Good morning,” he said, smiling.

She loved his smile. It lit up his whole face. The corners of his eyes would crinkle up and she could imagine him when he was older, with handsome wrinkles fanning from his eyes, like Paul Newman.

She ran the tip of her fingers over his temples, then over his smiling lips. He kissed her fingers, then leaned in. They kissed softly as morning light caressed her bare back.

“How are you feeling?” Roman asked, smoothing her hair behind her ear.

“Sore,” she said. Ridiculously, she was blushing.

“Where?” he asked, concern wrinkling his brow.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m fine.”

“Let me kiss it better.”

“Well, then I’m sore here.” She touched her right cheek. He pressed his lips to her cheek. She touched her other cheek.

With a smile he followed her finger, kissing her neck, her collarbones, her belly and finally her breasts.

They made love slowly, the sun warming them. Savannah came quickly, clutching Roman and biting his shoulder. When she lay back, Roman braced himself on his elbows and pounded into her until he too came, the muscles of his neck straining.

Afterwards they lay together, Savannah’s legs hooked together behind his back, Roman’s head on her shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked, lifting his head to look into her eyes.

“I’m sure. Last night was… I don’t even know. It was crazy intense, but I liked it. I would have never done that if I hadn’t been so completely turned-on.”

“What color would it be?” he asked. Savannah laughed. Once when she was trying to describe a car accident she’d seen while driving she’d told him it was mangled yellow. Ever since then if she was having trouble expressing something, he would ask her what color it was.

“Last night it was red, hot red, but now it feels pink, mostly because I’m embarrassed.”

“Why? You were gorgeous.”

“All those people saw me naked. They saw us having sex.”

“They did, and they all envied me for having you.”

“Do you think so?” Savannah didn’t believe him, not really. There were far more beautiful women here, women who weren’t so shy about showing the world their sexual side. Savannah had only been with one man before she started dating Roman. With him the sex had been awkward and painful and she’d never known what to do, where to touch. With Roman it was none of those things, and when he took out a pair of handcuffs one night and locked her hands together, Savannah had found that by having her hands bound, she felt free and knew what she wanted. Now she knew exactly where she wanted to touch and be touched.

Roman had shown her how to put the passion she used for her art into sex. When he told her he was into BDSM, stuttering over the words, and then haltingly explained what it meant, she’d trustingly followed him into the dark. She trusted him with both her body and soul.

She’d had doubts yesterday. The women Mr. Wilcox called his “slaves” frightened her. Their blank stares and menacing piercings weren’t sexy—they were debasing. She’d stayed because she knew a single look or word from her and Roman would take her away from this place.

It was because she knew he would leave if she asked him that she stayed. He was looking forward to this weekend, and she could feel the excitement radiating from him.

It had been worth it. The rope scene had been incredibly sexy, and when Roman put her in bondage, wrapping the soft nylon around her in beautiful, complicated loops, she’d found the anticipation that built was pleasure almost as sweet as an orgasm.

She had no desire to perform before an audience, no desire to be put on display, but last night she had wanted everyone to know how much her lover pleased her. She wanted Roman to feel like the luckiest man in the world, so she’d abandoned her misgivings and given herself over to the pleasure.

There was a soft rap at the door. A female voice said, “Breakfast is available.”

Roman pushed himself off her. “Hungry?”

“Very,” she said, sitting up. “I want a shower. Will you check and see if anyone’s in there?”

Roman went to the door, scratching his belly and yawning. He peeked his head out and then, with a wicked grin at her, sauntered naked down the hall to check the bathroom.

“It’s free,” he said, wandering back into their room.

“I’ll take a fast shower. Wait for me?”

“Of course.”

Savannah picked out a pretty sundress and carried it and her bathroom bag to the door. With a parting smile at her lover, she too wandered naked down the hall to the bathroom.

After breakfast, they went outside to bask in the sun. The Stalwoods were curled up together on an extra-wide chaise. Savannah and Roman took the chair next to theirs.

“Did you enjoy last night?” Robert Stalwood asked.

Savannah shifted closer to Roman, resting her head on his shoulder. The question had been addressed to her, but she didn’t want to answer it. She wasn’t comfortable enough to discuss what she’d done last night.

“It was amazing,” Roman said, petting her back. Savannah relaxed. He knew her so well. “Did you enjoy it? I know straight bondage isn’t much to your liking.”

“Oh, I think this weekend might open our eyes to a few things,” Robert said.

“Though I doubt we’d be able to manage those ropes without some help,” Karen said. “There’s a bit too much of me to hoist.”

“Don’t be silly,” Savannah said, turning over to face Karen, “you’re perfect.”

“That’s what I tell her,” Robert said, kissing his wife’s head.

They lay in companionable silence for an hour. Other couples made their way into the backyard, and soon the pool was full of naked bodies. Savannah lacked any form of athletic skill, so she bowed out of naked pool volleyball, but sat on the sidelines and cheered as Roman played.

His broad shoulders caught the light as he bumped the ball into the air. One of the other women, the female half of a couple Savannah remembered meeting last night, bumped into him as she jumped to spike the ball. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders, her bare breasts on his chest.

Savannah had just opened her mouth to tell the bitch off when someone touched her shoulder.

“It is not a submissive’s place to be possessive.” It was Mr. Wilcox. Despite the nice weather and the general state of undress among the guests, he wore slacks and a long-sleeve shirt complete with cufflinks.

Savannah was sitting on the edge of the pool, her skirt pulled up, legs dangling in the water. Mr. Wilcox pulled up a chair, placing it beside Savannah, and took a seat. She didn’t like the way he’d positioned himself so he was looming over her.

“We’re more than a submissive and Master,” she said coolly. “Outside the scene we’re boyfriend and girlfriend.” At the last moment she remembered to tack on, “Master Wilcox.”

“How quaint.” He steepled his fingers and watched the game. He looked ridiculous sitting beside the pool dressed and behaving as if he were in some corporate meeting. “There are some, including myself, who think it impossible for a Dominant and his submissive to be anything but that.”

“Then I guess Roman and I are the exception,” she said, looking him in the eye. She did not like his tone or his attitude. Savannah boldly stared him down, breaking rules left and right in the process. Though there was no reason to be, she was afraid of Mr. Wilcox. Before this weekend she’d found him simply creepy, but sitting here in the sunlight, even with Roman only a few feet away, she was scared.

There was something heartlessly cold in his eyes. He tilted his head and looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on the swell of her breasts above the bodice of her sundress. He appraised her as if she were a piece of beef, with no emotion or desire.

“You could be great,” he told her. “He is too soft with you. I will teach him to break you.”

On that disturbing note, Mr. Wilcox got up and walked away.

“Hey, babe.” Roman swam over. Bracing one hand on the edge of the pool, he pushed his cool, wet finger under the hem of her dress, tracing a pattern on her thigh. “You okay?”

Savannah looked over her shoulder. Mr. Wilcox was watching her.

“I’m fine,” she said, waving him back into the game. She didn’t want Wilcox to know he’d rattled her. There would be time later to tell Roman what he’d said.

That afternoon the play became more serious. Mr. Wilcox gave a long lecture on the importance of having true “punishment” for when a “slave’s” behavior was unacceptable, as opposed to play punishment, which involved the erotic use of a variety of weapons and scary-looking things.

Mr. Wilcox showed everyone the dog kennel he locked his slaves in when they truly needed punishment. Savannah was so horrified that she nearly got up and left, but one couple laughed, saying they had a kennel which they used for play—not punishment. The man, who was the sub, said that twenty minutes locked in there with a vibrator going in his ass was sweet torment. Once he was out, they always had amazing sex.

Savannah reminded herself that different people like different things, and Mr. Wilcox’s “slaves” probably got off on all the stuff he did.

Once Mr. Wilcox was done with his pompous lecture, which reminded Savannah of a dog training show she’d once seen, Karen and Robert got up on stage. They both looked nervous. Robert was white as a sheet, and Karen’s fingers fumbled with the tie of her robe. When they glanced her way, Savannah gave them a thumbs-up and a friendly smile.

Karen rolled her eyes and dropped her robe. She wasn’t young, and her body showed its age. There was a slight pooch to her belly and her thighs were heavy, but when she once more looked Savannah’s way, Savannah licked her lips in an exaggerated manner. Karen smiled and turned back to Robert.

Pleased with herself for helping her friend, Savannah watched more with an eye for how she could help them be successful than for what she could learn. Robert began by stroking Karen, concentrating on her back and thighs. Soon Karen was pressing into his hands, aroused by what was nearly a platonic touch.

He started massaging her ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. He pulled his hand away and spanked her, a firm swat to her left ass cheek. Karen jumped, then moaned. Robert spanked her nine more times, five to each cheek.

There was nothing nervous or unsure about them. They were in their element, and it had transformed them. Karen’s cheeks were flushed with color, her lips full and pink. Robert appeared taller, stronger than normal. Savannah stopped seeing them as her friends and started seeing what it was they were trying to show.

Robert picked up a wooden hairbrush. “There are many variations to spanking.” He smoothed the wooden back of the brush over Karen’s ass. “From positions—standing, kneeling or the classic over the knee—to implements. My favorite implements are the hand, a hairbrush and a ruler.

“The key to spanking is to go slow, to draw it out. It is not the pain that arouses the sub, as much as they might think that.” He winked at Karen, who stood perfectly still, her hands clasped together and resting on top of her head. “It’s the heat that spreads after the blow. It’s the knowledge that you are willing and able to do something so forbidden to them.”

He smacked her ass with the hairbrush. Savannah jumped. She shifted on the pad she knelt on. She was painfully aroused. Her sex was so wet she could feel it seeping down the insides of her thighs. Her nipples, barely visible through the see-through black teddy she wore—which showed just enough to meet Mr. Wilcox’s rules—were hard as diamonds.

Robert paddled Karen’s ass with the hairbrush, showing how the color was deeper than that caused by his hand. When he’d done ten strokes with the brush he pressed the bristles between Karen’s spread legs, pushing the sharp points against her pussy.

Next, he picked up a ruler.

Savannah would have shied away from something as harsh as a ruler normally, but now she couldn’t wait to see it used.