Night Beach (2 page)

Glass clinked together somewhere behind her as a mass of
humanity gathered down below her, preparing to celebrate.

“Do you remember our first meeting, Erica?” She felt him
moving close behind her. Her arms trembled with the fatigue of holding them up
for so long.

“Of course.”

A finger tapped her shoulder. “Don’t ‘of course’ me, girl.”

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

“I’ll let it slide, but only because my fearsome wife
hasn’t arrived yet.”

“She’s coming … here?” Erica gulped, thinking “fearsome” to
be a particularly apt description for her strict Mistress.

“Mm hmm,” Blaine said sipping from his drink, and leaning
his back against the window, letting her see him. His close-cropped hair, white
t-shirt and muscular arms made him look more like a mixed martial arts fighter
than an executive, but she knew he purposely eschewed the look of a “suit.” The
fact that he owned this house and close to a dozen other properties in this
town alone confirmed he was every bit as successful in business as she had no
doubt he’d be in a fighting ring.

He cocked his head. “Why the face? I thought you’d be
happy.”

“I—I just didn’t know, Sir.”

His eyes glinted, and he smiled over the rim of his glass.
Though he looked like he could tear phone books in half with his hands, his
eyes gave the whole game away. It was what struck her that first night, and it
still struck her now. Despite the fact that he was her Sir, commanded her
obedience, those eyes of his held such warmth, such kindness. She’d not
realized how much her life needed those two things until the night she’d agreed
to let her friend Cam set her up to meet a friend. Cam knew what kind of man
Erica was after, and when she’d first laid eyes on those deep browns, saw the
playfulness, the caring, she thought maybe Cam had known more than she’d let
on.

“You’ll have to get used to that.” He winked at her. “I
don’t know where she is half the time, either.”

Erica smiled. “Yes, Sir.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see Kathryn — quite the
opposite, really. Nevertheless, she was a lot to take in, a trial to be sure —
and Erica wanted to be ready for her. She was attracted to the cold beauty of
her Mistress, like a supplicant to a cruel Goddess. She craved kneeling at her
feet, wringing whatever kindness she could from the smallest of gestures from
the aloof woman. Those kindnesses gave Erica pure joy — perhaps because such
things from her Mistress were so very rare.

Truth was sometimes hard for Erica to come to grips with,
and in this case, she knew she craved more than those fleeting kindnesses from
her Mistress. No, she needed the other part of her, needed that darkness, that
willingness to revel in Erica’s pain, her humiliation. It was only with
Kathryn, did Erica realize fully
what
she was, what she’d been all along
but hadn’t the words to describe it.

Blaine
’s hand reached
out, molding itself around her ribcage, stroking the fabric of her blouse. His
touch sent ticklish electricity through her skin. “You do remember that night
don’t you?”

“Every second, Sir.”

“Then you know what I want you to do, don’t you?”

She shot a glance at Blaine. “Now?”

Lips tight and jaw firm, he nodded slowly, light dancing in
his eyes.

She unbuttoned the blouse quickly, keeping her eyes on the
task, not trusting her trembling fingers to complete the job without direct
supervision.

His hand patted her ass, and he walked away. She turned
toward him, slipping the last button and pulling the blouse from her slacks.

“No, turn back around.”

“Blaine—”

He glared at her, his jaw clenched.

“Sorry. It’s just that … they’ll
see.
”

“And what if they do, Erica?”

She inhaled, her breath shaky. “I don’t … know.”

“That’s something else you’d better get used to, girl. If
you really want to do this, be mine, this body is going to be on display. A
lot.”

He was at her back once more, his lips touching her cheek,
kissing the smooth flesh at the join of shoulder and neck. “Yes, I think you’ll
have some adjusting to do won’t you?

“Yes, Sir.” Her hands clutched both sides of the blouse.
She was grateful for something to hold on to her fingers trembled so much.

His arm reached around her, the warm hand sliding up her
belly. Fingers worked at her bra, releasing the front clasp in moments, the
lace falling away to let cool air caress her breasts. “How will you react when
we make you walk down a city street in a skin tight shirt but no bra? Your hard
nipples on display for all to see?”

Clutching them both in his big hands, he squeezed her
breasts firmly. “I think we’ll make you wear some nice tall heels too. Get
those hips rolling and these tits bouncing.”

She dropped her eyes as her deep blush traveled down her
neck, the flushing evident even on the slopes of the breasts still clutched in
his big hands.

“I love your reactions,” he murmured, kissing the corner of
her mouth. “You can’t hide anything from me, you know.”

“Yes, Sir.” She didn’t
want
to hide anything from
him — ever. She only hoped it would be enough, her submission the key that
would unlock his heart to her.

He spun her around, forcing her chest against the window.
His hands pulled the blouse and loose bra out to the sides and she gasped as
her breasts made contact with the cold glass.

“Don’t you dare move,” he growled. He clawed at her slacks,
yanking them down along with the black thong.

“Sir, wait I—”

“Shh, just be a good girl. Obey me.”

Breathing labored, heart racing, she closed her eyes
against the embarrassment of it. She felt as if every eye down below was
trained upon her now, watching the girl with her naked boobs squashed against
the window.

Urging her to lift each foot in turn, he slipped off her
heels. His hands massaged the grooves the straps left in her flesh, then pulled
her slacks completely off. Naked from the waist down, she fought the insanely
powerful urge to bring her hands down to cover her pussy. They could see all of
it!

“Spread your legs.”

His hard hand stung her ass, and she tried to ignore the
embarrassing jiggle of her flesh. “Wider.”

She moved her feet shoulder width apart, trying to ignore
the image of what she must look like; the dark patch of pubic hair drawing the
eye like a beacon to the sex nestled between pale thighs.

Strong hands gripped her buttocks, kneading the flesh.
“God, I thought about this ass all day long.”

Erica’s breath hitched as his fingers dipped into the
valley between the cheeks, stroking the velvet flesh of her bottom hole.

“I had Jack Weber giving me construction estimates for the
new server farm, and all I could think about was being inside you, fucking this
wet cunt.”

A hand smacked against her soft labia, and she yelped.
Despite the sting, she could feel the slickness of her sex increase by the
second. He always knew how to touch her — just that right mix of roughness,
possessiveness. His fingers spread her labia apart, the air cool on her heated
inner flesh. Two thick fingers slid in, sinking deep into her wetness, and a
low moan escaped her lips.

“All ready I see,” he chuckled, planting a light kiss
behind her ear. “Soon enough, bad girl. Soon enough.”

There was a sound of a zipper lowering.

Oh, God! Please don’t make me do this here.

Erica turned, dropping her hands from the glass, moving to
step around him. “Wait, not—”

His hand clasped her upper arm in a bruising grip, his
other hand grabbing her by the hair, pulling her up short. “What are you
doing?” His voice was so quiet she had to strain to hear it.

“I can’t do that …
there
.”

Blaine
’s hazel eyes
locked with hers, boring into her, searching. She saw the warmth there, warring
with the lust, the need to control, to own her. He kissed her, hard, his tongue
plundering her mouth even as his fist twisted further in her hair, holding her
fast. He bit her lip, sucked on her tongue, the almost imperceptible growling
from deep in his chest making her pussy spasm.

“You’ll do what I tell you, girl. No questions.”

“Sir, I’m sorry, it’s just—“

A finger, scented with her juices, pressed its wet length
across her mouth, silencing her.

“What happens to girls who disobey?
Slaves
who
disobey?”

Erica knew this was right, had fantasized about this as
long as she could remember. It had felt like a dream come true meeting a man
like Blaine. However, sometimes it unnerved her, the reality of her submission
more raw, more intense than even the darkest of her fantasies. She reveled in
it even as she tried to flee from it. Flee from the woman she was deep inside …
the slave who craved this.

She whimpered as he jerked her head, the sensitive roots of
her hair protesting.

“I’m waiting.”

“Slaves are — punished, Sir.”

“That’s correct.” His voice lowered, the sound vibrating in
her chest, through her pussy. “And do you deserve to be punished?”

No! Yes! I don’t know!

“Yes … Sir.”

“Good. You will be.” He released her hair, and pointed at
the bed. “Bend over the side of the mattress and wait for me.”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered. Blaine left the room, the door
closing with a quiet snick, the lock thrown with authority.

Get it together, Erica.

She splayed a hand over her ass as she walked away from the
window. She knew she was being ridiculous; it was unlikely anyone on the road
below could see much in the waning light of the evening. The sun was nearly
set, the clouds on the horizon awash in pinks, lavenders, and deep blues.

Folding herself over the edge of the high mattress, she
felt the heat of her blush as a bead of moisture escaped from between her
labia, wetting the curls of her sex. Punishment always did that to her, the
anticipation and dread becoming all mixed up, confusing her. Soon the pain
would clear her mind, simplify everything into nothing but sensation and
reaction.

The waiting was as bad as the punishment (okay, maybe it
wasn’t
quite
as bad), and she knew Blaine took great joy in making her
wait. He never told her how long she’d have to stew until he'd carry out the
sentence. He’d make her lie there for two minutes, or twenty. She never knew,
and that uncertainty was itself a cruel
certainty
of any punishment. Blaine believed that punishment needn’t just be physical — it could be psychological as
well. Getting into, and messing with, a sub’s head was a favorite technique of
his … and in that, he wasn’t alone.

Shivers coursed through her body at the thought of what
Kathryn would do were she to walk into the room and see a bare-bottomed Erica
laid out like this for punishment. Though Blaine could be scary when he wanted
to be, it was her Mistress who truly terrified Erica.

The fact that such terror held more than a slight
undercurrent of excitement to it disturbed Erica. Was it normal to be turned on
by fear? She knew the answer to that — and it didn’t lend her any comfort. She
wasn’t sure she knew how it was possible to be both scared to death of the
woman, and yet have her pussy be soaked at the thought of being under her
thumb.

It made no sense, but Erica had long since passed trying to
sort out her desires. Things were just too tangled up, her sexual motivations
so convoluted as to make any determination of the
whys
of whom and what
she was, impossible. She’d just learned to accept it – mostly. Someday she
would examine those motivations more closely, but right now, all she cared to
do was surrender to sensation, surrender to her Sir, to her Mistress. Nothing
else mattered.

The door opened again, and she heard his heavy footfalls
draw near. Something solid hit the mattress near her head, the air current
disturbing a strand of her hair.

“No, not there. Other side, Erica. I want that ass facing
the windows. Better light.”

She gulped, nodding. Erica had hoped he’d let it go, but as
usual he didn’t. Why did she hope for something she didn’t really want?
Leniency wasn’t what she wanted. Quite the opposite, actually.

As she moved around to the other side of the bed, her eyes
alighted on what he’d dropped on the mattress.

The paddle.

It was a broad rectangular piece of dark leather; flexible
enough not to cut her with harsh edges, but with enough stiffness to give her
what she knew he intended — a roasted ass.

He took up the paddle, swinging it a few times through the
air, practicing his form. He brought the leather to her face, the smell of it
strong and clean. “Kiss it, Erica.”

She pressed her lips to the cold leather, her face burning
with a deep blush. He took away the leather and presented his fingers to her
lips. She gently kissed those too, his hand leaving her with a caress of her
blushing cheek.