He took a seat on a short stool next to her, one knee crooked, the other leg stretched out comfortably alongside of her body. He was still wearing his slacks and dress shirt, but he’d rolled up the shirtsleeves. Before she went all the way down, her gaze had slid down his throat, over the light mat of dark hair revealed by the open collar. He had a cart next to him with cotton balls, gauze and an open jar of something that smelled wonderful. Rachel’s balm.

Marcie had assumed she’d be doing the care, but in thinking about it now, Rachel had never said that. Instead, Ben was handling it personally. Tears pressed against the back of her eyes once more. She wasn’t a crier, never had been, but for some reason, a whole backlog of the pesky things seemed to keep swelling up like a creek after a rainstorm. Shutting her eyes, she swallowed against the lump in her throat.

He had powerful hands, hands that were probably half again the size of hers. As he stroked her hair off her neck, spreading it forward on the floor around her shoulders, she made a questioning noise in her throat. He stilled. “What is it, Marcie?”

“Can I…would you put your hand under mine…sir?” Master was there, on the tip of her tongue, but she wanted this, wouldn’t provoke him right now.

Blissfully, he complied. Hers was flat on the mat, and he knelt beside her to slide his palm down, beneath hers. She curved her fingers over his knuckles, aligning them so she saw she’d been mostly right. Not half a size larger, but still much larger than her own. When cupping her breast, a hand like that would almost cover it, though not quite. Thank God she and Cass had inherited their mother’s generous bosom. Ben might be an ass man, but he had a healthy appreciation for breasts too. In those few days they’d shared office space, she’d seen him perusing hers more than once. Those demi-bras allowed a lot of attractive movement.

“Thank you, sir.”

He removed his hand without comment, but he gave her hair another stroke. Then he started tending to her. The balm stung a bit, telling her there was still antiseptic in the mix. However, she wasn’t sorry about that at all, because it had the benefit of him leaning forward, blowing gently on her buttocks where he applied it, soothing that burn and sending an erotic ripple through her, thinking of his mouth so close. Then came a light stroke of his fingers as he massaged it into her skin. It was uncomfortable, but bearable, as long as his touch was part of it.

Fluids had helped restore her, made her feel less thick-tongued and dizzy, and the shifting waves of arousal came back fast under his touch. The obeisance pose underscored complete submission to a Master’s desires, the genitals and anus open to whatever he wanted to do, the forehead to the ground making surrender clear.

She couldn’t help twitching, the slight lifts of her backside begging for more of that touch, for more, period. She was getting wet, she could feel it, and while she knew he’d call her a slut, it was how she reacted to him. She couldn’t bear it if he thought she was this way with everyone. But there was nothing she could say to prove otherwise. She had to show him, and in this moment, being still and letting him register the arousal was all she could do.

She thought she heard a muttered oath. But then his touch slid down the seam of her buttocks, and his thumb probed the lips of her pussy, coming away wet. She whimpered.

Candlelight, heat, silence. She wondered if Rachel and Jon had gone to bed, because she heard no noise at all beyond Ben’s breath and her own. Though she had no idea how long she’d been out of it, it had to be late.

Now both hands were cradling her buttocks, his thumbs parting them. His breath was there, a heated balm even better than the salve on the abraded parts. Then she nearly swallowed her leaping heart.

He put his mouth to the tight, puckered opening.

It should get better. It’s always a little harder for girls, at first. Find a guy who will take the time to make it good for you. Don’t settle for just lying there while he gets off in five minutes. The right guy will want you to feel pleasure as well, and even if he doesn’t know how to go about it, he’ll want to learn. Don’t be afraid to tell him and show him. He’s supposed to take care of you. Otherwise he deserves to have his dick tied in a knot.”

Ben, answer to Marcie when she told him about her first time

Chapter Six

Holy Mother of God, fuck, please, oooohhhh. Though she’d surely fantasized about this, there were some things electronics couldn’t duplicate. A heated, firm tongue licking around that rim, teasing the ultra-sensitive center, which contracted under the pressure, welcoming him in. But he taunted her with it, kept his tongue on the outside, tickling and stroking that ring of nerves. His fingers tightened just enough on her abused buttocks, making her flinch and convulse at once. Yes. More pain, more pleasure. She could take it all from him.

She tried her best to stay still, to be a good girl, but it really wasn’t her nature. She wanted to wiggle against his face, rub and squirm. She wanted that tongue. Those powerful fingers dug in, a warning, hard enough that a true lance of pain went through those broken areas.

“Keep still, or I’ll stop.” He spoke against her flesh. That combined threat and command stilled her more effectively than any physical pain.

But oh God, it was intense. She bit into the mat, her fingernails digging into the foam as that agile tongue made small circles among the tiny creases of her anus, touched that center point again and again. He put pressure there several times, making her think he was going to penetrate, but then he’d withdraw. Her whimpers became pleading cries. Her pussy was convulsing, warning her the very friction of the air could make her orgasm, his very proximity enough to push her over the edge.

“You won’t come.” Reading her body so well, he spoke sternly.

She nodded frantically, agreeing, though she had no idea how she could stop herself. He made her helpless. She knew he exulted in it, that this was his drug, making her every action and reaction a mindless, instinctive response to him.

His tongue pushed slowly inside that opening, going deep, moving, swirling, teasing, and she came apart. She didn’t come, but it was more intense than any climax she’d given herself. She screamed into the mat, her nails puncturing the foam and taking chunks out of it. Her thighs trembled, her toes curling hard as she struggled to stay still. His fingers bit into those welts, and the mixed sensations were so overwhelming she thought she might black out. She fought to stay in this moment forever.

He withdrew, then penetrated again, fucking her ass with his tongue. When it became too much, he would tease and play on the outside, then thrust back in again. Every time it was more overwhelming than the last. She knew there were other people in the house, but she couldn’t stop making those wailing, crazed shrieks.

When he pulled back at last, sat on his heels, she was holding on to that cliff edge with every tense, quivering muscle. Those strong hands curled around her upper arms, lifted her onto her knees, turned her toward him. “Look at me, Marcie.”

His eyes were green fire, the flickering candles making love to the planes of his strong face. “Arms boxed at the small of your back, ass on your heels.”

She complied immediately. He took a seat on the stool, caging her between his thighs and the massage table. Taking her shoulders, he slid her closer with an effortless move that kept her in the same position. “Close your eyes.”

Oh the hell with that. She wanted to see, wanted to see him. But he wasn’t going to do anything else unless she obeyed. She shut them, swallowing back the petulant protest that came to her lips.

“Behave, little slut.” When she was in her teens, he’d called her brat, and now she heard a similar note of affection, though it had a new element to it, one that made hope bloom in her heart.

She heard him opening the slacks, adjusting himself, imagined his cock stretching out hard and thick so close to her face. She smelled him, heated skin, aroused male. She wondered if pre-cum was glistening on the slit. He wasn’t covering himself, because she didn’t detect the latex smell, hadn’t heard the crinkle of a foil package. Once she was old enough for Cass to answer her more brazen questions about Ben, she’d told Marcie how adamant he was about wearing protection with his club subs, and even then it was always ass fucking or blowjobs with them—if he allowed them to touch him at all.

The fact he was going bareback now said that he was sure he was clean and wanted to feel her lips on his skin. It didn’t matter how irritated Ben might get with her, or the volatile quicksand she was walking to get him to be her Master; she knew he would never risk harming her for the pleasure of the moment.

Though that wasn’t wishful thinking, her hope that she was the first to touch her mouth to his cock without that thin barrier probably was. But she’d let herself have that fantasy. Especially since he was about to grant one of her deepest wishes.

Her lips parted, tongue darting out as the broad head touched them. He withdrew before she could taste. “Keep them closed,” he ordered in that firm, no-arguments-tolerated voice. She did, making small needy noises in her throat as he came close again, pressed velvet flesh against her sealed mouth. He painted that pre-cum along her lips, making her want to lick them so badly it was almost an involuntary reflex.

“All right now. Part them, but you wait for me to push forward. No reaching, no movement of your mouth except for how my cock stretches it. All movement comes from me, understand?”

“Yes, Master.” She did it deliberately or instinctively, she didn’t care. Would he let her get away with it? As he continued to hold himself from her, her heart twinged in disappointment. She relented. “Yes sir.”

He punished her by making her wait another full minute. When that rigid cock finally pressed against her lips, demanding entry, she let out a mental sigh of joy and relief. An emotion that turned to alarm and incredulity. Holy God. She knew, of course she knew, because she’d heard about it in bits and pieces and touched him through his clothes, but as her mouth opened to take him, it kept being pushed open farther, the hinge of her jaw stretching, straining harder.