and everything else away
with that one electrifying
announcement. Since she’d come
back, there was a feverish quality to
her that made him wonder what had
happened. Who she’d met and why
she seemed to have a razor-sharp
edge of hunger honing her words, her
touch.
She spun in a circle, loosing her hair.
As she did, the clothes she wore
melted away like paint, running in
sensual rivers down the curves of her
body before vanishing into the grass
beneath her feet with no evidence of
their passage. Now she was as naked
as he was. So different, though. So
many soft and wonderful places
where he was hard.
There were those who said a woman
was sexier in scanty clothes than she
was completely naked. They’d never
seen Dona. Lush was the perfect
word. Heavy breasts, tiny waist,
generous hips that flared out, telling
him her ass would be worth begging
to see. Her legs, while not long, were
toned and slender, making him
imagine how snugly she’d hold him
while he fucked her. If he could get
up, he’d lift her, slam her up against a
palm tree and just bury himself inside
that wet pussy.
She’d been playing so much with his
head, this switching of gears was like
a gift from God. When she stepped
back over him and simply lowered
herself onto his cock, he realized
he’d never truly known what a gift
was.
God…the sensation… He’d heard
how men’s piercings increased a
woman’s
pleasure, but he hadn’t realized how
much more sensitive it would make
him. His fury with her taunting, with
her ability to shoot down his best
attempts to gain the advantage on her,
all of that receded at the joining of
their two bodies. He willed more
blood into his cock to make it harder,
thicker so he could feel the full
pressure of the clamp of her silken
walls on him. The restraint over his
hipbones did not give him control in
any way. It was all her, coming down
on him at her own pace, her small
hands braced on his upper abdomen.
Yes. This is where I want to be.
Experiencing her in all his senses,
being with her in every way. Taking
care of her forever so she’d never
want anyone else.
He told himself Fiona was right, his
response came from the endorphins
of the piercings. Or the weirdness of
this place Dona called Hell.
He’d never thought about taking care
of a woman. Not…for a long time. If
he did think about it, it was part of a
strategy. Opening doors, getting them
a drink… It was a form of caring for
a woman even Mistresses enjoyed,
for it was evidence that the slave
liked serving their needs. He looked
at Dona’s hands braced on his
stomach to balance herself, the
fragile slim fingers curling in as she
sought her pleasure. He thought of the
51
Joey W. Hill
pain and tiredness he’d seen just for
a moment in her face when she’d
returned from her mysterious
meeting. It bothered him. He wanted
to…
“Please, Mistress.” The words came
from a part of himself he didn’t
know. “Please release my hips so I
can serve you properly.”
She studied his face as she went
down on him another inch, her fingers
digging in even more. She was tight,
so blessedly tight. “Please,
Mistress.”
The bonds slid away and his hips
were free. Miraculously, so were his
hands. He wanted so much to put
them on her, but he waited,
wondering at the tremors that ran
through his body as she wrapped her
delicate fingers around each wrist
and guided his hands to her bare hips.
“Not until I come,” she reminded
him. He heard the catch in her voice
as she sank down further. He
tightened his hands on her, rising to
meet her in the same motion.
“Never,” he promised, though he was
already setting his teeth against that
increased sensitivity, the stroke of
her on the ladder. After five years in
prison, he should have gone off like a
rocket at the slick glove of her pussy.
Hell, he should have spewed the
moment she stood up on the seat of
her
with that one electrifying
announcement. Since she’d come
back, there was a feverish quality to
her that made him wonder what had
happened. Who she’d met and why
she seemed to have a razor-sharp
edge of hunger honing her words, her
touch.
She spun in a circle, loosing her hair.
As she did, the clothes she wore
melted away like paint, running in
sensual rivers down the curves of her
body before vanishing into the grass
beneath her feet with no evidence of
their passage. Now she was as naked
as he was. So different, though. So
many soft and wonderful places
where he was hard.
There were those who said a woman
was sexier in scanty clothes than she
was completely naked. They’d never
seen Dona. Lush was the perfect
word. Heavy breasts, tiny waist,
generous hips that flared out, telling
him her ass would be worth begging
to see. Her legs, while not long, were
toned and slender, making him
imagine how snugly she’d hold him
while he fucked her. If he could get
up, he’d lift her, slam her up against a
palm tree and just bury himself inside
that wet pussy.
She’d been playing so much with his
head, this switching of gears was like
a gift from God. When she stepped
back over him and simply lowered
herself onto his cock, he realized
he’d never truly known what a gift
was.
God…the sensation… He’d heard
how men’s piercings increased a
woman’s
pleasure, but he hadn’t realized how
much more sensitive it would make
him. His fury with her taunting, with
her ability to shoot down his best
attempts to gain the advantage on her,
all of that receded at the joining of
their two bodies. He willed more
blood into his cock to make it harder,
thicker so he could feel the full
pressure of the clamp of her silken
walls on him. The restraint over his
hipbones did not give him control in
any way. It was all her, coming down
on him at her own pace, her small
hands braced on his upper abdomen.
Yes. This is where I want to be.
Experiencing her in all his senses,
being with her in every way. Taking
care of her forever so she’d never
want anyone else.
He told himself Fiona was right, his
response came from the endorphins
of the piercings. Or the weirdness of
this place Dona called Hell.
He’d never thought about taking care
of a woman. Not…for a long time. If
he did think about it, it was part of a
strategy. Opening doors, getting them
a drink… It was a form of caring for
a woman even Mistresses enjoyed,
for it was evidence that the slave
liked serving their needs. He looked
at Dona’s hands braced on his
stomach to balance herself, the
fragile slim fingers curling in as she
sought her pleasure. He thought of the
51
Joey W. Hill
pain and tiredness he’d seen just for
a moment in her face when she’d
returned from her mysterious
meeting. It bothered him. He wanted
to…
“Please, Mistress.” The words came
from a part of himself he didn’t
know. “Please release my hips so I
can serve you properly.”
She studied his face as she went
down on him another inch, her fingers
digging in even more. She was tight,
so blessedly tight. “Please,
Mistress.”
The bonds slid away and his hips
were free. Miraculously, so were his
hands. He wanted so much to put
them on her, but he waited,
wondering at the tremors that ran
through his body as she wrapped her
delicate fingers around each wrist
and guided his hands to her bare hips.
“Not until I come,” she reminded
him. He heard the catch in her voice
as she sank down further. He
tightened his hands on her, rising to
meet her in the same motion.
“Never,” he promised, though he was
already setting his teeth against that
increased sensitivity, the stroke of
her on the ladder. After five years in
prison, he should have gone off like a
rocket at the slick glove of her pussy.
Hell, he should have spewed the
moment she stood up on the seat of
her
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