Show Me, Baby (Masters of the Shadowlands #9)

Show Me, Baby (Masters of the Shadowlands #9) Page 38

Knowing he needed to unsettle her quickly tonight, he’d removed her ability to move, to speak, to see. Her pussy belonged to him, and the constant pressure from the suction device would enforce that awareness. But she was still too much in her head.

Time to up the game with the next step. He put wet towels on the stone table. A bowl of water with ice. A table knife. The candle had a stand to prevent accidents. His toy bag held aloe cream.

Lifting the candle, he visually noted the height before letting a drop fall on his inner arm. The pleasant splat was followed by a spreading warmth. Not too hot, at least for him.

He looked down at Rainie. The glasses hid her eyes, but with the curved lenses, the flame probably appeared huge to her. With consideration for her more delicate skin, he raised the candle an extra foot of height to ensure the wax had more time to cool. A drop fell on her shoulder.

She jumped. Gasped in surprise—but he didn’t hear any sound of pain.

Using his fingertips, he pried up the hardening blob. Beneath, her skin was slightly pinkened. Just right.

And so he began.

Wax play was as engrossingly fun as finger painting in kindergarten. Even more than the artistic enjoyment in creating interesting patterns, he had the delight of using a woman’s silky skin and curves as his canvas. Add to that his Dom’s pleasure in taking a submissive up and up. He increased the heat, the amount, the timing, until Rainie was straining upward and yet flinching away from each drop.

Her face turned pinker. Her lips reddened with her arousal.

Speaking of which… He set the candle on the table and assessed his artwork. White lines of wax crossed her torso, circled her breasts, and thickened on her lower abdomen. Gorgeous.

The quick-release on the suction device ended the pressure. He removed the cup and surveyed the results.

Her clit and pussy lips had puffed up to three times their normal size. “Very pretty.”

When he ran his finger over her beautifully swollen flesh, she sucked in a breath. Yes, she was much more sensitive. And her labia already glistened with her arousal.

Damn, he wanted her—but he wanted all of her, not merely her body. Answers came first. At the head of the table, he pulled the gag from her mouth. The mini-dildo pacifier had cute bite marks in it. After wiping her lips, he pushed the glasses up onto her forehead.

“You’re looking a little dazed there, sweetheart,” he said. “What’s your name?”

She swallowed and whispered, “Rainie.”

Even before talking to Z, Jake had wondered about the gaps in his knowledge of her. Her father, then mother had abandoned her. She’d been in foster care. But…she’d run away and possibly been with a drug dealer at sixteen. And Miss Lily had given her a home at seventeen. Wherever you are, Miss Lily, thank you for your care.

“Pretty Rainie. You’re being such a good girl.” Murmuring in a low voice, Jake stroked his submissive—because, dammit, she was. He ever so slowly traced the skin not covered by wax to ease her into a calm state. “The wax looks gorgeous on you, baby.”

She relaxed under his hands, her gaze losing focus.

In the same quiet voice, he asked, “Why’d you run away from foster care?”

Rainie’s mind had taken up residence somewhere else. But with the question, a darkness slid into her, like a rain cloud over the sun. Foster care. “Mr. Evans tried to…” Her lips had trouble forming the words. “Ripped my dress.” Her borrowed clothes had made her look almost as nice as the popular high school girls. “My pretty clothes for Jennifer’s party.”

“Jennifer? For Jennifer’s Sweet Sixteen party?” a husky voice said.

“Invited me.” To be invited to Jennifer’s home was…beyond cool. And the house was sparkling clean, lushly beautiful. It even smelled different, like flowers and pastries. She’d been late. Heard the sounds of people having fun when she came in. “Go through the living room to the back patio, miss.” Only halfway there, she’d glanced in the door of a game room and seen...

Her feet had simply stopped. “Look at him...” Surrounded by his friends, the boy—no, the man—moved with a lean power. Hair a shaggy brown, eyes a mesmerizing green. She’d never seen a man so beautiful. So decent and strong.

“Look at who, baby?”

“Jake…brother.” Then the laughter started, right behind her. Horrid. Cruel. She flinched at the sound. “Hey, Fat Girl, who you looking at.” “Jesus, she’s staring at Jake.” “Like you’d ever get him.” She flinched.

“Tell me, baby. What’s wrong?”

“I’m ugly. Trash.”

The voice held an angry edge. “Who said that?”

“Jenn…friends.” Her legs shifted, but straps held her down. “Run.” Tears filled her eyes, a harsh sob escaped. Run, run home.

“Jesus, that’s it.” A calming hand settled on her legs. “You ran home”—the voice growled—”from my place, and the bastard attacked you.”

She tried to nod. “He said I deserved it. Asked for it.”

“He lied.”

At the snap in the Dom’s voice, her head started clearing. What had she told him? Trash. She’d called herself trash. Oh God. Her eyes blurred with tears, and she shut them tight. Let the world go away. Please, God.

Instead of more questions, he kissed her. “I love your lips, sweetling.” He kissed her again, tenderly enough to have fresh tears seeping from under her closed lids.

“I’m sorry I made you cry.” Another kiss. “But you’re going to finish telling me the rest of what bothers you.”

Her mouth clamped shut…and he chuckled.

“You will. Because I’ll push you to the point you’d rather talk than suffer.” He slid the glasses back on her face, cutting her tie to the world.

Her skin prickled under the cooling wax—and her arousal had disappeared, although her swollen pussy throbbed. When she opened her eyes, he was only a giant shape in her distorted vision. A black body in the darkness.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of you.” The rich timbre of Jake’s voice gathered her thoughts to him, holding her in his will.

She sighed, comforted.

“Time for something new. Open up.” With firm hands, he pulled her buttocks outward slightly.

Buttocks. Wait. “Uhhh.” She squeezed her muscles to prevent the intrusion.

“We’ve done this before, sweetling, and you enjoy it.” He held her open, and the feel of his hands on her bottom, the acknowledgment of his complete control, sent a wash of desire through her.

As he pushed the slickened plug against her anus, her rectal muscles fought and lost. In it went, stretching her. Nerves sizzled to life around the anal rim, somehow connecting with her core and sending heat boiling upward.

A second later, the pump ring once again covered her pussy. The suction started, fattening her labia, sucking on her clit. The pressure increased, more and more, higher than before. Her entire lower half grew stretched and throbbingly taut.

The sounds from other scenes in the room drifted to her. Murmurs and groans. The harsh smack of a flogger. The lighter slaps of a cane. Through the dark glasses, she saw Master Jake, taller than trees, and his broad shoulders and chest blocked out the wall behind him.

He flattened his palm on her belly, and his fingers lingered on the bare places between the lines of wax. “Your pussy is getting slick and puffy, sweetling,” he said softly. “I plan to take you hard afterward.”

A tremor ran through her at the carnal promise in his voice. The air itself had grown smolderingly thick.

The flickering flame of a candle rose like a sunrise into her field of vision. And then the first spatter of wax. A second later, fire blossomed under her skin.

In exquisite slowness, he drizzled more wax over her stomach and upward to her breasts. Her body tensed with the effort of anticipating each new drop, each new fiery stream. Her pussy throbbed; her anus burned.

She was panting, groaning. More wax.

A pause. Her muscles tensed.

More wax. The thick pleasure of the heat.

Up and up, she rose, and somehow, somewhere, something snipped her balloon loose and she floated free. Drifting. The bite of hot wax hitting her skin faded into the sensation of warm rain.

“That’s right, baby.” The subterranean murmur felt part of her, as if the voice had flowered from the warmth impregnating her skin.

Lips touched hers. The light scent of forest drifted to her, reminding her of safety and strength. A face brushed hers, the beard a scrape against her cheek. “Miss Lily took you in.”

Were they talking about something? She tried to think, failed, and her worries slid out from under her reason.

“You said you need to be more. Did Miss Lily tell you that?”

Sweet Miss Lily. “Watch your posture, Rainie.” Frail Miss Lily sipped her tea, her spine ramrod straight, not touching the back of the chair. “Knees together.” Rainie carefully crossed her legs, only at the ankles, to form a pleasing line. “Too much cleavage is for tramps; you are a lady.” “Don your jewelry, and then remove a piece.” “Act like a lady.” “Don’t swear. No one loves a trashy woman.”