NATURAL LAW : A Mistress/alpha male sub BDSM romance

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His brows drew down over his silver eyes in a way Violet was certain would intimidate the hell out of most people. She merely arched one of her own. “You’re good, Mac. You’d make almost any Mistress think you’re playing the game the way it should be played. A little rebelliousness mixed with the charm, the subservience. But if I’d wanted a trained pony, I’d have gone to the circus.”

NATURAL LAW – A STANDALONE IN THE NATURE OF DESIRE SERIES
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“Be still,” she commanded. “Keep your eyes down.”

His lids flickered. “But I like looking at you, Mistress.”

She ran a hand along his jaw, the smoothly clipped line of his beard, wondering how it would feel against her most erogenous areas. “I’m glad to hear it, but I’ll decide when. Are there things you’re not comfortable doing that I should know about?”

“With respect, same answer as before, Mistress. I’ll do all you ask of me, or I’m not worthy to be your slave.” His gaze briefly flicked up to hers, then quickly back down before she could chastise him. “You choosing me to serve you, bring you to the highest level of pleasure, those are my only desires.”

It was so close to what she wanted to find in a lover, she barely managed to control the shiver of reaction that went through her vitals at his words. She knew of subs who would let a Domme do anything to them. Most clubs revoked their memberships once they found them, because the wrong Domme would push them past physical and emotional endurance, and could cause them serious physical harm. But Mac didn’t strike her as that type. He had limits in there somewhere; he had just somehow managed to keep Mistresses from running up against them. The strength of her concern surprised her, as did the wave of protectiveness that barbed her words.

“That’s stupid, Mackenzie. If I have you gagged and decide to ram a railroad spike up your ass, it’s going to be a little hard for you to change your mind.”

“I trust you’ll do what’s best for me, Mistress. Whatever you feel is appropriate.”

A good kick in the ass for being that unsafe. However, she suspected now was not the time for a lecture. Maybe if they spent more time together.

Whoa, hold on, girl. This might be just a one-night flirtation for him. She knew subs who played 100% in the dungeon, but once they walked out, they didn’t look back. They had no plans to pick out curtains with their Mistresses. Ever.

“Well, I’m giving you a safe word. Water. You ask for water, I ease off.”

“I’ll die of thirst first.”

This time he met her gaze square on, and she felt the impact of it to her toes. He didn’t just look at her; he ravished her. She’d always thought it was a cheesy word, but the way his attention moved over her, dragging her into him, making her weak, made her picture Victorian heroines swooning in a lover’s eager arms. Ravished was exactly the right term for it.

“You’ve been a sub for a lot of women, haven’t you, Mackenzie? No, I don’t want an answer to that.” She placed a finger on his mouth, held it firm there for only a moment, so he’d get the message, but she wouldn’t be putting her knuckles within prolonged proximity of those clever lips. “But I don’t think you’ve ever had a true Mistress. You’re still setting the rules, holding up the shields. Let’s start by removing some. The rest of your clothes first.”

That surprised him, she could tell. He hadn’t expected her to move that quickly, and truth be told, she had not intended to do so.

“Your shoes,” she said coolly. “Toe them off. You don’t expect me to remove your shoes.”

“No, Mistress.” He awkwardly managed it, using the leverage of the tethers binding him, grunting a little at the increased pain on straining tendons.

“And the socks.”

He stepped on the toes of his thin dress socks, worked them off his feet. More bare skin. She was eager for all of it, but she kept the pace slow, teasing, as she approached him. As she stepped directly in front of him, she saw the angle would give him an excellent view of her cleavage. There was an incentive to keep his eyes lowered, she thought with satisfaction.

Violet forced her fingers not to tremble as she reached for the button of his jeans. She deliberately let her touch slide over the hard length of him, nearly groaned at the steel heat she felt. “I hope you’re not one of those who can’t hold back,” she observed. “You’re pretty hard now. I’m not sure you’ve got the stamina for what I have in mind.”

Mac brushed a smoldering glance over the top of her breasts. “You’re hard to resist, Mistress, but I think I can please you.”

The taunt was there. Oh, he had pride. She delighted in it. She firmed her lips. “We’ll see,” she said indifferently.

She slipped the button, took the zipper down. Slow. She was hyper-cognizant of his breath on her neck, the tension of his body, the muscles pulled back to restrain his movements. She reached in, slid her hand beneath the waistband of his dark underwear, leaving the jeans open in front but otherwise unadjusted, and closed her hand around him.

He made a noise, a catching of his breath, but she had closed her eyes, inhaling him through all her senses. The powerful organ in her hand, pulsing against her palm, the wetness at the tip like a tiny kiss against her wrist. She was aware, even if he was not, that he had moved impossibly further against his restraints, straining toward her, toward her grip.

She had small fingers, and she used them to good advantage now, sliding them down his length, finding the base where the curve of his testicles began, her fingers tangling in the soft hair on them. Then back up, caressing him, stroking him, easing her grip, tightening it.

“Violet…” he said. Her head lifted, tilting at an angle because they were so close now, her thigh pressed against his, her lips no more than a finger span apart from his just above her. He had cut himself shaving this

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WEITERGEBEN
Written by Story Witch
Hochgeladen February 13, 2021
Notes Homicide detective Mac Nighthorse isn’t the kind of man anyone would call a submissive. But he longs for the Mistress who can call him on his bullshit, push past his defenses. Who knew a novice Domme, so small she barely comes up to his chin, would have the steel will to do just that? Violet might be a novice Domme, but she is a Mistress down to the soul. And her soul craves to have Mackenzie Nighthorse for her own.
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