Fall From Grace by Lizbeth Dusseau
A mysterious stranger comes to Regan from nowhere, drawing out her deep submissive longings. The masochist in her begs that he take her freedom, but he makes her wait, requires she undergo extensive sexual training and when he finally accepts the gift of her submission, he insists that she give not just a piece of herself but everything she is—her body, property and all personal choice. In turn, he offers her the thrills of bondage, punishment and the opportunity to serve him. Choosing to become his alone, she soon believes she can never waver from her devoted service. And yet, when her owner sends her to Tennyson Hallock, she faces a pitiless and cunning master who is determined to expose her weakness. Before she realizes what has happened, he's turned her world into a twisted knot of confusion and deceit. Can she ever make her way back to her master, and will he accept her if she does. Consensual bdsm including dungeons, training compounds, bondage and a variety of sexual variations.
“You’ll learn to serve on your knees. That’s what slaves do best. If you were mine for a year, you’d rarely stand, and you’d learn.”
“I already know, sir,” she said looking up.
He grabbed her hair, and pulled her up so that she stared at his crotch, “You know little but your imagination.” He wanted to say more, but stopped. More wasn’t part of their agreement. He shook her off, “Climb on the bed.”
Regan scrambled to obey, suddenly feeling quite clumsy as reality took twists she had not counted on.
“On your back,” the professor continued. He’d quickly clamped her one handcuffed wrist to the post above her left side. A second handcuff encircled her right wrist and was then attached to the right-hand post.
With a jerk of his hand, the master removed her long thin skirt to reveal her naked crotch beneath. Her bare pussy pressed the air wantingly, beginning to thrash back and forth for more stimulation.
“Lie still,” the man demanded.
He wanted her obedience. She wanted that, too. A rush of satisfaction swept her as she settled herself compliantly. Yet, this only made her crotch burn more eagerly for his touch.
Unbuttoning her blouse, the professor bared her breasts, which flattened against her chest as her nipples rose beyond them pink, tight and proud. He ran his hand across her skin while her head fell back and her chest rose up to greet his fingers. He tweaked a nipple between them waiting for her scream; but the urge to cry quickly receded as sensation descended to her wet pussy.
He tried the other nipple realizing the same results, hearing her gasp gratefully with each pain he made her endure.
To immobilize her completely, the professor cuffed her ankles and secured them to the posts at the end of the bed. Though these, he drew high along the smooth wooden columns, so that her ass was nearly lifted off the spread. Her pussy seemed to dance on air, while female juice collected at the opening. She was ready for an assault.
The assault came in a steady rain of stimulation from the professor’s flogger, and chains he drew along her underarms; from a feather duster and then a claw of prickers, which grazed her breasts and moved along her undulating belly to her thighs. Her hips swayed as each new toy changed her experience of physical sensation. Then he used the flogger again, working her breasts first, then the inside of her thighs on the tender flesh where her skin brightened in color.
The strikes penetrated more than skin, moving beyond her body’s sweaty surfaces to hit a soulful place of sexuality.
Her cries were mirthful, even in pain. He could see she wanted more, so he gave her more heat from the leather strands of the flogger, more cold chains to tease the heat, and more prickly stimulation from the beguiling claws.
Regan thrashed frantically, moving quickly down into a stream of newly unearthed consciousness where she didn’t exist except in the atoms amid the air… no thought, no emotion, simply blessed nothingness that filled her full. A paradox indeed. This was more than she imagined.
Aroused, the professor climbed on the bed between her legs and spent himself into her fast cumming pussy, while Regan still rocked in one savage jolt after another.
Her initiation was more than she expected. The feeling lasted for days, enough to propel her into another, completely unexpected relationship with her first true Master.
“I don’t want to destroy the feeling of light that is so natural in the house,” Tennyson continued the conversation.
“Of course not,” she agreed. “That’s why we’ll keep the colors light. This house breathes. But then, I’ve only seen part of it.”
“You’ll see what I want you to see,” he answered abruptly.
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