Mirror of My Soul, Joey Hill [ereader iphone .txt] 📗

her there without warning, so easily because of her sensuous writhing, her lack of expectation that he’d planned to do that.

She’d noticed how well manicured his fingers were, the absence of rough cuticles, the precise cutting of the nails just below the end of the fingertip. Now as a result she felt no sharp scrapes that could be so magnified in this area, where a tiny cuticle could feel like a sharp stick, a rough-edged nail like a shard of glass.

Her hips jerked as he curved over her body, his thigh pressing against the side of her bound legs. Putting his lips on the back of her neck, he began to nibble, taking his time even as that finger moved incrementally within her, sending sensations through her stomach like snakes gliding sinuously through a lagoon, leaving unpredictable ripples and patterns in her blood, in the liquid heat that felt as if it were pooling in her lower body.

She was gasping around the gag, her eyes closed as she absorbed the feeling. The heat of his body, the weight pressing on her. Those lips caressing her nape, the occasional nip of teeth. His finger, playing deep inside her. He’d chosen the most forbidden area, a deliberate message that he would not be denied anything. If that was the darkest part of her she would have been relieved but somehow he seemed to know that stimulating that area was a key to unlocking the door to the darkest corners of all.

She could feel them rising out of her, lurking around in the shadows, but she couldn’t hide them. He’d made her helpless, so she could do nothing but see if they would devour her, tear him limb from limb. Or maybe he would be a white knight, would vanquish them. It was the thought of a child, a little girl, though nothing else running through her mind or body reminded her of a child. Her woman’s body desired release, had to have it. He’d made sure it was at his leisure, his Will. As she would do had she been controlling a sub, prolonging his pleasure, knowing he’d be rewarded by the results of denial. But as a Mistress she’d never felt what she sensed drove Tyler in this moment. A desire to bring her to orgasm because he was the only man that could, because it was proof of their connection. Of his claim that her flesh begged for his touch alone, her mind and heart in accord.

When he drew his tie from around his neck and let it caress her cheek, she couldn’t stop the moan of need. Yes. Yes.

“That’s what you like, isn’t it, baby?” His voice was a breath against her ear, the new endearment like a different touch, unexpected and welcomed by a sharp jerk of reaction in her body.

He threaded the silk of the tie beneath her throat, out the other side, crossed it in back, twisted it in his fingers so she felt the tension, the pressure on the windpipe. He kept it halfway up her neck, away from the dangers of the lower areas, telling her not only that he’d done it before but that like everything else involving the pleasuring of a woman’s body, Tyler was consummately skilled.

When she did it to herself it was a hard, dirty release, something that opened the door within her dungeon where all of her physical reaction to Mastering a sub was imprisoned. In the quiet of her bedroom she could strain against the pull, seeking the 24

Mirror of My Soul

explosive wave that would draw it all out in a rush of release so intense sometimes she wasn’t sure if it was the constriction of her air flow or the power of it that had her limp and dizzy, too weak to move for the remainder of the dead, lonely hours of the night, the belt and scarf loosened but still lying against her skin as her only company.

This was entirely different. The moment his fingers twisted the tie, caressing the back of her neck and taking command and control of her reaction, something just shattered in her. She couldn’t get her hands near herself and all he was providing was the stimulation to her anus and this. Nevertheless, the beast rose in her, violent, dangerous, all-encompassing. She thrashed on the bed like an animal in a trap, seeking to pull against his touch, inviting blackness in before the choice was taken from her.

He shifted, pressing his knee in the area between her shoulder blades, holding her to the bed so she was unable to rise up and put additional pressure on his hold. She sobbed against the gag, his probing fingers deep in her, releasing shudders, more and more shudders, until she was simply shaking everywhere inside and out, moaning senselessly. Her body was attuned to every touch of his upon her but her mind and her soul were focused on one thing. His hand holding the tie, controlling her. Her mind was filled with a screaming desire to simply be his. Always his.

If her mouth had been free, she would have begged him to take her, to fuck her hard, to the point of pain and beyond to drive everything else away. He knew. He understood her in a way no one else did. She didn’t know how, only that it made her feel ways she didn’t comprehend. She didn’t know if that would be her destruction or salvation.

His hand withdrew, found his way between her tied legs, his forearm hard against the curve of her ass. Cupping her mound, his unused fingers now took possession of her clit, his other hand taking another twist in the tie to lift her slightly, a leash drawing taut.

Everything exploded. The orgasm tore through her body, bringing her off the bed, arching into his touch. He moved with her, keeping the tension on the choker as she screamed, so overwhelmed it was too