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I love the sound when you come undone…

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August 6, 2016 by Lyn

This story takes place the morning of the second Sunday of the fifth year of the Addergoole School (Just after Chapter 30).

Nikita slipped into Shiva’s bedroom Sunday morning just as she was waking up. He’d been there when she went to sleep, a warm, soothing presence for her to snuggle against, but she hadn’t noticed him leaving. No surprise, it was nearly noon.

She stretched and looked up at him sleepily. He’d gotten dressed but not put on shoes nor socks, and he wore the slightly-sheepish expression he was prone to when he’d done something he knew wouldn’t be approved of.

“Come here, love,” she purred. He slunk towards her, uncertainty warring with anticipation in his expression, and she smiled all the wider. He’d done something he thought she would punish him for – or, more accurately, something Tya would have punished him for – and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. This had the potential to be very, very entertaining.

“You’re wearing clothes,” she pointed out blandly. “Who told you that you could get dressed?”

He frowned indignantly, probably a good sign, and sounded defensive when he answered. “Mags doesn’t like me to be naked in the living room.”

“And is Magnolia your Owner?”

“No, Mistress.” He hung his head, but he was smiling, now. “You are.”

“That’s correct.” Mm, she could have fun with this. “And yet you’re still clothed.”

“My apologies, my mistress. I’ll correct that now.” Still smirking, he stripped out of his clothes, folding them neatly. He wasn’t quite looking at her, but he’d glance up every once in a while to see if his show was being appreciated.

It was, of course, but it wouldn’t do to let him get too confident right now. She yawned ostentatiously. “Are you still not naked?”

“Almost,” he sulked, but he hurried to finish undressing. With his customary sense of the dramatic, he dropped to his knees by her bedside, his hands folded behind his back, looking up at her in a manner more sassy than submissive. “What does my mistress desire?”

She contorted herself in one of those ways she knew men loved to watch, half-somersaulting so she lay on her stomach, sideways across her bed, her nose a few inches from his. Her tail was twitching in that way it sometimes did. “The truth.”

“The truth, Mistress?” he asked disingenuously. He might as well have been batting his eyelashes – but she had him worried, now.

“What were you doing out there?”

“Watching cartoons.” She just looked at him, until he looked away, biting his lip. His defensive anger was sort of adorable. “What?”

“What else were you doing, Niki?”

His shoulders slumped. “I was talking to Jamian.” Before she could prod him to go on, he did so, looking up at her coyly through his curls and vines. “About hawthorn and rowan and… Belonging.”

“And you didn’t want to tell because you thought I’d disapprove.”

He nodded. His eyes were wide and adorable. “But you don’t, do you? We both know Tya isn’t very good with the whole explaining thing.”

He was sweet and charming when he tried. But she’d dealt with sweet and charming before. “I think telling Jamian is a good idea.” She let him be relieved for half a second. “I, however, don’t approve of being dishonest to avoid punishment.”

He sulked up at her. “I didn’t lie to you.”

“A lie of omission is still a lie, Niki.”

“Are you going to punish me?” By his bitten-lip nervousness, he still didn’t know if he wanted it.

“Of course I am.” Aah, this was why she’d agreed to collar him, knowing what hell he’d put Tya through last year. His expressions were absolutely wonderful. And, besides, she wasn’t Ty – she didn’t expect them to love her for what she did to them.

“What are you going to do to me… my lady?”

“Oh, you’ll see.” She licked her lips in anticipation, purring down at him. “I want you up here, now, straddling me.”

It wasn’t quite an order, but he was nervous and eager and probably ready to obey anything that didn’t leave him naked on his knees on the carpet. He scrambled up onto the bed, pausing only long enough for her to roll onto her back before he straddled her.

He was already erect, the tip of his cock rubbing against her labia eagerly. She grabbed his hips with both hands and steadied him in a position that teased them both. “You understand?”

He bit his lip, and nodded. “I’m not allowed to…” he ducked his head, not able to meet her eyes. “I’m not allowed to move until you tell me that I may, lady.”

“Good.” She rubbed his ass with both hands. He had a nearly perfect body, the gift of the Change, and a prefect, tight ass that he’d had beforehand. He moaned as she massaged, rubbing him up against her in the process. Slowly, the tension in his shoulders began to relax, and his eyes fluttered shut.

She slapped his ass, hard, eliciting a surprised yelp and an involuntary jerk of his hips. His eyes flew open, and he looked at her in startled indignation. She slapped him again, and now he struggled to hold still, when every strike made his hips twitch and thrust him closer to penetrating her.

She smacked him one more time, watching his face so close to her, the bitten-lip anticipatory look, and rubbed his ass again, letting him come down from the tension, letting him think it might be over…

and then hit him again, the smacks coming hard and fast now, stinging her palms. He moaned with each strike, his bitten-lip expression showing the strain of holding as still as he’d been told to, of not thrusting into her.

Five, ten… he started to whimper at eleven, little involuntary, naked noises of pain and desire, so she stopped at fourteen. He was trembling, and when she started rubbing him again, a soft “please” escaped his lips.

“On your back,” she said gently. He hurried to comply, his legs getting tangled in hers. Without being told to, he grabbed the headboard with both hands. “Good boy,” she murmured, regarding him laid out for her like a feast. “Keep your hands there until I tell you to move them. And close your eyes.”

“Gods, Shiva, please,” he whimpered. “Please, mistress, I’ll be good.” Until the next time he was bad, of course. His eyes were closed, his hips bucking up invitingly, his hands clenched white-knuckled on the bedframe already.

“I want to hear you beg, Nikita.”

His pride fought a quick and dirty war with his need, but pride had never been Niki’s strongest vice, and the battle was quickly over. “Please, mistress,” he moaned, “please, Shiva, lady, fuck me. Take me, please. I want to feel you. I want to touch you.”

“If you’re very, very good,” she murmured.

“I’ll do anything you want.” For the moment, at least.

She straddled him, taking her time about it, taking him in slowly while he fought against the urge to thrust up against her. Just as slowly, she rode him, until she found her pleasure, keeping him off-rhythm, moaning in need.

“Please…” he whimpered, and she twitched her hips just right.

“Yes,” she breathed. It was all the permission he needed.


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