NEW YEAR’S EVE
He nods and gives me the hand signal for “stay.” His breathing is labored and his eyes shine with excitement. He loops his tie over his head and works the thin end through the knot to straighten it out. Stepping behind me, he covers my eyes with the broadest part and deftly tightens the purple silk until my world goes black.
“Can you see anything?” says a low voice directly into my ear.
“No. Sir.” I almost forget myself inside the darkness.
“Position, princess,” he reminds me. I split my feet apart and clasp my hands behind my back.
I feel his heat behind me, though his body doesn’t touch mine. He unzips my short black skirt, and tugs the stretchy fabric down over my hips. It slides down to my ankles, exposing my red lace thong.
“Festive,” he mumbles, sliding one finger underneath the waistband in the back. Suddenly, his fingers are at my hips and the thong falls away. I swoon and no sooner do I find my balance then the top of my halter is untied. The fabric drops forward and is swiftly removed.
My lips are covered by his, and I lean forward into his presence, but he gives me nothing else.
“Stand up tall and await my return.”
Holy hell, I hope he brings an absorbent towel when he comes back.
I slip quietly into the bedroom, leaving my beautiful submissive girl in darkness while I calm myself the fuck down. Draping my sports coat over the bedside chair, I drop to my knees and reach into my duffel. My hand easily locates the collar. My hands shake as I stand and hold it before my eyes. It’s a simple design, one and one-quarter inches of black suede all around, with a locking buckle and steel ring at the front. Not quite black velvet, but sturdier and more comfortable. And custom made to her neck size.
“Got a grip now, buddy?” I ask, glancing down to my fly. He seems to have calmed down enough that I can risk going back in. Of course, all it takes is one glance at my lovely, naked, blindfolded girl to make him raging hard again.
I’m so tempted to put my hands and mouth on her…anywhere, really, but especially where she’s wet and needy for me. But we have vows to take first. I step behind her and place the collar down on the floor. I carefully unthread the knot and let the tie drop to the floor. Crouching, I hold her steady at one thigh while I lift the opposite foot and step her out of her skirt and panties, and repeat on the other side, until all she’s wearing are her high heels.
“Down on your knees, Isabella,” I command. “Now grab your ankles and sit back. I want you to look at my face.”
She has to tip her head back, and her eyes travel up from my shoes, grey slacks and black button-down until they reach my eyes. She is exquisite.
She has to tip her head back, and her eyes travel up from my shoes, grey slacks and black button-down until they reach my eyes. She is exquisite.
“Isabella, before we start, I want to make certain you understand that these vows we’re taking are serious commitments, even though we’re not signing a piece of paper and calling it a contract. So please, if anything at all makes you uncomfortable or doesn’t ring true, you have to stop me. Okay?”
She swallows hard before answering. “Yes, Sir.”
I take a deep breath, remembering the only other time I collared a sub. Though I cared for Victoria, I had nowhere near the emotional connection that I feel toward Isabella. Our collaring ceremony was a simple statement about honesty and communication, and the relationship worked right up until the time that it didn’t. Tonight, with Isabella, is an entirely different level of commitment and exclusivity.
“I’m going to go first.”
I pull my notes from my back pocket and read, maintaining frequent eye contact.
“As your Dominant, I understand that you give yourself to me in mind, body, soul and spirit and you do so of your own volition. In me you have placed confidence, reliance, faith, hope, and dependence.”
My voice shakes with gravity. Her eyes reflect back the truth of what I’ve just pronounced.
“I will endeavor to learn my submissive’s needs and desires, and respect your limits at all times.
“I accept responsibility for ensuring that each decision I make in your regard is the best for your body, spirit and soul. Never will I place my submissive in jeopardy, nor will I compromise the trust you have placed in me.”
She nods slightly in acknowledgment of each of my promises.
“I vow never to lift a hand to my submissive in anger. When discipline is needed it shall always be delivered with a tender and discerning hand and for a valid reason.
“I pledge to my submissive patience, understanding, and tolerance so our bond may withstand the test of time.”
Tears have escaped her eyes and are making their way down her cheeks, but she holds steadfast to her pose. I drop to one knee in front of her and dry her face with my thumbs.
“That was beautiful, Sir.”
“Meant every word of it.”
“Your turn, princess,” I say, presenting her the other side of the paper. “Kneel up so you can use your hands.”
She takes her new position and I stand to my full height in front of her. She memorizes the first bit and raises her eyes to mine.
“I will communicate with complete honesty my needs, desires, limits, and experience.
“I will keep an open mind about trying things that I am not accustomed to and expanding my limits. I will continue to grow as a submissive and as a human being. I will not allow myself to be harmed or abused.”
This brings to mind the conversation we had just before my Master decided he trusted me enough to bind my hands and feet. I’m promising to him that I won’t let him hurt me. A shiver shakes me to my core.
“I will be responsive to my Master, I will not try to hide what my mind and body are feeling. I will accept the responsibility of discovering what pleases my Master, and will do my best to fulfill Your wishes and desires.”
Oh my holy hell, I can hardly get the words out. I would do anything to fulfill every wish and desire he could conjure.
“Above all, I will take pride in who and what I am, and I will wear my title of submissive with honor.”
I set down the paper and clasp my hands behind my back, blinking up at my Master and awaiting further instruction. He bends down and cups my chin gently, taking my lips in a soft kiss. Touching his forehead to mine, he brushes his thumb across my lips and regards me intently, as if memorizing every detail for an exam. I feel entirely absorbed.
He leans to grab something behind me, and when he snaps back into place, I can’t help but gasp. In his hand is a collar. My collar. No, His collar. A substantial black suede circle with foreboding hardware at the front.
The better to restrain you with, says the wolf.
“Isabella,” he says in a crackly voice. “By accepting this collar around your neck, you willingly accept me as your Master and agree to submit to my wishes and desires. Do you accept my gift?”
“Yes, Sir,” my raspy voice returns.
He shakes his head no, and I’m momentarily crushed. What does he mean, no?
“Try again,” he coaches gently.
I replay his words in my head. Goose bumps cover my body and I feel a rush not unlike a sexual peak. He leans in almost imperceptibly, awaiting my corrected response.
I dare a timid, “Yes, Mmmaster?”
His glistening eyes broadcast pleasure, while the lines of his mouth remain more stoic.
In a bold voice, Master declares, “I appreciate the gift of your submission and will cherish it as long as you continue to bestow it upon me. I promise to wear the title of Master with great honor.”
Then much softer, he directs, “Lift your hair for me.”
He advances on me with the collar. The moment it touches my skin, I feel the heft. This is no dime store novelty toy. The hardware is serious, adequate to tether me wherever Master chooses. Our weighty commitment is equaled by this significant symbol, and I long to run my fingers across the surface.
But I’ve already learned that lesson. And I wouldn’t dare ruin this poignant moment between us by taking an unwelcome liberty.
“Okay, let your hair down.”
He steps back to admire the way it looks on me. “How’s the fit? Not too tight, is it?”
“No, S—Master.” Wow. This is going to take some getting used to. He smiles patiently.
I make an effort to sit taller, lengthen my neck, offer myself to him in the most advantageous position.
He rewards me by sweeping his palm down the side of my face and cupping my cheek. “I have never…seen you look…more beautiful than you do…right…now.”
“Thank you, Master.” Every time I say the word, his eyes twinkle. And the effect on me is …well, let’s just say I feel it deep within my being.
I need something from her tonight, something different than what I can get if I direct the scene. And I feel that Isabella deserves the chance to express herself in this moment. So I stand tall before her and command her with words I’ve never used before, and hadn’t planned on using tonight, but just feel so right.
“Worship your Master, Isabella.”
She blinks up at me with a thousand questions in her eyes, but holds them all at bay. I can read her thoughts as confusion gives way to confidence, as she decides to trust herself to respond without abandon.
“With great pleasure, Master,” she smiles up at me.
“We should get up and go to bed,” I remark, my fingers skimming lightly through her hair in an infinite loop.
“Mmhmmm,” she purrs contentedly.
I lower my chin so I can see her face. “I think it’s 2012.”
Her lips curl upward against my chest. “Probably.” She doesn’t appear any more motivated to move than I am.
“You know I could order you to get up right now.”
“Yes, Master. I know,” she says sleepily, not taking me seriously. I have to admit, I am feeling somewhat diminished in my capacity to be domineering right now.
I suppose being worshipped for two hours straight will do that to a guy.
“With great pleasure, Master.”
Seconds later, she flattens her palms against the carpeting, bows her head to my feet and kisses each shoe. She’s neutral on foot worship; this isn’t her thing at all. Yet she undresses both feet and drops soft kisses along my toes, up the crest, and around to my ankles. She gives the impression that she’s deeply enjoying herself and could possibly do this forever, which—frankly—would make my cock seriously unhappy, but warms my Master’s heart just the same.
Wordlessly, she glides each button through its hole until my shirt is open to my hips. With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she slips behind me and reaches inside the front of my trousers. Ignoring everything else she encounters, she works diligently at the last two buttons with her fingertips, teasing at my eager cock with the faintest brushes of knuckles.
My fingers curl into fists at my side and I ride out her teasing like a man. An increasingly eager man.
As painstakingly as a royal valet, she grasps the collar and slides my shirt over my shoulders and down my arms until only my dark t-shirt remains. She takes maddening care delivering my shirt to the nearest chair and laying it gingerly across the seat.
My whole being pulsates for her return. Her fingers are a welcome relief when they take hold of the tee shirt at my waist and pull upwards, agonizingly slowly, tickling me with her nails as she rakes them up my sides. I dutifully raise my arms to assist and she lingers with her nails at my underarms. I can’t see her face right now, but I’d lay odds that she’s grinning from ear to ear to have her turn at a little revenge. She hits a particularly sensitive spot and I fold in reflexively. Her warm giggle behind me assures me that she is truly enjoying herself. My own lips quirk upward in response.
She’s wise enough to move on before this goes from worship to torture. Bunching the neck opening in her hands, she carefully detours around my chin and nose. Elevated by heels, she can easily manage the top of the rise over my fingertips.
Her thumbs form tiny circles at the base of my neck while the fingertips curl around the sides, smoothing away the tension she herself is creating. I drop my head forward and completely give myself over to her loving ministrations. My role is worship-ee and I carry out my part with blissful appreciation.
“Let’s go, sweetheart,” he coaxes. “Neither one of us is going to be happy when we wake up with stiff necks and cramped muscles.”
I grumble but I know he’s right. Pressing one last kiss over his nipple, I roll off Master and off the couch. I lean to pick up our clothes. “Leave it till morning,” he says.
His body is warm and lethargic next to mine as we stumble toward the bedroom.
“You’re like a zombie,” I giggle.
“You wore me out, princess. God, you were fantastic tonight,” he praises me, adding a kiss at the top of my head.
Worship your Master. He could not have chosen a more apt assignment for me tonight. I positively crave it. He takes voraciously; I give joyfully.
I skim my hands across his back and shoulders. I could touch him this way for hours, giving every ripple its due. I ache to convey to Master my deepest gratitude and affection, not only for his patient guidance and respect for my needs, but also for his physical perfection.
Though I long to press my soft front against his muscular back and soak in his strength, I limit myself to the caress of my fingertips around the column of his neck and the firm circular pressure of my thumbs at its base. Having free rein with his body is rather like being set free in Disneyworld with no lines at the rides. Even in our so-called “vanilla” moments, Edward has never allowed me such unbridled freedom with his body. I want to make this so good for him.
And then, I nearly lose it. Master offers me his greatest gift yet. He drops his head forward in a gesture of complete acceptance of the pleasure I can offer. He takes because I long to give; I give because he needs to take. We’re looped together in an infinite circle of need and desire that seems to spiral and deepen with every touch.
My hands snake around his sides and stroke the undulations of his abdomen. I can’t help the moan that escapes me as I finally yield, pulling his back against my front, burning for full-on contact. My palms seek out every square inch of his chest, and he stands patiently while I demonstrate my devotion. I feel intoxicated by our connection. My mouth moves along his back, kissing, tasting, nipping. I cannot get enough. The more I take, the more I need.
I feel almost a religious zeal as I shower him with attention. My breathing grows more intense, and soon I’m actually feeling dizzy with the need to express my adoration.
I tighten my arms around his waist and press my cheek against his back while attempting to still my raging emotions. He crosses his arms soothingly over mine and holds me that way, his thumbs tracing soft arcs along my forearms.
My beautiful goddess crawls up the bed, trailing gentle kisses along my skin as she travels the length of my body. Toes, calf, knee, thigh, hip bone, nipple, chin, and finally lips. My fingers are locked together behind my head, but that does not prevent them from itching to hold her.
You are the luckiest bastard on the planet, Master Edward Dark Prince Black Velvet Cullen.
She lifts off my lips and rolls onto her side next to me, smiling sleepily. One finger traces lazy scribbles around my chest. Alas, all good things must come to an end.
“Kneel up, princess,” I command, though my heart’s not in it. She snaps into position, eyes immediately coming to life, gleaming with an energy that wasn’t present a moment earlier. “Move your hair for me?”
Her smile dims as I reach for the collar. “Scene’s over, sweet—”
“Master, wait… please.”
Isabella cradles my back against her breasts and I can feel the rapid beat of her heart. She’s the E-string on the violin, tuned one-quarter of a pitch too high, vibrating too quickly, wound too tightly. Please don’t break.
In hopes of calming her, I cross my arms over hers. We have all night and all day tomorrow. And after that, hopefully oodles more time.
The tuning peg turned down just enough, she projects the perfect pitch once again, and pulls off my body. I let go, trusting her.
It’s odd to see her hands undoing my belt from behind. I feel like one of those vaudeville acts where one body appears to have three sets of arms. The buckle opens and she pulls the leather through, one loop at a time, finally tossing it over the chair and well out of my reach. You needn’t worry tonight, my sweet sub.
Fingers play at the button and then I watch as the zipper parts, tooth by excruciating tooth. She’s reluctant to look into my eyes as she circles around to my front, but I haven’t forbidden anything tonight, and I’m pleased when she finally does work up the courage.
Because it’s her eyes that reveal everything: how lost my submissive is inside this scene and how desperately she desires to convey her esteem for her Master.
From this vantage point, she can surely observe that her Master is quite pleased and eager for her attentions. Maybe it’s my hardened cock that gives her the audacity to press her lips against mine and grasp my hands from my sides.
Perhaps it’s my low moan as she kisses me that sends her kisses down my chest to meet the waistband of my trousers. She distracts me with her devoted tongue just below my navel while her hands work my slacks down my legs. She crouches at my feet, making quick work of removing my pants altogether, and painstakingly folds them over the pile of previously discarded items while I wait yet again. It seems she’s mistaken me for a patient man tonight.
She stands before me again, yet this time, she takes her submissive pose. Hands locked behind her back, feet spread apart, eyes lowered to my chest. It takes every ounce of restraint I’ve got left not to pull her into me or take hold of her protruding nipples or hoist her up onto my cock right here and now.
“Master,” she whispers at close range. Then a glorious smile breaks over her face and her eyes lift to mine.
And hell, if I’m not grinning like a goddamn fool, too.
Her smile doesn’t fade as she leans forward and kisses me sweetly, her tongue pressing gently against mine. She tortures me with more soft kisses before pulling back and dropping to her knees, taking my boxers with her.
My cock celebrates its sudden liberation by bobbing and proffering itself shamelessly. My dedicated, focused sub ignores my offering and kisses her way up the inside of my thighs. Bracing herself with a hand around each leg, she tips her face from below me and reaches her tongue to my balls.
“Nnghh!” I sway with the unexpected sensation, but she holds me firmly in place. “Mmmm…fuuuuuck!”
She giggles softly as she continues to lap at my most sensitive areas, pulling my sac into her mouth and rolling it around on her tongue. It seems like hours before she attends to my shaft, but it’s possible my cock has exaggerated the delay.
I can’t bear hearing those words. My hand closes over his at the clasp of my collar.
Without thinking, I blurt, “Master, wait… please.”
He looks at me quizzically. What have I just done?
“Master, I’m sorry,” I ramble on. “I know it’s not my place to say, but if it’s okay with you…I have a request.”
Our hands still locked at my neck, he admonishes, “Princess, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt because you just performed miracles over there, but this is highly inappropriate behavior.”
Greatly relieved that I’m not about to be drawn and quartered for my outburst, I work up the courage to ask, “Would it be okay for me to stay in this collar tonight?”
He drops his hand and gazes into my eyes; more accurately, he seems to look right through my eyes into my soul. His expression is not one of joy at my request, but rather, intensity.
When I finally draw out his orgasm, I hold his command, “worship,” at the forefront of my mind. For the first time ever, I actually feel eager to swallow his release. I don’t stop showering attention on his cock afterward; rather, I continue to lap and kiss, rewarding that which just brought him so much pleasure. He plays at my hair and makes soft murmuring happy sounds. I chance a peek up at his face. His head is tipped to the ceiling, eyes closed and mouth hung open in an expression of rapture.
He allows me to draw him to the couch, where he sits patiently, anticipating my next move. His open, curious gaze changes into something entirely different when I start to undulate. I’ve experimented with exotic dancing as a form of exercise, so I have some idea how to move. Once he catches on, his relaxed smile morphs into a lascivious smirk, and he sits up taller. I milk the dance, turning my back and monitoring his response over my shoulder. He’s well behaved when I straddle him, obligingly taking my breasts into his mouth when I offer them up. I distract him with a deep kiss while I slide down onto his revitalized cock. He gets a bit carried away when I start grinding, grabbing my waist and speeding things up to suit his needs. As he nears his peak, he thrusts wildly from below, emitting a deep animalistic grunt with each stroke. “Come… with… me…princess,” he implores, before pulling my mouth roughly against his. Our breaths become desperate, but neither of us is willing to break our kiss. We pass the groans from one mouth to the other as the intense pressure builds below. If I weren’t anchored by his fingers digging into my flesh, I’d be thrown over his shoulder with the force.
The arousal that’s been building for hours finally wins the day, and my head spins with glorious relief. My Master roars ferociously, stills momentarily, then clutches me as if the smallest movement might interrupt his pleasure. I wouldn’t think of it.
“You want to sleep in my collar?”
“Very much, yes.”
Fucking puppy dog eyes she’s giving me. I prop myself up fully into a sitting position against the headboard. “What is it you need, princess?” How deep is she right now? I need to know, before I agree to anything.
She drops her eyes and they happen to land most unfortunately on my awakening cock. That’s not the point. This is about her right now.
“If it’s all right with you, Master, of course…” she hedges, “I’d really like to open my eyes tomorrow and know that I belong to you.”
If it’s all right with me? What kind of a nitwit would turn down this deal?
You know exactly what kind…a responsible dom who doesn’t want to taint the exquisite first night we just shared together officially as Master and submissive.
“If you sleep in that collar, you’re going to belong to me all night as well.” She needs to understand what she’s in for, what she’s requesting.
She lifts her eyes cautiously to mine and I can read her embarrassment, even in the dim light. “I understand, Master.”
Fuck. Me. I am all in.
“Very well then, princess. You will continue to be mine through the morning.”
Her eyes positively light up, with a smile to match. “Thank you, Master.”
“But Isabella,” I caution, tipping her chin up with my index finger, “I will end this scene tomorrow morning.”
She nods, but her smile doesn’t fade. My sweet, eager girl.
“Okay. You may sleep in the bed with me tonight, but I want to wake to your lips around my cock.”
“Yes, Master,” she says, then bursts into a giggle.
“What’s all that about?” I ask, my mouth twisting automatically into a smile, even though I don’t know why.
“I’m your alarm cock.”
I shake my head and invite her to curl up at my side.
“Happy New Year, my sweet, sweet sub.”
“Happy New Year, my gorgeous, sexy Master.”