Page 34 of Thawed Gladiator: Victor

As he spreads my legs wide, I dreamily wonder why my panties are still on, but I trust my gladiator will remedy the situation when the time is right. If I was playing my role correctly, I’d order him to remove them, but I’m confused right now as to which one of us is in charge.

He slides my white panties to the side and breathes a warm, never-ending stream of air on my clit until I whimper. Then the bastard puts the underwear to rights and gives it the softest pat that strikes me with aftershocks.

My body quivers with need from that sadistic brush of his palm on my underwear. If I was truly hisdomina, I’d order him lashed for torturing me like this.

Surely now he’ll rip my panties down my legs and give me the release I’m desperate for?

Instead, he slides down my other leg, his lips dragging along the inside of my thigh until he reaches the little ankle bone and starts the process all over again.

Now I’m moaning, thrashing, my fingers sliding through his hair and tugging a bit too hard when a wave of desire crashes over me and reminds me I feel so empty.

When he’s near my knee, he stops licking and nuzzling and gives the spot a kiss. I almost dredge up the energy to ask why he stopped, but can’t find the strength.

“Am I doing this to your satisfaction,Domina?”

He’s a sadist! Is this payback for my lies or just his abusive nature coming to the fore?

I want to scold him, pull his hair, or, hell, use an MMA move, force him to the floor, and get him in a headlock between my thighs. Instead, I simply say, “Yes.”

He continues moving up my leg, positioning his hands not as precisely as before. They’re straying so close to my pussy I imagine they’re in danger of being scalded.

And still, he meanders with his kisses and nips until I’m certain I’ll lose my mind and spiral into insanity from the want that is the only thing pulsing through my brain.

When he finally, finally gets to the crease of my thigh, he pulls away. I have to lift my head and put my weight on my bent elbows to see what happened. He’s back in his original position on bended knee, head tipped toward the floor.

“Have I followed your directions to your satisfaction,Domina?”

Something breaks inside my head. I could swear I actually hear asnap. I don’t know who I am anymore, though I’m Maya. I remember that. But am IDominaor gladiatrix or MMA fighter or femme fatale or simply the most desperate female on the planet who needs a hard dick inside her? I have no idea.

“NO! No. I’m not satisfied. Make me come, gladiator!”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Damian

Before the last word is out of her mouth, I rip hersubligaculumoff and toss the scrap of fabric to the floor. Then I prowl between her legs, open her wide enough to see the tension in her tendons, and bury my head between her legs.

I hold backnothing!I let her hear my moan of appreciation as my tongue spears into her and I catch the taste I’ve been thinking about since I pleasured her before. I press in as far as I can go, until my chin is tucked against her slickness and my nose bumps against her sensitivelandica.

I wallow in the taste and smell of her. The urge is like something primeval, an instinct as old as man himself. I want to be bathed in her juices, marked by her. More than that, though, I want to make her shatter as she shouts my name.

First, I must reward her in a different way. I let her embrace herself asDomina. Now I want her to embrace the part of her that yearns to bow to my dominance.

I barely leave the clutch of hercunnusto murmur. “Call meDominus.”

Every muscle in her body tightens as she freezes for a moment. She’s thinking too hard, as she so often does. It doesn’t last long, though. She allows herself to sink back into the mattress as she sighs, “Dominus.”

“Good girl. So good. Do you want yourDominusto give you release?”

She nods, then seems to embrace this new role as she adds, “Yes, please.”

I scoop my arms under her thighs so I’m in complete control, then get to work as I lick and flick that little pearl of hers. Just as I remembered, she’s so responsive—her head thrashes, little wordless noises burst from her lips, and she grips my shoulders.

I’m pressing so hard that I’m moving her up the mattress.

“Close.” She’s tired, panting from effort. It must cost her dearly, but she manages to add, “Dominus.”

It’s only now that I enter her with two fingers, quickly finding the rhythm that makes her thighs squeeze me hard enough to bruise. When I grip her pearl between lip-covered teeth and tug, it pushes her over the edge in a release that must feel earth-shattering beneath her skin.

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