The Commander's Slave Read Online Free PDF Page A

her mouth. When he withdrew, both of them were
breathing heavily.
    His hands moved down to her breasts in
deliberate movements, and he watched her face as he stroked the
erect nipples with his palms, tracing a circular
pattern.
    “ Does that feel good?” he
asked, his dark eyes glittering in the semi-darkness.
    She couldn’t help herself as she
pushed against him. “Yes.”
    “ Would you like more?” He
caught the nubs between his fingers, squeezing them.
    “ Oh yes,” she shuddered. Of
her own volition, her legs parted, sending out their own message to
him.
    He bent his head and took one nipple
in his mouth, grazing it lightly with his teeth. She cried out and
her body jerked a response. Then he did the same with the other
nipple. When he used one hand to stroke the inside of her thighs,
he wasn’t surprised to find them moist with her own lubrication.
Virgin she might have been just a few short hours ago, but she had
also quickly developed into a highly-powered sex-machine. And for
the moment at least, she was entirely his.
    He unfurled himself onto the platform,
slipping between her open knees, his cock purple and rigid. Then,
slowly, savoring every moment, he brought her down on
him.
    It was wonderful. The heat from her
pussy enveloped him in stages, sheathing him in tight, hot elastic
until he was buried inside her to the hilt. He couldn’t help the
groan that escaped him as he felt her pulse against his length.
Truly, he could spend the rest of his life in this position, with
this woman, and not regret a moment of it. Already he could feel
himself starting to spasm, a masculine counterpoint to her
movements.
    With another groan, he lifted her
slightly away, then brought her down on him again, watching as her
breasts bounced with the movement, wishing he had four hands: two
to guide the erotic thrusting and another two to fondle those firm
golden globes. The mere thought of it was enough to send him over
an already precarious edge, his own hips lifting off the platform
while he plunged deep within her and cried out in pleasure. With
thrust after thrust, he gripped tightly at her waist while he
emptied himself, throwing his head back in primeval
pleasure.
    When the spasms died away, he took a
shuddering breath and relaxed his muscles. During his orgasm, his
hands had moved down to her hips, gripping them tightly. He relaxed
them, too, moving them around so they could stroke the cheeks of
her buttocks, then he looked at her, swaying above him. Her breath
was still tortured from exertion, and a sheen of perspiration
covered her body. With her arms restrained above her, he had time
to appreciate the slim, muscular lines of her body with its tonal
gold shadows stroking her arms and breasts. Whoever Asha really
was, she obviously took great care maintaining her body.
    With one hand, he stroked the
underside of her left breast. Magnificent. Even moments after his
release, he wanted her again.
    He was tempted to keep her in this position, to go to sleep
while still inside her so the vision of her body stretched out
above him, the feel of her legs straddling him, was the last thing
he saw and felt before he slept and the first thing he woke up to.
He had figured out enough of the workings in the room to know that
the Strike’s past owner, unfortunately now
deceased, was more of a connoisseur than a brute in his sexual
dealings. The filaments could keep their victims in position for
days, allowing them limited movement after a time, but reapplying
the configured tension when their programmed master made the
appropriate movement and sound. At the most she would be mildly
discomfited, more annoyed than physically harmed.
    Tempting ....
    With a sigh, he lifted her and slid
off the platform, stretching to release her wrists from the
filament’s thick supple cuff.
    “ You may want to clean up,”
he suggested, watching as she rubbed her wrists, although he noted
that there wasn’t a mark on that clear skin of hers. “Then