Three Strikes (Desire Island 3)

She rubbed faster.

As her fantasy Master neared orgasm, he would pull away for a moment, but only to reposition himself over her, covering her body with his. He would thrust his perfect cock into her throbbing, sopping cunt and together they would climax as he moaned her name again and again…

It wasn’t working.

What was her problem? How insane and ridiculous was it that a sex slave couldn’t make herself come in front of other people? And how had he figured out her one area of weakness within the first fifteen minutes of their precious week?

Master Ryan wants this. That should be enough.

She slipped her finger inside again, gathering lubricant. She slid in another, moving them together like a cock as her eyelids fluttered shut. It felt good. Her Master wanted her to come. Yes. Yes… She could do this… She would do this. Whips… chains… Master Ryan… Earn his collar…

Damn it. It was taking too long.

A tiny voice whispered in her head. “Fake it. Just this once. To please him. You’ll get there, but you don’t want to start off on the wrong foot with Master Ryan. You know how to do this. You’ve done it before.”

She panted as her fingers flew over her disobedient, unresponsive sex. She added a few mewling sounds that ended in little gasps as she lifted her hips. “Please, Sir,” she cried breathlessly, her eyes squeezed tight. “May I come?”

When a response wasn’t immediately forthcoming, she squinted through closed lids to see his face.

“Abbie,” Master Ryan said, shaking his head. His brows were furrowed, a sorrowful expression on his handsome face. “What are you doing? What’s happening here? Is this how a slave gives of herself? Is this really how you want this to start between us?”

Abbie froze in place, heat flooding her chest and face with dark shame. How had he seen through her so easily? She’d always managed to fool guys before. Or maybe they just hadn’t cared enough to question her.

What the hell had she been thinking? She had started out her training with a lie.

Her hand fell away as she met Master Ryan’s sad, earnest gaze, which was much harder to take than if he’d just gotten pissed off.

Mortified, she brought her hands to her face and burst into tears.

~*~

Ryan bent and quickly lifted Abbie into his arms. As she hid her face against his chest, her shoulders shaking with sobs, he carried her to the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he cradled her in his lap.

He wasn’t angry at her attempted deception, so much as bemused. His heart went out to her as she wept in his arms. His impulse as a lover was to comfort her without rebuke. But as a Master, he had a responsibility to provide the guidance and training Abbie longed for.

“It’s okay, Abbie,” he murmured, stroking her head as he let her cry. “You made a mistake. I’m guessing you felt you had a good reason for trying to fake an orgasm, but you need to understand that’s not an option—not with me. Not ever. I don’t require perfection, Abbie. I don’t expect it. But I do require complete honesty. Do you understand that? It’s the only way an M/s relationship can work. Otherwise, we’re just going through the motions.”

As her sobs subsided, he handed her a wad of tissues. Once she’d wiped her eyes and blown her nose, he stroked her hair from her face and took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Her eyes skittered from his but eventually she returned his gaze, another tear rolling down her cheek. Even while crying, she had remained lovely. “I’m so sorry, Sir,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said gently. “Talk to me now. Tell me what’s going on. Tell me why you felt you had to do that. There’s no wrong answer. I genuinely want to know. I need to know.”

“I didn’t want to let you down, Sir,” she said so quietly he had to lean closer to hear her. “I wanted to please you.”

“I understand. But lying, either with words or with your actions, is the opposite of true submission.”

“I know,” she replied, another tear escaping. “It was stupid. You deserve better, Sir. I’m so sorry.”

He wiped it away. “I accept your apology. But why did you feel you had to pretend with me? Do you have a problem with orgasms?”

She pulled away from him and rolled from the bed to the floor. Kneeling up, eyes downcast, she said quietly but clearly, “I’ve never been able to bring myself to orgasm in front of another person, Sir. I know it’s a kind of holding back but I can’t seem to get over it. I should have told you, Sir.”

“Yes,” Ryan agreed. “But you’re telling me now, and that’s a good thing.