MASTER KNIGHT
CHAPTER ONE
“Don’t move, pet.”
A black blindfold fit snugly over Khari Bradford’s eyes, blocking out any chance of seeing what he had planned for the remainder of the night. Leather handcuffs fit snug, but not too tightly. The slight rubbing against her skin brought a sense of safety in some odd way. A few minutes before, Master pinned her arms behind her back and clipped the cuffs together by the ring clasp. A cold, steel stretcher bar spread her stocking covered legs wide enough to expose her naked pussy for his use. She could imagine how sexy she looked, standing in four-inch heels, wet and ready to please her Master. She loved when he stripped away her control, leaving her vulnerable and at his whim for pleasure. And did he ever give her the most orgasmic pleasure after a long week at work.
Heat sizzled along her bare ass cheeks with one more slap of the wooden paddle. Her pussy ached, needing the same kind of attention he gave her butt. With knees trembling, her entire body quivered from the throbbing pressure building inside. Teetering on the edge of pleasure and pain—the burn ravaging her flesh, along with her swollen clit needing stimulation—was a sweet contradiction of torturous sensations. Over the past several months, she’d come to hate when he did that to her. Prolong or deny climaxing always put her on edge and in the wrong mindset for playing further. Why she hadn’t walked away weeks ago still confounded her?
The sexual electricity zigzagged through her each time he brought the slapper down on her exposed buttocks. Her nipples strained against the clamps he decided she needed several minutes ago. She hated them. They pinched when he put them on, but taking them off hurt more than the paddle. Blood rushing back into the restricted area was like the flame of a candle hovering over her skin. Two more minutes, then I’ll call my safeword. The pain shot straight to her pussy from the evil clips. What she wanted was to come, hard enough to escape to the blissful place within her mind. Except that wasn’t about to happen if the man delivering the discipline didn’t give her what she desired. She squirmed moaned to give him a hint of her condition. Although she doubted he’d notice.
“Pet, you’re moving. Are you telling me you want to get an extra five?”
The ball gag in her mouth kept her from doing anything except shake her head. That wasn’t what she wanted him to do. Well, not exactly. She hated when he teased. The man could be a wicked, wicked man when he wanted. She should do what he’d told her time and time again—don’t think, just feel and trust he knew what she needed and when. Yeah, tell her needy pussy that.
He snickered. Lord! Why do I argue with him?
Anyone who knew Khari Bradford was well aware she always got what she wanted, when she wanted, and had a way of making her presence known. All those privileges took a precipitate drop after meeting Marcus. Being the recipient of her parents’ over-indulgence didn’t help. Funny how all the adulation they showered on her didn’t satisfy what really she yearned for—freedom to exercise independence and experience life to its fullest. Marcus opened her eyes and despite the control he exercised over her, she’d never felt more free over the past several months.
In comparison to the small town of Hayesville, Virginia, life in New York City moved at a much faster pace. Since arriving six and a half months ago, the days had rushed by in a blur. She’d discovered an inner strength to go for what she truly wanted, exploring the possibilities in the Big Apple. No way did she wish to wait for someone to give it to her, like everyone else did while living in the dinky town on the Eastern Shore. Marrying a fisherman like all her friends wasn’t something to settle for. Fame, fortune and the chance to find love captured her interest.
Perhaps her family’s initial apprehension and objections of her leaving home weren’t unfounded. They told her how unprotected young women would fall into a decadent lifestyle in the corrupt and unforgiving world outside the safety of home. They considered singing and dancing on Broadway the path to failure and she could do much more with her life. She, of course, deemed the move as a way to make her dreams a reality. Deep down, she’d gone in search of herself—a career on stage. Instead she found Marcus Knight and stupidly had thought a night of passion with the handsome and wealthy man would clear her mind and readjust her thinking after floundering in the city for months.
One night turned into two, and a week into several months. The man had become her addiction and the center of her world. The sex was mind-blowing. The kinky role play fulfilled her innermost needs. Their connection was extraordinary, but could it last?
“Let’s see how many more you can take, shall we?” There was playfulness in his tone, allowing her to relax and let go.
Marcus acted like he respected her as a woman who craved a meaningful relationship of mutual pleasure, interests, and intellect. None of the other men or boys in her life showed any promise of providing those things. Her parents never saw her as anything other than their little girl who was supposed to marry her college sweetheart. To settle down in Hayesville with a going-nowhere-in-this-century kind of guy wasn’t her idea of the happily-ever-after. Two point three kids running around the yard surrounded by a white picket fence and the man of her parents’ dream stinking the house up with the smell of fish wasn’t the way she wanted to live her life.
Never in a million years did she believe a man could test the boundaries of her dark sexual fantasies of pleasure with such prowess as Marcus. For at least a decade, she stifled her sexuality, thinking something wasn’t quite right. Raised in a very devout religious family unit, her parents not only gave her everything, they also kept tight reins on her when it came to boys. Maybe that was why she began to crave an edgier side of her inner self. Marcus had helped her recognize what she wanted was okay, and not weird or freaky. She dove hard and fast into a relationship with the older man, not that he was that much older. Eleven years wasn’t that many years difference since age didn’t seem to bother either one of them.
An innocent when it came to the kind of sex she engaged in with her current lover, she had always yearned to explore the darker, kinkier side. One of the reasons she pursued singing, dancing, and anything to perform in front of an audience was to suppress the sexual desires she craved. She thought those urges would be unacceptable, different, and indicate something was wrong with her. Was this the piece of her soul missing all those years? None of her boyfriends did anything adventurous and led her to reinforce her esteem issues when sex was broached with them. She deemed herself lucky if they got to first base. Frustration always came instead, along with occasional ridicule.
The one guy she trusted with her inner secrets after a year of dating didn’t work out either. Darren Stone was the vetted jerk her parents wanted her to marry—proper family upbringing, the right moral character, and most importantly, following in the fishing business. Something about him seemed too perfect, at least to her parents, and she couldn’t pinpoint what it was. The last time they were together she asked him to spank her. Reluctantly, he did. She cried out in joy and pain despite the weak, wimpy swat. He misinterpreted her reaction and refused to continue, claiming he didn’t want to hurt her. She thought it was for other reasons, but she never found out. He abandoned her at the cheap motel. Her first encounter didn’t exactly work out the way she’d hoped. The night not only left her with unsatisfied sexual desires, but also rejected as a woman. The dickwad never called again, and she was left wondering when she’d meet a man who could satisfy her insatiable dark yearnings. The scars of his rejection still haunted her. Her parents thought she should take him back, thinking the break-up was only a temporary bump in the road of their relationship. In her opinion, men were such pricks sometimes. Even her father tended to get on her nerves, and he had a tendency to indulge her whims more than he did her mother’s.
Two years ago she made the decision not to trust another man or be humiliated again after the embarrassing experience with Darren. To succeed at singing and dancing, she ignored her parents’ hell and damnation speech and plowed head first into making her avocation her new love, until three months ago, that is. Instead of fulfilling the aspiration, she stood in the playroom owned by Marcus Knight, Sir, or sometimes Master, as he insisted she call him when they were in private. From the exact moment she gazed into his handsome face, something different about him piqued her interest. Her innocent femininity contrasted sharply against his raw dominant masculinity.
Speechless, she couldn’t believe meeting one of the best-looking men she’d ever seen came quite by accident. Her heart pounded and electric sparks flitted over her skin that first time. The way he smiled sent ripples of desire straight to the center between her thighs, and when he spoke with the low, seductive voice, her insides felt delicious, warm enough to melt chocolate. The authority he exuded with his body captured her full attention and almost instinctively she obeyed his every command. Each encounter with the enigmatic man was more intense and kinkier. Sir, from the beginning, took her places way beyond her imagination and did so with nothing except his presence and tone of voice. Slowly, by methodic and patient means, he’d introduced her to satisfying ways to express those sexual fantasies she dared to speak out loud to him. To trust a man again filled her heart with love.
So here she stood, blinking into the darkness of the blindfold, contemplating how her life changed after moving to New York to follow her dream, to this. A tingle between sore legs brought her back from the questioning thoughts. She twitched at the thought of how his skin was like velvet-covered steel and smelled of musky spice. The effect he had on all her senses had her craving him even when not in his presence.
“Hmm, you like the sensation, don’t you?” The silky-soft voice of the man sent shivers down her back. The man could melt the North Pole with a whisper. Well, in her case he could send her to nirvana.
Nodding, she tried to form some coherent words, but the gag Sir placed in her mouth prevented any audible speech. Saliva slid out the corners of her lips as she struggled to remain motionless by his demands. The flicking across her bare skin by the device of torture he used sent erotic electric charges through every nerve ending. The soft and delicate piece flitting over her skin seemed like a feather at first, but at this point in the evening, she couldn’t distinguish anything, only the pleasure she received from the delightful caress. The pain in her legs from not moving mounted, mixing with the exquisite touches he delivered. He’d instructed her to warn him if she felt numbness or tingling, but the discomfort hadn’t reached that point yet. She loved the bondage, but not to the point of doing something stupid. She squirmed and tried to wiggle her toes despite the tight fit in the high-heels. Circulating the blood to keep any numbness or tingling at bay had been the reason, but the erotic sensations he produced to the other parts of her body helped distract her.
“I see you’re eager, but I don’t want you to come quite yet, my pet.” The delicate stroking of the tickler traveled along her sensitive flesh, trailing circles over her hip bones then lower to each thigh.
A black blindfold fit snugly over Khari Bradford’s eyes, blocking out any chance of seeing what he had planned for the remainder of the night. Leather handcuffs fit snug, but not too tightly. The slight rubbing against her skin brought a sense of safety in some odd way. A few minutes before, Master pinned her arms behind her back and clipped the cuffs together by the ring clasp. A cold, steel stretcher bar spread her stocking covered legs wide enough to expose her naked pussy for his use. She could imagine how sexy she looked, standing in four-inch heels, wet and ready to please her Master. She loved when he stripped away her control, leaving her vulnerable and at his whim for pleasure. And did he ever give her the most orgasmic pleasure after a long week at work.
Heat sizzled along her bare ass cheeks with one more slap of the wooden paddle. Her pussy ached, needing the same kind of attention he gave her butt. With knees trembling, her entire body quivered from the throbbing pressure building inside. Teetering on the edge of pleasure and pain—the burn ravaging her flesh, along with her swollen clit needing stimulation—was a sweet contradiction of torturous sensations. Over the past several months, she’d come to hate when he did that to her. Prolong or deny climaxing always put her on edge and in the wrong mindset for playing further. Why she hadn’t walked away weeks ago still confounded her?
The sexual electricity zigzagged through her each time he brought the slapper down on her exposed buttocks. Her nipples strained against the clamps he decided she needed several minutes ago. She hated them. They pinched when he put them on, but taking them off hurt more than the paddle. Blood rushing back into the restricted area was like the flame of a candle hovering over her skin. Two more minutes, then I’ll call my safeword. The pain shot straight to her pussy from the evil clips. What she wanted was to come, hard enough to escape to the blissful place within her mind. Except that wasn’t about to happen if the man delivering the discipline didn’t give her what she desired. She squirmed moaned to give him a hint of her condition. Although she doubted he’d notice.
“Pet, you’re moving. Are you telling me you want to get an extra five?”
The ball gag in her mouth kept her from doing anything except shake her head. That wasn’t what she wanted him to do. Well, not exactly. She hated when he teased. The man could be a wicked, wicked man when he wanted. She should do what he’d told her time and time again—don’t think, just feel and trust he knew what she needed and when. Yeah, tell her needy pussy that.
He snickered. Lord! Why do I argue with him?
Anyone who knew Khari Bradford was well aware she always got what she wanted, when she wanted, and had a way of making her presence known. All those privileges took a precipitate drop after meeting Marcus. Being the recipient of her parents’ over-indulgence didn’t help. Funny how all the adulation they showered on her didn’t satisfy what really she yearned for—freedom to exercise independence and experience life to its fullest. Marcus opened her eyes and despite the control he exercised over her, she’d never felt more free over the past several months.
In comparison to the small town of Hayesville, Virginia, life in New York City moved at a much faster pace. Since arriving six and a half months ago, the days had rushed by in a blur. She’d discovered an inner strength to go for what she truly wanted, exploring the possibilities in the Big Apple. No way did she wish to wait for someone to give it to her, like everyone else did while living in the dinky town on the Eastern Shore. Marrying a fisherman like all her friends wasn’t something to settle for. Fame, fortune and the chance to find love captured her interest.
Perhaps her family’s initial apprehension and objections of her leaving home weren’t unfounded. They told her how unprotected young women would fall into a decadent lifestyle in the corrupt and unforgiving world outside the safety of home. They considered singing and dancing on Broadway the path to failure and she could do much more with her life. She, of course, deemed the move as a way to make her dreams a reality. Deep down, she’d gone in search of herself—a career on stage. Instead she found Marcus Knight and stupidly had thought a night of passion with the handsome and wealthy man would clear her mind and readjust her thinking after floundering in the city for months.
One night turned into two, and a week into several months. The man had become her addiction and the center of her world. The sex was mind-blowing. The kinky role play fulfilled her innermost needs. Their connection was extraordinary, but could it last?
“Let’s see how many more you can take, shall we?” There was playfulness in his tone, allowing her to relax and let go.
Marcus acted like he respected her as a woman who craved a meaningful relationship of mutual pleasure, interests, and intellect. None of the other men or boys in her life showed any promise of providing those things. Her parents never saw her as anything other than their little girl who was supposed to marry her college sweetheart. To settle down in Hayesville with a going-nowhere-in-this-century kind of guy wasn’t her idea of the happily-ever-after. Two point three kids running around the yard surrounded by a white picket fence and the man of her parents’ dream stinking the house up with the smell of fish wasn’t the way she wanted to live her life.
Never in a million years did she believe a man could test the boundaries of her dark sexual fantasies of pleasure with such prowess as Marcus. For at least a decade, she stifled her sexuality, thinking something wasn’t quite right. Raised in a very devout religious family unit, her parents not only gave her everything, they also kept tight reins on her when it came to boys. Maybe that was why she began to crave an edgier side of her inner self. Marcus had helped her recognize what she wanted was okay, and not weird or freaky. She dove hard and fast into a relationship with the older man, not that he was that much older. Eleven years wasn’t that many years difference since age didn’t seem to bother either one of them.
An innocent when it came to the kind of sex she engaged in with her current lover, she had always yearned to explore the darker, kinkier side. One of the reasons she pursued singing, dancing, and anything to perform in front of an audience was to suppress the sexual desires she craved. She thought those urges would be unacceptable, different, and indicate something was wrong with her. Was this the piece of her soul missing all those years? None of her boyfriends did anything adventurous and led her to reinforce her esteem issues when sex was broached with them. She deemed herself lucky if they got to first base. Frustration always came instead, along with occasional ridicule.
The one guy she trusted with her inner secrets after a year of dating didn’t work out either. Darren Stone was the vetted jerk her parents wanted her to marry—proper family upbringing, the right moral character, and most importantly, following in the fishing business. Something about him seemed too perfect, at least to her parents, and she couldn’t pinpoint what it was. The last time they were together she asked him to spank her. Reluctantly, he did. She cried out in joy and pain despite the weak, wimpy swat. He misinterpreted her reaction and refused to continue, claiming he didn’t want to hurt her. She thought it was for other reasons, but she never found out. He abandoned her at the cheap motel. Her first encounter didn’t exactly work out the way she’d hoped. The night not only left her with unsatisfied sexual desires, but also rejected as a woman. The dickwad never called again, and she was left wondering when she’d meet a man who could satisfy her insatiable dark yearnings. The scars of his rejection still haunted her. Her parents thought she should take him back, thinking the break-up was only a temporary bump in the road of their relationship. In her opinion, men were such pricks sometimes. Even her father tended to get on her nerves, and he had a tendency to indulge her whims more than he did her mother’s.
Two years ago she made the decision not to trust another man or be humiliated again after the embarrassing experience with Darren. To succeed at singing and dancing, she ignored her parents’ hell and damnation speech and plowed head first into making her avocation her new love, until three months ago, that is. Instead of fulfilling the aspiration, she stood in the playroom owned by Marcus Knight, Sir, or sometimes Master, as he insisted she call him when they were in private. From the exact moment she gazed into his handsome face, something different about him piqued her interest. Her innocent femininity contrasted sharply against his raw dominant masculinity.
Speechless, she couldn’t believe meeting one of the best-looking men she’d ever seen came quite by accident. Her heart pounded and electric sparks flitted over her skin that first time. The way he smiled sent ripples of desire straight to the center between her thighs, and when he spoke with the low, seductive voice, her insides felt delicious, warm enough to melt chocolate. The authority he exuded with his body captured her full attention and almost instinctively she obeyed his every command. Each encounter with the enigmatic man was more intense and kinkier. Sir, from the beginning, took her places way beyond her imagination and did so with nothing except his presence and tone of voice. Slowly, by methodic and patient means, he’d introduced her to satisfying ways to express those sexual fantasies she dared to speak out loud to him. To trust a man again filled her heart with love.
So here she stood, blinking into the darkness of the blindfold, contemplating how her life changed after moving to New York to follow her dream, to this. A tingle between sore legs brought her back from the questioning thoughts. She twitched at the thought of how his skin was like velvet-covered steel and smelled of musky spice. The effect he had on all her senses had her craving him even when not in his presence.
“Hmm, you like the sensation, don’t you?” The silky-soft voice of the man sent shivers down her back. The man could melt the North Pole with a whisper. Well, in her case he could send her to nirvana.
Nodding, she tried to form some coherent words, but the gag Sir placed in her mouth prevented any audible speech. Saliva slid out the corners of her lips as she struggled to remain motionless by his demands. The flicking across her bare skin by the device of torture he used sent erotic electric charges through every nerve ending. The soft and delicate piece flitting over her skin seemed like a feather at first, but at this point in the evening, she couldn’t distinguish anything, only the pleasure she received from the delightful caress. The pain in her legs from not moving mounted, mixing with the exquisite touches he delivered. He’d instructed her to warn him if she felt numbness or tingling, but the discomfort hadn’t reached that point yet. She loved the bondage, but not to the point of doing something stupid. She squirmed and tried to wiggle her toes despite the tight fit in the high-heels. Circulating the blood to keep any numbness or tingling at bay had been the reason, but the erotic sensations he produced to the other parts of her body helped distract her.
“I see you’re eager, but I don’t want you to come quite yet, my pet.” The delicate stroking of the tickler traveled along her sensitive flesh, trailing circles over her hip bones then lower to each thigh.
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