Surrender in Silk

"God, yes, Margaret, you're such a good cocksucker," he grunted. "And you're going to take every drop of my cum down your throat and all over those lovely little tits of yours."

Meg's eyes grew wide when she heard what he had planned. His balls were large and heavy in her hands but she still wondered just how much they could hold. And would he really humiliate her by spewing his semen on her body? She admitted she wasn't fond of the idea of swallowing but that would be far preferable to being made a sticky mess. She said nothing, however, as there was nothing on her list that would lead him to believe he would be breaking one of her hard limits by doing this.

Instead she continued with the rhythm she had found; her mouth bobbing up and down on his throbbing shaft, her right hand stroking the part she couldn't get in her mouth and her left hand cradling and massaging his balls. As she rested her arms on his thighs, she could feel the muscles in them begin to tighten and increased the speed of her ministrations. Her left hand moved back just behind his balls and she pressed firmly but gently on that spot, knowing the effect it would have.

Seconds later, her gesture yielded the results she had hoped for. Ren could feel the cum nearly boiling in his balls as it burst forth from him. He fought the urge to grab Meg's hair and force his cock deep into her throat but still thrust his hips forward as if he were fucking her face until he began to feel his orgasm wane. Then he pulled away and used his hand to milk himself dry and spread the cum on her chest. For his final act of dominance, he actually wiped his penis on her breasts.

He took a moment to catch his breath and then pulled her onto the bed with him again. Reaching down between her legs, he found that she was still very, very wet. Her lips were quite swollen and sensitive to his touch. He laughed as she wriggled her hips in sheer delight and he gently fondled her for a few minutes.

Without warning, he thrust two fingers deeply inside her and reveled in the gasp that she made. He knew he hadn't hurt her. It was only the sound of surprise at his invasion and once she had acclimated to it he slid a third finger inside her and rubbed her clit with his thumb.

He didn't have to wait long before he could feel her pussy beginning to clamp down on his hand. As the muscles siezed and released, he moved his head down to her right breast, firmly sucked the nipple into his mouth, then gently bit down on it. He felt her back arch and her moans of pleasure brought joy to his heart.

When they were finished, she was nearly exhausted. Her body relaxed into a limp, nearly amorphous blob. She could feel him beside her on the bed but couldn't pull herself together enough to try to get a read on his emotional state. She was sated in a way that she hadn't been in since she was first transferred to Chicago. She'd come close the one time when she and Fraser had spent a night together but even he hadn't been able to quench these long hidden desires.

A wave of guilt washed over her and even though she tried to contain it, it still showed briefly in her face. Ren picked up on it instantly. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Wrong?" she repeated, stalling for time to think of an answer.

"Yeah, wrong. Your face was perfectly still and content for a few moments and then it clouded over. So I wondered what's wrong?"

"I respectfully suggest that you are imagining things," she denied. "How could anything be wrong after that?"

She rolled over and kissed his cheek lightly and briefly. "God, that was incredible," she sighed as she rolled off her side of the bed and landed, feet first, on the floor.

He watched as she almost staggered to her bag and pulled out her water bottle to take a long drink. When she had consumed nearly an entire pint, she put it bag and turned on unsteady legs to face him.

"Sub," he commanded, "the bathroom is next door. Bring me a warm wet washcloth and a towel."

She left the room to do his bidding, wondering if she would be permitted to wash up as well. Realistically speaking, she was far messier than he was but she knew that some guys really got off on making sure that anyone who saw their sub after a session knew what had happened. He hadn't mentioned being into public humiliation but one never knew.

A streak of mischief ran through her as she recalled his words. One could argue that he hadn't mentioned that he wanted the towel to be dry as well. Quickly, she let the thought leave her mind. No use testing the limits just yet. He seemed, at least at this point, to be everything she could ask for in a Dom. It didn't seem to be a good time to start being a bratty sub.

She returned to the bedroom and handed him the wash cloth first. As much as she wanted to, she didn't watch as he quickly wiped the sweat and residue of other fluids from his body. She only knew he was finished when she felt the damp cloth brush against her arm since her eyes were staring holes into the floor.

"You may go wash up too, sub," he allowed.

"Yes, Sir."

Part of her wanted nothing more than to hop in the shower and rinse all the sweat off her body, but she was fairly certain that wasn't what he had in mind. Instead, she followed his lead and returned to the bathroom to simply wipe off with a damp cloth and pat herself dry with a towel. She was pondering what to do with the linens when she felt a pair of strong arms reaching around her.

Ren pulled her close and held her for a long time. Standing together on the bare tile floor, they rocked gently while he hummed softly. Her first instinct, when she felt him approach from behind, was to stiffen and become defensive, but when she realized what was happening, she melted into his embrace.

"You've pleased me greatly," he said softly.

"I'm glad."

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine, thank you Sir."

"It's nearly 8:00. Don't you have a call to make?" he asked.

"Yes, I do. My cell phone is in my bag."

"Then make your call. I'll be waiting for your downstairs."

He kissed her cheek gently but affectionately and then left her alone. It took her several minutes to pull herself together enough both mentally and emotionally to be able to return to the guestroom and call her friend.

"Meg, how are you?" Patricia asked.

"I'm fine, really."

"You're sure? How are the Leafs?" she inquired, using their code phrase.

"Marvelous. Real contenders."

"Okay, then let me know when you get home."

"I will. Take care, Pat.

"You too."

It took Meg very little time to get dressed. She made a quick inventory of her tote bag and once she had assured herself everything was there, she went downstairs and saw Ren waiting for her in the living room. He held a glass with ice cubes, a brown liquid and a small sprig of green leaves sticking out of the top of it.

"I remembered that you liked peppermint tea."

She smiled as she took the drink. "I do, but I thought I was the one who was supposed to serve you."

He laughed and motioned for her to have a seat on the sofa.

"You don't want me to sit at your feet?" she asked, her brows furrowed with confusion.

"Good heavens, no!" he insisted and then chuckled. "Well, not as a matter of routine; though there may be some times when I feel it's appropriate. But a sub is no less than the Dom she serves. I'm no better than you are, just different."

Boy, you could say that again, she thought as she took the proffered seat.

Once she was settled he sat beside her and took his own drink from the glass topped coffee table in front of them. Taking a quick sip, to calm his nervousness, he set the glass back down and turned to look at Meg. Moments ago he felt so powerful and in control and now, he could almost feel himself reverting back to the uncoordinated, incompetent Mountie she had known several years ago. It took two deep breaths to remind him of the position he had adopted.

"When a sub serves her master as well, as you served me tonight, she should be rewarded. I think the carrot is a far better motivator than the stick. Though the stick has its uses too."

They both chucked at his reference.

He reached around her with his long arms and pulled her close to him. "You were magnificent tonight, my pet. Such an amazing fire burns inside you, far hotter than I had ever imagined. Thank you for sharing it with me."

He kissed her head, deeply breathing in the scent of her shampoo.

Meg relaxed in his strong yet tender embrace, completely stunned by the transformation that he'd undergone since last she'd seen him. He was so polished and self assured, completely unlike the stumbling constable she had known in Chicago; the one who slept with a stuffed wolf. She had to admit that she'd had a marvelous time here tonight but didn't have the nerve to ask if it would ever happen again. While she wanted it with all her soul, she knew that it wasn't hers to demand or even request. Instead, she leaned against him and just closed her eyes.

"Meg?" he asked softly. "I'd like you to come by again next week. Say, maybe Tuesday night?"

"Yes, Master," she replied softly. "Whatever you wish."

"Good."

He closed his eyes for a moment and savored the time they had just spent together. She had a lot of raw potential, though to a casual observer, you'd never know it. Some, in fact, might consider her to be a real ball busting bitch. He, however, noticed the subtle changes that had taken place in her since she'd left the RCMP and now thought about how he could use them to his best advantage.

A smile crept across his face. Yes, training this slut was going to be a joy.

The End.

This fic is dedicated to a memory of Dean McDermott at 1999's RCW139 and to Shirley, for showing me that there's another side to Turnbull.