All Kick wants is to help her father win the election. But when the gorgeous Cuban hunk who comes to her bed in secret turns out to be her father's most dangerous political opponent, the cool career woman with the submissive streak finds herself plunged into a whirlpool of lies, scandal, and deadly intrigue.
Kick kept her cool as she walked across the hotel lobby. Having sunglasses on helped. The Dior shades gave her a sense of privileged anonymity, and so did the vintage straw hat with the black velvet band. It matched the black sash of her stunning yellow Ungaro dress. But in spite of the luxurious surroundings, the designer clothes, and all the other trappings of wealth and power, her slim white hands were already trembling as she got on the elevator.
Already she was wanting it, craving the thrill of sexual submission like a potent drug. Each time there were new rules and protocols that needed to be obeyed, so many precautions. But this meeting was on unfamiliar territory, in a swanky hotel not far from the legendary intersection of Miami Avenue and Flagler Street. It was crazy, having sex so close to Miami's political center. Kick was scared to be seen, but even more scared to disobey. The Master made danger and excitement a part of every thrilling sexual encounter. Would it be sex this time, or a spanking, or some new combination that had her begging for punishment out loud? By this time Kick's manicured hands were shaking so badly, she could hardly unlock the door.
"Drop the hat on the floor." The deep male voice came from behind her, running up Kick's spine like a delicious shiver of anticipation. She stood in the center of the huge room, her stiletto heels sinking deep into the thick carpet, holding her breath while she undressed. It was exciting to feel the eyes of the unseen man on her slender back. She stripped quickly, with trembling hands, right down to her bra and panties. But it was vital that she keep her eyes locked right in front of her, looking neither left nor right. Kick's long-held breath exploded from her in a rush as she felt his long, strong fingers deftly unhooking her bra.
"Did I give you permission to turn your head?"
"No, Master." Damn! Kick was excited by the thought of punishment, but she wished she had gotten more than just a glimpse of the Master's magnificent sun-bronzed torso. She wanted to see more than just a bare brown shoulder, or the thick black hair on his buff chest, or even the mysterious gold medallion that hung around his neck. She wanted to know more about him, to see his face. But now she was in for a real spanking.
"Step on the hat."
"Yes, Master." Soft words became a mindless giggle as Kick trashed the vintage hat. This was new, yet somehow she knew that whatever she wore would soon be crushed or battered or torn into fluttering shreds. Her stiletto heels punched neat little holes in the hat. Then the Master kicked her shoes right off her feet, holding her cool, slim shoulders in a firm grip. By now Kick couldn't stop laughing. So crazy, that trashing her own clothes should turn her on! But incredibly, she came with the Master's large, warm hands still on her shoulders. The feeling of being controlled, mixed with the rough texture of crushed straw under her bare feet, made Kick shoot quickly into shivering release. She loved being wild under the Master's firm control. Not that she wanted to over-analyze. She just wanted to go right on kicking that crazy hat to pieces!
"That's enough." The Master checked her pleasure with a curt command. "You've been a naughty girl lately, Miss Kick. Asking questions and probing, trying to get under my skin. It's time for the blindfold."
"The blindfold?" Kick squeaked. She wanted the blindfold because she knew the Master always covered her eyes right before sex. She was frantic for the rush of pleasure. Of course, once she was blindfolded the Master would probably want to spank her little butt. But then he would surely fuck her senseless on the bed.
A deep male laugh, warm breath on the back of her neck. "Yes, I'm going to fuck you. But not yet." The last three words were as hard and unyielding as the bars of a prison cell. Kick felt hypnotized by a potent potion of dread and delight. His deep voice held her in place, while his hands left her shoulders and began roaming over her small, pert breasts. There was something embarrassing about the eagerness of her body, the aching stiffness of her tight little nipples. Yet it dawned on her that she was her real self now, not a pretend schoolgirl or a slut. Her breasts ached with the desire to see the Master, to know him fully. He flicked their swollen tips. The sensation sent her to the point of release. Kick wanted to know the Master. She wanted to swoon backwards into his strong embrace, to look up trustingly into his face while the hardness of his desire pressed firmly into the rounded curves of her behind.
"Ow!" Instead she got a hard slap on the behind. But Kick knew better than to turn around or to voice any kind of complaint. She just waited for orders, quivering with desire.
"Good girl. You may lie down on the bed now. Keep your eyes closed until I come."
Kick moaned, but a second swat across her rump sent her scurrying to the safety of the adjoining room. Diving into the huge bed, she inhaled the fragrance of lavender-scented sheets. Kick hugged the pillows, careful to position herself with her buttocks high in the air.
SMACK! Kick howled with abandon as the Master landed a smack on her upturned butt. With her face in the pillows, she couldn't have looked up at him if she wanted. All she could do was whimper and bite her lip and listen to the heavy breathing of the Master.
"All right, you've had enough. Lights out."
Kick moaned shamelessly as the black satin blindfold slipped over her eyes. Making love in the dark was romantic, but when she was blindfolded there was the uncertain tingle of fear, as well. What if the Master slipped away and left her waiting and yearning on the bed? But then there was the most blissful sensation when her lover put a bit of cooling cream on his broad fingers and spread the lotion gently and smoothly across her still burning buttocks. The soothing strokes had the strange effect of adding still more heat to the need inside her. All of her defenses had crumbled, and she was entirely helpless. Kick was crazy for it, wanting the Master's hard cock right now. She had to have it or she would go insane!
"Do you know who I am?" The deep voice matched the soothing coolness of his fingers. So sure, so completely in command of her trembling need.
"Yes, Master. You are my Master, and I am your slave. Please make love to me now!"
Kenny's blood surged as the girl begged for it. He had made her wear a blindfold so that for once he could see her in the daylight while he made love to her. These meetings were getting more and more dangerous, more out of hand. But just one time he wanted to see the whiteness of her skin, the smoothness of her long, lithe legs. He turned her gently onto her back and slid into her smoothly, his cock hard and aching for his haughty, tender little slave.
Kick gasped, surprised it began so smoothly, almost sweetly. But the rhythm grew into something wild and mesmerizing, unpredictable yet deeply satisfying. She screamed as he bit her neck, the pain piercing her soul. He was riding her, owning her, his body covering hers.
Kick needed more. She needed the long length of him sliding in and out to continue longer and longer still, 'til it all spun out of control. She was climbing wave after wave of shuddering excitement towards an unimaginable summit of fulfillment. Kick found herself howling for more, please more, until she reached heaven. But it was all too much, too rich. She reached the peak but he kept on going, refusing the final push, tantalizing her instead with each smooth, slick slow withdrawal, then filling her up all over again with luscious heat.
Kick just couldn't take any more. The rhythm of lazy pleasure grew into a drumming. The insistent beat demanded that she lose herself to everything but her own cry for release. Yet all the time they made love she was exploring the Master's lean, tanned body with her slim white hands, unconsciously groping for clues. She felt the hard muscles of his chest, the crisp hair, the ridges of his lower back. All of it told her that her Master was young, strong, and rich enough to work out as often as he liked. No wonder he got tired of driving down to Coral Gables in a panel truck! But then the Master, in mid-thrust, pinned her wrists to the bed. Kick stiffened, unable to see through her blindfold and filled with terror that he would get up and leave her all alone. Instead, he continued his skilled gyrations, making pleasure blaze into an all-consuming fire. Kick shuddered, aware that she had missed her chance. Then the fire consumed her, as well.