Beauty Submits To Her Beast by Sydney St. Claire Read Free Book Online

needy. “Maybe this isn’t going to work. I’m not a doormat,” she said, her voice low with regret. She didn’t want to leave, needed this man to finish what he’d started, but she was used to giving the orders and looking out for those in her life. When she wanted something, she went after it. Waiting and patience weren’t her strongest virtues.
    To her surprise, Damon grinned and drew her close, the backs of his fingers lifting her chin. “A sub is not a doormat, which proves you don’t understand the concept of a power exchange. Let’s go on to lesson two.”
    She felt like a ping-pong ball, bounced from one emotion to another. Part of her was relieved he didn’t send her packing, yet she was also afraid he’d end up disappointed in her. She clearly did not get the rules between Doms and subs or, shit, even what made a good sub. All she had to do was keep her mouth shut and obey, and so far, she, who seldom failed at any task she undertook, had failed miserably.
    “What is lesson two, Sir?” She tried her best to be meek.
    “Practicing rule two.” He stepped back and removed his vest and G-string.
    Her jaw dropped at the sight of his cock, and the spit in her mouth dried to dust. The man was huge, a stallion among men. Caitie’s legs shook. She wanted nothing more than to drop to her knees, take him in hand, and tame his beast.
    “Oh, please, Sir.” She reached out to stroke him.
    He stopped her. “Subs are not allowed to touch without permission. Consider that rule three.”
    Frustrated, finding all these rules totally unfair, she glared at him. “Just what the hell can subs do? Sir? ”
    He lifted a brow, reminding her he was in charge. “What they are told to do, when they are told to do it, and how they are told to do it,” he replied in a firm, almost harsh tone.
    Faced with his displeasure, she gulped. Good heavens. She needed a zipper for her mouth. Submissive, Caitie girl. Remember the candy. Lots and lots of candy. She bent her head, hoping to appear properly contrite even as her gaze remained fastened on his prime penis.
    “Yes, Sir,” she said as she eyed his flared mushroomed head, yearned to lick that drop of pre-cum, wrap her hand around him, and lick him like a prized sucker. God, rules were hell, but now that he’d revealed his cock in all its erect glory, nothing else mattered but getting him inside her.
    “Remove your dress.” He planted his feet apart and stood with his hands behind his back like a soldier at rest.
    Caitie didn’t hesitate. She had a good body, worked to keep it toned and in shape. While she often wished her boobs weren’t quite so generous, she now was glad, as he’d made it clear he found them desirable. She untied the apron. It fell to the carpet. Staring into his silvery-blue eyes, she pulled her dress up and over her head, taking her time, teasing him as he’d tormented her. The dress joined her apron, and she stood naked and proud.
    Damon sucked in his breath. His balls shot up as though they were puppets on wires. The air whooshed from his lungs. He stepped close, and she slid her fingers over his chest, tunneling through the mat of hair, leaving trails of tingling heat in their wake. He snagged her wrists, clipped them back together, lifted them above her head, and hooked them to a chain woven among the ivy of the fake plant.
    Caitlin blinked in dismay and yanked her arms. She cried out. “No. R–”
    Damon kissed her hard and deep, in part to stop her from using her safeword and partly to show her she had nothing to fear. He didn’t want to break her or push her to the point where she gave up and left.
    Normally, if a woman didn’t work out as a sub, he’d end the session and save them both the time and effort and spent emotion. Sessions were draining, not only physically but also mentally and emotionally, and he didn’t waste his on women who didn’t know the score or were unsuited to the lifestyle.
    But Caitlin was different, and he