Enamored: The Submissive Mistress (Special Double-Length Episode) (The Erotic Adventures of Jane in the Jungle) (6 page)

Jane couldn’t subdue a quiver of anticipation, and she lunged forward to take him in her mouth. Her lips closed over the soft, velvet-skinned head that looked ready to burst. But no sooner had she tasted the droplet of saltiness gathering there, flickering her tongue over the tip, than Darkdale was once again forcing her face away from him.

“Jane, I will not tell you again. You are to undress me. Completely.” His voice was taut and dark and his fingers dug into her scalp painfully, twisting a lock of hair for emphasis.

She swallowed a soft moan of disappointment and impatience and released the heat of his erection. With a tight half-smile, Darkdale eased back into a supine position on the bed as Jane began to work his underdrawers down over his hips, then muscular thighs and knees and to his feet. He did nothing to assist—obviously willing to prolong her efforts as much as possible—and she found herself kneeling on the floor in order to pull the cotton clothing completely free of his ankles and long, narrow feet.

Then, breathing from exertion and frustration, breasts swaying and hair tangling, Jane finally climbed up onto the bed next to him. He wore only a shirt and vest, along with a loosely tied neckcloth, and she set to working free the knot of his cravat—but not before she impudently straddled him at the waist, settling her moist center over his bare belly.

Pressing down into his abdomen, Jane felt her little pip quiver and swell, eager for pleasure. She slid up his torso with a sharp jerk, using her juices for lubricant over his warm skin as she bent to take the neckcloth in her teeth. Darkdale made a soft sound beneath her, and she felt his stomach muscles tighten as she shifted and moved on his belly under the guise of working his tie free.

In other circumstances, Jane might have been smug about his reactions, but she wasn’t foolish enough to become complacent. The grains of sand kept falling, and she had not even brought him to one orgasm yet. She was acutely aware how easily her needs might come to fruition, but she had a difficult task ahead of her.

At last the tie slid free, and she set to work on his shirt. By now, her jaw had become sore from clenching her teeth and shifting about, and her movements were slower and clumsier.

Finally, his vest was open and his was shirt unbuttoned. All she had left to do was get his arms out…

“Master,” she whispered, settling back on her haunches on his belly. “If you would sit up, I would remove your shirt. And then, with your permission, we could be skin to skin.” Her voice dropped low and husky at these last words, and it was, shamefully, due more to her own anticipation than any acting on her part.

“Very well, darling Jane.” He sat up and she scooted behind him to take the collar of his shirt in her mouth. His dark hair brushed her face as she tugged it free of his broad shoulders, and then pulled each sleeve down his arm.

By the time she was finished, and the shirt and vest were gathered in a pile on the bed, Jane was panting and frustrated. But it was finished. He was naked at last, and now she could attend to the more pleasurable aspects of her task.

A worried glance at the hourglass had her heart spiking with fear. More than half her time had elapsed!

Jane maneuvered herself back to the front of Darkdale, noticing for the first time the pelt of dark hair over his chest, and that his body was well-muscled and lean. He wasn’t nearly as beautiful as Zaren—
oh, Zaren! Will I ever see you again?
—but she could not allow herself to think about her jungle-man lover right now. She couldn’t be distracted.

Not yet. Not now. Later, she could dream about him, and pray he was safe and whole, and that one day they would be together again, but now she must concentrate and put her fear and sadness away.

Thus Jane wasted no time straddling Darkdale once again. His cock was full and ready, and she was so wet and throbbing that he slid easily inside her. She heard him muffle a groan and felt his body tense as she impaled herself. A shock of lust whipped through her and she couldn’t control a gasp of her own.
Oh yes. Oh gad, yes!

She’d diddled herself in order to find relief, but the sensation of being filled and stretched, the weight and heat of his cock quivering inside her, was so much better than anything she did on her own.

Darkdale seemed to agree, for his face had gone taut and his eyes burned up at her, dark and hot. “Are you going to fuck me, then, darling Jane?” His voice was as tight as his face, and laced with desperation.

For that one moment, Jane felt completely in control. She began to move, first slowly, rocking her hips, feeling his broad cock bump and shift inside her channel. But that wasn’t enough—not nearly enough—and the next thing she knew, she was pumping up and down, bucking and riding him as if she were a madwoman.

She was a little mad, desperate, crazed, blinded with lust. Her legs shook as she rolled her hips, undulating them as she stroked him inside herself. She rose and fell over him, faster and faster. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and slick suction filled her ears, along with the soft pants and moans and sighs she couldn’t control. The essences of musk and sweat and man filled her nostrils, and the sensation of his hot skin burned against her thighs. His body was hard and warm beneath her hands—yes, somehow her palms had found their way and become planted on his chest as she used them as leverage for her manic ride.

Jane reached her peak first—fast and easily—and cried out as it ratcheted through her, hot and hard. Exhausted, she slowed for a moment, shuddering and quaking, weak in the knees and elbows…and then she started up again, sliding and pumping and shifting and rolling.

Now she wasn’t quite so blinded with lust, and she watched his face, watched for his reactions and responses so she could gauge how close she was to fulfilling her task. But as Jane rose and fell in a strong, true rhythm, Darkdale remained stoic and still. She glanced at the hourglass and her pulse ratcheted up. Not much time, not much time at all remained, and he hadn’t even come once!

Hiding her apprehension, she sat back on her haunches, lifting her hands high so her breasts lifted and jounced as she made little figure-eight circles around and over his cock. Teasing its burgeoning head, she tightened herself around him, squeezing as she slowed her rhythm, then lifted her hands to play with her breasts, pinching and stroking her nipples, hefting and sifting the heavy globes in her palms, shifting and speeding and then slowing her rhythm. Pleasure spiked through her once more, as always shooting in hot, delicious licks to her core. But it was Darkdale on whom she must focus.

Come on…come on!

But still Darkdale remained still and cool, watching her from his position on his back, though his eyes were anything but frigid. More than a little nervous now, Jane moved faster and faster, and her own body tightened, growing wetter and throbbing with need. That familiar feeling of climbing the peak to orgasm gathered inside her once more, and she leaned forward so her breasts brushed his chest as she jerked her hips up and down over him.

“Oh!” she cried in surprise when another orgasm washed over her—strong and sharp, sending her collapsing onto Darkdale’s torso as the pleasure trundled through her.

But still his cock remained hard and raging inside her.

Weak and growing more desperate by the moment, she dismounted from her position and took him in her mouth. His massive erection was full and turgid, slick with her musky juices, and it seemed to quiver in her hand. She slid him deep in her throat and felt a faint sizzle along his length, as if his seed was moving up and ready to explode.

Though her jaw was sore, she opened wide and thrust her mouth down over him, taking him deep and long, sucking and licking and stroking until she grew lightheaded and out of breath. His fingers gripped the bedclothes; she could see the white cast of his knuckles, and that was when Jane realized Darkdale was fighting his pleasure with every bit of his strength.

He didn’t want her to win. He wanted her to lose.

He wanted to punish her.

— V—

No. She had to win.

Desperation spurred Jane, and she shifted around—still sucking and licking, spinning her tongue and herself over his cock—until she was positioned with her quim above his face. Her knees straddled him at the armpits, and now she dove low and long, jamming his cock so deep in her throat she gagged. Her breasts brushed his belly, and she lowered her hips over his face, bringing her wet, red, pulsing self just over his mouth.

Take that
, she thought, concentrating on sucking every last bit of seed from his cock. She sucked and stroked and moved her hips, and she felt him gathering up at last—at last—and finally, he arched beneath her.

Darkdale grabbed her hips and pulled her down to his mouth, and his tongue thrust deep inside her slick, swollen cleft just as he slammed up into the back of her throat. The shot of hot, salty ejaculate gagged her, filling her mouth and then coating her tongue. But she hardly noticed as she swallowed the thick stuff, for his mouth and tongue were mauling her quim, sucking and licking her tiny pearl into submission.

Jane’s cry of completion was muffled by the half-mast cock in her mouth, and she pulled away as the sharp, hard orgasm shocked her. It blasted through her body, more painful than pleasurable, and left her wrung out and weak.

After collapsing on the bed next to him, she lay there, panting and gasping, sated and yet desperate for more. Darkdale was unmoving, his own breathing rough and coarse, his hands still possessively over her hips.

And then she looked at the hourglass.

The top chamber was empty.

She had lost.

Jane scrambled to her hands and knees, lunging toward the table. She bumped against it purposely, hard enough to send the hourglass tumbling off and onto the floor…and it shattered when it struck the marble fireplace hearth.

The dark, deep roll of laughter had her turning to see Darkdale watching her. His eyes were black with victory and lust.

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you, darling Jane,” he murmured as he slid his fingers around her arm. “Trying to hide the fact that your time was up.” With a rough yank, he pulled her so she fell against him, facedown over his lap.

He pressed her head toward the bed as his fingers slid down around the cleft of her arse and found her dripping folds. “As it happened,” he said, sliding his clever fingers around inside her, stroking and teasing, “you had already lost before even bringing me to my peak once. Which means”—he shoved two fingers deep inside her, and Jane couldn’t control a heartfelt moan against the blanket—“you must be doubly punished.”

“Please,” she whispered as he fit a third digit inside her, pushing in and up as far as possible. He pressed against her sensitive, sore little clit, trapping it between his leg and his fingers. A sting of lust shot through her even as she licked her lips, willing it to dissipate…wanting peace. To rest and recover.

“Oh, yes, my darling Jane,” he said, stroking her firmly, pumping long and slow with his three fingers. They slid along her pip, filled her opening, long and slow and sure. Tortuously slowly and unbelievably long. “Beg me, Jane…’tis music to my ears.”

No, that wasn’t what she meant. But Jane couldn’t fight her body’s desires. She sighed and shuddered deep in her core as he stroked and slipped and caressed. Her nipples were tight and hard, brushing against the rough bedclothes, and her face was half turned so she didn’t smother in the blankets.

His thumb found the opening of her arse. Before she realized what was happening, he used her own juices to help it inside, filling her with the short, thick stub of his digit.

Jane gasped with surprise and her eyes flew open. The pressure on the back of her head eased, and she craned her neck to find Darkdale watching her. His lips were parted, his jaw tight and his nostrils pinched as if he fought to control his reaction.

“Come with me now, Jane,” he whispered, pivoting his fingers inside her. Shoving them deep, he worked his hand rhythmically, rocking it back and forth inside her two openings…deeper and faster, shifting his wrist as she writhed and bucked beneath his hand.

The sensations felt odd—dark and intense—but Jane had no choice but to succumb to them. Her body was too well trained, too needy. Too lustful. And his hand was slick and fast—too cunning and deliberate. As she filled with heat and lust, Jane felt his cock swelling against her belly—hot and hard and damp. Her pleasure grew, soaring into something strange and unfamiliar, and just as she gathered up to explode, to reach that strange, dark peak, he gave a great shout and shoved her away.

Jane tumbled off the bed, landing on her hands and knees next to the broken hourglass. Before she could recover herself, Darkdale was there, standing in front of her. His cock raged in her face. He took her head with powerful fingers and shoved himself inside her mouth.

She gagged and gasped around his hot, salty length, grabbing on to his legs for support as he pumped deep in her mouth—once, twice—then he exploded with a strangled cry, surging deep into her throat, pulsing with long, strong undulations as his thighs trembled against her.