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pounding heart had a different name for it, which went beyond words to pure feeling.
    For a Mistress like her, it wasn’t about getting off. She knew true Doms were artists who used a variety of methods to break subs down to the bone and drive them to a level of fulfillment they never could have experienced with their emotional and physical shields in place. For such a Master or Mistress, the stimulation came from that successful breakdown of a sub, so that he was completely linked with the Dom’s desires. At its heart, that was what she hungered for, getting the sub she wanted to 24

    Natural Law
    willingly surrender all to her, more than he even knew he had to offer. She wanted to tame the stallion that could not be tamed.
    “I didn’t give you permission to meet my gaze,” she said. “Face forward and eyes down.”
    Mackenzie held her eyes one more moment than was appropriate, then shifted his attention to the floor. His bare broad back faced her, the smooth taper to the firm waist just screaming for her touch.
    She threaded the loose ends of the tethers through a ring above her head on the stall wall and drew the ropes tight, drawing his shoulders back and up so that she crossed his arms as close to the elbows as she could, a just short-of-uncomfortable posture that got his attention. It bent his body slightly forward, which she could tell he didn’t like, for it put him off balance. He was going to be a lot more off balance when she was done.
    It was an effective method of restraint, because with his arms crossed nearer to the elbows than the wrists and his arms pulled up at the uncomfortable angle to his shoulders, he could not move back. The lack of slack kept him from moving forward.
    “I want you uncomfortable, but not in pain,” she said, testing the ropes, drifting her hand across his back. “You’ll tell me if you begin to hurt. Answer me.”
    “Yes, Mistress,” he said roughly.
    “Good.” She moved around to his front, stepped back five paces and then simply stood a moment, enjoying him. “You’ve got a beautiful chest,” she noted. “Those incredible shoulders, the cords of muscle at the neck. Long thighs, impressive cock.” Standing in the shadow of his body with her spike heels, she was a bit taller than she wanted to be. She bent over, her back to him, to lift the hem of her short skirt and take down the back zipper of the first boot, well aware that he was seeing her thighs all the way past the top of the thigh high. The posture revealed the elongated almond shape of her pussy in the green satin thong, the base of her ass cheeks.
    The rings clanked as he tested how much slack he had, and she hid a smile when he came up just short, as she knew he would. She unzipped the other boot, stepped out of them and kicked them out of her way, turning before he could get the bright idea to try to use his legs to rub a knee up the seam of her thighs. She wouldn’t put it past him to be so impudent.
    Taking up the brush with stiffer bristles again, she ran it down the center of his chest, tugging the bristles through the curly hair there, down the abdomen, tickling the waistband of his jeans, her fingers playing in the area between denim and hard muscle.
    She placed the brush at the juncture of his shoulder and neck area, and this time brought the brush down over the nipple. The area drew taut immediately, and she felt his muscles clench against the pain as the hard bristles scraped over the sensitive skin.
    She alternated as she had before, going down one side, then the other, letting her fingers trail behind so the harsh scratch was followed by the soft caress of her fingertips, soothing him.
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    It also allowed her to note the increased rise and fall of his chest, the thunderous pounding of his heart beneath her palm, the instinctive moistening of his lips, the shift of his body to relieve the pressure between his thighs.
    “Be still,” she commanded. “Keep your eyes down.” His