Claimed by Her Web Master
Series: Web Master #3
By: Normandie Alleman
Publication Date: May 19, 2016
Genre: Erotica Romance
She's my addiction, my love--my life.
She's changed me, and I never want to go back.
I tried to protect her.
Hell, I tried to protect myself,
but I fucked it all up.
I may be a sick bastard, but I would lay down my life for her.
And I’ll do whatever it takes to make every inch of her mine again.
I always tell her for every ounce of pleasure a price must be paid.
She’s already paid more than she ever owed.
Now it’s my turn to pay.
Claimed by Her Web Master is the final book in the Web Master Trilogy and should be read following Her Web Master and Tested by Her Web Master.
Amazon US - http://amzn.to/1TmOEok
Amazon UK - https://goo.gl/6p8fOs
Amazon CA - https://goo.gl/0tX9Ky
She's changed me, and I never want to go back.
I tried to protect her.
Hell, I tried to protect myself,
but I fucked it all up.
I may be a sick bastard, but I would lay down my life for her.
And I’ll do whatever it takes to make every inch of her mine again.
I always tell her for every ounce of pleasure a price must be paid.
She’s already paid more than she ever owed.
Now it’s my turn to pay.
Claimed by Her Web Master is the final book in the Web Master Trilogy and should be read following Her Web Master and Tested by Her Web Master.
Amazon US - http://amzn.to/1TmOEok
Amazon UK - https://goo.gl/6p8fOs
Amazon CA - https://goo.gl/0tX9Ky
Excerpt – Rated 18+
"Okay," she answered, and that was enough consent for me. I reached for the candle and matches I'd stored in the drawer of the nightstand.
I massaged her labia, squeezed her clit, and fingered her juicy pussy—readying it for me. She squirmed underneath me, and I had to caution her to try to remain still. When she was dripping wet, I poked the tip of my cock into her wet slit. Her corresponding moan told me I was on the right track.
Pushing in a little more, I lit the candle. I could feel her muscles twitching around me. She was trying not to move, but it was clear she wanted nothing more than to scoot her ass back and sheath me completely. I grasped her left hip firmly to remind her not to move as I let the first droplet of wax land on her back.
She let out a shriek, more from surprise than pain.
After the second drop hit, I gave her another inch of my cock. The noise she made was nothing short of exquisite. That delicious combination of pleasure and pain—that was what I gave her. It was what she'd come to crave, and no one would ever give it to her the way I did. I would see to that.
I fucked her slowly, punctuating my thrusts with drops of hot wax. Between the mmms of the fucking, and the ouches of the scalding wax she didn't know whether to coo or cry, and that was just the way I liked her—captive in my thrall.
The smell of sweat and sex filled my nostrils and fueled my lust. Sophie's fingers clutched at the bedsheets as I dribbled wax on her ass and pummeled her poor little pussy.
"Does that feel good, whore? Do you like me to burn you while I take you?" I taunted.
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."
Her submission was the most incredible gift. No matter what our future held, in that moment, the bond between us felt precious yet solid.
"Do you want to come, slut?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Beg."
"Please, please may I come, Sir?"
"You can do better than that. Make me believe you."
Excerpt 2 – R (language)
Crack! The satisfying sound of blade meeting wood resonated in my soul and cleared my mind of the subject that consumed my every waking moment—Sophie.
I pulled the axe back and swung at another log. A drop of sweat ran down my forehead. Another one trickled down my back. It felt good to do something physical, and I vowed to go running the next day.
Thirty minutes later I’d assembled a nice stack of wood. I took a portion of it inside and stacked it near the fireplace. The rest of it I loaded into my outdoor storage bin and covered it with a tarp. The phone inside started ringing, and by the time I got there the answering machine had already started. My hands were filthy so I went over to the kitchen sink to wash them off.
“Ms. Davenport,” the voice on the machine said, “this is Liz Sherman from Dr. Morgan’s office. I’m calling regarding your follow-up appointment. It’s with Dr. Morgan at nine a.m. on April 14th. You can call his office for directions or if you need to reschedule. The number is 206-555-1234. Thanks dear. Have a nice day.”
What the hell was that all about? At first I thought it was a wrong number. Then it hit me—“Ms. Davenport” was Sophie. I wasn’t used to people calling her that, so it took me a minute to process it. And why would a doctor’s office be calling Sophie at my place?
I dried my hands and listened to the message again. Then I tried to determine what it all meant.
Last month I’d taken Sophie to the hospital to meet Kaitlyn, my former submissive who had tried unsuccessfully to kill herself, but instead landed herself in the hospital, permanently attached to a plethora of tubes and machines. In hindsight it was probably a stupid thing for me to do, but I’d been desperate. When the whole charade with me masquerading as BA backfired on me, and I looked like a fucking psychopath, I tried to explain to Sophie why I’d done what I did. The whole plan turned out to be an abject failure, and I probably deserved whatever I got. But while Sophie and I were at the hospital, she fainted and cut her chin wide open when she hit the floor. The doctors were so occupied with sewing her up that we never learned what had caused her to pass out that day.
At least I didn’t.
I didn’t think they told Sophie anything about it either. We chalked it up to stress or her not having eaten much that day, and then we moved on with the dissolution of our relationship—the thing that threatened to tear me apart on a daily basis.
This phone call led me to believe there was more to it.
"Okay," she answered, and that was enough consent for me. I reached for the candle and matches I'd stored in the drawer of the nightstand.
I massaged her labia, squeezed her clit, and fingered her juicy pussy—readying it for me. She squirmed underneath me, and I had to caution her to try to remain still. When she was dripping wet, I poked the tip of my cock into her wet slit. Her corresponding moan told me I was on the right track.
Pushing in a little more, I lit the candle. I could feel her muscles twitching around me. She was trying not to move, but it was clear she wanted nothing more than to scoot her ass back and sheath me completely. I grasped her left hip firmly to remind her not to move as I let the first droplet of wax land on her back.
She let out a shriek, more from surprise than pain.
After the second drop hit, I gave her another inch of my cock. The noise she made was nothing short of exquisite. That delicious combination of pleasure and pain—that was what I gave her. It was what she'd come to crave, and no one would ever give it to her the way I did. I would see to that.
I fucked her slowly, punctuating my thrusts with drops of hot wax. Between the mmms of the fucking, and the ouches of the scalding wax she didn't know whether to coo or cry, and that was just the way I liked her—captive in my thrall.
The smell of sweat and sex filled my nostrils and fueled my lust. Sophie's fingers clutched at the bedsheets as I dribbled wax on her ass and pummeled her poor little pussy.
"Does that feel good, whore? Do you like me to burn you while I take you?" I taunted.
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."
Her submission was the most incredible gift. No matter what our future held, in that moment, the bond between us felt precious yet solid.
"Do you want to come, slut?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Beg."
"Please, please may I come, Sir?"
"You can do better than that. Make me believe you."
Excerpt 2 – R (language)
Crack! The satisfying sound of blade meeting wood resonated in my soul and cleared my mind of the subject that consumed my every waking moment—Sophie.
I pulled the axe back and swung at another log. A drop of sweat ran down my forehead. Another one trickled down my back. It felt good to do something physical, and I vowed to go running the next day.
Thirty minutes later I’d assembled a nice stack of wood. I took a portion of it inside and stacked it near the fireplace. The rest of it I loaded into my outdoor storage bin and covered it with a tarp. The phone inside started ringing, and by the time I got there the answering machine had already started. My hands were filthy so I went over to the kitchen sink to wash them off.
“Ms. Davenport,” the voice on the machine said, “this is Liz Sherman from Dr. Morgan’s office. I’m calling regarding your follow-up appointment. It’s with Dr. Morgan at nine a.m. on April 14th. You can call his office for directions or if you need to reschedule. The number is 206-555-1234. Thanks dear. Have a nice day.”
What the hell was that all about? At first I thought it was a wrong number. Then it hit me—“Ms. Davenport” was Sophie. I wasn’t used to people calling her that, so it took me a minute to process it. And why would a doctor’s office be calling Sophie at my place?
I dried my hands and listened to the message again. Then I tried to determine what it all meant.
Last month I’d taken Sophie to the hospital to meet Kaitlyn, my former submissive who had tried unsuccessfully to kill herself, but instead landed herself in the hospital, permanently attached to a plethora of tubes and machines. In hindsight it was probably a stupid thing for me to do, but I’d been desperate. When the whole charade with me masquerading as BA backfired on me, and I looked like a fucking psychopath, I tried to explain to Sophie why I’d done what I did. The whole plan turned out to be an abject failure, and I probably deserved whatever I got. But while Sophie and I were at the hospital, she fainted and cut her chin wide open when she hit the floor. The doctors were so occupied with sewing her up that we never learned what had caused her to pass out that day.
At least I didn’t.
I didn’t think they told Sophie anything about it either. We chalked it up to stress or her not having eaten much that day, and then we moved on with the dissolution of our relationship—the thing that threatened to tear me apart on a daily basis.
This phone call led me to believe there was more to it.
See My Reviews of the Other Books in the Series!
Her Web Master
Tested By Her Web Master
A former psychologist, Normandie has always been fascinated by human behavior. She loves writing quirky characters that are all too human. Fiber arts, baking, and Pinterest are a few of her favorite pastimes. She lives on a farm with a passel of kids, an adorable husband, and a pet pig who’s crazy for Red Bull.
Newsletter Sign-Up (FREE story): http://eepurl.com/tECW5
Social Media Links
Website - http://www.normandiealleman.com
Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/NormandieAlleman
Twitter - @NormandieA
Pinterest - http://pinterest.com/NormandieA
Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6893037.Normandie_Alleman
Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/Normandie-Alleman/e/B00BNUDVFW
Google + - https://plus.google.com/u/0/+NormandieAlleman/posts
Newsletter Sign-Up (FREE story): http://eepurl.com/tECW5
Social Media Links
Website - http://www.normandiealleman.com
Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/NormandieAlleman
Twitter - @NormandieA
Pinterest - http://pinterest.com/NormandieA
Goodreads - https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6893037.Normandie_Alleman
Amazon - http://www.amazon.com/Normandie-Alleman/e/B00BNUDVFW
Google + - https://plus.google.com/u/0/+NormandieAlleman/posts
