Behind me, paper flutters. Logan must be reading a paper, every so often turning the page. If he looked up he’d be able to see me standing in the corner, a statue with red marks on her ass and a sparkly green jewel between her butt cheeks.
When he made me put it in, I tossed it out at the first opportunity. He made me pick it up and clean it. Then he put me over his lap and inserted one size larger.
Then he spanked me and had me stand in the corner. The worst part isn’t the pain. No. I can take way more. The worst part is my pussy’s dying to be touched.
I clench my fists and fight the urge to sway from side to side. Any movement makes me more aware of the thick intruder in my ass.
“Stop fidgeting, pet.” Another ripple of paper as he folds the newspaper.
I close my eyes and count my breaths, trying to relax but my ass feels strange with the huge invader stretching my back hole. So foreign. And so…new.
Every day, something new. Logan finds a new way to push me, to stretch my limits. I swallow a laugh. He is very literally stretching my limits today.
He paraded me in front of the mirror earlier so I could see in excruciating detail just how he’s stretching me. That was right before he teased my clit and then sent me to the corner like a naughty schoolgirl.
Finally, finally, Logan orders me to turn around and beckons me to him. I take a step in his direction.
“No.” His command slices the air. He snaps and points to the floor. “On your knees. Crawl to me.”
Face on fire, I lower to all fours and crawl awkwardly across the carpet to him. My hair flops in my face. When the tips of his shoes come into view, I shuffle to a stop.
“We’ll have to work on that.”
And work on it we do. Over and over he makes me crawl back and forth until I’m grateful for the thick carpet. Back arched, head high, hips and breasts swaying as I slink across the room towards him. He has the crop again and uses it to guide my buttocks higher, my posture more sway-backed.
More and more I find my gaze slipping, fastening to the top button of his jeans. Round and dull as an ancient coin. Barely holding back the ever burgeoning length of his cock. He’s not unaffected by my performance and that thrills me and pushes me on.
He didn’t cum—not last night. Not today. Not yet. And it shows.
At last he sits, legs apart. “Now it’s your turn to please me.” This is a first. Ha. Today hasn’t just been torture for me, has it? I feel like a cat presented with a bowl of cream.
The closer I get to Logan, the more I feel the intense heat emanating off his skin. As if his lungs are bellows and his heart a great hearth, pumping sparks and ash through his veins.
When I finally undo the button and zipper and palm his cock, it jumps in my hand. Little shocks of electricity run down my arms and spine. He’s breathing hard but so am I. My cunt quickens as I breathe in his earthy scent.
My mouth waters but I force myself to sit back. “How many?” I ask, challenging him with my gaze.
His eyebrows shoot up. I’m on my knees before him, face level with his giant cock. The devil is back and she’ll have her due. “How many patents does this earn?”
His eyes flash but he answers gruffly. “One. You should beg to please your Master.”
I circle my fingers around his cock. A thick vein runs down the side. It pulses as I squeeze lightly. “Ten.”
“Five.”
I angle my head and blow along his length. My lips seek his testicles, brushing against the pebbled skin. I duck my head to hide my smirk. I’ve got him literally by the balls.
“Seven,” I bargain back.
His jaw tightens and he glares down at me through his mask. It’s cute, really, that he thinks it will put any barrier between us. He pretends to be so hard, so untouchable, but I know him. And yes, I let him master me, but I’ve begun to understand the reality of this power dynamic.
I have far more control than I first realized. Holy shit. I think… I think that’s been part of what’s been changing everything for me. It’s not just sexual exploration. Number one, it’s sexual exploration with Logan, the only man I could ever trust with my body this way. And number two, I’ve actually had so much more control than it appears from the outside. I’m the one who’s been tied up, but I still have the power to hold this man captive.
Not that he’s going to go down without a fight.
He places his foot between my legs. “You can sacrifice two of the seven patents in exchange for me letting you cum.”
I whimper. Oooh, he fights dirty. But that’s just part of the game. I grip him tighter and shift away from his foot. He denies himself all the time, and so can I.
“Seven,” I say firmly, and then I drop my mouth over the head of his fat cock.
Thirteen
Present Day
Logan
Fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. Her mouth is on me. And then she fucking kills me by looking up with those luminous angel eyes and I almost cum right then and there.
Not that she’s about to let me. She pulls back off with a loud, slurping pop and then her hands are massaging my inner thighs. Up to my balls. She grasps them and rolls them in her hand gently, then blows again right at the tip of my cock.
I can’t help the shudder that works its way down my spine. I’ve been so controlled with her. So disciplined. A thousand times I’ve wanted to sink inside that golden pussy of hers.
This isn’t exactly the same, but having my cock inside any part of her hot, wet, welcoming body is tantamount to torture. I should never have let her anywhere near…
But I can’t bring myself to command her to stop. Just this once, it’s okay. A master can enjoy his sub’s attentions. That’s part of the gig, right?
She licks an especially sensitive area right underneath the tip of my cock and my head drops backwards in my chair. Fuck, oh fuck.
My hips buck with her next tantalizing lick and I grip the armrests to try to control myself.
But shit, I can’t let her know she’s affecting me like this. “Suck it if you’re going to suck it,” I growl.
She looks up at me, raises an eyebrow, and then, while we’re still locked in eye contact, she extends just the tip of her tongue and, back and forth, back and forth, lathes the very tip of my cock.
My hips jut forward again, desperate for more of her mouth, before my head can catch up. The head with a brain in it anyway. But it’s too late. She’s smiling a Cheshire’s cat grin.
She pulls back altogether and moves back from me, still on her knees. “I want to show Master how well I’ve learned my lessons.”
And then she crawls. She crawls in a circle on the rug, swaying her ass, her beautiful breasts bouncing as she puts herself on display for me. She’s playing with me, teasing me. But when she finishes her circle and comes crawling back towards me, slinking like a lioness intent on her prey, fuck me but my cock goes harder than the hardest stone. My cock goes hard as a diamond.
My legs sag open wider at her approach. She gives an extra sway to her ass, sending her breasts jiggling as she reaches me and goes up on her knees, running her hands up from my knees to my upper thighs.
“I want to please my Master. I want to suck your cock and taste your cum down my throat.”
My jaw hardens. My entire body flexes towards her. “Then please me.”
And finally, finally, she grabs the base of my cock in one hand and then sinks her mouth on me again. I barely hold back my groan of relief.
But she’s not holding back. Not anymore. She moans around me, the vibrations of her throat suctioned around my cock unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. I’ve fucking died. That’s all I can think. I’ve fucking died and this is heaven, the woman I’ve always—
I cut the thought short. No more fucking thinking. Just take it for what it fucking is. Great head. I’ve got a slave who’s great at giving head. Enjoy it. I’ll sleep good tonight. That’s all this is.
But then she reaches down, and t
he hand not at the base of my cock starts playing with my balls. My stomach heaves, I’m breathing so hard. She’s driving me so fucking crazy.
I keep glancing down even though I tell myself not to. But the image of her on her knees is mesmerizing, her black hair cascading around her as she works and worships my cock so diligently.
I should hold out longer. Make her really work for it.
But then she looks up at me again. And she’s still the sassy siren of a few minutes earlier who crawled towards me so confidently. But I also see a vulnerability there. Like she’s wondering if she’s doing it right. She looks like...she looks like Daphne.
She is the goddess who first woke me up to her womanhood when I saw her at the Ubeli’s ball after her 18th birthday, who walked towards me on the beach on a day that is seared into my brain forever, like a siren in scraps of red fabric that I wanted to tear from her body. It all but killed me to act like a gentleman that day and for the months afterwards. She’s the woman I spent hours talking late into the evening with, the person who I thought understood me better than anyone else.
I can’t help reaching down a hand to cup her face. She closes her eyes and sinks against my hand even as she continues sucking me in and out, more vigorously than ever, like she wants me closer, deeper, more, her moans more frantic—
And I fucking lose it. I tap the side of her head but she doesn’t move and I barely get the words out, “I’m cumming,” but still she doesn’t move away and then it’s too late. I lose it and my hand tangles in her hair as my cum pumps out of me and paints the inside of her throat.
She swallows and sucks and swallows some more, her throat a vise around my cock, pulling even more cum out of me, and then more still.
I’ve never felt more empty or more complete and for a second, everything in the world is as it should be.
One breath. Two.
But then the real world comes buzzing back to life. Her warm mouth slips off of me. The cold intrudes. It’s back to reality. And I’ve let her see too much.
She is who she is. The woman who betrayed me.
Or...did she? What if it was all a misunderstanding?
Says the guy who just got his brain sucked out through his dick.
I stand up abruptly and button my pants. “Good night, Daphne. You’ve earned your seven patents.” And then I turn and go, not looking back once. Because I’m not sure I could bear seeing the hurt on her face.
Fourteen
Present Day
Logan
I sit in my study and try to focus on the academic journal I’m reading about nerve regeneration research but I’ve read the same fucking line at least ten times.
I slap the paper down on the floor beside my chair and stand, pacing in front of the fire. Having her under my roof again… I run my hands through my hair and imagine her up in her bed.
Her lithe little body curled up around her pillow. I remember the endless nights I watched her sleep after she caught cold from running headlong into the labyrinth.
Even then she was trying to escape you.
I laugh humorlessly and walk to the liquor cabinet, pour a couple fingers of whiskey, and down it. The fire bites at my throat but I’m already pouring another.
But I thought I could train her, make her mine. I thought it meant something that she reached for me in her feverish dreams...but she was playing me even then. Planning her next escape from the second the first failed.
Did she think she could manipulate the patents out of me? Because I was so foolish to fall for her feminine wiles. That because I’m a disfigured recluse I would be easy to fool while she and that bastard Archer laughed themselves home to the bank?
And maybe now she’s playing me all over again. I thought I knew her, but I’ve been substituting the memory of the girl that was for the woman that is now, and they aren’t the same. Still, how many years did I long to have her in my arms? Of finally having the girl of my dreams?
And earlier, her angel lips around my cock, those paradoxically innocent fuck-me eyes… Sex with her is always more than just a master and sub. It’s never so simple. That girl has so many hooks twisted up in my insides. A lifetime’s worth.
But then I imagine her flashing him the same eyes. The betrayal burns so much deeper than her father’s ever could. Just picturing her and Archer together, her laughing, curved into his body, her arms around his neck has me hurling the second glass of whiskey at the wall instead of drinking it.
Why am I still torturing myself like this? Why did I let her back into this house? Is it just because if she’s here it means she’s not there with him? That’s what I told myself. That I’ll never let them be together. That I’ll ruin them both.
But then there was the way she’s melted under my touch since she’s been back. That wasn’t acting. If sex is the only way to wring a genuine moment out of her…
Maybe I can’t trust anything when it comes to her, though. All I know is I can’t let her keep throwing me off balance like that. It’s time to take back control, for my own fucking sanity.
My pacing suddenly leads me towards the door. I grab my mask and pull it on. And then I’m out of the office and stomping up the stairs.
To her room.
I don’t bother being quiet as I slam the door open. Her yelp tells me she doesn’t miss my lack of subtlety.
I don’t turn on the lights as I head straight towards the bed. A small bit of light streams in from the window, just enough to make out the luscious shape of her body as she sits up in bed.
“Logan?” she asks, her voice thick with sleep and confusion. “What are y—”
“Silence,” I bark.
I rip back the covers and her arms immediately move to cover herself. All she’s wearing is a tiny camisole and panties. She’s fucking gorgeous. A goddess. I grab her wrists and pin them over her head. Her chest heaves, perfect breasts round and nipples pebbling, and her eyes catch the light from the window, sparkling in the dark. Bewitching me all over again.
Which just fucking infuriates me. My teeth clench and I let go of her wrists only long enough to whip off my belt.
“Wait, Logan, I don’t know if I can, not so soon after—”
“I said silence!” I hiss. I drop over her, getting right in her face. “Do you want to leave this bed, pack your bags, and get the hell out of my fucking castle? Then say so.”
Her mouth purses like she’s barely holding back from cursing me out and her hips buck underneath me.
But she doesn’t say a word. I smile cruelly.
Then I take my belt, grab her wrists, and proceed to use it to tie her hands to the headboard.
The position exposes her breasts and makes them arch outwards. I can’t help leaning over and drawing one into my mouth. She cries out again, but this time it’s an ecstatic sound, and when she writhes underneath me, it’s not to buck me off. She’s melting. Already I know her body so well and it’s a fucking high to feel her response.
But then it flashes through my mind like poison: the image of him on top of her, his hands on these perfect breasts.
And I bite down on her precious nipple.
“Logan!” she shouts, high and breathy, cumming hard.
My cock goes rock hard. The pain. She’s orgasmed from the pain again. Oh fuck.
I lathe her nipple as she writhes underneath me and then I switch to the other, only letting up long enough to demand, “Do it again. Do it again now.”
Then I suckle her other nipple to the point of pain, and, right as her writhing is at its most violent, I bite down again.
Again her moaning cries reach a fever pitch. “Logan, oh gods, Logan, yes, please. I— I lo—”
I slam a hand over her mouth as I raise up and straddle her, undoing the button of my fly. I straddle those perfect breasts and then order, “Silence.”
Then I move my hand from her mouth to cover her eyes as I pull out my cock and begin to roughly stroke it. I’m wearing the mask but it only covers half my fa
ce and I’m too exposed. She can’t see what she does to me.
Oh fuck, she’s so beautiful tied up and laid out underneath me like a feast. She’s still twisting and writhing, no doubt trying to get more friction on her clit or her breasts but she won’t find either.
Though that doesn’t mean I won’t tease her with what she won’t ever have again. I press my cock between the valley of her luscious breasts.
And almost pass out from the filthy fucking picture it makes.
I have to defile her smooth, blemish free skin. I have to mark her as fucking mine. I fist my cock painfully and drag up and down. I grab my balls roughly and squeeze, then go back to stroking myself.
“Please, Logan, I want to see,” she whimpers.
“Quiet,” I growl, one hand still firmly in place over her eyes. She’ll never see me vulnerable like this. But I still have to mark her. I’ve never felt a more carnal drive in my whole fucking life.
“No, fuck quiet,” I suddenly decide. “Beg me,” I demand. “Beg to be painted in my cum.”
She swallows hard and a shudder runs through her body. “Please Logan. I- I want your cum. I want every part of you. I want to feel your cum on my tits. I- I need it. I want to feel you spurt so hot on me. I want you to rub it in and claim me—”
“Oh fuck,” I groan and I can’t hold it back any more.
“Logan, make me dirty with your cum—”
Cum jets out of my cock so hard it splatters all over her tits and into the hollow of her throat. Her back arches and she thrusts her breasts out to receive even more of my cum, which just keeps shooting out in the most powerful fucking spurts I’ve ever experienced.
And then I do just as she begged. I rub it into every inch of her breasts, massaging and marking her with my cum like it’s the most expensive lotion.
When I’m done, we’re both panting like we’ve run a marathon.
I want to collapse on top of her. I want to hold her to me. I remember the one and only night we spent together back when she was really my girl. Or at least back before the world had corrupted her.
Beauty and the Thorns Page 6
