Unconventional

by Aleatha Romig

  “That's right. Look at your hard nipples. You may be saying you don't want to go in there, but your body is saying you do.”

  She doesn't respond.

  As soon as we're inside, I plan to remove all of her clothes. Not only her tits but her body—her entire body—will be at my disposal the whole time. Her steps are small, unsure, a complete contrast to how she usually prances around. I've watched her at the station, moving around the city, and even in her apartment. This uncertainty is new and hotter than I imagined.

  I open the front door, lead her inside, and hit the light switch. Thankfully, I'd turned on the generator the day before. The air is cooled, but not too cold, and the large main room floods with light.

  Erika stalls, her mouth opening as her feet forget to move. “No. Please.” Her words are meant for me, but her eyes are too busy scanning the room. It isn't the small kitchen area or table that has her attention. It's the St. Andrew's cross secured against one wall, a bondage table nearby, and an elaborate hook and chain suspended from a ceiling beam. Below the suspended chain are two large rings set in the concrete floor and connected to ankle cuffs.

  Near the cross on one wall is an armoire. She doesn’t know what it contains, but I know that it’s filled with every toy and accessory imaginable. Next to it, in plain sight hanging on the wall, is an assortment of whips, crops, paddles, floggers, and canes. I know she isn't ready for all of this, and I'd considered putting it away, but I couldn't resist seeing her reaction.

  She barely blinks as she takes it all in. And then her body remembers how to move as she turns slowly toward the large four-poster bed already adorned with wrist and ankle cuffs.

  Erika swallows as her lip disappears behind her teeth, and the pink leaves her cheeks. Her grip upon my hand tightens.

  I pull her close and menacingly whisper near her ear. “I know your fantasies.”

  She shakes her head.

  “What did I say about lying?”

  “I've never said...” She can't seem to take her eyes off everything.

  “I've seen your Kindle account. I know what you like to read. Your Tumblr account. I know what videos you watch.” My smile broadens as I take a step back and release her hand. “You're a dirty slut. Those books and videos make you hot, so hot you’ve gotten yourself off. You think I don’t know. I do. I know that you want to be treated like my property, and that’s convenient because that’s what you are. You are mine—no one else’s. Mine.”

  Her gaze falls to the floor as she bites her lower lip. “I do read and watch. That doesn’t mean that I want to live...”

  I have no desire to debate this with her. “Take off your clothes, everything.”

  I step back to the outside door and latch it. “I'm locking the door to keep us safe inside and to keep us from being interrupted, not because I'm worried about you running. You know how long we drove to get here. Tell me, kitten, do you think you can run away?”

  “N-no, Sir,” she says, fumbling with her torn dress.

  “That's good because if you did and I caught you, I'd punish you until you couldn't sit or stand, and then I'd fuck you in every way possible. Is that what you want?”

  The dark river of tears is once again flowing. “N-no. S-sir.”

  Her words are separated by soft cries. I resist the urge to lick the salty liquid from her cheeks. It isn’t that I don’t want to taste her fear, but that I honestly worry that if I supply any more stimuli, it might send her over the edge. This is a bold new world, and my kitten is barely keeping up.

  Once her clothes and shoes are off, I begin her education. Lesson number one: follow directions. I point to the large circle in the beam and the chain hanging from it. “Remember those shoes you were supposed to bring?”

  She only nods.

  I look down at her bare feet and shake my head. “Your toes are going to get tired.”

  Her expression blanks until she comprehends my meaning. She understands that binding her from that chain with only her toes touching the floor would have been easier with the four-inch red heels I told her to bring. “P-please...I didn’t know...how could I know...?” Her words trail away as her shoulders drop. Her body is telling me that she realizes there's nothing she can beg for. Everything is at my discretion.

  “You don’t need to know. You need to trust, obey, and submit.” When she doesn’t respond, I point to the floor. “Kneel.”

  Her eyes dart to the St. Andrew's cross as her chest heaves and she falls to her knees.

  “Good girl,” I praise as I walk closer. “Eyes down, always down.” I tilt her head forward. “I want that ridiculous makeup gone, but first, I made you a promise.” I unsnap my jeans and sigh. The relief at freeing my hard, throbbing cock is overwhelming. Having Erika Ellis naked on her knees has been my fantasy, and it's now my reality.

  When she looks up through her lashes, seeing me stroking my cock, she gasps. “No.” Her one word is laced with a familiar smugness in her tone. She lifts her chin. “You can't make me. I'll bite it off. I swear I will. This is ridiculous. I'm not sucking you like this.”

  “Kitten,” I purr, stroking her hair and tilting her eyes back down. “I never said you were. I said I was going to fuck your mouth.”

  She starts to stand when I push her back to the floor. “Do not move without my permission. Eyes down.”

  I wait until she sinks again to her knees and bows her head before I walk over to the armoire, the one I thoroughly stocked the day before. While I would like her to willingly submit, I have to admit that her fire is erotic. It always has been. Searching through the toys, I find wrist cuffs and a spider gag, items I thought I might need.

  Still fully dressed, minus my unbuttoned jeans and pulled-down boxers, my cock hard and pointed toward the sky, I take my choice of toys back to my kitten. Walking around behind her I say, “Put your hands behind your back.”

  “Vic—”

  I wrench her head back again by her hair.

  “Sir...p-please,” she rephrases with more tears.

  She doesn't say more as I release her hair, bend, and lick away her tears. “Hands behind your back.”

  Her shoulders sag as she complies. The cuffs are lined with sheep's wool and won't hurt her or her skin, no matter how hard she pulls. The buckles keep the cuffs tight and her wrists together. “Lift your head.”

  It's then she sees the gag and her blue eyes fill with unbridled fear. It’s a more beautiful sight than I ever imagined.

  “What's that?”

  I pet her hair. “I told you, it’s not your place to understand or question. It’s your place to trust my word. I said I was going to fuck that smart mouth. That’s what I’m going to do. I'm not taking the chance on you biting me.”

  She shakes her head. “No, please. I don’t want that thing. I won't bite. I won't.”

  “Open your mouth, kitten. I've imagined this between your sweet lips.”

  When she holds her lips together, I pinch her nose. It only takes a few seconds for her to gasp for air. When she does, I slide the metal gag between her teeth. “Don't fight it. I don't want to hurt you.”

  Her eyes widen as I attach the gag to an elastic band that secures around her head. The gag has a ratchet-like lever, and click by click, her mouth opens until she moans. “Oh, kitten, that's perfect. Now you're going to let me fuck that pretty mouth. Agree, or I'll open it wider.”

  Quickly she nods her agreement.

  I smile as she tries unsuccessfully to talk. The gag holds her tongue in a way that makes her words only sounds—erotic and frantic sounds—encouraging me to fuck her mouth.

  “That's it. Don't worry. I'm going to do it. You don't need to beg.” After a few more strokes as my balls tighten in anticipation, I plunge my dick between her pried-open lips. It's not the same as it would be to have her lips closed around me, but the ring creates friction and her mouth radiates warmth. I wrap my hands in her hair and thrust. With each plunge, I push deeper as my tight balls bounce off her
chin. In and out, until the sound of her gagging pushes me over the edge.

  Instead of coming in her mouth, I pull back. One more stroke. I grasp her hair with my other hand, keeping her in place as stream after stream of my sticky white cum rains over her. She closes her eyes and attempts to turn away as it shoots in her opened mouth, her hair, and down her tits. When I release her hair, my kitten's head falls forward, my cum combining with her drool dripping from her chin.

  She's so fucking sexy like this. It's not the Erika the viewers see.

  Knowing that I'm seeing a side of her that no one else does keeps my dick hard. I lift her by the arm until she's standing and back her, step by step, toward the bed. She still can't talk, but by the tenseness in her muscles, I can sense that she's fighting to look at me, glare at me, even yell at me, but at the same time, the submissive part of her, the part she's hidden away, wants to be obedient and keep her eyes downcast.

  Her internal struggle is like a shot of Viagra to my bloodstream.

  Chapter Seven

  Erika

  My spit mixes with his cum as it drips from my chin. I can't swallow with this thing in my mouth, not really, not with the way it pushes on my tongue. I want to beg him to remove it, to take it off. I want to scream and tell him he's a monster, and at the same time, I have to admit that I want him to fuck me. As he pulls on my arm, making me stand, all I can think about is his cock, not in my mouth, but inside me. Though this is all kinds of wrong, I’ve never been so wanton.

  My legs collide with the bed as he moves me backward. He doesn't stop until I fall onto my bound hands, onto my back, and onto the mattress. I make the only sounds I can as I come to a stop.

  “Spread your legs.”

  I can't physically fight him, even if I want to. But my pride won't let me submit. I hold my thighs together, knowing that if I obey, not only am I allowing him to see me, but he'll also see how turned on I am.

  Despite this terrible place he brought me and all the things here, all I can focus on is him. My gaze scans him from his long muscular legs up his toned body, his handsome face, all the way to his dark hair. When our eyes meet, I remember what he said, and lower my gaze.

  He’s tall, at least ten inches taller than me. He probably outweighs me by nearly a hundred pounds, not of fat but of muscle. He's a brick house, and I'm no opponent. His fingers dig into my thighs as he pries them apart and easily lifts each of my feet to the bed. I turn my eyes away in shame as he continues to spread my knees, exposing my core.

  “Holy fuck, kitten, you're soaking wet. Your cum is dripping all the way to your asshole. Damn, you're needy.”

  He brushes his finger around my tight muscled ring and I writhe. I can't talk. All I can do is grunt.

  “I know your tight hole wants my cock, but, kitten, you're going to need to wait—wait until you beg for it.”

  His touch moves upward, his fingers plunging. It’s heaven and hell. With my hands behind my back, my ass is lifted. Though, my mind says to fight, my body wants what only Victor can give me. All I can do is arch my back, praying he'll go deeper, praying he'll pleasure my clit.

  “That greedy cunt wants my cock, doesn't it?”

  I can’t believe how he’s talking to me. I’ve never heard him speak this way. I shake my head, unwilling to tell him the truth.

  Victor grimaces before he says, “Kitten, I warned you. Don't move.”

  I shiver at the loss of his touch as he leaves me with the combination of my spit and his essence cooling on my skin. The echoing of his footsteps tells me that he's walking back to where he found this gag. I pray he's not going for the crops—or, God forbid, the canes. I've only read about them, but from what I've read, I don't think I can take a cane.

  When Victor returns, he lifts my ass higher and slides something underneath me. It’s as if I’m a baby and it’s a diaper. It takes me a second to realize that it's a chastity belt. He's locking away my core...my clit.

  I groan as the padlock clicks.

  “Put your feet back on the ground,” he commands. “We're going into the shower and wash that shit from your face.”

  When I stand, Victor does something to the gag—touching a side lever that releases the pressure and lets my mouth close. The immediate relief causes me to sigh. Once the gag is fully removed, Victor holds my arm and stares down at me. I try to keep my eyes down until he says, “Look at me, kitten.”

  I do, but my gaze is veiled. In the last few hours the man with me has changed. He's so much taller, and his shoulders are broader than I realized. He's more of a man than I ever recognized, powerful and in control. With the scent of his musk covering my skin, combined with his clean masculine cologne, I’m lost in his aroma. It’s more than that. Perhaps it's because I'm naked, and he just fucked my mouth. Maybe it's because he's still mostly dressed, except for his cock, which is again standing to attention. No matter the cause, I'm fascinated by his presence.

  He rubs my jaw joint, kisses my forehead, and asks, “What do you say? I just removed the gag.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” There it is again, that tone I barely recognize. Even so, I can't believe how freely the words flow.

  In the bathroom, he turns on the water and waits as it warms. Out of habit, I try to look in the mirror, but his presence blocks me. I can't see what I look like. I can't see if I've changed. Yet somehow I feel different.

  As the water warms, he uncuffs my wrists, allowing my hands to fall to my side. I feel his gaze on my skin—every inch of it—watching my every move. Steam begins to fill the room when Victor speaks, his voice rumbling through me, like thunder through the mist. “Undress me.”

  I don't hesitate as I lift his T-shirt over his head. It had been tight enough to showcase that his body is trim and fit, but without it I see the definition in his abs. I resist the urge to touch him and instead, kneel to remove his shoes and socks. Once he's kicked off his jeans, and I'm still on the ground, I look up. “Sir, I can suck you much better without that thing in my mouth.”

  With an angry expression, Victor lifts me by the shoulders—as if I weigh nothing—and his tone is harsh. “No topping from the bottom, kitten. I'm in control.”

  My insides clench at his words. He's right. I was trying to take charge. “I'm sorry, Sir.”

  Not acknowledging my apology, he directs my moves. “In the shower.”

  With my head hung in shame, I step behind the curtain. The warm water falls down, flattening my hair and filling the small space with the aroma of wet hairspray. For a moment, I worry about the makeup, the mascara that must be dark streaks, creating rivers running down my cheeks. And then I realize how much I've cried since we left the TV station and the way Victor's seed showered me—my face, my boobs, and my body. More than likely, I already have raccoon eyes and dark streaks down my cheeks.

  I exhale as Sir suds a cloth and gently cleans my face. Instructing me to face the wall with my hands upon the tile, slowly, methodically, he washes my hair and body. Up my thighs, cleaning away not only the evidence of his arousal but my own as well. I moan as he washes near the belt.

  “It's your punishment for lying,” he says.

  I lower my chin. “I'm sorry.”

  “Tell me what you lied about.”

  “About wanting your cock.” Tears again prickle my eyes. “It's just wrong. I shouldn't want it, not like this.”

  He brushes his finger along the edge of the belt, close, but unable to reach where I need him. I writhe, wanting him closer, needing him inside me.

  “Does it feel wrong?”

  His hands move to my breasts, cupping, kneading, and pinching. I push backward, searching for his hard dick, wanting it against me, wanting to feel it. It can’t be inside me with the belt, but I can relish its hardness against my lower back as it pushes and probes.

  My head moves backward with the tug of my wet hair. “Does it?”

  “No, Sir. It doesn't feel wrong.”

  “I told you that I'd punish you for lying. Did you
lie about your pussy wanting my cock?”

  Again with the vulgar words. I swallow. “Yes, Sir. I did. I admitted I did.”

  “Then tell me how I'm punishing you, what I'm doing to you.”

  “Now,” I answer, “you're not letting me have it, nor are you touching me where I need you to.”

  “Do you want me to touch you?”

  My mind surrenders as my body electrifies. The droplets of water falling upon my skin are needles prickling my flesh. My Sir's voice is thunder. His hands are salvation. Only through him can I find relief. “Yes,” I admit.

  He spins me around and lifts my chin. His eyes are black, his pupils dilated, only small brown circles like outlines. “Yes...?”

  “Yes, Sir. I want you to touch me.”

  “So you lied.”

  “I'm ashamed.”

  “We have all weekend, kitten. Here's your choice: either you keep the chastity belt on until tomorrow morning or you choose to take another form of punishment, and when I'm done with that, I'll fuck your needy cunt. The choice is yours.”

  Chapter Eight

  Victor

  My Erika’s nipples bead at the prospect and my use of words I’ve never before used in her presence. They make her uncomfortable...no, the fact that she likes it makes her uncomfortable. Her body quakes under my grasp as I turn off the water and reach for a towel. “What will it be, kitten?”

  She's so much prettier without all the stage makeup. Her skin is fresh and pink from the warm water. Her eyes are clear and lips are red and swollen from the gag. She's a vision, and more importantly, she's mine.

  “What other punishment?” she asks as I dry her, inch by inch, caressing her skin. The indecision in her voice is loud and clear, even to the untrained ear. Erika saw the cross and the various implements. She has an idea of what my plans could include.

  “Trust. Obedience. Submission. Your punishment is for me to decide,” I explain. “Your choice is something else. I'll either take off the chastity belt or I won't. If I don't, wearing it is your punishment. That means no fucking until tomorrow. No having my cock inside of you. No having my tongue or fingers in your greedy wet pussy or your tight hole.”