Roman paused. “You want children?”
“Not right now, sir, while I’m in school—but yes. I’d love to have children someday.”
She bit the inside of her cheek, hoping that her revelation wouldn’t make him change his mind. Did he want children? Could he want children with her?
“I’d happily remain your slave forever, sir,” she whispered. “But not if I have to give up my chance at a family.”
“Getting your nipples pierced won’t affect your ability to breastfeed. You can simply take out the piercings when you get pregnant.”
Good. At least submitting to a piercing wouldn’t put that at risk. But he hadn’t told her if kids were something he’d consider.
“As your Dominant, my job is to keep you happy and content. Can we return to the baby discussion at a later time?” he asked softly.
That should have been enough. She should have been able to accept “later” as an answer. It was better than “no,” after all. But she needed to know. Did he ever imagine a world where he had a family?
The question danced on the tip of her tongue, ready to be asked. And yet she swallowed it down. For now, she’d enjoy being in Roman’s care.
With a gentleness in his careful fingers, he swabbed her erect left nipple with an alcohol wipe, and opened a sterile package containing what looked like scissors—no, wait—forceps. Slotted forceps with holes at the end.
The cold metal gripped her nipple tightly, and Jessica moaned. It felt like a nipple clamp.
“Take a deep breath, Jessica,” he whispered, and she shut her eyes, squeezing them tight against the burning pain as a needle passed through her tender peak.
“Oh my God, oh my God,” she gasped, and the clamps seemed to tighten, more pressure, and then . . . release.
“All done.” Roman caressed her face and she opened her eyes. “There’s a stainless steel barbell through your nipple now, and it looks beautiful.”
She desperately wanted to look, to see what he’d done, but all she could do was wait until he untied her.
“I’m going to pierce your other nipple, and then I’m going to fuck you harder than I’ve fucked you before.”
Her breast ached, the tip burning, but her clit was so swollen and needy. If only he’d let her come . . .
“Please, sir, please make me come,” she whispered. The pain had her on edge, needy, ready for pleasure the way he’d trained her body to respond.
“If all I give you is pain, do you still want to be mine?” he asked, brushing his lips against hers. “I’ve told you I’m a sadist. You need to learn what that really means.”
“I’m yours, Roman. Please. I’m yours.”
“And you’ll take what I give you.”
“Yes.”
Roman smiled and kissed her deeper, being careful to keep his weight off of her freshly pierced nipple. “Good girl.”
He wiped her other nipple with alcohol, pulled it up with the forceps, then clamped them so tightly she cried out.
“You’re making me so hard, Jessica. You’re everything I’ve dreamed of, everything I fantasize about. Right now. You, tied up, nowhere to go. Unable to move.”
He slid the needle through her nipple, ripping a scream from her throat. She couldn’t see it, but fuck oh fuck she could feel it.
Roman was so hard he could come at any moment, just from doing this to her, sharing this intense experience.
When he finished situating the second piercing, he set the equipment aside and straddled her. Every instinct in his body told him to play with those gleaming silver bars in her nipples, but he knew he had to show restraint until they’d healed.
“Are you ready for me?” he asked, and before she could answer, he plunged his cock into her, her wet cunt tightening around him, drawing him in even deeper.
“Oh God, Roman, fuck me, yes, please,” she cried, and he pounded into her again, sliding his cock over her swollen clit.
“Don’t you dare come, slave,” he growled, but he didn’t stop, didn’t stop the fast grinding of his hips against hers, the rough thrusting inside of her.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she gasped, and her pussy spasmed around his length, her muscles quaking with her climax.
Her orgasm, despite the fact that she’d broken the rules, pulled his orgasm from him, and he came hard.
When his breathing slowed, he took the knife, and slowly, methodically, cut all of her bindings.
“May I look at my piercings?” she asked, sitting up slowly.
“Go ahead.” Roman watched her as she walked to the bathroom and stared into the mirror with wide eyes.
“That’s really . . . sexy, somehow,” Jessica said.
“It is.” He came up behind her, naked, and reached his hand between her legs, pinching her clit. “I told you no orgasms.”
“I’m sorry, sir, I couldn’t help it, you turn me on so much.”
“You need to learn to help it. Control yourself, for me. It’s part of your submission.”
Jessica turned to him, looking up with her beautiful, sweet eyes, her honey-wheat hair mussed. “It’s strange, but when you tell me I’m not allowed to come, it makes me even more turned on. I don’t know why.”
Roman laughed. “Because it’s how you’re wired. I’m wired that way too. We’re like yin and yang. We fit.”
“Thank you for my nipple piercings. I’ll take good care of them, keep them clean and everything.”
“You’re welcome. And when you’re ready for a child, you let me know.”
“Don’t worry, it wouldn’t be for another five or even ten years, I suppose. But . . . do you want a child, Roman? A family?”
Did he? It had always seemed like something others would have, not him. A wife to love, children to call him Daddy, a family to care for and protect. Other men had that, not him.
But with Jessica, was it possible?
“Perhaps,” he said, “that’s something I can begin to think about. It’s a new idea for me.”
“Does it bother you that I’m asking you about this, now, so early in our relationship?”
He thought about that. “No. You and I are similar in that way as well. We like to plan ahead. And neither of us wants to waste time in a relationship doomed to fail. It makes sense that you’d want to know rather soon if we’re on the same page regarding a family. Five to ten years is far enough away not to induce panic in me, at least.”
“I’m excited for you to meet my parents,” she said, smiling. “I love them so much, even if they don’t get this whole thing. Us. You.”
“They didn’t like me over the phone,” Roman said. “I can only imagine how they’ll feel when they meet me.”
“It’ll be fine.” But she sounded unsure herself.
The next morning, Roman drove them to the Target in Spanish Harlem. He’d never been in a Target before. Or a Walmart.
The aisles gleamed like in a supermarket. In fact, clothing was set up on rails for display in a similar fashion.
“Let’s be quick,” he said, and took some large cotton T-shirts, rugged cargo pants, and hiking boots off the shelves. He grabbed a cheap Timex watch and threw that in the cart too. No need to wear his own timepiece in the woods.
Jessica seemed more at home in the store and was riffling through the racks with ease, gathering a few T-shirts, a pair of store-brand jeans, and a bright pink fleece jacket.
“Oh, underwear and socks,” she murmured, and grabbed a pack of each from the brightly lit shelves.
“What size shoes?” Roman asked, pointing to the small amount of hiking sneakers available.
Jessica grabbed a pair that looked ridiculously small compared to his, and they rolled the cart to the checkout line. It reminded him of a grocery store.
“Oh, sir, I forgot antibacterial soap, and fresh water to
clean my piercings.”
“They have that stuff here?” he asked.
Jessica laughed and ran off, coming back a few minutes later with the items.
They changed in the bathroom, ripping off the tags, and emerging looking like any middle-class couple ready for adventure.
“You look hot, sir,” she said, nodding.
“This shirt won’t last the weekend,” he grumbled.
“You’d be surprised,” Jessica said, and they got back into the Jeep.
Roman had a sudden desire to change his mind, to drive them back home to his mansion, shower, dress in his own clothing, and drive his own cars. But this was important. He needed to know how he and Jessica got along without the trappings of wealth. If things weren’t always so easy, would she still like him? Still want to be his?
They drove for over three hours, listening to the radio, talking about politics, and debating the pros and cons of the electoral college. He loved how smart she was, how interested in everything around her.
Love. Stop thinking that damn word. It’s gonna be the death of you.
“I’m really excited to go camping,” Jessica said, looking over her shoulder at the fishing equipment.
“We’ll need to catch something, because that’s what’s for dinner.”
“Really? What if . . . what if we don’t catch anything?”
Roman kept his hands on the steering wheel, his eyes on the road. “Then we don’t eat.”
Chapter Ten
Jessica followed Roman down the trail to their campsite. It was an official campground with rangers, at least, so they probably wouldn’t die out there in the forests of upstate New York. Stranger things had happened though.
“You okay there?” Roman asked, walking just ahead of her.
She readjusted the load of firewood in her arms and grinned. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Roman, for his part, was carrying all of the rest of the stuff— the two sleeping bag rolls, the tote bag of clothing, and whatever else was in that heavy bag. So carrying the firewood was getting off easy. Still, it was bulky and dirty.
Jessica could see the old fire-pit and flattened grass that marked their site just ahead.
“Is that it, sir?”
He nodded, and set down the supplies before taking the wood from her arms. She breathed a sigh of relief as her arms fell to her sides.
“It’s beautiful up here,” she said, looking around at the trees, the lake in the distance, and the post-and-rail fence that marked some unknown border in the distance.
Roman picked her up in his arms and kissed her, taking her by surprise. He smelled wonderful, in a different sort of way than she was used to. Instead of his normal cologne, he smelled like clean sweat, dirt, and . . . DEET. She felt like she was making out with a cowboy, albeit one who preferred not to get bitten by mosquitoes.
“See that fence out there?” Roman asked.
Jessica turned her head and looked at it again. “What do you suppose is being fenced?” she asked. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“It’s a property fence, probably to keep someone’s horses from wandering off if they get out of their stables,” Roman said. “Sometimes out here all you’ll see is a big long pile of stones to mark property lines.”
“I’ll race you to it,” Jessica said, feeling energized by the sun and the crisp air.
“What do I win when I beat you?”
“Anything, of course. Even if I beat you, you win anything,” Jessica teased.
“I like that kind of race.” He set her down. “Go forward until I say stop. I’m giving you a head start.”
“Sir, no offense, but I’m a pretty fast runner. You don’t need to give me a head start.”
He just raised his eyebrows, and she squeaked as if he’d spanked her.
“Sorry!” She walked briskly toward the fence, waiting for his order to stop.
After she was a good fifty yards away, he said, “Okay. One, two, three, go!”
Jessica ran toward the fence as fast as she could, her new hiking boots crushing the dry ground beneath her. Amazingly, he was coming up behind her fast, and it seemed he wasn’t going for the fence— no, he was chasing her.
She was his prey.
With a lunge, Roman tackled her from behind and she fell with a whoosh to the ground, cradled in his arms.
“I got you,” he said, pinning her arms above her head.
“What about the fence?” she asked, but he silenced her with a deep kiss.
“Oh, that’s right. The fence.” He rolled off of her and ran to the fence, leaving her completely aroused, and confused, on the forest floor.
“I won,” he said, patting the wood rail of the fence with a grin.
“You bastard,” she teased, standing, brushing the dirt off of her clothes. “You totally cheated.”
“What can I say? I like to win.” He picked her up when she reached him and set her on the fence.
Jessica kicked her heels against the sturdy post, panting from their exertion. “Want to sit next to me, sir?”
“No.”
God, he looked so incredibly handsome, even with dirt on his shirt, and a twig stuck in his long hair. She reached out and pulled the twig out for him, smiling.
“Do you know what I really want?” he asked, his hands on her thighs.
Please want to make me come, she thought. But no. He’d said no orgasms this weekend, and she believed him.
“I’ll do anything you want, sir.”
“Put your leg over. Straddle the fence.”
She obeyed, the hard wooden fence pressing against her private parts. Jessica shifted position, leaning back a bit, but it just relocated the pressure to her butt. With her hands, she was able to push up a bit to relieve the aching feeling.
“Not too comfy,” she joked. “But I’m guessing you knew that.”
“I did.” He stepped back, and watched her.
Jessica kept rocking, moving back and forth, shifting her weight, using her hands and her feet on the lower rail of the fence to find a less painful position. Within seconds, though, that position became uncomfortable too, and she had to move again.
She didn’t dare ask to get down, because she knew what the answer would be. Without a dungeon at his disposal, Roman was still king of his domain. Even in the woods.
“Let your legs dangle,” he ordered. “No more pushing yourself up with your feet.”
“Yes, sir.” She let her legs fall, and the pressure became immediately more severe. “Holy sh—”
“No cursing, naughty girl. Just stay on that fence until I say so.”
Jessica gasped as the pain got more intense. She used her arms to push herself up for moment or two before her strength gave out, then she fell back onto the hard wood.
It seemed like she’d been straddling the fence forever when he spoke again.
“Hands on your head.”
Oh God. She couldn’t. She couldn’t! But she did. With her hands laced on her head, there was nothing to stop the pain, the pressure on her clit, on her pussy, making her entire body quiver with sensation. Rocking hurt but staying still hurt more. After five minutes—maybe it was five minutes, maybe it was shorter, or longer, who could tell when Roman himself controlled the time? After some time she couldn’t stay silent.
“Please, sir, please let me down, it hurts.”
“Are you safewording?”
She thought about it. Damn, she thought about it. But she’d told him she’d do anything, and this was anything. Fuck.
“No, sir. Please sir, please. God, it hurts.”
“What will you do for me if I give you permission to come down?”
“Anything, sir. Anything.”
“Really?” He smiled slowly, languidly, the way only a person who’s not in excru
ciating pain can smile. “But you told me that before, and I picked having you straddle the fence.”
“Please, sir, I’ll do anything, I’ll fuck you, you can fuck me, I’ll do anything,” she begged, unsure of what she was even saying at this point. She continued, panting, saying everything that could come to mind, everything she knew would get him hot.
“Good girl,” he whispered, finally, finally. And he lifted her up off the fence and into his arms.
“Thank you, sir, thank you thank you . . .”
The gratitude was as intense as the pain had been, even though a part of her deep down knew it was strange to thank him for something she could have so easily ended herself—all she had to do was hop off the fence.
She wasn’t bound. She could have safeworded out. Instead, she wanted him to be in complete control of her, of her movement, her pain, her pleasure. If her Master wanted her to torture herself for his enjoyment, then she’d do it with a smile and thank him.
“I liked your performance,” he said, taking her hand, still shaking with adrenaline, and running it over his hard cock, straining against his jeans. “Your face, your cries, your begging. You get me so hot, Jessica, I can’t even—”
He interrupted himself by turning her around, pushing her hands up against the fence, the fence that had just imparted such pain. Without another word, he pulled her pants down around her thighs, and she squirmed, not to get away, just because she could. The sound of his zipper coming down turned her on—knowing he was about to fuck her broken, sore pussy as hard as he could turned her on even more.
When he rammed inside of her, she was already dripping wet. Straddling the fence alone had done that to her. Knowing that she gave him pleasure, that she’d submitted to him, to his sadistic urges, made her high with arousal.
“Fuck me, sir, please, fuck me, I need you,” she gasped, and he tangled his hands in her hair, slamming inside her again before coming with a roar that rung in her ears.
“What will I do without you?” he whispered, and she turned to him.
“Without me? I’m not going anywhere, Roman. I . . . I—”
I love you.
Enraptured Page 14
