All of Me: Liam & Sophie

by Callie Harper

  But then I’d always wonder. I didn’t want that. I wanted all of Liam, even if he warned me against it. Because the truth of it was, even if he didn’t trust himself, I did. I trusted him completely.

  “I do,” I repeated, meeting his eyes. I can’t say I wasn’t scared, but I was sure.

  His gaze darkened, not exactly losing the heat of anger but it hardened into something stronger, more determined.

  “You’re sure?”

  I nodded.

  “Then strip.” His voice was so cold, so firm, I stood for a moment almost stunned. “Now,” he commanded.

  Shivering with anticipation, I did as I was told. I needed to go through with this, needed to see what he meant, even if it ended in both of us going our separate ways. At least I’d do it with full knowledge.

  “Lie down on the bed on your back and wait for me.” He strode out of the apartment. I didn’t know how long he’d be gone or what he’d do when he got back, but I lay down on the bed and waited. I didn’t pull the sheet up over me, didn’t touch myself though I could feel myself growing wet. I lay there without a stitch of clothing feeling so sensitive, aware of every inch of my body. Maybe that was part of it, to get me in a heightened state, where even the whisper of a touch would make me gasp.

  He came back after a few more minutes that felt like much longer, and placed a bag on the floor by the bed. Out of it, he withdrew some rope.

  “I’m going to tie you up, Sophie. You will not be able to move your arms or your legs. And I’m going to blindfold you. Do you understand?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “If at any time you want me to stop simply say stop. I will release you immediately.” I nodded. “That’s not enough, Sophie. Tell me you understand you can tell me to stop if you want.”

  “I’ll tell you to stop if that’s what I want.”

  Satisfied, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me roughly up the bed. I watched nervously as he worked, first looping it around the bedpost, then around my wrist. It felt tight but not restricting my circulation. He did the same with my other arm, stretching me out, binding me fast. My chest rose and fell with my panting breath, my nipples already hard with arousal and anticipation.

  “Spread your legs,” he growled, grabbing onto one ankle and pulling it down toward the bedpost on the other end. I felt so exposed, so vulnerable as he bound first one ankle, then the next. It was one thing to read about it, and I had enjoyed my share of dark romances on my Kindle late at night. But it was another thing entirely to actually be stripped naked and bound, unable to move arms or legs as a large, powerful, fully clothed man prowled around the edge of the bed surveying you with dark, sexual, predatory intent. I found myself squirming, pulling against the restraints, testing to see if I could maybe wiggle out if I wanted to. I couldn’t.

  “You’re bound tight,” he informed me, enjoying my struggle. “I’m the only one who can set you free, Sophie. You can feel that, can’t you?” His voice had velvety promise, and I knew he meant it in more ways than simply untying my restraints.

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  “I’m going to blindfold you now.” He pulled out a strip of cloth and walked over to my head. I watched his every movement nervously, anxious about losing my sense of sight. I’d never done that before. And this was to a man who’d just told me he wanted to torture me until I cried. “This is the last time I’ll remind you. You can say stop.”

  I nodded, holding his gaze. Then I closed my eyes and let him blindfold me, tying the cloth around me tight.

  Enclosed in blackness, unable to move, I felt so aware of every noise. The floor planks that creaked as he moved. His breathing, controlled but heavy enough I could hear it as he circled me as if deciding where to start first.

  “You don’t know how many nights I dreamed of having you like this,” he began speaking, and I felt something light, almost ticklish stroking along the outside of my thigh. “How often I dreamed of having complete control over you.” Whatever he had on me, soft and moving like a feather, caressed my skin, the insides of my thighs, my stomach. I arched my back up into it as he circled my breasts, making everywhere he touched tingle.

  “Do you know why I wanted control over you, Sophie?” His voice sounded so aggressive, gritty and deep. Whatever he’d been using, soft and caressing, he removed.

  “No,” I whispered, frightened by the barely restrained power I could sense in him.

  “So I could punish you.”

  In a searing clamp, something came down on my nipple. It felt cold and hard and I cried out in surprise and pain.

  “What—?”

  “No, you don’t get to ask questions,” he scolded me. “You’re the student here. I’m the teacher. And you will take your punishment.”

  Whatever he’d clamped down on my nipple he suddenly removed and I felt sweet, slow licking instead, warm and gentle. It lulled me back to relaxation, making me sigh into his touch. Just as I started to moan, down it came again, some kind of a hard clamp right onto my sensitive nipple. I cried out in pain, but didn’t ask for any explanation this time. Now I knew better. He wasn’t going to tell me anything he didn’t want me to know. He’d keep me guessing to establish complete control over me. But it was hard to give that over to him.

  This time he kept the clamp on me, pain and pressure shooting through my aroused tip, and at the same time he started loving my other breast, confusing my senses, so gentle on one side, coaxing and sweet, licking and sucking while on the other he enforced brutality.

  “Uh!” I grunted as he removed the clamp and sensation rushed back into my nipple, a painful flood that melted into wickedly delightful heat as he engulfed it in his hot mouth.

  But then, before I could start to enjoy it, he forced both of my aching nipples into vicelike clamps, twisting them both until I cried out, writhing on the bed, wondering if that was going to be all it took to make me ask him to stop. I felt close to it. It felt frightening, trapped and at his mercy, but then I felt him brush his fingers along my pussy.

  Stretched as I was, legs wide apart, I had nowhere to go. Instinct made me want to twist away. This man was hurting me. I should tell him to stop and stay away from me. But I couldn’t move, couldn’t get away from his fingers and they were insistent, starting to stroke, starting to coax a throbbing arousal from my core.

  He made a low growl in his throat and I felt a response well up from deep within me, sensing how much I was pleasing him, bound there for his pleasure to do with what he wanted. He must like the sight of me, spread and tied, nipples clamped, and now he could feel my slick arousal coating his fingers as he fingered my pussy.

  “You’re wet.” He moved his fingers away from my pussy. Then I felt then at my lips, pushing into my mouth. “Taste how wet you are for me.” I licked and sucked his fingers, eager to show him I’d do what he told me, but he removed them as if not even wanting to give me that ounce of control.

  “I can play with you as long as I want,” he murmured, bringing his fingers back down to my pussy. My breasts throbbed, aching pain in the clamps but it blended with the pleasure he created as he stroked my clit, circling, rubbing, slick and rhythmic. Small moans escaped my parted lips, moans of confusion and arousal, the pain and pleasure mingling, making me shake with need.

  “That’s it,” he encouraged me, sensing my build up to orgasm. “Let yourself go.” I shuddered, letting my resistance fall away, shutting down my brain that protested over the clamps on my nipples, letting the blindfold help me block out everything but the feel of his fingers on my pussy. The rough movements, the sure way he fucked me, I started gasping, grunting, about to cum.

  He pulled his fingers away, leaving me with nothing. I cried out in frustration and bewilderment. Had he thought I’d already cum? He got me so close.

  He chuckled, low and pleased. “You don’t get to cum yet, pet.” He blew across my wet, exposed pussy, making me buck my hips. “Not yet. Not until I decide you can.”

  When he removed t
he nipple clamps it hurt so much, for an instant, then pleasure rushed in like a wave as he suckled and laved me, the wet heat of his mouth echoing the wet heat of my pussy. I trembled and panted, never so confused with the warring sensations in my body.

  And he didn’t stop there. He kept playing with me, tormenting me, down at my pussy with his fingers, his mouth. He knew me so intimately, knew how to set my pulse racing with a simple touch, how to deny me the aching release I needed more and more with each passing minute while still stoking my pleasure.

  He stopped using clamps, but he brought over something else at first I couldn’t place. It was hard, smooth and felt like an electric shock. I jumped as he brought it to my skin, wondering if he was actually shocking me.

  “Ow!” I cried out, trying to shrink away but I couldn’t. I was bound and blind, no way to know where he was or what he would touch next.

  Again, I heard that low chuckle as he enjoyed my discomfort, my disorientation. “Confused, baby?” He brought the object down again onto the tip of my nipple, circling, pushing down on it as I panted and realized—ice. He had a cube of ice, and it almost felt as if it were burning me as my brain couldn’t process hot or cold, just intensity. He brought the ice down to my pussy and started fucking me with it while he sucked my clit, the hot and cold, pressure and rhythm coaxed me up, up once again. Yet again he denied me.

  “You’re not anywhere near cumming yet. You’re going to need to suffer a lot more than this to earn it from me.”

  I whined, not sure how much more I could take. I was already trembling and ready to beg, plead with him to let me cum. The only thing holding me back was I knew it wouldn’t make any difference. It might even delay what I wanted. He’d probably enjoy hearing me beg, and want to drag things out as long as he could to hear more of it. I bit my lip, holding back the words I wanted to scream out, not begging him please, just twisting against my restraints and trying to stay calm, just breathe, keep some semblance of control. But it was hard; he was so good at touching me, coaxing such pleasure out of me and without being able to see I never knew where I’d feel something next.

  Until suddenly, he untied me. Wrists first, both were free before I really knew what was happening. Ankles next, he flipped me over as he got onto the bed, pulling me onto his lap. Lest I get any ideas, he kept my blindfold on and positioned my palms on either side of my head.

  “These stay there,” he warned me, his tone harsh. I froze, exactly in the position he’d put me, but then he started to pet me, gently caressing my backside, positioning me right up over his groin. My nipples felt so sore from their torture, even the sheets seemed to scratch them as I lay down chest-first. He pressed me down, his large hand in the center of my back. “This is good.” He caressed my lower back, then tilted my ass up more.

  “When you’re like this,” he instructed me, caressing my hips, my ass, my lower back, massaging me as he guided me into exactly the position he wanted. “You’re presenting yourself to me. Giving yourself over to me to do whatever I want.”

  I moaned as he stroked, nudging my legs slightly farther apart. Part of me didn’t want it to feel so damn good, but that part of me was losing the battle fast. It shouldn’t feel so good, to be bound and blindfolded and have him deny me orgasm again and again. But each time I came close and he forced me to not cum it heightened my arousal. As if I craved his control, his denial. He was making me work for it, earn it, and a crazy part of me wanted to see how far he could push me, how much I could do for him.

  “You remember this?” he asked in a hushed voice, that confusing mix of gentle caress and fierce possession in his voice. Against my ass, I felt a cool, hard surface. Out of instinct, I pulled away, shifting my hips to the side.

  Smack, his hand came down full and hard across my bottom. I gasped, starting to quiver. “You take what I give you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I panted, letting him move my hips back into position. The plug had been hard to go in, that I remembered. But I’d done it before. I just needed to breathe and relax and let him work it into me.

  He worked his hand down on my pussy, covering it in my juices. I felt the smooth hard surface of the butt plug as he rolled it along my slickness. Then he brought the tip to my asshole and held it there, almost teasing me. I held my breath, unable to stop myself from whimpering. I’d never felt more exposed, more vulnerable. I kept my hands pressed down onto the bed exactly as he’d showed me and dared not move my hips. I concentrated on staying still as I felt the plug enter my tight ring, push past my resistance, insistently stretching my hole.

  “Ah!” I cried out, unable to stop from cringing a little as he kept going, kept pushing the plug into me.

  “Take it,” he insisted, forcing it into me, making my mouth open in another cry, my eyes water behind my blindfold.

  “Liam!” I cried out, about to tell him I couldn’t do it, plead with him to go slow but then, suddenly, it was in me, settled full and hard, deep into my ass. I moaned as he started stroking my buttocks.

  “Good girl,” he praised me, working his hands up and down my inner thighs, up to my pussy where I dripped with need. I groaned with satisfaction under his pleasure. I’d done it for him, as he’d wanted. I’d taken the whole plug up my ass and he liked seeing it there inside me. Now breathing deep, I arched my back and lifted my ass to him the way he’d positioned me, offering myself to him.

  “You like that, don’t you,” he asked, his voice low and intimate.

  “Yes,” I cooed, wriggling my ass for him to see.

  His hand came down hard across my buttocks. The way he struck me, and the force of the spanking blow forced the plug up inside my ass again.

  “Ooh!” I called out, shocked, feeling it reverberate through my body.

  “Take your punishment.” He spanked me again, then again, my sensitive flesh stinging and burning under his strikes. He didn’t take it easy on me this time, slowly ramping up his intensity, caressing and soothing me in between strikes. This time it was repeated blows, slaps and smacks, sometimes against my inner thighs, my outer buttocks, the crease right at my upper thighs, even catching the corner of my pussy.

  Soon the stinging smacks started feeling more and more intimate, the heat building into a burning throb. Each spanking slap made me moan, a deep needy cry from my throat, telling him without question how much I liked his firm hand on me. How much I needed it.

  “Have you been bad?” he asked me in a low, steely voice.

  “Yes,” I admitted from a far off place, speaking from deep within myself.

  “Did you hurt the one you love?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I cried, knowing it was true. “I’m so sorry.”

  Smack, he hit me across my bottom, the pain so, so good.

  “Bad girl.” He hit me again, this time square across my pussy. I was angling my ass up, arching my low back as much as I could, wanting exactly that. Knowing I couldn’t control it, but desperately needing that intimate contact on my clit. When he hit it, it was almost as if sparks flew through my whole body, lighting me up. My fingers clenched into fists, bunching up the sheets as I almost started to cum.

  “Don’t you cum,” he growled into my ear, not touching me anywhere. “Did I give you permission to cum?”

  “No,” I sobbed, struggling to hold back, fighting the waves that had almost started to crash over me.

  “No, I did not,” he barked at me harshly, withdrawing, sitting up, our only contact my pussy over his lap. I started whimpering and sobbing, desperate for more, needing his hands on me again. I didn’t care how pathetic I sounded, how crazy I’d become, I needed one thing and one thing only and he was the only person who could give it to me.

  “Now if I start again, do you promise to listen and do as I say?” he asked, the harsh taskmaster.

  “Yes, yes, please,” I begged, needing the contact, craving his skin on my skin.

  “That’s it,” he praised me, bringing his hand to my sore bottom, stroking me the
re so lovingly, so intimately. “I know what you need,” he assured me, and I felt the truth of his words deep in my soul. “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I panted, meaning it completely.

  “Good girl,” he said, giving me a caress, then a sharp spank across the fleshiest part of my ass cheek.

  I cried out, feeling the loud crack of his hand reverberate right to my clit. He had me so sensitive, so broken down, I was like a puppet on his string. As he began spanking me again, I had no sense of time or space. I writhed beneath his hand and sweat, crying out, shivering, begging, a wreck with ragged breathing, whimpering incoherent words that always ended with “Please, Please.”

  “Yes, baby,” he finally said, a hand to my lower back as if to keep me steady. “You’ve earned it. You cum for me now.”

  He brought his fingers to my clit, pressing up and I came apart, white hot blinding ecstasy pouring and shooting over me. I bucked and convulsed, the pressure exploding in me, blanking out my mind as I kept cumming and cumming. He kept pushing for more, pushing and coaxing and my orgasm kept bending out and folding into another, and another wave, crashing and mixing together as I cried out, losing myself again and then yet again. I felt like I couldn’t stop cumming, as if I were caught in an avalanche and he kept forcing more, then more with his fingers and I was helpless to stop it, I was falling and falling until finally he slipped his fingers down my slit, then brought them to my ass.

  I had no idea what had happened, what was happening. I barely was aware of him removing the butt plug. He positioned me up on hands and knees and I was like putty in his hands, moving without any resistance, without any sense of what even was being asked of me. But then I felt it when he gathered up my hair and yanked it behind me hard into a ponytail, forcing me up into doggie position.

  “I’m going to fuck you now,” he told me, one hand grabbing my hair, the other around my throat. I felt completely controlled, completely owned, my mind blank with only yes as my answer. Yes, I was his. Yes, I needed him inside me, whatever he wanted to do. Yes.