by Ana Fawkes
“Throw them on the bed,” Jonathan said, still looking down at his phone.
I did in one shot.
“Now,” he said as he placed the phone on the nightstand next to the large bed. “Take your clothes off. Hurry.”
Hearing it and registering it took a few seconds. Jonathan didn’t like wasting those few seconds. He charged at me, coming around the bed like a bull ready to attack. I started to side step and finally turned, backing up until I hit the wall. Jonathan was there a second later, his hands at my skirt. He pulled, fighting against the resistance of the zipper holding it in place. Jonathan’s strength won as he tore the skirt, breaking the zipper. I heard the sound of the cloth tearing and I gasped as I felt the skirt fall free from my body.
Jonathan hadn’t taken it off, he’d literally torn it off my body. I caught sight of the skirt for a brief moment as he threw it behind him. I now stood in a shirt, panties, and my heels.
His hands attacked my legs next, rubbing them, pushing his body back against mine. He pressed much harder than he had to, so much that I actually lost my breath for a few seconds. I couldn’t find air to protest.
I wanted this.
From Jonathan Black.
“I told you to take your fucking clothes off,” he said with his mouth against my ear. There was nothing romantic about his tone. It was pure lust and pure anger. It was beautiful. “Now take your fucking clothes off.”
All in a second, he backed up but not too far from me. I was left with a couple feet separating us. He casually slid his hands into his pockets. After all that had just happened in the past few minutes, there wasn’t a drop of sweat on Jonathan’s face. He handled himself like no man I’d ever seen or could have imagined before.
This time I didn’t hesitate. My hands were on my shirt, lifting it off. Before it could touch the floor, my hands were then behind my back, unsnapping my bra. My breasts moved forward, pushing my bra down. Jonathan let out a groan and I slid my bra completely off. I stood straight and slipped my fingers into my panties, bringing my arms together to press my breasts against each other. They ached for his touch, my nipples erect and sore. I’d never been so engaged sexually in one day in my life.
Jonathan stepped back to me, placing his hands to my wrists again. His mouth came to mine but we didn’t kiss. We were an inch apart and he turned me. My back was to the bed and he lifted me and tossed me on the bed again. This time, being naked, gave him more of a show. I climbed back on the bed and watched him come at me.
“On your back, hands over your head,” he said.
I listened.
He took the handcuffs first and slapped them on my right wrist. Then they were attached to one of the openings on the headboard. The clicking of the cuffs turned me on, leaving my body gushing with heat yet they made my skin shiver.
Jonathan walked around to the other side of the bed. He leaned across my body, his tie tickling my lower stomach as he reached for the blindfold. He pulled back and his tie touched me again. I cried out his name, arching my back, losing control not only to Jonathan, but myself too.
He tied the blindfold to the headboard first and then around my wrist.
When it was done, he pulled on the cloth, making sure it was tight.
It was.
“Try to get out,” he commanded.
I pulled with both hands at the same time. The handcuffs made a sound, the blindfold cloth didn’t. Both tightened on my wrist, the cuffs obviously causing more pain as the metal scraping against bone hurt like hell.
But I was now Jonathan Black’s. Again. He could take out his frustration, his need, his desire with me.
He loosened his tie and tore it from his neck. With the flick of his wrist, the tie landed on my body, just below my breasts. I started to breathe wild, wishing the tie would have landed on my breasts, on one of my nipples. His fingers were then working fast, stripping himself of his shirt and then his pants. Watching him strip down was enough to make me melt. I kept my legs together tight and started to gently move them, actually using them to rub myself. It was a move of desperation but I needed it. I could feel the wet folds of my sex growing in sensitivity and I was pleasing myself so much that once Jonathan pushed his boxers down, revealing his thick throbbing self, I was already at the peak of climax. I thrust and I tried to arch my back; I just needed that little bit extra to orgasm. If I had my hands free, I would have just caressed my sweet spot, at my clitoris. A few seconds of that and I would have exploded.
I couldn’t move my hands and I couldn’t reach the final move.
Jonathan walked to the foot of the bed and his hands moved to my ankles. He slid down and pulled at my high heels, taking them off.
That was the final move.
Feeling his fingers grazing along the back of my ankles was all I needed. My entire body locked up, frozen, my muscles tense. My lower stomach and sex throbbed as I started to come. I kept my legs tight together needing some kind of sexual touch to satisfy my orgasm but Jonathan wouldn’t allow it. His hands came around to the tops of my ankles and moved in a hurry, up my legs. Once at my knees, he forced my legs opened. I tried to fight him but between his strength and all my energy being called between my legs, I was no match for him. My legs opened and I cried out, lifting myself up, needing him. His thumbs cut to my inner thighs and he came up, touching along the line of my panties. He moved across just in time to touch my now wet panties, giving me just enough pleasure to enjoy my orgasm. As I thrust, he held his thumbs there, allowing me to satisfy myself. It was a change of pace from the Jonathan Black who commanded everything… but then again, I was the one handcuffed and tied to his bed, right?
He let me moan and cry his name for only a few seconds before his thumbs were gone from between my legs. His fingers wrapped around my panties and he pulled. My body was still in the air and my panties moved down with ease. Jonathan threw them to the floor and moved onto the bed like a hungry animal again. Predator and prey, I tried to look at him but I couldn’t stop closing my eyes as the intense pleasure rippled through my body.
His hands were back at my hips. He suddenly felt twice as big, his grip twice as strong. As he squeezed I groaned and when he squeezed harder my instinct was to put my hands to his wrists to stop him. My brain told my body to do so. I tried and felt the sting of pain in my right wrist from the handcuffs. My left wrist pulled tighter, leaving my hand feeling cool with a touch of numbness.
Jonathan placed himself between my legs and against my aching sex. He was there, right there, and with the hardest of thrusts, he entered me. I had no time to react because he pulled out immediately after. His hands pulled at my body, making everything tighter on my hands. I cried out, wanting to remind him that I was tied up and couldn’t move, but he thrust at me again. This time, he fully entered me, pressing as hard as he needed to. With every intense inch of him, I struggled for more air.
My mind screamed Oh, fuck! again and again as his thick definition found its place at home.
He moved his hands from my hips up to my chest, cupping my delicate breasts with a strong grip. He just squeezed and held. I finally regained enough composure to look at him and he was staring at me with the same rage filled eyes from the kitchen. As he took heavy breaths I could feel him pulsing inside me, sending shocks of pleasure all around.
“Jonathan,” I managed to say.
I went to say it a second time but couldn’t find the breath to do so.
He replied to me saying my name, just once.
“Isabella Grace.”
From there, there were no more words.
Just sounds.
Very intense sounds.
-4-
The harder Jonathan enjoyed my body, the more frustrated he looked. He started out on his knees, thrusting me as he held my breasts. Slowly, his left hand moved up until he gripped the side of my neck. He held me but there wasn’t an ounce of romance in the hold. I kept my legs open wide for him, wanting him to reach everything he needed to reach.
His right hand moved from my other breast and the moment it did, both my breasts were moving with his motion. I gave up trying to thrust back at him, knowing he wanted complete control of this.
His right hand hurried down to my sex, two of his fingers finding my tender clitoris and quickly, he started to tease and pleasure me. His pointer and middle fingers were quick and aggressive, rubbing, pushing, and even at one point, he began to pinch me and pull. As that mixed with his erection still sliding in and out of me at a rapid pace, I began to climax again… and again…
My orgasms collided with an intensity that was exemplified because of how much attention my body had gotten so far that day.
The grip his hand held on my neck grew and I moaned for him. I cried for him. I came for him.
I wanted to touch him and hold him, but I couldn’t.
Jonathan finally moved his fingers from my clitoris and came up my warm skin, spreading my own wetness along my stomach. His fingertips grazed along my nipple and for a moment I thought he was going to put both hands to my neck. Instead, his hand moved along my arms, reaching up for my wrists that were cuffed and tied. His body had no choice now but to come closer to mine until we finally touched.
His body was warm, almost as warm as mine. Our sweat combined making it easy for him to slide along me as he still came at me, thrusting as hard as when he was on his knees. The change of position changed how everything felt inside me. More pressure was on the top of my sex, my pleasured clitoris feeling ultra sensitive. Each thrust from Jonathan brought a whole new set of throbbing pleasures that wouldn’t end.
My right hand hurt from the cuffs but seemed to ease when Jonathan put his hands to the cuffs. When he touched the cuffs, he groaned and pumped me hard. My left hand was able to gain a little traction from the cloth blindfold used to tie me up. I was able to hold it but not touch the knot. The way Jonathan tied it, the more resistance I gave and the more I tried to grab for it just made the knot tighter and tighter. When his hand touched my hand, he opened it and placed his fingers against mine. He stayed there – a reminder of the elevator ride we once shared. He didn’t move an inch to the left or right to actually hold my hand, to let our fingers interlock. He did it on purpose. He knew what it implied and what it did to my body, and my mind.
Jonathan placed his cheek to my cheek and let out a groan.
“Isabella Grace,” he said, “You’re mine forever… I’ll kill for you…”
The phrase shattered inside of me. I wanted to react to the comment but didn’t have a chance because Jonathan sped up just a little bit faster, enough to bring himself to climax.
As he thrust, I felt him engorging and readying.
His tongue suddenly came to life and ran wild down my neck towards my breasts, his body lifting off mine. I felt his teeth graze along my skin and then the warmth of a deep breath followed by a grunt.
Then he began to come.
The explosion was deep. He pushed and held, and pushed as he came. The pumps were so deep and so quick, he gently massaged himself using my insides, my tender walls, using my throbbing to release. As he came, he let out grunt and groan, his teeth sometimes moving along my skin, bringing tears to my eyes. When I felt him finally reach my breasts, his kissed one and then started to suckle on my creamy skin. The second he did, I knew there’d be a mark.
I cried out for Jonathan as he pulled from my sex. He climbed off my body just as he climbed on. He stood before the bed, his hands at his sides, his erection losing its thick size but still throbbing, shining with the color of our wild sex. When he took a breath, his ab muscles defined themselves, leaving my eyes with more to look at than they could handle.
He then walked to my left hand and untied the cloth from the headboard. The release was welcomed and I hurried to turn my wrist and touch my chest to feel my heartbeat. Jonathan moved to the other side of the bed and released the handcuffs. He left both items on my wrists and I just lay there, my body still in an orgasmic state of pleasure and relaxation.
Jonathan stood at the side of the bed, his cock inches from my grasp. He looked beautiful standing there, his penis still looking amazing, even if it wasn’t completely hard. He reached down and placed his right hand to my left hand, over my heart. His other hand went to my hair.
We stared at each other.
I took heavy breaths to make the room stop spinning.
“My perfect Isabella Grace,” he said. “Never forget my command. Never.”
He leaned completely down to me and kissed me. His tongue fluttered at my lips for a brief second and was gone. At my ear, he said, “I need you to take a shower. Wash it all off. Right now.”
“Of course,” I replied. “Whatever you command.”
-5-
I needed the shower and I needed the moments to myself. The water soothed my body in a way I never thought hot water could. Each droplet of water felt like a finger massaging my body, all happening in a non-sexual way. I turned the showerhead towards the wall and leaned against the wall, bending my knees, giving my body a second. As I stared down, I looked between my legs, the folds of my vagina, my pink skin. I hated to do it, but I had to as I reached down to touch myself. I used just my forefinger and touched my labia. I moved left to right, sampling my hole, feeling it still tender. As I came back up, I touched my clitoris and my entire body jumped.
Jonathan had turned my body on like I never thought possible.
I ran my hand up my body and finally to my face.
I lifted my head and turned towards the water, letting it attack me.
I didn’t want to think about anything in that precious time but I had to.
Jonathan’s actions, look, and words wouldn’t leave me. We were somewhere near Seattle, far away from Los Angeles, and on the opposite side of the country where the day had started. Thinking about it made me want to just fall asleep right there in the shower. How I was still standing and functioning I didn’t know, but I did know it wouldn’t last much longer.
As I cleaned myself, I thought about the day. I couldn’t stop smiling as my mind flooded over the two men who had guns. A smart woman would have run. A smart woman would have found a way out of this and just went home. I had my identification and I had my credit cards. I wasn’t trapped… but I was under command. Under Jonathan Black’s command. And something about it just made sense. Picturing him hovered over me teetering on becoming violent during sex made me feel wanted and needed. I still wanted to be the person to break him and make him understand. I wanted him to see that…
“Life is strange.”
The words fit perfect but they didn’t come from me.
It was Jonathan.
“Is it?” I asked.
“Of course it is. You know that. I just didn’t want to startle you now.”
“You almost succeeded.”
“I don’t like almost,” Jonathan said, his tone still sounding deep and angry.
“Sorry.”
“I worked close with him,” Jonathan started to say. He paused long enough for me to figure out what he meant.
Oliver Rush.
“We were both young, but hungry. I thought for a moment I had met someone who had the same dreams that I did. When we started, we were both fueled on the acceptance of our destiny. Of power. Of money. Of success. Of the grand image of life that most people forget about or give up on. I always knew there would come a point in time when the partnership would run its course, I just didn’t think it would all be taken from me.”
The water continued to rush along my body even though I was clean and finished. I stood in place, letting the water hit me. If Jonathan was going to speak, I was certainly going to listen.
“Two years into our venture, we had millions. We had a large deal in the works and it started to fall apart. I took the lead on it, making calls, working on financials, negotiating. I learned to speak two languages for this deal, but for me it was nothing out of the ordinary. Anything to reach the top. If the deal would go through, t
he company would be worth billions… and so would we. The day came for the phone call to come and I wasn’t there to get it. I was with someone.”
I knew what that meant.
A woman.
“Oliver Rush took the phone call. The deal was signed by the time I showed up and instead of benefiting the company, it benefited Oliver Rush. He took credit for the deal and used it to springboard himself into other ventures, outside our company. By that time I had been working on other projects too, but he soon turned our company into a cash supplier for anything he wanted. When I spoke up, we argued, often leading to us reaching nose to nose but never coming to violence. He has this smile about him that makes you want to kill him. He’s never stepped over the line, until now.”
Until now.
It made me shiver, even with the hot water hitting me.
Until now meant the extreme violence still lingered within Jonathan Black.
Until now meant it could happen.
Until now meant it would happen.
“After push and shove for another two years, I finally took an equity deal within the company. I had stake and ownership and Oliver Rush had the rest. If he grew the company, my stake grew. If it was ever in danger of collapse, I would walk away with a couple billion. It was a deal I couldn’t resist and it kept me away from Oliver Rush. But he had other plans. He stacked the company with debt… risky debt, bad debt, the kind of debt that catches up when the economy starts to fall. And that’s where we stand now. The company is dead but Oliver Rush has taken everything. I’m not going to discuss the legal side of things because it’s not so much the money that bothers me.”
“Jonathan,” I finally spoke, “he didn’t hurt me.”
“He tried,” Jonathan yelled. His voiced bounced against the walls of the bathroom.
“But he didn’t,” I said. “I got him away. He’s probably running, scared. He’s probably afraid to think or act or move. He’s probably thinking about what he did, letting it kill him, without you needing to do a thing.”
