“Not me. Continue.”
The unyielding command galvanized me – it was as if I was truly a stripper, a nothing to him, apart from my female form, and this was a form of humiliation. My betraying nipples scrunched in at the thought.
Another fetish I had grown? I could no longer tell what was me, my original state before Isak, and what had been created by association.
I let the other strap roll down, then let the dress slither past my breasts to my hips, and I shrugged it lower to pool on the grass, revealing my matching red bra and panties.
“Hmmm. Stop there, sit and eat.”
When I sat, propped on an arm with my legs folded off to the side, he leaned forward and readjusted my bra. He edged down the fabric on both sides to expose my breasts. Heart in mouth, I watched him suck on first one nipple then the other while his fingers explored below, rolling aside the crotch of the panties then pushing along my slit, until he found my entrance.
After a few languid insertions of two fingers, he stopped, with those fingers left in place up to the second knuckles.
Mouth falling open, I looked at where his hand was. How indecent, to see, to feel, a man’s hand violating me here, out in the open air. And on a picnic rug.
Such small obscenities impressed me.
“I can tell you like this.” He slowly removed his fingers then fed them over my lips and teeth, observing as I sucked them clean. “You are well-trained, my Red.”
My Red. Had he ever called me that before? Not this way. Eyes bright, he sat back, studying my breasts: framed but no longer concealed by the bra, as if they were a revelation.
“Better. Much better.”
The picnic went by in a haze. He poured champagne into champagne flutes and we picked at a cheese platter, smoked salmon, cherry tomatoes, and crackers with pâté. He fed me and played with the parts of me he’d made naked.
It was nothing dirtier than what he had already done, though the casual toying with clit and pussy, and being on display while he was clothed, it was more than enough. My desire soared, and I whimpered. I shut my eyes and swayed as he bit me, sucked on me, or stroked. He circled my clit while he talked about things I never quite listened to.
This was as delicious as the food.
I was dying to be fucked.
The food and champagne ran out, and still I waited. We packed away food and plates then he dragged me closer and sat me kneeling before him.
“Tell me what you want.”
“Kiss and tell?”
“Bad girl. No kissing until you confess.”
My guilty secret? He wasn’t making me and that made this problematic. After pinching in my lips, I managed it. “You.”
For a second that predatory look possessed him. I decided that look was fine when he was controlling himself.
“Take out my cock.”
An unambiguous order. I unbuttoned and unzipped his fly and took out his erection. With my palms placed on his thighs, I slowly lowered myself, my mouth opening.
As the distance narrowed, I stuck out my tongue then… I taunted him by circling the head with the very tip of my tongue. Around and around, five times, six—
He chuckled and seized the back of my hair, pushed me down until I must engulf him. Gently I worked my mouth up and down, sucking and using my tongue. It was a subtle action that pulled curses from him. He shoved me fully down, half-choking me, the zip jammed onto my nose, cloth muffling me, and his dick halfway down my throat. Then he let me up.
I gasped a moment with my fingers wrapping into the rug and his pants until I felt the wrench of a mental command.
“Hands behind you,” he grated out. “No more nice guy.”
Gripping my head and shoulder, he shunted me up and down.
With my hands at my back, I was rendered a mere fuckable thing. At the top of one slide, with my mouth almost off him, he paused me, wrapped one hand to my throat, and squeezed, hard.
Harder.
Caught at the verge of a raw moment, I wondered if he would truly choke me. Spluttering a strangled “stop,” I glanced up. He showed teeth, hissing through them. His fingers clawed into my hair.
“Get up. Take off the underwear. Get in the water. I’m fucking you there.”
I scrambled to my feet.
I was aware of how swollen my pussy was, of the heaviness of my breasts, and of my arousal, while being followed by a man intent on fucking my exceptionally slick pussy, or elsewhere. Of sticking that cock in me.
There was muscle memory and there was pussy memory, and I remembered the feel of cock pushing in.
I could still taste him…
So intense and fraught with sexual possibilities.
I waded in and heard his body stir the water behind me. My feet fumbled at the smoothness of rocks on the bottom. The recent rain up north had washed away most debris, and I could see my feet.
Knee-deep, then waist deep, I shivered as the cold hit me and prodded my nipples into tightening.
“When you wriggle those hips and this ass…” He slid his hands about my waist, meandering them upward until he cupped my breasts. Kisses and bites mauled the side of my neck.
I sighed and pushed my ass back against him.
The baritone of his voice melted into me. I let everything wash away with the water and the sensation of this man wanting me, holding me… the heat of his body against mine. His cock was supremely hard and obvious.
“Was that your good deed?” I murmured a silly question as he pressed more kisses onto my skin at nape and shoulder. His thumbs circled my areolas, and I moaned as tingles swirled upward.
“Not fucking you on the picnic blanket?”
Not choking me. Though I wasn’t saying that – besides, it had a certain appeal. My throat now had memories of his hand squeezing in.
He chuckled. “Maybe. Open those legs, or I’ll fuck you in the ass. You have… no… idea how much I am restraining myself.” He pushed his hardness into my back, sliding, shoving, then he flattened my nipples in finger and thumb making me gasp.
Pain had become a thrill.
“Open.”
I pressed my legs together, on principle.
Fuuuck though. “You think I’m easy?” My throat felt raw, and I’d rasped the words.
“I hope not.” He began to pull on my damp hair, twisting it over his hand. “I want to make you beg, of your own volition. Ass fucking?” he whispered. “Or maybe I should ride you into town strapped naked to the roof with a dildo inside both ends. With my Red on a spit.”
“No!” God, no.
He laughed again. “The cowboys would love it. I could rent you out. Judgment time. Be good or else.”
We were toying with each other, dueling.
He wound more hair about his hand. Soon he would have an inescapable rope of sorts. With his fist gripping my hair he could do anything, command or no command.
“Okay. Okay.” My breathing turned ragged, and he bit my shoulder, leaving dents.
“Move to that rock.”
Beneath the water I was slippery, wetter than ever. As I walked to the smooth rock that parted the rush of water in mid-stream, his erection prodded at me. I paused to angle myself – kinda hoping he would fuck me then and there, but not wanting to make this straightforward.
“Go.” He pinched my butt. “If I had anchor bolts on that rock you would be screwed.”
Screwed? Yes, please.
He wanted to fasten me to the rock, then he could do whatever pleased him, take his time fucking me.
Suddenly, I wanted those bolts there too.
A mesmer could do anything, but we had entered a new realm where he made me do what pleased him simply because…
Because we both needed it.
I matched him. It was a twisted thought. I loved the chase, loved him forcing me, loved the rough, insane fucking when he pinned me down in the bed at the house. My dirty smutty fantasies.
It was only when he disregarded my sanity and safety that
I hated him. Maybe this could work? Us, together.
When I reached the rock, he shoved me onto it, splaying me out, kicking at my ankles underwater. He covered me with his body and slid his cock along my slit, never quite inserting it.
“What a slippery cunt you have.”
“What big teeth you have, sir.”
He laughed.
“What poor aim too.” I wriggled to get him in me, and I failed.
“Tsk-tsk. Naughty Red.”
He pressed on me with his bodyweight until moving was on his terms. My clit found itself squished onto rock. If he fucked me really hard, it would suffer.
And I would likely come in seconds.
He ground on me down, up, down, crueler, harder. I sobbed shamelessly.
“I can tell… that feels good.”
I whisper-moaned a yes.
“You are such a slut. Here.”
His cock slipped into me an inch, less maybe, but enough to raise my hopes.
I wriggled and whimpered in gratefulness. I opened my legs wider to let him have what he wanted.
More.
“Should I tie you to a tree and fuck you upside down, or this here?”
“Here. Please.” I wormed my ass again, but he kept teasing, taunting, entering a fraction and withdrawing. My pussy throbbed, ached, and I tried again to make him enter me.
The water sloshed and gurgled by, washing away my wetness.
“Uh-uh.” He grasped a handful of ass and crushed it. “No.”
The weight of him was mind-blanking, inescapable.
His hand remained in my hair, and he nudged me onto tiptoes then finally speared into my entrance. Forcing his way in, relentless, splitting me.
“Oh. Ohhh. Fuck!” I moaned and tried to flatten myself to the rock, but he dragged my head higher. My breasts were squashed with every thud onto my butt.
“More?” He stopped deep within, and I spasmed onto him.
“God. Yes.” Any second now and my pussy would have mapped out every contour of his throbbing member. I bucked, futilely.
His bite on my back felt muscle deep, and he hung on with his teeth as his cock pistoned in and out. Arousal climbed with every penetration, with the grind of body, the liquid press of our joining, the thrash of water.
Our breathing coarsened.
“I want—”
“Quiet.” His hand covered my mouth, then both his hands found my throat.
I closed my eyes, thrown into minor ecstasy by that alone. I tried to arch, but there was little room for me to maneuver. Warm rock teased my nipples.
My throat was used for leverage and for possession. My fantasy of struggling to escape was subsumed, dominated, and destroyed by this, a far better one.
The next thrust pounded me onto the rock and maybe into rock, and whether it was a mesmer command or my clit worshiping that boulder, or those hands, I shuddered into the savage peak of an orgasm. While my fingers clawed for nonexistent holds, I was coming, and he was thrusting once more and filling me, and his hands… fuck me… they were tight on my neck.
Never let me go.
Spent, I tried to suck in air despite his body flattening me.
The Incredible Bulk would be lighter, I decided, groaning and reaching up to touch his fingers. They loosened, and he rose from me a little, though he remained inside me. His hands rested over my shoulders, barely holding me in place.
Breathe.
While we recovered, he sat in the water with me and cradled me to him. No words, but he kissed my hair and held me. With one ear in the water, the world hushed and rocked me. My skepticism over who he was and what he could make himself become was fading with every heartbeat, every breath, and I knew he was no longer the evil man he once was.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
His chest shook in silent laughter. “No problem. I think I liked it too.”
I smiled to myself. My thanks had a deeper, sobering meaning, but I wasn’t saying it out loud.
The quiet sounds of the Australian bush vanquished the noise of my thoughts, my hopes, and my worries. The creak of insects and musical trill of water, the cows lowing and ripping at grass, and that huge open sky above.
Other possibilities remained. I wanted to leave him. I didn’t want to. I nestled my head into his chest. Like a children’s rhyme I counted, eenie meenie miney—
“You think you’ve succeeded in making me human?” he murmured.
Ahhh.
That woke me. I held my breath, while deciding whether to say this, and while I thought his fingers combed through my waterlogged hair, wriggling through knots, soothing me. My eyelids lowered halfway, and I watched sunlit motes of dust skim the surface of the water. This was one of those things that made me wonder if saying it would wreck everything and make it not come true.
Finally, I nodded.
“Hmmm.”
I wasn’t sure what his hmmm meant. Acceptance, I guess.
The water swept by, washing us, and when we were cleaner than clean, he patted me and said, “Come. Let’s go pack.”
CHAPTER 19
ISAK
How close I’d come.
I remembered that second when I had taken my hands from her neck and flexed them.
My fingers were huge compared to hers where she had them laid out and splayed on the rock. Red was panting from her climax and thoroughly spent.
I had a problem.
With both hands at her neck and her orgasming on my cock, I’d struggled with darker needs.
To push her under the water and hold her there until the bubbles left her lips and died away.
My knuckles were red. Her neck was too. So were all the bites and marks I’d left on her.
I lowered my hands to her shoulders and forced myself back to reality.
The result was prima facie evidence.
I had not done anything bad. Choice. It all came down to choice.
After that frenzied sex, the water lulled us.
Then I asked her if I was human, and that nod of hers said yes.
“Let’s go pack.” I’d said that as if her conclusion was completely true. Nothing to see here folks, move along.
My question had brought the answer I needed. Did it matter if I doubted? The results and my choices were what mattered, not my deranged fetishes.
Choice, and I’d learned how to make good choices.
There had been days when my powers could sense certain susceptible women at great distances – as if absence had indeed made my heart grow fonder. When she flew over the farm, Georgia plucked at my senses. I was like a werewolf scenting fresh blood, new succulent flesh, and yet I had done nothing to her.
Choice.
I helped Red up from where she sat in the creek, saw her slip on the uneven rock bed and caught her elbow to guide her.
It was also true I might never lose these urges to do sadistic damage to her and to other women. And I did fear myself. What if I screwed up?
The solution I intended to experiment with was to regularly let my monster out to play, in a carefully monitored situation. I needed a situation where others would stop me if I strayed. Or at the least slow me down, because I could remove myself from those who sought to deny me and take my cruelty elsewhere. Nevertheless, they would be a logical roadblock to any mesmer urges.
At least now I had practice in making good choices.
I already had the place and the people.
Love was still incomprehensible to me, but my Red was precious. I would not squander her on my cravings.
When we’d packed up, dressed and were in the car driving back to the house, with the dust swirling and spitting off the tires as we traversed the small backroads, I told her my plan.
“I’ve made us a date to go to a party a few towns over.” I looked to her, and she crossed her legs, revealing the shine of beautiful thigh as the dress slid.
“Oh?”
“It’s a kink party. BDSM.”
“How?”
> “How did I find out about it? The usual. Someone who knows someone told me.”
Her mouth twitched. “Of course. You did say something.”
It had been easy once I saw the need in one woman at the pub. From her I extracted another name. That led to another, and so on. The people links led to the party. The hostess knew I was coming. We would fit in once I altered a few attitudes. The men would be suspicious of a newcomer, but their women would say they knew us.
Red would find out more on the night. My nastier compulsions would have an outlet.
The big suitcase – I hardened, imagining this – she would be getting in there for me. Trundling that big case into the party with her locked inside, tied up for me – the best introduction ever.
This would throttle me back from the brink. We would go to regular play parties where I could experiment on Red. And other women?
I considered that. Maybe it would be possible.
We’d come so far.
I had Red liking me. Keeping her was on my To Do List, and I believed she’d penciled me in on hers. I sat back in the seat and sighed, and she said something.
“Sure.”
“What?” I raised a brow as I swung the wheel to take the corner. An SUV was coming up behind us. The roads here were sparsely used, and I wondered who would speed on these dirt roads.
“Was that a yes to the kink party?” I hadn’t actually meant to ask her permission, but okay.
“Yes. And you know why? Because I trust you.”
“Good.” I smiled.
The smile died when I saw two cars blocking the road ahead. I braked, slowly. The one behind us stopped a car length back. A ditch and trees to either side made going around them impossible. Several men spilled from the vehicles, both in front and behind, and guns were being aimed at us. Handguns plus one long gun. They spread out and walked toward us. Four to the back and six in front.
This was more than a robbery. It was an ambush.
“Fuck,” Red said in a taut whisper. I sensed her fear. “If this is the same man…”
“Yes.”
“This does not look good.”
“No. It does not.” I reached over and squeezed her leg.
The Book of Red: ISAK & Red and bonus prequel Used Page 20
