by Ashe Barker
Despite what had taken place between them little more than an hour ago, Victoria knew another flash of self-consciousness at the prospect of being naked before him again. Discretion was the better part of valour on this occasion though, so she discarded the towel as requested before she had time to consider the matter too deeply. Best to get it over with. She leapt forward to scramble onto the bed before he could reach her, then shuffled backwards to lean against the right-hand bedpost. She twisted her neck to look over her shoulder in order to see what he was doing.
She was not especially surprised to see him extract a length of rope from the top drawer in the dressing table. He advanced to stand behind her.
“Put your hands behind your back, and behind the pole too.”
Victoria obeyed, and tried to quell her nerves as he secured her wrists with the rope. If she had felt vulnerable and exposed when kneeling on the rug, this seemed worse somehow. She couldn’t move, would be restrained here until, unless, he decided to free her. What if there was a fire? Or if the hotel staff came to the door for some reason. Hadn’t he mentioned ordering food?
“Please, sir, I…” She stopped, refused to beg or to plead. She had promised herself dignity and here was the first test of that resolve.
Adam didn’t speak to her. Instead, he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and exerted just enough pressure to assert his mastery. Afterwards Victoria would remember it, and wonder at the effect that simple, powerful gesture had on her. For now though, she just went quiet. She felt calm, grounded, and utterly safe.
“I won’t harm you, Victoria, or put you in danger. We are quite alone here; this is for my eyes only.”
How did he know what her fears were? Was he some manner of mind reader?
Adam continued. “And if I do anything to you that you really cannot tolerate, you can ask me to stop. Tell me, what is your favourite animal?”
“I like horses. And cats.”
“Do you have a horse? Or a cat?”
“No, sir. I had a pony when I was young though.”
“What was her name?”
“Dancer. She was called Dancer.”
“Then that shall be your word. If at any time you need me to stop, say ‘dancer,’ and I will. That shall be your signal to me that you’ve reached your limit, that you need me to stop, slow down, do something different.”
She frowned, puzzled and once again utterly astonished. But pragmatic to the core, she asked the question uppermost in her mind. “If I say that, if I make you stop, will that be the end of our deal?”
“No, Victoria. Our deal ends when one or the other of us decides it’s over, that we no longer want this, any of it. Or when you buy out my share of the mill. Dancer only stops what is happening in that moment. It’s a way to make sure you feel safe, a way for you to know you have some control over what’s happening to you.”
“I thought the point was that I did not have control, that you were in charge and I had to obey, to submit.”
“Ah, yes, but if you have no choice, none at all, that would mean that this thing between us is merely coercion and I take no pleasure in that. We both know I could blackmail you, or if you prefer, bribe you with the promise of returning Wynne’s Mill to you. Or I could simply overpower you to make you do as I want. That holds no attraction for me. I want you to choose this, to choose to be here with me. I want us both to know that you could have stopped if you wanted to, but chose to continue. I want your consent, Victoria, your willing submission. Nothing less.”
“But, you said you would whip me, and spank me too. Hurt me. Why would I consent to being hurt?”
His smile now was positively lecherous, but Victoria’s pussy contracted in response. He leaned in to breathe his next words into her ear. “Ah, Victoria, life’s mysteries do indeed confound us. But it would be so uninteresting were it otherwise.”
He released his grip on her neck and strolled around the bed to regard her from the front. He leaned on the bedpost opposite as he ran his gaze up and down her body, taking several moments to scrutinise her. He took his time, appeared to relish her discomfiture as she knelt, restrained and helpless, her body on display.
“Victoria, you are a truly beautiful woman. I may have mentioned that previously, but felt it appropriate to repeat here.”
He had not, as far as she could recall, made such a remark before. His admiration expressed with words as well as his undisguised physical response helped to calm her, and made her feel appreciated. Valued even. His approval mattered to her, she realised, and she mentally gathered her dignity and pride to her. Not a cloak exactly, more a comfort blanket. Adam Luke would allow her no modesty, no privacy, but he seemed to harbour no wish to humiliate her in the process.
Victoria allowed her gaze to drop to the impressive bulge in the front of his trousers. She had yet to see his body unclothed, and could not rein in her curiosity.
“I believe you are too, sir. Beautiful, I mean. But you are somewhat overdressed for this occasion in my opinion.”
He lifted one perfect eyebrow. “You want me to strip for you, Miss Wynne?”
“If you would, sir.” My goodness, where did that come from?
Victoria could not quite believe her boldness. Was this allowed? The terms of their bargain were quite clear—she was to obey, he would command.
He shrugged and straightened. “If that would make you feel more comfortable, I see no objection to it.” He had discarded his jacket at some stage whilst she was in the bath, and his tie too. Now he took his time unfastening and removing his cufflinks, then in unbuttoning his shirt. He slid it from his shoulders and dropped it onto the floor.
Victoria’s pussy clenched and her mouth actually watered. He was magnificent. She had known he was a handsome man, and powerfully built, but she had not imagined the details. Certainly she had never visualised the sculpted chest, the planes and ridges of his hard muscles, his solid, broad shoulders. Adam paused for several moments, whether to allow her to savour the view or not she was unsure, but that was the outcome. She licked her lips, wondered if he would release her hands so she might explore those solid contours more thoroughly.
He maintained eye contact with her as he crouched to remove his shoes, then his socks. His smile never wavered as he reached for the fastenings on his dark wool trousers and undid them. He slid the expensive fabric down his legs, taking his underwear with them. As his cock sprang free, solid and erect, Victoria let out a gasp.
It was impossible, he would never fit. He would injure her, kill her even. She met his eyes again, her mounting panic apparent, surely.
He stood, proud and unabashed. “You look less impressed now, sweet Victoria. Not what you were hoping for?”
She shook her head. “It is not… I mean, I thought… Oh, dear Lord.”
He approached her, crossing the bed on his knees to take her face between his palms. “It’s all right to be nervous, little one. I understand, and we will take this slowly.”
She shook her head, frantic now. She must get through this, there was no alternative. But taking it slowly was the last thing she desired from him.
“No, sir, just do it. Do it now, I want to get this over with.”
He offered her his warm smile again, his head tilted to one side as he studied her features. She was trying to hang on to her composure, struggling to remain calm in the face of his indifference to her plight, but he did not make it easy.
He cupped her chin in his palm, then brushed his lips across hers. The gesture calmed her, though not much.
“I have no wish to cause you undue distress, Miss Wynne, but in this matter I am unable to oblige you. There will be no ‘getting it over with.’ I intend to take my time, to savour you. You are a temptation, certainly, and I look forward to the moment I sink my cock into your hot, tight quim. But I am in no hurry, and did you but know it, neither are you. I have no doubt at all that you will be worth the wait and I trust you will th
ank me for my patience in due course.”
“I will not, sir. You are being deliberately unkind and I did not expect this of you.”
“Ah, Victoria, I intend to do so much to you that you did not expect. For now though, have you looked your fill since I intend to blindfold you?”
She gasped, horrified. Could this experience get any worse? “Why? Why would you do that?”
“I want you to focus on what you feel. No distractions. And I want you on edge.”
“Please, sir, please do not do that. I need to know what is happening. I can’t—”
“You can. You will, Victoria. Also, I don’t intend to gag you, at least not on this occasion, but you will be forbidden to speak. If you have any questions you need to ask me, do so now. Otherwise you will not utter a word unless I ask you a direct question, in which case you will answer truthfully, respectfully, and without hesitation. Or unless you wish to use your safe word. You may scream, or squeal—I accept that—but no other sounds. Are my instructions clear?”
Victoria wondered if she might faint. She never had, not even when she broke her wrist as a child, but she could not recall ever being as terrified as she was in this moment. Even without his insistence on silence, she could find no words, no questions. Nothing. For lack of a more articulate response she just gaped at him.
“Victoria? Do you understand what I require from you? Are you ready to obey me?” His tone had hardened, the unmissable timbre of the stern dominant, demanding man now penetrating her shock and despair.
She nodded, chewing on her lower lip. She tasted blood in her mouth.
“Say it. That was a direct question, I expect you to answer.”
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
She should stop this, call a halt now. Just one word would do it. But she did not. Instead she remained still, watching him as he left the bed and strolled across the room to pick up a dark blue silk kerchief from the dressing table. He rolled it diagonally into a wide band then came back to stand behind her. Despite her fear, or maybe because of it, Victoria could not take her eyes off his erection, which seemed to taunt her now. His cock jutted proud and firm as he walked around the room, the head almost level with his navel. Oh, sweet Jesus, what had she let herself in for?
“Close your eyes, little one. And keep still.” He was close, murmuring his commands now.
Victoria obeyed, shivering as the silk brushed her forehead before settling across her eyes. Her world went dark. Adam tied the kerchief at the back of her head, secure but not uncomfortable. Not a sliver of light penetrated, dashing any lingering hope she might have retained that she could manage this.
“Sir, I am afraid of the dark.” She blurted out her protest, half expecting to earn a punishment for disobedience right at this early stage
He was silent for a moment, then, “You surprise me, Victoria, but thank you for telling me that. I will be here the whole time. You won’t be alone, not even for a second. If at any point you need me to speak to you, or to touch you, you may ask me for that.” His hands were on her shoulders, caressing, massaging. A tingle ran through her as he bent to kiss her hair. “Will that suffice, little one? We can continue? Yes?”
Victoria drew in a long, shuddering breath, then offered a brief nod. “Yes, sir. I think so. I will try.”
“Thank you. So, Miss Wynne, it begins.”
* * *
Adam heaved a sigh of relief. He had feared she might back out even at this late stage, that the blindfold might have been a step too far. He would not have used it if he’d anticipated her fear of the dark, but by the time he knew it was too late. He might negotiate in advance, would always try to accommodate a submissive’s preferences or fears, but never would he relent once he had made his intentions clear.
It was his fault, entirely his. He should have taken more time to talk to her, to get to know her. Something about the lovely Miss Victoria Wynne scrambled his good sense though. He just wanted to get her naked and tied up. And in due course, thoroughly fucked.
He knew she was scared of that, and he understood why. Not exactly innocent, she was still a virgin. He would do all he could to minimise the discomfort. Adam liked to inflict pain. He loved it when his woman trembled and squealed under his expert touch but that response only really appealed to him if the pain caused was deliberate. He needed to control, to manage, and Victoria’s pain when he first penetrated her was one aspect he would not entirely command. He could ready her though, blur the edges with pleasure, and when the moment came he would be swift. She had called him unkind. He hoped that was not true though his rampant lust as far as his lovely little business partner was concerned certainly blunted his usual intuitive sensitivity to her needs.
He would slow down, proceed with caution, and pay close attention. Every breath, every gasp or whimper would be noted, registered. He was determined not to fail her.
He shifted his stance a little so he could look around the bedpost he had secured her to and over her shoulder to admire the perfect breasts he had thus far neglected. They were a little on the small side, but perfectly shaped. The round under-curves arched up to sweet, pert nipples, cherry-red and already swollen. The room was warm, he had seen to that, so perhaps she was aroused despite everything.
That would not surprise him; her response earlier had demonstrated her innate sensuality. He had recognised it from the first, from the way she’d lowered her gaze and deferred to him when he came across her in his dining room in Knightsbridge. It was true that she had been presuming rather on his hospitality that morning, but he’d sensed there was more to her reaction than that. Nothing he had seen or heard from her since had caused his view to waver. She might be assertive and ambitious in her business affairs, but in her personal life she was submissive to the core and he intended to nurture that tendency in her. He would draw it out, encourage her to celebrate it.
Not that his motives were especially altruistic, of course. Far from it. He wanted Victoria Wynne. He wanted her badly.
He trailed his fingers across her shoulders, then down to cup her breasts. He lifted them in his hands, feeling their weight, the soft curves and the hard nipples that topped them. He rolled the pebbled peaks between his fingers and thumbs and loved the way they hardened further. Her body stiffened in his arms, but she could not move. From the soft moans she emitted as he increased the pressure on her nipples he was not certain she would if she was free.
He squeezed the distended nubs and twisted them between his fingers. Victoria let out a yelp, her chin tipping up. Her face was tilted towards him so he could see that her lips were flattened against her teeth, her face screwed into a grimace. He was hurting her, but there was no mention of childhood ponies. Not yet.
He released her nipples and smiled at the immediate slackening in her stiff body. She had been tensed for more pain, more torture, but he intended to keep her guessing.
He stepped back, noting the frantic swivelling of her head. She appeared to be looking for him, seeking him out in her darkness.
In silent bare feet he stalked around the bed to face her. She was trembling, her head cocked to one side, listening.
“Sir? Sir…?”
“I am here, little one.”
She turned in the direction of his voice, and he saw her lips move though no words came out. She seemed to be heeding his instructions, at least for now. It was of course just a matter of time. All this was new to her. She would slip up and earn a disciplinary spanking at some stage this afternoon, and he would enjoy administering it.
He sat beside her on the bed and trailed the tips of his fingers along her thigh. “Open your legs, Victoria.”
“Sir? Why? What do you intend to do?”
He chuckled. “You know what I intend to do. Your role is to obey. And to remain silent. No more questions, Victoria, or I will spank you again as I did before, in your library. Just do as you’re told, please.”
He was gratified by her comp
liance. She shifted her knees to position them as wide apart as she could. Her cooperation suggested she was not entirely opposed to this turn of events.
Her pussy lips were swollen, very pink, and the sheen of moisture was apparent. Oh, yes, she might be scared, but she was very aroused too. She would be a lot more excited by the time he was done with her.
He drew his palm along her inner thigh, stopping just a fraction short of her moist core. He squeezed, and she flinched.
“What is the matter, Miss Wynne? Ticklish?”
She shook her head.
“No? Why so jumpy then?”
“I don’t know, I…”
“You must answer truthfully, Victoria, or accept the spanking you will earn. Be warned, I will not go so easy on you next time.”
“I am ticklish, sir. A little, just there.”
“You would like me to touch you in some other way then? Somewhere else, perhaps?”
She chewed on that lip again, so he repeated the pressure on her inner thigh. She jumped this time and tried to pull away. He tightened his grip. “Answer me, Victoria.”
“Yes, sir. My quim, please. I, I liked what you did, that other time.”
“Indeed? You mean me to touch you here, Miss Wynne?” He palmed her pussy, caressing her from anus to clit.
“Oh, God, yes!”
“Not ticklish there then?” He stroked her again as she thrust her hips forward to welcome his touch. “Or here?” He rubbed her clitoris with the heel of his hand.
“Sir, I… oh.” She moaned as he increased the pressure, her head thrashing from side to side. “Sir, that feels wonderful.”
“Good. And this?” He slid his middle finger into her wet channel.
Her inner walls contracted to squeeze the digit and she moaned again. “Yes, sir, that too.”
“If you climax without my permission, I will punish you. Have a care, Miss Wynne.” He withdrew his finger, then thrust it back inside her. “Keep still, please.”
