he Alpha Men's Secret Club 2: Desire Games

by Dawn Steele

  She threw back her head. A warm flush was beginning to spread down from her cheeks to her neck and breasts. She was half-embarrassed to be doing this for an audience of one. Such hussy-like behavior, but apparently, he liked hussies. She spread her thighs wider and scooted her buttocks lower, so that she (and he) could get an eyeful of her entire pussy, right up to the puckering mouth of her anus.

  Rust . . . I need you.

  She pressed the whirring vibrator against her breasts. Her nipples began to fill, and a rosy tinge brushed the skin around her areolas. Her entire chest lifted as she breathed in deeply. She should throw her inhibitions away – not think consciously of what she was doing, but of how much both she and Rust were deriving pleasure from this.

  The vibrator moved downward – down the slope of her breasts to touch her engorged nipples, which became even more engorged. Then down, down the shoal of her midriff – which was too filled out, in her opinion – and further down to the shoal of her pussy; that greedy, quivering organ.

  Ohhhh.

  When the vibrator touched the tip of her clit, she almost combusted. Her natural lust took over, and she rubbed the vibrator up and down her swollen clit, pressing it more forcefully downward so that it would get the full brunt of the stimulations.

  Up, down, up down.

  She moved the slender machine up in between her labia, teasing out her inner petals – the ones which were most intimate and tender. The vibrator dipped into the pool around her pussy hole and gathered the juices there. Then it wavered upward again to spread that luscious stickiness to her clit and pussy grooves.

  She did this oscillatory thing – up and down, up and down, round and round, round and round – until all her parts were jointly stimulated and massaged to orgasmic distraction. She concentrated primarily on her clit.

  She wanted to cum for Rust, wherever he was. She wanted to have an explosive climax for his pleasurable viewing. The seat of the stool was getting pretty warm and wet with her squirming. She worked herself up, further up, until she was reaching for a peak – a summit of intense, blinding proportions. Her breathing was very harsh and she had lost track of time and how long she had been pleasuring herself –

  Rust!

  Please . . .

  Love me . . .

  She heard the almost imperceptible creak of the door as it opened. Oh, but she was going to cum! Her eyes flew wide open and she saw the shadow of the creature filing in noiselessly, majestically.

  The tiger slid into the room of mirrors. She was so startled that she almost dropped the vibrator. Oh, talk about orgasmus interruptus! But maybe he didn’t want her to cum. Or he wanted to be there in person to watch her cum.

  The tiger was immense, graceful. His glorious striped coat flowed over his sleekly moving musculature. His eyes were emerald green and extremely intelligent as he padded into the room towards where she was seated upon the stool.

  She froze.

  She never knew how to react when Rust was in his tiger state. She never really knew who he was in his shifted aspect. Was he more animal than human? Did he retain all his mental faculties? She was always careful in the presence of great animals. Careful and deferential. She never knew how they would react towards her.

  A low rumble thundered from the tiger’s chest – one which sent her senses tingling. A frisson of fear spiked up inside her. She was always afraid of Rust when he was like this. What if she did something which displeased him? What if he was taken over by his animal instincts and wanted to devour her instead?

  She had no idea then how close she would be to the truth.

  The vibrator hummed in her hand, its low whirr a constant. The breath was stoppered in her throat and she scarcely dared to breathe. It was all she could do to watch him as he came up in front of her. The mirrors showed multiple reflections of her naked self and the tiger – a contrast of human skin and orange-and-black striped fur. The hair on her flesh stood on end. There was a crackle of electricity in the room. Of heightened anticipation.

  The tiger stared at her. He stared at her face, and then his eyes roamed to her breasts and down to her open red pussy with its leaking hole. All thought froze in her mind. She could only be an anticipatory receptive vessel, completely subject to his whims.

  Then the tiger transformed.

  His limbs became more slender, and his rich, thick coat regressed into naked human skin. His facial bones and skull rearranged themselves and became Rust’s superlatively handsome face with its high cheekbones and full, sensual lips.

  Rust crouched before her, fully naked and magnificent. His cock was very hard and erect. It pointed at her like an accusing finger. He straightened himself soon enough and reared to his full height.

  She gazed up at him in wonder. So many questions on her lips. There was a conflict on his face – of restraint, of confusion – but he composed himself soon enough.

  She wondered what he was thinking.

  Were you watching me as I pleasured myself?

  Have you brought me here because you have decided to make me yours?

  He held out his hands.

  “Kate,” he said, smiling.

  The fact he was smiling gladdened her heart.

  She was still holding the vibrator, and she hastily turned it off and put it down onto the floor. Then she took his large and very warm hands and let him raise her to her feet. Her legs were shaky, and she wobbled, but he steadied her.

  “Kate.” His voice was sensual and smoky. He was still smiling as he drew her towards him so they were body to body, breasts to the lower part of his hard chest.

  He bent his head down to kiss her. His lips touched hers, and she was floored. His kiss was always electrifying and this one was no different. Full lips sealed upon full lips. His tongue parted her lips firmly and darted into her mouth. She let him explore her mouth, their tongues intertwining and interlocking. He sucked in her breath and the sweetness of her mouth, and she breathed in his scent.

  The kiss seemed to go on and on, until she was drowning in him. She couldn’t recall him ever having kissed her so passionately before.

  His mouth soon left hers and dipped down to her neck. He sucked in the skin of her neck, leaving love bites all the way down her throat. Her skin was flushed and very warm. Her arteries throbbed at the sides of her neck, pulsating with life. His mouth crept down to her sternum and then to the curve of her breasts.

  Suck my nipples, she wanted to moan to him. Take them in your mouth and suck them till I can feel it in the soles of my feet!

  But his hands caught both her wrists suddenly.

  She gasped at his about-turn. She gazed into his eyes. His green eyes were now harder and commanding.

  He brought up her wrists in between their bodies and held both of them in one of his hands. He was so very strong, and she was helpless. Somehow, this thrilled her even more.

  “Kate,” he murmured, “I won’t hurt you . . . unless you want me to.”

  Holding her wrists in this manner, he brought her arms up to where a leather cuff dangled from the ceiling. He clasped her wrists with these fur-lined cuffs. She was almost on her toes as her arms were strung from a chain in the ceiling. She could see herself in the mirrors – a naked captive. Alluring and beautiful in her captivity.

  Rust seemed to think so too. His nostrils flared as he breathed in sharply.

  “You are beautiful,” he said. “Look at you. Just look at you.”

  He went behind her and slid his hands around her waist. He locked eyes with her in the mirror. His erection prodded her buttocks. He started to caress her breasts and her waist.

  “Beautiful,” he kept murmuring. His green eyes glittered with appreciation.

  She saw herself in his gaze and her soul expanded with his desire. He finds me beautiful. How important that was to her – she who had never considered herself beautiful.

  “I want to fuck you,” he said into her ear. “God, how much I do want to fuck you.”

  His hand went
down to her pussy and he parted her leaves. His fingers rubbed against the soft, extremely tender nub of her clit. The tendrils of pleasure exploded from her groin to swarm her entire pussy.

  She was so wet. So very wet down there.

  “Please . . . fuck me,” she moaned.

  “Should I use a condom?” he teased.

  He was so beautiful in the mirror. Such a splendid specimen of a man. He stood as tall and proud as a god behind her, and his hands were on her pussy – opening her up like a flower, stimulating and caressing her most intimate recesses and edges of flesh.

  “No,” she whispered. “You don’t have to use a condom. Not anymore. Not with me.”

  She would give this gift to him, and she could only pray he would not betray her.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “But maybe I should open you up more,” he said.

  He moved away. Then he went to her side and grasped her right leg. She gasped as he raised it to the level of another leather cuff. He imprisoned her ankle in this, so that she was dangling most uncomfortably on three upraised limbs now. Then he did the same with her other angle with another leather cuff on her other side.

  She was now suspended from the ceiling by the chains and cuffs. Her pussy and asshole were prominently displayed. If she peered downward, she could see her glistening flesh, leaking with white pussy juices.

  He moved in front of her. His cock was so hard it was almost upright.

  “Kate,” he murmured.

  His cock nudged and eased itself between her sopping folds. Then he pushed. His penis cleaved her vaginal tunnel easily – she was so wet. His hard flesh rushed into her and expanded her with startling suddenness.

  She cried out at the pleasure and pain of his impalement.

  He grabbed her buttocks to steady her against his body. Then he began to thrust into her. Short, sharp bursts of energy followed by longer and more measured pumps. She never had his naked flesh inside her before, and the sensation was both stunning and thrilling.

  He fucked her and fucked her. His fucking ferocity had always been incredible. His cock pounded and stroked her, and there was a particular spot he was angling for. Her G-spot. That little curvature of flesh at the back of her vagina wall, just below her cervix. When her cries and moans indicated he had hit the spot, he anchored her more firmly than ever and cored into her more aggressively than before.

  He punctuated each thrust with a grunt, and she responded with little cries of her own:

  “Oh!”

  “Oh!”

  “Oh!”

  Her body was a receptacle for pleasure, but her mind ran with all sorts of wild thoughts:

  I love you.

  I need you.

  I need you inside me and with me forever.

  Had they reached a new level in their relationship?

  She was fast approaching her climax. Her G-spot was rubbed and stroked to rawness, and her nerve endings ran riot, firing her synapses and triggering all her pleasure points right up to her brain.

  She threw back her head and cried out. White-hot light flooded her eyes. Her body contorted and shuddered and she had the most violent orgasm she had ever experienced to date.

  Rust!

  Rust!

  Rust!

  He held her as her muscles contracted. She trashed and flailed against her bonds and his body, joined to hers. Her climax went on and on, prolonged in its intensity and sublime in its execution. Her pants came out harsh in her ears, and there was a roaring in them which drowned out her screams.

  Her heartbeat finally slowed. Her entire body felt beaten and stomped upon.

  She opened her eyes to look at him. He was smiling at her again.

  “You are so beautiful when you cum for me,” he said.

  He withdrew his still hard cock from her sodden vagina. She realized he had not climaxed yet. Her wrists and ankles felt sore from being hung. He moved behind her, and she suddenly knew where he was going to reap his pleasure.

  He grasped her buttocks. She could see his cock poised against her anus in the mirror, ready to enter. It was a very erotic sight.

  “Breathe in,” he warned her.

  She sucked in her breath as his penis cleaved into her anus.

  “Ohhhhh!” she cried. It always hurt when he first entered her back passage. But this time, she could see what was happening very clearly in the mirror. She could see the thickness of his cock entering the tight and very tiny hole of her anus, stretching her.

  He rammed himself into her, and her entire rectum expanded. Then he began his violent thrusts again. He held her in a vise grip around her waist as he fucked her ass without compunction and mercy. His penis was slick with lubrication from her pussy juices.

  He fucked her and fucked her until the sweat beaded on his forehead. The friction of his bare penile flesh against the walls of her rectum was raw and hot. In the mirror, she could see the root of his cock.

  Then he came with a cry. A gush of hot sperm exploded into her rectum and shot into her depths – much farther than it could ever go into her pussy and beyond.

  “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” he cried. His flesh was hot and sticky against her back.

  His semen seemed to go on and on – that burning flood of it. It gave her a satisfaction like no other – to be able to feel his life-giving sap inside her, even though it was in the wrong passage. And to be able to satisfy him in this manner; the way no other woman could.

  It felt . . . immense.

  He jerked once, twice more into her, and then he pulled out his dripping cock. The tip of it was still weeping with his whitish semen which spilled to the floor.

  “Come on,” he said gently, “let’s cut you down.”

  He unclasped her wrists and ankles from their bonds. She swayed as she landed on the balls of her feet. Just as she was about to collapse, he caught her. He scooped her up in his strong arms. She felt breathless, and not just from the sex.

  “I’ve got you,” he said, laughing.

  Was it her imagination, or had things changed between them? It was gradual, but he was a lot nicer to her these days. A lot more proprietary. A lot more caring and polite. He was still very dominant in bed towards her, but their conversations outside sex had taken on an affectionate quality.

  Or so she (wanted to) believe.

  He carried her out of the room of mirrors and into the hallway beyond. She was almost too tired to lift her head, but she took in the glorious lounge as he strode into it – the tasteful masculine furniture and decorations, all done in a décor of black against gold. The brass lamps, the golden lighting, the sheer curtains. Such clean lines. So unfeminine, with not a single female accoutrement anywhere.

  She felt elated.

  I must the first woman he has brought here, she wanted to assuage herself, even though she knew it was probably untrue.

  “Let me give you a tour of the premises,” he said. “Then we’ll have a shower together. Are you hungry?”

  She was starving.

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He smiled a secret smile. “Because I’ve got dinner all planned out.”

  7

  He gave her a tour of the premises by carrying her in his arms. She felt loved and coddled and cherished.

  Why can’t it always be like this?

  She could walk, but she still wanted to be carried, and so she feigned extreme fatigue from the sex, which was not far from the truth. Her wrists and ankles wore the red bands of the cuffs, and he seemed quite taken by these marks of his domination over her.

  “So you see, this is the lounge,” he said, still smiling. “Do you like it? Do you want to lie on the couch? Or do you want me to take you upstairs to the bedroom?”

  “Bedroom,” she mumbled against his chest. She imbibed his sweaty scent.

  “OK. Bedroom it is.”

  His smile suggested that he knew she was pretending, and he was letting her pretend for as long as he saw fit.

/>   It was an intense psychological game, one that she was not very adept at playing. Unfortunately, she was already mired in it and she had to ride it out. The trouble with relationships founded on sex was that they didn’t quite know how to behave when they were not having sex. Or maybe it was just her, and he was behaving the way he had always behaved in all his relationships founded on sex.

  Sometimes, she found the incredulous thought flitting through her mind:

  This is my Professor.

  This is the man/superman shifter of my dreams.

  And at other times, she had to tell herself to get over it already. So she was a cinder girl who had gone to the ball and was picked by the handsome prince. You are in the fairytale already. Get over it.

  He carried her upstairs. It was a penthouse, after all. Upstairs, he brought her to a large room on their left. It had a small sitting area and a large king-sized bed mounted on a dais, as if it was a throne. The bed was all done in white – silk coverlet, damasked headboard, pillows and all.

  He laid her upon it and stood at the foot of her bed, looking down at her with a curious expression in his eyes.

  “Did you like that?” he said.

  Like what? Being carried? Being fucked by him in both holes without a condom?

  Yes!

  “Yes,” she said in a small voice.

  He laughed and slapped her thigh lightly.

  “Quit pretending to be a wilting lily and get up. Let’s shower and we’ll go for dinner.”

  She had to smile at that.

  The bathroom was cavernous and all done in white tiles and marble with grey streaks in the slabs. The bathtub was an old-fashioned one. It was supported by four brass legs in the shape of dragon claws. There was a shower cubicle as well as a bidet.

  Rust led her to the shower cubicle. He fiddled with the knobs on the wall, and a warm rain shower instantly poured from apertures in the ceiling, drenching both their naked bodies.

  She giggled in delight, and he smiled broadly to see her so happy.

  “Come on,” he said, “let me bathe you.”