Garden of Desire: 1

by Delilah Devlin

  “Are you mine, Martha?”

  “Yes!” she screamed.

  “Mine to command?”

  “Oh please God, yes!”

  His lips closed around her clit and he sucked hard while fisting her, her vagina slippery as butter, as he pushed and pulled his hand inside her. Then she came screaming his name, the walls of her sex convulsing on his hand.

  He loved her with his mouth and hand until the last, faint pulses passed. Then he withdrew and lowered her bottom to the ground.

  Martha’s eyes were closed, her legs splayed wide. Her cunt, still stretched from his hand, was open and awash with her white cream. He crawled over her body to lie on top of her and cradled her face with his hands.

  Her eyelids drifted sleepily open and she stared at him. Her eyes were moist with unshed tears, and he had the sudden desire to comfort her. He kissed her mouth, softly at first, then deeply when her bound hands clasped the back of his neck to pull him closer.

  Finally, he lifted his mouth. “The others are waiting for us. You need to dress.”

  Martha wrinkled her nose. “Can I borrow your cloth? I’m a bit sticky.”

  Cantor rose and searched for the cloth. He rinsed it with water from the canteen and brought it to her.

  “You’ll have to untie me, first,” she said, holding out her bound hands.

  “No. You’ll stay like that for a while.”

  Her expression turned mutinous, and her mouth opened to protest.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  Her lips thinned. “Then you’ll have to wash me…please.”

  “Certainly, love,” he said, smiling inwardly. “Open your legs wide for me.”

  Martha slammed her heels into the ground and opened her legs. Her breath hissed between her teeth with the first touch of the cool cloth.

  Cantor cleaned her quickly, ignoring Martha’s naked loins and his reawakening cock. If they didn’t hurry, the men would come looking for them. He didn’t want to share the picture of Martha’s splayed thighs with them.

  He tossed the cloth into the bushes and hooked his hand between her bound ones to haul her to her feet, then helped her dress.

  She remained silent throughout, her face white and a little drawn. Exhaustion shadowed her eyes. The long hike from the settlement, and his “punishments” had taken their toll. He didn’t think the party would make much more progress this day until she’d rested. Besides, the shadows were growing longer in the waning daylight.

  Cantor led the way back to the path and retrieved her bag, slinging it over his shoulder along with his. Without a backward glance he started up the trail. He could hear her behind him, her footsteps heavy, and he slowed his pace to allow her to keep up with him.

  The trail continued longer than he’d remembered and he realized his men had forged ahead through the dense undergrowth. Martha cried out behind him and he turned to find her on her knees, struggling to gain her feet.

  Cantor fought the urge to lift her gently, the woman had caused a lot of trouble today, and he hadn’t heard the end of it yet, he was sure. Instead, he grabbed the tongue of his belt that hung from between her bound hands to haul her up. When she was on her feet, he kept the belt looped in his fist and tugged her behind him.

  “I’m not a beast. You don’t have to lead me.”

  “You need to be broken to the saddle, love. This is just a little harness training.”

  She dug her heels in the trail and pulled back, but he yanked the belt and she stumbled after him.

  “You sound like you know something about horses.”

  “I do. My father kept a few.”

  “Did you have a ranch?”

  “No. A small farm in New Zealand.”

  “However did you wind up as a pirate?”

  “The Dominion needed more parking lots,” he said, old bitterness boiling like an ulcer.

  “What about your father?”

  Cantor kept walking. The subject was closed. “How’d you become a thief?”

  “I was born one.”

  He glanced over his shoulder.

  Martha grinned. “Family business.”

  “Your family was thieves?”

  “Thieves, forgers, second story-men,” she shrugged, “professionals. It was all I knew. I didn’t take to school.”

  “What kind of parent would raise his kids as criminals?”

  Martha’s gaze dropped. “He did his best. He tried straight jobs, but he had too many kids to feed.”

  “You have brothers and sisters?”

  “Mmmm-hmm. Four. Two sisters, two brothers.”

  “Are they all in the business?”

  “No, just me and my brothers.”

  “Did they manage to keep out of jail?”

  “No. Same bust.” She took a deep breath. “They’re likely rotting on some other prison ship. Maybe they’ll get lucky and some female pirates will free them.”

  He looked back again. “Do you miss them—your family?”

  “Yeah, but I can’t ever go back.” Her smile this time was sad. “And I don’t really want to.”

  “Can you be a farmer’s wife? Seems like that would be a little tame.”

  “I can be a farmer’s wife—or a pirate’s wife.” She lifted her chin. “If I loved him.”

  He pulled the belt, jerking her behind him. “Let’s catch up.”

  Cantor heard the sounds of his men up ahead. He entered a clearing, pulling Martha with him. One by one, his men turned to stare, their gazes dropping to her bound hands. He felt his cheeks heat and scowled around the clearing. The men quickly looked away, grins twisting their lips.

  Only Darak continued to pay them any mind. He strode toward them, one eyebrow raised. “I see you’ve bagged a doe. Is she dessert?”

  “She’s not on your menu.” He glanced around the encampment. “Is Akron not back?”

  “No.” Darak’s face broke into a wide grin. “We had to move down the trail. The noise was ear-splitting.”

  Martha knew Kirsten was apt to exaggerate her torment, but she resented the pirates laughing at their punishment. “Is he hurting Kirsten?”

  “It was difficult to tell who was doing the inflicting,” Darak said, his gaze taking in her disheveled appearance.

  “Or who’s on top,” another of the men said.

  Still another turned to say, “Kirsten has a set of lungs on her.”

  Darak grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Akron was doing some bellowing of his own.”

  The men laughed and Martha frowned, grateful her bellowing had been out of the range of their hearing.

  “What I want to know,” Darak said, “was how you managed to get my Mary to stay behind.”

  “We didn’t tell her,” Martha murmured. “She’s the one person who could have stopped us.”

  Darak shook his head. “I almost feel sorry for you. She’s not going to be happy.”

  Cantor tugged at her “harness”. “Don’t you have something to say?”

  Martha looked up at him, his expression was stern and she stared blankly for a moment until she remembered. “Oh. You want me to apologize now?”

  “Now’s as good a time as any.” He turned to the men. “Gentlemen, Martha has something to say.”

  Martha wanted to kick him. With her hands bound and her appearance no doubt tousled, Martha wanted to hide. The men’s smirks indicated they knew damn well what had occurred in the forest. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, mortification heating her face and chest.

  “Not good enough, love,” Cantor said quietly.

  Bemused she glanced up at him from beneath her eyelashes. He’d called her “love” several times, now.

  “Apologize,” he said firmly.

  She’d promised, of course. A promise given when she’d been drowning in desire—but a promise just the same. She straightened her shoulders and looked around at the men. “I’m sorry we inconvenienced you.” She looked back up at Cantor and he lifted his eyebrow. “And I know we were f
oolish,” she added. “We didn’t have any business following you. I’m sorry.”

  Cantor nodded and pulled her toward a rock. “Have a seat and don’t move from here.”

  “Yes, Cantor.” She sat gingerly, her bottom still smarting from her spanking.

  Martha watched as the men cleared a spot in the center of the clearing and built a fire within a circle of stones. Then they laid out their bedrolls near the fire. Cantor chose a place on the far side, gathered armfuls of leaves and spread them before unrolling his bedroll.

  When he was done, he came over to her. “Did you think to pack a sleeping bag?”

  She was tempted to tell him no and hope he’d offer to share his, but pride made her tell the truth. She couldn’t have him thinking she was a total idiot. “I brought a space blanket.”

  Cantor dumped the contents of her duffel onto the ground. The bread and cheese, he handed over to Darak. His fingers lingered over her underwear before he stuffed them back into the bag. He tossed a sweater at her. “Put this on—the temperature’s going to drop as soon as the sun sets.”

  Martha let it lay in her lap, not stating the obvious. She’d let him figure it out.

  When she didn’t move, he knelt in front of her and loosened the belt. “Put the sweater on.”

  Martha made a show of shaking out her fingers, making sure the rest of the men noted her signs of discomfort, then slid her arms into the sweater and buttoned it over her shirt. When he didn’t move away, she sighed and held out her hands. “I didn’t realize you were so into this bondage thing,” she muttered.

  Cantor leaned close and whispered in her ear. “It’s for your enjoyment, love.”

  Chapter Nine

  Martha inhaled sharply and sought his gaze.

  A smile curved his lips for a moment, and then his expression grew stern again. “How’s your ass?”

  She blinked. “Sore,” she answered truthfully. “Sitting on a rock isn’t helping.” The throbbing discomfort was a constant reminder of her earlier treatment by him. She squirmed beneath his gaze, blushing.

  Apparently satisfied he’d planted a seed for her growing arousal, he sauntered off to talk to Darak. Martha wished she could move closer to listen in, because the snippets she did hear were intriguing. Ivan joined the two men and they reviewed the map of the terrain. From the graphic Ivan displayed, she discovered they were at the foot of a black mountain. The next day they would leave the forest behind and start to climb.

  When she heard the words “caves”, “fire-breathing”, and “dragon” her ears perked up. Was a dragon what they were really hunting? What had she gotten herself into?

  A commotion at the edge of the camp drew her attention from the men and she turned to see Akron strutting into the clearing, a chastened Kirsten following close behind. Her eyes were downcast, but her cheeks sported two red spots of color. When she looked up, her gaze found Martha’s and she winked.

  Martha smothered a grin and scooted over on the rock to make room.

  “Akron, may I sit with Martha?” Kirsten asked, her voice subdued.

  Akron nodded curtly and hurried over to the group gathered around the holographic map.

  “Was it awful?” Martha whispered.

  “Barbarous, he was,” Kirsten said.

  Martha slid her a sideways glance. “Was his cock truly exceptional?”

  Kirsten’s wicked smile told the tale. “I came as soon as he stuffed his magnificent cock inside me.”

  They giggled softly.

  “What about you?” Kirsten asked. “Was Cantor very angry?”

  “Livid.” Martha winced. “I’m not likely to sit comfortably for a week.”

  “He spanked you?” Martha’s voice rose in outrage, drawing the amused glances of the men nearest them.

  “Akron didn’t?”

  “Oh no! I think he might have wanted to initially, but as soon as he had me pinned to the ground he pushed my pants down and took me.” Kirsten sighed. “Of course, I made sure that battle lasted a long time. Did Cantor hurt you?”

  Martha blushed and looked away. “I never would have guessed I’d like it quite so much.”

  “You have a dark side, Martha. Does Cantor know you loved it?”

  “It’s not something I could hide!” She blushed remembering her juices smeared on his palm.

  “What’s with the restraint?” Kirsten asked, indicating at Martha’s bound hands.

  “Part of my punishment.”

  “Ahhh. Cantor has you figured out.”

  “Indeed, I do.”

  Martha glanced up in shock at Cantor who stood in front of her with his hands on his hips. Just how much had he heard?

  Cantor reached for the belt and drew her to her feet. “Time for bed. We’re breaking camp shortly before dawn.” He nodded to Kirsten. “Keep out of trouble.”

  Martha followed Cantor to the far side of the fire and discovered that he’d unzipped her space blanket and laid it over his open bag. Immediately, her body began to soften, her hips becoming more pliant, her nipples pebbled and her breast grew heavier. Cantor didn’t want her out of arm’s reach. Was this protection or a prelude?

  He knelt at her feet and removed her boots, one at a time. “When you get beneath the blanket, strip from the waist down,” he whispered. He flipped back the blanket.

  Thank goodness, he was going to soothe her ache—the one between her legs! Martha knelt awkwardly and lay down on his sleeping bag. Cantor pulled her blanket over her and turned on his heels to return to the men. She didn’t waste a second, shimmying out of her pants and pushing them to the bottom of the bag with her toes. Then she went to work on the buttons of her sweater and shirt, awkwardly opening them with her bound hands beneath the blanket to rub her nipples on the silky fabric.

  The low murmurs of the men from across the fire and the warmth from the blankets above and below lulled her into a pleasant state of anticipation, her body growing aroused and moist.

  When the crunch of leaves heralded his approach, her body switched into higher gear. She opened her eyes to see Cantor staring down at her. Without breaking eye contact, he pulled off his shirt, toed off his boots and lowered himself to slip beneath the covers.

  Martha heard a rustling behind her, and then his hands pulled her body close, her back to his firm belly and he reached around her and loosened the belt to free her hands. Then lifting her upper thigh, he slid his cock between both thighs and rubbed himself in the moisture seeping from her pussy.

  “Are we really going to do this here? With the others listening?” she asked. She really didn’t care if he flung the blanket aside and made love to her with the entire camp standing around them, but she played the game, trembling inside.

  “Will you deny me?” he asked, his mouth next to her ear.

  “Never. I’ll do whatever you command.”

  “Tilt your ass back, baby.”

  She did so, and he nudged her with his cock, seeking her pussy. When he was poised at her dripping lips, he whispered, “Don’t make a sound.” His arms came around and under her, his hands sliding up her belly to cup her aching mounds.

  Martha’s breath caught as his fingers found her nipples and tugged at them, twisting gently, until she strained back against him, trying to force his penis to enter her pussy.

  His whispered “Quiet now” was all the warning she got. He flexed his hips, driving into her in a single, sharp thrust.

  Martha gasped, but held her breath against the scream.

  “That’s it, baby, not a word.” He burrowed into her, coming up with hard thrusts into her, pounding at her pussy. One hand glided down her belly to slide between her legs and circle on her clit.

  Martha’s gasps were louder now, and she shuddered. She reached behind her to grab his hip with her left hand, urging him deeper, faster.

  Cantors powerful buttocks flexed and he tunneled into her, shafting her with his large cock. Heat built inside her, friction from his movements aided by a gush of her desir
e.

  Cantor moaned in her ear. “Baby, come for me. Now.”

  “Whatever…you command.” She shuddered, surrendering to his mastery.

  His fingers plucked her clitoris, squeezing, vibrating. Martha bit her lip as a scream strangled in her throat. “Cantor!” Her body spasmed, her hips writhing on his cock as her orgasm slammed through her body.

  Cantor’s hands moved to her hips, steadying them for his assault as he hammered at her cunt.

  She moaned, Cantor’s thrusts pushing gusts of air from her lungs. She was beyond caring whether the others heard. Her world had narrowed to her pussy and the long, hot cock that shafted her endlessly. Martha leaned forward to allow him deeper penetration and promptly fell to pieces.

  Cantor grunted in her ear, then his hands clutched her hips in a bruising grip. He shuddered, his hot cum spurting inside her.

  When the last of his spasms ended, Cantor kissed the corner of her neck and wrapped his arms around her middle. As his spent cock slid out of her she groaned, missing him already.

  “Uh, Cantor?”

  “Mmmm?”

  “Do you think anyone heard?” she whispered.

  “Cantor!” a falsetto voice called out from the other side of the fire.

  “Cantor!” “Cantor!”

  Cantor’s body shook with his laughter.

  Martha turned around and slammed her hands against his chest. “That’s not funny!”

  Cantor deflected her blows, almost helpless with laughter. He rolled to his back, pulling her over him.

  Her legs automatically straddled his body, and her anger came to a screeching halt. His cock was semi-hard and poking at her pussy.

  His smile slid from his face and a look of intense, dark hunger replaced his merriment. “You’re relentless.”

  Martha leaned down to swirl the tips of her breasts in his chest hair. “It’s true. I want you—all the time. Is it such a bad thing?”

  Cantor closed his eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She chose to ignore his meaning and whispered, “A little pain makes the pleasure all the more intense, doesn’t it?” Her hair fell like a curtain around his face, and she licked at his lips until his tongue came out to play with hers. Martha lifted her hips and pressed down just far enough to take the head of his sex inside her.