Cantrips: Volume #1: Minor Magics Crafted to Amuse and Entertain

by Joey W. Hill

  “Oh, yeah. That’s a beautiful sight. You feel your pussy gushing in reaction? I can smell it, see it dripping down your thighs, dampening your panties, wetting the rope.”

  “Arghh. It’s…too much…” She was fighting the restraints. Her nipples were throbbing, needy, her pussy clenching on too much nothingness. “Touch…them.”

  “Ask, Celeste. ‘Please touch them, sir.’ In this room, I’m in charge. You control nothing. Everything is according to what I want, what I’ll allow.”

  “Please…” She threw her head up and cried out as a particularly strong wave of arousal passed through her whole body, originating from those two jutting points. “Please…” There was no mind to this, simply desire. “Please…touch them…sir. Please!”

  An agonizing moment later, his hands closed over them, and she screamed at the pleasure of that mere contact. She strained, pressing her nipples into his palms, seeking relief, and the pleasure spiraled deeper into her womb, making it even more intense. When his hands backed off, the tips of her nipples brushed the calluses of his palms. The rough friction was an almost unbearable sensation.

  “Work those pretty tits against me, Celeste. Show me how shameless you are.”

  She already was, jerking against him, but at the command she was writhing, bouncing her breasts against his touch, trying to grasp every bit of sensation she could get from that light contact, and it just kept getting more and more intense. Her pussy rippled, her thighs rubbing together. She was going to orgasm from just this. Ben O’Callahan was going to make her climax from spanking and switching her ass, torturing her breasts, from tying her up…from making her into exactly what she’d sneered at. She was one of those women on the public floor, begging for more.

  She hated herself for it, but she couldn’t fight past his will. He was too bloody in control, and she couldn’t do anything about it. It tore something in half inside of her, and the strangled plea that broke from her lips came from both heart and pussy. “Help me…”

  “Okay, getting too close. Not going to be that easy. Ssshh…ssshhh.”

  The bastard called this easy, when he was ripping her apart? He was actually soothing her, his hands closing over her breasts again, her nipples stabbing into the fleshy part of his palm. The pressure made her whimper in relief, though the shudders of near-climax kept rolling through her.

  “Let’s get that off of you for now.” A warm, wet cloth removed the oil. Though she bleated and jerked through all of it, arousal running down her thighs, the intensity did lessen, pulling her back from that brink. Until he got down and put his mouth over one nipple, sucking it into his mouth.

  Oh God… She bit down on her lip, her fingers sweating in hard knots inside the stretched fabric of the mittens. He suckled her, teasing the crinkled areola, flicking the nipple with expert precision, before he moved to do the other one. She’d never been so aroused in her entire life, and he was holding the orgasm out of reach like the Holy Grail.

  Fuck, she did not just use a medieval reference. Did she? Yes, she had. Knights of the Board Room. She’d given them the title in derision. Remember? Sexist…assholes. Thought they could take care of women, take away their…choices… Like they were medieval lords.

  Please touch me sir… In that moment, she’d meant it with every fiber of her being, treating him like a Master and lord in truth. “I’ve got to stop this. You need to let me go.”

  “Then say the word, Celeste. Red…or the other word. ‘No’ doesn’t work here, because your mind says it even when you mean something else.” Catching her chin roughly, he tilted it up so she knew he was staring down into her face. His body was so close, that aroused body, the thick cock probably within inches of her. He could take it out, rub it between her breasts…

  “I just…I need a moment.”

  “Then you know how to ask for it.”

  She gritted her teeth. “I’m not your fucking slave, asshole. I need a moment.”

  He chuckled, a dark, sensuous sound. “There she is. The brat asking for punishment. Inside this room, you are my slave, Celeste. So you either ask properly, or say the word that will end all of this.”

  Red, red, red. She couldn’t get it past her teeth, though. Teeth that were chattering. “Please…I need a moment. Sir.”

  “Not the most gracious request I’ve ever received. You don’t need a break yet. You need something else more.”

  Her hands were released from the mittens, the rope around her back and knees loosening. She was surprised how shaky her body was, how much support the chair and the ropes together had been providing, but when she sagged, she was turned and scooped up in his arms, lifted. Her hands were limp against her thighs, in the cradle formed by her hips, but he had her.

  The man knelt while holding her, without a sign of strain to his body. He was that powerful, and it couldn’t help but make those butterflies in her stomach start up again. Still, at the rock of the descent, she automatically slid her arm around his neck, though it was an effort, since the limb was shaking.

  Then something extremely peculiar and horrifying happened. She found herself tightening that arm, pulling herself closer to him, putting her face into his shoulder and throat…holding onto him. Not so he wouldn’t drop her, but for a different kind of support. Something different entirely. And her mouth opened against his throat, speaking quivering words she was sure she hadn’t told her brain to say.

  “Please, sir. I just need…I need a minute.”

  “All right then.” His voice became very different. Still stern, but with an underlying, devastating note to it. Tenderness. Taking a seat on the floor, he cradled her in his arms, rocking her. “A little training exercise first, though.”

  He shifted her, forearm sliding along the backs of her knees, such that she realized he was holding something. Something warm and slick pressed against her ass and, before she could tighten up, he’d slid it through that tight ring of muscles, letting it sink deep. “There you go. Just a slim probe, but it will keep you stimulated there. Get you used to the feel of it when I decide to stretch you a bit more.”

  She’d never had anything there. After the initial clutch of alarm, it felt unsettling. The reaction to it that rolled through her was like desire, but it had an even deeper level. An emotional one.

  “Breathe, girl. Just breathe. This is going to get a lot rougher.”

  She let out a half laugh, a desperate noise. What did it say about her that something in her breast leapt at what was undeniably a threat? “You…you destroy a woman’s mind. That’s why I’m acting like this.”

  “I destroy her shields. I’m not there with you yet, Celeste. But I will be.”

  Part Four

  But I will be. He made it sound so inevitable. He’d take what he wanted, because she’d let herself be that vulnerable and let him have that power over her. She thought herself so independent, armed against this kind of patriarchal domineering bullshit, this don’t-you-worry-your-pretty-head-I’ll-take-care-of-you sand trap, yet here she was up to her ass in the grit, and sinking fast.

  “No. No. I’m done. That’s it.” Shoving out of his hold, she rolled, not caring how awkward or stupid she looked as she staggered to her feet and ripped off the blindfold. Damn probe in her ass should have come loose on its own, but she’d tightened up all over, clamping down on it. She spun, groping for the flared base. She’d rip the thing out of her and—crap, she was lightheaded, had gotten up too fast. Didn’t matter, she was so out of here.

  As fast as she thought she’d moved, he was faster. Before she could get herself oriented, blinking from the infusion of light and images, he’d maneuvered her back against the wall. Snaking his hand around her, he pinned her wrist against her ass, preventing her from pulling on the probe further.

  “I told you I’m done, asshole. Red, red, red. That means stop and get the hell away from me.”

  She could hear the rage in her voice, the trembling that betrayed fear. What if he didn’t stop? But that was
n’t what scared the shit out of her, was it? She needed to get out of this room, out of this place, out of this situation. It was full-blown panic and, though a rational part of her was standing to the side, exhorting her to get a grip, she couldn’t. Only that word gave her control. “Red.”

  “You’re too tight. I’m not going to let you hurt yourself. You pull it out without waiting for the muscles to release, and you’ll make yourself bleed. Let me help. The session is over. You used your safe word. All I’m doing now is helping you come out of the session safely. Easy, cher.”

  He wasn’t agitated. His voice, which had taken a surprising—and incredibly sexy—Cajun turn, was as smooth as it had been from the beginning. He was as in control as she was the exact opposite. She hated him for it, but not as much as she hated herself for gravitating toward it, the authoritative calm that settled her down and made her focus on what he was telling her. Lifting her face, she looked into his green eyes. “It’s over.” She’d intended it to sound like a hostile declaration, not a questioning squeak, but either way, she’d said it.

  “That’s the way it works. You used your safe word. It’s done. Let me get this out of you. All right?”

  Instead of having her move her hand out of his way, he adjusted his grip to close his fingers over hers. “Now, take a couple breaths. You have your tape and, in less than a half-hour, you’ll walk out of here fully dressed, all your armor in place. Same as you walked in.”

  The same. An hour ago, that would have been a source of pride. In control. Hating everything the Kensington & Associates team stood for. Old boys’ club, power, subjugation of women…

  Closing her eyes, she put her head back against the wall. His fingers were stroking over hers. The angle of her arm, folded behind her like this, was somewhat uncomfortable, but it pushed her breasts into the solid wall of his chest, where he was leaned into her, keeping her body pinned, but not oppressively so. His shirt, the silk of his tie, teased her skin. He smelled like spicy aftershave, a trace of whiskey. His face was so close, she could feel the heat of his skin caressing hers.

  “Okay, keep breathing. This isn’t supposed to hurt. You never shove or yank when it comes to this area. You feel your way.” He’d tightened his grip over hers, and together they were bringing the probe out. There was a hitch as they got started, because the muscles were still constricted, but he made that quiet rumble in his throat, somewhere between command and reassurance, and she took another deep breath. It started to move, helped along by the lubricant and his steady pressure. The head of the probe came free with another pause, and he had it in his hand.

  Ben gave her a searching look with those emerald eyes, then nudged her toward the closest chair along the wall. “Take a seat. Get your legs beneath you again.”

  After he made sure she obeyed, pressing his other hand into her shoulder to reinforce the need to stay where he’d put her, he turned away. Moving toward the curtained area, he pushed the cloth back enough to pass through. As he did, he tossed the probe into what sounded like a metal basin, probably for discarded toys. She closed her eyes again, but heard water running. So there was a sink back there, allowing him to wash his hands of her.

  She frowned at herself, integrating the metaphorical with the actual, like it meant a damn one way or another. She’d done it. She had the tape. That was all that mattered. Opening her eyes, she looked toward the exit. Another robe, she assumed to replace the one he’d cut off of her, was hanging on a hook, but she had no idea when that had arrived. If she could make her shaky knees work, she could walk over there, put it on and head to the locker room. Session was done. He was done with her. Was that it? Would he say nothing else?

  She didn’t rise. Instead, she turned to look back at the curtained area. The fabric had shifted back a few inches when he passed through it, so now she could see a slice of him. He stood at the sink, drying his hands and forearms, revealed by the rolled-up sleeves of the dress shirt. His dark hair fell over his brow. He didn’t look like a man who’d lost a bet, who was about to be ruined by her possession of that tape. He didn’t even look concerned that he’d be reamed by his boss for taking such a reckless risk. When he turned toward her, still drying his hands, he met her gaze through that curtained opening. She was sitting here naked, yet he met her eyes. Didn’t let them wander.

  “All right?” His tone was firm, no-nonsense, but compassionate as well. Not detached. There was some kind of…energy behind that gaze, in every line of his powerful body. It suggested the sexual potency, just ready and waiting. He’d reined it back, but it was definitely still there.

  She stopped the spinning top of her mind long enough to realize he’d asked her a question about her overall well-being, probably because her knees were still visibly quivering. His gaze slid over them, then lifted back to her face. This time he did take his time, but in a way that kept things in her stomach jumping. He no longer had a right to touch her, but that wasn’t how he looked at her. Or how her body responded to him.

  “You’re going to get cold,” he said. “I’ll get you the robe.”

  As he moved across the room, she watched the lines of his shirt crease over his shoulders, across the chest and back. And the fit of the slacks over his ass and other…extended areas. “Jesus, you’re not even embarrassed about your—the way you’re worked up.” C’mon, Celeste, you’re a grown woman. You can say ‘erection’. Erection, erection, erection.

  He stopped, hand on the robe, and glanced back at her. Now those green eyes contained an additional element, one that made the word stay firmly behind her teeth. “I make sure my cock is never an embarrassment to me,” he said.

  She blinked, not sure whether she wanted to laugh at what she was pretty sure was dry humor, or bolt at the sensual threat.

  “You don’t think I’ll use it, do you?” she demanded. At his raised brow, she gritted her teeth. “The tape.”

  “I don’t think that’s the reason you came into this room, Celeste. I think it was the excuse you used.”

  She should bristle, tell him to fuck off, but there was no accusation in his voice. Slipping the robe off the hook, he brought it to her. As he stood before her, he opened the silken fabric and gave her an expectant look. He wanted her to rise, turn, so he could help her put it on. She thought about that, him sliding it over her shoulders, turning her around to belt it, the constriction around her waist as he twined the sash around his fingers, tugged her closer with the tether. Rubbed that heavy cock against her pubic mound…

  She shuddered and looked away. Focused on the ground to the right of his feet, past that fall of cloth. She noticed her hands had become hard balls on her thighs. “I will use the tape.”

  “That’s your choice.” He let the silence draw out between them before he spoke again. “But that’s not what’s happening right now. Speak to me, Celeste.”

  “I don’t…” She shook her head and was startled when the robe dropped over her thighs. He tapped her jaw, making her lift her attention to his unsmiling, stern face.

  “Say it. Or leave.”

  How did he do that? He could have exuded the charm, coaxed, but the sharp order was so much more effective, spearing her very vitals, holding her into place. “I didn’t mean to…say the word.” She was whispering, halting after each syllable as if the words had to be cut out of the tense coil under her rib cage.

  “You didn’t mean to use your safe word?”

  “Well, I did, yes, but…” Oh, screw it. Clutching the robe, she began to rise, an ache in her throat. “Whatever.”

  He put his hand on her shoulder, keeping her seated. When his thumb pressed against the base of her throat, her eyes locked with his again.

  “You used your safe word when you didn’t mean to use it. You cried wolf, Celeste, with no wolf?”

  With him this close, she wouldn’t say there was no wolf present, but he was right. The choice was in front of her, on all of it. A choice that, as he said, had absolutely nothing to do with her shallow nee
d to strike back at Matt Kensington and his ilk.

  “Yes.” She didn’t know what gave her the bravery to say it, because those emerald eyes went to fire, that sexual potency going to full out flame. He stroked his knuckles down her sternum, spreading gooseflesh over her breasts and tightening the nipples once again.

  “If you want to continue, you’ll need to ask me for that permission. Properly.” His touch moved over her breast, fingers toying idly with a nipple as she bit her lip. “Now.”

  “I…I want to continue. Please.”

  He pinched her, hard, and the address came out on a yelp. “Sir!”

  “Stay still.” She froze as he put his fingers over her nipple again. This time it was more of a vise than a pinch, a gradual tightening that grew more excruciating as the seconds passed. Her shoulder dipped, her fingers digging into her thighs once more as she somehow tried to both lean into the pain and convey an anxious need to move away from it. She gasped, “Hurts…please…”

  When he eased the pressure, she felt the tingle of the expanded blood flow on a direct line to her pussy. She glanced up at him, startled. “I’m going to do it to the other one, now,” he said.

  No. Yes. Please. God. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. You’re learning.” He moved to that one, and fuck, he had strong fingers. Just when she’d passed the point she couldn’t take another second, he released her again, massaging the nipple as she tried so hard not to squirm. She was smearing her cream along the polished wooden seat.

  “Don’t make me tell you to stay still again. Feel, Celeste. Don’t think. That’s the way to learn what this is about. It’s like sniffing out a story lead. You trust your gut more than your mind. Let the rest go.”

  He’d chosen the right way to get her attention, the intuitive bastard. She found the best angles on her stories, fluff pieces though they were, by listening for cues with something more than just her ears. She couldn’t explain it, but then he just had, hadn’t he? Okay—ow, fuck, that one hurt…oh, oh—the rubbing afterward felt freakishly good, making her want the pain to get the pleasure. That, as much as his words, made her take the leap.