Don't Come

by Jessica Gadziala

  "Suck my cock, pet," he demanded, voice rough as he grabbed the hair at the back of my neck, yanking my head up further, then shifting his hips forward until the head of his cock pressed into my lips. "Look at me," he instructed, giving my hair a tug. "Now open your mouth and suck my cock," he commanded. And, well, I opened my mouth and sucked his cock. Eagerly. With everything I had. Until his breathing was harsh and uneven, his body tight. "Know how many men were looking at you tonight wishing they could have your mouth?" he asked, surprising me. "But this sweet fucking mouth is mine," he declared, thrusting forward, making me swallow him, choke around him as he buried in my throat. I could have sworn he hissed out Mine again as soon as he did. "No more," he commanded when I tried to suck him back as he pulled away. "Get up."

  I tried to get to my feet, ankles weak from sitting on them. "Whoa," Nathanial said, reaching for me as I fell with a small chuckle, hauling me up to my feet, then higher, higher, until he had me up and over his shoulder, his hand landing a swat to my ass as he turned to walk toward the bed. "I have restraints again," he told me, making my whole body stiffen. "Be a good girl and keep an open mind," he demanded as he carried me with him like it was the most normal thing in the world as he grabbed items off the dresser.

  "Nath..." I started, only to be cut off by another slap to my ass, harder, less playful, more like punishment. "Sir," I corrected as he moved toward the bed, dropping what was in his hand, then reaching for me, depositing me down on my side.

  "Spread eagle is a lot more exposed," he explained, showing me a set of restraints held together with velcro. "This is less vulnerable," he went on, reaching to drag my arms down until they ran alongside the fronts of my legs, then securing my ankles to my wrists, then my elbows to my knees. "Breathe. Don't go into panic mode again. You're fine. You can stop this if you need to. But relax into it," he instructed, his hands gently moving up my calf, knee, thigh, until it snuck between, tracing the seam of my sex that was already wet, had been wet all night.

  "Feel how much you like this?" he asked, sinking a finger deep inside me, thrusting lazily as I let out a low whimper.

  He was right.

  This didn't feel as scary.

  I was mostly curled into myself, only my ass jutting out. And, technically, I could get myself out if I really needed to, if I couldn't take another second. If I twisted my hands just the right way, I could get out of the wrist ones, and then I could be fully free in seconds. Maybe the option of that was what had me relaxing into it like he demanded, like he told me I could.

  Another finger slipped inside me, stroking me, tapping here and there against my top wall, making me tighten around him.

  One of his fingers pulled out of me, tracing backward and up, coating my ass with my slick desire before his finger started pressing, pushing, invading.

  "I'm the only one who's ever gotten to be in here." His voice sounded pleased, happy to be the only man to touch me like he was touching me.

  "Yes, sir," I agreed even though it wasn't a question. It wasn't a question because he had asked me months ago about my ass, about if I had ever had a cock, plug, or finger there, if I ever touched myself there.

  So he knew.

  He knew everything.

  But he liked hearing it anyway, making a low rumble as his finger was in all the way and he started thrusting with the same pace as his finger inside my pussy, giving me a sensation I had never felt before, something foreign, odd, but hinting at something amazing, something only he could give me.

  "Milking my fingers," he rumbled, making me realize my hips were rocking back into him, demanding more. His finger left my pussy, sliding up and back, seeking entrance that I felt with a small bit of discomfort, my body resisting the larger invasion. But only for a second before the strange feeling passed, and all I felt was my need growing, my hips rocking back into him harder as both fingers started fucking my ass, stretching me, readying me. "That's a good girl," he praised when the moans started, low and soft at first, but growing, just as the need inside was, somehow making the walls of my pussy tighten, making me get wetter and wetter. "You want my cock now, don't you?" he asked, thrusting harder.

  "Y...yes, sir," I whimpered, pressing my thighs closer together, trying to calm the chaos there.

  He made a low, rumbling, growling noise as I lost his fingers with a small whimper. I could hear him moving around, going to the dresser, then the nightstand, vaguely aware of the condom being opened, then the click of a cap opening a second before I felt cool, silky liquid drip down my ass.

  His body moved closer, grabbing my legs, and hauling them downward, so my ass was all but hanging off the bed.

  My body tensed, the part of me that was still unsure kicking into overdrive as I felt the head of his cock press into my clit then drag a path downward.

  But I didn't get a chance to get more unsure because his cock slammed deep into my pussy unexpectedly, making my body jolt, dragging a curse out from between my lips.

  "So fucking wet," he told me, the words like praise. "It's been dripping down your thighs since I got you tied up," he told me, and I knew it was true. Nothing, no one had ever gotten me wetter than he did. "I take away control," he told me, reaching up, sinking his hand into the hair at the base of my skull and pulling back so hard that I arched like the girl at the club, painfully backward, "and all there is for you to do is feel," he told me, and truer words had never been spoken. His cock pulled from my pussy as suddenly as he had thrust in.

  "No, please, sir..." I whimpered, rocking my hips against the head that was still pressed against me.

  "Sh," he demanded, palm slapping down hard on my ass. "You get what I give to you," he told me, voice a quiet reprimand.

  "Yes, sir," I whimpered, trying to take deep breaths to control the clawing need growing low in my core.

  "What I am going to give you now is my thick cock in your tight ass," he told me, making my sex clench hard. His hand released my hair, making an aching relief move across my scalp. He dragged his cock away from my pussy, back and up until it was pressing against my ass, a hard, thick promise. I should have shrank away, worried. But I felt my ass pressing into him. "Greedy to have me claim this virgin ass," he growled, pressing ever-so-slightly forward.

  "Ah..." I started to object, feeling an unfamiliar burning stretch as my body strained to permit his thick cock.

  "Sh, pet," he murmured. "Breathe. Relax into it," he instructed, one of his hands pressing my ass wider as his cock slipped just a little deeper. "Feel that?" he asked, as if I could be aware of anything else, "that's you becoming completely fucking mine," he growled, making my belly wobble.

  My head twisted on the mattress, turning to watch his gaze focused on his cock invading me inch by inch, seeing the tightness in his jaw, the tension in his shoulders and arms, his bone-deep need for release. But even so, he was going slow, giving me time, introducing me gently. As if sensing my gaze, his head lifted to pin me with those dark eyes of his.

  "You like my cock in your ass, don't you pet?" he asked, making my sex clench. "Fuck, yeah you do," he growled, making me aware he could actually feel that even if his cock was somewhere else. "Deep breath," he told me oddly, making me immediately follow instructions, feeling his cock slide all the way in, claiming me fully. My air rushed out of me in a strobe-like breath as his eyes went more hooded. "Fucking beautiful," he praised, watching me, the compliment landing warm and swimmy in my belly. "Love the way you take my cock, pet," he went on, pulling back slightly, then pressing forward again.

  There was a pinch, a strangeness that my body was trying to get accustomed to, but there was something there beyond it as well, something I wasn't sure I had a name for, something akin to the desire I had felt before many times, but different, maybe even stronger.

  "There you go," he said, nodding a little when he pulled back then pressed in again without me stiffening. "Feels good to have my cock in here, right?" he asked, pulling out further, then all the way back in.


  The pinch was gone.

  The strangeness eased.

  All I felt was freaking need.

  I needed more.

  All.

  I needed everything.

  "What, pet?" he asked, seeming to sense my need to say something, express what was going on within me.

  "I don't... I..." I fumbled, trying to focus as he kept thrusting lazily. "It feels good," I admitted, sounding, even to my own ears, a mix of confused and delighted.

  "I know it does. And pretty soon, you are going to come so fucking hard that you won't be able to breathe," he promised. "And I am going to feel it," he added.

  God, yes.

  I could already feel myself getting close, impossibly close, too fast, too strong, too everything.

  My hand wanted to reach out, to grab hold of him, to feel connection. But with my restraints, all it could do was uncurl from a fist and spread my fingers out.

  But Nathaniel took the cue, reaching down with his free hand to curl over it, holding on tight as his pace quickened, as his cock got more insistent.

  "Fuck," he growled, thrusting harder, faster, losing the control he usually had. "Your ass is so fucking tight, Adley," he told me, releasing my hand to go to slip between my thighs, stroking up my almost embarrassingly wet pussy, rolling over my clit. Feeling myself tightening, feeling pushed right to the edge, my hips rocked, my ass shoving back into him as he fucked me. "Yeah, fuck me, pet. Make yourself come," he demanded as his finger kept rolling, as his cock kept getting more and more demanding. "There you go," he said, somehow feeling the way my pussy was like a vise grip. "Let go, Adley. I've got you," he told me, eyes intense on my face as his cock slammed forward and his finger slipped.

  And I simply... shattered.

  I broke into a million pieces.

  "Nathaniel," I hissed.

  "Good girl," he praised, finger still working me, cock still fucking me, milking the splintering orgasm for all it was worth as my head started to get light from the trapped air in my lungs. "Fuck, yeah, milk my cock," he demanded, losing it himself, thrusting hard until he planted deep, coming with a harsh curse on his lips, his eyes almost full of wonder as he watched me.

  At least that was what my rose-tinted, orgasm-sated glasses wanted me to believe.

  It felt like forever before the pressure on my chest eased, making me pull in a gasping breath.

  Even as I came back down, the sensation of being broken apart didn't go away, the parts of me didn't seem to want to come back together.

  "Fuck," Nathaniel said again, giving my hip a small squeeze as he slowly started pulling out of me, seeming aware at the strange feeling, giving me a second to adjust before I lost him completely. "One second, pet," he said, moving away toward the bathroom, coming back less than a minute later, undoing my wrists and knees, fingers absentmindedly rubbing over the marks left there for a second before he moved away, going into his closet, coming back a few seconds later with my giant pink, fluffy blanket.

  "Come up here, Adley," he said softly, moving onto the bed, holding out the blanket toward me as I somehow forced my jelly-like limbs to carry me up the bed, dropping down beside him, feeling him tuck me in. "Comedrunk," he observed, fingers moving to sift softly through my hair. I couldn't seem to manage anything other than an unintelligible grunting noise. "It'll pass," he assured me. "Ride it out."

  I closed my eyes, lulled by the warmth of the blanket and his body as I took deep breaths, trying to find whatever parts of me that were still scattered all around, and pull them back in, piece myself back together.

  I didn't have a name for whatever this feeling was.

  I understood feeling broken or unlike yourself after bad sex, after sex you regretted. But this wasn't that. This was amazing. It was indescribable. I didn't understand why I was feeling so pulled apart.

  Feeling a bit alone in the sensation, my head tilted to find Nathaniel looking down at me. "I feel weird," I admitted, needing to share it, needing to get it out, so it didn't feel like it was so overwhelming.

  "Weird?" he asked, brows drawing low. "Weird how? Did I hurt you?"

  "No. No," I insisted, shaking my head. How could I describe it? Without sounding weak and needy? Without him digging too deeply into it? "I don't know. Just weird. Maybe it was the, ah, adrenaline," I said, trying to brush it off, regretting bringing it up now that it was out.

  "Okay," he said, brows still furrowed as he kept stroking my hair, this time moving some behind my ear, his fingers hitting my collar, making me jolt slightly.

  The collar.

  We were supposed to have some kind of talk about the collar.

  "Nathaniel?" I asked, watching as the sound of his name made him jolt, apparently not used to hearing a woman in his bed say it. It shouldn't have - because it was only going to complicate things further for me inside - but it absolutely did make my belly feel warm again. I got to have something that other subs did not.

  "Yeah, pet?"

  "We were supposed to talk," I reminded him. "About the collar and ceremonies and... whatever else," I reminded him.

  And just like that, I watched a guard slam down in front of him, blocking me out. His hand immediately stopped stroking my hair as he sat up higher, getting further away from me.

  But I wasn't going to be deterred. If he thought he could out-stubborn me, he was sadly mistaken.

  I moved to sit up as well, tucking my legs under me, lifting my chin a little, ready to insist he tell me.

  But he half-turned away from me, reaching to pull the drawer of the nightstand open, coming back with a small key.

  The key to my collar?

  He was taking it off.

  "I shouldn't have put this collar on you," he explained, reaching out toward me. I didn't mean to, but I jerked away, not wanting to take it off. I had become a little attached to it since he put it on me. I found my fingers seeking it out and tracing over it during the day, feeling my heart skitter each time. "Adley," he called, voice scolding as his hands reached out again.

  This time, I didn't fight it. My pride wouldn't let me battle him for it. Even if that was exactly what I wanted to do.

  "In this lifestyle," he started, voice so chilly that it shivered over my skin. And, for the first time, it wasn't a good shiver. It made me feel cold inside, "collars have different meanings," he told me as he slipped the key in, unlocked it, and pulled the chain from me.

  Ridiculously, I felt naked and exposed without it.

  "Okay," I agreed, watching as he took my collar and put it away in the nightstand, closing it.

  Something about that felt so incredibly, painfully final.

  "There is the play collar. The one I put on you while we..."

  "Played," I supplied, hearing a bit of ice slip into my voice as well.

  I decided right then and there that I hated the term 'play.'

  We weren't freaking children.

  What we did wasn't playing.

  It was adult and serious.

  "Exactly. And that is all it is. A way for a Dom to control his sub, to bring her to heel during a scene or sex. It has no real meaning."

  "Alright. That makes sense," I agreed, feeling my belly swirl.

  "Then there is a second collar. It is called a training collar. And it is a sign of seriousness between a Dom and a sub. Both discuss it and agree to it. It is a sign of commitment. The Dom is agreeing to take care of his sub body, mind, heart, everything. Indefinitely. It is like putting an engagement ring on her finger. It is not just a thing you wear around your neck. It is a sign of a serious commitment."

  That he didn't feel toward me.

  He had put a collar on me in the heat of the moment without thinking it through. And he didn't mean it. He didn't want to be serious, to commit to me, to agree to take care of me.

  At least not outside of playing.

  The saliva in my mouth turned bitter, something vile and nauseating to swallow, burning down my throat, boring holes into my belly.

 
"Alright," I agreed, feeling the way my teeth were clamped together.

  "After that, there is the true submissive collar. Some call it a slave collar, but most have moved away from that term."

  "Like your friend Ash at the club."

  "Exactly."

  So collars were a series of commitments.

  Like engagement and wedding bands, but for kinky people.

  And he hadn't been thinking clearly when he slipped his commitment on my neck.

  But he clearly regretted it.

  He took it away from me.

  Because he didn't want to commit to me.

  I knew that.

  Damnit, I knew that.

  We had agreed to this.

  Casual.

  But not a damn bit of this had ever felt casual to me. It felt important. Significant. Deep.

  I hadn't just been falling for him.

  I had fallen.

  So hard that I clearly knocked the goddamn sense out of my head in the process.

  Because I had done what I knew you could never do when you were the one to have deeper feelings in a relationship. I had hoped. I had projected my feelings onto him, wishing, hoping, half-believing he felt the same way too.

  Shit.

  I was better than this. Smarter than this.

  "Adley," he called, making me jump.

  I needed to keep it together.

  At least in front of him.

  Even if the broken feeling inside suddenly had nothing to do with the orgasm. And everything to do with the gaping hole in my chest.

  "Okay. I get it now," I agreed, forcing a small smile. It hurt my face muscles. It hurt my soul.

  His brows lowered, watching me, trying to dig in, but he wasn't the only one who could put up a shield. And mine wasn't coming down. Mine was there to keep him from seeing that he just set something in motion, a decision that had to be made, actions that would have to follow it.

  "Do you have any questions?" he asked, tone a bit confused.

  "Ah... no. I think that was a pretty detailed explanation."

  "You alright?" he asked, looking more and more uncertain. "Still feeling weird?" he pressed.

  "I think I'm just tired honestly," I told him. It wasn't even a lie. I was tired. Bone-deep tired. Heart tired. Soul tired. Everything tired.