by Jess Bentley
When Jayson kisses me, it’s profoundly different than any of the other kisses we’ve shared. I’ve been married to him for three years, but now, and finally, I truly feel like his wife.
As we line up to greet the guests, I glance at the new wedding set on my finger. The other one was exquisite and expensive, but Jayson confessed his assistant — not the idiot one — selected the set of rings before our hasty marriage. This set, much more to my liking, was chosen by my husband personally.
Feeling warm inside, I do my best to get through the rest of the afternoon. I’m thankful for our friends, and thrilled to have a real wedding, but I’m also feeling impatient to have Jayson alone.
Sure, I’m looking forward to the “wedding night”, but I also have another reason for being impatient.
It’s several hours later before we can slip away from the reception at the hotel and go up to the honeymoon suite. I squeal with surprise when he sweeps me into his arms to carry me over the threshold — a tradition he didn’t bother with the first time.
With Jayson’s assistance, I shed the heavy and complicated wedding gown, and he removes his tux. I watch each step as the jacket falls off his shoulders, he unties his tie, he undoes the cufflinks and the buttons of his crisp shirt, and undoes his belt with great interest.
The Jacuzzi-for-two in the huge marble bathroom beckons, and we sink into it. As he adjusts the controls, I say, “Don’t turn up the temperature too high, love.”
Jayson grins. “Why? Because we’ll make our own heat?”
I smile. “No doubt, but that isn’t the reason.”
He leans back, tucking his arms around me and pulling me down onto his lap. The light hair on his chest tickles my back. “And what’s your reason?” Jayson caresses my breast, lightly tracing my nipple as he asks.
I wince slightly. “I read it wasn’t safe… for the baby.”
His hand freezes, and he seems to have stopped breathing.
“Baby?”
I nod, turning my neck so I can see his face. “I’m pregnant.”
He cups my stomach. “How far along?”
“About ten weeks.” I lay my hand over his. “I think we might have conceived the night you proposed.”
He nods. “Ah, yes. The night when we didn’t even make it to our room.”
With a giggle, I answer, “We didn’t even make it to the nearest sofa, Jayson.”
Jayson pales. “We’ve done it many times since. I could have hurt you, or the baby.”
I shake my head. “I talked to Dr. Anderson when I found out. She let me know that it’s perfectly safe to have sex, even with my history. As much as I wanted to surprise you with the news on our wedding night, I wouldn’t have put our baby in danger.”
I look down as his eyes fill with tears for a moment.
“I know.” He turns to me again. “How long have you known, agape mou?”
“About four weeks.” I can’t help but feel a little sheepish. “It almost killed me to wait to tell you.” I wanted to wait until the wedding night, but I’d had another reason as well. Dr. Anderson assured me that once she saw the heartbeat, there was a less than five percent chance of miscarrying. The little heart had fluttered away at the ultrasound last week.
“You deserve a sound spanking for not telling me sooner,” he says with a growl.
I grin.
“Promises, promises.”
His expression turns serious. “I will keep every promise I make to you, Harper.”
With a solemn nod, I answer, “I know, Jayson. I trust you completely.” I have no hesitation at uttering the words. Jayson’s proven his love and trustworthiness in a thousand tiny ways, and a few major ones — like taking me with him when he went to Maia’s hotel to confront her. The scene had been ugly, but we haven’t heard a word from that woman since that night.
“S’agapo, Harper.” His voice is soft as the bubbles that surround us.
He loves me.
“Ke ego s’agapo, Jayson.” I turn in the water to face him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “Forever.”
His kiss is fierce, almost feral with passion.
His wet body is against mine, and I can feel his shaft growing against my leg. I want him inside me so badly. In some ways it’s the only time I feel complete when he takes me.
“Fuck me,” I manage to say between kisses.
“Yes,” he growls. “Yes, little Harper.” He turns me around so that my ass is in the air and I’m leaning out of the tub onto a set of towels on the ledge. With a shock I feel his lips against my butt cheeks, as his hands massage them.
“What are you doing?” I ask him softly, but he ignores me. His fingers are tracing the soft skin from my ass to my clit, softly, barely touching, so that I’m practically whining for him. Then I feel his tongue on me, in my most intimate of places.
It’s a sensation I’ve never felt before, to have his tongue circling that opening while his fingers get closer and closer to plunging inside.
But instead of doing that, despite the slick evidence of my need, he grasps one butt cheek in each hand and licks the length of me as he opens me up. I squeal as his tongue moves in like a snake, swirling its wetness as he massages my ass cheeks.
“Jayson,” I say, shocked, as he licks me. The only sound in return is a growling groan, and the vibration of his voice makes me close to coming. Then one finger slowly enters my tender wetness moving in and out, rubbing the g spot as he licks, brushing my clit with his thumb.
I’m weak, barely able to hold my head up as he expertly brings me to a climax harder than I’ve ever felt in my life. I scream his name, my husband’s name, my true husband’s name, as he fills all my openings with himself.
“That’s right,” he says as I pant as the orgasm subsides. Then he slaps my ass softly. “That’s right.”
He presses the head of his cock against my slit, teasing me with the petal-soft skin of the head before pushing it in, its hard length filling me and opening me. His slow pace is perfectly torturous, perfectly pleasurable at the same time.
“Fuck me,” I whine again. “You feel so good.”
“It’s you.” His voice is low. “You feel so wet and soft. You have the best pussy, Harper, so sweet and tight.” He swivels his cock around as he grasps my hips. “That pussy is mine forever.”
I know he’s right. It’s always been for him, from the first moment I laid eyes on him and he made my virginal self all hot and bothered, I knew it was for him.
“I’m yours,” I groan softly, leaning into the towel.
“Damn right,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Don’t you forget it.” He slaps my ass again as he increases the pace, and the sting feels good along with the hard strokes of his cock. I shiver, but I’m nowhere near cold.
He grabs one of my breasts and pinches the nipple as he leans over and kisses my back. He’s never been this passionate with me.
“Harper, you’re going to make me come so hard,” he says. “Your sweet little body, your pussy, your tits… all mine.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Fuck me,” I say. He starts fucking me harder and as the pleasure hits, I can hear the sound of him slapping his hips against my ass. I tip my hips for him and he groans in response, his thumb rubbing my hole as he owns me.
“Jayson,” I cry out as I come again and again, his relentless thrusting making me shudder with pleasure.
“I love you,” he says in a strained voice. “S’agapo.” And then the heat and wetness jets into me as I convulse around him, the warmth and heat the perfect start of our real lives. Together.
SAVE ME SINNERS
Copyright © 2017 by Jess Bentley
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
All characters depicted in bo
ok are completely fictional, age of majority and all acts are consensual.
Preface
In this volume you will find my book Save Me, Sinners, as well as some bonus content: my recent Save Me, Daddy, Heat and the never before published, A Hard Man: Saving David.
Prologue
Angel
“My Ceremony is today,” says Gina, preening and pawing at her hair, before putting a strand in her mouth and chewing on it. I’m only half listening. It’s good that Tulip is here, as it’ll take Gina’s attention off of me in case she gets bored and starts getting nasty. I scuff the ground with my shoe, watching as little rivulets form in the dusty earth.
I wish it were my Ceremony today and not Gina’s.
“Are you excited?” Tulip asks. “You’re so lucky.” She draws out the phrase until it seems her breath is going to run right out. “Isn’t she lucky, Angel?”
“Um, yeah,” I answer absently. “Lucky for sure.” Today’s the day that Gina will be made a woman by Father Daddy and Brother Owen. What could be luckier than that?
I wonder if she and Tulip notice how massive Father Daddy looks when he’s stomping across the altar. How his jaw sets when he looks at each one of us in the congregation in turn. How his tattoos make him look even more like artwork. Or how Brother Owen’s powerful forearms ripple as he waves the cross at us.
The cross is supposed to represent the thrust to heaven and the horizontal earth. Man is caught in between the two, the center of the two lines. I guess Gina will get her cross necklace today.
“Did you find out exactly what’s going to happen at the Ceremony?” asks Tulip. “I’ve heard a few things, but I don’t know what to believe.” Her eyes are wide and curious. “It sounds like it gets pretty wild.”
I’ve heard a thing or two as well, but nothing that makes me believe I have half a clue what’s going to happen at the Ceremony. All I know is that they decide when I should become a woman and they make me ready for my Master.
“I don’t think it’s that big a deal,” Gina answers, casually examining her nails now. “It’s Father Daddy and Brother Owen. What can they do that’s so wild?”
Tulip looks doubtful. She’s always been nicer than Gina, who if you don’t mind my saying is a bit of a witch. Why she gets to be a woman today and not me, I have no idea. Besides, everything Father Daddy and Brother O do is interesting.
“You’ll have to tell us everything!” Tulip says, looking at me for confirmation. “Right, Angel?”
“Oh, no, you can’t!” I say.
“Angel’s right,” Gina shrugs. “It’s secret. You’ll find out when you find out.”
Tulip is full of energy, and she jumps around us, giggling. “I wish you would tell us! Please, please!”
“If you don’t settle down, you’re going to get us all in trouble,” I warn her. Mary’s already giving us the evil eye from across the church lawn.
“Well, alls I know is that I’m going to be a woman, by tonight,” says Gina. “And soon I’ll get my Master. I wonder who it’s going to be?”
“Could be anyone,” I say, shooting another look at Tulip, who looks down contritely and straightens the top of her dress after jumping around. She’s finally starting to bloom up top and get her breasts. “Seth, Aaron, Billy…”
“They’re all just boys. I think I’d want Father Daddy himself to be my Master,” says Gina impishly. “He’s so good looking. Him or Brother O.”
“You can’t have Father Daddy!” Tulip hisses. “He’s too good for any of us. Brother Owen, either. They’re too powerful. They’re like gods!”
I know what Gina means. Father Daddy and Brother O are the handsomest men in the Family, Kingdom Come. And so righteous. But you can’t have either. Nobody can have them.
They’re everyone’s, and nobody’s.
Chapter 59
Silas
Owen slips through the side door, smirking at me in greeting. His grey eyes flicker around the interior of the pole barn, but we are still alone. He looks excited, tense like a wire strung between two poles. I can hear him chewing the inside of his cheek and cracking his knuckles as he settles into his throne.
I've got a little too much on my mind for this, but I need to be present, to focus. I know I need to shut everything else away and try to just exist in the moment. Gina’s deflowering ceremony is not going to be the easiest one. She hasn't been an easy child, and now that she's becoming a woman, she has a lot to learn. I almost feel sorry for whoever is made her Master. He’ll still have a lot of work to do even after Brother Owen and I are done with her.
The barn is clean, as clean as a barn can get. The concrete floor has been thoroughly swept and is only lightly coated in dust, with a subtle, lined texture that the broom bristles made. It will do just fine, the way it has for every other ceremony for the last ten years. The humbleness of the cold concrete is what we like to call spiritually useful.
Obedience is hard, the same way the floor is hard.
Obedience is strength, the same way wood is strength.
The strings of lightbulbs that sway back and forth across the rafters illuminate the room in a kind of magical glow. It looks like it could be a harvest dance in here. Maybe a birthday party or some other kind of feast. A baptism. A wedding.
We have weddings in here too, though they are usually done in groups. Unlike the mainstream heathens, we don't elevate the individual over the group. When we marry, we marry together to show that every person is part of the Kingdom Come Family. It's not just two people going off to be on their own; it's two people joining the larger group.
Even those foolish young ones who think they're going to strike out, change things, shake things up… they learn. They see the benefit to unity among our people. They begin to understand the value of loyalty over self-interest.
Everyone submits to the Family, eventually.
No matter how hard they fight.
Everyone breaks.
I hear something outside the barn wall. Movement. Through the wide, weathered slats I see lights flickering back and forth. It's the procession. Gina is supposed to be transported here in a kind of formal parade, guided by her clan of older sisters and other Family women, the aunties, as we call them. They whisper to her, some singing and some almost chanting, encouraging her to enter the barn.
Owen leans forward in his throne, waiting to see motion on the large, rolling door. I can hear his breath coming faster now. He’s so taken with these ceremonies, I almost find it embarrassing. No one can doubt his piety, but sometimes I find his enthusiasm bordering on something else. Something deeper. Something primal. I wonder about his true motives.
But I can’t think about that now either. I need to focus. What name will I give her? She’s so thoroughly “Gina” in my memory, it’s a struggle to see her future with a new name. But I have to rename her, to offer her a clean slate for her future as a Family woman. It’s important for her sense of clarity that she receives her womanly path without being encumbered by her former self.
We are all about perfection here.
The door shudders briefly, then stops, as though it’s almost too heavy to move. I see Brother Owen scrub his palm over his face in frustration. He doesn’t have to worry. It will happen. Always does.
It's important that she opens the door herself. Presumably the aunties have given her at least some idea of what the deflowering ceremony is all about, but they never tell them the whole thing. There's always some element of surprise, maybe some fear.
I leave that up to them. The aunties know best how to shape these new women. They know how they need to be molded, to be taken apart and reborn in the holy duties of service. The aunties know each girl’s individual struggles, and how to coach them onto the divine path. They are like lengths of new tree boughs in the aunties’ able hands. A little twisting, a small bend or break here and there — nothing permanent — and the boughs can take on the most wonderful shapes.
They become pliant.
Some of them are too bold. Some of them are too shy. Some of them harbor a sinful, self-interested lust that needs to be redirected for their Masters. I don't know how they do it, but they take the mission very seriously. They are always coming up with just the right kind of reeducation.
In a way, Owen and I are merely their tools.
The door shudders again, and I hear the large casters begin to roll on the gritty track. Owen leans forward on his throne, gripping the armrest tightly.
As the large panel begins to move, I see the other members gathered outside, their eyes wide with expectation and excitement. They peer into the barn, though I'm not really sure why. There's nothing to see here. Just a large space that every adult woman has entered at least once. Once for baptism, again for deflowering, perhaps again to join with her Master.
And yet, they're still eager to reconnect. Their eyes shine, reflecting the strings of lights on the ceiling. I recognize them all. And yet I don't see them, not really. After the ceremonies, that brief connection is dissolved. They move onto other paths. My calling is to ensure the life of our Family. Our spiritual life, our everlasting redemption.
As is my duty, I look for Gina. She struggles with the door, leaning her weight against it and shoving with one shoulder against the heavy weight. When it's all the way open, she stands up straight and juts her chin defiantly in my direction as if to answer some challenge. As if opening the door further than necessary is aggressive or dominating.
Defiant to the last moment, I suppose. Right down to the very last seconds that this behavior will be permitted. No matter. She’ll alter like everyone else does.
Everyone submits.
She's wearing a long, white cotton gown that comes to her ankles. As she steps forward, the panels flutter slightly around her, exposing the edges of her thighs all the way up to her waist. The traditional garment is split up each side, only appearing to be sewn all the way together when she stands perfectly still. As soon as she moves, it's easy to see that really, it's two loose panels draped over her, front and back. So easy to tear aside. So easy to twist into rope.
