by Sky Corgan
I huff, feeling the tension between us souring everything. I think about asking him what in the fuck he expects me to do all day if he's not providing me with entertainment, but I don't want to argue with him further. Everything went downhill after we had sex in the mirror room, and I don't want him to kick me out because I'm pitching a fit.
We eat in silence, my only solace the fact that the food is amazing. Susan might be a shitty host when Chandler isn't around to make sure she's doing her job, but she's a damn good cook. I eat my food and stew over the wasted afternoon, wondering if the rest of my days are going to be this boring. Thankfully, I only have to endure a week of this. No one has ever died of boredom. Not yet, at least.
“Would you like something to help you sleep?” Chandler asks once we finish eating dinner.
“Considering that I took a nap earlier, that would be nice. But tell her not to make it as strong. That cocktail last night knocked me on my ass.” My disapproval reaches my voice, but Chandler doesn't seem bothered by it in the least.
“I'll have Susan deliver something to your room shortly.” Chandler stands to take his leave. “Sleep well tonight.”
I frown at his backside as he excuses himself. The conversation that we had tonight seemed just as cold as the walls closing in on me. I don't understand what's going on anymore, and I don't like it. Things are leagues different than they were this morning. Is he being standoffish towards me because he's trying to cut off our sexual connection? If that's the case, he could just tell me we won't be sleeping together anymore. He doesn't have to be a dick. Maybe he's not as perfect as I thought he was after all.
I retire to my room just as grumpy as I was when I came to dinner. Susan delivers my cocktail about fifteen minutes later.
“My television is broken.” I thumb back at it as she hands over the glass of clear liquid. She looks past me for a moment but says nothing before turning to leave. Bitch. What in the hell is her problem?
My jaw clenches as I sit on the side of my bed with the glass. Tears come to my eyes as an extreme feeling of loneliness washes over me. Hopefully, Chandler won't ignore me all day tomorrow like I'm a dog to be crated while he's at work. I wonder if he does the same thing to Susan—if she has access to all of the doors or if she's a prisoner here, too. I'll add that to my list of bullshit to ponder on when I'm going out of my mind from boredom tomorrow.
I chug the cocktail, just wanting to sleep. It only takes a few minutes before the same uncomfortable exhaustion weighs me down. What in the hell is in this thing? I stare at the glass, watching as it becomes fuzzy. I place a hand on the bed, fighting the sleepiness threatening to knock me unconscious at any moment. It's no use. The drugs work quick, and I'm powerless against them. Before I even have time to swing my legs over the side of the bed, everything goes dark.
“What's going on?” I mumble as pressure between my legs rouses me. My mind is in a haze, but I'm aware enough to realize that what's happening isn't unfamiliar.
There's no response, just the sensation of Chandler's cock forcing its way inside of me. My breath hitches from the spreading, and I reach out for anything to ground me. My hand lands on the comforter, my palm buzzing from a strange numbness. He must be behind me again. When I feel his hand on my side, it's confirmed.
I turn to ask him what he's doing, but my focus is stolen from me as he begins to thrust. A lusty part of me awakens, and all I can do is moan. I don't understand what's going on. Not really. I know that I'm getting fucked. I know that Chandler is the one who is with me. But it's so dark. There are no lights.
I glance over at the bedside table. There's no digital display on the clock there. I should have made sure it was plugged in before I went to sleep. But what sense does that make? It's been plugged in all day. How would it have magically become unplugged?
“Chandler,” I pant as he pinches my nipple, rolling it between his thumb and index finger.
“Emma,” he says my name softly. It grounds me for a fraction of a second—soothes me and takes my fear away. I don't feel okay, but I feel safe. That's good enough right now.
“I don't know…” my voice trails off into a moan as the hand on my hip slides down between my legs, two deft fingers circling my cleft before applying pressure to my clit and vibrating.
I lose sense of everything, riding out the combined stimulation until I come. I bite my bottom lip and relax with a sigh, closing my eyes, feeling the world around me disappear.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Susan didn't cut back on the dosage,” I inform Chandler at breakfast the next morning. I wanted to call her 'the bitch,' but I don't want to upset Chandler. This precarious balance of keeping him happy and keeping my sanity is becoming taxing.
“Oh?” He doesn't seem the least bit concerned.
This morning I got up early enough to have breakfast with him. Spread before us is a hearty selection of eggs, bacon, sausages, toast, and fruit. I fill my plate to the max because I'm feeling unusually hungry. The freshly squeezed orange juice that Susan poured us is heavenly, but I'm beginning to realize that I don't like her at all.
I stare at Chandler across the table from me, thinking that his charm is quickly wearing off. While I woke up in a much better mood, my confusion over everything has me on edge.
“What's on the agenda today?” I ask, just trying to make conversation.
“No—”
“Questions,” I cut him off. Lord knows I've heard him say it enough. I'm not sure why I even try to get information out of him. He grins at me. “How did you sleep last night?” I try something else, though still a question.
“Well.”
The fact that he doesn't ask me the same question back is irritating.
“I had another strange dream last night.” I butter a piece of toast.
“Oh?”
“Are you interested?” My jaw clenches.
“Of course.” He furrows his brow, seemingly offended by my assuming that he's not.
“You rape me in my sleep,” my words are clipped.
“Rape you?” His mouth falls agape. Now I have his full attention. The concern is there for a glimmer of a second before it fades into a flirty smile. “Do you enjoy it?”
Now I'm the one looking shocked. To say no would be a lie. I just want to know if it's real or not. “Do you…” I hesitate. “Do you come into my room at night?”
“No questions asked.” There's wickedness in his gaze that chills me to the core.
“I'm going to assume that's a yes.” I return my attention to my food. Looking at him is making me feel strange things, and I can't tell if I like them or not.
“Assume what you will. That doesn't make it true.” He leans back, wiping his mouth on a napkin.
I feel like my head is going to explode. He's a complete mindfuck.
“Would you like to workout with me after breakfast?” Chandler sets his napkin on top of the table and pushes his plate away.
I consider it. This may be the only interaction I get with him today. I should take it.
“Sure.” My eyes float across my plate, and I wonder how much more food I can pack in before he expects me to follow him.
“Good. I'll see you outside in fifteen.” He scoots his chair back and stands.
“See you there.” I shove a quarter slice of toast into my mouth, not caring if I look like a slob.
I'm full enough by the time I force myself away from the dining room table. Thankfully, the tension between Chandler and I quickly melts when we're together on the deck. The social stimulation seems to renew me—takes the edge off a bit. He's flirty and sweet, the coldness from breakfast completely gone. There's lots of subtle touching and laughing and just being human. When we're together like this, his mystery house seems a lot less uninviting.
“Today's session is going to be really intense,” he tells me as we finish up with the punching bag.
“Oh really? How so? Or am I not allowed to ask that?” I fight the urge to roll my eyes,
already predicting his response.
“You'll see. I just hope you're able to handle it. Today is one of the main reasons you signed that consent form.” His smile is almost serpentine. “If you want to back out, I won't blame you.”
“And then what, you'll start over with a new model?” I pick up a towel from the floor and wipe the sweat from my brow.
“Yes,” he replies. “Would that bother you?”
“Immensely,” I confess. There's no point in lying. Still, he seems taken aback by my answer.
“Why?” He stares at me intently.
I sigh, looking out over the river. “We've already done so much. I've let you...” my voice trails off. He's probably thinking that I was going to say that I let him take my virginity, but what I was really going to say is a lot more personal to me. Too personal to tell him. I look at him finally, showing him that I mean my words. “I want to take this all the way.”
He steps up to me, sliding a hand around my waist to draw me to him. He gazes down at me, making me feel small as his broad frame blocks out the sun. “All the way, huh? Are you sure you can handle all the way with me?”
I poke his chest, pressing my fingertip hard against the firm muscle there. “I can handle anything you throw my way.” I'm not sure if it's a lie or not, but I'd rather play the tough card.
“You're something else.” He smiles, brushing a few strands of hair that have fallen out of my ponytail away from my face. “Something amazing.” Chandler kisses my forehead, and I swoon from his sweet words.
And like that, I'm in love with him all over again, willing to do whatever he wants, no matter what he wants. I am his, and he is mine, if only for a little while.
We part ways to shower, and as I'm changing, I wonder if we'll be shedding clothes again before the next mystery room. Just in case, I put on the bare minimum, a yellow sundress and underwear. No bra. I pair it with black flats so that I can slip them off easily.
When I meet Chandler back in the dining room fifteen minutes later, I'm completely blown away by his attire. My jaw hinges open as I round the corner and see him standing there in tight leather pants and a long-sleeved fishnet shirt. Holy sexy. My engines instantly rev, my panties growing moist. He's like a fetish fantasy in the flesh.
For the first time since coming here, I have a pretty good idea of what we're going to do. I'm not sure if I want to be right, though. The whole BDSM thing is both exciting and scary to me. I don't fear giving him control; I do that most of the time already. I fear the pain of what he might want to do to me.
“You're taking me to a dungeon today, aren't you?” I ask as I flank his side to head into the hallway.
“Don't spoil the surprise.” He smirks.
“I knew it,” I say almost triumphantly. Wow, I sound way too excited about this. Maybe I'm looking forward to it more than I thought.
We stop outside of a room, and Chandler takes a deep breath as he pulls his keycard from his pocket. For the first time ever, he looks nervous. “I need you to wait out here because there's going to be a bit of preparation for this scene.”
“Alright.” I bite my bottom lip as nervousness sloshes in the pit of my stomach.
Chandler opens the door and slips inside, barely allowing me a peek into the room before he disappears. From what I could see, it looks like a normal room. There's carpet and furniture. I caught a glimpse of a bed, but not much else.
He emerges with his hands full. The hair on the back of my neck bristles as I look at the collar with the attached leash and the ball gag that he's holding.
“Emma,” he says my name to get my attention. My eyes fly up to meet his. There's a stern seriousness to his expression that makes me feel weak in the knees. “In this room, you will have no power. You will be my sex toy, and I'll do whatever I want to you. Some of it is going to hurt. A lot of it is going to be uncomfortable. This is not BDSM. This is me using you the way I see fit without your consent. The only consent you're allowed to give me is agreeing to do this. This is your last chance to back out. There are no safety words, but I promise I won't cause any permanent physical damage.”
Holy shit, is he serious? The sloshing sensation in my stomach turns solid, twisting around in knots. Common sense tells me I should say no. He blatantly just said he's going to hurt me. No sane woman would agree to this.
“How bad is it going to hurt?” I shift my weight, hoping he doesn't shush me.
“That depends on your pain threshold. I don't know what that is, so there's no way to tell.”
It seems the no questions asked thing has gone out the window. That makes this all the more frightening. It makes it feel like maybe he's scared of what he's going to do to me, too.
I reach up to touch his face, gauging his reaction. “Can I trust you?”
He takes my hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Yes.”
“Then take me all the way.” Even as I say it, I can feel the hesitation within.
“All the way,” he parrots with a smile.
I kiss his palm, praying I made the right decision. It's this or I leave and it was all for nothing. I've come too far to bow out now.
“Are you ready to be my little fuck toy?” His eyes go dark with lust.
I meet his gaze, challenging him. “Use me, sir.”
“Your wish is my command.” He reaches up to place the collar around my neck. I shiver as he fastens it in place, feeling my freedom fading away. The sensuality in his voice already has me yearning to be with him. If I can just hold on to my desire, then maybe this won't be so bad. “Open for me, beautiful.” Chandler brushes his thumb across my bottom lip.
I obey, and he slips the ball gag into my mouth. It tastes like plastic and has a rubber feel to it but is firm for the most part. It won't crack my teeth, but I can't really bite down into it. Just a few seconds of having it in my mouth and my jaw begins to ache. Let the pain begin, I think as he finally opens the door for me to step inside.
Chandler leads me by the leash into the room, closing the door behind us. While I wait for him, my eyes wander. This isn't what I had expected at all. It looks almost like a hotel room. There's a bed with a chaise, a table, a few chairs and a sofa. It's not a dungeon at all. Just a room.
“On your knees,” he tells me.
I kneel before him, waiting for further instructions. He rounds me, sitting in one of the chairs to pull off his boots. Then he stands again to take off his pants. I watch him lecherously, my mouth watering as he slides his black boxer briefs down and his cock springs out fully erect. Part of me is wondering why he bothered wearing clothes at all if he was just going to take them off the second he entered the room, but who am I to judge. He still looks sinfully gorgeous in just the fishnet shirt.
He lowers himself down onto the chair again, legs splayed. His gaze is predatory as he stares at me, giving his dick a few lazy strokes. “Come here.” He motions with his finger. When I start to get up, he clarifies, “Crawl.”
I nod, crawling until I'm between his legs. My dress gets caught beneath my knees once, making me look clumsy. I cringe internally, wanting to look sexy for him. Always sexy.
He reaches behind me and unclasps the ball gag. When he pulls it from my mouth, a string of saliva follows. It's embarrassing how much there is, as if I was drooling over watching him. My jaw instantly feels better with the thing removed.
I give his cock a hungry glance. My God, this whole situation is hot. I never thought I could get so turned on by the thought of a man using me. But the fact that this isn't some scary BDSM dungeon has put my mind at ease. There doesn't appear to be anything in here that can hurt me besides Chandler's weapon of pussy destruction. The ball gag was more of a discomfort than anything. I can definitely handle this.
Chandler grabs the base of his dick, pointing the tip towards my mouth. I don't even need to ask what he wants. I don't wait for him to tell me either. I simply wrap my lips around him and groan, savoring his masculine flavor.
When I mo
ve to stroke him, he takes my hands and flattens my palms on his lower stomach. It's a silent queue that he just wants me to use my mouth. I'm amazed at how in sync I already feel with him—like I know exactly what he wants without him having to say a word.
I happily take him all the way to the back of my throat, slurping on him like he's the best thing I've ever tasted. When he's not watching me intently, he rests his head back and closes his eyes, lazily enjoying the blowjob. His hand is wrapped around the leash, and he slowly twines it around his fingers. It's not until I need to take a break from sucking on him that I understand why.
“Did I tell you you could stop?” He shoots me a cutting glance, tugging me back down onto his cock. When I try to emerge again, he fists his hand in my hair and forces me down. It's aggressive but sexy, and as soon as I realize I'm not allowed a break, I suck through the pain, trying my best to relax my muscles as I bob up and down on him, the blowjob quickly becoming sloppy.
He moans in approval only a second before I feel his ankle hooking around the back of my neck. He presses me down farther than I've ever taken him in before. My gag reflex gives way as he pushes past my threshold of tolerance, and I choke around him. Still, he doesn't let me up until tears have cascaded down my cheeks and landed on his skin. It's the first true bite of pain I've felt from being with him, and I can't help but wonder if it's just a taste of what's to come.
I wipe my eyes with the backs of my hands, shooting up to suck in a few deep breaths. Chandler's smirk is absolutely wicked. He looks as if he's won some contest I didn't even know we were participating in. I won't let him think he wore me down, though. Not yet. I said all the way, and I meant it. I'll show him what I'm made of.
Greedily, I take him into my mouth again, sucking and slurping as if I'm damned determined to make him come just by blowing him. That would show him, the cocky son of a bitch. What would he do if I ended his little scene prematurely? Would he be angry with me, or would it make him fall in love? I've heard that men tend to fall in love with women when the sex is good.
