Urges: Part Two

by Sky Corgan

  “Right now, it's not just your face I'm interested in seeing.” My words are so ripe with want that I can barely believe they're my own. I can't handle much more of this slow tease though. Every sexual cell in my body is on hyper-drive. The gears are pressed full throttle, and I'm ready to go wherever he plans to take me.

  “You obviously won't be dissuaded, so I'll tell you my last few rules, and then you'll have one last chance to leave.”

  “My chance went out the window when I walked through that door, remember?” My eyes flash, challenging him. He really seems apprehensive about the two of us having sex. I've come this far, I'm not going anywhere.

  “You will do exactly what I say at all times. This is for your own safety. You will also not touch me unless I give you permission. Do you understand?” his words are stern.

  “I got it.”

  He looks from my face to the door and exhales deeply before returning his attention to me. “This is your last chance to leave. We're not going to play in here. I'm going to take you to my basement.”

  For the first time since I've been in his house, a cold chill rolls down my spine. That's exactly the kind of thing a serial killer would say. Except Trent can't be a serial killer because he's my boss. If I went missing, surely someone would suspect I was with him. Wouldn't they?

  My mind pages back to what Laura said about him keeping his life private. It's highly likely that he didn't tell anyone he was meeting me today. And I haven't told anyone either.

  There are red warning lights going off inside of my head. I'm aroused and curious but also trying to use my better judgment. That judgment is largely skewed by the strong need racing through me to have his gorgeous naked body pressed against mine. I'll get that if I just go with him, won't I? But the rules are so strict. And if he does something that I don't like, there's nothing I can say or do about it. The thought is both terrifying and thrilling at the same time.

  If I was a smart girl, I'd walk away. I'd say never mind and just leave what could have happened to the imagination. But I'm not a smart girl. I'm a horny girl who hasn't been laid in forever and has definitely never been with anyone even a fraction as attractive as he is. For all of those desperate reasons, all I can think of to say is, “Lead the way.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Basements have always reminded me of horror movies, and this one is no different. The concrete floor, gray brick walls, and pipes running every which way give me a sense of foreboding, like something horrible is about to happen. A chill races down my spine as I take in the vast empty space. There is no bed, no couch, no chairs. There's absolutely nothing to have sex on. In fact, it looks like there's only one item in the entire basement, and it's covered with a sheet. This isn't right. Everything in me is screaming that it's not right, and for the first time, I'm really beginning to think I made a mistake.

  “It's not what you expected, is it?” Trent steps up beside me.

  “No.” I shake my head. “Where is the furniture?”

  “There's only one piece of furniture we'll need for what I'm going to do to you, and you won't see it until we're ready to use it.”

  I can still see the desire behind his eyes. At this moment, the only thing in mine is apprehension. When we were upstairs in his office, and he was standing over me looking completely sexy, all I could think about was how fun this might be. To try something new. To get to have sex with him in whatever form it took. Now, I'm not so sure.

  Perhaps he senses my fear, because he reaches his hand up and caresses my cheek. It's the first sign of affection I've felt from him all afternoon, and I melt into it, thinking about how warm his hand is, how warm the rest of him will be. The temperature in the basement is at least ten degrees cooler than it was upstairs. I could certainly use some of his body heat.

  “You are very beautiful,” he whispers to me before craning his neck to kiss me. This is what I've been waiting for. This is what I've been dying to feel.

  Instead of gripping me aggressively and claiming my mouth though, his lips barely whisper across mine, leaving me wanting more. Damn him for being such a tease. Damn that kiss for strengthening my resolve.

  Despite my efforts not to seem displeased, I let out a loud sigh, pulling my eyes away from him to scan the room again. What price will I have to pay to have him? What is this going to cost me? And will it be worth it?

  Trent takes a step away from me. “I have to run upstairs to change. When I come back, I want you to be naked.”

  “Naked?” I crinkle my nose. I had hoped we'd get naked together, unwrapping each other slowly to draw out the sexual anticipation.

  “Naked,” he purrs, putting a hand on my shoulder and curling it around the neckline of my blouse to give it a playful tug. “You know, that thing where I get to see every part of you.” He circles me like a predator, speaking in a low sensual voice, “Where you can't hide anything. Everything is exposed.” I want to argue with him, but by the time I find my voice again, he's already heading up the stairs. He pauses halfway up, turning to point at me. “You'll be naked when I get back down here. You won't like the consequences if you're not.” And with that, he disappears out the basement door, and I can hear his footsteps overhead.

  I shed my clothes and place them against the wall in a neatly folded stack. I'm not sure what we're going to do here, but I definitely don't want them to be in the way. The coldness of the room quickly gets to me. My skin prickles with goose pimples, and my nipples turn into taut peaks. It's almost embarrassing, but there's nothing that can be done about it. This is just the way the human body reacts to the cold.

  Trent is taking a long time. I walk to the bottom of the stairs and wait, gazing up at the closed door, wondering if he locked it behind himself, wondering if I just put myself in a really bad situation without even knowing it. Part of me considers trying to open the door, but I know it would displease him if he saw that. He's supposed to be in control, and I'm supposed to be obeying him. That's kind of hard to do when I'm feeling so much doubt though.

  Instead of focusing on the door, I decide to distract myself by investigated the piece of furniture under the sheet. It would be a lot easier getting to without him finding out. If he does come back, I can return to my position in the center of the room before he gets a chance to catch me peeking. At least, I hope I can.

  The cement is freezing cold beneath my feet. Each step closer to the covered piece of furniture makes me feel like I'm falling deeper into a horror movie. What's going to be under the sheet? And if it's something horrible, do I still have time to escape?

  I reach my hand out to touch the sheet. There's something cold beneath. Something hard—probably metal. I pinch the sheet and begin to lift it when I hear footsteps approaching the stairs. My heart leaps into my throat as I abandon the object and pad as quickly and quietly as I can to where I was standing when Trent left. By the time the basement door opens, I'm back in place, trying my best to control my breathing, so he won't know that anything is amiss.

  The first sight that greets me is a pair of black leather boots, followed by black leather pants and a fitted black muscle shirt. Dear God, I can see his six-pack right through it. It doesn't leave much to the imagination. Tight body. Gorgeous biceps. But the most stunning thing of all is the smile on his face. It's sweet and sexy and sensual all rolled up in one, and I swoon at the very sight of it, completely forgetting my nudity.

  “Wow,” is all I can say when he reaches the bottom of the stairs.

  “Wow, yourself.” He looks me up and down, making me aware of my vulnerability. “I knew you had nice tits, but I never thought they'd be this perfect.” He lifts his hands like he wants to touch me, but then he stalls, dropping them again. The smile fades from his face as he reclaims his serious composure, and I silently curse him for losing the warmth that I was certain would bring our bodies together. I want his hands on me so badly. Would it have been so much of a crime for him touch me, if only for a few moments? “You wax too. I like tha
t.” He nods approvingly, walking past me towards the covered piece of furniture. I stare at his ass all the while, thinking about how a man has never looked so good in leather pants before. It's like they were custom made to fit his body. Maybe they were. He obviously has money.

  “Do you do this often?” I dare to ask, wanting to make some sort of conversation to fill the silence that's starting to put me on pins and needles again.

  He stops dead in his tracks, and his body seems to grow rigid before he responds, “No.” Then he kneels down and pulls something out from beneath the sheet.

  I stand behind him with my hands crossed in front of me. It does little to make me feel less exposed, not that he's looking at me anyway. He's too busy focusing on the black duffle bag he pulled out from under the sheet. The sound of the zipper opening is almost deafening in the silence that surrounds us. My heart rate elevates with a mix of apprehension and excitement, wondering what's in the bag.

  When he stands and turns to me finally, he has three objects in his hands. I can't hide the confusion on my face when I take it all in. Only two of the items I recognize: a ball gag and a pair of handcuffs. The third item appears to be a thick leather cuff with an O ring attached to it. It's too small to fit around my waist but looks too big for my wrists.

  “You are into BDSM.” My eyes are fixed on the ball gag. While the idea of trying the other two objects is intriguing, this one device has me absolutely terrified. He told me there would be no safety word, but taking away my ability to speak...It's not something I'm comfortable with at all.

  “I never said I wasn't. Put your hands behind your back.” He approaches me, looking at my arms, which are still crossed protectively in front of me.

  I feel frozen in place. The very thought that I'm about to allow him to render me so helpless has me completely paralyzed. I shouldn't allow it, but if I truly want him, I know this is the only way. I also know that if I walk away, I'll never get the chance to have him again.

  “I'm not comfortable with the ball gag.” Maybe we can come up with a compromise. It's only natural that I'd be afraid to give him that level of control when I still barely know him.

  “This isn't optional, Fennel.” He lifts the ball gag as if to let me get a better look at it.

  My eyes dart to it and then back to his face. “I don't trust you enough.”

  “I don't want you to trust me,” his words are surprisingly cold.

  “That's not what BDSM is about.” I don't know much about it, but I do at least know that the two parties have to trust each other for it to work. If there's not trust, then there's only fear, and that's not very sexy.

  “I told you, this isn't BDSM.”

  “Then what is it?” I take a step away from him, letting my nervousness shine through.

  “It's about my pleasure.” He holds up his hands in surrender, the best he can with them so full of kinky paraphernalia. When his eyes turn from me, I feel my heart sink to the pit of my stomach. It's obvious he's getting fed up with the conversation. I'm seconds away from being dismissed. “I told you the rules before you came down here. You agreed to them. It's all or nothing with me. I don't play games when it comes to getting what I want. I don't settle for less than everything.” He lets out an exasperated sigh before looking up at me. The expression on his face is softer, yet there's still determination there. “I wouldn't have brought you here if I didn't think you were capable of giving me what I want. But if I was wrong, then you should just leave.”

  What happened to there being no turning back? He's given me more than a handful of chances to escape. Despite his words, that tells me that he does care to some extent.

  I bite my bottom lip as I mull over what he just said. It was the most arousing pep talk I've ever heard. He thinks I can handle what he's going to do to me, or I wouldn't be here. God, how I wish he was normal, but he's not. If I'm to be with him in any physical sense of the word, then I need to dive in blind. No more guessing. No more apprehension.

  While common sense tells me that this is a horrible idea, I take a deep breath and turn around, placing my hands behind my back and crossing my wrists together. The sound of his boots against the cement makes my heart flutter. A chill rolls down my spine as I feel his fingers on my skin, moving my hair away from my shoulder, though that chill quickly diverts to my nether region when his warm breath whispers against my ear, “I knew you'd make the right choice.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Never in a million years did I think I would put myself in such a vulnerable position for a man, especially a man I don't fully trust. Stupid raging hormones. I've always had good control over them, but there's something about Trent Stevens that melts my common sense into a puddle of helpless desire. Now here I am, bound and gagged and naked and standing in the middle of a freezing cold basement. I can't move my head either. That's what the unidentifiable object was, some sort of thick elongated leather neck brace to keep my head in place.

  Surprisingly, it's not as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. The inside of it is lined with suede, and there's a round lip on it so that it doesn't bite into my skin. If anything, it just feels awkward not being able to turn my head. I don't like it, but this is what I signed up for, and now I need to see it through, for better or worse.

  Trent circles me like a shark. Never before have I seen more desire in his eyes. The way he looks at me, it makes me feel like the sexiest woman in the world, and that does help to take some of the edge off, the thought that someone like him could look at my body with such appreciation and need. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.

  “Are you comfortable?” he asks, gifting me with the soft caress of his hand beneath my chin. It's not an affectionate gesture. He's making sure the neck brace isn't too tight. It reminds me of when you put a collar on a dog or a cat. Apparently, the two finger rule applies to humans too.

  “Yes,” I mumble around the ball gag. It doesn't fill my entire mouth, but enough of it that my speech is slurred. This too isn't as uncomfortable as I thought it would be.

  While I'm restricted, in many senses of the word, it doesn't feel cruelly done. Trent has been very careful about ensuring my comfort in one of the most uncomfortable situations I've ever been in. For that, he's earned a bit more of my trust. Things could have been a lot worse.

  “Is the posture collar too tight?”

  I try to shake my head no, and he grins. Asshole. That's the point of it though, I suppose. “No,” I tell him.

  He leans in until his mouth is practically touching my cheek. “From now until I'm finished with you, you're going to call me Sir. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.” This is definitely BDSM. The dominance. The submission. I have a feeling we're going to be getting to the other two acronyms shortly.

  “You are going to do exactly what I say. Everything that I say. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.” I can't help but wonder what I'll be expected to do. As it is now, I can't do much with how well he has me bound.

  The feel of his fingers pinching one of my nipples is completely unexpected, but it sends an immediate pulse of pleasure to my clit, and I moan shamelessly. It's almost embarrassing how wanton I am, how much just the tiniest bit of attention from him can turn me on to such an intense degree.

  “I've wanted to do this to you since the first time I saw you in the hotel.” His fingers continue to stimulate my nipple, so gently, so teasingly. I feel elated from his words. If what he's saying is true, then he's always thought of us like this. He was just trying to resist.

  A gasp escapes my lips as he applies more pressure, and pain bites through my chest. While it hurts, it's not completely unpleasant. He pinches and tugs, listening to my ragged breathing as my body tries to adjust to the new stimulus. “Does it hurt?”

  “A little bit, Sir,” I confess.

  He moves over to my other nipple just when the pain level was beginning to creep above pleasure, starting the slow build all over again. I can still feel th
e sting in the other nipple, a surprisingly nice reminder that his hand was there only moments ago.

  “Your nipples feel amazing beneath my fingertips. They're so soft and pliable and sensitive,” he purrs. While he touches me, his eyes never leave my face. It seems like he's fixed on my expression more than anything else, listening to my moans and whimpers as he manipulates my body. “I think you like pain.” He lets go of my nipple and slaps my ass. The small sting makes me cry out, more from shock than anything else. “Do you like that?” he asks before smacking my butt again. This time, he uses a bit more force.

  In truth, I've always loved being spanked. Knowing that his big strong hands are doing it only makes it better. “Yes, Sir,” I cry out on the third slap.

  “You're being very good, Fennel. I think I should give you a little reward.” His fingers rake into my hair, and he pulls me against him roughly, holding my face only an inch away from his. I wonder if he can feel how fast my heart is beating. My breasts are pressed against his chest, and I can feel the hard muscle beneath. His eyes are so green, perhaps only a shade softer than emerald. They're like nothing I've ever seen before, and they have me completely mesmerized. So does his scent. When he went upstairs, he must have put on cologne. He smells masculine and intoxicating and delicious.

  The thought that I can't kiss him is driving me insane. That's what I want. His lips on mine. That would be the best reward.

  As if reading my mind, he takes my face between his hands and kisses me over the ball gag. It's such a horrible tease, feeling his lips glide over mine but being unable to reciprocate. I close my eyes and moan into the space between us, savoring the softness of his mouth touching mine ever so briefly just to be drawn away. It feels like both a punishment and a reward, so fleeting that I'm left wanting more. Always wanting.

  My eyes are still closed when he pulls away from me. His hands return to my breasts to pinch and twist my nipples gently before he takes the full of weight of them in his hands and kneads them. I press forward, praying he doesn't punish me for being so desperate for his touch. Instead, I'm rewarded with his warm breath on my chest followed by the wetness of his mouth as he encircles one of my nipples with his lips and begins sucking on it. For a moment, I think I might come from just that alone.