“I was thinking about suggesting you get your hair cut tomorrow while you’re out, but I can see definite advantages to keeping it long. It’s up to you. Just don’t lop it short. I like being able to grab a woman’s hair.”
“I should shave it all off,” she said as gravity took hold of her braid and it fell from her mouth to her shoulder.
He leaned down and spoke calmly into her ear. “Wouldn’t it just be easier to say, ‘Sir, I need a good beating? Would you please help me out?’”
She turned and gave him a quick peck. Without aiming, it only half-landed on his mouth. “What? And take away all your fun?” Nyxie smiled impishly at him.
He reached around her and fondled a breast in each hand rolling her nipples between his finger and thumb. “You must really be getting nervous if you’re going to try a sugar-n-spice tact.”
Nyxie threw back her head and sighed until his attentions became a rough pinch.
He chuckled when a small gasp escaped her lips.
“Is that supposed to scare me? I actually kind of like this—all the ropes stuff—except the elbows thing. It’s making my shoulders ache—but I guess, I shouldn’t tell you that because it’ll just assure you do it every time.”
“Shut up, Nyxie.”
“Really, Deck, I didn’t know you were so strong—that’s really a turn on….”
He let his hand slide to her rump and gave it a quick smack in reprimand. “It’s, ‘sir,’ to you. Now, shut the fuck up.”
“Seriously, sir, if this is how you want to prove my trust, this is not a problem.”
He moved in front of her, no humor in his eyes. “This is only part,” he said ominously. “You’re helpless for all intents and purposes—now the trust comes into play. Open your mouth. Wide.”
Had Onyx been looking down, she would have seen him raise his hand with a canister not much bigger than a canister from an asthma puffer. It had a straw-like protrusion coming from the spray nozzle. She startled when he began spraying the back of her mouth and throat.
“Don’t swallow. In a minute, I’ll give you some water. Gargle and spit it out.”
The look on her face nearly made him laugh. Her eyes squinted and her nose squenched up as if she tasted something sour. He could tell she wanted to say something but couldn’t without swallowing. He started to reach for her neck to check her pulse but she instinctively jerked away.
“Sorry.” He stepped behind her and checked her pulse at her wrist to make sure she wasn’t having any kind of reaction to the spray. “Do I need to get a different flavor for you? I figured the tropical fruit was mostly pineapple or mango flavor.”
He seemed to take pleasure in the fact she couldn’t answer. With a sigh, he kissed her lips then crossed to the armoire where a bottle of water and empty glass awaited.
The lid to the water snapped as the seal broke and he tilted the bottle against her lips. Her head tilted back and she gargled the cool liquid a few seconds before lowering her head to spit into the glass he held before her.
“My mouth is numb,” she said. “What is that crap?”
“Lidocaine. We use it to intubate patients. It kills the gag reflex,” he said over his shoulder as he set the glass and water in the armoire.
He moved behind her again, kneeling with his legs on either side of her hips. With bold hands, he began touching her body; caressing her buttocks and thighs, spreading her legs apart as one hand entered her folds and he palmed her breast with the other. He nuzzled his face into her hair and ran his tongue along the nape of her neck.
“Spread your hands apart, Nyxie. Touch me.”
Her immediate response was to curl her hands into loose fists as if the prospect frightened her, but blindly, her hands reached out, tentatively stretching towards him. Her splayed fingers trembled as he moved closer. Finding the bulge in the front of his jeans, her fingers lightly traced the length of it. Through his pants, he pressed his erection against her bound hands, but she couldn’t get her hands in a position where she could do more than that. Her caress caught on his fly. Should she? Declan said nothing since she first touched him, but his hands stilled.
He liked his women subservient. Should she wait for him to tell her what to do? Hell, no. He needed to know that was not who he contracted to be his slave. She had lived most of her life having no control and she wasn’t going to give up what little power she had.
She worked her fingers up his fly only to realize he wore a belt with his jeans. It was almost beyond her reach, but she arched, leaned backwards and touched the end of her fingers on the belt. When he realized what she was doing, he moved closer, lower so she could unbuckle the belt. He withdrew his hands and divested himself of the Rugby shirt.
Her task was going easier, but he had to help her lower his jeans and boxer briefs. His dick sprang forward into her hands.
“Is this a joke?” she said to herself trying to turn around to see it. “That’s not really your cock is it?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“This thing in my hand; it’s one of those bachelorette gifts, isn’t it?”
He leaned down and practically growled in her ear. “You better start making sense or we’re both going to go to bed frustrated.”
“I’ve seen porn. I know what they look like.” When her father was still alive, she had awakened in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. When she cracked open the closet door to see if it was safe to come out, Black Jack was playing an X-rated video on their old VCR. He was passed out, but after she used the bathroom, she returned to the closet and watched the rest of it through the cracked open door.
“Tell me you’re not comparing me with a porn star. No one measures up. Those guys are half horse.”
“Exactly! So how can yours be bigger?”
He laughed. “Bigger? Maybe as big as….” Then it suddenly occurred to him; he had seen their old TV. It had been shoved in the back of the closet in her little apartment. “You were watching on a 19 inch TV. What do you know?”
She closed her fingers around him—the tips unable to touch. “You stopped touching me. Don’t leave me hanging, Declan.”
He grabbed her braid and jerked her head back. “You didn’t just, fucking tell me what to do and call me by my name.”
He pushed her hands away from his cock as he rose to his full height. He stepped out of his remaining clothes before retrieving a crop from the armoire. “I-I’m sorry, sir. I just forgot,” she said as he crossed back to her with purpose, her gaze fixated on his dick, only drawing away when she saw what was in his outstretched arm.
Using his wrist he brought the crop down on her ass three times in quick succession, each one landing in the same spot. Her only reaction was to blink with each strike.
“Open your mouth. I’m going to fuck your throat and when your airway is blocked off, you will not jerk away. You are going to trust me. Each time you pull back, I’m going to punish you,” he said flexing the crop in front of her face.
Her mouth hung open and panic settled behind her eyes.
“Y-yellow,” she whispered. “Yellow!” she nearly screamed.
22
“Fuck! Talk to me. We are not doing anything yet, how could you possibly be throwing a safe word at me? You’re just trying to manipulate the situation.”
She twisted her head around to see him as he moved from beside her to in front of her. “No, sir, I swear. You can’t ask me to let you block my airway. You know what my father did to my mother. You can’t expect me not to pull away? It’s human nature to resist being choked.” She spoke unusually fast, the nervous fear evident in her voice.
“That’s the whole fucking point, sub. You have to trust me to know when to pull my dick out.”
“I can’t.”
“Let’s just say I get carried away and leave my cock buried in your throat long enough for you to pass out—which would probably take a couple of minutes not just a few seconds at a time. Don’t you think, as a
doctor, I’d know what to do to revive you?”
“I don’t know. You could be a fucking serial killer for all I know. Maybe you get off on choking girls to death with your huge cock in their throats.”
“You may be trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, but all you have to do is pull away. You have that much movement. Besides, Joseph knows you’re here with me. If you went missing, he’d know I was the last one with you.”
“Please,” she begged. “I’m not ready for this.”
Not releasing the crop, Declan wove his fingers under the ropes that harnessed her and lifted her to eye level as if she weighed nothing. “I spent my senior year obsessed with you and jerked off for years after that thinking about the day you got licks. I finally think you’re out of my system and you walk back into my life. I want to fuck you every chance I get until I’ve grown bored with you so I can move on with my life and forget you once and for all. How am I going to fuck you if you’re dead?”
He clamped his mouth down on hers and kissed her hard, his tongue ravaging her mouth with hard fast thrusts.
The assault on her mouth surprised her. She had no idea mouths pressed together and tongues stoking each other could dominate every emotion and thought in her body. Never in her life had Nyxie felt wanted. She certainly didn’t understand why Declan would want her. She doubted he understood it either. But whatever the reason, he obviously found his obsession distasteful or he wouldn’t want to get over it. She couldn’t blame him. She was less than people around her, less educated, less desirable—just less. But he wanted to help her and for that she should be grateful and do what he needed. He obviously had an unrealistic vision of who he believed her to be. Once he saw the real Onyx, the girl conceived in rape to two drunk parents, the piece of white trash that even trailer trash looked down on, he would lose his interest and with any luck, she could go back to her old life with all three of her kids.
“Put me down,” she said pulling her head back to break the luscious assault on her mouth.
When her shins came to rest on the throw pillow, Nyxie glanced up at him with a halfhearted smile. With her eyes locked on his, she leaned forward and licked the underside of his erection from the base to the tip. She swallowed hard then took his head in her mouth. It was huge, steel wrapped in silk, and she wondered how she could ever get any more of it into her mouth. She expected him to thrust in and out like a porn movie or maybe he was waiting for her to bob her head up and down. Closing her eyes, she pushed forward. Her throat was numb, but she could feel the pressure.
“Relax your jaw and your throat muscles,” he said placing one hand on her cheek and giving it a gentle caress. His other hand held the crop and she could feel him stroking her bottom with it as if he wanted it to be a constant reminder of her punishment if she should pull away.
She pushed forward and felt the moment her airway clogged. Pulling back slightly, she took a deep breath then thrust forward again trying to draw in the whole length of him.
“Dear God, woman,” he moaned. “Fuck.”
She would have smiled if she could have. Pleasing him pleased her immensely.
He withdrew to let her breathe. One breath, two. When she inhaled the third time, he sent his dick down her throat again. “Fuck,” he called out. “I wish I could put my hands on your throat, feel it filling up with my cock.”
He pulled out, all the way out of her mouth and began untying her arms. She moaned as the binds on her elbows fell away and she could move her aching shoulders. A groan of discomfort and relief was the only outward sign of how much it hurt to move after being immobilized for so long.
“Put your hand on your throat,” he ordered. “Feel my cock filling it, making it expand.”
She captured his cock in her mouth again, pressed forward and felt her neck thicken as he thrust into her. The force of his motion pushed her whole body back. She silently counted nine, ten, eleven. And he withdrew. Again he waited for her to take three breaths before filling her again. His hand found the back of her head, holding her in place, the count going higher this time. Fifteen, sixteen. Air, please. Her lungs began to scream for oxygen. Nineteen, twenty.
She shoved against him, her head fighting the hand threateningly holding her head in place.
He released her. She gasped for air. The riding crop lifted and he gave her ass in two quick flicks. He grabbed her braid forcing her to look at him.
“Trust.”
“You put your hand on the back of my head,” she tried to explain which earned her two more strikes from the crop. Her eyes blinked with each touch and her breathing increased slightly but she was more annoyed that he wouldn’t let her explain than she was about the rubber band snaps she felt from the crop.
She lowered her gaze, swallowed reflexively before closing her mouth around his shaft again. Taking a deep breath, she took him into her throat, her lips stretched nearly to their limits. His large strong hand clamped onto the back of her head and she felt the panic rise in her again.
Suddenly, he withdrew. She hadn’t expected it. She hadn’t even counted to ten yet. Then he slid back into her. He was nearly buried to the hilt in her mouth and throat. His thrusts began slowly, each time he stayed for only a second or two before withdrawing and pushing into her mouth again. And again, never giving her time for even one full breath. When finally he began climaxing, he only withdrew an inch or two before burying himself as far as she could accommodate.
“Fuck!” he cried as he came down her gullet. “Oh, fuck, Nyxie.”
Her eyes were watering when she forced her head back and gasped for air. He cropped her once but she didn’t care. The crop stung more than it hurt.
Declan stared down at her. He placed the crop under her chin making her look up. “You almost got a face-full withdrawing like that,” he said breathing hard after being pulled abruptly from his climax. He stared down at her a moment to make sure she understood. “What am I going to do with you? More accurately what am I going to do to you?”
She shrugged. “If you untie me and give me about five minutes alone in the bathroom, I can take care of myself.”
The crop came down on her breasts without warning.
She almost said, “Ow,” but refused to give him the satisfaction. Instead, Nyxie crossed her arms over her chest and became sullen.
“Don’t start giving me fucking attitude again.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize Master didn’t have a sense of humor.”
The crop came down on the inside of her thigh. “Just untie me. I’ve had enough of your little game.”
“I’m not playing a game,” he gritted. He ran his hand through his hair. “You are not in control here. We’re done when I say we’re done.”
“I don’t want to do this.” Her tone was dry as she twisted around and began tugging futilely at the knots binding one of her legs.
“You are bottom. I am top. You will not top me from the bottom.” Grabbing the rope, he removed earlier, he picked her up under the arms and tossed her onto her back on the bed.
“No!” she yelled, tears springing to her eyes as he held her down with his body weight and fought to tie her wrists together. “Stop, please, don’t do this.”
She was winded by the time he had her subdued and tied to the bed.
Declan stood up and looked down at her. She had her hips twisted away from him so she could keep her bound legs together and her sex hidden. He reached down and touched each foot to make sure it was not cold from lack of circulation. He wanted an excuse to untie her, needed an excuse to give her her way without letting her control the situation. But he would not force her. Regardless of their agreement, if he forced her, she would never learn to trust him.
“Red,” she whispered. “Red.”
Declan stared down at her and realized they were at a critical juncture. To earn her trust he had to yield to the use of the safe word. He turned from her and moved to the armoire and stood for a moment staring at the variety of floggers, cro
ps and canes. One by one he removed each implement from its hook and opened the second of three drawers below the shelf. With meticulous care, he placed each one inside, pausing momentarily as he held the wooden paddle to cast a smile over his shoulder at her before placing it with the rest and pushing the drawer closed. He placed the numbing spray inside the top drawer leaving only the bottle of water and glass she used earlier.
“Thirsty?” he asked.
When Nyxie’s only answer was to turn her head away, Declan took the water and glass into the bathroom. A moment later, he emerged empty-handed.
He returned to the bed and removed the ropes from her legs and torso. Each had left pressure marks on her skin and someday when she trusted him, he’d take close up photos of the marks—nothing where she’d be recognizable—just photos of the perfect rope indentions in her flawless skin. He bundled up the three ropes and neatly put them away in the bottom drawer of the armoire.
Leaving her wrists secured, he unknotted the rope from the bed and carried her to the armoire setting her down in the compartment intended for a television.
“I hope someday you’ll feel as safe with me as you do in small places,” he said removing the last rope.
“Sir, you’re putting me in your armoire?”
“You said you feel safe in small places. You obviously don’t feel safe with me.”
She chuckled crossing her arms over her naked breasts. “I haven’t felt the need to hide for a very long time. I don’t need to hide from you.”
He stared at her noting the way she felt the need to cover herself, contradicting her words. With the back of his finger, he reached out and stroked her cheek. “I wish you could see into my thoughts to know how safe you are with me.”
Nyxie would have liked to have pointed out, feeling safe with someone who had no qualms about inflicting corporal punishment on her was close to impossible. Other than his belief that she had masochistic tendencies, she couldn’t understand why he felt so drawn to her. A man like Declan could have any woman he wanted. His perfect sun streaked hair and gray-green eyes made him very attractive. He had the body of an athlete with wide shoulders and narrow hips and a washboard of abs. If she was smart, she would do whatever it took to land the rich handsome doctor—do and be everything he wanted so he’d fall in love with her and not want to get over her.
The Love She Craves: Selling Her Soul to Declan Page 19
