by J. H. York
And Kayla would never have expected the surprise her eyes were met with. For instead of her being the mysterious diner in the mask, the man seated opposite her had succeeded in filling this role.
He spoke. His British accent was soft and lilting, like music, and his voice was deep and rich.
“Miss Mistry, I am pleased you have made it in one piece to my castle. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Sir Chadwick Wadleigh, but you are only permitted to greet me as your master.”
Kayla could say nothing. She was gripped by something unexplainable. She was not inexperienced, but it was something she had not truly felt in so long.
And that something Kayla soon realized was latent physical lust. And brought on only by this man’s voice in her ears.
He was dressed in a black tuxedo, and his face was covered with a bolero mask, black as night. His form seemed massive in the fire-lit darkness. He was clearly made of strong build, and it seemed his arms were thickened by muscle.
But his face, as far as Kayla could tell, was aquiline, and his mouth… his mouth made her feel so strange inside, as if she could feel a sort of pulling deep within her core. It was large and sensual with full, beige lips.
But she was annoyed by his audacity after what she had been put through this very night, the fear, the certainty she felt in the car with those men that she would surely be dead quickly. And perhaps most volatile with her temper was the fact that her body seemed to want to open for this man, every pore of her being wanted to scream for him.
“Do you treat all your female guests this way, Mr. Wadleigh?” Kayla asked.
It could have been her imagination, but a ripple seemed to go through his form, a tremor. He coolly collected himself.
“I believe you are the only female guest who has ever graced this castle in my years of residence, Miss Mistry. If I were you, I would feel privileged.”
“I suppose cruelty, darkness, and submission are a privilege?”
The oddest, most humorless smile tugged at the corners of his haunting mouth. He licked his lips. “They can be, yes, Miss Mistry.”
Kayla could feel her chest rising and falling softly with each intake of breath. Besides the sense of pulling deep within was a synchronous sense of tightening. It was like he was conducting a symphony with his voice and words, and her body was the hapless instrument.
“So,” Kayla asked, trying to disguise the quiver in her voice. “You find it gratifying to randomly select a young girl to bring to your lair to ravish?”
He was silent for the slightest space of a second. Then he brought a hand to his mouth, wiping his lips with a long forefinger. “No, Miss Mistry, not at all. You were hand-selected by me.”
And it was as if an invisible hand suddenly entered into her being and squeezed softly at her insides.
“But enough of our delightful banter. Please, eat. Nourish yourself.”
“I don’t have an appetite, thank you. Master.”
Again, that illusion of a shuddering across his form. “Very good, Miss Mistry, what you meant for taunt is approved for my delight and pleasure. You have successfully greeted me in the proper manner of my station. Now, if you do not wish to partake of the delicious assortment of food at my table, kindly leave my dining room and I will have Chona take you up to your room. I will arrive there shortly.”
Anger coursed through Kayla. “The hell you will.”
He seemed to stare at her intently. There was silence. Empty, dripping, harrowing silence.
“As you see more and more of me, Miss Mistry, you might see more of hell indeed.”
2 CHAPTER TWO
Kayla waited in her room for what seemed forever. Terrified. And yet, dying inside.
Dying to know more about her new master.
Dying to have him walk through the door.
She closed her eyes.
Kayla, came a velvet voice from deep within the shadows.
“Yes, master,” she whispered.
And suddenly he was there behind her, his mouth against her ear. “I am a man of great appetite. And I know you, Kayla. I know how to excite you. With you, words are music, words are better than caresses. I know that deep inside you, is the respect my acknowledgement, of your own mind and your own intellect. But if truth be known, I also care for your femininity and I desire to be inside you…”
Then he said not another word, he just acted. He pulled away the spaghetti straps of my gown, unbuttoned the bodice of my dress and gravity pulled it down as it fell to the floor into layers of folds that draped around my feet it. With one finger he drew a line up from my fingertips to my shoulders. Drawing the line back down to my upper arms where he squeezed his hands hard against the curve of my shoulder.
“If you want it this bad, you’re going to take it, my sweet Kayla.”
And at his words, she began pulsating again. He spun her around, as dizzy circles formed in her head. She felt off balance and needed him to steady her center. He lifted her in the air with his strong arms and brought one her left breast to his mouth, suckling harshly at her nipple and letting it plop out of his mouth loudly. “Take me out,” he growled.
He grabbed Kayla again and began alternately kissing and sucking softly at her neck while he fondled her breasts hard in his hands.
And Kayla did so in ultimate joy and happiness. Then he spun her around again… she felt like a child at a funhouse mirrorland, and giddy with pleasure. He pressed her back against his chest.
“Pump me, Kayla. I know you know how to do it.”
He took her hand and led it backwards to his long, thick masculinity, and she began to stroke him as he reached underneath her dress and into her panties to stroke her softly. She was shaking against him, it felt so good the way he fingered her wet, quivering femininity.
The harder Kayla stroked him, the harder he fingered her, and he pressed his mouth harder to her ear, telling her naughty things in that voice that made her want to cum with longing and passion. She was so aroused and the blood was rushing in her ears.
As he spoke, she could only make out but only a few phrases. “I’m going to take you now, in every way that I can… Your sweet little ass is mine... I’m going to fuck your brains out and you’re going to take every bit of me...”
Kayla was whimpering already and pumping away at her master’s dick frantically. He lifted her again and took her to the bed in his arms. He laid her down with an undeniable hunger on her back as he covered her with himself. Pushing his finger through her silky panties, he tears away her lacey panties. Placing his head fall between her thighs, he didn’t kiss her there, instead he bites her inner thighs leaving gently teeth marks. Her desire for him is driven by her own hidden lust. Her master travels upwards, biting his way along, between the hollow of her breasts, eventually reaching both her lips and tongue.
“Come here,” he says. Kayla can’t believe it the strength of her attraction for her kidnapper. He lifts her again and brings her vagina down onto to his face, kissing and licking her softly but without mercy.
“Oh, master,” she cries. “It feels so good... Oh my god.” She isn’t sure how she gets to this place of desire, but she can’t seem to help her ravenous desire for him either. What has she become…?
Gently but deliberately, he positions her where she can suck him as he has pleasured her. Oh, the pleasure as his tongue licks between her folds, is an unstoppable build of pleasure. He opens her wide for his viewing and locates the center of her sexual being. Tonguing her there, then fingering and massaging her forcefully. Her yearning grows without regard. What she knows now more than she could have imagined is how much more she wants of him… she wants more, more, more…
Kayla moans as she sucks him up and down, feeding herself with his manly member, straining to get every inch of him inside her and yearning for him to cum. That’s when he pushes her gently away from him and holds her up, and in one effortless motion, impales her with his long, throbbing penis.
”Oh god, Kayla, tha
t’s it, baby. Take all of my pleasure.”
Kayla moans in pleasure. Oh, he knows how to move her up and down him. Sliding her fully up and down, his dick was slickened with her wetness. He keeps whispering to her, his lips directly at her ear, such sensual, sexual things, and it seemed that every word was accented with his deliberate thrust. Her vagina became his pussy and his penis became her cock…
Finally, it seemed he was nearing his end. “I’m going to cum, Kayla, turn around. Oh fuck, I’m going to cum….I’m cumming right nowwww…”
“Please,” she moaned, as he stood and she knelt down for him. “Please cum for me, master.”
He started moaning hard and pumped himself for her. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Pearlized strands of cum burst from him and in her open mouth, and she softly grabbed him to milk him with her mouth for every last drop. As she did, he jerked and twitched in acute pleasure. This was the control she enjoyed, watching him come apart by what she could do to him. This was truly her pleasure to enjoy…
And for some reason, the tears began running hotly down her face. Kayla could feel his presence turning away, he was leaving her before he could recover from his orgasm. She could feel it in the air, in the language of his body, some unknowable rhythm.
Yes master, she thought. Fuck me hard then leave me coldly so you can haunt me forever.
Part II
Kiss me and you will see how important I am.
Sylvia Path
3 CHAPTER THREE
Chadwick Wadleigh was a haunted man.
All those years with Sheila... Her young, willowy body, a body he knew as well as his own, disappearing within soft green seawater. He could see her know… laughing and playing the exotic dancer for him.
She had finally succumbed to the cancer.
And his memory of her was also a torture that played on endless rewind...
The yellow plastic bucket and shovel, her pink toes wiggling in sand.
How aptly he and his wife had named their first and only child.
There are times when you look at those you love, and your stomach shrinks into a little ball of fear, because you suddenly realize you might lose them one day... But then you shrug it off, you know when it happens it will be so far into the future it won't matter, it will be when you're old and grey and too tired of and sated with life to notice...
But you, you son of a bitch, you bastard, you walked away... Scarred, but still.
You walked away.
Chadwick – or Chad, as his beloved family had called him – proceeded to pick up a marble figurine from the fireplace ledge and smash it into the opposite wall. Tracing his scars with a long index finger, he silently cursed himself.
He was indeed a monster.
When the mask is worn too long, poison blossoms like a porcelain heartache.
Now he held Kayla… He was driven to do it. He had to from the moment he’d seen the picture of her face… He just knew it…
The release did him good. There was chemistry between them though he had only just met her. She had given him the mind-blowing experience he craved… Kayla had done this... And somehow he was grateful for it…
Her body under his, her responsiveness, how very wet her heavenly femininity was, slick and opened for him...
He had to have her again, and soon.
* * *
The following day, Kayla was bewildered to find Sir Wadleigh had left instructions for her to eat her meals in the privacy of her own room.
That evening, instead of Chona entering her room, a man's face appeared in the doorway when Kayla answered the knock. He introduced himself as Eli.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Kayla,” he spoke evenly, though it seemed entirely untrue. “I am the overseer of the acquisition of your wardrobe during your stay at Wadleigh Castle. Your dresses will be fashioned solely out of lace, silk, and satin, and only dark colors shall be worn. Tonight, your attire will consist of this.”
He held out an exquisite garment, a mermaid scoop sleeveless crystal burgundy satin dress. Gold cascading earrings and a lush gold-rose bracelet finished type of ensemble.
“Th-thank you,” Kayla answered nervously, taking the items from Eli's grasp as carefully as she would an infant.
“You're welcome, miss. And now I shall leave you, and Miss Tilda, Mr. Wadleigh's personal maid of many years, will assist you in your dressing.”
Kayla felt a pang of insecurity. Had she fumbled so badly in her preparations last night that the man felt it necessary she be assisted in dressing herself?
At that moment, Kayla was surprised to see not an older woman enter the room, but a girl almost the same age as herself.
“Hello, miss,” the girl bowed submissively. “The lord wishes your hair to be bound tonight. I will assist in your coiffure.”
As she worked, the girl hummed a haunting, foreign lullaby-esque tune, sad and wistful. Strangely, Kayla felt soothed.
When she looked into the mirror after Tilda's work had been finished, she could not believe her eyes. She looked like an exotic princess, so regal, so elegant.
“And now,” Tilda spoke quietly, “I am to leave you. Good evening to you, Miss Kayla.”
* * *
Another literary passage floated through Kayla's head. She remembered her Patrick McGrath.
A tissue of sounds filled the room... That which we call silence.
It was true. Silence was deafening. Her master was making her wait this time. Drawing it out, being softly cruel.
Her body ached and yearned.
Then, the unmistakable whisper from the shadows. Kayla...
His breath, hot and fast, at her neck. He was whispering those sexy nothings in her ear again. Raising her arms with black leather gloved hands and crossing them over her head.
It was then she heard the tiny click.
Kayla realized she was bound and helpless then, a slave to this man's every whim.
“I need to be inside you again, sweet, beautiful Kayla. I need to cum with you, to make you mine.”
His hands were fevered at her flesh. They cupped her aching breasts, squeezing hard. But then he seemed to pause in his own vehemence of passion, his mouth frozen at the back of her neck. He trailed his lips down her spine, working his way to bathe her right hip in a glistening trail of saliva. His hands in their leather gloves came to rest at her hips and he squeezed them tightly at her skin, holding her there as if she would vanish beneath him, fly away unless he pinned her trembling form down to earth.
A butterfly quivering in the palm of her master's hand...
It was then he moved around to face Kayla. In one terrifying yet raw sexual movement, he tore at her dress and it separated and left her body in one clean slash.
Her current physical state offered him her breasts in a prime position, raised by the position of her arms in their bind. Relief and anguished pleasure coursed through her as his mouth tore softly across each nipple. He squeezed her breasts tightly together and swiped both nipples with his hot, slick tongue simultaneously. Unbuckling his pants and releasing himself with smooth if not fevered alacrity, he lifted Kayla's right leg and bent it at her knee. In one fell swoop, he let himself slip inside her moist femininity.
They both moaned softly together, in a sweet juxtaposition of mutual relief and newly inflamed hunger. He seemed to test her body, moving inside her tentatively. “Do you like me moving inside you this way, Kayla?" he spoke as he began to thrust high and deep inside her.
“Yes, master,” she managed to choke out. His scent filled her nostrils, sandalwood and something painfully, deliciously male.
“Oh, so good. I definitely approve,” he seemed to be teasing, but his lips were grim and set with determination. As he pummeled her softly, he whispered, “Kayla, look into my eyes. See how much I want you.”
She stared within the hypnotic orbs that peeked through the holes of the midnight colored mask. Her soul was suddenly washed in waves of crystalline blue. Sh
ades of passion danced across his jawline.
And Kayla knew at that point she loved him. She didn't care what lay underneath his mask, she wanted to heal his past and love his pain away, as he loved her with his thick, stiff manhood, up and down, side to side in now slow, deliberate agony.
He cried out suddenly, bursting inside her as she felt herself contract in hot, undulating waves of pleasure.
They panted together, their eyes still locked. She reached towards his mask. “Please, master, show yourself to me,” she whispered. “I will not judge.”
What could only be a sense of hope flickered briefly within his eyes. But he flung himself away from her. The sudden absence of his body inside hers felt piquantly, heartbreakingly empty.
“Kayla...” he grit out, turning away from her. A tempest of emotion roiled inside his quaking body, and she was truly afraid. In barely contained fury, he said, “Don't ever, ever try that again.”
