The Baby (The Boss #5)

by Abigail Barnette

  “Good. Then, I won’t hold back.” He pushed the head of his cock into my mouth, and I thought he would start out with a few shallow strokes. Instead, he shoved all the way back. The angle of my head lined up my mouth and my throat perfectly. He passed my gag reflex, but I still compulsively swallowed; I was off my game.

  He slid out slowly, forcing me to hold my breath. I coughed and drooled, and with the gag holding my mouth open, there was no chance of keeping it from escaping. Nor could I with the next thrust, or the next. I closed my eyes and tried to remember to breathe through my nose, but it was difficult with each new flood of saliva that trickled down—technically up—my face. His thrusts grew faster and harder, his groin slamming into me painfully.

  “I could come down your throat,” he threatened. “I could come and let it run out of your mouth. I could bind your hands so you couldn’t make yourself come, and leave that plug in you so you wished you could. Would you like that?”

  I bucked my hips, reaching out for a touch that hadn’t been there in the first place.

  “Do you want my cock in you tonight?” he asked, thrusting forward hard.

  I made a muffled affirmative noise.

  “Prove it.” He withdrew, then pushed in again. “Make me believe it.”

  I cried again, wordlessly. Whatever I said would have been unintelligible.

  “Imagine it, Sophie,” He said, still fucking my face, choking me mercilessly with every stroke. “I could bring you to the very edge. I could do it, again and again. And I could leave you unsatisfied. After I’ve come, what do I care if my plaything does?”

  Panic curled through me. I tried to beg, “No, no, no,” but it came out as a series of desperate grunts.

  “Maybe that’s what I’ll do.” He sped his pace. “Would you like me to? To come in your filthy mouth and leave you unsatisfied?”

  I twisted and flailed, trying to drag in gulps of air between the repeated invasions of his cock. I pleaded with him with each exhale, unable to do more than make some pathetic, whimpering sounds.

  “I’m close, Sophie,” he warned. “Make me believe that you want my cock in you.”

  I screamed through my nose, my chest hitching with sobs.

  “Do you want me to fuck your ass?”

  I responded with another scream, mindless in my fear that he would do exactly as he promised.

  “Do you want me to fuck your cunt?”

  Another scream. I prayed he wasn’t as close as he sounded. I writhed and cried, my eyes squeezed shut against the flood of tears that rolled from them.

  “I’m going to come, Sophie,” he groaned, and a wail of despair seized my entire body.

  He pulled out, laughing at his joke. “Of course I wasn’t going to waste it in your mouth, Sophie. I’m going come in your ass tonight. Sit up.”

  It was difficult to do so with the plug in me, so I had to be cautious. Sir slipped a gentle finger beneath the hooks of the gag on one side and carefully eased them out. Once it was free, he asked, sounding more like my concerned husband than my cruel Dom, “How’s your jaw?”

  “Fine, Sir.” Though, my lips felt oddly stretched-out on my face. The sensation would pass.

  “What do we say?”

  “Thank you for fucking my throat, Sir.” That part certainly hurt, now, and my voice was hoarse for it. “And thank you for not coming in my mouth.”

  “Don’t thank me for that. It wasn’t for you.”

  I nodded and cast my gaze down.

  He went to the cabinet again and came back with a toy I liked much better. “Lay back and spread.”

  He reached for my foot and ran his fingers lovingly along the patent leather of my light nude pump. He slipped the thin elastic straps of the wearable vibrator over my calf, and repeated the action on the other side.

  “I’m going to fuck you, Sophie,” he told me as he slid the straps up. “And I’m going to let you come—”

  Oh, god, yes.

  “—but we’re not finished until I say we’re finished. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.” I held my breath as he pushed the vibe into place. It wasn’t the most intense one we owned, but it was delicious, a little bullet about as long as the tip of my thumb that vibrated soft legs, like a caterpillar’s, on all sides of my clit. Sir held the wireless remote.

  The straps were around my waist and thighs, the vibrator fitted snuggly to my aching clit, when he turned on the power. The lowest setting gently throbbed against me.

  “Stand up.”

  I rose, and he stood before me, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the vibrator’s remote at his side. “Unbutton my shirt.”

  It was hard to concentrate with my mind and body screaming for orgasm while the vibe buzzed away at me, but I forced myself to concentrate. I reached for the first fastened button with shaking hands, pushing it through the hole with my thumb.

  One down, what seemed like a thousand to go.

  I worked the next one, my fingers even less steady. The tightening shocks in my groin warned that I would come at any second. I tried to calm myself. I didn’t want to come until he was inside me, but my self-control could only do so much, especially when I wasn’t entirely in control of myself, anyway. I moved on to the third button, a loud moan taking me by surprise.

  “Are you going to come?” he asked, and all I could do was moan again.

  He cut the power to the vibe. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

  It was what I had wanted, though, whether he knew that or not. I suspected he did; though he claimed to be out of practice, he was doing a very good job hitting every item on my fantasy list tonight.

  I managed to get five buttons undone before he turned the vibe on, again, and I lost all reason. I ripped the remaining two straight down.

  He slapped me hard across the face, and I practically came, right then.

  “Fuck me,” I pleaded, the vibrations against my clit driving me out of my mind. My tolerance to orgasm denial had dwindled to zero, apparently. I was willing to talk out of turn, to give a command to my Sir.

  “Fuck you?” He cut the power to the vibe, and I groaned in protest and stamped my foot. “I do not like bratty subs. Bend over the recamier. Now!”

  I had no one to blame—or thank—but myself. I’d skirted a line, though; there was one thing that Neil was very serious about in our play, and that was respect. If I didn’t safe word, if we were still playing the game, and I mouthed off to him, there were always consequences.

  And I’d told him to leave marks.

  I scrambled to do as he said, leaning over the arm of the bench as he scooped up the flogger from the bed. He jerked his arms angrily from the shirt and tossed it aside, standing bare chested beside me. He didn’t warn me, he didn’t threaten. He just snapped the leather straps of the flogger against my ass so hard that I deeply, deeply regretted sassing him.

  But I wouldn’t safe word, because I knew I could take this punishment. It wasn’t sexy. It wasn’t meant to turn me on. It was meant to hurt me, and while I loved being hurt, a punishment flogging was discipline.

  The flogger cut through the air with a swish. It struck down on my backside, and I jumped, howling.

  “Quiet!” he barked. “If you want to scream, you’ll scream one word. You’ll scream that you’re sorry.”

  He hit me with it again, and I shouted, “I’m sorry, Sir!”

  After the next one, he said, “You have six more to go. And you’ll feel every goddamned one of them.”

  The next one came harder. And the next one. For all he warned me about being out of practice or control, he was ruthlessly in his element, now. This was my Sir. This man who could visit agonizing pain upon me, and tenderness so sweet it could almost be cruel. I lost count of the strokes of the flogger, but with each blow, I came home to the subspace I’d been away from for so long.

  “Get up!” he barked, throwing the flogger aside. “Get over to the bed and spread your legs for me. I’m going
to use your cunt.”

  My ass burned. I wouldn’t be able to sit without massive amounts of ibuprofen and pain relieving gel for the next few days. It was so worth it, as long as my punishment was only the flogging and not something worse. He was still going to fuck me.

  I lay on my back on the bed, and Neil caught my legs. He jerked me to the edge of the mattress and hit the button to turn on the vibrator. The flogging had backed some of the stimulation down, but I still gasped. I thought he would just drive into me, but instead, he stalked to the cabinet and pulled out a long length of rope.

  “Get your hands over your head,” he ordered.

  I did as he told me, and he looped the rope around my wrists, binding them together. If I was ever stranded in the jungle and hand to build a shelter or a snare or something, I wanted him with me. He was quick as hell with rope.

  “Is anything rubbing?” he asked, as he slipped his pinky between my skin and the rope. It was soft to the touch, but soft rope could be deceiving. I’d learned that the hard way in a shrimp tie that had left scorching stripes down my ribs. Neil was always careful with me, but after that mishap, he was extra careful.

  “No, Sir.” I wiggled my wrists a little just to make sure. The vibrations sped me toward climax, and I gritted my teeth. Don’t come without permission, don’t come without permission…

  “Not too tight?”

  “No, Sir.”

  He made a grumbling noise of approval. The tail of the rope was long enough to tie to one of the ornate loops worked into the decorative scroll accents on the headboard. He pulled the rope through and cinched it with a knot a boy scout would be proud of.

  My arms over my head, connected to a single tether, left me really, really vulnerable. Sir went to the end of the bed and pulled me down farther, until my ass rested just slightly off the edge. My arms stretched deliciously; not too far, not dangerously, but enough that I could feel helpless and at his mercy. He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers, and then, he was on me, driving into me in one brutal thrust.

  He’d given my cunt almost no attention and, certainly, no penetration. While I was desperately aroused, and the vibe was getting me even more so the whole time, I wasn’t exactly ready for something his size. I shouted in surprise as much as discomfort, but he didn’t pay me any mind. He’d said he would use my cunt, and he did, pounding into me with force I couldn’t anticipate; two strokes might be shallow, the next would be deep and punishing. Then another, and another, then gentler ones, then violent ones. He gripped my ankles and hauled them up, bending me back. The position, combined with the plug in my ass, made my cunt impossibly tighter, and all the while, the vibe buzzed away on me.

  “You will tell me before you come,” He grabbed my face and squeezed my cheeks hard, forcing me to hold still, to hold his gaze. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.” The garbled way my words came out humiliated me. I’d never been so fucking turned on. When he released me, I admitted, “I’m going to come, Sir.”

  “No you’re not.” He turned off the vibrator and fucked me harder. But it wasn’t enough to bring me over the edge, and I made an almost animalistic sound as I twisted beneath him. I wanted to touch him. I needed to hold on to him, because I felt dangerously close to falling, though I knew I wouldn’t. Not with him between my legs, inside my cunt, crushing me into the mattress.

  The vibe started, again, and just as before, when I warned him that I would come, he turned it off. I don’t know how long I laid beneath him, how long he punished me with every deep thrust of his huge cock, but I nearly came three more times, and three more times, he denied me.

  After the fifth, he pulled out, ordering, “Roll over,” as he panted for breath.

  He helped me move into position. I knew what was coming, and my stomach quavered with fear. I felt the sucking pull as he eased the plug from me. He dropped it to the bed and reached for the lube.

  “I believe I promised to be gentle with you,” he said, and I heard the sound of the lube slicking over him. “I need to check in. Can I be rough?”

  Oh, I was so going to regret my answer later. “Yes, Sir. We’re green.”

  “Thank you.” He spread my cheeks with his hands, and I felt the tip of him prod my hole. “I must warn you, though, this will really hurt.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, but all that came out was a scream of agony as he shoved into me. Not a little bit at a time, not carefully to let me adjust. He didn’t still inside me or give me a moment to catch my breath. He pounded into me hard, over and over, cruelly withdrawing all the way to slam in, again. Spots of blinding pain clouded my vision. I closed my eyes until they passed, but I couldn’t help my sobs or shouts.

  “Check in, Sophie,” he said, stopping suddenly.

  I lifted my head, sniffling back tears. I needed the pain, as much as I needed the pleasure of my building release. “Green, Sir.”

  He returned to the same pace, the same intensity, and I buried my face into the duvet to muffle my screams. I felt like I would leave my body and look down on myself, my makeup smudged, my ass bright red and striped from the flogger, my legs spread lewdly as Neil’s cock tore me apart.

  The imagined visual was so powerful, I hit the very edge of the orgasm he’d denied me, and I blurted, “I’m going to come!”

  He grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked my head back, growling, “Come, Sophie!”

  I’d never actually had an orgasm from anal before. I’d had an orgasm during anal, but always with stimulation on my clit. Something different built up in me with every stroke, and suddenly, cold shocks of pleasure ripped through me, my ass clenching on him in ripples. I felt the orgasm in my back, of all places, the exact opposite of pulling a muscle. It made me hungry for more, made me lose every inhibition I’d ever had and replaced it with depraved craving.

  That’s when he clicked on the vibe.

  “I came! I already came!” I shouted, not because I thought he would stop, but because I knew he wouldn’t, not if I didn’t say the word. But I was so oversensitive now. My clit ached from the pressure in my pelvis, and I screamed as the stimulation brought me to a whole new peak.

  Neil didn’t even take a break. “We’ll stop when I’m finished with you.” He slapped my already burning ass. “You’ll stop coming when I say.”

  “Please! Please!” The sensation was too much. It was everywhere. My legs shook. I could barely hold myself up. Another orgasm painfully tightened everything in my lower body, and when my muscles released, a flood of wetness gushed from me.

  “Fuck, Sophie,” Neil groaned, and he slammed forward one final time, his cock jerking deep inside me. He slumped over, his forehead against my back. Sweat dripped onto me.

  “Yellow,” I rasped. “Turn it off!”

  He clicked off the vibe.

  I dropped my head to the mattress, too boneless to hold it up anymore. “Please untie me, when you can breathe again.”

  He laughed and carefully eased out. The strangled noise he made was unmistakably the sound of him rolling the condom off his oversensitive penis. Then, I heard his zipper, and he climbed onto the bed near the headboard. The rope went slack, and he moved to untie my wrists.

  “Are we finished, Sir?” I asked.

  “Not until I rub your arms and shoulders.” Somehow, he made the threat of a massage seem like scolding. I liked that; in the past, the game would end when intercourse was finished, but I needed that extra time in submissive mode to slowly surface.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Once my arms were free, I had to agree that a massage of some sort was in order. I’d pulled at my bonds so forcefully, I would be super stiff if I didn’t get some TLC and a hot shower. I stood to remove the vibrator, then sat on the bed between Neil’s legs, leaning back on him, swaying as he kneaded my sore muscles in his big hands.

  Slowly, I came back to myself. I couldn’t believe how much I’d taken, how much I’d wanted. I couldn’t believe he’d given it to m
e.

  I snorted a laugh. “So, how fucked up is my butthole, now? On a scale of one to needs surgery?”

  He chuckled. “No surgery. Possibly a little blood, but we’ve definitely done worse.”

  “True. At least this time you used lube.”

  He leaned forward and craned his neck to kiss my cheek. “You like it when I don’t use lube.”

  “Yeah,” I admitted. “It hurts more.”

  Our postgame wrap up felt so good. I supposed that, at some point, I had stopped believing that we would ever have this relationship, again. That Neil would ever be strong enough. Yet, here we were. And everything seemed right.

  He gave my shoulders a final squeeze and said, “Why don’t you go get into a hot shower? I’ll clean up in here before I join you. And I’ll get you something for the pain.”

  I slid from the bed. “Yeah, you really whipped the hell out of me.”

  “You earned it with your smart mouth,” he reminded me. “Throw me my shirt, if you would.”

  I leaned down and scooped up the shirt from the foot of the bed and tossed it to him. He caught it one-handed and shook it out, pulling on one sleeve before I headed toward the bathroom.

  I stopped and turned. “I’m glad we’re back.”

  He looked up from fastening his buttons. “I’m just glad we’ve been able to put the whole thing behind us.”

  It was an innocuous comment, or should have been. But my fragile post-scene emotions seized on it and wouldn’t let it go. What had, just minutes before, felt like closure now felt like a wound ripped open from the inside by an insidious infection caught too late.

  “What if I don’t want to put it behind us?”

  He lifted his head. “Hmm?”

  I’m sure he thought he’d heard me incorrectly. After all, who wouldn’t want to put this entire year so far behind them and never think of it, again? But that would require forgiveness, and mine had suddenly evaporated.

  “What if I don’t want to put it behind us?” I repeated, more forcefully. “You know, this whole year has been about you, so far, and how you’re handling things. But maybe I’ve been too busy dealing with your emotions that I haven’t been able to do anything about mine. And you want me to just ‘put the whole thing behind us’? I don’t get a say in it?”