Last Week: A Dark Romance

by Lucy Wild

  I had never known anything like it. It was the most perfect moment, made all the sweeter by how long I’d waited.

  I realised then why he had teased and tormented me so much. It was to make this moment all the better. It was incredible, unbelievable. He was in me. He was fucking me. This billionaire, this man who could have any woman he wanted. He had chosen me. He had touched me until I screamed, he’d spanked my ass red. He was hard as rock because of my pussy, my body, me.

  “Fuck me,” I said into the gag, rocking against him as he slid slowly back and then rammed into me again, making me see stars. I could barely breathe, my chest heaving, my mind lost, my soul glued to his. It was the greatest moment of my life.

  In that first thrust of his, I wanted both more and for him to stop, let me get used to his size. But I had no say in what happened. I could only let him fuck me, let him bring my orgasm ever closer.

  He thrust a second time and from nowhere, a climax hit me that was so powerful, I almost passed out. I would have fell forwards if not for him holding me in place. My whole body shook, my eyes tightly shut, my limbs twitching as the most wonderful feeling filled me as much as he did. It went on forever, waves of pleasure hitting me again and again as he began to thrust as fast as he could, giving me no time to recover.

  I had no idea if it was one huge orgasm or several hitting me one after another and I didn’t care. All I cared about was that it didn’t end any time soon.

  As quickly as he had entered me, he left, sliding out, leaving me crying out with frustration, my pussy trying to contract around nothing. I thought he was teasing me but nothing happened. Nothing at all. I twisted my head to look round in time to hear the door slam shut. He was gone.

  TWENTY-ONE

  ETHAN

  I paced up and down the floor of my bedroom, trying to work out what the hell had just happened.

  I had fucked her when I’d planned to tease her, I’d even made her beg me to do it. I’d almost come inside her.

  What was supposed to happen was that I brandished my cock like a weapon, making her flinch away whilst simultaneously yearning for me to get inside her. I was supposed to make her desperate for me, edging her back and forth on the cusp of an orgasm for days on end.

  Fucking her wasn’t the real crime. It was letting her come that was the issue. How was I supposed to edge her into dependence if I let her come just because her pussy felt good wrapped around my cock?

  She was still in there, waiting for me. She couldn’t go anywhere, not with the two bars attached to her. She’d struggle to stand up, let alone come and find me.

  At least I hadn’t let her touch me. She had no idea how I felt, nor what it would be like to kiss me. Where had that thought come from? Did I want to kiss her?

  I blamed her cock sucking skills. Being in her mouth had felt so damned good, all thoughts of taking my time slid away in the urgent need to be in her. It was only when she came that I realised the mistake I had made.

  Something changed when my cock touched her tongue. It wasn’t just about breaking her anymore. It was about something else, something deeper. I paced back and forth for several minutes, trying to work out what it was. The answer wouldn’t come to me.

  I realised I’d left her in there for too long. I walked back into her bedroom, seeing her still in place, her pussy exposed, ready for me to slip straight back into her. My cock began to harden at the sight. I ignored it. I had to.

  I undid the handcuffs on her ankles first, wanting that pussy out of sight before I lost any self control I had left.

  She shuffled her legs together as I twisted her round, letting her sit up, undoing the cuffs on her wrists before finally taking the gag from her mouth. I left the nipple clamps attached. They looked too good to take off.

  “Did I do something wrong?” she asked, wiping the saliva from her chin with the back of her hand.

  She looks so hurt, so innocent, her eyes blinking, filled with compassion for me. It was misplaced compassion. I didn’t deserve it, not for what I had planned for her.

  “Follow me,” I said, taking her hand, another no no, and leading her out of the bedroom and into the nearest bathroom.

  “Are you going to shave me again?” she asked, looking at the table.

  “I’m going to bathe you,” I replied, turning on the taps and watching water slowly pool in the bottom of the bath.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Are you all right.”

  “I’m fine,” I snapped too loudly. “No more questions.”

  “Sorry, Sir.”

  I dipped my hand in the water. Hot but not too hot. “Climb in and stand there, feet apart, that’s it.”

  Seeing her stood in the middle of the water was enough to make my cock harden again. I ignored it though her eyes kept glancing down, as if she was hoping I’d fuck her again.

  I left her standing there, collecting a cloth and dipping it into the water. I stepped into the bath, enjoying the heat of the water soaking into my legs as I ran the cloth across the front of her neck, rivulets of water running between her heaving tits as she breathed heavily.

  The clamps were in the way so I detached them, drawing a gasp from her as they fell free. I tossed them aside, letting the cloth glide over her chest, her skin glistening in the light.

  She didn’t speak and neither did I. The atmosphere was tense, made worse by the way the tip of my cock kept brushing lightly across her skin as I cleaned her body.

  “Turn round,” I said after spending several minutes working my way over her arms and her chest. With her back to me, I ran the cloth over her shoulder blades, shuffling closer to her, my cock pressing into the valley between her buttocks.

  Her skin felt hotter than the water. I leaned in, unable to resist, my lips planting a soft embrace on the side of her neck.

  She sighed with happiness, nuzzling back towards me, her hips pressing into me, making it even harder to resist fucking her.

  I knelt down, running the cloth over her ass, nudging her legs apart, stroking my way over her thighs.

  “Turn round,” I said again and she spun on the spot, her pussy directly in front of my face. I could smell her sweetness as I dabbed at her with the cloth, wanting nothing more than to fuck her.

  The cloth fell from my fingers, landing with a splash under me as my hand moved towards her clit. She moaned when I touched it, her legs shuffling further apart.

  I glanced up at her. She’d closed her eyes, her mouth open. Reaching up with my other hand, I found her core, sliding a finger into her and exploring inside as I continued to play with her clit.

  It didn’t take long to bring her to the edge of orgasm and then I stopped, standing up, my cock brushing between her legs. “I want you in me,” she muttered, blinking slowly at me, as if coming out of a daydream. “Please, Sir.”

  “Like this,” I asked, bending my knees so I could thrust into her just once. Then I slid back out before she even knew what was happening. This was better, this was more controlled. But it wasn’t easy as what I wanted more than anything was to fuck her until she didn’t know what country she was in anymore.

  I stepped out of the bath, motioning for her to follow me. “Sit on the table,” I said, “legs apart.”

  When she was in place, I knelt on the floor, running my hands up her thighs to her pussy, stroking gently towards her clit, wanting to tease her again.

  “Please, fuck me,” she muttered. “Please fuck me, Sir.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  ZOEY

  They were words I’d never said in my life before. “Please fuck me.” That wasn’t me. It wasn’t who I was. But the words had come from my mouth. He knelt between my legs, his mouth an inch away from my clit, his fingers stroking it softly. My body yearned to feel him in me again.

  One climax wasn’t enough. I wanted so much more.

  We hadn’t even kissed. The touch of his lips on my neck had served as a reminder of how distant yet intimate he was. I’d never known anyt
hing like it. I’d never met anyone like him.

  It was like he was scared of getting close to me. It seemed more than just the clichéd male fear of commitment. It had run deep enough to send him from the room in the middle of fucking me. That was how damaged he was.

  What did it say about me that it only made me want him more? Not that it mattered. It was only a week and then it was over.

  I’d told him I was doing it for the money and he had no reason to doubt me. I was just a sex toy for him, a doll to play with and then discard when he got bored.

  That was obviously why he was doing this. Wander around looking for women he could easily manipulate. He had enough money to throw around to make it worth their while. That way, he was also ensuring they kept their mouths shut about the things he was into.

  I wondered how many times he’d done this before. How many women had been shaved on this table? Ten? Twenty? A hundred? I was just one more in a long line of playthings.

  I pushed the thought away. I couldn’t handle that idea. That I was nothing special to him. Of course, I’d always kind of known that was the case. He hadn’t become so expert at teasing without lots of practice.

  I was nothing special, I tried to tell myself. I was just one among many. Don’t fall for him whatever you do, I thought when he was cleaning me in the bathtub.

  I had to stand there during the most erotic experience of my life, my pussy still tingling from being fucked by him. I couldn’t move. He wouldn’t let me.

  What kind of person fell for someone like him? I hardly knew anything about him and yet I felt as if I knew the one thing that really mattered. I knew he was a good person.

  Despite everything he’d done, I knew he was a good person. It was in his eyes. It was in the way he spoke to me, the way he treated me.

  He had been harsh. He had been cruel. He had spanked my ass red, he’d left me locked up as a prisoner in his house. But I’d agreed to it all. I knew the safe word. I knew I could walk away at any time.

  I could lie and say I was staying for the money, that I was only doing this to help my family. But I knew the truth. I was staying because I wanted to, because I wanted to know what it would feel like when he came inside me for the first time. I wanted to know how his lips would feel pressed against mine. I wanted to know what it would be like to wake up in bed next to him, to breathe him in as he slept. I wanted all of those things and more. So what did that make me?

  Weak?

  Pathetic?

  Submissive?

  Sitting on that table with him between my legs did not feel weak. The way he stared at my pussy did not make me feel pathetic. It made me feel strong, powerful, worshipped. He was worshipping my body and as he stood up and brushed his cock over my pussy, I worshipped his, my arms slipping around his back, my legs wrapping round him, holding him against me, words falling from my mouth. “Please fuck me.”

  My whole body was on fire with need and then he did it.

  He thrust all the way into me a single motion. It felt so good, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t think. All I could do was enjoy the feel of him stretching me, filling me, making my dreams come true.

  It was the greatest sex I’d ever had. He remained buried inside me, not moving for nearly a minute, staring into my eyes as I rocked in place, wanting the motion of back and forth, my nerve endings on fire.

  “You’re a good girl,” he said, pulling back at last and then pushing in again.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  He pushed my chest down until I was laid flat on my back, my legs still dangling, his cock still buried inside me. He held my hips as he began thrusting faster, staring down at my pussy as his cock drove into me, making my breathing ragged.

  I knew I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t want him. I should want normal, ordinary sex with a normal, ordinary person.

  But that wasn’t who I really was. I wanted to be taken. I wanted to be used. I wanted to obey him, to do what he told me, to present my body for him. If he’d told me to walk down the street naked at that moment, I’d have done it without hesitating. I could think of nothing more important than pleasing him.

  A smile of joy spread across my lips as he continued to fuck me. I was making him look like that, I was the cause of that wild expression in his eyes. “I’m going to come inside you,” he said, slamming home, his hips grinding against mine.

  “Come in me, Sir,” I said, moving my hand to my clit, stroking it so fast, my wrist ached. I was desperate to come before he did, knowing he might not let me orgasm, he might make me wait even longer.

  He didn’t stop me, slowing enough to watch me as I touched myself.

  Knowing he was watching turned me on even more, as did the feel of his cock as it twitched inside me. He was getting close.

  “Fuck me,” I gasped, feeling my climax approaching. “Give it to me, Sir.”

  His eyes went wild as he began slamming into me, the whole table shaking as he buried himself deeper in me than I thought he could possibly go.

  “Oh fuck,” I muttered. “I’m coming. Oh shit.”

  I couldn’t say another word. An orgasm hit me that was so powerful it took my breath away. At the moment it struck, he came, his climax making mine all the stronger.

  I could feel his cock spurting into me, filling me up as he groaned loudly. I couldn’t see anything, my eyes were watering, my body shaking in place, my pussy contracting round his cock, holding him, drawing him deep into me, wanting to never let him go, not wanting this to be over yet.

  But as his hand moved to my clit, I realised he was far from finished. He’d only just begun.

  TWENTY-THREE

  ZOEY

  Three days to go. When I woke up it was the first thought that popped into my head. So much had happened in four days, it felt like I’d been here a year. Yet I only had three days to go. The thought was like an anvil to my head, making all my thoughts heavy, dragging me down into despair.

  He woke me, he fed me, he watched me pee, he bathed me, he made all my decisions for me.

  He chose what I should wear, he chose what I ate, he chose what time I went to bed, what time I got up. It was bliss.

  I never thought I’d want someone telling me what to do to such an extreme extent but the truth of the matter was that it felt liberating. Making decisions is a sign of being an adult.

  When you’re younger, someone else makes all your choices for you, all you can do is go along with it. You get what you’re given, the stock phrase when raising a child.

  But as an adult, you’re expected to decide everything. It’s supposed to be liberating and it is in many ways.

  But it’s also draining. It’s tiring. It’s hard work making decisions. It’s even harder when most of the decisions you make are wrong. Look at me, at my life. I was penniless, about to be homeless, I’m no great example of decision making.

  Then along comes someone who wrestles that away from me, snatches it and says don’t worry, I’ll do that for you.

  It was like a weight off my shoulders when he did that. At first, I rebelled against it, I didn’t like being trapped with him, being told what to do.

  But in just a few short days, I had realised exactly what he’d done for me. He’d freed me. He’d freed me from the person I thought I was, he’d shown me who I really was. He’d told me it was okay to want sex, to want to submit, to want to be spanked, to want to be bathed and worshipped and touched as tenderly as you would the petals of a rose.

  I was barely awake before he was in the room. My heart soared at the sight of him even as the voice in my head continued to count down. Three days to go. Three more days of him being the first person I saw, of kneeling in the middle of the bed and presenting myself for him as he brought me to orgasm.

  Starting each day with his hand on my pussy was wonderful. But it was nothing to the feeling of him taking me through to the bathroom and fucking me in front of the mirror.

  I looked up and saw me and him refle
cted back at me, unsure if I was dreaming. This most handsome man was fucking me, his face a wild picture of lust at the sight of my ass, his hands gripping me in place, his cock buried inside me.

  Three days to go.

  I wanted this to go on forever. I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want to have to leave him and return to my ordinary life. Even with the money he had promised me, it would be an ordinary life.

  I’d never find anyone else like him, someone so confident, so sure of themselves. Or so I thought.

  He teased me towards orgasm using just his hand as I knelt on the bed but just as I was about to come, he stopped, driving me wild in the way I was already getting used to.

  He led me into the bathroom, bending me over in front of the mirror, his expression hungry as he looked at my ass.

  I got to see his face as he slipped his cock into me, and the sight filled me with joy. He looked happy.

  I pushed back onto him, loving the feel of him stretching me, hoping he would let me come, not tease me and then stop as he did so often.

  He was fast and hard, slamming into me until I could barely catch a breath. My legs turned to jelly as my climax approached. Another few seconds and it would reach me.

  I didn’t get chance. He grunted, his cock twitching in my pussy. It was just as he came inside me that his expression changed. He suddenly looked sad. I was about to ask if I’d done something wrong but the words died on my lips. He was already gone.

  His cum was still inside me, my pussy was tingling, my clit throbbing and on the verge of orgasm but he’d vanished.

  I got myself upright, ignoring the need of my body for a climax as my legs rubbed together. I walked to my bedroom, picked up the white dress and slipped into it, stepping out onto the landing and listening to see if I could hear him.

  He’d never explicitly told me I could move without his say so. But neither had he told me I had to stay where he left me.

  I heard something downstairs so I followed the noise. He was sitting alone in a study, his chair facing the window. On the desk behind him was a metal box, the contents spread across the space. I could see a letter and a photo of a woman amongst other papers.