by Dark, Aubrey
He never took my virginity, but oh! The other things he did to me scorched my body and sent me into gasping orgasms.
The first night after he told me his story, he bound me not with handcuffs, but with a long silk tie that he wound around my entire body. I was immobilized on the bed, and he rolled me over, sinking his tongue deep into me until I shuddered and shook, my thighs clenched around his head.
The second night he tied me down on my back. I didn’t know what he was going to do until the first drips of red candlewax fell onto my chest. I screamed. I writhed. The pain was almost too much, but somehow it went right around and soon I was screaming with pleasure as the red hot wax ran down my thighs.
My screams had been too much for Jake, too. I’d barely managed to catch my breath when he pulled his cock out of his pants. He didn’t even need to stroke it, just gripped it hard at the base as he came all over my chest. His white cum shot out and dripped over my skin, mixing with the red wax as he panted, leaning over me. I swore he was going to kiss me then, but he didn’t.
He never once kissed me on the mouth.
***
I thought that had been the worst of it. That somehow I’d exhausted his imagination of painful pleasures.
How wrong. How utterly wrong.
The next time he tied me up, it was upright. My arms held me swinging and my toes barely touched the sheets. I was hanging like a fly caught in a spiderweb. And Jake was the spider.
When he brought out the crop I almost fainted. Not that it would have mattered much, I suppose. He would have slapped me to bring me around. But I couldn’t stop staring at what he held in his hand.
A thin leather strap at the end of a knotted rod. It probably shouldn’t have looked so scary, but after having my skin spanked pink I was ready to run.
Jake trailed the crop down along my side down to my hip. The leather felt cool, almost welcome against the burning of my skin, but I knew what he was going to do with it.
At least, I thought I did.
At first, it was light whips across my asscheeks. I yelped through the gag he’d casually knotted around my mouth. Stripes of pain made me twist like a helpless animal of prey. Yes, prey. Jake was a predator, and he didn’t bother to hide it. When he went around behind me, I sobbed in terror and anticipation.
Despite it all, I wanted him. I wanted the predator to catch me. I needed him to tear me apart and put me back together. I thrilled under his touch, no matter how harsh. But I had never thought that he would do this to me.
The crop whipped me again, but this time it was against my already-slick folds. I screamed. Oh God, I screamed. The ache of wanting him was too much combined with the burning whip of the riding crop between my thighs.
Again, he struck me. Again. Again. And he continued to whip me until the pain turned to pleasure and I came, the orgasm jerking me into unconsciousness.
When I woke, his cock was sliding between my asscheeks. I moaned, feeling his thick shaft press through between my thighs, then back.
Was this it? Would he finally take me?
I had spent the past few days in terrible anticipation of this moment, but now that it was here all I could do was choke out a groan of need. The tip of his cock pressed against my entrance, and then—
And then—
He pulled back without entering me, and I sobbed as he came, the thick ropes of white dripping down my ass and between my thighs. He didn’t need me like I needed him. He didn’t need me at all. When he untied me, I crumpled to the bed and curled up, and he left me in the darkness.
I was his gift, to use as he pleased. But despite my longing, he would not take me.
Chapter Nine
It was the day before the end of the week. I was his gift for another twenty-four hours, and that would be all.
As usual—strange, how quickly things can become usual—he got ready to leave in the morning.
“Paint,” he said. “I left you a gift in the studio.”
With that, he was gone.
When I walked into the art studio, a terrycloth robe draped around my naked shoulders, I gaped at what I saw. A huge canvas, fifteen feet on all sides, lay flat on the floor. I’d filled up most of the smaller canvases in the room, and what had been a room of total white was now cluttered with my pieces. But this canvas was perfectly untouched, and so large that for a moment my mind dizzied with the possibilities.
“Think,” I murmured to myself. “Think.”
My hands gathered their materials as I thought. There had been a painting I wanted to try for a long time. In my mind, it was two forms that looked like trees, growing together intertwined. I didn’t know if this was the right canvas to try it on, and I didn’t know if I could pull it off, but I could try, couldn’t I?
As I painted, my frustrations grew. The painting was so big that I couldn’t get a good look at the whole of it, and I was relegated to painting it in parts, bit by bit.
Lunch came and went. Jake had taken to having one of his servants stop by to drop off a sandwich at the door of the art studio, but when they knocked this time I shouted for them to leave me alone. Stupid food. Stupid art. I wasn’t hungry. I could eat after I’d finished.
I used rollers to put in the background colors, but when I stepped back I frowned in dismay.
No. Not quite like that. The light wasn’t right. Everything was the same value, nothing stood out.
I backed away from the huge canvas and tried on a smaller one, a rectangle. I sketched out the crude lines of what I had in mind, then blocked in the colors. It took me about an hour to get the shapes the way I wanted them. I squinted at the smaller piece. It looked alright, but the large canvas was square, and I didn’t know quite how to crop it down.
“Square canvases,” I said, riffling through the canvases I had left. None of them were perfect squares—I’d used up all of those. I looked at the pieces I’d already done, but it hurt me to think about painting over them.
Then I looked over at the black door.
Storage, he’d said. What if there was a square canvas in there I could use?
No. He’d specifically told me not to go in there. I shook my head and turned back to the painting. I tried a different shade of blue for the background, something a little lighter.
It took a while just to cover up the parts I’d already painted, stepping carefully around the parts that weren’t dry. Finally I put the last block of color in and set my brush aside. I went to the bottom of the canvas and stared at the damned thing.
“ARGH!”
It was wrong, all wrong. Jake had given me this gift, and I’d wasted it. The afternoon was almost over, and he would be back soon, and I had nothing, absolutely nothing to show for it. I sat down with a thud on the edge of the canvas, looking balefully over my paintings.
Today was the last day. Would I even get to keep these? Where would I put them, even if he did let me keep them?
Useless, completely useless. And, just as quickly as I’d realized my painting was worthless, anger seized me.
“Junk!” I cried, shoving the paintings by the handful into the corners. I went through all of them, one by one. Some of them were flowers, abstract and curving. Some were names, my tag mostly, and these I threw with force against the wall.
It was all useless junk, anyway. I had no real talent. I had no eye for this. I hated that I’d wasted all of this time painting, but mostly I hated that I’d wasted all of these materials.
I slammed my hand against the wall, then kicked a canvas that had fallen over to the floor. In a fury, I went around the room, kicking aside all of the paintings that I hated so much. I went to kick one in front of the storage door and stubbed my toe against the door. A shooting pain stabbed through my foot.
“Shit!” I screamed, not even caring that I was swearing. And then I was slamming my hand against the black storage door, screaming every curse word I’d bottled in for the past nineteen years. I screamed them all, and made up some new ones, and it was only when I heard a cl
atter of metal that I stopped.
The padlock had broken off to the side. It dangled uselessly on a hinge. God, had I hit the door hard enough to break it? For a split second, I thought idiotically that Jake would make me pay to fix it.
Then I noticed something through the crack in the door, and forgot everything else.
***
My anger gave way to curiosity as I slowly pushed the storage door open. I flipped on the light and a bulb above clicked on, shining brightly into the forbidden room.
It was a storage room, alright, but nearly as large as the one that I was in. And it was filled top to bottom with canvases.
Only these canvases weren’t white. Someone had used them already. I stepped gingerly past the door and looked at the paintings. Jake must keep all of the art here, I thought, all of the paintings he’d bought that weren’t currently on display. I could see a few more Kage paintings, as well as some charcoal sketches that were unsigned.
Crazy. This room alone must house a million dollars of art.
Carefully, I pulled some of the canvases away from the walls to flip through them. A charcoal sketch with lettering. Another pastel. And underneath—
I frowned, pulling the back canvas out. It was a painting by Kage, that was for sure. It was his lettering, his broad sweeps and bright colors. But it wasn’t finished. The painting ended halfway down the canvas, with the rest of the lettering only partially filled in with pencil sketches.
I’d never seen a half-finished painting by Kage before. I held it up to the light to see it better, and—
“LACEY!”
I yelped and dropped the painting. It landed with a hard crack on its corner. I jumped back, away from the door, and spun around.
Jake was standing in the doorway, anger burning his face.
“What are you doing here?” he hissed.
I bent down and picked up the Kage painting. It didn’t look like the framing had cracked, but I held it carefully just in case.
“I—I—”
“Give me that!”
I held out the painting and Jake ripped it from my hands.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I only wanted—”
“Get out!”
He held the door open, and I cast one look back longingly. It was then that I realized something strange.
There were other unfinished paintings, stacked on top of each other. But all of them—
“These are all by Kage,” I whispered. I stopped in my tracks.
“Lacey, I’m warning you—”
All of them. All of them had Kage’s lettering or Kage’s style.
“What are all of these?” I asked. “Why do you have so many—”
I looked back at Jake, at the way he was holding the canvas so possessively in his hands. And then I knew. Reflected in his eyes was my recognition, and his fingers turned white as they clutched the painting.
“It’s you,” I said, with an inward gasp.
“You’re him. You’re… you’re Kage.”
Chapter Ten
“I told you not to come into this room,” Jake said.
“You’re him,” I repeated. “Kage. Wow. I can’t believe it. I should have figured it out, but—”
“Get out!”
Jake grabbed me suddenly by the arm, tearing me out of the art storage room. I stumbled back, stepping onto the large square of canvas I’d been working on. It was forgotten now with this new revelation, and I stared at Jake like I expected paint to come gushing out of his ears.
“So is this your art studio—” I started to ask, but the look on Jake’s face stopped me cold. He was mad. And not just upset. His eyes burned with fury. He tossed the painting back behind him into the storage area and slammed the door.
“You,” he spat. He took a step toward me. I retreated, and my foot caught on the canvas. I fell backwards and landed with a hard thunk on top of my painting. My hands slipped in the wet paint as I scrabbled back away from him.
“Jake—I mean, Kage—I mean—”
Jake took one step toward me and I shut my mouth. His shoes squelched against the paint, leaving footprints in the painting.
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean to. Well, I did, but only once the door was open. I…” My voice trailed off as I watched Jake’s face contort with barely suppressed rage.
“You disobeyed me. After I had to spend all my willpower controlling myself around you…”
He took his jacket off and threw it to the floor.
“After I promised myself I wouldn’t spoil your innocence...”
His fingers unbuttoned his shirt. I swallowed, watching him, no longer wanting to speak. I couldn’t defend myself. He was right. I was in the wrong. And yet, as he spoke, I found myself hoping that somehow this—this act of unwitting defiance—had broken down the wall that kept him away from me.
“After I tried to stop myself from wanting to take you...”
“Take me!” I cried.
It was all I got out, and then Jake was on his knees, dragging me over his lap. His hands yanked the fabric of my terrycloth robe up, and then he was spanking my bare ass so hard that the blows made my body jerk with the shock of his force. I squealed as he spanked me, aware that I was instantly aroused, my body aching for his touch no matter how hard.
“Temptation!” he growled.
I shrieked as he turned me over and pinned me back, his hands pressing against my shoulders.
“I wanted so badly to keep you pure,” he whispered. “You have no idea how hard it was… you have no idea how much I wanted to take you.”
His face was inches from mine, and I saw my chance.
I took it.
Arching my back, I strained upward and pressed a kiss against his lips. Just one, but that was all it took.
His face contorted, the anger falling away and being replaced by confusion.
“Lacey?” he asked, gazing straight into my eyes.
“Kage,” I said, calling him by the name he’d chosen for himself. My own voice seemed unfamiliar to me, older somehow. “I want you to take me.”
***
“Lacey,” he whispered, and then the pressure from my shoulders lifted.
I raised my head. Jake tore off his shirt, unbuckled his belt. His fingers were fast, but mine were faster as we both fumbled to unzip his pants. He got them half undone before he pulled me in close, tearing off my terrycloth robe.
Then his mouth was on mine again, and his hands were threading through my hair as he possessed me with his kiss.
Yes, possessed. That is the only word to describe it. His lips sought mine out hungrily, sucking hard and biting. I let my lips part and his tongue thrust into mine, and a blinding pressure made me arch into him. His fingers sent thrills through my scalp and all I could feel was heat, the heat scorching between my legs and the heat of his lips burning mine.
I was his, and he took my breath away as he kissed me and kissed me again. We fell back together against the wet canvas and then his hands were moving down and he was kissing my neck and shoulders, returning after each kiss to take my lips again with his. Kissing me like he forgot how to stop, like he never wanted the kiss to end.
Despite being a virgin, I’d been kissed before. This, though was something that seemed utterly different. I realized that this kiss was a prelude to something else, something more, and the thought of it shivered every part of me. I moaned into his kiss and he moaned back, pressing hard and soft alternately until I couldn’t breathe. I was only gasping for air to keep myself alive but I needed his kiss more than I needed air, more than I’d ever needed anything.
His hands ran down my quivering body, searching me out. He touched me everywhere, squeezing, kneading, caressing. I gasped as his hand slipped under my ass cheeks and pulled my hips up against him. I could feel his cock erect already, straining against the fabric of his underwear.
God, I needed him. My hands were covered in paint, but I didn't care. I grabbed him, needing more,
needing him right then.
I had waited all week, and I could not wait a second longer.
"Lacey," he growled. "Lacey, I can't. I can't."
"I want you," I said.
It was enough. He groaned as I pressed another kiss against him, rolling onto my side.
He shoved down his pants, exposing his cock. It was stiff and throbbing, and I slid my fingers alongside the shaft in wonder.
"Jesus, Lacey," he said.
Then his mouth seized mine again, and I was kissing him back, wanting him, wanting nothing more than for him to take me right then and there.
He rolled over so that he was on top of me. One of his hands clasped my cheek, and his thumb brushed along under my eye alongside my cheekbone. I could feel his cock pressing against my entrance. I was hot, oh so hot. He had me pinned and no matter how I squirmed I couldn't move.
"Are you sure?” He whispered the words frantically, his hand caressing my cheek with such urgency that my mouth went dry. “I don't know if I can stop myself but please, Lacey, Lacey, are you sure?"
I could not think, only feel, and my body was hollow for him. In that second, I would have done anything to make him take me. But it only took one word, and I gave it willingly.
“Yes.”
He plunged into me with one thrust, and my scream of pleasure was muffled by his mouth kissing me as my body clenched itself around him.
It was a feeling such as I'd never felt before. His thickness filled me, stretched me, expanded me. There was pain, but it did not hold a candle to the pain he'd given me all week, and the pleasure–
Oh God, the pleasure. It was as though every nerve ending of mine had been set on fire. My body arched back against the canvas, and my hands pressed against his chest. He thrust again hard, further yet, impossibly deep into me. My legs wrapped around him and I could not help the small cries of pleasure as I pushed him even farther into me.
Something inside me broke open, inviting him in, and his movements made me cry out.
"Kage," I moaned.
He rolled his hips, and my orgasm swept through me like an instant fire. My head ripped from side to side as the intense waves of ecstasy came crashing down and through me. This was different from anything I had felt before, but more than that, it was different than anything I’d ever even imagined.
