by Anna Zaires
Getting on my knees behind her, I move her hair off her shoulder and gently kiss her neck, enjoying the way her breathing changes in response. She smells like warm female skin and flower-scented body wash, a mixture that makes my head spin and my dick throb with need. Some nights this is all I want from her—the sweetness of her response, the feel of her in my arms. Some nights I want to treat her like the fragile, breakable creature she is.
Tonight, however, I want something different.
Pulling back, I tie the blindfold around her eyes, making sure she can’t see anything. I want her to focus solely on the sensations she’ll be experiencing, to feel everything as acutely as possible. Next, I pick up a pair of padded handcuffs and snap them around her wrists, securing her hands behind her back.
“Um, Julian . . .” Her tongue comes out to moisten her lower lip. “What are you going to do to me?”
I smile, the tiny hint of fear in her voice turning me on even more. “What do you think I’m going to do to you, my pet?”
“Flog me?” she guesses, her voice low and a bit husky. I can see her nipples growing taut as she speaks, and I know the idea is not exactly repellent to her.
“No, baby,” I murmur, reaching for one of the other items I have prepared—a pair of nipple clamps connected by a thin metal chain. “You’re not healed enough for that yet. I have other things in mind for you today.” And picking up the clamps, I wrap my arms around her from the back and pinch her left nipple between my fingers. Then I apply one of the clamps to the hard bud, tightening the screw until her breath hisses out between her teeth.
“How does it feel?” I ask softly, leaning down to kiss the top of her ear as I reach for her right nipple. Her bound hands, curled tightly into fists, press into my stomach, reminding me of her helplessness. “I want to hear you describe it . . .”
She draws in a shuddering breath, her chest heaving. “It hurts—” she begins to say, then cries out sharply as I apply the second clamp to her nipple and tighten it the same way.
“Good . . .” I lightly bite her earlobe. My erection brushes against her lower back, the contact sending vibrations of pleasure down to my balls. “And now?”
“It—it hurts even more . . .” Her words come out in a ragged whisper. Her back is tense against me, and I know that she’s telling the truth, that her sensitive nipples are likely in agony from the vicious bite of the toy. I’ve used nipple clamps on her before, on the island, but those were a gentler version, capable of applying only light pressure. These are much more hardcore, and I smile darkly as I imagine how much they’ll hurt when they come off.
Cupping the undersides of her breasts with my hands, I squeeze them lightly, molding the soft flesh with my fingers. “Yes, it hurts, doesn’t it?” I murmur as she jerks in pain, the movement of my hands pulling on the chain between her nipples. “My poor baby, so sweet, yet so abused . . .”
Releasing her breasts, I run my hand down her smooth, flat stomach until I reach the soft folds between her legs. As I had suspected, despite the pain—or more likely, because of it—she’s soaking wet, her pussy already liquid with need. My cock throbs in response. The sight of her restrained, with her delicate nipples clamped and hurting, appeals to me in a way that my old shrink would’ve undoubtedly found disturbing. Doing my best to control my hunger, I touch her small clit with my thumb, pressing on it lightly, and she moans, leaning back against my chest, her hips lifting up in a silent plea for more.
“Tell me what you’re feeling now.” I deliberately keep the pressure on her clit feather-light. “Tell me, Nora.”
“I . . . I don’t know . . .”
“Tell me how those little nipples feel. I want to hear you say it.” I accompany the demand with a firm pinch of her clit, causing her to cry out and buck against me from the sudden pain.
“They—they still hurt,” she gasps when she recovers, “but it’s different now, less sharp and more like a steady throb . . .”
“Good girl . . .” I stroke her swollen clit gently as a reward. “And what does it feel like when I touch you like this?”
Her small pink tongue comes out again, flicking over her bottom lip. “It feels good,” she whispers, “really good . . . Please, Julian . . .”
“Please what?” I prod, wanting to hear her beg. She has the perfect voice for begging, sweet and innocently sexy. Her pleading affects me in a way that’s just the opposite of what she intends—it makes me want to torment her more.
“Please touch me . . .” She lifts her hips again, trying to intensify the pressure on her sex.
“Touch you where?” I move my hand, depriving her of my touch altogether. “Tell me exactly where you want me to touch you, my pet.”
“My . . . my clit . . .” The words come out on a breathless moan. I can see the sheen of sweat on her forehead, and I know that my torture is having an effect on her, that the sensations she’s feeling are as intense as I intended.
“All right, baby.” I touch her again, pressing my fingers into her slick folds to stimulate the bundle of nerves with light, even strokes. “Like that?”
“Yes.” She’s breathing faster now, her chest rising and falling as her orgasm approaches. “Yes, just like that . . .” Her voice trails off, her body tightening like a string, and then she cries out, jerking in my arms as she reaches her peak. I hold her through it, keeping the pressure on her clit steady until her contractions abate, and then I reach for another item I have prepared.
It’s a dildo this time, one that’s roughly the size of my own dick. Made of a special blend of silicone and plastic, it’s designed to imitate the feel of human flesh, right down to the skin-like texture on the outside. It’s as close as I will let Nora get to experiencing another man’s cock.
Holding her against me with one arm, I bring the dildo to her sex and position the broad head at her slick, quivering opening. “Tell me what you’re feeling now,” I order her, and begin to push the object in.
She gasps, her breathing quickening again, and I feel her squirming as the large toy slowly enters her pussy. Her fingers clench and unclench against my stomach in an agitated tempo, her nails scratching my skin. “I—I don’t . . .”
“You don’t what?” My tone sharpens as her sentence trails off. “Tell me how it feels to you.”
“It feels . . . thick and hard.” The tremor in her voice stiffens my cock further, making it pulse with hungry need.
“And?” I prompt, pushing the object deeper. The dildo looks almost too big for her delicate body to accept, and the sight of her tight sheath gradually engulfing it is almost painfully erotic.
“And—” she exhales sharply, her head falling back against my shoulder, “—and it feels like it’s stretching me and filling me . . .”
“Yes, baby, that’s right.” By now the dildo is all the way inside her, with only the end sticking out. I reward her for her honesty by rubbing her clit with my fingers, spreading wetness from her dripping opening all around her soft folds. When she’s panting again, her hips undulating against my hand, I stop before she can come and release her from my hold, moving back a bit. Then I push her forward, pressing her face against the mattress, and pull her legs out from underneath her, making her lie flat on her belly.
As much as I want to continue playing with her, I can no longer wait to fuck her.
Deprived of my touch and with her clamped nipples rubbing painfully against the sheets, she whimpers, trying to roll over onto her side. I don’t let her, holding her down with one hand as I shove a pillow under her hips with another. Then I grab lube and squirt it directly on the small, puckered opening between her ass cheeks, right above where the edge of the dildo is protruding from her stretched, glistening pussy.
She tenses, now realizing my intentions, and I slap her ass with one hand, quelling any protest she might’ve been trying to make. “Easy now. You need to tell me how it feels, do you understand me, my pet?”
She whimpers as I straddle her and press t
he tip of my cock to her tight little asshole, but I feel her trying to relax underneath me, just like I taught her. Anal sex is something she’s still not entirely comfortable with, and her reluctance pleases me in some perverse way. It shows me both how far I’ve come with her training and how far I still have to go.
“Do you understand?” I repeat in a harsher tone when she remains silent, breathing heavily into the mattress, her bound hands tightly clenched behind her back. I desperately want to shove my cock in all the way, but I settle for just nudging her with it, smearing the lube all around her back opening. Tonight I want to get inside her mind just as much as I want to get inside her body, and I won’t settle for anything less.
“Yes . . .” Her words are muffled by the blanket as I press forward and begin to penetrate her ass, ignoring her attempts to squirm away. “It feels . . . oh God . . . I can’t . . . Julian, please, it’s too much—”
“Tell me,” I order, continuing to press in, pushing past the resistance of her sphincter. With her pussy already filled with the dildo, her ass is so tight around my cock that I’m shaking from the effort it’s taking to control myself. My voice is thick with lust when I rasp out, “I want to hear everything.”
“It—it burns . . .” She’s panting, and I can see droplets of sweat gathering between her shoulder blades, strands of her long hair sticking to her damp skin. “Oh fuck . . . I’m too full . . . It’s too intense . . .”
“Yes, that’s good . . . Continue talking . . .” I’m now almost all the way in, and I can feel my dick rubbing against the dildo as only a thin wall separates it from the toy. She’s trembling underneath me now, her body overwhelmed by the sensations, and I stroke her back in a soothing motion as I press forward one last inch, bottoming out deep within her body.
She makes an incoherent noise, her shoulders beginning to shake, and her muscles tighten around my cock in a futile effort to push me out. The movement shifts the dildo within her, and she cries out, her shaking intensifying. “I can’t . . . Julian, please, I can’t . . .”
I groan, explosive pleasure zinging through my balls as her ass squeezes my dick. My control dissolving, I withdraw from her halfway and then plunge back in, reveling in the feel of her body’s resistance, in the almost agonizing tightness of her hot, smooth passage around my shaft.
She screams into the blanket as I begin to drive into her in earnest, a mix of sobs and gasping pleas escaping her throat as I set a hard, rhythmic pace. Leaning forward, I brace myself over her with one hand and slide the other under her hips, finding her sex. Now every thrust of my hips presses her clit against my fingers, and her screams take on a different note, that of unwilling pleasure, of ecstasy mixed with pain. I can feel the dildo shifting and moving as I fuck her, and my orgasm boils up with sudden intensity, my spine tightening as my balls draw up flush against my body. Just as I’m about to erupt, her ass clamps down on me, and I realize with dark pleasure that she’s coming too, that her muscles are spasming around my cock as she cries out underneath me. And then the orgasm hits me, a shockwave of pleasure ripping through my body as jets of my seed spurt out into her hot depths, leaving me stunned and breathless from the force of my release.
When my heart no longer feels like it’s about to explode, I carefully withdraw from her ass and pull the dildo from her pussy. She lies there limp and pliant, small sobs still shaking her frame as I unlock the handcuffs and massage her delicate wrists. Next, I untie the blindfold, sliding it out from under her. The silky piece of cloth is drenched from Nora’s tears, and as I gently turn her over, I see wet streaks on her blanket-creased cheeks. She blinks at me, squinting against the bright light, and I reach for her nipples, releasing first one, then the other from the clamps. She doesn’t react for a moment, but then her entire body jolts as blood rushes back to the abused buds. A moan escapes her throat, and fresh tears well up in her eyes as her hands go up to cover her breasts, cradling them protectively against the pain.
“Shh,” I soothe, leaning down to kiss her. Her lips taste salty from her tears, and a tiny flame of arousal reignites within me. My cock, now flaccid, twitches, her pain and tears turning me on despite my extreme satiation. I’m not up for round two quite yet, though, and instead of deepening the kiss, I reluctantly lift my head and gaze down at her.
She stares up at me, her eyes slightly unfocused, and I know she’s still recovering from the intensity of the experience I put her through. In this moment, she’s utterly defenseless, both mind and body unshielded, and I use her weakened state to press my advantage. “Tell me how you feel now,” I murmur, raising one hand to tenderly caress her jaw. “Tell me, baby.”
She closes her eyes, and I see a single tear roll down her cheek. “I feel . . . empty and full at the same time, destroyed, yet replenished,” she whispers, her words barely audible. “I feel like you shredded me into pieces and then remade those pieces into something else, something that’s no longer me . . . something that belongs to you . . .”
“Yes.” I absorb her words hungrily. “And what else?”
She opens her eyes, meeting my gaze, and I see a strange sort of hopelessness etched into her face. “And I love you,” she says quietly. “I love you even though I see you for what you are—even though I know what you’re doing to me. I love you because I’m no longer capable of not loving you . . . because you’re now part of me, for better or for worse.”
I hold her gaze, the dark empty corners of my soul sucking in her words like a desert plant takes in water. Her love may not be freely given, but it’s mine. It will always be mine. “And you are part of me, Nora,” I admit, my voice low and unusually hoarse. This is the closest I can come to telling her how much she means to me, how deep my longing for her runs. “I hope you know that, my pet.”
And before she can respond, I kiss her again, then slide my arms under her body, pick her up, and carry her to the bathroom to wash up.
Chapter 19
Nora
The week before Julian’s departure is bittersweet. I still have not entirely forgiven him for the forced tracker implants—or for the bracelet embedded with yet another tracker he made me start wearing a couple of days later. Nevertheless, ever since Julian’s words that evening, I’ve been feeling infinitely better.
I know what he said is not exactly a declaration of undying love, but from a man like Julian, it might as well be. Ana is right: Julian lost everyone who has ever mattered to him. Everyone except me, that is. The fact that he clings to me with such brutal possessiveness may be overwhelming at times, but it’s also an indication of his feelings.
His love for me is wrong and perverse in many ways, but it’s no less real because of that.
Of course, knowing this makes my fear for Julian’s safety on the upcoming trip even more intense. As his departure time approaches, my joy over his confession fades, and anxiety takes its place.
I don’t want Julian to leave. Every time I think of him going on this mission, I’m gripped by a suffocating sense of dread. I know there is an irrational component to my fear, but that doesn’t lessen it in any way. Aside from the very real danger Julian will face, I’m simply afraid to be alone. We’ve spent so little time apart in the past couple of months that the thought of being without him for even a few days makes me feel deeply stressed and uneasy.
It doesn’t help that I have exams and papers galore, or that my parents have been steadily pressuring me to come for a visit—something that Julian won’t allow until the Al-Quadar threat is fully contained.
“You can’t leave the estate, but they can come visit us here if you’d like,” he tells me during shooting practice one afternoon. “I would advise against it, though. Right now your parents are more or less off the radar, but the more contact I appear to have with your family, the more danger they’ll be in. It’s up to you, though. Just say the word, and I’ll send a plane for them.”
“No, that’s okay,” I say hastily. “I don’t want to draw any unnecessary attention to
them.” And raising my gun, I start shooting at the beer cans on the far edge of the field, letting the now-familiar jolt of the weapon take away some of my frustration.
I realized that my parents are in danger a couple of days after we came to the estate. To my relief, Julian told me that he’d already put a discreet security detail on them—highly trained bodyguards whose job is to protect my family while letting them go about their lives. The alternative, he explained, is to bring them to the estate with us—a solution that my parents rejected as soon as I brought it up.
“What? We’re not moving to Colombia to live with an illegal arms dealer!” my dad exclaimed when I told him about the potential danger. “Who does that bastard think he is? I just got a new job—not to mention, we can’t leave all of our friends and relatives!”
And that was as far as that got. I can’t say I blame my parents for not wanting to move halfway across the world to be with me in my abductor’s compound. They’re still young, both in their early forties, and they’ve always led active, busy lives. My dad plays lacrosse nearly every weekend, and my mom has a group of girlfriends who get together for wine and gossip on a regular basis. My parents are also still very much in love with each other, with my dad constantly surprising my mom with little gifts of flowers, chocolate, or a dinner out. Growing up, I had no doubt that they both loved me, but I also knew that I wasn’t the absolute epicenter of their lives.
No, if what Julian says is true—and I’m inclined to trust him on this—it’s best if my parents don’t appear to have too close of a connection to the Esguerra organization.
Their ability to lead a normal life depends on it.
* * *
On the night before Julian is scheduled to leave, I ask Ana to prepare a special dinner for us. I recently discovered that Julian has a weakness for tiramisu, so that is our dessert for tonight. For the main course, Ana makes lasagna the same way that Julian’s mother used to make it. The housekeeper told me it was his favorite dish when he was a boy.
