by Vonna Harper
She felt so helpless, at his mercy, her body utterly exposed.
Alive. Damn, damn alive.
He crouched and unfastened his sandals and kicked them to a corner. When he started in on the zipper, her mouth filled with moisture. The task completed, he pulled the garment down over his hips. Whimpering under her breath, she clamped her legs together.
It was going to happen. She just didn’t know when.
He wore white briefs that caressed his non-existent belly, buttocks, hips and, most important, his cock. The way he went about dispensing with his clothes confused her. This was no striptease, no erotic unveiling. He simply didn’t want to be dressed anymore.
His cock. Big and hard. A spear at her. Dark balls surrounded by a dusting of hair.
Long before she could handle seeing him naked, he stepped away from the discarded garments and headed, not toward her, but back to the bed. He cradled his cock yet seemed barely aware of it.
What kind of man is he?
She swallowed, but her mouth again filled with saliva. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard if she could see what he was doing, but she had only his back to stare at as he sorted through the items on the bed.
Chapter Sixteen
Her captor had taken her to a spot far from their clans. He’d waited until night to further ensure that no one would intervene. With the moon guiding him, he’d strung her up to a tree branch and gagged her by forcing rope into her mouth and tying it tightly.
“You’re my slave,” he told her as he cut a switch from a nearby tree. “Your people pray I’ll free you and return you to them, but that isn’t going to happen. You belong to me. I can do whatever I want, turn you into what I need.”
He wrapped rope around her waist and between her legs, cinching it so it dug into her labia and captured her clit. Ignoring her whimpers, he started slapping her breasts. When she tried to turn from him, he clamped hold of one breast, easily holding her in place. Open-handed blows pummeled her other breast. Then he switched his hold and repeated the process until she hung with her eyes closed and head back.
“You’re a sexual creature,” he said. “That’s your downfall and what ensures my power over you.
Despite drowning in sensation, she tried to shake her head. He pulled the rope out of her mouth, grasped her jaw until she had no choice but to acknowledge him and tightened the crotch rope.
“Don’t. Please don’t!” she begged, but he gave her just a momentary respite before slapping her pussy.
This time she didn’t say anything, felt nothing except for the sexual attack. He repeatedly focused on her crotch, watching her the whole time. Her body was aflame, his prisoner. She cried, not from pain or fear, even, but because she couldn’t stop him. She was his. Everything was about his power and control and her weakness.
Her helplessness.
She returned his gaze. Everything was about her body—her helpless and aroused body.
Yes, aroused. Caught in desire and need.
Desperate to have the crotch rope gone and his fingers in its place.
His cock inside her.
* * * *
“The storm,” the man she’d been calling Master said. “I don’t understand it.”
With an effort, she shut down her fantasy and returned to the here and now. She wasn’t in the middle of a jungle, after all, but inside a cabin built for sexual pleasure.
“Don’t understand it?” she asked. “What do you mean?”
He studied her as if he had no idea what she was talking about. She thought about trying to explain, but he had hold of another leather strap and was swinging it back and forth. This one appeared more substantial than what he’d used on her.
Instead of putting it to use, he dropped it on the floor at her feet and went back to the bed. When he returned, he was carrying a large black vibrator. He aimed it at her sex.
“What—?” she started, then decided to let things play out. One thing she had no doubt of, he intended to place it inside her. Fortunately, she was well-lubricated.
“You know what you’re supposed to do, slave.”
She had two choices. She could either spread her legs or clamp them together. No matter what she decided, the end result would be the same. Judging by his tight hold on the dildo, he was impatient. He wanted to do what he wanted to do and she’d better comply.
Her breasts were so damn sensitive, and having her arms secured over her head had taken her far from the woman she’d been when she’d first learned about MSDB.
“You’re supposed to ask what I want,” she stalled. “You haven’t done that.”
He shrugged, pressed the dildo against her belly and turned it on. A sweet buzzing sensation chased over her. A great deal of the energy settled between her legs. The vibrator was in charge, compelling her to do what she could do to try to increase her pleasure.
Resenting Master’s easy command of her, she widened her stance.
“More. This isn’t a damn game.”
Then what was it? Trepidation slammed against sexual heat. Almost of their own will, her legs closed an inch, then another.
“No, damn it!” With the vibrator still buzzing against her flesh, he ground a thumb into the inside of her left thigh. She gave way before his assault, cursing under her breath as she again widened her stance.
He said nothing about her compliance pleasing him. In fact, once again, he seemed barely aware of her as a separate human being. Maybe he disassociated himself from the ‘clients’ so he could concentrate on his dominant role, but maybe something else was working on him—something associated with the storm.
“You were given to me,” he said as he took the tool on a slow journey to her pussy. “As both a gift and a test.”
“Who are you talking about?” she risked asking. Now wasn’t the time to remind him of the contract she’d signed. It didn’t matter to him.
“I don’t know. Some—something.”
That made no sense, had nothing to do with what she believed BDSM was about. Much as she needed to get through to him, he wasn’t in a place she could reach. If he hurt her she’d scream and cry and pray her reactions would reach him.
Not hurt, not now.
She looked down past her trapped breasts, hoping to see, as well as feel, the instrument now centered against her. The rapid-fire humming radiated over her pussy lips and she sighed in anticipation. She couldn’t stop him. No matter what she said or did, if he wanted to place the tool inside her it would happen.
She wanted the same thing.
He seemed to take forever getting it into position for insertion. No matter that she sank down as best she could, in an effort to bring her sex closer to the tool, the same slow march continued.
“Not fair. Oh, God, this isn’t fair.” Casting caution to the wind, she shook her breasts at him. All that accomplished was to make the chain jiggle. In the past, it had hurt whenever the chain moved but now, and maybe because she was so caught up in needing to be plugged, discomfort became something else.
Something good.
Fascinated, she again shook her upper body, while keeping the rest of her open and still for him. She felt like laughing, like proclaiming herself the winner because she’d found a way to enhance her pleasure.
“I know what you’re doing.” He slapped her belly. “You think you’ve taken things into your own hands. Time to demonstrate how wrong you are.”
Concern nibbled at her, but it came in a poor second to the delicious warmth radiating to all parts of her. She kept on shaking herself.
He slapped her again. “You’re going to regret that.”
Still lost in sensation, she locked her gaze on him. He was beautiful, amazingly male, all naked strength, maybe aware of nothing except her and his use for her.
He reached between her legs and separated her labia. When her opening was exposed to his satisfaction, he inserted the vibrator. It pounded her inner walls, invading and breaking her down.
Desperate to have s
ome say in what was happening, she yanked at her bonds, but her arms remained over her head. Clamps still claimed her nipples and her thigh muscles burned from the splayed position. Even more all-consuming than the other sensations was how the battery-powered hard plastic felt as he guided it into her. It was eating her, taking her inch by inch, diving deep. With every second that passed, she became more aware of the vibrations. They lapped at her vagina, that so-vulnerable part of her.
“Not fair,” she whimpered, while doing nothing to try to expel the invader. “Not the hell fair.”
“I know.”
Was there a hint of humanity in his words? As he pressed his hand over her pussy to keep the vibrator inside her, she strained to read his expression, but she’d lost too much of the ability to concentrate.
All about sex. Everything geared to—what?
“Legs together.” He pressed his palm against the vibrator’s base. “Keep it inside you.”
She could do that. Wasn’t she already panting and digging her toes into the floor as relentless movement took her closer to that delicious edge? Only one part of her body mattered. Even Master became unimportant.
He stepped back as she erased the space between her legs. Her thighs touched and she focused on not letting the invader slide out. It wasn’t easy, because her channel was so slippery. Between that and gravity, she was forced to squeeze until her thigh muscles trembled. Having a job, this job, to do took her focus from her impending climax. He was putting her through what might’ve been an exercise in futility for her and an excuse for him to punish her, but she couldn’t see any way out.
The vibrations hammering at her senses were everything, a reason for living.
Despite her effort, the vibrator slipped out just a little. Startled, she again looked down at herself then up at the naked man watching with his arms folded over his chest and his expression remote.
“It’s going—I can’t help it.” She indicated her crotch. “It won’t stay in.”
“I gave you your orders. Don’t defy me.”
Defiance had nothing to do with losing her hold on the toy. Maybe if he shut it down. Only she desperately needed this to continue.
“Help me, please,” she begged. “You can—if you want it to stay there you’ll have to secure it.”
“Don’t tell me what I have to do.”
His voice was low, too low. Soft, but with steel behind it. Despite her turmoil, she should try to make sense of what was taking place inside him. One thing she knew, he didn’t like being commanded—and not just by her.
Instead of trying to convince him that hadn’t been her intention, she tightened her thigh muscles even more. The vibrator stopped withdrawing, but that would last only as long as she held out. The burning in her legs was so intense now. Much longer and it would become everything.
“Master, please.” She again jerked her head at her pussy. “I don’t want to anger you but—”
“You’ll pay for it if you do.”
With another beating. She didn’t need him to spell anything out for her to understand. She was his pet, his animal, his slave, all those things and more. As such, he could do whatever he wanted to her.
He studied her a little longer then picked up the leather strap. His gaze hard on her, he forced his free hand between her legs and shoved the vibrator back into her. She shuddered when he snaked the strap around her thighs and tightened it so her legs were jammed together.
“I’ve been putting off the true test.” He fiddled with something. The vibrations increased. “This is high.”
With the tool attacking her like a dog shaking a toy, she couldn’t focus on anything else. Besides, why should she try? She was being fucked. The vibrator lacked the warmth and life of a cock, but her pussy didn’t care. The strap around her thighs kept the invader deep within her. As long as the batteries held out, she’d remain in its grip.
After watching her shake and stare for a while, Master went back to the bed. She tried to see what he was after but her nerves demanded so much from her. This felt so damn good.
Overwhelming, exhausting and full of messages about helplessness.
“What are—how long—?” She stared at his spine, his buttocks, willing him to acknowledge her. “What is the point of…?”
She was drenched in sweat and gasping with every breath by the time he faced her again. Acknowledging what his cock represented should have distracted her from the never-ending stimulation, but she couldn’t break free. Why didn’t he tell her how to wrench back control, damn it? Maybe he thought this was funny, but he was wrong. She couldn’t make the movements stop and now dreaded being kept in suspended ecstasy and agony.
“Please,” she whimpered. “Please. I’ll— What do you want me to do? Anything. Anything.” She wrenched her body to the left then to the right but found no escape.
“You don’t get it, do you? There’s nothing you can do. I’m in charge.”
Chapter Seventeen
He was holding a whip. Why hadn’t she noticed it before?
Suddenly, she felt as if she were drowning. The mindless part of her that responded to pleasure and discomfort kept dancing to the tune of the batteries locked inside her, but the thin, flexible switch took hold of her brain.
He was going to hurt her with it.
“Why?” She couldn’t do more than whisper. “What have I done to deserve—?”
“You came here because you wanted to experience life as a sub, remember? You’re getting what you wanted, so don’t the hell complain.”
He had it all wrong. No way could she survive the extremes of stimulation. She frowned when he snapped his fingers. Then he did it again and comprehension replaced confusion. He wanted her to stand still, expected her to obey as a well-trained dog would.
Turning from side to side had kept the forced stimulation from overwhelming her. Now, as she shivered in place, she acknowledged that a new emotion had come into play. She was afraid, not of the pain as much as her inability to handle everything he meted out.
“Time to change things up a bit.” He extended his hand toward her breasts. “To see how you handle this.”
He didn’t care about her comfort. If he did, she wouldn’t have been strung up the way she was. She’d been handed over to a man without an ounce of humanity in him. A Master who thought of himself as a conquering warrior and she his helpless hostage.
His slave in every sense of the word.
All those thoughts and more passed through her in the time it took him to close a thumb and forefinger over the screw that kept the clamp locked on her nipple. Her pussy throbbed and her clit ached, threatening to distract her from what Master was doing.
Master, she acknowledged once again. The man who ruled every part of her existence.
Studying her, he loosened the screw and drew the clamp off her. Blood rushed back into her nipple.
“That—hurts so.” She stared at her now purple flesh. If only she could’ve rolled into a ball and protected herself there.
He roughly massaged her breast. “That’s the point.”
She wanted to tell him he had it wrong. Nipple clamps had been designed for sexual pleasure, but he was talking about what he expected from the exercise. By the time he’d finished fingering her flesh, the pins and needles sensation was all but gone. She closed her eyes as he reached for her other breast and tried to go somewhere in her mind. Her attempt to distract herself didn’t work.
“Hurt,” she said as he released the clamp. “You hurt me.”
He slapped her cheek. “Don’t take off on me. I want you here.” He slapped her other cheek. Neither blow was hard, just enough to get her attention.
Eyes wide open, she suffered through the stinging in her nipple until she could breathe without gasping. If he was pleased with her ability to handle pain, he gave no indication. Now that that experience was behind her, she wondered when he’d again command her breasts. Maybe he had other clamps at his disposal, perhaps a gold set with
a heavier chain and weights to hang from it or the clamps themselves.
Maybe he’d parade her before the other Doms here—or make her stand in front of the members of her tribe or clan with proof of his mastery imbedded in her flesh.
He might even brand her or pierce her nipples and fasten rings through the holes he’d created.
Teach her what it meant to be owned.
Wondering if he could guess what she was thinking, she blinked. He still held the whip.
“I mentioned this before,” he said. “I’m not interested in belaboring the point. All you need to do is remember that under the right conditions and with the right Dom doing the work, there’s an unbreakable link between pleasure and pain. The two become one in your mind. Either, or both, will reach you.”
He started whipping her. The slender lash laid down lines of fire over her torso. She tugged on her bonds and tried to kick him, but he’d done an expert job of restraining her. Whether she stood flat-footed or rose onto her toes made no difference. She couldn’t lower her arms or get out of his reach. The leather now biting into her thighs held her. She wasn’t going anywhere.
Neither could she take herself beyond the whipping. No matter how hard she tried to return to the simple world where two primitive societies fought over water rights, she couldn’t. During those too-brief moments when the lash didn’t sting her buttocks, breasts or belly, she imagined herself trudging naked behind her mounted Master, her wrists connected by rope to a saddle horn. The primitive human was taking her to a place her people didn’t know about. As the conquering warrior, he rode. As his slave, she walked.
The whip sharply kissed the top of one breast, followed by the other and pulled her back to the room. For too long, there was nothing to her except trying to endure. Then what was taking place between her legs became paramount.
Slave to passion.
Slave to passion.
It didn’t matter where or even if she’d heard that before or how purple the prose. For her, now, it was real.
