by Sabrina York
He opened the package and ripped off a strip with his teeth. “I like that you got super-strength duct tape, Bella. That was a good choice. Now hold still.”
She did. She sat there on the cold seat, buck-naked except for her socks, trying not to wince as he leaned closer. She shut her eyes. Tight.
They flew open again as something scraped at her nipple. She looked down to see him rolling the tape over her nub. It adhered and stuck and then, when he tugged, it gently pulled at her tender flesh.
A whimper, unbidden, escaped her. This wasn’t what she’d expected him to do with the tape. It was an odd sensation, like an alien tongue, sticky and harsh and rasping. He continued this sweet torture for a long while—she had the sense he enjoyed it—and then, when the tape lost its stickiness, when the tension it created was no longer potent enough for his wicked purpose, he tossed that strip away and pulled off another.
And he began again.
Chapter Five
It wasn’t until she was weeping and sighing and wriggling and smearing cream all over his nice leather seats that he stopped.
He ripped off two fresh pieces and slapped them over her nipples, rubbing them hard to make sure the adhesive took. “Get out of the truck.”
As she levered herself out, horrifyingly aware of her nudity in the garage—a place she’d never been naked, for heaven’s sake—he came around to meet her.
He jostled her breasts. “How does that feel?”
Awful. Wonderful. Weird. “I can feel it pulling whenever I move.”
“Good. I want you to be aware of your nipples. How sensitive they are. Do you like it?”
She nibbled on her lower lip. “Yes.” Lord, yes. It was torment, but delicious torment. The constant play of the adhesive on her sensitized tips was already driving her to distraction.
“Are you ready to go into the house?”
She nodded. Her skin prickled with goose bumps. She wasn’t entirely sure if it was the chill in the air or the heat coursing through her body. Probably a bit of both.
“Okay. Turn around.”
She obeyed and then flinched because she heard the rip of duct tape once more. Lordy. What was he going to do with that?
“Put your elbows behind your back.”
She hesitated.
“Do it, Bella.”
The movement, the stretching of her arms, caused her breasts to rise, made the tape tug—ever so gently—on her nipples. She sobbed but that didn’t stop him. He bound her elbows together, locking them firmly behind her back.
She wriggled, testing the bonds, making her bare breasts bobble, making her ache. There was no hope of escape.
Then again, she didn’t really want to escape.
“There we go.” He studied her. She could tell by the dark glint in his eye, the tight planes of his cheeks, he liked what he saw—her breasts high, arms bound behind her, her bare, dripping muff.
He stroked her cheek then made his way over her chest, across her belly and to her pussy. But he didn’t touch her there. When she murmured in protest, he grinned. It was a feral grin.
“Later, darling,” he whispered.
He grabbed the bag of hardware, dropped the duct tape into it and led her up the stairs, into the house. Bella was mortified. She was naked, bound and prancing through her kitchen. Thank God he didn’t lead her into the living room, where all the drapes were wide open. Instead, he headed down the hall to the bedroom.
Yes. The bedroom. She was ready for the bedroom. So ready. Slickness coated her thighs. He would notice it too when he touched her there.
Then he’d fuck her.
But he didn’t fuck her. At least not just then. He didn’t even put her on the bed. Instead, he pulled the ladder chair out from the desk and set her on it, lifting her arms over the back.
He dumped the shopping bag out on the bed and took his time arranging the items there, the pliers—oh, now they made her shudder—the hammer, the Velcro, the rope, the paintbrush.
What on earth was he going to do?
Oh.
Hell.
He’d found the duct tape again. Without a word, he yanked on it. Bella winced at the screeching sound it made. Tae grinned and walked toward her, holding out a long, sticky length. He wrapped the strip around her waist, strapping her tightly to the chair. Taping her to the chair.
She would have bellowed in outrage but she knew better. As it was, the sound that came out was a wordless mewl. He toyed with her nipples and brushed a finger lightly over her clit.
“Mmm.” From the thrum of his voice, she knew he’d discovered her wetness. He knelt before her until they were eye to eye. “Bella, I want you to look at these items, honey. I want you to think about them. And imagine what I’m going to do with them. Okay?”
She nodded. Hell. She’d already been doing that and her mind was awhirl.
He kissed her and stood. “I’ll be right back.”
She broke her silence then. A strangled peep. “What? Where are you going?” He was leaving her here? Like this?
He patted her cheek. “Just to unload the truck. I’ll be right back.”
When he left, he shut the door, shutting her in with those hardware-store items. They mocked her there on the bed. She glared at them. Her imagination seethed.
She could hear him coming and going from the garage, the occasional clank and thud as he brought items in and moved things around. She had no idea what he was doing but she was pretty sure most of the activity was taking place in the basement.
In his man cave.
She tried not to roll her eyes at the thought. If that was what this was all about—the opportunity to add yet another sophomoric feature to his playpen—she’d kill him. As time passed, her anger, her impatience rose.
She must have been sitting there, in the chair, naked except for her socks and her duct-tape pasties, for an hour at least. Surely that was enough time to unload a stupid tr—
The door opened.
Her heart lurched.
Tae stood there, lean and hard, framed in the opening. Bella bit her lip to keep in a moan at the shot of lust the sight of him engendered.
He stepped into the room and tossed the two-by-four on the bed. She noticed he’d drilled two holes in it, not far from each end.
What was that for? She couldn’t bear to imagine.
“How are you doing?” His voice floated toward her, warm and deep.
She put out a lip. “Terrible.”
“Really?” He stepped closer. Concern flitted across his brow. “Are you okay?”
“Of course I’m okay. I’m just bored out of my mind.”
“Bored?” His lips quirked. “Well. We don’t want that, do we?”
She wriggled against her bonds, but not very much because each movement, each breath made her nipples burn. “Get me out of this chair.”
“Okay.” To her surprise, he stepped behind her and ripped off the duct tape holding her to the chair, as well as the tape holding her elbows together.
But before she could leap up, he caught her wrists and held them in front of her. She watched in horror as he looped fresh tape around them.
Okay. Maybe it wasn’t horror, exactly.
“Stand up.”
She did and instinctively glanced back at the chair. A telltale damp spot stained the cushion.
He saw it and chuckled. “Poor baby. And it’s only just begun.”
“What?” What had only just begun?
Tae didn’t elaborate. He led her to the bed and helped her recline then lifted her arms. He looped a length of tape around her wrists and through the wood slats of the headboard, securing her there with only a little wiggle room.
And oh, she wiggled.
“Hold still.” A sharp smack to her ass accompanied the command.
She stopped flailing on the bed to glare at him, then yanked at her bonds. Damn it. It was super-strength duct tape. It didn’t budge.
Tae didn’t even notice her glare. He was b
usy at the foot of the bed, riffling through his supplies. He pulled out the coil of thin-gauge rope.
Her heart leapt into her throat as he threaded one end of the rope through the hole in the two-by-four and wrapped it around her knee. He did the same with the other and before she knew it, she was lying on her back on the bed with her hands bound to the headboard and her knees forced apart on either side of a fat piece of wood. Her pussy was completely exposed.
“There. Test that.” Tae’s wide grin dared her to break free. She tried. Oh, how she tried. But she couldn’t.
His grin broadened. When he turned his attention to that pile of tools, tools she’d been obsessing about for an hour, she tracked his every move. Her eyes widened when he picked up the paintbrush.
Not her first thought. But given the choices, probably the most palatable option.
Then again, that was before he started painting her with it.
It was a stiff-bristle brush, made for industrial work, not gentle in the least. He drew it over her exposed flesh in deft, agonizing strokes. And those were just the ones at the bottom of her feet. She was gasping and writhing and pleading before he even reached her ankle.
“I love watching you squirm,” he said, bringing the brush up her leg to the back of her knee—that made her snarl and hiss invectives at him, but he just chuckled and continued.
When he came to her pussy—her sopping, aching, hungry pussy—he swept over it with a light caress. She screamed and thrust toward it but the brush danced away, up her belly and over her ribs to her nipples.
Ah. He remembered her nipples then. He set down the brush and peeled the tape back. Bella hissed as the adhesive tugged at her. He played with it, pulling it up and settling it back again and again, his attention fixed on her expression. As he worked her nipples, he toyed with her slit, sending rivulets of rapture sluicing through her.
She arched her hips toward him in a silent plea.
Naturally, he stopped.
As she lay there gasping and glowering, he bent his head and gave her a big, wet kiss. “I’ll be back,” he said. “You be good.”
And he left her again.
* * * * *
This time she was even more miserable because he had taken her horniness and nudged it from arousal to pure lust. She lay there on the bed with her nipples pulsing, her clit thrumming, her pussy aching for release.
Again, she heard him puttering around in the kitchen, stomping down to the basement, moving things around in the garage. And she lay there, legs wide, weeping.
She managed to flip over—even though in this position the tape around her wrists really pinched—and was in the process of bringing herself to orgasm by rubbing her clit hard against the harsh twill fabric of the bedspread when he came into the room again.
And oh, was he annoyed.
He gave her several swift swats on her bottom until he realized she liked them, that they pressed her clit even harder and with more force against a delicious landscape. He huffed a frustrated breath, lifted her up and shoved a fat pillow under her belly.
He took great care to make sure she couldn’t reach the pillow with her pussy, couldn’t rub against it in a lustful frenzy. And it lifted her high enough off the bed so she couldn’t return to her delightful pursuit.
Damn it. She’d been so close.
Once he was satisfied with this new position, he smacked her ass again, several times in succession. He leaned closer and whispered into her ear, “No coming, Bella.”
“Tae. I can’t stand it,” she growled. “Please. Let me go.”
“Sorry, darling. Can’t do that. I need to prepare you for tonight.”
She froze. “Tonight?”
“Mmm hmm.” He was rustling around at the bottom of the bed again. Now that she was on her belly, she couldn’t see what he was doing but she was sure she wouldn’t like it.
“What’s tonight?”
He didn’t answer right away. He was focused on something and… Holy hell. She felt it. Prodding between her legs. She wiggled her ass, trying to avoid it—whatever it was.
He smacked her again. “Hold still, sweetheart.”
The thing, whatever it was, entered her s lowly, gently, easing up, easing in. She shuddered as she realized what it was. What it had to be. The handle of the hammer. Sliding into her pussy.
Hard. Thick. In. She undulated against it and he chuckled and slipped it out. When he put it in again, it was only a bit. Only an inch or two. Just enough to make her crazy.
“Don’t wiggle too much, honey. Or it will fall out.”
Bella groaned. What she wanted more than anything was to fuck herself on that fat rod. But if she moved, if she tried to push it deeper, she’d lose it. She was forced to lie there, on her belly, with a nice thick stick in her pussy—and not move.
She was going to lose her mind.
Tae stood up and the bed bobbled with the movement. Her dildo bobbled too. Slipped a tad.
She clenched it and cried out, “Fuck me. Please, Tae, fuck me.”
He hunkered by the head of the bed and looked into her eyes. “I like when you beg.”
“Then fuck me!”
He stroked her cheek. His gentleness devastated her. “Not tonight, babe.”
“What?”
He shook his head. “Not tonight. Tonight’s for teasing.”
Tears of frustration streamed down her cheeks. “I don’t want to be teased.”
“Ah, Bella. Of course you do. You want to be tied up and you want to be tormented. You want me to bring you to the edge again and again. And tonight you’ll get your wish.”
“Tae. Please.”
He cupped her ass, a warm, brief pass. But he said nothing more and left her again.
The hammer slipped out the first time she moved. She was far too wet to keep it in.
* * * * *
The next time he returned, the room was dark. Bella had no idea how much time had passed but her body was soft and weepy. The desperation had drifted from her hunger but lust still sat in her belly like a rock.
He didn’t say a word as he turned her over, carefully repositioning the two-by-four firmly between her knees. He tut-tutted when he saw the hammer lying on the bedspread but he didn’t slip it back in.
Instead, he lay on the bed beside her and began to play with her. She was elated, excited, thrilled—until she remembered what he’d said. He wasn’t going to let her come. Not tonight.
He was here to tantalize her. To draw the tether tight, to ratchet up her arousal and her hunger and her agony…and then stop. Just stop.
She wasn’t happy about it in the least, so each touch met resistance. Petulance.
Which he ignored. Tae was, above all things, a stubborn, determined man. It was one of the things she’d loved about him, right from the start. Once he made up his mind, he stuck to it.
Tonight, however, she wished he would relent. Just a little.
But he didn’t. He stoked her passion, nibbling and nuzzling all those places that made her quiver and moan. The places that made beads of sweat pop out on her forehead. The places that made fire run through her veins like a molten river.
Before long, he had fanned the flames of her arousal once more. Before long, she was restless and twisting and pleading again. When he kissed her belly, she tried to spread her legs ever farther. She couldn’t. As his mouth neared her pussy, she moaned.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please.”
His tongue was like a slick snake slithering up her slit. He caressed her from her asshole to the rise of her clit. But he didn’t lick that blooming bud. Didn’t graze it. Didn’t so much as breathe on it.
If he had, she would have come. She was that close.
And he knew it.
He sighed and kissed her thigh then lapped at the cream there. She thought he would keep on lapping, lap on up to that nest of nerves in the crux of her being that wept for his attention.
He didn’t. He sat up instead and reached for ye
t another tool of torment.
Something cold touched her swollen nipple then nipped at it.
The wrench. With serrated teeth.
She froze, staring at the sight of her nipple swathed in thick tape, between the grip of those evil, evil teeth.
He closed on it again and tugged. Gently.
Something flew through her. It could have been a raging fear or a raging arousal, or maybe even the hint of that elusive orgasm. She wasn’t sure. But it was an exquisite release.
She sighed and pressed her breasts up, up toward the pleasure, into the pain.
But Tae had become bored. He tossed the wrench away and hunkered over her. A thrill skirled through her. She was naked. Open. He was over her. How easy would it be for him to yank off his jeans, to slip in? Just slip in…
“Tae, baby,” she whispered. “I’m dying.”
“I know.” His breath was hot on her cheek. “I’m dying too. We’re almost there.”
There? Almost where? “Just fuck me, baby. Just put it in and fuck me.”
“Not yet.” He kissed her. “Be patient.”
Be patient?
Hell.
* * * * *
The next time he came, he took her to the bathroom—she really needed to go at that point—and brought her food. It was her favorite snack—a grilled cheese sandwich. It was her favorite because it was the only thing she could make without burning down the kitchen. That he had thought of her, of her hunger, made her glow.
But she didn’t want to show him that. Didn’t want to show him complete compliance. Not yet.
He encouraged her to eat, warning that she would need her strength later.
She believed him. She’d be a fool not to.
He fed her with his fingers and then wiped the greasy digits on her belly. She would have complained but then he licked her clean, letting his tongue linger in places that made her gasp and twitch.
And again, once again, he brought her to the brink of climax and left her teetering on its edge.
Chapter Six
He left her again but didn’t let her suffer long. When he returned, he untied her from the bed—but left her wrists bound together—and released her legs from their bondage. It was a relief to bring her thighs together, to press them together until her clit pinged. She was so incredibly aroused, she could barely stand it.
