His Voice, His Command

by Vonna Harper

A sticky hand pressed against the base of her throat. He lowered her arms. With his help, she straightened. Unable to so much as think about closing her legs, she turned and stared up at him. His features remained in shadow almost as if the room had a hand in keeping the mystery going.

  “It’s time for you to think of me as Master. And for your next lesson to begin.”

  Chapter Two

  What lesson? When he lightly massaged her shoulders and then reached into a front pocket, she blinked repeatedly until things came back into focus. Thank goodness, her head had stopped pounding. Unfortunately, she couldn’t think how to put an end to the fire in her cunt. Maybe if he freed her and gave her back her clothes.

  Instead of doing those things, he tied her wrists together. After giving her the better part of a minute to get used to the new restraints, he released the rope around her elbows.

  “Ah!” she blurted as circulation was restored.

  “What did you say?” A hand closed over the breast closest to him.

  “I’m sorry, Master. I didn’t mean—”

  “I’m certain you didn’t.” Sarcasm laced his words. “Believe me, we’re going to work on that with me teaching and you learning. Now, onto the lessons.”

  When he pinched her nipple, she staggered back a half step. A deep grunt was her only sign that he’d noted how nearly impossible it was for her to move. The pressure on her nipple continued, halfway between pleasure and pain and sensation.

  When pleasure-pain threatened to overload her system, she tried to turn away from him, but he held on.

  “A woman’s body is both her greatest asset and liability.” He sounded like a professor delivering a lesson. “A man has one sexual organ, but everything about a woman—an attractive one like you—is designed to stimulate and be stimulated.”

  Even though she wasn’t sure she agreed with him, what did it matter? This lesson, in addition to the ones he’d already delivered, had been designed with one thing at the forefront—her awareness of her body.

  Sensation encompassed not just her trapped nipple but everything from her throat to her waist. And if she was being honest with herself, whatever she was experiencing reached all the way to her feet. Everything was connected. From breast to pussy, she was an electrical current, an erupting volcano, a bomb about to go off.

  “What am I?” he demanded as he drew her breast to the side, forcing her to turn with him. Her breast stretched out, and she felt the strain in her chest wall.

  “You’re my master, Master!”

  “Say it again.” He lifted, bringing her onto her toes.

  “Master, Master!”

  “That’s better. More conviction in it this time.” Although he let her down, he didn’t relinquish his grip. “I like to see meaningful progress over a short period.”

  When he released her nipple and crouched next to her, she stared down at him, trying to time his every breath. Unbuckling her heels, he lifted one foot at a time. With his help, she stepped out of the miserable things. Her skirt came next, followed by her pantyhose. Convinced he’d waste no time getting her out of her panties, she pondered what she’d do and how she’d feel, but he left the bit of yellow cloth around her ankles.

  He slowly stood up, fingertips and palms running over her calves, knees, thighs and finally her flanks. She sighed, then sighed again. Shivers ran through her. She smelled herself.

  Even before he was fully upright, he slid a hand back between her legs and swept it over her sex lips. Head falling back, she rose onto her toes. Trembled. Waited. Wanted.

  “Maybe you’d like your shoes back.” Pressure against her lips prevented her from settling down. “But then maybe you prefer I help you assume the position. Which is it, slave, which?”

  Pressure. His hand hard and strong and hot against her labia. Buttocks clenching and thigh muscles quivering.

  “Which?” he repeated.

  “What? I—Master, what do you want me to say?”

  “Maybe nothing,” he told her and slipped free.

  After making sure she was watching, he ran his hand under her nose, leaving cunt juice in his wake. “Smell yourself, slave. Know what I’ve done to you.”

  The scent of her crotch killed the last of her awareness of the incense. Then he wiped his hand against her cheek.

  “Another thing about an aroused woman’s body. It’s messy. Tell me, slave. How do you feel about that?”

  Both ashamed and proud of what her body was capable of, she breathed. Tried to think.

  “I asked you a question.” He flicked a finger against the nipple he’d left alone up to now. “What do you think of your body?”

  “It’s, ah, complex.”

  “Hmm. I want you to carefully listen to what I’m going to tell you because the way you handle yourself in the next couple of minutes will determine how you feel much later. I’ll start by ensuring that you don’t make the mistake of trying to run. While I’m doing what I need to, you will not move a muscle.”

  Submit. To everything he does to my body. “Yes, Master.”

  “Good.”

  Once more he reached into a front pocket. Again a length of nearly white rope emerged. He could have used what had been around her elbows but maybe he wanted her to think about all the ways he could control her.

  When he crouched next to her, she gave fleeting thought to putting up resistance, but didn’t. Besides, his fingers against her calves took an incredible amount of attention. Her career called for not just standing on her own two feet but occasionally becoming the ballsy woman. There was nothing ballsy about her right now, nothing liberated.

  Soft strand after soft strand encircled her ankles. With each turn, her comprehension of the word slave increased. She was naked and helpless, trapped in a locked room with a man who knew things about her she might never.

  When he stood and stepped back, she looked down at what he’d done. He’d tied her so her feet were separated by several inches. Although she couldn’t take more than mincing steps, as long as she was careful, she wouldn’t fall.

  “Thank you, Master.”

  “Did I give you permission to speak?”

  About to admit he hadn’t and beg forgiveness, she clenched her teeth. She could learn from previous transgressions, she could!

  “You have a great deal to learn. Some of it is my responsibility because obviously I haven’t made the lessons clear enough. However, I know how to remedy that.”

  How?

  He slapped her left breast and then the right, not hard but quick blows, making them sting. Sucking in her breath, she bowed her back. Undeterred by her pitiful attempt to put distance between them, he slapped her again. Fiery sparks traveled up her breasts to invade her throat before reaching her spine.

  “Ah, ah.”

  Instead of ordering her to be silent, he cupped his hands under both breasts and lifted. Knocked off balance by the unexpected gentle contact, she stared down at herself and then up at him. His hair was dark and thick, his eyebrows so bushy they dominated that part of his face. She couldn’t tell what color his eyes were.

  “Like that, do you? Having my hands on you like this.”

  Love. Need. “Do I have permission to speak, Master?”

  A hint of a smile, the first she recalled seeing from him, gentled his fierce features and cracked a door to another side to the man who’d stormed through her world. “As long as all you do is answer my question, yes, you do.”

  Concentrate, somehow. “I don’t know what I’m feeling. So many sensations, so much to try to keep track of.”

  “Keeping track is important to you, is it?”

  “Yes, oh god yes.”

  Muttering something she didn’t catch, he released her breasts. Desperate for the possessive and blatantly sexual contact, she leaned toward him only to straighten to keep from losing her balance. If he stepped away, she’d have no choice but to wait for his return. Somehow she’d have to deal with her hot-to-be-touched body.

  “
Progress,” he said after a silence of maybe a half minute. “You’re showing more potential than I expected.”

  Much as she wanted to know what he was talking about, she kept her mouth closed and her head tilted toward him. Under his dark clothing, he was magnificent, her body had just told her so. Of all the men to come into her life since she’d stepped into adulthood, none had come close to impacting her the way he did. A stranger, hardly.

  And yet she didn’t know his name.

  “Potential is a good thing as long as a person knows how to build on it, which I do.”

  Another spark spiraled through her born of anticipation and fear. Burying herself in both sensations, she blinked back unexpected tears.

  “You’re not sure what I’m talking about, and that has you concerned,” he continued. “However, all you need to understand is that your existence now revolves around me and what I decide to do to you. Think about that. You can’t move. You’re naked. This is my space, and you’re locked inside it. Whatever my impulses or plans, you have no choice but to go along with them. That’s disconcerting, frightening, and exciting all at the same time.”

  Lost in the hypnotic tones, she nodded. Arching her back, she presented her breasts as best she could to him. She strained to widen her stance, not stopping until the ropes dug into her ankles.

  “You’re getting there,” he observed and folded his arms across a chest that didn’t need any more attention drawn to it.

  Touch me, please! “Yes. Damn it, yes!”

  “What was that you said?”

  “You heard me.” Beyond fighting her arousal, she swayed from side to side, trying to offer her breasts to him as she did. “You’re a bastard, a damnable bastard.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yes!” He was just out of reach, teasing her with his presence. “This damnable game of yours has gone on long enough! What is it—you get your kicks out of turning me on?”

  “You think I get off on—”

  “Of course I do!” Every inch of her body felt as if she were standing in front of a furnace going full blast. Moisture leaked from her pussy, some of it already tracking down her inner thighs. Arching toward him, she held the position as long as her back allowed. “My breasts, touch them. Slap them. Something. Anything.”

  “A little abuse will do it for you? You won’t need anything else?”

  When he dropped his arms at his sides, she followed the curve of his fingers, noting the considerable bulge in his pants. So she’d been wrong when she’d thought only she had been bitten by sexual energy. “You know the answer to that,” she whispered. Now that she’d acknowledged his cock, she couldn’t take her gaze off it. “I surrender. You’ve won.”

  “I won a long time ago,” he said and stepped back into her personal space. “Not that I doubted I would.”

  Reaching up and behind her, he took a fistful of the hair she’d had cut and styled just yesterday. She didn’t care what he did to it, just that he was touching her again.

  When he pulled back and forced her to look at the ceiling, her thoughts sank down until she was aware of only one thing—his thighs heating her side. She had no words left in her.

  Then he cupped his free hand over her throat and her knees went out from under her. If he hadn’t released her hair and slipped his arm around her back, she would have collapsed. Beyond caring whether he saw her tears, she sagged toward him. He stood his ground, one hand still covering her throat, the other embracing her.

  Her bare flesh against his shirt and pants reminded her of the contrast between them. Whoever she’d been when she walked in here no longer existed. A naked whore who cared only that her captor bury his cock in her waiting hole had taken that civilized woman’s place.

  Because of what he’d done to her, she could only wait.

  Want.

  Revealing no hint of the mood that had propelled him to pinch and then slap her breasts, he helped her stand erect. Then he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off the floor. A moment later she was draped over his shoulder with her head hanging down and her legs brushing his chest and belly. She didn’t care where he was taking them. Only his hand caressing her buttocks mattered. After a few steps, he stopped and repositioned her higher on his shoulder. Then he easily worked his hand between her thighs. Drinking in air, she forced herself to remain still.

  Oh god, his hand, on the move! Again fingering her labia! A fingertip found her clit.

  “Please, please, please.”

  “Please what?”

  Don’t speak! Show some pride, some self determination!

  Oh no! A finger at her entrance, easily swirling around it despite her now locked-together legs. Pushing in and then retreating, playing with her, going a little deeper with each exploration.

  “Oh god. Damn it, damn!”

  “What do you want, slave? Say it.”

  Slave. Fighting the word, she ground her teeth with such strength that her jaw ached. The distraction worked, a little, until he brought a second finger into play. Spreading her. Invading. Milking her and forcing gasped curses from her.

  “Say what you want. Be honest, slave.”

  “You, damn it! You!”

  “What about me?”

  Two fingers rested inside her. Other than what might be involuntary twitches on his part, they lay still.

  Promising.

  “I want you. Need. . .”

  “Of your free will?”

  If there’d been room in her for more than one emotion, she would have laughed because her body was anything but free.

  “Please. Fuck me.”

  “No doubts?”

  “Now, damn it, now!”

  When he leaned forward and she started to slide off his shoulder, the only thing that mattered was that his fingers had slipped out of her pussy. Before she could do more than clutch her sex muscles, her feet were on the carpet and he’d grabbed her bound wrists and was lifting them, forcing her forward. She bent deeply in mindless surrender. Her head touched something, prompting her to turn it to the side.

  Soft. Sweet smelling. The bed. He’d bent her over the bed.

  On the realization that her ass was within easy reach of him, she struggled against the rope around her ankles.

  “Easy,” he muttered. “Just let it happen.”

  “It?” She couldn’t see him, but with his hand still holding onto her wrists and something, maybe his thighs, pressing against her buttocks, she didn’t care.

  “Fucking. It’s what you want, right?”

  Earlier he’d commanded her to be quiet and she’d been unable to obey. Now she’d show him that she’d learned her lesson. Let her body speak for her.

  To her shock, the pressure on her ass disappeared. Then she heard the sound of a zipper. Embracing the animal she’d become, she wiggled her buttocks at him. Grunting, he lightly slapped them.

  When she could put her mind to the task, she resettled her breasts on the bedspread so her weight no longer squashed them.

  His hands, rough and strong and sure, spread her ass cheeks.

  “Now! Now, damn it!”

  “I thought you weren’t going to say anything.”

  “Now, please.”

  The instant his cock pressed against her pussy, her mouth sagged open. Her eyes were somewhere between open and closed, unfocused. The pressure on her sex increased. She started panting.

  More. Male power slipping past her entrance and finding what his fingers had caressed a few minutes ago. The ropes embraced and grounded her, and when he again lifted her arms, she swam in sensations born of helplessness and hunger. This man, this nameless man had control of every inch of her being. Even more overwhelming, he’d worked his cock into her. She expected him to begin pummeling her with his greater strength. Instead, he held his thrusts to slow and controlled advances and retreats.

  Snippets of past climaxes backed up in her memory, each begging for a piece of her mind. She had no more chance of stopping her captor than she
could steer a vehicle on an icy road, and in her helplessness she found a new layer. A level of being she hadn’t known she possessed.

  She belonged to him. He owned her, controlled her in every way. This was his room, his bed, his ropes, and most of all his body.

  Yes! Bury your cock in me. Power into and through me. Set me on fire. Make my thighs and arms burn. Lay claim to my pussy.

  His thrusts became deeper, took longer. Each time he threw his strength at her, he drove her further onto the bed. Her breasts were being lightly abraded as was her cheek. Whenever she tried to lift her body off the coverlet, he pushed her arms higher, effortlessly keeping her in place.

  Keeping her his.

  She’d called him Master, not because he’d compelled her to after all, but because she’d known what he was to her, and with his hot and hard mass invading every inch of her pussy, she was drowning in him. He’d become relentless and powerful, a male animal with one goal. One pussy to claim.

  “That’s it, that’s it, that’s it.”

  Surrounded by his voice, she lost all interest in anything else. She’d gifted him with her pussy, and he’d stormed the offering. Relentless, he laid ownership, not just to her cunt but her entire body.

  “Take me, damn it. Oh god, take me. Kill me!”

  “Kill?” He slammed into her with such force that he lifted her feet off the carpet.

  “Yes! Damn it, yes! Now.”

  There were blanks in her, instants when she had no idea what had happened. Maybe she’d already climaxed, but if she had, why was her body gathering itself? Lifting high and whirling in circles.

  She started screaming, but if there were words behind the sounds, she couldn’t make sense of them. Her pussy spasmed and repeatedly clutched her Master’s cock. His hot bulk inside her became everything. Her world. She wanted him in her forever, wanted the hard burning sparks to continue until she passed out.

  “Shit, shit-shit-shit.”

  His fingers clutched her buttocks as he slammed into her one more time, making her slide forward again but not out of his reach. Even as her cunt jerked and claimed, she acknowledged his ownership of her. Embraced it. And when his hot, wet heat swamped her, she bit the coverlet and twisted her head to the side.