Nice: A Dark Christmas Duet book 1

by Vivian Murdoch

  Groaning, I thrash about in my bonds. I don't even know what to think at the moment. Maybe if I'm lucky, this is all just a vodka-induced dream. That must be it. Letting my breathing settle into a more normal pattern, I relax into my restraints and contemplate the situation in front of me.

  If I'm calm, perhaps the dream will go on, and I'll wake up sooner than if I fight it. I haven't done anything but struggle since I "woke up," perhaps it's time to try something else. My deep breaths fill my lungs and steady my heart. I alternate inhaling and holding in order to settle the panic back down and lull my heart into a normal cadence.

  The deeper I breathe, the more the snake coils until I'm fighting for every gasp. Dots of light swirl before my eyes, and my stomach flops about as I free fall into unconsciousness. Before I can go completely under, the snake lets go, and I can breathe deeply. Gulping in precious oxygen, I keep my mind busy with rational thoughts. Surely my brain will get bored of this game sooner or later.

  As the world rights itself, the snake coils again until I'm back on the brink of slipping back over. Countless times, over and over, I'm brought to the very edge of consciousness, only to be flung back into the present. Tears continue to drip from my eyes as I try desperately to hold onto some semblance of calm and thought. I can only go through so many lists, alphabetize so many cities, before I'm once again confronted with the nightmare in front of me.

  "She can't take much more Master. I fear you'll break her if you continue."

  My eyes dart about again at the sudden noise. If I could just see something, anything, that would be better than this. My eyes have adjusted to the dim of the room, but all it manages to do is reveal furniture and items that I have no comprehension for. Perhaps the ropes, chains, and various implements on the wall are not as sinister as they seem? Perhaps my brain is just reliving a horror movie I once saw and then put out of my mind? That's the only logical conclusion for where there would be whips, paddles, and sundry items hanging all around me. The furniture looks like something from a torture chamber. Perhaps I saw similar items in a museum?

  My mind keeps whirling about, trying to hold onto the feeble notion of this being a dream. The only thing that keeps me grounded is the rhythmic squeezing and releasing of my own personal torture danger noodle. The fact that the motions are unrelenting puts me in a weird sense of ease and comfort. It's the only thing solid and steady in my mind.

  "Oh, I'll break her all right."

  That magical voice growls softly against my ear. The small wisp of breath stirs my hair and makes me tremble. I toss my head over to the side, hoping to catch even a glimpse of my tormentor, but no. He's lightning fast and stays just out of eye level.

  "Master I -."

  "Leave us."

  The two voices argue back and forth, their separate cadences pinging from across the room, the echoes filling the small chamber.

  "I don't-."

  "NOW!"

  My body quakes as the voice next to me roars. Absurdly, my brain goes back to my favorite fairytale. Is this how the beast sounded when Belle refused his commands? I shiver, both from cold and anticipation. My mind conjures up my version of a sexy beast, hell bent on taming me to his will.

  Definitely proof that this is a dream. No way in hell would I be lusting after a fictional character if my life were truly in danger. Settling back down, I resume my breathing pattern. The snake seems to falter for a bit, but quickly resumes its duties. The tighter it coils, the more undone I become. Arousal fills my body, making my skin tight and hot. I feel flushed even though the room is an icebox.

  "You are a naughty girl. Aren't you?"

  That maddening voice is now at the opposite side of my face. I hold myself motionless. Perhaps if I don't engage, my dream phantom will eventually show itself. I do know one thing though; I'm never touching alcohol again: even if there's promise of a voice full of sin.

  "I can smell how turned on you are. Is it the lack of oxygen I wonder?"

  Coils tighten suddenly, and I'm left gasping and choking. The whole rhythm is off, and I don’t have a chance to prepare. A jolt of fear stabs me. I long to claw at the snake about my neck but being held immobile is only adding to the hysteria rising inside of me. I fucking want this dream to end. I'm through letting myself be terrorized.

  I open my mouth to scream and am instantly invaded by a set of fingers. My breath arrests in my throat as the fingers wiggle about. The further they inch in, the closer I come to throwing up. I typically gag on my toothbrush. No way these fingers aren't triggering it. Tears swim in my eyes again, clouding any chance of seeing the mystery invader. This is getting old. I just want to wake up and be done with. I dig my nails into my palms. Surely this will work. I hear about it all the time. If I can't pinch myself, any sort of pain should do, right?

  The fingers in my mouth change up their rhythm so that they drag down across my tongue then jab back towards my throat. I swallow, trying to keep the nausea at bay. The tears start to pour in earnest, stinging my eyes and adding yet another layer of discomfort. I dig down hard. Shards of pain flow from my palms down my arms, but nothing. Nothing changes. The fingers keep their maddening dance. In, out, in, out. As uncomfortable as it feels to my throat, somewhere much lower takes notice of the distinct rhythm. My hips shift up and down, begging this stranger to change where he's thrusting. Maybe he won't notice. Shame burns my cheeks as I hump the air, desperate for release.

  A low chuckle permeates the room. "That's right my little reprobate. Get wet for me."

  I twist about, trying to free my face from his fingers. I even try pushing against them with my tongue, but to no avail. They just keep assaulting me, over and over. Whimpering, I shake my head, seeing if that will dislodge him. Instead of what I hope for, his other hand pinches my nose, holding me still against the table. With a strong thrust, he slides his fingers all the way down until they are deeply lodged in my throat. I gag hard around the intrusion, my whole body bowing up against the table. He releases my nose and draws back his fingers, letting me have a small reprieve. I gasp for breath for a few moments, only to find the intense need to swallow.

  Refusing to think about my actions, I wrap my lips around the fingers and suck hard, trying to swallow everything in my mouth. This ordeal is mortifying enough without adding drool to the mix. The sinful voice groans long and loud next to my ear. If I wasn't turned on before, I sure as hell am now. Not that I'm super experienced, but none of the men I've been with ever sounded this aroused before. And that's just with me sucking on his fingers. Closing my eyes, I let my tongue dance around his fingertips, noting how his breathing becomes raspy and hard against my cheek. I suck again and am rewarded by a muttered curse.

  "Now then, minx. I will not have you turn my head with your naughty mouth."

  He withdraws his fingers and already I feel a keen sense of loss. Yep. Definitely a dream. No rational person would be okay with having a stranger use their mouth like that, then want to beg for more. My thoughts race through my brain. When the hell did I start to like stuff like this? Or is it the man? Has to be because it's a dream. No way this would be as sexy if it were real life. A sharp sting to my pussy interrupts the train of thought. Ow. That fucking hurt. Oh god! My eyes fly open and I lock my gaze with a set of ice blue blazing eyes. This is most certainly real.

  The snake uncoils from my throat and I thrash about, gripping at my bonds in earnest. I must get out of here. I can't go down without a fight. Movement from the corner of my eye startles me and I stop for a moment. Is that a fucking tail? I follow the tip down the length where it connects to the man standing over me. Based on what I'm seeing, he's completely naked. Thank God the table is covering him. I'm already trying to come to grips with a tail, I don't need a dick making an appearance as well. A small measure of relief fills me. Though a tail is super freaky, it's not a snake, and I can live with that. Snap the fuck out of it Caitlin. Since when is a tail not a deal breaker? Shoring up my courage, I stare the man down.

&
nbsp; "What the fuck are you?"

  "I'm your perdition."

  He steps back from the table just a fraction, still not enough to expose himself, but enough that I can see his rippling abs. Swallowing, I follow them up his built frame and go back to his eyes. They stare down at me, and I feel even more exposed than I already am. He looks so familiar. There's something about him that teases the edge of my memories, but then again, I'd remember someone with a tail, wouldn't I? Think. Think! He's staring deep down into my soul. I shake my head and glare up at him.

  "I want to wake up now."

  He chuckles before lowering his hand on my thigh. It feels warm and solid. Real. Gulping, I keep looking at his eyes, trying to ignore the soft movements of his fingers as they skim my heated flesh.

  "For your sake, I wish this were a dream. But I assure you, I am very very real."

  Walking away from the table, he turns his back to me as he studies the various items hanging on the wall. From where I'm lying, I get an awesome view of his tight, sculpted ass and thick, muscly thighs. He looks real. The light sends shadows dipping over the curves, highlighting some areas and conceal others. When has a dream of mine ever been this detailed? My heart races, my breathing comes in gasps. Wake up Caitlin. Wake the fuck up! You can do it.

  He turns back to me, a long rod with a square tip in his hands. His eyes scan the thing he's holding before looking back at me, a wicked smile curling his lips up. Tipping my eyes up further, I spy two sets of horns. Fuck. I've died and gone to hell.

  Groaning, I lay my head back and consider my options. One, it's a dream, and I will wake up. Two, it's a coma, and I might never wake up. Three, I'm dead and there's no hope for me. None of those odds sound good to my brain. There must be a fourth option. That or someone will find me and wake me up. A lance of sadness pierces my heart. Who would find me? I live alone. I have for most of my life.

  "Come now. It won't be all that bad. I'll punish you, set you on the right path, and get you back home in time for Christmas."

  I snort, not even caring if I'm rude or not. "Okay, Satan. Sure, lie to me like that. We both know you're not letting me go."

  He gets an odd look on his face as he stares at me. Did I get it right? After a moment, he smiles and swishes the item about before smacking it against his palm a few times. The thunderous crack fills the room and makes me flinch.

  "I have to let you go." His voice is thick with some unnamed emotion. "As much as I would like to keep you as mine, you have to go."

  My heart thumps hard in my chest. Swallowing, I watch him as he circles the table, implement swishing in the air. I twitch with every whoosh. Will he hurt me? I worry my bottom lip with my teeth. But I haven't done anything wrong. He speaks of punishment, but why? Why me? I quiver with fear and anticipation as he steps even closer. Closing his eyes, he tips his nose up and inhales deeply before looking back at me and smiling.

  "You do like this, don't you, naughty girl."

  I shake my head rapidly.

  Tsking, he rests the square piece against my cheek before tapping it a few times. "Liars get their own special punishments. I was hoping to spare you that one, but you leave me no choice."

  "I'm not lying!" I shriek. How could anyone be turned on by this?”

  "You really want to add to it?" His thick eyebrow raises as he pins me with a disapproving glare.

  "Prove it." I stick out my lower lip into a pout. If I'm going to get punished, he better come at me with more than just pretty words.

  "Fine. Open your mouth and stick out your tongue."

  I shake my head and keep my mouth firmly closed. Leaning over, his strong fingers grip my jaw in his implacable grip.

  "I will not ask you again. Obey me or face the consequences."

  My stomach flips about at his firm words, and I squirm about on the table. He removes his fingers and I open my mouth. He's probably going to stick his fingers in me again. I close my eyes and start breathing and preemptively willing myself not to gag. What I'm not expecting is the explosion of pain on my pussy. In a rapid, agonizing staccato, he smacks his tool against me, the wet, lewd sounds, filling the air. I whimper but keep my mouth open and tongue out. The pain is bad enough without making it worse. He brings it up and drags it across my tongue, smearing some sort of essence across me.

  "That would be the proof of your arousal, my dear. Now then."

  He reaches over and fiddles with something at the side of the table to lift it up vertical. Blood drains from my head and leaves me a touch dizzy, but that's nothing compared to the ache developing in my shoulders as gravity works on me. He backs away and waves his hand about. Several more candles light up, putting the room in a bit better view. Moisture drains from my mouth as I take in where he has me. I was right about the whips and chains, but somehow seeing it clearer doesn't help matters any.

  My stomach churns with a mixture of both fear and arousal. At this point, it's like opposite heads of the same coin. He wasn't wrong about me being turned on. I just didn't think he'd call my bluff. Unfortunately, I'm starting to discover that nothing seems to escape him. I'm not well-versed at being sneaky, and I can't believe I even tried.

  He steps into the center of the room and turns around, allowing me to see him in his entirety for the first time. Dear God, but he's gorgeous. I take a quick glance, skimming over his large, prominent bit, standing at attention. Nothing good would come of staring at that. The fact that he's so aroused by me, or at least I hope by me, turns my insides into liquid heat. I trail my gaze up his abs and settle on his face.

  He's so freaking familiar. I strain against the haze in my memories. It's almost there. He smirks as I stare him down, and it finally clicks.

  "Oh god. You're the candy cane blow job guy."

  His smirk widens before he bows down with a flourish. "That I am. Though I would have held out for more." He turns back to the wall and starts rummaging through some things. Looking over his shoulder, he tosses me a sympathetic look. "At least ten or something. If you're going to sell yourself, might as well not do it for cheap."

  Shame burns in my gut like acid. Yeah. Not one of my proudest moments. Yet another reason to not take another drink. I obviously can't control myself.

  "Is that why you're punishing me? Do you punish all women that come on to you?"

  For a moment, the room is silent. I can't even hear his breathing. He reaches up and grabs some chain and turns to face me.

  "If it were just that, then there'd be no punishment. In fact, I'd probably take you somewhere and fuck you into oblivion. However." He brings up a band of metal to my neck. "You're not here because of a questionable proposition." With one hand, he pulls back my hair, with the other, he brings the metal and encircles it around my throat. The coolness contrasts his hot fingers, sending chills down my spine.

  "Some part of you must know that."

  Opening his hand, he lets the chain fall. Each link brushes my skin on its journey. God. Even chains are hot now? I look down at my crotch and scowl. It got me into this mess, and now everything he does just seems to amp me up even further. He drops down to his knees and unbuckles my ankles. Now's my chance to break free! Perhaps if I can incapacitate him, whoever was in the room will hear me screaming and rescue me. He certainly sounded like a voice of reason. I wait patiently until both ankles are unbound.

  He stands up and grazes my cheek with his fingers. Drawing in a large breath, I pull up on my arms, ignoring the searing pain ripping through my shoulders. I have to live. If I rip my arms out of my sockets, so be it. With a loud roar, I plant my feet against his chest and push with all my might.

  Shock is clearly etched on his face as he stumbles back into the rack of stuff behind him. He stays down, and I let myself relax for just a moment. My shoulders scream at me, but he's down! And I'm still alive. A loud groan snaps me back to the kidnapper. Fuck.

  His lips twist up into a feral grin as he stalks his way closer. Blind panic zips through my body, filling me with adrenalin
e. Pulling back up, I twist about and flail my legs towards him, anything to keep him from getting any closer. However, he just bats them away until he's able to grab firmly onto my ankles.

  With a quick flick of his arms, he's spread my legs out and wedged himself in between my hips. His body is holding me up, effectively pinning me against the table. Though my arms cry out in gratitude, my body keeps twisting and turning. With a flick of his wrist, he tosses the length of chain over my shoulder. The metal clangs against the back of the table like a death knell.

  "That's right, love," he growls against my ear. "Impale yourself on me."

  His deft fingers grip my hips firmly, painfully even, as he lifts me up higher against the table. I try to twist out of his grasp, but every movement makes him clamp down even harder. Once I'm high enough, he holds me in place with one arm and slides his other hand down my stomach and over my mound, pausing for a brief second at my clit.

  That small brush of his finger ignites a fire in me that I never thought possible before. I throw my head back and grit my teeth. I’m determined not to let him see that he's having any effect on me. His chuckles fill my ears, try as I might to block it out. I toss my head back and forth, silently begging for an end to this torment. He bends my hips up a little more, opening me up completely. My thighs quiver with the exertions to close them back again. Soon, he starts rocking his hips, dragging his heavy erection up and down my core, pausing to let his plump head nudge against my clit.

  Whimpers claw at the back of my throat, but I stay silent. I can't give in. I can't let him win. He chuckles again and switches his angle, this time letting his head slide just barely into my entrance, only to drag it back up for him to slap it softly against my clit.

  "Well," he growls, teasing every inch of me. "Are you going to ride me?"