Kris stared at his face. His expression was hard, determined, and for a moment she considered leaving the office immediately. She had always known this man was part of the Daniel Stone she had loved—indeed, in a different mixture, it was part of the insane attraction she had towards him, but for the moment she would have given almost anything to have been anywhere else.
And yet she felt compelled. She could not explain it. It was something akin to that old complex within her, when she had been tied up and beaten by her father so many years before. It was not entirely that she was unwilling, but certainly her reluctance was visible in her limbs as she slowly bent over the desk and raised her skirt. Her thighs were still rather pale, but as the dark fabric of her hem was lifted ever higher, so some of the fading marks across her buttocks where he had chastised her before became visible, disappearing lines upon each cheek that framed the narrow line of her thong.
Her breasts pressed upon the desk, not looking at Daniel for the moment, she reached behind her and hooked her thumb into her knickers, pulling them down. When she had come to her mid thigh, Daniel intervened and placed his hand against hers, indicating that she should stop.
“Spread your legs apart a little,” he commanded. “And stay there.”
She did as she was told, feeling his tall body behind her. She was trembling a little now, more in anger at him than anything like fear. She knew what was coming. Her treacherous body was also shaking in anticipation of it, lust, the flower of her sex unfurling a little.
His hand landed with a savage, heavy blow across her buttocks. Damn! That was hard, and she was used to being well used in their games. He meant this!
From behind her, Daniel pulled back his hand and looked down with satisfaction at her posterior, gazing with cruel delight at the red imprint of his palm and fingers. He drew back his arm again, feeling his biceps tense, and then he let his hand fall again, striking her as hard as she could so that she cried out. So what if they could hear her outside? He wanted them all—every last one of them—to know that she was owned.
Another blow, and then another. God! That hurt! thought Kris as he slapped her again and again. She had tried first of all to ignore the humiliation of this, not to give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out, but a mixture of pain and her own, damn body not being in her control meant that she could not keep to her resolve. As such, her cries of pain were mingled with moans of pleasure as she felt her vulva opening up, the droplets of her own juices starting to form on her lips down there.
She was sure that everyone outside could hear everything—and she was sure what would be coming next. All her colleagues, all her co-workers would know that she had been spanked and fucked in the office, and that she had not put up an iota of resistance. Feebly, she lifted one hand back but Daniel grabbed it and held it down tightly against the desk as he slapped her again and again. Fuck! That was really hurting! Her buttocks were so sensitive now, and when his fingers flicked against her pussy it made her tremble with filthy delight.
She didn’t look back at him when he stopped. She couldn’t look back at him. Part of her wanted to cry, but more of her wanted him to fucking get on with it and fuck her. If he was going to humiliate her like this, if he wanted her to submit so completely, then let him just do it. She knew that she could stop him—all she needed to do was say one word—but the truth was that her own flower of evil wanted to be humiliated, wanted to be punished.
Her buttocks were burning red, the blood raised to the surface as he stood in place behind her. She could feel his cock resting on her buttocks, and her arms came forward, grasping the edges of the desk as she prepared for the final assault, breasts pressed down against the hard, wooden surface, the unforgiving desk. He could have taken her anally at that point—it was what she was expecting, what she wanted even, but instead he grabbed hold of her hair, dragging up her head, making her back arch as he placed the head of his massive erection against her vulva.
Pushing in, she was so wet that he slid into her easily. For all that she had not wanted this at first, the sensation of him stretching her brought on her first orgasm, and he rode her hard, slamming into her body so that her hips were hurt as she bounced against the edge of the desk. She could feel him hitting the neck of her womb, and the weirdness of that sensation, as forceful as it was, made her howl now. She no longer cared. All that mattered now was him filling her, fucking her.
She orgasmed a second time when he ejaculated inside her, and as he slid out she rather hastily pulled herself to one side of him, pulling up her knickers and adjusting her skirt without looking at him. When she did raise her eyes, she was angry—he, on the other hand, was flushed with lust and vitality.
“Just what I needed,” he gasped triumphantly. Then, almost as though he had only just noticed her anger, he said dismissively: “What? You could have stopped me any time. All you needed to do was say the word. You wanted it, you know you did.” The last was almost a sneer.
“God, you are such a fucking one percenter sometimes,” she hissed, for the first time since she had known him her face becoming an ugly mask. “Yes, I wanted it. I’ve always wanted it from you.” With this, she slapped him, hard, across his scarred face and turned immediately.
She felt sticky down there, a mess that was congealing and now utterly unappealing. Her disgust with herself gave her renewed strength as she walked away from him, pausing by the doorway and facing him.
“I guess you’re so used to getting what you want, just taking it when and where you need it,” she said, her voice cool now, channelling and focussing her anger, “that you forget what it’s like for the rest of us. Yes, I’ve always wanted you, Daniel. But if it’s going to be like this... I’m not sure for how much longer.”
His face was aghast, genuinely astonished as she walked out on him. She ignored the stares of everyone outside the room as she slammed the door behind her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Oh God, yes! Please! Fuck me!”
His arms were around her, pinning her own slender limbs to her chest, refusing to allow her to move. She could feel his hot breath on her back but, contrary to her plea, he held himself still, not moving the slightest.
“Please, sir! Please!”
Her cry was pathetic, but it was a pathos from the soul—a blind need.
It had taken them several days to return to something approaching the order of things as they had been before. Both of them realised, in their sullen, unforgiving way, that they had come close to the abyss, that it would take only the slightest push for them to fall over the edge and drift away in silence.
With one hand he grasped her face, twisting her jaw towards his so that he could kiss her. She was stretched, almost painfully, both in her spine and down there, but still she let her tongue fall from her mouth, half licking his face as she hunted his hungry mouth.
She had always been aware of his arrogance, that within him was a man far uglier than the scars that he bore on his face. But she had forgotten the possibility that he would return, had become complacent in her security. He for his part had been utterly surprised by her stubbornness and felt it a betrayal of their agreement. He had given her so much, and this was how she repaid him!
“Please! Fuck me... master...” She breathed the word, then whimpered as he shifted slightly. She was provoking him, daring him to push her down and ravish her there on the bed. Instead his clasped her more tightly in one arm while the fingers of his other hand groped for her mouth, pushing between her lips, forcing their way into her so that she sucked and then bit down on him, hard.
“I did it for you, don’t you bloody understand?”
“No, you didn’t Daniel!” It was rare for her to let her voice be raised in anger, but now she could not—would not—hold back. “You did it for yourself!”
“How dare you say that! After all that I’ve done.”
“And all of it was also for yourself, because that’s what you do. You’re a goddamn fucking m
aster of the universe!”
“Yes! Oh God!” At last he was starting to move, sliding himself further into her anus, stretching her, hurting her gently. She tried to pull her hands, to reach down to her opening slit and finger herself while he sodomised her, but that was not allowed—not yet.
The arguments had been furious, and she saw his genuine shock. It had been so long since anyone had ever spoken to him like this. Had anyone ever done so before? She was sure that was the case—after all, he had hardly been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. This was a man who had struggled and fought to lift himself up, and perhaps he and Karen had argued, fought each other. Nonetheless, she realised that now this was something he would not—could not—tolerate. It was only a matter of time before they parted forever.
Her voice was inarticulate now, whimpers as he began to fuck her slowly. He was gentle, certainly, but the thickness of that shaft inside her inevitably hurt her a little. It wasn’t like it had first been when he had taken her anally, but still it was the sign of her submission, of her willingness to let him dominate her.
She had relented first. In the end, she did not mind so much. She realised that his pride formed more of an armour about her than any she had ever experienced, one daily reinforced by his dealings with all those people who only saw a rich, confident, self-satisfied man. He had once told her he was not the kind to say sorry and so, realising that if she made no other move it would soon be finished between them, she had given herself to him.
In any case, her own anger had passed. Daniel may have mistaken his own selfishness for an altruistic act, but he did also believe that this had been his motive. And so it was, one morning, that she came to him while he was in the gym, lying back on the bench, his arms slowly rising and falling as he lifted the huge weights across the bar, his face red and perspiration lining his brow.
She tried to struggle as he held her wrists easily in one of his large hands. This excited him more, as did her violence against his fingers in her mouth. Her slender legs were parted, and he could bounce her easily in his lap, shifting and moving her slight body against his muscular one as he dominated her anally.
He had not seen her that morning when she stood in the gym, and she watched him admiringly, sadly. She could not do without him, that was the unfortunate truth for her. She was dressed in one of his shirts, and as he continued his presses she had crossed to him, waiting for him to spot her and place the weights back into the rest.
She was wearing nothing beneath the shirt. When she drew out his cock, it was already growing hard, and she kissed and made the end of him wet before applying some of her own spittle to her anus. As she pushed herself down onto him, concentrating and grunting in slight discomfort, she made sure that her sex was methodical and functional. This was a sign, a testimony—a contract, even—rather than an act of passion. He could have all of her, but she had to give it him: he could not simply take it.
And so, since that morning two days before, they had fucked again and again, he sodomising her repeatedly, dominating her ass, she willingly submitting. She was sore now, very sore, but that was nothing. The pain inside her was gone. Now he was her master, it was as simple as that.
More than this, however, he refused to allow her to orgasm. She could not cum, at least through vaginal stimulation, until he permitted it, as now. Holding her, tying her arms, he refused again and again to let her touch herself, nor did he kiss her down there, pleasure her orally, nor even insert a finger inside her while he took her anally.
Strangely, this gave her sometimes intense climaxes simply through being buggered, a fact which surprised her as indeed the feelings in her body shocked her. And then, when he did at last allow her to masturbate, her nimble fingers entering her vagina, rubbing her clitoris furiously, then she experienced such powerful sensations that she had at least once blacked out completely.
“Please, sir! Please, let me cum... I need... to... Oh, God!”
He had finally let go of her hands, and she let one fall immediately to her sex while the other raised to his strong jaw, holding him as she half turned her head to his, almost ate him in a comedic parody of feasting. He, meanwhile, placed one of his large hands over hers as she fingered herself, slowing her movements, controlling them. He had given her permission to cum, but still he controlled it—and the heat and pressure of his hand, pushing her own palm against her pubis as her sphincter was stretched by his thickness, proved too much. When her last orgasm came, she screamed, literally, her body shuddering, her small feet rotating and twitching in almost painful, cramp-filled spasms.
It hurt her, and it was good.
She did not know how long she had been lying there. He had ejaculated deep inside her then lay behind her on the bed, her body curled into the soft, warm crook of his torso and legs, one of his strong arms around her. She had drifted in and out of sleep, her chest covered in beads of sweat, her nipples still hard. She could smell herself, could smell him, animal and warm. She was content at last.
When she woke properly, she saw him sitting beside her, looking down at her tenderly. His hands were moving slowly across her hair, stroking her, and he was leaning beside her. As she lifted her head, she noticed something.
“It’s for you,” he said, gesturing to the long, slim box that was beside his one hand on the bed.
Slowly, she lifted herself up and sat on the end of the bed. She ached—she ached thoroughly, deeply, and it was a sensation that she had not enjoyed with Daniel anywhere near enough before the past two days. It was as though some of the passion that they had experienced at Comrie but which neither of them had fully dared to commit to again had returned.
She smiled weakly at him as he passed the box. The cover was blue, almost satiny, and soft in her hands. It was loose from the lower part of the box, and she lifted it easily. When she saw what was inside, she wanted to cry.
The necklace was long and elegant, comprised of silver or platinum links that ended in a series of five clasps, each one holding a sapphire, deep and blue. The bottom pendant was the largest stone that she had ever seen in real life, but each of the other four were, she realised a veritable treasure in their own right.
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
He nodded. “I had meant to give it to you before. It felt wrong to buy you off with a gift like this, but I wanted you to have it—and if it does mean that now, by giving it to you, I am also saying I’m sorry, well...” His words drifted away.
She nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Tears were welling up in her eyes, and so as she looked at the necklace in the dim glow of the bedroom’s lights, it seemed to sparkle and become even more incandescent.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
It was less the thing itself, beautiful as it was, than what it signified. She realised that she held in her hands a thing of more wealth than she had ever known. In her acidic mood only days before, she would have seen it as a token to buy her back, to purchase her soul. But now she understood it how Daniel meant it: she was the pearl of great price, and he would give up all he had for her. Yes, he was an arrogant, selfish bastard, but even at his most egotistical she realised that he wanted her, wanted her more than anyone else.
He insisted she try it on immediately—but this time his insistence was not an imperious command, rather the enthusiasm and eagerness of a lover to see the object of his desire transformed.
Kris let him gently take the necklace, place it around her neck as she leaned forward, lifting her hair with her hand. He kissed her softly on the nape, then fixed together the clasp. The stones and their setting were cool rather than cold against her skin, and they hung between her breasts, magnificent and shining.
He helped her stand, her body shaking as he guided her to the mirror. She looked at herself. Perspiration still speckled her torso, and her shoulders and neck was marbled with a heat rash that had prickled her skin as her orgasm built up. Her hair was ragged and tousled, and her unmade face appeared unworthy of the
craftsmanship that descended to her cleavage.
And yet, when she looked across from herself to Daniel, she saw the intense desire, the softness in his eyes as he placed his hands on her shoulders. She raised one of her own hands to his, enjoying its warmth as she grasped and squeezed it.
She was his, and he was hers.
Chapter Twenty-Four
When the plane landed in Lisbon International Airport, Kris was glad to see bright blue skies overhead. In London, the autumn weather was turning to rain but further south the weather was still more like a late summer.
Daniel was still somewhat cross that the airline did not provide a proper first class service, even for a two and a half hour flight. He had wished to travel by private jet, but in this instance Kris had insisted that business class was fine as she was still not completely sure of the ostentation associated with Daniel Stone’s lifestyle. She sometimes wondered whether her reaction was, in part, something superstitious—a refusal to give herself up completely to that lifestyle in case it disappeared entirely. As such, she preferred to keep at least a small part of herself fixed to the ground, even if the rest of her was beginning to fly so high with Daniel.
Such concerns were very distant today, however, as she landed in Lisbon. Even had she been there alone she would have been filled with intense excitement. It had been too long since she had been in the city, and despite the various promises that a visit to the Chiado operations were imminent there had been a number of interruptions and obstacles that had placed themselves in the intervening period.
Daniel had wished to travel immediately to an apartment that he owned in Cascais, approximately half an hour’s drive from the outskirts of the city on the Atlantic coast, but Kris had virtually pleaded with him to stay for at least a few nights in the centre of Lisbon itself.
Fractured Crystal: Sapphires and Submission Page 20
