by Linnea May
“That’s a good girl,” he says behind me, only fueling my arousal with his praise.
He starts fucking me, slowly at first, my ached shrieks accompanying every thrusting motion, before I start egging him on. I squirm beneath him, moving my hips as much as I can, inviting him to move faster, harder, rougher.
“More,” I find myself begging. “Harder. Faster.”
It’s easier to ask for such things when I don’t have his face in front of me, but I still feel the heat of embarrassment as I verbalize my wishes.
“What a good, slutty pet,” he comments, grabbing me firmly by the hip and driving himself into me with a savage force I would have thought impossible a few moments ago. This feels different than before. It triggers different parts of my body, even shifting the tormenting tease of the vibrations a little as he stretches my insides with his length.
“I’ll join you this time,” he announces. “I’ll fill that tight ass of yours with my cum.”
His naughty words send me over the edge.
“Three!” I howl in a long drawn out exclamation as the most violent exaltation floods my body. I can feel him throbbing as he dumps his release deep inside me, keeping his promise from before. His hands crawl into the skin of my ass, adding the sweet spice of pain to my orgasm.
I feel exhausted and over-stimulated when he pulls himself out of me, spreading my cheeks so he can watch his cum dripping out of my center and down the inside of my thigh while I coil under the ongoing vibrations of the toy.
This is so filthy and twisted. He’s bathing in pleasure at the sight of me, rubbing his still hard cock as he comes back to stand in front of me. I moan with anguished bliss when he pulls my head back, forcing me to look up to him while he rubs his dick. Somewhere along the way, he got rid of his suit completely, and he’s now standing before me with nothing but the dark tattoos covering his sublime body.
“Three for you, one for me,” he says, fixating me with his dark gaze. “But you’re not done, are you my slutty little pet?”
I shake my head as best I can, trying to swallow the shame of allowing my tongue to stick out as I yearn for his cock.
“I want to watch you come one more time for me,” he says. “Come for me, while my cum is dripping out of your perfect ass.”
I blush at his words, shifting my hips a little, so the vibrator hits another spot on my sore clit. I feel so used, adrift and defenseless against facing my own cravings, the same cravings I’ve been forbidden to fulfill for so long.
The way he looks at me now is exactly what I have been wishing for. There’s a certain smugness to it, based on the knowledge that he’s doing this for himself just as much as he is for me. He’s not appalled by who I am; on the contrary, he exposes those parts of me that even I was too afraid to face until now.
I fail to worry about the sound of my groan when I feel another release approaching. He can see it as soon as I feel it, observing my body’s reaction and the emotions painted across my face as I give in to my final climax.
“F-f-four,” I stutter helplessly, as my vision is blinded by painful pleasure. I pant and groan through the final fervor as my head begins to spin dizzily and I feel light-headed.
He tightens his grip around my hair, pulling my face up to his while he reaches another climax himself, unloading on my face this time.
This last peak is brutal and short for both of us, robbing me of my strength entirely. My muscles go completely limp as my head falls forward, and the vibrations turn into nothing but pure torment on my sore and swollen nub.
He lets go of my hair and hurries behind me, finally switching off the toy before unfastening the shackles binding my wrists and ankles. I’m too weak to get up by myself, but he doesn’t ask me to. He picks me up in his strong arms, breathing heavily himself, as he carries me over to the bedroom and carefully places me on the soft silk sheets before lying down beside me.
We lay in unison, both panting and smiling dreamily at each other. I never thought that any of this could be possible. Up until now, this was nothing but a dream, a dark fantasy that I never would believe could have a chance of coming true. And now it has.
With this man, who robbed me, and makes me feel like a princess. A twisted princess.
He caresses the heated skin on my cheek, shaking his head as if he can‘t believe it himself. I don’t dare speak because I’m afraid of breaking the loving and peaceful silence between us. But then he does it with a revelation that warms my heart even more.
“Joseph,” he breathes. “My name is Joseph.”
Chapter 39
Joseph
Twenty-one days. I can feel the end closing in on us, and I’ve never hated it more than I do this time. I’ve been falling further down the slippery slope with each day we spend together. She has taken more of me than any other girl has before, and I cannot imagine having to let her go. So soon.
We’ve passed the middle point of our time together. This is usually the point where a routine sets in that slowly leads to me losing interest in the girl.
With her, though, it’s exactly the opposite.
She’s pulling me closer, in deeper, even after I thought it couldn’t be possible. We’ve been spending all our meals together for the past week because I enjoy her company, I like acting normal with her. No one has ever evoked that desire within me. At first, I tried to dismiss it as just another kink, something new I wanted to try because it was foreign to me. But by now even I’m willing to admit that this might be more. I just don’t know how to deal with it.
Nothing is boring with her. While we still tiptoe around the taboo issue of our arrangement, we talk about pretty much everything else. She’s told me about her family, where she grew up, where she went to school, who her friends were. At one point, she even mentioned an old boyfriend who betrayed her in so many ways that it made me sick. I stopped her from talking about him any further because I couldn’t bear listening to it.
She has learned to ask the right questions, no longer pressing me about things she know she shouldn’t. But she managed to get me to talk about myself, my family, and the parts of my past that I was willing to share. I don’t think I’ve ever talked about myself to anyone as much as I have with her. It’s frightening and liberating at the same time. I don’t feel like I’m giving away too much, but I often found myself crossing my own limits.
I always stopped when things got too real. When I found myself approaching an area so intimately personal that sharing any more information might get me into real trouble. It’s easy to talk about the fuck-up my father was, and how he dragged my mother down with him. It’s also easy to talk about my grandparents, my grandfather in particular, who saw not only the symptoms of my troubles, but the root cause of it. He saw something in me that no one else saw, and he made sure to nurture that part of me before other parts could kill it. He knew all I needed was a challenge, a purpose, something that was all mine to control, something that provided me with power and success, but also the burden of responsibility.
In me, he saw the heir to the family’s business. He saw the person that my father failed to be.
Ruby’s eyes were glued to me every time I talked to her about those things. Her interest is so sincere that, for the first time, I understood what people meant when they said someone “touched their heart”. She certainly has that effect on me.
This morning is not the first time for me to wake up next to her. Another rule I broke. I’ve spent the night with her more than once. I fell asleep next to her a few days ago, after fucking her for hours, and neither of us woke up until the next morning. So what, I thought. An accident. It won’t happen again.
But it did. And then it became a deliberate choice, making it all the worse.
She’s still asleep now, her face covered by her dark ash blonde mane, her lips partly opened as she lies curled up next to me.
I place a kiss on her cheek, tugging on the collar to see if she’s awak
e. She groans a sweet little complaint, her naked body squirming around in the sheets.
“Time to get up, my pet,” I whisper. “You’ll get a spanking if you’re not up within five minutes.”
“Ten,” she sighs. “Ten, please, Master. I’m so tired.”
Her voice is low, her mind barely awake yet.
“Five,” I insist, giving her another kiss before I crawl out of the bed I never should have slept in.
She’s not your fucking girlfriend, and she never will be.
It seems I can repeat this mantra as often as I wish, but it won’t change the way I act around her. Even the marks on her skin can’t belie the fact that I’ve fallen for her way more than a john should fall for his whore.
Eighteen more days. That’s how much longer I can pretend that none of my self-imposed rules exist, and do whatever I want with her. That’s how long she’ll still be mine. After that, it has to stop, all of it.
“Five minutes,” I repeat. “Or you won’t be able to sit for a week.”
She growls, but catches herself just in time.
“Yes, Master,” I hear her weak voice from beneath the sheets.
I pull myself away from her and leave the room to head downstairs. Nothing has changed in regard to where she’s allowed to be in the house. She’s never to leave her room, unless I bring her downstairs to have a meal together, but I always bring her back up to her room right after. She has never seen my bedroom, my office, or any other room in the house. At least that’s a distance I manage to maintain.
I’m just about to start the coffee machine when my phone rings. This happens so rarely that the sound startles me, and I almost let the carafe fall to the floor. Who on Earth would call me on a Saturday morning?
The first people that come to mind are my grandparents. Did something happen to one of them? It’s not Sunday. It’s not their day to call.
My heart is racing when I head over to the phone, and I’m flooded with relief when I see that it’s not their number on the screen.
But the relief is soon replaced with bewildered anger.
It’s the agency.
Chapter 40
Liana
Three weeks. It’s been three weeks since he grabbed me off the street, removing me from a life I had come to loathe.
By now, people must be looking for me. I haven’t had access to the internet or a TV during the last twenty-one days. But I bet I would see my picture on the local news.
I wonder if Luke had been questioned as a suspect? Kidnapped or killed by the ex-boyfriend, that would be such a classic, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was one of the first to be questioned after it became apparent that I was missing.
How long did it take for anyone to notice? The Monday after my disappearance? Wednesday? Maybe even an entire week? No, I don’t believe it would take them that long. I’ve always been very reliable, an exemplary employee who never skipped work or even took sick leave. I’ve always shown up at work when I was expected to, always. And if not, I would have called in before anyone even knew that I wasn’t there.
But who knows how things are now that Professor Miller is gone? It may have taken them a few days to start worrying about me because everyone is too preoccupied with his death. Or they might have thought that I’m overwhelmed by grief and thus unable to show up for work or to call in sick?
My mind has been too preoccupied with what has been happening between me and Joseph to drift away to all the things I left behind. But once in a while, when I’m by myself and not too exhausted or too dazed by a play session, I find myself faced with the reality of what I left behind. The insecurity of unemployment, the grief of losing the nicest boss I could ever ask for, and the pain of a broken relationship. None of that matters here, in this house, in this bedroom.
All that matters is us. Joseph and me.
We have talked a lot during the past week, but I can’t talk about these things with him. I can’t talk about a job he doesn’t know I had because he thinks that I’m a full-time prostitute. I tried to talk about Luke, but it felt wrong, and he cut me short anyway. It must have been the most awkward conversation we’ve ever had. He seemed to be in agony when I talked about Luke, about the things he said about my sexual desires, about what he did to me to finally make me realize that I needed to kick him out of my life.
I let out a deep sigh and turn off the water in the shower. He will be back soon to bring me downstairs for breakfast, and I need to be dressed and ready.
Each day with him is similar, and yet so different that I can never know what to expect. All I know is that it will entail a lot of pleasure, sometimes pain, sometimes a training session so hard that it makes me question my decision to stay here of my own free will. I can see the effects of his training in the way my body reacts to him. Just the sound of his voice, a look on his face or the most trivial touch can cause my core to throb with desire. I’m often wet before he even touches me. I’ve grown dependent on him, and that unsettles me.
And I’m getting addicted to all of it. To him especially. I feel like I will never have enough.
That’s what scares me the most.
Because I know that all of this will come to an end. He will let me go eventually. I don’t know when it will happen, but I know it will.
He thinks I’m a prostitute who’s just doing this because he’s paying her to. No matter how close I may feel to him, how intimate our time together has become. None of this is real for him, and he’s probably done it before, probably many times. He keeps saying that I enjoy special privileges, but he may say such things to all the girls.
I shake my head, chasing away uncomfortable truths. All those things are future Liana problems. She’ll be able to deal with it.
All I have to focus on is today, and I don’t have much time left to get ready before he shows up for breakfast.
I’ve just stepped out of the shower and in the process of drying myself off, when I can hear footsteps outside in the hall.
Oh my God, he’s back already!
I hurry to wrap the towel around myself and scurry out of the bathroom, falling to my knees in the bedroom just as he opens the door.
Something is off, I can tell right away. The way he swings the door open, the way he’s breathing so erratically.
I lift my eyes up to him, confused at his exasperated behavior.
My breath catches when I see his face. His cheeks are blazing red, his hair messed up as if he’s ruffled through his black strands a few times frantically, and he’s panting like he’s in a panic. I barely recognize him. He has never looked like this. Horrified, confused, and angry, all at once. Something must be terribly wrong.
Our eyes lock on each other as he freezes a few feet away from me. I’m sitting on the floor, positioned the way I was trained to sit, with my palms on my thighs and sitting back on my heels.
I want to ask him what it is. I want to know what’s wrong.
But I can’t find my voice. His troubled hazel eyes speak of too much terror.
I don’t dare ask because I’m scared of the answer.
Chapter 41
Joseph
Why the fuck would they call me? That has never happened before - because it’s not supposed to happen. Everything is clearly stated in the contract. There’s to be absolutely no contact between the agency and me, or the agency and her.
Unless there’s an emergency.
But how could there be an emergency? Everything is going perfect, almost too perfect, with Ruby.
For a moment, I consider not picking up because this must clearly be a mistake. But not picking up would be another breach. I’ve agreed to answering if they try to reach me, no matter what. I have to pick up.
“Yes,” I say, sounding as irritated as I am.
“Mr. Bennett?” a female voice at the other end asks.
It’s Lisa, the woman who handles the ‘contacts,’ as they call them. She has been my contact
person for every part of this transaction.
“Yes, of course it’s me,” I bark at her.
“This is Lisa speaking, from Violent Delights-”
“I know,” I interrupt her. “What’s wrong? Why are you calling me?”
Lisa clears her throat, letting precious seconds pass before she replies.
“Mr. Bennett, I’m surprised we didn’t hear back from you already,” she says. “We were just contacted by Miss Ruby Red, and she said she was never picked up. I don’t know why she waited this long to inform us, but I’m even more surprised you never let us know that the arrangement was off?”
Her words knocked every wisp of air from my lungs. I stand motionless, not even breathing, as my blood runs cold through my veins and the words bounce back and forth in my skull.
They were contacted by a woman named Ruby Red.
The woman I bought to play my slave. The woman who’s supposed to be upstairs right now, waiting for my return.
And she said she’s never been picked up.
“Mr. Bennett?”
“Are you… are you sure?” I stutter, my voice cracking on every word.
Lisa appears to be startled by my question.
“Yes, she came to the agency herself and said her time window passed without being picked up,” she says. “She’s asking for compensation because of the stress and the inconvenience.”
I can’t reply. I feel as if a clamp is closing around my chest, stealing my breath and robbing me of my ability to speak. My face is stuck in an incredulous expression with an unblinking stare as my brain desperately scrambles to make sense of this.
“Did something come up?” Lisa asks, breaking into my stunned stupor. “How come you never contacted us? Is something wrong?”
