Enamored

by Shoshanna Evers

  “You’re gonna have your hands full,” Roman commented dryly.

  Marc laughed. “Don’t I know it.”

  Lauren followed Marc back to his penthouse, and this time the ride up the elevator had no awkward silences. They couldn’t stop touching, couldn’t stop kissing. He’d already stripped her of her corset and miniskirt so that by the time the elevator opened into his foyer, she wore nothing but the green satin thong.

  “Shall I take this off?” she asked.

  “No. That’s my job,” he grinned.

  Lauren grinned right back. After the flogging at the club and then getting a chance to spank Elisabeth, she was so horny she’d do anything he wanted. Anything.

  He picked her up and carried her to his bedroom.

  “Are we alone?” she asked.

  “Yes, it’s just us. No more speaking without permission, baby.”

  Lauren nodded mutely, surprised by the order. But it immediately put her in a submissive state, to force herself to listen to him and look to him for cues.

  “Tonight, we’re doing this right. No more ‘who’s on top’ nonsense. Got it?”

  She nodded mutely, still smiling. She got it. Fuck yeah, as Elisabeth would say.

  He laid her on the bed. “Don’t move.” He walked over to his dresser and pulled out a spreader bar and some handcuffs, and she moaned with desire. She loved restraining her subs, loved how much more they could take when the power to move was removed from them, but she’d never been in bondage herself until tonight. She’d found herself able to relax into the restraints, allowing her body to accept his blows, and enjoyed it. A lot.

  What did that mean? If she could enjoy a flogging from Marc and then go and play Domme to Elisabeth, even for a moment, what did that make her?

  “I can tell by your face you’re thinking too hard. Don’t overthink this, baby. Just relax, let me take charge. I’m going to spread your legs, okay? Say yes, sir.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Green to go?”

  “Green, sir.”

  He put the plastic pole between her legs horizontally, forcing them to spread wide, and latched each of her ankles to the leather cuffs at each end.

  “Gorgeous,” he murmured.

  Her hands lay at her sides, where they’d been when he put her on the bed and instructed her not to move.

  “Hands up, above your head,” he said, and with a click of the metal cuffs she was locked in place, at his mercy.

  No reason to panic, she thought. Not with Marc. He wasn’t some asshole who’d take advantage of her and not listen to her safeword, he’d already proven that. This was the same Marc who bought her an ice-cream cake shaped like a paddle every year for her birthday and sang the loudest, even if he was woefully off-tune. That wasn’t going to change just because now she was in bondage on his bed.

  “You look so amazing like this. I’m taking a mental picture of you, naked and bound, and I’m going to masturbate to this visual for the rest of my life.”

  She laughed, feeling good. Sure, she felt good when a sub told her how great she looked in a sexual scenario, but somehow this was different . . . because this was Marc. She wanted to look good for Marc. She wanted to be his fantasy.

  “Ready for some orgasms?” he asked.

  She wasn’t allowed to respond, so she just smiled.

  “Tell me yes. Tell me you want me to make you come, over and over. Beg me.”

  “Please, sir. Please, please make me come. As many times as you see fit.”

  She knew what was going to happen, she’d done it herself many times as a Domme. Forced orgasms. Delicious and yet painful, erotic and still almost unbearable.

  And sure enough, Marc took out a long white vibrator, the Magic Wand. It had a head the size of doorknob that provided intense orgasms within seconds. On low, it was pleasurable. On high, she called it “torture mode” because it was so intense her subs would scream in agony as soon as she turned it on. Exquisite agony. Agony they wanted, needed.

  With her legs spread by the bar, there would be no escaping it. And somehow, that made it easier on her.

  Just go with it. Relax, let him take charge.

  She nearly laughed. There was no letting him take charge at this point, he was already in charge. Marc had made that clear to her from the moment he put that leash on her. From the moment she had to ask for his permission to do something she’d have been first in line to do—if she hadn’t been his slave for the week.

  “I’m gonna make you come so fucking hard,” he said, a glint in his eyes.

  He pressed the Magic Wand against her clit, still covered in the green thong. The tiny bit of material offered some level of protection from the intense vibrations as he switched it on low, but not nearly enough to keep her from shuddering, her body spasming with an almost immediate orgasm.

  The entire evening had been their foreplay. She’d been dying to climax, and now, she’d continue to climax until Marc had decided she’d had her fill. Maybe even past that point. Pushing a sub past their orgasm limit was always a fun way to torture someone, because all they could do was lie there and scream and moan even as their body twitched and tried to make sense of the constant vibration running through their core.

  “That was quick, baby, but there’s more to come,” he said, and slowly moved the vibrator, rolling it over her clit, which had become swollen and needy. She gasped, her arms moving as if to push the vibrator away, forgetting already that she was in restraints. Strange, though, that the quick bite of metal onto her wrists should bring on her next orgasm. She moaned with ecstasy.

  “Oh, Marc, fuck, yes, fuck,” she gasped.

  “I said no talking,” he laughed, and lifted the vibrator away. With his hand, he pulled her labia outside of the thong so her clit was revealed even more under the thin material, and slapped her nether lips with several sharp swats of his hand.

  “Tell me you’re sorry for breaking my rule,” he said, and spanked her pussy again.

  “Sorry, sir,” she said, even though she wasn’t sorry at all. This was incredible, unbelievable, the sensations overwhelming her body. He pressed the head of the vibrator against her clit again, grinding it hard against her, so hard it hurt. Endorphins flowed through her and she screamed out her next climax.

  “Time to go on high?” he asked, and before she could desperately shake her head no, even though she wanted it, needed it, he put the vibrator on “torture mode” and the high-frequency vibrations rung through her. It was too intense to come from, too intense to do anything at all but focus on Marc, and his dominance, and more importantly, her submission and utter helplessness in her restraints.

  And then she came again.

  When he finally turned off the vibrator, she’d lost count of how many orgasms she’d had. Lost count of how many times she’d screamed his name and been punished for it. And lost count of how many times she begged for more.

  With a hard pull, he ripped her thong off of her body like some sort of primal beast, and sheathed his length in latex. His cock was huge, hard and long, so thick, but she wanted it in her terribly. She tried to push her hips up to meet his, but couldn’t with the spreader bar controlling her legs.

  “This, Lauren, is how I want to fuck you now. Hard. So you know I mean it.”

  He pressed into her, thrusting deep into her wet pussy, filling her completely. She had no desire to roll on top, no desire to be unbound or to take control from him. This was exactly where she wanted to be, under Marc, in his care. He moved in and out, hitting her G-spot with incredible accuracy. Her clit spasmed with pain from overuse as his cock slid over it with each stroke, but she didn’t care. The sensations he gave her were everything she wanted, everything she needed.

  Before he came, he pulled out, panting. “I need a break. I don’t want to come too soon. I’m having way too much fun fuckin
g you.”

  She smiled, but didn’t reply, mindful of his rule not to speak.

  He kept her legs latched in the spreader bar and rolled her onto her stomach, her hands still handcuffed about her head. Carefully, he turned her head to the side so she could breathe easily, and pulled her up onto her knees.

  “I love this ass,” he said, rubbing her ass cheeks, which were still red and sore from the earlier paddling. “You’ve been preparing all day for my cock in your ass, haven’t you, baby?”

  When she didn’t respond, he spanked her, and said, “Tell me. Speak.”

  “Yes, sir. That plug wasn’t enough. I need your cock in me.”

  “That’s right,” he growled. “You do.”

  From the corner of her eye she saw him pull out a bottle of lube and pour some over his fingers, lubing up his condom-covered cock. With his slippery fingers, he stuck one inside her, then another, moving them in gentle circles, opening her up to him even more.

  “When was the last time you got fucked in the ass? You have my permission to speak freely. Don’t lie, I’ll know—I know you.”

  Oh, fuck. She’d always been the one who was so experienced, the Domme who could offer advice on anything. She’d pegged her subs in the past, putting on a strap-on and fucking them, and gotten extreme pleasure from doing so even though it was only a dildo and not a cock she was able to use. But she’d never actually been the one on the receiving end.

  “Never, sir. You’re my first.”

  He pushed his fingers in harder, farther, then added another. “Are you sure? This is my virgin asshole to take?” He seemed shocked but thrilled at the idea.

  “Yes, sir. I’m yours. Please.”

  Marc pressed the tip of his cock against her tender asshole and pushed slightly, causing her asshole to tense. “Beg for it. Tell me how much you want it.”

  “Oh God, Marc, I want it so bad. Please, fuck my ass.”

  With that, he slowly, too slowly almost, slid inside her, her asshole tightening and clenching, fighting him the whole time even as she tried to relax into it and bear down. The pain was intense but quickly turned pleasurable as his entire cock filled her ass.

  Marc couldn’t believe it. This was exactly what he always dreamed of—Lauren, restrained beneath him, taking his cock like a champ and begging for more. He thrust harder now, testing her, wanting to see how she’d respond. She moaned with desire, and he went harder still, fucking her ass until she came, a long, shuddering climax that seemed to top every clitoral orgasm he’d just given her with the vibrator.

  It was too much for him, and he yelled her name as he came inside her, the force of his come hitting the condom, his cock twitching inside her as he emptied himself into her.

  When he finally pulled out, he rolled Lauren onto her back and kissed her face, her lips, her neck, cherishing her body.

  “That was insane,” he said. “Amazing.”

  “Oh my God, yeah it was,” she agreed, nuzzling against him. He leaned over her for the key to her handcuffs and unlocked her wrists. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tightly, kissing him, their tongues dancing.

  “Hang on, I want to get rid of the spreader bar and clean you up.” He unlatched her ankles, checking for bruising and to make sure her feet weren’t cold, a sign that she might have circulation issues. But no, she was hot. Hot all over.

  He massaged her legs, which trembled beneath his touch. “I could do this all night,” he whispered. “I’ll be right back.”

  He went into the master bathroom, tied off his condom and tossed it, then got a warm, wet washcloth, and brought it back to the bed, where he gently wiped the perspiration from her brow and face before cleansing her tender pussy—swollen and red—and her ass.

  Lauren lay in his arms, her panting from their mutual exertion slowing until she breathed slowly, in and out.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  “Safe.”

  It wasn’t what he expected to hear, but it was a good answer, he supposed. Better than “violated,” anyway.

  “You’re always safe with me, even if you’re not my submissive, you know that, right?” he asked.

  “I do. I definitely do.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  She turned to meet his gaze, a frown creasing her brow. “Of course.”

  “Why did you have such a hard time the first time I wanted to dominate you?”

  Lauren shrugged, like it didn’t matter. “Because I’m a Domme.”

  “That’s only part of it, and you know it. Yeah, you’re a Domme. I get it. But you’ve proven to us both that you can enjoy submitting in the bedroom, with me at least. So why did you put up that shield before? Why keep me at arm’s length when all I wanted to do was lie on top of you and make love the other night?”

  Lauren sat up. “We had a great time tonight. I don’t think we need to ruin it by talking about shit.”

  And there it was, that shield again.

  “What shit?”

  “Come on, Marc,” she said, and suddenly she was no longer his submissive, no longer the woman who abandoned herself to his dominance mere moments before. “Let’s leave well enough alone.”

  “We’ve been friends for a long time, and you’ve never told me what got you started in the scene. What made you want to dominate men, and women, too?”

  “I could just as easily turn that question back on you,” she shot back.

  Fuck. Fine.

  “I’ve always been dominant by nature,” he said, shrugging, knowing she’d understand. “Even as a teen when I’d fantasize about the high school cheerleaders, I was imagining how they’d react if I snuck up on them in the locker room, pushed them against the wall, and kissed them until they begged me to fuck them. I fantasized about bringing them to my room and tying them up before we fucked. And to be honest, I’m not sure most teens think that way. Most are happy to make out in the backseat of their parents’ car on a Saturday night and get to second base.”

  “Well, imagine if one of those girls in the backseat of that car didn’t just get to second base,” Lauren said slowly. “Imagine if she wanted to just take it slow and do what all the other cheerleaders did and make out with a hot football player after the movies.”

  Marc swallowed. “Lauren, what happened to you?”

  Chapter Seven

  Roman didn’t even feel the jet-lag of flying all the way to Tokyo from New York. He slept well on the red-eye flight, and the strong coffee served by the soft-spoken flight attendant helped re-animate him.

  First things first, he had to meet with his investors and get business out of the way. Solving business problems was the second-best way for him to get his mind off of Elisabeth. He’d attend to the first-best way later that evening. In Japan, Roman had to take his time, respecting the culture and bowing in return as he shook hands with the current CEOs of the company the Brooks Wilde Chase Fund had recently acquired. They all exchanged business cards, as was custom, and Roman made sure to carefully appreciate each card handed to him before putting it in his wallet. When in Rome—well, Japan—Roman did the best he could to fit in, despite his intimidating height compared to the men surrounding him.

  Sake was poured by quiet, small Asian secretaries who walked so silently one could almost pretend they didn’t even exist—except for their loveliness and simple servitude. The men made small talk before getting down to the heart of the matter. The company was in the red, and nothing they were doing was putting it in the black. Either money or cuts needed to be made.

  Roman was grateful for his fluent Japanese, although many of the other men spoke in English to him, perhaps as a sign of a respect, or perhaps just to practice the language. He walked the halls of the building, pointing out inefficiencies without mercy. The men nodded and took notes, looking at the floor, as if ashamed to have their new inv
estor see the true trouble they were in. By the time Roman left the building, he felt back to his usual self.

  Confident. Dominant.

  If the company did as he said, in the next three years, they’d not only be pulling a profit, they’d be pulling in enough money to make Brooks Wilde Chase look like geniuses instead of gamblers for their investment. It was all a gamble, though, was it not? It’s how they became billionaires, and how they made their own investors rich too.

  It took a strong stomach to invest in their hedge fund, but those who did had learned to trust Roman’s gut when it came to foreign investments such as this one. The fact that he’d even fly to Tokyo to check in with the company in person would show everyone that he was on the ball. That his fail of a toast at Trevor and Elisabeth’s wedding had been an inconsequential incident. No big deal.

  But it was a big deal.

  Roman needed to get over Elisabeth, Marc was right about that. And he knew exactly the place to do it. Tonight, he’d visit Kabukicho, the red-light district of Tokyo. It didn’t have actual red lights with women in windows prostituting themselves—not like in Amsterdam, another of his favorite places to visit when his schedule or business allowed. No, in Kabukicho he could find exactly what he needed without even trying.

  And what Roman needed that night was a beautiful woman who would let him practice his shibari, his Japanese rope-tying skills, on her and who would love every second of it as much as he did.

  The hotel he stayed at was serene and decorated to increase the feng shui of the room, with a tiny waterfall trickling in one corner, and growing plants that were meticulously cared for by the well-trained staff. The bed was simple and modern, without the many places to latch a girl down as he had on his own bed at home in Westchester. Still, it would provide a nice place to rest, if he did indeed get any sleep tonight. Kabukicho wasn’t called the “Sleepless Town” for nothing.

  His chauffer didn’t blink when Roman told him where to go. Where else would a single, American businessman in Japan go for an evening of entertainment? But he didn’t want a simple happy-ending massage or soap down, or even to watch a show.