by Lolita Lopez
“Sit on the bed, heels on the mattress. Let me see your pussy.”
Gasping at his rather frank instruction, Celia blushed and stiffened. Again, he thought she would say no, but after a second’s hesitation she sat on the duvet, scooting back until she could rest her heels on the mattress. Using her finely toned abs, Celia maintained her sitting position without the support of her hands. Instead, she placed her fingers on the lips of her sex, pulling them apart.
“Just like that, Celia,” he coaxed. “Open for me. I want to see it all.”
The dewy lips gleamed in the light, her slippery nectar already coating the pink flesh. Even from this distance he could see her clit protruding from its hood, arousal causing it to grow. Before he could continue, he had to know a rather mundane detail.
“Are you left-or right-handed, Celia?”
“Left,” she murmured.
“Lick the fingers of your left hand. Yes…slowly. Exactly like that. Now I want you to touch your clit. Rub it, Celia, in slow circles. Slower. Now side to side.” With a famished glint, he watched her nimble fingers working the bud. Eyes closed, she breathed heavier, shorter. He could sense her highly aroused state and intended to take full advantage of it.
“Slip a finger in your pussy.” Minding his request, she halted her massaging movements and slid the middle finger of her left hand just inside the opening of her passage before withdrawing it and plunging it back inside.
“Another one,” he said. “Add a second finger.” His own hand stroking the length of his shaft, Evi stared lecherously as she penetrated herself, fingers dripping with her cream. He wondered what it tasted like and asked just that.
Breath hitching, she brought the wet fingers to her lips and swiped her tongue across them. After some thought, she said, “Like the sea.”
He smiled at her overly romantic answer. “I want you to come, Celia. Play with your clit until you come. Use your fingers inside you.”
A consummate voyeur, Evi watched as Celia carried out his charge, flicking her clit and pushing her fingers into her channel. Mixed with the tiny clicks accompanying each plunge of her finger, Celia’s staccato gasps produced a deliciously erotic soundtrack to the mounting sexual tension. Hastening the speed of her massage, she chased her goal, finally climaxing with a ravaged howl.
***
Head thrown back, Celia collapsed to the duvet. Huffing and fighting to breathe, she stared at the plastered ceiling, her body still quaking from release. What began as an uncomfortable striptease had ended in a surprisingly easy orgasm. Not a virgin by any stretch of the imagination, Celia had always enjoyed casual sex but had rarely been able to climax without a good block of time dedicated to self-pleasuring or oral sex. This time, however, she had felt like she would explode the instant Evi told her to touch her clit.
She had expected this to be a horrendous experience, to feel like a cheap whore turning a trick, but it didn’t feel anything like that. Actually, she was enjoying it. Celia wondered what that said about her.
She heard fabric rustling and when she craned her neck, she saw Evi, now completely naked, advancing toward the bed. For such a tall, lean man, he had a brutish cock with the daunting girth and length of a baton. Jutting forth from a patch of dark hair, it even possessed the menacing bearing of a weapon.
“Get on your hands and knees, Celia. I want you to suck my dick.”
Secretly thrilled by the crudeness of his blunt order, Celia moved into the requested position and moistened her lips. He hadn’t told her to use her hands so she leaned forward and took just the head into her mouth. With Evi’s fingers holding the hair from her face, Celia swirled her tongue along the taut skin of the tip and shaft of his penis. In between swipes of her lips he moaned appreciatively, and she, suddenly gluttonous, gobbled more of his cock into her mouth. But it wasn’t enough. The subtle pumping of his hips told her that he wanted much more.
“Lie on your back with your head toward me,” he whispered, fingertips outlining her cheek. When she was on her back, he grabbed her upper arms and pulled her to the edge of the bed. Head dangling over the side, Celia didn’t need much imagination to guess what was to follow. Her core contracted at the idea of being taken so savagely.
As Evi straddled her head, Celia tentatively brushed her flattened tongue against his sac. Startled by her unexpected touch, he groaned and halted mid-movement. Taking his response as permission to continue, she dragged her tongue along the width of his testicles, relishing his taste. His breath hitched when she sucked him into her mouth. She could feel his sac tighten and lift as she ran her tongue over him. He was definitely turned on by her attention.
“Enough,” Evi growled, pulling away from her tongue. Staring down at her wet lips, he carefully guided his cock into her open mouth. The angle of penetration was odd, and almost instantly, her jaw clamped in protest.
“Watch your teeth,” he cautioned.
She consciously forced the hinge to relax. With the gentlest of thrusts, Evi shoved his penis deep into her mouth, the head sliding against her tongue as it plunged into the warm alcove in the back of her throat. Inhaling measured breaths, Celia fought the first wave of panic caused by his aggressive and unorthodox invasion.
By slow degrees, she acclimated to the strange sensations and was soon gripping the backs of Evi’s muscular thighs, encouraging his thrusts. She met each pump of his hips with her tongue, flicking it at the head and shaft of his now-slippery cock. He pistoned in and out with greater fervor.
To an outsider their coupling would have looked degrading, but Celia knew that his movements weren’t those of a violent man. He was an alpha male in every sense of the word. Tigers weren’t gentle in the wild, and this great beast of a man wouldn’t be either.
But she sensed that Evi’s desire to embrace the role of dominant in this stemmed from a dark, painful place within him, something she could understand. If he meant to break her by testing her limits, he would fail. Invigorated by the challenge of outlasting him, Celia vowed never to capitulate.
When he pinched her nipples and squeezed her breasts, Celia groaned around his cock, the sound more of a gurgle. Somehow he was able to reach her lower half and play with her clit, moving the overly sensitive nub in quick circles. He stopped abruptly to shove two fingers through her folds before slipping them inside her pussy, making her buck.
He pressed the pads of his now slick fingers against the deliciously sensitive spot inside her canal and she moaned loudly, the vibrations of her voice making his cock jerk. Her rapid breaths matched his, and the thought of his hot cum spilling down her throat sent her hurtling toward the precipice. She was suddenly desperate to orgasm.
With a loud pop, Evi unexpectedly withdrew from her mouth, wrenching a protesting groan from her throat as she gazed up at him. Eyes burning, Evi backed away. Frantic and throbbing, Celia rolled onto her knees, her hand roughly wiping saliva from her chin.
“Are you going to fuck me now?” she practically begged.
Laughing deviously, Evi shook his head. “Not for a long while yet.”
Chapter Six
“Kneel on the floor,” Evi ordered, pointing to a spot in front of his feet. With a small smirk, he watched her scramble off the bed and onto the hardwood floor. “Widen your thighs a little more. Cross your ankles and sit back on your heels. Put your hands on your knees, palms up. Now straighten your back…push out your breasts. Keep your eyes on the floor.”
He was testing her now, ordering her around and forcing her to contort herself for his amusement. The joke was on him. She was a master at yoga and Pilates, keeping her body limber for all the difficult work she endured. There was no position he could dream up that she wouldn’t be able to hold.
She tried to ignore the throbbing heat between her legs. Her clit pulsed, begging for his touch, for any touch. Trying to regain control of faculties lost to lust, she ignored the throbbing sensation between her thighs. Shivering and panting, Celia listened intently as he moved aroun
d the room. She didn’t dare lift her eyes to follow his movements, certain that he would notice and then send her away without the blade. It was better to suffer his kinky whims than fail Bianca.
He approached from her right side but she continued to stare at the floor. Hearing the whistle of fabric moving against his skin, she perked her ears and stiffened slightly. In the next instant, a silky black blindfold was being tightly fastened at the back of her head.
At first, Celia wasn’t too worried. She’d used her heat vision to see through fabric before—but when she switched her vision this time, everything was blurry. Exhaling roughly, she realized he’d used some kind of polyurethane-coated fabric. It was the only thing that blocked thermographic imprints.
Evi chuckled smugly when he heard her aggravated sigh. “I figured you have the same enhanced vision as your brother.”
He smacked her bottom, the sudden and unexpected whack drawing a gasp from her throat.
“Lift your ass,” he ordered, and she did. He began looping her ankles with additional ties. “I bought these because of the silkiness of the fabric. I never imagined I’d ever be able to use them this way. They’re made from polyurethane and nylon, by the way.”
She said nothing and sat back down on her bound ankles when she felt his hands pressing on her shoulders. With surprising gentleness, he pulled back her arms and began the process of binding them behind her back. She focused on keeping her shoulders and lower arms flexed so that there would be some give in her wrist ties when she relaxed.
Unfortunately, he caught onto her game and placed his hands on her upper arms. His lips brushed her right ear. “Relax your shoulders,” he ordered. “Or else…”
The sound of his vicious hiss sent ripples of excitement through her belly and she felt a rush of heat right down in her traitorous core. Stilling her racing heart with slow breaths, she complied with his demand. He reworked the loops on the wrist ties until her shoulders were drawn back, displaying her lifted breasts.
Seemingly curious, he grabbed her elbows and brought them nearly together behind her back. There was neither a whimper of discomfort nor tightening of her muscles.
“You’re very flexible,” he remarked with an approving tone.
“It’s a requirement in my line of work,” she stated matter-of-factly.
He issued a throaty grunt and stalked away from her. She listened carefully and heard him rummaging in a drawer. When he returned, she felt some kind of rope against her back. With little finesse, he bound her elbows together. She grimaced slightly, realizing this position would be the hardest to endure.
“Now there’s no way you’ll be able to escape the ties,” he said, testing his handiwork with a few gentle tugs.
She could just imagine the smug smile on his face as he admired his rope work, but Celia had to respect his cleverness. When he’d discovered her flexibility, Evi had obviously been worried that she would figure out some way to untie her ankles and contort her shoulders to slip free from her restraints. Unknown to Evi, Celia had been considering that very scenario. She assumed he would leave her once she was bound and had been running through a few options of freeing herself, grabbing the blade and making a run for it. Now it was clear that resistance was futile.
“I’m leaving, but I will return,” Evi said as Celia listened to his retreating footsteps. “In my absence, you will not move or speak.”
She heard his steps pause and waited to hear what he would add to his short list of directions.
“If your muscles begin to cramp or you have any problems breathing, call for me,” he instructed. “And no, it will not count against you, Celia.”
His piece said, he left her alone and bound in his bedroom, closing the door behind him. At first she thought he might be lingering nearby—he would have to be if he could hear her call out—so she held her breath and listened for any telltale sounds of breathing or muffled footsteps. She was sorely tempted to lift her head and try her thermal vision again. Even hindered by the fabric of her blindfold, Celia was certain she would at least be able to discern distorted shapes. But she didn’t attempt it. That would entail moving, and she had a sneaking suspicion Evi was keeping an eye on her somehow, maybe a camera or two-way mirror. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of failure.
Taking measured breaths, Celia relaxed her body as much as she could and allowed her muscles to rest. She’d trained in stress positions before—she had to be prepared for all eventualities, including capture and escape—and while this wasn’t one of the worst she’d ever been in, she knew it was only a matter of time until her body began to protest the position.
Letting her mind wander, she thought about Bianca. She suddenly wished that she or her sister had inherited their mother’s ability to read minds and project thoughts. This was one time when it would have been unbelievably useful if for no other reason than to ascertain Bianca’s condition.
Although she couldn’t telepathically connect to her sister, Celia knew Bianca still lived. It was hard to explain, but each time she’d lost a family member, Celia had instinctively known the moment they had died. It was just an odd feeling, a prickly sensation really, that had preceded each death. When thinking of Bianca she felt no such thing, and that was reassuring to say the least.
Pulling her mind back to the present, Celia wondered how much time had elapsed. It felt like thirty minutes, perhaps a bit more or less. Had the situation been different and she were here of her own volition, she might have found the anticipation of Evi’s return titillating. Now, however, it felt a bit annoying.
She doubted he would be able to keep her engaged for the full six hours. The sooner he had his fill, the sooner he’d be more inclined to let her leave with the blade. She just wanted him to hurry up.
Her mutinous inner voice scoffed at that and reminded her that not too long ago she’d been practically pleading with him to fuck her. Reluctantly, she conceded that her forced striptease and their tryst on the bed had been decidedly pleasurable. However, with the benefit of time to calm down from her lust-induced fervor and to consider her predicament, Celia was quite pissed at herself for losing control. She silently vowed that she would remain in complete control of her body this time around.
Even as she thought it, her knees began to hurt. They had been pressed against the unyielding, cold floorboards for at least forty minutes now. The tips of her toes were beginning to tingle and she desperately wanted to move them to induce blood flow, but was fairly certain that would violate Evi’s departing instructions. Her thighs weren’t very happy with their cramped position either, and she began to feel the telltale burning of a muscle preparing to cramp. Oddly enough, her elbows and shoulders weren’t bothering her.
Advancing footsteps caught her attention. The door between the office and bedroom opened and then clicked closed. As Evi walked she heard a sloshing tinkle, the sound of something wet shifting against metal perhaps. She couldn’t quite place the sound.
“I’m very impressed with your body control, Celia,” Evi complimented amid the sounds of objects meeting a wooden tabletop. “You didn’t even wiggle a toe. They always wiggle their toes,” he murmured as if to himself.
Celia heard his last remark and frowned slightly. They?
His Dom tendencies and the ease with which he produced his props made sense now. She supposed he did this sort of thing with girlfriends all the time. The unwanted stab of jealousy that twisted her belly felt strange and unnecessary. There had been a time—so many years ago—when she had been infatuated with Evi in the way young sisters often were with their older brother’s friends. After Homer’s death and the loss of her parents and then Bianca’s sickness such silly things had been forgotten.
But now? Now on her knees, bound and trembling, she couldn’t lie. She felt an almost unnatural connection to Evi. It was something more than their old and very complicated history. It was something about him, about his scent and his body heat and the way he made her feel. It was the commandin
g tone of his voice and the firm and almost arrogant way he touched her body.
When she felt his warm hands on her shoulders, she almost flinched but caught herself at the last instant. She was fairly sure a flinch could be counted as movement.
His fingers untied the knots in the ties binding her feet. “Stand up, Celia. Let the blood flow into your feet.”
Gently, he grasped her shoulders and aided her as she rose shakily to her feet. The pins-and-needles sensations that stabbed at her feet and calves were excruciating but she didn’t grimace. Instead she practiced pain-minimizing breathing techniques that were now second-nature to her.
Certain that she could balance, Evi left her standing motionless and went about preparing for the next stage of the scenario. She heard a scrape and hiss before she smelled sulfur.
Gulping, she surmised that in her current predicament that could only mean one thing—wax.
As if reading her mind, Evi piped up from behind her. “I won’t burn you, Celia. There may be some…discomfort…but I won’t scar you.” Fingertips trailed along the nasty scar bisecting her back. “You have quite enough of those, I think.”
Not at all comforted by that statement, Celia felt her anxiety ratchet a notch higher. Bondage and some light domination she could stand, but pain was an entirely different situation. In her field, pain was something to be avoided. If Evi meant to show her some sort of twisted pleasure from this, she was certain he would fail. Then again, perhaps he got off on inflicting pain…
“Get back on your knees, Celia,” Evi ordered, interrupting her troubled thoughts.
She obeyed immediately, steeling her mind for whatever was about to come. Panic would only increase the discomfort so she forced her body to stay calm. Unexpectedly, she felt Evi kneel behind her and then his hands were sliding down her front, spreading what felt like oil from her collarbone to just below her navel.
“We don’t want the wax to stick permanently,” he drawled, his chin resting on her shoulder.
