by Adira August
She gasped and moaned and pressed back harder into his palms and fingers.
He pulled her down onto his lap, her thighs spread over his. Hands on her hips, he brought her forward, into his erection. Her hips rocked, rubbing her slick vulva against his throbbing length. He could feel the burning nub of her clit, and shifted away before she made herself come.
“I want to touch you,” she whispered, her voice low and strained.
“Not this time,” he said. “Grab your elbows.”
She shook her head in protest but complied. Her hands left his shoulders and disappeared behind her.
He sat back, admiring her. She was bolt upright, her breasts thrust forward, nipples proud and tightly furled. Her thighs open over his own, pussy in full bloom, glistening. She was ready. Wanting him. Needing him.
Another gush of precum flooded over his dick. He couldn’t wait much longer.
One index finger went to her cunt and stroked her opening. The other he placed under her chin, keeping her gaze locked with his own. “I’m going to push inside you now.” He told her. She squirmed and her thighs tightened against his. He kept her legs apart.
“I do all the work. You do as you’re told and pay attention. You look at me, all the time, you understand?”
“Yes. Yes, Sir.”
Hands curling under her thighs, he lifted her and and dragged her slick heat along the length of his erection. He brought her up a little further each time until the nose of his glans found her entrance and penetrated the hot, tight opening. He eased her down, their eyes locked, intensifying the excitement to an almost unbearable pitch.
He felt her vaginal sphincter tighten and slip over his wide coronal ridge. He poured precum, the feeling of her sliding over his cockhead, slowly, aware, really experiencing it for the first time, made his erection jerk inside of her.
“Oh, oh my God,” she panted, as he pulled back a bare half-inch so she’d feel herself tighten around that firm ridge again. She gasped and her head fell back.
“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice harsh with the suppressed need to drive his steel-hard cock into her until she screamed his name. “Look at me!”
Her head came up, and her gaze locked with his. Her mouth open, her breasts heaving, her whole body flushed with her arousal.
“How - how - ah - ah, God how are you this strong?” She panted. His balls tightened.
“Hay bales. Forty pounds. Thrown up to the loft,” he answered. Carefully, so as not to slide out, he held her on his cockhead and pulsed the short distance that stroked the corona, swelling and hardening even more with the stimulation, in and out inside the tight band at the entrance to her core.
He saw it in her eyes each time she felt herself forced open and entered. Every time he pulled back, she caught the hard ridge, slipping over, closing around the slick head. And he used that knowledge on her, extending her exquisite torment.
“Is this what you missed feeling, Avia?”
“Yes, Sir … oh … please … ” He held her firmly as her hips tried to thrust, wanting more, deeper. He halted then, the widest part of him keeping her open, trembling. Her vagina clenched around him, trying to suck him inside her. He poured precum as her slick heat jacked the sensitive head of his cock. She stared desperately into his eyes, core convulsing, silently pleading.
He slammed into her.
“Yes!” She gasped. “So ... fucking … hard.”
Her head dropped back again, eyes closed, thighs pressed to his, her lower legs kicked out helplessly. The vice of his hands on her hips kept her still and he pulled all the way back slowly and then penetrated her again. She moaned each time, and when she was completely open and wet and he felt her cervix against the head of his dick, he stopped and would not let her move.
“Do I have your attention, Avia?” Harsh breathing was her only answer. He didn’t seem to have her attention, at all.
Enough, he thought. This has gone on far too long.
His right hand moved to the middle of her back and his left slipped under and gripped one thigh. He pressed her forward against his chest, her face turned to the side, resting against his shoulder. His erection slid out a little as her ass rose up off his thighs, exposed to the air. One hand under her thigh would keep her that way.
He reached down and grabbed the long, wide sash of a belt from the robe. Her hands were still behind her, gripping her elbows. Using both hands, he pulled hers apart and quickly bound her wrists together. Winding the sash around them for protection, then knotting it so she was securely restrained.
Thinking this is why he’d moved her forward, she started to sit back. He slipped his hand back under her thigh, pushing her into his chest, keeping her bare bottom in the air.
His right hand swung around from the side to crack a strong SMACK across both cheeks, just under the fullest curve of her ass.
“Fuck!” Her vagina clenched around him. She tried to pull away by reflex, but had nowhere to go against his solid chest or the restraining hand on her thigh.
“Hold still when I spank you,” he growled. And his hand swung again, connecting in the same spot. SMACK.
“Answer me!” SMACK.
She squirmed. “Oh, please, it hurts,” she gasped and gushed hot fluid over his cock. But she did not answer his question.
SMACK.
She cried out, writhing, vainly trying to avoid his hand. But he had her firmly under control.
SMACK! “I said hold still,” he repeated. SMACK!
“Yes, Sir!” She finally cried out.
SMACK!
“Say it,” he ordered.
“You have my attention, Sir,” she shouted.
“Sit back,” he said. He moved his hands to her hips and slid more fully into her. She clenched eagerly around him.
He pulsed his raging erection oh, so very slightly in and out of her. She tried hard to thrust against him; his fingers dug into her hips to keep her still. Her legs kicked out. A low keening started in her throat. Her eyes hot and desperate. He tilted her hips back to expose the connection between them.
“Watch,” he ordered. Her eyes dropped. The sight of his thick, red cock barely moving in her, her own clit, swollen and hard, protruding and untouched, drove her to distraction. She fought his hold, moaning and whimpering, desperate to move. His fingers ached from keeping her still. Her legs gripped his thighs, vice-like. He spread his legs apart an inch more, opening her further.
“Bastard!” She screamed her frustration. He jerked her forward once more and laid his hand back on her burning ass -
SMACK - SMACK - SMACK!
He shoved her down again, grabbing her, squeezing her reddened cheeks. Hot, angry tears coursed down her face. Dripped onto her own pussy as she dropped her head to watch again. Slowly, he pulsed his erection into her.
“Do you like defying me, now, Avia?” He asked her calmly.
“No. No, Sir,” she said immediately. “Please, Sir,” she begged.
But he kept on fucking her shallowly, mercilessly, as she watched, his iron control close to breaking. “Are you allowed to beg?”
“No, Sir.”
He kept on. “Are you allowed to use any name but mine?”
Her legs kicked, hating what he was making her say. “No, Sir.”
He rotated his right hand over the crease of thigh and body, and down between her legs. He carefully slid the tip of his middle finger just under her engorged clit he could see throb in time with the slow pulses of his cock.
He pressed underneath, but did not touch her clit.
She cried out a strangled choking sound, but her eyes stayed fixed between her legs. He kept on.
“Will you keep defying me?”
“No, Sir!”
His voice cold and hard, “Then be still.”
She froze. He kept on.
She keened, but did not move. He kept on.
He let go of her hips. She didn’t move. He kept on.
He took her nipples in turn betw
een his fingers and rolled the stiff, distended tips. She convulsed around him. But she didn’t move.
He. Kept. On.
His hand left her breast and cupped her ass, kneading. She whimpered deep in her throat.
“I don’t need a paddle or a yardstick or a leather strap to discipline you, Avia. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered immediately.
“So what will you do?”
Her face turned bright red. Her cunt clenched and held around his cock as she spoke through her humiliation and extreme arousal. “Obey you, Sir.”
“Yes,” he said. “You will.”
He kept on. “Watch in the mirror.”
She turned her head.
The three mirrors reflected his hand on her ass, fingers moving as she felt him working her sore buttocks. Her helpless feet, still now, hung an inch off the floor. The swell of muscles, working in his ass as he pulsed, as she felt him, huge and hard inside her. His arm across his own thigh, his hand disappeared between her legs as she felt him stroking under the fiery rock of her clit, her nerves aflame with the desperate need to move ... to come ...
“Ben!” She screamed for mercy.
He had her on the floor in less than a second, driving into her. One hand cradled the back of her head. His thighs pushed her open even more, his hand on her ass holding her in place.
His burning, feral gaze locked on hers, he fucked her.
He slammed into her again and again. She strangled on a cry every time he opened her. His head dropped to her shoulder, biting down enough for her to feel. Her thighs hardened, her legs stiffened, her slick, tight passage clamped down on him. His lips next to her ear. “Now, I’ll make you come,” he told her in a hoarse whisper.
He drove into her again - again - again ...
Her spine bowed the length of her body as the orgasm convulsed her. She didn’t hold back the hoarse scream that went on and on. The vice-like spasming of her vagina tipped him over. He thrust and froze, cum gushed through his rigid cock. A primal guttural howl ripped from his throat. His arms banded around her, as they consumed one another.
They slowed. Stopped. Collapsed. Panting, heaving, wet with sweat and fluids.
“Avienne,” he whispered.
His hands behind her found the knot and pulled the long end. It gave way, and he freed her. Guiding her hands around to the front, he tucked them between his chest and her breasts. He rolled her with him, onto their sides. Massaged her wrists and shoulders.
She fell asleep in his arms.
Avia awoke to Ben, freshly showered, holding out a bottle of water. He smelled wonderful and fresh. She sat up and took it, downing half. Drawing her feet in close to her butt, she stood without using her hands, still drinking.
“You do yoga, too,” he observed with a grin.
“I do,” she echoed him. “Stand by one,” she said and scampered into the bathroom.
He lay on his back in clean sweats and a white T, feeling replete. He could not think of one more thing he really wanted at that moment.
Avia was almost as good as her word, emerging from the bathroom in a few minutes, fresh from the shower. A towel was wrapped about her body while she dried her short hair with another.
She dropped to the floor and lay on her side next to him. He rolled to face her. He took the towel from her, ran his fingers through the whorls of her damp waves, arranging them.
“Ben?”
“Yeah, baby?” he answered, abstracted and apparently unaware he’d used the endearment. She smiled to herself.
“Have you ever had a quickie?”
He started. She laughed. He grinned. And dimpled.
“Well?” She asked.
“I just had one,” he answered. “Of course, it would have been quicker if you weren’t such a rebellious wretch,” he said with an exasperation belied by the affection in his gaze. He brushed some of his own damp curls off his forehead.
“I love your post-shower hair,” she said. He looked into the mirror at the mop of curls far more unruly than her own. She smiled at him in the mirror.
And then she frowned.
“What?” he asked, searching the triple reflections for whatever caught her attention. She scooted away and sat up, looking around the closet.
“Avia, what is it?” He asked again.
The closet was hung with clothes, she realized. Women’s clothes. Her stomach hollowed. Don’t do that, you know better. Just ask. He has two sisters and a mother.
“You said you didn’t bring companions here, so I’m wondering, why all the women’s clothes?”
He sat up. And he looked - guilty? Oh, and worried. Well, this should be good. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms about them.
“Wait,” he said. He jumped up and disappeared into the bathroom with the damp towel from her hair. He came back with a dry towel he spread out under her, motioning her to lift up one side and another as he arranged it. He took the towel she was wearing off and grabbed the robe, wrapping her in it. “So you don’t get a chill.”
Back into the bathroom. She didn’t move, just held herself tighter. He’s playing for time to think of an answer. ... Wait ... Just wait.
She concentrated on breathing slowly through her nose listening to water run and the toilet flush through the door he closed behind him. He came out and dropped cross-legged next to her.
“Um, okay.” He began, looking around at the clothes. “They’re yours.”
Her arms dropped from her knees. “I’m sorry?”
“I would have told you when we got here but there was the money reaction and then events kind of overtook me -”
She held up her hand to stop him. “Okay, I get that. Ben, no bullshit, how much did the robe cost?”
He looked blank for a moment. He pulled his phone from the duffel and speed-dialed, setting it on speaker.
“Yes, Sir?” She heard Hugo’s voice.
“Did Tom bill me for Avia’s robe, yet?”
“He did.”
“How much?” Ben asked.
“You want shipping, too?” Hugo sounded surprised.
“No, just the robe.”
“Four grand.”
“Okay, thanks.” Ben clicked off.
Avia was already on her feet, staring at herself in the triple mirror, her hands gliding over the the fabric. Four thousand dollars. He threw it on the floor to fuck me. She was pale, shocked. I think I need chocolate.
She found him in the mirror, watching her with a furrow between his brows.
He shrugged. “Billionaire.”
He looked like a kid who broke a vase with his ball playing in the house when he wasn’t supposed to. She cocked her head at him.
“You want to get the rest of the knots out of my five hundred dollar belt and hand it to me, please?”
He ducked and smiled and did just that. She threaded it back, slipped her arms into the robe and tied it.
“Now. Would you explain, please, Sir, why you bought me clothes?” She gestured around, as if past the walls of the dressing room. “And why are we here? We could have done this in the Keep, you have the same couch. No duffel required. Just tell me what’s going on, okay?”
“I brought you here to see the place,” he answered. “I’d like it if you stayed here during the trial.”
“Why?” She asked.
“It’s practical. It’s very private, no one will know you’re here or connect you with me. No one ever sees me here; I come into the lower level and only use the elevator. You can do the same. It’s a four block walk to the courthouse. You won’t have to drive back and forth all the time. Sometimes court will let out early. There’s a helipad on Welton Street I can use.”
“You can use,” she repeated.
“To come and see you. Have a mini-Session. Avia, three or four times in a month is just not enough contact.”
“Not enough contact for what?” She asked.
He stared at her a long time before
answering. “For me.”
Oh. She thought about that. She had to admit, staying here would be wonderful during the trial.
“I won’t be in your way?”
He shook his head. “I have to go to Macau and L.A. and a few other places. I’m pretty busy, so, no. Besides, there’re four bedrooms. This dressing area is part of a suite. If I need to stay over, you’ll still have plenty of privacy.”
She considered this. Nodded. “Okay,” she said.
“Okay?”
“Don’t look so surprised, this will be so much easier for me. But it still doesn’t explain why you bought me clothes.” Her eyes swept the over the lines of garments. “That’s a lot of clothes.”
“Is it?”
He seemed at sea again. Maybe he needs chocolate.
“I thought so, too,” he said, “When I saw them all. It was kind of an accident. It’s already Friday and we have a Session on Sunday and in a few minutes it will be Saturday and you said something about needing time for laundry, so Hugo called a department store with a shopping service. I just told him to get a month’s worth of clothes. Mostly business.”
“A month’s worth,” she repeated, a bit dazed.
He put his hands on her arms in a gesture of comfort. “That’s how long you said the trial would be.”
She blinked and shook her head in disbelief.
“They’re just from a department store,” he said. “Nothing very special. They did send jewelry.” He went to a built-in dresser and opened a shallow drawer, “But it’s all costume. I swear, Avia, there’s not a diamond earring in sight.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. Centering, she thought. Centering with chocolate, that’s what I need. Wait … She opened her eyes.
“Hang on,” she said, fixing him with a stern look. “You’re a fucking billionaire and I didn’t even get a crummy pair of diamond studs?”
Looking very worried, it took him a moment to realize she was teasing him.
"You seem to be a glutton for punishment, tonight.” He made a grab for her and she shrieked and laughed and slipped away, the skirt of the robe billowing behind her.
