by Penny Wynter
"From what I’ve heard, the position is highly coveted."
Her nipples are taut, ready for me to sink my teeth into. She shivers and tries to hide it, turning me on even more.
"I think we might have a problem."
Emily swallows. "We do?"
"Yeah. How am I supposed to know if you’re what I need?"
"I’m here, aren’t I? You could just give it a try."
"Are you offering yourself to me?"
Her weak smile almost falters since she’s probably realizing she might be in over her head. "I am."
"To do whatever I want?"
"Yes." She moves her shoulders back, exhaling shakily.
"Even if I want to hurt you? Make you cry? Do all kinds of depraved things to you? Things you might not even like?"
She shows me her palms, an innocent gesture. "I’m all yours."
Fuck. Me. I almost cum in my pants. How can this woman be so perfect?
I take in the sight of her, thinking about the appropriate answer. Then I remember that I don’t even need to give her one. She wants to convince me, not the other way around. I can do whatever I want to her since she’s given me permission. My cock is hard, straining against my pants. I can’t wait to subject her to my every whim.
Crooking my finger, I make her come to me. As soon as she’s within reach, I let all inhibitions go and grab her. One hand on her hip, the other one around her throat, I lean in to kiss her, biting her lip first.
She trembles in my arms, moaning as my teeth dig into her flesh. Her skin’s incredibly soft, and I can’t resist letting my hands trail all over her body. My fingers find her nipples, and I pinch them hard, giving her the first taste of the exquisite pain I like to administer.
"Get on your knees."
Shrugging off my suit coat, I watch as she graciously kneels, legs spread and palms on her thighs—fucking perfect.
Her mouth opens as I pull the zipper on my pants down. I can’t resist and push my hard dick between her lips as soon as I’m naked. I can feel her eyes on me while she swallows my throbbing length. Hitting the back of her throat, I make her gag, but I don’t pull back. Instead, I put my hands on her head, forcing her to stay right there and take it all.
"Remember that you want to please me, Emily."
She looks up at me, tears swimming in her eyes, and my balls tingle with pure pleasure. Fisting her thick, silky hair, I start to dictate her movements, forcing her to swallow as much of my cock as she can handle and then a little more.
When I take a step back, she remains on her knees, gasping for air and fighting against the tears. It’s the prettiest thing I’ve seen in forever, and I can’t stop staring at her. What is it about her that makes me basically lose my head?
Although I had a clear concept in mind about what I wanted to do to her, I find myself squatting down and slapping her naked pussy instead of dragging her to the bed to spank her ass like I imagined myself doing. Emily moans and soon starts panting as I switch from slapping her wet cunt to rubbing her swollen clit.
"Look at me," I order.
Her eyes are wide. She appears equally horny and frightened—an intoxicating mix. I can’t behave myself and massage the tiny bundle of nerves with more and more pressure until Emily starts squirming.
"I . . . I . . . ," she pants.
"No." I slap her cunt again, my hand producing a squelching sound since Emily’s dripping for me. "Don’t you dare cum."
"B-b-but—" she stutters.
I lean in and pinch her nipples while rubbing harder to make her cum. I know I’m not playing fair, but I never said I would. "Don’t cum, or I’ll make you regret it."
She shivers with need, her muscles tense, before her eyes roll back and she reaches her climax, her hips bucking under the force of my hand.
I stand up, yanking her up with me. "What did I say?"
"I’m sorry, Sir." Emily sounds breathless and anything but sorry.
I bend her over my bed, face down and ass up, forcing her head against the mattress. "Greedy slut," I tease as I lift my hand.
My palm connects with her round ass, and the slap resonates in the room. Her surprised yelp is muffled, but the way she squirms makes it clear how little she likes to be spanked. That only makes it better for me. I slap away, reddening her ass more with every blow until she sobs and trembles. Taking my hand from the back of her head, I let her breathe.
"You’re not going to cum again without permission, are you?"
"No, Sir."
My hand sneaks between her thighs, and she’s wet, so wet that I can slide three fingers right into her tight hole. The way her cunt clamps down on my digits is marvelous. I can’t wait to fuck her there. But first, I’m going to take her ass.
She sucks in air when I start moving my fingers.
"You like that, Emily?"
"Yes, Sir." There’s a blush on her cheeks like she’s embarrassed about the sounds my fingers make every time I ram them into her sopping wet cunt.
"What exactly is it that you like? How I made you suck my cock? When I spanked your ass? The rough handling? Or when I made you cum? Maybe even this?" Without stopping fucking her with my fingers, I use my other hand to pinch her clit.
She moans, curling her toes. "All of it, Sir."
"What an exemplary answer, like a good little whore. Tell me, Emily, are you a good little whore?"
I can feel that she’s close from the way her pussy pulses around my fingers and how quick my new plaything sucks the air into her lungs. To distract her, I pat the inside of her thigh before pinching her there as well.
She groans. "Yes. I like it very much, Sir."
"You know you’re not allowed to cum."
Gritting her teeth, she nods slowly. "Yes, Sir. Could you please stop, Sir?"
"No." I finger-fuck her faster and harder, so hard that it probably hurts a bit.
"Please, Sir, can I cum?"
Oh, this one sounds wonderful when she begs.
"No."
"But—"
I slap her ass and pinch her clit again. "I said no, you greedy little bitch."
"I’m going to cum. Please, Sir . . ."
The desperation in her voice makes my cock twitch. Still, I click my tongue. "You’d better not cum, Emily. You have no permission."
She explodes anyway, her fingers clutching the blanket, her whole body trembling. "Oh god," she moans.
I chuckle and wait until she’s back again with me on planet Earth before I pull my fingers from the wet heat. "What did I say?"
My new favorite plaything swallows nervously. "I’m sorry, Sir."
"You will be. On your hands and knees, ass up."
"Yes, Sir." She appears almost eager, positioning herself as I ordered. "Please use me, Sir."
Goddamn. There’s no way I’m going to be able to let her go ever again. I run my fingers across her back, from her delicate neck down to her glorious ass. "You’re mine to use, aren’t you?" My index finger circles her anus.
"Yes, Sir."
"Damn, you’re tight. When was the last time you had anal?"
Her voice is barely audible, and she doesn’t even look at me. "Never, Sir."
I don’t let her know how incredibly horny her words make me. I’m going to be the first man to fuck her ass. That’s something she’ll never forget—a satisfying thought.
Since I’m not a complete asshole, I get up and retrieve some lube from the drawer where I keep all my toys. I squirt a generous amount on her anus and resume my position behind her, digging my fingers into her luscious butt cheeks and pulling them apart.
"I’m not an expert, but I’ve been told this might hurt. But then again, that’s the point, isn’t it?"
"I don’t know, Sir. I’m just here to please you."
"Says the woman who’s two orgasms ahead of me."
I can see her smile before she turns her head. "Your skills aren’t my fault, Sir."
Lining up my cock with her anus, I hold still for a
second. "That’s right. So far, I’ve been way too generous with you. Let me correct my mistake."
She gasps when I push in, breaching the tight little opening for the first time. I can see her struggle, but soon, she gives in and relaxes. My dick slides deeper and deeper until I’m buried to the hilt in her tight back passage.
The friction steals my breath as I pull back, barely giving her time to get used to the sensation of having a dick in her ass before I thrust deep again.
"Atlas!"
Emily moans my name, and I know it should bother me since she’s supposed to call me Sir, but it sounds too good. Her ass clenches down on my cock, and it’s in that exact moment that I realize I will never let her go again. This one’s for keeps.
I grip her hips, holding her exactly where I want her while I fuck her harder and faster, slamming into her. She just feels perfect, and there’s nothing holding me back anymore. I don’t even remember what self-control is. I cum only seconds later, filling her ass with my seed, marking her as mine. Yes, that’s what I do.
Emily collapses on the bed, and I decide that the next thing I’m going to do is probably taste her pussy and make her cum all over my tongue—but first, I need some sleep.
She climbs out of the bed, eyeing the floor. "Am I allowed to stay here, Sir? I can sleep on the floor."
I cock my brow. "Now why would I let you do this? Your place is in my bed. If I wake up and want to fuck you again, you have to be close."
"Yes, Sir." She smiles weakly. "So I can stay?"
"Let me put it this way—you’re definitely not allowed to leave."
3
Emily
Every bone in my body aches when I wake up. The blanket covering my naked skin feels weirdly lush and decadent. I need a minute before I’m able to focus.
Right. I’m not on the couch in Michael’s club. I’m actually in the Kingmaker’s bed. Holding my breath, I turn around, only to find the other side empty. I touch the sheets. They’re cold. Maybe he hasn’t slept here.
Forcing myself to sit up, I rub my face with both hands and look around. I’m definitely alone in his bedroom, and I can’t hear anything but my own breathing.
After a while, I stand up and walk to the bathroom. The aches and pains in my body are even worse than I suspected, yet I find myself smiling. The Kingmaker really is as intense as his reputation. He fucked me, and he seemed to enjoy it, so there’s a tiny speck of hope flickering inside of me that the Kingmaker might actually keep me.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror. The marks around my neck, on the inside of my thighs, and on my boobs paint a pretty good picture of what happened to me, but so do the bird’s nest on my head and the smudged mascara around my eyes. The Kingmaker used me thoroughly.
Still smiling, I open the tap and use ice-cold water to wash my face. I rub until the makeup is gone and my cheeks are crimson red. Then I try my best to untangle my hair to at least look somewhat presentable. I need to talk to the Kingmaker to find out if he wants to keep me. Man, I really hope he does, not only to save my life but also because I enjoyed the sex. I actually want more, to be perfectly honest.
There’s only so much I can do for my hair, using nothing but my fingers. I shrug and leave the bathroom. Picking up my dress from the floor, I hesitate. Maybe I should stay naked to signal my availability. He wants me to be obedient. That much is clear. I let the dress drop again and walk out of the room, looking for—hopefully—my new lover.
The house is dark and silent as I make my way down the stairs. I have no idea where to start looking when I see the light from behind a slightly ajar door. It seems smart to check first if the Kingmaker has a visitor before I barge in there naked.
It’s his office or maybe his library. He’s sitting behind a giant desk, a mobile phone pressed to his ear. Bookshelves cover the walls, floor to ceiling. It looks amazing.
"Yeah, it’s me. Put Michael on the line, please."
My heart leaps into my throat. Common sense says that there must be at least a thousand Michaels in this town, if not more, but my gut knows he’s calling my boss. The Kingmaker’s fingers drum impatiently on the desk while he waits for Michael to take the call. I can hear him sigh as he listens to the voice on the other end of the line.
"Are you done?" His tone is cold, almost making me flinch, although he’s not even talking to me. "Maybe then you can shut up and listen to me, Michael. I have a question for you, and I’d better like the answer you’re about to give me, so take your time before opening your mouth again. How come I just found one of your whores in my bed?"
He pauses to listen to Michael. I have to press my hand against my mouth to keep from whimpering. This is not how I imagined this would go down. I genuinely thought he liked me—at least enough to fuck me on a regular basis.
The drumming of the Kingmaker’s fingers stops as he listens. "No, her name is Emily." Another pause ensues before he clicks his tongue. "Well, then maybe you should come to pick her up."
I don’t wait for them to discuss the details. Instead, I turn around and run back upstairs. The panic makes me quick, and I only need a couple of seconds to put my dress on and grab everything I brought with me. Clutching the shoes and my bag to my chest, I make a detour into the big walk-in dresser. I grab as many of the expensive watches as I can stuff into my bag before hurrying down the hall.
There’s a big window at the end of it, and I figure that I need to take my chances climbing out there. I can’t take the stairs since it’s too much of a risk. I don’t want to walk right into the Kingmaker’s arms.
Opening the window, I glance out. It’s high but manageable. I let my shoes drop to the lawn and climb over the ledge, my bag pressed safely against my chest. Those watches are my last hope.
I’m ready to let go and jump when a hand fists my hair, forcing my head back and painfully so.
"Where do you think you’re going?" the Kingmaker hisses next to my ear. He puts his arm around my waist and pulls me back into the house.
"No!"
Kicking and scrambling, I try to free myself, but he only grips me harder, forcing me to arch my back to ease the pressure on my neck before he snaps it. I can’t fight him and hold on to my bag while clinging on to the window frame with only one foot hooked around it. So I let go of the bag. Digging my nails into the Kingmaker’s arm, I manage to hold on to the window frame, keeping my captor from dragging me back into the hall.
"Stop it," he snarls when I draw blood.
"Let go of me first."
"You’re in no position to bargain with me, Emily. Stop fighting, or you’re going to fucking regret it."
Instead of answering him, I twist my body. I’m not ready to die. I thought I was, but it turns out I am not. He won’t make me bend to his will just so he can give me back to Michael. I feel oddly betrayed by the Kingmaker, and it gives me more energy to fight him.
For a few seconds, I actually believe I might have a chance—until the Kingmaker loses his patience. He turns around with me in his arms, almost breaking my foot, which is still hooked around the window frame.
I have to let go to prevent an injury, and as soon as I do that, he slams me into the ground. There’s a moment where I feel like I can’t breathe, my lungs won’t suck in any air, and I just lie on my back—a helpless bug about to be crushed by the Kingmaker.
He bends down, grabbing my bag and opening it. With a frown, he pulls out his watches before he looks at me with a sinister smile. "Someone’s been a very bad girl."
Finally, my brain starts working again, and I scramble to my feet. The Kingmaker stops my futile try by grabbing my left ankle, dragging me along like a rag doll.
"No, please. Stop," I beg, with tears spilling from my eyes. My fingernails are red with his blood, and I leave stains all over his carpet, trying to find something to cling to.
"I really thought we had a connection." He shakes his head and opens the bedroom door, pulling me inside.
I bump my head on the
door frame, colorful dots exploding before my eyes. "Stop!"
He just grunts, lifts me up, and tosses me onto the bed. I don’t even have time to react. He puts his hand around my throat while he straddles me, using his weight to pin me down.
"You really shouldn’t have done that."
"Fuck you!" I hiss. "Does it matter if you kill me now or leave it to Michael?"
The Kingmaker cocks his brow. "Now why would I do that? I’m not in the habit of sharing my toys."
"Well, then why did you call him?"
His eyes sparkle deviously. "What’s my name, Emily?"
Confused by the question, I stare up at him. I’m so sick of his damn games. There’s no hint of what he’s about to do as he stares down at me, his fingers digging into my throat. I literally don’t see it coming as he slaps my cheek without any warning.
"You need to learn to answer me when I ask you a question. What’s my name?"
The burn is not as bad as it could be. Still, I feel no desire for a repetition. "Atlas."
He chokes me harder. "Is that the name people use when they’re talking about me?"
"No. They call you the Kingmaker."
"And why is that? It can’t be because I share my plans with everyone, can it now?"
A hot tear is running down my cheek. "I don’t know what you want from me."
"I wanted you to stay in my bed and spread your pretty thighs for me when I came back. Instead, you snuck around behind my back, listened to a conversation that wasn’t for your ears, stole from me, and tried to run away."
He starts to choke me more and more with each sentence. I can barely breathe. I can’t shake my head. I can’t do anything. So I just look at him, pleading with my eyes.
"You must be the least trustworthy fuck toy I’ve ever acquired." He takes his hand off my throat and leans over to the edge of the bed, opening the nightstand’s drawer. When his hand comes back into view, he’s holding a syringe. "You should consider yourself lucky that I find you interesting. Somehow you’re not only an exquisite fuck but also highly entertaining." Still, that doesn’t seem to hinder him from removing the needle shield.
