by M. A. Ellis
He held her head steady and somehow avoided her flailing legs. Her mind raced between finding a way to bite into his fleshy palm and all the self-defense techniques she’d learned over the years. His thumb caressed her cheek in a gesture so loving, it startled her to the point of immobility.
“Shhhh. I’m not going to hurt you as long as you do exactly what I tell you.” His voice was deep and raspy and not at all distinct over the pounding of her heart. “No screaming.”
He lessened the pressure on her mouth, shifted his hand but didn’t remove it, as he spun her around, pointing them both on a course toward the bedroom. She tried to wrench her head to one side and the spicy scent assailed her nostrils. In a rush, the familiarity of his smell, of their position, of the strength in that single arm across her stomach, had her legs all but giving out under her. He caught her and she felt the shock that went through him. Faking unconsciousness probably would have been the way to go if she hadn’t suddenly realized who had captured her. While it should have been a relief, her heart pounded anyway.
“As long as you behave yourself and do exactly as I say, you’ll be fine. Do you understand?”
Question after question assailed her but Isabel tried to push them away. There would be time to figure it all out later. Unless she wanted to figure it out now, in which case she could clearly speak the words that would make him stop They’d discussed just that when they’d gone private. Her primetime fantasy-to-end-all-fantasies didn’t end until she told the person holding her captive she knew who he was. Naming him was her safe word. That and nothing else. And while part of her was pissed at him for ignoring her, another part applauded his creativity. The fact he had taken the one thing she had told him was the biggest turn-on and had run with it.
He jerked her head to one side and her attention immediately focused.
“Do you understand?” he repeated, his warm breath teasing the side of her neck. She couldn’t help the way her hips pressed backward as a little shiver of desire wound its way through her body and she heard the tinge of satisfaction in his voice. “Is there anyone else home?”
He was using the exact words she’d told him her fantasy intruder would say and Isabel swallowed against the dryness in her throat. She knew she could test his patience, at least a little. But did she want to? Did she really, really want to when he was here and ready to please her?
One word is all it would take. One way or the other.
She could say his name…or she could give her answer.
Isabel pressed her head back against his bare shoulder, turning her face away from his mouth in the process. He was shirtless. “No. No one else is here.”
“That’s very good.” He dipped his head to the tender spot where her neck met her shoulder, his lips sending coiling sensations through her as his next question forced his mouth to tease her skin. “Will you promise not to scream or do I need to gag you?”
“No. I’ll be quiet.”
“Will you?” He nipped at her skin and a little oh echoed through the room. “That’s not very encouraging.”
“I prom—” Her words were cut short as he walked two steps forward and bent her over the back of the couch. His thighs pushed against her ass while his upper body held her down. He pulled her arms behind her back and she lay shocked into motionless as he expertly bound her wrists with a length of rope that was long enough that the ends periodically slapped the sides of her knees as he tied his knots. In her dreams, she struggled against her captor but the real-life sensations of smooth, silky rope caressing her skin, followed by firm tugs as he secured the ends, was completely distracting.
He stepped away from her and his gaze lingered on her skin. “Put your legs together. Nice and tight. And don’t move.”
She did as he commanded and waited, unable to stop thinking of the discrepancies between the true scenario and what she had described. How was he going to get her dress off? In the dream realm, the man had ripped her nightshirt off before he bound her.
“I want to see that ass. Raise your dress.”
How did he expect her to do that? “I don’t think I—”
His hands wrapped around her shoulders and jerked her upright and a tiny gasp escaped her lips.
“Use your fingers. Go from side to side. Bend when you have to but get that ass exposed now. If I have to wait too long, I’m not going to be happy just spanking it. You’ll find yourself bent over the couch again.”
Wetness slicked her folds at the thought and she moved her bound arms as best she could, working the knit fabric up one side and then the other until she had her dress around her waist. Bending forward she rested her wrists at the base of her spine.
He didn’t utter a word and the longer she stood motionless, the wetter she became. She knew her panties had to be soaked but she wouldn’t move. If she did, bad things were bound to happen.
His footsteps were all but silent and she realized he’d taken off his shoes. He paced behind her and her muscles tightened. He was going to touch her, that much she knew, but she wasn’t sure what form his caress might take. Firm, full swings or tiny little taps. She remembered the exact rhythm of his fingers stroking her pussy lips and she barely contained a moan.
“Eventually, I’m going to tie your legs but I can’t decide if it would be more of a torment to have them tight together or spread-eagle. Either way, the panties have to go.”
She waited for him to pull them down or perhaps rip the lacey garment from her body but he walked around to her side, pulled a small black duffle bag out from under the coffee table and tossed it on the couch. His pecs jumped from the mild exertion and she bit her lip as she studied the expanse of his bronzed, bare skin. He had to work out like a fiend. Abs like his didn’t simply materialize. They screamed of hours of dedication and discipline and that thought prompted a full-body shiver. He wasn’t wearing a mask like the man in her fantasy and Isabel was glad. His recognizable face and sexy features made the whole scenario more intense, for some reason.
With a sweep of his arm, the newspaper fluttered to the floor and an area of clear glass was at his disposal. He bent, the fabric of his black dress slacks drawing snug across his lean hips, and one by one, he pulled items from the bag and placed them on the table. Scissors, a crop, two different types of nipple clamps, a long bamboo cane, a narrow leather paddle with three hearts on the end, a purple-and-black flogger, a solid ball gag.
He looked up to gauge her reaction and Isabel remained stoic. If he were a real intruder, someone intent on torturing her, she wouldn’t have allowed him the satisfaction of seeing her fear. But Chris already knew that from their talks. Maybe she’d told him a bit too much because the next item he pulled from his bag startled her. It hadn’t been discussed. Not once.
He set the plug on the glass, flat side down so she could clearly see its shape and size. It wasn’t huge but in her opinion it couldn’t be categorized as small either. A bottle of lube joined it and she couldn’t help but shift her feet.
“When I’m done, I’ll allow you to pick one item and I’ll pick two. Your little lack of restraint has just helped me decide on one of those.”
She stopped before she told him “no” but she couldn’t mask her shock when he produced a huge wand-type vibrator next.
“Those are the choices for tonight.”
“Tonight?” How did that work as far as fantasies went? She hadn’t discussed a two-day event. She wasn’t sure she could handle that.
“You really didn’t think I was going to let you go, did you?”
She stood stock-still, her mind reeling at what his words could actually mean if what they were doing was real and not pretend. The thought blindsided her as he kneeled on the couch in front of her and pulled her head closer.
“You need to realize you’re mine,” he said, covering her mouth with his, slanting his lips to one side to gain deeper entrance. He stroked her tongue with his as he cradled the back of her head and plundered her mouth, increasing the pressu
re enough that he pulled her back into full-fantasy mode.
“You taste delicious. Is the rest of you as sweet?” he asked, leaning back just far enough to grab the sides of her strapless dress and pull the bodice over her breasts and down to her waist. Her nipples hardened into tight little points and his gaze feasted on them a moment before his mouth descended. He nibbled and nipped hard enough that she reacted automatically and tried to stand up but he surged forward and sucked the tip a little harder while his fingers found her other nipple and rolled it slowly between his thumb and middle finger. A jolt of heated desire shot directly to her pussy and Isabel leaned toward him, silently begging for more.
“I think we’ll take these out of the mix,” he said in a low voice, turning just enough to grab the nipple clamps and toss them back into the bag. “I like how responsive your tight little buds seem to be. I don’t think they need any additional stimulation this evening. Would you like me to taste the other one?” He reached out and a second little tweak brought her pussy right back to attention.
“Yes, please.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Mmmm. Very good, Isabel. Very, very good.”
He nuzzled her other breast, varying the suction and licking until she was rocking against the back of the couch in an attempt to stop the pulsation between her thighs.
“Don’t move,” he commanded forcefully as he pulled his lips away.
Isabel stopped mid-thrust at his tone.
“You do not move unless I grant permission. Is that understood?”
She watched him as he inhaled then teasingly blew a stream of cool breath over one saliva-dampened nipple until it puckered to the point of near discomfort. She clenched her teeth, unsure whether a nod would be acceptable or if he was waiting for a verbal response. His gaze bore into her as he reached out and stroked the pebbled hardness with the flat of his fingernail. Over and over in one direction until she couldn’t remain silent.
“Yes.” She managed to keep her torso still and thought she saw his lips twitch, as if he knew the battle his touch had created. But his next words had her believing she had imagined even that small chink in his dominant armor.
“Come around here,” he ordered, turning around and sitting on the sofa. “Now.”
Isabel quickly obeyed, an innate sense prompting her to hold the back of her dress up as she went. She stopped in front of him and he picked up the scissors and quickly cut through the side seams of her thong. It didn’t fall off, just hung there and she wondered if she should spread her legs and let it drift to the floor. He reached out and twirled the front piece of fabric around his finger until it hovered over her clit. She could feel the heat radiating from his hand and held her breath.
Anticipation was nearly driving her wild with need. She wanted to move but dared not. She wanted to have him tell her exactly what to do and she wanted to carry out his demands to the point of excellence.
“Do you want me to touch you?”
“Yes Sir.”
The words were out of her mouth without thought and Isabel’s eyes, half-closed with clouded lust, opened wide.
“That deserves a special reward.” He pulled his hand back and the thong slid between her legs. He tossed it to the ground and had the cheeks of her ass cradled in his palms before she could blink. Then his hot mouth was on her center, giving her clit one quick tug before tracing each side of her swollen labia with the tip of his tongue.
She arched her back and presented her pussy to him. Her fingers touched his and he let go of her ass and grabbed the rope that held her hands together. He pulled gently backward and the combination of her upper body straining and the fact she couldn’t move her arms excited her to the point that she parted her lips and tried to calm her breathing and subdue the little mewling noises she wanted desperately to curtail.
“Mmmmm.” He hummed against her clit and she spread her legs a miniscule amount, trying to cool her heated flesh. His slow crisscrossing licks had her lower body tightening, bringing her close to, but just out of reach of orgasm. The broad flatness of his tongue dipped over the hills and into the valleys of her pussy and Isabel tried to rotate her hips but he grabbed them once more and held her still, refusing to allow her to find release.
“That was disobedient.”
His tone was ominous and she had a few seconds of actual worry before the slow quivering flared low in her belly and spread outward until her legs were shaking. She dug her nails into the cheeks of her ass and tossed her head back.
“Don’t you come,” he warned.
She snapped her head forward and looked down into his bright eyes. The challenge was obvious but as she stared, a disquieting, unfamiliar wave washed over her. The underlying sense of emotional support he projected startled her enough that her impending orgasm was momentarily forgotten. She watched, his every action playing out in slow motion, as his arms moved and his hands slid over her hips and around to her front, his thumbs tracing her bikini line. A frisson of heat zapped her core and as if it never ebbed, her orgasm was upon her once again.
“Breathe,” he ordered. “Slowly. Focus.”
She tried. Believing, on the inhalation, that she couldn’t possibly hold off. There wasn’t a part of her that didn’t feel full. Her breasts, her lower belly, her undoubtedly engorged pussy.
“Now exhale.”
Just as the air began to exit her mouth, he brushed her labia—down slowly until the hood of her clit moved over the aching nub and she whimpered.
“I can’t.”
“You can. A little longer. Keep breathing. You’ll come when I tell you, Isabel. Not before.”
His thumbs retraced their path, this time pulling her pillowy flesh upward and outward until the cool air teased her exposed clit.
The sound of her breathing, harsh yet regulated to a point, filled the room and she tried to hang on. To think of something other than the fact he was dipping his head toward her body, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue.
It was the lightest of touches. A gentle pressure that at any other time might have tickled—not drove her straight to the edge. He didn’t lick her, merely massaged the tiny bead of flesh with caresses that had her legs trembling and her peripheral vision turning a hazy shade of gray. When he drew her flesh between his lips and flush against his teeth, she gave up trying to hang on. As if he somehow knew the exact level of her turmoil, he slanted his mouth and whispered against her pussy, “Come for me, Isabel.”
His words saved her and she cried out as blessed release washed over her but he didn’t stop licking and sucking and stroking her until she squirmed from his grasp. There would be some sort of punishment for that, she was sure. But she didn’t care. She plopped down on the edge of one cushion and then leaned slowly backward, waiting for her sanity to return.
“Make your choice, Isabel.” His voice sounded far away and she wondered if she might have dozed off. She opened her eyes and saw him holding the vibrator in one hand and tossing the butt plug up and down with the other. Somewhere, in the recesses of her deluded mind, she thought her orgasm had marked an end to their play. But in her fantasies, it didn’t end there. He obviously wasn’t going to deviate from her scripted wants and needs.
“Oh my god,” she whispered, eyeing her choices with more than a little concern. If she picked the paddle or the crop, would it simply remind her of the other time? She unerringly knew Chris would be ten times more proficient than the other Dom. He’d take care of her, he already seemed more aware of her body than any other man she’d been with. Which was frightening. She pushed upward and surprised him with an open-mouth kiss.
“Thank you,” she said softly, lowering her gaze when he continued to stare.
He cleared his throat then offered her a gruff response. “Try to stay in character for shit’s sake. I doubt you’d be offering kisses to the man who tied you up and plans on busting your anal cherry.”
“Is that what you’re going to do?” she asked, unable to keep her voi
ce from rising.
“With the plug. Nothing else. You’re not ready for that.”
“Thank god,” she muttered under her breath, pleased at his matter-of-fact reply. He’d deviated from the fantasy enough that she was unsure of what would come next.
“Make no mistake, Isabel. It may take months but you will experience each and every implement at hand.”
She wondered if he was still role-playing. She hoped he wasn’t and the thought sobered her. With the aftermath of her release dwindling, clarity reared its head. “But we’re not going to be in this room for months.”
“Pick one,” he ordered, ignoring her attempt to deflect him from the task at hand.
“Are we going to do this again, Chr—” She stopped before she said his name, not wanting to inadvertently end things. She wanted more from him. She definitely wanted his masterful skills, but beneath the thrumming of her body, a part of her recognized her need for the man himself and that was more than what they had discussed. The stern look on his face made it clear he wasn’t going to answer her but that was fine. They had time and he was a reasonable man, she knew. She was secure in the knowledge that he’d listen to her wants, just like now. Isabel looked at the assortment of accoutrements and made her choice.
“I want the flogger.”
Chapter Seven
Chris’ face never betrayed his surprise at Isabel’s choice. He assumed she’d go with the paddle, having experienced that particular pleasure-pain in the past. Or the crop. He’d actually practiced with that for a few nights to refine his level of precision. His cock had been harder than it had in months when he just thought about which areas of her pussy he could flick, which pattern or speed would make her writhe. The flogger was unexpected.
He picked it up and tested its weight, not missing the way her gaze followed his every movement. She was on edge, that much hadn’t changed, but there had been a shift in her demeanor.
