In two more quick movements, Colt had cut the seams at my sleeves, leaving my bra straps intact. He gave my poor destroyed shirt a sharp tug and it came away from my body, leaving me exposed in my bra. What was the meaning of this? I wanted to speak, but I couldn’t make my mouth form words, couldn’t make a sound. Colt reached out again, and this time lifted one of my bra straps away from my shoulder. I opened my mouth, finally, terrified—and managed to squeak half of a syllable. Colt ignored me and cut through the strap in an instant. My legs started shaking more, and I started to feel lightheaded as he calmly moved to the other strap of my bra. I heard the scissors slip through the material, though I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Colt’s face. It was perfectly calm, perfectly composed, as if he were reading an article or a memo, instead of wielding sharp scissors right up against my skin. I felt the straps of my bra fall away readily, my breasts relax slightly—though the bra itself was still holding them. “P-please,” I started to say. Colt continued to ignore me and I felt the point of the scissors against my chest.
I inhaled sharply as I heard the snip of the scissors and felt the bra give way. More gently than he had handled my shirt, Colt pulled away my bra, tossing it aside. He looked down at my breasts and another faint smile crossed his features. I knew my breasts were trembling like the rest of me, moving with my breathing, which was getting more frantic every moment. I could feel my nipples hardening; the air conditioning worked very well. Colt took in the sight of my bare chest for a few moments before he stepped back and made eye contact with me again. “I hope you’re beginning to understand the position you’re in,” he said. I nodded, torn between shame and curiosity at the way I was exposed to his gaze. “Good.” Colt lifted the scissors again, and took a firm hold of my skirt.
“Mr. Colt—” I tried to say, though my brain wouldn’t give me any more words than that. Colt shook his head slowly and found the seam of my skirt. He ran the scissors along the seam quickly, and with a few snips and a ripping sound, I felt the cool air of the apartment along my upper thigh. He snipped through the waistband and let the skirt just fall to the ground at my feet, leaving me in nothing more than my panties. I felt a sharp pain in my lip. My face, all the way down to my chest, was on fire with humiliation. I realized suddenly—sending another wave of embarrassment through my mind—that my pussy was actually starting to get wet. I couldn’t believe it. I had never been interested in any kind of kinky sex games—and certainly, in all my relationships, I was the one in charge. Any time I felt the least bit like someone else might have control of my feelings, I left. Somehow, the situation, which should just be leaving me mortified and angry, was turning me on.
“How do you feel, Alyssia? I think it’s time I stopped calling you Miss Bright, by the way. Do you feel shamed? Powerless?” His voice was oddly caressing, and I had to almost look to make sure he wasn’t touching me. He had chosen exactly the words I would be using to describe the encounter—if I ever had the nerve to tell anyone about it.
“Ah—I—I—” I had no words. The only thing I could think of was being so exposed in front of Colt, even my ass only barely covered by my panties, which were little more than lace. Some part of my mind was screaming for him to touch me—to feel my breasts, touch my pussy. Another part of me was horrified at what he had done, angry that he was shaming me and exposing me. Colt smiled at me and raised the scissors again. I felt the brush of his finger against my hip, and the cold metal. I wanted to say “no,” I wanted to demand that he stop, but I couldn’t make myself do it. I closed my eyes and heard the sweep of the scissor’s blades, the click of them closing.
“Open your eyes, Alyssia,” Colt said. I whimpered, but obeyed, just in time for him to cut through the other side of my panties, right at my hip. I wanted to cry; I wanted to beg him to touch me, plead with him for a towel or a robe. I was breathing heavily, and almost whimpered again when Colt pulled my cut up panties off with a quick tug, leaving me utterly naked in front of him. Colt put the scissors down on the desk and took a step back, his gaze moving over me, taking me in slowly. I tried to curl in on myself, cover up my most vulnerable parts with my free arm. “Stop moving around. Put your arm down.” I bit into my lip again, trembling as I complied. I endured it as Colt stared at me, his gaze lingering on my breasts, my pussy.
Then he closed the distance between us again, and his hands went straight for my breasts, caressing them lightly all over. I tried not to move with his touches, even though I could feel my nipples getting harder against his palms. I gasped when Colt grabbed my nipple between his fingers, twisting and rolling it slowly with a little smile on his face. “How can I make it clear to you just how thoroughly I am in control here?” I tried to make myself answer, but all that came out was another gasp. “Ah! I know.” He reached into his pocket and took out a clothespin—an old-looking wooden one. He opened it up and held my breast in place, letting it close around my nipple. For a split second, I didn’t even know how to react—and then I cried out, my body trying ineffectively to pull me away from the sensation. Colt’s smile grew.
I felt his hand cup my other breast and tried to find my voice again, to beg him not to do it. “I-I-I…” I stuttered. It was like my nervous system kept moving in a circle that went from my breasts to my pussy to my brain—I couldn’t think. Colt attached the second clothespin to my other nipple and I was caught between a gasp and a scream, the combination choking me. Colt took a step back and looked at me as if admiring his handiwork while I whimpered, unable to help myself.
“Not quite perfect,” he said; he wasn’t talking to me, I knew. He went around to the other side of the desk and rummaged for a moment again. He came back around and I saw a chisel-tip permanent marker in his hand. I started shaking my head without even thinking. Colt knelt down in front of me and took the cap off of the marker, taking his sweet time to examine my stomach. He touched the tip of the sharpie to my skin right on the inside of my hip and began writing in a firm, clear script. “PROPERTY OF JONATHAN COLT,” was emblazoned just below my navel, right above my pussy, in black permanent ink. Colt rose and took another step back to examine his handiwork. “Much better,” he said, dropping the marker onto the desk and reaching out for my breasts again. I hoped against hope that he would remove the clothespins, but instead he tweaked them slightly, making me shiver.
In spite of the pain, I felt my pussy flood with moisture, making me soaking wet in a matter of seconds. Both of Colt’s hands cupped my breasts and he squeezed underneath my nipples—somehow making it feel better and worse all at once. I made some noise in my throat, involuntarily; I was torn between my body’s instinct to get away from the assault, and a warring impulse to lean into it, to see how much more sensation there would be. “Make all the noise you want, Alyssia,” Colt said, massaging my breasts more firmly. He gave them each a playful slap, sending new jolts of pain-pleasure through me, before going back to massaging them. “No one is around to hear you but me, and believe me I enjoy it.” After a moment that felt like half an hour at least, Colt let go of my breasts. His hands started moving down over my body, tickling my ribs, and then he slipped one hand between my legs and cupped me, his finger stroking between the folds of my pussy. “What a nice surprise,” he said quietly, touching me up and down. One of his fingers found my clit and he started rubbing it slowly. “It’s good to know you get wet so easily.” I was rocking on my feet, unable to keep myself from leaning into the touch, little pathetic moans leaving my throat.
One of his fingers slipped inside of me and he started moving it immediately, in and out. “Good and tight,” Colt murmured to himself as he fingered me deeper and deeper, stroking my inside walls and pressing his thumb up against my clit. I gasped when he added another finger, plunging two at one time inside my tight pussy. I felt my cheeks burning with embarrassment at the wet sucking and slapping sounds his hand made as he played with me, knowing how wet I was—and that I was only getting wetter by the minute. “You don’t have much of a social
life, do you Alyssia?” he asked, driving his fingers up deeper inside of me. I couldn’t speak; I shook my head. Colt laughed. “When was the last time you fucked someone?” I was panting, mindlessly pushing and twisting my hips against his hand, my nipples throbbing from the pins. He started fingering me more roughly, driving into me in fast movements. “Tell me,” he commanded. His free hand moved up as fast as a snake and gripped my right breast, sending a fresh wave of unbearable sensation throughout my body. I gasped—choked—caught my breath and licked my lips, trying to find saliva in my mouth.
“Months ago,” I managed to say. Colt withdrew his hand, leaving me panting and shaking.
“Good.” I watched him pace for a moment, and he turned to look at me again. “Here is the deal I will make you, Alyssia,” he started, taking a Kleenex from his desk and wiping his fingers clean. “I need an heir. I’ve never been very interested in patiently courting a woman, and I am not fond of the idea of test-tube babies personally. But the fact remains that all of this has to go somewhere.” He tossed the Kleenex into a wastepaper basket and turned to face me. “You will agree to bear my child. Your body will continue to belong to me, for me to use as I please, until you conceive and give birth.” I couldn’t think—I knew I should be objecting. My nipples were aching, my pussy was soaking wet. I wasn’t able to get away from the enormous desk. “In return for your service—and I also expect that you will remain silent on the matter—I will give you the briefcase, and you can have any interview you want with me.”
I tried to force aside my sense of how incredibly turned on I was; some small part of my brain reminded me that I was certainly not interested in having a child—even if I didn’t have to raise it, I wasn’t interested in getting pregnant, having to deal with that. Another part of my mind pointed out that I didn’t really have an option; here I was cuffed to his desk, naked and helpless—for crying out loud I had clothespins on my nipples and he had just fingered me for several minutes apparently for his own amusement—I was hardly in a position to tell him no. A third part of my brain was nothing more than goo, reduced to base instinct by the pain in my breasts, the pulsing need of my pussy. That part of my brain was slowly growing, crowding out any ability to make an actual decision. Think! I told myself, trying to force my brain into a straight line of thought. What argument could I really make? It was the same problem as with my blackmail; Colt had so much money that he could discredit me entirely if I went to anyone about this. At least until I gave birth to the child, there was no way I could prove anything. Colt was standing aside, looking absolutely relaxed, and watching me as I struggled to make up my mind. I remembered—without wanting to—the feeling if his fingers probing me. I flashed to the sight of him the day before, when I had watched him screw the annoying redheaded intern. I felt my pussy tighten, remembering the sight of his cock.
“Yes,” I said finally. “I’ll do it.” Maybe, I thought, if I agreed now, I could get myself out of this mess—and figure out another strategy later. Colt smiled slowly and closed the distance between us. He reached up again and began massaging my aching breasts. I trembled, leaning into his touch as every shift of his hand sent a tingle of sensation from my breasts to my pussy, like jolts of electricity.
“What hurts worse right now?” he asked quietly, giving one of the clothespins a little flick of his finger. “Your nipples or your feet?” As if his words were a cue, I realized that my feet were throbbing with pain—the sharper, more intense sensations in my nipples had drowned out the signal from those nerves. “I’ll be generous,” he said, and his hands left my breasts. He reached around my thighs, just underneath my ass, and lifted me onto the desk. Colt spread my knees apart, and I could feel the handcuff cutting into my skin, but the relief of having my weight off of my feet was too good. He reached up and pinched just below one of my nipples with one hand, holding my breast firmly in place while he opened the clothespin and put it down on the top of the desk. I moaned out loud at how good it felt, and shivered when he let go of my breast, turning his attention to the other one. As soon as he had removed the other clothespin, he leaned in and his lips claimed my right breast, his tongue running over my abused flesh while he sucked.
“Oh—oh, oh—I—” I gasped at the pleasure his sucking and licking gave me, writhing on his desk while his hands wandered all over my body. He switched from one nipple to the other, teasing and tasting my breasts for as long as he wanted.
Then he was stepping back. Colt removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie, pulling it off and dropping it to the floor. “Unbutton my shirt,” he told me. I looked from him to my trapped wrist, and he laughed. “Do it one-handed.” He moved to stand right between my legs; I could feel his body heat through his clothes.
I fumbled with each button as I worked my way down, trying to work it through the buttonhole with my one free hand. Colt stood absolutely still, offering me no help. Finally, I got all of the buttons free, and Colt removed his shirt, tossing it away. He unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers and let them fall to the floor, stepping out of them before removing his boxer-briefs in one quick movement. I couldn’t help myself—I looked right at his hard cock, standing straight up. He was thicker than I remembered, maybe not quite as long, but the thickness of him was intimidating. His two fingers had been a tight fit—how would his cock feel? I remembered how he had insisted on Isabel being wet enough the day before, and it made sense to me now. My pussy was absolutely soaking wet—I’d never been wetter in my entire life.
“Touch me,” Colt said, his voice still calm and quiet, but with a tense undercurrent. I wrapped my hand around his cock, rubbing slowly up and down, feeling the heat and weight of him. I would never be able to get the whole thing in my mouth; I’d choke, I’d suffocate. Colt made a noise that sounded like a half-moan, cut off by force of will. As if he’d read my mind, he said, “Another time I might put your mouth to good use. For now, however…” He pushed my hand away and guided his cock right up against my slit, rubbing his head up against my clit briefly and back down. He pulled me by the hips onto the very edge of the desk and thrust up into me all at once. I cried out at the sudden sensation of being so full; it almost hurt, how thick he was. Colt held still for a moment. “Ah, yes,” he said, and his voice was like a purr in my ear, “you are certainly nice and tight, Alyssia.” He began moving, rocking his hips up, pushing his cock deep inside my pussy. I could feel my muscles ripple and yield around him, taking him in.
I wrapped my free arm around his shoulders, moving my hips mindlessly in counterpoint to his thrusts. After the few moments of pain, it felt so good, the way his cock slammed home against my inner walls over and over again. He tilted me up and he was hitting my G-spot, rubbing against the most sensitive area inside of me with every thrust until I couldn’t even remember my own name but was moaning out loud, unable to help myself. Colt let out a soft grunt, his body tense. “When I tell you to come,” he said in my ear, not quite a whisper, “I expect you to come immediately, Alyssia, do you understand?” I nodded, too far gone to speak. Colt dragged his lips over my neck and used one hand to bring one of my breasts to his mouth. He sucked on it so hard my nipple ached, and my back arched, pushing my breasts up into his face with abandon. I thought to myself that I wouldn’t be able to wait until he told me to come, that I was right there, so close to it I could taste it.
Colt somehow knew; one of his eyes glanced up at my face, and then I felt the sharp, bright pain of his teeth—shocking me out of my impending orgasm and making me shiver all over from the sensation. Colt switched to my other breast and sucked on my nipple, teasing it with his tongue as he pounded my pussy with his cock, thrusting faster and faster and driving deeper inside of me.
After an eternity, Colt pulled away from my breasts and grabbed my face, pulling me by the jaw into a deep, hard kiss. His tongue invaded my mouth, ruthlessly probing and subduing my own tongue before I could even try to put up a fight. He broke away and looked me in the eyes. “Come for me, Alyss
ia,” he said. I started; I almost told him I couldn’t, but with one more savage thrust I felt the climax shatter through me, and I almost screamed, clamping my thighs around him and twisting my hips up, pleasure firing throughout every nerve in my body in waves. A moment after I began to come, I felt Colt’s body tense, and heard him let out a low moan as his cock twitched inside of me, warmth flooding my insides. I felt him shoot load after load of come, the hot stickiness filling me up.
A few moments later, Colt thrust his cock into me one last time and pulled out, taking a deep breath before he walked towards the couch, his steps slightly wavering. He sat down heavily and I suddenly felt cold on the hard desk with his body heat gone. I could feel my muscles spasm with the aftershocks of my orgasm. Colt caught his breath for a few moments, not looking at me for several long moments. Finally, he stood and picked up his trousers, withdrawing a key from one of the pockets. He unlocked the cuff that attached me to the desk. “Lie down on the couch,” he instructed me, his whole demeanor calm and collected again. He followed me and attached the handcuff to one of the metal arms, my arm draped over my head. “I can’t quite trust you yet, Alyssia, you understand.” He sat down in a chair nearby. I tried to imagine what it would be like if I was conceiving in that very moment and shuddered at the thought of being pregnant.
Colt went to his desk and dialed out to the front desk. “Order me the usual from Irving’s,” he said without preamble. He glanced across the room at me. “Make it a double. Miss Bright is staying for dinner.”
Off The Record: To Blackmail A Billionaire (Part One) (A BDSM And Breeding Erotic Romance Novelette) Page 3
