by Julia Sykes
A large metal ring slowly lowered from the ceiling, dangling from a thick cable. I put two and two together from my time spent on the darker corners of the internet and recognized it for what it was.
Of course he has a retractable suspension point built into his penthouse. Why wouldn’t he? The thought skittered across my mind, and I giggled. I was feeling lightheaded, and everything seemed a little surreal and silly.
“That’s a lovely sound,” he said, touching my lips again. “I’m almost sorry I gagged you so I can’t see that pretty smile.” His grin sharpened. “Almost. You’re very sweet when you can’t do more than moan and whimper.”
My brow furrowed. I should be mad. The most I could summon up was frustration, and even that wasn’t as strong as it should be. I didn’t understand this weird detachment from my thoughts and emotions, but I couldn’t muster up enough concern to fully examine it.
He tapped my nose with his forefinger in light reprimand. “Stay just like you are,” he ordered. “Focus on me.”
What else could I do? I was completely under his power, bound and gagged. Only, where the same sensations had brought me misery while he whipped me, now they felt pleasurable. There was no pain this time. Just the soft, sure touches of his masterful hands and the slightly rough caress of the rope. My core ached, and slickness coated my inner thighs. My breasts were growing heavier, my nipples tingling with awareness.
The metal ring came to a stop, dangling a few feet above my head. Andrés picked out another coil of rope and began looping it through the harnesses he’d created around my chest and hips, focusing on the right side of my body. He then fed the ends through the ring and pulled. He braced one arm beneath me as my body tilted and lifted. A strangled cry left me as the ropes shifted and pressed into me. Andrés had arranged them so they held my weight evenly, cocooning my body as he pulled me higher. When I was fully horizontal, he tied off the rope to secure me in place. He wrapped one final length around my left ankle, causing my knee to bend. Gravity kept that leg dangling beneath me, while the restrictive tie around my right leg kept it lifted. My thighs were spread wide, and cool air teased along my exposed, swollen sex.
I drew in shallow breaths as my entire body pulsed with awareness, my world narrowing to focus on the man who’d so thoroughly bound me. His soft smile was at odds with his hungry eyes. I stared into them, fascinated by the black striations that darkened the chocolate brown of his irises.
His hand cupped my cheek, supporting the weight of my head. I realized it was taking effort to hold it upright in this position. My hair dangled toward the floor, weighing me down.
“I’m going to take care of a few things now,” he murmured. “You look very pretty, sirenita. I think I’ll keep you like this more often.”
He finally withdrew his touch and sat at the desk. I was positioned at his side, so I could watch him in profile. My heart gave a little twinge when he opened the laptop, and a high whine slipped past the gag as longing tugged at me. I couldn’t formulate concrete ideas about escape, but I knew I wanted to get to that computer.
“Hush now,” he commanded, not looking in my direction. “The sooner I finish, the sooner I can play with your wet little pussy.”
Lust surged through me, redirecting my longing to other, darker things. I did want him to touch me. My sex pulsed and fluttered, desperate for him to stroke me. I whined again, but he ignored me.
His long, elegant fingers began flying over the keyboard. The light, rapid tapping sounds were comforting, familiar. The room started to go hazy, and my body melted into the ropes that held me aloft. I was floating, euphoria settling over me. The world started fading around the edges. I vaguely realized that my head was lolling forward, my eyes drooping closed. But it was so hard to hold upright, so hard to keep my eyes open. After a while, I surrendered to the velvety darkness, sinking into it. I sighed, relishing the comfort of the pitter-patter of his fingers on the keyboard. I was one of my favorite sounds in the world, and it filled my consciousness, lulling me into a quiet, peaceful headspace.
“Is my pet sleepy?” His low, accented voice rolled over me. “Or horny?” I could feel the heat of his words on my exposed neck as he leaned in.
A pitiful, needy keening reached my ears, but I didn’t register that I was the one making the sound.
“I have a few questions for you, kinky virgin,” he said, his warm breath teasing across my sensitized skin. “If you’re honest with me, I’ll let you come.”
The tension of the gag eased, and the rubber ball slipped from my mouth. I swallowed several times, my tongue feeling thick and unwieldy.
“I’m the first man to touch you, is that true?” he asked.
“Yes,” I answered softly, still cocooned in warm darkness. I could feel his heat pulsing against my body, and I ached for him to touch me. If I answered his questions, he’d grant me the release I so desperately needed.
“But you know about BDSM. You’ve been to a club. You knew what the flogger was when I used it on you, even though no one has disciplined you before, correct?”
“Yes,” I confirmed again.
“I want you to tell me how you know these things.”
“Porn,” I responded. “I watched Dex’s porn.”
“And who is Dex? You’ve mentioned him a few times.”
“He’s my…” I fumbled to find the right words. “My best friend.”
“Why did you watch your friend’s porn?”
“I wanted to know what he liked. So I hacked into his browser history.”
“Why would you care what kind of porn your friend watches?”
“I love him,” I slurred, the words leaving me without thought.
Hard fingers gripped my jaw, lifting my face almost violently. “Look at me,” he snarled.
My eyes snapped open, instantly focusing on his burning black glare. Fear stirred in the back of my mind, and I tried to scramble away. The ropes around my body twisted and tugged, and a fresh hit of bliss washed through my system. I moaned softly, and my eyelashes fluttered closed.
His fingers tightened on my face. “No,” he said, the command low and rough. “Look at me.”
I focused on him again, my entire world centered on his dark gaze.
“You’re mine,” he growled. “From now on, you don’t think about other men. You exist to please me.” He reached between my legs and grabbed my sex, thrusting two fingers into my wet channel and cupping his palm over my clit in a possessive hold. I cried out at the sudden, rough intrusion, but his fingertips curled against the sensitive spot at the front of my inner walls, and his palm ground against my clit. “You’re mine,” he said, the words almost savage. “Your body, your mind. All of you. Your pain, your pleasure, they belong to me.” He twisted my nipple, and I cried out, even as my core contracted around his fingers.
“Come for me,” he demanded. “Come for your Master.”
He continued to pinch and pull at my nipples as he pumped his fingers in and out of my pussy and rotated his palm against my clit. Pain and pleasure entwined, tormenting me with the cruelest bliss. Tears spilled down my cheeks, and I screamed as my orgasm claimed me.
My scream was abruptly muffled when he crushed his lips against mine in a brutal kiss. His teeth sank into my lower lip, and his fierce growl vibrated into my mouth as his tongue surged inside. I whimpered and opened for him, completely overwhelmed and stripped down to my most basic, animal self. Rational thought was long gone. All I could do was feel the pain of his fingers torturing my breasts, the pleasure of his hand wringing ecstasy from my pussy, the mind-blowing intensity of his mouth subjugating mine. The kiss was raw, primal; an act of force and dominance. I couldn’t do anything but submit to the sensations he inflicted upon me, submit to his power over me.
My orgasm went on and on, ecstasy lashing through me. My body jerked and writhed, making the ropes shift around me. It only increased my pleasure, heightened my sense of helplessness. He continued pumping his fingers in and o
ut of my pussy even as my orgasm began to subside. I became overly sensitive, his touch too much to bear.
I whined into his mouth, and he finally showed mercy. He withdrew his hands from my sex and my breasts, but his lips lingered on mine, the kiss slowing to a deep, thorough claiming of my mouth.
When he finally released me, I gasped for air, my head dropping toward the floor. I didn’t have any strength left in my body. The world was surreal, and I was still floating; blissed out and buzzing.
I watched with detached interest as he retrieved a pair of shears from the desk. He braced my body with one strong arm while he used the shears to cut away the ropes that bound me. I sagged against him, boneless. He dropped to his knees and cradled me in his arms, holding me close. I closed my eyes and snuggled into him as he stroked me and murmured in Spanish. I couldn’t understand the words, but the lilting cadence and low rumble of his voice were comforting.
Without realizing what I was doing, I pressed my lips against my captor’s neck, tasting the salt of my own tears on his skin.
Chapter 12
The next morning, I awoke to the feel of leather being wrapped around my throat. I sighed and opened my eyes as Andrés locked the collar in place.
“Do you have to do that?” I complained.
He chuckled. “The fact that you still take that tone with me means yes, I definitely have to.” He took my hand and pulled me upright. “Go brush your teeth and come back here.”
“And then you won’t chain me to the bed?” I asked with asperity.
“With that attitude, of course I will,” he laughed. He seemed to be in a very good mood this morning. After he’d cut me down from suspension last night, he’d bathed me and fed me before putting me to bed. I’d been too strung out to think about complaining or resisting, but now my spirit was back in full force after a night of the deepest sleep I’d ever had.
I grumbled under my breath about being kept like an animal, but I went into the bathroom to take care of my daily needs. As I splashed warm water on my face, my mind began piecing together my hazy memories of the night before.
He kissed me.
My captor had actually kissed me. That was a surprise. He’d touched my most intimate areas with propriety, but a kiss was… unexpected. It certainly hadn’t been tender and loving. But it hadn’t been sloppy and awkward like my few other experiences with men.
From now on, you don’t think about other men. You exist to please me.
I gasped and braced my hands on the sink.
I’d told Andrés about my feelings for Dex. That put him at risk. I’d made him a target for the Moreno brothers. They would go after him to make me cooperate. I couldn’t let them hurt him.
I stormed back into the bedroom, going straight for Andrés. His brows rose in surprise, but my unexpected ire didn’t slow his reaction time when I launched myself at him.
He dodged to one side, catching my fist where it had flown past his face. His other hand caught me in the center of my chest, knocking the air from my lungs as he shoved me away. I fell, my back hitting the mattress. His weight settled over me as he straddled my hips and pinned my arms above my head with one hand. My legs kicked out uselessly as he locked the chain to the front of my collar, tethering me to the bed again.
He gripped my jaw, stilling my wild thrashing. “What’s this about?” he demanded.
“You leave Dex alone,” I shouted at him, jerking desperately against his hold. “I’ll kill you if you do anything to him. I swear, I’ll kill you.”
His fingers tightened around my face to the point of pain, and he snarled down at me. “I have no interest in this man. And from now on, neither do you.”
“But you said Cristian would kill him if he found out,” I said, panic seizing my senses. Oh god, I’d betrayed Dex for an orgasm. How could I do that?
“I am not my brother,” he growled, the words so garbled I could barely discern them. “I won’t torture you or threaten the people you care about to get what I want out of you.” He leaned in close, so I could feel the heat of his anger slapping against me. “I don’t need to torture you to get what I want.”
“And what do you call tying me down and whipping me until I scream? Is that not torture?”
“If you knew what torture really was, you wouldn’t have to ask,” he said roughly.
“And how would you know?” I challenged. “It’s not like you’d ever let anyone whip you until you cried.”
“You think I don’t cry when I’m hurt? You think I don’t bleed when I’m cut? You think I don’t scream just like any other man in pain? I might not be sane, but I’m still human, Samantha. Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”
I stared up at him, wide-eyed. “Is that how your face…” I trailed off when he bared his teeth at me in feral rage, his scar twisting into something terrifying.
“Don’t talk about things you don’t understand,” he repeated, enunciating every word. “And don’t say your friend’s name ever again. I don’t want you to even think about him. I’m the only man you should be concerned with, the only one you should think about. Your purpose is to serve me, to please me. No one else.”
“Please,” I forced out, my eyes watering. “You’re hurting me.” His fingers were digging into my face, hard enough that I thought I might bruise.
He instantly released me and rolled off me with a curse. He didn’t look at me as he stiffly crossed the bedroom to his wardrobe and started getting dressed.
“Andrés?” I asked timidly.
He didn’t respond.
I decided I believed him when he said he wouldn’t go after Dex. He seemed furious that I’d even think he’d hurt someone I loved in order to hurt me.
I will never cause you harm, not your body and not your heart. I remembered the promise he’d made me. Maybe he did hurt me when he flogged me. And maybe he did enjoy my pain. But he’d never lied about what kind of monster he was.
Guilt nipped at me. Someone had hurt him. That should have been obvious from the very beginning, given his scars. But I’d been so focused on how scary they were that I hadn’t stopped to think about the pain he must have endured when he got them. Not to mention the reminder of it when people cringed away from looking at his ruined face. I hadn’t been able to bear looking at him when I’d first seen him. What must it be like to have people flinch at the sight of you?
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
He stiffened further, and he stopped in his tracks. After a few tense seconds, he spoke, but he still didn’t turn to look at me.
“I got something for you,” he said. “It’s on the tray next to your breakfast.”
I glanced at the food cart that must have arrived while I was still sleeping. A large, gift-wrapped box sat beside the covered tray.
“What—?”
“I’ll see you tonight,” he cut me off and strode out of the room.
Curiosity spiking, I went straight for the gift rather than the bacon. I tore off the iridescent white paper and pretty blue bow to find a plain cardboard box. When I opened it, my jaw dropped.
“Wow,” I whispered, running reverent fingers over the laminated, first edition X-Men #101 comic book. The first one featuring The Dark Phoenix. It must have cost a fortune. Not to mention acquiring it so quickly. I’d confessed my geeky cosplay kissing session to Andrés like, two days ago. And only yesterday I’d appealed to him about my boredom. How had he managed to get this for me?
He managed with all his drug money, I reasoned. But that didn’t stop me from picking up the comic.
Another first edition of the following book lay beneath it.
And another beneath that.
I carefully, lovingly removed each one and laid them out on the bed beside me so I could stare at them in awe. In all, there were twenty collectable comic books that told the entire Dark Phoenix story arc. It was any nerd’s wet dream, including mine.
Okay, maybe I wasn’t actually wet from looking at them, b
ut the knowledge that Andrés had been paying such close attention to the little things I’d told him touched me somewhere deep inside. He might be a sadistic psycho, but he could be thoughtful. Kind.
God, I’m going to turn into Lauren, I rebuked myself.
Still, there was no denying that giving me the comics was a small act of mercy. Apparently, Andrés didn’t want me to go completely insane from being left alone with nothing but my own racing thoughts.
Even though I was almost hesitant to touch them, I was desperate enough for reading material that I eventually opened them. I knew the stories already, but being able to handle these precious editions in person rather than reading reproductions of them on my computer screen was an entirely new experience.
I barely paused to talk to Lauren when she brought me lunch. She didn’t seem keen on talking, anyway. And after hearing her disturbing take on Andrés—how nice she thought he was—I didn’t really want to discuss it with her any more.
Despite taking my time with them, I’d been finished with the final book for quite a while before Andrés returned for the evening. I’d actually started re-reading #101 and was almost done for the second time when he came into the bedroom.
I beamed at him, high on nerd-endorphins. “Thanks,” I said, genuinely grateful.
He blinked at me, momentarily stunned. Then he grinned. “You are even more beautiful when you smile than I imagined.”
My smile faded at the reminder of our real relationship dynamic. He wasn’t some nice boyfriend who’d bought me a cool gift. He was my captor.
“You’re manipulating me again,” I accused.
“So you don’t want the comic books?”
“No,” I said quickly, clutching #101 to my chest. “I mean, I want them. I um, actually already read all of them. But I’ll read them again,” I babbled on, not wanting him to take them away if I sounded ungrateful.
His brows rose. “You read all of them today?”
“I tried to go slow, but they’re so good,” I said. “And I process things really fast. I usually do more than one thing at a time to stay occupied. But this was good,” I hurried on. “Way better than staring at the ceiling.”
