by Julia Sykes
A low, feral sound slipped through his teeth, and he quickly freed himself from his slacks.
My eyes widened, and trepidation made my stomach clench. I already knew he was huge, but seeing him from this perspective was much more intimidating. I shrank back slightly, my sensual haze beginning to clear in the face of reality. His thumb had felt good in my mouth. This was something entirely different.
He fisted the base in his hand, squeezing slightly. "You're going to make me lose control," he growled. "Do you have any idea how delicious you are? So innocent and nervous about pleasing me." His fingers touched my chin again, lifting my face so I was captured in his dark gaze. "You do please me, Samantha. Very much."
Something warm buzzed through my veins, something more than physical pleasure. He trailed his fingers over my heated cheek.
"You're perfect. So pretty with your body bound and shaking for me. Do you want to come again?"
"Yes," I gasped out, rolling my hips against the machine.
"You can come when you kiss my cock. Show me how much you want to come. Show me how much you want me." He ground out the words, and a bead of moisture formed at his cockhead.
He shifted his hips toward me, and I pressed my lips against him in a soft kiss. The salty flavor of his pre-cum hit my tongue, and I whimpered against him as my need began to crest.
"Come," he ordered, pinching my nipples, alternating between them with one hand as he continued to fist his cock in the other.
I shrieked as my second orgasm claimed me, and he rubbed his cockhead around my parted lips, spreading his pre-cum on them. I started to come down, panting against his shaft, but he didn't turn off the machine beneath me.
"Please," I begged, my legs beginning to tremble. "It's too much."
"Count," he reminded me.
"Two," I whined, trying to push away from the torturous vibrations.
His fingers left my nipples to twine in my hair. "You're going to have another one. You're going to cry out in pleasure while your mouth is full of my cock. I want to feel you scream."
A small whimper eased up my throat, but my discomfort eased. My core contracted with fresh need, and the vibrations began to stimulate me again rather than torment.
"Taste me," he commanded. "You can come as many times as you want."
I flicked out my tongue, barely touching the underside of his purple head. He hissed out a breath through clenched teeth.
"More," he demanded.
I obeyed, craving more of his unique flavor. His skin was soft, so different from his thumb. It felt velvety smooth as I glided my tongue down his length, traced the underside, and swirled around his cockhead.
"Very good. Just like that." He was breathing hard, his accent thicker than I'd ever heard it.
I pressed my tongue flat beneath his shaft and cried out as another orgasm wracked my system. It started deep inside me, building until the pressure was impossible to bear. I started licking him in earnest, tasting every inch of him as I reveled in the decadent feel of his hard cock under my sensitive tongue. He bit out a curse, and I moaned in satisfaction. Knowing I had such an effect on him was heady. This powerful man who craved control was struggling to hold back his lust for me. I wanted him to come undone, to feel the same wild abandon that had completely overtaken me.
"How many?" he asked roughly as my orgasm finally started to subside.
"Hmmm?" I hummed against his shaft, and his fingers tightened in my hair.
"You know, gatita. Don't toy with me. How many?"
"Three," I sighed, rubbing my cheek against him.
"That's it," he encouraged. "Worship my cock. Just like that."
The vibrations continued to torment me, but I didn't bother begging for him to turn off the machine. I knew he wouldn't, and truthfully, I didn't want him to. I was as greedy as he'd claimed I'd be. I wanted more: more pleasure, more power, more Andrés.
"Suck me," he ordered, on the edge of his control.
I opened my mouth and invited him in, stroking him with my tongue as he slid inside. He stopped me with his fist on my hair when I tried to take him all the way to the back of my throat.
"Slowly, sirenita," he corrected me, his accent so heavy it took me a moment to discern what he'd said.
Using his grip on my hair, he eased my face back so only his cockhead remained inside my mouth. I rolled my tongue around it and stared up at him. His nostrils flared and his eyes turned flat black. He bared his teeth in an expression that was almost vicious. It made my pussy flutter, and another orgasm shuddered through my body. I screamed around his cock—just as he'd ordered me to do.
He thrust forward, hitting the back of my throat. I gagged, and he immediately pulled back so I could gasp in a breath.
"Relax," he growled, but there was no menace in the word, only desire. "I'm going to come down your throat."
I moaned, the only sound I was capable of with him filling my mouth. He pressed farther back, testing me. I breathed through my nose and focused on suppressing my gag reflex.
"Good girl." His hold eased on my hair, and he massaged my scalp as he pushed into my throat. He threw his head back with a roar and finally released, his cum lashing into me. He pulled back so it coated my tongue, filling my mouth.
"Swallow," he snarled. "Take everything I give you."
As I did so, pleasure claimed me again, the vibrations of the machine beneath me relentless. My entire body twisted against the restraints, mindless with ecstasy. He finally pulled free of my lips, but I continued to lick him, cleaning off the last of his desire.
He started murmuring in Spanish, running his fingers through my hair as he praised me.
Finally, he turned off the Sybian, and I collapsed in exhaustion as all my muscles melted. He freed my wrists from the cuffs and bent to catch me before I could fall. He went down on one knee and captured my lips with his.
Surprise sparked through me that he’d kiss me after coming in my mouth, but he didn’t seem to care. If anything, he seemed hungrier for me than ever.
When he finally pulled away, he freed my ankles and lifted my sated body up in his arms.
“How many times did you come?” he murmured as he carried me out of the playroom.
“Oh. Um… Like, five? Maybe?” I was too sleepy to really think about it. I pressed my face against his hard chest, enjoying the way it rumbled as he laughed.
If that was what giving a blowjob was like, I wasn’t sure why I’d waited so long.
Because I needed Andrés, I realized, recognizing the truth in what he’d said to me earlier. I’d needed him to push past my fears and my weird tics and show me what my body was capable of.
I should be upset at the realization that I needed my scary captor in order to experience intimacy with a man, but he wasn’t all that scary, really. His scars might look mean, but he hadn’t forced me to suck his cock. He could have beaten me until I broke down and did anything he wanted, but he’d ensured that I enjoyed the experience, possibly even more than he did. He’d come once. I’d come… How many times?
I decided I was too tired to worry about it. Sighing in post-orgasmic contentment, I snuggled against Andrés’ chest and drifted in warm bliss.
Chapter 14
Somehow, everything started feeling routine. Andrés fed me, bathed me, teased me, and gave me the most mind-blowing orgasms. With the occasional spanking if I got too sassy. He still kept me chained to his bed while he was gone, but the stacks of comics he brought me every morning helped me pass the time.
It had been a week since he’d taken me into his playroom and taught me how to give him a blowjob. I’d had to suck him off several times since due to my penchant for cursing, but I didn’t hate the experience, so it wasn’t much of a deterrent, really.
For long stretches of time in the evenings, he’d tie me in various positions from the suspension point next to his desk. He claimed that he liked having something pretty to look at while he worked.
Pretty. I’d never t
hought of myself that way. Despite my fucked up situation, Andrés made me feel beautiful, desirable. And that made me feel powerful in a way I’d never known before. I’d always been confident in my hacking abilities, in the sharpness of my mind. But physically, I’d always felt out of place. Awkward and weird.
I didn’t have to worry about being awkward with Andrés. He simply moved my body where he wished, and with his guidance and instruction, I didn’t trip all over myself. I couldn’t get stuck in my own head and in my own insecurities when he handled me. His strong arms and dark eyes grounded me, keeping me focused on him rather than getting swept up in my racing thoughts.
But I wasn’t a fool, and no matter how much Andrés tried to condition me to want to be his pet, I wouldn’t cave. Maybe I did like the way he touched me, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t still intent on escaping him. I had a life to get back to, and I refused to spend my days as the plaything for an evil drug lord.
Evil. I often had to remind myself of what Andrés did for his business. He petted me and doted on me, and it would have been much easier on my psyche if I’d just allowed myself to fall into a fantasy of being his cossetted, kinky girlfriend.
But I couldn’t forget that all the expensive nerdy gifts he brought me had been purchased with drug money. Money that came from trafficking Bliss and selling innocent women like Lauren.
Not to mention that all of it was a manipulation to tame me. To make me docile and obedient so I’d work for his brother without trying to get a message back to my friends at the Bureau the second I had access to a computer.
I’d certainly become docile, despite my best efforts. He kept me drunk on pleasure, and if I did start getting too bold, a sound spanking or his cock in my mouth would subdue me.
For a few days, I’d internally railed at myself that I should have been stronger than this. But beating myself up about enjoying Andrés’ kinky games wasn’t going to help me escape. I needed my full wits about me, and self-loathing was a distraction I couldn’t afford. I could give him my body, as long as I kept my mind. Submitting kept me safe from being punished again. It was the smart thing to do, not weakness.
I didn't bother to look up from reading Watchmen when the door opened. Most days, I tried my best not to look at Lauren directly. Her eyes were so disturbing, and the only time anything sparked in them, it was resentment. She clearly would have preferred to be Master Andrés' pet to being drugged and whored out to dozens of men.
After facing the reality of captivity with Andrés, I suspected I'd prefer my situation, too.
And that realization was so disturbing, I'd rather ignore Lauren than face it head-on.
I gasped when strong fingers fisted around the collar at my nape, pulling me up off the pillows.
"Andrés," I forced out, struggling to speak with the collar tight around my throat. "What are you doing here?"
Lauren hadn't brought me lunch yet, so it couldn't be past midday. He never returned this early.
I looked up at him, alarmed at the almost violent way he was handling me. His dark eyes were fixed on his task: unlocking the chain from my collar. As soon as it fell away, he lifted me up and tossed me over his shoulder, knocking the air from my chest.
"Put me down!" I demanded, twisting in his hold as panic spiked.
He hadn't spoken to me, he wouldn't look at me. Anger was evident in the stiff way he held me, the too-sharp smack of his hand against my upper thigh.
Fear fluttered in my chest, my heartbeat picking up speed. This wasn't my indulgent captor who cradled me against his chest and kissed me. This man who held me so dispassionately scared the shit out of me. It reminded me of his cold detachment the night he'd strapped me to the spanking bench and flogged me.
"I didn't do anything wrong," I protested, squirming against him as we entered the playroom.
No. Torture room.
Because we were headed straight for the spanking bench.
I beat my fists against his lower back, thrashing like a wild thing. "No! Please."
He ignored me, handling me roughly as he pinned my body down on the bench and strapped me in place. Tears dropped down my cheeks as the false image of him I'd built in my mind shattered. He wasn't doting. He wasn't nice.
He was unstable, insane.
And every small kindness he'd shown me had been a lie, a manipulation.
"What did I do wrong?" I heaved out on a sob as terror took hold of my mind. He’d been harsh with me, but he’d always been fair, in his own way. "I didn't do anything. I didn't. Please."
Once I was fully bound beneath him, he paused and finally looked down into my eyes. His face was drawn, his scar puckered and twisted as he clenched his jaw tightly. He stared down at me for several agonizing seconds, then he drew in a deep, shuddering breath. He trailed his fingers over the leather restraints that held my body at his mercy, and his fierce expression eased. He reached out and brushed at the wetness on my cheeks. I tried to cringe away, but there was nowhere to go.
"Please," I whispered brokenly. "I promise I didn't do anything wrong. Don't hurt me."
"I'm not going to hurt you," he promised, his accent thick. "Much," he amended. "Hush now," he said in his usual soothing tones as he stroked my trembling body. "This isn't a punishment."
"But you're angry," I said tremulously. "You're going to hurt me."
"I'm not angry with you," he replied, calm settling over him as he continued to pet me. "My brother..." His fingers firmed on my skin, pressing too hard. He drew another deep breath and resumed stroking me, concentrating his attentions around the leather straps that held me down, as though seeing me helpless and at his mercy comforted him in some perverted way. "I need to accelerate your training," he said. "My brother is not a patient man."
I tensed. Andrés continued stroking me, his focus shifting to my hair.
"I'll protect you," he promised. "But I've been too indulgent with you. You must learn your place."
"So you're going to beat me," I said in soft accusation.
"I'm going to train you," he countered. "You will experience a little pain, but you will enjoy it. I know you will. You like your spankings. You'll like this, too."
"I don't want you to flog me again," I whispered.
"I don't want you to be scared of me, cosita," he said instead of responding directly.
"I thought you like it when I’m frightened," I said bitterly, remembering all the fucked up things he'd said about my lovely eyes when I was crying from fear.
His lips firmed, and he cut his gaze away from mine. "That doesn't mean I want you to fear me. But yes, a part of me likes your fear."
"Please let me up," I begged. "You don't have to do this."
His gaze snapped back to mine, hard with determination. "Yes, I do. It's for your own good."
I didn't dare say how crazy that statement was. I was too intimidated, and he held all the power. He could do anything he wanted to me, and there would be nothing I could do to stop him.
He placed his hand on the back of my neck, lightly squeezing. In his messed-up world, this was a comforting gesture. At least, it seemed to comfort him. It was a demonstration of control, of ownership.
"You'll like this," he said. "You'll see. You have to trust me."
I bit back the retort that I'd never trust him. He might be calmer, but his mood was precarious, violence lurking just under his skin. No matter what he said about me enjoying whatever he was about to do, he needed to hurt me. I could see it in his eyes; I could see the all dark things that stirred in their black depths: desire, anger, pain.
Something about what had happened with his brother had triggered him, and he needed me to soothe him. If he were a normal man and we were in a normal relationship, I'd hold him and kiss him and tell him everything was okay.
But this wasn't normal. He was my captor, and right now, he was on the edge of sanity. There was only one way the madness inside him would be soothed: my complete subjugation. Already, just having me bound and cryi
ng beneath him seemed to have quieted his more volatile emotions. Next, he'd extract pleasure from my screams.
I shuddered, my teeth chattering as cold terror settled into my bones.
He dropped to his knees beside me, his face leveling with mine. Through my watery vision, I saw his brow furrow with concern.
"Samantha," he said my name almost hoarsely. "You're okay. You're safe with me."
"I'm not," I said, my voice hitching. "I'm scared. You're scaring me. And you like it."
"I don't. Not like this. Please. Don't be afraid."
Please. I'd never heard him utter the word.
"I don't want to be in here," I whispered.
"All right, cosita. It's all right. You're safe." He started murmuring to me in a stream of soothing Spanish, running his fingers along my chilled skin as he released me from the cuffs that trapped me against the spanking bench.
A relieved sob heaved from my chest when he lifted me in his arms and cuddled me close. My hand fisted in his shirt, and I turned my face against him as I wept and shook.
He carried me back into the bedroom and settled me on his lap when he sat on the edge of the bed. He held me while I cried, all the fear and pain that lingered inside me from the night he'd flogged me spilling out to soak his chest with my tears.
"Lo siento." I caught the words several times as he continued to speak to me in low, calming tones.
I'm sorry. I knew what it meant.
That helped bring me back to my senses more than anything. My big, scary captor was apologizing. Blinking up at him, I studied his taut features. He seemed truly distressed, and when my sobs finally quieted, he pressed a tender kiss against my forehead.
"I was worried about you," he rumbled, his arms tightening around me to pull me closer to his warmth. "I didn't mean to upset you."
"You did," I countered quietly. "You wanted to see me cry. You wanted to hear me scream."
His eyes flicked away from mine, and he tensed beneath me. "I do want those things from you, Samantha," he admitted, his voice strained. "But not like this. I won't break you. I won't." He still wasn't looking at me, and he seemed to be speaking to himself as much as he was reassuring me.
