by Julia Sykes
"I don't want this," I said, my voice small. "I don't want to be here. I don't want to be tamed. I don't want to work for your brother."
"You don't have a choice in that. Neither of us do."
"What do you mean?" I didn't understand. Of course Andrés had a choice. He could hurt me, he could beat me, he could savor my pain. He could choose to do anything he wanted with me.
But he chose to cuddle me close and run his hands over my cool skin, imbuing my body with his steady warmth.
He didn't answer my question. Instead, he suddenly crushed his lips to mine in a fierce, hungry kiss. Every stroke of his tongue dominated my own, his mouth caressing mine hard enough to leave my lips swollen and tingling. I finally softened against him as my body warmed, the last of the chill of terror leaving my system as I found comfort in my captor’s desperate kiss.
Chapter 15
Andrés stayed with me for the rest of the day, holding me until Lauren brought lunch. She seemed surprised to see us together, and she had to come back a second time with more food for him. I wondered what had happened with Cristian to drive Andrés back to me in such a black mood, but I didn’t dare press him on the subject. I didn’t want the scary, violent man to resurface. I much preferred the sweet, caring man who petted me and draped my body across his chest while he leaned back against the headboard and read Watchmen with me.
I went back to the beginning of the story since Andrés had never read it before, and I found a strange joy in sharing it with him, almost as though I were able to experience it again for the first time myself. Only better than that, because he wasn’t jaded by years of warring fandoms. There was a weird innocence in watching him begin to enjoy the story, his lips curving with satisfaction as he turned the pages faster and faster.
He glanced down and noticed me watching him.
“Am I more interesting than your superheroes?” he asked, ruffling my hair.
“Anti-heroes,” I corrected him. “Well, some of them, anyway. That’s what makes them interesting.”
“Then why are you looking at me?”
I shrugged. “I already read it. I know the story.”
He set the book aside. “Then I’ll get you a different one. I don’t want you to be bored.”
“I’m not,” I answered honestly. “You can keep reading it.”
His smile twisted. “I don’t want to read right now. Not when you’re watching me like that, my curious gatita.” He took my hand and pressed it against his growing erection. His suit was rumpled from laying on the bed with me for hours, but he still looked powerful. Magnetic. The feel of his desire for me through his slacks made power pulse through my veins. This was for me. I wasn’t scared of him when he was like this, even though a part of my brain acknowledged the fact that my captor’s arousal should definitely terrify me.
But he’d never used me against my will. He’d never forced me to take his cock. He might have conditioned me to like it, but the knowledge that I’d been conditioned didn’t make his training any less effective.
My core fluttered and heated, my lower lips growing slick with my own arousal.
His hands closed around my waist, and he shifted my body off his. “On your hands and knees,” he ordered, his voice dropping deeper with desire.
I got into position without argument. After the intense fear and vulnerability of our scene in the playroom that morning, I was feeling particularly clingy. I wanted to be close to him, for him to touch me and tell me I was safe. Even though he had been the one to scare me in the first place. It was fucked up, but I ached to please him, to make him laugh and look at me with pleasure in his dark eyes.
I told myself that my weird feelings were a survival imperative; if my captor was happy with me, he wouldn’t hurt me.
But I’d seen the pain that lurked alongside the rage when he’d strapped me down to the spanking bench. I’d seen the calm that came over him once he had me bound, unable to escape him. He needed this from me.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured as he traced the line of my spine. “Stay.”
He left me briefly to retrieve a few items from the chest of drawers where he seemed to stash a multitude of kinky toys. I waited, trying to remain calm without his touch to ground me. It was unnerving, this… need. I craved physical contact with Andrés, and even in those few seconds of separation, a hollow sensation began gnawing at my gut.
Subdrop. I’d read about it online. Submissives could go into a depressive state after an intense BDSM scene, and they needed to be cuddled by their Doms until the feeling passed.
Only, Andrés wasn’t some dreamy Dominant partner I’d willingly gifted with my submission.
My animal brain warred with my rational mind.
Rational mind: resist, fight, escape.
Animal brain: pet me, hold me, kiss me.
“Settle, cosita,” he ordered, smoothing a hand down my back when he returned to my side. He’d read the mounting tension in my body, and it was soothed away as soon as he touched me.
My animal brain won. With Andrés so close, it was impossible to cling to rationality. I was too fragile from my breakdown a few hours ago, and neediness obliterated my brittle willpower to maintain emotional distance from him.
“I’m not going to restrain you, so you’re going to have to be very good for me,” he said, continuing to pet me. I sighed and relaxed under his hand, enjoying the sensation of his skin on mine. “Just like that,” he approved. My heart squeezed at the pleasure evident in his twisted smile.
“I want you to trust me,” he said. “So I’m going to trust you, too. I’m going to trust you to stay in position for me. I wanted to tie you down so you wouldn’t be able to move away from me. It’s safer for you if you stay still. That way, I won’t inflict pain unintentionally.” He shushed me before I could question him about inflicting pain. “You’ll like this,” he continued. “I’ll make sure you do, I promise. But you have to trust me. Can you do that for me?”
Fine lines of strain appeared around his eyes. He was asking for my trust, not demanding it. He was leaving me free to resist, to fight. It was my choice to submit or not.
And the fact that he gave me a choice made the decision for me.
“Yes,” I said softly. “I can trust you.”
His grin dazzled me, knocking the air from my lungs. There was no dark satisfaction in it, no triumph at my defeat; only pure joy at my willing surrender.
His touch eased down my back, over the curve of my bottom, before tracing the line of my soft folds. I moaned and pushed back into him, welcoming him to press inside me. Two fingers entered me, slowly penetrating my tight channel. I’d adjusted to taking him like this, so there was no pain as he stretched me, sliding his fingers in and out as I rocked my body in a rhythm to match.
I stilled with a soft whine when something hard and wet touched my asshole. I craned my head back to find him watching me carefully. He captured me in his warm gaze.
“Trust me,” he urged. “This will feel good.”
His fingers withdrew from my sheath to play with my clit, and he increased the pressure of the small red anal plug against my tight ring of muscles. It glistened with lubricant, and I knew he was going slowly so he wouldn’t hurt me. As his calloused fingertips traced teasing circles around my clit, my muscles relaxed. The tip of the plug slipped inside me, reminding me of how he’d penetrated my ass with his finger for the first time in the shower. That seemed so long ago now. It had been scary, and he’d done it to demonstrate his complete ownership of my body.
This was different. It wasn’t a power play, even though the power dynamic was definitely shifting between us. The farther he pressed the plug in, the more I submitted. He made it pleasurable for me, taking care to ensure that I enjoyed every deliciously deviant second of my virgin hole being stretched. I surrendered to the pleasure, surrendered to him. Dark bliss sizzled through forbidden places, lighting up my body in ways I’d never imagined I’d accept. Anal play had al
ways seemed too taboo, too humiliating to contemplate.
With Andrés staring down at me with such intensity, I certainly didn’t feel humiliated. I felt precious. Revered. His hands might be masterful, knowing exactly how to make my body flower open for him, but there was also something worshipful in his touch.
A light burning sensation threatened to erode my pleasure, but he rubbed my clit more firmly, giving me a hit of ecstasy to mitigate the discomfort.
“Almost there,” he assured me. “You’re doing so well. You’re going to love taking my cock in your ass, once you’re properly prepared.”
The widest part of the plug sank past my tight ring, and my muscles closed around the slender base as it settled deep inside me. I drew in short, panting breaths, struggling to adjust to the sensation of being filled.
His thumb stayed at my clit, and his forefinger returned to my sheath, sliding inside with aching care. I cried out, and my fingers clawed at the sheets beneath me as twisted pleasure washed over me. I could feel him stroking along the length of the plug through the thin barrier inside me. Although I’d learned to accommodate two fingers inside me, I felt almost unbearably full with the added pressure of the toy in my bottom.
“Come for me,” he urged, increasing the pressure on my clit as his forefinger found my g-spot. At the same time, he gently tugged on the plug. All my pleasure centers lit up at once, and I screamed as my orgasm claimed me. I felt my body clamping down on his finger and on the plug, and the sensations of my inner walls undulating around them heightened my release. I couldn’t push him out, could only submit to being penetrated and played with as he wrung the final drops of bliss from my shuddering system.
I gasped against the sheets, breathing hard. He finally pulled his hand away, but he didn’t remove the plug.
“Stay just like that,” he ordered, his voice thick with his own desire. “Don’t move.”
Before I could turn my head to see what he had planned, a small pop reached my ears and fresh sensation assailed me. A light sting bloomed on my bottom, and my inner muscles tightened and danced around the plug. I looked back at him as I cried out at the shock of pleasure.
I groaned at the sight of Andrés towering over me, dressed in his suit, a crop in his big hand. It was like something out of one of my dirtiest dreams. I’d never before envisioned a man like him—dark and unquestionably dangerous—but desire flooded my entire being as he smirked down at me.
He touched the tongue of the crop beneath my chin, letting me feel the buttery soft leather as he lifted my face. “I like when you look at me like this,” he said, his accented voice lilting with his own pleasure. “My kinky virgin.”
He slid the crop up to my lips, and the rich, slightly salty scent of leather intoxicated me. Without thinking, I kissed it, the same way I’d worship his cock.
A low growl left his chest, the sound rumbling through me to heat my core.
“You please me, Samantha. Very much.”
I hummed in response and licked at the length of the crop, words escaping me. My rational mind had utterly receded, leaving my base instincts to rule me.
“You like the crop?” he asked, the question light with arrogant amusement. “You’re not scared of it? You’re not scared of me?”
“No,” I moaned, lifting my ass in wanton invitation. “Please.”
“All right, greedy gatita,” he chuckled. “Don’t move.”
He tapped my bottom with the crop. My flesh jiggled slightly, making my asshole contract around the plug. More sparks of pleasure crackled inside me, heating my empty pussy. I let out a long sigh, and my head dropped forward as I submitted fully, waiting for more.
He struck me again on the opposite cheek, a little harder. The sting of the leather hitting my flesh made my skin heat with pleasant warmth. When I didn’t protest or move away, he increased the intensity of the next blow, then then next. I groaned as my entire body relaxed. Everything tingled, and I started to float. It felt like he’d suspended me, but no ropes held me aloft. The harder the crop landed, the higher I flew. The world was beautiful and dark and warm, and all that existed were the sensations being inflicted upon my body and the man who was inflicting them.
“Andrés,” I moaned his name, needing… more.
The hits stopped, and his heat washed over me. “I could fuck you right now, couldn’t I, kinky virgin?” he asked, his silky voice threading through my mind. “Your tight little pussy would welcome my cock.”
“Andrés, please…” I wasn’t sure what I was begging for. Just… more. More pleasure; more connection; more of his power washing over me, taking me high and setting me free.
“You shouldn’t say my name like that, sirenita. You really shouldn’t.” He sounded breathless, hoarse.
He bit out a curse. “Open your mouth.”
My lips parted, and my eyes fluttered open just in time to watch his cock surge between them. I whimpered around him as he slid all the way to the back of my throat, but I accepted all of him. His fingers tightened in my hair, and he held himself deep for a few seconds before easing almost all the way out.
“I’m going to fuck your mouth,” he told me roughly, surging forward again. “The way I want to fuck your little pussy. But not today. Not when you’re like this.”
I didn’t understand what he meant, and I was too high to care, anyway. I didn’t have to think when he was in control. I didn’t have to worry.
He held my face and worked his cock in and out of my mouth as I sucked and swirled my tongue around him, lost in a sensual haze. All I wanted was to connect with him, to bring him the same bliss he’d given me.
He kept one hand in my hair and picked up the crop from the bed beside me. He tapped it against the plug in my ass, sending vibrations rumbling through my core. I came apart, my scream of release muffled around his thick cock. He followed me, throwing his head back on a rough shout as his cum coated my mouth. I swallowed it all down, just as he’d trained me to do.
He withdrew, and he caught me as my trembling limbs gave out, no longer able to support my weight. The mattress dipped as he collapsed beside me. He pulled my body tightly against his, kissing the top of my head as his hands roved over my sweat-slicked skin.
I remained cocooned in warm darkness, reveling in the blissful headspace I’d found in finally, fully submitting to Andrés.
Chapter 16
Andrés stayed with me late into the following morning. The sun was already high when I finally awoke. The last few nights, I’d been getting the deepest, most peaceful sleep of my life with Andrés’ corded arm draped over me, his hard body shaped around mine. I wasn’t accustomed to sleeping so many hours, or to feeling so well rested. It helped calm my buzzing brain.
Trapped in my captor’s strong arms was probably the last place in the world I should get a good night’s sleep. That definitely would have been my attitude when he’d first captured me. He’d been huge and scarred and scary, and his claims that I belonged to him had terrified me.
I was still being kept here against my will, but I was coming to understand Andrés a little better. He might be violent and mercurial, but he’d always been completely honest with me. He planned to train me to accept his touch and even come to crave it—something he’d managed with almost laughable ease.
But he’d also promised never to harm me, and I was coming to truly believe that. I was starting to trust him, despite everything. He might be harsh, but he had his own code. There were lines he wouldn’t cross, and he’d proven that to me when he’d freed me from the spanking bench and taken me into the safe haven of his arms, holding me and apologizing for scaring me.
He’d wanted to hurt me. He’d needed it. I’d seen it in the wildness of his eyes.
But he’d held himself back. He’d put my needs before his own. And considering he could do absolutely anything he wanted to me as his helpless captive, that meant more to me than was probably healthy.
I mulled all this over while I went through my
morning routine, separated from my captor by the flimsy barrier of the bathroom door. Since he was still in the suite with me, I was allowed to leave the bed and see to my needs.
Andrés hadn’t yet collared me for the day, and I found myself touching my fingers to my bare throat. It was a little weird, not feeling the soft leather there. I was becoming accustomed to it, and its absence made me feel…
I shook my head sharply, deciding to stop contemplating it. I should definitely resent the collar, even if I couldn’t bring myself to hate Andrés the way I should. He’d taken my freedom from me. And no matter how kind and caring he might seem at times, he still wanted to keep me as his pet, his plaything. He didn’t respect me as a woman, as a fully-functioning human being with a mind of her own.
“Sirenita,” he called out, his stern voice emanating through the bathroom door. “Your breakfast is getting cold. Come.”
I blew out a long breath and tried to quiet my whirring thoughts. Like a puppy being called to heel, I had to go back into the bedroom. If I didn’t, he’d just come in here and retrieve me. And then he’d probably punish me for defying him.
I was feeling particularly brittle after the intensity what had passed between us last night, and I didn’t think I could handle his rebuke at the moment. Even though part of me got turned on by his discipline, I much preferred when he praised me and cuddled me. My nightmare scenario of being held captive was so much easier to bear when he was being nice.
Nice.
God, I am turning into Lauren, I thought bitterly, but I made my way back into the bedroom without complaint.
Andrés was seated on the edge of the bed, fully dressed. That meant he was going to leave soon. A pang shot through my chest, and the irrational reaction only darkened my mood further.
“What’s wrong?” he asked as I walked toward the bed, going to him without thought of resistance.
