Guard (The Underground Book 3)

by Becca Jameson

  The man was a Dom. He had every trick in the book. There was no doubt in the world he could spank her ass until she called uncle. Her pussy already clenched with arousal. Her clit throbbed against her panties. And her nipples were sharp points abrading against the tank top she wore under the ridiculous thick sweatshirt.

  She had no idea why she’d chosen to be so bratty. Probably because she didn’t like the idea of him telling her—no commanding her—to do his bidding. She couldn’t be in a relationship with a man who thought he could control her every move.

  Sure. She was being defiant. Testing him. Testing herself. But it was for a good cause. Right?

  Yes. The homeless. Did he think she would simply abandon the local needy people over a few dead bodies?

  Apparently.

  But she wouldn’t.

  Didn’t matter if she was being rational or not. Didn’t matter if he chained her inside the apartment. Didn’t even matter if he fucked her until she begged him to let her come.

  She still had to feed the homeless. Maybe not as blatantly as strutting down the street in the dark alone, but still…

  Mikhail turned around to face her, holding a long rope in his hands. Black rope. Intimidating black rope. He tapped it against one palm. “Your submission starts now. No extra chatting. No back talking. No sassing me. You’ll never need a safe word with me, but any Dom worth his salt ensures his sub has one anyway. So use red. Red to call a halt. Yellow to slow down.”

  She held his gaze while he spoke. She was in so much trouble. Finally, she nodded.

  He lifted a brow. “Already you forget your manners?”

  “Sorry, Sir.” She felt a flush rise up her cheeks.

  “Safe word?”

  “Red, Sir.”

  “Good. Lower your gaze. Get off the bed. Strip. And I mean naked.”

  She shivered as she crawled out from under the covers and swung her legs over the side. She tugged her sweatshirt over her head first and dropped it. She wiggled out of her loose pants next, leaving her in the tight tank and her panties. With a deep breath, she removed the last two items, well aware of his penetrating stare.

  He stood feet away from her.

  Goose bumps rose on her skin. She let her arms hang loosely at her sides. There was probably some stance she should take, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember what it might be.

  Mikhail still stared. He didn’t move for long moments, though she couldn’t see his gaze because her head was tipped toward the floor. Instead she watched his sexy bare feet.

  Finally, he turned away and yanked the blankets off the bed. “Climb into the center. Lie on your back. Spread eagle.”

  She tried to swallow through her stress, but her mouth was too dry. Somehow she managed to climb onto the white sheet and situate herself in the center of the bed. Lifting her arms toward the corners was a challenge. And there was no way she could force herself to spread her legs as far as he probably intended.

  “Legs wider.”

  She inched them out.

  “Wider. Don’t make me ask again. I don’t like to repeat myself when I’m dealing with a naughty little girl.”

  Her breath caught. Is that what she was? A naughty little girl?

  She supposed she was. And perhaps even intentionally. Though she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why. Was she testing him? Trying to find out how dominant he truly was?

  What a fool.

  She closed her eyes, unable to look at him or the ceiling. It was easier to hide.

  So much time passed. What was he doing? She could hear nothing. Her exposure alone made her pussy grow wetter by the second. Knowing he was staring at her naked body.

  And then something brushed over her cheek, making her flinch.

  “It’s just a blindfold, baby.” His voice was softer. Gentle. Nothing like the aggravated one he’d used before they started playing. “Lift your head a bit for a second. I’m going to secure this over your eyes.”

  She blinked up at him, slightly nervous to have her sight taken away. It was one thing to close her eyes voluntarily. It was another thing entirely for him to obscure her vision intentionally.

  But he did. And the blindfold was wide enough and thick enough she saw nothing. She opened her mouth as if it was more difficult to breathe without her sight.

  “Relax. Deep breaths. Get used to the lost sense. Your other senses will increase in a few minutes.”

  Was that a thing? She fisted her hands. Stretched out to the corners of her bed, they didn’t reach the rungs. Neither did her feet, but the position left her more open and vulnerable than she’d ever experienced. And it was voluntary. So far.

  “You’re so sexy spread out for me like this.” Something trailed across her neck and shoulders, lightly touching her skin.

  She flinched, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

  “Don’t move. Keep your hands and feet right where they are for as long as you can. It’s actually harder to hold a required position than to be tied down. You’ll see. You still have some semblance of free will. And I’ll let you keep it until you move. No warnings. Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir.” How long could she stay spread out like this for him? If he kept tormenting her with some sort of leather dancing across her skin, not long. She thought it was leather. If she wasn’t mistaken, she could smell it.

  And then she had her answer. It brushed right under her nose, tickling her upper lip. She breathed in deeply as it went by. One soft piece of leather, maybe an inch wide. And looped?

  She winced. A crop?

  No. Surely not. She’d seen them on the internet. She’d never seen one in person. If he hit her with it, the sting would be awful.

  And yet, her traitorous pussy pulsed, and she tipped her head back on a low unbidden moan.

  The leather trailed down her neck and across her shoulders again. “So fucking sexy…”

  She shuddered as the tip of leather feathered over her nipple. Almost imperceptibly. Though she arched her chest as it left.

  “Love the deep pink of your nipples.” His words were almost worse on her sanity than his actions.

  The leather returned to her face and stroked across her lips. “Taste it. Stick out your tongue and lick the corner of the crop.”

  Ah, so it was a crop. Her heart raced faster. She didn’t like thinking about what he might do with that crop.

  She stuck out her tongue and flicked it over the leather. Tangy. Salty. Arousing.

  Why?

  “Good girl.” Mikhail trailed it down her cheek and across her neck and then lower between her breasts until he reached her navel, where he swirled it around several times.

  Lower still.

  She clenched her pussy as he grew closer. The ability to hold her legs parted for him was waning.

  Instead of passing directly over her clit, he veered to one side and reached for her outer lips. “Love seeing you bare. Does it make you feel extra naked to have your hair shaved for me?”

  “Yes, Sir.” It did, even while she’d shaved it off that afternoon. Her hands had shaken while she shaved, making her worry she would cut herself. But she’d managed. And the entire time she mentally chastised herself for finding it arousing to shave under strict orders to do so while alone in her shower.

  It made no sense. If she hadn’t thought he would notice, she would have masturbated the second she set the razor down. She’d been that aroused. But the apartment was small. The doors were thin. There was no way she could possibly get off without him knowing.

  Plus he was omniscient.

  “Are you wet?”

  She nodded before finding her voice. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Lift your knees. Spread them wider. Let your lower lips fall open so I can see how wet you are without touching you.”

  She dragged her heels closer to her body and let her thighs fall open wider. The second her pussy lips parted, her mouth fell open and she tipped her head back farther.

  Unbelievably arousing
. The man had done almost nothing to her yet. He controlled her with his words. His tone. His crop…

  She had never been this horny.

  And it scared the fuck out of her. How would she ever let him go? More importantly, how could she possibly let him stay? To submit to him for a few days was one thing. A lifetime was another thing entirely.

  Sure, she was putty in his hands. And it felt damn good. But it was stressful and unnerving never knowing for sure what to expect.

  Perhaps over time she would come to anticipate his moves. But this was a fantasy world. Not the real world. And she couldn’t possibly stay.

  His crop probed her pussy, pushing her lips farther apart until she felt her wetness leaking out to run down toward her ass.

  She dug her heels into the mattress, fighting the urge to close her legs.

  “So wet. My God, Haley. You’re soaking.”

  She didn’t need him to point that out.

  “Such a perfect submissive.”

  Was she? Would she be in a month? A year? Ten years? Or was this a dream made out of a stressful situation that demanded she do anything available to avoid losing her sanity under the circumstances? An escape mechanism perhaps. Her real life was too horrific to face, so she lost herself in submission.

  He’d said on more than one occasion she was his. But what did that mean? Forever?

  The crop slowly pressed into her pussy, shocking her. Fucking her.

  Just an inch or two, but enough to make her squirm. More. God, please. More. It disappeared.

  “Taste yourself, Haley. Lick the crop.”

  She licked her lips first and then opened her mouth slightly. The crop teased her bottom lip and then her top. And then it reached between her lips. She licked it and then closed her mouth around it to suck it clean. The mixture of her sweeter cream combined with the salty tang of the leather teased her taste buds.

  “That’s enough.” Mikhail removed the crop from her mouth and trailed it down her chest. He swirled the soft tip around one nipple, agonizing torture that made her nipple pucker.

  She needed him to touch the tip.

  Please, God.

  Instead of dragging the crop across her nipple as her mind willed him to do, he lifted it off her skin and slapped the tip back down.

  Haley screamed out, yanking her arms and legs together in front of her. The sharp sting shocked her. Her nipple throbbed.

  Mikhail said nothing, but she shivered as she realized what she’d done.

  All she could hear was a slight rustling somewhere in the room, and then he smoothed his hand down her arm from her shoulder to her wrist. He pulled the limb out straight above her head and wrapped the rope around her wrist.

  “I’m sorry, Sir,” she muttered, for all the good it would do.

  “I know you are, baby.” His voice was gentle, not angry in the least. Calm.

  She concentrated on breathing as he grabbed her ankle next and secured it stretched out to the far corner of the bed. With two limbs left, she balled her hand into a fist at her chest, knowing it would be the last time she would be able to touch herself for a while.

  Moments later, she was completely restrained. His hands disappeared from her final wrist, and she gave a tug. There was no easy way to escape.

  “Do you have any idea how sexy you are spread out and secured for me like this?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Your bare pussy is glistening.”

  She didn’t move.

  “There will be no marks on you that last more than a few hours.”

  “Okay, Sir.” She was certain the slap to her offended tit swelled pink and angry.

  “Does your nipple sting? Can you feel the burn?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Well, it’s not visible. Yet.”

  Yet? Her body stiffened.

  “No difference between the one I slapped and its sexy twin. When I’m done with you, there will be raised pink areas all over your body, but none of them will still be there in the morning. Do you trust me?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Though she wasn’t sure it was wise.

  “Keep that in mind. The sting is far worse than its effects. The fact that you can’t see heightens your other senses and makes your mind wander to visualizations that will lie to you.”

  “Okay, Sir.”

  “I’ve never injured a sub, nor have I ever drawn blood.”

  She tried to relax.

  The crop returned, tapping lightly over the same nipple. But to her shock, he leaned across her body and pinched the opposite nipple between two fingers. Hard.

  She moaned, arching into his touch. She shouldn’t be aroused. She should tell him to stop. But damn if her pussy wasn’t pleading for more.

  More of whatever he would give.

  The crop moved south, tapping her skin lightly along the way. When he reached her thighs, he continued the rhythmic pats. Subtle. Not hard enough to make her nervous.

  It felt good. Too good. She craved the distraction of a hard slap to keep her from getting too aroused.

  He continued, tapping her inner thighs, alternating between one and the other. Down toward her knees and then back up until he was so close to her lower lips she lifted her hips off the bed in supplication. She could only move a few inches in any direction, but it earned her nothing.

  Suddenly, the crop landed square on her pussy.

  She yelped, not because it hurt, but from the shock. And her arousal shot through the roof. She needed to come so badly. But he moved away, stroking the tip of the crop back up her belly. The small slapping sounds it made when he resumed the light torture lulled her into a sort of trance.

  This time when he reached her breasts, he swatted at them all around the fleshy section, avoiding the tips. They ached from need. If her nipples had a voice, they would have screamed for him to hit them. Harder. Harder even than the first time. She yearned for more.

  Finally, he gave her a taste of what she wanted, swatting one nipple and then the other. No particular pattern, just back and forth. Maybe three times on one and then two on the other. She couldn’t anticipate each stinging slap of the crop.

  But every time he hit her nipple front and center, the sting vibrated straight to her clit. She whimpered repeatedly, but she didn’t call out or scream.

  She felt like she was falling, floating like a feather. Down, down, down. There was no bottom. No end in sight.

  Suddenly, the crop hit her pussy again instead of her nipple. He was quick. Sharp. She yelped this time. “Please…” The word escaped her mouth without permission.

  “What did I say about begging?”

  “Sorry, Sir.”

  “I know you are, baby.” The torture continued. He knew exactly where to swat her skin and how hard to elicit what he wanted.

  And it felt so good. Better than anything she’d ever experienced. Shouldn’t that embarrass her?

  “How wet are you now, Haley?”

  “Very wet, Sir. I need to come.”

  “Did I ask you to tell me that?”

  “No. No, Sir. Sorry, Sir.”

  “You sure are sorry tonight.”

  She opened her mouth to apologize again and then closed her lips and held the retort.

  “Good girl. You’re learning. On a scale of one to ten, how close are you to coming?”

  “Eight, Sir.”

  “Good. Hold it there. Don’t get closer. I’ll punish you all night long if you come without permission. Do you doubt me?”

  “No, Sir.” She shook her head. The darkness encompassed her. She had forgotten the lights were on in the room, and although she couldn’t see, Mikhail had a perfect view of her naked body, perhaps all red and spotty. How visible were the stinging marks of his crop?

  He swatted her pussy again. “Feel the sting. Let it vibrate through you.”

  She didn’t need the play by play, but she assumed he knew the effect it had on her.

  And then the crop disappeared and something hard nudged at h
er entrance.

  She strained to lift her hips toward the object, willing him to push it inside her, no matter what it was. And she got her wish when he swirled the blunt item around the inside of her lower lips until her wetness was spread to encompass her lips.

  When the object pushed into her pussy, she moaned. What was it? Did she care?

  “It’s the other end of the crop, baby. Not very wide. Maybe an inch and a half. Take it inside you.”

  How could she not? Nevertheless, she forced her knees wider and lifted her hips using muscles she didn’t know she had.

  Mikhail slowly pushed the crop into her pussy and then removed it just as gradually.

  She moaned, tipping her head back and letting her mouth fall open. God, yes.

  Again he eased the handle into her pussy, deeper, all the way to her cervix. And he left it there, releasing it to let it lie between her legs. The slight pressure to the upper wall of her channel alerted her to this fact.

  “Hold it inside you. Don’t let it slide out.”

  She gritted her teeth. Every instinct told her to push it out. She gripped it instead, her pussy muscles grasping at the leather-covered handle.

  “Love watching you work so hard to obey me. My cock is about to blow.”

  She swallowed, trying to concentrate on the crop instead of his words.

  The bed dipped as he climbed up next to her. He straddled her waist, leaving the crop inside her pussy. His cock bobbed against her tits, making her long for more. She wanted to suck it. Lick it. Taste it.

  Was she possessed?

  Mikhail dragged his cock along her nipples, rubbing them with the smooth skin of his shaft. Drops of precome leaked out to land on her breasts. It was heady and arousing all by itself.

  When he shifted backward a few inches, he cupped her boobs, squeezed them almost too hard, and pinched her nipples. “Give me a number, Haley.”

  A number? Oh, right. Her arousal level. “Nine, Sir.”

  He released her nipples immediately and swung his leg over to kneel at her side. The crop disappeared.

  She gasped for breath. Why hadn’t she said six?

  After a full minute or more, his fingers grazed her thigh, trailing up and down, bringing her back to life in an instant. He touched her everywhere except where she most craved his touch.