by Nikki Sloane
I stood in silence as she went to the wine fridge, checked labels, and pulled out the bottle she was looking for. Whitney moved with precision while she opened the wine, and thirty seconds later she handed me the poured glass.
“Thank you,” I squeaked out.
She noticed my hand trembling, but said nothing. Instead, she gave me a friendly, curious smile, and nodded.
I trudged up the stairs and down the hallway back to him, careful not to spill the red wine. I lingered with my hand on the door knob, drawing in a deep breath to calm my nerves before pushing it open.
Didn’t matter, I wasn’t prepared.
Luka must have moved the new piece of furniture in while I was downstairs. I wasn’t sure what it was exactly, and I stared at it with dread. The piece was black and similar to a construction sawhorse, only there was padding covered with vinyl at the top. Buckle cuffs decorated all four legs.
I almost spilled the glass, but Luka snatched it out of my hand just in time.
“Breathe,” he ordered, setting the wine down on the dresser and locking me in his arms, keeping me from bolting. “This is like the clock. It’s another tool to help us get to where we need to be.”
I couldn’t rip my gaze away from the damn thing. He was going to restrain me to it and do unspeakable things. That fear was paralyzing.
“Look at me.” It took an enormous amount of strength to comply. His expression was serious. “This experience can be as pleasurable as you want. I’d prefer that.” His eyes flooded with lust. “You sound so amazing when you come. I’ve watched the video you took, like, fifty fucking times.” He turned me in his arms, pressing me back against his chest so we were both looking at the thing and his lips were beside my ear. “It’s just a bench. There’s nothing to be scared of.”
Was he serious? “What about you?”
I couldn’t see his knowing, evil smile, but I sensed it. He brushed my hair off of my neck and out of his way, planting a slow, lingering kiss there. “When we’re doing this, you’re not scared of me, you’re scared of how you feel when you’re with me.”
“Nope,” I said. “Pretty sure I’m just terrified of you.” It was a lie and I was certain we both knew it.
He picked up the glass of wine, turned his head to the side, and drank. “Then, get over it during dinner.”
“Dinner?” New dread poured into my belly. I’d thought we were going to continue whatever he’d started and use the new tool he’d moved into the room. “What about the . . . the . . .”
“The plug in your ass?” He said it so casually I hated him a little again. “It stays. I want you thinking about how my cock’s going to feel there later.”
He had to hold me up as I sagged in his arms. I couldn’t catch my breath. And he was absolutely right. I was plenty nervous about him doing that, but it wasn’t half as scary as the idea I might end up liking it.
π
It was the most uncomfortable dinner yet. Not just because of the toy, but because I couldn’t focus on anything. Trying to hold a conversation with me was frustrating for Luka, and he often had to repeat himself. But he was the one to blame for my flustered state, which he was clearly enjoying.
He ate his dinner slowly, savoring me more than the meat. I picked at the food, just wanting this part over. The sooner we got through dinner, the sooner we’d get back to the bench and on with it. I told myself there wasn’t a single molecule of curiosity in me about what was going to happen. I wouldn’t fucking allow it.
I did, however, drink the wine he poured for me. Both glasses. When he poured himself the last of the bottle, I held my empty glass out to him.
“You’re already smiling,” he said, “so I think you’re done.”
Crap, I’d already gotten to stage one. “You didn’t care I was wasted our first time.”
His expression hardened. “That’s because I was wasted, too. I already told you, I want you to enjoy this. Not get sick and feel like death tomorrow. You ever had a wine hangover before?”
“No,” I fired back, getting mouthy from the alcohol. “Just tequila and rohypnol, Luka.”
He exhaled loudly and the muscle along his jaw ticked. “Upstairs, now.”
Luka carried the glass of wine with him, and pushed open the door to the green bedroom, gesturing like a gentleman for me to go inside. My buzzing brain prayed the bench had magically disappeared, but no. It sat, waiting for me. Or maybe . . .
“Is there a chance you’re going to be strapped down to that and not me?” I said, my voice slurring.
Amusement passed through his expression, gone as quickly as it arrived. “No. Take off your clothes.”
I’d wanted to get dinner over with, and now I wished I’d stalled. I moved achingly slow as he sat in the loveseat and watched me with a lustful gaze. I discarded my clothes one at a time on the bed until I had nothing left except what he’d put inside me.
The room was freezing, and got colder when he pointed to the bench.
I swallowed a gulp and forced my feet to move. But as I stood beside the bench, I wasn’t entirely sure what to do.
Luka was up in a flash. “You lay on it face down, length-wise. Your head goes here.” He pointed to one end, and then helped me lower myself awkwardly on it. The cold vinyl squished and ran between my breasts, down along my stomach, and between my legs.
His warm hands took hold of my wrist and gently placed it in the first cuff. By the time he was securing my final ankle, I was shaking like a leaf. I rasped for air and gripped the legs of the bench, driving my nails into the wood. Fingers ran the length of my spine and I shivered. His touch was electricity, shocking my nerve endings awake.
The first spanking he gave was nothing in comparison to his others before, and the next was the same. Almost gentle, like he was warming me up.
“I’m going to turn your ass the perfect shade of red.”
He built up the intensity slowly, following a pattern where he’d spank each side, then circle his fingers on my clit. My head was buzzing, and I moaned softly as he manipulated me. As his slaps got harder, I could feel them inside and out because of the plug.
The rhythm filled the room. Slap, slap, moan. Slap, slap, moan. My body responded to him, becoming eager for his touch, whether it was delivering pain or pleasure. The lines blurred together. My backside was on fire, but it was a tingling, interesting feeling. Once again, I wondered how much I could take. And this time, I also wondered how much he’d give me. Was he . . . pleased at how I handled his spankings?
He paused at one point to finish his wine, and then stepped back up to my burning skin. I flinched at his soft caress. He whispered under his breath, “So fucking gorgeous.”
It flooded me with heat. Then, two fingers speared into me and I cried out. It was startling, but not painful. The sensation with the plug already inside me was different and exciting. I glanced up at him and he watched me right back, his faint smile twitching on his lips.
Wait a minute, was I supposed to feel good about pleasing him? Goddamn him. Maybe I’d pretend I didn’t like it just out of spite. But what good would it do? It wasn’t punishment for him and the only control he’d given me was over how much enjoyment I’d take from tonight. I moaned louder as his fingers drove deep, touching the spot that felt incredible.
I was reeling as he abruptly withdrew, and this smack, the one which came without warning, was like the one from the horrible dinner with his father. I gnashed my teeth together and sucked in air through my nose.
“That was for the way you talked to me downstairs.” He grabbed a fistful of my hair and pushed his face right up to mind. “And this,” he said, his eyes smoldering, “is for how you make me stupid.” His lips crashed into mine, and the kiss was intense. Brutal. “You make it so I can’t keep my hands off of you, or think about anything else.”
His tongue swept in my mouth, and I welcomed it. His kiss made me fall apart and feel stronger in the same instance. Every tiny adjustment of the angle, or mov
ement of our lips together deepened the madness. I sighed against his mouth, wanting to breathe his confidence in. He tasted like sex and desire. What could I learn from him?
Luka was breathing as hard as I was when it ended. His pupils were large and skin flushed. I wanted him to kiss me like that again, or touch me, or . . . shit, for him to connect his body with mine. Or do all of those things at once and send me into oblivion. My muscles strained from the grip on the bench legs.
He rose up but stayed near my head and in my sight, letting me watch him undress. He had a habit of tugging his tie loose as soon as he came home, but leaving it that way. Now he undid the knot and slid the end free from his collar, tossing it onto the bed. Then, he worked the line of buttons on his dress shirt, and pulled the shirttails free from his waist. It was added to the pile. He moved faster after that.
When he stood before me completely naked, my lungs squeezed in my chest. Luka was a rush to look at normally, but naked? It was almost too much.
“Tell me you want this.” He stroked his hand over his hard dick, twisting his grip.
I ached for him, but when my lips parted, I was unsure if I could say the words.
His tone was dark and imposing. “Addison.”
“My family and friends call me Addie,” I said. Shit. Had I skipped over phase two, and gone straight to phase three, where logical thought was abandoned? Did I want him to use my abbreviated name like he was my friend? Like we were close?
He froze, and then his thick eyebrow arched. “Good for them, Addison. I don’t like nicknames.”
I flashed back to the moment at the frat party before we’d gone upstairs. Vasilije’s frat brother had called him Vas, but Luka had used his full name.
“In fact,” he added, “only the whore gets a nickname.”
I blinked my drunk eyes. “Why do you call her that?” If Tori had only been nineteen when she’d wound up in bed with Luka’s father, she probably had been seduced. Or worse. Maybe she had been placed in the same situation Luka had put me in.
“Because she’s a whore. She’ll tell you she fucked half the guys at the dealership before my father started fucking her for money.”
“Oh.”
He scowled and spanked my bare cheek with a loud smack. “We’ve gotten off track here.” His fingers traced my entrance, spreading around my arousal. “Focus. This is what you should be thinking about.”
I bit down on my bottom lip as he moved behind me. The tip of his cock teased between my folds, and I issued a soft sigh. Last week I’d been petrified when he’d done this, and now I wanted it. He’d turned me into a slut in a week flat.
“Tell me what you learned today,” he ordered.
I wanted my voice to sound confident, but it wavered. “Three point one four one five—Oh!”
Luka drove deep inside me, all the way to the root. My back bowed and I tried to get away, but the cuffs answered back, holding me down. It was still so much, and too quickly, plus the plug made me feel tight.
But, holy hell, it felt good, too. The warm skin covering his hips pressed against the heated flesh of my stinging backside, and he ground himself into me. I groaned with both discomfort and dark satisfaction.
“That’s right,” he said. “You’re not scared, you like it. You like how you feel with all that inside you, don’t you? My cock deep in your pussy,” his fingers grabbed the heart of the plug and turned it, “and this in your ass.”
When he began to move, I couldn’t control my moans. They fell from my lips, one after another, making me sound desperate and needy. He was right. So terribly right. I was bound to the spanking bench so I couldn’t hide from my shame, but I couldn’t escape my pleasure, either.
He was panting in no time, and his thrusts quickened to a steady, controlled pace. The bench creaked with his movements, but most of the time it couldn’t be heard over me. My lower body was in ecstasy with the different sensations, and I gave myself over to them as willingly as I gave myself over to him now.
“Oh my God,” I moaned.
Bliss rolled from my fingertips, down to the ends of my toes as he thrust himself inside, repeatedly hitting the spot I craved. My body moved by its own choice and wiggled on the bench, restless and anxious for release.
But when he slowed and his fingers closed around the base of the plug, my heart ground to a painful stop. I grimaced as the toy was retracted and thudded to the carpet. Luka wasn’t moving inside me, but he was pulsing.
I pinched my eyes tightly shut as he withdrew. Footsteps carried him away and there was rustling. I didn’t want to know what he was doing. Anxiety gripped me so tightly, it squeezed out a panicked noise.
“Pi,” he demanded. “Go.”
21
I FORCED MYSELF to picture the numbers, and began to recite them in a trembling voice. It pitched upward when he touched my clit, and something slipped inside my pussy. It wasn’t buzzing this time, but I recognized it from before. The black U-shaped vibrator.
“Shit,” I said, realizing I’d lost my place.
“Start over.”
I lost my place a second time when he uncapped the lube and smeared more of the cold, thick liquid on me. “Wait,” I pleaded, so nervous my throat closed up.
“Focus.” His hand rested at the spot right where my cheeks began, and there was a noise as his other hand lubed himself, preparing. “I want to hear how far you perfectly memorized it.”
“Three point one four,” I whispered, drawing in a deep breath.
And then he was there. Not just with his dick pressing against me, but with his words, reciting the numbers along with me. The pressure built and the burning stretch was worse this time, but his voice was steady, keeping me on track.
Distracting me as he pushed the head of his cock inside. I gasped at the aching discomfort, but he pressed on, chanting the numbers in unison. I tried to reach back to stop him, but the cuffs held me still. I came to the end of the string of numbers, unable to think of anything else. Only the sensation of him owning me.
“Jesus Christ, it’s so fucking tight.”
I was going to fall apart. Fracture into a million pieces until there was nothing left. But he moved in slow strokes, pushing just a little deeper each time.
“It hurts,” I whispered, not sure what good it would do. He’d told me to tell him that our first time, so maybe—
Holy fuck.
He reached between our bodies and squeezed the vibrator, activating it. The steady buzzing was a magnifying glass on my pleasure. A cry tore from my parted lips, filled with surprised enjoyment.
Luka’s breath came and went, deep yet rapid. I didn’t have to ask if he liked this, it was evident by his moans, and he didn’t have to ask me either. The vibrator shook away the discomfort, and as he buried himself all the way inside, I felt the first wave of pleasure threatening.
I could like this. Holy crap, I could come from this. The longer he continued to ease his dick inside and out, made me believe. Powerful need consumed and took over. I gasped as he found a rhythm we both seemed to enjoy.
“Does it hurt now?” he whispered.
“No.” I answered as quickly as possible, focusing on the heat building in my core. I hungered for the release clawing its way up. I didn’t give a fuck about how wrong or dirty it was. He had me pinned down, completely at his mercy, and the sordid part of myself liked everything about this experience.
My moans swelled as he moved faster. My body was firing on all fronts, heading toward ecstasy, ready for him to cast me over the edge. When I swiveled my hips, I found I could press the vibrator up against the padded bar and position it exactly as needed. Oh, shit!
I might have groaned it out loud, but paid no attention.
His punishing tempo made it hard to breathe, and then his filthy words caused it to stop all together.
“I wish you could see how good it looks, watching your ass eat my cock.”
Jesus! My stomach twisted, and the muscles low in my belly cont
racted, and it was enough to catapult me into my release. I screamed as I came, my voice hoarse and dry. The room was a sunbaked desert. Luka’s heat had sucked all the moisture from the air.
He followed me into my orgasm. His hand clenched tight on my shoulder and he convulsed, pulling himself from within me right as he started to come. Thick, heated liquid struck my clit, and flicked onto the backs of my legs, dripping down as he gave a tremendous sigh.
“Fuck!” His cry of satisfaction was intensely hot.
It took us both several moments to recover. When his breathing was under control, he set about undoing the bindings at my ankles. As he freed my wrists, his mouth was on mine, kissing me seductively. His languid kiss was the most powerful one in his arsenal. He helped me rise up off of the bench, and then lifted me up in his strong arms, tucking me against his chest.
Luka carried me into the bathroom, where we showered together under the stream of hot water. Would it scald away the filth he’d put on me?
I hoped not.
It was buried under my skin, too deep to come clean. He rubbed my aching shoulders, and massaged away the marks left by the cuffs. My eyelids grew heavy as he shut off the water and handed me a towel, banding another one around his hips.
“Stay here.” He pushed open the shower door and disappeared.
The exhaustion in me whined. I wanted to collapse into bed, not go another round, which was what I assumed was going to happen. I eyed the small seat in the shower. If I sat down, would I still be awake whenever he returned?
The door swung open. “Come on,” he said.
Surprise made my feet clumsy and I tripped as I stepped out, latching a hand onto his shoulder.
His eyes widened. “Okay?”
“Fine.” Although, not really. Luka held out a long, white bathrobe for me. I glanced from the soft, fuzzy looking garment to him, and back again.
“You’re always cold.” He said it plainly as he helped me slide it onto my shoulders, then tied the sash at the waist. He kept his grip on the ends and bound me in place. “You won’t sleep in this room anymore.”
My pulse quickened. “Where am I sleeping?”
