Feral King (The Dominant Bastard Book 1)

by Sparrow Beckett

  “You don’t know what I think about,” he warned.

  “You don’t know what I think about either.”

  True.

  “Put your palms flat on the desk.”

  She complied, arching her back to make her bottom stick out more. Such a luscious ass. His dick had almost gone off just seeing her in her underwear at the lake.

  “As long as you don’t harm me, we can explore what you’re interested in.”

  “Harm?”

  “Hurting me is okay. Permanent damage is not.”

  Maiming people wasn’t what he was into anyway. “You like pain?”

  “I like being controlled.”

  “So if you disobey me, how am I supposed to punish you?” he asked, his mind trying to process this idea that she might actually like almost everything he wanted to do to her.

  She gave him an enigmatic smile. “That’s something you’ll have to figure out for yourself. I’m a submissive, not an idiot, Mister Leduc.”

  He barked a laugh, surprising himself as much as Minnow.

  “You’re a ballsy little thing.”

  “Nope. No balls, Mister Leduc. Not even in a jar on my nightstand.”

  The feeling – the need to control this girl and bend her to his will – fought its way to the surface.

  This was the thing he was never supposed to let himself do. The girl was daring him to set his urges free.

  He reached for his belt. He shouldn’t let himself, but his desire for her was tangled with his desire to control her and hurt her. Wasn’t this how serial killers thought? What if he couldn’t stop? How was doing this acceptable?

  “It’s okay. I have a safeword,” she said quietly.

  “It’s not okay.” He forced his hand away from his belt buckle. “This isn’t normal.”

  “Normal is boring, Mister Leduc,” she replied, arching her back. “You don’t seem like a man who’s content with his halfhearted life.”

  She was daring him to take her in hand, to dominate her, and damn, did he want to.

  Fuck it.

  He unbuckled his belt, every nerve in his body hyperaware of her, of each twitch of muscle in his hands, of the crackle of the fire in the hearth. He tugged the buckle, and as he pulled the leather free of his belt loops, the girl sighed, closing her eyes and dropping her forehead to the desk.

  “Don’t fucking move,” he reminded her, voice harsher than he’d intended.

  “Oh, god.”

  His cock pulsed, and he readjusted himself.

  Sick. He was a sick man, no matter what the girl thought.

  The leather slid through his hands, worn, supple. He choked up on the belt until it was a length he felt he could control. He swung it experimentally, not wanting to scare her. Would she compare him to the men who’d done this to her before? The others must have known what they were doing. His lack of proficiency made him self-conscious.

  Her ass swayed slightly, as though she was trying to lure him closer.

  The dreamlike state stripped away, and his heart thundered in response to what he was about to do. Sharpening focus, he brought the belt down on her gorgeous ass with a sharp crack.

  She squealed, her ass jiggling for an enticing moment before she clenched it and went up on her toes. He gave her a moment to calm down and did it again.

  Three, four, five...

  Each belt stroke made him impossibly harder for her. Her hands curled into fists on the wood of his desk and she whimpered, the sound perfect and orgasmic in his mind.

  Six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen...

  He gave them to her fast and hard, and she took them, eyes frantic, mouth hanging open.

  “Stop, stop!” she gasped, blocking access to her ass with one of her small hands. “Fffffuck.”

  The arm supporting her gave out and she flopped belly down on his desk, panting. She wriggled and gasped and clutched at her abused ass, and he watched, heart pounding so hard he was sure she could hear it.

  Stop wasn’t her safeword. Was he allowed to ignore requests if they weren’t her safeword? Maybe he should be careful or she might not let him do it again.

  His breaths escaped him in harsh grunts, and his cock strained at the confines of his jeans, feeling like it might blow just from watching her process the pain he’d inflicted on her.

  He paced back and forth, the adrenaline high almost unbearable, urging him to hit her again. To grab her hair. To...to... He didn’t even know what he wanted to do. Everything. He wanted to hurt her with his hands – control her. Force her down and make her...

  What the fuck was he thinking?

  He’d known this would happen, that his control would slip. The vile urge to keep hitting her tore at him. He snarled something inarticulate and left the room before he did something evil and unforgivable. Long strides took him up to his room where he prowled around in frustration, eventually smashing a glass in the fireplace. That felt so good he threw a chair at his television, smashing the screen. As soon as he’d done it, he felt like an idiot.

  “Whoa there, big boy,” the girl said, reaching the doorway to his bedroom. She walked in uninvited, her hands up in front of her in a warding gesture.

  What the fuck was she doing in his space? Couldn’t she see he was out of control?

  “Wow. I’ve never had a guy go full-on rock star because of me before.” She bit her lip. “I’m flattered.”

  “This isn’t okay. I’m not okay.”

  “Shh. You’re okay. Sometimes we freak ourselves out. It’s almost expected, and it even happens sometimes after we’ve been into it for a while.” She came closer, but didn’t try to touch him.

  He paced, feeling caged, backing away from her to keep her safe from him.

  “Did you like it too much? Did you have trouble stopping?”

  He was gulping air, panic making him want to escape her and go out to the forge. Lock himself in and never come out again.

  “This was the one thing I was never supposed to do,” he ground out, the words the echo of a condemnation.

  “And yet you’re still turned on.”

  He flashed a glare at her, and she smiled sympathetically.

  “I am too, even though you destroyed my ass.”

  There was no way she could understand this feeling of loss of control and the self-condemnation that went with it.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry.” She smiled up at him. Not angry. Not afraid. “This is part of what some people enjoy. You liked hitting me, and I liked you doing it. You’re new to this, and you don’t know me very well. You just hit a little harder than I’m used to.”

  “You didn’t safeword, but I had to stop.”

  “You were afraid you wouldn’t be able to stop?”

  He nodded, watching her warily. She was close enough for him to feel her body heat, but she still didn’t touch him. Maybe he could bear it from her.

  “You need to blow off some steam.”

  Yes. He needed to go out to the garage and work on a project. There must be something he needed to do with a sledgehammer.

  He tried to go around her, but she moved to block his path.

  “Where are you going, Mister Leduc?”

  “To work in the garage for a while.”

  “Why don’t you let me take the edge off for you?”

  His mouth went dry. “What?”

  She bit her lip. “When was the last time someone went down on you?”

  “I’m not sure.” His voice was hoarse.

  “It’s been a while?”

  “More than.”

  “Like...never?” She wasn’t laughing at him, she just looked curious. Maybe interested.

  “Never.”

  “And sex?”

  “Never.”

  Her mouth opened in surprise. “Wow,” she said, finally.

  “Like I said, I don’t like being touched.”

  She sighed. “Do you really want to go through your l
ife without finding out what it’s like? Aren’t you curious?”

  Curious was a polite word for it.

  “If you were in control of it, you’d be touching me, not the other way around. I could keep my hands behind my back.”

  Imagining her mouth wrapped around his cock was almost good enough to get him off. He wanted to, but why would she even offer this? Didn’t women hate doing it unless they were faking it for porn?

  “I don’t know,” he muttered. “Why would you want to do that?”

  “Because you’re hot and you’ve got me all worked up.” Her mouth twisted into a self-deprecating grin. “There isn’t much you couldn’t convince me to do right now.”

  His mind strayed deeper into his list of perversions, but he reined himself in.

  Could he really turn this down without even trying it? He’d never gotten to know a woman well enough to get this far before. He got offers when he went into town sometimes, or to the parties at Rodrigo’s, but letting a stranger touch him wasn’t going to happen. The girl seemed to understand his limitations. She didn’t seem to judge him.

  It would be so much easier to walk out of the room and not push himself so far out of his comfort zone. He’d avoided sexual contact this long – did he honestly need it?

  “Do you have a rope or something to tie my hands with? Maybe that will make you feel more comfortable.”

  Maybe he’d tie her hands and see how that felt. He could still back out.

  He went to his closet and scanned the sparse contents, settling on the necktie he’d worn for Church’s wedding.

  “A tie? You own a tie?” She was teasing again, and he had to remind himself that it was just her way, not a serious desire to mock him. “In case of formal blacksmithing emergencies?”

  “Church’s wedding,” he forced out. He went behind her and bound her slender wrists together, trying to touch her as little as possible. The simple act of tying her made his balls ache.

  “You didn’t find a wedding overwhelming?” she asked, as though he wasn’t tying the final knots, making her more helpless. Because of their size disparity he could control her easily without resorting to binding her, but this would remind her to keep her hands to herself.

  “They held it here at the house. Other than Sutton and Rodrigo, only Ilse’s parents came.”

  “Small wedding.”

  “That was for me.” He shrugged, even though she wasn’t looking at him. “I make everything complicated.”

  She sighed sadly. “Why do complicated men turn me on?”

  Teasing again.

  He snorted then swatted her ass, surprising the hell out of himself. She yelped and went up on her toes.

  “Careful! I have bruises on my welts on my bruises!”

  “I didn’t hit you that hard.”

  “My poor ass will never be the same. Go ahead and look at what you did.”

  His hands hovered near the waistband of her yoga pants.

  “Are you using your x-ray vision back there? You’re going to have to pull my pants down to see.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “It’s not like you haven’t seen most of my ass before, Mister Leduc. I saw you looking when we were at the lake.”

  That wasn’t the issue. It was undressing her that was the issue. It felt too intimate.

  “Don’t you want to see the marks you left?”

  Yes. Yes he did.

  Carefully, he tugged the back of her pants down, loving the way she gasped as he revealed inch by inch of naked, blaze-red flesh. He longed to bite her there. Why he get such perverted urges around her? Her ass was covered in red welts and a multitude of purple bruises was already forming.

  “Your ass is even hotter with my marks on it.” He especially liked the faint handprint on the right side.

  “Hotter? I’m pretty sure you could light a candle from it right now.”

  Tentatively, he brushed his fingers over a particularly vicious welt and he shuddered at the same time she did.

  “You like being touched, Miss Korsgaard?”

  “Yes. You’re the only person I know who doesn’t. It’s an interesting dilemma.”

  “Dilemma?”

  “It’s hard to seduce a man who doesn’t want you to touch him.”

  “You want to seduce me?”

  “I probably shouldn’t have said so. Honesty isn’t very seductive.”

  He needed honest. If she’d been coy about it, he probably wouldn’t have caught on. “Why would you want to?”

  She chuckled. “Because your brain turns me on. The rest of you ain’t half bad either.”

  He swatted her ass again, right on top of a bruise, and her moan made his cock twitch. The feel of her bare bottom in the palm of his hand was too good, and he squeezed her there, now completely understanding why Church was constantly groping Ilse when the kids weren’t looking. The next time he smacked her, she teetered, and he led her over to his bed and bent her over it.

  “Mister Leduc! What are you doing?” she asked, feigning innocence with the believability of a porn star.

  “Whatever I want, apparently.” He spanked her for a few minutes, finding it easier to control himself without the belt in his hand. Her squeaks and sighs were erotic rather than panicked, but when he’d worked out a good tempo, she started making sounds of real distress. The kind that made him rock hard. It didn’t help that he kept getting glimpses of her pussy, which looked slick and ready for him, not that he dared touch her so intimately.

  He could fuck her facedown like this. If she wasn’t touching him and wasn’t looking at him, he could see himself succumbing to the temptation. Teenagers fucked all the time. It couldn’t be that hard to figure out. She knew he was inexperienced and likely wouldn’t expect much.

  “Mister Leduc!” she finally sobbed. “I can’t take anymore. Please stop!”

  “What if I don’t want to stop?” he asked, wondering what she’d do.

  “Please,” she begged. “My poor ass! Wouldn’t you rather fuck my mouth than beat me?”

  The girl had a point.

  “Okay.”

  “I can’t unbutton your jeans with my hands tied like this, so you’ll have to help.” She gazed back at him. “May I kneel on the floor, Mister Leduc?”

  “You may.”

  She slid down into a kneeling position, then hissed and jerked slightly away from her heels as they met the bright red skin of her ass. “Your hand is evil. It’s like being spanked with a paddle covered in sandpaper.”

  “And yet you didn’t use your safeword.”

  “Safeword a spanking? Never.”

  He arched a brow.

  “That wasn’t meant as a challenge, Mister Leduc.” She smiled wryly. “Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

  Why would he lie about something so humiliating? “I’m sure.”

  She ducked her head. “I wouldn’t usually be directive with a dominant, but do you want me to tell you what to do to start off with?”

  “Yes.” He put his hand out and touched her hair, needing to remind himself this was really happening. She was so beautiful, and she was being so understanding. The few times he’d let himself think about what this would be like, it had included various terrible scenarios where the woman would mock him.

  She looked more aroused than amused, her half-lidded dark eyes making him wonder how long he’d be able to hold out. He was already so painfully hard.

  “If you want to unbutton your jeans and sit on the edge of the bed,” she said, her voice quiet and husky, “it’ll be easier for me. If you stand I’d have to kneel on something just to reach you, I think.”

  Sitting sounded like a good idea. His knees felt like water. He unbuttoned his jeans, then sat on the bed, not sure what to do next and feeling like an idiot.

  “Please pull your cock out for me, Mister Leduc?”

  “Please?” he repeated, his brain scrambling at the thought that she wanted to do this enough to ask politely rather than just allowing it
to happen.

  Her lips curved into a sexy invitation. “Yes. Please.”

  Before he could panic and bolt, he complied. His hands were shaking as he drew his cock out from where it was bent uncomfortably sideways in his jeans. This had to be hilarious to her. Feigning macho indifference was difficult to do when his dick didn’t know how to play it cool.

  Her eyes widened. “Wow.”

  Wow? What did that mean? “What?”

  She blinked at his shaft, then up at him. “I’ll do my best but that thing’s – intimidating.”

  “The piercings?”

  “The piercings. The size. The man it’s attached to.” Her cheeks stained pink as though she hadn’t meant to say all of that aloud. She moved closer. “If you want to grab my hair so you can control what I do, that’s pretty standard for people like us.”

  He wanted to say something rude about the ‘people like us’ comment, but as soon as his hand tangled in her hair she gasped, and he lost the ability to think coherently. He shuddered and dragged her mouth down to his dick. Before she did anything, his cock twitched in anticipation, thumping against her face.

  Rather than laugh, she stuck out her little pink tongue and licked his dick from the base to tip. Pleasure, hot, ticklish, twisted in his lower belly, his balls tightening so hard he felt faint. He braced his free hand against the bed. She swirled her tongue around the head of his cock and studied him as she played, tasting him, kissing him, rubbing her face along his shaft and the heaviness below. Her hair was silk in his fist, and once he remembered to breathe, he tugged experimentally, fascinated by her gasp of pleasure. He tightened his grip and she cried out in pain and dismay, but she didn’t stop. If anything, it made her more eager.

  She sucked his length into her hot, wet mouth, tugging, stroking, twirling, insistent. Not all of it would fit, but her eagerness was enthralling. He gritted his teeth, trying to resist the insanity her mouth threatened to unleash. She suckled him close to the brink and kept him teetering there, knowing exactly how to ease or stop when he was about to explode, and doing this freakish thing with her tongue that had him panting for control.

  He snapped.

  Grabbing the sides of her head, he fucked her mouth, hard and rough, stuffing his cock in farther than she managed on her own, loving the way she gagged and struggled to breathe when he let her. Drool seeped from the corners of her mouth dripping down his cock.