by Lila Dubois
“Maybe I did it on purpose.”
“Accepting you’re a masochist?”
“I never said I wasn’t a bit of a masochist. I said I enjoy the pain as part of the power exchange, not for its own sake.”
“Is this the… Is this the…” He pressed his face into her hair and went silent.
She wanted to turn around and hug him. “It’s okay to stutter.”
“I do not have a stutter.”
“Yes, you do, and you’re too smart to seriously be denying it—”
Alexander tightened his hold on her hair, then pushed her forward. He marched her across the room, towards the window, not stopping until her naked body was pressed to the glass, her breasts flattened to it.
“I don’t have a stutter.” He leaned into her, but instead of threatening, it felt almost as if he were resting on her, relaxing into her. She’d turned her head to the side so her nose wasn’t smushed against the glass, but she still couldn’t see him, since he was keeping his face at the back of her head, his lips brushing her hair as he spoke. “Not a medical stutter. My parents had me tested for that.”
Alena went still. It was the first time he’d mentioned something so personal.
“But I don’t always speak clearly. If I don’t think about my words before I say them, I ‘ramble’ and ‘sound like an idiot’.”
She could hear the quotation marks around those statements.
“Who said that to you?”
“My father. Many times.”
Alena reached back and found his hand. She laced their fingers together. “Is that why you’re quiet?”
“It’s best not to talk unless I know precisely what I’m going to say.”
“You don’t have to do that with me.”
There was a long pause. “I thought you liked it. You called me your quiet man, once.”
“I do. But I also like it when you talk. I like it when you’re not so controlled and—”
He grabbed the hair at the top of her head, jerking it back so she was looking at the ceiling. “Another lie?”
“No.”
“Then you’re not a submissive.”
“I am.” She took a breath, tried to be more honest with him since at least when it came to this, she could be. “I mean I was. I had sort of…grown out of it. Until you.”
“A submissive doesn’t like a man who isn’t controlled. A real submissive—”
“That is utter bullshit. First of all, don’t mansplain being a submissive to me.” She tried to shove away from the window but he forced her back.
Damn it, that was hot. Still, she would not be distracted. “Second of all, yes, in the middle of a scene I do want a man who takes control. Who will push me, punish me…” She briefly lost her train of thought as she remembered why they’d come upstairs.
“You want to be forced to accept your punishments. Forced to be a masochist.”
“Maybe.” Alena squeezed his fingers, and the dichotomy between him holding her hand in a lover’s touch, versus his other hand pulling her hair, was making her feel insane. And needy.
“I want to know when you’re so turned on that your thoughts and words are scrambled,” she said softly. “I want to know that you feel the same things I do.”
Alexander released her, and by the time she turned he was already several feet away, his face twisted to the side so she couldn’t see his expression.
“Alexander…”
“No.” When he raised his head, his face was hard, his expression cold. “Stay at the window. Press your breasts against the glass.”
The intimacy created by his confession was gone. He was once more the cold, angry man who’d caught her in Vienna. The man she’d betrayed.
“Trying to embarrass me?” She turned on her heel then leaned forward against the window.
“Trying to remind you.”
Alena turned her face to the side so she could see him. “Remind me of what?”
She watched as he walked around the office, picking something up off his desk. He shook it out and for a horrified moment she thought it was a bull whip. Then he doubled it over, and she realized it was a long black rope.
Her nerves jangled at the sight. Rope bondage was its own kink, and one she didn’t have much experience with. Was Alexander a shibari artist or was the rope going to be purely functional, used to bind her to something in this room?
“I warned you, that first night, that I was too hard for you.”
“You say that, but you haven’t broken me yet.”
He paused, looking up. “You think I’ll break you?”
“Isn’t that what this is?” Alena’s eyes were straining from looking at him with her peripheral vision so she closed them, leaning her temple against the glass. “You’re going to beat me until I tell you who I am.”
“We have a bargain.”
“Oh yes, the bargain. I’m your sex slave for three weeks and at the end of that time you’ll let me go. No consequences.”
Alexander didn’t answer, and with her eyes closed she had no idea what his reaction to her words might be.
“Except, of course, for whatever other punishments you’re planning to dish out while I’m your BDSM slave,” she continued. “While I have no choice.”
“I gave you a choice.”
“A false choice. When this is over—” She forced herself to shut up.
“When what is over?” His voice was closer than it had been, though she hadn’t heard him move, distracted by her thoughts.
When this is over you’re going to feel like an ass and I am going to enjoy making you grovel for forgiveness.
Imagining that scene, a scene that might never happen, had gotten her through part of last night. There was very little chance that she would actually be in the position to have that conversation with him, unless everything moved far faster than was realistic for an operation of this magnitude.
Plus, once it all came out, he’d be protected by dozens of lawyers.
“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” she quipped to end the too-long silence.
Alexander grabbed her arm and yanked her away from the window, spinning her so they were face to face.
“You are not scared, and you should be.”
“I’m terrified,” she whispered, nose only inches from his, “but I’m not going to beg.”
“I can make you beg.”
She had begged him, damn it. “Maybe, but begging for you to keep beating me mid-scene doesn’t count.”
“Do you want me to beat you again?” His hand slid down to her ass and squeezed.
Alena hissed, eyes screwed shut in pain.
“That was just a wooden spoon; imagine what it will feel like when I cane you.”
Arousal and terror vied for control, neither winning. She was inexplicably and stupidly attracted to him when he was like this—not just dominant but sadistic. She was also terrified, because he could, would, hurt her, both physically and emotionally, when he was like this.
“Going to beg… Going to beg me not to? Arms up.” This time he didn’t hide the slight stammer as he had to stop and restart his sentence. Alexander slid the doubled length of black nylon rope around her chest, above her breasts, feeding the ends back through the loop.
That answered her question. He knew rope bondage.
“Of course not, Master Alexander,” she purred, all stupid bravado. “I’m your sex slave. You get to do whatever you want to me.”
The rope went between her breasts, then around her ribs.
“Perhaps I’ll take you onto the balcony,” Alexander said in a cold voice. “Tie you face down over a table, legs spread, and invite the guards to come fuck you.”
Alena’s stomach lurched. The reality of that would be horrific, but hearing him threaten it was deeply arousing.
As long as she thought of it as a game, it was fine.
“If that’s what you want to do, Master Alexander.”
He tightened the
rope as he made another loop around her ribs, below her breasts. “No, I won’t reward you by letting you have a cock in your cunt.”
More rope, each pass carefully placed and positioned.
“I’ll put you on your knees with a spreader gag in your mouth. They’ll fuck your face instead.”
This time tears threatened, so she tipped her head back to stop them from falling. “If that’s what you want to do with me, Master Alexander, then I am, of course, your obedient slave.”
He tweaked her nipples, casual pinches, then fed the tail end of the rope under the bands of rope, drawing them together at the outside edge of one breast.
“Or maybe I’ll put a hood on you and tie you to the banister of the stairs. In the front hall.” He added a vertical band to the outside of the other breast, then pulled both tight, compressing the bands so they squeezed her breasts from above and below. “If they can’t see your face, can’t see you crying, people will feel more free to abuse your naked body.”
She almost broke then, almost gave in and started screaming in horror. Her hands, which she’d placed on top of her head, were curled so hard against her scalp that she felt her nails leave crescent marks. No, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d scared her.
And aroused her, because once again she was buffeted by opposing gales of horror and need.
“Would you watch?” Her voice was shaky, enough so that she felt his hands still on the ropes. She cleared her throat. “Would you jerk your dick as you watched strangers finger me, suck my nipples, maybe play with my ass?”
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said softly.
A game. It was just a game.
Alexander finished tightening the rope breast harness, then drew the tails up and over her shoulders, one on each side of her neck.
Already she could feel her breasts heating and swelling at the slight restriction of blood flow.
Alexander turned her towards his desk. “Walk.”
Alena balked, refusing to move. “I’m not a dog.”
“You will be if I want it.”
The amusement in his tone made her see red. “Fuck you, Alexander.”
He slapped her ass, startling a scream out of her. She reached back and covered her butt with her hands.
“Hands down.” He slapped her hands, then yanked them away and spanked her again.
Damn it, that hurt.
With one hand holding the ends of the ropes in place between her shoulder blades he couldn’t force both of her hands away, and the spanks hurt too damn much for her to passively, submissively, accept it. Alena wiggled and danced to the side, yelping, her hands covering her butt as quickly as he shoved them away.
Another few spanks as she desperately tried to protect her abused ass.
“Stand still and accept your punishment.”
“I’m not going to walk when you order me to, like a fucking animal.”
“You will, because I am your Dom.” Now his voice was hot. Anger or arousal?
He’d said Dom, not Master.
Alexander forced her to walk by pressing his fist into her back between her shoulder blades and shoving her forward. When they reached the desk, he bent her over it, a forgotten pen digging into one of her bound and aching breasts.
He released the tails of rope and grabbed her wrists, forcing them to the small of her back.
Then he stepped to the side and started to spank her. After just a few swats she was crying and kicking her feet at the fresh pain to her abused ass.
But when her feet were on the floor she spread them, because the pain, the domination, was also desperately arousing. She wanted him to spank her pussy. Wanted him to notice how submissive she was being—even as she struggled against him—and reward her for it.
Alexander leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. “Think you can behave, or do you need my belt?”
God, she wanted that, wanted him to take off his belt, double it over, and spank her like she was some disobedient 1950s housewife. It would hurt so fucking much with her ass already bruised from the spoon.
And she still wanted it. Maybe wanted it even more than she would have before because of how much it would hurt. There was a point at which arousal was dangerous because like any drug or mind-altering substance it impaired decision-making. It was why submissives had to trust their Doms. Trust that the men and women they chose to top them would be sober enough to know where their subs’ limits were, even if the subs themselves did not.
“No, I have other plans for this ass,” Alexander whispered.
When he released her wrists, Alena kept her hands in place at the small of her back, lacing her fingers together so she didn’t have to actively hold her hands there, but could rest her arm muscles.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, running an approving hand down her ass and continuing the caress south to mid-thigh. When he reversed course, his hand slid to the inside, his fingers brushing her sex gently, before delicately parting her labia.
He tugged her pussy lips a few times, never touching her clit, then wiped his hand on her butt.
“You will remain like this. You will not move,” he ordered.
Then Alexander walked to the bookcase, opened the hidden door, and disappeared down the steps.
Alena’s mind snapped from submissive lust-haze to focused shock. He’d left her alone in his office.
That isn’t all that surprising. He didn’t spend the night in here, and he said the doors weren’t locked, so at any time you could have come upstairs and looked for a phone.
Still, her heart was hammering against her ribs.
There was no convenient landline sitting on the corner of a desk, and there was also a conspicuous lack of a computer.
If she didn’t at least look for something, did that make her complicit in the situation?
But she hadn’t looked last night, she hadn’t done much to change her situation except prop the door open to alleviate some of the feeling of being trapped.
Then there was the fact that this had to be a trap or test of some kind. Alexander wanted to see what she’d do. Did that mean that he had been here all night? Or had a camera in the room so he could watch to see if she made an escape attempt?
It was rare that she was so indecisive, and she didn’t like the feeling.
Alexander emerged from the darkness behind the bookcase and closed the door. She could feel him looking at her as he made his way over.
“No attempts to call for help?” He asked quietly.
That bastard. It had been a test.
Alena ground her teeth, but said, “Why would I, Master Alexander? After all, I agreed to our bargain.”
He set something on the desk, just in front of her face. A large metal hook, in the shape of a fish hook, but where the barbed point would have been there was a large silver ball.
An anal hook.
Alexander casually put on black latex gloves and dipped his fingers into a small pot of what she assumed was lube.
As he rubbed his fingers together, using his thumb to make sure the lube coated all sides of his index and middle fingers, the angsty deliberations from when he’d left her alone were forgotten.
She lifted her head, straining to watch as he walked around to the end of the desk where her spread legs and aching ass were ready and accessible.
He spread her ass cheeks, then rubbed one finger over her anus. She shivered in pleasure.
“Have you had an anal hook before?”
“No, Master Alexander.”
His fingertip pressed against her rear entrance. “It will control your posture.”
His finger entered her ass, the thick coating of lube making it slide in easily. With another little thrust his knuckle passed through the ring of muscle and his hand rubbed her ass as he twisted his finger inside her.
That’s when the tingling started.
Alena tensed.
Alexander withdrew his finger all the way, then added a second, fo
rcing her open as he worked two digits into her ass.
The tingling turned to burning.
She arched her back and whimpered, her breasts throbbing in their rope harness.
“You feel it now?”
“What kind of lube is that?” she asked rather desperately.
He chuckled and kept fucking her ass with his fingers. He had a good rhythm going now, and the friction both alleviated the burn and made it worse.
Another minute of him working her ass and Alena was moaning and thrusting back against him.
Alexander picked up the hook. “The lube is infused with ginger.”
That explained the burning.
He withdrew his fingers and then the cold ball at the tip of the hook pressed against her. The coolness was a relief, even if it felt impossibly wide.
Alexander added pressure and the burning made it hard to relax. Instead of yielding to the hook her body tightened in an attempt to keep it out.
“Figging,” she gasped. “This is like figging.”
“I could have made you a plug from ginger, but I want you in tight bondage.” He pressed harder, and the ball forced its way into her with a pop. Alena cried out, rising on her toes and pressing her forehead into the desk. He slid the hook in deep—she could feel the large ball inside her, a fullness that was at once awkward and pleasurable.
For a moment the cool metal provided some relief from the burn of the ginger, but that didn’t last long. She wiggled and shifted as he stripped off his gloves and then tied the tail ends of the rope through the eye at the top of the anal hook.
Alexander hooked his arms under her shoulders and helped her to stand. For a moment she swayed, and it felt so good to rest against him.
Then Alexander adjusted the ropes and Alena hissed as the complexity of her predicament was made clear.
She had to keep her shoulders back, chest up, bound and aching breasts outthrust. If she hunched her back or slouched, the hook pulled painfully on her anus.
“Face me. Hands back on the desk. Legs spread.”
Alexander’s voice was hot with desire. Using her like this, binding her like this, was really turning him on.
That only amped up her own arousal. She turned carefully, whimpering as the edge of the desk dug into her abused ass, while also shoving the hook in deeper.
