His Captive

by Kiley Beckett

  Soon her head was bobbing on him, spreading her saliva up and down his shaft, taking him as deep as she could go. The ragged sounds of his breath building above her urged her to work quicker. Now she bobbed and stroked with a hand. Her other hand slipped inside his fly and played with his balls. They were too large to be pulled from the narrow opening of his fly, but she caressed them with her fingertips.

  “Keep going,” he urged her, a certain surety in his voice that she didn’t like. She wanted him out of control. Wanted him gasping. But he was a confident man.

  She worked faster, hand slipping up and down his shaft pressed to her lips, taking him as deep as she could. Soon, she felt trembling in his thighs and it pleased her. She even smiled as best as she could around his cock pushed in her mouth.

  When she could feel him leaking, her stomach tightened with excitement. She would impress him. She would make him come. And it didn’t take much time at all. Take that...

  His breaths came heavy above her, snorting with lust. Her own breath hastened, snorting through her nose as she sucked him.

  As a growl began in him, she let her lips plop free, stroking and swirling with her hand. Moonlight shone on the wet curves of his cock and she’d never seen a nicer one. “Come for me,” she said.

  “Put your mouth on it,” he said.

  But she wanted to see him arrive. She continued with her jerking hand.

  “Put your mouth on it,” he said again, held her by the back of the neck. She pressed her cheek against his tip and kept stroking. A hot wet stream launched on her cheek, up and over her ear.

  “Put it in your mouth,” he demanded, gripping her neck tight.

  She closed her eyes as he guided her by the back of her skull to plunge his big cock in her mouth again. Hot dashing pulses splashed the top of her palate and into her cheek. She accepted it. Squeezed and stroked while he continued to spurt in her mouth. He held her face firmly in place with a strong hand, using his hips to thrust in and out of her shining mouth. Saliva and semen splashed her cheek and rolled down her chin. He held her like that for a minute after he was done. Both of them panting and heaving. It felt nice to have his satisfied cock in her mouth. Felt nice to feel his pulse against her tongue.

  At last, he stuck a hand between them, guided his cock out of her mouth. He said, “Why do you make things so difficult?”

  “I don’t,” she said.

  Hair gathered in his hand at the nape of her neck, he got her to sit upright. He looked at her, lying slumped back in the suede seat of his multimillion-dollar boat. Looking good in his linen suit. Fly open, his huge wet cock lay deflating over his pant leg, glistening in the night. Stains had ruined his pants.

  “There, that’s a good girl. Was that so hard? You have a habit of wanting to make things worse for yourself. Look at you. You’ve got it in your hair now.”

  With her eyes on his, enjoying the warmth and calm in his expression, she touched her hair on both sides, found a tossed webbing of his semen, cold and wet against her fingers. “Yeah.”

  “Yeah,” he repeated, cocking his head. “We’ll have to clean you again.” While he regarded her, he stuffed his cock back behind his fly and zipped up.

  His eyes were still on her, and when she looked up from his lap, she felt distinctly studied. It made her self-conscious. She was sitting here in a wet sweatshirt and no pants. Julian said, “Look at you. So beautiful yet you dress like that.”

  She shrugged. “It’s comfortable.”

  “Take off your things.”

  She frowned, looked to him. “I don’t want to be cold.”

  “Your clothes are wet, anyway.”

  “Not that wet.”

  With thumb and forefinger he plucked at the front of her sweatshirt. Cold rushed underneath and stung the damp on her skin. He said it again. “Take off your things. I’m bringing you back home to get cleaned. And aren’t you hungry?”

  She was always hungry. “Yes.”

  “It’s time for dinner. You’re going to have to get cleaned to sit at my table. Remove your clothing and throw the things overboard.”

  “My sandals, too?”

  * * *

  Pearl was in the shower now, cleaning herself while he watched. He loved her body. It was fine and fair, the skin pale and freckled. She had womanly curves when she didn’t hide them under dumpy cotton clothing. He wondered if she knew what she had.

  Water splashed on her back as she stood in the shower vestibule of the cottage. Back where she belonged. Back where he’d intended for her to stay.

  After he’d brought the cigarette boat to shore, he marched her down the dock, let one of the waiting dock hands take care of his boat before escorting Pearl completely naked across the beach in the moonlight, up the embankment to the grounds of his estate. They passed under the watchful eye of some of the staff gathered on the balcony of the main house, then through the garden into the path that led to her cottage.

  While she got herself in the bathroom, he had attendants bring in some items. Near the foot of the bed there was a chrome rack with heavy rubber wheels, the rod hung with a few selected items he’d chosen for his pretty girl. On the bed lay his evening wear spread out, pressed and ironed. Pearl had ruined the suit he wore presently. She’d done amazing things with her mouth, and now he had to change before dinner. So he lounged against the doorframe, Pearl in the shower, the door left open so he could watch her. It was a message: she couldn’t be trusted. She needed a watchful eye.

  She used the shower wand now, getting the direct spray between her legs. Probably embarrassed by her arousal. While she’d done those things to him with her mouth, she’d gushed around his fingers. Her mind wanted to resist him, but her body was so eager for his touch. Soon he would bring the two together, and the methods he would use had his heart racing.

  Now she was looking over her shoulder, not making eye contact with him, keeping her chin down and her eyes lowered but watching her reflection in the mirror, eyeing the red on her bottom.

  He asked her if she liked the marks. She didn’t answer, but flicked her chin toward him indicating she’d heard.

  He said, “Those marks show you’re learning.”

  She gathered her hair and squeezed out the excess water, the wand set up in its brace again. She squeaked off the tap, watched him again over her shoulder.

  He came to her, bringing her a large fluffy towel. “Come out to me,” he said

  She did, turning, stepping out onto the bathmat, the two of them in the center of the warm bathroom now.

  “Turn around,” he said.

  Her eyes flicked up to his, but they didn’t meet. She was naked, letting him see her body, timid and unsure. She shuffled in place until she was turned. He dried her, moving the towel over her back and down her arms, getting her to lift her heels one at a time so he could dry her pretty white feet.

  “Come out and see what I’ve brought you.”

  “Okay,” she said, and he took her hand, walking her from the bathroom into the wide open space of the cottage.

  Now he prompted her with his hand on the small of her back to step toward the rack of clothing. “Pick yourself something to wear to dinner tonight.”

  Not wearing a thing, she padded her way in bare feet across the teak floor and he watched her beautiful bottom sway from left to right, testing his self-control. With thin graceful hands she indexed through the clothing set on hangers, pausing to examine each one before moving to the next. When she made her choice, she stepped away with a Givenchy evening gown in Santorini blue. It was the same dress he would’ve selected for her.

  “Is that the one?”

  “I think so,” she said, her voice timid.

  “Hold it against your skin and see what a match it is.”

  Holding it by the hanger, she let it fall against her body, lifting a knee then playing with the pleats of its long gown skirt. Now she pulled a lock of her gingery hair over to see what it would look like next to the color.

/>   “It’s an excellent choice,” he said.

  “I think it is,” she said.

  “Put it on and we’ll see.”

  She moved it around till she found where she could put her feet through, then one beautiful leg at a time, she stepped into the dress, seesawed her hips until she pulled the bustier up to her armpits. She wouldn’t look at him while she tucked a hand to her bosom to make her breasts sit properly in the dress’s cups. The action was adorable, but in the dress she soared past the impish youthful qualities, a full-blown blazing hot woman who pushed a ten-thousand-dollar gown to its meager limits, red-lining the capacity of satiny material to contain all that creamy flesh and those youthful swells, beautiful womanly grace. His heart kicked up a gear, and his cock twitched again. He would die to have her on his arm, be seen with her. Show her off.

  “It fits you beautifully.”

  Her mouth squirreled to one side, she shrugged, played with the gown, gathering it in her fine hands. “It feels good,” she said.

  “Come and see what you look like,” he said and gestured to the mirror at his side above the dresser. She padded across to him, her hands gathered at her waist.

  “Stand straighter, Pearl.”

  Her back arched, and it presented her perfect breasts.

  “That’s it,” he said, “much better.”

  She came to the dresser, and he moved behind her so they could both see her reflection.

  Chapter Eight

  The dresser was polished wood, its edges antiqued by frequent rubbing. It shone in the low light of a table lamp, and she could smell the lemon polish. It was sparsely decorated; just a crystal bowl set by the mirror she now looked into. The mirror’s frame was set with royal blue tiles that looked painted by hand, each one with a different flower in its center. Julian told her to place her hands flat on the dresser and she complied. Between her hands there was a pristine unopened tube, like something you would find at a pharmacy.

  Now he was directly behind her, looking over her shoulder. He put his large hands on her upper arms and she looked at his tanned fingers as they pressed her pale flesh. She asked, “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to take you to dinner.”

  “I’d like that,” she said.

  “I know you would.”

  She smirked, the urge to roll her eyes still came, but it was easier to fight now.

  He said, “Look at yourself in this mirror. Look how beautiful you are. When I first met you at my office, I thought a homeless person had wandered in.”

  “I’m not homeless.”

  “I suppose not, but I suppose you’re calling a dorm room your home. I was there, and it’s not much of a home.”

  “I’m at school.”

  Now he reached over, the fabric of his sleeve whisking against the sensitive skin on the back of her arm. He plucked the tube from between her hands and she eased backward.

  He reminded her, “Keep both your palms on the top of the dresser, please, Miss Armbruster.”

  She did, resting them, watching him over her shoulder in the mirror.

  “Yes,” he said now, continuing, “I think you’re surprised how beautiful you are. You were a ragamuffin. Shoe polish in your hair, of all things. Crazy.”

  “I’m not crazy.”

  He twisted off the cap from the tube and tossed it in front of her, where it pinged and clattered over the top of the dresser before bouncing off, tapping on the floor somewhere behind her. He said, “Not crazy... ill-advised. Misguided is what I’d like to say.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. This was where he had her. The thing she’d tried to do to him was not good. Because of his privilege she thought he could endure it. Boy, was she wrong.

  Now he held up two fingers, and with the other hand squeezed the tube until a swirl of clear gel formed. He tossed the tube in front of her.

  “Misguided, Miss Armbruster. Much potential. Perhaps infinite.”

  “Nothing is infinite.”

  “Don’t correct me.”

  “Sorry.”

  The hand without the gel on it whisked up the back of her skirt and raised it until it rested on her shoulders. The scratchy chiffon made rushing noises near her ear. He said, “Part your legs for me. Put your feet farther apart.”

  For whatever reason, she didn’t consider disobeying. She leaned forward on her hands, put the right foot wider, then the left. A strong hand clasped one of her buttocks and squeezed. He said, “By the end of your stay, you will be a changed woman. I think you’ll like what you see in the mirror when you look.”

  Now she looked in her own eyes, saw her ginger hair gone auburn since it was wet and hanging in ringlets around her collar. Saw how bright green her eyes looked in this light and didn’t hate it. She smiled and was surprised at how white and even her smile looked. If she had some jewelry...

  “Yes, I think I called you an insolent bitch in my office. I wasn’t wrong. A little harsh, I’ll admit. But you understand my displeasure.”

  “I do.”

  “Good.”

  Now he clasped her buttock hard enough to part her cheeks. “Hold still,” he said.

  His fingertip probed through her crack and touched her anus. She went up on her toes.

  “Good girl,” he said. His finger stroked against her until it found the weakness of her aperture and slipped inside. He spread lubricant on his fingers—that’s what was in the tube.

  She bit her lower lip, raised her chin and talked to his reflection. “What are you going to do now?”

  “I want you to look in the mirror.”

  “I am...”

  He met her gaze. He said, “You know what I’m going to do. You know it and you want it.”

  “I told you I’m a virgin.”

  “When I take your virginity, you’ll beg me to do it.”

  “I don’t want you to take my virginity.”

  His mouth went to a slim line, and he shook his head with disappointment. He said, “You know you do.”

  She frowned, watched him, watched his confident gaze. “I do?”

  Now his hands were behind her as he pressed his chest to her back, keeping the dress’s skirt upright. She heard his zipper draw down again.

  “I’m not ready for this,” she whispered.

  “Like I said, when I take your virginity, you’ll beg me. Move forward, put your weight on your hands.”

  She did, pressing her tummy against the top edge of the dresser, curving forward on her hands, elbows pointing outward.

  The hard end of his huge cock pressed an ass cheek, and she drew in a hiss of air. He stroked it across her ass, slid it into her crack, moved the tip up and down, slipping it across her anus with the silk of the lube.

  “Oh, what are you doing?” Her voice was a soft whisper, her hands beginning to tremble. She raised to her toes, leaned into the dresser, her mind somersaulting at the possibility he would do what she thought he intended.

  His low confident voice: “I’m claiming this perfect ass.” He smacked one cheek, gripped her flesh firmly, pushed the head of his cock against her tiny back hole.

  She groaned, mewled, went higher on her toes, thighs shaking.

  “That’s it,” he said, “up a little higher.”

  She said, “You’re too big.”

  “Up a little.”

  She leaned forward farther, her face very near the mirror. The crown of his big cock pressed into her opening; she banged her knees on the front of the dresser. “Oh, wow.”

  “You’re doing so good,” he whispered near her ear.

  She said again, “You’re too big.”

  “You’re doing so well, little one.” He took a handful of hair at the nape of her neck, yanked her head back so she would face her reflection. He said, “Look at that beautiful girl.”

  She bared her teeth and watched with squinted eyes. His face loomed over her shoulder, side by side with hers in the mirror. He was so incredibly handsome. Those gray eyes shone
in the lamplight. He smiled, showed off the high cheekbones, dimples underneath, then pushed his huge manhood inside her, and her mouth fell open.

  “Look how beautiful you are,” he whispered, like he enjoyed seeing her face express the discomfort at his large size entering her body.

  She’d never given up her backside before, preferring when the time was right and the boy was right, and to keep things manual and oral.

  He said, “Relax, breathe into your stomach—don’t protest.”

  Now she raised her hand to her shoulder, touched her collar as Julian pushed deeper. She let out a pained sound. He withdrew and entered again. She moaned and watched what her face looked like when she loved the pain he delivered. It was sexy. She’d never worn such a fine dress, never done something so dirty. The disparity was enormous—and this powerful man had her heart pounding in her chest.

  With one hand gripped on her hair, the other pressing on the small of her back, he started to fuck her. The dresser rattled on the floor with their movements. He wasn’t going deep, but, God, his cock was thick. She’d never felt something so awful that made her feel so crazy, so good at the same time. She panted with his thrusts.

  He growled, “You think you can control me with a photograph?”

  “No,” she gasped, her voice just hoarse rushing air as her mind reeled at the depravity of this awful billionaire.

  “Think you can own me?”

  “Ah...”

  “I’m the controller. I’m the owner. You understand? You wanted to own me... Now I own you. This is a lesson.” With that, he guided her chin upward so she could look into her own eyes while he fucked her ass. His face loomed close behind, baleful eyes burning into hers through the mirror. His hips slowed their thrusts, his thick size pulsing in her. “I’m going to make you into something valuable. Bring out the gem inside, polish this shabby exterior, chisel off your dirty crust. We’ll find the woman inside you...”

  “I am a woman...”

  “You’re a petulant child.”

  “No, I’m not, I—ah!”

  He forced himself deeper, making her bite down on her words. “I’m taking you to dinner, Pearl. I want you on my arm, I want you on my arm looking as beautiful as you do in this dress.”