His Captive

by Kiley Beckett

  He said, “Asking to leave the table...” His tone an admonishment. “Of all the nerve.”

  * * *

  She said, “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t sit there.”

  “Step out of the shower.”

  “It’s warm in here, Julian, and I like the stinging on my back.”

  “I’ve got something else you like, more stinging for your back. Step out of the shower, Pearl. Don’t make me ask again.”

  She pursed her lips, averted her eyes, made a firm and mean face but jabbed the handle to close off the shower’s stream. She stood there dripping, looking at him, letting him see her nakedness and not caring now.

  His eyes went up and down, exploring. “Step out of the shower.”

  “I’m coming,” she said, one bare foot out onto the bathmat next to his black patent shoe. He barely moved out of the way for her, and she brushed past him, stood in front of the vanity watching her reflection. Julian came from behind her, looking over her shoulder again. Him tall and fully dressed; her petite, naked, and wet.

  He said, “Nothing should trouble you so much you would embarrass me that way in front of royal guests.”

  “Who cares.”

  He smiled, and she realized he liked her answer as much as he hated it. He was sadistic on top of unscrupulous.

  “Is there something grave that troubled you, my dear?”

  “Never mind,” she said. She didn’t even want to talk about it.

  “Bend over,” he said.

  She said, “Fine,” spread open her hands on the marble countertop and looked down into the sink.

  He spanked her, using his bare hand and making her ass bounce. She gulped air. He slapped her one more time, full open hand right across both cheeks. She blurted air, bit her lower lip.

  Now two fingers stroked over her anus, slipping between her legs, moving lower. They slipped over her sex like she was coated in oil. Her body betrayed her, lubricating itself even though she hated Julian right now.

  “You’re disgusting,” she whispered.

  “I am disgusting,” he said. “Now get in the bedroom...”

  * * *

  Pearl did her best to strut despite her timidity and defeated demeanor, crossing through the bathroom and onto the bedroom floor. He watched her sweet and naked little body as it moved, all pale flesh and wet hair and feminine—so, so feminine. Feminine the way he liked. A woman. A real woman. One with spirit, one with power. Strong-headed, maybe even principled, as addled as her version of principles may be. She was definitely a treat.

  “That’s it, far enough,” he said, and she stopped at the foot of the bed facing away from him. He looked at her naked back, her reddened bottom and thighs for a long cock-aching moment, drinking in her beauty. At last, he asked her, “You’re disgusted with me?”

  “I am,” she said without looking at him.

  He caressed her, squeezed her shoulder, dragged the backs of his fingers over her shower-hot body. Handled her ass cheeks, using both hands now, squeezing and lifting and coddling. His hands came around to her front, hefted her breasts and felt the marbled nubs rub against his palms. He squeezed her hard enough that she grunted. “I am disgusting,” he told her. “I’m the worst man you’ll ever know.”

  “You are the worst,” she said.

  “Get on the bed and I’m going to show you how bad I am.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “You want to, Pearl, you know you want to... And I’m a bad man, I always get what I want... I want you on that bed, I will have you on that bed.”

  Her knees dipped and she succumbed, took a step closer to the bed, climbed up on her knees, then walked to the center and flopped down in perfect naked surrender. She rolled over and covered her bare breasts with a forearm. “What are you going to do now?”

  “I’m going to do what you want me to do.”

  “You’ll let me go home?”

  He loosened his tie, unwound it from his neck and tossed it to the floor; unbuttoned the shirt. “That’s not what you want.”

  “I want to go home.”

  “There’s something you want more,” he said, taking off his suit jacket and shirt at the same time, letting her see his muscles in the dim tropical light. She ran her perfect even row of lower teeth over her top lip as her eyes studied his masculine form. He let her take it in, let her look.

  “All I want to do is go home. There’s nothing else I want from you.”

  “There is,” he said.

  Now he handled his hard erection over top of his pants. Let her see the size, though she was fully aware. Let her know his dominant power...

  Chapter Ten

  What more did she want? She just wanted to be out of this. Just wanted to be home. What was he even talking about?

  She watched that masculine hand of his squeezing his hardness through his pants. Showing off. Showing off that big dick and his flashy watch and the hard masculine shapes of his hand. A big hand. Big knuckles, big fingers, thick veins that coursed the back—but well-groomed and fine and graceful at the same time. His thumb and first knuckle gathered over the pants’ zipper and drew it down. Now he worked the button until his pants were open, reached behind and unwound his cummerbund, let it drop to the floor. Warm, ambient light fell from the bathroom, and tropical purple night bathed through the locked windows, caressing and sculpting the muscles on his body; chest broad, shoulders hard, his waist narrow, his midsection a chiseled sheet of ridged abs.

  Her breath came quicker because this wasn’t going to be a spanking. Knees working up and down, she flexed her thighs. “What are you going to do?” she said, voice tight and thin.

  “I told you. I’m giving you what you want. I’m giving you what you came for when you showed up at my office in Seattle.”

  “Thirty thousand dollars?” she gasped.

  He chuckled, pushed his pants down and they fell to the floor. The stud-pervert wore no underwear. His cock stood up proudly from between his legs, slightly bobbing.

  “You’re so big,” she said, then wished she’d kept her stupid mouth shut.

  Now he was on his knees on the bed, climbing up, that cock wagging and bobbing; she couldn’t keep her eyes off it. She uncovered her breasts to clutch both hands between her legs. Slick heat worked between her fingers and she frowned at how her body betrayed her.

  She said, “I just want to go home...”

  “You came for something that day, and I’m going to give it to you.”

  “I haven’t learned a single thing,” she protested.

  “You’ve learned the things I wanted you to know. Think of this as a reward.”

  “I don’t know anything,” she said, defying him but her voice getting softer and quieter as he worked closer.

  “I can show you with a mirror the marks I’ve left on you to prove your lessons learned. Would you disagree?”

  She shook her head no, an inner line of cheek flesh pinched between her molars.

  “That’s a good girl,” he said, “you know it’s true.” Those large, elegant hands curled over her pale, pointed knees, then gently parted her legs.

  “What are you going to do?” she whimpered.

  “If you have to ask me again, you will taste my belt.”

  “Just tell me,” she whispered. “I want to hear it...”

  Those handsome hands separated her knees, and she allowed it. He pushed them high, mashing down against her breasts and pressing her shoulders; her thighs squashed against her stomach. She withdrew her hands, leaving her sex uncovered and exposed to his massive weapon.

  “I’m claiming you, Pearl,” he said, “because you deserve it.”

  “I deserve it?”

  “Tell me you don’t...”

  “I deserve it,” she said, looking deep into his eyes now as he loomed over top of her. She was folded in two, her legs pressed into her chest, her opening bared and she knew she was slick and eager for penetration.

  “Beg me for it.”
/>   She whispered, “No...”

  “You told me you deserve it—are you lying?”

  “I deserve it,” she whispered.

  “Say it then, say it for me...”

  “Do it,” she said.

  “That’s not begging.”

  She bit her upper lip, panted a breath, said, “Please, do it...”

  “Do what?”

  “Put it inside me...”

  “That’s a good girl,” he said, smoothing his hands up and down her shins and squeezing her ankles. “You’ve never been claimed?”

  She shook her head no.

  Now he was pressing his cock against her. His long, thick hardness against her slick little feminine flower. That plump cockhead—as big and full as a ripe plum—pushed past her lips and she felt it begin to enter her body.

  “Oh-ah-ohhh...” She let out a long quaver, clutched her nails into his stony shoulders and looked in his eyes. He stared into her eyes balefully; an intensity that overwhelmed her.

  That huge cock pushed deeper into a space where no one else had gone before. No other man—though she’d come close, some fingers, yeah, but mostly it was just her own little digits that played around down there...

  “Oh, God,” she said, “it’s so big...”

  He withdrew, pushed deeper this time. Her body hitched and tightened, and her nails dug into his flesh, raking short red dashes on his muscles.

  He growled, “Beg for it...”

  “Please, I told you...”

  “You told me you want this...”

  “I hate that I want it,” she whispered.

  He withdrew, and she whimpered. “You want it,” he said.

  “Give it to me...”

  “That’s it, tell me how you want it...”

  “I do,” she gasped. I hate myself, but I want it so bad...

  He plunged deeper now, the furthest anything had gone inside her body. She imagined he had a lot more in store for her. Then he was pulling out and pushing in again, and her toes were curling, her feet bending as he began to fuck her. He was gentle yet firm, too. Giving it to her. Looking into her eyes and showing her what being claimed was.

  Soon he was rolling against her, his cock buried deep inside and his hips dancing against her bottom. Every so often he’d feed her just a little bit more of that beast between his legs and each new inch his manhood claimed inside her body got her breath hitching tighter. He let her thighs go, took her hands and laced his fingers between hers.

  Now he was really moving, doing this thing where his hips rolled in circles, drawing imaginary J’s and W’s and teasing every part of her deepest feminine core, his huge manhood touching parts of her that would never be touched, not by another man, and she knew pleasure when she felt it. At first the pain had been tight and tearing, and she felt the scorching heat up the backs of her arms, and knew her chest and neck would be blazing red. But that was all washed away now, oceans of pleasure lapping at her lusty shore.

  It got her hips moving too, and she wriggled and writhed against his thrusts. They were gentle, not a jackhammer like she’d seen guys do on the internet; this man was a lover. With her hands pinned up overhead against the silky pillows, his hips did some kind of dance between her open thighs and she scrunched up sheets between her toes as she drew in the deepest breath her lungs could contain. Her eyes went wide; she was aware in her periphery of the way her breasts swayed on her chest with his movements.

  “That’s it,” she gulped, “oh wow, oh God...”

  Her encouragement spurred Julian—because he knew what was happening, knew what her moans and gasps heralded. He was an experienced lover, and she had photographic proof; so experienced he’d cheated with a woman, a princess who was married.

  “Oh, God,” she sighed, “oh, no, no,” not wanting to come, not wanting to surrender to this man her most intimate self—but he was going to take it. And as the orgasm swelled inside her, ballooning up to strain against its membranes, he bit hard into her neck and she cried out. It was like his teeth had punctured the cocoon of her orgasm, the flesh of it bursting away as the orgasm swelled outward, blossoming, huge, gargantuan, and overwhelming. Her cry grew louder, she stiffened, then Julian drove himself deep. So fucking deep. Her arms snapped down, fists grabbing tight balls of bedding as the lusty cry continued to burst from her.

  A huge and overwhelming orgasm mushroomed up from her core, and her eyes stared wildly past Julian and up to the ceiling, avoiding the man’s gaze, avoiding this nasty human being’s domination of her, trying to keep this pleasure for herself, not surrender it to this beast of a man. But it was all him, and while she could play games if she wanted, this man knew his effect on her.

  Now he rolled his hips, his full size embedded in her body, impaling her with treacherous lust. Still her cry continued, a warbling sound that grew louder instead of softer. Pleasure washed through her, a torrential river overflowing from tropical rains, gushing over its banks, eddies swirling and scoring through every nook and cranny of her being. She hooked her heels around the back of his thighs, then climbed them up to lock her ankles at the small of his back. And he drove deeper, pushing harder into her body, extending her ecstasy further than she thought possible.

  Now her consciousness flickered, her eyelashes fluttered, and the visage of the ceiling faded to dim. But she held on.

  Outside there was a thunder strike, a rumbling roar across the ocean as the storm grew closer.

  * * *

  The woman was a virgin; she hadn’t lied. He could see it in her face. The bewilderment, the lust... Despite that dumbfounded look in her beautiful eyes, there was a wide unknowing there, the wideness coming from abject realization. Pearl had never known pleasure like that, and now she did. No one could give it to her like him. She was ruined forever. He smiled over top of her, and her eyes fluttered, looking dull and sleepy. She made muttered sputtering groans, those plump and pouting lips swollen and red. He grabbed them with his teeth, pulling them away from her face and letting them plop back; she whimpered, squirmed like she wanted to get away from him but he knew that was an act. Because her hips betrayed her. They still squirmed against his, wanting to feel that tight slide of his hardness in her innermost self. Pearl made him the hardest he could be. There was no one like her. There was no one ever like her. Beauty like he hadn’t seen, a unique beauty. Beautiful women filled his past like dandelions on a grassy field. Nameless, faceless little pops of color; a field of the expected. But Pearl was unexpected. A true independent spirit.

  He gripped her breasts, thumbed her nipples, eased and coaxed more life into her as his hips began rolling against hers again. Her body was lifeless underneath him but his renewed thrusting brought her awake.

  “No,” she said, “enough,” balled her little fists and beat them against his muscles. He chuckled, bit her neck again, right next to the spot where he’d already put a mark on her. He tongued the tendon that ran from her clavicle to her perfect little ear. She turned her head away.

  “You’re terrible,” she said.

  “You love it,” he told her.

  She said, “That woman... The princess...”

  “You recognize her?”

  With disgust in her tone, she said, “What kind of man are you?”

  “The one you ache for, Pearl.”

  “You’re so fucking full of yourself.”

  “I think you’re the one that’s full of me right now,” he said, gave his hips a little jab to emphasize his point. She gasped a pleasurable sound, her body betraying her once again. That strong independent mind bending to its desire. She was a hydra of possibilities. A sharp young beautiful woman full of ideals and principles, lust and desire, and a wild streak that demanded attention. He squeezed her little fingers between his and pushed himself deeper again.

  “You got what you wanted,” she said.

  “No, I didn’t,” he said, “you’re the one who got what you wanted.”

  “I didn’t want that,” she
muttered and averted her eyes.

  “You did, Pearl, and you know you did.”

  “Get off me.”

  He rose to his knees with his cock still embedded. He pulled it from inside her, studied her pink little slit. It was full and engorged, and her wetness spread across the inside of her thighs, smearing up to the divots of her pubic bones. He drummed the end of his cock against her parted petals and it brought a catlike mewling from her. She curled her pelvis upward, wanting to feel him return his hardness inside her softness.

  He chuckled. “Get off you, you said.”

  She still wouldn’t meet his gaze. “You’re a terrible man—the princess is married.”

  “Don’t tell me my business,” he said, gripping one of her knees and guiding it to her breasts. Now he rolled her over, so she was on her stomach. Pearl wanted to resist, but the pleasure he delivered made her stuporous and pliable. She fumbled around, and he grabbed her hips and yanked her up so she was on her elbows and knees. He sucked a finger, then quickly inserted it fully inside her anus. Her head snapped up, and she cried out. He fucked her with it, slipping in and out and watching her body contort with reluctant pleasure. “Beg for it again,” he told her.

  “Never,” she gasped.

  “Don’t talk to me about the princess.”

  She whipped a fierce look over her shoulder. “Don’t you tell me about the princess, you piece of shit.”

  He hauled back and delivered the correct measure of discipline for such insolence. He watched her pretty profile bark bright surprise at the strike of his clapping hand. He coddled her disciplined cheek, then used two fingers to stroke up and down her slippery stripe. “Beg for it,” he said again.

  “I don’t want it.”

  “Don’t deny yourself and don’t lie to me—you’re not fooling anyone.”

  She moaned, grabbed a handful of her own hair and tugged it away from her face. Then she burrowed away so he couldn’t see her, sticking her face in the pillow, just a tangled mane of beautiful hair spread out on the expanse of bedding.

  Now he put two fingers inside her, showed her a preview of the pleasure he was going to deliver. “I’m waiting, Pearl.”