by Lila Dubois
Alexander leaned down to taste her breasts. In comparison to the thick, restrictive ropes, his lips and tongue were soft and gentle. Pleasure zinged through her, and for a wonderful moment, as he closed his lips over her nipple and slowly drew his head back, letting the tip of her breast slide from his mouth, she thought she might come. Not just from the breast play, but from it all.
From the pain of her well spanked ass.
From the secure tension of the rope harness.
From the penetration of the hook and the burn from the ginger lube.
From the horrible, delicious threats he’d made to let others use her.
And from the intimacy of their conversation, from the way he’d revealed something about himself, even if he’d then been harsh with her.
Alexander kissed her stomach, ran his tongue around her belly button as he dropped to his knees.
He knelt in front of her, his lips tantalizingly close to her sex. Alena held her breath. She wanted to beg him to lick her clit, to fuck her with his tongue, fingers, cock.
She was not ashamed to beg. This aroused, this deep into a submission that was almost self-destructive, there was no room for shame.
She held her breath, and her tongue, because she didn’t want to be the one in control. Didn’t want him to touch her because she’d asked for it.
Alexander took a handkerchief from his pocket. With two fingers he massaged her labia, then spread the lips apart, revealing her clit. He wiped her clit with the handkerchief, until she was no longer slick with her own arousal, and the fabric abraded the sensitive skin.
Alena whimpered softly.
“Do you know what is coming?” He set the handkerchief aside. “I’m going to abuse your clit.” While still holding her labia spread, he grabbed the tub of lube with his other hand, thumbing off the top.
She bit her lip to hold back her whimpers of fear and anticipation.
“If you hide your screams, I will torture your clit until you let them out.”
Her breathing was uneven and patchy, that slow current of pleasure ramping up so that it felt as if every nerve ending were alive.
Alexander spread ginger lube over her clit. For a moment nothing happened, and she could enjoy the pleasure of his fingers on her as he continued to work the lube around her skin.
Then it started to burn.
Alena hissed, back arching. That hiss became a high thin cry of pleasure-laced pain. Her clit felt like it was on fire, and as he continued to play with it, each pass of his finger made the burn worse.
“No,” he commanded. “Hold still.”
She hadn’t even realized she been trying to get away until he spoke. And she obeyed. She tried to obey. Her leg muscles trembled, her ass ached, her breasts throbbed.
But all that was a mere shadow in comparison to the hot, white pleasure-pain at her clit.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his face inches from her pussy. “You’re beautiful when I hurt you.”
She came. She wasn’t sure if it was his words that pushed her over the edge or if it was just the build up of his relentless stimulation. Alena screamed, her body arching, thighs trembling. Her ass clenched around the hook. Her pussy pulsed, and the emptiness there was maddening.
And he kept his finger on her clit, kept rubbing softly, that softness completely at odds with the burn from the ginger.
The first orgasm ripped through her, and within seconds her already alert nerve endings became painfully sensitive.
But he didn’t stop.
“I can’t, can’t,” she sobbed.
“You can,” he growled.
He touched her clit and the shock of pain was enough that she bit her tongue and tasted blood.
“No more, no more. I can’t,” she sobbed. Yet she didn’t close her legs, didn’t try to move away. She wouldn’t, because he had ordered her to stay like this.
Alena was so deep in her submission she wouldn’t disobey, even if her body had been truly pushed beyond what it could handle.
“I choose when you’ve had enough.”
Alena whimpered, shivering and shaking, her shoulders hunched forward which only made the anal hook pull harder against her.
He stroked her clit again and Alena turned her head to the side and bit her own shoulder to stifle not her scream, though she did scream, but to stop herself from speaking.
Stop herself from using her safe word.
She wanted to. “Sherman” was there on her tongue.
But if she used it and he ignored it, then this was no longer a game.
Then she would have to do something about her situation, because being truly trapped and helpless was unacceptable.
And once she set something like that in motion, she’d never see Alexander again.
He surged to his feet and cupped her face. Alena looked up at him, feeling both hazy and hyperaware.
“Tell me to stop,” Alexander pleaded. “Because I don’t know if I can stop myself.”
“What if I don’t want you to stop?” The words weren’t strong but watery and broken.
“You should. I’m depraved.”
“And so am I.”
Alexander’s gaze searched her face and then he closed his lips over hers in a desperate kiss.
It was the kiss that changed everything.
Alena threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back. She pulled him close, sitting on the desk so she could wrap her legs around him too. It hurt—her beaten ass, her filled anus. When she pulled him against her body, her breasts throbbed, and her clit and anus were still burning from the ginger lube.
None of that mattered, because right now he was letting her hold him, kiss him.
And deep inside, in the place where she kept the oldest and most sacred of her secrets, she accepted that she was in love with Alexander Wagner.
Chapter 11
His control had never been so fragile. Even when he’d had her pinned to the wall back in Vienna, anger filling him with dark urges, his control hadn’t been this tenuous.
Alena wrapped her arms and legs around him, clinging to him as if she couldn’t live without him. It was a lie. She was a lie, a liar.
Damn him for a fool because it felt so real.
She kissed him slow and deep, no passive submission now, though only minutes ago he’d watched her battle to obey him even as he massaged the biting ginger oil into her clit. This was the purest, most “real” scene he’d ever been a part of.
Probably because he loved her.
When she broke the kiss to nuzzle his cheek with hers, the darkness that had driven him to hurt her today was battled back, leaving only aching arousal.
He couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t keep his hands from her, couldn’t treat her as the spy, thief, liar she was.
Alexander cupped her ass and staggered back away from the desk. She whimpered a little and pressed her head against his.
“I know, baby…” He carried her to the couch and sat. She tucked her legs alongside his thighs, rising up so her ass wasn’t resting on his knees.
She shivered and pressed her forehead to his. “It still burns, you diabolical man.” Instead of challenging and regal, the words were quiet and affectionate.
“Wait…Wait, I have. I prepared for…” He was stammering like an idiot.
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded. “I like you all hot and flustered.” She ran her hand down the front of his shirt to his crotch and his world stopped when she squeezed his cock.
“Stop that,” he commanded. This time she didn’t comply.
Doing his best to ignore how amazing her hand felt, and how much better it would be when he’d taken off his pants, he dug in his pocket for the stash of alcohol wipes he had there.
He ripped one open, wrapped the small piece of material around the tip of his index finger and then rubbed it over her clit.
Alena yelped, arching back and reaching down to try and shove his hand away.
“That burns.”
“But it will remove the lube.”
The sadist in him wasn’t completely satiated, because he enjoyed watching her wiggle and whimper as he cleaned her clit.
Her eyes were closed, her back arched, which meant she was in the perfect position for him to take out the anal hook.
He could have left it in, but if he was going to make love to her he wanted nothing but skin.
Don’t do it, you stupid fuck!
Ignoring the voice, he grasped the anal hook and pushed down. Alena curled her fingers into his shirt, the ropes around her breasts pulling tighter, raising them higher on her chest wall. The pretty things were pink and looked tender. The urge to bite her was nearly overwhelming.
He felt the resistance as the ball hit the muscled ring of her anus. She was tight, tense, so he gave in to his urge and nipped her breast. That startled her enough that with a hard pull he was able to yank the anal hook all the way out.
He used a second alcohol wipe on her ass, then made quick work of the ropes by pulling a folding knife from his pocket and cutting through them where they passed between her breasts.
They fell away, tumbling onto the carpet along with the hook.
Gently, he ran the flat of the knife over her breast, watching gooseflesh appear in its wake. “I should take you back downstairs, tie you to the bed, and jerk off on your breasts.”
Alena stilled, then slowly raised her hands, cupping his face. “Alexander, please.”
Alexander. It wasn’t the first time today she’d called him by his given name, but this time it wasn’t an anger-fueled slip of the tongue. He looked up, met her gaze.
If he did this, if he—
She bent and kissed him.
Alexander flung the knife away and wrapped his arms around her.
Alena’s fingers went to his shirt. She managed to get the first two undone and then she just started pulling. Alexander grabbed it from behind and jerked the damned thing up and off.
They both moaned when she leaned into him, her breasts brushing his chest.
“Pants, pants, take them off,” she breathed, hopping off the couch.
Alexander undid his belt and slacks, braced his shoulders to lift his ass then shoved everything down to his knees. The instant his ass hit the cushion, Alena was back on the couch, astride him. His cock was rock hard and ready.
She was naked except for that stupid, ugly collar, but he wasn’t going to mess around with getting it off just now. It was just a piece of leather and a few bits of metal. What mattered was how her fingertips glided up the underside of his cock. The way she looked deep into his eyes as she rubbed the head of his dick up and down the valley of her sex, coating it in her body’s creamy wetness.
“You better hope you got all the lube,” she murmured as she rubbed her clit with his dick.
He couldn’t reply, the words too jumbled in his head to make it out of his mouth.
Alena slid his cock down to her entrance and took just the tip inside. She cupped his face, and as she lowered her body onto him, she inhaled as he exhaled. They shared one breath in that exquisite moment as she slowly, slowly, took him in.
Once joined, they held on to one another, Alexander’s face pressed into her neck, his arms tight around her while she cupped his head, her cheek on his hair.
The moment was both long, and far too short, a thing of perfect peace and sublime connection so intense it couldn’t last.
He was the one who broke first, the need to move too great to be ignored.
Shifting so he had his hands hooked over her shoulders from the back, he started to fuck her. She picked up the rhythm, rocking on him, letting him slam her down on his cock.
“I’m going to come,” she breathed. “Alexander…” She tipped her head back and rode him through the orgasm, her pussy clenching rhythmically around his dick. Alexander wrapped a hand in her hair as it spilled down her back and buried his face in her breasts as he increased the pace. He slammed her down on his cock, whole body tense and tight, until at last, when she slid gentle fingers though his hair, murmuring, “I want to feel you come in me,” he was able to let go.
Alexander closed his teeth over the top of her breast, clamping her flesh as he rode out the intense, exhausting orgasm. Even in tender moments, he was brutal.
But Alena only tightened her grip, held him closer.
And when he stopped with a shudder, when the blood rushing through his ears calmed enough he could hear the sound of their panting breaths, Alexander hugged her close, then tipped to the side, lying back on the short couch with her laying across his chest.
He closed his eyes, shutting out everything except the feel of the woman he loved safe in his arms.
The peace didn’t last. Once the pleasure faded, and the sense of contentment borne of having her in his arms played out, he was left with a terrible, cold realization.
Alexander sat up, easing her to the side.
“Alexander?”
He waited to see if the sickness in his stomach turned to something else. Anger, that bitterly cold, encompassing anger would be nice right now.
“What’s wrong?” She put her hand on his bare back.
Alexander surged to his feet.
He’d fucked her. Done the thing he’d promised himself he wouldn’t. The thing he’d sworn to her he wouldn’t do.
He was a monster. He’d always known it. BDSM was an outlet for that side of him, after all, but what he’d just done went beyond that.
He’d had sex with a woman who couldn’t say no to him. That was rape.
He’d raped her.
She wanted it—
He shut that misogynistic bullshit thought down before it was even fully formed.
He’d broken his word. No, not just his word.
He’d broken.
Between the two of them, he’d been the one to break first. To give in, in this case to an action that made him, irrefutably, a monster.
Finally the anger came, anger at himself, and at her, because though he wouldn’t shove all the blame onto her for what had just happened, it would be stupid to assume that she hadn’t manipulated him.
She’d been manipulating him since the moment they met, and now he’d broken his word to her. To himself.
“I broke first.” His pants were down around his knees so he pulled them up, quickly fastening them.
“Alexander, what’s going on in your head?”
“I broke first,” he repeated, turning to her.
“You broke? This wasn’t some torture session.” One brow went up. “Unless you’re saying having sex with me is torture?”
“Don’t. Don’t do that. I raped you.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“You’re my BDSM slave; that means you couldn’t say no to me. By definition it makes this rape.”
“Oh, Alexander… You didn’t rape me, suga’.”
“You’re my BDSM slave and therefore—”
Alena jumped off the couch and touched him. He jerked away, backing up several steps. Alena hesitated then turned to walk away.
The urge to chase after her was so strong he had to link his fingers together at the back of his neck just to give himself something to focus on.
Alena didn’t leave. Instead she picked up his discarded shirt and pulled it on. She left the top buttons undone, the resulting long V of flesh beautiful and tempting.
“Order me to take it off,” she said.
Alexander didn’t speak.
“Fine. I’ll talk for both of us.” Alena cleared her throat and then in a comically low voice said, “Strip.”
He wanted to smile. He wanted it so much. This was how she dealt with things. She made a joke of it. It was what made her so easy to be around.
He didn’t smile.
“And here’s my response.” She made a rude gesture. With both hands.
She was trying to make him feel better. More manipulation? Damn it, he was tired.
“Because after this…” She pause
d, then gestured to the couch. “I thought things had changed.”
“They have. I broke.”
“Would you stop saying that? Damn it, Alexander. Talk to me.”
“Nothing to say. I raped—”
“You are such an asshole.”
“Exactly. Because I broke—”
Alena shrieked in apparent frustration. No more regal, amused air. No jokes. She look irritated, angry, upset, and maybe even worried.
He paused, peering at her as he tried to decide which of those emotions he was actually seeing because it certainly couldn’t be all of them.
For a long time neither of them spoke.
Alexander made sure the words were clear in his mind before he said, “What I’ve done to you is unforgivable.”
“And what about what I did to you?” Alena asked softly.
“I kidnapped you.”
“We made a bargain.”
“I tortured you.”
“We had an impact play scene.”
“I raped you.”
“I’m not a prisoner here, you’re not my jailor. This wasn’t rape. It was two consenting adults having sex.”
“You are the one who used those words. Torture. Rape. I told myself I wouldn’t, but in the end I…”
He didn’t say “broke” but the word hung there.
Alena bunched his shirt in her fists. The leather collar was still around her neck, the lock that prevented her from taking it off catching the afternoon light that spilled in through the windows.
“I said those things because it was…” She fell silent.
Alexander went towards the desk, planning to sit, then remembered he’d used her there. The window overlooking the patio and nature preserve were out too. That’s where he’d threatened to whore her out. His stomach rolled.
Maybe he’d burn this whole wing of the building to the ground. He went to the other window, looking out on more of the preserve and the ridiculous profile of the Bavarian-castle inspired wing.
“Alexander, it’s not a game.”
Her words were soft and serious, with a weight to them he’d never heard in her voice before. He tensed, but didn’t turn around.
