by Roni Loren
The firmness of her voice, the confidence in it, made something unfurl inside him. That’s what he needed. He needed to grab onto that dominance of hers like a lifeline. If he could focus on that, maybe he could block out the other noise. What did it really matter if Pike or Foster saw him in some compromising position? They were his friends. Pike happily admitted he sometimes switched roles with his wife. They wouldn’t lay shame at his feet. And neither would anyone at the Ranch. That was on him.
“Yes, mistress. I understand.”
“Good.” She moved her hands to his shoulders and dug her nails in. “Now turn around and bend over.”
It was still hard for him to do, but he managed. He clasped his cuffed hands and braced them on the edge of the bed. Then he pressed his forehead to his folded hands, trying to center his mind. Sam kicked his feet wider and made a noise that sounded like hunger and sex and pleasure all in one. “You’re so fucking hot. Jesus.”
He shuddered under the words, her obvious enjoyment of seeing him like this buoying him.
“I miss seeing my marks on you.” She scored her nails over his ass and thighs, instantly making his cock stand at attention, and then gave him a hard smack with her palm.
He groaned as the sweet fire of her touch sent the blood rushing there. The marks she’d given him that night at the farmhouse were long gone. For the first few days afterward, every time he’d moved, he’d felt what she’d left, had relished it. Had felt like somehow they were still connected through that pain. But when they’d faded, that’s when the loss of her had fully hit him. So feeling that sting again now set off this spark of rightness in him that he’d never be able to articulate. He wanted to be covered in her marks. Wanted to look at his body and know that she owned him.
“I miss them, too.” The words drifted out of him, his thoughts bypassing his filter. “I miss you.”
Sam’s hands grasped his waist, and she planted a kiss at the base of his spine. “Saying sweet things isn’t going to get you out of what I’m going to do to you tonight.”
“And what’s that, mistress?” he asked, trying to turn his head toward her even though he wouldn’t be able to see her.
“What I’ve been wanting to do since almost the very first moment I saw you.” She grabbed his hair with rough fingers and pushed his head back down. “Break you.”
Every muscle in his body went tense, the relief from a moment before falling away. Sam was the kind of girl who picked up stray dogs on the road. She was also the kind of girl who wasn’t afraid to make him bleed. And tonight he had a feeling the blood would be the mental kind.
She leaned down close to his ear. “And poor Gibson. There’s no safe word to save you now.”
He couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. And as much fear as her words stirred in him, he couldn’t stop the erection jutting between his thighs from growing harder.
He’d asked to be forced.
She was going to do it.
Sam stepped behind him, drizzled lube down his ass crack, and pushed something unyielding against him. “Don’t fight me. It’s a waste of time. You know I’ll win.”
His fists squeezed in the cuffs, and Sam filled him with a plug. The invasion pressed some button in his brain. And even though it was just a toy, somehow it felt like it was Sam inside him, getting under his skin and invading every private place. You’re mine. No part of you is safe from me. That’s what this said. The plug began to vibrate, slow and intermittent, making him groan, his stomach clench. His mind drifted for a few seconds, lost to the sensation. And he lost track of where Sam was until he felt her hands on his cock.
His breath hissed out when she spread lubricant on him and slid something tight over his shaft. Pressure squeezed at the base of his erection then she trussed his balls as well. A cock ring. He made some garbled noise. Some caveman language that meant Oh, fuck, genitals in danger! Run for the hills!
But he couldn’t move. The pressure only added to the throbbing in his cock, but somehow it made everything more intense, more alive.
“Beautiful,” Sam said. “Good job staying still. You get a reward for that.” She swiped her tongue over the tip of his cock, cleaning up the fluid gathering there with slow, sucking strokes. He moaned, his erection going so hard, he was sure it was just going to shatter.
“Oh, does that make it more uncomfortable?” she asked sweetly. “So sorry.”
He tried to breathe through the need. The ring wasn’t going to let him ease up on the intensity of his arousal, and the vibrator would edge him, keeping him right on the verge of coming but not hitting the spot. His mistress was an evil, evil woman.
Sam tugged boxers on for him, offering him some semblance of privacy, but there’d be no hiding how painfully turned on he was. If anyone needed to know where the sky was, he had a built-in pointer to let them know. Or maybe he could give them a lesson in geometry. Hello, let me demonstrate an acute angle for you.
Because it certainly was fucking acute.
When the guys came back in the room, they didn’t say a word about him or his relentless hard-on. A small mercy. They simply followed Sam’s instructions and grabbed him by the biceps to lead him to the kitchen.
“Walk, Andrews,” Sam said, giving his ass a smack.
Gibson forced one foot in front of the other, trying to ignore the way the plug shifted and rubbed inside him with each step.
“Where do you keep your keys?” Foster asked, all business once they reached the kitchen.
Gibson squeezed his eyes shut behind the blindfold as he focused all his effort on sounding normal. Everything’s cool. Everything’s good. A little prostate massage while chatting with the boys is not a big deal at all. “Bowl by the toaster.”
But it came out like, Bowl! By the TOASTER! His voice somewhere in the octave range of a preteen girl.
Pike sniffed next to him. Gibson looked his way, knowing his friend was probably enjoying Gibson’s discomfort a little too much.
“Take care of getting him in the SUV, guys,” Sam said. “I’ve got a few things to get from my car. And make sure he keeps his hands where they are.”
Gibson scoffed. Like he’d touch himself in front of the guys. Okay, maybe if that vibrator picked up speed, he’d have no choice. Please, God, don’t let that happen.
One hand released him as Foster apparently searched for the keys. Sam’s heels clicked, the sound moving farther away.
Focus. Focus. Focus. Gibson would not embarrass himself further in front of his friends. He mentally reached for something to distract him. “Where’s Sasha?”
“Oakley followed me here and took her home,” Pike said. “Your dog sucks as a watchdog, by the way. She was like, Hey, do I know you? Wait, you have chicken?! Here, new best friend, rape and pillage my master! He keeps his wallet in the top drawer and his family heirlooms in the closet.”
Gibson laughed. “That doesn’t count. Sash already knows you.”
“She needs to take lessons from Monty. He would’ve ripped someone’s face off if they snuck into my bedroom no matter what they offered. Then he would’ve eaten the chicken because . . . chicken. But either way, Reagan’s going to be the happiest kid on the block to play dog sitter for Sasha.”
“Sash will enjoy that,” Gibson said, thankful for the distraction.
“Wait, are we seriously having a conversation about dogs and kids while you have the hard-on of the century and handcuffs on?”
“Yeah, we are.”
“Awesome.” He could almost hear Pike’s grin. “I’m thinking this should feel weirder.”
“It’s weird for me.”
“And me!” Foster called out.
“Your dick hasn’t noticed,” Pike said smugly. “It keeps pointing at me. Of course, that’s probably because I’ve got my hands on you. I have that effect on people. Are you still considering going gay for me?
Because I hate to break it to you, but I’m taken.”
Gibson smirked. “Ever heard of a cock ring, asshole? This tent’s not for you.”
“Yeah,” Foster said, coming up beside him again. “And don’t forget the anal vibrator. Guy’s got no shot at standing down.”
Gibson cringed at that. They hadn’t seen everything, but they obviously had heard what was going on.
Pike sighed. “Ah, the ass vibe. Didn’t catch that part. Now I’m just jealous. I love those fuckers.”
Gibson turned his head toward Pike’s voice, lifted his eyebrows.
“What? Unlike you, I’ve got no shame, bro. My woman is kinky as shit, and I am not above waxing poetic about the wonders of the prostate.”
“You’re bent.” Gibson said it with conviction but then smiled. Leave it to his friends to make this seem like a perfectly normal Friday night. Plus, they’d successfully distracted him from his physical state.
“I am. Now let’s get on with this kidnapping. I’m developing Stockholm syndrome with my captive.”
“That’s for the captive to develop, dumbass,” Gibson said.
“Shut up, oh captive my captive.”
The guys guided him to the garage and helped him into the backseat of his SUV. Sitting with the plug made him doubly aware of its presence, but he tried not to squirm and make it obvious. One of the guys pulled a seat belt into place over his chest.
“All set.” Foster said as he snapped the buckle in place. “We’re going to follow y’all there.”
“Why?”
“Because you asked us for help, and Sam may need us to subdue you if you panic and try to fight. In fact, I think Pike’s kind of hoping he gets to take you down.”
“Word,” Pike said from somewhere in the garage. “Let’s do this!”
Gibson imagined Pike hopping from foot to foot and punching the air like a boxer about to go in the ring.
“Y’all don’t have to follow. I’m not fighting this.”
“Yet,” Foster said, that dominant edge coming into his tone. The guy never hid that for long. It seemed to be part of his DNA. “We’re joking around right now, but this is serious shit, Gib. You don’t know how you’re going to react when she pushes you past a boundary you’ve never crossed. Sam’s not messing around. I know what she has planned, and it’s . . . going to be hard for you.”
Just that quick, anxiety banged around in his gut again, a thousand thrashing wings. When he swallowed, it was like glass caught in this throat. “I . . . trust Sam. I want this. Her.”
“I know.” He could feel Foster considering him. “But we need to follow you.”
Frustration flared. “I told you I’m good.”
“Your fists are clenched, your shoulders are stiff, and your pulse is beating so hard at your throat that you look like you swallowed a hummingbird. You’re not fine, Gib. And that’s okay.”
“Don’t you dare pull out that sub-whisperer shit on me, man.”
Foster gave his shoulder another pat. “We made you a promise. We won’t back out of that. You’ll thank us later.”
With that, he was gone, and the door slammed shut. Murmured voices sounded outside as Sam came back and conferred with the guys. Gibson fumed in the backseat. He loved his friends, but sometimes he wanted to throttle them. And being left out of the rest of the conversation just pissed him off.
He was working himself up into a good righteous anger when the plug in his ass jolted to a powerful setting. He groaned, and his head fell back against the seat. “Fuck.”
Sam has a remote.
A door opened. “Being a good boy in there?”
Her voice was candy laced with razor blades.
“Just peachy, mistress.”
“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, sugar,” she said, dialing up that wicked Southern. “Keep it in check or I’ll make sure you make a big ol’ mess in your nice clean car, mmkay?”
He grunted and clamped his teeth together. The vibration eased up.
This was going to be a long damn drive.
* * *
Sam didn’t know whether she was going to throw up from nerves or lose her mind from the rush. Gibson was in the backseat, eyes closed, face deceivingly stoic, mouth shut. She’d taken off the blindfold and cuffs and had given him a T-shirt to wear. As much as having the man bound and half-naked in the backseat would’ve been a turn-on, she didn’t want to put him at any risk of being seen by a passerby. And God forbid they got in an accident. She wouldn’t want him cuffed and unable to help himself. But he was bound just the same by her words, and somehow, that was even hotter.
She was glad the drive to the Ranch took a while because she needed that time to get herself in the right headspace. When Gibson had called his safe word, it’d taken everything she had to continue on with the scene. This was a guy who never safed out. Panic had been all over his face. But he’d told her what he needed, and she was going to give him that even if it had made her gut wrench to see him so distressed. Physical pain she had no problem with. Even a dose of fear. The sadist in her loved dancing along that edge. But honest panic was altogether different. She knew what that felt like, didn’t wish it on anyone. It felt like . . . dying. But he’d told her what he needed. They’d made a deal. She would be strong so that he could be, too.
Tonight, they both had to fight for each other.
Pass or fail. There was no in between.
They were going to set the whole thing on fire and hope to survive it.
Time to strike the match.
Chapter 14
Gibson had settled into a near-meditative state by the time the SUV slowed to a stop. Sam had ignored him the whole way but had played with the vibrator speed based on the tempo of whatever song was on the radio. He loved that she could manage to make him feel invisible yet tease him at the same time. It kept him focused on her and held his body at a simmer instead of boiling over. He couldn’t think about what was next, only what was now. But as soon as he realized they’d arrived, his mind began to race ahead again.
Sam turned off the ignition, and he fought hard not to open his eyes. He wanted to see her so badly, to ground himself with the sight of her face. But he managed not to look. The sound of fabric sliding along the seat hit his ears. “Still with me, sub?”
He cleared his throat, trying to find his voice after an hour of not speaking. “Yes, mistress.”
“Good. Pull down your shorts and spread your knees.”
The request wasn’t what he’d expected, but he did as he was told. He fumbled with his shorts, working them over his erection and then slid them down to his ankles. He parted his knees and leaned back, trying to stay calm for her.
Warm fingers touched his aching cock, and he almost leapt off the seat at the sudden stimulation. “Unh.”
“Hush. I’m going to get rid of the rings. Don’t you dare come.”
He tipped his head back and gripped the edge of the seat as she lubed him up again to slide the silicone rings off. Even that simple touch seemed like an earthquake to his system. He gritted his teeth, stomach muscles clenching, and the vibrator kicked on to a low hum. No. No. No. The rings moved over his engorged head and her fingertips grazed the slit. He cried out and his hips jerked. There was no helping it. His body gave up the fight and all the build up of the last hour went rushing through him like a tsunami. He grabbed his cock, trying to prevent the inevitable. But his erection spasmed in his fist and hot jets of his release weren’t far behind.
“Fuck. Fuck.” He cried out, and unable to stop the instinct, he jerked himself, stroking hard and riding the orgasm, gasping as he came with such force that he was sure he’d hit the sunroof. “Oh, shit. Shit. I’m sorry. Shit.”
He was huffing breaths and sputtering apologies when Sam finally spoke again. “No goddamn control.”
“I’m sorry, mistr
ess. I—”
“Clean your hand,” she said, no sympathy in her voice.
“What?”
“Lick your mess off yourself and pull up your shorts.”
Coming too soon was humiliating. He hadn’t done that since the day he’d lost his virginity. And having to clean himself up only added to that indignity. He had no idea if anyone nearby could see him, but that base part of him stirred at the command. That darker part woke up. He cleaned his hand. And tugged his boxers on again.
“Good boy,” Sam said, husky desire in her voice. “Now when we get out of the car, I’m going to strip you down fully, put a collar on you, and get you ready to walk into a room of people.”
His lungs stopped moving. The reminder that they weren’t alone was like a Mack truck to his chest. Wham! “Mistress . . .”
“I don’t want to hear it. You are mine right now. People are going to watch you take my whip. They’re going to see that plug in your ass. And they’re going to see you beg. Then, if I think you’ve earned it, I’m going to fuck you for all to see. I’m not going to leave any doubt who you belong to.”
“Shit.” He breathed out the word, his blood rushing through his ears. His spent dick twitched anew at the thought of Sam taking him over, whipping him. But that there’d be an audience sent his stomach plummeting.
There was a long silence and he could feel her eyes on him.
“Tell me what’s going through your mind right now. No filter,” she commanded.
“I . . .” He wanted to back out. It was right there. He wanted to say the word. Red! Red! Red! His mind was demanding it. But he couldn’t let the fear win. Would. Not. He swallowed hard. “Bind me, mistress.” He forced the words out past a throat that felt three times narrower all of a sudden. “Please.”
“What?”
“Restrain me. Force me.” He shook his head, the panic like a flash mob in his brain, shouting, crowding out everything else. “I—can’t. And I don’t want to hurt you or the guys. I . . . don’t trust myself. I want to run. I’m going to run. I’m going to fucking run.”
