by Lauren Rowe
“You’re mine,” he breathes.
Warm liquid suddenly (and shockingly) gushes out of me in a torrent. I convulse again and again, enraptured and tormented in equal measure, crying out for relief but getting none. I dry heave again. And then finally, mercifully, my body goes completely slack. I hang my head and a drop of sweat—or is that a tear?—falls down the tip of my nose and to the ground. Holy crap.
Josh quickly unties my wrists and I crumple into his arms, shaking and twitching.
His lips press against my ear. “Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head.
“Did it feel good?”
I nod.
He picks me up and carries me into a small bathroom with red walls and gold fixtures. He sets me down gently. “Can you hold onto the counter for a second?” he asks.
I nod.
He turns on the water in the shower and then guides me under the warm stream.
“You’re sure I didn’t hurt you?” he asks. “I think I got carried away.”
I shake my head.
“You told me to stop, but you didn’t use the safe word.”
“I didn’t want you to stop. I’m glad you didn’t stop. Only stop if I use the safe word.”
He kisses my mouth and pulls me into him gently, letting the warm water rain down on us. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“It was amazing.”
He washes me from head to toe, and when he’s done, guides me out of the shower and dries me off. “Stay here,” he commands. “I have something for you.”
I nod and wait. I’m shaking like I’ve just run a marathon.
He’s gone quite a while, it seems, and when he returns, he’s fully dressed and holding up a white satin nightie. “Lift up your arms,” he commands.
I do as I’m told and he slips the nightie over my head and onto my body. I’m confused as to why he’s dressing me rather than keeping me naked, but I’m too fried to give it much thought.
“Come.” He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the bathroom and back into the dungeon. Everything’s been cleaned—there’s no sign of my messy orgasm and absolutely nothing out of place. He guides me to a bed in the corner, lays me onto my back, and wordlessly secures bindings around my wrists and ankles.
“You don’t have to tie me up anymore,” I say, pulling against my bindings. “I won’t try to escape.”
“No. I can’t risk losing you,” he says simply.
A wave of glee washes over me. I know he’s simply following my script, but those words make my skin buzz, nonetheless.
“I’m not tricking you,” I coo. “I didn’t run when you left me alone in the bathroom, did I? You can trust me.”
He pauses, mulling that over. “No,” he finally says. “I can’t risk it. You’re a unicorn.” He shoots me a snarky look, obviously proud of himself for deftly inserting that little gem into our scene. “I can’t risk it.”
“Please.”
He sets his jaw. “No. Now that I know what it’s like to have you, I don’t think I can live without you.”
My heart stops. Was that in the script? Or did Josh say that in real life?
“What’s your name?” I ask.
He makes a face like I’ve just asked him to spell antideluvian. “Um,” he says, apparently pondering the question. “Joshua Faraday,” he finally says.
That’s not at all what I expected him to say. I thought he’d come up with some exotic sex-slave-master name like Magnusson Carmichael III. For my part, I’ve certainly planned a sexy name and backstory—I’m an heiress named Chantel Giodissimo—but, jeez, if Josh is going to be himself for our role-plays, then I should do the same. And, in fact, now that I’m thinking about it, it’s probably better if we just “be ourselves,” just like the song says.
“Hi, Joshua,” I say softly. “I’m Katherine Morgan. It’s nice to meet you. I sure wish we’d met under different circumstances than you breaking into my house and absconding with me.”
Josh smirks. “Absconding with you?”
I grin. “Yeah. Absconding. And you gave me a freaking heart attack when you did it, by the way. Oh my God.”
He flashes an adorable grin. “I’m sorry, Katherine. I didn’t mean to scare you when I absconded with you. It’s just that when I saw you walking down the sidewalk the other day, I had to have you.” He glances at the clock and I follow his gaze. It’s a few minutes to ten. He trains his beautiful blue eyes back on me. “Please forgive me if I scared you.”
“I forgive you. You’ve given me intense pleasure, Joshua—pleasure I couldn’t have imagined.”
His beautiful eyes are smoldering at me.
“Will you untie me, Joshua?” I ask softly.
He shakes his head. “I can’t. You’ll run away. And if I lose you, I’ll be wrecked.”
My heart lurches into my throat. He sounds so earnest. I can’t tell if that was Joshua Faraday the Sex-Slave-Master speaking—or Joshua William Faraday?
I open my mouth to tell him I’d be wrecked if I lost him, too, but before I can say a word, the door to the dungeon swings wide open and a slender figure wearing a ski mask bursts into the room.
I shriek in surprise and pull violently on my bindings.
“I’ve come to steal her away,” a woman’s voice says in a lackluster monotone. She holds up a plastic sword. “I saw her and I had to have her.”
I look at Josh with wide-eyed astonishment and he bursts out laughing.
The masked intruder lowers her sword and shifts her weight, her body language conveying total annoyance.
“From Justin to Kelly,” I say. “Who the heck is this poor woman, Josh?”
Josh wipes his eyes and motions to the masked figure. “Kat, this is Kaitlyn—she owns this place. Kaitlyn’s one of the top Dommes in Los Angeles.”
“The top,” Kaitlyn corrects. “If I do say so myself.”
“Sorry. The top. You can take off your mask, Kaitlyn. Oh my God. This is so fucking hilarious.”
Kaitlyn removes her mask to reveal a very attractive woman, with brown hair and dark, piercing eyes, in her early forties or so.
“Hi,” Kaitlyn says to me calmly. “I’m here to steal you away and make you my sex slave.”
I giggle. “Nice to meet you, Kaitlyn.” I jut my chin at my wrist restraint. “Sorry I can’t wave hello. So you’re here to fight to the death for me, huh?”
Josh is still laughing. “Oh my God, this is so ridiculous. I’m sorry, Kaitlyn, I should have listened to you.”
Kaitlyn rolls her eyes.
“I’m so sorry, babe. I didn’t think it would be this lame. I thought it would be fun and silly, but not lame.”
“It’s adorable. I love it. You thought of everything.”
“I was originally thinking about hiring a stuntman and choreographing a whole big thing with pyrotechnics, but the logistics just seemed crazy. There would have been, like, twenty people involved, and I didn’t think you’d like that.”
“Good call,” I say, laughing. “Embarrassing myself in front of Kaitlyn here is plenty.”
Kaitlyn shrugs. “Don’t be embarrassed. My whole life is about helping people fulfill their fantasies. This is a first, I admit, but, hey.”
“Thank you,” I say. “So what do you say we press fast-forward on the sword fight? Pretend you two have already fought and Kaitlyn lost?”
Kaitlyn nods and looks to Josh for confirmation.
“Hell no,” Josh says. He reaches down next to the bed and pulls out a plastic sword to match Kaitlyn’s. “We gotta have a sword fight, babe—I don’t care if it’s ridiculous, it’s in your script. We gotta follow the script.”
Kaitlyn and I exchange a look.
“Okay,” she says. She begrudgingly holds up her sword. “I’m here to steal her away and make her my sex-slave.”
I giggle. This is utterly ridiculous. A travesty. I absolutely love it.
Josh leaps up from the bed, on the attack. “En guarde!” he shouts.
/> For a few minutes, Josh and Kaitlyn whack each other’s swords like pre-schoolers on a playground while Josh shouts lines from Princess Bride, until, finally, Kaitlyn falls into a chair with a sword shoved into her armpit and dies.
“Let this be a lesson to any man who tries to abscond with what’s mine,” Josh says, standing over Kaitlyn’s body. “Fuck you, all of you. She’s mine.”
A ripple of pleasure zings through my body. It’s ridiculous, yes—but it’s freaking hot, too. The boy has put a lot of effort and thought into making my silly fantasy come to life. I can’t help but swoon.
Kaitlyn opens her eyes. “So... Is that it, then?”
“Yeah. That’ll do it.” Josh helps her up. “Thanks again for everything, Kaitlyn. You’re a trooper. Now be gone!” He laughs.
Kaitlyn shakes her head. “Have fun, you two. Now that I’ve seen you in action, I totally get it. You’re total goofballs.” She smiles for the first time since she stepped foot in the room and turns toward the door. “Be sure to turn out the lights and lock up when you go.”
“Will do,” Josh says. “Thanks again.”
“Thank you!” I call out to Kaitlyn’s back just before she slips out the door.
Josh turns to me. “How cool was that? I just had a sword fight with a real-life dominatrix.”
“How’d you hook up with her?” I ask, an alarming thought beginning to creep into my head. “Is she a friend of yours?”
Josh rolls his eyes. “Cool your jets, Madame Terrorist. Kaitlyn’s a friend of Reed’s. I’ve never used her services.” He laughs. “And to answer your next question, no, Reed’s not a client of hers, either. They’re just friends. Reed knows everyone in L.A.—well, anyone who’s interesting.” He beams a huge smile at me. “So, my sexy little sex-slave, are you ready to keep going with our porno? We’ve still got the third and final act to perform, you may recall: The Big Reveal.”
I smile broadly. “Ooh la la. The Revelation. Yes.”
“Any last words before we get back into character?”
I think for a minute. There are definitely words I’m dying to say to Josh, three little words to be exact, but I can’t do it. They’re magic words a girl simply can’t be the first to say in a relationship.
“Nope. I’m good,” I say. “Proceed.”
“Quiet on the porn set!” Josh yells over his shoulder to an imaginary crew. “And... action.” He crawls onto the bed and cups my cheek in his palm. “Are you hungry, Katherine?”
“Yes, Master Joshua. Starving.”
Josh reaches down next to the bed, retrieves a small cooler, and pulls out a sandwich in a Ziplock baggie.
“Aw,” I say. “From Justin to Kelly. You made me an orgasm-inducing peanut butter and jelly sandwich? So sweet.”
“Wouldn’t want my sex-slave going hungry.” He grins. “I’ve got an apple and some chips for you, too, if you want ’em.”
“You’re the sweetest sex-slave-master, ever. Thank you. I was ready to eat my hand when we got back from hiking. Now I’m ready to eat both arms.”
He breaks off a bite-sized piece of the sandwich and feeds it to me.
“Whoa,” I say, chewing the sandwich with gusto. “You told the truth—I just came.”
Josh laughs.
“Why is this sandwich so good? Did you lace it with something illegal?”
“Nope. Just organic strawberry jam.”
He feeds me another bite.
“This sandwich is so frickin’ good,” I say, “it’s giving me Munchausen syndrome.”
Josh chuckles. “No, babe. Not Munchausen syndrome. That’s when you poison someone slowly just so you can keep being their caretaker.”
“Oh.” I giggle.
He chuckles. “You’re so cute.”
“So what did I mean, then?”
“Stockholm syndrome, I think.”
“Is that where someone held captive falls in love with their captor?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says.
“Okay, then, yeah. That’s what I have for sure.”
We both stare at each other for an awkward beat.
Oh shit. I think I just told Josh I’m in love with him.
He feeds me another bite of sandwich but doesn’t say anything for a long beat.
“Water?” he finally asks, his voice tight.
“What?” My cheeks feel flushed. I just told him I love him in a clever sort of backhanded-code, didn’t I?
Josh holds up the water bottle. “Thirsty?”
“Oh. Yeah. Thank you.”
He holds the bottle to my lips and I take a long guzzle, my heart racing. Damn. I wish I’d told him more clearly than that, in a way that would have left no doubt. I shouldn’t have been so subtle. I should have said, “This sandwich is so good, it made me fall deeply in love with you, Joshua William Faraday.” But I didn’t. I left it vague. “Yeah, that’s what I have,” I said—and nothing more. Idiot. And now the moment has passed.
“Chips?” Josh asks.
“What kind?”
“Doritos.” He holds up a little red bag. “Original flavor.”
“Thank you.”
He pops a chip into my mouth and then into his own. “Fuck you, Jonas—I eat what I want—although I must admit I feel kinda bad I’m chowing down on Doritos while gourmet meals are sitting in my fridge.”
“How about we eat Jonas’ food tomorrow night?” I say. “We can stay in and rent a movie.”
“Awesome. Yeah, a quiet night at home with my Party Girl with a Hyphen sounds damned good. More water, babe?”
I shake my head. “I’m good. I’m done.”
“You ready to keep going with the porno?”
I nod.
“Cool. I’ve got my entire speech ready for act three.” He stows the remaining food in the cooler. “Give me my cue, babe,” he says softly. “I’m gonna slay it.”
I clear my throat. “Untie me, Joshua,” I whisper. “I don’t want to be a prisoner anymore. I need my freedom.”
Josh touches my cheek tenderly. “Katherine, when I absconded with you, all I cared about was making you mine, through any means necessary. All I cared about was what I wanted. But now, even though I want you more than ever, I care too much about you to keep you as my prisoner anymore. Now the thing I want more than my own happiness is yours.” He touches the cleft in my chin.
Holy Exploding Heart, Batman. Not To Mention Ovaries. I know Josh was merely following the loose script I babbled to him in Las Vegas, but he delivered his lines with such breathtaking sincerity, my heart seems to have lost its ability to discern fantasy from reality.
“Hang on,” he says. He gets up and walks behind the bed, outside of my field of vision. I strain against my bindings. What’s he doing? He’s supposed to untie me now and ravage me as a free woman.
A song begins playing over the sound system and my heart stops. Holy shitballs. He’s cued up “If You Ever Want To Be In Love” by James Bay—the song that made Josh literally bolt out of his bedroom when it came on last night. Oh my effing God.
Josh returns to the bed. His clothes are off and his hard-on is massive. He sits on the edge of the bed, gazing at me with smoldering eyes, and slowly begins untying me.
Holy shitballs.
The minute I’m free, he pulls my nightie and underwear off my body and guides me onto his lap and straight onto his erection. I take him into me and wrap my thighs around his waist, throw my arms around his neck, and ride him feverishly, spurred on by the song—and especially what it means that he’s decided to play it for me in this magical moment.
“Don’t leave me,” Josh whispers, cradling me in his arms, fucking me, caressing me, kissing my face.
I’m lost in him. I gyrate my hips on top of him and smash my breasts against his muscled chest, desperately trying to press my beating heart against his.
“Josh,” I breathe. I can barely push air into my lungs. I’m gasping for air, suddenly overcome by a surge of energy coursing between us.
/>
I want him. I need him. I love him.
“Don’t go,” he says. “Stay with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I breathe. “Oh, Josh. I’m all yours.”
Seventy-Two
Kat
For the past kajillion hours, Josh and I have been sitting on his black leather couch, smoking weed and listening to the Black Keys (the current song is “Tighten Up”) and semi-watching our favorite scenes from our favorite movies (on mute)—Twenty-One Jump Street, Zoolander, Happy Gilmore, Anchorman, Harold and Kumar, This is the End, and selected episodes of Parks & Recreation, too. And while we’ve availed ourselves of the aforementioned samplings of musical and comedic genius, Josh and I have also been voraciously gobbling down every single morsel of the gourmet, healthy meals supplied by Josh’s ever-so-thoughtful and fitness-conscious brother.
Oh, and perhaps I should mention we’ve done all of the above-mentioned activities in our birthday suits.
Oh, and perhaps I should also mention “eating” Jonas’ gourmet, healthy meals has actually entailed licking, nibbling, and slurping food off each other’s stomachs and thighs, and out of each other’s belly buttons, and, yes, okay, if you really must know, off of (or out of) each other’s most sensitive places.
I take a long drag on the joint Josh offers me and blow the smoke into his face in a steady, controlled stream. Man, I’m stoned. Stoned out of my mind. Fred-Flintstoned. Emma Stoned. Sharon Stoned. Rolling Stoned. Sly Stalloned. Oh, wait, no. That last one doesn’t really work. I think I meant Sly and the Family Stoned? Wasn’t that the funk band Josh introduced me to yesterday in the sex dungeon? Well, in any event, let’s just say tonight I’ve definitely become a naturalized citizen of the peaceful and munchie-eating land of Estonia. I burst out laughing.
“What?” Josh asks, his eyes glazed over.
“I dunno. It was funny, though.”
“God, you’re beautiful,” Josh coos, obviously feeling rather Oliver Stoned himself. “I could look at your gorgeous face forever.” He leans forward, grabs my face, and kisses me deeply.
“You said forever,” I say into his lips, smiling.
“What?”
“I didn’t know your mouth was capable of uttering that word.”