by Hannah Ford
His hand reached down and gripped the back of my neck, pushing me hard into the couch, his other hand roaming over my ass, grabbing the top of my thong and pulling it back before snapping it against my skin.
“And this dress,” he said, pushing it up further over my hips and then pulling my body back so that I was flush against him, his hard cock pushing through his jeans, straining against his zipper. “Feel what it does to me?”
“Yes.”
He pressed his mouth to my ear. “This dress is sexy,” he groaned. “I didn’t like him seeing you in it. I didn’t like anyone seeing you in it.”
“But you bought it for me,” I said.
“No back talk,” he growled, pulling on my hair.
He let me go and stood back up, his hand still on the back of my neck, pushing me into the couch.
He pulled his belt off, and fear pooled dark and deep in my belly. He wasn’t going to hit me with a belt was he? That seemed too far, even for him.
I was pushed into the couch, my dress hiked up over my ass, totally powerless, totally at his mercy. I couldn’t move even if I wanted to, but I was shocked to find that I didn’t.
“What are you doing?” I asked, panicked.
“Punishing you.” He slid the leather strap over my buttocks, and just the feel of it against me made my skin burn. I was still sore from what he’d done to me in Florida.
I bit my lip and gripped the arm of the couch behind me, bracing myself for the blow.
“Do you know why you’re being punished, Adriana?” His voice was low and sexy, his grip on my neck unwavering.
“Because I was bad.”
“How?”
“I was with someone else.”
“Good girl.” He loosened his grip on my neck, and then he slapped the belt lightly against my ass.
I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing it was just the beginning.
“Whose are you?” he demanded.
“Yours.”
He lashed me again, this time the leather hitting my skin harder, the lick smarting more. My pussy flooded with warmth.
“I think you’re getting wet, Lemon,” he said, and his hand cupped my mound from behind, his palm moving over my pussy through my panties. He kept it there, varying the pressure on me, and I groaned.
Then he pulled back and hit me with the belt again.
I cried out and bit my lip.
I’d never been so turned on in my life. I would have done anything he asked, would have given him anything he wanted in that moment, that’s how badly my body had overridden my mind, how strong my desire was for him.
He rained three more blows down on me, then tossed the belt aside and sat down on the couch.
“On your knees,” he growled, and I got on my knees in front of him, kneeling in between his legs.
“Hands behind your back.”
I put my hands behind my back, making sure to keep my eyes on the floor.
He pulled the top of my dress down, and I heard him inhale sharply.
“Jesus,” he breathed, his fingers gently tracing the top of my bra, dipping down slightly below the cups. He pulled my dress down even further until it was bunched around my waist.
He leaned toward me and reached around my back for the hook of my bra. He unfastened it slowly, pulling the straps down over my shoulders and down my arms, his fingernails scratching me lightly as he went. His touch scorched my skin and even though I knew it was against his rules, knew there could be consequences, I couldn’t stop myself from looking at him.
Those gorgeous blue eyes locked onto mine, and he held my gaze for a long moment. The electricity sparked and cracked in the room.
He hesitated and then he brought his lips to mine. “Adriana,” he whispered. “God, Adriana, what are you doing to me?” And then he was kissing me, open-mouthed, his tongue forcing me to surrender to him. He kissed me until I was breathless, until my lips felt swollen and raw, and then he moved his mouth to my breasts, sucking my nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the hard peak.
Then he sat back down and I looked up at him, waiting for his next instruction, hanging on his every word.
“Eyes down,” he said.
My eyes fell to the floor.
“Push your tits together, Adriana,” he said softly. “Show them to me.”
I pushed them together.
“Arch your back. That’s it. Good girl.”
My chest was heaving, my pussy soaking wet, aching for him. Why had he said he wasn’t going to fuck me? Was he going to give me some kind of other release? The torture was driving me out of my mind, and he’d hardly even touched me.
“Do you ever touch yourself, Adriana?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said meekly.
“Show me.”
My face flamed. “I can’t – ”
“Adriana,” he said, his voice a warning. I needed to do as he said, or there would be consequences. Delicious, painful consequences.
So I took my hand and slid it down my stomach and over the outside of my panties.
I could feel how wet I was, so wet that the fabric was sticking to my skin. It was embarrassing, seeing how turned on he could make me, this man who wanted to tie me and whip me, use my body with no promises of anything other than pain mixed with confusing pleasure.
“That’s it, baby,” he said. “Touch yourself for me.”
I rubbed myself a tiny bit harder, and I felt myself starting to get even more turned on.
“Push your panties to the side.”
I pushed them over so that my pussy was exposed to him, and I heard him groan and then the sound of his jeans being unzipped. His breathing became labored, and then he said, “Look at me.”
I looked at him, his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking himself as he watched me my fingers move over my clit.
“Do you know how badly I want to fuck you right now?” he groaned, his hand moving up and down on his shaft.
“How bad?” I whimpered.
“More than I’ve wanted anything in my life,” he said. “That’s it, baby, keep playing with your pussy.”
I did as he said, my fingers moving over my swollen clit as he jerked himself off.
“Put a finger inside yourself.”
I hesitated. I’d never done that before, my masturbation sessions usually consisting of just rubbing -- very rarely had I ventured much past that.
But I wanted to please him so badly, and he was making me so hot. I slid a finger inside my pussy.
“Fuck baby, that looks so good.”
We lapsed into silence, the two of us working furiously, our hands and breathing settling into a matching rhythm.
He held his palm out to me. “Spit on it.”
I hesitated, because it was so dirty, so debasing.
“Adriana,” he said. “Do not make me get the belt back out.”
I spit on his hand, and he used it to lubricate his dick as he kept jerking himself.
“Come to me.”
I inched forward on my hands and knees.
“Open your mouth.”
I opened my mouth and he jerked his hard cock onto my tongue, slapping it against me, sliding it down my throat.
He closed his eyes and groaned, leaned back, and I reached for him, taking my hand from my pussy and wrapping it around his shaft, but he stopped me.
“No hands,” he commanded. “Eyes back down.”
I put my hands back down as he put his hand on the back of my neck, sliding his dick over my tongue. Anytime I tried to close my lips around his cock, he would stop me.
Finally, he stood up and picked me up off the floor, carried me into the bedroom.
This was definitely not a normal apartment – the bedroom was just as sparse at the living room, with just a bed and a dresser.
The bed was a simple platform bed with a steel frame. Shackles hung from the headboard and the sides. Callum laid me down in the middle of the bed, on top of a soft taupe-colored comforter. He strippe
d off my dress and thong and then I heard the clang of metal as he pulled the shackles down from the headboard and cuffed me to the bed. He looked down at me, and his eyes softened, his fingers tangling with my hair. He chest heaved with arousal, and he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“You know to safe word? “ he whispered.
I nodded.
He reached under me and pushed my knees up and then, as if out of nowhere, from the sides of the bed he pulled out another pair of shackles, which were placed around my ankles.
I was trapped now, bound to the bed, laying on my back, my arms above me, my knees raised, my legs spread, giving him unencumbered access to my body.
Panic bloomed inside of me as I realized just how helpless I was, how at his mercy. And under that pulsed desire so strong I didn’t know it could even exist.
Callum stood up and walked around the bed, staring down at me.
A shiver of trepidation rose up my spine as I realized he’d brought the belt in with him, and he trailed it over the bed as he walked, almost as if he was deciding what to do with me.
Then he shucked off his pants and mounted the bed, grabbed me around my ass and pulled me down, and then, without warning, flicked the belt against my open pussy.
I gasped.
“Tell me you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.”
“Tell me I own you.”
“You own me.”
“Do you want to please me, Adriana?”
“Yes, sir.”
He flicked the belt against my pussy again, the hot sting sending vibrations of ecstasy zinging through my body. “Do you think it pleased me to see you with someone else?”
“No, sir.”
He leaned over, his breath hot on my open pussy, and he stroked my thighs, his thumbs spreading my folds. And then, without warning, he was eating me, his tongue sliding inside of me, over and over again, his mouth taking me.
He tongue fucked me with smooth, strong strokes, and he sucked my clit into his mouth, teasing the hard nub.
I needed to come.
I was going to come, but I was afraid if I told him, he wouldn’t let me.
So I stayed quiet, but it was no use.
He knew I was close.
But somehow, mercifully, he decided to put me out of my misery, his mouth moving faster, the stubble on his cheeks moving over the soft skin of my thighs as my orgasm overwhelmed my body.
Wave after wave of pleasure took me, his mouth and fingers and lips working together to intensify the shocking bliss.
I hadn’t even caught my breath before he was kneeling in front of me, his dick on my pussy, the head throbbing as he pushed it against my clit.
I’d barely finished coming and yet I could feel a new wetness starting down there, and I arched my back and tried to push into him.
“No,” he said, and pushed my hip down onto the bed, holding me there tightly. He grinned at me with that amused, cocky look of his, and I whimpered.
“I can’t fuck you, baby,” he said, his gaze sliding over my naked body. “But, fuck, I want to.”
“Please,” I begged. “Please, Mr. Wilder… please, sir, I want you to.”
He shook his head. “I can’t, baby.” He held my hip down with one hand, his grip so tight and strong that it rendered me immobile. I loved how easily he handled my body, how with just one hand he could take me, render me completely helpless.
I needed him inside of me so bad, felt like I would explode if he didn’t fuck me.
With this other hand he spread my pussy, rocking his hips so that his hard dick moved over my slick folds, the thick shaft pushing me open, his swollen head hitting my clit.
“God, I want to,” he said. “Your cunt’s so wet for me, that clit is throbbing, Lemon.” His tone was still that teasing tone he used on me when he was trying to drive me crazy, but his features had darkened, his eyes hooded with intensity.
“Please, Cal – sir,” I said, attempting to writhe on the bed.
But he held me still with his hand, pinning me down.
He pushed the head of his cock against my core, and his breathing quickened, his shoulder muscles flexing as he moved over me.
“Please,” I said again. “I’m yours. I’ll do anything you want.”
“Fuck,” he said. “I can’t.” He shook his head, but I heard the resolve slipping from his voice as he began to lose his grip on his control.
Our eyes locked, his body poised over mine.
“Callum,” I whispered. “Please. I want to feel you inside of me. I need you.”
He groaned and then with one hard stroke entered me. The relief was instant and intense, his girth filling me, stretching me, and the ache I’d felt for him dissipated for a moment and then roared back to life stronger than ever as he pushed harder inside of me.
He tilted his hips, getting a better angle on me, and that, coupled with the fact that my knees were still bent and my ankles still cuffed, rocked swells of pleasure through my entire body.
“Callum,” I moaned, and he silenced me with a kiss, his tongue invading my mouth as his cock made me his.
He fucked me long and slow while he kissed me senseless, then he reached behind me and let me out of the handcuffs.
“If you move,” he growled. “I will lock you back up. Do you understand?”
I nodded.
He pulled me toward him, until I was straddling him. He was still inside of me, and now I could feel him against my clit, and my breath hitched in my chest.
He stared into my eyes and began moving slowly inside of me, using his hands to hold my hips and pull me down on his cock. I didn’t move, letting him have complete ownership of my body, knowing if I didn’t the punishment would be swift and severe.
My hands wrapped around him, feeling the hard ridges of his muscular shoulder blades, the perfect smoothness of his golden skin.
He pulled me toward him, my breasts rubbing against his chest, my nipples standing at attention.
“Sir,” I begged. “I need to come.”
“Come, baby,” he said. “I want to feel you come on me.”
His words pushed me over the cliff, and I came for the second time, my previous orgasm doing nothing to diminish the ferociousness of this one, and I called out his name as it pulsed through me.
“Good girl,” he groaned and then he was looking at me, his eyes on mine as he began rocking himself harder into me.
“Look down,” he said. “Look at my dick going inside of you.”
I looked down and watched him disappearing inside of me. He was so hard, so big, and I had a hard time believing I was able to take him all.
“Tell me how bad you want my come.”
“I want it,” I said, panting. “I want to feel it.”
He grabbed me around the waist, pushed me down on the bed, the soft romantic rocking he’d just been doing replaced with animalistic thrusting as he used my body for his need.
A moment later I felt him release inside of me, and when he collapsed on top of me, sweaty and panting, I wrapped my arms around his body and held him to me.
I could feel his heart beating against mine, and when he pulled away from me, I instantly missed him, wanted him back next to me.
He rolled to the other side of the bed, reached down and undid the cuffs around my ankles.
He crossed the room to the dresser and pulled out a pair of track pants, pulled them on, then pulled out a long t-shirt and set it on the end of the bed, I assumed for me.
“Would you like some water, Adriana?” His tone was slightly detached, and I didn’t like it. It reminded me of the way he’d talked to me that morning in Florida, when I’d come downstairs and he’d been sitting at the table reading the paper.
I didn’t want any water.
“Sure,” I said anyway.
He nodded, then turned and walked out of the room.
The apartment was small, and I could hear him in the kitchen, the creak of a cupboard opening, th
e sound of water running.
I sat there for a moment, my heart pounding.
Then I grabbed the t-shirt and pulled it over my head.
I waited for him to return.
I waited.
And waited.
Eventually, the apartment lapsed into silence. But he couldn’t have left. I hadn’t heard the front door open.
I waited another moment or two, then got up and padded into the living room.
Two glasses of water sat on the tiny kitchen counter.
Callum was in the living room, sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. I watched him for a moment, so beautiful, his hair mussed, his body so cut it took my breath away.
He didn’t look like a man who’d just had incredible sex. He looked like a man who was in the midst of emotional torture.
I took a step toward him.
“Callum?” I tried.
“Adriana,” he said, his voice even. “I’ll be back to bed in a minute.”
“Is everything okay?”
He didn’t answer, and I hesitated, afraid that if I pushed him, he would shut down. But when he didn’t tell me to go away, I walked over to the couch and sat down next to him.
I put my hand on his knee.
“Callum,” I said. “What is it? Is it me, did I… did I do something wrong?”
He looked at me sharply. “No.” He shook his head. “No, Adriana, God, no, you were perfect. You are perfect.”
“Then I don’t understand, I don’t…” I licked my bottom lip, trying to gather my thoughts, trying to figure out a way to get through to him.
His hand curled around mine, our fingers intertwining.
“That can’t happen again,” he said.
I took in a breath through my nose, my rage reigniting. This again? I hated that he kept saying that, and my first instinct was to throw a fit, to yell at him, to march out of there and tell him to leave me alone. But that tactic obviously hadn’t been working.
“You keep saying that,” I said instead. “And yet it keeps happening.”
“No, you don’t understand.” He shook his head and then opened his mouth to say something before changing his mind and stopping.
“Help me understand,” I said softly, tightening my fingers around his hand.
“What happened in there just now…” He shook his head. “I couldn’t control it.”