“Are you asking me to be part of your writing, pet?” he probed, ensuring his voice was quiet as he spoke. “Because you know I would love that.”
She batted her lashes at him, and his cock throbbed painfully. Fuck. If he didn’t know better, he could have sworn she was flirting with him. Toying with him. But how could that be? Molly was the one naked and chained to the kitchen floor. How could she wield that power?
“Yes, Master,” she answered at length, licking the remaining scrambled egg from her lips with her tongue.
Connor watched the action as though he was hypnotized. He knew that tongue. He knew how it felt. He knew what it could do…
“It is our story, after all,” she went on, possibly sensing the shift in dynamic between them. “Yours and mine, Master. I would very much like to share its creation with you.”
His cock was straining in his pants at that, and he exhaled slowly, unaware until that moment that he’d even been holding his breath.
“Are you finished?” he asked, rising from the table as he tried to compose himself.
She glanced back toward the bowl as she nodded. “Yes, Master. Thank you.”
He was smiling again as he retrieved the bowl, returning from the sink immediately to crouch before his pet with the usual wet cloth. “Let’s clean you up,” he told her in that low, patronizing tone which he knew they both loved. Her face flushed as he wiped the remnants of lunch from her mouth, but she didn’t resist. That fact alone made him want to fuck her again. Hard.
“I remember the way your tail caused you discomfort last time you wrote with it in,” he replied as the cloth fell away. “And I’ve devised an alternative which I think will work better.”
Molly’s eyes widened, curiosity burgeoning on her features, but she said nothing. Rising to tower over her, Connor threw the cloth in the direction of the basin before turning his attention to the kitchen table. He collected one of the chairs and moved it around to face her. Without a word, he placed the open laptop on the seat of the chair, the page of their document already open and waiting for its author to return. She watched him the whole time, her knees wide and her face expectant. Connor had the feeling his pet was finding the whole experience as tantalizing as he was.
He moved back toward her, releasing her collar from the chain which held her in place. Her face rose to meet his, her lower lip disappearing back inside that pretty mouth.
“Ready to write?” he purred as his right hand slid south to her pert breasts. He found her left nipple, pinching it hard before his hand passed to the next and repeated the action. She gasped, her back arching at the deed, and at that moment Connor knew if he was to reach behind her and slide a finger into that pussy, he would find it soaking with desire.
“Where do you want me, Master?” she croaked breathlessly.
Connor smiled. He wanted her over the table right this moment. He wanted to slide his rock-hard cock into her wet channel, pummeling her over and over while her tail remained lodged tightly in place above it. But sadly, now was not the time for fun. Now was the time to write.
“Lean up on the chair,” he told her, fighting to keep his arousal in check. “I’ll sit beside you and together we can get this story updated.”
She nodded and was already crawling in the direction of the chair as he rose and stalked toward his chair. Pushing it across the floor toward the place she now knelt, he gazed down at his pet. She was unleashed for the first time since he’d taken her to bed yesterday, but the black leather remained at her neck, and the shackles still bound her ankles in some resemblance of order.
“Where do we need to start, pet?”
He knew his voice was hard and demanding, but he could no longer contain the crazy desire which had built up over the course of her lunch. Her Master was hungry for her, and she might as well know it.
Flashing him a furtive glance she smiled coyly. “The woods, Master,” she replied. “Or maybe the night before?”
He was surprised to see any happiness on her face at the thought of the experience in the cabin, but the evening before had been spectacular for them both. “Right then,” he told her. “Begin from there and tell me if you forget what comes next.”
She nodded, angling her upper body over the screen. He watched, mesmerized as her breasts came into view and then her fingers began to move. The tap-tap-tapping of the keyboard resumed. The sound filled up the space around them and continued as she worked. The noise, which could easily be irritating was oddly comforting as he witnessed her write.
The thought was disconcerting.
This was what Molly did. She took things, and she changed them, altering them in ways she was probably unaware of at the time. A pet bowl became an instrument of eroticism. Yes, he already saw it that way, but she had brought the act to life, eating from said bowl for him three times a day, and never once failing to make him hard in the process. In the same way, the soft regular sound of digits against plastic became his safety blanket as she worked on, and somehow that sound began to lull him into a daydream. A dream about the two of them, and a time when they could bury the ghosts of the past and be content. She could be happy with her new place – at his feet – and he could fulfil her in all the dirty, torrid ways she’d been too ashamed to ask for herself. In return, his pet would exorcise the ghost of Lydia from Connor’s life altogether. He wanted that more than anything, a life without the constant, repetitive hauntings. It wasn’t that he felt remorse for what he’d done, but memories of the event still plagued him. Lydia never allowed him any fucking peace…
“Master?”
The resonance of Molly’s voice popped the bubble of thought dominating his head, and he blinked at her wordlessly for a moment as his mind reordered itself.
“I’ve lost the sequence of time between arriving in the woods, and now.” She paused, eyeing him carefully. “Can you help?”
“Of course,” he replied, sliding from his chair to crouch behind her kneeling form. Straddling her outstretched thighs, his denim-covered legs fell into position, and he reached his body around her naked back. “Where are you at in the story?”
Molly’s breath hitched, and she turned her head slowly to meet his eye. Their faces were now just a few inches apart. His groin rubbed provocatively against her delectable bottom. “In the cabin, Master,” she almost gasped, “but I can’t remember how long we were there, or how long I was in the woods, or caged when you brought me back…”
Her voice trailed away as presumably a raft of intense memories flooded her mind about the recent experiences.
“May I?” he asked gently. It was amusing to ask the chained naked woman you’d been keeping against her will for permission to use your own laptop, but still, the question felt right to him.
She stilled, and he noticed her tense. “You want to write?” she probed, her tone revealing how astonishing Molly found that prospect.
He sympathized. Connor really was no writer, and he knew it, but he liked the idea of being part of this creative process. Almost as much as he was enjoying cocooning her body this way. He still hadn’t quite come to grips with the idea of having such a gorgeous woman permanently naked in his house again, and despite his cool demeanor, he wondered if he ever would get used to having Molly here. She was smart, she was hot and she was adorable. Having her leashed on her knees would never get tiring.
“If you don’t mind?” he cajoled in response to her query, offering her one of his most devastating smiles in exchange for her compliance. “I’m nowhere near as good as you, but perhaps, if you don’t recall some of what transpired, I can offer my version of events instead?”
She glanced away, but he noticed the flush which spread from her neck to her beautiful cheek bones. “A collaboration, then?” she murmured toward the screen.
Connor smiled. She was too fucking wonderful. “Yes, pet,” he replied, raising his left hand to massage her amazing tits. “That’s what this is, a collaboration. We both have our roles to play. You jus
t needed a reminder of yours.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Connor morphed from one persona to the next with such ease that it nearly left her breathless. One day the monster, the next day the lover, and now, what was this? A new side who wanted to engage with the story she was being made to write? Molly already knew she would acquiesce though. There really was no choice. Connor had been mostly calm over the last day. In return, she had forced herself into compliance, doing whatever he wanted without question. She barely acknowledged the large palms toying with her breasts anymore. She just accepted them. Accepted that, for the time being at least, they were his to play with, and it was better not to resist.
It hadn’t been without effort, but the bizarre thing was the more obedient and unquestioning she became, the easier it all seemed. And then there was the sick, twisted part of her that enjoyed his perverse attention. The part which liked the chains and leash. The part of her brain that instructed her pussy to cream the moment he dehumanized her, and that part she still didn’t truly understand. Between her arousal and his tranquility, the last eighteen hours or so had passed without issue. She hadn’t actively wanted to provoke the beast in him again. At least, not yet.
“Okay, Master,” she breathed in response, twisting right to see those devilish green eyes gazing back at her. “Please go ahead.”
His body weight shifted forward. It was just an inch, or maybe two, but surrounded by him as she was, it was enough to propel her toward the laptop. Steadying herself on her elbows, she watched as those strong arms moved, tightening around her waist as they found the keyboard. Molly’s hands fell away to her lap as she watched him take over. She realized that for all the intimacies they had shared, she had never seen him type before, and all of a sudden, the concept seemed utterly scintillating. Penning at the keyboard was like second nature to her. She’d been doing it for so long it felt as natural as breathing, and her fingers flew over the keys like magic. Now as she watched her captor begin to do the same, she was struck with how awkward and cumbersome his large fingertips seemed against the sleek plastic keys.
“I’m not as fast as you,” he murmured behind her, as though he had been reading her mind again.
She shivered as the heat of his breath connected with her nape, sending signals of arousal to her already confused brain. “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “You’ll get faster the more you do it.”
That made him laugh, the dark sound reverberating around her body as his clumsy fingers continued at the keyboard. Molly sighed, not knowing if he was making fun of her, but understanding well enough that it made no difference. She settled onto her haunches as best she could inside the huge frame of Connor’s body, her attention solely on the screen ahead. She didn’t acknowledge the growing hardness which pressed against her lower back, or the way the sensation sent shoots of arousal through her spent body. She certainly did not respond to the way her body betrayed her, but she knew her nipples had pebbled, and she felt the ache in those needy buds as they searched for their Master’s touch.
Her gaze remained fixed on the screen, watching as he slowly crafted each new word, turning them into sentences. Molly bit her lip as she watched him work, suppressing the urge to correct his choice of vocabulary or use of grammar. It took a few moments, but once she had got past that innate need to correct the words in front of her, she found she was actually gripped by the process of watching him write. The thought occurred that in all her years, she had never witnessed it before. She was always the creator, and as a result, appraising him at the same the task was strangely captivating.
The other thing which enthralled her was his words. For the first time since she’d been catapulted into this twisted world he’d made for her, Molly had the opportunity to read Connor’s perspective on things. While she didn’t agree with every sentence appearing before her, she had to admit, his viewpoint was astonishing to read. He described the night she had fled, elaborating how the loss had affected him as he’d searched for his pet, and how the potent combination of panic and relief had engulfed him when he’d found her. Molly gulped as her eyes flew over the sentences.
“I missed my girl, and I had to have her back.”
The way he expressed his feelings sounded almost normal, like he loved her and was bereft about the way she had walked out on him. The way he described containing her again actually made a low shudder pass through her body. Connor made the whole experience sound wholesome, as though he was rescuing Molly from the brink, and bringing her back to the safety of home.
As the narrative shifted to the period of punishment he made her endure, Molly could feel her pulse begin to race. It was utterly bizarre reading the events she’d been subjected to from his point of view, and she was holding her breath as the narrative described how he’d locked her tight in the cage. Compelled to know what would come next, her gaze remained fixed on the screen, blinking with shock as Connor wrote about how he’d been watching her through her captivity.
Watching her?
Of course, he had been watching her. He had told her there were cameras in the basement, too. Connor had always said he’d be watching her; he’d never hidden that fact, but in the highs and lows of the last few days, Molly had completely overlooked the point. Somehow the awareness made her feel worse. She had been utterly exposed during those dark, caged hours, and now her plight was laid out before her all over again.
The fingers at the keys stopped.
“Kitten?” Connor’s voice was soft and inquiring, but beneath the exterior more was promised. “Are you okay?”
She hadn’t realized she was crying until he asked, but as she finally exhaled, she was aware of the hot tears making tracks down her face. The realization of the cameras in the cage disconcerted her beyond reason, and in some ways, it made no sense. If a man was monster enough to cage you in the first place, then why should it matter that he watches you in the cage? Yet it did. It completely and entirely did matter. Those long hours of confinement had been some of her darkest yet, and they were private, dammit, or at least she’d managed to convince herself they were. The thought that he’d been watching her suffering, her tears, and her angst during the whole thing was far from reassuring. It was horrific. The ultimate betrayal, and as she considered it, pain speared her like a blade.
“I…” she began, but a wall of hurt constricted in her chest. Gasping, her hands rose from her thighs for the first time in what felt like an age, resting upon the tops of her breasts.
Connor shifted until he was towering over her again, those large palms at her face. “Breathe, pet,” he told her sternly. “You need to breathe.”
Breathe? Is that what he wanted? But surely, she was breathing? Although, as she gave the instruction to her muscles and took in a mouthful of air, she couldn’t be sure. Her head was spinning, her face hot with the exploding emotions. He’d been watching her the whole time, even in the blackest hours when she’d felt sure there was no hope for her at all. Molly didn’t know what she’d imagined had happened while she was caged. Maybe that he’d gone – left the house – abandoned her altogether, or that he’d slept the night in comfort while she crouched in the darkness. But not that he had been there all the while: watching, waiting, and what? Jerking off as she sobbed her heart out. Smiling at her through the fucking laptop screen. It was too much. Too. Fucking. Much.
Molly’s hands fell to her sides, the small palms balling into fists. The leashes, the dog bowls, even the freaking tail - she could cope with all that. Hell, she even fucking relished them if she was in the right mood, but this was something else. This was a whole new level of fucked up and twisted.
“Tell me,” he demanded. “What’s wrong?”
She blinked up at him through tear-stained lashes. “You were watching me when I was in the cage.” Her voice was flat, drained and though there was anger pulsing around her body, you couldn’t tell from her tone.
“Of course,” he answered her with what looked like a relieved sm
ile.
A relieved smile? The fucker was actually pleased that was what was on her mind.
“You don’t think I’d leave you down there without knowing you’re safe, do you?” his voice carried on, passing over her like hot air. “Molly, I care about you. You must know that. That’s why I had to punish you so severely for running, and that’s why there can never be any more running.”
It was like some sick joke. The bastard actually thought he cared about her, or maybe in his own depraved mind he really did. It didn’t matter anymore. She thought she could do this, play along, be the good pet until an opportunity to escape arrived again. Hell, she’d have been grateful to have taken the punishments, so long as she kept getting that sublime fucking. But now it all seemed different.
A man who was capable of watching her soul shatter into a thousand pieces in front of his eyes, and did nothing – absolutely nothing – to offer her comfort. That was barely a man at all. That was a devil.
“I can’t do this anymore,” she exhaled at length, the words falling from her lips before she could take them back. “I can’t suffer for you anymore, Connor. I can’t bleed for you any more than I already have.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Her words took Connor completely by surprise, and he released her face from his palms. Caught off guard, he stumbled backwards, but his gaze never left the trembling woman at his feet. He had no idea where any of this had come from. Sure, he knew she wasn’t ecstatic about being here, like this, with him, but since the cage she’d been compliant, even if he knew her heart wasn’t truly in it. An outburst like this though couldn’t just be ignored, and the fact she’d seen fit to use his name instead of his title made anger spark inside of him.
Tamed: (A Dark Romance Kidnap Thriller) (The Dark Necessities Trilogy Book 2) Page 12