by Celia Styles
Her cunt ached, her clit swelling. She could feel moisture making its way along her inner lips, threatening to drip into a puddle between her legs. She had never felt anything quite like this before.
Allison was far from a prude, far from inexperienced. She’d had her share of boyfriends, even a committed relationship during most of her college years. But that had been nothing compared to this. That had been a lot of promise, but little fulfillment. But this…this didn’t make promises. It made demands.
The whip suddenly descended over her chest, catching her just above the clips jiggling on her breasts each time she took a breath. The combination was overwhelming, pushing her mind to its limits. It burned…a delicious burn. And then that burn was forgotten as she was struck again and again. She lost track of how many times he hit her around her chest, even catching those clips once or twice, before he moved back to her legs. She was growing numb to everything but that next strike.
Just as she was sure she was going to lose her mind, it stopped.
She lay there, untouched for several minutes. Then she was moving through the air, her body tipped over until she was essentially performing a handstand. The blood instantly rushed to her head and her eyes felt like they might swell out of her skull. Hands touched her again, gentle hands touching each of the places where the whip had expressed its displeasure. The contrast of pain and concern was just as erotic as the contrast between the pressure of the clips and the snap of the whip.
Then he ran something cold and heavy over her legs, something she couldn’t begin to define. Not until it reached her cunt and was pressed against her clit, when the object’s purpose was activated, did she realize that it was one of those small, bullet shaped vibrators she had seen on sex toy websites. And it felt…again there was that mingle of pleasure and pain. The vibrations on her clit were like cold ice cream on her tongue on a hot summer’s day. But the vibration didn’t stay in her clit. It moved along her outer lips, shaking and jerking the clips, making their pull that much more intense.
She groaned, unable to keep her need trapped in her throat. And when he slipped the tip of the vibrator over her opening, pushing it just a hair inside of her cunt, she couldn’t help the yelp of desire that jumped from her lips to reverberate inside her mask.
The audience made a noise, but she couldn’t be sure if it was one of approval, of shock, or of envy. The vibrator disappeared, much to her deep disappointment. Fingers tugged at the clips, not to remove them but to tease. He tugged at them at the same time he squeezed them tighter against her flesh, sending waves of pain through her body.
Allison was so close. She had never had an orgasm without a tongue on her clit or a finger in her cunt. But this, being locked away, unable to do nothing but feel, it was offering her an excitement she hadn’t thought her body was capable of. She could feel the wetness of her cunt, could feel the throb of her clit. She was more turned on than she had ever been and she was pretty sure just the brush of his breath against her clit would push her that last millimeter.
But he didn’t touch her. Instead, he pulled one, then two, then three of the clips from her breasts. If someone had told her before tonight just removing the clips would be an erotic treat, she would have called them liars.
The moans were coming faster than she could stop them, turning into one long, keening cry. She thought he might have bit one of her nipples at one point, but she couldn’t be sure. She just knew that she would never be content with a straight fuck again.
And then…the clips on her cunt lips. The rush of blood as it returned to the area was a vibration of her body’s own making. When the clips were gone, he pressed his hand against her cunt, cupping the entirety of her, lips and clit alike. And that touch…the pressure of his palm crushing her clit, that was all it took.
She came with such force that she couldn’t catch her breath for long seconds, sucking in air like it was thousand dollar whiskey and she was a destitute alcoholic. The muscles in her abdomen tightened, her toes curled. And her throat burned with a scream that couldn’t quite find its voice.
Applause ignited in the room, but Allison didn’t hear it at first. Her ears refused to work for a moment or two. And when she did hear it, it seemed to add to the pleasure still rushing through her body.
There was a tug and her body was suddenly upright, the blood returning to all the right places, a headache that had been threatening slowly lessening. She felt hands at her wrists, her ankles, each limb released almost at the same time. A warm body caught her as she fell from the contraption, holding her with kind hands as she struggled to get her balance. The zipper at the base of her mask was released, light blinding her as it was tugged from her head. The applause continued and Allison saw a group of well-dressed individuals standing from their folding chairs, as though they were parents watching some school assembly, or other.
Fingers moved tenderly over Allison’s right shoulder, touching the place where she’d had her father’s name and date of death tattooed a year ago, something she had done in secret and never told her mother, not willing to explain her motivation. In fact, no one had seen it until now.
“Nice,” a muffled male voice whispered in her ear.
It was then that Allison realized she was in the arms of the Dom, a tall man who wore leather pants, but nothing else, his bare chest oiled and firm, erotic, with a mask similar to the one recently removed from Allison’s head obscuring his face.
“Not sure he deserves it, but well-done.”
It was like someone had shoved a stick up her ass. Her body stiffened, her eyes widened.
Remington.
Chapter 3
Allison burst into Remington’s office early the next morning. She hadn’t slept, hadn’t been able to close her eyes without seeing that masked man with Remington’s voice, couldn’t move without feeling the soreness of her experience, a constant reminder of everything she had allowed him to do to her. She rushed out of that party as quickly as she could retrieve her clothes, angry and hurt and confused and a million emotions she couldn’t even begin to express.
“How could you?” she demanded.
Remington looked up from whatever it was that always had him so fascinated on his computer, a slow smile touching his full lips as he looked at her.
“Morning, Allison.”
“Morning? That’s all you have to say to me after you…”
She stopped, not sure she could give voice to what it was he had done to her last night. And that seemed to further amuse him because that smile just widened. Remington leaned back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head. It might have helped if he wasn’t so attractive, if he wasn’t the guy all her friends had been in love with all through junior high and high school…even into college. Remington, with his dark, unruly curls that girls wanted to run their fingers through and those intense blue eyes that seemed to stare right through you and see all your deep, dark secrets. The older he got, the more masculine he seemed to be, those broad shoulders and wide chest tapering into slender hips that fit in everything from jeans to a suit like he was made for them…Allison looked away, angry with herself for the direction of her thoughts.
What did it matter what he looked like? He was her brother.
Step brother, a little voice in the back of her mind reminded her.
“No one forced you to go to that party last night, Allison.”
“But I…how was I supposed to know you would be there?”
“You weren’t.”
Allison crossed her arms over her chest as he studied her, that smile still on his lips, cocky, as he studied her with a look that said he knew what she looked like with nothing but a corset on.
“Did you hack my email?”
His eyebrows rose. “Why would I do that?”
“How did you know I was going to be there?”
“If you haven’t figured that out by now, dear sister, then you probably don’t need to know.” He straightened and his focus returned to
his laptop. “We have a party to prepare for, so you should probably let me get to work.”
But that wasn’t good enough for Allison. She needed to know exactly what was going on. She stomped to his desk and pushed the lid of his computer down.
“Answer me, Remington!”
His eyes narrowed and his hands rolled into tight fists. He took a deep breath his gaze dropping to the top of his desk for a moment.
“Think about it, Allison, and I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
“I didn’t even know about that party until…”
Shit.
She shook her head, not wanting to believe it. But when she looked at him, she could see a bit of self-satisfaction on his face.
“It was you all this time. You were the one emailing me, sending me messages over Hangouts. You were my Master.”
“You really shouldn’t use your personal email when trolling those sites, sis. It kind of gives you away.”
“You asshole!” Allison turned away, so angry she couldn’t see straight for a moment. Her chest felt like it was about to burst, like her lungs had grown too large for her ribs to contain them. She wanted to scream, but she realized that this was what his goal had been all along. This was the ultimate act of humiliation.
“You’re a coward,” she said softly.
“Excuse me?”
She turned, her arms crossed over her chest again, trying not to show him the storm of emotion still raging inside her.
“You’re a coward.”
He cocked an eyebrow, attempting a nonchalant response. But she could see anger in his eyes. “How’s that?”
“You hide behind a mask. You like a crowd, but you don’t let them see your face. And if you did, they’re all people who indulge in the same lifestyle, all people who would rather die than reveal your secret for fear that their own secret would be exposed.” She shook her head in a gesture of pity. “That makes you a coward in my book.”
Remington stood, towering over her even with his desk and several feet of space between them.
“Get the fuck out of my office,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.
“You two really need to find a way to get along.”
Allison spun around only to discover that Daniel was standing just inside the doorway.
“Do you realize that there are times when everyone on this floor can hear the two of you arguing?” he continued. “It’s not good for company morale and it makes it appear that the leadership in this company is fractured.” He shook his head like the disappointed father he was. “If you can’t find a way to get along, I’ll have to revise my plans and make only one of you CEO when I retire.”
Great.
Now Remington was threatening her future, too.
Chapter 4
A few, tense days passed. Allison avoided Remington as much as she could and it seemed he was attempting to do the same. The only time they were in the same room together was last night, at the client’s launch party. But, again, Remington slipped out early, leaving Allison to deal with the last minute problems—the dwindling supply of champagne, the spilled tray of cucumber sandwiches, and the dj’s inability to find the appropriate power source for his equipment. The whole night was a headache.
“You handled it beautifully,” her mother assured her.
Allison wasn’t quite as confident.
It was her turn to slip out early. She told her secretary she was going to work the rest of the day from home and snuck out of the office, her laptop the only thing she bothered to take with her. Let Remington worry about anything that might come up this afternoon. She was tired and stressed and…she couldn’t even close her eyes anymore without seeing Remington standing there with that mask over his face. And the sad thing about it was, it made her clit swell and her belly ache every time.
How was she supposed to sleep when she was fantasizing about her brother and so aroused that the simple act of walking filled her mind with one sexy scenario after another?
She pulled into her driveway and crossed the lawn to her front door, forcing a smile as her neighbor called out to her. The street seemed unusually busy today, perhaps because it was the first truly beautiful day after a long, hard winter. There were several people out and about, including several weekend gardeners getting an early jump on their chores.
It was a day like this that made Allison glad she had a gardener and never considered getting a dog. Her idea of a nice day was curling up in bed with a good book, not physical activity that only had to be repeated a week later.
She unlocked the front door and pushed it open, wondering if she had a bottle of wine in the refrigerator. She was suddenly grabbed from behind. The front door was shoved closed and something was pressed into her mouth, a hard rubber ball that tasted like cinnamon and…rubber.
She dropped her laptop bag and shoved an elbow back into her attacker’s chest. She heard a satisfying grunt, but the steel band of his hold didn’t loosen.
He dragged her into the living room and she saw that someone had erected a bondage frame in front of her huge picture window. She was so surprised to see it there that she stopped struggling for a moment. It was enough to give him the opportunity to get a better hold on her arms, forcing her into the room and to the frame.
Her mind was racing, her thoughts jumping from one extreme to the other. Was she about to be raped? Was this some stranger who had mistaken her for someone else? Was he going to hurt her? Or was this a game, like the last time…
That part of her that had sprung to life with the emails and messages her Master—Remington—had sent was instantly alert. This felt like something he had once threatened to do, but never followed through on. She couldn’t deny that she was aroused by his rough touch. Afraid, yes. But aroused, too.
As they approached the frame, he lifted her right arm to attach it to the restraint that hung there. She tried to pull away and he let go of her. But then he smacked her hard across the ass.
“Don’t fight me, slave,” he hissed in her ear.
Remington.
She tried to ask what he was doing, why he was doing this, but the gag in her mouth prevented the formation of words. It all came out like the grunts of a caveman, and made just about as much sense.
He strapped her to the frame and she let him despite the moral struggle playing itself out in her head. He was her brother. Not blood relations, but they were raised as siblings from the time she was ten. And the last time…she had never had an orgasm like that. And from that moment, she’d craved his touch.
Maybe their relationship actually added to the taboo she’d been seeking with the BDSM lifestyle.
He secured her wrists to the frame, jerking off her shoes before securing her ankles. Once again she was spread eagle, but this frame was solid. It didn’t rotate. But he had access to both her front and her back this time.
When she was secure, he moved away, the sound of metal hitting against metal the only hint she had to what he was doing since she was facing the window and he was somewhere in the room behind her. He returned to her a moment later, tugging at the back of her gag. Apparently it had never been properly fastened—she could have spit it out if she had wanted—but he fixed that now. He jerked her head backward a little as he tugged at the straps, making sure they were good and tight.
When he was satisfied that her gag, and her restraints, were all properly in place, he slid his hand slowly, gently, up the back of her skirt. She closed her eyes, anticipating his touch on her ass. But he stopped short, then grabbed the material of her skirt and it began to separate. It took her moment to realize he had a pair of scissors in his hand…she didn’t realize until she felt the cold, sharp tip of it touch her as her skirt separated and fell to the floor at her feet. He did the same with her blouse, cutting it away not just up the back, but along her arms, so that it was a useless piece of linen when it separated from her body.
She expected him to remove her bra and panties—thank God she’d worn a
matching set this morning instead of one of her mismatched, cotton pieces—but he didn’t. Instead, he moved around her and approached the window, tearing the heavy drapes open with a dramatic sweep of his arms.
The room was suddenly bathed in bright sunlight. Allison winced, turning her face away for a moment to allow her eyes to adjust. When she looked up, Remington was still standing there, dressed only in the same leather pants he’d worn to the party the other night. His face was uncovered, as far as she could tell, his dark hair and broad shoulders so familiar, yet so new, that her palms physically ached to touch him.
When he turned toward her, his face was darkly serious. Those intense blue eyes moved slowly over her body, making her want to stand taller, to hold in her stomach and stick out her chest so that he saw the best, not the worst, of her. But, really, there is no beauty in vulnerability.
The longer he studied her, however, the more she began to wonder if there was, maybe a little, something…he sure seemed to like what he was seeing.
He moved behind her again and surprised her by gathering her hair in his hands. He had to tug at it a little to draw it out from under the strap of the gag. Once he had it all gathered, he twisted it up onto her head and stuck a clip she hadn’t known he had onto it, locking it into place.
Then he moved closer against her, his hands sliding slowly around her waist.
“Are you ready, slave?” he asked, his lips against her ear.
She nodded, not seeing the point in trying to make herself clear through the gag.
He moved away again and Allison closed her eyes, wondering what he would begin with this time. She imagined a whip, like the one he had used the last time, or more clips. She was excited by the fact that he hadn’t blindfolded her, but when she opened her eyes and saw a neighbor cross in front of her house with his dog on a leash, the reality of what was happening began to sink in.