“You could.”
“And you’d do it?”
Without hesitation, he replied, “I would.”
“I could make you touch my breasts?” Sunny brought their hands to one firm mound, rubbing the back of his hand against the diamond-hard peak where it poked through the sage green silk blouse. When she won, she was going to make him do a hell of a lot more than that! The idea of having such a powerful man at her command made her loins quiver as much as what she refused to consider in the least – that she could end up having to submit herself – completely, as he’d put it - to him.
His only trace of a reaction was a slight tension of his lips until the much more satisfying, much more telltale hoarse, ragged response. “Yes, you could.” He then brought their other hands to his crotch, pressing the back of her hand against the ridge of hardness she found there. “Just as I could require you to do this.”
Sunny could feel the rigidity behind his zipper, and she knew she wanted this - more than she wanted to admit, even more than she’d wanted her first CEO position. Much more, if she was truthful with herself. This man was a force of nature, powerful, rich - and, apparently, hungry -and she wanted to sate his every desire, no matter how depraved.
She had a feeling they were very much in line with her own.
“Anything wild?” she asked, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as he watched avidly.
“No. Straight draw poker. One hand decides your – or my - fate.” Rod leaned forward, their hands still where they’d been placed moments ago on each other’s erogenous zones, whispering with only slightly tequila scented breath, “Are you woman enough to take the risk, I wonder?”
She wanted to snort at him, yearned to dispel his lack of faith in her, despite the small alarm in the back of her head that screamed that this man had had much less alcohol than she had, and that she ought to be careful.
Tequila-inflamed passions of all sorts burned within her and wouldn’t allow her to ignore his blatant challenge.
Sunny abruptly let go of his hands and sat back, away from him, saying, “Deal.”
He hadn’t expected to feel bereft at the loss of contact with her, however benign, but he did. To cover his feelings, he offered her his hand. “Shake on it.”
Sunny complied unflinchingly; pumped his big hand twice, then let go. She usually had pretty good luck in poker, as shown by the big pile of change to her left.
Rod shuffled the cards a few more times, then presented the pack to her and inclined his head towards it. “I think we should cut for the deal. Shall we say high deals, ace high?”
Nodding, Sunny reached for the cards and cut it relatively close to the top, showing an eight. Not too bad.
His cut was more towards the middle of the remaining pack. A ten.
After collecting the cards and shuffling several more times, he reiterated the rules they had played under all evening: the draw limit was three, unless you could show an ace, and then you could keep the ace and draw four. He dealt five cards, face down, to each of them.
Sunny took a deep breath as she reached for her hand, before having seen it, uttering a prayer for she didn’t know what to she didn’t know whom before fanning them out: an ace of clubs, two kings, a five of hearts and a three of diamonds.
When did the ticking of the enormous, antique grandfather clock in the corner become so blasted loud, she wondered? The disappointing contents of her hand made her so tense she would swear she could hear every second of her life ticking slowly by, as if it was going to end if she lost this hand.
Dammit. She had been hoping for three of a kind on the first draw – to have something to pin her hopes on. A pair of kings wasn’t much - she sneaked a look at him as he was staring intently at his cards – against the man who could control her every move for the next two days, and who looked like he would thoroughly enjoy every second of it.
“Three, please,” she asked, throwing the ace, the five and the three face down onto the table between them.
“Three to you, and dealer takes,” he looked at his hand again for a second then discarded his own rejects, “two.”
Two? That wasn’t at all good, especially when she’d gotten no help at all from the extra cards – a four, a two and a seven, all of different suits. That could mean that he had three of a kind already - even before he got to draw more!
But Sunny did her best not to let the panic show on her face. “So, since we’re not betting money, who calls who?”
“I think we both just show our hands and determine the winner from there.”
Throwing everything but the pair away, Sunny put down first one king, then the other, like it was some big reveal.
“A pair of kings. Pretty good,” he nodded.
Following her custom, he slowly, deliberately put down his cards, holding her eyes the whole time. First there was one ace, then another – having beat her with that – and then, just for good measure, a last ace, giving him three aces.
She’d lost.
The enormity of what she’d bet came rushing into her head, crowding out her booze-emboldened surety that she was going to win. The idea of losing hadn’t even occurred to her until this moment.
She was his for the weekend, to do with as he pleased, with no holds – or holes – barred.
What had she gotten herself into? Was she crazy? She should have gotten something in writing at the very least! How the hell could she possibly have agreed to something so stupid! She barely knew the man!
In her panic, she allowed every emotion to play across her face, the foremost of which was fear - while Rod’s first impulse was to comfort her, he held himself back. A little fear wasn’t necessarily a bad thing in a submissive.
He didn’t gloat at all, but busied himself at first cleaning up a bit, putting the cards away in one of the drawers under the table, then brushing it off a bit before standing to help her up.
His hand was surprisingly warm against her cold fingers as she leaned on him a bit to stand, eventually coming out of her pure panic mode and more to her senses to stand stock still in front of him. She wasn’t sure whether panicked was better, though, since she immediately found her senses overwhelmed with his nearness.
Rod guided her to the middle of the room, moved a comfortable looking Queen Anne upholstered chair to one side and took a seat, commanding with alarming alacrity, “Strip.”
The longer he stared at her and she couldn’t find it within herself to obey, the more thoroughly flustered she became, fidgeting with her fingers and dancing from one foot to the other. She had the fleeting thought that she must look like some of the underlings at work, and she made a mental note to be nicer to them from now on. This situation was a thousand times worse.
When he stood and caught her hand, she assumed he was bringing her to his lap to cuddle and talk about the situation, to explain himself to her and calm her fears; she couldn’t have been more wrong.
She didn’t end up on his lap; she was, instead, guided quite expertly over it. Her short skirt worked against her, immediately riding almost all the way up to her waist and leaving her mostly bare cheeks completely exposed.
Sunny could hear him clucking his tongue at her disapprovingly as he relieved her of panties that weren’t much help anyway, although she loudly protested being divested of them, as if they were the last barrier between herself and the fate he had in store for her.
She was entirely unprepared for the barrage of swats he administered to her now completely naked backside; a horrible, intolerable sting erupting in her flesh and filling her mind as the only important thing there, and indeed, it was.
Chapter II
No one had ever treated her this way. No one. Her parents were the touchy-feely kind she could play like a kazoo, and, in her relationships with men, she had always been the one in control, the one on top, the one calling the shots. In fact, she’d never hooked up with a man she couldn’t control, one way or the other. The artistic types needed money, and tha
t was their Achilles heel. Young, brash, overachievers were eager to climb the corporate ladder and to use her name and her connections. The nerds, well, she’d always just had a soft spot for them, and in a lot of cases, they were embarrassingly happy just to get some sex.
But Rod was acting as if she should have expected this, bringing that board-like palm of his down across both cheeks at once, again and again, until he’d set her backside on fire. Just at the point that she was going to ratchet up her howls of protest to full-on screams, he stopped and stood her up, pointing to the same spot on the carpet where he’d put her in the first place.
He didn’t repeat his command.
There was no denying the way he’d singed her behind or the fact that, as he’d been doing it, her body had been busily christening his jeans, despite her very real protestations. Off kilter physically and emotionally, flooded with sensations she had never experienced before, Sunny shuffled towards the spot at which he was pointing, but not quickly enough for him, apparently, because before she moved out of range, he managed to reach out and deliver several “come along” smacks that had her hopping – like a well-spanked bunny – to stand in that very vulnerable, very exposed spot, although she was not nearly as exposed as she was going to be.
As if she was put out with him she let her hands creep to the neckline of her blouse and she began to unbutton it excruciatingly slowly, expecting he would nudge her – one way or the other – into moving more quickly.
But he was nothing if not full of surprises, and he merely leaned back in his chair, his fingers laced behind his head, watching her avidly, hungrily.
Sunny hadn’t blushed like that in years – maybe ever – but she couldn’t seem to stop once she saw just how hungrily he was watching her, her eyes darting to his, then away several times before she’d loosened all the buttons.
“Stop staring at me!” she whined, sounding very much like the brat he’d already pegged her as, thoroughly ashamed of herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth.
“What makes you think you can give me orders, Sunny?” There was still no anger in his tone, not even impatience, although when he came towards her, she automatically took one step back before she caught herself and reclaimed the ground she had lost. Everything in her wanted to look down, to not meet his eyes, but she forced herself to do just that.
He reached out and cupped the back of that impudent head, holding it still as his free hand travelled from her temple down that only slightly artificially rosy cheek, the delicate neck, a surprisingly fragile collar bone and over the breast she had held his hand to moments ago at the table - only this time he lingered there, cupping it possessively as he let his thumb and forefinger delve beneath the thin covering of her bra to pinch the wicked peak it found there. She squawked unbecomingly and backed away, trying to twist out of his grasp, but finding no avenue of escape.
When he finally released her breast, he could see her hands creeping up to comfort herself, and he cruelly slapped them cruelly away and resumed his physical possession of her, noting with displeasure just how prominent her ribs were. He followed the curve of her waist as it flowed into her hip, roaming eagerly around back to squeeze one thoroughly-roasted cheek, then slipping his hand under the edge of that lacy skirt and moving it around to the front.
“Spread your legs,” he whispered hoarsely.
When she didn’t comply to his satisfaction, moving her feet only slightly apart, he put a foot between hers and swept them wide apart as his hand tightened on her womanhood, his fingers busily storming new territory with a firm hold.
Two thick fingers found their way inside her with humiliating ease, her body having eagerly slickened their way long since, his big thumb claiming a clit that was thoroughly swollen and throbbing - not encouraging its response in the least but rather simply sitting there, atop her, teasing her nearly out of her mind with its lack of movement.
At his rude possession, Sunny sucked in a long breath that sounded a lot like a moan – probably because it was one. She would have leaned forward, against his shoulder, but sensed he wouldn’t allow it.
Instead he used his spare hand to tip her chin up so that her eyes were forced to meet his. “For the next -” he checked his watch, “ – thirty hours or so, this, and every other inch of your luscious body, is mine. I own you. I possess you. And I can promise you that I intend to use you in every conceivable manner that will bring me pleasure.”
With that, he backed away suddenly, resuming his seat and watching her watch him as he brought his moist, Sunny covered fingers to his mouth and licked them fastidiously clean, then flicked them at her to let her know that he was ready for her to continue to divest herself of the little clothing she had left.
Her blouse was just hanging open, so Sunny shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the floor as she reached behind her to undo the hooks of the all-lace demi-bra, whose color matched her blouse perfectly. She peeled it away with obvious reluctance, almost tearfully. He then heard her take a long, deep breath as if to pull herself together, straightening her shoulders, staring back at him as boldly as he did her, holding the bra away from herself in her finger and thumb, then dropping it onto the blouse as if she didn’t care whether she ever saw it again.
The skirt came off just as casually, until she stood, proud and naked, before him, her hand on her hip, giving him a challenging look he didn’t like at all – at least, not from a submissive.
“Hands at your sides unless I tell you they should be elsewhere,” he bit off.
Somewhat taken aback, she relinquished her come-hither pose and let her hands assume the position he preferred. She had a feeling that the rest of this weekend was going to be spent trying to conform – and even perhaps anticipate – what it was that he might want, to avoid spending any more time getting whacked by that Gawd-awful palm of his.
She hoped that was going to be enough of an impetus for her. She was much more used to being in the position of giving the orders, rather than having to obey them.
“Touch yourself.”
The bravado she’d carried around with her throughout her life deserted her in that moment, to be replaced by a bright pink blush that she could feel suffusing every pore of her body.
Rod thoroughly enjoyed the way she looked when she blushed like that. It didn’t look at all garish to him, but rather made her skin glow quite becomingly, and that was one of the reasons why he had made the outrageous demand so early on. He wanted to shock her, to knock her off balance. She was always so self-possessed, so confident that he wanted to wrestle her off that pedestal she’d put herself on – untouched and untouchable - and make her confront their agreement blatantly. He’d half expected her to have left long before this point, but was glad to see that she didn’t give her word casually. If anything was a test of that, this was.
He also knew she had absolutely expected to win, so that their roles would be reversed at this moment, and he had been fully willing to follow through with his commitment if it had happened that way. But then he realized that it had been a while since he’d issued his last order, and before she could say or do anything to immediately comply, he had made his way behind her and again began raining down spanks until he saw her hand creep up to hold her own breast.
Once he’d resumed his seat, he chided, “I shouldn’t have to tell you to do every little thing, Sunny. You’re my submissive. You should be trying to do things that you think I’ll like without having to be prompted – or punished.”
Rod thought he saw a flash of tears in her eyes, and he wasn’t sure if it was anger or fear or unhappiness that had prompted them, but they didn’t seem to linger, for which he was grateful.
As her hands began to rove over her own body, he could see that she was – slowly – overcoming what he hoped were unwelcome tears and sinking into her own desire, allowing it to come to the forefront, almost forgetting that she was being watched. He saw her eyelids flutter closed as those slim fingers plucked at her own
blossomed nipples, twisting just slightly with each tug until her breathing became ragged and uneven.
He loved to watch a woman pleasure herself, especially at his command. He learned so much about her that it was almost an unfair advantage – whether or not she could overcome her natural modesty in front of him, how familiar she was with her own body – which gave him a clue as to how often she might do this on her own – as well as, of course, how and where she enjoyed being touched.
Neither of those hands had wandered below the equator yet, so he rose and stood behind her, knocking her legs further apart as he cupped her right hand with his big one and brought it down to that completely bare area between her legs.
He didn’t sit down again, but remained where he was, unable to resist the temptation to touch her, slipping one big hand into her privates from behind, nearly knocking her off balance until he spread the other one on her lower tummy to steady her as those two all too familiar fingers reclaimed the territory they had already conquered earlier, filling her . . . stretching her until she’d accommodated every inch of them.
And it hadn’t been easy, which he’d loved. She’d had to bend forward a bit in what he knew she would consider an obscene position, and he doubted she was even aware of the tiny mewls and groans she issued as he worked those big digits up inside her, but every caught breath, every sigh, every tiny groan got him harder.
For her part, Sunny couldn’t even begin to think. She’d always prided herself on her ability to use logic and reason to make sense of the situations she’d found herself in in life, but this one . . . there was no hope. All she could do was feel – feel his fingers jammed up inside her, feel how her backside was on fire, feel how thoroughly embarrassed she was to be in this position with him, especially. She didn’t consider herself a prude in any fashion, and she didn’t know if it was his proximity or what, but she was completely embarrassed, and, for some odd, disturbing reason, it felt kinda good.
Rod of Correction: Taken and Tamed Page 2