She touched herself, a light stroke to her puffy lips. The fluids dripped out wantonly. Greedily, she pushed several fingers inside herself. She shuddered, on the verge of orgasm already.
All she needed was a couple of moments to steal her pleasure...
Kyle was quicker, however. Without opening his eyes, he grabbed her wrist, yanking it away in a grip of steel. “That’s mine,” he informed her. “I play with it, not you.”
Liandra squirmed, frustrated. “I need to come,” she whined.
“Too bad,” said Kyle.
He took her wrists in one hand and pinned them over her head.
“You’ll come when I say, not before.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He lowered his head to her nipple. She flinched, expecting another bite. Instead he suckled. She whimpered, clenching and unclenching her fists. Suddenly her own pleasure seemed secondary to the need for raw, naked obedience...and discipline.
“P—punish me, Sir, please?”
“Eager little thing, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Sir.” She tried not to sound coy.
“Wait here,” he said.
She smiled. “Where would I go? I’m yours until Sunday night.”
“Good point,” he agreed, heading out of the living room.
She watched his ass. He was looking better and better to her with each passing moment. She remembered once reading a theory that when you fell in love, you literally see a person as more and more beautiful on the outside. On the other hand, if you see ugliness within a person, they can look uglier on the outside, too.
“Lay on your stomach,” she heard him call out from the back of the apartment. “Arms at your sides, eyes closed.”
Liandra settled herself into the position, well aware of how completely displayed and vulnerable her ass was...to pleasure and pain alike.
She heard him come back into the room. It felt like he’d been gone forever. His breathing was taut. He was up to something, all right.
She jolted at the sound, a whoosh in the air, somewhere over her shoulder. He had a whip, a cane, something...
Why wasn’t he talking?
“Sir?”
“Hush,” he commanded.
“Yes, Sir.” She clenched her buttocks.
“That ‘someone’ you were telling me about has taken a belt to your ass,” he noted.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Is he your boyfriend?” His tone was sardonic.
“We’re just...friends.” God, that sounded ridiculous.
He cleared his throat. “Well whoever whips you is a little more than a casual acquaintance, no?”
“We have an arrangement...”
“You submit to him...”
“Yes, Sir.”
“He’s your Master?”
“Yes...I mean no...I’m not sure what he is.”
“He hasn’t claimed you?”
She gasped as he touched her with the cane, a light rubbing over her soft skin. “N—not completely.”
“Hold still,” he chided. “Or this will go much worse for you.”
“Yes, Sir...” Her heart slammed in her chest. “Sir, I’m not sure about this...”
“Want to use the word?”
“Will you be disappointed?”
“That would be blackmail, Lee. I don’t play things that way.”
“I want to be good for you.”
“You are...” He lifted the cane from her ass and called out the number one.
The instrument of discipline landed squarely and savagely.
Liandra cried out into the cushion. It hurt so bad...
She squirmed and squirmed. “How many more?”
“Five extra just for asking,” he told her.
Liandra whimpered. “Forgive me, Sir.”
He sliced at her again. She grimaced, gritting her teeth, enduring.
“I expect a thank you for each blow, little girl.”
“Thank you, Sir,” she groaned.
“This man of yours...” He paused to caress her with the pain, multiplying the agony of anticipation. “If he wanted you, you’d be his slave?”
“Probably...”
What was the point in lying?
He whipped her again. “But you don’t love him...”
“Slaves aren’t supposed to love, Sir...are they?”
The question was real. God, there was so much about BDSM she didn’t know.
“What do you think, Lee? Answer the question yourself.”
“I want to love a master,” she said. “More than anything.”
“Good answer.” He struck her twice, once on each cheek. “Now describe your pain.”
“D—describe it?”
How was she supposed to do that? It hurt; it was like lava poured over fire, dripping onto acid, adhering to a meteor screaming through her head, screaming through her body, down her spine and straight into her pussy.
“Name it, Lee, name the pain.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
Why was he pushing her like this?
“Yes, Lee, you do.” Kyle took aim at her back, a blow across the shoulder blades.
“Arggh!” She chewed viciously at the sofa, clawing at the fabric. “You fucking bastard!”
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” he said with approval.
“You’re fucking insane.” She looked up at him. “You’re a monster, not a dominant.”
“Your ass is down there because you want to be,” he accused. “You have a word, use it and this is all moot.”
“Keep pushing me,” she threatened, “and I will.”
He whipped at her ass. “So do it.”
Once, twice, three times more.
“Bourbon!” she shouted. “Bourbon, bourbon, bourbon!”
Kyle tossed the cane onto a nearby easy chair. “See how easy that was?”
“I hate you,” she declared.
He got out of the way, letting her up off the couch. “Do you intend to leave?”
“I don’t know, just leave me alone,” she said.
Liandra found the bathroom. She closed herself in. Head pounding; what the fuck was going on? Where was she? This man was a stranger. This was Rave’s fault; he’d gotten her into this. Why wasn’t he here to rescue her? Too bad he couldn’t keep a cell phone on for more than a month at a time. Not that he’d pick up if he didn’t feel like it.
He might be with someone else. Amelia or Amanda, or whatever the hell that girl’s name was. How had she blocked that out so quickly? Maybe he had a new lover. Maybe he was fucking another man.
Liandra laughed. That would be the day.
Oh, shit, that hurt. She touched her ass, tentatively. Damn that mother fucker...he was good, wasn’t he? She had to give him credit. He knew how to punish a woman. He was a lifestyler. He and Vanessa lived this way, with her taking the beatings, obeying day and night, staying off the furniture, crawling, begging...submitting.
She looked in the mirror. She felt inadequate. Why did Kyle want to dominate her? Vanessa had been ten times better looking. She was probably way better as a submissive, too.
Fucking cancer.
Kyle had been cheated and she hated that.
So now what did she do? She was locked in the bathroom, backed literally into a corner, biting off more than she could chew and all those other stupid truisms.
She could walk out, that was one option. He wouldn’t stop her. He even expected it. But she didn’t want to go. She was scared and not just of going home to Rave. She was scared of herself on the way, of the thoughts that might open up inside her like a black hole, swallowing everything.
Virgil, Rave and now this man.
She wasn’t the same. She’d been split wide open, turned inside out.
Maybe if she waited long enough he would fall asleep and then she could leave without any kind of a fuss. Or maybe she could cook him a nice meal first, leave him an apology note.
Who was she kidding?
She wasn’t up to writing or leaving.
There was only one option.
She was going to have to talk to him.
What she’d say, however, she hadn’t a clue...
CHAPTER EIGHT
Kyle was in the living room, watching a movie on television. Liandra approached him, tentatively. She had grabbed a towel on the way out of the bathroom to cover herself. She felt silly wrapped in the thing, but she would have felt even stranger in the nude.
To her consternation, he paid her no attention.
She cleared her throat.
He spoke without looking at her. “Are you staying or not?”
“I—I’d like to stay.”
“I didn’t ask what you’d like, I asked what you intend to do.”
“I’m staying,” she decided.
“You left the room without permission,” he said.
She clasped her hands in front of her. “I’m sorry...I was upset.”
“You’ll be punished for that.”
“Yes, Sir...”
He flashed a glance, harsh. “Who said you could cover your body?”
Liandra undid the towel. It fell to her feet.
He made her stand this way for several moments. Liandra rubbed her legs together. She was hot and wet between her thighs. She wanted sex, she wanted attention.
“Stop fidgeting, slave,” he snapped.
She melted. He’d called her his slave.
“Yes, Master.”
“You’ll have some corner time to think about your punishment,” he said.
He snapped his fingers, pointing. “Kneel, there,” he commanded.
“Yes, Master.”
There was a chemistry between them she couldn’t deny. What if he owned her? What if he had her as his girl, his slut, 24/7?
Liandra knelt naked, a chastised slave, awaiting her master’s discipline. Kyle continued watching his movie, letting her know things happened in his time, not hers.
Her stomach roiled. She was scared and excited, but strangely at peace, too. She was glad she’d decided to stay. How sad it would have been to leave and miss knowing what would happen next.
Kyle addressed her posture. “Knees apart, back on your heels, back straight, hands behind your head.”
Liandra submitted instantly, obediently.
He went back to watching his movie. Her breathing was quick, close to panting. Was this slavery—the utter helplessness of needing to be used, abused on a moment to moment basis?
“You’re going to suffer,” he told her, getting up at a certain point. “I’m going to do things to you no one else ever has. You’ll forget that any other man has ever put a hand on you by the time I’m done.”
She felt woozy. She wanted to collapse to the floor, to crawl to him on her belly, offering her utter surrender. But he would not take it, not yet.
He was moving around behind her. She strained to hear. He went to get something from down the hall.
“Eyes forward, girl!”
She snapped her head into place.
Was she in worse trouble? Her heart raced...
He had something in his hands, he was bringing it over her head.
“Master...?”
It was a hood, made of leather.
Liandra whimpered.
“Take your punishment,” he said. “Like a good girl.”
“Yes,” she sighed, leaning back against him, finding her center.
“Arms down,” he ordered. He pulled the hood down over her face, all the way to her neck. There was an opening for her nose, to breathe and a tiny air hole over her mouth. The hood fastened below her chin, holding her mouth closed. There was no opening over her eyes.
She mumbled incoherently.
“Pay attention to my voice,” he said. “Obey, submit and you’ll be fine.”
The sex juices oozed from her gaping thighs. The scent of her cunt filled the air. If only he would push her down to the floor, have his way with her; shove his dick inside her at will.
She wanted to beg him to rape her...a consensual rape, the thorough overpowering of her will and body.
“Take a deep breath.”
The clamp on her nipple was cold and sudden and terrible.
She tried to wrench free. She had no idea he was going to do that. It hurt so bad, the clamp bit and bit and wouldn’t let go.
“Hold still, girl!” He slapped her breast, sending shock waves through her body. The pinched nipple throbbed in reply, wracked with agony.
She held her position, rigid as steel.
He rewarded her with a separate clamp.
She bit down hard, grinding her teeth.
Kyle caressed her belly, teasing. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Tears filled the inside of her hood. The leather was hot and cloying. He took her wrists and fastened them behind her back in steel.
Now he did push her down, on her back, on her handcuffed hands. He put cuffs on her ankles. They were attached to a long bar. She could no longer close her legs.
Instead of his cock he gave her a dildo. She began to writhe against her will. He lined it up perfectly, hitting her clitoris with every vibration.
Kyle taped the vibrator in place. She began to come, sweating on the floor, twisting against her bonds.
He let her suffer a while, the imposed pleasure mingling with the growing pain in her nipples, a steady, broadening bite that would not let go. The worst thing was not being able to see out of her eyes or open her mouth to make a single meaningful noise.
She was reduced to an object, at his mercy. He could fuck her, punish her as he pleased and she would never know what was coming.
As if it wasn’t punishment enough to be fucked by a cold, battery powered machine, subtle and merciless, the perfect accompaniment to the clamps.
“Having fun?” he asked.
She lifted her body, trying to find the exact location of his voice. He was standing above her, observing, enjoying.
“I’m certainly having fun,” he said. “I do need to ask, though...if you want to use the safety word. You can’t talk, but if you nod, it will have the same effect.”
Liandra didn’t nod. She didn’t want to go down that road again. She wanted this road, the path of his sadistic, delicious will.
“I was hoping you’d feel that way. Just so you know, this is your last chance. After this, I will go all the way. You’ll have to trust that I won’t do permanent damage.”
She did trust him, and the fact amazed her. She was as certain of this man as she’d ever been of anything in her life.
She offered him no signal to stop...and so he continued.
He had tape, to put over the vibrator and hold it in place. The tape tickled her pelvis. When the tape was applied, he told her it was time to turn over. She needed considerable help, given her state of bondage. He positioned her on her belly, her leather covered cheek to the floor.
“Good girl,” he patted her ass.
Her cheek screamed out, a reminder of the agony of the cane.
Was she in for another dose of that terrible instrument?
“Now we’ll see just how well other men have trained you,” he said.
He had a cold gel on his fingers. He inserted it up inside her asshole, wiggling. She tensed, then released, unable to resist the pervasive pressure. Her cunt replied, clenching against the vibrator, desperately craving a cock inside her.
“Don’t fight it, Lee...I’m going to push you and push you hard. Resist me and I’ll only go at you more. You’ll take a dildo up here, the biggest I have.”
Liandra felt a wave of rebellion; likely he’d anticipated it. She tried to twist free, shaking her head and ass both. His palm slammed down hard on her ass, putting her in her place. She whimpered into her leather hood, broken. He spanked her over and over. She lost track of the number of times. She screamed her surrender, but he didn’t care.
He ceased in his time, by his will.
“Are you
ready for your ass fucking now?”
She nodded ferociously, yes.
He spanked her again. She sobbed piteously, her body torn apart by the vibrator and clamps. The metal edges hurt twice as bad now that they were pushed hard on the carpet. She could scarcely breathe without feeling the most intense sensations.
“Get on your knees,” he ordered. “Push out your ass. Show me you are ready to be violated.”
The word, violation, hit her like a whip, like a trigger pulling on her every slut instinct. He had a way with her, there was no denying.
This time he didn’t help her. She had to struggle up on her knees all by herself. It took every bit of her strength. Twice she fell back down. Once she landed hard on one of the nipple clamps. She thought the delicate nub would be ripped from her body.
“I’m waiting, slut.”
She made one final effort, complying.
She heaved her breasts, trying to catch her breath.
“I’m still waiting!”
Liandra thrust out her ass, silently begging for him to work his will. She was his slave, his prisoner, his forty-eight hour captive.
After that, who knew? A lot could happen in forty-eight hours, that much was certain.
“You have the best ass I’ve ever seen,” he said.
Better than Vanessa’s even? An impressive admission for a grieving widower. A little overwhelming, too. Liandra couldn’t live up to anyone’s memory. She couldn’t even live up to her own expectations. This man was bound to reject her; he was too nice, too kind, too perfect for her. Sooner or later he’d figure out who she really was and reject her. Then she’d go crawling back to Rave, who’d always be there to pick up the pieces, big sport that he was.
After this weekend, that would be the reality check. Until then, Kyle was the man, the master.
“I wanted to do this the moment I saw you,” he confessed. “I wish I could stop thinking about BDSM but I can’t. It’s in the blood...”
He pushed the dildo inside her, two inches worth of hardness, unnatural and unrelenting. It was only the beginning.
“I think you wanted me, too, didn’t you?”
She took the question as rhetorical. At the moment she was preoccupied; her master’s fuck toy. She sighed deeply as he thrust the dildo in further, another inch at least.
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