Bound and Freed Boxed Set

by Nikki Sex

  He cupped her face, and his thumb rubbed her bottom lip again. "Do you really want me as your Dom, Kelly? I find that so difficult to believe." He gave her a teasing little smile. "And you can talk now, by the way."

  That was just as well as Kelly was afraid she would burst if she had to remain silent much longer. "Do I want you?" Kelly knew she was grinning like a Jack-o'-lantern, but she didn’t care. "Are you kidding? I am bat-shit crazy over you, John Taylor."

  John frowned at that, and Kelly couldn’t read him. The man was such a mystery, but so what? They would sort it out over time. Kelly wanted him more than anything she had ever wanted in her whole life.

  "Listen to me, Kelly," John said. "When I got your letter I almost cried. I didn’t – but if I knew how to, I probably would have. You don’t understand yet, Kelly, but I can't remember ever being able to cry - except once after my aunt died, when I was with someone I trusted. Crying is just something I just can't do. Normal human emotions are another." John leaned over and kissed her. Kelly melted into the gentle, loving caress he gave her with his lips. It was a kiss of love, not lust. He gave her a faint smile. "But I suspect that you have enough emotions for both of us."

  Kelly snorted and grinned at that. "You got that right."

  John cleared his throat. "Anyway, after I received your letter, I wrote you a letter back."

  "Oh, John," she said feeling an excited little twist inside. "You wrote me a letter? That's so sweet."

  John jumped up and got an expensive looking box out of his vest pocket. It appeared to be something one would get from an up market jewelry store. With an unreadable expression, he handed it to her. Kelly sat up, crossing her legs Indian fashion and took the box from him, frowning in confusion. "Where's the letter?"

  "I'm not going to give it to you yet."

  Kelly cracked up laughing. John was such a strange man, he honestly was. Yet she loved everything about him, even his unpredictable, inexplicable behavior. "Alrighty then," she said cheerfully taking this news in her stride. "I don’t get my letter yet. Fine. So, what's in the box?"

  John stood near the bed, standing apart from her, tense and stiff. Kelly could feel the change in him. Even though John was wearing his impassive mask, his face had darkened slightly, and she knew he was suddenly wound up tight. Kelly reflected that she was actually beginning to read him better. What was his problem? Was he nervous? She rather thought he might be.

  "It's yours, Kelly," John said in an unnaturally impassive voice. "Why don't you open it and find out?"

  Kelly paused. Jesus, sometimes the man really did freak her out. The way he was acting, it was like there was a chopped off human ear or something disgusting like that inside this innocuous little container. What was with the tension?

  John was certainly making her uneasy, and a little frightened to open the box.

  18. What's In The Box?

  Apprehensively, Kelly opened the box.

  "Oh my God! Look at this! It's soooo gorgeous!" she exclaimed.

  Inside was the most beautiful ring. Kelly had never seen anything like it before. Pink sapphires and diamonds were set in gold, creating a unique pattern. The circular focal point of the design appeared to be a gorgeous bouquet of pink and white daisies.

  "Oh. My. God. It's beautiful, John," she exclaimed, bouncing up and down on the bed in her excitement. "Where did you find it? It must have cost a fortune. You bought this for me?"

  John crawled back to the middle of the bed and sat back, resting against the headboard. Then he pulled Kelly across his lap. "I designed it and had it made this week. I gave the jeweler the order Sunday morning. Did you know some of the more reputable jewelers have a twenty-four hour phone service?"

  "No," she said in a quiet voice, still shocked by his gift. "You designed and put an order in to have this made on Sunday morning? Right after I left?"

  John nodded.

  Kelly threw her arms around his neck and of course she started to cry. John's arms banded tight as rope around her waist, holding her as if he would never let her go. Kelly couldn't believe it. John must have been just as infatuated with her as she had been with him. All week Kelly thought he didn't want her. Yet all that time he had suffered, too, while testing their relationship and giving her a chance to back out. What woman in her right mind wouldn't want John Taylor?

  John remained silent, but his hands roamed over her back in a constant soothing caress. He patted her and held her until she began to settle.

  Man, was this guy full of surprises or what? Kelly thought. The ring was so thoughtful, and it communicated so much. Daisies - her safe word. John always wanted her to be safe. He also understood how much she loved daisies, a plain, unpretentious and cheerful sort of flower. Daisies were sooo her, and John knew that, too. It was the most wonderful ring in the world, and John had designed it, and had it made for her.

  "What kind of ring is it?" Kelly sniffed, still feeling really emotional. She was just so happy! She pulled back from him to examine it from within its box once more. "Is it like a friendship ring, or what? Do you know what finger I'm supposed to wear it on?"

  John shrugged. "In time, if it all works out, I was hoping that someday you might use it as engagement ring. If you decide you still want me… after you get to know me better."

  Kelly turned on his lap to look directly at him, confused, astonished, and stunned. Am I hearing things? she thought. Did John Taylor just propose to me in a totally bizarre, ass-backwards way? With an intense look of naked longing, John returned her gaze. Wow, she thought. There it was again, that amazing sense of connection.

  John added with quiet certainty, "I already know that I want you, Kelly, now and forever. I'll never want anyone else."

  Kelly squealed, closed the box, and dropped it on the bed. Then she threw her arms around him again, kissing him passionately with her heart bursting in a mixture of enthusiasm, love, and hilarious indignation. Wouldn't you know it? John Taylor definitely needed her to teach him some social skills. That was no way for a man to propose!

  Once more Kelly felt too emotional to even speak – which in her case was really saying something. She was only just beginning to understand the depth of John's need for her. They fit together perfectly. What they had felt so right.

  What started as a loving 'thank you' kiss - quickly fell into an all consuming sexual need.

  Kelly LOVED the way John kissed. The high-handed man simply took over her mouth, and acted as if he would like to crawl right inside. John's raw desire radiated with that bruising, passionate kiss. The man's focus was incredible. Intense. Absolute. It was as if John didn’t kiss her right now he would die, and didn’t that make her feel special? Kelly felt as if having John's firm demanding lips against hers, with his tongue in her mouth was the only thing real in the entire world.

  Swollen and bruised, she thought fleetingly. My mouth may never recover... ah, but what a way to go.

  Aware of John's response last time, Kelly sucked his tongue hard in a pulsing, milking manner. She imagined it was his cock, remembering how much John loved it when she went down on him. That was just as well, as she loved it, too. There was nothing better than hearing John make those little sounds of pleasure as she worked his hard thick shaft with her mouth. Sucking, tasting, nibbling, licking, and drinking him down.

  "Kelly, you drive me crazy," he said, inhaling in a long breath. "Let's talk about the ring later. Right now I need my sub to serve me." John grabbed Kelly's hand and thrust it down between her legs, making her cup her own mound. With his large male hand possessively covering hers, he squeezed her sex firmly.

  “This is my cunt, isn’t it?” he demanded in an abrupt, harsh voice. His dark eyes flickered dangerously as if daring her to deny him.

  Kelly heard herself moaning, "Yes, John, oh, oh, yes, it belongs to you. I belong to you, too. I want to give you whatever you need. Whatever you want."

  John growled at that, crushing her to him. "You're mine," he rasped.

 
"Yes," she agreed.

  Jesus. It was like pressing a button, and then having her whole body become instantly, desperately horny. Everything about John made Kelly think of sex. Trembling with anticipation, she realized that the rawness of John's male animal need for her was unquestionably the most effective aphrodisiac that she had ever experienced.

  Biting her ear, John licked and nuzzled into her throat. "I'm still deciding which of your luscious feminine holes I want to shoot my cum into first," he taunted deliciously. John sucked on the skin of her neck, and a burning wave of arousal flowed through her, shooting sensation between her legs. Kelly's clit responded instantly, it was as if he was sucking her there. No doubt she would have to wear a turtleneck sweater again to Sunday's family dinner, but she didn't care in the slightest.

  "Your Dom is going to use every single part of that body of yours for his pleasure, Kelly," he whispered seductively in her ear, sending a thrill of longing and lust down her spine. "Do you have any idea of all the things I want to do to you?"

  Inflamed by his erotic words, Kelly whimpered, "No, John."

  He gave her a dark chuckle. "I have an entire bondage club here full of toys, an overactive imagination, and a lifetime full of fantasies, Kelly. And I plan to enact every single one of them with my very accommodating sub… starting right now."

  "Yes, John," Kelly said in a breathless, happy little sigh.

  19. Murder

  Homicide Detective Lorenzo Martin sat in the Portland Police Department and studied the file of available information.

  The prominent psychologist, fifty-seven year old Professor Maria Christina Lopez had been murdered, bludgeoned to death in her residence Sunday morning, April 7th, between the hours of midnight and five a.m. Afterwards her documents were all emptied from her filing cabinets, and with petrol poured on the papers, her home was set alight. The fire department had prevented the entire house from going up in smoke, but there had not been much left as evidence. The good professor had been semi-retired, mainly writing, and had just one ongoing, active case.

  His main suspect? John William Taylor, Professor Lopez' only client.

  John Taylor was unemployed, the only child of a local district judge. A secretive, paranoid man, with documented mental health problems, his suspect had been estranged from his parents for years. Apparently he resided in Aloha only twenty minutes from the murder site. According to phone records, Mr. Taylor had called Professor Lopez the day before her death, and she had called him about an hour before she was killed.

  Detective Martin stood up and checked his watch. It was late Saturday night, and he should have gone home hours ago. He needed to get some sleep.

  Sunday morning will be soon enough, Detective Martin decided. Tomorrow I'll have a word with Mr. John Taylor, he thought with a grim little smile. I'd like to find out if he can assist us with our inquiries.

  End of Punished

  CONNECTED

  1. Colin Wilkins

  “Do not be confused, mon ami, especially with your history. You of all Dom's must have this perfectly clear in your mind. BDSM first and foremost is about pleasure and fulfillment, for both Dom and sub. Physical pain is only one tool, and not even the most essential tool, necessary to achieve these goals."

  --- André Chevalier, conversation with John Taylor

  ~~~

  Saturday night the Basement BDSM club stayed open until 3:00 a.m. Just after that time, Colin Wilkins, the club manager was double checking that no one was still there. Using his security code, he keyed himself into the control room and shut the door behind him.

  "What have you got, Jay? Anything?"

  Stocky, muscular and fiftyish, Jay had grey crew cut hair and the bearing of a military man. John Taylor liked Colin hiring ex-cops and soldiers, and he paid them really well. Colin sometimes wondered if John actually made any money from the Basement, because he seemed to put it all back into the club via excessive salaries, and constant equipment upgrades.

  "Nope," Jay said. "Nada. Everyone is long gone, Colin. So long as you have checked room twelve?"

  "Yeah," Colin said, feeling strangely comfortable with lying. "The monitor on that one is broken so no one was allowed to use it tonight – it's been locked up tight. I'll get it fixed this week."

  "Right," Jay said standing up. "That's it then. See you tomorrow." Jay logged out by keying a code, which kept a record of the name of employee, and time of departure. With a heavy, booted stride, he left.

  John Taylor, the man who owned the Basement, was a safety conscious businessman. When the club was open, a member of security monitored the close-circuit TV's in the control room. Twenty different screens needed constant review, thirteen separate scene rooms, the main area, four public play areas, the bar, and entrance.

  Security Staff had an earpiece that kept them constantly updated from Control. Staff rotated into Control, and never spent more than one hour within its hallowed core. Everything was digitally recorded, and all of this was authorized within the membership contract.

  John Taylor didn’t want to take chances with "he said, she saids."

  A person might suggest that John Taylor was paranoid, but Colin thought he was smart. The three contentious issues that they had encountered in the four years since they had opened had been easily dealt with by playing back the security footage with the disagreeing parties present.

  Curious, and also feeling a compulsion to check, Colin moved to the back of his monitor set up and plugged the viewing screen in. Then he switched on the monitor for scene room twelve.

  "That's right, Kelly," Colin heard a husky voice say, "Take me deeper."

  "Oh God," came a strangled female cry.

  Then a male voice once more, a reassuring murmur, "Yes, yes. Perfect. Good girl."

  Kelly Flynn had her hands bound to the bed board, cuffed together over her head, but those were the only BDSM trappings in evidence. Colin's boss, John Taylor, the uncrowned king of sadistic S & M games, was banging Ms. Flynn. This was no surprise. What was surprising was that John appeared to be having rather ordinary, and more or less missionary style sex.

  Kelly's long, shapely legs were draped over her Dom. They rested just under his shoulders, her ass spread and lifted up high, to allow for really deep penetration. The woman was bent so far it looked like her bellybutton was pressed up against her backbone. She was going to have a serious vaginal orgasm in that position.

  Hot damn, Colin thought.

  The man was banging into her as hard and fast as a jack hammer. John's chest was heaving, his slim, powerful hips and thighs pumping. What Colin's boss lacked in the creative use of BDSM toys, he was making up in enthusiasm.

  John Taylor was on his knees between Kelly's thighs with her ass tilted up in the air and man oh man was that boy giving her a pounding. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh, and the sight of John's balls swinging rhythmically, slapping into the woman's puckered anal ring caused Colin's own body to heat.

  Kelly was curled upward, resting almost only upon her shoulders. John was mounted, and pressed in close. Firmly squeezing one breast and nipple, the long fingers and thumb of his other hand were tight around her throat, in something like a collar, or perhaps he planned to use erotic asphyxiation? Cutting off oxygen and blood to the brain just prior to orgasm? The returning rush of blood and oxygen right at the point of climax could really spin a sub out, creating a unique high.

  John didn’t know her well enough to do something like that though - or did he?

  "I own you, Kelly Flynn," Colin heard him say. "You're mine."

  "Yes, John, oh yes!"

  Kelly was sweating, whimpering, panting and keening, desperately holding back her orgasm no doubt by her Dom's command. Colin didn't know how long John had been edging his sub into this highly excited state, but Colin could tell by her eyes that she had been sexually tormented for an extended period of time. She looked mindless and euphoric – in a far off sub space of wanton sensual bliss.

  Wow, Co
lin thought. The man is good. How the hell had he learned Kelly's body so fast?

  Colin, a masterful Dom himself, knew that by carefully varying the intensity and speed of sexual stimulation, and by continually practicing with the same partner in order to intimately learn their responses, a sub could be held in a highly aroused state on the brink of orgasm. The entire process took keen observation and time, however, because no matter how attentive and watchful a Dom was, every woman or man was different, each unique to themselves.

  "Who do you belong to?" came a gruff demand.

  "You, John. I belong to you," Kelly sobbed, clearly desperate for release. Tears were running down her cheeks and Colin smirked. She was an emotional girl, and he had seen her crying before.

  Colin gave a happy sigh. This erotic sexual denial could only improve the outcome. Kelly was going to have a massive orgasm – most likely multiple ones, Colin could tell. Ten to one she was a screamer, too.

  Chuckling, Colin sat down, and put his feet up on a desk with a broad grin. He may as well stick around and watch the show.

  2. Love and Scars

  All I need is popcorn, Colin thought. Or better yet, Donna. If my wife was here, I'd fuck her silly while we both watch, sitting right here in this chair.

  Colin expelled a sharp breath. Man, John was still working his sub hard and fast. Colin tried to recall, had he been that inexhaustible at age twenty-six? Kelly had gone off into the zone and at this point only the occasional, "Oh God, oh God," or "Please, oh please," was all she was managing to gasp.

  Abruptly the woman convulsed and looked as if she was going to go over.

  John eased for a moment, stopping all movement and bringing her back from the brink. "Good girl. You won't come until I tell you to, will you?"