But after a few minutes…oh God, her clit ached. She kept thinking he’d use the vibrator there too, but he didn’t. And the longer she fucked it, the less she felt it—it just wasn’t big enough for a woman of her appetites. It was just big enough to begin adding to her mounting frustration, though—it provided just enough sensation to make her wild, desperate for more. Please, Tristan, my clit. Touch it. Suck it. Rub the vibrator there—anything!
Oh God, it was all she could do not to yell out, not to beg and command him. Every cell in her body blazed with lust, and her clit felt more neglected than ever in her life, given that she was used to getting what she needed when she needed it.
And then he drew the vibrator out. And turned it off.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
What now? She wanted to scream it.
She heard her own breath coming labored, as if she’d run a long race. She wanted him to fuck her deep, slam his cock into her. She wanted some fucking attention to her clit. She longed to grab on to his head and press his face there, make him lick it.
But her hands were tied. Her whole damn body. She would get what he gave her, nothing more. You can do this. You can do this. Even if what had started feeling pleasurable for a while had now turned into the ultimate frustration.
She waited, trying to calm her breathing as Tristan began to untie her legs from her torso. The ropes came free, and she struggled with a strange love-hate of that freedom, at once wanting it but missing the sensation of being bound for him. And she was too frustrated now to even analyze it any longer—she could only feel it.
Next, he untied her ankles from one another and stretched one leg toward the bottom corner of the bed. He tied the ankle again, pulling the rope deliciously tight—despite her mixed emotions, it felt good—and secured it somewhere beneath the mattress, to the frame, she supposed. He did the same to the other ankle so that she lay spread broadly, all four limbs tied to the bed now. Her pussy lay wide open, she knew, so maybe, maybe…was he finally going to fuck her? Maybe lick her?
But it was too much to hope. As much as her cunt ached and wept for him, he climbed onto the bed, straddling her waist, his cock falling between her breasts.
Mmm, God, it wasn’t in her pussy, but it still felt good. Much better than the vibrator because it was so large, so…him. “I’ve been wanting to fuck these big, perfect tits since I first saw them tonight,” he said deeply.
“I would love that,” she breathed up to him. Yes, her cunt was going wild, but she would love for him to fuck her breasts. And when his hands came up on the outer sides of the mounds of flesh, massaging—finally touching!—she couldn’t hold in her moans of pleasure.
When he began to slide his big shaft up and down between them, so hard, so long, so incredible, she couldn’t hold in her cries of delight. Her breath came shallow as her head dropped back, and she soaked in every hot thrust of his magnificent phallus.
Her pleasure increased when he shifted farther up onto her body—to feed her his cock again. Oh yes. She opened wide, willing, and let him fuck her mouth. He filled it so well, stretched her lips so pleasantly. “Keep looking at me while you take it, baby,” he told her, just like before, and she met his gaze as he sank deeper than most women could have handled, and she thanked God she’d learned on this particular specimen so that it wasn’t a shock to her. She sucked him hard, remembering he liked it that way; she felt beautifully dirty.
He moved back and forth then, between fucking her tits and fucking her mouth. Mmm, God, she loved it. And she loved that she was tied up. She loved being made to serve him that way. Again, she loved having the choices taken away, loved having the hot pleasure thrust upon her.
Still, her pussy suffered. With every slick slide between her breasts or every plunge between her lips, her cunt spasmed with need. She wasn’t sure it had ever throbbed so violently before—again, because it had never been so neglected before. She clenched her hands into fists—because they were the only actual, movable parts of her body that remained under her power at the moment.
But soon she realized she was rubbing her ass on the bed too. To feel the toy there, that lovely, insane pressure. It only made her cunt crazier with lust, but she couldn’t help it—she had to stimulate herself however she could.
She moaned with every movement, her entire body aching with pleasure, with intense need. She sobbed for relief. Above her, roughly driving his hard-on between her breasts, he groaned his own pleasure, and she watched the pre-come gather there until he held his shaft down to her mouth and said, “Lick it off.” She did. “Now suck me some more, baby. Suck that big cock.” She did. She loved it. She hated it. She was losing the ability to think straight.
Before Adrianna knew it, things changed. They got better. And worse. She remained tied helplessly to the bed as Tristan rubbed his cock all over her, her breasts, her arms, her legs. He took up the vibrator and did the same with it too, assaulting her senses with what were, in effect, two hard penises she felt everywhere except where she was dying to feel them. Over and over again, his cock neared her cunt, and over and over she thought he would finally put it in, give her what she needed—or even just rub the hard shaft over her suffering clit—but he didn’t. And she whimpered and moaned and sobbed with pleasure and hunger and everything in between and she felt out of her head from all the conflicting sensations.
And then he untied her.
He didn’t say a word, but began to undo the ropes—first the ones at her ankles, then the remaining ones that tethered her arms over her head.
She was free, free. Sort of. Since she was still at his mercy too, if she wanted to retain control of her company. So even as much as she was desperate to reach for him or to thrust her own hand between her legs, she simply lay there. Her arms felt tired, stretched, her wrists scratched and achy. What next? Please don’t make me wait! Just tell me what next!
“Get on your hands and knees,” he said.
Adrianna sucked in her breath. Hands and knees. She liked that position, always had—it was so hot and animalistic, and she could feel a guy’s cock deeper that way; she could feel their strokes all the way out to her fingers and toes.
So as Tristan knelt near the bottom of the bed, she turned over, feeling the stimulation of the anal plug with every movement, and situated her upthrust ass toward him. Her arms were almost too tired to hold her, but she did her best, arched her back and faced him with her drenched cunt, thinking, once more, Please. PLEASE.
He leaned forward, hands on her ass. Yes, yes. Touch me.
He rubbed—oh God, yes—the length of his dick across the expanse of her swollen slit. She sighed excitedly, pleasure beginning to spread outward.
He’s going to fuck me now. Finally. He’s going to give me what I crave.
Only—God damn him—he didn’t. He didn’t!
She was just about to howl her frustration when something snapped against her ass, stinging, and she cried out.
She looked over her shoulder to see Tristan holding a leather quirt. Shit—when had he even gone back to the bureau? When she was turning over, trying to support her own weight on her tired arms? God, she really was losing it.
He struck her ass with the quirt again and this time she felt what she knew was intended—the exquisite pleasure-pain of it. She actually had a great fondness for such toys and under other circumstances would have loved to show Tristan her collection of floggers, but right now she felt she’d endured enough pleasure-pain for one night. The sensation stretched through her ass and outward—as if she needed more feeling there. When he struck the other side with particular vigor, her entire body jolted, making her breasts jiggle beneath her and adding still more aching stimulation.
God, please, stop it! She would love it if he fucked her and spanked her at the same time, or if he used the quirt to smack her clit—she thought she’d come in a heartbeat if he did that and was tempted to beg him. But no, you can’t. You just have to take it. The pleasure. The pain. The frust
ration. All of it.
So she soaked up every tantalizing strike from the leather quirt he held, felt it vibrating through her skin like the ring of a bell, and then—oh Christ—he began pulling at the knob that had been protruding from her ass for so long. She sobbed even louder at the sensation there—there but not at her clit. And when he pulled the anal toy out, she screamed—not from pain but from the strange, sudden loss. It was one more frustration.
Until she felt something else nudging at that just-vacated cavity and looked over her shoulder to see Tristan’s cock, sheathed in a condom, poised there. She bit her lip at the sight and then gasped as he plunged into her ass.
Oh God Oh God Oh God! She screamed from the insanely pleasurable intrusion and met it with a thrust. Yes, yes, yes, finally, something to move against, something that drove back into her at the same time!
They both groaned their pleasure as sensation barreled all through Adrianna’s body. He didn’t go easy—he fucked her ass thoroughly and she loved it.
Loved it, except…it still wasn’t her pussy. It still brought no joy to her clit.
And so, just like everything else, soon her wild delight turned to frustration, perhaps the most insane frustration she’d ever felt. And even as she rammed her ass against his big cock, even as her arms gave out from the intensity, even as the pleasure swelled within her, tears of frustration rolled from her eyes where he couldn’t see.
She’d never in her life felt so torn. To her shame, she was loving the act of pleasing him—but she felt so utterly needy, tortured. What happened to giving him what he wanted and getting something back in return?
When finally he withdrew from her ass, that was it—she felt totally, utterly empty. Her pussy felt so swollen and hungry that it nearly hurt. Bent over on the bed, she clawed the covers into her fists, feeling crazed. And that’s when she heard herself screaming at him, at the top of her lungs.
“Fuck me, damn it! Just fuck me! Do you hear me? I can’t take it anymore! Do it! I need you in my cunt—now!”
Everything in the room went quiet. Oh God.
She’d just done it. Fucked up. Broken the rules.
She’d just lost the game.
Chapter Seven
“You want to be fucked?” he yelled behind her. “You want to be fucked?”
There seemed nothing to do but answer him. She spun to look over her shoulder. “Yes, damn it! I want to be fucked! You’re driving me out of my fucking mind and I can’t do this anymore. So fuck me, Tristan!”
Fire blazed in his eyes—his anger was impossible to miss. She’d outraged him completely. But it was too late to take it back now.
“You want to be fucked—I’ll fuck your goddamn brains out,” he muttered, then ripped off the condom he’d been using while in her ass, planted his hands on her hips and rammed his cock deep into her pussy, all the way.
She cried out—again, more pleasure-pain. But mostly pleasure. Deep, abiding, physical pleasure. She was filled. Finally. With him. For that moment, it washed away all her fears.
Oh God, she’d forgotten. How truly enormous he felt inside her. It had been awhile since she’d been with a man his size and it was…consuming. As he began to move in her—hard, angry strokes, each one driving to the hilt—the overwhelming sensations echoed through her whole body. Her arms and legs tingled, pulsed, she felt her heartbeat in the very muscles of her face. She cried out at each plunge—his wild thrusts literally drove the crazed noises from her—and she met each with enthusiastic vigor.
And maybe some anger of her own. He’d blackmailed her and now he’d practically tortured her. She’d started enjoying the slave thing, but he’d asked too much of her, gone too far. Now she was done. And pissed. And if she was going to lose her company over this, she was going to get a damn good orgasm out of it.
She kept meeting thrust after rough thrust, but she also managed to reach one hand up between her legs to stroke her clit. Ah yes, finally!
But Tristan knocked her hand away!
At her indignant roar, he said, “I’ll do it, damn it!” Then he reached around her waist and sank his large fingers directly into the upper folds of her cunt.
“Oh! Oh God, yes!” It felt so good—the hot pleasure spiraling instantly through her body, more satisfying—leading someplace—than anything she’d felt in the last hour.
Tristan continued to drive into her moisture just as hard even as he swirled two fingertips expertly over the deprived, swollen nub that so badly needed attention. She yowled her delight—not by choice but pure reaction—as the pleasure buffeted her, filling her entire body. A mere few seconds after it started, she felt it rising, spreading so rapidly through her that she knew it wouldn’t take long. And then he was pinching at her clit, pulling on it. And she sensed the hot nub being caught between his first two fingers and twisted, drawn outward, making her crazed, until—Jesus God, the climax rushed through her like a freight train.
“Ahhhhh! Ahhhhh!” She screamed out as every pore in her body contracted with intense, pulsing pleasure, a “bodyquake” whose epicenter was her pussy. She writhed rhythmically, meeting his fingers in front, his cock in back, as pure, unsullied physical joy assaulted her. “Oh…oh yes…oh fuck,” she whispered as the shock waves eased but still left small “aftershocks” to course through her limbs.
And then she collapsed on the bed, breathing heavy, coming down to rest in the cradle of sweet, blessed relief.
“I hope you don’t think we’re done here,” Tristan snapped behind her, and she was just starting to catch her breath as he used one strong hand, placed at her bare hip, to roll her over onto her back.
She lay peering up at his masculine beauty, still a bit dazed, recovering from one of the wildest orgasms she’d ever known. “What?”
“You wanted to fuck, honey—well, we’re going to fuck!”
Even now, that fast, her pussy flinched at the promise. She no longer wanted to be his submissive slave, but she liked the idea that they were going to fight now, going to struggle—since she’d been wanting to fight with him since he’d first come into her office. “Then fuck me,” she said, lying back on the bed in front of him with her legs spread wide.
His gaze dropped hotly to her cunt right before he plunged his cock back in. They both grunted from the grand intrusion and Adrianna simply lay there taking it in, meeting his hot strokes and enjoying every second of it. “Harder! Deeper!” she demanded. And oh God, that felt good, to just be able to tell him what she wanted.
He complied—she wasn’t sure she’d ever been fucked quite so hard as he was fucking her now. She curled her fingers into the bedcovers on either side of her to try to find some purchase, some leverage against the drives of that big cock that felt as if it reached to impossible lengths inside her. She cried out at each thrust and so did he. She became aware that they were both sweating, panting, lost in the sex, lost in that strange struggle for power they’d always seemed to share. He gripped her ass tight as he maintained the hot, hard rhythm.
Finally, she tired of him being on top and decided it was damn well her turn. So she gathered her remaining strength, then grabbed onto his forearms and turned him over in the bed. Only there wasn’t enough bed for that and the move knocked him to the floor—and he dragged her down with him. She landed half on his lap; he lay sprawled across the carpet. “Shit,” he muttered, but she didn’t apologize because she wasn’t sorry.
He managed to sit up, propping his back against the window wall next to the bed. Behind him, all of Las Vegas twinkled and shimmered in the crisp, clear black of night. Adrianna sat up, moving to straddle him even as he reached for her. His cock stood majestic and gleaming between them and she wanted it just as much as she ever had.
His hands found her ass again. She poised herself atop the column of steel. He pushed her down just as she chose to impale herself on it. Again, they both groaned at the marvelous impact. “Oh God,” she rasped. “So big.”
“Ride it,” he said, brea
thless. “Ride me hard.”
One more command from Tristan that she followed, enthusiastically.
Oh Lord, he felt extra big inside her in this position, but she loved it—despite the enormity of his shaft, she didn’t think she could ever get enough of it. She moved up and down, putting all her weight on it, relishing the insane feeling that he must be stretching her cunt to an impossible size.
She muttered, “Oh God,” and “Oh baby,” and “Oh fuck, that’s good.”
He talked dirty, telling her how warm and wet she was, how nasty hot, what a dirty little cunt she had.
They moved together, sometimes in unison, sometimes in more of that struggling fashion, as if they battled each other somehow.
“I want the vibrator—where’s the vibrator?” she asked at some point.
They both looked around and saw that it had fallen, along with half the covers, when she’d knocked them off the bed. She reached for it, turned it on, eased the tip down over her clit and sighed with hot delight.
But Tristan snatched it out of her hand. “No,” he said sharply. “You might have started this, but I’m fucking finishing it!”
And with that, he reached around behind her to find her anal opening and slowly began to insert the buzzing toy. She sucked in her breath, went still. Um. Oh God. With his huge cock already in her cunt, the sensation was unbelievable. But she didn’t fight him, not this time. Her thoughts were drawn back to something she’d said earlier—Whatever you want, I want.
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