Own Me

by Penny Wylder

  I’m still focused on the climax, still half-lost in pleasure, when I feel Gio part my ass cheeks. Something thick and cool touches my anus.

  Oh god.

  He’s finally going to fuck me. But not in the way I expected. My body tenses, and I look over my shoulder, eyes wide.

  “Gio…”

  He pauses to look down at me. His cock stands at attention between us, rock hard and wrapped in a condom, glistening with lube which explains the cool feeling. “You know the word if you want me to stop, Corbella,” he says. All the while, he continues to rub his cock against my ass, up and down my slit, between my cheeks, coating me with the lube he’s wearing.

  I swallow hard, debating. The vibrating egg inside my pussy doesn’t help me make clear-headed decisions. “I’ve never… done this, before. Sir,” I add, remembering at the last second.

  He leans over me and I tense in anticipation of another spanking. Instead he just brushes my hair off my shoulder and kisses the spot between my shoulder blades gently. Kisses his way up my spine, around the side of my neck, to nuzzle his nose into the crook between my jaw and my neck. “We don’t have to do this,” he says.

  But his voice is hot against my skin, and I can feel his whole body pressed against my back at this angle. And the egg is still pushing against my G-spot, already making me start to tremble toward a second orgasm.

  So I turn my head and kiss him, full on the lips. “Fuck me, sir,” I whisper into his mouth.

  He doesn’t need any more invitation than that.

  He slides his cock into my ass, an inch at a time, slowly, making me feel every second of the penetration. I groan with the feeling, painful and pleasurable all at once. With the egg in my pussy, I feel fuller than ever, stretched to my breaking point. And yet, he’s still going, still sliding into me, every inch as thick as I imagined.

  Finally, his hips connect with mine, his cock fully inside my ass. My hands have curled around the leather cuffs in fists again, as I struggle to make my body relax. It’s hard to do when the egg is driving me wild, and his cock starts to slide out of me again, still slow. But finally, I’m able to spread my legs wider and sink into the stack of pillows he slid under my hips. I am his to use however he wants; all I can do is relax and trust that he’ll make me feel good too, when he takes his pleasure from me.

  He finds a rhythm, rocking his hips against mine, his cock sliding in and out of my ass at a steady pace, a little faster each time he enters me. Finally, he’s fucking me hard enough that his balls slap my sensitive pussy lips with every thrust. My pussy tightens in response, around the hard vibrating egg. He reaches down between us, and there must be a remote control or something, because suddenly the egg starts to vibrate at a higher speed. Right against my G-spot, while he continues to fuck me from behind.

  I can’t contain it any more.

  “May I come, sir?” I call out, my voice strangled with effort.

  He tightens his grip on my hips. “Yes, slut. Come for me. Come with my cock in your ass.” With that, he thrusts once more, harder than ever, and it’s enough to push me over the edge.

  I cry out with the force of the orgasm that shatters through me. Dimly, through the haze of pleasure, I’m aware that he’s still going, still fucking me, my tight ass clenching hard around his thick cock. I’m still lost in the haze of my climax when he starts to speed up, groaning through his clenched teeth, nearing his own peak.

  I tilt my head to look over my shoulder at him, watching the expression that floods his face as he comes. It’s at that moment when he looks most vulnerable, his eyes half-closed yet locked on mine, his mouth parted, a guttural groan escaping his body as he comes deep in my ass.

  In response, I clench my ass as hard as I can, my cheeks coming together around him. He thrusts once more, twice, then collapses across me, breathing hard, his cock still twitching inside me.

  “Fucking hell, Corbella,” he pants against my ear.

  I grin and turn to kiss him, deeply. Our tongues entwine, and for a moment I forget that I’m tied up beneath him, that the toy he stuffed inside my pussy is still vibrating away. All I can think of, for a moment, are his lips on mine, the fact that I just brought pleasure to the man who gave me so much pleasure of my own.

  Then he slides out of me, tugs the egg gently out of my pussy at the same time, and I come crashing back down to reality. Tied to a bed, bruises around my wrists and peppering my ass cheeks.

  What just happened?

  And more importantly, would sex with Gio always be this… intense?

  When he asked me to be his, exclusively, and to pay me even more than my usual rate, it sounded too good to be true. I wondered what the catch was.

  Now I’m wondering if I just found it.

  Not that I didn’t enjoy that. I did–I really did. But would regular sex be enough for a man like Giovanni? Or would every night with him be like this, full of pain and pleasure in equal measure, a marathon of a kink-fest? And am I okay with that?

  I’m kinkier than I thought I was, I’m starting to realize. I definitely like the power-play in bed, and being tied up. Even the spanking was hot, though I could use a little less of it next time–I’m not looking forward to trying to sit down tomorrow. I just don’t think I could do this all of the time. I’d need normal sex sometimes too. Some kind of emotional connection…

  I shake my head.

  What am I thinking? I don’t need an emotional connection to my client. And if he gets off on beating me up every time we fuck, then, well… That’s pretty much what I signed up for.

  As I’m thinking all this, Giovanni is busy undoing my restraints. They fall to the sheets, and I pull my hands free, rubbing my wrists. He notices, and cups his hands around mine, massaging my bruised wrists. He uses his grip on them to tug me against him, cradling me against his chest in the bed. His lips brush the top of my head lightly.

  But my head is still spinning with confusion. I’m still trying to work out how I feel about this–all of it. So, gently, I untangle my hands from his and touch his cheek softly.

  “I’ve got to run, Gio,” I murmur. Then I stand up and head for the bathroom to find my clothes. When I emerge again, fully dressed and balancing in my sky-high heels, he’s watching me from the bed with something almost sad in his eyes.

  “Thank you for coming, Corbella. I hope you enjoyed yourself as much as I did.”

  I cross the room to straddle him over the bed. Then I lean down and kiss him right on the lips, soft and slow. When we part again, we’re both smiling. “I definitely did,” I promise him. Because it’s true. For tonight, at least, I loved the experience.

  “I can see you again in two days,” he replies. “I’ll pay you $5,000 per day in the meantime. To wait for me.”

  His eyes, when they catch mine, are still soft and sad. It makes my chest ache to see him like that. I want to lie back down with him now, kiss the sadness from his eyes. Hold him against me until he’s smiling. But that would cross the boundaries. That would be taking this too far. So instead, I kiss him one last time and head for the door.

  “I’ll see you then,” I agree over my shoulder. Then I step out of his bedroom. Make my own way down the stairs to the front door, along the steps. All the while, I can’t get one burning question out of my mind. I need the money, and I want Gio. But tonight, he was only just getting started. I can’t even imagine what else he has in store for me next. So, with that in mind, I need to know…

  Can my heart handle the distance between us?

  4

  “How are you doing, sweetie?”

  How am I doing, Mom? Well, I’m currently standing in the back storage room of my crappy coffee shop job, unable to sit down because of the enormous bruises on my ass from my second job fucking a rich man for money the other night. And all of this money I’m struggling to earn needs to go straight to your good-for-nothing asshole of a new husband.

  But I can’t tell her all of that. Of course not. None of this is her fau
lt. Well, aside from her having terrible taste in men. But she didn’t know what my stepfather was really like–even I didn’t realize how truly evil a person he was, and I already disliked him.

  So I suck in a deep breath, force a smile, and hope I sound convincing when I reply, “Great!”

  “You sure? You sound a bit tired…”

  Damn her and her Mom-senses. I rub my temples. “It’s just been a bit hectic at the shop the last couple of days. Late nights restocking, and all that.”

  “Hmm.” I can hear the disapproval in her voice. She thinks I have this job by choice. That I quit my job with her husband just because I “needed a change of scenery.” And she’s made it more than crystal clear how little she thinks of me working in a coffee shop after having a pretty decent, high-responsibility office job. “Well, I hope they’re paying you overtime for that evening work,” she says finally, in the most conciliatory voice she can manage.

  You have no idea, I think. “Of course,” I say aloud. Then I clear my throat. Shift topics to the real reason I called. “How are you doing, by the way? Everything okay?”

  “Oh, you know, the usual. Steve has been working late the last week too,” she adds, and I’m glad this isn’t a FaceTime call, so she can’t see me flinch when she mentions his name. “Other than that, nothing new. Betsy across the street planted a new row of hydrangeas last week. She asked me to help her with that. It was nice to get into the earth. Although, heaven help me, her soil is a mess…”

  I zone out for a moment as Mom goes into garden-nerd mode. She’s always been big into landscaping, a hobby I never quite understood. But hey, it keeps her happy, so good for her. When she trails off into another story, though, I clear my throat again. “But, you’re feeling well?” I ask, unable to help myself.

  I’m not sure what I think he’d actually do. Slap her? Poison her food? It’s crazy, and yet, after everything that’s happened in the last month, it’s not at all out of the question. I grip the phone tightly as I wait for her response.

  Mom only laughs, though. “Of course I am. What’s wrong, Corbella? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  Mom-senses see all. Dammit. I rest my forehead against the wall of the storage room and close my eyes. Try to picture her standing here beside me, instead of on the other side of the phone. I could go and visit her, of course, but it would be difficult to arrange without having to see him too. And the next time I see him, I know I need to have a payment strategy sorted out. So I just shake my head against the wall, feeling it press against my scalp. “Nothing, Mom. I’m just tired, sorry. Thought maybe there’s been a flu going around town or something.”

  “Hmm.” There’s that disapproval again. “I haven’t heard about anything. Has Diana been sick too?” Her voice brightens a little here. She’s always loved Diana.

  I heave a sigh. I need to cut this off, before she probes any farther. I’ve gotten as much detail as I’m likely to get out of Mom over the phone now. All I can do is stick to the plan. Keep working, keep paying off this debt. “She’s fine. But speaking of, I can hear her calling for me. Gotta go help out front.”

  “Okay sweetie. Take care of yourself. If you feel sick, just let me know. It’s probably just a cold, but if it gets worse…”

  “I’ll be fine, Mom. Promise.” I swallow hard against a sudden lump in my throat. Fight back a rush of tears. “You too, though. If you feel off or anything… Let me know.”

  I know she’s confused. I’m being about as transparent as cellophane–she must know I’m worried. But she lets me off the hook this time. “Will do, sweetie. Have a good day at work.”

  “Thanks, Mom. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  Her voice echoes in my ears long after I hang up the phone. Love you too. I have to hold onto that. The reason that I’m going through all of this. Jumping through these crazy hoops.

  I turn to leave the storage room, wiping my eyes on the back of my sleeves as I go. Then I stop dead in the doorway, because there’s an arm barring my passage, right across my chest.

  Diana steps around the side of the storage room, eyes narrowed.

  “Hey, Di,” I greet her, in a way-too-chipper voice. My eyes are still glistening with unshed tears, and I’m pretty sure my face is red and blotchy to boot.

  “What’s going on?” She doesn’t waste any time.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, with a far too large smile plastered to my face.

  “What are you doing back here? Who were you talking to?”

  “Oh, just Mom. I hadn’t caught up in a while, wanted to check in and see how she was doing.”

  But Diana isn’t listening to me. Her eyes have gone straight to my wrists. My wrists which, despite the couple of days that have passed since my session with Gio, and the thick bracelets I’m wearing over them, still show evidence of our night. Before I can react, she grabs my wrist and pushes the bracelet up my arm, exposing my bruises fully. You can see the line where the leather dug in on each side, and bruises around those circles where I tugged against the restraints.

  My face flushes with heat. Great. I was trying to keep Gio and our rendezvous quiet, but Diana was already nosing around about my “secret boyfriend.” Now the secret is out.

  But to my surprise, Diana looks angry when she looks up at me again. “Who did this to you?”

  I blink, thrown off. It takes me a few seconds to understand. “What do you mean?”

  “These are really bad bruises, Cor.” Diana frowns, dropping that arm and grabbing my other wrist to compare them. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

  “What?” I can’t help it. I laugh. Then she scowls at me, and I immediately regret it. “No, Di. Nobody hurt me.”

  She lifts one disbelieving eyebrow. “Nobody made you do anything you didn’t want to do?”

  “Trust me, I definitely wanted to do it,” I assure her. Even though I blush even worse saying it.

  Because as intense as my last night with Gio was, I don’t feel hurt. Not at all. The bruises on my ass, my wrist, even some bite marks along the small of my back… Those don’t feel like injuries. They feel like mementoes. Keepsakes from a night full of fond—if dirty as hell—memories.

  Diana sighs and releases my wrists. “Okay. As long as you’re sure.”

  Only then–only when she doesn’t press me for details or immediately demand to know who my mystery hookup with the kinky rope-play was, do I look more closely at her. Notice the deep frown-lines across her forehead, and the tense way she’s pursing her lips.

  Something else is going on.

  “What’s wrong, Di? What happened?”

  She grimaces. Clearly it’s news she doesn’t want to deliver.

  “Please tell me,” I say, reaching up to catch her shoulders with both hands. I lean down to catch her eye, force her to meet my gaze.

  She lets out a heavy sigh. “There were some guys out front. Real bruiser types. They asked for Corbella.”

  My stomach clenches. It feels like my heart is sinking through the floorboards. And yet, somehow, I manage to stay on my feet.

  This can’t be him. Not yet. It’s hardly been a month–he knows I can’t pay yet.

  “What did they want?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “I told them to piss off. Said you don’t work here anymore. But they’re lingering. I saw them on the security cameras just now, when I checked to see if they left yet. They’re just standing around the service entrance, like they’re waiting for someone to come out.”

  I square my shoulders. Time to face the music. I can’t let those guys hang out here all day, in case they go after someone totally innocent instead of me. Someone like Diana, who I’m sure my stepdad already knows I’m living with.

  “I’ll talk to them,” I say, moving to step past her.

  Diana catches my arm, squeezes my bicep so tightly it hurts. “Not alone you won’t,” she counters.

  The last thing I want is for Diana to witness this
. Or, worse, get involved. But I recognize that fierce protective glare in her eye, and I know there’ll be no convincing her to wait calmly and quietly inside the store while I deal with these goons. So I bow my head to the inevitable and grab my purse from the shelf nearby.

  “All right. Together, then.”

  She’s still watching me like a hawk. Once this is all said and done, I know she’ll demand some kind of explanation. I’m just not sure what, if any, I can offer her at this point. The truth is almost too strange to sound believable, and yet, after everything Diana has been through with me, I am sure she’d stick by me.

  When it comes down to it, it’s really just about my pride. I trust Diana with my life–I’d trust her with the secret of what I’m dealing with too. But the part of me that still considers myself a good, upstanding girl, doesn’t want to admit to my best friend of years exactly how far I’ve fallen.

  Then again, what choice do I have.

  I step out the front of the store and immediately stop dead. Standing just one store front away are two enormous walls of muscle, guys who look like they'd be more at home manning the doors of nightclubs in the sketchy part of town than they do on this sunny, shop-lined street.

  But they aren't the ones giving me pause.

  It's the man behind them, staring at me– through me–with an expression that would turn any sane person's blood to ice. A man I used to respect and look up to, until I learned exactly how few morals he had. Exactly how little he cared about anyone beside himself. He'd throw his own wife under a bus if it earned him a fatter paycheck.

  I know that better than anyone now. Since I'm her daughter.

  "Corbella." His voice is deep, gravely. I used to find it comforting how strong he seemed. I used to trust that he'd always take care of my mother, no matter what life threw at her, because he was such a confident, charismatic guy.

  Appearances can be deceiving.

  "Anthony."

  Behind me, Diana rests her hand on my shoulder and squeezes gently. I'd almost forgotten she was with me, and much as I didn't want her to witness this, I can't deny that it's a comfort to know she's here now. That I'm not facing this storm alone.