“Fuck you.”
The two words were as cold and sharp as shards of ice. Dane chuckled as he pushed down the cups of her bra and exposed her dark chocolate nipples. He circled Lexie’s areolas with his fingers, watched her suck in a breath as her flesh puckered beneath his touch. Dane flicked the hardening tips, then pinched them, making Lexie gasp. “What was your mission, Lexie?” He increased the pressure on her nipples as he pulled on them.
Dane could see Lexie’s jaw tighten. She was uncomfortable, but he wasn’t causing her any real pain, not the kind of pain he knew she anticipated, no matter how calm she managed to appear.
“Go to hell.”
Dane released his hold on her and Lexie groaned. He put one hand on the table and leaned in close. “You first.” Dane moved his head down, taking Lexie’s breast into his mouth. She shrieked when he toyed with her nipple between his teeth. He nipped it and she again pulled against the binds holding her in place. Dane teased her other breast with his fingers while suckling, licking and kissing the one beneath his lips. He lifted his head when Lexie’s frightened gasps turned into almost inaudible whimpers of pleasure. “What was your mission, Lexie?”
“I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you.” Lexie shuddered as Dane chuckled.
She really was something else.
He rubbed his palm over both of her swollen nipples, then moved toward the head of the table to stand between her legs. “I admire your fortitude.” Dane glanced at his watch. “I’m afraid we need to hurry things along here.” He reached into his suit jacket, pulled out his trusted Swiss Army knife and showed it to Lexie. “You know how this works. Make things easier on yourself. Tell me what I want to know.”
Lexie snorted. “I do know how this works. We both know the game. We’re both players. You can try to break me.” She smiled at him. “Maybe I’ll say something useful, maybe not, but we both know I’m bound to lie.”
“Possibly.” Dane pushed his knife between the fabric of her skirt and her thigh. He turned the blade outward and cut a deep slit, revealing more of her leg. “But you’re underestimating just how good I am at my job.”
“Likewise.” Lexie briefly closed her eyes as he cut the other side of her skirt. “Nothing I say or don’t say will change what you plan to do to me.”
“You know?” Dane pushed her hem up and bared her panties. “That’s where you’re wrong.” He traced an embroidered flower on the front panel of her lingerie and Lexie tensed. “These are pretty. Pretty and wet. Interesting.”
That got a reaction. Dane felt a tremor flow through Lexie’s body as she averted her face from him. He slipped his blade beneath the minuscule scrap of lace on each side of her hip, sliced and then tugged, revealing her shaved pussy as he pulled the damp panties free.
Dane squeezed her wet lips, dipped his finger between them and caressed her clit. Lexie’s sharp intake of breath made his cock hard. He removed his hand, came to her side again, brought her ruined panties up to her face and pressed them against her nose. “Do you like being taken roughly, Lexie?” Dane didn’t expect a response and he didn’t get one, except for the goose bumps rising beneath his questing fingers on her inner thigh. “Do you look forward to those rare moments when you take a lover, relinquish control and let him fuck you? Look at me.”
When she turned her head to meet his gaze, the brief glimpse of pain Dane saw in her eyes almost made him feel guilty. “You’re a bastard.” She trembled when he dropped the panties by her cheek and moved back between her bound legs.
That he was.
A bastard with a job to finish.
Lexie gritted her teeth as Dane spread her thighs wider, opening her to his view. She fought to remain still as he went back to playing in her betraying wetness, lubricating his fingers in her juices. Trying to move was pointless. Lexie had never felt so helpless. She clearly was in the last moments of her life and she couldn’t accept it, couldn’t fathom this was truly happening to her.
Dane swirled his finger over her clit, stirring up a helpless hunger. The reality was this was happening and she was enjoying it.
Lexie shifted her face from Dane’s, tears burning her eyes. She wasn’t going to cry; no way would she let him see her come undone.
Lexie yelped when Dane swatted her inner thigh.
“Keep your eyes on me.”
Exhaling, she turned her head and met his gaze over her still embarrassingly hard nipples as he pushed his two middle fingers into her. The shock of him filling her, and facing how wet she truly was, drew another gasp from Lexie. She watched him place his other hand on top of her pussy. Lexie parted her lips to speak, then closed them. What could she say to stall him?
All thoughts fled her mind when he began rigorously finger-fucking her. The angle of his fingers coupled with the pressure of his hand on top of her pelvic bone was so intense, it consumed her senses. Lexie involuntarily closed her eyes as she moaned, arching her back off the table. Her chest heaved as she struggled not to whimper in ecstasy. He overwhelmed her within seconds, flooding her body with undeniable pleasure that kept building, twisting, arcing into…into…
Dear god, she would not give this man her orgasm.
Lexie screamed as she came, every part of her vibrating on a frequency her body had never hummed to before. She quivered with each delightful aftershock and groaned when Dane removed his fingers. Lexie became aware of her ragged breathing. She kept her eyes closed and the tears she’d held back earlier threatened to defy her as Dane caressed her cheek.
“What was your mission, Lexie? Tell me now. Or do I have to make you come a few more times?”
Lexie’s heart twisted as she forced herself to look up into Dane’s handsome face. She could’ve taken pain, but more treacherous climaxes bestowed by her assassin? “Please, please just kill me.” Lexie trembled as a tear slid down her cheek.
Silence stretched between them before Dane cursed, his hard gaze softening. “I’m not going to kill you.” He smoothed her hair. “You’re one of the best operatives we have.”
“I’m not going to talk.” Lexie tuned out Dane’s voice as she made peace with her fate. She’d done the best job she could. “I won’t talk. Take that knife and—” Lexie froze as Dane took hold of her chin.
“Lexie, I’m going to need you to focus now.”
Lexie blinked as Dane reached over her. She frowned when he fixed her bra and buttoned up her blouse.
“I was planted here to test you. It happens to all of us at least once.” Dane pulled her split skirt down. “I could’ve used other methods, but I didn’t think those would be as effective.” He moved out of her line of sight. Lexie felt him undoing the rope around her ankles. Moments later her legs were free. “I will confirm in my report what the company already knows. You’re an exemplary, loyal asset.”
“I don’t believe this,” Lexie said as he untied her hands. She sat up and rubbed her wrists.
“It’s the truth.” Dane put all the rope he’d gathered back into her bag.
Stunned, Lexie watched him pocket her panties as he approached her. Her pulse quickened when she saw evidence of his impressive hard-on.
“Are you all right?”
Lexie stood, glaring up at Dane as he grinned. “I’m fine.”
“Good.” Dane buttoned his suit jacket. “Because our mark will be here any second.”
“Right, Mr. Leland.” Lexie grabbed her hair clip from the table. “Wait. Our mark?” She pulled her mussed hair back as she looked over Dane’s shoulder through the glass facing the hallway.
“I thought if we worked together, got done faster…we could—”
Lexie pressed her finger to Dane’s lips. “Our mark is here.”
TIED AND TWISTED
Jodie Griffin
Tied up, twisted, teased and tormented.
As I watched Mason work, I kept hearing those words in my head. My Master’s words, ones he’d whispered in my ear countless times over the past couple of weeks until I cou
ldn’t think of anything but him and what he had planned for me. Fucking with my mind while he tortured my body was one of his favorite games.
A few weeks ago, he’d pulled me close, a sexy glint in his eye. As a car pulled into our driveway, he told me he’d planned an adults-only weekend away for us. While footsteps echoed up the flagstone walk, he told me it was, specifically, a weekend of bondage. As the doorbell rang, he whispered his sadistic plans in my ear. I greeted our guests with a red face, hard nipples and soaking wet panties.
The last two weeks had been one elaborate, drawn-out mind-fuck of a scene that included a week—an entire damn week—of orgasm denial. For me, not for him, and by the time this weekend rolled around I was ready to kill someone.
We’d arrived late yesterday. Kink Kamp ran from Friday night through Sunday at a gated, private campground—one that happened to be the same place where our son went for scout camp during the summer, which was hysterical, but I was trying not to think about that.
Not that you’d ever know it was the same place, looking around the wooded area now. I was on my knees after having been stripped naked by my Master, waiting silently on a quilt at his feet. Around us, there were other blankets, other people in various states of dress and undress, and more rope. Lots and lots of rope, in every color of the rainbow.
There were portable Saint Andrew’s crosses, spanking benches, even a metal jungle gym-type setup with hanging hard-points. And there were huge trees with super-thick branches, strong enough to hold a suspended person.
Mason had just finished securing a suspension ring to one of the really heavy branches, and we were waiting for a camp monitor to come inspect it. Part of the rules of the weekend included safety inspections before any suspensions, but I trusted Mason with my life and I knew it was safe even without one. Right now, he was hanging from it himself, and if it could hold him, it would hold me.
I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. His T-shirt was snug against his chest, the muscles of his arms standing out sharply. His jeans rode low on his hips, and he had a day’s worth of beard on his face. He looked dark and dangerous and sexy as hell. I was used to seeing him in suit and tie, which really worked for me, but I loved this side of him too.
“You ready, Addie-mine?”
“Yes, Master. Please.” I couldn’t keep the begging tone out of my voice. I was ready. Just past noon on Saturday and Mason still hadn’t let me come. He’d fucked my mouth last night out under the stars, come down my throat and aroused me until I’d wanted to cry. Had cried, utter frustration winding me tighter and tighter. Then he’d whispered those damned words in my ear again—tied up, twisted, teased and tormented—stroking me until my body settled as much as it was going to, and held me close all night while we slept.
This afternoon, the noises around us in the scene areas were intoxicating. We rarely played anywhere but at home, and I’d almost forgotten how other people’s play could drive my own arousal up. The sounds of slapping hands and toys against flesh. Moans. Grunts. Fucking. It all spiked my need higher, and I was ready for whatever Mason had in mind. More than ready.
Desperate.
He dropped from the ring, gave it one more yank and let it go, turning his attention fully back to me.
Seared by his hot gaze, I had to bite back a needy sound. Mason just grinned, the sadist.
I loved him for that.
His toy bag was beside me, and he reached in and drew out several long, carefully coiled lengths of rope, laying them on one of those camp chairs beside me. He hooked his finger into the O-ring on my play collar, and drew me to my feet.
I shivered. I’m a rope slut. I love the way it makes me feel confined but safe, trapped but free. My brain works at top speed all the time, the hamster on the wheel constantly running. Eighty million things all at once, every fear I’ve ever had about our son and our jobs and our life and our marriage, all tied up and twisted together. Mason knows that about me, so maybe he’d chosen those specific words for a reason. Tied up, twisted, teased and tormented.
Mason also knows something incredible happens when he binds me with rope. I go elsewhere in my mind, somewhere calm and quiet, the running hamster sound asleep for that all-too-brief period of time. The first time it happened was a revelation. The second time, I was shocked. The third time, I sobbed, scaring the hell out of my husband.
Ropespace. I love it, and Mason knows it.
“Here we go, love. Lift your arms.” Mason’s low words were murmured. There’s not much talking when he’s working his magic. He lets me zone out, his touches sure but gentle, his hands directing me where he needs me to go. He began wrapping rope around my body in a harness—my shoulders, my chest, my waist, my hips—and I swayed along with his movements, my eyes closed.
“Fucking beautiful.” His words came from behind me and landed in my ear. I smiled, in my happy place. Then he pinched my nipple and bit my neck and I shivered, leaning back against him. His hands continued to touch me, adjusting rope, teasing skin.
I heard him say thank you—to the safety monitor, I guessed—and then he maneuvered me a few steps forward. I still had my eyes closed, but I felt him attach my harness to the suspension ring, then a bunch of tugging as he shifted me horizontal, my feet coming off the ground. He pulled harder and lifted me higher, then tied the ropes off.
I was faceup, floating on air. I let my head drop back and my arms fly to my sides, my bones and muscles shifting to settle within their rope bonds. I gasped as part of the harness, ropes that ran between my legs, came to rest in the crack of my ass. The knot Mason had tied in them was at exactly the right spot to press against the fat plug he’d teased and tortured into my ass this morning.
It felt so damn good to be outside, naked, swinging from a tree in a very adult, very kinky twist on a favorite pastime. September was the perfect time for this. It wasn’t too hot out, and most of the mosquitoes were gone. The sun was warm on my body, as a light breeze ruffled the leaves on the trees.
Mason bent my leg and wrapped rope around my thigh and calf, binding them together. Apparently I wasn’t going to be allowed to simply fly free today. My muscles screamed for a moment, but when he finished the tie, they relaxed. He moved to the other leg, doing the same. This time, though, he tied it off to the ring, so one bent leg was up, while the other was hanging down, not suspended by anything but gravity. Air blew against my core, making me shiver, and then I realized it was Mason, not a warm late-summer breeze. He licked me until I thought I’d lose my mind, twisted the butt plug and then, when I groaned, bit the inside of my thigh.
His hands coasted over my skin, between my legs, inside my body, touching me as though he had every right to—and he did. I’d given him that right the day I’d accepted his collar, and again when we’d said our wedding vows. I loved it, more than I’d ever be able to describe to anyone. Mere words couldn’t measure what being dominated by my Master did for me.
The bite of the rope and the scratch of his skin melded into one long stream of sensation, but he still wasn’t done. Again he worked silently, allowing me time to bask in the quiet in my head. He cuffed my wrists together behind me with more rope, then tied them to the leg that was hanging free.
I heard murmurs around me but they were just white noise. I was focused on the touch of Mason’s hands. I let out a gasp when his mouth sucked hard at my nipple. He clamped one and I groaned. He laughed and did the other, then tied them off to the suspension ring, tugging at the clamps, causing a delicious ache between my thighs. I made some noises but couldn’t form any words to beg him to stop—or do it harder.
I’m not sure how long Mason let me drift there, but it was long enough for my mind to empty of clutter. It was a gift of time from my Master, the one man who knew every chaotic inch of my heart, body, mind and soul.
I felt free and safe and loved.
Soon other things began to filter in, though I was still floating in ropespace. Mason’s hands supporting my head, his thumbs brushing my cheeks.
“Open, baby,” he murmured in his deep, deep voice. I did, and he pushed his cock inside, gliding against my tongue. I licked him and sucked, but a flick of the rope attached to the nipple clamp had me moaning.
He bent over me, whispering in my ear in a singsong way. “Mason’s got Addie strung up from a tree, they’re f-u-c-k-i-n-g.” On each letter, he took the opportunity to withdraw and plunge deep, pushing into my throat. I was at exactly the right angle to ease his way, and each time he pressed into me it jiggled the nipple clamps, making me gasp around his erection.
Need unfurled inside me, drawing me out of ropespace and back into the moment. I peeled my eyes open, blinking at the bright sun beaming through the leaves of the tree above me. “Please, Master! I need to come. Oh, please.”
“Not quite yet, my sweet little slut.” He kissed me, then nipped my chin. “I asked Master Silas to join us for this part, and you’re going to let him hold you if you need it. Got it?”
“Yes, Master.” Silas was Mason’s mentor and he’d assisted in scenes before when Mason needed another set of hands for my safety. I trusted him and, more importantly, Mason trusted him with me. I belong to my Master, and no one fucks me but him. Silas would never cross that line, but that didn’t mean Mason didn’t like seeing and I didn’t enjoy having another man’s hands on me.
Mason let go of my head and it dropped back again. My vision upside down, I saw Master Silas step forward until my eyes were nearly even with his groin. He bent over and looked in my eyes. “Hey there, sweetness.” He grinned and flicked the rope attached to my nipple clamps. I groaned. “A little worked up, are we?”
Another damn sadist. “Yes, Sir.”
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