by Lauren Rowe
“Come with me.” Josh pulls me to standing and drags me across the room to a harness-looking-rack-contraption. Wordlessly, he unlatches my soft cuffs, strips off all my clothes, and straps me into bindings, spreading my limbs out into a four-pointed star. Oh my God. I’m completely opened up in this position—his for the taking, any which way he pleases.
My body is jolting with excitement.
“Relax into the bindings,” Josh says, his voice full of smooth confidence. “They’ll hold your weight.”
I try to let myself relax, but I can’t seem to do it.
“Take a deep breath,” he commands, grazing his fingers across my belly. “And then let it out slowly.”
I do as I’m told and allow myself to melt into my bindings—and, I’ll be damned, just like he said, my limbs are being fully supported and held into place. I’m like a fly caught in a web. Immovable. Completely at his mercy. A little sound of arousal lurches out of my throat.
Josh peels off his clothes slowly, his blue eyes smoldering at me as he does, and stands in front of me, his erection straining, his muscles tense. “Your body is mine,” he says.
“Yes, sir.”
He looks me up and down for a moment, smiling wickedly. “Hmm. What shall I do to my slave first?”
I shudder.
He ambles over to a nearby rack and runs his hand along a selection of implements, finally selecting a long, feathered rod from the rack. When he returns to me, he’s smiling devilishly.
“I had to have you,” he says. “I couldn’t go another day.”
He lazily drifts the tickler over my breasts, belly, and hips, culling goose bumps out of every square inch it touches. I moan. He does it again. And then again. And then he leans into me and unexpectedly sucks on my hard nipple.
When I cry out with excitement, he reaches down and plunges his fingers inside me, making me jerk and jolt in my bindings.
“Dripping wet,” he says softly. “Such a good girl.”
At his words, as if right on cue, I feel a glob of wetness ooze out of my crotch like thick molasses and onto my thigh.
“Oh,” he says. He brings his fingers to his mouth. “Delicious.”
I let out a long, steady exhale.
Josh walks slowly around to my backside and begins tickling the backs of my thighs and ass with his feather.
I let out a little moan. I can’t stand this anymore. I’ve never wanted a man as much as I want Josh right now. I shift my hips, desperate to relieve the pressure building inside me, but it’s no use. I’m about to climax. I can feel it. I’m in pain with this ache.
The feather retreats.
A warm, wet tongue licks my ass, and just when I begin melting into the delicious pleasure, I feel a sharp pain on my ass cheek—the unmistakable sensation of being bitten.
I shriek and jerk in my bindings.
He chuckles.
“Jesus,” I mutter.
His tongue returns to my backside and begins exploring every inch of my ass as his fingers slide to my clit and wetness and begin working me with astonishing skill. Oh shit. I’ve never been touched like this before. Where’d he learn to do this? Oh my fuck. His tongue is lapping at me from behind while his fingers are owning me. I want to writhe, but I can’t. I want to shift to relieve myself of the pressure building inside me, but I’m completely immobile.
“Fuck!” I say through gritted teeth. “Fuck, fuck. Oh my God. Fuck.”
My body suddenly wracks with a twisting orgasm and I jerk against my bindings like a fish out of water.
Before my orgasm ends, I feel Josh rising up behind me. There’s the unmistakable sound of fluid splooging out of a bottle and then a finger sliding up my asshole. I shudder. Oh my effing God. He wraps his arms around me from behind, cleaves himself to my back, grabs ahold of my breasts with lubed palms, and slides his slick cock up my ass, eliciting a low groan from deep inside me.
“I own you,” he growls into my ear, his voice strained.
I’m incapable of replying. I’ve tried anal before, but not like this—not when I’m completely sober (and therefore feeling every goddamned inch). Not when I’m bound and trussed like a pig on a spit in a goddamned sex dungeon. Not when the dick in question is a freaking donkey-dick, not to mention attached to the sexiest fucking slab of man I’ve ever seen—who just so happened to abscond with me out of a bathroom while wearing a freaking ski mask.
I moan loudly.
“I’m gonna make you come so hard,” he says into my ear. “Harder than you ever have.”
I groan. This is too intense. I’m not sure I can handle this. I thought I could, but it might be too much, even for a dirty little freak like me.
“Beg me for more,” he whispers into my ear. “I’m not in all the way yet.”
There’s more? Holy fucking hell. This sure feels like all of him.
“Beg me,” he grits out.
“More. Please,” I choke out, even though I’m not sure I can handle it.
He gives me what I’ve asked for and I inhale sharply in shock—but before I can exhale my breath, something glides inside my vagina and begins vibrating from deep inside me. Oh my fuck. My breathing is shallow. I’m like a pug with heatstroke. Oh my God. There’s more. Something begins swiping at my clit like a tongue. Oh Jesus. He’s using some kind of rabbit vibe on me. Oh my fuckity fuck. I let out a strangled cry. I’ve never been filled up like this, stimulated in every conceivable way all at once. I feel like my body’s scattering in a thousand directions, all at once, exploding and melting at the same time. Too much. No more. Can’t handle. Gah.
Josh pumps his donkey-dick harder inside me while the vibe does its thing.
“Oh fuck,” he says, his voice ragged. “Fuck.”
Yeah. My thoughts exactly.
One of his hands gropes my breast and pinches my nipple so hard, I shriek, and just like that, my body spasms violently with pleasure so intense, I dry heave. Oh shit, I’ve never done that before. Oh God. I do it again. I’m losing complete control of my bodily functions. I feel like I’m gonna barf. Or pee. Or crap myself. Or all of the above. I’ve never felt this much intense pleasure all at once. My body can’t handle it. It’s going completely haywire. My insides are twisting violently. It’s like the pleasure is literally tying me into knots. I make a strangled, gagging sound, followed by a whimper. And then another shriek. But Josh doesn’t stop. In fact, he fucks me harder.
I jerk pathetically, trying to escape the clenching pleasure that’s brutalizing me, but my bindings hold me firmly in place.
“No more,” I yell. “I can’t do it. Stop.” I have never in the history of my life said these words during sex. But this extreme pleasure—or is it pain?—is just too much for me to endure. I can’t function. I can’t survive it. “Stop,” I say. “Stop.”
But Josh doesn’t stop. In fact, his thrusts are becoming even deeper, if that were possible, and even more passionate.
He bites my shoulder so hard, I’m sure he’s broken the skin.
I shriek again and convulse like he’s electrocuted me.
“You’re mine,” he breathes.
Warm liquid suddenly (and shockingly) gushes out of me in a torrent. I convulse again and again, enraptured and tormented in equal measure, crying out for relief but getting none. I dry heave again. And then finally, mercifully, my body goes completely slack. I hang my head and a drop of sweat—or is that a tear?—falls down the tip of my nose and to the ground. Holy crap.
Josh quickly unties my wrists and I crumple into his arms, shaking and twitching.
His lips press against my ear. “Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head.
“Did it feel good?”
I nod.
He picks me up and carries me into a small bathroom with red walls and gold fixtures. He sets me down gently. “Can you hold onto the counter for a second?” he asks.
I nod.
He turns on the water in the shower and then guides me under the warm
stream.
“You’re sure I didn’t hurt you?” he asks. “I think I got carried away.”
I shake my head.
“You told me to stop, but you didn’t use the safe word.”
“I didn’t want you to stop. I’m glad you didn’t stop. Only stop if I use the safe word.”
He kisses my mouth and pulls me into him gently, letting the warm water rain down on us. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“It was amazing.”
He washes me from head to toe, and when he’s done, guides me out of the shower and dries me off. “Stay here,” he commands. “I have something for you.”
I nod and wait. I’m shaking like I’ve just run a marathon.
He’s gone quite a while, it seems, and when he returns, he’s fully dressed and holding up a white satin nightie. “Lift up your arms,” he commands.
I do as I’m told and he slips the nightie over my head and onto my body. I’m confused as to why he’s dressing me rather than keeping me naked, but I’m too fried to give it much thought.
“Come.” He grabs my hand and pulls me out of the bathroom and back into the dungeon. Everything’s been cleaned—there’s no sign of my messy orgasm and absolutely nothing out of place. He guides me to a bed in the corner, lays me onto my back, and wordlessly secures bindings around my wrists and ankles.
“You don’t have to tie me up anymore,” I say, pulling against my bindings. “I won’t try to escape.”
“No. I can’t risk losing you,” he says simply.
A wave of glee washes over me. I know he’s simply following my script, but those words make my skin buzz, nonetheless.
“I’m not tricking you,” I coo. “I didn’t run when you left me alone in the bathroom, did I? You can trust me.”
He pauses, mulling that over. “No,” he finally says. “I can’t risk it. You’re a unicorn.” He shoots me a snarky look, obviously proud of himself for deftly inserting that little gem into our scene. “I can’t risk it.”
“Please.”
He sets his jaw. “No. Now that I know what it’s like to have you, I don’t think I can live without you.”
My heart stops. Was that in the script? Or did Josh say that in real life?
“What’s your name?” I ask.
He makes a face like I’ve just asked him to spell antideluvian. “Um,” he says, apparently pondering the question. “Joshua Faraday,” he finally says.
That’s not at all what I expected him to say. I thought he’d come up with some exotic sex-slave-master name like Magnusson Carmichael III. For my part, I’ve certainly planned a sexy name and backstory—I’m an heiress named Chantel Giodissimo—but, jeez, if Josh is going to be himself for our role-plays, then I should do the same. And, in fact, now that I’m thinking about it, it’s probably better if we just “be ourselves,” just like the song says.
“Hi, Joshua,” I say softly. “I’m Katherine Morgan. It’s nice to meet you. I sure wish we’d met under different circumstances than you breaking into my house and absconding with me.”
Josh smirks. “Absconding with you?”
I grin. “Yeah. Absconding. And you gave me a freaking heart attack when you did it, by the way. Oh my God.”
He flashes an adorable grin. “I’m sorry, Katherine. I didn’t mean to scare you when I absconded with you. It’s just that when I saw you walking down the sidewalk the other day, I had to have you.” He glances at the clock and I follow his gaze. It’s a few minutes to ten. He trains his beautiful blue eyes back on me. “Please forgive me if I scared you.”
“I forgive you. You’ve given me intense pleasure, Joshua—pleasure I couldn’t have imagined.”
His beautiful eyes are smoldering at me.
“Will you untie me, Joshua?” I ask softly.
He shakes his head. “I can’t. You’ll run away. And if I lose you, I’ll be wrecked.”
My heart lurches into my throat. He sounds so earnest. I can’t tell if that was Joshua Faraday the Sex-Slave-Master speaking—or Joshua William Faraday?
I open my mouth to tell him I’d be wrecked if I lost him, too, but before I can say a word, the door to the dungeon swings wide open and a slender figure wearing a ski mask bursts into the room.
I shriek in surprise and pull violently on my bindings.
“I’ve come to steal her away,” a woman’s voice says in a lackluster monotone. She holds up a plastic sword. “I saw her and I had to have her.”
I look at Josh with wide-eyed astonishment and he bursts out laughing.
The masked intruder lowers her sword and shifts her weight, her body language conveying total annoyance.
“From Justin to Kelly,” I say. “Who the heck is this poor woman, Josh?”
Josh wipes his eyes and motions to the masked figure. “Kat, this is Kaitlyn—she owns this place. Kaitlyn’s one of the top Dommes in Los Angeles.”
“The top,” Kaitlyn corrects. “If I do say so myself.”
“Sorry. The top. You can take off your mask, Kaitlyn. Oh my God. This is so fucking hilarious.”
Kaitlyn removes her mask to reveal a very attractive woman, with brown hair and dark, piercing eyes, in her early forties or so.
“Hi,” Kaitlyn says to me calmly. “I’m here to steal you away and make you my sex slave.”
I giggle. “Nice to meet you, Kaitlyn.” I jut my chin at my wrist restraint. “Sorry I can’t wave hello. So you’re here to fight to the death for me, huh?”
Josh is still laughing. “Oh my God, this is so ridiculous. I’m sorry, Kaitlyn, I should have listened to you.”
Kaitlyn rolls her eyes.
“I’m so sorry, babe. I didn’t think it would be this lame. I thought it would be fun and silly, but not lame.”
“It’s adorable. I love it. You thought of everything.”
“I was originally thinking about hiring a stuntman and choreographing a whole big thing with pyrotechnics, but the logistics just seemed crazy. There would have been, like, twenty people involved, and I didn’t think you’d like that.”
“Good call,” I say, laughing. “Embarrassing myself in front of Kaitlyn here is plenty.”
Kaitlyn shrugs. “Don’t be embarrassed. My whole life is about helping people fulfill their fantasies. This is a first, I admit, but, hey.”
“Thank you,” I say. “So what do you say we press fast-forward on the sword fight? Pretend you two have already fought and Kaitlyn lost?”
Kaitlyn nods and looks to Josh for confirmation.
“Hell no,” Josh says. He reaches down next to the bed and pulls out a plastic sword to match Kaitlyn’s. “We gotta have a sword fight, babe—I don’t care if it’s ridiculous, it’s in your script. We gotta follow the script.”
Kaitlyn and I exchange a look.
“Okay,” she says. She begrudgingly holds up her sword. “I’m here to steal her away and make her my sex-slave.”
I giggle. This is utterly ridiculous. A travesty. I absolutely love it.
Josh leaps up from the bed, on the attack. “En guarde!” he shouts.
For a few minutes, Josh and Kaitlyn whack each other’s swords like pre-schoolers on a playground while Josh shouts lines from Princess Bride, until, finally, Kaitlyn falls into a chair with a sword shoved into her armpit and dies.
“Let this be a lesson to any man who tries to abscond with what’s mine,” Josh says, standing over Kaitlyn’s body. “Fuck you, all of you. She’s mine.”
A ripple of pleasure zings through my body. It’s ridiculous, yes—but it’s freaking hot, too. The boy has put a lot of effort and thought into making my silly fantasy come to life. I can’t help but swoon.
Kaitlyn opens her eyes. “So... Is that it, then?”
“Yeah. That’ll do it.” Josh helps her up. “Thanks again for everything, Kaitlyn. You’re a trooper. Now be gone!” He laughs.
Kaitlyn shakes her head. “Have fun, you two. Now that I’ve seen you in action, I totally get it. You’re total goofballs.�
� She smiles for the first time since she stepped foot in the room and turns toward the door. “Be sure to turn out the lights and lock up when you go.”
“Will do,” Josh says. “Thanks again.”
“Thank you!” I call out to Kaitlyn’s back just before she slips out the door.
Josh turns to me. “How cool was that? I just had a sword fight with a real-life dominatrix.”
“How’d you hook up with her?” I ask, an alarming thought beginning to creep into my head. “Is she a friend of yours?”
Josh rolls his eyes. “Cool your jets, Madame Terrorist. Kaitlyn’s a friend of Reed’s. I’ve never used her services.” He laughs. “And to answer your next question, no, Reed’s not a client of hers, either. They’re just friends. Reed knows everyone in L.A.—well, anyone who’s interesting.” He beams a huge smile at me. “So, my sexy little sex-slave, are you ready to keep going with our porno? We’ve still got the third and final act to perform, you may recall: The Big Reveal.”
I smile broadly. “Ooh la la. The Revelation. Yes.”
“Any last words before we get back into character?”
I think for a minute. There are definitely words I’m dying to say to Josh, three little words to be exact, but I can’t do it. They’re magic words a girl simply can’t be the first to say in a relationship.
“Nope. I’m good,” I say. “Proceed.”
“Quiet on the porn set!” Josh yells over his shoulder to an imaginary crew. “And... action.” He crawls onto the bed and cups my cheek in his palm. “Are you hungry, Katherine?”
“Yes, Master Joshua. Starving.”
Josh reaches down next to the bed, retrieves a small cooler, and pulls out a sandwich in a Ziplock baggie.
“Aw,” I say. “From Justin to Kelly. You made me an orgasm-inducing peanut butter and jelly sandwich? So sweet.”
“Wouldn’t want my sex-slave going hungry.” He grins. “I’ve got an apple and some chips for you, too, if you want ’em.”
“You’re the sweetest sex-slave-master, ever. Thank you. I was ready to eat my hand when we got back from hiking. Now I’m ready to eat both arms.”