by Linnea May
I know he likes me scared, and I am.
But I love it.
I don’t know how, but he must have sensed that I would be into this. He might have put two and two together when he noticed the marks around my ankles. Was that small clue enough for him to tell? He doesn’t even know how I did it or why. He doesn’t know what was going through my head when I did it.
Then again, it seems like he does know.
“On your knees,” he says, nodding towards the floor. He is tense, hungry. Hungry for me. I can tell that it takes him a lot of effort to restrain himself. His hunger for me is so intoxicating that I feel dizzy with lust.
My center is throbbing with anticipation as I follow his order and slowly sink down onto my knees.
“Hands on your knees,” he adds. “Palms up, and look at me.”
I position myself as he bids and look up at him, completely naked and exposed, my palms pointing up, my body calm on the outside while my insides are wild with anticipation.
“Good girl,” he praises. “This is how I like my women. Willing and obedient. Do you think you can do that for me? Follow my orders? Be a good, obedient girl for me?”
I nod. “I think so.”
“Wrong answer,” he snaps, raising two fingers. “For two reasons. One, you didn’t address me properly. Two, you showed doubt.”
He places his elbows on his knees as he leans forward to me.
“Let’s try this again, shall we?” he whispers. “Will you obey me?”
I swallow. “Yes. Yes, Master.”
He smiles. “That’s what I like to hear. Good girl.”
He straightens up and leans back on the couch, slightly opening his legs.
“Come here,” he beckons me.
I crawl forward and place myself in front of him between his legs.
“Now, I think you owe me something, don’t you?” he asks, displaying a smug smile on his handsome face. “Wouldn’t you agree? You came pretty hard in that forest, time to repay the debt.”
He leans forward and reaches for my hands, placing them on the bulge in his lap. He feels huge and rock-hard. A wave of electrifying arousal spreads through me as I start rubbing him gently through the fabric.
“You did this,” he reminds me. “And now you take care of it. Show me what those beautiful lips are capable of.”
I look up at him for one last affirmation before I start by unbuckling his belt. I open his pants just enough to free his cock. It springs toward me as soon as I move his black boxer briefs to the side.
He moans with approval when I wrap my hand around him. He is already so hard that I almost wonder if he has taken something to help with that. My fingers barely reach around his impressive girth as I slowly start stroking him, my eyes following the motions with adoration.
He watches me as I shyly play with his erection, worshiping the sight and feel of it. I lean forward and gently start to lick his tip very lightly, my tongue barely touches him.
“You fucking tease,” he breathes.
I smile and lick along his shaft, all the way down to his balls. He shivers with lust, and I move my tongue back up, repeating the motion again and again, very slowly.
He grabs the hair at the back of my head and moves me closer, placing my lips on his tip. I instinctively open my mouth, just in time before he pushes me down. His motion is just as slow but not nearly as shy as mine have been. He doesn’t stop pushing when I start to gag on his length, and he doesn’t stop pushing even when the tip of his swollen cock presses against the back of my throat. I try to push myself up, coughing and gagging, but he doesn’t let me.
“Oh, no, little girl,” he whispers. “You need to learn your place. Teasing me like this will not go unpunished.”
With this, he finally pulls me up by my hair. I gasp, desperately panting for air and coughing out saliva. He only gives me a few moments to catch my breath before he forces me down again, his cock pushing against the back of my throat once more, but this time he lifts me up sooner.
“This is how it works,” he says. “I am in control. Understand?”
“Yes,” I breathe. “Yes, Master.”
“Good girl.”
He continues to force himself inside of me, alternating between pushing me down at the back of my head and pulling me up by my hair. With every shove, his motions increase in speed until he is undeniably face-fucking me.
Saliva drips down on his length and over my face, mixed with salty tears that start to stream down my cheeks due to my shortness of breath.
He moans with passion, moving his hips up to force himself deeper down my throat. One last shove and he keeps me pinned against his pelvis, his cock preventing me from breathing freely while he gets up from the sofa. He holds me in a tight grip, grabbing my hair while pushing me against himself. I am forced to get up on my knees, my neck stretched to the limit, because of his height.
He takes a few steps around me while I struggle to follow his movements. I support myself by clinging to his legs, fearing that I might rip the fabric of his undoubtedly expensive pants.
Finally, he releases me. Strings of saliva build between his member and my mouth. I cough uncontrollably as he pulls me up by my hair.
I struggle to get up on my feet. “Ouch, that—”
“Shut up!” he barks. But he lets go of my hair instantly and pushes me back so that I fall onto the sofa.
“Legs up,” he orders. “Spread them for me.”
It all happens so fast; I obey his order without thinking twice.
“More!” he insists.
I lift my knees up a little further, spreading my legs as far as I can by pulling my knees apart. It is an uncomfortable position, and I have never felt this exposed in front of anybody, but he seems to be satisfied.
He groans, stroking his erection as he gazes down on me.
“So delicious,” he comments before he gets down on his knees in front of me.
I blush and squint my eyes in embarrassment while he stares at my center. He massages my inner thighs, moving closer to my entrance.
I moan as he strokes along my labia with two fingers on each side, gently spreading them and exposing my throbbing clit. This is so embarrassing, and so incredibly hot.
I can feel my wetness when he leans forward, spreading my lips even more as he softly breathes against my nub. I am so electrified that I fear I might explode if he touches me.
He looks up at me, a triumphant smirk on his face. He is teasing me, just as I did to him. This is payback.
My breathing is so erratic that I feel like I am about to pass out. It gets worse with every moment that passes, him sitting in front of me and spreading my lips while the other hand squeezes my thigh.
He is still looking up at me while I sense every single one of his warm breaths on my clit.
“What do you want?” he asks.
I look at him, confused and mute.
“Tell me what you want,” he clarifies. “I might give it to you.”
Blood rushes to my cheeks. Dirty talk has never been my strength, and I’ve never had anyone order me to tell them what I want.
“Uh, I…I…,” I stutter.
Why is this so hard?
I open my mouth again, sighing helplessly as I try to force myself to speak up.
But I can’t. I just can’t do it.
“I think we both want the same thing,” he whispers. “I want to get a good taste of you, and you want me to lick your pussy.”
I gasp with embarrassment.
“Am I not right?” he asks.
I nod, still mute.
“Say it then,” he continues. “Tell me that you want me to lick your cute pussy.”
He gently massages my labia, teasing me with my most sensitive spot. I suppress a moan, and I cannot hold my hips from moving forward, inviting him to come closer.
He chuckles. “Say it.”
I sigh with desperation.
“I…I,” I try again, closing my eyes in shame
. “I want you to lick my pussy. Please.”
“Please, what?”
Please, what? What does he mean?
I open my eyes and look at him questioningly. It takes me a few moments to understand.
“Please, Master,” I plead. “Please lick my pussy.”
“Is that what you want?” he clarifies.
For God’s sake!
“Yes,” I hiss. “Please, Master.”
He slaps me on my thigh. Hard. It stings with fiery pain, and I yelp.
“Don’t be bitchy,” he warns. “I don’t like that.”
“Yes, Master,” I breathe, coping with the fact that his slap added to my arousal.
He smiles. “Good girl.”
Without further ado, he leans forward and finally gives me what I crave. He licks along the inside of my labia first, sparing the middle while he moves his tongue up and down with relish.
His moans are almost as loud as mine when he finally moves towards the center, tonguing around my pulsating nub, drawing smaller and smaller circles until he finally reaches my most sensitive spot.
I arch my back and throw my head back into the backrest of the sofa.
He is good. His tongue massages my wet center, slowly increasing the pressure. He moves forward, encompassing my center with his lips while his tongue works on my love bud.
My climax announces itself in strong pulses. I squirm on the sofa, still holding my legs up and spread apart.
“I’m gonna c—”
“Oh, no you’re not,” he interrupts me, stopping what he’s doing immediately. “Not without my permission.”
I sigh with frustration when he withdraws himself from my core.
“Please don’t stop,” I beg.
He shakes his head and reaches inside his jacket, a sight that makes me painfully aware that I am the only one who is naked. He is still dressed completely, with only his pants unzipped to expose his erection. His cock is still rock-hard and facing towards me.
He produces a condom from his jacket and rolls it over his member, looking at me with a seductive smile.
I moan when he moves his hand back to my center, teasing my clit with his thumb while he inserts his index finger inside of me.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he comments. “What an invitation. Tell me what you want.”
Not that again. I whimper in agony, once again unable to find the right words or allow myself to speak them.
“Well?” he urges, adding another finger.
I groan with lust, moving my hips forward as I clench around his fingers.
“Please…,” I beg.
“Please what?” he wants to know.
“Please fuck me,” I give in.
“As you wish,” he says, teasing my entrance with his tip.
He bends over and leans forward, lowering his face to mine to kiss me. It is our first kiss of the day. I can taste myself on him as his tongue darts forward, exploring my mouth with curious force.
“I’m going to fuck you now,” he whispers in between nibbling on my lower lip. I am shivering with anticipation beneath him.
“Hard,” he adds, stealing my breath as he forces himself inside of me with one brute push.
He feels so big, his impressive girth stretching me to the fullest as he fills me.
He freezes for a moment, relishing my reaction to his intrusion. I am squirming and moaning, shifting my hips to egg him on. He casts me a dark smile and straightens up, grabbing me by the hips with such a strong grip that it hurts.
Then, he lives up to his promise. He starts fucking me. Hard.
I am so startled by the sheer brutality of his motions that I lose my balance. I let go of my knees and support myself on the sofa while he rams in and out of me with merciless force.
My moans soon turn into little shrieks of pain. He is massive, and the savage way he is fucking me is foreign to my body. I have never been fucked this hard before.
It hurts, but I welcome the pain.
Even without touching my clit, I can feel my orgasm building up quickly.
“This,” he grunts in between shoves. “This is how I want you to come. On my cock.”
He starts rubbing my nub with his thumb while he continues to force himself inside of me.
I scream out, unable to control myself as my climax finally takes over.
He notices and increases the force of his pushes even more. Two or three more shoves through the most intense waves of my orgasm and I can feel him pulsating inside of me as he joins me in this mind-shattering release.
CHAPTER nine
Liz
What happened? Why am I lying on a bed?
My head is spinning and I feel sick. Dazed and confused, I slowly regain consciousness.
Did I fall asleep?
I open my eyes, but my vision remains obscured, shielded by a blindfold. I try to lift arms to remove it, but I can’t.
My wrists and ankles are tied up, spreading my arms and legs wide. I am on my back with all four limbs extended like a starfish. A restrained starfish.
I am still naked. I am completely exposed, lying on a bed with soft silk sheets beneath me. It smells foreign but clean and fresh. A little flowery, even.
I yank at the restraints, but they are tied tight, allowing little leeway for me to move.
“Leonard?” I call.
My voice is hoarse and weak. I clear my throat and realize that it hurts quite badly.
“Leonard? Where are you?”
Nothing. All I can hear is my own breathing. I shift around on the sheets, but there is no point in trying to remove myself from my restraints. Even my efforts to remove the blindfold by shifting my head are futile.
“Leonard!” I shriek, now an edge of panic in my voice.
What happened? How did I end up here?
I try to gather my memories. We were on his boat; we had sex on the sofa, and then…what?
Slowly, the memories return. I remember him picking me up and wrapping me in his strong arms. He didn’t want me to put clothes on but gave me a blanket to wrap myself in when I complained that I was chilly.
Then, we had a drink. We talked a little, and he poured us some champagne. I cannot remember the content of our conversation, but I do remember sitting on the sofa, wrapped in a soft, warm blanket while he was next to me. Clinking glasses, talking…
That’s when my memory stops. Something must have happened in between then and now. I am clearly not on his boat anymore; the bed is not moving beneath me, nor do I hear water or wind. As far as I can tell, I am in a room confined to a bed.
Am I at his house? How did I get here?
Did I just fall asleep and he brought me here? I cannot imagine dozing off and then being tied to a bed without waking up once, and without any memories as to how I got here.
Did he drug me?
My heart rate accelerates at the thought.
He wouldn’t do that.
Why would he do that?
“Leonard?” I shriek again. “Leonard! This is not funny! Where are you?”
I realize that this is the first time that I am saying his name out loud, which gives me an idea.
“Master?” I ask. “Master! Where are you?”
I breathe heavily as I wait for a response.
Just a few moments later, I hear a door opening to my left. I instinctively turn my head to where the sound is coming from.
“Master?” I ask. My voice is trembling with fear now. I feel so exposed and vulnerable.
I hear steps approaching the bed, then someone leaning on the mattress.
“Master? Is that you?” I ask again.
I recognize him by his smell even before his lips touch mine. He kisses me, gently and carefully, as if it was our first kiss.
“Yes,” he finally says. “I’m here. Don’t worry, little girl.”
“What is this?” I utter. “Where am I? How did I get here?”
“You’re safe,” he whispers, now caressing my chee
k.
“Untie me!” I demand. “I don’t like this! This is going too far.”
I flinch when I feel the tip of his finger stroking along my jaw line and down to my neck.
“Hush,” he soothes me. “Don’t worry, nothing bad is going to happen to you.”
“Untie me!” I repeat.
“No,” he says. “You’ll stay like this for now. It’s safer.”
“Safer!” I blurt out. “Are fucking kid—”
I cry out as he slaps me across my left boob. Fiery pain stings through my nipple.
“Behave!” he warns me. “What did I tell you? How do I want you?”
I gasp for air, my eyes open wide in terror. What is happening? Is this part of the game?
I always fantasized about something like this. About being abducted, tied down and used, completely at a man’s mercy.
But reality is a lot scarier than fantasy.
“Are we—is this a game?” I ask shyly. “Are we still playing?”
He slaps me across my boobs again, twice this time, left and right. I scream out in pain, squirming in my restraints.
“Please, just tell me if—”
Another slap interrupts me. The pain gets worse with each strike. Tears are building up, threatening to run down my cheeks.
This hurts so fucking much. I decide to avoid any further pain for now.
“How do I want you?” he repeats his question.
“Obedient,” I reply with a trembling voice. “And willing. Obedient and willing.”
“That’s right,” he praises. “Good girl.”
I startle when his hand is on me again, but it is gentle this time, caressing the burning skin around my nipples.
“Do what I tell you and I won’t have to hurt you,” he promises. “Understand?”
I nod. “Yes, Master.”
“Close your eyes,” he orders
His command confuses me, but I follow it nonetheless. A few seconds later, I am glad that I did because he removes the blindfold from my face, and my black vision is replaced by a dark orange which suggests that I am in a brightly lit room.
“You may open your eyes now,” he says.
I obey and squint as the light blinds me. It’s not artificial light but the evening sun that bathes the room in a bright orange color.