by Piper Stone
The electricity increased. She’d seen right through his worthless persona. He lifted one eyebrow along with his glass. “I suppose I’m more transparent than I believed.”
“We are two of a kind.”
“That we are. I’m asking if you like or appreciate both the man as well as the world he created.”
Joelle lifted her own glass. “Very much so.”
“Very good to hear because I’m going to show you more of the man. Follow me.” He didn’t wait, knowing without a doubt she’d follow. No other woman had been here. No other woman had been allowed to see the real man, the one he’d hidden from everyone his entire life. As he walked down the long hallway his thoughts remained unsettling. Letting his beast out wasn’t something he’d ever believed could happen, or should happen for that matter. Few could understand the dichotomy of his two distinct personalities.
Joelle remained quiet as she followed. Her breathing was shallow.
He opened the set of double doors and the moment he pushed both to the side, he heard her slight gasp. A tingle of raw excitement surged through him.
“These are yours?” she asked as she walked inside.
Glancing around the room, Craze had never really looked at the number of paintings he’d finished over the years. Painting was his respite, his ability to break free from the tentacles tying him to a life he sometimes loathed. He’d never brought one to his other home. He couldn’t afford to have clients or friends garner a glimpse of the man inside. “Yes.” He realized he was nervous as she studied his art, the true window to his soul. When she turned to face him, her eyes shining, he was vindicated.
“They’re amazing, absolutely incredible. This is what you do for a living?” A smile curled across her lips, she walked through the various canvases, her look full of astonishment.
Craze chuckled. “No. Quite frankly, I don’t think they’re good enough except for over my fireplace mantel.”
“You’re wrong.” Her smile broadened as she glanced at him. “They’re remarkable, so rich in detail. They depict strangled emotions, a deep-seated yearning for something we all have, but so terrified and conflicted we refuse to reach out. Only the finest artists are able to convey such emotional renderings.” She lifted her arm, her finger hovering over the face of a woman shackled to a cross.
“I don’t think the majority of people would appreciate, especially those who see me as a judgmental man myself,” Craze whispered. Her words were stilling to him.
“Judgmental. An interesting word and you’re wrong. The paintings are a very telling statement as to the intimate, yet locked away, aspect we all endure.”
Endure. The word was intriguing and very much the way he grasped life. He endured his position of leadership, going through every day as required. “Painting frees me.”
She nodded, sipped her wine and looked away. “Are they… are they women you’ve been with?”
Craze moved behind her, placing his hand on her hip. “No other woman has ever been here, nor has any lover or girlfriend known the man inside.”
“You say the words as if a submissive is very different, as if the dark and light side of you will never co-exist.”
The very thought had entered his mind over the last two days. Could he enjoy a romantic and very vanilla relationship with someone he longed to shackle and enslave? The answer was daunting. “I’ve never attempted. In truth, I’ve never found anyone I wanted to share this side of my world with. Until now.”
Joelle shuddered. “Why me?”
“Because there’s a spark about you, a marveling ability to allow me to be myself.”
She shot him a look. “That’s only part of the reason.”
How was she able to see past his bullshit? The question he knew the answer to instinctively. “Because you’re the woman I want to own. I’ve already told you that.”
“What does ownership mean to you?” She continued to sip her wine, her eyes darting back and forth. When he didn’t answer right away, she moved to another picture.
He could see the sheen of perspiration covering her face. Excitement bristled in every cell, heightening his intense desires, yet he kept his distance. “Everything. I want to own every part of a woman. Her heart. Her body. Her will. Her very soul.”
She closed her eyes, swaying back and forth to the music.
He wanted this moment to last, was terrified to scare her away, but he couldn’t hold back any longer. After taking a gulp of his wine, he set his glass down and advanced. He took her hand, leading her away from the picture and to another, gently taking the crystal from her hand. He kept his eyes on her as he eased it to the table. Gingerly he brushed the hair back from her face, wrapping his hand around her golden locks. “What do you see?”
She breathed in and out, her chest heaving. When she spoke, her voice was husky. “Ecstasy.”
Craze glanced at the piece. The gothic rendering had taken him months to finish. Everything about the painting was stark, light and dark fusing into a world of gray. The woman was outside, tied to a tree, her arms and legs splayed. Wolves remained in the shadows, waiting for a feast. A man stood behind her, dressed in black, his face masked. In his hand, he held a bullwhip. Red, the only color appearing on the piece, was from the bloody marks crisscrossing nearly every inch of her naked body. “Power.”
“Freedom,” she whispered.
“And so, it begins.”
Joelle slumped against his chest, her hand flitting over her mouth.
Pulling her back by her hair, he turned her around, forcing her back into a deep arc. “The things I will show you will remain in your mind forever.” There was no asking if she wanted this. There was no need.
She nodded once and placed her fingers against his chest.
“Yes. You know exactly what I mean.” Taking both of her hands, he eased backwards out of the room. As he walked to the playroom, one he’d known in his heart he would never share on a permanent basis, his adrenaline skyrocketed. This was exactly where he needed to be and the woman he simply had to dominate. He flipped on the light and the warm glow highlighted the various pieces, apparatuses he’d acquired over the last few years.
“The paintings,” Joelle whispered.
“Yes, my inspiration.”
“These are…”
“Implements of pain as well as pleasure. I’ve taken a great deal of time researching my craft. Now, you need to understand the rules.” Craze kept his voice even.
“Rules?” Her expression was one of defiance.
He slid his hand around her neck, tugging her until she was forced to look at him. “There are always rules. You’ve already learned what happens if you break them.”
“Yes, sir.” Her hand trembled in front of her, but she remained rebellious, her body wriggling in his grasp.
A moment of raw excitement swept through his system. He exhaled, allowing his hot breath to cascade across her face and neck. Reaching inside her dress, he squeezed her breast roughly, pulling on her nipple. He kept his grip on her neck, digging his nails into her skin. Control. Keep control.
“Oh!” She panted, her eyes opening wide. While there was fear given her stance, her body shifted forward.
“You want more, don’t you, sunshine? You need more?” He chuckled darkly and tugged the dress down past her shoulders. “Discipline. Obedience. These are two words you’re going to come to crave.”
Joelle mewed as the dress was stripped from her body. “Please sir. I can do it. I can… I…” Her words trailed off as she fiddled with the front clasp of her bra, lowering her head as she peeled off the satin covering.
He drank her in, every inch of her delicious frame, her creamy skin. His paintings paled in comparison to the woman standing in front of him. There was no possibility he could adequately emulate her beauty. She was hesitant because of her displeasure with herself. No man had truly appreciated the utter perfection. He would do his best to change the ugly reflection of herself. “Leave on your stilettos.
They accentuate your long legs, the exquisite line of your calf muscles.”
“Yes, sir.” When she was naked she walked closer, lifting her head high. She held an air of forced confidence.
“You are breathtaking. Show me that you know.”
Her face pensive, she eased her hands by her side, but her hands remained clenched.
Craze exhaled, longing to beat the last man who’d inflicted pain. He closed the distance. “Hear me. You are sensuous, beautiful and very intelligent. You are also passionate and your desire is perhaps one of the most enticing aspects about you.”
Giving him a half smile, Joelle looked away.
“No. Hear my words.” He pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger and lowered his head, kissing her lips in a soft yet still demanding way.
Quivering, she moaned and when he released her, she looked taller, her expression laced with a touch of arrogance.
“Excellent, my sweet submissive. Eyes lowered. Stay where you are.” Craze had no total understanding of what he was doing, nor had he realized the magnitude of his actions. This was a defining moment. He’d never be able to enjoy vanilla sex again.
She did as she was told, her body more relaxed than before.
As he walked around her in a full circle, he studied every inch of her body, gleaning what he knew to be her vulnerable locations. His breathing remained ragged. He was seeing a virgin canvas, her skin unblemished by tattoos or piercings. Her nipples were rosy, her breasts full. He adored her thin waist and her rounded hips, her long legs and toes painted crimson red, the color a vibrant contrast to her conservative life. He didn’t need to know what she did to realize she hid herself behind crisp suits and starched shirts.
She bit her lower lip as her body swayed.
While she kept her stance, Craze could tell she longed to reach out. Exhaling, he rubbed his hand up and down every inch of her body, paying special attention to her shoulders, the area under her full breasts. He cupped both, caressing as he brushed the tips of his thumbs across her nipples until they were hard, the rose intensifying in color.
A single moan escaped her mouth.
Craze rubbed his palms down the length of her back, kneading the skin just above her ass. “Bend over and open your ass cheeks for me.”
She sniffed as she narrowed her eyes, her breath skipping.
“The belt awaits any infraction.”
“Yes, sir.” The words were said with a hint of arrogance, but she acquiesced, bending over, her slender hands parting her ass cheeks.
“Legs wider.”
A tense breath escaped her lips as she obeyed the command.
Craze was so turned on, his cock aching to the point he was having difficulty seeing clearly. He placed two fingers into his mouth, sucking on the long digits. He kept his fingers in his mouth, sucking as he used a single finger of his other hand, trailing a line down her spine. The touch was kinetic, the effect simultaneous. They were both wet with need.
Shuddering, she nearly tumbled over, one hand touching the floor. After moving back into position, she resumed her stance, pulling until her rosy hole was exposed.
He removed his fingers and glared at the wetness in the dim lighting. “Did you enjoy me fucking you in the ass?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good, because that’s where whores should be fucked. You’re going to wear a plug from now on when you’re not with me. Do you understand?”
Joelle flipped her head, trying desperately to look at him. “Yes. I mean…”
Crack!
He knew the single hard snap was enough. “You will. I need your asshole large and ready for use any time I desire, whether cock or fist.” His left leg was twitching, creating friction in his groin as he slid his wet fingers down the crack of her ass. When he reached her asshole, he showed no mercy, shoving both in as deep as possible.
“Oh God!” Joelle’s body jerked, but to her credit she kept her cheeks open.
“Tight. Hot. Just the way I prefer my sweet submissive.” The dirty words were something he’d never said to another. With Joelle, they were exactly what he wanted to say, what she needed to hear. He flexed his fingers open, thrusting them harder and faster into her sweet hole. His heart racing, he grabbed her around the neck, keeping her steady as the actions grew more frenetic.
Beads of perspiration dribbled down from the back of her neck onto her face. She continued moaning as she was finger fucked and a tight smile remained on her serene face.
The moment continued, a simple act to ease her fears, to ignite his passions.
“We’re going to exchange phone numbers and any time I text, you’ll do exactly what I tell you, no matter where you are. No matter what you’re doing,” Craze whispered.
“Oh God, yes.”
“Good girl.” Removing his fingers, he guided her toward one of his most prized possessions. The ‘X’ cross was sterling in composition and gleamed in the amber light. “One day you’ll beg me to be attached, to take the whip. One day, you’ll understand the woman you can be.” He wanted nothing more than to shackle her arms and legs, drag out the quirt, a piece he’d purchased only two months before. The whip was the perfect round of punishment, a leather reminder of a submissive’s place.
“Yes. Yes, I want and I…” Joelle shook her head, a nervous laugh slipping past her lips.
“Soon my sub, soon.”
Her look remained one of defiance. “What if I can’t?”
“You already are.”
The words hung in the air.
Craze continued the tour, describing exactly what every apparatus would do. With every passing minute he could tell how excited she’d become. The delicious scent of her feminine wiles wafted between them. When he stopped them in front of the spanking horse, he wrapped his fingers around hers, squeezing. “This one will be something you learn well, my dear.” Placing her hand on the smooth wooden surface, he nuzzled into her neck, licking the base of her earlobe. His whisper was subtle. “For bad little girls.”
“Oh, Craze. I mean, sir, I am undisciplined.” Her laughter held a lilt, her body stance tilting forward. She wanted to learn more.
He bent her over temporarily, holding her in position as he rubbed her ass. Her pussy lips were peeking out, swollen with need. In his mind, he could envision caning them until they were red, raw and swollen, then fucking her ruthlessly. Exhaling, he tried to maintain control as he drove all four fingers inside of her pussy. Instantly her muscles clamped onto the tight invasion, drawing him in deeper.
“Yes, oh yes, sir.”
“Such a good girl, one in need I can see.” His eyes were stinging from sweat trickling down his forehead. He was on edge, his blood pressure skyrocketing. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to shove away the increasing abhorrent thoughts, and continued pumping. The sound of her pussy lips sucking on his fingers solicited powerful, evocative sensations.
She met every hard thrust as she arched her back, her face pinched with desire.
He blinked, trying to focus as his thoughts turned sadistic, his need to hurt her enveloping his system. Backing away, he removed his fingers as he dragged her off the bench and over to face him. He swiped his fingers across the seam of her lips, pushing them just inside. “Suck your sweet juice. Lick my fingers clean.”
Purring, Joelle slid both of her open hands up the length of his arm, gently taking his fingers into her mouth. She moaned as she sucked, her tongue wiggling back and forth.
Fuck her. Use her. She belongs to you. The words whispered into the back of his mind were ones he’d dreamt of saying for as long as he could remember. He narrowed his eyes and dragged his fingers down between her breasts. This was a defining moment. “Make certain they’re clean.” He pinched one nipple then the other, twisting until she whimpered. “I can’t wait until you’re clamped.”
“Mmm.”
After a few seconds, he grunted and stepped away, reaching down and taking her into his arms.
She seeme
d surprised. Her actions tentative, she wrapped her arm around his neck.
He walked into the makeshift bedroom, one only used after long nights of painting. Every move deliberate, he peered down at her, his expression controlling. Laying her down in the middle, he leaned over, whispering, “Kneel, arms down, palms facing up.”
“Yes, sir.” Joelle rose into position. Her lower lip remained quivering, her eyes never leaving his face.
There was no doubt she longed to touch him. He gazed down at her for a full minute before he touched the side of her face, grazing his thumb across her lips. He very much wanted to be the man she needed. “My beauty.”
“Your whore.”
“You are my whore, nothing but.” The words were exactly what he wanted to hear. He undressed slowly, a heated need furrowing into his system. When he was naked he closed the distance, his cock throbbing in anguish. Just thinking about whipping her, tying her down made him hard. Seeing her voluptuous body, her swollen nipples, he was in absolute agony.
“May I suck you, sir?”
Craze was ready to answer when the light of the afternoon sun sent a shimmer across her face, illuminating her porcelain skin. Exhaling, he leaned over the bed, pushing her down and scooting her up further onto the bed. Gripping her legs, he wrapped both up and over his shoulders, impaling her with the entire length of his cock. Whore. She’s just a whore. He groaned. Not today.
“God!” She kneaded his arms as he used his upper body strength to rise onto his hands.
Lowering his head, he brushed his lips across hers. “Beautiful, but willful.”
“Yes, I know,” Joelle whispered as she cupped his chest.
“And you’re all mine.”
Chapter 7
“Ms. Parker. I have the information you requested.”
You’re just a whore. You’re a slut. You belong to him, to the one man who knows you, hungers for you.
“I’m sorry?”
“The information?”
Joelle looked up from her computer screen, the same one she’d been staring at for the past hour or more. “Oh, yes. Thanks, Betsy. You can just leave them on my desk.” Why was she so antsy? As she wiggled in her chair she was reminded clearly. The thick butt plug she was required to wear was one reason. The other was that today was Thursday and other than a few texts checking if she was following the rules, she’d heard nothing from Craze. Maybe he was no longer interested. Why hadn’t he called? She kept the hiss she longed to erupt buried inside. They weren’t dating. They were fucking and little else. The something else continued to terrify and tempt her.