Wet clicking sounds joined his whisper. “You should like this present then.”
He spread her cheeks with his hands, inserted something small and round with a gentle push. “The first of many gifts.” She groaned loudly as he inserted the second, third and fourth bead.
“What-?”
“You seem to like pearls, so consider these pearls of pleasure.”
Her sounds grew more desperate as each one was pushed up her awakened backside. Something like a cord dangled alongside one inner thigh, which he gently tugged. A shameless growl released from the back of her throat as the beads shifted.
Jonathan reclaimed her breasts in each hand. His cock probed between her folds.
“Feel them inside you, Christiana. Feel me.” Jonathan rubbed his length through her puffy inner lips and her thick wetness. He smelled so good, familiar warm skin and fully aroused male.
One more stroke, and she’d peak.
He played with the chain connected to the nipple clamps, and she yelped.
“You will not come until I say.”
“No, sir. I won’t, sir.”
“I have a second present to make sure you do not.”
Something small and rubbery ran smoothly across her pussy. Back and forth, he trailed the edge until it glided from contact with her womanly fluid.
Without warning, Jonathan smacked her ass with the small, moistened paddle, the slapping sound loud against her oiled cheek, not hard, but she’d been taken by surprise. He brought the small square down on her behind, the beads shifting as she clenched.
“Such lovely marks, my marks, on your ass, Christiana.” Jonathan ran the paddle up her inner thigh. When he tapped her exposed pussy, her legs lurched in her bindings.
He tutted.
Jonathan lightly smacked her three more times, producing a longer cry more from anger than pain. “Ow, ah, nooo.”
His answer was another sharp slap of the paddle.
She cried out an obscenity when he slapped her clit a fifth time with the flat rubber object.
“Such strong language from such a little girl,” he said. More stinging blows to her oiled bottom sent her keening forward. Jonathan reached around to hold her up by one breast, the nipple clamp biting into her flesh.
Tiny stings erupted over her behind as the devil worked each inch of her exposed skin with the evil paddle. He stayed away from her pussy, but the beads moved, taunting and reminding her he’d just begun, that he had other ideas she’d be helpless to contradict.
Christiana had wanted to give herself totally to Jonathan. To be taken. Now that he’d accepted her offering, molding and shaping her obedience in new, strange ways, her psyche protested.
He smacked her with another instrument, wider and thicker, like solid wood.
“Fuck!” The word exploded from her mouth.
He pried her mouth open and inserted a short, thick dildo. “You’ll suck on this like it’s my cock. It’ll give you something to do with that uncontrolled mouth. I can still hear your safeword around it.”
Christiana was actually relieved to have one less thing to think about controlling. Her legs shook as if she’d been shocked with electrical current.
Did he pay attention? He stopped to knead her shoulders. Okay. Jonathan hadn’t abandoned all safety. The respite didn’t last.
More smacks with the wooden hand came fast and hard. She stopped counting after six.
He would show no mercy unless she cried out the one word that would stop him. She didn’t want him to stop. Yet she wasn’t sure she could go where he was taking her, this heaven-hell combination with a promise of something unspoken.
Metallic scraping overhead mixed with her labored breathing.. Leather and flower scents wafted under her nose. The tension on the tether loosened. Jonathan’s arms circled her ribs and he lowered her forward to rest her forearms on the bed. The chain clinked on fabric under her, but the clamps brushed the coverlet, sending new pointed sensation to her captured nipples.
Jonathan nestled his hard-on between her slick folds and slowly dragged through her cream. When he tugged slightly on the string dangling down the back of her thigh, she let out a muffled whine.
“Keep your hands overhead.” She stretched out her arms as far as she could, until she touched the edge of the bed. She hung on to the end of the mattress to help anchor her senses to something, anything, outside her own body.
Jonathan pulled her hips backward. She lost her grip on the mattress and whimpered slightly. Her disorientation returned with a vengeance. She concentrated on his hands gripping her legs, as if checking the silks’ hold. She would have assured him they held fast if she could’ve spoken.
Her ass stung, but the delicious provocation from the beads lodged firmly in her behind trumped the pain. She lay face first on his bed, butt in the air. Rage sparked at the edge of her consciousness. Something dark and dangerous unfurled inside and mixed with the unnatural lust Jonathan had raised. She clamped down on the dildo, hoping she left teeth marks, as a darkened beast rose up inside.
Fingers probed her most intimate parts, and then Jonathan’s broad cockhead teased her opening. He pushed inside, a declaration of ownership and power.
Something sinister, something unwanted, erupted in response. She sucked and wailed behind the gag as he slammed into her, fulfilling his own needs.
She suddenly didn’t want to be this person, this subservient, never-in-control, mass of craving, being flayed, worked and punished. Christiana thought she knew who she was, and it was not this unnatural creature who allowed herself to be splayed open, taken, and touched in places she hadn’t dared.
The struggle inside split into two camps. One set of reasons told her to scream her safeword at the top of her lungs, as much as she could with the gag. The other side told her to let go, have faith that surrendering her entire being to Jonathan was right, that he was taking her somewhere.
Washington.
Say it.
No, don’t speak.
The parachute fabric heated as he pushed her forward. They’ll burn your skin, he’d said. Was he paying attention? Jonathan pulled her backward, momentarily loosening the fabric, as if he’d read her mind. The gentle caress along her inner thigh pitched her over to one side of her internal civil war. Christiana wanted to prove to him, to herself, she was worthy of his attention, his choice of her. She’d endure.
Jonathan dug his fingers into her hips as he savagely pounded into her.
“Come for me,” he growled.
Pop. Her back channel muscles pulsed as he pulled out one of the beads. She squealed behind the wicked rubber dildo as pop, pop, pop, a long string of anal throbs sent her to the top of a precipice. He was going to tear her apart.
“Come.” His strained voice growled with authority. His cock pounded inside her, another order to obey.
Christiana tipped over the edge, shattering into a million pieces that shot up through her like a fountain. Saliva ran down her chin as she screamed. She lost all sense of her body, its form, sure that it had exploded. Shards of her climax continued to course through her limbs for more minutes—even after she fought for breath.
Christiana realized that now she experienced the real Jonathan Brond. He had held back before.
Jonathan marveled at Christiana’s beauty. Her pale skin was stark against the blue fabric that had held her legs open for his wishes. Her cheeks flushed a deep rosy color, and her inner thighs glistened with her ecstatic flood. He fought the urge to lap at their trails. He could have watched her for hours, spasming in the parachute silks holding her captive.
Jonathan kissed her shoulder and slipped the gag from between her lips. He wiped the saliva from around her mouth.
“Now, baby, deep breath.” He pinched the clamps free from her nipples.
She cried out as the blood rushed to her tortured buds. He held her in a bear hug until her whimpers subsided.
He untied the ends of the silks from the bedposts. She splayed onto
her stomach, unable to hold herself on her knees any longer. As he slowly unwound the sodden fabric from her legs, he checked her skin for burn marks. No bruises or signs of distress. He’d been lucky with his ruthless taking. He’d been so enchanted by the gorgeous creature in the center of his bed he’d not paid enough attention to her comfort.
This last session, as short as it was for him, tested her limits. Something had cracked inside Christiana. He hadn’t expected her profound reaction, her cries uncontained and feral behind the dildo gag. Of course, even introductory anal play brought much to the surface, as the back door proved to be a true center of emotion.
Jonathan rubbed his hand across the little harlequin squares across her butt left by the rubber riding crop and wooden paddle.
“Oh, lovely, our skin glows in this light,” he said.
Christiana breathed hard, yet she remained pliable and soft under his hands.
Jonathan sent the two long bunches of fabric back up to the ceiling to be dealt with later.
He had to keep her going, push through the crack that had surfaced.
Jonathan touched her back. He ran his hand to clasp the back of her neck with his message. I’m here, with you, caring for you, but make no mistake who’s in control. The connection ensured she wouldn’t spiral downward. The first thing he’d learned about Christiana was how important touch was in her world—the touch of someone who wouldn’t let her down.
He ran his fingers up her greased legs. She let out a dainty gasp. Her authentic reactions to a single touch were unrivaled. Jonathan’s history held dozens of lovers, all who proclaimed their admiration of his skills, his attention. Yet even his more-than-healthy ego stood in awe of Christiana’s surrender. He vowed to take her far today—as far as she needed—as far as he’d ever dared. She needed to be taken to the edge, pushed to give in, let go, and shown she wouldn’t die if she trusted someone else. She’d never understand her own power otherwise, when to give and when to withhold.
Jonathan had slowed down, but Christiana knew it wouldn’t last; he maintained a rapacious hold on her thighs. She searched the silence for what he wanted.
No words came.
He spread her cheeks. His adroit tongue traced her rim, involuntary sounds erupting from her throat at the sensation until she felt herself softening, opening, wanting him there. Her pussy joined the call, slight contractions beginning at the marvel of the ecstasy his mouth could produce from her backside, an area she’d never entertained as pleasurable.
A soft, disappointed murmur left her throat when he stopped. The sounds she was helpless to stop still touched a place of shame deep within her, as if to say try to regain your dignity, at least a little.
He pulled her up, so she rested on her knees, her behind high in the air, her covered cheek resting on the bed covers. The snap of a bottle top sent stabs of lustful apprehension to her licentious pussy. Something cool and unyielding slipped inside her rear, sending a strange new pressure to her backside. “This butt plug will train you to open up.”
Fingers dipped under her pelvis, and he played his special tempo on her clit. An unfeminine moan escaped from deep within her chest as the dual sensations of his teasing fingers and the intruder in her ass intensified. She knew the rhythm well. She had cursed herself many times for not being able to conjure it up herself on the nights when separated from his talented hands.
“You’re doing so well, baby. Let it out.” Beard stubble scratched her back, and a new layer of herself split.
His scent, strength and presence replaced any sense of herself. Against such a man, Christiana felt small and delicate. His large hand grasped her upper leg, as if to make the point. Never before had she felt so female, and Jonathan so male.
Fingers worked her sensitive jewel, and a flaming twinge ran up her middle as his crotch pushed the anal plug. Sensation overcame any sense of her body’s borders.
“Relax.” He drew out the word in his deep, rich voice.
With one thrust, he seated his cock inside her pussy, taking renewed custody. Her flaming ass pressed into the silky hair surrounding his shaft. She cried out from the indescribable heaviness; he and the plug took up too much space within her. Instinct screamed for her to pull back, but with nothing to grip but a silk sheet, she couldn’t.
Jonathan withdrew only to ream her insides with his cock several more times. He steadied her hips to keep her from rocking her away.
She whimpered, and his thumb circled over her swollen charm in response. Her anal muscles relaxed a little, and soon her honey flowed down her inner legs. Stains of her arousal must mar the bedsheets, but her desire batted away that concern. Nothing but his hands on her, his cock inside, mattered.
His taunting hand slid away, trailing her feminine ambrosia. He grasped both hips, and his leg hair tickled the backs of her legs as his cock dragged, too leisurely, through her too-tight pussy.
“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he gritted out.
Instinctively, Christiana knew his eyes caressed her body as they had many times, full of anticipation and demand. “Yes. Yours!”
God, she craved him to split her in two with his ramming cock, even with the indescribable fullness. Her leg muscles ached with a desperate need to spread wide. If he’d asked her to count these strokes, she’d start at one hundred by now. She’d have gladly started over from one if he’d keep moving in and out of her heat.
She fought the urge to rip the mask off her head. Let me see you.
Feel me, his body demanded instead.
She clenched her ass around the plug. He growled satisfaction in reaction. She writhed as his strokes shallowed, shortened. Unintelligible sounds that would have colored her skin crimson weeks ago now flew from her throat as she tried to inch her pussy closer to capture his fullness.
A slap on her ass told her he had other plans. More short pulses teased her throbbing pussy until her cries were only interrupted by her need to take in air.
He lunged forward, his root connecting with the plug. Her climax came hard and fast, her body shuddering so harshly she was sure she’d have burns on her knees. Not even the smacks on her ass by Jonathan stopped the involuntary clenching of her inner muscles.
“Bad girl.” His voice was gentle. Christiana knew it displayed Jonathan’s self-discipline, not his forgiveness for her coming without permission once. Impossible to stop, yet most definitely punishment material, and worth it. She couldn’t wait.
Christiana kept her hands in prayer position against her chest. She writhed on the silky bedcover in the knowledge that inches away was a man who prepared to take more pleasure from every inch of her exposed skin and who would wring out orgasm after orgasm from her. She lay helpless to stop him.
More dualities threatened to break apart inside. One side wanted this man to crack her open, take his pleasure between her legs, rudely and without shame. The other shouted to snap her thighs closed, that whatever he was doing was too much. The truth settled the matter. Christiana wanted to belong to Jonathan.
He urged her to roll onto her back. He pushed her knees up to her chest, and soft cotton ropes wound around her ankles up around her calves to her knees, spreading open her legs to expose her private parts once. He tethered her hands to yet another rope on the bed.
Where did all the goddamn straps come from? Her pussy wept as she pulled and tested her arm fastenings.
“Still, Christiana.”
Jonathan pulled on the anal plug. The unearthly sensation of its slow glide banished any hope of remaining silent or unmoving. She’d felt every millimeter of its length drag through her muscle.
Any last thoughts about her good-girl self-image, of the young woman who did the right thing, kept quiet, and obeyed the rules, burst like a balloon.
I want this. “Sir!?” she cried.
“A question, Christiana?”
“No questions. What do you need?” Okay, it was a question.
A heartbeat of silence followed. Did she ask the wrong thing?
Instead, a well-lubricated dildo entered her inflamed pussy, a slim pressure filled her anus. More buckling of a strap followed the double penetration. A subtle vibration began. She panted at the low humming running through her sore areas. She knew she would only teeter on the torturous precipice of completion within moments.
“Oh, God, p-please,” she rasped, her voice hoarse from screams.
“Open up.” He straddled her waist. The swollen, weeping cockhead teased her lips. She took it deep enough to touch her gag reflex, resolved to make him come hard and soon, show him she could service him to the fullest.
She sucked, swirled, and licked like a greedy child with a treat. He held himself back, only allowing her access to half his length. She gurgled against his steely cock, begging for all of him. She tried to lift her head more to take him fully, but he held her head fast by her hair, the pull on her scalp adding to the delicious torment of needing more.
Her hips arched up in reflex. But her bound limbs ensured she could only squirm like a trapped animal under the tent of his legs. His hand tightened in her hair. The vibrations in her ass and pussy dialed down, the threat of the promised convulsions retreated. The mischievous device lodged firmly in her orifices teased and taunted at a conclusion that Jonathan wouldn’t permit.
Unintelligible sounds erupted from her throat.
“Yes, I’ll let you service me. Suck me hard, Christiana, and I’ll let you come—later.”
He eased out so she could take a much needed breath and then pushed in, holding himself there for a few seconds. He set the pace. Each time he pulled out, she took a lungful of air, letting it out as he pushed back in and down her throat. He was slow and deliberate until tears ran down her cheeks, leaking from under the leather. He held out for a long, long time though she heard his rasp from deep inside his own throat each time he pushed in.
Elite (Elite Doms of Washington Book 1) Page 22