by Jesse Joren
God, what a picture you made. You looked every inch the kidnapped pirate maiden, ready to be taken at the pleasure of your captor.
"Now that there won’t be any more distractions, we can get to know each other."
The dagger made it easy to slice away the half-dozen buttons on your white shirt, slipping the silky material aside without any hurry. I was teasing myself as much as you. It was like unwrapping the best present under the Christmas tree.
There were black lace panties down below, but up here it was a sheer, flesh-colored bra restraining those beautiful, firm breasts. I cut through the scrap of lace between the cups, then through the thin straps over your shoulder.
Your ripe, plum-colored nipples stood out in sharp relief on the creaminess of your breasts. The flat of the blade was a perfect tool to stroke over them. They hardened into thick, soft peaks.
"Do you rather I call these your breasts or your tits, Jenna?" I asked as I teased them.
Your mouth opened, but nothing came out.
The bedroom was quiet as you tried to decide if one answer was more dangerous than another. I turned the dagger and used the very tip of the blade to gently prick the sensitive tips of your nipples.
"Breasts," you said at once.
"Then I’ll call them tits. Ask me to suck on your pretty tits, Jenna. Ask me nice."
My voice came out gritty and thick. I had the dagger, and you were tied, but you still had power over me.
A slow flush had spread up your throat to your face.
"You’re an asshole!"
"Probably," I agreed as I danced the dagger over your hard, juicy nipples again. "But that doesn’t change anything. Ask me nice, Jenna. I’m sure you have a needle somewhere in the house. These would look nice pierced, don’t you think?"
I used the sharp tip to prick your nipples again, a little harder this time.
"Please suck me." Your voice was sullen, but your eyes smoldered.
"Suck you where? On your tits?"
"Yes."
"Say it right, Jenna. ‘Please suck on my tits’ is what I want to hear."
"Please suck on my tits," you repeated, your flush approaching the red of the quilt.
"I don’t know if I’d call that asking nicely, but okay. I don’t have all night to wait."
I eased myself down on top of you, squeezing your breasts like melons being tested for ripeness. Fuck it. I wasn’t there to be gentle. You could get that from your respectable husband. Look where that had gotten him.
You squirmed under my hands, but there was nowhere to go as I plundered your breasts. The black gloves looked sinister and just right against your skin. I cupped them together into an impressive bulge in my palms, pushing the dark tips close to each other.
Opening my mouth wide, I inhaled your nipples into my mouth, sucking hard. I smelled and tasted you, clean skin and a faint whiff of Versace. I groaned and sucked harder.
You’d stopped moving under me, but when I started to nip and bite, your body jerked under my mouth. I smiled against your flesh, nibbling harder. Your nipples throbbed and stretched as my mouth closed in another slow, hard suck.
Your breath quickened, and there was a trip-hammer beat of your heart under my lips. I slid a hand down over your hips, worming under the short hem of the leather skirt, groping you greedily.
The black lace panties were still framing the warmth between your legs, but that was easy to fix. One good rip was all it took. So long, Vickie’s Secret.
My gloved fingers found and stroked the soft mat of silky fur in the V between your thighs, then went on to the warm, smooth groove. Your breathing had already told me that my play at your breasts was having its effect. It never hurt to have a little more confirmation.
When I touched between your legs, my fingertips glided into a sleek, warm pool of wetness. I let your damp nipples slip from my mouth, raising up to look at you. Your eyes were still blazing, but now with arousal as well as anger.
"Jenna, Jenna." I pretended to be disappointed. "What kind of girl are you to get all wet at a time like this? What would your mother say? What would your husband say?"
I put the soaked leather over your lips, silencing whatever protest about to form. You tried to turn your face away. My fingers followed, rubbing your creamy juices over your mouth and under your nose, letting you enjoy the scent of the leather mixed with your own personal perfume.
"Pussy juice doesn’t lie." I dipped down for another quick taste of your nipples. "You like having these, don’t you? I’ve watched you for a long time. I’ve seen how you show them off and use them to get noticed. It makes life easy, doesn’t it?"
"Then someone like me comes along. I don’t like being played with. Fucking little tease." A throb of real anger underscored my harsh words.
I probed between our bodies, jerking at the pushed-up skirt until the snap broke at the waist. With rough motions I stripped it from you and tossed it away. It joined the same heap as the ruined white shirt and scraps of lace that used to be panties and a bra.
"You can leave the boots on," I said. "In fact, I insist."
"You aren't going to get away with this. You can take that to the bank." Your voice was gritty, and I smiled. Even with nothing but the boots to give you dignity, you were still trying to regain the upper hand. This evening was turning out to be a revelation about you, more exhilarating than I’d dared to hope.
"You’re spunky, but you’re still wrong," I said, stealing tonight's first real kiss from those beautiful lips.
After an instant of resistance your mouth accepted me, soft and yielding. Your tongue hesitated and then brushed over mine. I put aside my plans for the moment, thrilled to feel that silkiness coaxing me into your mouth. The gentle, firm sucking on my tongue made me think of putting something else there instead.
There was a flare of hot pain in my mouth as your teeth suddenly closed hard on my trapped tongue. God damn it. You'd lured me in like a sucker, but it was my own fault to fall for such an obvious ploy.
Your body heaved under me as though you’d just sprinted up a few flights of stairs. I drew back and slapped you just hard enough to sting. You'd thrown out your challenge, and I was playing for keeps.
"Fuck you for hitting me!" Your voice was both angry and shocked.
"Fuck you for biting me. Enjoy it, little bitch. You won’t get another chance."
The slap hadn't been hard enough to hurt anything but your pride, but I saw the mute promise of revenge in your eyes. I made a mental note to watch my balls.
It was hard to peel myself away from the invitation of your body, but there was something on your vanity table that I wanted. It wasn’t in my original plan, but the plan seemed to be slipping a little. Time to improvise.
"Nice brush, Jenna," I said as I brought it back to the bed. "Expensive. Maybe even handmade." I slapped the heavy rosewood back against my palm with an impressive thwack. "
"Gives a good sting, even wearing the glove. Probably would give an even better one on your bare ass."
Taunting you at close range was a mistake. Both of your feet came up, pistoning out to kick me. Sheer reflex made me dodge, but that was too close for comfort.
There would be punishment. For the moment it was too mesmerizing to see your spread legs and the dark pink, half-hidden valley that my hands had already mapped.
"Nice hole," I remarked. "Looks perfect for what I have in mind."
Your face reddened again, and you squeezed your thighs together to hide the view. The gentle ripple of those well-muscled legs was sexier to me than if you’d spread wide and shown me everything you had to offer.
Almost everything
Keeping an eye on those lethal heels, I put my hands on your knees as you tried to push your thighs back together. Good muscle tone was sexy as hell.
"Stop that. We know each other pretty well by now. Open your legs, Jenna, and let me see that pretty little hole again."
Your thighs tensed for the briefest instant under my
hands. I caught your legs in mid-air as you tried the same trick of kicking me. With one quick motion I flipped you onto your stomach. Although the sash twisted and kinked, it kept your arms tied to the head of the bed.
You started to scramble up on your knees. When your ass rose from the bed, I gave you a swat with the hairbrush. As with the slap, it was hard enough to sting, but not hard enough to put marks on that sweet, creamy skin.
"Every time you jerk like that, I get to see more of you." I laughed. "C’mon, Jenna, I want my money’s worth for my trouble. Show it to me again."
My words maddened you, and you struggled to get free. Good sense must have told you to be still, but my words goaded just enough to make you ignore reason.
"You’re an asshole!" you spluttered for the second time in five minutes. Your reward was another swat with the brush. Your shapely ass now sported twin patches of delicate pink, adding to its charm.
"Maybe I am, but I can see yours," I teased, giving you a series of light swats. They might not be hard, but I knew from the heaviness of the brush that it was stinging enough not to be ignored.
"Stop hitting me like that!"
"Oh, you want it harder? No problem. I like the rough stuff, too."
With a little more force I caught you under the curve of that delicious ass, right in the delicate crease where your buttocks met the backs of your thighs. You’d remember me tomorrow morning.
"Stop…hitting…me!"
"Okay. Whatever you say," I agreed.
My too-polite tone made you look over your shoulder. What a picture you made. Dark cloud of hair, blazing eyes, freshly spanked ass.
I could do this all night. Reluctantly I glanced at the bedside clock. The night was getting away from me.
"No more for now," I said. "One more false move with the heels, and what I just did is going to look like a walk in the park."
I dropped the brush to the floor and climbed up on the bed behind you. You didn’t quite realized yet how aroused you were, but that liberal smear of creamy heat on my fingers told me plenty.
My hands cupped your ass, squeezing your cheeks as I had your breasts.
"Open up, Jenna," I said huskily, kneading the smoothness and ignoring the demands of my body.
You tried to turn over, but I held you down without much effort. This position diminished the weapon of those long, strong legs, which was the reason I’d flipped you.
Now another reason was staring at me invitingly. I risked taking one hand from your ass, slipping it down into the darkness between your legs.
"My husband will kill you for this," you said, lying very still under my hands.
No way I was thinking that the fight had gone out of you. What was going on in that devious mind? My balls agreed that it was a good idea to be careful.
"He might want to," I agreed. "I can't say that I’d blame him. I don’t want to share you."
A satiny wetness coated my hand from my explorations. I brought it to my nose and sniffed with appreciation. Essence of Jenna, underscored with leather.
"Are you going to tell him?" I went on. "If you do, be sure to mention that your ‘attacker’ needed a bath towel to sop up all your juice."
Silence.
"How long have you been married, Jenna?" I asked. When you didn’t answer, I smacked your ass. "How long?"
Your answer was reluctant. "Three years."
"That's plenty of time to get bored. Do you love him?"
Your gleaming eyes met mine, and my body begged me to please remember why we were here.
"That’s none of your fucking business," you said coldly.
"Then another question. Does he love you? Where is he tonight? If I had a wife like you, I’d make it a point to be around. Bad things can happen to neglected wives."
My hand couldn’t stay away from your deep, sleek warmth. I gripped your ass harder, pulling the tight cheeks apart like ripe fruit. Leaning in closer, I traced my tongue down the innermost edge of your slit, your juice stinging my wounded tongue.
Your thighs quivered, and I heard the change in your breathing. I’d planned to tease you, really make you beg for it, but your taste was even better than your smell. Musky and bittersweet, the stuff of dreams.
"Look at that, just begging for me," I made myself say. My excitement was starting to get the better of me. It was going to be hard to stick to my plan.
I spread your lips wide, lapping up your juices. The tiny pearls of wetness had beaded inside of you, droplets that soon trickled into a molten river to glaze my face. I groaned and burrowed deeper into you.
Like slow, warm butter, you melted under my tongue. You whimpered as I worked my tongue up higher, gently tugging you between my teeth as your tight little bud swelled under my lips.
My tongue slipped down to lap at your wet, tight opening. Looking up, my eyes locked onto yours as I licked. Your face was still flushed, but there was no mistaking the heat in your eyes.
Your eyes closed as your smooth, silky muscles squeezed my tongue, your hips beginning to move in rhythm to my licks. My fingertip found the hard little nub I’d just licked, teasing it as I tongued you.
"Still want me to stop?" I asked. My question was muffled against your flesh, between deep, long licks against your wetness.
Even though your eyes stayed closed, your hips never stopped swaying under my hands and tongue. Pulling your ass cheeks apart, my tongue raked up in the deep, musky valley between them, skating over that puckered, forbidden little hole.
Your eyes flew open. The utter shock on your face made me laugh.
"What’s the matter? You act like that’s the first time anyone did that." I waggled my tongue at you before taking another long, slow lick over the tight little ring.
"Don’t tell me your hubby hasn’t done that in three years?"
Another slow, deep probe of my tongue brought a different kind of bittersweet taste into my mouth, but no less exciting. I smacked you on the ass again.
"I asked you a question, Jenna. Did your husband ever do that before?"
Tension returned to your body full-throttle. Your voice was strained.
"Why does it matter? Do what you’re going to do and get out, but stop playing this game."
"Hmm. A game." I nibbled on your swollen lips. "I like games, but I’m not playing one now. Think he sleeps around?"
"Alex has never--" you began, but a deep scoop of my tongue into you stopped the words on a moan.
The question hung in the air as I took another long, slow lick of you. I swirled around and around your tight opening. With an effort you tried to stay quiet but didn't quite succeed.
"So he’s a good boy, huh? What about Jenna? Is she a good girl? Or does she sleep around? Maybe hubby hasn’t licked back here, but someone else has?"
Our eyes locked together as a strange expression wavered in those pretty green eyes. You were the first to look away.
"No," was all you said. It felt like the truth, but there was guilt in your face. Guilt and an angry sadness.
My finger pressed into your wetness as my tongue found the tight little ring of your ass again. A second finger joined the first, stretching you with gentle pressure until you whimpered.
"But maybe you wished someone had? Hubby is on the missing list these days. Is that why you and the vodka have such a good relationship?"
A wistful note crept into your voice.
"Alex is…busy. One day--"
"Yeah. One day," I sneered. "Like when you’re both too old to do anything except sit in rocking chairs and talk about what you wish you’d done?"
Again I licked you until you groaned.
"Know what I think? I think you were just about ready to go fucking around. Well, here I am. Your lucky night. I’ll send hubby a bill for my services. Probably cheaper than a marriage counselor."
"Shut up!" you said in a strangled tone. "Who are you to pass judgment? You just creep around in my garbage. You are garbage. You don’t know shit about me."
&
nbsp; "I know one thing," I said, giving your wetness a light smack. "You don’t want me to stop. I can taste it. I can smell it. But I want to hear you say it in your own sweet voice. Beg me to let you cum, Jenna."
Stubbornly, you closed your eyes and said nothing. I corkscrewed my fingers into you again, feeling to see if a mythical G-spot was awake and on duty.
Sure enough, a small, tight nub rose up against my fingers. My thumb swirled around your outer lips, and your muscles spasmed around my fingers like a vise.
I leaned into your ass and drove my tongue into the tight ring of your ass, plunging in and out, dizzy from the clean animal scent of you that filled my nose and mouth. The throbbing dance of your body spoke volumes.
"Tell me when you’re close so I can make it good for you, Jenna."
"I’m close. So close," you moaned. Several smooth, thick drops from between your legs had already dampened the quilt, making a rich, dark spot of deepest rose.
I lapped at you, licking and nuzzling. "How close?"
I felt your muscles starting to tighten, beginning an unmistakable throb. "Just a few more seconds…"
"Well then, that’s enough of that." I pulled my fingers out of you, licking them and smiling at you. You looked bewildered, then furious as I stood up to stretch.
"Do you think I waited all this time to be with you, just to do all the work? When you won’t even ask me nicely? What a selfish little slut you are."
I leaned over and took your face in my hands, prying my tongue between your closed lips to make sure you got a good taste of yourself. I thought you might fight or turn away in disgust. Instead you lay still, absorbing your forbidden taste with a look of wonder and surprise.
A sudden spurt of rage went through me. What kind of a man would leave that sexy, beautiful part of you unexplored for so long?
I began to undress with slow care. The cape went into the floor. The black gloves followed, then the black shirt. As I started on the belt of my black jeans, you spoke in sweet tones.
"I know you aren’t going to stop, but not like this. Please untie me. I won’t do anything. I just want you to…to finish and go. But not like this. Please."
That made me laugh. "I hope you don’t have any plans for the stage, Jenna. That’s the worst acting I ever heard. You think I’m going to let you have at me with those fingernails? I have enough to worry about with your legs being untied."