TakingonTabytha

by Reese Gabriel

  He was behind the bar, the perfect host. He had the black silk shirt on and his dress pants, no undershirt. She was itching to see that chest of his close up. “A little chardonnay would be nice.”

  “Yes it would.” He brought two glasses. “Cheers.”

  Tabytha shook her head. “I still can’t believe I’m here. Tell me again why I should be trusting you in the least?”

  “Because I have an honest face.”

  She wasn’t thinking about his face. She was wondering about that body, how it would look naked, the powerful muscles, the sinews, the statuesque lines.

  “Actually it’s because of my friend. She had you investigated.”

  “Didn’t find any skeletons in my closet? Maybe she didn’t know where to look.”

  “Oh she knows. And she’s got GPS on me right now.”

  Maybe she was exaggerating a little, but not much. Martinique might be annoying but no one could say she never had her friends’ backs.

  “I wondered about that strange humming noise in your purse on the way over. I thought you’d brought a vibrator along for me to use on you,” he quipped.

  “If she doesn’t hear from me in an hour—”

  “I think she probably heard you climaxing in the limo, along with the rest of the city.”

  “You aren’t a gentleman,” she informed him, wary as he took the glass from her hand and returned it to the bar with his own. “But then you already know that.”

  He returned with a smile, his lips on a sharp slant. “Kiss me.”

  “What?” The request caught her off guard.

  “It’s quite simple, you get on your pretty tiptoes, you slide over nice and sweet and you pucker up.”

  Tabytha frowned. “If you think I’m afraid, you’re wrong. I’ve already survived this little ordeal twice.”

  She proved her point, daring to press her body and her lips to his.

  So far it felt similar, if not entirely pacifying, the power and desire, the sheer will to make use of her exactly as he wanted.

  He made a good case.

  Her breasts pressed like they belonged against him, for pleasure, hers and his, along with her ass, which he was cupping now in his large firm hands.

  His cock was hard against her. He was large, she could tell, and thick too. Her knees went weak as he ground his pelvis against her. She moaned, wanting him to lift her, to take her then and there.

  Okay, this was new.

  “No, lover,” he crooned, reading her need. “You’re a long way from that kind of satisfaction. I’ve a lot planned for you first.”

  In a move that would have broken the will of ninety-nine point-nine percent of the male population, she brushed her fingertips over his zipper, suggesting what it might feel like on his cock. “Sure you want to wait that long, cowboy? I could take pretty good care of you right here and now.”

  He took hold of her wrist, confining it, lightly but firmly enough to let her know who was in control. “I can see we’re going to need to restrain your enthusiasm a little. There are rules here about touching.”

  “Does that make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, having rules?” She meant it as a taunt but his eyes lit up like a flame as he grasped her hair in his fist.

  Tugging it tight, bending back her neck just to the edge of pain and no further, he addressed the matter once and for all. “Why I have them is my business, my little Tabby Cat. I would concentrate on learning them and obeying if I were you.”

  Tabytha winced. “Don’t call me that.”

  “Rule One,” he declared, his free hand caressing her flat, bowed belly. “You are here for my amusement. I will do as I wish with you and say what I wish to you. I’ll treat you as the lovely little toy you secretly long to be. Unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless you exercise the safety word.”

  “Journalist, I know. So original. Must have taxed your brain on that one.”

  “You’re right, I can do better.” His eyes lit with mischief. “Your new word is ‘I am a spoiled brat’.”

  “That’s five words,” she bristled, half in indignation and half in hot embarrassment.

  “You can argue all you like, darling,” said Harlan, forcing her tight against him, body to body so that she had little choice but to feel his hard muscles, his unyielding power. “But life isn’t always fair, is it?”

  Tabytha moaned, trying not to move, trying not to arch herself, pressing her breasts and thrusting her pelvis.

  “You’re a bastard.”

  He chuckled, taking it as a compliment. Then he spanked her, a single open palm strategically delivered, the hardness of his hand cracking against the soft roundedness of her bottom.

  She squealed and tried to move but he held her fast. He was simply too large and strong and too good with his hands.

  For all her struggling she only ended up where she’d started, tightly held and under control.

  He waited for her breathing to calm.

  When she was fully passive once more he delivered a spank to her opposite cheek, even harder and more stinging.

  She cried out, cursing him. “What the hell? I gave up, what was that for?”

  “This is not a negotiation, Tabby Cat. You will submit to me absolutely, to the pleasure and the punishment.”

  “Like hell,” she defied. “I demand you let go of me.”

  “No.”

  “No? What do you mean no,” she spat.

  “You know what you have to say.”

  The safety words. Tabytha strongly contemplated using them and ending the game once and for all. Except the thought of giving him the satisfaction was too much to bear.

  “I can take it, if you can.”

  Tabytha regretted the challenge at once.

  “Oh I can take it just fine.”

  Next thing she knew she was in his arms, feeling both safe and ultimately vulnerable.

  “Let’s go somewhere where we can exercise a few more possibilities, shall we?”

  He carried her down the hall, past the splendid, colorful paintings, all those splashes of color, wall after wall until finally he reached a set of simple, black double doors, polished and made out of some kind of stone. He pushed a button on the wall and they began to slowly open outward.

  “I see we’ve reached the Gates of Hell,” she quipped.

  “Abandon all hope, ye who enter.”

  Harlan brought her to the center of the room. It was large and circular, sparsely furnished with a single dresser, a large armoire and a bed, which was anything but ordinary.

  Composed of wrought iron, it had built-in rings at all four posts as well as an overhead structure that allowed for chains and shackles, conveniently spaced up and down the length. There was also a rack of implements against the wall where a nightstand would be.

  She held her breath as she saw the various floggers, paddles and riding crops.

  “I won’t take you past what you’re ready for,” he said, reading her trepidation perfectly. “But make no mistake, Tabby Cat, within these walls you are mine.”

  She could barely stand as he set her down on her feet, just inches from the edge of the bed.

  “You are so incredibly beautiful,” he said, brushing the errant strands of hair from her face. “And you are a mystery, one I intend to figure out.”

  He told her to stay perfectly still now as he went about the task of disrobing her, first unzipping her dress, so painfully slow she could almost hear the metal teeth, disengaging one by one.

  As the material fell loose at last he bid her lift her arms so he could pull the garment over her head. Instantly the cool air rushed against her skin, jolting her for the moment back to reality and away from the spell of his words, his gestures and touches. Sucking in her lower lip, she bit down as he reached for her panties.

  He was surprisingly gentle as he tugged down the material over her hips, letting it slide down her legs and pool at her feet, thus baring her sex against his ove
rwhelming strength. She flushed, knowing how wet he would find her.

  The last garment was the bra and this he dealt with by reaching behind her, his gaze never leaving hers. As he released the catch, the garment gave way, allowing the full weight of her breasts to spill forward against the confining cups.

  A kiss and the press of his chest held them momentarily in place.

  Very casually as though testing, he ran his fingers across her back, exploring, down, down until his fingertips brushed her bare ass.

  She tensed ever so slightly, whimpering as he squeezed her ass cheeks.

  “Are you worried I’ll spank you? That’s good. It means your own fantasies are springing to life.”

  “You still have your clothes on,” she observed, in a vain effort to change the subject.

  “That’s correct, now you understand that the sub is nude at the Dominant’s discretion.”

  “It gives you an advantage.”

  He smiled wryly. “Everything does, haven’t you figured that out?”

  “I’m starting to. Tell me, why haven’t you slept with Vanessa?”

  “Are you asking as my lover or as a reporter?”

  “Both.”

  “Vanessa needs more of a commitment than I can give her. She would grow attached to me. Wait here,” he said. “I have to do something, just for a moment.”

  The moment stretched to a lifetime as she watched him cross the room, the same man who’d gotten her tea but he was a whole lot more now. He went to the dresser and opened the top drawer.

  “Is that where you keep the Spanish fly?” she teased.

  Actually it was a blindfold he was after and a pair of gleaming handcuffs.

  She hid her excitement and the dark bite of sexual dread. “Is that the best you can come up with? Kind of cliché, don’t you think?”

  “Enslavement is in the mind, Tabby Cat.”

  He let her feel the velvet, trailing the black material over her shoulders, then he put the blindfold over her head, sealing her eyes. It was the expensive kind, one that shut out the light on the sides too.

  No hope for peeking, she thought glumly.

  “So this is part of your brainwashing?”

  She felt his hand at her wrist, the click of cool metal.

  A shiver went down her spine. He was cuffing her.

  A second later he took her other wrist, braceleting her hands in front of her.

  This allowed her to shield her pussy, though try as she might she could do nothing to keep her arms from pressing at the side of her breasts, forcing them up and out in what must have made for a very enticing display.

  For a painfully long time he said nothing.

  “Enjoying yourself?” she asked, as much to reassure herself he was still there as to engage in any real dialogue.

  “Completely, and you?”

  “I’ve been better.”

  “I strongly doubt that.”

  She groaned as his hip brushed hers. He was naked now like her. When had that happened?

  His cock was thick and hard and pointed directly against her inner thigh.

  “I had promised myself I would make this first time last but you won’t allow that, will you?”

  “I thought you were in charge,” she teased.

  “You forgot the first thing I told you about who has the real power.”

  “I don’t feel powerful.”

  “You will.”

  “Harlan, what…”

  He was kissing her shoulder, lightly working his way over her collar bone and then down to her breast bone, light searing hot nibbles that managed to reverberate all the way down to her belly.

  His hands were busy as well, toying with her poor, defenseless little nipples, making them swell and throb.

  “You’re so damn predictable,” he growled softly. “I love that about you.”

  Her knees went weak. He took full advantage, lifting her hips and placing her down on the mattress.

  He was so strong.

  “I want you to put your hands over your head, Tabytha. Relax for me, completely.”

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “Do I have to bind you further, darling?”

  “You make it sound it like a treat.”

  Or was it a threat?

  “It can be, if done well.”

  “I need to…go home,” she decided, trying not to cry out as he lightly teased the bottom of her foot.

  “And I need to taste you.”

  “T-taste me?”

  “You are familiar with the concept,” he said dryly.

  Mildly at first, building in intensity, he worked his way up, grasping her ankle as he kissed the instep of her foot and then her calf.

  “S-sure, but that seems kind of submissive, worshipping my foot.”

  “Why shouldn’t I worship what I adore, what I possess?”

  His fingertips played just as unfairly as his lips, appearing and disappearing, her kneecaps, her thighs, everything was fair game.

  Then he reached her quivering stomach, circling her bellybutton. She could only thrash her head in response, clenching and unclenching her fists.

  She swore at him. Though it was herself she was mad at for giving in so easily.

  There had to be a way to resist this.

  For a moment he stopped and she held her breath. Was it over before it had begun?

  No. He was only repositioning himself, moving his mouth into place, his tongue.

  She moaned softly as he penetrated, licking the swollen crack of her labia, pressing downward with the tips of his fingers to splay her wide.

  “Don’t.”

  “You have the safety words,” he reminded.

  Yes, she really should, but it felt so good, how could she want it to end? He had to step up to the plate, be a gentleman and be strong enough for both of them. “Say them for me?” she pleaded.

  Harlan laughed. “Oh I don’t think so, Tabby Cat. How about we raise the stakes instead? I will continue to enjoy your lovely pussy and you will not come no matter what. If you do I will flip you over and warm that fine ass of yours.”

  “Bastard.”

  “That’s no way to talk to the man in control of your body.”

  He had managed to find her clitoris, swelling and manipulating with the tiniest application of his rolled tongue.

  Tabytha nearly exploded from the sensation.

  Would he really warm her ass? Why not call his bluff?

  Because Harlan Blake didn’t bluff, that’s why.

  He reached up, sliding his hands along her rib cage. She drew a sharp breath as he reached her swollen breasts.

  “No,” she hissed through clenched teeth, writhing as he worked both nipples simultaneously. “I hate you, do you understand me?”

  There was no resisting this. A robot couldn’t hold out, assuming robots could be made love to in the first place.

  “I can’t help it,” she moaned.

  The first orgasm was like a wall, crashing into her, or was she crashing into it? There was no bottom beneath the wall and no top, just the crushing, the roar of utter desolation.

  And then came the second, a slow-motion earthquake that made her writhe and twist, seeking out as much of his perverse attentions as she could get.

  Abruptly he stopped touching her.

  “Harlan!” she cried out.

  She reached for him, arching her back, terrified and ecstatic all at once. She’d never craved a man’s flesh, never sought to have her heat merge with another’s in such a way before.

  “On your belly,” he commanded.

  Tabytha did her best to roll over. He had to help her considerably given her weakened, flush state.

  Oh god, it was so amazing, the sensations, multiplied a million times as she finally reached her new position, facedown on the sheets, stomach, breasts, pussy.

  She pressed down hard, clenching and unclenching her buttocks. She felt full this way, less alone.

  She might make it through
the orgasm after all.

  Harlan’s hand brought her back to the reality—his reality.

  A single crack across the taut, pert bottom he’d made so easily accessible.

  “You…mother…fucker.”

  Harlan spanked her again.

  He paused a moment and she dared not breathe.

  What was going on?

  She could feel the weight shifting on the bed. He wouldn’t leave her, not now.

  No, he was only leaving for a second. She could feel it in her heart.

  Like in that crazy fantasy on the beach, where she had guessed the man’s every motion before it happened, like some kind of game of dominance and submission, a gorgeous tango, infinitely practiced.

  “You were so patient,” he whispered as he returned.

  He had something to put on her, first on one ankle and then the other.

  Each had a tiny clasp and wrapped snugly, rather like the strap of a fancy shoe, except these were no fashion statements.

  They were leather cuffs.

  Oh god, he was going to bind her down to the bed. Face down, legs spread.

  “Nothing personal,” he said. “I just don’t want you jumping around on me too much, it spoils the concentration.”

  “Sorry to inconvenience you.”

  “I meant your concentration. I wouldn’t want to spoil your fun.”

  “Thanks.”

  Bastard.

  He meant to chain her down.

  Now she understood better the built-in features of the bed, the rings to attach ropes, or in this case chains.

  This she knew as he let the smooth links touch her skin, the metal cool and agonizing. He played with her, trailing them down her back before finally attaching them to the cuffs.

  A few moments after that she felt the give disappear in her legs. She could no longer close them. Nor could she get up and run away. Something she should have done ages ago.

  “Remember the safety word,” he said.

  “Sure,” she grumbled. “Rub it in what a masochist I am because I haven’t used it so far.”

  He chuckled. “You’re no masochist and I am no sadist. We enjoy this, both of us.”

  He had another chain.

  This one he used to connect her already attached wrists to the headboard, dead center.