by Claire Adams
"Come back," I complained, reaching for him, but he caught my hand by the wrist.
"No, not yet. If I come now, it will be too soon. I want to wait until we can climax together."
While I was disappointed, I was also deeply touched. Mick had never cared if I had an orgasm or not as long as he had his. Ethan always wanted to know that I received as much pleasure as he did, and many times, even more. It made me want to give him an orgasm even more than before and I reached for him again.
"But I want you to come in my mouth," I insisted, and abruptly, Ethan twisted my wrist behind my back painfully.
"You're being disobedient, naughty girl. Do I have to teach you another lesson on how to behave?" His voice was ominous. I could still feel the welts on my ass stinging from earlier that evening as I shook my head.
"No, sir. I'll obey," I said contritely, and he let me go.
"Good. Now get up on the bed," he commanded. I did as I'd been told as he went to his dresser, and when he returned, he was carrying several lengths of rope. Looking at me sternly, he said, "Give me your hands."
I lifted them up to him willingly. I never would have thought I would be the kind of girl who submitted to playing these kind of kinky sex games, but ever since Ethan introduced me to BDSM, I loved it in a way that was impossible to describe.
It freed me to enjoy sex in ways I never had before, and gave me pleasures far greater than I had ever thought possible. Not only did I want to be his sex slave, but I needed to be. I craved it now, with animalistic hunger, and I would do anything he asked me to do to get the pleasures I knew he would provide.
Ethan wound one of the thick braids of soft rope around my delicate left wrist and secured it tightly to the bedpost of his enormous king-sized bed. Then he did the same thing to my right one, and then each of my ankles, tying me down to the bed like a giant letter X.
"How's that feel?" I moved my arms and legs, straining against the ropes and confirmed that I was unable to move them at all, but that the bonds were not too tight. Satisfied, Ethan nodded. He placed a blindfold over my eyes, submerging me in darkness. "Can you see anything?"
My eyes strained in the blackness, searching for any glimpse of light, but there was nothing.
"No, sir," I said, and I could sense the smile on his stern face.
"Good. I'm going to do things to you now, Kayla, and I want you to be keenly aware of what your body is feeling. Not being able to move or see will heighten your sense of touch. Then, when you're ready, you can have your turn to make me come."
He left the room, leaving me helplessly bound, forced to wait and wonder what incredible delights he had in store for me. What was coming? What was he going to do?
I heard him come back in and felt him drawing close to the bed. My entire body stiffened in anticipation. Was it going to be the whip? The flogger? Ice? To my surprise, it was a gentle tickle, and I gasped with delight as I wiggled in my bonds. He was brushing my skin with something soft and wispy, perhaps a feather. It made my nipples pucker and my pussy tingle.
The gentle feather made its way over my breasts, down my stomach, and traveled between my thighs, brushing delightfully against my skin. When it massaged over my clitoris, I shuddered with pleasure, wanting more.
Next came a new sensation. Cold and hard. Perhaps the flat edge of knife or a metal ruler. I stiffened as he rubbed it over my skin, liking the way he smacked my breasts with the flat side of it and moaning as he fingered my pussy as he smacked it against my thighs with a series of gentle taps.
Now, another sensation. This time it was some sort of vibrating toy. I could hear it buzzing before I felt it. He applied it to the sensitive folds of my pussy, working it like an expert until I was writhing and gasping on the bed, straining against my bonds as he brought me to orgasm. The sheets beneath me were drenched in my come and my entire body was tingling with pleasure.
"My turn now?" I asked, hopefully. I was eager to return the favor he had bestowed upon me.
"Yes, but I want you to experience it blindfolded so you really notice every sensation," Ethan said, and I felt him cut the bonds from my wrists and ankles.
Still submerged in total darkness, I fumbled on the bed, searching for him. I sensed the heat from his body and followed my instincts.
My hands found an arm and trailed along his flesh, rubbing his chest, exploring the muscles of his pecs and those incredible abs. Touching his muscular body without being able to see him made me appreciate just how well sculpted he was. When I put my lips upon his flesh, he tasted salty, warm, and delicious. I never really appreciated before the finer subtleties of his flavor until now. The soft down of his hair, the smoothness of his skin, the divot of his navel were standing out to me now.
When I came to his erection, it felt huge in my hands, and I explored him carefully, memorizing the shape and feel of every inch of him. I could hear the changes in his breathing, feel the pulsations of his circulatory system, and smell the masculine musk of his arousal.
When I put my tongue on the head of his throbbing organ, I could envision the expression on his face as he groaned with pleasure. My pussy was tingling with arousal as I administered to him, taking great delight in pleasuring him just as he had done for me earlier. I was amazed at just how much more exciting a blowjob had become by performing it blindfolded. Not being able to see really had opened my other senses to the incredible nuisances I would have otherwise ignored.
"Now, fuck me," Ethan commanded, and I mounted his waist, using only my sense of touch to find my way. When I felt his enormous dick slide into my tight, dripping-wet pussy, we both moaned aloud with pleasure.
"Good girl. Now stretch it out. See how long you can draw out my pleasure by fucking me without making me come. Use your senses to know what my body is telling you."
Rocking my hips, I thrust gently on top of him, increasing in speed and intensity as he writhed and groaned beneath me. It was difficult at first to determine how close to orgasm he was without being able see the expression on his face, but I reached out with my other senses, and figured it out quickly.
I could feel his muscles tensing, smell his manly scent, feel his perspiration on his chest, hear his breathing grow more rapid, taste the passion of his kiss, and feel the pulsations of his body. Even blind, I knew his body well, and I worked to draw out his pleasure with excruciating slowness, just as he had done to me. Every time he was near climax, I slowed to a near stop before picking up the pace to gyrate wildly on top of him once more. The student had become the master.
"Good girl. I'm going to come inside you," Ethan said.
He tore the blindfold from my eyes and flipped me over so I was lying on my stomach on top of the bed. He bent my knees up beneath me so I was kneeling on the bed and drove his dick into me from behind with a powerful thrust. Gripping my tits from behind, he pounded into me forcefully, until suddenly we were climaxing as one. The cries of my pleasure blended with his moans as we orgasmed together in perfect harmony. Our bodies shivered as every nerve cell exploded with ecstasy.
Ethan spanked my ass with his hands to keep the passion going, prolonging both our climaxes, until we finally collapsed onto the bed together, exhausted and utterly satisfied.
He climbed under the sheets and pulled me close to him, wrapping his arms around me in a loving embrace and fell asleep. I had no idea what had upset him earlier, but I'd given him what he needed and now he was at peace. I'd done my part, and I was happy. Feeling loved and needed, I closed my eyes and fell asleep against his chest, completely content.
Chapter Twenty-four: Ethan
I got to my office and was startled to find a new face sitting behind Angela's desk. She really had been a great assistant and I was going to miss her. Unfortunately, the fiery passion that had made her so good at her job also made her a force to be afraid of when she'd been crossed.
Angela and I had never committed to each other, but the sheer regularity with which we've enjoyed each other's bodies had been en
ough to make her feel like I betrayed her when I wanted to call it quits between us. She blamed Kayla, but in reality, I should have stopped our affair long ago. It was wrong of me to keep turning to her for sexual release—no matter how hot she was. I always knew fucking the same woman for too long would be misconstrued as a relationship, and I had been right.
Under the circumstances, it was best that Angela had moved on. Steve was a lucky man. I knew I could count on him to appreciate her for her administrative skills, and not just for being a hot piece of ass. They would make a great team and be a huge asset to the company.
"Mr. Colson, I'm your new assistant, Gary," the young man behind the desk introduced himself with a nervous quiver in his voice.
"Glad to meet you. I have an appointment with an old acquaintance. He should be arriving first thing this morning." I was about to tell him to have security ban him from the building when he arrived, but to the over-eager young man cut me off.
"Yes, sir. He's already here. A Mr. Dorcey. I told him to have a seat in your office until you arrive."
"What?" I was annoyed. I had got into work an hour early specifically to avoid this situation again. Damn it. My irritation must have shown on my face because Gary flinched as if I'd slapped him.
"I'm sorry. Should I call him back out and have him wait in the lobby?"
"No, he's already here; I'll take care of him," I glowered, but I knew it was a mistake Gary would never make again.
When I entered in my private office and shut the door securely behind me, I found Charles sitting in my favorite chair with his feet propped up on my desk. He folded his hands behind his head and it was all I could do not to smack the cocky grin off his face.
I couldn't wait to give it to him just to get him out of my sight. If I never had to see Charles Dorsey again, it would be money well spent. The problem was, I wasn't sure that would be the case, and looking at him now, I was sure it wouldn't be.
All of a sudden, paying him off didn't seem like such a good idea. It seemed like a recipe to have him in my life forever. He just looked so damn sure of himself sitting there at my desk like he owned it, and I realized giving him this money would make him think that he owned me—and in a way, he would.
Suddenly the sure feeling I had when I got the cashier's check felt like a lump sitting in my gut and it bubbled up inside me in the form of rage.
"What the hell are you doing there? Get your ass up." I had to force my hands to relax from clenching into fists.
"We had an appointment. I knew you'd probably forget, so I decided to come early. You forget a lot of things. They say this a symptom of repeated drug use," Charles said, sounding as cocky and condescending as ever.
"I mean, what the hell are you doing in my chair? That's my desk. Now, move your ass before I do it for you." As I advanced on the little weasel, he scrambled to his feet, and then tried to make the move look casual, swaggering as if it had been his idea and not because he didn't want me to beat his ass.
"Fine. I thought as old friends you'd like to spend some time catching up before we do a little business, but if you're in a hurry, I'll just take my check now and leave."
When I first came into my office, that's exactly what I had wanted to do, but no longer. I reached into my pocket for the check, and Charles hand was held out expectantly. I could see him swallow hard against the saliva that had built up in his mouth, like a drooling mongrel. He was hungry for it, but it wouldn't satiate his hunger and in a month or so, he'd be back, ready for more.
Why should I hand over my money to this slimy, little jerk? Why does he deserve to have the money I've worked so hard to earn with twenty years of sweat, innovation, and sleepless nights? I pulled my hand out of my pocket and crossed my arms in front of my chest, with a lift of my chin.
"You know, I've just been thinking. I built up Speed Motorcycles out of nothing and turned it into the biggest motorcycle company in the country. Sure, I was a dumbass and almost let drugs destroy my life when I was young, but it was a mistake I learned from and I got clean.
“I'm not going to let it ruin all that I've acquired now. I'm not going to be intimidated by your chicken-shit attempt at blackmail. Do your worst. Tell every newspaper in town that Speed Motorcycles stands for getting loaded on speed. Tell every television reporter that I was a junkie that first year of my company. I'll even confirm that it's true."
"You can't do that. The bad press will ruin your reputation. Your model girlfriend will leave you. Think about what your parents will say. Your fans will hate you. You'll be a laughingstock and no one will ever want to buy one of your crappy bikes again."
"That won't happen. Because I'll tell an even more compelling story about how I traded the misery of drug addiction for the even better high of speeding on a fast bike. Speeding on motorcycles is the kind of high that can't be beat, and my rise from the fall will inspire everyone who hears my story. I won't be a laughingstock—I will be a hero."
"You can't do this to me. You owe me money. Pay me now." He sounded like a spoiled kid throwing a temper tantrum in the grocery store, but I no longer cared. Let him rage and kick and spit all he wanted. Still, he was a reminder of what could have become of me if I hadn't gotten clean, and I felt compassion for him.
"I don't owe you a dime. We were friends once, and because of that, I am willing to pay for you to go to rehab, but that's it. Take it or leave it."
My offer was sincere and I hoped he'd take it, but instead he turned his red eyes on me with a look of pure hatred. Flipping me the finger, he shouted, "Fuck you. I don't need rehab. I need money. If you won't pay to keep me quiet, then pay because you owe me. The name of this company was my idea. I came up with a lot of the product ideas, too. I deserve to be paid for it."
His screaming didn't scare me, but the fact that he truly believed what he was saying terrified me. Speaking in a calm voice, I said to him, "You didn't create this company, and you didn't even come up with the name. We were two dumb kids getting stoned together. That's not an epiphany that turned into an empire. That's not twenty years of hard work. Let me help you get clean the way Garden Hope Center helped me. Let me check you into rehab."
For a moment, he looked hopeful, as if a part of him yearned to be made well, and I thought he might take the help I was offering. But it only lasted for a moment and then the dark demons of addiction took over and morphed his expression back into something ugly.
"Fuck you. You're going to pay me the money you owe me. I'll sue if I have to. I'll take you to the highest court. We'll see what a judge and jury say when they hear the truth, and I won't settle for just a million dollars. I want a billion dollars now. You're going to pay, and when you do, I'm buying you out and you'll be back to nothing again."
Just then, the door to my office opened a security team appeared. Gary had heard the shouting from his desk and called them. I watched as they hauled away one of my oldest friends. Then I closed the door, slumped into my chair, and held my head in my hands. That could have been me if I hadn't gotten cleaned up, and was grateful that it wasn't.
I was a blessed man. I had my health, work that fulfilled me, a business I could be proud of, more money than I could spend, and now an incredible woman by my side. Thank God I hadn't fucked it up—yet.
Chapter Twenty-five: Kayla
"I wish Ethan would open up to me about what's bothering him," I said to my mother over the phone.
It was so nice to be able to call her up again. I had missed be able to turn to her for advice when I was with Mick all those years, and I was so grateful that we had reconnected.
We had been so close when I was a child; I couldn't wait to come home from school every day to tell her everything that had happened, and she would listen in rapt attention while she fed me a homemade, grilled cheese sandwich, all warm and melted, fresh from the skillet.
Then, when I was in high school, somehow we grew apart, and my relationship with Mick put a wedge between us that drove us even further apart unti
l we were no longer speaking. By the time I realized it had been a mistake to run off to L.A. with him, I was too embarrassed to call her and admit that she'd been right all along.
Now, I was glad that the rift between us had been mended and we were now closer than we had ever been before. I could talk to her now, not as a child talking to her mother, but as best friends. We were now two women sharing secrets and advice, and I cherished every moment.
"What did he say when you asked him? Was he secretive? Did he refuse to answer? Because if he did, that's a huge red flag, sweetie, and you should get out of the relationship before you get in any deeper. Don't stay with a man you can't trust."
"Actually, I didn't ask him," I confessed, and felt my cheeks flush with chagrin.
My mother laughed into the phone. "Well, sweetie, you can't expect a man to read your mind. If you want to know what's bothering him, ask him."
"I know you’re right, I just don't want him to feel like I'm prying."
"It's not prying to care about the problems of someone you love. I'm sure he'll be grateful to know that you're there for him. Heck, he's probably wanting to talk to you about it, but fearful that he would be burdening you with his problems. Men are silly that way. It took years for me to get your father to talk to me. He thought it would make him less of a man, but once I convinced him otherwise, the floodgates opened and now he won't shut up."
"You really think Ethan wants to tell me, but just doesn't have the courage to open up?"
"Absolutely. He's probably dying to confide in you, he just needs to know that you want to share in his worries, as well as his joys. So, the next chance you get, ask him. It will make your relationship all the stronger."
"Thanks, Mom," I beamed. We talked for a little while longer about life back home and the sprinkler system Dad tried to install in the back yard before Mom finally called a professional to come in and fix all the damage he'd done. Then we said our goodbyes with tears misting in the corners of my eyes.