Wrecked (The Blackened Window)

by Corrine A. Silver

  I stood her at the foot of the bed and pushed her forward, holding her hips so she bent in half.

  “Don’t move.” My voice was harsh, dark with lust.

  Jason had called me on my bullshit while we were shooting pool tonight and I knew he was right. It was time to do this. She was ready, beyond ready. I took my shirt off, my skin already feeling too hot. I pushed her little tank top up over her head and threw it behind me. Then I unbuttoned her little skinny jeans, pulling them down to her ankles. She lifted her foot to step out of them. My hand was flying toward her ass before I consciously decided to spank her. “I said, don’t fucking move, Leda.”

  Her ankles were essentially secured, she was hobbled. I stood back, looking at her body. She wore a lacy black bra with matching boy-short panties. While those could be cute and had their uses, it wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted her to be wearing a thong. Or nothing at all. I wanted skin on skin when I spanked her ass. I pulled the shorts up, baring her ass for my hand.

  “You were a brat tonight. You know that, right?”

  She turned her face toward me, eyes shining with excitement as she murmured, “Yes, Boss.”

  Sexual triumph washed over me. “You get a spanking. Ready?”

  She sighed. “Oh, fuck yes.”

  I actually stepped to the side so I could fully wind up. I was a few slaps in when the stupid panties started to slip.

  I muttered, “Goddammit,” and grabbed them in the middle, yanking hard. I was rewarded with the satisfying sound of ripping and they sprang free of her body. Her cute little pussy was right there, all wet for me and I slammed my fingers into her. She gasped and moaned a little. I stepped away from her and grabbed her torn panties where I had dropped them.

  I leaned across her body and jammed the panties into her mouth, gagging her. “Quiet, little one. If you need me to stop, stomp your foot.” I climbed on the bed and dropped my knee between her shoulder blades, but kept the other knee on the bed, so she wasn’t bearing my full weight.

  I watched her for a moment, knowing this was intense and maybe too much. I was sick of controlling myself. She made me want to lose control. She made me feel alive in a way I hadn’t ever felt before. But then it happened, what I had known would happen at some point in our relationship.

  She breathed deep through her nose and she relaxed under me. Chills ran across her skin. She arched her back, bending into a bow for me, her ass up in the air. I grabbed her offered up ass, and squeezed down hard. I saw the tears but she didn’t seem to be in distress. She moaned, all muffled by the gag. I took her bra off her. Then I waited, watching to see what she would do.

  She shifted. Then shifted some more, and I dug my knee into her back and slapped her ass. Her cheeks were getting rosy. She whined against the gag, but stopped moving. I waited to be sure she was going to stay where I put her. When I was convinced she would, I climbed off her and sat on the edge of the bed, next to her. I rested my arm on her low back and just skimmed a touch across her ass.

  I stood up and pulled her up, leaning against my chest. “Climb onto the bed.” I whispered it in her ear, a promise that something more was coming. She moved, her jeans hampering her some, but it was fun to watch.

  She knelt, facing away from me, and I pushed her over. She caught herself like I’d known she would. She stretched out flat and I lay down on top of her, driving the breath from her lungs. I brushed her hair aside, kissing the back of her shoulders. Then threatened her, “Leda, I am going to spend tonight torturing you until you’re crying for my cock. And when we’re done, we’ll deal with whatever your behavior was about at the bar tonight.”

  Her eyes watered and she subtly shifted her ass up some. She started trembling a little, and I whispered, more for her benefit than mine, “God, I like fucking with you.”

  I stood up to pull her jeans off her feet and brushed my fingertips along her thighs, noting the sticky dampness with a smile. She pumped her pelvis into the mattress a little. “Turn over.” She flipped herself, immediately. I dropped down, my face in hers, and said, “If you keep moving like that, I will completely tie you up.”

  I ran my fingers over her skin, pausing at her nipples to pinch and pull them. She moaned again and I clamped down harder. She moaned again. I felt my face going blank the way it did when I played hard, much harder than this. I let go of her nipple and ran my hand over her skin, to her pussy. I played with her and pulled at her well-groomed patch of hair a little. She sighed and closed her eyes when my fingers dipped between her lips and started teasing her. Her breath came deeper and I knew she liked it, so I pressed directly into her clit. Her eyes popped open and she screamed into the gag.

  Delicious. My psyche was a dark motherfucker.

  I watched her reaction as I started finger-fucking her. She was shaking. She wanted to move. Her eyes started to water again and she reached for me. I continued the rhythm in her pussy, but she grabbed at my free arm, begging without words.

  I just reached up and grabbed her wrists in one hand and held them. There was no change to what I was doing to her. I wanted to make her crazy. I wanted her panting my name. I wanted her to keep breaking the rules so I could punish her more. I brushed her clit a few times. She moaned harder and shifted her hips. I raised an eyebrow at her, in question. And she moved again, spreading her thighs a little and grinding her hips up into me. That was it, little one. I smiled coldly at her.

  “On your knees.”

  She moved as soon as I spoke. She got up on her knees facing me at the foot of the bed.

  “Spread your knees.”

  She moved to obey, completely open to me—some purists call it nadu—unable to hide anything in this position.

  “Very nice.”

  I climbed onto the bed behind her and held a hip and the opposite shoulder, bending her forward. “I’m trying to decide what position I like you in best. I think this may be it.” I traced her spine from her head to her ass then pulled her asscheeks apart to see her asshole. She was nervous about it and her muscles twitched. Her breathing came deep and shuddery. I touched the core of her shame and she puckered up, perfectly. I got my fingers wet in her pussy, roughly. She gasped a bit at that, but then I turned my attention back to her backside for a moment more, letting her know that I’d use her however I wanted to.

  I was on the edge of what I could handle, ready to give in and fuck her despite all my warnings. I grabbed her hips to pull her against me as I pushed back. She could feel my cock against her and she pushed back harder, offering herself to me, then twisting for more friction.

  “Really, little girl? You want this?”

  She nodded her head hard and moaned.

  “Really? Well, not enough.” I pulled away from her at the harsh words and slapped her ass again. She dropped to the bed and huffed out a breath. I smacked her ass more lightly this time, saying, “Settle down,” dismissively. She repositioned herself how she was supposed to be.

  I leaned into her again and pushed against her, relishing her nudity and the next level of degradation it represented. She was exposed and I was still decent—decent? No. It was actually a technique I’d learned in the military. Slowly take things away from the prisoner—one thing at time, until they have nothing left. She had no clothes, couldn’t move if I didn’t want her to, couldn’t speak. She had nothing but wanting me.

  I snapped at her, “Look at me.” She turned her head, her eyes wide and wet. I held her gaze as I unzipped my jeans. Her breathing picked up again, hope in her eyes and she glanced down at my cock as I pulled it out.

  Despite not being told to, she shifted, so that her shoulder was turned under and she could twist around to see behind her even better. She pushed her ass against me and I laughed. I stroked my cock in front of her.

  Her eyes went wide in disbelief that I wasn’t fucking her. “Is this what you want?”

  She groaned and nodded again.

  I leaned over her and pulled the gag from her mouth. “Tell me you’re gre
en and tell me how much you want it.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Leda

  White Lies, To Lose My Life

  This is it! Is he going to finally fuck me? I was completely, utterly clearheaded in that moment. I wanted to feel all of it. I felt a fresh surge of liquid weeping from my pussy onto my legs.

  “Absolutely green! Please!” I whined at him. “Please fuck me. I want to feel you inside me. Please, Xander. I don’t want to wait anymore. God, I want you to fuck me.” The words were a tumble of desperation and need.

  “Good girl.”

  As he said it, he slid the full length of his cock into me, no pauses, slow and deliberate, staking a claim. He kept his eyes locked on mine as he did it and it undid me. My body started trembling under him. My breathing was gasping sobs, wrenching through my chest. He reached his full depth in me and I felt the pressure in my belly. He just stayed there, buried in me, impaling me and I quivered around and under him, with fresh tears threatening to become uncontrollable.

  “No!” I wailed, as the sobs start to take over. “Don’t just stop there. Please, Xander, please just fucking fuck me.”

  He slid his cock in and out of me a few more times, slowly. And it was the most exquisite torture, when all I wanted was for his cock to be slamming into me, grinding me down and filling me up.

  Then, he paused again, just holding me there with his cock. My crying settled to tremulous breathing, but I didn’t understand why he was doing this to me, especially because his control was cracking, too. Even though his expression was blank, his jaw was locked and his breathing was very deliberate, like he was doing some sort of meditative deep breathing exercise.

  We were locked in a stalemate that I didn’t understand. I didn’t know what to do to break the tension and let us fall into the abyss of each other’s bodies on the other side. After a few moments, it hit me. He wanted me to tell him what I wanted. Not just that I wanted him to fuck me, but how much I wanted it and how I would give myself over to what he wanted.

  The realization gave me hope again and I began to willingly debase myself, giving him the words for what I wanted, what he had made me realize I wanted.

  “Please, Xander, fuck me. I want you inside me, pounding against me, please, just do it. Use me how you want to use me. I want you to use me and…and…and…please. I need to know what this feels like and how to be under you. Please?” I was begging and I didn’t care. In fact, the begging made it better. He held himself still in me, held his breath, but I could feel his cock twitch every so often in the stillness. His face didn’t move—no expression, no response. Just imperious, holding me there, under him.

  I was at a loss. “I don’t know what else to say to you. I want you to fuck me. I get it now. You’re in control and I just want to belong to you, wanna be covered in you. I want you to grind out your need on me and claim me with your cum. I want to be split open for you. Whatever you want.”

  It was the right thing to say. There was a glint of vicious satisfaction in his eyes as he pulled his cock out and slammed it into me, again and again and again. I couldn’t catch my breath until he found a steady but relentless rhythm. He reached up my body and pinched my nipple, then grabbed the flesh of my breast and squeezed down hard, using it to pull counter-traction against his thrusts. The fingers of his other hand dug into my hip and I was sure I would be bruised, but I didn’t care. I was lost in him, in his lust overwhelming me and his need driving this exchange of flesh. When I had almost settled into the power of his thrusts, he paused momentarily and flipped me on my back.

  He hooked my legs over his shoulders and drove back into me, pressing my body in half to lay his weight on me. Amazingly, I felt fuller. The peak of each thrust pushed the breath out of me. I felt his body tensing and the reality of it hit me. Xander was finally fucking me. I twisted and ground my hips up to him to get more pressure on my clit and felt my climax building. I ground a few more times and the delayed gratification of the night, of the past few months, paid off as I came.

  My body felt flattened, as if a small thermonuclear device had detonated within me. My pussy spasmed and gushed fluid around his cock and it sent him over the edge to his orgasm as well. He gave three more punishing thrusts into my cunt and groaned, collapsing his weight onto me.

  We lay there together, his softening cock still in me, our sweat mingling, our cum mingling and dripping down my ass to the growing wet spot on the sheet. His breathing slowed and he licked the sweat off my shoulder, to my neck, to my lips.

  “Mmm, little girl. Very good.” His eyes were at half mast and he moaned the words out between kisses. I kissed him back and a chill ran through me. I started to shiver, then shudder. He lifted his head and looked at me. “You okay?” No alarm in his voice. Just checking in with me, as he brushed some stray hair off my face.

  “Just very intense. I think my body is just re-equilibrating.”

  He slipped, soft, out of me and rolled to the side. He tugged me into his arms and we lay together for a few minutes, not talking. I felt the enormity of having had sex looming over us. It was one weight lifted and another delivered.

  “Let’s take a shower and go to sleep.” He sat up and pulled me up, as well.

  Our shower was a lovely post-lude, warm and sensual and intimate. We dried off, and while I braided my hair, he checked the locks and turned off the lights. When he came back to my room, I was sitting up in bed, half covered by my quilt. He smiled at me, a softer smile, genuine, naked. I hadn’t seen it before and the beginning of love swelled in my chest. He crawled into the bed and wrapped me up in his arms again. We snuggled into each other. My bed was not as large as his—where we had been having our sleepovers until that night—so we ended up snuggled in closer than usual.

  There, tucked in his arms, under the cozy but light down comforter, I was in a cocoon, insulated from the world. The peace of it lulled me to sleep, his arm draped over me, his breath on the back of my neck.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Xander

  Type O Negative, Cinnamon Girl

  I woke a little before her, military training still embedded in my brain. I watched her for a bit, but when I shifted to get out of bed, she woke up. Her eyes were still sleepy and she smiled at me as I leaned over and kissed her. “Good morning, little one.”

  Her eyes sparkled a little at that and her smile broadened. She sat up slowly and winced a little. As the sheet dropped off her, I saw bruises on her neck and breasts. I didn’t comment, but I drank in the sight. She noticed them in the bathroom. She had more on her hips in the shape of my fingers. I stood in the hall, watching her reaction as she took an inventory of the wreckage I had left on her body.

  I was just getting concerned that she would be upset, when she stood taller, prouder. “Beautiful,” I spoke as I walked in, kneeling to kiss each bruise. We dressed quickly after that and went to brunch.

  At the restaurant, I held her hand across the table, playing with her fingers. “So, what was that about last night after you talked with Christy?”

  “I don’t know why I reacted like I did. She was talking about their relationship and how they sometimes have other people in the mix and…then she was talking about wanting to be tied up, and I couldn’t stop myself from wondering if you had tied her up ever, if you had messed around with them. And then, it snowballed. It doesn’t really matter if it was Christy or someone else right? Because you’ve done this all before. And…”

  Was she trying to call me out on my previous experiences? Fuck that. My voice got hard. I wasn’t willing to let either of our pasts impact anything between us now. “And what?” I took my sunglasses off so there was nothing between us.

  “And well…it’s all new to me. I feel like I won’t be enough.”

  I sighed in relief that we didn’t have to have the exes conversation.

  “But it’s more than that too. It gets to me that there have been other women.”

  “I see where you’re coming from. Let�
��s back up a bit. I’ve never tied Christy up or fucked around with her. Jason and I have shared women before.” I waved off her reflex shock at that. “We’ve been friends for a long time, before Christy, and it was part of us partying back in the day. When he met Christy, he knew that he didn’t want his best friend fucking her too. I’ve never really had a relationship with someone where it was an issue until I met you. I don’t want to share you, with anyone.” I suppressed a possessive growl and grabbed at her fingers instead. I looked at her, hard. “There is no one for you but me. I will not tolerate anyone else touching you.” Fuck, take it down a notch, Stone. “You’re what I want. It would be very hard for me if you were to fuck around with someone else.”

  Her face was sweet-soft in concern. “I don’t want someone else to touch me the way you do. Xander, please don’t even think about that.” She squeezed my fingers, mirroring my possessive gesture. “I’m not interested in anyone else. I’m just worried I won’t be enough to keep you happy.”

  Spoken like a true sub. I smiled, but her expression changed to open curiosity, as she added, “Have you seen them have sex?”

  “Oh yeah, at the club, in his bar, in the car. At the Window, I’ve seen them playing with other people. Sometimes Christy likes to get tied up and be tormented. It’s not really Jason’s go-to move, so he asks me advice sometimes. It’s kind of weird I guess. I know a lot about their sex life.”

  “How detailed are you? Are you there when he does it?” Her mouth was open a little and she was hanging on every word.

  “It depends. Sometimes I have been, other times he preemptively asks my advice. Christy is into some wild shit, but she’s not my girl and she’s not my kind of girl. Do you understand me?” She needed a little reassurance—I could tell—so, I gave it to her. That was my job now. To give her what she needed, what I thought she needed, even if she didn’t ask for it.