Cupid's Captive

by Reese Gabriel

  "What if I do?” She flipped back her hair. “Are you man enough to handle me, or don't you know what you want either?"

  John frowned and sped up the car. Straight past her brother's house.

  Mission accomplished.

  "You can wipe that smirk off your face, young lady,” he informed her.

  "What smirk, Sir?"

  "Open the glove compartment,” he replied. “There's a vibrator in there."

  "Yes, Sir.” She fished for it eagerly. It was a small, clear plastic egg. Her pussy contracted at the sight of it.

  "Spread your legs wide,” he ordered. “Put it inside yourself. Set it on high."

  Steffy widened her thighs. Her cunt took the device, buzzing, hungry. She bit at her lower lip and sucked for air.

  "Now you're going to be quiet,” he told her. “While I do the talking."

  "Yes ... Master."

  He didn't bother to correct her. The first of the orgasms overtook her as he accelerated, taking the on ramp onto the highway. Were they headed somewhere in particular or just driving?

  "First of all, Missy, you are barking up the wrong tree if you think I'm scared of commitment or some nonsense. I don't believe in love, that's all, and I have plenty of evidence on my side. Prove me wrong, that's what I say. If you think you're in love, that's great. You can feel just as strong at twenty-one as eighty-one, that's your concern. Me, I like sex, I like to play, with lots of different women. Hang around me and that's what you get, play."

  He glanced in her direction. “Pinch your nipples,” he decided. “Make it hurt a little."

  Steffy writhed on the seat. The touch of her swollen nubs set her off all over again.

  "Jeezus,” he rasped, low in his throat. “What I could do with you alone for a weekend..."

  I'm yours, she longed to say. For a lifetime.

  "Like I said, I play with women. I respect them, I'm honest but I don't commit. I have rules. You already made me break one of them. I have no idea what I'll say to Carl."

  "Tell him ... you claimed me,” she said, breathless.

  "I'll do no such thing,” he snorted. “Don't you get it, girl? All of this is to show you that you don't want to live with me. In another hour you'll be begging to get out of this car and out of my life."

  "Never,” she said stubbornly.

  His lips thinned, creases on both sides of his mouth. “Son of a bitch."

  He moved to the left hand lane, accelerating. “You're going to attend to me,” he said.

  Her mouth watered as he undid his fly. “Oh, god, yes..."

  She dropped her head to his lap, greedily pulling his cock from out of his underwear. She kissed the tip of it. “Thank you, thank you, Master."

  The vibrator hummed away, continuing to carve away at her will, leaving her a pliant lump of flesh. Beg for release in an hour? No way; she wouldn't even be able to walk by then.

  "I haven't done anything like this in ten years,” he said, picking up speed. Steffy's heart was racing, faster than the engine. She ducked her head lower, taking the mass of him deep inside her mouth. She wanted him at the back of her throat, she wanted to service and suck, suctioning with her tongue, pleasing him like a good little slave.

  He stroked her hair. “You're too good to be true,” he said, as if talking to himself.

  Her ears perked up, her brain took note. Was that it? Did he not think himself worthy of the gift of another's submission; the offering of her love and not merely her reposited, fleeting lust?

  She closed her eyes, giving him what he needed. She felt like she'd done this a thousand times before. His sighs were heart felt in reply. “Steffy,” he said causing a knot to form in her heart.

  It was music to her ears. Up to then she hadn't known what her name was capable of sounding like.

  He erupted easily down her throat, dick throbbing, a volcano, spewing warm, thick semen. She drank every drop, sucking him dry, happily.

  The small sports car continued to race like the wind through the night air. She licked his shaft like a puppy with a bone. She kissed the tip of him once again and each of his testicles, too.

  "Take out the vibrator,” he said.

  She removed it, drenched. Her pussy clenched, missing it already. The only thing on her mind, however, was his pleasure. “Was I good, Master?"

  His hand settled on her thigh, gentle but possessive, his large fingers spread wide. “Too good,” he said, making it sound like a crime.

  Steffy let her head rest on his shoulder. “I'm sorry I've been such trouble."

  The tears dripping from her eyes were as far from manipulative as you could get. She hoped he understood that. “I'm such a baby,” she castigated herself.

  "No,” he said with surprising vigor. “You're a woman. One of the most grown up I've ever met."

  She sniffled. “Thank you."

  "And you're no bother to me.” His hand slipped around her shoulder. “Do you believe me?"

  "Yes.” She could stay like this, in his embrace forever.

  What was wrong with her that he couldn't love her back?

  She was afraid to say anything else and make it all worse.

  John exited and turned back for the city.

  "I hope you won't be compromised,” he said as they neared the house again. “If your brother sees you come in like this."

  "He said he wouldn't be back until real late. It's only eleven,” she said.

  Only eleven? Had everything between them happened in just a few short hours? It wasn't fair. Time wasn't working right. It ought to be pushing them together, giving them a second chance. Wasn't that how it always was in the movies?

  Dumb girl. This isn't a movie. This is your life, screwed up as usual.

  "Are you going to be all right?” he asked as he dropped her off.

  "Me? Hell, yea."

  "Okay.” He seemed skeptical. “If you ever want to talk or anything..."

  "What for?” She rolled her eyes. “You don't think I was serious, do you, about being in love? I was just playing, Uncle John."

  He frowned slightly, those creases appearing around his eyes again. If only this man would talk to her...

  "Good night,” she said, hopping out of the car. “See you around."

  "Yea ... around.” He sounded lackluster. Did that reflect a desire never to see her again or was it something else?

  She went upstairs to take a shower.

  Men were a nuisance, and she planned on not falling in love with any more of them for a long, long time.

  Now all she had to do was forget the one she was already in love with ... the one who had just broken her heart.

  * * * *

  "So,” Carl asked John the next day, striding innocently into his office. “How did it go last night?"

  "It was fine,” he answered. Unable to resist, he asked, “Did Steffy say anything?"

  "Not a word. You know how they are at that age, though. I think she's after some boy, right now. Online. She was still up at two AM when I came home."

  "What do you mean she's after a boy?"

  Carl cocked his head. John cursed himself for reacting so strongly. “I don't know, it's the Internet. You don't look so good, buddy, did you get any sleep?"

  "The brat wore me out, that's all,” he said, trying to divert attention from his jealous reaction of a moment ago. “You really owe me big time, you know."

  "I do,” he agreed. “And I have just the way to pay you off. You know Anita, my travel agent? Well she has this sister who sounds right up your alley. Smoking hot body, a little left of center in the bedroom, if you know what I mean, and happily unattached.

  "I'm not interested, thank you."

  Carl was definitely suspicious now. “You? Not interested? That's like Old Faithful being on strike."

  John couldn't figure it out, himself. He'd tossed and turned all night. All he could think about was Stephanie. How could a woman that young fire all of his cylinders like that? She had no experience. Hell, s
he was barely submissive at all. That mouth of hers, that sass, that wasn't going anywhere. In fact, that's one of the things he loved about her.

  Scratch that. It was one of the things he liked about her.

  Like, not love.

  "How long is Stephanie in town for?” John wanted to know.

  "So it's Stephanie now, is it?” Carl arched a brow. “I guess she's not a gum chewing teenager in your eyes, anymore, huh?"

  "What's that supposed to mean? She's a beautiful young woman,” John snapped. “What, am I supposed to be blind?"

  "Hey, take it easy.” Carl laughed, a little nervously. “I was just joking with you."

  "Maybe it's not a good subject for jokes,” said John. “She's your baby sister. You should be thinking about helping her find her way in life. She has a very tender heart. A woman like that will get taken advantage of, not to mention having her heart broken by a lot of callous jerks."

  Like me, he thought glumly. Because I was too stupid, too stubborn to give her a chance. She was offering me something special. Why didn't I take it? Could it be I really am scared?

  It was Carl's turn to be defensive. “She's an adult, like you said. She'll have to learn. We all did. Obviously I'll take care of her as best I can."

  "You and me both,” said John.

  Carl had his mouth open like he was going to say something but thought better of it. “I've got a deposition to take in a half hour,” he excused himself.

  "So go. What am I, your keeper?” John was irritable as hell. He should have asked for Steffy's cell phone number. Would she pick up at Carl's house?

  She did. On the fifth ring.

  His heart swelled, hearing her sleepy, lazy voice. “It's after one,” he said. “Shouldn't you be awake by now?"

  "What's it to you?” she said.

  John ground his teeth, having been put squarely in his place. “Nothing. But maybe I would like it to be something."

  "Uncle John, I really don't want to play guessing games. If you have anything to say..."

  How about I love you, Steffy ... would that be so hard?

  "I have plenty to say. You can drop that Uncle John thing, for starters. It's highly inaccurate and damned inappropriate under the circumstances."

  "I'm going to hang up,” she said.

  "Don't."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I said."

  "Is that a request or an order?"

  "A request."

  "I don't do requests, sorry."

  John exploded. “Young lady, you are begging for a spanking."

  "Really? Maybe I'll go find a man to give me one."

  His body tensed. Testosterone surged. There was no turning back. “You will come to my apartment, tonight. 5611 12th Street Northwest. The door will be unlocked. You will close it behind you and strip naked. You will arrive at eight and wait for me in the living room. I expect to find you kneeling by the coffee table ... one very sorry little slave girl."

  More silence. “Is that what I am? Your slave?"

  "I said so, didn't I?"

  "I'm not interested in one night stands,” she said. “Is that what this is?"

  "Do you have to think so much?” he complained.

  "Yes. Answer my question. When you're done with me tonight, when your cock is drained in whatever orifice of mine you choose will you push me out the door, until you want me again?"

  His head pounded. How could a woman be cornering him like this? “This isn't how a submissive behaves,” he said.

  "It's how I behave, though, take it or leave it."

  "What if you're the one who wants to take off afterwards?” He tried to turn the tables. “You have no idea how you'll respond to a real taste of slavery."

  "I will be leaving, actually,” she confused the hell out of him. “I go back to school in two days. But I want to leave my heart with you. I want it to be yours. I want your chains, John Cupid. I want you to want me so fiercely that you will singe my bottom bright red if I so much as look at another man even if I'm a thousand miles away. I want your brand on my soul so I'll breathe only for you no matter where I am. I want to live for you, John, even as I pursue my own gifts."

  Her words overwhelmed him. He'd never heard such a mature way of looking at things. “I don't get it,” he tried to pick holes. “You're saying you won't even live with me?"

  "Of course I will, when it's time. You'll know me better by then, I'll finish school, we'll decide together what my slavery should look like. It'll be like any other union of souls. You commit ahead of time and then work it out as you go along."

  "You know nothing about me..."

  "I've known you since I was six."

  "Okay, I know nothing about you."

  "I'll teach you ... the way a slave is supposed to teach her master, showing him who she is and what she needs to be loved and properly owned."

  John was wordless, for the first time in his adult life.

  "Hello?” she said, her voice soft, melodic ... the sweetest sound on the planet.

  "Be at my apartment by seven,” he said gruffly. “If you're late you'll answer to me."

  "Yes, Master."

  He hung up ... just in time to avoid saying anything incriminating.

  * * * *

  Steffy trembled slightly as she saw the numbers in gold above the front door of the building. 5611 12th St. NW was a real place after all ... and she was about to perform as a real slave. She flushed heatedly when the doorman appeared to ask her destination.

  She stammered the name. John Cupid. He smiled expertly, politely.

  How many other young women had he let in for similar purposes? Would he confirm her instructions, make sure she knew to kneel properly, subservient and naked until the master appeared?

  Of course not. He was far too professional.

  Her pulse raced as she rode the elevator. She wore a simple black dress, nothing underneath, and leather pumps. Was that the proper garb? She'd never done this sort of thing. John hadn't told her what to wear. Apparently he didn't care about clothes, only the body underneath. To that end she'd taken a long and thorough bath, full of fragrant emollients. Lots of suds to make her tingle. It had been hard not to masturbate. She was so excited thinking of what John would do to her.

  She wished she could appear before him in some kind of garment, though, no matter how skimpy. Like most young women, she was all too aware of the imperfections of her body. Mostly she hid them and men were generally quite pleased with her. Usually she overcompensated with flirtatiousness and a veil of indifference. But this was different. She cared what John thought, desperately so.

  Her stomach roiled.

  She found his door unlocked. She entered and looked about his apartment. The decor was Spartan, elegantly simple. A black leather couch, a single slate coffee table, a solid steel pole lamp, a single black area rug, thick and soft.

  The coffee table ... that's where she was supposed to kneel.

  There was a blindfold on it. Should she put it on?

  Her fingers were numb as she undid the zipper on the back of her dress. She removed it and let it drop to the floor, goose pimples on her clean skin, freshly shaven legs, tight, erect rosebud nipples. She smelled of spring flowers and summer rain ... and raw sex.

  It was all really true: Steffy was about to put herself in submission to a sexually dominant man.

  Her knees gave way in slow motion, of their own accord. She went down, all the way to the floor. The coffee table was right in front of her. She picked up the blindfold, black silk, form fitting. Her heart pounded as she put it to her eyes, sliding the elastic over her head.

  It was a perfect fit. Her world was enveloped by artificial darkness. By her own hand she'd rendered herself helpless. The fluids of her arousal dripped down her inner thighs. She hungered for a cock; she craved to be pushed to the floor and taken.

  Steffy thought about posture. She straightened her back and pressed her buttocks to her heels ... waiting.

 
The clock ticked on the wall, sleek and modern, with two faces, no numbers. Its details were etched in her mind, in the memory of her sighted self. Where was John, she wondered. Would he be here soon?

  Even a minute was torture in this state. It would have been easier and less slavishly humiliating to have been tied down, ankles wide like a wishbone than to be forced into voluntary servitude. After all, what kind of a woman subjected herself to this kind of treatment, willingly going to a man's apartment to arrange herself like a sex doll?

  Never once did she think of turning back, though. She had come too far. She had to see this through. She'd taken a chance, sure, but so had John. He'd opened his home to her, made himself vulnerable. She could reject him, she could walk out and he would be left holding the bag of his sexual desires.

  Masters were vulnerable, too...

  Anyone was vulnerable whose needs were out of the ordinary.

  The waiting ended as suddenly as it began.

  "Place your hands behind your neck, lace your fingers,” came the voice, at once familiar and strangely alien.

  "Master,” she gasped. Her arms went into place, the action coming as a reflex, as necessary to her survival and well being as breathing.

  "Stomach in, breasts thrust out."

  She presented herself for his pleasure, nipples burning. Where had he come from? Had she missed the sound of the front door or had he been in the back of the apartment the whole time?

  Steffy could hear his breathing. He was right in front of her now. She nearly swooned. Oh, god, he was giving her his cock...

  She leaned forward, kissing, licking, ravenous. He made her work for it, teasing, rubbing it over her cheeks. She whimpered, wanting to take it fully inside her mouth.

  The cock disappeared. A collar was put on her neck, with a leash. He pushed his hand to her lips. She kissed his knuckles. “Master ... I love you, Sir, I missed you..."

  Without her eyes it was all so intense; she was so incredibly dependent. Her other senses were so intense. The smell of musk on his skin, the feel of his knuckles.

  "I missed you, too,” he said. His fist balled in her hair, painful. He fed her his balls. She bathed them in her saliva, worshipping. They were full and tight. He must have been very ready to come.