Deviant Attraction: A Dark and Dirty Boxset

by Bene, Jennifer

  “Heather, do you want more?” A single finger dipped inside her and she whined, moaning as he gently stroked her, too gently to do anything more than make her hyper-aware of just how wet her pussy was. She nodded, shifting her hips to try and get his touch to increase. His mouth was closer to her ear when he spoke again, “You want me to spank you, or keep touching you here?”

  Rick slid his wet fingers down to her clit and brushed her softly. Her hips bucked against his touch but he knew what he was doing, he applied the barest hint of pressure, leaving her panting and whimpering. If she chose him touching her, he could tease her like this for hours. He had incredible self-control. If she chose the spanking, it was much more likely he’d give in faster. And she deserved to feel it tomorrow. She deserved to feel it all week. His hand prints over the welts from the paddle. Fresh welts from a new implement.

  Whatever he’d give her.

  “Would you spank me, sir?” Her voice was so different when she was like this, soft and pleading, and she knew he loved it.

  “You should be bad more often, pretty girl. You can come by for penance any time. Move down, ass up. I want you across my lap.” Rick watched her move, and waited a little longer than necessary before he got onto the bed next to her. He shifted his legs under her and then pulled her body down across his thighs. The hard press of his cock against her stomach made her wriggle. She wanted him to fuck her. She wanted him to spank her. Honestly, she just wanted Rick, however he offered himself. His hand came down hard across her ass, his other hand in her hair to keep her face down over his lap. She shifted again as the spanking woke up the welts from the paddle, but he just tightened his grip on her hair. “Be still.”

  “Yes, sir,” she mumbled into the sheets, but it was probably lost in the next cry that burst from her lips as his hand came down again. Each sharp snap of his palm connecting with her skin had her body singing. Sensations collided inside her; the pending promise of his body against hers, the tension of the bindings at her ankles keeping her prone over his lap — all of it combining to wind her tight. He was strong, and the louder she cried out, the louder she moaned, the harder he brought his hand down until there were tears in her eyes and she was shaking her head back and forth. As usual she couldn’t find her words, she never begged during a punishment, only when he was teasing her, but she didn’t want to safe word. It didn’t hurt enough. She deserved a lot more, she deserved his worst, but Rick wouldn’t do any more than this and she knew it.

  “Fuck!” She screamed as he suddenly slid two fingers inside her, her brain trying to shift gears from pain to pleasure so quickly that there was some kind of car crash in her nervous system and she came hard. Electric light sparked behind her eyes, winding up her spine as bliss filled her to the brim for a perfect instant. Then it passed and the orgasm left her shivering and breathless across his lap, her fists clenched tightly into the sheets.

  “Did I say you could come, Heather?” Rick’s voice was deceptively casual, his fingers still buried deep. Heather bit her lip and whimpered without thinking about it. She shook her head as much as she could with his fingers wound tightly in her hair. “Say it.”

  “You did not give me permission to come, sir.” Her voice came at his call, and he pumped his fingers slowly inside her, her body still trembling in the aftermath.

  “No. I didn’t.” He removed his touch from her and moved her off his lap gently so he could stand up. She pushed herself up on her elbows to watch him walk back to the closet. When he turned around her eyes were temporarily more focused on his cock than what was in his hand, but then she saw it. The curved metal object resembled a hook with a medium sized ball on the end, and Rick’s eyes were watching her reaction closely. “Remember we were working on expanding your horizons before you decided you wanted some time to yourself?”

  She nodded. They had been working on making her more comfortable with anal. Rick enjoyed it, they had done it a few times, but he had wanted her to be at ease with it, and the only way to do that according to Rick was practice. He sat the hook down next to her on the bed.

  “Up on your knees.” He lengthened the straps at her ankles and swatted her ass sharply. “Center of the bed, pretty girl.” Heather moved until the straps were taut again. “I bought this specifically for you, figured I’d never get to use it though.”

  Rick pulled open the bottom drawer of his bedside table, bringing out a hair tie. That was not what she had expected him to take out. He handed it to her. “Put your hair in a pony tail, nice and tight. Good girl.” He reached back into the drawer and grabbed a metal circle and a length of rope.

  Fuck.

  Pushing her back on all fours he threaded her pony tail through the metal circle, looping it back on itself until it was firmly locked. Then he attached the rope to the circle, knotting it hard, and trailed it down her spine, the end of the rope falling between her legs suggestively.

  “Still good?” He was smiling when he reached back into his drawer of tricks and pulled out lube. She swallowed and made herself nod. “Brave girl tonight, aren’t you? This won’t really hurt unless you drop your head, or if you come without permission and I give the rope a good tug.” His fingers slid over her ass, slippery with lube, before he pressed a finger past her tight ring of muscles. Heather groaned, trying to remember how to relax, push back, not fight it. A second finger pushing in a moment later had her whining. He brushed his other hand across her back, shushing her as he moved his fingers rhythmically. Then his fingers were gone and the cold metal was there, the round ball stretching her before pressing inside, filling her with the rest of the slick hook as she groaned.

  “Sir…” She whimpered when he tugged the rope and she was forced to lift her head, and then she felt the tug on the metal as he tied the rope off. She must have made quite the display. On all fours, her hair pulled back, head up, the shining metal curving up over the top of her ass to meet the rope. Rick definitely enjoyed the view as he stepped back to admire his handiwork.

  “You’re doing beautifully. How does it feel?” His voice was hungry, and she wished she could turn to see his face, but every movement of her body caused the metal to shift strangely inside her.

  “Different.” Heather squirmed and gasped as the urge to turn her head pulled the metal deeper.

  “I really want to fuck you like this. Think you can handle it?” Rick’s tone was a rough growl, and she couldn’t deny him. Not with everything he was unknowingly doing for her just by letting her be in his bed tonight.

  “Yes, sir.” She whispered and she heard the crinkle of foil as he opened a condom and slid it on before moving behind her on the bed. His hands traced her sides, massaging her hips. Then he plucked the rope sharply and she groaned, his low chuckle deliciously devious.

  “Gorgeous. Remember to ask permission to come, pretty girl.” He lined his cock up with her core and thrust inside her in one deep movement. She cried out from the pleasure of being filled so completely as his body pressed the hook deeper. The welts on her ass had her skin almost too sensitive and every movement of his cock moved the hook until her body was a confused mass of nerve signals that had her moaning and begging loudly. His grunts behind her were pushing her further. She half-screamed when a particularly hard thrust caused her to try to bend her head down, forcing her to fuck her own ass with the devious metal device. He chuckled and slid his fingers over her hip and between her thighs to find her clit. With a gap she pushed back hard, and his touch circled tight and fast over the center of her satisfaction. “Do you need to come, Heather?”

  Unable to nod, she made herself speak, her voice quiet at first until it rose into begging pleas, “Yes, please, yes, sir. Please, may I please come?”

  A sharp thrust almost threw her over the edge. She was so full, too full, and the plunge of his cock was too much combined with his intense focus on her clit. “Yes, pretty girl, yes you can come.”

  His free hand found her hip and he pulled her sharply back against him; a few
strong, deep drives and pleasure spiraled down her spine to explode into heat between her thighs as the tension inside her snapped. Fireworks and glitter bombs went off in the dark, empty places in her mind — pure ecstasy that gave her a glorious escape from her life. Exactly what she’d wanted, craved. The relief on the other side of her orgasm had her body trembling as he stilled behind her, his cock kicking with his release. Soft curses fell from his lips, his fingers digging sharply into her hip leaving the hope of sweet bruises to remember him by.

  More than anything Heather wanted to collapse on the bed in front of him, but the rope kept her in position. Rick leaned forward and nipped at her ribs, kissing down her waist as he pulled from her. His hands massaged her ass before he bit down on the skin, making her whimper as the welts protested. “You look so hot like this.”

  “Rick, Please?” She whimpered, her eyes tracing the edges of his headboard since she couldn’t see him.

  “Alright, hold on.” The tension on the rope gave way and her head dropped forward. The muscles in her neck were tense, and he seemed to know that as his hand landed on the back of her neck and massaged. “Just take a few deep breaths.” She felt her ribs expand and he slid the metal out, stretching her on a wince before it left her. It was a weird absence to be aware of as he walked to the bathroom, and she leaned to her side. She heard water running and a minute later he was back, unstrapping her ankles and wiping her down with a warm cloth that he threw somewhere. “You’re so wonderful,” he growled as they settled in, tugging her towards him as he pulled the sheets over them both.

  “I should leave,” she muttered. Now that their play was over, her voice came back along with her guilt. Rick had just laid his arm across her waist, ready to tuck her to him, but he stilled.

  “Do you want to go?” He didn’t move. Not away from her, and he didn’t pull her against him. Why was he such a good guy? Why couldn’t she be normal so she could just be with him like any normal person?

  And why was she so fucking selfish to even be considering staying, seeking comfort in his arms for the rest of the night?

  “Not really.” Great time for honesty.

  “Well, then—” Rick finished wrapping his arm around her waist and pulled her close to his firm chest. The strength in his arms, the heat in his skin as his laugh rumbled against her back was heaven. “You’re staying. Don’t argue with me, we both have to be up for work in a few hours.”

  Heather opened her mouth to speak, but he had relaxed against her and she really didn’t want to mess this up. Simple human interaction. No ulterior motives. Just two people enjoying each other, and sleeping next to each other. She wished she had the right to be this normal all the time.

  But she was a Pritchett, a witch, and witches didn’t deserve normal.

  Regardless of her guilty conscience she fell asleep in his arms, warm and safe in a cocoon of temporary sanity, hidden from the rest of her life.

  Chapter Three

  February 12th

  Rick had woken up in a great mood. He’d made her breakfast even though she had tried to leave immediately after gathering her clothes from the floor of his entryway. He had kissed her, told her she was always welcome, and that if she was up for it he’d like to see her again.

  Heather had only smiled, mumbled that she’d be late for work if she didn’t hurry — and he had stepped back from her with a smile of his own to let her go. No possessive bullshit, no irritating questions she couldn’t answer, just a to-go cup of coffee and a protein bar he tucked into her purse while citing that she never ate enough.

  He was perfect. Fucking perfect.

  Incredibly hot, and dominant, and fantastic in the bedroom. And then calm, and sweet, and playful, and still fucking hot the rest of the time.

  He’s off limits, Heather, unless you want him on Marguerite’s radar.

  She had left fast, avoiding his lips when he tried to kiss her goodbye, and she spent the morning reminiscing about the night. Heather was a ghost as she went through her shift at the shop, too distracted to be useful, too full of morbid thoughts to handle idle chatter.

  By mid-morning she’d cold-shouldered her chatty cousin Tisha one too many times. The bitch was only eighteen and had claimed her power before the holidays, so she responded to the repeated brush-offs in the immature way of teenagers — by grabbing Heather’s arm and blanketing her with the illusion of being at the top of a cliff, and then falling off. It was her scream that caused Aunt Carol to smack Tisha over the head and break her concentration. The illusion left Heather shaking, but she clenched her teeth, trying not to give Tisha the satisfaction of knowing just how terrified she’d been.

  As if the scream hadn’t made it obvious.

  “What’s the rule about using magic against family, Tisha?” Carol’s voice sounded tired, like she’d said the same line over and over — which she probably had.

  “Don’t?” Tisha asked, her voice thick with teenage snark.

  “Right.” Carol snapped her fingers and Tisha was thrown back into a chair. The seat of it caught her behind the knees causing her to sit down hard. “Maybe you should continue grinding those herbs, hmm?”

  “Oh, THAT is hypocritical, Aunt Carol.” Tisha glared and Carol turned to her, the room crackling with the sudden pulse of magic, her aunt’s eyes glowing cerulean blue.

  “If you do not behave yourself Tisha Anne Pritchett, I will call your mother and have her come down here to discuss your behavior with you. And until she comes to pick you up, I’ll have you upside down in the stock room so you can think over your actions.” That threat had Tisha’s eyes wide and she turned in the chair towards the table and continued grinding herbs as she’d been ordered. Carol turned back to Heather whose pulse was only just now returning from heart attack territory, and touched her elbow. “Come with me,” her aunt spoke softly and led her into her office in the back of the shop.

  “I’m fine, Aunt Carol. Tisha’s just a bitch.” Heather looked over the small library of books collected in the shelf to her left, but Carol drew her attention back.

  “Heather, talk to me. How are you?” Carol’s face was gentle. She was more like her mom than their sisters Marguerite or Fiona, but she was still a Pritchett and that meant the only right answer was a lie.

  “I just said I’m fine.”

  “That’s not what I mean and you know it, and if you want to have an attitude I can just as easily hang you upside down.” The snap in her aunt’s voice reminded her to be respectful. Pritchett women were unpredictable, even the nice ones.

  “I’m going to do it. I don’t need another lecture, or another threat. I’m going to do it for you.” Heather perched on the edge of a chair in front of the desk and Carol sighed.

  “It’s for all of us, Heather, and that includes you. I know you’ve always felt different, but you’re a Pritchett, and that comes with certain responsibilities. Completing the rite is just one of them.” She sounded like a kindly elementary school teacher, patient and gentle — except she was talking about murdering someone. An innocent man whose only crime was wanting to get laid.

  “Right. And I’m going to do it, we don’t need to keep talking about it. Okay?” She wiped her hands on her jeans, realizing she should probably change and at least try and look decent before the speed-dating thing.

  “Darling, it’s always quick. You know that right? Our benefactor is a Valkyrie, she takes them swiftly, like she has for millennia.” Carol waved her hand and a thick book came to her from the shelf, flipping it open to turn pages. Heather could see rows of neat handwriting in what looked like an accounting book. “Listen to this… car accident, died on impact. Heart attack. Brain aneurism. Heart attack. Heart attack. Car accident.”

  “What—” Heather was staring at her aunt like she was crazy.

  “It’s the record of how the sacrifices have been taken. All instantaneous, painless.” Carol said the words in that sweet, calm voice of hers, which was incredibly fucked up. She was reading from her f
amily’s death ledger like it was a bedtime story. Since when had death ever been painless? That was just bullshit people told families so they didn’t torture themselves.

  Death was death. Horrible and final.

  “Great. Good to know. I need to leave and get ready.” Heather stood up and moved to the door, but it slammed shut in front of her, the door passing so close to her face that she felt the rush of air.

  “Heather. You cannot back out on it this time.” Her aunt was serious, the threat of what Theresa had told her hanging over her head like the proverbial axe.

  “I won’t,” Heather growled, hating that Carol would bring up the only other time she’d ever contemplated the rite. She’d been twenty and she had come to the shop while she was still in college, taken the ingredients for the rite and gone out with a boy from her Medieval Europe history course. She had lit the candles, taken out the oil, and then he had kissed her so gently, his hands on either side of her face. He’d called her beautiful, trailing his mouth down her body whispering so many wonderful things, and she hadn’t done it. She’d let the oil spill all over the floor instead.

  She had never summoned Herja. Never called out for her.

  Aunt Marguerite had been furious. She’d pulled her out of school, forced her to withdraw. Marguerite had even tried to convince her cousin Laura to dig through her brain for the boy’s name. Laura had refused after Heather had screamed and cried and begged them to just leave him alone. She’d destroyed her cell phone so they couldn’t get his name or number. She’d never gone back to campus. She’d changed her entire routine to avoid ever running into him again. New apartment. New favorite restaurants, favorite stores. New everything to keep him away from Marguerite’s vengeance.

  Like it fucking mattered. She was right back where she’d been four years ago. She was going to kill some innocent guy so she wouldn’t die.