“Do you like what you see?”
“Yes.” Gertrude steeled herself, anticipating his touch.
Suddenly she was very hungry. She nodded, licking her lips.
“Then sit up,” the stranger commanded. But of course. She thought. He could have kneeled on the bed and ordered her to pleasure him, but he was the dominant. And dominants never kneeled.
Shimmying into a seated position, she rested on the side of the bed and waited for instruction. Positioning his legs on either side of hers, he leaned in a little and guided his cock to her mouth. She could smell the musk of his arousal, and it made her mouth water.
“Have you ever sucked a man’s cock before, Gertrude?” the dark stranger whispered, brushing the head on her bottom lip.
Near panting, she tried to concentrate. “Not yours.”
“Very good, Gertrude.” Her captor chuckled with satisfaction. “Open your mouth for me.”
Gertrude obeyed, moaning as he placed the head of his engorged cock on her tongue. “Use your tongue to wet it down.”
Eager to please, she licked the bulbous mushroom-shaped flesh at her lips. Given his tense posture, she could tell he approved.
“More.”
Gertrude was happy to accommodate him and eager for more. She continued to lick at the head of his cock, using suction to draw him farther into her mouth.
With a sharp inhale, the stranger gripped his shaft at the base but did not stop her. “Slowly.”
He rolled his pelvis toward her and braced himself against the canopy frame, muscular arm outstretched above his head.
“I took one look at your mouth and knew you’d excel at pleasuring me,” he sighed slowly, working his hips in rhythmic fashion, back and forth.
She moaned, encouraging him in abandon. The features of his face changed behind his mask as he grew still and stiff. Unrelenting, she took more of him, until her lips were kissing his knuckles where he maintained a tight grip on himself.
“I’m going to come, and you’re going to swallow it.” He growled behind clenched teeth.
Gertrude had given men oral pleasure before but never swallowed. Never dared to. Until now, she could think of nothing she wanted more than to drink him down and be filled by him.
The dark stranger let go of the canopy frame and took her by the back of the head, holding her gently but firmly against him, his cock thrusting in and out of her mouth. She remained calm, breathing evenly through her nose despite her arousal. Then she felt the warm jets of his cum spray the back of her throat. Swallowing, Gertrude looked up and watched the ecstasy take over her captor’s body and wished she could see his face. In the throes of orgasm, his body shuddered as he threw back his head and surrendered to his release. His large muscled chest rose and fell, his abdominal muscles rippled with labor.
“Don’t stop,” he whispered, the edge returning to his voice.
The stranger let her move against him, sucking him in long, slow draws. And within minutes, he was hard once again.
Gertrude no longer cared who he was, why he’d abducted her, bound her and seduced her. All she could feel was the need to have all of him. At the mercy of her emotions, she stopped to catch her breath. Her passion was a wildfire, threatening to consume her, leaving little untouched by that fact.
He pulled away, leaving her mouth, the space where he’d been, a hollow void. Clutching his cock, his fingers brushed the tip and massaged the silken head. “You want more.”
She nodded, unable to speak.
The stranger teased her by leaning in and then pulling back. “Say it.”
Trembling, Gertrude looked at him, leveling her eyes on him. So what if she couldn’t see his eyes? He could see hers. “I want you.”
Her captor regarded her with an alluring alchemy of amusement and sympathy. “What is it you want of me?”
She swallowed and parted her legs in submission. “I want you to fuck me.”
If her words affected him, his mask concealed it. “With what?”
She could have wept she was so beside herself with want. “I want you to fuck me with your cock.”
The dark stranger climbed onto the bed and fixed his gaze on her. “You’re a very lucky girl, Gertrude.”
She waited for him to tell her why.
“Because that’s what I want too.”
With a gentle touch, he parted her labia and rested the head of his cock at her pussy. Slowly, he entered her, sinking into her depths. Dear God help her. She was powerless, with no reach, no way of bringing him close or guiding him. Just when she believed he would sheath himself fully within her, he withdrew and started all over again, drawing it out as if savoring every stroke.
“Tell me, how does my cock feel in your pussy?” he prompted as he rocked his hips into her over and over.
She whimpered, helpless to how good he felt inside her. “Good. So good.”
Gifted with a lover’s intuition, he felt her want more of him and leaned back into a position where he loosened her legs from their restraints. The tenderness she’d felt earlier subsiding, her body sighed against him. He pinned her legs against his chest as he hollowed her shape, fashioned her for a perfect fit. The deep angle brought her ass off the bed, hands gripping the bed frame in desperation. Her legs shook with the euphoric sensations rippling through her, her entire body aquiver with delight. No way could he get deeper.
Then he rolled her over. The chains crisscrossed with a soft metallic ‘clink.’ On all fours, she felt his hands spread the cheeks of her ass, taking in the view of her backside. Whatever thoughts occupied her mind were soon obliterated by the sheer glory of his reentry. In that moment, he possessed her entirely. Her body belonged to him and so did her mind. Now, his thrusts and retreats were all there was of her.
“What are you doing to me?” she cried, gripping the headboard, the creaking of the wood a beautiful sound.
“You’re coming, Gertrude. You’re going to come all over me,” the dark stranger declared.
He rolled her over once more, pinning her beneath him, the chains above her in a shiny braid. It was a good thing. If not for the delicious weight of his magnificent body and the ceiling, she might have flown away. Suddenly, an exquisite rush swept over her as intense waves of tingles rippled from her core to the tips of her toes out the top of her head. She’d had an orgasm, and it was glorious.
“That was more beautiful than in my dreams,” he sighed.
“Let me see you. I want to see your face. Please—” she begged.
“Are you telling me?” her dark stranger teased.
Gertrude shook her head violently. “I wouldn’t dare…Master. I wouldn’t dare.”
“Master?” he purred.
Yes, she’d called him Master. And better still, he liked it.
“Again,” he commanded, thrusting fast and hard against her.
“Master!” Gertrude cried, bracing herself for what felt like another wave of euphoria. She was going to come again, the walls of her pussy gripping and pumping his cock like a fist.
“You’ve found the way to my cock, Gertrude, and now my heart. My virgin unbound,” he whispered and ripped his off mask, dropping it beside the bed.
András Almássy. Her Dark Stranger. The subject of her fantasy, the muse of her exam essay. The man who owned every inch of her. He bucked against her, thrusting deep inside her as he came. Every gleaming muscle in his body flexed and released in his climax. She felt him fill her to the brim and trickle down her thighs.
“Kiss me,” he sighed against her slack lips.
And she was happy to obey. Thank God, she sent a prayer heavenward, for making her dream come true.
Their mouths met for their first kiss, one she would never forget, and she shuddered against him. His body tensed, and a low guttural sound escaped him as he came with her. Breathless and panting, they collided in a passionate thunder. Their cries a harmonious song, they folded together seamlessly in a pile of exhausted flesh.
Several
minutes passed before either of them spoke. The first thing—was she all right. Cradled against his muscular, smooth chest, ear to his heart, she draped her arm around him. Yes. She was better than all right. She was perfect.
“Do you know what your name means? Tompkins?” András asked her.
Gertrude could hardly indicate she was only semi-conscious, she was so relaxed. “Nnmm. What?”
“Little Tom. And Tom means twin. So you are my little twin. My other half. The missing piece of me. And now that I’ve found you, I will never let you go.”
Tears of joy flooded her eyes. This is what it felt like to be possessed, to be bound. “Promise?”
“Promise.” He took her hand in his, brushing a kiss against her knuckles. “A thousand times, I promise.”
****
After a day and night of lovemaking, the early morning sun warmed them into waking. András sat on the edge of the bed with his back to her, putting on his boots. “Was it everything you hoped it would be?”
“Mmm.” Gertrude smiled drowsily. Somewhere in her voice was a goofy smile waiting to vanquish her face. “And then some. It was better than any dream I ever had.”
András turned his head to look over his broad shoulder, one of his eyebrows flickering upwards. “How is that?”
“Because I’m awake and yet here we are.”
He faced her, smiling, a handsome sight if there ever was one. “A+.”
“Is that my grade for the semester?” Gertrude asked, stretching like a cat. She was deliciously tender all throughout her body.
András chuckled. “Only because I can’t give you better.”
“There’s always extra credit,” she laughed and welcomed him as he reached across the bed for her once more.
“Don’t encourage me.” He pulled her into his lap, the delicious swell of his shaft, familiar now but no less thrilling, against her belly.
Gertrude squeezed him close as she kissed him, eager to show him how crazy she was about him. András cupped her ass in his hands, bringing her legs around his waist so her pussy was flush with his cock. Their tongues tangled in a deep, passionate kiss, the sense of urgency like a bright spark between them.
She let instinct take over, undulating against him, hoping to drive him as insane as he drove her. His fingers, kneaded her feminine curves. A moan escaped her, her pussy, wet and hot for him.
Using the well-developed muscles in his upper body, András rolled them backward onto the bed. Gertrude removed his belt from his jeans, kissing him as she did so, handing the long strip of leather to him.
“Bind me to you,” she whispered, the flicker of entreaty in her voice.
András took the belt and braced himself above her. She teased him while he worked to restrain her, licking the scratch marks on his upper chest with the tip of her tongue. Hands secured in a knot, she reveled in the way his muscular body caged her in. He rubbed her with his arousal, letting the friction of their bodies generate the heat she craved. Poised to enter her, he nudged past her pussy lips, and she yielded to him, opening her thighs to him like a book. Inch by glorious inch, he claimed her, replacing her emptiness with his presence. “Mine. All mine,” András whispered in her ear.
“Yes.” Gertrude smiled in total surrender. “All yours.”
The End
www.persephonejones.me
FIREMEN ON THE MOVE
Copyright© 2013
Giselle Renarde
The summer sun glowed against Bindi’s bare legs as she hugged her knees, gazing across the silky suburban lawns. The curb downtown probably felt just as hard as this one, but at least the buildings didn’t all look the same. How much pink brick could one neighbourhood handle?
Bindi wanted dirty. Bindi wanted grit. She wanted adventure and excitement and nightlife, and she’d never find it in the suburbs.
She couldn’t tell her parents she wanted out, but how many twenty-seven-year-old women still lived with family? Well, okay, a lot of girls her age still lived at home, but for them it was either a choice or a financial consideration. They were saving for a home. Or they couldn’t find work. Or they just liked sponging off the folks.
But Bindi wasn’t like that. She lived with Mummy and Baba because nice Indian girls didn’t live out on their own. Nice Indian girls lived with their nice doctor husbands and raised nice children. That was not the life Bindi wanted for herself. She wanted to drink until dawn and party hearty. She wanted sex in the city—not that she could tell her family. They probably thought their dearest Bindi-poo was still a virgin.
She glanced at her phone. The movers weren’t scheduled to arrive until two, but she was so anxious to get out that she’d stayed up all night packing. No way could she have done this while her parents were in town. Bindi had a rebellious streak that always seemed to disappear in their presence.
At 1:53, a big truck turned the corner. Bindi hopped from the curb and jumped in the air, waving her hands. This was it. They were coming. She smiled so hard her jaw hurt. If it wasn’t enough that she’d get her first real taste of freedom today, the moving company she’d chosen was called Firemen On The Move, staffed by bona fide firefighters. Firefighters! Imagine snagging a big strong man on moving day.
It’s not that she needed a man…
But she certainly wouldn’t mind one…
When the truck pulled up in front of her parents’ house, Bindi’s heart throbbed. She covered her mouth and whispered, “Oh my god, they’re here! They’re really here!”
The moving van pumped out heat like a hot man in bed. She couldn’t see beyond the glare, but she had a good feeling. For meeting real live firemen, this was the next best thing to arson.
The door closest to her opened swiftly, and two big boots hopped onto the grass. She followed navy pants up to a grey T-shirt, which undoubtedly concealed a firm, fit chest. “Bindi Singh?”
“Me. That’s me.”
He tossed a clipboard onto the passenger seat, and then closed the heavy door. Bindi couldn’t get over the strapping surge of his muscles. Her knees nearly gave out as she ogled his arms. He was so strong, so fierce, so… old?
When Bindi got a look at the guy’s face, the marriage plans in her mind all crumbled. This man was bald, with just a ring of white hair around the sides, like Patrick Stewart. Before she could self-censor, she heard herself asking, “You’re a firefighter?”
“Yes indeed,” said a voice from around the truck. “We both are.”
“Retired,” Patrick Stewart admitted.
“I see.” Bindi crossed her arms in front of her chest while the second guy stepped onto the lawn. That dude looked like Tim Allen in The Santa Clause—complete with the belly and the beard. “Well, I guess you should get started.”
Tim Allen said, “Lead the way, Milady.”
Bindi shuddered. She didn’t mean to glance at the other guy, but their gazes somehow met. He kind of rolled his eyes, subtly so Tim Allen didn’t notice, and that expression of solidarity made Bindi smile.
“This way.” She led them into the house. “Don’t worry about your boots. Oh, and it’s not the whole house, just my stuff.”
As they walked upstairs, Patrick Stewart asked, “Are you living on your own for the first time?”
She opened her bedroom door, and Santa walked inside, but the fit guy hung back in the hall. Bindi told him, “I lived away from home in university, but then I came back.”
“I’ll start with these,” the bearded guy said, picking up a few dress bags and a plastic case packed with pillows.
“Larry always grabs the easy stuff,” Patrick Stewart said, when the other dude was out of earshot. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Steve, by the way. I hate the idea of walking into a woman’s bedroom without introducing myself first.”
Bindi smiled as her palm met his. When he shook her hand, lightning zapped through her arms and down her legs. She had to bite her lip to keep from smiling like an idiot. What was the deal? Did she like this guy, or something?
He had to be twenty-five, thirty years older than her.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here. I don’t have a car, or a driver’s license, so I couldn’t rent a van.”
“You’re probably too young to rent one, anyway.”
“Oh, I’m older than I look.”
Steve stepped into Bindi’s room and traced his fingers across her wooden bed. The sight made her shiver, like he was touching her.
“My daughter tried to rent a car for a trip last year,” Steve said. “The rental company told her she had to be twenty-five.”
“How old was she?”
“Twenty-three.”
“Oh.” Bindi wasn’t sure why that made her feel old. “Well, I’ve got a few years on her, then.”
Steve nodded, but said nothing. Bindi watched his fingers flirt with the footboard. She’d stripped all the linens from her bed, and the newish mattress sat naked on its slats.
“The bed is going?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“We’ll need to take it apart.”
“No way in hell I’m getting on my hands and knees to break that thing down!” Larry bellowed from the bedroom door. “Large furniture pieces should be disassembled before the movers arrive. Didn’t they tell you when you booked?”
“I don’t know.” Bindi cringed at the mean man’s disgusted anger. “I don’t remember.”
“Of course you don’t, princess.”
Why was this Larry guy being so mean to her? Tears welled in Bindi’s eyes, and she tried to remind him that she was a client and deserved some respect, but her throat closed up. She was too close to crying.
Thankfully, Steve jumped in. “Larry, keep your mouth shut. Or have you forgotten what Donna said? One more customer complaint and you’re out on your ass.”
Larry’s sweaty face burned red. He opened his mouth, but must have thought better of making a scene. Instead of shouting, he picked up a box and stormed out of the room.
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