Master Over You

by Cerys du Lys

  "Thanks for keeping track of inventory," I said.

  He gave me a stern glare, his dark eyes gleaming like nightmares personified. "I am going to turn on the TV," he said, his voice measured. "Is that alright, Miss Tanner?"

  "I don't care anymore," I said. "Can you please call me Elise?"

  "Elise," he said, tasting my name; not calling me it, but saying it. The way he said it made me feel dirty and sexual and debased all at once. Maybe I should've let him continue calling me Miss Tanner.

  Lucent flipped on the TV with a push of the power button, then switched to the local news station. The news reporters warned everyone of a snow emergency and cautioned people to stay inside. The governor had called a statewide emergency ban on road travel, too, and urged companies to allow their employees to work from home this weekend if they could.

  He frowned at the TV, looking petulant and naughty, like some boy in need of a spanking. I found myself staring at his backside and wondering what it looked like without pants. And maybe without anything else, either? Did he keep in shape? He looked fit, but it was hard to tell with the suit on.

  Not that I should care, really. If I wasn't fit, why should I expect him to be? I was thin enough, but not by any real effort on my part. I should go to the gym or run, but I had school and I didn't want to, and...

  Lucent turned around and saw me staring at his lower half while I daydreamed and made excuses in my head for not exercising more often.

  "Like what you see?" he asked.

  I snapped my head up, looking him in the eyes for a second before averting my gaze. "Sorry," I said.

  He stepped forward and took my chin in his hand, tilting my head up so he could look at me. Our eyes connected, gazing into one another. He furrowed his brow, considering me.

  I jerked my head away and slapped at his hand. "What are you doing?"

  "Nothing," he said. "I thought I saw something."

  "What?"

  "Nothing."

  And that was that. He refused to elaborate.

  ~*~

  You can find the rest of this story here: The Billionaire's Paradigm: His Absolute Purpose (The Complete Series)

  Sample (Spice)

  Please enjoy this sample from Hunted: An Erotic Retelling of Beauty and the Beast, a fairytale re-imagining, by Cerys du Lys

  ~*~

  Michael pulled Danya through the woods behind his family's estate. "Come on, Danya! Hurry, hurry up."

  She rolled her eyes and laughed while they rushed through the forest in the dark of night. "Where are we going?"

  "It's a place. It's back here. You'll love it."

  She had no doubt in her mind that he meant to seduce her. Not only was he drunk from his family's party, but whenever he looked at her he had a hard time staring at anything but her breasts. He stopped now and did just that, his head teetering on his neck as the stink of alcohol from his breath washed over her. He leered at her chest, smirking.

  "This can't be it," she said. "This isn't anywhere! It's the middle of the woods."

  "Danya," he said, releasing her hand and turning to face her. "Is it true?"

  "Is what true?" she asked, acting coy.

  "There's rumors, you know, in town? Your father always says it, too. When he's away and your sisters are busy, the days you watch his shop are always the ones he makes the most money."

  "I'm good at sales?" she offered.

  "Good at sales, or good at fucking in the backroom?"

  She slapped him across the face, but not hard, nowhere near enough to hurt. He didn't move away from her. In fact, he moved closer, his eyes looking into hers and his lips inching towards her own. It was, perhaps, the first time he'd looked at her face all night.

  "Come on," he said. "I won't tell anyone. Just give me a sample or something? Maybe I'll come by the shop one day when you're watching it and pay for your full services. What do you think?"

  She sighed. So, perhaps she'd fucked one of the errand boys in the back of her father's shop. What was she supposed to do? The man needed money or he wouldn't deliver the goods her father had ordered, and her father hadn't left her anything to pay him with. Her father was like that now, ever since he'd lost a majority of his fortune because of a mishap with cargo ships a long time ago; always promising to repay people and pay his bills and this and that, but he never had the money.

  And she'd given one man a blowjob when he said he needed extra incentive to purchase one of their exquisite lamps. But he tipped really well and paid at least double what it was worth. Danya pocketed some of the coin and paid their landlady discretely so she would give them a little more time before throwing them out on the street. Her father was perpetually behind on the rent.

  Everything else was her own doing, though! Or, more like she didn't do anything sexual to make the money. Maybe she flirted, flaunted her body, gave some of the women tips on how to heat up their sex lives, but that was it. Mostly that was it. She couldn't remember everything now, but she didn't sleep with the customers too often. And when she did she rarely enjoyed it much. It was business, another aspect of it, and if her father couldn't keep their finances in check then she didn't want to suffer for it. This was as good a way to solidify her stability as any, right?

  Michael loomed over her, pressing her against the rough bark of a tall pine tree. He put a clumsy hand on one of her breasts, squeezing it through the sheer fabric of her sundress. Pressing close to her, he rubbed his crotch against hers.

  All in all, it wasn't very exciting, but what was she going to do? She was a little drunk herself, though not too much, and was stuck in the middle of the woods with him. She'd hoped he wanted to talk to her about something, maybe dreams and how his family could help hers with their troubles. Something nice, possibly romantic, or at least pleasant. Michael did have one of the richest families in Belfast, and his father was known as a considerate gentleman.

  Michael, as far as this was going right now, was not as proper as that. He fondled her breast while he searched deeper and lower for something else to occupy his other hand. Right now he had a grasp on the tree behind him, but when he focused through his drunken state she had no doubts he'd find her dress and pull it up and go searching beneath her panties. His mouth latched onto her neck, sucking.

  "Michael," she said, trying to sound soft and seductive. "Michael, stop for a moment."

  He stopped with his mouth, but not with his hands. "I want to fuck you so bad, Danya."

  "I know, I know, but—"

  He grew tired of groping her through her dress and wrenched the top of it down so he could see her bare skin. Her firm, large breasts wobbled and swayed in the open air.

  "Fuck, you've got a nice pair," he said. To add to his comment, he pinched one of her nipples.

  "Michael, look. I'll give you a handjob, alright? How about that?"

  Before she could say more, he had his pants unbuckled and lowered past his knees. His throbbing erection bounced to attention in front of her. Drunk, she thought, but not too drunk to stay hard or want to get laid.

  She knelt in front of him and cupped his balls in her hand. He glanced down at her and bent over, grabbing for one of her breasts. If she wanted to stop this she needed to go fast. And, anyways, maybe he'd talk to her afterwards about her family's issues? Maybe this was like negotiations? Not the kind she really wanted, but whatever worked, right?

  She spit on her hand, foregoing ladylike etiquette, and grabbed the base of his cock. With one hand she squeezed his balls and with the other she stroked him. Slow at first, to spread her makeshift lubrication, but then she went faster. Michael groaned, barely able to stand. If it weren't for the tree at her back and his hands braced against it for balance, she thought he would have fallen as soon as she first grabbed him.

  ...

  That smell! The smell of rutting beasts! Of animals fucking on the ground with wild abandon without a care in the world. Oh, he knew that smell. He knew it so well it hurt. It always made him... what was th
e word? He hardly spoke to others now, so sometimes the more difficult words eluded him. Not sick, no. Angry? Not that, either. Upset. Yes, a little. Something more, too, though.

  He looked up and saw a sliver of the moon. A guttural howl escaped from his throat and echoed through the thick forest air.

  He wanted to find the source of the smell. One part of it, the male's musk, he was indifferent to, but the female had a sweet, undeniably delicate aroma. His cock, long past the point of arousal and now blazingly hard and exuding strong heat, bobbed in the air as he ran fast through the woods to find the mating pair.

  ...

  Michael was a tough sell. Like some customers she knew, he wanted more and more. Not satisfied with her handjob, he grabbed her ponytail, yanked her off the ground, spun her around, and pressed her against the pine tree. She yelped in surprise, confused at first and unable to see anything in the darkness of night. Her breasts spread outwards, wrapping around the tree as if she were embracing it with her chest, and the rough bark grated against her skin.

  Michael kept a tight hold on her ponytail while he grabbed blindly for the skirt of her sundress, managing to catch the hem in his fingers. Pulling it up hard so her rear was exposed, he then searched for her panties. It didn't take long before he shoved them aside. Lumbering around like some massive beast, he stomped towards her and pressed his cockhead against her ass. He pushed forward, intent on entering her, but went for the wrong entrance.

  "Michael, that's my butt!" she shrieked.

  Before he could understand what she said (because she expected he wouldn't care where he stuck his cock, as long as he got it in her), she reached back and guided him towards her pussy. Maybe she hadn't expected the night to go like this, but it was happening now so she figured she'd make the best of it.

  Michael pushed into her, separating her folds and spreading her wide with his cock. The spit-lube from her failed handjob assisted him in stuffing himself deep inside of her, where he immediately leaned against her as if he were dreadfully tired.

  "Fuck me," she whispered, turning her head to look over her shoulder at him. "Come on, Michael. Fuck me."

  She tried to sound seductive, but she wasn't much into it. He was quickly showing the effects of alcohol, and she thought if he didn't cum soon he wasn't going to. Better to finish this fast than to deal a blow to his manhood that would make him keep trying to get off all through the night. She didn't want to deal with him continually poking her in an attempt to prove his masculinity.

  And, anyways, it was kind of hot if she thought about it differently. Not that hot, but she imagined a scenario playing in her mind. She thought of some man behind her, a rugged, faceless huntsman, who happened upon her in the middle of the woods after a long day's work. She was lost, of course, after having had a quiet picnic in the woods, and now it was evening. But, oh, how would she find her way home? The huntsman wouldn't know any of that, but he'd see the tantalizing curves of her body, her round, heavy breasts and tight, pert ass and the faint "V" as her tight dress pressed against her thighs and crotch.

  Michael wasn't a huntsman, far from it, but when he thrust into her she pictured her imaginary man, alone in the woods for years at a time with no woman to sate his carnal desires, pouncing upon her and taking her right then and there. She'd be surprised, like she'd been surprised when Michael yanked her off the ground by her hair, but the absolute lust dripping from his passionate actions would convert her. This was her fantasy, at least, and the huntsman would pound his cock into her in sharp, jerky movements, then release his desire inside her.

  And afterwards he'd introduce himself to her and apologize for his actions. Oh, she'd say, flustered, it's no problem, just, perhaps could you help me out of these woods? And he would say yes, except why didn't she spend the night at his log cabin? It'd be very late by then, so she would agree, and after a dinner filled with sexual tension the huntsman would do his best to act proper and she would pounce him and they would make love all through the night.

  Her fantasy got as far as the thrusting, and her arousal grew frantic and wet from the images in her mind, but Michael failed at playing the part of her huntsman. Instead, just as Danya was about to orgasm, he thrust himself into her one last time and let loose. His first jet of cum was strong, and she thought he might be able to finish her off if he kept it up. The second barely shot anything, and then she felt his cock squirming inside of her with a few final dribbles of white cream before Michael shuddered and pulled out.

  He collapsed on the ground in a heap. In a few seconds, pants bunched around his ankles, he was snoring.

  Danya stood against the tree, completely and utterly dissatisfied, with cum leaking out of her and dripping down her thigh. At least if she'd done this at her father's shop, like Michael insinuated, she'd be able to clean up afterwards. Ugh, this was disgusting.

  She heard a howl in the woods and looked up. The moon wasn't full, but she didn't know if wolves only howled during full moons? Apparently not, since this one had howled while the moon was just a sliver. She fixed her panties and her dress, pulling it up over her breasts and down to cover her ass, then quickly knelt beside Michael.

  "Michael," she said softly, tapping his shoulder.

  Nothing.

  "Michael!" she said more urgently. This time she grabbed his shoulder and shook him.

  Nothing.

  "If you get eaten by wolves, it's not my fault. I'm not going to stay here and be a meal for an animal."

  With that, she ran through the forest, heading back to his family's home. She could see fireworks coming from that direction; the night spectacle they'd planned for all their party guests.

  ...

  The male was spent, having mated with the female. The male didn't interest him, so he left him slumbering on the forest floor.

  The female was running, though. Teasing him, making him chase her. Her scent mixed with the male's seed as it slid down her tender legs, leaving a trail through the woods for him to follow. He sprinted after her, spotting faint traces of her long, tied-up, raven-black hair vanishing behind trees up ahead.

  She wore a dress, a pretty thing. How long had it been since he'd seen a dress like that? An eternity, or more, and this saddened him for a moment, but the constant thrum of his arousal, pounding through his hardened cock, soon brought him back to the task at hand.

  The other male was weak. She deserved a strong man, one who could breed with her until her stomach bulged, filled with offspring from their fierce mating.

  He would chase her and show her he was strong.

  ...

  Danya ran faster through the woods. Michael's parent's land was just up ahead, and the fireworks were shooting up faster and faster. They boomed through the air, the lights illuminating bits and pieces of the darkened woods.

  She ran fast because something was chasing her. Or she thought it was. It briefly struck her that maybe she was imagining it. Perhaps it wasn't real. Except, no, she could hear the pounding of footfalls behind her, the crunch of leaves, and the snarling of a beast.

  It was the wolf, she thought. The one that howled earlier. It had eaten Michael and now it wanted her for dessert. She wasn't going to be a meal for a wolf, though. At least not without a fight.

  She broke through the outskirts of the forest and sprinted through the fields towards the revelers at the fireworks. Someone saw her and pointed and she ran towards them. Would the wolf come and eat all of them? Was she luring it towards everyone for a massive meal? She hoped not.

  She blacked out just as someone ran towards her and put their arms out to catch her.

  ...

  The party was a week past. No one had noticed the cum on her legs, thankfully. Sweating while running through the woods, with her thighs pressing against one another, had eliminated most of the evidence of her and Michael's illicit romp. She'd been saved from having to explain where he was after falling unconscious, too. The local physician said it was the effects of too much alcohol combined
with heavy exertion. Everyone said there was no wolf, either. Hallucinations, and again that was blamed on the alcohol.

  Michael used the same excuse when he came to talk to her at her father's shop a few days later. "Sorry about that, Danya," he said. "I was drunk. I don't want you to get the wrong idea. It was a one time thing. I don't want to marry you or anything."

  She nodded. "It's alright, Michael. I understand. I was a little drunk myself."

  "Unless—" he started to say. "If you want to make some extra money, we could...?" He jerked his head towards the back room.

  Danya might have said yes. It was a slow day, and while they didn't need the money right away, she knew they'd need it eventually. Except she was pissed at Michael, and he hadn't given her any satisfaction the previous time. Maybe he'd be better when he wasn't drunk, or maybe he'd be worse. There was a certain amount of pleasure to be gained from reckless fumbling, and if he couldn't even hold off cumming until he brought her to climax when he was drunk and she was excited by her fantasies, she doubted he could do it when he wasn't drunk and she was annoyed with him.

  Also, her father walked in just then, carrying a bag of useless trinkets. He set them down on the shop counter, greeting her and Michael with a friendly hello, then began rummaging through his worthless crap.

  "What did you get today, daddy?" she asked, feigning interest. By the looks of it, nothing good. She hoped he hadn't spent a lot on it, because they'd be hard-pressed to sell any of this.

  Michael left quickly after that.

  ...

  Later that night, after they sat down to a family dinner, Danya heard a crash in the alleyway beside their home. Her father looked up, then shrugged.

  "A cat," he said.

  "Is it a cat?" her youngest sister, Felice, asked.

  "I bet it's an elephant," Alena said. "A big, yellow elephant."

  Danya rolled her eyes at her little sisters. They were sixteen and eighteen respectively, and a little daft. She thought they took after her father more than their mother (whereas Danya always imagined herself being like her mother), except—well, she was still here, taking care of her father so perhaps she was a little daft, too. Her mother had left years ago, leaving the three sisters to mostly fend for themselves. It hurt at first, but she could hardly blame her; if Danya could leave right now, she thought she would.