Sometimes, it took her a little bit longer than others, but she was almost always – except in that one case when he'd left her bound and blindfolded and gagged, alone in his room – able to subvert her own will to his. She amazed him, frankly, since he knew, in real life, she was nothing like this. And that just made it just that much more of an incredible transformation she managed to accomplish each and every time.
It humbled him, and he knew he would never get used to it or take it for granted. He knew how hard she tried to please him, as he tried to please her.
Chapter Eight
He very carefully brought her to the edge but not over it as he played with her, occasionally swatting her bottom, changing up the fingers he used, varying the speed and sometimes cupping his fingers over her clit.
Nick knew exactly how many days it had been since he had allowed her to come, and it had been a while – this was the longest stretch he'd subjected her to, almost two months. He enjoyed teasing her almost as much as he adored fucking her.
But he knew that if he went too far, if she thought she was truly going to lose it, Celia had the annoying ability to disassociate her mind from her body, and – almost always – when her mind wasn't fully engaged, nothing was going to happen. He'd been able to drive her body past that firm grip of hers, but only occasionally, forcing her to come uncontrollably – and without permission.
He intended to get better at it. She was a challenge, and he was always up for finding new ways to control her, to bend her, to prove to her that she was his.
And this was going to be one of them.
He didn't think he was going to be easy for her to take. His fingers – even two of them – weren't as thick as he was, or as long. Nick rose, discarding his glove and cleaning up the rest of the paraphernalia and returning the chair to the corner where it lived before he slipped out of his robe and – in a move that startled her – he reached down to remove the gag.
"No words."
She could scream and cry and moan, but not beg or chant her favorite word at times like this – "no" – or even call out to him. If she felt the need for her safe word, she could snap her fingers.
He wondered if she might feel the need to use it, so he vowed to be extra vigilant about listening for it.
Then he took his place in front of her, his cock already stiff and nearly purple with need of her.
He spread a thin coating of lube over himself, and then placed the head against that tightly closed pucker.
"Remember to try to relax as best you can," he warned, already unable to resist the urge to press into her. "Ahh, God, I can't wait to be inside you!"
CeCe had never felt such pressure there before – his fingers were an entirely different matter from his cock, somehow. They had eventually brought her dangerously close to a type of orgasm she didn't even know she was capable of, that she knew she would eventually have to fight off and try to divorce herself from, or she was going to be in big trouble.
Her mind's eye was showing her a picture of how it must have looked to him, his big thick rod disappearing into her bottom, slowly, inexorably advancing as she tried to move away from the painful stretching, but he held her hips in his strong hands, and she couldn't move.
Nick rocked against her several times, seating himself fully within her, then began to withdraw very slowly, but only to about half way.
Then he leaned over her and began to move his hips as he rode her.
She was crying softly – not wailing or screaming as she did when he punished her – but keening a bit in the back of her throat and panting with her effort to accept him.
Nick brought his hand down between her legs, concerned that he might have misjudged her response to this, but what he found allayed his fears completely. She was literally dripping her juices down onto the bed beneath her. He dipped his fingertips into that font and brought them up to her clit.
"Hurts, baby?" he asked in a whisper.
She nodded as best she could on a whimper.
"Hurts good?" he asked, taking his first, full stroke – all the way out and all the way in – following it with faster, more powerful ones.
Her answer was to toss her head and groan as he took what he wanted from her, burying himself repeatedly, deeply within her backside while mercilessly taking her pleasure from her, too, at the same time. Of course he knew exactly what she liked, dragging his fingers over that little bump, frigging' them back and forth, side to side then up and down, attacking her clit, swatting it occasionally with the flat of his fingers and making her grunt and try to violently arch herself away from a potential other slap.
She couldn't move much at all, but she ended up driving him even further into her – which resulted in an even louder grunt.
He chuckled evilly and began to slap her most delicate spot more regularly but still sporadically, and every time he did it – especially the closer he could feel her getting to completion, the more startled she was by the insult and the more rudely she ended up impaling herself.
As he conquered and occupied her repeatedly, Nick leaned down to whisper in her ear, "You must come before I do."
With that, he redoubled his efforts, already planning how he was going to discipline her when she inevitably disobeyed him in this. At first, he didn't change anything about how he was pleasuring her. He still played with her avidly, spanking her there, occasionally. Then, as it seemed she might avoid a punishment after all, he cheated a bit and greatly reduced the amount of time he spent rubbing her and began to swat her sharply, predominantly instead, sprinkling the occasional frigging in between, but much less often.
And, with him plunging into her, stretching her wildly, claiming a very intimate, unusual spot on her body that had been heretofore untouched, with him rapping his fingers down – relatively hard – onto that part of her that he usually pampered and licked and suckled, she came.
She came apart.
His own rapturous end came just about the same time as hers, and he nearly lost himself in it, until he realized with a growing alarm that she was unnaturally still.
Nick dismounted rather suddenly, and yet, there was no sound from her that registered that fact. He checked to make sure she was breathing, even though he could see the rise and fall of her chest, he had to prove it to himself by watching her take in air as he immediately began to remove her collar, then all of her other bonds.
All while wearing a triumphant grin.
She had fainted.
He couldn't believe it.
That had never happened to anyone he had ever been with before. He considered it the ultimate compliment.
Since he knew she was okay, he pulled her up on the bed and tugged the covers over her, then went to do a bit of clean up before joining her in bed and starting to pat her cheek, gently at first, then less so until she showed signs of waking up.
"Wh-what happened?" she asked immediately, trying to sit up.
"No, you stay right here with me," he scolded, hauling her back against him. "You just fainted."
She looked as alarmed as he had felt before he had realized what had happened. "But I don't faint. I've never fainted in my life."
He laughed. "Well, now you do, apparently. And I have to admit, I'm exceedingly flattered."
"Don't be. I don't intend to do it again."
She recognized that deep chuckle of his. "I do so love it when you challenge me to make you do something."
CeCe looked back at him, annoyed. "I am doing nothing of the sort, thank you very much."
Nick's arms tightened around her. "I don't think it's anything that either of us has much control over, not that I'm not going to do my damndest to instigate it."
Her snort of derision did nothing whatsoever to dampen his pride.
* * *
Since she worked from home, over the next months, which became a year with alarming speed, CeCe found herself becoming almost cloistered. Not that she minded, necessarily. He was the person she saw the most of, a
nd he was the person she wanted to see the most of, above everyone else on the planet. He took her on some, but not all, of his business trips, depending on just what kind of business was going to be involved.
His concern for her safety was paramount.
Her isolation was something he was aware of, and, unlike a lot of men in his situation, with the amount of power and control he exerted over her, he did his best to encourage her to go out. Now, she was expected to get his permission to do so, of course, and he – almost parentally – liked to know where she was going, what she was going to be doing, and with whom she was going to be doing it, but he had never once said no to her when she asked to go out with her friends.
He had – at first – not allowed her to go anywhere overnight, though, and she hadn't chafed at that at all, since she didn't want to spend the night away from him, either. Eventually, though, her friends had wanted to spend the weekend shopping at outlet malls and gambling at the nearby casinos that were four or so hours away, and he had given her his permission to go. It was the first time she'd come to ask him for much of anything, and as much as he really didn't want her to, he was loathe to turn her down, and he was truly glad she was getting out some.
Of course, there were rules about how he expected her to behave on her trip – she was not allowed to pleasure herself, but then she wasn't normally, either. She had to text him at least once a day, at eleven p.m. – although she ended up doing it much more often than that. At home, he kept her on a sensible diet with the occasional treat, but he encouraged her to treat the little getaway as a vacation and eat whatever sinful things she wanted to.
She almost lost the privilege of going away, though, over one aspect of it that he insisted on: that she take a credit card of his with her, for emergencies.
He watched her back go up at that rule, but he'd expected it would.
"I have credit cards of my own, Sir," she pointed out, and he knew she was doing her best not to sound snide.
Nick just smiled down at her and reached around to cup a delightfully bare bottom cheek as a gentle reminder. "I realize that. Mine has no limit. Does yours have a limit?"
Of course it did. A relatively small one at that, although it was more than enough to cover pretty much any emergency, which she calmly pointed out to him. "Do you think I'm going to need to buy a seven-forty-seven while I'm there?" she asked wryly.
His chin sank to his chest as he looked down at her from under drawn brows. "I suggest you tread very lightly, little miss. The vacation – and the backside – you save in doing so may well be your own."
Although CeCe disliked how he tended to try to foist money onto her right and left, she pursed her lips and radically changed her tone. She was really looking forward to this trip, and she didn't want to end up staying home – and not sitting down.
"Yes, Sir."
He kissed the top of her head. "That's my girl."
She thoroughly enjoyed her little trip, although she realized something rather quickly – being so closeted most of the time – the two of them largely in a world of their own making – made it easy to forget just who he was, even though that had been the entire impetus for them meeting in the first place.
But her girlfriends weren't about to let her forget it, especially when he did things for her like provide them with his private jet, as well as a limo and driver for the entire weekend, even though CeCe knew that they naively didn't even consider the fact that he was much more than just a driver. Harry was another way for him to keep an eye on her – she had no doubt that the young man was making reports to Nick about what she was doing.
That was okay, though, because she didn't do anything that might get her into trouble in the least. She did exactly what he already knew she was going to do – drank too much, ate horribly, and gambled.
Harry was also her bodyguard, not that any of her oblivious friends noticed. He was very discreet, and very naughtily encouraging of the way the others leered at him and tried to cop a feel of his muscles or his butt every time he let them into or out of the car.
Nick went out of his way to make sure it was a special time for her in many ways – most of which she could have done without, although it seemed that everything he did had her girlfriends oohing and ahhing. He got them one of the biggest suites in the biggest casino, complete with a butler and concierge, as well as an open line of credit for all of them.
Everything about their stay was comped, either by the hotel or by Nick. He even had Harry step in when they went outlet shopping and he picked up the tab for their bargains, too.
April, one of her closest friends since grammar school, said out loud what everyone was thinking when they were in the back of the limo on their way back from their shopping excursion. "Well, I can see that it pays to have a gangsta boyfriend, CeCe! Know any single ones you can introduce me to?"
There was a chorus of "Me, too!" but CeCe just smiled. All of these trappings were fun for a while, for a change, but they weren't really a part of her life. That was contained within the four walls of a modest home in a middle class neighborhood, and even further, within the master bedroom walls within that house. Her life was what happened there between her and Nick – not designer dresses or gourmet meals or jets or limos.
She had half expected him to pop up and surprise her, especially since every evening's conversation – by text or phone – was all about how terribly they missed each other. But he also made her tell him about everything they had done, what she had eaten, if she had won anything at the tables – which she never did.
It had been a wonderful weekend, but once the last of her friends had exited the limo, she sighed, glad to be alone again, finally. She had forgotten what it was like to be with four giggling, loud, largely drunk friends.
When Harry opened the door to what she expected to be home, it was, instead, the Montclair Inn, where she and Nick shared their first meal.
She was shown to the exact same private room, and Nick, who was wearing a very formal looking suit that was almost a tux and made her feel distinctly underdressed in her summery little sundress, rose to come to her as soon as she appeared, his face positively glowing.
Stepping into his arms was her true homecoming, she knew without a doubt, as they slipped around her to draw her into his arms and his kiss.
"I have missed you so!" He was millimeters away from telling her that she could never go away from him for that long again, but he suppressed the urge. He needed her to be happy, and the occasional girls' weekend was little enough of a price to pay for that.
"I missed you too, Sir!" She blushed and looked down, then immediately up into those dark eyes. "It doesn't feel right not to be with you."
He didn't think he had ever heard anything so touching in all his life – and, as his lips claimed hers again, he whispered, "I feel the exact same way."
When he finally deigned to stop kissing her, he held her out at arm's length and gave her a loving, possessive once over, pronouncing, "You look gorgeous!"
She blushed, of course. How was it that he could still make her do that?
"Me? I look like a hayseed in comparison to you – damn, you're one fine looking man!"
It wasn't something she was able to accomplish often, but she loved it when she made him blush. It was such a role reversal from the usual!
"Stop that, minx," he chuckled, growing redder by the minute.
CeCe was distracted from his discomfort by the sound of a tinkling bell coming from just outside the door she'd just come in.
"What's that?" she asked.
"That is our drinks, a bit early, but they'll wait."
He brought her to her chair but didn't allow her to sit down. Instead, he amazed her by reaching for the zipper at the back of her dress.
"Wh-what are you doing?"
Nick tsked loudly. "Now, Celia, is it your place to question me like that?"
Something within her snapped, and the days without him – without his very close supervision �
�� fell away. "No, Sir," she answered, in a tone and manner that was much more like her.
"No, it is not," he agreed firmly.
When he was through, he left her with not a stitch of clothing on, and kept her standing as he went to the door. She couldn't see much of anything, which she was glad of, because then no one would be able to see much of her, but then he reappeared with two glasses of whiskey, one of which he gave to her.
"You're going to have to put up with me serving you this evening."
That put her a bit more at ease – at least he wasn't going to expect her to survive letting some strange man see her naked. She realized quickly, though, that she should have thought of the fact that Nick was much too possessive a man for that, anyway, but she was a bit off kilter at all of these surprises.
"To my beautiful, lovely sexy, wonderfully obedient – most of the time – woman."
He clinked his glass with hers and took a sip. She was a bit less enthusiastic than he was about the idea of toasting herself, but she did take a bit of the very smooth whiskey.
Then he sat, guiding her onto his lap and threading his arms around her. "I want to hear every detail about your weekend. Please describe the food, in particular, in detail."
She laughed softly, knowing he had continued to eat sensibly while she was stuffing her face with jumbo shrimp and French pastries. CeCe tucked her head beneath his chin, feeling at home, even though they weren't, just because she was with him.
As their meal continued, she realized that he had made elaborate arrangements with the Inn beforehand. Every course appeared – accompanied by the little bell – having been pre-ordered – and it was exactly what they had both had that night. It always amazed her when she realized how closely he paid attention to her wants and needs – and at that point, she wasn't even his girlfriend! How had he managed to remember all of it? She could barely remember her own name!
Lion Page 9