Controlled by His Voice Box Set (Erotic Romance)

by Cross, Skylar

  As I move my right arm to reach down and finger myself...

  Slam!

  My heart stops. I leap up and almost strangle myself, realizing that I am trapped.

  Fuck!

  The top must have been there all along, flipped up somehow. It had come crashing down on me. Now I'm locked in it.

  And I'm all alone.

  But there's a lock, isn't there? Surely I can lift the top up with my weight if the lock is undone. Right?

  Then I hear a latching sound.

  Oh shit. I'm not alone!

  "Hello?" I say.

  No response.

  I feel a presence, though. Tristan? It better be Tristan. If it isn't, then it really is Criminal Minds time.

  "Tristan?" I say. "Mentor? Are you there?"

  I shake the stockade.

  Full fear sets in. Fear like I've never known.

  Oh God, I'm going to die. This is it. My life is over. Nobody will ever find me here.

  Then I feel a hotness near my face. And I smell something... musky and masculine.

  My senses go into overdrive. I know that delightful smell!

  It fills my nostrils. I breathe in deeply. Suddenly, the world is at peace and all is right with the universe.

  My mentor is here.

  Then his cock touches my face.

  Yes, that's it. That's my cock. I stick my tongue out and lick it. He moves it around, teasing my face. I get in a lick here, a lick there.

  In an instant, I am happy. Joyous. I don't know the girl I was just a minute before. I don't even say anything because I don't want words to spoil this moment. I only want smells and tastes, sensations and feelings.

  My pussy roars back to life and flows her juices all throughout my panties.

  We play try-to-suck-my-cock for a while longer. Every time I think I'm going to get it in my mouth, it slips to the side. I get some balls here, a bit of the tip there.

  I don't care. He's here. I'm here. I'll play whatever game he wants. I'm his to do with what he pleases.

  Then his tip is at my lips. I kiss it lovingly. I stick my tongue out and lick the front of it right below the head.

  I part my lips and it sinks into my mouth, not stopping until it's pressing on the back of my throat.

  This is paradise. This is the best day of my life. Even if I do die right now, it will be with my mentor's cock inside me. Where it should be.

  We stay like that for a while, his hardness solid in its staying power as it presses into me. I breathe normally, my bottom lips resting on his base where his balls begin.

  Oh so fucking good.

  Then he pulls back slowly.

  I suck. He moans.

  There's the growly velvety voice I love. The voice that controls me.

  I suck harder. He presses back into my throat. As he does so, I dance my tongue all around him.

  Again he pulls back. Again I suck like I've never sucked before.

  Another moan.

  He begins to go faster. I gag a little as he pummels my face. It's okay. If I go, I go. But what a way to go!

  He hammers away at me for a while longer. My throat is getting sore and my lips are swollen.

  Then he's gone.

  Where did he go?

  It doesn't matter. I'm in good hands.

  Without warning, my entire dress is ripped off. My chin bangs the hole of the stockade.

  Then I feel my bra gone. Then my panties as they are ripped off.

  I scream with delight.

  Then I feel his hands all over me. They're like rough sandpaper as they caress me. He travels all around me, from my shoulders to my butt, down my legs, up the front of my legs, to my stomach.

  I shake as his hands cup my breasts from below and I feel his hot breath on my back. With it comes a soft wetness. He's licking my back!

  "Mentor, I've missed you!" I say.

  "Did I command you to speak?" he said in a displeased tone.

  "No, mentor."

  "Then remain quiet or this is over."

  "Yes, mentor."

  He continues his tongue exploration of my body. But the fucking bastard leaves my pussy and ass alone! What the fuck!

  Both are begging for attention. My pussy is sending lightning bolts through me. My asshole is puckering and loosening, winking in the darkness. The girls are competing again.

  But he doesn't hear any of us. He just continues his soft caress and licks all around my legs, back, and stomach.

  Then he's gone again.

  Some time goes by. I don't hear him leave so I know he's still here. I dare not speak for fear of being chastised again.

  Then I feel something going over my eyes. The blindfold! He places it gently on my face. I try to lick his hand while he's there but I can't get to it.

  Why did he need to blindfold me? We're in pure darkness here.

  Then I hear a click.

  Ah, he must have turned the lights on. Where is that damned switch?

  Then I hear a new sound. I know what it is, but I can't quite place it.

  I smell something too. Something oily and scented. I hear sounds of... dipping?... what is that?

  Then I jump.

  Something cold touches my back. But it's soft. It glides over me in cool wetness.

  Whatever it is, I like it.

  Then more dipping noise, then more cool wetness traveling over me in swishy lines.

  Oh God, he's painting on me!

  I recognize the feel of a brush and wet paint of some kind. It doesn't smell like paint you'd use to paint a picture. It must be body paint.

  Whatever it is, the swishy strokes he makes all over my back tantalize me.

  He takes his time in certain spots, pressing in and twisting the brush. On other parts I feel long broad strokes like he's filling in sections.

  Then I hear something being put down onto the stone floor. Must be the paint jar.

  Then I hear the sound of another one opening. Ah, that was the first sound I couldn't identify.

  Then back to painting again.

  He seems to finish my back and I feel the brush dancing around my ass. He seems to be drawing some kind of long lines down there.

  He takes his time, as a fine artist should. Hell, I don't even know if he's a fine artist. He could be painting stick figures for all I know.

  But I know he's doing something artistic. I can feel it in the care of each stroke, in the attention he's giving to whatever it is.

  Then the artwork continues down to my legs. As he's down there, I try pushing my ass in his face but I can't get it back far enough. He's purposely ignoring it. That's pissing off both my ass and me. Not to mention my poor cooch. She's beyond help now, ready to be committed to an asylum.

  Then the brush strokes end.

  Then I hear the latch being undone. Then the sound of the top of the stockade as it flips up.

  Next his hand is on my belly, moving me upwards. I stand up, free from the device.

  He wrenches my arm behind me and pushes me roughly. I smash into the brick wall.

  With force, he turns me around and raises my arms over my head. I feel cold metal on my left wrist then hear a clinking sound. Then again on the right.

  Fuck, I'm chained to the wall!

  I love being so vulnerable like this. But only for him.

  I jump as the brush finds my belly. More strokes as he continues his painting.

  We continue like this for a long while, brush strokes at various times covering my breast, abdomen, and legs.

  Then finally I hear the paint jars clunking on the floor again, the lids sealed.

  Then I hear the iron door open and shut. Locked.

  I don't know how long it is, but it feels like an hour. Then again, the last time I thought I was locked in this thing for an hour it was more like ten minutes.

  The iron door opens. He's back. It closes again.

  Without warning, I feel the chains undone. Then he turns me around and chains me to the wall again, this
time pressed forward into the hard cold brick.

  A minute goes by and then I feel something wet pressing into my asshole.

  Yes! Fuck me! Please fuck me!

  But then I realize it's not a cock. It's not a finger. He's licking me again.

  I feel an orgasm build as he tongues me. He knows so many spots to hit it's ridiculous. He just hits one after another, pressing his tongue into my sphincter here, then there, then there. I feel my ass spreading wide with delight.

  Then he's gone and I feel something else pressing on my hole. I squeal with delight. I remember that! It's a butt plug. And it's covered in lube.

  Then I feel wetness dribbling down from the top of my ass crack. My orgasm is back, right there on the edge. Ready for release.

  Fingers rub my butt crack. I resist shouting Get the fuck in there!

  The lube goes all around and then... yes!... there's a finger in my ass. Rubbing the lube in and all around.

  Then two fingers in my ass. Rubbing the lube in and all around.

  I'm on the edge of coming.

  "Do not come until I command you to," he says.

  I freeze. Like we've gone back in time, my body responds to his voice like a well-trained soldier. My orgasm is sitting right there on the edge but just won't come out.

  He plays with my ass some more, doing delightful things with one finger pressed upward against the wall to my pussy. He somehow finds the other end of my clit and presses in.

  I squirt.

  I don't come. I just squirt.

  God, I love being a deviant slut. His fucking private whore.

  Then the plug is at my asshole again. I feel it gliding in.

  Fuck, this is a bigger one! It must be the large.

  I get a flashback to the adult store. The medium was huge. No way is the large going up there! No fucking way!

  But soon I give in to the sheer delight of anal invasion. He takes his time, gently prodding and inserting. Stretching this part, then stretching that part.

  I love his courage because every once in a while he takes the plug out and licks a stretched part not knowing if I cleaned myself out. (I actually had, just in case.) Feels like I must be gaping by now.

  Go ahead! If there's a man I want to gape me, it's you!

  Then I feel a stretch like I never felt before. It's painful. It's electric. It's ecstatic. I shake. I moan. I groan. I scream in pure pleasure as I stretch so wide for him.

  And I'll do it. For no other man but you, mentor.

  I feel like a blossoming flower as the widest part of the butt plug penetrates me. I go into an angelic-like state, shuddering into bliss.

  "Come for me now," says his voice.

  Plop! My ass welcomes in its new friend as I go over the edge.

  I squirt again. And God, this time I swear I see stars.

  So.

  Fucking.

  Amazing.

  I am busted open and riding some kind of orgasmic wave as I come yet again.

  I scream. I don't know if I can take this much joy. No drug can be as good as this.

  Then I finally come down. My breathing is loud and out of control. I take deeper breaths to try to slow it down.

  Then I feel his breath return to my back. He kisses me softly, gently drifting his fingers all over me. Barely touching me. Little orgasmic aftershocks erupt over various parts of my skin as I relax.

  Then he's down at my legs. He must be sitting on the floor because he's hugging them and licking them.

  His rough hands press into my thighs. His lips press into my soft flesh. His hands rub my calf muscles.

  Then I feel a hotness at my pussy. He blows on her, then gives her one steady lick.

  I shake all over. My orgasm comes back, tightening my ass around the firmly inserted plug. Waves of delight travel outward to my fingertips and toes.

  He stays there, lapping my juice, slurping it like he's been living in a desert and needs its flow for sustenance.

  I moan at the joy of being the vessel that quenches his thirst.

  His tongue darts around in a million wonderful places, electrifying an army of tingles that spread outward. Every once in a while, he visits the stretched edge of my backdoor where it hugs the plug and dabbles for a minute before returning to my puss to create new joy.

  "There have been other men in my pussy," he says.

  I freeze.

  How can he tell? Should I say anything?

  "How many?" he says.

  "Two, mentor," I say.

  There is a long silence. I become fearful.

  "Did they mean anything to you?"

  "No, mentor."

  "Was one of them your ex?"

  "No, mentor. That's completely over."

  "Did you use protection?" he says.

  "Yes, mentor. I'm on the pill too."

  "We had no agreement to continue," he says. "So I cannot punish you for that."

  Then I feel his hands on my chin. Then again as they lift the blindfold. The red and blue lights, dim as they are, seem to be all anyone would ever need.

  He roughly grabs my neck and turns my face toward his. For the first time in so long I see the full beauty of his carved chin, his magnetic eyes, and the forest of messy hair in which I want to live.

  As we look deep into each other's eyes, he tightens his grip on my neck.

  "But from now on," he says, "nobody touches my pussy but me. Understand?"

  Such sweeter words were never spoken.

  "Yes, mentor", I say with complete conviction.

  "Your pussy, your ass, your lips, your body... they all belong to me. I will do with them as I please."

  I tremble with delight. I want to scream.

  "Yes, mentor," I say.

  "If I wish to lick you to the edge of orgasm without allowing you to come, then I shall do just that."

  "Yes, mentor."

  "If I want you to come at any time, then you will stop what you're doing and come. It is your place to please me. You will come in the manner in which I choose."

  "Yes, mentor."

  "If you are at work and I tell you to masturbate, you must do so at your first opportunity, and in the manner of my choosing. But of course I won't be unreasonable."

  "Yes, mentor."

  "Then there will be other times."

  Other times? Where is he going?

  "There will be other times that I will do different things to you."

  He doesn't say anything for a minute. A bold moment overcomes me.

  "What kind of other things, mentor?" I said.

  "Other things on which I need to work on. Other things on which I need... your help."

  "Help?" I say.

  "Yes, it seems that I too... need... your help. Some..." He laughed. "...training, you might call it."

  "Training?"

  "Yes, training. Meghan, I am a self-made billionaire. The world caves to my command. I do what other men can only talk about doing. I'm smarter than them. I'm faster than them. I dance in circles around them while they dream. But there is one person I cannot control. And it really pisses me off. It was recently pointed out to me by someone I care about that if I do not get this person to follow my commands, then all I have done is worthless. Do you know who this person is, Meghan?"

  "Yes, mentor," I say. "I do."

  "Who?"

  "Your own self, mentor."

  "You are very smart, Meghan. There is a side of me I tried to kill a long time ago. I thought I had succeeded. But I met someone recently who has stirred up that side of me. And now I realize I need to allow her to help me get it back. If I don't, I will destroy all that I've created." He's struggling to speak now, coughing out his words in guttural grunts. "I... need... you. I need you... to... help... me."

  "I will help you, mentor."

  "I know you will."

  He touches my hair and lifts it up from my face. Then he kisses me softly on my lips. A kiss like none other he has given me so far. A tender one, full of promise.
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br />   Then he is gone out of my sight. I hear a clink. Then one wrist is free. Then the other.

  I can't help myself. I throw my arms around him. He returns the favor and kisses me fully, caressing my tongue with his.

  All his venomous and brutal energy is transformed into a melting passion. I get a flashback to Jake. This is what it was like... a sense of true belonging...

  But this is much better.

  He pulls back from me and smiles. I smile back. Our eyes meet and in silent surrender we confirm our destiny together.

  Then, in an instant, the Tristan I know is back. He grabs my wrists and holds them together. He spins me around and ties them together with rope.

  Where did the fucking rope come from?

  "Seeing as you figured out how to get here, no need to blindfold you on the way back."

  "Way back?" I said as he pushed me toward the door. "What about my clothes?"

  "You won't need them. Besides, they're in pieces."

  "But I---"

  "Silence!" he says as he grabs my purse and pushes me toward the door.

  When the big door opens, the light seems blinding. It only gets brighter as we go up the cold staircase.

  He pushes me with force left and right, twisting my wrists as we get to the iron door. We go down the steps on the other side and through the secret door. We are back at the short hallway in front of the former fitness room.

  Then he unties my wrists and pushes me into the glass room. I trip and end up on the hardwood floor. The blinding summer sun lights us up in its magnificence.

  Tristan closes the door to the secret passage. Then he tosses the rope to one side. He moves toward me and spreads his arms out.

  "Meghan," he says, "I'm yours."

  I leap forward and tear off his shirt. The buttons go airborne, flicking into several windows.

  I lick his chest. The hard muscles flex under my touch as I pull his shirt away from him.

  He remains standing there as I devour his torso, biting parts as I go. I'm in some sort of frenzy, like I want to eat and digest him.

  He just keeps standing there, completely still, as I get his pants undone. Down they go.

  I don't wait until he kicks them away. I dive onto his seemingly always-erect cock with the full force of my suction. I take him deep inside my mouth as my fingernails dig into his naked buttocks.

  I pause and lick his balls, stroking his hardness with my right hand. I dip my tongue behind his balls and press into his taint. He groans.