by Henry, Jane
At first, she blinks slowly and stays right as she is, but within a few seconds, she realizes her body is pressed up against mine.
“Oh!” she says, startled, immediately pulling away, but I’m prepared for this and don’t let her. I tighten my grip on her to make her stay right where she is.
“No need to go anywhere,” I tell her. “I quite like you using me like a body pillow.”
Her cheeks flush pink but she stays right there and says nothing.
“How’s your ass?” I ask, reaching to give her bottom a firm pinch that makes her hiss in breath.
“Painful,” she whimpers.
“Remember that when we go tonight,” I tell her. I expect her to obey. “Remember what happens if you don’t behave when we leave this room.”
She only nods quietly.
With her hand pressed up on my chest, she nods again, almost as if she likes being here with me. I don’t touch women like this. I don’t hold them to me and offer any type of comfort, and I tell myself that getting her obedience for this evening is the most important goal. Punishing her into obedience isn’t the only method of making sure she does as she’s told. I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince myself or if it’s truth.
I order breakfast, and she eats like a good girl, being fed by my hand. She doesn’t ask questions or speak out of turn, simply allowing me to feed her. Subdued.
When we’re finished with breakfast, I get the call I’ve been waiting for.
“She’s clear,” Maksym says.
She’s still sitting where I left her at the table and her eyes find me.
I speak in Russian, though my eyes are on hers. We’re talking of her, and I want her to know that.
I hang up the phone and slip it onto the side table, eyes still on her.
“Come here.”
Tentatively, she rises and makes her way to me. When she reaches me, her head comes to my shoulder and her eyes lift to mine. Curious.
“That call was to tell me your tests came back negative,” I tell her.
Comprehension dawns on her. She knows I’ve only refrained from sex because I wanted full clearance.
“Oh.” One simple syllable laden with meaning.
I sit on the edge of the bed and draw her to me, loving the way she fits right here, feminine curves and innocence, ready for the taking.
And take her I will.
But first, an exploration.
I trace a finger down the slope of one shoulder, gliding over the satiny skin. Goosebumps prickle along her naked skin. I bend my mouth to her shoulder and lick the salty, sweet skin. Though she shivers, she doesn’t move, even when I move my mouth lower and touch the very tip of my tongue to her nipple. I cup her ass with my hand and draw her closer to me, pulling her between my legs as I continue the slow, deliberate teasing.
When I take her nipple between my teeth, she whimpers. I stroke the insides of her thighs with the backs of my hands, parting her legs and barely grazing the very edge of her bare pussy. I don’t speak a word to her, allowing my unencumbered touch to tell her that she’s mine. That it’s futile attempting to push me away or disallow what will happen between us. That if she obeys like a good little girl, I may eventually allow her own pleasure.
Cupping her ass, I torture her nipples for long minutes, alternating between one then the other until they’re puckered and taut with arousal. Without a word, she draws closer to me. If I drew my fingers between her legs, I’d find her sopping wet and eager to be stroked to completion, but she isn’t here for her pleasure.
She’s here to repay her fucking debt.
I bite down on one nipple and smack my palm against her ass.
With a shocked gasp she pulls away but I’m holding her tight. I glide the heel of my palm against her pussy. “This pussy’s mine,” I tell her. “Mine. Do not touch yourself without my permission. I will take your sweet cunt how, when, and where I want to.” I bite her nipple again, enjoying the way she cries out in pain. “Am I clear?”
Though I demand her gaze on me, her steely gaze lacks even the faintest glimmer of submission, though beneath her stony exterior I believe I read betrayal. And then I remember her curled up on my chest in slumber. Though she shields herself from me, a part of her longs for my comfort.
But she was the one who betrayed first.
And she has a debt to pay.
Still holding her torrid gaze with mine, I slap her pussy, relishing her hiss of pain and the power that gives me over her. I’m angry that she’s here, that her betrayal has forced my hand to punish her, angry that with her exquisite beauty she’s weakened me. She’s already spent more time in my room than any other woman I’ve ever had, and I don’t like the little bit of power that gives her over me.
Without a word, I rise, still hard as a fucking rock, and spin her around, shoving her on the bed belly down. I slap her thighs to part them, my cock throbbing at the sight of the stripes I laid on her the night before. I can’t whip her into submission. She may cry and whimper under my punishment, but I haven’t broken that indomitable will of hers.
But I also haven’t fucked her yet.
I remove my cock and press it between her thighs, my eyes rolling back when I feel her slick arousal coating her thighs. I glide my cock through the wetness, a frisson of excitement and warning warring within me. My dominance over her aroused her. She fucking likes it. And as much as that makes me even harder, my balls tightening and aching with the need to fuck her, it makes my job that much more complicated.
How is this punishment if she gets off on pain?
I grip her hips so hard she whimpers, lift her, then pull her down as I slam my cock into her. A groan rips through me when her cunt tightens on my cock, so wet she’s soaking me. White-knuckled fists clenching the duvet. Guttural moans and little whimpers. Parted lips and ragged gasps as I rock and thrust, my balls slapping against her with the vicious strokes of my cock in her.
Motherfucker.
She’s about to fly apart into ecstasy, and I won’t fucking allow it.
“Don’t you dare,” I warn, with another sharp thrust, relishing the way her hot, tight cunt envelopes my cock. “Don’t you fucking come unless I say you can.”
I thrust again, harder, and she moans so low and deep I know she’s on the very edge, barely holding onto her self-control, her fingers grasping the bed like she’s holding onto the very precipice of a cliff. I tangle my fingers in her hair and yank her head back, reminding her who’s in control. Reminding her that everything about her belongs to me, including her pleasure.
With another vicious thrust, I lose control. I don’t need to chase my ecstasy for it falls on me like an avalanche, my hot seed lashing into the tight walls of her pussy. As soon as I’m sated, I pull out, hot and messy and brutal. Her eyes are still closed, her lips parted, and her hand flies between her legs. I capture her fingers just before she strokes herself.
“What did I tell you?”
“Sir,” she moans. “God, please, let me come. I’ll behave. I’ll be your good girl.”
“You’ll behave and be good whether you come or not,” I tell her, standing her upright with my come still dripping down her thighs. “But when you come is up to me.” I don’t trust her not to make herself climax while I’m getting myself ready, but I’m not rewarding her just yet. She grows too free and I can’t have that. If she’s to be mine for the next few weeks or months or however long it takes her to pay back her debt, she’ll learn to rely on me for fucking everything.
I’ve warned her. I’ve whipped her. And now I’ve fucked her, but she hasn’t fully grasped this yet. With determination, I march her to the cage I’ve prepared and stand her against it. I lean her body over it so the bars press up against her full breasts and rounded tummy. “Stay there.”
I fetch a pair of handcuffs and return to see she’s obeyed, but she’s pressing her thighs together as if to relieve the pressure. She isn’t going to be successful dry-humping the corner of a cage. Goo
d. Leaving her ready and desperate for relief will help me train her. With a quick snap and click I cuff her to the cage as a reminder of where she goes if she disobeys.
“I’m going to take a shower. As you wait for me, still welted from your strapping, still needing to come, your body splayed out and chained to the cage you’ll earn if you disobey, think about how you’ll behave tonight. And when I come back to you, if you answer me correctly, I’ll consider allowing you pleasure.” I drop a kiss to her shoulder, and when she sighs, I clamp my teeth down and bite until she whimpers. Satisfied with the teeth marks I’ve left, I go and take a long, leisurely shower and leave her waiting.
Chapter 9
Minutes or hours have passed since he pushed me up against the cold metal of the cage and cuffed me here.
My eyes are closed and even though my body’s been through so much I can feel every muscle, every hair on my head and nerve in my body, hell, every fucking cell, I’m not here. My mind is somewhere else. Somewhere safe. Somewhere away from the man who wants my surrender.
When he dominates me, my body responds without my consent. The whipping he gave me hurt, but the memory makes me push my thighs together with a pulse of need. He’s ruthless, and even cruel, but here in this room, chained as his captive, my body demands more.
And isn’t that the fucking conundrum.
The shower drones on and I know he’s taking his time on purpose. He gave me instructions before he left to shower, and I’m trying to remember what he said.
Something about obedience, blah blah blah. Yeah, I get that.
Tonight is an important event, and he needs me to behave. Even though the thought of another punishment scares me… it also excites me a little. I don’t wish to go through that again. At the memory of the strap’s vicious sting, I pull into myself a little.
And my mind begins to wander.
How is Calina?
Are you safe, Calina? Are you happy?
Do you miss me?
But as soon as I think of her, the physical pain and need takes over and my mind comes back to the present.
I assess my situation.
Cold, unyielding metal pressed up against my body and at my wrists. The pain of the spanking faded a lot more than I’d have expected, but then I remember the way he massaged lotion on me afterward, promising to mitigate bruising. And at the memory, my arousal builds again.
Strewn over his lap, angry and hurt that he spanked me, then the soothing feel of warm fingers and lotion on my punished skin. When he pressed me against him to go to sleep, I let my mind imagine for one brief moment that this was real, that I actually meant something to him. What else am I going to do here? I’m his prisoner and I have debt to pay, so I’ll do whatever gets me through this. Whatever makes it easier. Even if it’s a delusion and one step closer to the true insanity that got my sister in the institution.
I imagined I was his submissive who’d earned a punishment then comfort in the arms of her master, and when I fell asleep with the imaginary fantasy, I dreamt I really was his. I woke tucked up against his side with one knee hitched up on him and one arm strewn across his muscled chest.
My cheeks flame with embarrassment at the memory. But it felt nice, for a little while. God, it felt nice.
And now… he promised pleasure if I behave. He promised pain for disobedience, and on that front he delivered. Something tells me this man is every bit as capable of delivering pleasure as pain.
The shower shuts off and I freeze.
He wants me to tell him how I’ll behave. I have a role to fill, and hell, I’m going to do it. I could fight him and earn punishment, and really draw out that beast in him that lurks behind that pretty face and devilish eyes.
Or I could comply, and pay my debt back. Take whatever pleasure I can.
So I do what he wants me to. I stay still against the cage, compliant and submissive until I hear him enter the room.
He enters the room, bringing his heat and strength and power with him.
“That’s a good little kitten,” he says, prowling up behind me. “So beautiful and submissive, waiting for her master.”
I nod. “Yes, sir. Yes, master.”
He rewards me with a gentle stroke of my hair that makes me wish for one moment this was real. I swallow hard to fight against the innate desire for attention. For approval. Hell, for love.
“Such a good girl,” he says. My throat tightens, a warmth spreading through my chest, radiant and shimmering like sunrise.
“You are fucking stunning like this,” he says, his voice thick and husky. “Sladkiy i pokornyy.”
“What does that mean?” I ask softly. I’m going to work harder at my Russian. I don’t like not knowing what he says.
“Sweet and submissive,” he says, running his fingers through my hair. “Have you thought about what I asked you to in my absence?”
I nod. “Yes, sir, of course.”
“And how will you behave this evening?” he asks, brushing my hair so gently from my shoulder before he kisses me that a small part of me melts a little.
Don’t, I warn myself. Don’t fall for the tender side of him. You mean nothing to him.
“I will be the picture of submission and grace,” I tell him. “I will obey you and not speak out of turn. I will make you proud to have me on your arm.”
My response earns me freedom from the cuffs. The click of the key tells me he approves, just before I’m able to move my arms freely. Taking me by the hand, he leads me to the bed and drapes me over the edge, back down.
“That is a very good answer,” he says, his eyes darkening as he lowers himself to his knees in front of me. “Such a good little kitten you are.”
And hell, in that moment, I almost fucking purr, because he’s lifting my legs and parting them, his hot breath warming the insides of my thighs. After being punished and fucked, my clit pulses, my very core still aching from being taken by him. He cleans me with a warm washcloth, stroking through my tender folds before he pats me dry. I want to hide from this, it’s so intimate, but at the same time I can’t turn away when he brings his mouth to my inner thighs once more.
“I’ll have you purr like the little kitten you are,” he says, just before he teases me with the very tip of his tongue. I’m so ready for this my back arches and I part my legs further, needing more. Harder. Deeper. As if he reads my mind, he buries his face between my legs and laps lazily then hungrily, teasing and working my needy body closer and closer to bliss. His fresh, masculine scent invades my senses, making me more needy for this as his tongue, impossibly supple yet solid, invades my body with wicked power.
I arch into his mouth when his thumb circles my asshole, so invasive I inwardly cringe, even as I pulse against his mouth. This is better than my own fingers, better than anything I’ve ever felt before. My core aches to be filled with him as he licks and suckles my clit, and as if reading my mind, he plunges thick fingers in my wet pussy. I moan, deep and ragged and needy, as he works me toward climax with masterful strokes of his tongue and fingers, lifting his mouth just long enough to say, “Come, kisa.”
My eyes flutter shut, my back arches, and I fly into ecstasy.
Stars explode behind my closed lids, black and yellow like fireworks as he milks my climax from me like a lion lapping a bowl of milk, slow and steady yet powerful. I writhe and scream, giving way to full pleasure, both hot and cold, so blissful and intense it almost hurts. And when I’m done, when he’s finally wrenched not one but two orgasms through my body, my limbs are numb. I lie in bed, one arm draped over my head. Paralyzed.
My head whips back when he yanks my hair, dragging my gaze to his.
“As if you couldn’t get any more fucking beautiful,” he says, and why is he angry again? Or is it something else?“Chertovski krasivo.”
He trails one finger across my collar bone then higher still to my neck, as if imagining a collar there.
“Up,” he says softly, tugging my hand and bringing to my feet, but
my knees are weak and I can barely stand. Effortlessly, he lifts me in his arms, close to his chest, and walks with me to the bathroom. Holding me with one arm, he turns on the shower with the other, then glides me down his body and into the hot, steaming stream of water where he joins me. He spins me around and lathers my hair, then washes my body with a thick, soapy washcloth. In my mind, a little part of me balks at this. I want to wash myself, but I can’t make my arms move. They’re heavy and leaden, and it honestly feels nice having him clean me like this.
I let him do this. I like the way his eyes roam over my body with a fierce possession as he cleans me. I’m a little disappointed when he’s finished, and he shuts the water off, but then he drapes a towel over my wet body and lifts me in his arms again. He holds me with a tenderness that belies the fierceness in his eyes, a firm grip that claims utter possession.
When we go to the room, he carries me to the bed, sits on the edge, and towels me off between his legs. Silent. Brooding. Determined. I hold onto his shoulders and let him. First one leg, then the other, every inch and crevice carefully toweled dry. Without a word, he lays me on the bed to wait while he fetches my clothes. I don’t protest or resist, but silently allow him to dress me. He told me he would. I’m too weak to do it myself.
Today, I’ll be the little kitten that purrs for him.
Stockholm syndrome, my mind warns.
Fuck off, I respond.
Chapter 10
The training of Calina Brague is the fucking pinnacle of my career.
Or whatever the fuck.
All I know is, I could get used to making her come like that, making her flush and scream and writhe in ecstasy.
I’m going to enjoy bringing her tonight.
I dress her and lead her out of the room. We have some work to do before then, and I want to be sure she’s prepared. I have her in a gown with low heels, because she’s clumsy in the high ones typically worn at balls like this, but flats aren’t quite formal enough. I order a floor-length gown to be ready for her for this evening. Beyond the dining room on the main floor we have a large ballroom suitable for entertaining. She’ll have to dance on my arm and follow my lead. We have appearances to keep up, and her playing the part is crucial.