by Irons, Rose
She was about to protest that she wasn't moving, but then she felt his touch and realized it was a warning. She felt cold metal on her foot first: a pinprick, and then more, sharp spikes pulling against her skin, both tantalizing and nearly painful. Marcus moved his toy with skill, and it was all Mina could do to not squeak and shake as he touched her most ticklish places, always with just enough pressure to make her goosebump and quiver inside. Her nervous sang at the steel, set on fire with the sensations he rose in her.
He rolled the wheel higher and higher, past her ankle to her knee and the tender spot behind it, all the while the spokes pricking her arousal to new heights, sending shocks through her nerves that always, inevitably, found their way to the molten core of her.
She felt the cool, slick surface of the table on her back and buttocks like a lifeline. It grounded her, the familiar sensation to let her know she wasn't truly falling, only losing herself in the maelstrom of passion and pain Marcus brought her. Her whole body trembled at each touch, and when he moved his hand on the wheel, she quivered in anticipation., expecting him again and again everywhere and nowhere.
He was skilled with his toy, but that wasn't why she was so taken. Knowing that finally it was Marcus who touched her, Marcus who moved her, made every prick that much more exquisite and delicious. She craved him, and when he put down the wheel and drew a thin silken rope from the wall, she craved that lash, too. It stung across her knees like fire, a quick sting, and she moaned, lifting her hips in supplication. But he wouldn't take her, not yet.
He played the silken cord like a while, catching first her breasts, then her belly, then her thighs. Mina leapt and cried out each time as he hit her, squealing and torn between wanting more and begging him to stop. But the cord fell again and again, until her thighs were shining and red with his ministrations, and her breasts felt heavy and hot. They prickled, anxious for another taste of the lash, and sore from the beating.
And then she felt his mouth.
Good God, she wanted to die. His lips were smooth and sweet, sending the nerves running down the core of her, excited and eager. She felt her empty cunt quiver and drip, reaching desperately for him. And then he opened his mouth, his tongue finding her swollen nipple, and she gasped in relief at the cool moistness of his mouth. He must have taken an ice cube in his lips - he pressed it against her now, and the shock of it made her nipples stiffen again, and goosebumps raised her sore skin. She moaned at the sweet relief. It felt amazing after the heat of the cord, and his mouth - sweet, demanding. She moaned desperately, and it was all she could do to keep from grabbing his head and forcing him down, forcing him to suckle her and send waves of pleasure coursing through her cunt until the pleasure overwhelmed them both.
But as she finally gave in and moved her hands to his hair, Marcus pulled back. The loss of his mouth was a shock, and Mina whimpered in dismay. He held her wrists finally, and then Mina felt the silken core again. He tied her wrists firmly above her head, tying her firmly in place. She squirmed to get comfortable.
She felt his breath on her ear, and shivered. He spoke: "Now you're mine."
"Yes," Mina moaned. She felt her hips rise again without meaning to. "Yes, please."
His mouth found hers, and Mina learned the true meaning of surrender.
He plundered her mouth, and she opened to him, gasping in his breaths and shuddering as his tongue brushed hers, the spice of him filling her nose and throat. She was caught, lifted, rising on a crescendo of need that started and ended with his lips on hers and reached to the very core of her, piercing all that she was and making her whole.
She felt more than saw his big hands fall on either side of her. Marcus lifted himself onto the table, never releasing her mouth. She moaned as he lay himself over her. She felt flesh on hers and her cunt clenched in desire. When had he stripped? It didn't matter. She could hardly think: his presence, so close and intoxicating, overwhelmed all else.
He leaned over her, letting one hand trail down her marked and eager form. His fingers gave rise to sensation coursing through her, making her grow slick and pant. He tweaked a nipple and she gasped; she thought she could feel a smile against her mouth.
Marcus moved his hand lower, trailing a circle around her belly button, and then lower still. Mina whimpered as she felt him find the pink and shining flesh of her abused thighs. He pinched them and chuckled as she jumped. But Mina felt his cock twitch against her leg - the length of him was hot and firm, and she could almost feel his pulse as he pressed against her. She remembered his cock sliding into Sophie and groaned in anticipation.
Marcus' fingers slipped lower then and found her slick lips, sliding between them with an ease that had Mina panting. Gently, he moved first one finger, then two, between her folds and stroked her lightly, as he might a bird. Her whole body quivered, taut, ready to explode but fearing the explosion. The sensation he drew out of her radiated to her ears, her fingertips. She could feel them in the back of her throat as she kissed him and longed for release.
But he teased her still, working her with a skill that coaxed wave after wave of pleasure from her shaking form, but brought her no closer to climax. Her need was a tangible force now, a ball of desire that clenched within her and demanded all of her attention, all of her. His eyes held her firmly, and she knew, in that moment, what it was to be truly loved.
"Marcus," she whispered.
"I'm here."
It was enough.
With movements achingly slow, he penetrated her with a finger, exploring her cunt. She shuddered as he felt within her, stroking her walls and teasing her in all her desperate need. His finger - first one, then two - slid into her with ease, and out, slowly pressing the desire within her to painful heights.
"God," she moaned, "I can't take this."
His face, close to hers: "You will."
She whimpered.
Marcus rammed his fingers into her, his knuckles bruising her clitoris and making her scream with desire as he fucked her with his hand. She twisted beneath her restraints, desperate to grab him and pull him fully on top of her - it was torture, not being able to dig her nails into him and force him inside her! But Marcus had tied them well, and she was caught as surely by them as she was by his hand.
"Oh, oh, oh," she whimpered again, her sobs punctuated by the wet sounds of his hand against her cunt. He was working her fully now, forcing his way into her, curling his fingers insistently along her G spot with every other thrust. Her whole body felt hot, then chilled, the table no longer keeping her calm. All she knew was she needed him. Needed everything.
As suddenly as he had started, his hand pulled free of her folds, and Mina felt herself gaping, crying in frustration. "Please," she wailed.
When she felt the tip of his cock against her swollen and bruised lips, it was all she could do to lift her hips, an offering from the purest temple of need within her. Her passion was at terrible heights, and she could not think, could barely even breathe. She ached, lost in the crashing pleasures within her.
He stroked her lips softly, pressing his cock just between them. It shuddered and bucked at her touch, but Marcus was strong, and only placed the barest hint of himself at her threshold.
"Please," she begged.
"I like you this way, Mina," he murmured, his voice thick with longing. "Red and disheveled, begging for me."
She whimpered. "Please, please. I'll do anything."
His cock left her lips, and she felt Marcus lean over her to whisper in her ear once more. "I know."
A shudder overtook her, too terrible to control, and as her body wracked her with spasms of delayed pleasure, he finally slid himself inside her.
It was as though she had come home. Her cunt accepted him eagerly, lovingly, the space within her filled truly and completely as though it had been made only for him. They cried out as one and he held, quivering, buried to the hilt within her, his cock nudging at her womb, and they were still for long enough for Mina to feel her heartbeat
slow and match his.
And then he moved. God, he moved.
Mina had fantasized about this moment for so long and now, caught in Marcus' powerful embrace and still tied with his silken cord, it felt almost surreal. Just the tiniest shift of his cock within her sent shudders of pleasure coursing through her taut form, but it was no longer unbearable, and she drifted in it, set free by the consummation of her need. He thrust slowly and surely into her, letting them both luxuriate in the feeling of his cock pressing against her satiny depths.
"You're mine," he breathed, and she nodded. Nothing more needed to be said.
He kissed the side of her mouth, tasting the tears of frustration she had wept.
Inexorably, his thrusts lengthened, became rougher. A harsher, more animalistic rhythm sped their pulses and began to drive him. He gathered himself over her and thrust again, again, and with each movement the ball of desire deep within Mina grew, hot and terrible, the apex of need. He took her, hard and fast, and she begged him never to stop. The table rocked with the force of his thrusts, each one corresponding with painful desire, his hands on her now, pinching her nipples and his teeth grabbed at her shoulder, then biting the burns from the silken cord, then her neck, harder, harder, until the crescendo seemed close, so close –
she screamed –
the dark passion coiled within her and then suddenly unfurled –
and as the candles flickered, she broke, her orgasm radiating through her as she arched her back, her whole body suffused with the heat of their love. Her limbs tingled with the sensations he woke in her, and when his cock discharged and she felt him fill her womb, she came again, the sweet pulse of his need filling her bringing her to a second, calmer pinnacle until they sighed together, spent, and he lay on top of her. His heart slowed once more, and she could feel his breath on her neck.
And then, her promise fulfilled, Mina knew she was finally home.
Her first day.
Bella felt a thrill of excitement course through her body as she smoothed down her dress. Eyeing herself critically in the mirror, she hoped she would impress her new employer.
A petite young brunette looked back at her with an expression more calm and self-assured than Bella felt. She had tucked her heavy dark hair back into a barrette, but a few curls had escaped to frame her heart-shaped face. Her makeup was even, and her clothing was appropriate, although – well, with a figure that curved like hers, sometimes even the most drab clothes seemed inappropriate.
She bit her lip. Her pert 34C breasts strained against the buttons of her dress and her hips looked a little too inviting, but it was too late to change now. She hoped her employer would approve.
Her new employer was a mysterious one. Even though Bella and her father had only moved to this sleepy town a few years before, she was already well acquainted with the strange story of Baron von Ursus. The late Baron, her new employer’s father, had been celebrated in town as a great philanthropist. His charity was well-known and no few theaters and schools in the nearby countryside bore his name in thanks for a large contribution. He had been lauded until the day he died.
His son, however, was strangely absent from the public's gaze even before the old Baron died. Young Arthur had only made a few appearances in town while his father was alive, and not at all since. Occasionally folks went to his castle to serve or sell goods, but they were always very close-lipped about what they found there. Over time, it had become something of a local hobby to speculate about the living legend of the von Ursus castle.
As soon as Bella had accepted the job as the Baron’s new housekeeper, she’d found herself in the middle of many conversations that died suddenly as the other participants gave each other knowing looks and shook their heads. When pressed, they would back away and refuse to say more. It was concerning, but Bella needed the money for her father’s care. And she had worked for difficult employers before, she reminded herself as she headed out. How bad could the Baron be?
~
The castle rose above her, high stone walls nearly seeming to scrape the sky even as they covered the countryside. She had known it was a castle, but having seen it in the distance did not to justice to the sheer size of it. Bella, used to the countryside, was simply overwhelmed.
She had worked for difficult employers before, she had reminded herself, but she had never worked for a baron.
Taking a deep breath, Bella crossed the small ornamental bridge before the gate and then knocked at the towering oaken doors.
The knock sounded smaller than the doors, and she feared for a moment that no one would come. But she had been expected, after all, and after only a moment, the great doors swung open.
She might have expected it would take several strong men to open such doors, but when they swung free, only one man stood there. By his expensive suit and carefully arranged hair, she knew he must be her new employer. Bella was about to curtsy, ready to take charge of the situation, when he met her gaze.
And then she nearly dropped her papers in shock.
The Baron was handsome. No, not merely handsome – he was beautiful in the classical sense, with a strong jaw and a large, soulful mouth. His dark eyes were distracting in their depths, and his hair, kept fashionably long, just brushed the tops of his ears in brown waves. And his suit was so well-cut it left little to the imagination in terms of how well he was muscled.
She drew in a deep breath, trying to control the sudden fluttering in her belly and the warmth between her legs. Weren’t rich handsome men all supposed to be playboys or partiers? Why would a man so young and handsome keep himself locked away from the world?
Something in his gaze seemed to hint at a deep reservoir of pain and control that Bella found herself longing to explore, but as soon as she saw the flicker there it was gone, replaced by a sense of reservation.
“Ms. Peters, I presume?”
The cool tone of his voice shocked her back to propriety. He did not sound at all as though he was pleased to meet her, or even to see her, though he was clearly the one who had need of her services.
“Yes, my Lord.” Bella curtseyed, careful to keep her eyes lowered so she didn’t embarrass herself by staring. “I am here to fill the position of housekeeper, as requested.”
“Well.” He gave her a once-over that was clinical and cold. “You’ll do, I suppose. Start with the great hall.”
Bella felt a flush of indignation starting. “Sir, my references if you please. And there is the matter of my wages.”
He took the papers from her with a crooked smile. It was the first human expression she had truly seen on him, and Bella found herself strangely drawn to it, even with how rude he had just been. “You wish to negotiate?”
“I just want to make sure the rate I offered is accepted. You weren’t clear in your letter, and I have my father’s care to keep in mind.” She tried to keep her chin firm as she met his gaze. Why did he have to be so handsome?
The crooked smile vanished as he studied her once more. “It is acceptable. Are you content?”
Bella tried to keep a sarcastic tone from her voice as she curtsied once more. “My lord, I am yours.”
“Good.” The harsh tone sounded out of place in his beautiful mouth, but the Baron cast the words over his shoulder as he pivoted and left, almost as though he was fleeing the situation entirely.
Bella stared after him, unsure of what she had gotten herself into.
But the listing had not lied. There was plenty to be done in this great castle, and whatever she may have thought of her employer, he had done a reasonable job of keeping things tidy despite the lack of a regular housekeeper for what she gathered was some years since his father had died. It was true Bella had to clean away cobwebs, and there was rather more dust than one would like to see, but the castle held no traces of having held a bachelor in the prime of his virility roaming about, getting into trouble.
As she cleaned, she couldn’t help but think of her employer once more. The Baron had been jus
t as terse as she had expected for a shut-in, but there was something more about him, something that drew her to him. It wasn’t his looks, though they were strong and handsome. Something about his soul called out to her.
She shook her head, trying to clear it of such silly thoughts. She was here to clean his castle, no more and no less. It would do no one good if she got distracted mooning about him while she did so.
Still… it was easy to imagine those muscles doing more than flex beneath an expensive suit. Maybe flexing beneath her, in bed… or on top of her… or against the wall…
Stop it! Bella ordered herself, blushing even though no one could hear her thoughts. It was hardly her place to be thinking such things, much less to be mooning on her first day at work.
She bent to scrubbing the floor with a will, grateful that no one was there to see the pink heat of her blushes as she tried to keep her damnably handsome employer from her mind.