by Brandi Evans
“I only dominate in the bedroom, sweetheart. And let’s face it, I haven’t exactly heard you complaining about my bedroom acts.”
A grin tugged at the corner of her lips. “Nope. You’ve satisfied me quite thoroughly in that department.”
Her answer bolstered his optimism. “I like to be in control when it comes to sex. I won’t deny that, but I’m not looking for a doormat, Viv. I don’t want a 24/7 slave. I want a partner. I want you.”
Unshed tears gave her expression a sweet hue, but it was contrasted by the still-harsh lines chiseled into her forehead. “Partner? Forgive me for not understanding, but to me, the terms Dominant and submissive don’t exactly speak of equality.”
“Well, maybe you just need to broaden your definition of equality.”
“Broaden my definition? What the heck does that mean?”
“It means exactly what it sounds like.”
She stared at him with a confused, disbelieving expression.
Maybe it was time to go in a little different direction. “The world of BDSM is a bit hard to explain because it’s different to everyone in the lifestyle. What works for one couple might not work for another. For me, the lifestyle is all about sexual control.” Deciding a little show-and-tell was in order, he backed her up against his desk and then lifted her onto the flat surface. “Remember the last time we made love in my bed, when I made you keep your hands on the headboard?”
She nodded, swallowed hard. “How could I forget?”
“I controlled your passion at every turn, pet. I gave you what I wanted to give you, when I wanted to give it to you. I had all the power, but in the end, we both got pleasure out of it, didn’t we?”
She nodded. “Very much so.”
“And that’s what BDSM is to me. Pure sexual control. It’s not about becoming a dominating asshole who won’t let you out of his sight. You’re still free to be you.”
“Except when we’re naked?”
“Now you’re catching on.” He grinned, tugging her closer, pressing his growing cock against her heat and letting her feel his need. “The power of controlling a lover is enthralling. I thrive on it. Directing another person’s pleasure…there’s nothing like it in the world.”
“So, um, that’s what you do to your, um, subs?”
“No,” he murmured. “It’s what I’m going to do to you.”
“Oh.” She swallowed hard, her gaze seeming to narrow in on his lips. “It all sounds so simple when you put it like that.”
“It is simple, sweetheart.” He nuzzled her neck, his voice soft, his body fitting more and more snugly between her open legs. “So very simple.”
“I want to believe you. I do.” Her hands landed on his waist and slowly inched up his back until her arms were locked beneath his underarms. She wrenched him closer and closer, tighter and tighter to her like a starving python around its prey. “I want to so much, Brock. Want you…”
“Not as much as I fucking want you.” He crushed his lips against hers and devoured her mouth.
Her tongue battled with his. Her fingernails dug into his back, and she pulled him down on top of her as he laid her on his desk, pushing objects out of the way as they went. Her legs wrapped around his waist, clinging tight as she rocked her pussy against his groin.
Viv’s hands descended his back, dipped beneath the hem of his t-shirt and then drifted back up. He groaned into her mouth. If he didn’t pull back now, take control, he’d never be able to. He was already too close to the edge of losing control.
He fastened his hands around Viv’s wrists and pinned them above her head. He broke their kiss and pulled back just far enough to whisper against her sweet, swollen lips.
“What would you say to a little demonstration of my kind of BDSM?”
Chapter Seven
Viv fought down the sudden surge of fear and excitement clamoring to break free. Brock wanted to give her a demonstration.
Holy shit.
The little amount of research she’d done on BDSM scared her to no end. The things she’d seen on the internet, the sites she’d visited had terrified her to no end. They were such a stark contrast to what Brock described. What she’d read on the internet frightened her, but everything Brock said sent desire and excitement radiating through her.
I’m not looking for a doormat, Viv…I want a partner.
His words taunted her. She wanted desperately to believe him. She liked the idea of being his partner, his equal, and she’d lie if she said the idea of him taking charge in the bedroom didn’t do some incredible things to her nether regions.
But a decade of being lied to, of trying to be controlled didn’t release its grasp on her easily.
“I’d never hurt you, Viv,” Brock whispered, as if sensing her hesitation. “I’d rather be castrated with a dull butter knife than hurt you, love.”
“I know.” She’d never spoken truer words. Despite her fears, her hesitations—everything—she still trusted Brock. Yes, he’d lied by omission, but that was easily forgiven. At the time of his omission, his sexuality hadn’t been any of her business, and now that it was, he’d come clean. She couldn’t fault him for that. Not really anyway.
She hugged him snugger to her. His covered cock ground against her equally covered sex, setting off little cascades of moisture throughout her channel. “I think I’d like that demonstration now.”
Elation. It was the best word she could come up with to describe the emotion that seized his face.
He brushed a quick kiss against her lips. “I thought you’d never ask, sweet pet.” Brock stood erect, pulling her with him as he went. “The lifestyle has rules, not a lot mind you, and while I intend to tell you all of them as we go forth, right now I don’t want you thinking or focusing on anything other than what I’m about to do to you. Understand?”
She nodded then remembered what he’d said earlier about vocalizing her answers. “Yes, I understand.”
Brock’s lips pursed, and his jaw twitched as if she’d already done something wrong.
“What is it? What’d I do?”
“Nothing.” But he immediately backtracked. “I know I just said I didn’t want you focusing on rules, but there is one rule I want you to remember as we go forward.” He cradled her face in his hands, so sweetly, so tenderly, it was easy to forget everything but the blue hue of those spectacular eyes. “As my sub, you must address me as Sir when we’re in any sexual situation. Understand?”
No, she didn’t understand, but the command seemed…important to him in a way she was yet to understand. “Yes Sir. I understand.”
“Thank you.” He covered her mouth with his. She opened up to let him in.
But he pulled back.
Grinning, he made a twirly motion with his index finger. “Turn around and bend over my desk, pet.”
And just like that, apprehension reared its ugly head again.
Her eyes drifted shut. Brock would never hurt me, she repeated over and over until, finally, she found the courage to obey.
She leaned down on the spot they’d already “cleared off”. Even fully clothed, the bent-over position made her feel exposed and vulnerable. How much worse would this be if she was actually naked?
“Very good. Very good.” He grazed a palm over her ass. “Now put your hands behind your back.”
“Yes Sir.” She bit her bottom lip as she obeyed.
“Good girl.” He stepped close, his groin pressing against her ass and pussy, and took hold of her wrists. “I’m going to bind your hands, pet, but if at any time you feel too uncomfortable with anything I’m doing, your safe word is ‘red’. Just say it and I’ll stop whatever I’m doing. No questions asked. Understand?”
“Yes Sir.”
Something soft—maybe leather—wrapped around her wrists, tight but not too tight. “You’ll have to forgive the makeshift restraints, sweetheart, but I don’t keep toys in my office. My belt will have to do.” When he was finished, he gave the restraint a tug. “Do
these hurt you at all?”
“No Sir.”
“Good.” He gathered the material of her dress in his hands and tugged upward.
Viv bit down on her bottom lip as the hem of her skirt raised higher and higher until her ass was exposed, covered only by the tiny thong she wore. But Brock made quick work of it too, and before long, she was naked from waist down.
“Much better.” He pressed his palms on either side of her cheeks and pushed them wide. “Since I’m just giving you a little demonstration here, what do you say I keep the orgasms to a minimum? Three maybe?”
Despite her unease, she couldn’t stop the smile that curved against his desk. “Only three, Sir?”
He chuckled, leaning over her until his lips brushed her ear. “Sweetheart, I could make you come so much and so hard you’d be begging me to make the pleasure stop because it’s just so fucking intense…” The point of his tongue caressed the top of her ear. “But not until I’ve got you properly restrained and acclimated.”
Holy, holy shit. How could he create such a state of pleasure in her body that she begged him to stop pleasing her? The notion was unfathomable and yet she could almost believe it. In their brief stint as lovers, Brock had already made her come more times than Eugene had in an entire year.
What wonderful hell had she gotten herself into?
“Open your stance up, pet. I’m gonna need some room to work. A little more…there. Perfect. Now just relax, love, and let your Dom have some fun.”
Your Dom.
The words were still so foreign, but the intense emotions they conjured couldn’t be ignored. She didn’t quite know what it all meant or how it’d translate once tomorrow arrived, but at the moment, she didn’t care. How could she, especially when Brock’s fingers slid through her wet folds and found her clit?
“Hmph.” Air rushed from her lungs at the first touch of the sensitive bud. The muscles in her lower half tensed.
“Relax, pet. Relax.” Brock rubbed a palm over her lower back as the other hand settled into a slow, circular rhythm against her clit. The soft strokes drew blood to the surface of the bud, engorging it, swelling it until involuntary muscle contractions made her jerk, an instinctual tightening that lifted her ass higher in the air.
“God.” She shifted against the desk, trying to redistribute her weight. She had a sneaking suspicion her legs wouldn’t be able to support her much longer.
He stroked her faster. Every swipe of his fingertips over her clit seemed to have meaning, every stroke a purpose, and it wasn’t long before the first of his three promised orgasms broke through her.
“Brock!” The climax sped through her body. Her pussy muscles spasmed against his hand where he cupped her. The muscles of her legs shuddered. Her arms fought against their restraints.
“Beautiful,” he said when her pleasure slowly began ebbing. “And now that you’re all warmed up for me, what do you say to taking things up another notch?”
She panted against the desk, shaking her head. She hadn’t even recovered from this orgasm yet. How did he expect her to have another?
His fingers breached her soaked opening, sliding in with ease. He pressed in at a downward angle, pulled out with that same downward pressure, fucking her with those knowledgeable fingers. Each in-and-out thrust taunted that magical spot on the front wall of her channel, and quicker than she thought possible, he had her teetering on the edge of yet another climax.
“Oh my god. Brock. Fuck. It’s too much.”
He fingered her harder, faster. “Is that an acceptable way to address your Dom, pet?”
“No Sir,” she said automatically, amazed at how easily the words came out. “No Sir.”
“Much better.” He increased his speed even more. The tips of his fingers tapping, working her G-spot again and again until—
“Siiiir!”
Her second orgasm assaulted her, more intense, more destructive than the last one. Her knees buckled, and she dropped completely against the desk. She spasmed on the wooden surface like a fish dropped onto dry land.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god…” Her mouth continued vomiting words on its own, independent of her brain.
Pleasure’s violent current swept her up and forced her downstream, and through it all, Brock’s magical fingers kept working her. She was helpless to stop any of it, not that she really wanted to, but the loss of control only made every one of his actions that much more surreal, that much more intense.
That much more erotically perfect.
It was so much, too much, and yet not near enough. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she recalled him saying something about a safe word but the conversation seemed so far away, like looking at an object a mile off on a hot summer’s day, with the heat causing wavy mirages to obscure the vision.
When the last remnants of pleasure finally released her from its coils, she collapsed, boneless, on the desk. “Sir,” she purred. “Sir.”
“You’re quite spectacular when you come, sweet pet.” He slowly withdrew his fingers from her sex then leaned forward to cover her body with his, trapping her arms between them. “I don’t want to stop making you come, but I promised no more than three climaxes, didn’t I?”
“Y-yes Sir.” But she didn’t see how her body could be capable of conjuring the energy to produce another orgasm, not that she told him that. “But that was only two.”
“I know, but I’m not going to use my fingers to give you the last one.” He kissed the side of her neck. “I’m going to use my cock.”
Her pussy gushed at his words. Moisture dripped from her ravished sex at the mere thought of having his thick erection shoved deep and tight inside her again. And just when she thought her body was too drained to respond, those damn perfect words perked her desire right up.
How in the world did he do that?
He pushed back to his feet, and after some rustling that sounded an awful lot like digging around in his wallet for a condom, the tip of his cock kissed her pussy lips. His hands wrapped securely around her waist, anchoring her as his erection breached her, pushing slowly inside until he was balls-deep.
He pulled out, pushed back in a few times, as if making sure his cock was good and wet. “Hold on, sweetheart,” he warned. “It’s about to get a little rough.”
Without giving her a moment to “hold on”, he drove his cock hard and deep into her sex. His fucking was blissfully relentless, and she was helpless to stop the erotic attack. She was completely under his control. She was his personal sex toy, his to use until he was finished. She should be afraid. She should hate it. There was an entire gantlet of emotions she should be…
So why was she more turned-on than she’d ever been in her life?
Her world exploded in a massive ball of swirling white light and pleasure. Every muscle in her body went instantly tense. “Sir!” Her legs gave out, but Brock’s strong hands held her up, held her steady. Physically anyway—emotionally, she was a frazzled mess.
His thrusts grew more and more violent, more and more unsteady. He plowed into her surrendering pussy without mercy until, at last, he joined her in bliss.
“Viv!” He rammed deep one last time and held her on his cock as his body went rigid.
Time expanded, withdrew. She didn’t know how long he held her, how long she trembled. Fifteen minutes, half a day? But eventually she found her voice and a tiny corner of reality to hold on to.
“Brock.” The words barely registered as audible. “Sir.”
Shaking hands tugged her restraints loose. “See there? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Bad? It was the complete opposite of bad. But she didn’t have the energy to come up with the correct adjective. She couldn’t do anything more than smile—and laugh. She giggled like a schoolgirl at a sleepover, sleep deprived and hopped up on sugar.
“I’m sorry…can’t seem to stop…stop laughing.”
But her giggling didn’t seem to bother him. In fact, he seemed to understand it more than she
did.
“That’s just the euphoria setting in,” he whispered against her neck. “It’s pretty common when you’re not used to having so many orgasms that close together. You’ll get used to it eventually.”
God, she hoped not. “It didn’t…didn’t h-happen…last time.”
“That’s because I gave you little breaks in between, let your system come down a little after each climax.” He pulled her to a standing position, fitted her completely against him, his cock still embedded in her sex. “But not anymore, pet. I plan to work your sweet pussy until you’re so addicted to orgasms you’ll be begging me to make you come every second of every day.”
She just giggled even harder.
“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you to the couch before you laugh yourself onto your ass.”
“Yes…” More giggling. “Sir.”
Laughing harder than she could remember doing in forever, she offered no protest when her Dom gathered her into his arms and carried her to his office couch. Didn’t protest when he cradled her against his chest as if she were a helpless baby. Didn’t protest when he pulled a blanket around her. And she most certainly didn’t protest when he tugged her against his mountainous body and held her until consciousness and giggles faded into sweet, blissful oblivion.
* * * * *
Brock couldn’t feel anything below his ass.
Careful to keep from waking Viv, he shifted slightly to the right, hoping the subtle change in position might be enough to allow blood to start flowing back into his lower extremities. Outright movement, at the moment, wasn’t an option, not with his sub asleep so peaceful in his arms.
He fingered her hair. She was so beautiful asleep in his arms. Her tiny stature, her delicate skin and features, her short hair. All she needed was points on her ears and she could pass as a fairy.
He traced a fingertip over the curve of her jaw. How anyone could treat this perfect woman like a dishrag to be used and then tossed out was beyond him. His fucking half brother was an idiot to let Viv go.
But Brock wasn’t nearly as stupid. If given the opportunity, he’d never let Viv go. His Viv. His sub. She’d seen him for who he was, and while he knew their relationship was far from being in the clear, she’d taken a huge step forward tonight. She’d let him take her on a quick diversion into Eroticaville.