by Anna Zaires
My pulse spikes. “No, that’s not what I—”
His hand grips my throat, tightening just enough to let me feel the steely strength in those fingers. Leaning in, he whispers in my ear, “Or is it that I’m not enough for you?” His breath heats my skin, making my arms erupt in goosebumps. “Do you need more variety, beautiful?”
“No,” I choke out, my breathing turning shallow. A jealous Lucas is a terrifying thing. “That’s not it at all. I just meant that—”
“You’re mine,” he growls, raising his head to pin me with an arctic stare. “I don’t give a fuck what kind of life you led before. I caught you, tagged you, and you’re fucking mine. No man will ever touch you again, and if I want to keep you in a fucking cage for the rest of your life, I will. Understand?”
His grip on my neck loosens, but my throat closes up, the pain like a tidal wave crashing through me. For weeks, I’d existed in a bubble of domestic bliss, playing house with a man who views me as nothing more than a possession, a glorified sex slave he “tagged” with the trackers. Any other woman would’ve fought tooth and nail for her freedom, but I embraced my captivity like I’d been born to it, letting myself imagine our messed-up relationship could someday turn into something real.
In my longing for my captor’s love, I again built castles in the sand.
“I understand,” I manage to whisper through numb lips. “I’m sorry.”
Lucas releases me and steps back, his face still taut with anger, and I turn away, blindly reaching for some dishes to wash.
Our “honeymoon,” such as it was, is over.
* * *
That night, Lucas doesn’t come home until late, and Misha and I eat dinner by ourselves. I put on a happy mask for my brother, but I know he senses something off. It’s a relief to usher him out of the house with a batch of leftovers for the guards; more than anything, I want to be alone to lick my wounds.
I’m already finishing my shower when Lucas returns. He enters the bathroom just as I’m stepping out of the stall, and without saying a word, he sweeps me up into his arms and carries me to the bedroom. His face is hard, his gaze shuttered as he walks, and the old unease slithers through me. I don’t think he’ll truly hurt me—physically, at least—but that doesn’t lessen my anxiety. Lucas in this mood is unpredictable, and I’m barely keeping myself together as is. For a brief, insane moment, I consider fighting him, but instantly dismiss the idea. It’s not like I stand a chance of actually winning. Besides, what would be the point of trying to resist? Like he said, I’m his to do with as he wants.
My life—and my brother’s—is in his hands.
If I could cling to the numbness that encased me this afternoon, it would’ve been easier, but everything is sharp and bright in my mind, every sensation painfully vivid. I feel the heat of his skin through our clothes and the way his arm muscles flex as he places me on the bed; I see the pale glitter of his eyes and smell his warm male scent. He bends over me, and my body comes to life, a familiar heat brewing low in my stomach. My nipples peak, my breasts aching for his touch, and my sex grows slick as he kisses me, his tongue invading my mouth with rough, demanding strokes. His large hands catch my wrists, pinning them above my head, and I close my eyes, willingly sinking into the heated oblivion of lust. My hurt and anxiety dissipate, and animal instinct takes over. Moaning, I arch against Lucas, rubbing my hardened nipples against his T-shirt, and my insides clench as I feel the thick bulge in his jeans pressing against my naked hip.
Yes, take me, fuck me, make me forget… The erotic chant plays on a loop in my mind. For now, I don’t need to worry about the future, about my life with a man who views me as his exclusive toy. I don’t need to think about the fact that I may never be more than a vessel for his lust. I can just focus on his drugging kisses and the warm, heavy weight of his body on top of mine.
It’s only when he transfers my wrists into one of his hands and rummages in the bedside drawer with the other that I resurface enough to feel a flicker of unease. Opening my eyes, I tear my lips away from his. “Lucas, what are you—”
He cuts me off with another deep, devouring kiss, and in the next moment, I have my answer. A cold metal touches my left wrist, and then I hear a click as the handcuff locks in place. Gasping, I turn my head to the side and try to twist my other wrist out of his grasp, but Lucas uses my motion to turn me over onto my side and drag my handcuffed arm toward the metal pole he’d installed by the bed during the early days of my captivity. Straddling me, he loops the handcuff around the pole and grabs my other wrist, cuffing it before I can put up any real resistance.
My unease transforms into real fear. I’m lying on my side, naked and with my wrists handcuffed to the pole—just like old times.
“Why are you doing this?” My voice turns high and thin as I turn my head to gaze at Lucas, who’s now reaching for something else in the bedside drawer. “Lucas, don’t, please.” My hair is all over my face, interfering with my vision, and before I can shake it off, a soft dark cloth drops over my eyes.
“Shh,” Lucas whispers, tying it around my head. “You’re going to be fine, baby.”
Fine? He just handcuffed and blindfolded me. My pulse drums in my ears, my arousal dampened by panic. “Lucas, please… What are you going to do?”
Still straddling me, he leans down, and I feel his warm breath on the side of my face. “Do you love me?” he murmurs. His lips brush the rim of my ear, his tongue tracing over the outer edge. “Do you love me, Yulia?”
I swallow thickly. “Yes. You know I do.”
“Do you trust me?”
No. The truth almost slips out, but I clamp my lips shut just in time. I don’t trust Lucas—I never have—but I’m certainly not about to admit it at the moment. I don’t know the rules of this new game, and until I do, I’m not going to play along.
“I see,” he murmurs, and I realize that my non-answer was an answer in itself. My heart rate speeds up further.
“Lucas, I—”
“It’s okay.” He bites my earlobe gently. “You don’t have to lie.” He moves off me, and I hear the sounds of clothes being removed, followed by that of the nightstand drawer being pulled out. I listen, straining, but I don’t hear anything else, and a moment later, Lucas turns me so that I’m lying on my back, my handcuffed arms pulled to one side.
I’m about to ask again what he’s planning to do, but he’s already moving down my body and pushing my legs apart, his powerful hands pinning my thighs to the mattress.
The first touch of his tongue on my folds is startlingly soft, a caress rather than an assault. It both disorients and disarms me. I’d been prepared for something frightening and brutal, but the leisurely strokes of his tongue on my labia and at the rim of my opening are nothing of the sort. He licks me like he has all the time in the world, his lips and tongue toying with my sensitive flesh for what feels like hours before he gets anywhere near my pulsing clit. By then, I’m soaking wet and moaning his name, my hips moving uncontrollably as my arousal returns in full force. If it weren’t for his hands holding down my thighs, I would’ve ground my sex against his mouth, forcibly taking the orgasm that shimmers just beyond my reach.
“Please, Lucas,” I beg as his tongue circles my clit with maddeningly light strokes. “Just a little more, please…”
To my surprise, he obliges, latching on to my clit with a sucking pull that I feel all the way down to my toes. A choked cry escapes my throat as my inner muscles tighten, and then the orgasm washes over me, sweeping away everything but the devastating pleasure. I come so hard that I see flickers of light, my hips almost coming off the bed despite the restraining pressure of his hands. The pulsations continue for several long moments, and when it’s all over, I’m left lying there, boneless and panting, wrung out by the sensations.
I know Lucas is not done with me yet, but I’m still startled when he flips me over onto my stomach, making the handcuffs clang against the metal pole. My arms are now stretched to the opp
osite side, and for the first time, the scary versatility of this kind of restraint dawns on me.
Lucas can do anything he wants to me, in any position, and I can’t do anything to stop him.
He straddles my legs, immobilizing them against the bed, and fear prickles at me again, chasing away some of the post-orgasm endorphins. A second later, I feel something cool and wet trickle between my ass cheeks and realize my anxiety is justified.
Lucas poured some lube on me.
“Don’t, please.” I yank at the cuffs chaining me to the pole, my heartbeat skyrocketing. “Please… not like this.”
“It’s okay, beautiful.” Ignoring my attempts to wriggle away, Lucas stuffs two thick pillows under my hips, propping me up so I’m almost on all fours. “I told you, you’re going to be fine.”
But I won’t be. I know that from experience. He’ll tear me, his cock too long and thick for my body to accept that way. He’s played with my ass several times in recent weeks, using his fingers and a couple of small toys, but he’s never pushed beyond that and I’d foolishly begun to hope that he wouldn’t, that he’d respect my wishes in that regard. I should’ve known better, of course.
His lust knows no boundaries when it comes to me.
He leans over me, the heat of his body warming my chilled skin, and I realize I’m trembling, my back covered with a layer of cold sweat. His hand strokes the side of my hip, and I flinch before I can control my reaction, my muscles locking tight in anticipation of the pain to come.
“Yulia…” He gathers my hair to the side, moving it off my sweat-dampened back, and I feel his lips brush over my nape at the same time as his stiff cock presses against my leg. “I won’t hurt you, baby, I promise.”
Not hurt me? I want to scream that it’s a lie, that he wouldn’t restrain and blindfold me if he intended to make love to me sweetly, but I don’t get a chance because at that moment, Lucas’s fingers slip between my legs and find my clit. Pressing on it gently, he kisses my neck again, and to my shock, I feel a twinge of something that’s not fear… a hot, tight pleasure that somehow coexists with my panic.
“I won’t hurt you,” he repeats, his words whisper soft as his lips trail over my shoulder, and some of my anxiety ebbs, melting away in the heat that’s starting to pulse through me. By now, Lucas knows everything about my body, and he uses that knowledge without qualms, his fingers teasing out sensations that should’ve been beyond my reach.
The second orgasm catches me by surprise, and I pant into the mattress as waves of pleasure ripple through me. I haven’t forgotten what awaits me, but it’s hard to cling to fear when one’s brain is swimming in endorphins. And Lucas is not done pleasuring me yet. His hand finds my pussy entrance, and one long finger pushes inside, unerringly locating my G-spot. Before long, the tension coils in my core again, and another orgasm, albeit a weaker one this time, rocks my body.
“No more, please,” I moan when his finger withdraws from my spasming channel and circles my swollen clit. “I can’t do it again.”
“Yes, baby, you can.” His teeth graze my neck, and then he whispers in my ear, “Again and again, as many times as it takes.”
It takes two more orgasms, as it turns out. Or at least that’s how many Lucas forces on me before my muscles turn to mush and I’m too exhausted to come again. By that point, I’ve stopped worrying about the dangerous slickness between my ass cheeks—I’ve stopped thinking, period. So when his fingers withdraw from my dripping-wet pussy and slide up between my cheeks, I just lie there, dazed and limp, barely reacting as two of those long fingers push into my ass, one after another, gliding in with almost no resistance.
“That’s it, sweetheart. There’s a good girl,” Lucas croons as I remain relaxed, accepting his two fingers without clenching. It’s still not my favorite sensation; the fullness feels odd and invasive, but there’s no pain and I’m too drained to resist as he begins to fuck my ass with those fingers, pumping them in and out slowly. “Such a good girl…” The smooth, gliding rhythm is strangely hypnotic, making me feel like my mind is disconnected from my body. Dimly, I’m aware that I should be afraid, that I should be protesting this violation, but it doesn’t seem worth the effort, particularly when Lucas’s other hand presses gently on my clit again, coaxing a twinge of pleasure from my overstimulated flesh.
I’m so immersed in that disconnected state that it doesn’t frighten me when his fingers withdraw and something smooth and thick presses against my back opening instead. My body remains limp and relaxed, even when I feel a massive, stretching pressure and hear Lucas groan under his breath, “Fuck, baby, you’re tight…” The pressure intensifies, edging into pain, and it’s only then that some of my fear returns, along with the urge to tighten against the intrusion.
“No, sweetheart, don’t tense. Just breathe through it.” The command comes in a low, strained voice, and I realize what this self-restraint is costing Lucas, how tightly he’s reining himself in to avoid hurting me. Oddly, the knowledge calms me somewhat, and I take slow, deep breaths, trying to keep my muscles relaxed.
“Yes, that’s it,” he praises hoarsely, and I feel him begin to penetrate me, the broad head of his cock stretching the tight ring of muscle at my entrance. It burns, the urge to clamp down almost unbearable, but I continue to breathe evenly, and slowly, he advances, working his massive cock into me millimeter by millimeter.
When the head is all the way in, he pauses, stroking my hip soothingly, and after a few moments, I feel the stinging burn subside. I’m able to relax a bit more, and Lucas resumes his slow advance. As he pushes deeper into me, however, my calm flees. He’s big, far too big. My heartbeat picks up, my breathing turning shallow and frantic. The slickness of the lube reduces friction, but it doesn’t alter his size, and my insides churn as Lucas forces more of himself into me, stretching me past my limits. Overwhelmed, I whimper into the mattress, and he kisses my nape, the tender gesture a stark contrast to the merciless invasion of my body.
“Just a little more,” he murmurs, and I realize that I inadvertently tightened around him, trying to prevent him from going deeper. “You can take it, baby.”
No, I can’t, I want to protest, but all I can do is make an incoherent noise, something between a grunting moan and a whimper. I’m shaking and sweating, my hands clutching at the metal pole I’m handcuffed to. This is nothing like the horrific pain Kirill inflicted on me that day, but in its own way, it’s just as agonizing. Lucas’s slow, careful movements allow me to feel his length fully… to absorb the immense, overwhelming pressure forcing my insides apart. His cock seems to fill every part of me, violating and possessing me at the same time, taking me to a place where darkness and eroticism collide, twisting together in some perverse symphony.
“Fuck, Yulia, you feel amazing,” Lucas groans, and I realize he’s in me fully, his balls pressing against my sex. His hand is still between my legs, his fingers putting pressure on my clit, and I bite back a cry as he shifts inside me, my stomach roiling at the strange sensation. “You’re tight… so fucking tight.” He presses harder on my clit, two of his fingers catching it in a scissor-like grip, and sharp, unexpected pleasure jolts my core, making me gasp out loud.
“Yes, there it is, beautiful…” Lucas’s voice brims with dark satisfaction. “You can do it. Come for me one more time.” His fingers begin to move in that scissoring motion, and to my shock, my body tightens on a wave of heat. The extreme fullness inside me both hampers and enhances the sensations, the pulsing ache from my clit warring with the agony from my overstretched ass. His cock feels like a steel pipe inside me, but the way his fingers are touching me makes my insides cramp in a different, distinctly pleasurable way. I cry out, trembling at the impending rush of orgasm, and Lucas grips my clit harder, pinching it almost painfully.
“That’s it, just like that, baby…” He pinches my clit again, and helplessly, I explode, my abused nerve endings electrified by his rough touch. My body spasms over and over again, clenching aroun
d his thick length, and I sob at the painful ecstasy, at the scorching wrongness of it all. The pleasure is dark and brutal, and when he begins to move inside me, the thrust and drag of his cock sends me spiraling higher, the foreign sensations enhanced by the blindfold and the cold steel around my wrists. I don’t know how long it takes before Lucas comes, his hot seed flooding my raw insides, but by the time he withdraws from me and unlocks my handcuffs, all I can do is lie there, weak and shaking, my ass burning and my clit pulsing with residual aftershocks.
Silently, he draws me into his arms, and I cry against his chest, feeling both broken and freed.
The past with Kirill is officially behind me. Every part of me now belongs to Lucas, for better or for worse.
44
Yulia
At breakfast, Lucas is unusually quiet, his gaze trained on me thoughtfully, and I have to fight a blush every time I look up from my plate and see those pale eyes watching me. I want to ask him what he’s thinking, but some bizarre shyness keeps me silent. It doesn’t help that I’m sore, my every movement a reminder of what occurred between us. He didn’t tear me like I feared, but I’m still very much aware that something large and thick had been inside me, taking me places I never knew I could go… making me feel things I never knew I could feel.
To expedite the meal, I make quick work of my mushroom-spinach quiche and get up to take my plate to the sink. When I return to the table to get Lucas’s plate, he surprises me by catching my arm, his long fingers closing around my wrist in an unbreakable grip.
“Yulia.” His eyes glint with something indefinable. “That was delicious, thank you.”
“Oh.” I blink. “You’re welcome.” I expect him to let go of my wrist at that point, but he continues holding it without saying anything else.
“Um, let me get your plate…” Awkwardly, I reach for it with my other hand, but he moves it to the side, out of my reach.