Enamoured

by Darling, Giana

“Like this?” he asked cruelly as he plucked both my nipples and twisted.

  I hissed, but shook my head, desperately wishing I could see him to read what he would try to keep hidden in his eyes. “No, please don’t play with my emotions like this. I don’t understand.”

  I didn’t. I was hopelessly confused, tangled up like yarn curdled on a loom.

  My heart stuttered and chugged in my chest, a failing engine that wouldn’t survive the test Alexander would no doubt put my body through if I let him…

  Maybe even if I didn’t.

  Heat sluiced from my brain to my groin where it pooled between my legs.

  “I’m not playing, topolina. When I use your body like this”—his hand cupped hard between my thighs, tight enough to feel the heavy pulse that beat through my pussy like a war drum—“it is the way a painter wields his brush or a sculptor his clay. You are mine to use, to mould into something more beautiful than before. It is no game. It is art, and you are my canvas.”

  “Not anymore,” I whispered brokenly even as I thrust my chest forward when his fingers left my nipples.

  “Always,” he promised darkly, and then his lips were sealed over my own and his tongue was thrusting like a lance through my shields and into my mouth.

  I hummed instinctively as the taste of him hit me like hot whiskey and burned a path down my throat and straight to my core where it burned and burned.

  He ate at my mouth like a glutton at his last meal before death, hungry to the point of devastation, desperate to the point of pain. I loved the bite of his teeth into my lower lip, the way he dragged them over the plump flesh like a wood scraper carving his name into the inside of my mouth.

  He owned me in that kiss as if I had never been lost, as if every moment we were apart was only a period in a series of ellipses that was always going to lead to more of this.

  Him and me.

  My brain wildly tried to calculate how to deal with this latest development, but I was so wholly overwhelmed by the taste of him, the scent of him surrounding me like fog on the moors, and the feel of his big body hovering just out of my reach, a taunt, a possible present for good behavior well earned.

  “Hush, my beauty,” he ordered softly but no less commanding. “Stop that beautiful brain. Stop the questions and the need for answers. Be with me again, and let it be as simple as that.”

  I whimpered because I wanted with my entire body to acquiesce to his control and give into the weight of desire in my sex, but I couldn’t find the latch to open the cage on my thoughts and set them free.

  Reading my mind in the way only he had ever been able to do, Alexander straightened and stepped away, the air that rushed between us glacial cold.

  When he spoke, it was in the carved stone tones of domination. “I think you need to remember who is in control of you, topolina. Who here is the mouse and who the Master?”

  His hand snapped forward and slapped against one of my scarcely clad breasts. The smack resounded through the empty room and made the slight pain all the greater as the sharp sting sank deep roots in my chest and added to my feverish burn.

  “There are consequences to your actions,” he said almost conversationally as his shoes clipped away from me. “Are you ready to reap their reward?”

  I didn’t answer, my ears strained so hard to discern the soft sounds he made rustling in a bag that they felt as if they burned with the effort.

  Despite my exertion, I startled when the soft kiss of suede tassels tickled over my collarbone and then settled over my shoulder. I shivered as Alexander bent over my back and whispered hotly in my ear, “Are you ready for your punishment, wife?”

  I didn’t ask him any more questions. They burned the back of my tongue, but there was no impulse sparking in my brain to ignite them and toss each burning arrow of thought at his head, to watch him drown in the bonfire of my rage and pain.

  I was already too far gone to submission. The cool calm of it sluiced over my tongue and down my throat, dousing the questions and banking those fires. I could hate him later, force him to make sense at another time.

  For now, I was free to be his.

  Being his meant I could have him in the only way he’d ever let me.

  As his submissive.

  “Yes, Master,” I said, and the words slotted into something inside me like a key in a lock.

  And when Alexander coldly commanded, “Present yourself for me. I want to see how you’ve changed since the last time I touched your cunt,” I felt the lock click and the door swing open.

  There was a space in my mind that was inaccessible to me. Another plane, another dimension, whatever you wanted to call it, it was a place that transcended the restrictions of thought and social constructs. It was the setting of pure sensation.

  Try as I might over the years, I’d never been able to reach it on my own. A vibrator on my clit, a thick dido wedged into my tight ass, and four fingers stretching my cunt. Clothespins on my nipples, e-stimulator pads on my groin, and a few vicious slaps to my engorged sex. Even a few misspent nights at a well-known BDSM club where trained Dominants took me in hand with my favourite whips, and toys, everything short of sex, until I was a quivering, striped mass of flesh.

  Nothing unlocked that elusive door to that taboo but delicious place.

  Nothing but Alexander and his special brand of mastery.

  A shudder wracked my body that had nothing to do with the cold room.

  When I didn’t respond quickly enough, Alexander twisted his hand in my hair and pulled me off the chair so that I collapsed to the ground on my knees. Instantly, instinctively, my head bowed gracefully, my spine straightened, and my hands met like a necklace clasped behind my back.

  “Pretty as ever,” he said in that soft tone with those hard-bitten words that always seemed louder than he spoke them. “But I always preferred you adorned in the jewels of my possession, both against your flesh in diamonds and rubies and stamped there in bruises and love bites.”

  I groaned breathily as he sank his teeth into the junction of my neck and shoulder and sucked hard at the skin so it bloomed beneath his tongue. When he disconnected with a loud sucking smack, the wet cooled deliciously on my skin and peppered my flesh into goosebumps. He touched the spot with the tip of the flogger he held in his hand and pushed until I hissed in pain.

  “A poppy on your skin,” he murmured as if lost in thought and desire. “I used to see the poppies behind Pearl Hall and think about the time I fucked you into the earth there.”

  “Yes,” I hissed softly because I thought of the same thing whenever I saw my favourite bloom, forever tainted by the memory of Alexander and the way he fucked me goodbye.

  I bent my neck deeper like a swan seeking sleep, only I was seeking the deep, darkly delicious bite of Alexander’s bite into my neck. I wanted him to plant a garden of bruises under my skin, water them with my tears of pain, and watch them bud under the possessive heat of his gaze.

  I wanted him to use me as a canvas to give voice to all his darkest desires.

  Use me, fill me up, make me yours from the inside out.

  I’d thought the words were contained in my head, rattling around loudly, but confined to my own mind. They were dangerous words to give a man who had proven he would come and go but keep our strings attached so that I was always linked to him, always his even when he didn’t want me.

  I would never have said them out loud if I’d been in my right mind.

  But I wasn’t.

  I never was when Alexander’s hands were shaping my body into his art.

  “I am going to use you up. I’m going to mark your tongue with the taste of my cock and your skin with the print of my palm. I am going to fill you. I’m going to hold you down with my hands and my teeth and impale you on my cock so you feel the burn of me between your thighs for days. But you know already, you’ve been mine inside and out since the day we met.”

  A whimper leaked from my parted lips, shamefully eager for the future he desc
ribed and pathetically forlorn that it was already occurring.

  “But first,” Alexander’s words chipped off his posh tongue like shards of granite. “You are going to prove to me just how much you missed your Master. Just how eager you are to be my willing slave again.”

  “I am no one’s slave,” I slurred almost drunkenly, spurred by instinct but blurry with longing.

  “Ah, that is where you are fundamentally wrong. You see, your enslavement to me has nothing to do with currency and contracts, and everything to do with your willingness to be used by me. Owned by me in every way I may wish to possess you.”

  One of his corded arms was suddenly belted diagonally over my chest, angling down my stomach so that he could cup my entire slick sex in one big palm. I was pinned by him, to him, surrounded in his heat and cool forest fragrance. It had been years since I’d been so close to another human being, and the fact that it was Alexander reclaiming my body in the way only he knew how made my brain spark and short circuit with exquisite lust and something more, something intangible that settled my bones better beneath my skin as if they had been broken and improperly reset until that moment.

  “You told me I would have to earn your submission again, but that’s not the truth, is it, my beauty? I need to earn your trust again, your tenderness, and your depthless heart. But your submission? Ah, that is intrinsically mine. The way the moon owns the tide and the sun owns the sky.”

  I opened my mouth, to protest maybe, or more probably to beg him to fuck me however that came, even if it fucked up my mind and heart at the same time. My heart ached from the hammer punch of his sweet, uncharacteristic words. I needed something to take me out of my head so I could steel myself against his emotional attack and focus on the physical. He unclasped me, and I fell forward sharply, his release as impactful as a car accident thrusting me forward.

  The sharp whisper of the leather cutting through the air as I righted myself quieted me a second before I would’ve spoken, and then I was groaning from the sweet pain of the flogger against the bare skin of my back.

  He beat me soundly, only seconds between each slap of the soft tassels digging like knife points into my flesh. The pain of the flogging built like hot bricks, one by one, into a wall of burning pleasure against my back.

  I stayed folded in the shape of his desire, turning red with the colour of his lust beat into my skin, and I felt more at home in myself than I had in years.

  I needed this, to bend until the point of breaking just to feel how far I could stretch, just to know I was doing my best to please someone worthy of my effort.

  And Alexander was worthy.

  No matter what he had done, my body and soul, my spirit were his to command just as I’d promise both of us they would never ever be.

  But I was too far into subspace to think of the err of my ways, to reprimand or shame myself for the wants that had been too long woven into the fabric of my character to unstitch and respool.

  So by the time Alexander stepped away from the throbbing ache in my back, I was exactly how we both wanted me to be.

  Empty, but alive with purpose for one single thing.

  The will of my Master.

  “This first time, I won’t hold back,” he promised over the clank of a belt buckle falling open and the sensual rasp of a zipper being teased apart. “But you’ll take everything I have to give like a good little sub, won’t you, bella?”

  Then the hot, hard tip of his cock brushed across my lips, painting them in the brine of the cum beaded there. I moaned from deep in my clenching gut as my tongue traced the taste of him over my mouth. He halted my efforts with hard hands woven into my hair, pinning my face at exactly the distance and angle he needed to use me best.

  “Open your mouth and keep it open. I want to use you until you’re drooling and choking all over my cock, and then I want you to gag for you it.”

  A shiver juddered through my torso as my lips fell open. My hot, panting breath fanned over his length, and I wished acutely that I wasn’t blindfolded so I could see the way the thick veins in his cock pulsed for me.

  Instead, I felt them rub over my tongue as he used his hands in my hair to leverage me onto his cock until it was wedged at the back of my throat. I swallowed around him, humming the secret lyrics of my pleasure as I tended to his dick, as he sawed it over my lips the way a violinist controlled his bow. The sounds we made together like that were obscene; the wet suck of my lips against his skin, the hot whorl of my breath churning over his length each time he pulled out of my throat, and the faint vibration of my constant, babbling moans and groans. We filled the empty, cavernous room with the music of his Domination and my submission, and I’d never heard a more satisfying symphony.

  Finally, he pried my tightly drawn lips off his dick with a loud pop, and my subsequent groan of disapproval.

  “Did you miss your Master’s cock in your throat?” he asked me coldly.

  I squirmed on my knees, the cold studio air against the arousal sliding down my thighs from my overheated pussy. His meanness aroused me the way no tenderness ever could. It amplified him until he seemed giant with power, Herculean with strength.

  “Yes, Master,” I said, all breath and wet, smacking lips. “I don’t know what I did without it.”

  A small part of brain realized how shameful my actions were; I was a woman scorned. Where was my righteous wrath and fury? Where was my backbone?

  It was ramrod straight in the perfect posture of a submissive.

  It wasn’t just Alexander using me at that moment to wring out his own pleasure. It was about me using him for my own. I needed the cruelty and the objectification maybe even more than he needed to dole it out.

  This was about him proving to me, in his own way, in our secret language of flesh and fetish, that he could still fill all the cracks in my heart with gold. Give purpose to my masochism and a swift death by climax to my worries and my doubts.

  This was a Master taking care of his slave in the most elemental way he knew how.

  Alexander moved one hand from my hair, pushing the blindfold off my face as he did so, and then over my tear-streaked cheek to slide two fingers into my mouth.

  I sucked feverishly at them, my eyes nearly rolling back into my head at the pleasure of having the taste of his skin on my tongue again. When I recovered, I looked up at him, hungrily devouring the sight of him looming over me like a lord demanding reparation from his vassal. The power dynamic made saliva pool at the sides of my mouth and wet leak from my swollen sex like an overturned jar of honey.

  “You are mine,” he swore solemnly as he pulled his fingers out of my mouth and wrapped them around the root of his long cock. I kept my eyes tipped to his as he slowly fed it to me, inch by steel inch until I couldn’t breathe around the fullness of him buried to the balls in my throat. “You are mine in every conceivable way. Mine to use.” He pulled out to the tip of his head and then thrust back into the warm cavern so hard I choked around him. “Mine to worship.” Another thrust. “Mine to own.”

  Spit dripped from my lips and splashed against my furled breasts.

  I was so close to coming, I gyrated against the air, looking for even a mild current to swirl through the room and break open the cap on my bottled desire.

  Sensing my desperation, Alexander stepped forward so that the smooth leather of his loafer was pressed tight to my drenched sex.

  “Fuck yourself hard. Show me how wanton you are just for me.” His strong voice was like the press of a hand around my throat.

  I watched his smoking grey eyes as I began to hump against his shoe to the time of his thrusts into my mouth. The smell of our sex perfumed the air like a drug I couldn’t help dragging deep into my lungs. I was light-headed, intoxicated by the fierce desire stamped across his face, the way his soul blazed so brightly from his usually opaque pewter-toned eyes.

  There was no one else in the world for either of us but each other.

  The thought cut through the ribbon of s
ense that tied me together so that every inch of me unravelled and unfurled as I orgasmed for him. Alexander watched as I screamed around his cock so deep in my throat, as I ground my clit into the leather, seeking more friction against the smooth swell, and then with triumph in his eyes he tipped his head back and punched a shout at the ceiling loud enough to echo through the room as he came.

  And came.

  He drowned my mouth in the hot, salty liquid, and I gulped him down greedily, an alcoholic after years of abstemiousness pouring herself a drink.

  Before he finished coming, he pulled out and painted my cheek with the last two ropes of his cum. I gasped for breath, my clit throbbing like the heart of a hummingbird. Alexander used the opportunity to smear his fingers in the seed on my skin and slide it over my tongue.

  “How do I taste, topolina?”

  I hummed lustfully around his fingers so gone to my desire that my inhibitions had been ground to dust. I wanted to roll onto my back, spread my legs open, and beg him to fuck me. I wanted to get him hard with my mouth again and nuzzle him with my cheek just to get closer to the musk and salt scent of him.

  His soft, dark chuckle brushed over my skin in a silken caress. I bit my lip to stop my protest as he stepped away, but he was back before my anxiety could build, his legs pressing into the tender skin of my back. Shivers coursed down my spine as his big, abrasive hands slid over my collarbones, collecting the thick veil of my hair on either side so he could move it off my neck.

  I sucked in a deep, sharp exclamation of breath when a cold weight settled around my throat and closed with an audible tsk under my hair.

  I didn’t need sight or touch to know that Alexander had collared me.

  My pussy felt heavy, pulsing with a deep, dull throb that made it impossible to concentrate on anything but that and the cold bite of metal around my neck.

  “This is who you are,” he whispered into my ear, tracing the gold thorns around my throat so that I shivered. “Not just a slave, a trinket to own and flaunt and punish, but my slave, my topolina, a woman so beautiful it makes me ache. A warrior so powerful Joan and Artemis would shudder at your feet. Do you know how it makes me feel to make you sweat and cum and cry? It makes me feel like a god, fierce enough to deserve you, and a peasant, wholly unworthy of such a magnificent gift.”