by Black, Lena
“Of course,” she says, standing up and adjusting her dress. “I’ll have everything prepared for you by the time you’re done…exploring.”
She smiles at us sensually before leaving us alone.
Hunt turns to me, holding me at arm’s length, and asks, “Are you alright, Gabrielle? How did everything go?”
I nod my head and answer, “It was interesting…You aren’t upset that she touched me?”
“No, I hardly think any man would dislike the sight of their woman receiving pleasure in another woman’s caress. Marlena can be quite flirtatious. She enjoys the hunt…How do you feel about it?” I blush under his inquisitive gaze. “That’s what I thought.”
“She certainly has a way with people,” I state with a shy smirk, and Hunt laughs, pulling me into his side and kissing me softly on my temple.
“Come, let me show you the grounds.”
He holds me close as we walk back toward the main house.
After an extensive tour of the first floor, my head is reeling. Every room is scarcely lit, with red leather couches, Persian rugs, and dark woods. It’s an elegant mix of antique and modern design, opulent. He showed me the bar and lounge, which is mainly for sitting and chatting, though there were a few subs in various devices being flogged, or pleasured, or whatever their Doms desired. This causes me to blush and drop my head with an overwhelming shyness. I feel a slight sense of discomfort, but I am also very curious and open to new experiences with Hunt.
Then, he shows me a room where beautiful women dance on polls, some appear to work here, but most look as if they are amateurs like me, grinding and dancing, teasing their Doms.
That would be fun to do for Hunt.
Many of the girls are in the traditional corset and garters, others wear only panties and collars, or nothing at all. They have no shame in their bodies or desires.
I spot a couple tucked away in a dark corner. The sultry redhead sits on the couch, with her legs spread open wide, while her naked male sub goes to town on her. His eyes are blindfolded and his hands are bound behind his back.
I let out a whimper, clenching my thighs together as I become aroused by the carnal vision.
“Does watching arouse you, Gabrielle? Do you enjoy observing others take pleasure in each other?” he whispers into my ear, tracing his finger along my collar. I nod my head, never taking my eyes off the sensual couple. “Come with me, angel.”
He places his hand on the small of my back and guides me out of the room to the stairs in the foyer.
“Where are we going, Master Hunt?”
“Patience, Miss Hyde. We must work on that.”
As we ascend the stairs to the second floor, I smirk at myself and then notice the doors lining both sides of the floor. One side has twice as many doors as the other.
“Master Hunt, why are there more doors on this side than that one?” I ask, pointing to them.
“I’ll show you,” he replies, turning to the right and leading me over to one. I realize that every other door has a red ribbon hanging from the knobs, except the one we enter. It’s a dimly lit, closet-sized room, the only light comes from a window, but this doesn’t lead outside. This is a viewing window for the room next to us.
I walk over to it and find an attractive couple readying to play. She’s blindfolded, gagged, and tied down to the bed, sprawled out to her Dom’s liking. She searches the room blindly for her lover, almost as if she’s sniffing the air for his scent. He stands at the end of the bed, watching her, finding ecstasy in the sight of his beautiful sub helpless and desperate.
“Does this make you uncomfortable, angel?”
I feel a sense of coyness brightening my cheeks, but I am aroused more than anything else. I look back at him, casually leaning against the wall, from over my shoulder and reply, “Yes, but…”
“But, you’re aroused by voyeurism.”
“Voyeurism?”
“You take pleasure in watching others,” he states simply.
“Yes,” I answer truthfully.
“Would you enjoy being watched, Miss Hyde?” he asks with an amused, enquiring tone.
“Exhibitionism?” I squeak.
“Yes, angel,” he answers with a chuckle and a nod of his head.
“No, I enjoy the idea of being caught I suppose, but I’m not going to say it’s a hard limit either.”
He takes a step toward me and presses his large torso against my back, wrapping his sculpted arms about me so his hands splay on my womb, pressing my rear into his erect cock.
I moan.
His fingers clench at the material of my skirt, bunching it up into his fists and revealing my bare slit. He kisses my neck with an expert’s touch, causing my head to roll back onto his chest and my hand to slide up the back of his head, gripping at the lush strands.
One of his hands roam my breast, kneading and teasing, while the other cups my aroused cleft, massaging my sensitive clit with the palm. I groan and writhe, giving him more friction and grinding my ass into a cock so hard, it makes diamonds seem soft.
While he works me with his palm, his other hand peels the straps of my flimsy dress off my shoulders, allowing the top to fall down under my heavy breasts. His sensual lips continue down my neck to my shoulders, caressing my flesh ever so lightly. This tender touch sends shivers down my body, my skin tightening with goose bumps.
His hand returns to my exposed breasts, slightly pinching and pulling on my hardening nipples. I’m desperate for him. I have to have him. I spin around and take his lips with a vengeance, latching my hand greedily onto his cock, which presses against his pants making the material taut as if it were about to bust its way out.
He clenches a handful of my hair and loops his fingers through my collar as a reminder of my role, heaving my lips from his.
“You’re a very bad girl, Gabrielle. You were not granted permission to take charge. You must learn patience. We will work on this starting now.” He places the straps back on my shoulder and adjusts my skirt. “Come, I have more to show you.”
He extends his hand to me, and I can feel the disappointment on my face. “We aren’t…”
“No, Miss Hyde, I have other plans for you. This was just a bit of a warmup, to get your juices flowing so to speak.”
I grab his hand, still disappointed, and follow him out toward a black door at the very end of the hall. He takes out a key and glimpses back at me over his shoulder, his brow inclined. I giggle, and he smirks back at me, blindly sliding the key into the knob and opening the door wide. It leads to a spiral staircase, which I look at in horror then down at my heeled feet. When I look at Hunt, he’s grinning seductively at me.
He scoops me up and begins our trek up the tall staircase, leading to his hidden playroom. I think knowing where we’re headed makes it all the more nerve-racking and thrilling. It isn’t a question of where, but what and how. My grip about his neck tightens as we climb closer and closer, finally making it to another ominous black door at the top. Hunt places me down and gestures for me to open the door.
Shit. Why does he always make me do this?
I grip my hand tightly to the knob and feel it trembling fiercely, ripping it away from the door.
“Hunt, I can’t. I’m sorry,” I state, staring down at my trembling hands while I rub them together anxiously. He sweeps his finger under my chin, lifting my embarrassed face up to his.
“Gabrielle, you have no reason to apologize or be nervous. You have done extremely well tonight. This won’t be about pain and punishment, but pleasure and reward.” I smile up at him, and he returns one, soft and caring. “That’s my girl.”
He turns the knob and gives the door a light push, swinging it open slowly. I’m awestruck by the elegant beauty and raw carnality. The opulence of the room is seductive but the presence of the toys and devices takes my breath away, literally. I can’t breathe. I remind myself that he assured this is not about pain but ecstasy. In Hunt, I trust.
He steps inside the
large room and holds his hand out to me, welcoming me gently into the chamber of seduction. I take his hand, gripping it tighter than a vice, and a weak step inside so I’m partially behind him.
“Elle, don’t be intimidated by the shiny toys. I won’t use anything on you without your permission or desire for me to do so. Though, I will be pushing a few of your limits.”
“How? What?”
See, I knew it.
“Please, Gabrielle, relax. You are in good hands.”
He ain’t kidding.
“Do I still have to call you Master Hunt?”
He laughs hardily. “No, you no longer have to call me that. It’s only for the rest of the house. Here I’m simply Hunt to you.”
He leads me to the center of the room and leaves me there to admire, sitting on the couch and watching me take in everything.
The walls are covered with the same decorative wallpaper as the D.O.D, except this has a gold base and an intricate black pattern. The furniture, the antique bed, sheets, couch, chairs, are all black and dark woods. There are restraining devices hanging from the ceiling and toys neatly hung along one wall. Plus, other apparatuses placed about the room, such as chairs with straps on the limbs and tables with leather tops. The room smells of leather and vanilla, an arousing mix, both enticing and forbidding.
“How do you feel about this, Gabrielle?” Hunt asks, once I’ve had a chance to absorb my surroundings.
“It’s a bit intimidating, with all the devices, but it’s…”
“Exciting,” he finishes my sentence.
“Yes,” I utter under my breath.
“You really are a glorious creature, Elle. You’re intoxicating,” he purrs. “When I first laid sight on you, you captured me. I wanted you more than any woman I’d encountered. I was captivated by the way you gracefully moved through the crowd, swaying your hips with the nimblest of ease, how your body gyrated on the dance floor and responded when it finally felt my presence. I knew I had to have you then, as sure as I knew I needed oxygen.”
He was watching me the whole time.
I’m speechless.
“I want you to do something for me. Will you do something for me, Gabrielle?”
“What would you like me to do?”
“I want you to dance for me. I want to watch you like that first evening we met.” His voice is like caramel, smooth and rich.
I stare nervously at the space around me then back up at Hunt. He stands up and walks over to a stereo system embedded in the wall, making his selection and heading back to the couch.
The dark strum of a guitar and a slow, seductive beat begins, followed by a female’s whispery voice sensually crooning. It’s a cover of ‘Hey Joe’ by Jimi Hendrix. I move slowly, unsure of myself, terrified by his penetrating gaze, which is firmly set on me. My hands nervously clench to the hem of my short skirt as my hips sluggishly sway back and forth.
“Oh, come, Gabrielle. You can do better than that.”
He gets off the couch and saunters over to me, circling me like that hungry wolf, stopping behind me so his arousal presses firmly into my plump rear. He places his hands on my hips, clenching at the fabric of my dress.
“You have the most sensual body,” he purrs, “every curve and dip drives me fucking mad. Don’t you know how unbelievably sexy you are? Don’t you know how much I love watching you move? I’ve never desired a woman more than I desire you. You’re everything.”
I moan, sinking back into him. I feel his words swim through me, causing my body to writhe until it becomes a sensuous rhythm, keeping time with the music. His hands hold onto my waist, guiding my body against his while we melt into each other, grinding and bumping to the beat. We plunge and sway in sync, turning each other on, building each other up. Then, he’s gone, but I continue for him.
I shut my eyes, circling and dipping my hips, suggestively gyrating my body while my hands greedily roam. They ascend my supple thighs, over my tummy, grabbing at my swollen breasts, taking pleasure in the feel of my tingling flesh.
I let the music sweep me away, putting me under a sexual daze, leading my body. I swagger to the side of the bed, making sure to take my sweet time. I bend over, placing my hands on the soft mattress, to give him a peek of my plump rear peeking out the back of my skirt. With an animal like prowl, I crawl across the mattress, stretching myself out and rolling over. I arc my back, feeling up my legs and thighs, groping the velvety inner flesh.
I turn back over onto my stomach, pushing myself up on hands and knees, twining my curvaceous form so my ass lifts high in the air. I rise onto my knees, flipping my hair and staring seductively over at him. He’s watching me with fascinated eyes, admiring me with uninterrupted attention. I see the desire smoldering in their depths, a wanton need only satiated by me.
I smirk and shake my rear playfully at him, receiving just the reaction I was hoping I’d get. He throws his head back and laughs loudly, tossing his hands over his face and shaking his head. I giggle and blow him a kiss when he looks back up at me.
“That’s my Elle,” he says proudly.
I lick my bottom lip and stare at him darkly, showing my need for him, for his touch. The playful look on his face fades away, replaced with a wanton, shadowy gaze that urges me to continue. I grab onto a post at the end of the bed and step off, working the makeshift poll between my thighs, sinking and gyrating. I hold on tight, arching my back so my head hangs and my hair sweeps across the floor. I fondle my heavy breasts, eagerly teasing him. I fly up and spin around to face him, slowly snaking my body down the poll, spreading my legs wide to reveal my pink, exposed slit.
With one hand still clasped high above my head, the other greedily feels down my breasts and tummy, reaching my drenched sex with a desperate touch. I shut my eyes, entranced by my own touch, and my head falls back while my middle finger gently glides along the wetness, spreading it on my swollen lips.
My eyes flutter open and I spot Hunt clenching his long fingers into the cushion of the black leather couch, tongue gliding along his bottom lip, chest heaving. A delicious darkness takes over his eyes, dangerously gazing up at me from under those black lashes.
He crooks his finger, beckoning me to him. I smirk and shift my weight onto my knees, crawling over to him with a lustful gleam in my eye. I slither between his thighs, pulling myself up until our lips graze. He exhales a harsh breath and smirks wolfishly at me, moving in for more, but I jerk away, slowly shaking a reprimanding finger at him.
I turn around and ease myself onto his lap, grinding and swaying my ass into his steel cock. I rest my arcing back against his torso and lie my head on his shoulder still snaking my body. His hands creep over my breasts, my tummy, my waist, latching on firmly. He stands me up with an effortlessness and grasps the back of my neck, bending me over and tracing the other hand down my spine. He moans with approval, giving my rear a firm swipe, and brings me back up to him, holding me close so his lips graze my ear.
“You’re a vision, Elle, an alluring Siren, beckoning me into the darkness,” he purrs, plucking at the delicate string holding my dress together. It unravels, allowing the barely-there dress to fall open and slide off my shoulders. It floats to the floor, pooling at my heeled feet and leaving me exposed to him, vulnerable to every kinky desire.
He nips the lobe of my ear and growls, “I’m going to fuck you until you see god.”
Chapter Nineteen
Worth A Thousand Words
I dream of leather devices and hanging apparatuses, the scent of vanilla and sex, the feel of biting pleasure and Hunt’s flesh on mine. I’m lost in us, our desire, when I’m awakened abruptly, ripped from my lustful paradise by the blaring ring of my cell. I clumsily feel for it on the bedside table, knocking over objects in the process. I turn over to be sure I haven’t woken Hunt, but he isn’t there. I locate, answer, and place my phone against my ear.
“Hello?” I answer with a sleepy, muffled voice, but no one replies. There’s just silence. I check the caller
ID but it isn’t a number I recognize. I smash it back on my ear, a little annoyed by the caller’s lack of courtesy.
“Hello? Who is this?”
No answer. But, now out of my sleep-induced haze, I can hear the faintest breathing, which seems to be getting louder, stressed as if the mystery caller were…Oh god. Suddenly, I feel a chill down my spine, the same terrifying, heart-stopping chill I felt the night Dante attacked me. I remember that horrifying nightmare as if it were last night. Realizing who it is, I hang up and toss the phone across the room as if physically distancing myself from him.
I curl my knees into my chest and wrap my arms about them, cradling myself close. I look over at Hunt’s side of the bed, desperately wishing he were beside me. I check the clock and it reads ten-thirty. He’s probably already at work.
I’m contemplating what I should do when Damian comes walking through the bedroom door, dressed in a white tee and jeans.
“Good morning, ang…” He trails off when he spots me on the bed, and something shifts in him. “What’s wrong, Gabrielle?”
He strides over to me but stops when he spots the phone on the floor and picks it up. He looks at it quizzically then me.
“Who called, Elle?”
I can only look up at him with big, terrified eyes and shake my head. He stiffens up, understanding instantly, and looks at the last number on the phone. He shoves his hand in his pocket, pulling out his cell and pressing to his ear.
“Banks, I need you up here. We have some new developments on Dante…Very good.”
He hangs up and walks over to the bed, taking a seat and shifting me into his lap. I rest my head on his shoulder, sighing as I take comfort in his embrace.
“He isn’t going to stop until he gets what he wants,” I state, oddly calm.
“No, he won’t,” he replies honestly. “But, we will catch him, Gabrielle…I promise.”
“What are you going to do when you find him?”
“I’ll handle that when the time comes.”