A Bedtime Story

by L. C. Moon

  Even now, he knew, he wouldn’t turn his back on her. And yet he had to find Peter. He’d have to make her tell him, within the next three days. Tomorrow, he thought, tomorrow he would put an end to the Peter saga. He would find a way, and she would tell him all he needed to know.

  He put back the postcard on the desk and leaned back in his chair. He reached for the phone, exhausted and disgruntled. He needed an outlet for all this pent-up frustration.

  A female voice answered, “Master…”

  “Hello, Pet.” A sadistic smile promptly chased away his morose mood. “You have twenty minutes.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  ***

  Laura hadn’t seen Kayne for the day. She so desperately wanted to. Had she dreamt it all? Had he really walked into her room last night and consented to helping her? Had she imagined all of this? She had spent the day pacing around, unable to set her mind to anything but awaiting his return. Olga had informed her early on that he would not make it home for supper. She waited in the living room for him all evening, scared to miss his return.

  She had finally retreated to her bedroom around midnight and tried to go to sleep unsuccessfully.

  She realized she had been asleep, waking up to clicking sounds coming from down the hall. She looked at the time; it was almost two in the morning. Intrigued, she threw on the first pair of jeans she found by her chair, threw a T-shirt over it, and tiptoed out of her room. By the time she made it into the main parlor by the front doors, the sound was gone. She wondered what it could be. It made her think of a woman’s high heels. Could there be another woman in the house? With Kayne? The idea deeply disturbed her. Rattled, she looked for the unwanted intruder all over the first floor, going in and out of every room, finding nothing. She went back to the small living room by the kitchen, their living room. She couldn’t shake off the betrayal she felt. How could he bring another woman here? While she was here. It was ridiculous, she knew. Shouldn’t she be relieved he had spared her his sordid sexual penchants? He had agreed to help her and didn’t ask for anything in return. Wasn’t that the best-case scenario she could have hoped for? And yet the unrelenting twist in her gut disproved her efforts at reason. Kayne was here, with another woman.

  She then remembered the cage in the basement. He had taken her left as soon as they had reached down the stairs, but wasn’t there a corridor going to the right? Her trepidation grew. Before she even realized what she was doing, Laura retraced the steps that had taken her down to that cursed room. She opened the back door carefully, her heart beating faster as the spiraling stairs reappeared. She remembered too well how she had felt going down them the first time. But as if in a trance, she was unable to stop herself, taking one step at a time, careful not to make any noise. She had a vision of Walt Disney’s Sleeping Beauty, when Aurora, under the spell of the wicked witch, climbed the winding stairs leading to the spinning wheel and, to the hypnotizing music of Tchaikovsky, brought the dark prophecy to fruition.

  When she reached the lower ground, she shook off a shudder as the holding cell emerged to her left. She quickly looked away, facing the corridor swerving right. She wasn’t even sure what she was hoping to achieve.

  There were closed doors on each side. She turned right, following the corridor that curled to the left. She could hear female moans and loud cracking sounds followed by low manly grunts. At the very end of the corridor, a metallic door was left ajar. Through it, she saw a woman, hog-tied on a metal table facing away from her. Laura could only see her long black hair cascading down. The woman moaned and whimpered as harsh whips fell unto her back, ass, and thighs. Laura was frozen in place, fixated on the woman, on her throaty “Yes, Master… Thank you, Master… Please… More…” The male voice was low and gruff. She couldn’t make out the words, but she knew it was Kayne’s. She could recognize his voice anywhere, his commands, his own brand of brutish force and sensual persuasion. He took a step forward toward the woman, and she could finally see him. He was topless, wearing only black dress suit pants, revealing his muscular torso, toned abs, and broad shoulders. His hair was tied back, though loose strands fell on his face as he leaned to whisper something into the woman’s ear.

  Laura gulped, fascinated and frightened to death by the shocking scene, by the dangerously alluring and simply dangerous man standing in front of her. Hearing the small sound she had just made, Kayne, while still bending down to the woman’s face, lifted his head, barely an inch in Laura’s direction. His eyes rounded with surprise upon finding her, then narrowed with fury at the realization.

  Laura took a few steps back, terrified, mouthing No, no…

  His eyes piercing into hers, he brought himself up to his full height. She didn’t wait an instant longer. She broke into a run, up the stairs and all the way to the front doors, trying the handle frantically, but it was locked electronically. She banged on the door with frustration, in complete panic, which only attracted the attention of one of the guards posted outside. She fell to her knees and wept on the floor. There was no way out. Any moment now, he would come. God only knew what he had in store for her. There was nothing else for her to do but to get back to her room and powerlessly await the ramifications of her impulsive actions.

  ***

  Kayne was livid. He almost chased her up the stairs but talked himself out of it. He would have to calm down a little before finding her, or else he didn’t know what he would do. He dismissed his whore unceremoniously and went back to his room for a hot shower to help collect himself. After throwing on a pair of jeans and a white shirt, he went to his office and picked up the postcard. Carefully folding it, he put it in his back pocket, took a few long breaths, then headed to Laura’s room.

  He opened the door slowly, finding her crouching on the bed, her back against the stand, hugging her knees, visibly shaking. He didn’t walk straight toward her. He inspected the room, looking around, familiarizing himself with her environment. He had always avoided this room. His mother’s room. He lingered by the vanity, picking up and placing back a few things, all the while under Laura’s petrified stare. He then grabbed the chair facing the mirror, moved it close to the bed, and casually sat in it. He spread his legs, leaning back, making himself comfortable before addressing her. His eyes acerbic, he commanded harshly, “Speak.” She broke into uncontrollable shaking. She began rocking herself as tears rolled down her cheeks.

  He leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees, his soft voice dripping with threat. “You have willfully disrespected and disobeyed me in my own house. I am being kind enough to give you a chance to explain yourself. You would be wise to use it.”

  “No… no, no, no, no…” she repeated hysterically, shaking her head.

  “Explain yourself!”

  She had a complete meltdown. “Please… please… I swear… I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to disrespect or disobey… please…” she desperately cried.

  He remained impassive, if not a little annoyed. He stood up. “I will count to five. If you don’t start talking by then, I guarantee, you will wish you had.”

  She wanted to speak, wanted to explain, but she could barely understand her actions herself. She threw herself at his feet.

  “Please, sir… Please… Please forgive me… I didn’t mean to.”

  He looked down at her, irritated. “Get up.”

  She supported her weight by holding on to him. This time, he didn’t help steady or support her. He remained stoic and cold against her fragile body. She finally managed to get to a full standing position, keeping her eyes fixated on his chest, too terrified to meet his stare.

  “Look at me, Laura.” His voice was cold, but calmer.

  She was dry heaving but finally brought her eyes up to his. He grabbed both her arms, slowly, and pushed her back against the wall. Her body was threatening to give out any moment, held up only by his firm hold on her.

  “Why did you go downstairs?”

  “I don’t know… please… I’m
sorry…”

  He kept one hand firmly grabbing her arm, the other he slowly brought up and closed around her neck. A gasp escaped her lips. But he didn’t apply pressure, just left his hand there, the threat hanging.

  He leaned into her ear. “You don’t know?” Cold rage echoed in his voice. His hand tightened just a little bit on her throat.

  “No… please, sir… please… I don’t know why I went downstairs… I heard her come in… I don’t know why I went… I’m sorry… Oh god, I’m so sorry…” she sobbed against his cheek. “Yes. You will be sorry,” he whispered menacingly into her ear before letting go of his hold on her. He was about to turn around, but she grabbed his arm with both of hers, desperate, knowing if she let him walk away, it was over.

  “I was jealous!” she almost screamed in agony, then softly as the realization dawned on her. “I was jealous…”

  His face stoic, he lowered his gaze to her hands holding his arm so desperately. She let go of her hold immediately at his silent command. He then raised his eyes to meet hers, his expression inscrutable.

  “Why were you jealous?”

  She looked down, remaining quiet. He let out a long exasperated sigh.

  “You know why.” Though her voice was hushed, bitterness tainted her words.

  He smiled, wickedly. “Tell me.”

  “Please, sir… please… don’t make me say it.”

  His sardonic laugh resonated in her ears. He took a step forward, towering over her, their bodies at an unsettling closeness, his face so close she could feel his breath against her skin.

  “Tell me,” he commanded, his voice gruff.

  She shut her eyes, unable to face the shame of admission. Her voice quavering, she confessed, “I wanted it to be me.”

  He exhaled slowly as she looked up sheepishly at him. He brought his hand around her back, his fingers gently working their way up, through her nape and into her hair. She sighed in relief, closed her eyes, and leaned into his caresses. He fisted her hair into his hand, very close at the nape, and tugged slowly, forcing her head backward and up toward his. She whimpered, opening her eyes with surprise.

  “You want me to fuck you, Laura, is that it?” he whispered huskily, bringing his mouth to her ear.

  An incoherent sound, between a moan and a cry, escaped her lips. He pulled her head further back, forcing her body to arch into his, making her feel even more vulnerable in this unnatural position, while allowing him a full view of her face. Using his free hand, he caressed the outer side of her breast, could feel her nipples hardening against his chest, hear her breath becoming ragged.

  “Answer me,” he commanded yet again, his voice raspy.

  “Yes…” she breathed.

  “Yes. What?”

  “Yes… I want you… to fuck me…” she finally conceded, her eyes half shut, with pleasure and shame.

  He emitted a low guttural sound, feeling himself harden. He pulled her back to a standing position and, with a devilish smile, cautioned her, “I still have to punish you for your behavior.”

  Her eyes opened wide with instant terror. “Sir, please, no…”

  “Hold your arms up,” he ignored her plea.

  She obeyed. With gentle fingers, he lifted her T-shirt over her head and threw it to the floor. She watched it fall, her bare breasts now exposed, then looked back at him. “Please, sir, please don’t…”

  He continued to ignore her and proceeded to unbutton her jeans, pulling down the zipper, while looking her in the eye with a wolfish grin. Her heart pounded in her chest, her eyes desperately pleading her case. Unaffected, he bent down to lower her jeans, then, kneeling on the floor, commanded her to raise one leg after the other to remove them.

  “Sir?”

  Still kneeling on the floor, he looked up at her inquisitively.

  “Please… don’t hurt me…”

  He let out a soft chuckle, then stood back up under her terrified stare.

  “Are you going to hurt me?” she asked softly as a defenseless child. With an amused smile, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him. He kissed her, very softly, his lips savoring hers. When he pulled back, her eyes were still closed, her chin lifted toward his, still lost in the moment.

  “You will do what I say, as I say it, without question, hesitation, or delay. Is that understood?”

  She nodded repeatedly, her eyes conveying the conviction of a drowning man whose been thrown a rope.

  “Good girl,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

  He kissed her again, his hands still on her hips. With his lips still pressed against hers, he commanded her to open her mouth. His tongue invaded every inch, his kiss turning voracious as he brought her arms up and wrapped them around his neck. Then he brought his own down her back. His fingers grazed her ass, drawing little circles over her underwear. In a firmer grab, he picked her up, forcing her to wrap her legs around him for support. He carried her to the bed without breaking the kiss, kneeling on the mattress and gently laying her on her back. She opened her eyes, stared at him intently, consumed with excitement and apprehension. He responded with an indulgent, reassuring smile. His body over hers, he unwrapped her arms from his neck and directed her to grab the posts on the headboard.

  “Keep your hands there, no matter what.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He leaned back, still kneeling between her legs. His fingers traveled the length of her body, barely grazed every surface, lingering on her breasts, circling her hardened nipples. He then lowered her underwear, very slowly, his fingers tracing the outlines of her thighs and legs, and bent her knees together to remove them. Her panting only increased as he gently deposited the palms of his hands on her knees to wedge them apart, and she resisted the pressure.

  “Open your legs.”

  She blushed, feeling the juices flowing in her private parts, already missing the cover of her panties. She obeyed, exposing herself, and felt self-conscious with the moistness dripping from her.

  Kayne remained still for a few moments, savoring his willing prey. He was in awe, of her beauty, of her vulnerability. In knowing that she was irrevocably his for the taking. He let his fingers glide across the surface of her soft skin, on the outside of her legs up to her thighs and back. He removed his shirt and threw it to the floor before leaning forward, hovering over her naked body with a feline grace.

  “Close your eyes,” he breathed in her ear.

  He wanted to offer her the cover of darkness, ease her into the exhilaration he knew he could bring her by demanding her complete submission. He moved down her body, kissing every inch of her, taking her breast in his mouth and swirling his tongue around her nipple as she moaned in response. His fingers then dipped down her belly and touched her wetness as he continued to kiss and nip her firm soft breast. He felt her panting increase, her moans coming closer together, and he brought his face close to hers.

  “I know you want to come,” he hoarsely whispered into her ear. “Don’t you dare without my permission.”

  A loud moan escaped her lips.

  “Do you understand?”

  “Yes… yes, sir,” she panted.

  “Good girl.”

  He brought his mouth to her slit, his tongue continuing the sweet torture his fingers had initiated. He could feel her tension building up, her wetness on his lips, as she unconsciously wreathed under him. He steadied her limbs, firmly pinning her hips on the mattress.

  “Sir… Sir, please,” she cried out.

  He didn’t respond. He wanted to hear her say the words.

  “Sir… please… can I… come?” she panted.

  “Come,” he commanded gruffly, as his middle finger penetrated her entrance. He felt her muscles clamp with her orgasm, her whole body spasm then go lax, as she almost screamed her release. He licked his lips with delight, staring at her hungrily as he removed his jeans and then lay his body over hers.

  “Look at me.”

  She opened her eyes, her face still flush. She wis
hed she hadn’t upon seeing his warm smile. It cut right through her. She could barely accept the effect he had on her body. She couldn’t face the turmoil his smile brought about in her shattered world.

  She could feel his erection rubbing against her, bringing the ache back. However, this time it went deeper. Her body didn’t simply want physical release. She felt the need to have him inside her, to fill her up.

  “Ask me,” he commanded as he continued to rub himself on her. Her eyes watered with shame. “Fuck me… please, sir…”

  He grunted, resting his elbows on each side of her head, his fingers caressed her face. His first thrust was slow, entering her inch by inch, until he could feel her inner wall. He pulled out slowly and reentered her, his rhythm picking up with every thrust.

  She could feel a second orgasm building up, now that she knew what it was. She had made herself come before, but he was the first man to give her an orgasm. Realizing she could no longer hold back, she panicked at the idea of coming without his permission, and mad with pleasure, she screamed out, “Sir! Sir, please…”

  “Again?” he taunted her, his smile devilish.

  “Yes… yes…” She was beyond shame, in a place where only physical pleasure existed.

  “Come for me, Laura,” he whispered in her ear as he fucked her relentlessly.

  Her moan was low and long, immediately followed by his guttural growl as he found his own release. He collapsed on top of her, both panting against each other.

  He finally raised himself on his elbows, cocked his head to the side, eyeing her playfully. He planted a kiss on her forehead before he rolled himself over to her side. She was still breathing fast, looking at him through a haze of confusion.

  He then turned on his side to face her and turned her around as he brought her to him, spooning her affectionately. He kissed her hair and caressed her arm as she nestled against him.