I groaned as the powerful surge of orgasms wracked my belly and my entire groin. The spasms were sharp, my reaction instantaneous, and with my hands still fiercely clutched behind my back, I teetered precariously on his fist to stay upright. It wasn’t until I finally came around again and opened my eyes that I realized that he had moved from his chair and was crouched on the floor beside me as his fist pummeled my pussy. Of course, the angle would have been impossible otherwise. But with him so close now, his face was so near to mine, it seemed impossible not to kiss.
Such deliberateness. Such intensity. Such intuition. How could he have possibly known what I had no clue about myself? It was coming clear to me that hidden away in my psyche was a huge repository of desire that could only be enjoyed when I surrendered my own self-will.
Dominick’s kisses were as tender as they’d been the night before, but all too brief. Soon enough, he was back in his chair while I remained on my knees with my hands still clutched behind my back.
He sat back with a smile as enigmatic as the last few minutes. “You may put the robe back on,” he said, and with one raised brow added, “A little coffee?”
Before I could climb off the floor and back into the robe, the housekeeper was at the atrium door asking if he needed anything.
I blushed, finding the reality of my exposure burning me to the core. Meanwhile, the woman gave me a stare of her own. She was a handsome, thirtyish Latino, dressed in a starched grey dress and white apron. Her hair was tied back in a bun, and though she wore little make-up, there was a simple beauty, an uncomplicated sensuality about her that made me wonder if my host didn’t screw her on the side.
Noticing my embarrassment in the color of my reddened cheeks, Dominick commented: “As long as you’re here your nakedness will be something you’ll need to get used to—although I’m sure you will.”
This was a daunting prospect, but one I basically chose to overlook. Still in the headspace that accompanies profound physical ecstasy I wasn’t thinking clearly enough to form a thought let alone question what he was doing.
When a tray of food and another steaming mug of coffee appeared, he offered them to me like any gracious host. “Eat up. I’m sure you’re famished.”
That was not a problem. I was famished. The berries and granola were so good that I needed to restrain myself from looking like a homeless woman who hadn’t eaten in days.
While I filled my belly, Dominick returned to his newspaper, occasionally taking a bite of his own breakfast. And when he was done, he pushed back his chair and rose to his feet.
“We have much to talk about, Lana. I’ll be back later.”
Yes, much to talk about. I had to agree. I still didn’t know what I’d tell him regarding my sudden arrival at his apartment, but as luck would have it, he required no explanations from me when he returned to the penthouse four hours later. All morning, I’d felt a little like an interloper, luxuriating in the huge master bath, sunbathing on the roof naked, then after showering and dressing (in my ratty old clothes), sitting in his living room and flipping through a stack of magazines.
I looked up as he entered the room, my nerves suddenly jumping to life and the anxiety caught in my throat.
“Don’t look so scared,” he said. “I don’t bite.”
“I know that,” I blushed and smiled.
“Come here.”
My heart was pounding, my voice barely a squeak, but I did manage to make my way from the sofa to where Dominick stood like a powerful statue—although he was not an inanimate statue in the slightest, but fully alive.
His index finger ran along my chin-line, then he raised my head to greet his mouth as he leaned down and kissed my lips.
When he backed away, he said, “I have something for you.” Then he walked back into the foyer and returned with a shopping bag.
When I peered inside I could see a mound of clothes, underwear, and other assorted things that would take a careful inspection to identify. A new wave of anxiety sped through my body.
“What is this?” I said, as if I didn’t know.
“I thought you might need some new clothes.”
“Yes, well, I do,” I had to admit, “but I really shouldn’t…”
“Yes, that’s what all the good girls say, but you’re hardly in that category, are you, Lana?”
My face reddened again. “No, I guess I’m not.”
“No strings. I’d just enjoy looking at you in them. Try them on.” He pushed me into the living room, sat himself down in an easy chair and waited for me to give him a fashion show.
It seemed terribly strange to be doing this for a man I barely knew—and yet, he had fucked me pretty soundly the night before, so I could hardly consider him a total stranger. Still, my cheeks were flushed and heated, and my nervous fingers were hardly able to undo the buttons on my blouse as I started to undress.
He wasn’t kidding when he said that I’d better get used to the casual nudity in his penthouse: twice while I was nearly naked, his housekeeper appeared on the scene, once on a summons from Dominick, and later because she wanted to check on his plans for dinner.
I was wearing only a bra and panties when she came back the second time. She regarded me with a cold stare, making me feel as if I were an object not a real person. “I’ll be eating in,” he said. “Shrimp. Salad. Cornbread.” The menu was simple but already I was salivating.
“And the girl?” the housekeeper asked.
The girl. This twisted my stomach in a knot, though I had no time to figure out why.
“She’ll be staying, Maria. Please set a place,” her boss answered tersely and she was gone again. I swear she gave me a rather spiteful glance before she left, though that might have been my imagination. Was it possible that I was jealous of the woman?
Jealous so soon? That would be skipping ahead a bit fast—such a strong emotion so early in our relationship. Although with my emotions so on edge, a whole gamut of feelings seemed to be bleeding out around me.
Back to the fashion show; I tried on two outfits, a skirt and blouse that would easily work for a job interview, and a dressier dress for going out. There were also three t-shirts, jeans and a pair of shorts—more new clothes than I’d seen together outside a department store in several years.
For a second time, I tried to protest his generosity, but he squashed that attempt so fast that I decided to accept my good fortune and shut up.
I wore the t-shirt and shorts for the remainder of the day, sans bra, at Dominick’s insistence. Although I was not used to my nipples poking prominently through fabric, as long as I was in a private home, well, why not? I could feel myself adapting easily to a life inside this kind of luxury, even if it said a good deal about the state of my morals.
I kept thinking that we’d get around to talking, but any significant conversation wouldn’t happen for another twenty-four hours, long after we’d make love several more times and I’d been challenged by his unusual sexual demands. Before we even landed in bed that second night, in fact, just as we were finishing that delicious meal in the dining room, Dominick asked me to crawl to him. He’d stood to dim the lights and was about ten feet from where I was still sitting in the dining room chair.
“Crawl?” I must have looked shocked.
“Un-huh.” He nodded and waited for me to obey.
My stomach did a few flip-flops, then there I was crawling on my hands and knees like a humble servant. Once at his feet, Dominick reached down, grabbed a huge hunk of my red hair and pulled me to my feet. Every hair on my head seemed to stand on end, and that delicious dinner—it was all I could do not to thrown it up. Suffice it to say, my nerves were shot and every bit of self confidence I might once have displayed seemed to have vanished.
“Don’t look so nervous, you’ve already had me enough to know I’m harmless.”
I didn’t know that at all. But I wasn’t sure that I was looking for harmless; it seemed like there was a piece of me that didn’t want harmless a
t all, or safe or dependable, or any of the things that a young woman like me should want in a man.
Although he’d bought me a small wardrobe of clothes, it seemed as if he preferred me naked. The t-shirt and shorts were abruptly stripped away so he could give my body a good going over with his strong hands. That he did as efficiently as previous: my ass, my tits, my cunt finding arousal in the rough way he worked my flesh until he’d brought me to the brink of climax once again. But as he had before, he stopped before I crested over the peak and dropping his hand, he led me into the living room where he shoved me into the sofa’s soft cushions.
I stared at him in amazement as he stripped down before my eyes, my first glimpse of him in broad daylight. The muscles of his torso seemed to gleam, and rising from the center of his groin was an erection that awed me at that moment as much as it had the day before. There was no charm in his eyes; something far more primitive ruled his passion. He was a ruthless sexual animal poised to strike, and when he did, the fucking was quick and fast. I had no time to recapture my own momentum, and only when he was nearly finished did my pussy clench and the climax take me. After slumping heavily against my body, he caught his breath and pulled away, rising to his feet.
He left the room almost immediately, telling me to, “Stay there,” then he returned a few minutes later wearing a silk robe, loosely tied at the waist.
As kind as he’d been the previous night, Dominick was brusque in his demands that second night. Though I could hear this small voice in me shouting out objections, it was but a whisper compared with the powerful force that had overtaken my worries. If nothing else, it was damned good fun.
Any time I so desired, I could have gathered up my clothes and walked out the door; there’d be no one stopping me. But of course, I did no such thing. This would be a night of many firsts, and none of these new experiences would be frightening enough for me to miss.
Later, Dominick’s brusque demands would find me with my hands roped behind my back—not just held there by his command. As he bent me over the back of the living room sofa, he began ruthlessly pawing my flesh in the same brusque way he had before. He entered my ass again, first with his fingers, in a powerful show force that had me shivering from the inside out.
“How would it be if I fucked you with my fist?” he posed the question that was on my mind as he stuffed at least four fingers into the reluctant depths of my body. “Hm. Tell me, Lana. I like to hear your voice. That soft, soothing sound is music to my ears.”
“But I-I don’t know how it would be,” I stuttered nervously. I was on the verge of tears and yet so deeply aroused that I couldn’t balk. I’m sure he could sense my hesitation, and yet he heard no complaint from me.
He finally slapped my ass for not answering the question. “But I think you do know,” he insisted, then he rammed his fist deeper into that widening channel waiting for my response.
“It’s hard to take,” I finally blurted out.
“Yes, I know that. But you’re not stopping me.”
“I don’t want you to stop.”
“Okay then, say so. Tell me you want my fist in you. Tell me you want to be fucked in the ass.” His eyes were dark, lit like glowing embers. Every word made my body shudder anew.
“Yes, yes, I want you to fist my ass!” I heard myself scream enthusiastically.
The smile that followed was positively evil. He shoved his hand into me again, fucking me vigorously before he finally pulled out and gave my ass a good going over with his spanking hand. As much as it should have hurt, it hardly did. Every blow fed my physical arousal, and after every smack I yearned for more.
“Yesssssssssssssssss,” my throaty voice hissed. It was a thoughtless exclamation but it was all the encouragement he needed to prod deeper. As the agonizing pain surfaced, I was afraid I’d be bolting any minute. But for some unknown reason, I wanted very much to suffer through this, if suffering was the only way I could get through the ordeal. He relieved me of my dilemma just a minute later when he withdrew his hand and replaced it with his cock.
From that moment on, sex was pure heaven, a feeling that rose up like a lush, erotic fog taking my entire body into a pleasant state of bliss. The hard, the soft; the rough, the sweet; the pain and the pleasure intermingled in an amazing cocktail that I could sense myself tasting again and again and again. So enthused was I about the wildness of my come that I didn’t object when I was later bedded down beside my lover with my hands still tied behind my back. For nearly two hours after the anal fuck I remained in an incoherent daze, relishing my body, the air, the sensuous breeze through the open windows. The delirium lingered on. Nothing else mattered but this celebration of sensation.
I wasn’t even distressed when Dominick left me for nearly an hour to answer a phone call. It’s safe to say that I felt as if I belonged right where I was, even though I could make no sense of that bizarre feeling. It wasn’t like me to give myself to a man with such an utter lack of self concern. But there I was, surrendering to all he’d asked of me, realizing the terrifying truth that there was nothing he could demand that I wouldn’t do.
My second morning in the penthouse, I was surprised to awaken with my hands unbound. I’d fallen asleep with them still tied, the ropes burning into my wrists as severely as the feeling of captivity was burned into my mind. A silent messenger, the unused rope lay beside me. When had he released me? During the night, or perhaps not until morning? And what of the rope? Was it there to remind me of my submission? His dominance? For him to use again? As I rubbed the small indentations still marking my wrists, I pondered the feelings that rushed back into my body. What was happening to me?
As I recalled the events of the previous night, it was difficult to bring them into focus; so much was wrapped up in raw sensations. It did occur to me that I’d been drugged, but I felt no effects of drugs. I was clear-headed, the erotic fog having lifted, though the erotic feelings in my body were still present, a reverberating echo that would continue on through the next day.
Again, I found Dominick in the atrium with his paper and coffee, though this time, rather than order me out of the robe, he looked up from his reading, smiled thinly and suggested that I get dressed.
Oh, shit! my first thought.
My second thought, that maybe I’d run out of luck, or my lovemaking skills were no longer needed, or the red hair that had so infatuated him previously was no longer a turn-on. I pondered dressing in my own clothes and slipping out before he could find me. But his grip on me was firm; I could not slip quietly into the rest of my life without first making my case. Thirty-six hours together and we had yet to have that important conversation.
I returned to the atrium some minutes later dressed in the jeans and t-shirt he’d given me. He smiled this time. He was less terse, more like the man who’d greeted me at his front door. Immediately, he rose from his chair, and after telling me to follow him, he led the way to his study—a room I would never have found had I searched for days. A secret latch in the living room wall popped open a sizeable door in the paneling, and we entered into an office that was as plush and modern as the rest of his house. The far wall was a bank of windows looking out on the city’s skyline and the bright clear blue of the morning sky. In the center of the room was his desk—which he sat behind—and in front of that, a chair where he motioned for me to sit.
I liked the distance between us. It seemed safe given the apparent gravity of the situation, something I detected from the man’s change in mood. The sunny disposition that greeted me in the atrium had turned decidedly somber and I suspected that the much anticipated conversation was about to take place.
“We have things to discuss,” he opened.
“Yes, you told me that yesterday,” I was quick to remind him.
“I’m sure I did. I wanted to keep your mind working. Not that I couldn’t see the gears grinding each step of the way. I know you have your agenda. But, frankly. I wasn’t yet ready to hear what you had to say—not until
now. So tell me about last night.”
“Last night?”
“Yes, last night. Don’t make me repeat it again.”
“Last night, well…I was so… well.” My hands were sweating, my mind racing fast. I’d had plenty of things already rehearsed, but at the moment, I could hardly think of an intelligent thing to say. The most I managed was a meager, “I felt like I’d been drugged.”
“You weren’t,” he stated flatly, his expression still grim.
I was starting off on the wrong foot, I could see that right away. “Yes, yes, I know I wasn’t drugged. It was just the feeling. The fog. The sex. All so overwhelming.”
“Overwhelming is good.” He smiled, though it was a terse and officious one. “So, tell me, Lana. If you were to have what you want most right now, what would that be?”
This was certainly not what I expected him to say, and I had to struggle to come up with a decent answer.
“Like, what do I want more than anything else?”
“Yes, like what do you want more than anything else?”
The emotion of the moment coupled with my nervous excitement was making it difficult to stay in control. Not to mention the fact that he was bastard enough to just repeat my question like I didn’t hear him in the first place. I was just buying time, and now suddenly on the spot, I blurted out the only thing I knew for certain. “I want a job at a magazine, editor, writer…whatever I can get hired to do. It’s what I’ve wanted since I started college and what keeps eluding me. Soon as I think I have that job in hand it just slips away, like some bad angel is there to snatch it from me.”
“A magazine? Hm. What else?”
“I honestly don’t know beyond that. If I could wipe away my mistakes, that would be nice, too. But since that sort of thing is impossible, I suppose a good job would eventually get me what I need.”
“And what are your errors, Lana?”
“Oh,” I sighed, “Bad decisions, bad boyfriends, bad luck. The usual stuff.”
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