by Trace, Piper
“Have I done something wrong?” she asked, hoping to gauge how angry he was.
“Many things,” he said simply, and her stomach did a little flip-flop. She stayed still, waiting, her heart now pounding with anxiety. Ford opened the top right drawer of the desk, extracting long, thin strips of leather out of it. He took one of her hands and tied a strap around her wrist, then opened the heavy, top desk drawer and dropped the excess into it. He slammed the drawer shut, trapping the lashing and pulling it tight. He did the same for her other hand.
She tested the slack. He’d effectively immobilized her hands. Her pulse fluttered and she felt her hands grow slick on the wood as her palms began to sweat.
He came around the desk behind her and spread her legs with all the care of an arresting officer. He wasn’t gentle, and without meaning to, she let out a small whimper that exposed her fear. He didn’t react—he just used the lashings to tie her ankles, just above her heels, to each of the corner legs below her on her side of the desk. He stepped back, she assumed, because she couldn’t feel him touching her anymore. She couldn’t turn her head enough to see directly behind her.
She wriggled, but due to the size of the desk and the technique of Ford’s bondage, she was firmly secured across the desk, her ass facing the door, her pink, flushed pussy lips exposed to anyone who might come in.
She could lift her head, but otherwise couldn’t move. Ford was still behind her somewhere. Her heart pounded in her ears as she strained to hear a clue of what was coming. She had no idea what Ford was doing or planning. He strolled back around the desk, stopping right in front of her. Though she couldn’t lift her head up high enough to see his face, she could see the crotch of his pants in front of her nose.
This also meant that she couldn’t miss how the fabric of his trousers stretched over what was obviously a massive erection. Ford was ready to go, and she was…well, he could definitely have his way with her, whether she was ready to go or not. She couldn’t stop him, or anyone else for that matter, from taking her any way they liked, for as long as they wanted, or as many times as they wanted, until Ford chose to let her go. She shivered.
With some shock Evie realized her utter helplessness and humiliatingly exposed position was making her very wet.
“Evangeline,” Ford started quietly, and his voice sounded neutral. She hated not being able to see his eyes—read his body language—especially when she was stuck in such a vulnerable position. He stroked her hair gently off her shoulders and let his hand trail down her back. She had her chin resting on the desk and when he leaned over her, the crotch of his pants, and thus his large erection, pressed against her cheek all the way to her forehead. As disconcerted as she was, she had an urge to nuzzle her face against his cock, but she wasn’t ready to let on how much she was enjoying what he was doing to her.
He leaned back. “Why didn’t you come to my bed last night?”
“I felt more comfortable in my own bed.” She felt awkward trying to talk while tied chest-down on his office furniture.
“It was not a decision I made lightly. I’ve never asked anyone into my bed before. Ever. It was very rude of you.”
She felt her cheeks flame, but it was anger—sudden and hot—that made her blood rush. She’d really wanted to come to his bed last night, and damn him for making her feel as though she couldn’t—for making it mean something. She’d missed out on spending the night with the two men, and it’d been Ford’s fault, not hers.
He began pacing around the desk. “And I saw that you used a set of my personal sheets on your bed.”
Evie’s eyebrows rose and her rebelliousness kicked into high gear, fueled by the pettiness of his last statement. “I didn’t know they were your personal sheets, and besides, you ruined my sheets.” She’d curled into a ball under those clean sheets last night and hadn’t been able to get warm. Sleep hadn’t come for hours, her thoughts jumping like firecrackers, sizzling from sex act to sex act, burning into her brain as she thought of the two men down the hall waiting for her, warm and naked. But she couldn’t have them—not really. Not the way she wanted them.
The emotional exhaustion of her troubled night washed over her in a black wave and she lashed out without thinking.
“Actually, I shouldn’t just blame you for ruining my sheets. Most of that cum was Charley’s. He did me twice in my bed last night. You only did me once.”
The smack on her ass came so suddenly and was so sharp that she flinched violently and cried out.
“I better never hear you talk like that, Evangeline. It’s disrespectful to Charley and me, and worse, it’s terribly disrespectful to yourself. You are not a whore, and I won’t allow you to talk about yourself as if you are!” His last words had risen in volume to a shout.
Tears sprang to her eyes, not from the pain of the blow, though not insubstantial, but from the shock of it. That, coupled with her overflowing frustration level and Ford’s raised voice, overcame her defenses and fat teardrops rolled silently down her cheeks.
Ford either didn’t see them or chose to ignore them. “It’s time I dealt with your behavior. You’ve kept secrets from me, you continue to be willful about what I ask of you, and you struggle with treating me with deference. Such behavior is unacceptable.” Ford’s voice rose again, and the ire Evie heard in it made her uneasy. She was, after all, defenseless in her position.
“Acting as I want you to act and satisfying me sexually must be your first priorities.” He paused for a long time, and when he spoke again, his voice sounded as if he now had his emotions under tighter control. “I’m afraid this is my fault. You trusted me to guide you in how to perform your role and I’ve been lax in addressing your mistakes with the punishment they merited. I will to make up for that today. Do you understand my intentions?”
“Yes,” she answered cautiously, her anger being edged out by fear.
“Evangeline,” he snapped, and his voice had the tone of correction. “This is your punishment position. When you’re in it, you will address me as Mr. Hawthorne or sir.” Ford sat down at his desk chair in front of her so she could see his face. His jaw was clenched tightly and his mouth pressed into a thin line, but his eyes sparked with something wild.
Leaning back in his chair, he folded his arms across his chest. It gave the impression that he was in no hurry, as if he had all day to stare at her, prone and bound naked before him. The idea chilled her. How long would it be before being held in this position became very uncomfortable?
Ford’s eyes wandered over her for a few moments before continuing in his coldest, business voice. “When you agreed to this arrangement, our deal was that we did things my way or you leave this house. It’s always your choice to continue, but if you refuse my wishes, you must leave immediately and forfeit the rest of your money. So I ask you now, with the understanding that you have no idea what I intend to do to you…do you trust me?” He lowered his voice to a wicked tone that sent shivers through her body. “Will you stay and take your punishment?”
He leaned forward so his face was close to hers. She could feel his breath on her cheek. She could smell his vanilla-and-leather cologne, which always made the scent-memory of sucking his cock for the first time in the library flash through her head. She studied the way his long eyelashes framed his dark green eyes, the curl of his strong lips, arching into those sexy dimples, his mouth so close to hers. Breathing heavily, he was so keyed up that the energy seemed to be jumping from his skin.
She knew why. According to Charley, though Ford desperately craved the kink she was providing him, he’d never let himself explore it before. Had he ever even done this? Tied someone up since that fateful time when he was sixteen and caught in the early days of his kink? Charley had clued her in. Ford needed her—not just to be at his sexual beck and call—but to be tied to his desk, braving his dark punishment, submitting to his strong will, and enduring whatever pain he wanted to make her feel for him. This was the fire he was missing.
Evie was sure she could do it. Even though she was frightened, she trusted him, and she could endure almost anything. But what Ford didn’t understand is that nothing physical he could do to her would hold a candle to the pain he was capable of causing her heart. Her and Charley’s. Ford might enjoy bondage and corporal punishment, but in matters of the heart, he was being a true sadist and he wasn’t even aware of it.
She was mindful of her own breathing, heavy now, and the blood rushing in her veins, heating between her legs. With a deep breath she had one of those thoughts that whispers through a person’s mind, but no one never says out loud.
I’m not sure there’s anything I wouldn’t let this man do to me.
Would she stay and endure her punishment? “Yes I will, Mr. Hawthorne,” she whispered. “Punish me.”
He wanted to hurt her, or at least he wanted her to let him hurt her. She didn’t understand it, but she did know one thing…her thighs were trembling as much from lust as from fear. She thought of the sight of Charley kneeling before Ford and offering him anything. This act was her kneeling, her offering to Ford. It was what she was willing to give for him, and for them.
Ford’s face softened and he leaned in and cupped his hands around her cheeks. Her skin was wet with tears, and she knew he couldn’t miss them. She could feel his hands shaking. He pressed his lips to her forehead in a maddeningly slow gesture. She wanted him to just let her go, push her to the floor and make love to her with urgency, his body weight on hers making her feel very small, making her feel enjoyed, used, relished.
When he pulled back, his lips curled into a smile, then parted, and suddenly she wanted a kiss from him so badly she was ready to beg for it. Her heart pounded, and she waited. Time slowed. He didn’t move, and she couldn’t move, her restraints holding her across the desk. The only sound was their breathing, heavy and quickened. He pressed his thumb across her bottom lip. She implored him with her eyes, waiting, pleading for a real kiss.
“Please,” she whispered finally, as the tears came again. “Please kiss me first. …Mr. Hawthorne.” His eyes looked into hers, and they seemed to be searching, for what, she didn’t know. Then she watched in sickening defeat as a cloud passed over his face and instead of kissing her, he rested his forehead against hers.
“Evie.” His voice was a whisper of anguish. “What am I going to do with you? Why do you make this so difficult?”
She could ask him the same thing.
Taking a deep breath, he sat back, pulling his face far away from hers and the moment was over. Disappointment stung in a sharp jab, and she dropped her moist eyes.
Dammit.
She was furious with herself for her emotions. She had to concentrate on the sex he wanted and just give it to him. That was the only reason she was there. He was not interested in her heart, only her body. And she knew better than to get involved.
She steeled herself with great effort to be professional. She’d done this a million times during arguments with lawyers in her job as a paralegal—no room for emotions at work, even in heated situations. Besides, if Ford thought even for a minute that she was interested in being his girlfriend, or more, he’d probably throw her out. He’d told her before there was no room for that in his life, which was why he was paying her for the convenience of satisfying his sexual needs with no strings attached other than money, which he had plenty of and no hang-ups about sharing it.
It was no different than paying his chef to cook his meals. Sex, submission…they were just Ford’s needs, and she was just another service-provider paid to meet those needs. Evie was merely a well-paid member of his household staff, not unlike his housekeeper or his gardener. That depressing thought allowed her to smother her emotions with relative ease.
Ford had leaned back in his chair again, his hands folded together casually. “After this day, I’ll ask you to assume your punishment position whenever you’ve angered me or haven’t done your best to fulfill my needs.” He raised one eyebrow. “Or maybe just when I feel like using you like this—tied to my desk.” He paused, maybe to wait for her to protest, but she remained silent.
His voice took on a note of irritation. “Recall last night when I pulled the sheet off you so I could look at your naked body and you grabbed at it, pulling it back up?” Evie nodded as best she could in her position. “In this house you are mine. Your body is mine. Whether you are in your bed or my bed, you are mine. If I want you naked, you will be naked. If I want to look at you, you will show yourself to me without hesitation. I won’t have you acting like a petulant child when I want access to your body of which I am entitled. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Yes what, Evangeline?” he thundered, sitting forward, tension rolling off his body.
She flinched at the aggression. “Yes, Mr. Hawthorne.”
“Last reminder. You have a safe word. Use it if you must.” Ford opened a bottom desk drawer and removed a wooden paddle, showing her both sides without explanation. Her eyes widened and her heart started hammering. He was serious! He wasn’t just going to spank her—which already was outside the realm of her experience—he was going to paddle her. With an actual paddle!
Standing, he disappeared from her view and she could hear him behind her. She started to panic, squirming and begging him. “Don’t hit me with that! I promise I’ll do better. Ford, please!”
“It’s ‘Mr. Hawthorne’, Evangeline, and yes, you will do better after this.” He smacked her naked bottom hard with the paddle.
She yelped at the harsh sting. “Motherfucker! That hurt!” she shouted.
Ford actually laughed, sounding pleased. “Filthy language, young lady. I’ll add one more for that.” SMACK!
“For—Mr. Hawthorne, no more!” she gasped, shocked at how the all-encompassing bite of the paddle took over every thought in her brain, dominated the attention of every nerve in her body. Every cell in her seemed to focus and center on the small, burning spot where the paddle had last landed.
“You are here to please me. Your body is for my use.” SMACK!
“Ow!” she yelped again. “Okay. I promise. Please let me up!”
“You need to understand what I expect.” SMACK! SMACK!
“I promise! I won’t forget, Mr. Hawthorne. I’ll do better. You’ll be pleased.” She was breathless now from adrenalin and pain, and she was begging him with all sincerity.
His voice dropped an octave. “I will use you any way I want.” This time the smack came lower and a bit softer. Somehow the change in his voice and the gentler blow shifted something elemental in her. Tears of a different kind—cleansing somehow—sprang to her eyes and she half-whimpered, half-sobbed his name. She felt him stroke his hand carefully over her bare ass, the nerves in her skin jangling. He seemed to be exploring the warmth she was sure was blooming there on her abused skin.
“Shhh, Evie love, I’m almost done.” Now his voice was soothing, but he didn’t stop paddling her bare bottom. Only his blows were softer now, almost enjoyable, and he sometimes paused to caress his hand over her tender skin. Surely her ass cheeks were red and hot to the touch. It might be hard to sit for the rest of the day. Tears now streamed freely down her cheeks.
“I’ll satisfy you, Mr. Hawthorne.” Her voice shook with the effects of the adrenaline and the surge of emotions pouring through her with every smack. The emotions were chaotic. She struggled against her restraints but it was no use. She had no choice but to accept the pain he was causing her. It was no worse than she’d expected when she’d consented, but it was difficult to bear nonetheless.
Ford came around to the front of the desk and dropped to his knees in front of her. He wiped her tears. “Is it over?” she asked, her voice tremulous.
“It’s over if you need it to be,” he whispered. “I know this is hard, Evie. I understand if you can’t do it. Please use your safe word if you need to.”
“But you’re not done?” she asked quietly. The thrill of excitement that blazed through his eyes
told her his answer before his simple “no” was uttered.
She closed her eyes. “Then take whatever you need. I want to give it to you.”
“Evie.” He said her name like he was making love to it. He took her face in his hands, wiping her tears with his thumbs as he kissed the corner of her mouth and across her lips with such love and gentleness that she was afraid it might break her heart. “I can’t. I can’t finish.” His voice was barely a whisper. “What if I love it so much I never want to let you go?”
Jellybeans.
“Please,” she begged, in an effort to make him stop torturing her with affection and turn his attention to back to punishing her instead. “I want you to do it.” She locked eyes with him, willing him to see the truth in her words. “Take what you need from me. That’s why I’m here. I can handle it. I want to show you I can handle it.” She closed her eyes, steeling herself. “I want it.” And she did want it, she realized, slipping a little closer to heartache.
He stood back up and took a deep breath. His voice hardened an octave lower. “Look at you, my pet. Bound, legs spread. You are completely available to me like this. I can have you any way I want you. I could allow anyone to use you.” There was no ignoring the large erection jutting against the front of his pants. He wasn’t going to let her go, he was going to fuck her while she was tied up and helpless.
And Evie badly wanted him to do it.
She saw his hands reach down, unzip his trousers and pull out his large, hot cock inches from her face. He put his hands on the back of her head and pressed his erection against her cheek. She could smell the pleasant scent of his skin mingling with his cologne. She didn’t know what he wanted her to do, and she didn’t want to disappoint him for fear that he’d pick up the paddle again.