Submitting to the Enemy: Colombian Concubine (BDSM Domination Erotica)
Page 5
Salas slid a finger into my anus, moving it slowly but firmly. It was a tight fit, and in spite of myself, I enjoyed the pressure as he pushed it all the way to the last knuckle, bending it downward and awakening some deep, secret place inside me. Intense pressure suddenly flowed through me in rapid pulses, and I moaned softly.
Encouraged, Salas pulled out his finger and shifted forward. He rested one hand on the small of my back to hold me in place, and I felt the tip of his cock push into my crack, pressing against my anus, impossibly fat and hard. I grimaced as he stretched me open, then forced myself to relax as the swollen head penetrated my ass.
I could feel Salas's excitement in its hardness, like hot blood rushing through an iron pipe. As the tip of his spit-slicked shaft disappeared inside me, he pushed forward, and I cried out as he slid the rest of the way in with one smooth motion.
My eyes bulged with shock as he slid inside. I felt like a dainty silk glove worn by a giant, my tightness pressing in on his massive cock from all sides. I was aware of every detail of him inside me, and the tight pleasure of my hole almost overwhelmed Salas. He groaned and dropped my phone on the bed, forgotten.
Salas didn't move, didn't thrust. Instead, he grabbed my hips in his hands and began to move my body. I rocked back and forth like a boat moored to a stone pier as he slid me up and down the length of the rod that impaled me. The pressure inside me shifted, massaging that deep place again, coaxing rising swells of pleasure that blossomed low in my belly and rippled outward.
Despite the tightness that bordered on pain, Salas had kindled an urgent need in me. I put my hand between my legs, and when I brushed my fingertips over my swollen, quivering clit, my whole body spasmed, and my ass tightened around the big man inside me.
I touched that sensitive bundle of nerves again, more gently this time, and my hand matched Salas's rhythm. My breath quickened as desire became hunger, and soon I was damp with sweat. Salas wasn't moving me fast enough, and I began to rock my body even faster, fucking his cock with my ass as I pleasured myself with my fingers.
I pressed down harder, and the quivering buzz of sensation in my crotch grew to a forceful throbbing, as though my body could no longer contain the pleasure I felt. Salas felt it too, and he began thrusting against me even as I drove my hips back against his loins. His hands tightened on my hips, his fingers digging into my soft flesh, and he trembled, then thrust forward, embedding himself deep in my ass as he cried out.
I had only thought I knew what a thick hard cock felt like in my ass. As Salas came, his shaft grew impossibly hard even as it swelled and throbbed inside me. I could feel his hot juice fly out in quick, hard spurts, coating the inside of my ass, filling me to bursting.
The rising pressure caused something inside me to slip, and my own climax came in a shuddering rush, every muscle in my body tightening, flexing. My anus clenched around Salas's cock, milking the last of his seed out of him as his orgasm fell and mine rose.
I screamed, begging for more, pleading with him to pound me harder, and Salas obliged. Sweat streamed down both our bodies from the exertion, and my eyes rolled back in my head as white-hot pleasure scoured all conscious thought from my mind.
I don't know how long I bowed before him with his cock in my ass, but when it ended, I slumped forward and curled up in the fetal position, exhausted physically and emotionally, not just from the sex, but from the culmination of years worth of intelligence work.
Salas stood at the edge of the bed, his eyes half-closed and glazed with sated lust. He pulled up his pants and picked up my phone and handed it to me.
"Send the video to Ricardo," he told me.
Ricardo wasn't real, but the name existed in my Contacts list. I opened an email and attached the video file. Salas watched carefully as I hit Send. As the video file uploaded, I looked up at Salas, eager for his approval. I knew that making me send the video to my boyfriend was his way of proving that he'd broken me, just like a wild horse tamed to the saddle. The wild, fiery nature I'd shown while yelling in the hotel hallway had drawn him like a moth to flame. But now I'd done what I came for, and it was time to let him break me.
But he had broken me. If Ricardo had been real, I still would have sent the video file. Somehow, Fierro Salas had put me under his spell, violated my body and my mind.
And I wanted more.
When Salas turned to go, I said, "Where are you going?" I hated the worry I heard in my own voice, and the stab of sadness I felt when he turned to look at me, annoyance clear on his face.
"To my home. You will stay here tonight as my guest. I will have someone take you back to Bogotá in the morning."
"But I want to stay with you," I said. "Ricardo..."
"Ricardo will respect you now. There is nothing more I can do for you."
He turned and left without another word, and I slumped back on the bed.
Chapter Four
The next morning, I was ushered into a sedan - not one of the black Mercedes, but something far simpler - and driven back to Bogotá. The driver dropped me off at the apartment that was part of my cover story, and I waited until he had gone, then texted Cal to let him know I was safe. His reply took several minutes, and was brief: Take a taxi to Safehouse Delta.
Mike grinned at me when I opened the door. "Audrey, how do you hide those big brass balls of yours?"
"Hi, Mike," I said, not wanting to talk about what had happened. I gave him the earring, and he set it next to his computer and began downloading the data I'd captured from Salas's phone.
Cal came out of the back bedroom and looked at me with eyes as hard as his Ranger body. "I'm glad you're safe," he said, his voice terse and grim. We stared at each other for a long moment, then he turned and went out on the balcony.
For all his keen perception, Mike barely noticed the tension. His eyes were glued to the monitor, where columns of numbers scrolled rapidly down the screen. "Holy shit, Audrey, this is amazing. Wire transfers, financial records, account numbers... we can destroy Fierro Salas with this information. And look, this name keeps popping up... Prince Wajid Sha'ban Nazari. Why is Salas sending millions of dollars to a Saudi billionaire every month?" He threw up his hands in triumph. "We're one step closer to the Wolf, Audrey!"
"That's great," I said, but my words felt hollow. I couldn't share Mike's enthusiasm until I'd smoothed things over with Cal.
I went outside and found the former Ranger leaning against the railing, staring out at the city. He didn't acknowledge me, so I stood next to him. Only inches separated our bodies, but our hearts were miles apart.
"I'm sorry, Cal," I said. "I didn't see any other way."
He didn't look at me, but he shook his head. "You did what you thought you had to do," he said. "But..." He snorted in disgust. "Ah, hell. Forget it."
"No," I said, leaning toward him. "Tell me. Please, Cal."
He looked at me for the first time, and for the first time in all the years I'd known him, I saw sadness in his blue eyes. "I know you always put the mission first, Audrey," he said. "I know that's why you and me have never... you know." He twisted his grip on the railing as though trying to rip it from the wall. "I just wish you could look to the future, not the past. You may get the Wolf someday, but at what cost to yourself?"
I didn't answer, just rested my hand on his as I considered what he'd said. For years I'd been obsessed with bringing the Mountain Wolf to justice. I'd given myself to Fierro Salas, and I'd hurt the man I cared about more than he would ever admit. And for what? To chase a ghost from my past. Maybe Cal was right. Maybe it was time to start looking ahead instead of looking back.
"Cal?"
"Yeah?" he said.
"Let's get out of Bogotá. If your invitation still stands, I'd like to see your beach house."
The sadness in his eyes didn't evaporate, but it faded somewhat as he took me in his arms.
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About the author:
Fannie Tucker is a horny woman of indeterminate age who lik
es driving too fast, cussing too loud, and writing stories that would make her grandmother keel over dead.
She first discovered her talent for writing naughty stories while passing dirty notes to her boyfriend during English 201. When her professor confiscated one of the notes, he kept her after class and recommended a new and interesting line of work, and she never looked back. She lives in California with her husband and a Dachshund who rules them both.
The author of over seventy works of erotic fiction ranging from the kinky to the downright weird. If you enjoyed this story, check her out online!
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