by Hazel Parker
I knew better, of course. No matter how aroused I was, that didn’t give me superhuman strength to overpower Scott and have my way with him. But fuck! I just wanted him down there…
He did to my back what he did to the front of my body, kissing from the neck down, working his way down my back, to my ass, and down and up my legs. All the while, every spot shivered, every spot quivered, and every spot went cool and hot back and forth. I could see what he meant when he said he would take me as he wanted and that I would enjoy it—in a sense, he hadn’t even done anything explicitly sexual, and I was already begging for him to give me more.
Finally, after what felt like an hour of torture and teasing—if it was only, say, five or ten minutes—Scott flipped me back. His hands brushed over my belly, coming tantalizingly close to my pussy, but never quite touching it.
“You get one chance to back out of this,” he said. “If you say it is OK, I will not stop. It does not matter if you change your mind. So I will ask you now, Kaylie, and take a moment to think about the answer. Are you OK if this happens?”
Would I be OK?
Would it be OK if I finally came after being brought to the edge purely with words and kisses on my skin alone?
Would it be OK if this man who rescued me from long-term imprisonment and probably much worse got his reward?
Would it be OK if this beast got what he wanted?
“Yes, Scott, I—”
He moved as soon as the word “yes” escaped from my lips. He buried his head between my legs, pressed his tongue on my pussy, and made me arch my hips with a loud gasp and cry.
He went to work pleasing me. And yes, he was very fucking good. I fought the feeling of impending orgasm, not wanting it to come this quickly. No one could make me come like this; no one had ever come even close. And yet now…
Holy fuck.
I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t think, period. I was falling for him. I was falling madly for him.
He was proving his point that yes, he was fucking good at what he did, and yes, he was making me fall in love with him. Oh, my, fucking…God!
“Scott!” I screamed as my legs tightened around him, my pussy clenched, and warmth rushed through my body as I came from his tongue in what felt like an inevitable outcome of this encounter.
Scott kept going, even as my climax started to get to the point of too much of a good thing. I tried to push him away, tried to shake him off, but he would not let go. He was, true to his word, dominant in all aspects, including when this particular encounter ended.
“Scott…”
Still, he went. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of my mind, I remembered that wasn’t what he wanted to be called.
“Daddy…”
Finally, Scott paused. Seconds passed. He gave me one more kiss on my pussy that left me shaking like Jell-O on the bed before brushing back. He let out a satisfied breath.
“Oh my God.”
He said nothing.
“Tell me there’ll be more of that,” I said. “Daddy, please, I can’t be—”
“You knew what the terms of this were,” he said. “This would happen once. It happened once. You came. You got what you wanted. That will be the end of our sexual encounter.”
“Scott!” I said, forgetting what he wanted to be called. “I didn’t even get you off. I never felt your cock outside your pants. I have to have it.”
I reached back to try and undo the blindfold.
“I would not do that if I were you,” Scott warned. “For as good as you might feel right now, you’re going to be in a world of pain if you remove that.”
I stopped. It was tempting to ignore him and push past. But if Scott exceeded expectations with eating me out, he could certainly do so if it implied inflicting pain. I dropped my hands to my side, rubbing my body and squirming on the bed.
“Please, Daddy, take me with your cock.”
“No,” Scott said. “I have already done too much.”
I could hear him walking away. He was serious. What kind of a man teased and ate out a woman like this and never once pulled his dick out for some of his own pleasure?
It was, incredibly, one of the most powerful displays of dominance I had ever seen. He chose not to use his cock. He chose not to pleasure himself. He had that much control over everything that he could get me naked, make me come, and never once feel the overwhelming urge to get some pleasure for himself.
Holy fuck, this guy was something else.
The door opened.
“Are you going to stay?”
“Why would I do that?”
Why wouldn’t he?
“After sex?” I said. “You don’t want to hang out? If not cuddle, at least just spend time together?”
Scott chuckled. I swore there was something sad to the laugh; it certainly was not just a condescending “there, there” kind of laugh.
“If sex is bad, you think literally sleeping together would be good?”
It’s not about good or bad, it’s just…
“When the door shuts, you can take off your blindfold. Stay in here. And remember, you cannot see my face at any point.”
A couple of seconds later, the door shut. I yanked the blindfold off, hoping to see Scott standing there in surprise, perhaps even naked. If he was, I’d run over to him, get on my knees, suck him off…
But no.
I was really alone.
He was, just as he always had been, a man of his word. He would not let me see him, no matter what.
It begged the question, just what the fuck was I doing? Why was I trying so hard to get close to him when he wasn’t willing to even show me his face—when, if he had his way, I wouldn’t even know his name? Maybe it was a little bit of Stockholm Syndrome, but I’d never felt anything approaching attraction for Snake.
Scott was just…different.
Or I thought he was different, at least. I wanted to believe that he was different.
But no. That was just the fairytale dream of a woman who was desperate for some good news right now. That was just the yearning of a girl desperate to go home, hoping to have some fun along the way.
Scott was a man of his word. I meant that in the greatest sense and most tragic sense.
Chapter 11: Scott
I woke up alone in my bed the next morning, the rising sun providing a sort of natural alarm clock.
But even though I could not feel nor see anyone by my side, I could still smell her. The scent of one Kaylie Charleston, her pussy under my tongue from the night before, her skin making contact with my bare chest and shoulders. It didn’t matter, then, that we hadn’t actually slept together. I had woken up, she had entered my mind immediately, and her presence was consuming me.
It all came rushing back.
I’d started out as slow and in control as I could. Part of it was just because I liked to dominate on my terms; I liked to go at a slow pace, knowing it would make the woman beg for more. I wanted to hear her cry for me to eat her out or fuck her, and I most certainly had.
But in Kaylie’s case, I had also started slow because I wanted to give myself the out I could have in case I needed it. I wanted to give myself every opportunity to step away if my conscience took over, if a part of me got smart and said, “Hey, dipshit, don’t fuck your clients!”
That moment never came.
And then she tried to defy me. The little bitch. I slapped her ass hard. Again, I had multiple reasons. One was to assert my control. One was to get her to stop disobeying me.
And one was the hope that I wouldn’t have really crossed any major lines, but I still would have made my point to myself all the same. That was a far more aggressive mood than just kissing someone or brushing my hand over their skin. If I did that, maybe I could pull back.
That moment never came.
And then I asked her if she was OK with it. I hoped that she would express the slightest doubt. Even if she did not explicitly say no, if she hedged, hemmed, hawed, or otherw
ise had doubt, I would have reason to back the fuck away and never touch her again.
That moment never came.
And so, because of that, Kaylie came.
And it was because of me. I made her come. I made her orgasm. My words, my touch, my mouth, my fucking tongue. I, Scott, founder of DOM, had violated my third rule. Only a lawyer would say I did not.
What the fuck had I done?
My dick was hard. My brain was fucked, and not in the arousing sense. I couldn’t think straight, even as my dick wanted to go straight to Kaylie’s room and take what I had desperately wanted to do last night.
No woman had ever had this kind of effect on me, and it wasn’t particularly close. Because of little Kaylie Charleston, I had broken all of my professional codes. I had done the most unprofessional thing ever.
And I still can’t stop thinking about her. What the actual fuck?
I sat up and tried to walk, hoping it would get rid of the erection and let me focus elsewhere. I didn’t dare go outside, but I knew Kaylie would probably still be asleep, so I walked around the safehouse. Although I had a marginal amount of success, I still found myself repeatedly thinking about what it would be like to fuck Kaylie at different spots in the house.
I’d fuck her here on the couch, plowing her on the different sections. I’d bend her over the kitchen counter. I’d command her to ride me while I sat in the kitchen chair. I’d press her tits against the wall and pound her there…
Fuck!
In those brief moments, when I got a hold of myself, I started to think about this from a professional perspective. Did I even charge her mother the money now? If I was going to violate the terms of working with DOM…if I took her daughter for my own…
Did I tell Liam and the other guys? Did I admit to them that I was an enormous hypocrite who had failed them in the worst way possible? Did I confess the truth?
It was funny how so many questions came to mind so easily, how all the thoughts could bubble to the top of my mind, but the answers didn’t seem to come at all. I was so used to being in control of every situation that I did not have a good answer for why I was drawing a blank right now. I didn’t like it one bit.
I needed to finish the mission. Get Kaylie to safety. Get her the hell away from me. And then I could figure it out. I went back to my room, looking out the window, hoping—
I heard her door open.
That was…
That was against the rules. She knew full well she had to remain in her room, or Daddy would punish her.
But if I went out there right now, she would see my face. And that was a worse outcome than her forgetting she had to remain in her room while looking for some breakfast food. So, instead, I stood by my door, listening.
And wouldn’t you know it, the little brat was looking around. She wasn’t looking for food. She was investigating. Snooping. Exploring things that she didn’t need to explore. She probably thought this place was like the movies, where if you moved a piece of furniture a certain amount, a safe room would open up.
I could not fucking have Kaylie wandering around this place like she owned it.
I grabbed some clothes, found a hat, pulled it as far over my face as I could, and looked for my sunglasses…which I could not find. What the fu—
They were in the bathroom.
I took a breath. I needed to get my shit together. I wouldn’t have the clarity of mind to get Kaylie out if I kept acting this way. “Come on, Scott.”
I walked to the door, paused, made sure my sunglasses were on tight and my hat was pulled low. I opened it.
The sexy little bitch had on her pajamas again. I suppose that was “better” than walking out on her naked. These days, though, I couldn’t be sure.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I said.
Kaylie jumped in surprise. But then, to my own shock, she just smirked at me. Last night had made her cocky—a little too cocky. That couldn’t last.
“Well, the door was unlocked, I haven’t had any water since last night, and I was looking for some. Is that OK, Daddy?”
God, the way she said Daddy…
“Fine, but don’t you dare be this snarky with me,” I said. “And stop fucking looking at me.”
I turned away from her, even though I had multiple layers of protection. She had already seen enough, for example, to know that I had some black facial hair. With any luck, she’d forget the details, but it was bad to even have shown her this.
“So, what?” she said, apparently refusing to drop the sarcasm. “You can spank me, eat me out, make me come so hard, but I still can’t see what you look like? I can’t see the face of the man who gave me the best orgasm of my life?”
That was an ego stroke the first time a woman had said it to me. It wasn’t so much now.
“No, you cannot.”
“Why the hell not?”
God, this brat…
“If you can identify me, it’s bad for both of us. It sounds bad, and it is.”
“And what if I don’t care?”
I groaned. What did she think this was, some reality TV show?
“What if I won’t identify you?”
How cute. How cute of her to think that she knew better, that she knew she wouldn’t crack under some of the most severe, brutal interrogation methods in the world.
“And what if the CIA or the FBI has you in a holding room for forty-eight hours, interrogating you with no food or drink? You just came to me breaking the rules and bitching because you haven’t had any water for twelve hours. Trust me, if you think that’s hard, you’re in for some rude awakenings.”
Kaylie scoffed and groaned. If she was getting the picture, she was doing a hell of a job of bitching enough to make it seem like she wasn’t.
“And that’s the best-case scenario. You could just as easily get kidnapped again by an organization not related to the government, and if that happens, they can torture you because they know we fucked?”
“We didn’t even fuck!” she said with a laugh, but she didn’t find anything about this humorous. I could tell she was starting to crack. “Jesus Christ, who the hell are you? For fuck’s sake, are you supposed to be my hero, or are you someone the entire world wants?”
“Depends on who you ask.”
“I’m asking you.”
I sighed. In a lighter time, I might have enjoyed bantering with this bitch. Right now, I just found her fucking annoying.
I’m your best and your worst nightmare.”
“How reassuring.”
“You wanted an answer; you got it.”
I stole a peek back. Kaylie was looking at me with anger, but there was also a certain yearning behind those eyes, like she wanted me to say more and to show more. That was all I needed to see to put a harder stop to everything.
“I should not have done what I did last night,” I said. “It was…”
I came this close to admitting to her it gave me great pleasure and was an incredible night. I could not give that to her.
“It was something we cannot repeat. I need to think clearly and get you home safe to your mother. Seeing you naked is not going to help that. I am dealing with some fucking psychos, and your naked body is not going to help me accomplish that.”
“Or collect my mother’s money, huh?”
“Of course, I don’t do this shit for free.”
And yet, just minutes before, I’d contemplated if I needed to do this job for free for violating my standards. Little Kaylie seemed incapable of keeping her damn mouth shut for more than thirty seconds. There was absolutely no way she’d be able to keep what we did a secret of any kind. Even if I threatened her with death if she blabbed, she’d find a way to hint at it enough that her mother would pick up on it.
And then I’d have that fucking headache to deal with.
“So what percentage of the payment goes to spanking me like you did?”
“For fuck’s sake, Kaylie, stop talking like that.”
She had a sly grin on her face. She probably thought we were headed for another round of sex. Fuck almighty. This girl not only got me to do things like no one else ever had, she knew how to push my buttons.
Maybe that was why she got me to do things I never did with clients. She was the only person who could push me in just the right places, make me just hot enough that I had trouble saying no to her.
“I do, usually,” I said. “And after I get you home, if you’re good enough to find me, you’ll get what you want. But right now, we have a mission to focus on.”
That didn’t mean, though, that I didn’t want to bend her over the couch, spank her, and fuck her. Every part of me wanted to tie her hands to the wall, strip her naked, and have my way with her. I wanted her, and no amount of smooth-talking about the mission was going to fix that.
“Christ, the damn mission,” Kaylie said. “It’s all you ever talk about. Mission this, mission that. Why don’t you just—”
I moved over to her and literally shushed her with my hand. I thought I had heard something and needed her to shut the hell up. And then I definitely heard it.
A helicopter.
And four-wheelers coming this way.
“I think we’ve been discovered,” I said.
“How?” she said. “I thought this was a hideout of yours.”
“I’m not the only one who has skills in hide-and-seek, Kaylie,” I said. “Fuck, and we don’t have time for a blindfold. Keep your eyes straight ahead, and don’t you dare look back.”
“But—”
“I’m done talking; you will do as I say.”
I took her by the arm, yanking her past the kitchen and to a flight of stairs that went into a basement. In the basement, I flicked on a light switch that would automatically turn off a minute after no motion and found the trap door. I opened the trap door, ordered Kaylie to get inside, and followed her, shutting the door.
“What’s going to—”
“Shh!” I shushed her.
Kaylie didn’t say a word. It was damp and dark; the only thing lighting the way were small light bulbs I had strung along this tunnel every dozen yards or so. That left enormous gaps of space in between that was pitch black, but the goal wasn’t to have a smooth running surface. It was to have just enough space to see where one needed to go, and then advance forward.