Dark Obsessions Vol II

by Thompson, Claire

Mark’s cock swelled painfully at the realization he was about to see her breasts for the first time—the first time in real life, that was. She’d bared them for the world in Heart Thief, but only because the producers demanded an R rating.

  “What?” Alana said stupidly, though at least she’d stopped crying. She wiped a hand across her nose and his heart almost burst with tenderness. She looked like a little girl who had fallen and skinned her knee. But the little girl was being naughty. He had given her a specific order.

  “Alana, what did I tell you?” He couldn’t quite believe he was talking to the woman of his dreams like this. He couldn’t believe his own wonderful, masterful nerve as he commanded her to obey him. “I said take off that sweater and bra. Now.” He cocked the hammer of the gun to emphasize his point.

  With a small, sexy gasp, Alana lifted the hem of her sweater and began to pull it up over her head. Mark almost swerved into a guardrail as her bra-encased breasts were revealed.

  “Go on,” Mark said in a low voice, not trusting himself to say more. His heart was pounding so hard his chest actually hurt.

  Averting her face, Alana reached behind her back and unclasped the lacy black bra. As her breasts popped into view in his mirror, Mark had trouble keeping his eyes on the road. He would have pulled over but he didn’t want to attract any unwelcome attention.

  The pink blush that had started on her face was creeping down her neck and torso. “Come on,” he teased, hugely enjoying her sweet shyness. “It’s not like you haven’t bared those delicious breasts of yours to the entire world. Lift up your head and throw back your shoulders. Be proud, girl!”

  She lifted her head with obvious reluctance. Her lovely breasts swelled from her body like soft round peaches. The creamy skin was tipped with dark pink nipples. Mark’s mouth literally watered at the thought of tasting those perfect mounds of feminine perfection.

  “Squeeze your nipples for me,” he ordered, nearly drunk on his newfound power. “Make them hard.”

  When she didn’t immediately obey, Mark waved the gun, and her fingers flew to her nipples. She twisted and rolled the soft pink flesh until the nubbins were as hard as marbles. Mark had to struggle to keep his car between the lines, but he couldn’t resist glancing back repeatedly at his captive.

  “Put your hands behind your head, like in Heart Thief.”

  Again looking away, her lower lip caught in her teeth, Alana obeyed.

  “Ah,” Mark breathed. He could touch her if he wanted. She was that close to him. He stared at her in the mirror as he maneuvered through the traffic. He longed to reach back and twist her lovely, erect nipples, but he didn’t dare. He didn’t want to embarrass himself by coming in his pants. Plenty of time to touch her later.

  Turning back in his seat, Mark directed, “Keep your arms that way for a while, Alana. I like the way it looks.” He continued down the highway, his eyes darting from the road to his mirror as often as possible.

  Mark was no stranger to exerting his dominant sexual will with submissive girls, but up until now the exchange of power had been mostly consensual. Over the years he had cruised the BDSM clubs in the city, easily finding masochistic sluts eager to play with him. If they were attractive enough, he would take them to a hotel or let them take him back to their apartment, where he would whip and tease them until they were begging to be fucked.

  Sometimes he’d agree to see them again, but not often. For these women, the experience had been a game. They “let” him tie them down and spank them. They “let” him sexually humiliate them, simpering as they called him Master. After a day, a week, a month, he invariably became bored and sent them packing.

  As he pondered his rather lackluster experience as a Dom, he understood that the missing ingredient was love. Without passion, there could be no poetry. Without love, the intensity of a true exchange of power was diminished. Mark knew in his bones this time it would be different—because this time he would have his Alana.

  An hour later found them in the countryside of the Lower Hudson Valley. Mark maneuvered the car along an unpaved lane that dead-ended into a converted farmhouse. “We’re home.” He grinned in the rearview mirror at Alana, who was still half-naked and now hunched into a corner of the back seat.

  After their initial exchange, she hadn’t said a word during the whole trip, save for the monosyllabic responses he occasionally forced from her. After a while, they had simply driven in silence.

  “Put on your jacket.” He tossed it back to her. “There’s no one around here, but I don’t even want those horses to see you. You’re all mine now.”

  Alana reached for her sweater and bra.

  “No.” Mark corrected her actions. “Nothing else. Just the jacket.”

  Alana pulled on the jacket over her slender, bare torso.

  He climbed out of the car and opened her door, his gun aimed at her as she exited the vehicle. Stepping behind her, he pressed the gun against the small of her back as he propelled her toward the front door.

  Using the keypad he’d had installed beneath the lock, he punched in the code to release the deadbolt with his free hand. Opening the door, he gestured Alana over the threshold.

  “Welcome to your new home. What do you think?” He beamed at her as she looked around the large room that was comfortably furnished with overstuffed chairs and a couch set in a semi-circle around a huge old stone fireplace, a large rectangular wooden table and chairs set up to serve for their more formal dining area. Mark was immensely proud of this room, which he had spent many weekends restoring, furnishing and decorating.

  “Well?” he demanded, a little irritated at her lack of response.

  Alana glanced down at the gun and up at his face. “It’s very nice,” she said in her trademark, slightly husky, incredibly sexy voice. “Is it yours?”

  “It’s ours, Alana. Ours.”

  Alana didn’t respond.

  Frustrated, he grabbed her arm and pulled her through the space and along the narrow hallway. “This is our bedroom,” he said as he led her into the master bedroom, which was almost completely filled by a four-poster bed of dark pinewood, heaped with beautiful, handmade patchwork quilts. He had hung two whips over the bed, crossed in an X over a large ringbolt secured firmly into the wall.

  “Those are for you, sweetheart,” Mark informed Alana as she stared at the wall. “And wait till you see the dungeon playroom.”

  “The…what?” she said faintly.

  Taking her arm again, Mark dragged Alana farther down the hall. He turned the large key in the lock on the last door and opened it. Turning on the light, he pushed Alana gently into the room.

  Her eyes grew rounder, her mouth falling open as she clasped her hands over her heart. “Jesus,” she breathed, obviously impressed.

  The room was white, stark white. Even the wooden floor was painted white, just like in his favorite fantasy. A vast array of whips, riding crops, chains, handcuffs, spreader bars, ropes and ball gags hung along one wall. Across from them sat a large wooden chair with cuffs built into the legs and armrests. There was a padded bar, perfect for bending a naked slave over. A thick metal rod hung parallel to the floor from a large pulley he’d affixed in the ceiling, chains dangling with cuffs at their ends. A St. Andrew’s cross waited for his captive, its leather restraints ready for their virgin use.

  Mark turned to regale his beloved with all the wonderful, terrible things he planned to do to her in this room, but before he could get out a word, her eyes slid upward in her head as the color drained away from her face. Instinctively, he reached out to catch her as she slumped toward the floor.

  Chapter 2

  Alana awoke with a start, her mind muddled. It took her several seconds to get her bearings. She was in a bed, her head resting on a mound of soft feather pillows. When she tried to sit up, she realized her wrists and ankles were bound in thick black leather cuffs. She saw with horror that she was naked, and she let out a mew of terror. Her legs were chained together, her wrists attac
hed to a long chain that lay loose on the bed, its other end secured to a ringbolt in the wall behind her. The terrifying events of the past few hours, if that was how long it had been, crowded in on her like a dark, thick fog.

  “Oh god, help me,” she pleaded into the air.

  “I’ll help you, dearest girl.”

  Alana jumped and whipped her head in the direction of the voice.

  The madman who had abducted her was sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, his eyes fixed on her. He had changed from the driver’s uniform into faded blue jeans and a black T-shirt. He was actually quite good looking, and the thought somehow didn’t compute. How could someone so handsome be such a raving lunatic?

  “You belong to me, Alana,” he said in a conversational tone, as if they were friends, his lips lifting into a friendly smile. “I know you aren’t very happy about it at the moment, but hopefully you will come to realize I’ve actually rescued you.”

  Rescued her? From what? “Let me go,” Alana demanded furiously. “You can’t possibly think you’ll get away with this. People know me.”

  “Ah, but they don’t know me. No one in New York knows me, except the people I work for, and as far as they know, I will now be working entirely from my country home. There’s nothing to tie you and me together. Nothing of mine is left in the city. I have vanished. And so, my love, have you.”

  “Why are you doing this? Are you crazy?” She could hear her voice edging toward hysteria, her heart beating like a wild bird in her chest. Even as she asked this, she knew it was a pointless question. He was a stalker, and she’d had them before, though nothing like this. They were mostly social media stalkers, and guys who hung around the back entrance to movie studios and photo shoots, hoping for a glimpse, wilted bouquets in their hands, a lovesick look on their faces. A stern talking to by one of the studio tough guys, or once a visit from the local police, had been enough to make them back off, but this guy was in a totally different category. He seemed to actually believe the crazy shit he was spouting.

  “Crazy in love, maybe.” He smiled as if he’d said something witty. “My love for you is very special, as you are about to learn. You see, I like control. Total and complete control.” His smile edged into something cruel that sent an arrow of dread directly into Alana’s gut. “You don’t yet understand. But you will.”

  Terror rose into Alana’s throat, escaping her mouth in a scream.

  The madman who had called himself Mark rose to his feet and moved close to the bed, looming over her. “Shut up. Stop it,” he yelled, but she couldn’t have stopped, even if she’d wanted to. He pulled back his hand and slapped her across the face.

  After a sharp, stunned intake of breath, Alana just screamed louder.

  “All right, then,” Mark said, his mouth a thin line of determination. “If that’s how you want to start out. I was saving this for later, but if you insist.” He marched out of the room and returned a moment later with a bright red ball gag in his hand. Leaning over her, he pressed the disgusting rubber ball between her lips, forcing her tongue back and stifling her cries. As he reached out to buckle the strap behind her head, Alana tried ineffectually to twist away.

  He grabbed the chain that held her wrists and yanked it up, winding it through the ringbolt and forcing Alana’s arms up and back over her head in the process. He then reached for the chain between her ankles and pulled it up and over her body, also attaching it to the ringbolt. This forced Alana’s legs up into the air, as if she were in a hospital bed, immobilized after a ski accident.

  She thrashed wildly in her chains, but to no avail. Saliva pooled in her mouth and dripped around the ball as she squirmed and whimpered, but the deranged man only stared down at her with a nasty smile.

  ~*~

  She looked so incredibly beautiful, so helpless in her bonds. Mark stood for a long moment, drinking in the sight of his naked prisoner, bound and pulled taut by her chains. Now that he actually had her just where he wanted her, he had no idea where to start. Should he whip her first? Or lovingly melt hot wax onto those perfect breasts, letting the hot liquid splash here and there, finally searing her nipples with its fire?

  His cock was straining hard against his jeans. Reaching down, he unzipped his pants. Yes. He would make love to her first. Claim her in that traditional manner before he set about claiming her soul.

  “Alana.” His voice was hoarse with barely controlled lust. She stared at him, her dark blue eyes wide over the gag. “I can’t decide whether to whip you or fuck you.”

  Her eyes fluttered shut and her head fell back. She had fainted again.

  Mark moved closer to the nude, bound woman. Bending over her slack body, he carefully released and removed the ball gag from her mouth and gently wiped the drool from her chin. He released the cuffs and chains that held her legs, and they flopped back down onto the bed.

  “Alana,” he said softly. “Come back to me.”

  Alana’s eyes slowly opened.

  “Welcome back.” Mark said with a smile. “You weren’t out so long this time. You really need to stop passing out. It’s annoying. I might lose my patience and throw a bucket of cold water on you next time.”

  “Please let me out of these chains,” she begged in a sweet, trembling voice. “My arms hurt. My wrists, too. Please, Mark. Please.”

  She’d said his name. A shiver of pleasure rushed through Mark’s psyche. “If I let you out, will you be a good girl, darling? No more screaming? And you won’t try anything stupid like trying to run away, will you? I’d hate to have to shoot you.” He touched the gun, which he’d tucked into the front waistband of his jeans. It was unloaded, of course, but she didn’t know that.

  Her eyes widened with fear as they followed his hand, and he could see her visibly swallow. “Yes, Mark,” she said, her voice cracking. “I promise.”

  This was excellent. She was coming around nicely, and Mark’s spirits soared. Reaching up, he unhooked the chain that held her arms suspended and removed the thick leather cuffs. Perching on the bed beside her, he said, “I’m glad you’re coming to accept your new situation. We’ll start out simple. There are rules in my house, and you’ll come to learn them all. The first one is this.”

  He opened the drawer in the nightstand and took out four iron bracelets. He’d had them custom-made just for her and he couldn’t wait to put them on. Each bracelet had a clasp comprised of two small ovals, an O-ring welded in place on the opposite side. When he snapped the clasps into place, they would be impossible to open without the aid of a special key. “Hold out your wrists,” he instructed.

  With another fearful glance at the gun, Alana did as she was told, and he clicked the bracelets into place, first on her wrists, and then on her ankles. The fit was perfect and she looked breathtakingly lovely in his jewelry. “These slave bracelets symbolize your servitude and my ownership of you,” he informed her with a satisfied smile. “In return for your absolute obedience and submission, I promise to cherish and adore you.”

  Her expression was either one of horror or fear. Mark decided on the latter. “It’s all right to be afraid, my sweet girl.” He grasped her nipple and twisted, and she yelped in pain as she tried to shrink back from him. Letting her go, he stood and pulled the gun from his jeans.

  “No, please,” she cried. “Don’t kill me!” She covered her face with her hands.

  Mark laughed indulgently. “I’m not going to kill you, silly girl.” His cock throbbed. He could hardly believe he’d exercised as much restraint as he had to this point, but he’d wanted her conscious for their first time. “I’m going to fuck you.”

  Ignoring the look on her face, he set the gun down on the nightstand and quickly pulled off his clothes, his eyes on her the whole time in case she got any stupid ideas.

  Naked, he draped himself over his darling Alana. When she yelped, he clamped his hand over her mouth. Using his knee, he easily forced her thighs apart. His rock-hard cock pressed against her pussy. She wasn’t proper
ly wet, but he wouldn’t punish her just yet for that. Instead, he spit onto his fingers and coated the head of his cock with his saliva. Then, with one perfect thrust, he pushed himself inside.

  Alana screamed against his hand, but that just made him harder. At the same time, the hot, velvet walls of her cunt contracted around his cock as he eased out and then slammed back in. She wanted him! He desperately wanted to hold on, but it was too astoundingly fabulous to be buried inside his true love’s pussy, and he came within seconds of penetration.

  He slumped against her, breathing in the scent of her perfume mingled with the acrid, arousing scent of fear. Finally lifting himself onto his elbows, he looked at her. Her face was averted, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

  Grasping her by the chin, Mark forced her face toward his. “Open your eyes.” When Alana didn’t obey at once, he slapped her cheek lightly, just to get her attention. “I said, open your eyes.”

  She obeyed, and he saw the flash of fiery fury in her eyes. Not to worry—he would soon beat that out of her.

  “Thank me,” he ordered. He needed to be stern so she would understand her position. “You must always thank your Master for fucking you.”

  When she didn’t respond, he lifted his hand again to strike her.

  “Thank you,” she said quickly.

  “Thank you, Sir,” he corrected.

  “Thank you, Sir,” she repeated somewhat mechanically, but he would take it, for now.

  “You’re welcome, my love. Now we’ll have some lunch.”

  Alana hadn’t eaten much during lunch, but Mark didn’t worry overmuch. She would eat when she was hungry enough. He had pulled on his jeans, but hadn’t allowed Alana to dress for the meal. It had been hard to focus on his food with the naked goddess kneeling on her cushion beside his chair.

  Now he led her back to the bedroom. Sitting on the bed, he patted his thighs. She stood, naked and perfect in front of him. “You were a very naughty girl earlier, Alana, and now you will be punished. But since you’re not yet properly trained, I’m just going to spank you—nothing too severe.”