by Vivi Paige
“Please, sir, may I come?” she wailed.
I lifted my mouth from between her sweet cheeks long enough to blurt, “Come.”
Ella shoved her face in the pillow and screamed several times, her body heaving as it sucked in great gusts of air. A spurt of juice splashed between my fingers and onto the mattress.
Taking the hook in my hand, I applied a generous amount of lube to the sphere before pressing it against her well-licked dark star. Ella hissed as the sphere stretched her wider than my fingers or tongue had of yet.
“It’s so big,” she gasped.
“Are you okay, Cinderella?” I asked.
“More lube, sir?”
“Of course.” I applied more, working it about with my finger. Ella shuddered as I resumed the insertion process.
“You take such good care of me, sir,” Ella pushed through gritted teeth. She gasped and sighed as the sphere made it in past her ring of muscle at last.
I inserted the hook fully and then left it laying flush against her lower back as I went to the headboard.
“Awww,” Ella said with disappointment as I untied the necktie from the headboard.
“Don’t speak too soon.” I pulled the necktie back over her head. This forced Ella to put her bound wrists behind her head, and I made sure they remained there by tying the necktie off to the convenient ring in the end of the anal hook buried in her ass.
“This is diabolically clever,” Ella murmured. “Oh my god, sir. Oh my god, I can’t believe you’ve done this to me. I feel like a, a violated pretzel.”
We both laughed, and I slapped her firmly on the bottom, which of course caused the hook to move around inside of her. Ella moaned, and I caressed her reddening flesh.
“It gets better. Up on your knees.”
“Oh, come on,” Ella said with a helpless laugh. “How am I supposed to do that?”
“I don’t know, but it’s going to be fun watching you try,” I said, grabbing my stiffening rod. “I’m going to jerk off while you struggle. If you can’t make it to your knees before I come, you’ll be punished.”
“Sir is an asshole,” Ella said with a boisterous laugh. “Aaah!”
She rocked back and forth on the mattress until she wound up on her side. Ella checked my progress, noticing that I was at full mast with anchors aweigh.
“Mmm,” she said, licking her lips. “Sir has an excellent cock.”
“I’m getting pretty close. You better hurry,” I said in a strained voice. “You’re being counterproductive.”
“Am I? Who says I don’t want to be punished?” Ella muttered, thrusting out her tongue. She arched her back forward, bringing her knees to her chest. Then she rolled over onto her legs and straightened up into a perfect kneel. “The hook made that so much harder.”
“That was the point.” I climbed up onto the bed with her, lying down on my back adjacent to where she knelt. I put my hands behind my head, my erect member pointing up like a sundial. Arrogantly, I gestured at my rod.
“Get up on my cock, Cinderella,” I said. “Midnight’s a long way off, and you belong to me.”
Ella’s eyes narrowed, glazed over with lust. The hook was working its magic, stimulating nerves in her G-spot, which had her wide open and eager to encompass me within her warm embrace. But I had not made it easy on her.
Then she half-sneered, half-grinned, and started inching her way toward me on her knees. She yelped as the hook dug more snugly into her body but persevered until she managed to straddle me.
“You’re most of the way there.” I stared up past her magnificent breasts to her sweating, straining face.
Ella struggled to get to one knee, falling down several times. On the fourth try she remained in the precariously balanced position, her wide-open pussy hovering right over my glistening crown. I took pity on her and grabbed my shaft, helping to guide it inside. Ella slid down on top of me, her eyes fluttering closed and her jaw dropping open.
“Good girl,” I said, stroking her recently tormented nipples. “Now that you’ve made it, I want you to swivel those hips like a dirty, sleazy stripper slut. Give me a decent hump.”
Ella leered down at me, biting her lower lip and chuckling low and sultry in her throat.
“Oh, sir,” she said. “I’m going to do so much more than just give you a decent hump. I’m going to fuck your brains out.”
With that she shot her hips out with piston-like power, working within the confines of her many restraints but still controlling her core with aplomb. My eyes widened, mouth flying open to allow a surprised and lusty grunt to escape.
“Do you like that, sir?” she asked between pants, staring down at me with a kind of fierce, lusty determination.
I couldn’t answer. I tried, my mouth opened, but all that came out was a strangled, inarticulate grunt. Ella had been holding out on me before. She had done some training down there, for certain. She tightened herself around my rod with surprising strength, rocking and swiveling her hips in synch to milk me like a dairy cow.
My hands flew up to her breasts, crushing them in my grip. I thought if I distracted her, she might show me mercy, but no. It only seemed to spur her to greater vigor, riding me like I were a winged stallion and she a fierce Valkyrie. The tighter I dug my fingers into her tender tit flesh, the harder she rode me.
Though she was tied hand and foot with a metal hook buried in her ass, I was very much her prisoner in that moment.
I lost track of how many times I spurted off inside of her talented love tunnel. Her tight grip on my shaft kept the blood from running out, an organic virtual cock ring. She asked for permission to come at least ten times, and I was starting to wonder if I’d created a monster when she finally began to slow down.
She still rode me for several more minutes, but eventually she collapsed on top of me, panting and cooing and kissing me all over my face and neck.
“Was that decent, sir?” she asked, licking me behind my ear.
All I could do was laugh in utter, complete blissful helplessness. She knew well what the answer was, just as she knew that was all I could muster at the moment.
I’m not a religious man, but in that moment, I did believe in heaven on earth.
Chapter Twenty
It took some convincing, but Deryk agreed that we needed more to eat than just military rations. A ninety-minute round trip for food seemed excessive and ate into the time we shared together.
After the first few days, the midnight rule vanished like water on a hot griddle. I slept in his room, when we slept at all, that is. Jimmy the Bull had by and large given up on trying to catch Deryk in the act with drugs and self-isolated in the guest house.
That freed Deryk and me up to, ahem, explore. After a few days, I couldn’t go to a single place in that woodland palace that didn’t make me blush with the memory of our sensual adventures.
I learned I was a lot more flexible than I thought, both physically and mentally. It wasn’t like it was when we were chaste teens. It was so much better. Now we could share everything, and boy, did we ever.
My tattoo was healing nicely, thanks to the application of emu and other exotic oils and Deryk’s top-care regimen. I was starting to warm up to the tat. The design was undeniably beautiful. And since he’d named me his Cinderella, well, it seemed appropriate.
When I was a kid, I hated that nickname, hated it with a passion. I’d even bloodied a nose or two in the girls’ locker room, if you catch my meaning. But when Deryk said that name, it was with such a mix of tenderness and lust that I couldn’t help but love the endearment.
I loved being his Cinderella. I loved being his, period. Deryk and I explored more and more of the devices and implements in the playroom. Some I liked better than others, but despite Deryk pushing me to my limits, I never used my safe word.
On a cloudy morning while I whisked up a batch of waffle mix, Deryk looked over at me and dropped a bombshell. “So, I’m having a get-together tonight.”
“
Get-together?” I asked.
“It’s like a thing,” Deryk gestured in the air as he tried to compose his thoughts.
“Can you be vaguer?”
Deryk chuckled, spitting out a blast of orange juice from his nose. Laughing, I handed him a napkin as he eyed me ruefully.
“You can spank me for it later,” I said, turning my bottom toward him and wriggling enticingly. I should point out that I wore an apron and nothing else at that point, and he didn’t even have that much on either.
“Consider it a promise,” he said firmly, steepling his hands. “So, this thing tonight is my dad’s way of trying to get me to reconnect to the family, blood and otherwise. I’ve sort of withdrawn for a few years.”
I didn’t feel guilty exactly at the knowledge I was responsible for that withdrawal, but regretful. Regret that I’d denied us both this glorious thing we had going between us.
“I understand,” I said. “You need to impress them, yes?”
Deryk nodded. “I’ve already got the best caterer in New York handling food, hired servants, valets, a hostess—”
“How rich are you?” I blurted.
“How rich are we, you mean?” he asked with a shrug. “I’ve got seven accounts, and most of the time I can’t spend them fast enough to deplete the interest earned alone. Crime pays plenty, like you said.”
I sighed and shook my head. “It’s not something I’m entirely comfortable with,” I said slowly. “The family business, I mean. But I’m getting there. Is that okay?”
“Of course, it’s okay,” Deryk said. “It’s a lot to take. I’m sorry I got so mad at you for breaking up with me. I should have tried to see it from your point of view.”
I looked at him suddenly as I closed up the waffle maker and flipped it over. A smile stretched my lips as I took in the sight of him.
“What?” Deryk said, arching an eyebrow at both my long scrutiny and silence.
“You’re sitting straighter,” I said. “Your posture has improved, and you look… well, you look happy.”
“I am happy,” he said, his gaze growing intense. “Ella, I’ve been thinking, and maybe I got so hung up on you because we were meant for each other. I mean, our lives fell apart when we were separated. Right?”
I frowned, turning back to fiddle with the waffle maker even though it was on a timer and didn’t need any fussing.
“You were living in a condo, partying it up while I was working three jobs. My life didn’t fall apart, thank you very much.”
“I didn’t mean—”
I held up a hand, pursing my lips. “I’m sorry,” I said with a sigh. “I know you didn’t mean it that way, but remember, I’m not fragile and never have been.”
“No, you’re not,” he said with a sigh of contented wonder.
A thought occurred to me, and I turned sharply toward him. “Uh, is this going to be a formal get-together?”
“You could say that. Not tuxes or black tie only, but traditionally people dress to the nines.”
“Well,” I said, looking at his cell phone, “I’m not sure what time this shindig is supposed to start, but we’d better move quickly if we’re going to get me a dress.”
“A dress?” he echoed.
“Yes, a dress. I can hardly attend this affair in a leather harness, or schoolgirl uniform, or whatever that ensemble I had on last night was.”
“Slave Princess of Jabba the Hutt,” Deryk said. “And you raise an excellent point. I’ll have a car brought over straight away.”
I slid into my skinny jeans and a simple knit top, and sensible heels. Shopping meant a lot of walking, whether Deryk realized it or not. If I was going to be allowed to purchase a dress, and money was no object, I was going to push it to the limit.
We went to roughly seven shops—I lost exact count after four—looking for the right dress. I settled on a floor-length aqua blue sequined affair with a slit up to my waist. There would be no wearing underwear of any kind in that dress. I knew I would have to step carefully lest I give someone a peep at a body part that belonged to Deryk.
But it fit me well, and Deryk’s jaw dropped the first time he saw me in it. So, I figured it was money well spent.
With my dress in a paper garment bag with the store’s logo emblazoned upon its broad surface, we drove back to the woodland retreat. We had to wait for a landscaping crew to move out of our way. They were tidying up the weeds and laying fresh gravel in preparation for the guests due to arrive later.
Deryk and I soon discovered that it was a full-time job managing the caterers, DJ—Deryk actually hired a DJ for a “get together”—bartenders, valets, and wait staff. They were consummate professionals, but they had to be shown where to set up, where to get supplies, and so on.
By the time we got everything squared away, the first guests arrived—a blade-thin but wiry young man with an impish grin and a blonde with pouty lips clinging to his arm like he was an oppositely charged magnet.
“Ella,” Deryk said, gesturing toward them, “allow me to introduce my cousin, Peter, and his fiancée, Belle.”
“Nice to meet you, Peter,” I greeted. “Belle and I have already met.”
She hugged me, and I felt the warmth emanating from her slender body. “I’m glad you’ve settled in, Ella,” she said.
“So, Ella,” Peter said. “What have you been up to since prep school?”
“Oh, this and that,” I answered. “Working myself to death at three jobs while my bitch stepmother spent my father’s assisted living money on shit she ordered from Amazon. The usual.”
Peter winced. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry,” I shook my head. “I don’t know where that came from. Excuse me.”
I left them and went to the bar. After a stiff shot of whiskey, I regained some of my composure. A lot of mobsters would be at the party tonight. I had to accept this, and I tried my best to deal with my new reality.
Over time, more guests arrived. Deryk’s cousin Will, a broody and muscular young man, seemed to intimidate everyone except the feisty redheaded Scarlett, his bride to be. There was the well-dressed, venerable but imposing Joe, an Indian man who Deryk claimed taught him how to fight.
A goofy but massive “button man,” as Deryk referred to him, named of all things Kermit, proved to be one of the more approachable of the bunch. That was, until he casually mentioned how unrealistic cinema depictions of sniping were—in far more detail than any layperson ever could have explained.
The party wore on, and I grew more anxious. This was the criminal element I had sought to avoid, but no one was carrying a body bag, or whipping out tommy guns to do a hit. In a lot of ways, they seemed like people. Not ordinary people, to be sure, but still human beings and not scary monsters.
As Deryk’s—what, girlfriend? Slave girl?—it was my job to function as a secondary hostess. I was used to this from my time in the restaurant industry, but it grew exhausting quickly. I met so many new people I couldn’t possibly keep track of them all. The tennis court was turned into extra parking, the nets removed as more and more guests arrived.
Quiet woodland retreat? Not tonight it wasn’t.
Eventually I had to get away. I headed up to the rooftop deck and sighed in the moonlight. My head swam with names and faces that I struggled to recall in any form of detail. Things had been so much simpler, so much easier, when just me and Deryk were in the house.
Or perhaps I should say, when Cinderella and sir were alone…
“There you are.” Deryk strode to my side, the cedars creaking under his weight.
“There you are,” I countered. “It’s such a cliché thing to say. Like, where else would I be?”
He chuckled and stood next to me by the rail, looking down on the party below, which had spilled into the garden and poolside area.
“I missed you at the party, so I went searching for you. I guess I was saying it to myself. ‘Oh, there you are,’ right?”
“Fair enough,” I replied.
My brow furrowed, and he leaned over to look at my face intently. “What’s wrong?”
“It was just a bit much, that’s all. Too many new people, too much booze, I don’t know.” I sighed. “Would you think I was a terrible person if I said I can’t wait for this to end?”
“Are you kidding?” He laughed and shook his head. “You took the words right out of my mouth. I can’t wait until everyone goes home.”
I leaned against him, and he put his arm around my shoulders. A gentle night breeze stirred my hair as we watched the guests revel.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Deryk?” I asked softly.
“That the valets have been on break for an awful long time?” he grumbled.
“No, you jerk,” I said, slapping him on the ribs hard enough he yelped. “Never mind now.”
Deryk rubbed his side and then his eyes grew intensely somber. He took me by my arms and pulled me in close to him.
“Ella, I love you,” he said in a trembling voice. “I never stopped loving you, but I love you even more now than I thought possible.”
It hit me like a slap. It was all too sudden, too real. The mobster party, hitmen casually talking shop, and now… this. Deryk’s newest declaration of love couldn’t have come at a worse time for me.
Tears sprang into my eyes. I shoved away from him and fled down the steps, choosing to go down the set in front of the retreat to avoid people. Deryk called my name several times, but the shock of my departure anchored him in place, or perhaps it was the sting of perceived rejection.
I don’t know what happened to me next, because no sooner did I set foot down on the front porch than I sensed something was wrong. The valet station had been set up beside the short flight of steps leading to the circle drive, but no one was in evidence.
That was when a hand clamped over my mouth, and stout arms encircled my waist. A muffled scream barely reached my own ears as something soft, folded and white fell over my face.
The sound of the party faded to a dull roar, and then I knew nothing but blackness.
Chapter Twenty-One