Accidental Slave (25 page)

She had to have it.

“I want,” she said raggedly, trying to catch her breath. He smacked her ass, the force of his palm thrusting her body hard against the padded horse.

“Say it. Say the words.”

“I want…for you to…smack my pussy.” Jesus. Had she really just asked for that? Was she out of her mind? Yet she did want it. She wanted to feel the sting again, to experience the rapid metamorphosis to heat, to lust, to raw desire.

“Good girl. Always ask me for what you want. And remember, I’ll always give you what you need.” He smacked her sex, much harder than the first time. She gasped, a sudden sharp intake of breath. He smacked it again, though this time he let his fingers glide, catching and stroking her hooded clit. Waves of pleasure and pain whirled and eddied together, creating a combined sensation that was like nothing she had ever experienced.

Again he smacked her pussy, a rapid succession of hard slaps, the sound echoing wetly in the room. While she panted and whimpered, he drew his fingers along her inner thigh, still stinging from his earlier attentions. His fingers were wet, wet with her lust.

He returned his focus to her ass, methodically covering every square inch of her flesh with his hard, cupped palm until she was nearly in tears, her eyes squeezed tight, her fingers clenched around the metal legs of the horse. Just when she was about to cry out,
yellow light
, he began to caress and stroke her pussy, two fingers slipping into her wetness. She groaned, thrusting back against him

“Please,” she murmured, only realizing after she’d said it that she’d spoken aloud.

“Please, what?” He drew his fingers up over her clit, rubbing in lazy, tantalizing circles around it.

“Fuck me. Please.” He didn’t respond. She thrust herself back against his hand, desperate for him. “Cock. I want your cock. I
need
it. Please.” His hand fell away. She squirmed, whimpering with frustration and lust. She heard him behind her, the zipper of his fly, the shuffling sound of his jeans being kicked off, the tear of a plastic condom wrapper. She waited to feel his hands at her ankles, releasing her legs, and then her wrists. She expected him to take her into his arms and lower her to the soft carpet so they could make love. She was so aroused she couldn’t help but squirm with anticipation.

But he didn’t release her. She felt him behind her, crouching, his cock nudging between her cheeks, the tip touching her asshole, then sliding lower, pressing into her, filling her before she even realized what was happening.

She grunted, her body struggling to accommodate the sudden fullness. He gripped her hips and thrust hard against her. His movements caused her swollen clit to rub against the soft leather of the horse. Almost at once she began to climax, mewling her ecstasy with each perfect thrust.

“Oh God, oh, oh, oh…” The orgasm that overtook her was so violent she would have collapsed, had she not been held bound and bent by her position. She came to herself in time to be aware of Cole’s shuddering climax, his fingers digging sharply into her shoulders as he slammed ruthlessly into her.

He leaned heavily against her. Their bodies were slick with sweat, his chest slippery against her bare back. He wrapped his arms around her and found and cupped her breasts in his hands.

She could feel his heart thumping against her. She hung limp, completely spent.

She must have dozed a second or a minute, she didn’t know for sure. She was cold, the sweat drying on her back making her shiver. Cole had stepped away from her. He stroked her calves, his hands running down her legs until they arrived at the leather cuffs. He released her ankles and a moment later her wrists.

He moved again behind her and helped her to stand, turning her as he did so she was facing him. She reached to hug him but her arms were weak and she let them drop to her sides. He wrapped his arms around her and lowered them both to the ground, cradling her on his lap.

Elizabeth was overwhelmed with emotions she couldn’t yet sort through, confused, thrilled, elated, embarrassed, grateful. Grateful? She leaned her head back against the crook of Cole’s strong arm and looked into his face. He was regarding her with a warm smile, though his black liquid eyes seemed lit from behind with a smoldering fire.

“Talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

Elizabeth was not used to telling men what she was feeling. She would gladly tell them what she was thinking, and had a strong opinion on everything. But feeling…deep inside, those feelings that were at once frightening, erotic and deeply compelling. How did she describe them?

And what would he think of her if she did?

He was watching her, willing her to speak. She could feel his command, his control, emanating from him with a radiance that warmed her. She had the sudden odd desire to slip from his lap and kneel in front of him, dropping her forehead to the ground in homage—recognition of his mastery over her. The feeling was alien and not altogether comfortable.

Elizabeth was used to men kneeling at
her
feet, figuratively speaking. She bestowed the gift of her body and her sexual favors upon them. She had certainly never felt
grateful
after sex with other men. Cole had bound her in a humiliating position, exposing her pussy and asshole, leaving her vulnerable, squealing and jerking in her cuffs while he smacked her ass and pussy until she nearly cried.

Totally uncharacteristically, she’d pleaded with him fuck her, desperate for him, begging for cock like some kind of slut until he slammed into her, taking his pleasure with almost ferocious force. A lifetime of conditioning told her She knew she should be humiliated, angered to have been treated this way. But she wasn’t. Not if she were honest. No. She was deeply, profoundly grateful. And she just didn’t get it.

Cole was regarding her with a raised eyebrow. She tried to think how to put her feelings into words. A part of her resisted—to admit how strongly he had affected her was to give in, to give him power over her she wasn’t sure she was ready to surrender. It was one thing to give her body

—quite another to share her secrets.

“You’re holding back. I don’t want that.” Cole shifted, pushing her gently from his lap “If you really want to experience erotic submission as you claim, you have to let go of your reserve.

I understand it’s still new, but I when I said I wanted to claim you, I mean all of you. I want to possess you. For that exchange of power to truly take place, you have to bare your heart and your soul to me, not just your body. Otherwise, it’s just a game.”

“I’m sorry,” she finally ventured. “I can’t. I mean, not yet. I’m not ready to talk about it.”

She saw the disappointment in his eyes and felt ashamed, but still she couldn’t seem to give words to her feelings. Cole’s voice was gentle, perhaps a little sad, though he smiled at her.

“Okay. We’ve got time.”

He stood, magnificent in his nudity, his form long and shapely, the muscles sharply defined beneath the soft mat of dark curling hair on his chest and legs. Again the strange urge to kneel before him assailed her. He held out his hand and she took it, allowing him to hoist her up. She reached for him, expecting him to fold her into his arms. Instead he stepped back, shaking his head. “You were very naughty, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Rule number three. You broke it. And you know what happens to sub girls who break the rules, right?”

“Rule number three?” Elizabeth thought back frantically to the rules he’d laid out before bringing her into the playroom.
Respect, no masturbation…permission to come…shit…

That was hardly fair. It had snuck up on her, tearing through her before she even knew what was happening, much less had time to ask Cole for permission for something she couldn’t have prevented if she’d tried. She opened her mouth to protest but he stopped her.

“No, I don’t want to hear any excuses. Rule number three—no orgasm without permission.

It’s really very simple.” His smile was cruel though his eyes were dancing. “You were a bad girl, now you’ll be punished.”

Reflexively she glanced toward the puppy cage and quickly away. “Cole…”

He had followed her glance. “No, not that. You’d have to willfully break the rules to deserve the cage. This infraction was due to lack of training. You simply forgot, am I right?”

Elizabeth nodded, glad he understood this. “Nevertheless,” he continued, as he moved to pull on his jeans, “you will suffer the consequences of your behavior.” He stroked his chin as he eyed her. “I just need to think of the appropriate correction. From your response on the horse, a spanking is clearly
not
a punishment, not even on your cunt.” Elizabeth began to blush, though she couldn’t deny what he said was true.

“I know what we’ll do. We’ll combine correction with a lesson in the surrendering of your modesty. You have a gorgeous body but you aren’t yet comfortable with displaying it for me on command. We’ll work on that. For your punishment and my pleasure, you’ll masturbate for me.”

She’d been with guys before who wanted to see her play with herself and she’d always refused—end of discussion. Cole was right—as odd as it seemed in light of what had just taken place between them, with her bound and spread, she was, at her core, deeply modest. No way in hell would she bare her newly denuded pussy for his scrutiny while she made herself come. She wasn’t even sure she could come that way in front of someone else. The very thought made her anxious.

“No.” The word burst from her lips before she realized she was speaking.

“No?” Cole’s eyebrows raised and then knit over his eyes. He glowered at her. “Have you forgotten yourself so soon? I wasn’t asking you, sub girl. I was telling you.” He put his hands on his hips and regarded her steadily until she looked away.

“Here’s the deal. You’ve got five minutes. I’m going to go into my study and give you some time to think this over. When the five minutes are up, I expect to find you in my bed, naked, your legs spread, your hand on your cunt. If I don’t find you in that position, it will be because you’ve reconsidered what you really want. In which case, we’ll stop the training immediately and figure out where we go from here. That’s not a threat. But if you can’t obey my direction, and you can’t talk to me and tell me what you’re feeling, we might as well accept this isn’t going to work.”

Without giving her a chance to respond, Cole turned on his heel and was gone.

Elizabeth lay in the center of Cole’s bed, arguing with herself. What was it about him that made her so desperate to please him? If it had been anyone else, would she be there now, naked and nervous, though undeniably aroused by her predicament?

Was it just because he had managed to tap into this secret well of submissive, masochistic longing within her? Was she only using him in a way, to seek that intensity of experience?

No.

It was him, or more accurately it was them. Them together. Somehow, when she was with him, she felt safe. Calm. She was able to slow down, to still her normally racing thoughts. And beyond that, she felt as if she knew him. As if she could feel his feelings, sense his moods, experience his elation and disappointment. It wasn’t just that he understood her. On some indefinable level, she understood him just as completely.

Was this what he meant by the yin and the yang? A dovetailing of two people, winging around one another in a symbolic circle so complete they didn’t need anyone else? Was this the stuff of fairytales and romance novels? Could it be real? Could it be sustained?

He’d whispered he loved her. She hadn't responded in kind, not because she didn’t, but because he’d taken her by surprise. Those three words, words they hadn't yet said to one another in all the weeks they’d been together, had slipped past her brain, lodging in her bones, her blood, her skin, her heart.

He loved her. And, for these two weeks at least, she’d consigned herself to him—her body, her will, her separateness as a person. The session with the spanking horse had been amazing.

Beyond amazing—it had stunned her. Not the spanking itself, though she had to admit that had been incredibly sexy and hot, but even more so her reaction to it.

To be bound and at his mercy, forced to yield to him, unable to stop him. Rather than just suffering through it as an act of submission, she had burst through it, burst through the pain into something she hadn't expected. She had entered an altered state—yes, that was it. Pain and pleasure were no longer clearly defined or separated. Sensation was heightened to an exquisite degree. But there was even more going on. She couldn’t yet articulate it, but she knew she felt—

liberated. Yes. That was it. But why?

She found herself ready to talk now, even eager. She wanted to explore these strange new feelings with the man who had brought them about. He would understand. He wouldn’t think she was sick or crazy. He would help her explore what was happening inside her head.

But Cole didn’t want her to talk. She was going to be punished—no,
corrected
. He wanted her to make herself come for him. Though she knew performing such an intimate act while he watched was going to embarrass the crap out of her, she couldn’t deny the throb in her sex.

I can do this
, she assured herself.
I want to do this—for him.

As if on cue, Cole entered the bedroom. He was still bare-chested, his jeans slung low over his narrow hips. Quickly Elizabeth spread her legs as he had told her she must, covering her bare pussy with her hand.

He stood still just inside the door. She saw the flash of relief washing over his face and realized he’d come in possibly expecting her to have remained defiant. Would he have stopped the training then, as he’d claimed he would? Could they really go back to what they’d had before? She wasn’t sure they could, but had no intention of finding out. She would submit to her correction and continue with the training. The thought of anything less was, she realized, out of the question, at least for her. She wanted this—bad.