Husband Sit (Husband #1) (11 page)

I
would have said
Enough
but he grabbed a handful of my hair in one hand
and my neck with the other and held me down as he started to fuck me again. It
should have been scary or demeaning or insulting or something. But
Jesus,
it felt like the sexiest thing I could imagine. I was restrained. He was
holding me still, as if I had no choice but to be fucked for as long as he
wanted to fuck me. Was this how he got back at his wife? Was she such a control
freak that he had to do whatever she wanted? Maybe she tied him up and whipped
him? Made him do freaky things to her?

So
if this was how he recaptured his masculinity, by fucking me any way he wanted
to, should I complain? I wanted to be fucked by one man so I could forget
another, and this was certainly the sort of sexing that would wipe every other
man out of your mind. So I put my hands out in front of me on the seat,
crossing my wrists as though they were tied.

He
must have been watching, because he said, “Yes, little paid whore. You do what
I want.”

Bingo.

“Anything,”
I said, although of course that wasn’t true. I suspected he just want to hear
compliance, not actually enforce it. “And I promise I won’t swear.” I could
care less if he called me whore. I knew it was all play acting.

“Good,”
he grunted, and I felt it then, that swelling that comes before a man orgasms.
It pushes against your insides, making everything feel tighter. Then he let go
of my hair and my neck and gripped my hips to hold them down while he
jack-hammered into me, those last shuddering thrusts that bounced me against
the lounge before he groaned out an orgasm that seemed to come from some place
deep.

Thank
God.

I
really didn’t think I could take any more. But I lay still and waited.

He
was quiet for a while, his hands still gripping my hips. Then he pulled out of
me and said, “Good work, Jill. I’m going to have a shower. After dinner you can
blow me then we’re done for the day.”

Wow.

Perfunctory.

I
was just blinking about that, wondering how often he planned to have sex with
me when he added, “And because I’m pleased with your performance, I’ll transfer
another thousand into your account tonight. If I’m satisfied by the end of the
week, I’ll double that.”

Fuck
me.

“Thanks,”
I managed to say softly.

Two
thousand on top of the ten I’d already been paid. If I kept getting bonuses
like that, I’d be able to bring Brittany home sooner. I couldn’t stop grinning
like a loon. And to be honest, I was pleased that the after-dinner delight was
a blow job. My nethers were over-worked, and I looked forward to resting them. I
liked oral sex, so that would be relaxing. And if he wanted to boss me around
and tell me how to do it, fine by me. Directions were always welcomed.

I
heard him pad away, picking up his clothes as he went, but I stayed where I
was, seeing how I felt about what we’d just done. I was calm now that it was
over. And I could also feel that there was no affection, no emotion with Damien
the way there had been with Finn. This was all about sex, and that was actually
a relief.

Whether
that crazy fuck had deleted Finn from my mind wasn’t clear, but I wanted him
gone, because no good would come from mooning over a guy who pushes you away,
especially one you could never have. I was sure the only reason I kept thinking
about him was
because
I couldn’t have him. But with luck, Damien would
keep me so busy planning by day and fucking by night, I wouldn’t have time for
regrets or what-ifs or whatever else my brain was gnawing on.

So
I pushed myself up from the lounge, squeaking the white leather in the process,
then walked around it gathering up my black bikini. Would Molotov still be
watching? Perhaps I should look pleased with myself? I wasn’t quite sure how to
do that, but I knew she’d see real enjoyment when I performed fellatio later
that night. I loved salty food, and I particularly loved the smell of a man’s
freshly washed pubes. There was a muskiness there that really turned me on.

 I
was looking forward to Damien turning me on, but first I needed to get clean,
heat up the mushroom pasta Molotov had left in the fridge, then work out what
sort of dinner conversation you could have after an hour of
fuck-against-the-wall. Maybe I could put some classical music on. That might
set the right tone.

And
no more swearing. Damien clearly had a set against it. Although...the naughty
part of me wondered how he’d punish me if I didn’t obey. I’d been scared when
I’d first seen his scars, and I certainly didn’t want anything like that to
happen to me, but I’d always wondered about spanking. With luck, I’d have that
curiosity appeased.

The
following afternoon I was straightening a teacup on the crisp white linen
tablecloth I’d had delivered, when the apartment door opened. I brushed shaking
fingertips down the skirt of my costume and turned to face the lounge room
door, waiting for Damien’s reaction, trying to stop thinking about Finn and the
text he’d sent me that morning:
I wish I knew where you were.

It
was such an ambiguous text, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. So I tried to
ignore it. The best thing I could do for Finn was leave him alone to work out
whether or not to stay married. I didn’t want any part of that. And I also
didn’t want to be fantasizing about him getting a divorce and coming after me.
That road led to melancholy drinking and low self-esteem. So instead of having
a pity party, I’d spent the day focused on the details of tonight’s
‘performance’ which I hoped would be memorable for Damien and myself.

The
delight on his face when came around the corner and stopped in his tracks was
worth the effort.

He
laughed softly. “A Mad Hatter’s tea party.”

My
shoulders relaxed. I hadn’t been sure that he’d
get
it, but he had, and
clearly it tickled him. I watched him strip off his coat and tie and throw them
onto the lounge. Then he strolled over. I stayed where I was beside the table.
He came straight to me and lifted my chin with a finger, inspecting the circles
of rouge on my cheeks, the wide gingham headband that matched my blue and white
Alice dress. I had white frilled ankle socks and patent leather shoes. The
table was set with eight places of fine china and several teapots. A
mad-looking top hat sat at the head of the table.

He
went to it and put it on before crooking a finger. I walked over to him and he
picked me up easily under the armpits and sat my butt on the table, knocking
several teacups over. His hands slid down the front of my dress to my thighs,
smoothing the pale blue gingham. “I had a crush on Alice when I was little,” he
said. “She was smart and bossy. Then I grew up and I wanted her to be older...”
His gaze met mine and I felt a kick of excitement. He was aroused. I could see
it in his flushed cheeks. A teapot and an Alice dress had got him hot and
bothered. I was dying to see where this would go.

“Did
you want to—”
Don’t say fuck.
“—make love with her?”

He
shook his head. “She was so clean and proper. But I knew the Mad Hatter wasn’t.
He was perverted, and if he got his hands on her...” Damien smiled down at my
skirt, his hands restless on it again. “...he could do anything to her, and she
wouldn’t have any way of stopping him.”

My
fight-or-flight mechanism kicked in then, and I tried to dampen it down. He
wasn’t going to do ‘anything’ to me. This was just a fantasy—a fantasy I’d
facilitated. I simply had to relax and enjoy it, but the edge of uncertainty
both tensed and aroused me.

I
tried to sound confident. “You’re wearing his hat.”

Damien’s
fingers tightened on my thighs and I caught my breath.

Relax.
You’ll enjoy this.

Or
at least I hoped I would. I didn’t know what to expect, but the last thing I
anticipated was his grip on my thighs tightening further before he jerked me
toward him. I fell back onto the table, my head clipping china, and I heard
something crack. Maybe I shouldn’t have bought Royal Doulton on his card!

Then
he spread my legs and pushed up my skirt.

No
panties.

I
had my eyes closed, not wanting to see crazy, but I heard his growl of
satisfaction. I expected him to rip his pants open and shove into me, but he
pushed my skirt right up to cover my face, then he gathered up my hands and
pulled them up over my head, straining my shoulders. I felt pressure on my
wrists and my eyes popped open, my eyelashes brushing blue gingham as I
struggled to identify...

He
was tying my wrists together, and though I instinctively pulled them away, he
wouldn’t let me free. Faster than I could say
unexpected bondage
, he
moved away, pulling the rope or whatever it was. Had he kept it in his pocket?
He was walking around the table so I just lay there on my back, breathing
shallowly as he tugged on my arms again and I heard a soft brushing sound. Then
he was walking back around the table.

I
pulled experimentally on my restraints and they didn’t budge. I was sprawled
across the dining table, my arms tied above my head, my skirt up over my face,
and not a stitch on underneath. It should have felt sexy as hell, but for some
reason I was scared.

“Make
sure you don’t block her view,” I said, trying to sound as if I was a willing participant—as
if I wasn’t thinking this had gone too far.

“This
isn’t for her,” he said, and I felt my pulse slow.

What
was he going to do?

I
licked my lips, trying to think of something to say that didn’t sound scared,
but I had nothing. Excitement felt far away, and I berated myself for not
giving Fritha my address and telling her to call the police if I didn’t check
in every day. After the debacle with Katinka, all I’d focused on was having a
lawyer make the contract airtight so I couldn’t be screwed—no pun intended.

I
hadn’t thought to lay down ground rules about the type of sex I’d have. I’d
just
assumed
they’d understand it was ‘normal’ sex, although of course
I’d hoped it would be thrilling for me because it was illicit. In retrospect,
I’d been careless and stupid in my rush to get over Finn, and if I got out of
this in one piece, I was damned well going to have safety backups in
triplicate! Unfortunately, if I disappeared now and my copy of the contract
with me, no one would be any the wiser.

And
to think I’d enjoyed giving him head last night. I’d made a meal of it, loving
the fact that he put my hair in a ponytail and gripped it, guiding me
forcefully as I licked and sucked him, playing to the bondage fantasy as he’d
told me what a wicked girl I was and how much he was enjoying my mouth and my
hands. I’d been completely turned on, lapping up his thick, salty offering when
it spurted out, and after he’d told me to leave his bed and go to my own, I’d
masturbated myself to sleep, thinking about all the exciting things that would
happen the next day.

Unfortunately,
there didn’t seem to be anything exciting about fear, and I’d started to
tremble by the time he pushed my knees up into my chest and said, “Are you a
virgin here?” Something poked at my ass and I squealed.

“Fuck!”
I shouted, completely unable to stop myself.

“No,”
he said calmly. Then holding my legs up and out of the way, he proceeded to
smack my ass good and firm.

It
stung like hell, but despite my fear, it also made my girl parts clutch in tiny
spasms. By the time he was at ten smacks I was starting to pant. My face was
hot and I suddenly realized I wanted him to fuck me. Hard. I could swear at him
again, but I was worried that there might be a punishment worse than spanking
and I didn’t want that. The stinging pain was warming me up, making me wet. I
didn’t want...more.

I
lost count at twenty, and it went on for a while. My ass would be sore
tomorrow, but just when I was thinking it was too much, he stopped, and my
backside plonked hard onto the table.

Ouch.

“Don’t
swear,” he said, panting, as though the spanking had been a great exertion.

Then
I felt something on one ankle before it was tugged up against my butt.
What
the hell?
This was starting to feel surreal, but short of screaming my head
off, I needed to go with it. So I offered no resistance as he pushed me this
way and that, winding the rope around my waist a few times before he tied my
other ankle up against my butt on the other side.

By
the time he let me go, my pussy was throbbing. I was stretched out and opened
up to him in a way I’d never been to another man, and for some crazy reason, I
liked the fact that I didn’t know him at all. I wouldn’t want to be this
vulnerable with someone I cared about—there was an abandon in the fact that
Damien would only know me this week and I’d never see him again.

Assuming
he planned to let me go.

At
this point, I imagined he would. For some reason the spanking had calmed down
my fears. I was horny and desperate to be dominated, and really, I wanted to
worry about everything else after I was fucked.

“Do
you think Alice would like this?” he asked me, sounding different, his voice
deeper and more remote. I wondered if he was still wearing the top hat.