Authors: B. B. Roman
clit was aching at this point, so I slipped my fingers down toward
it and swirled my fingers in rhythm with
stroking. I quickly lost
my balance in that
awkward position—it had only been a very short-term possibility, apparently!—and collapsed
against his tensed body. I quickly found th
at it was far too difficult to
maintain both motions at once, so I pulled my hand from him
and considered my options going forward. I was totally out of breath and
sweat trickled down my forehead from my exertion
Part of me wanted to get one of the strap-on dildos in the box, to brandish it and fuck him silly until he begged me to stop—but that seemed just little too far to me, too
y that point, my clit felt like it was burning, my body begging me to massage away that tension I was unwisely holding so much of.
The shrieking desire of my body was drowning out the power I held, reducing it to nothing.
Dominating Roland had just made me want him even more, to relinquish control to the man that already seemed to hold so much already.
"Master?" he asked, realizing I hadn't said a word in several minutes. Roland turned his neck the best he could from his compromised position, struggling to get a look at my naked, pulsing body.
I was in the
. I needed to be where he was, and he needed to be where I was.
"Please make me come." It was all I could say, my fingers scrambling to undo all of the restraints
so I could make things right.
Roland sighed and collapsed against the wall, a very short-lived break because I immediately—and frantically—pushed him out of the way. I tried to line my hands and feet up with the restraints, almost like I was trying to fit into a mold of his body's proportions. He had to make adjustments.
"Fuck me, please," I whined. I loved how the leather felt around my wrists and ankles, my body perfe
ctly adjusted and opened to him like an offering.
"Normally I'd play my games," he said, a low laugh escaping his throat at the end. "But tonight, I'm letting you win."
I pressed my head against the cross and took deep breaths, sticking my ass out toward Roland
as I desperately sought to touch my flesh to his
. I couldn't find him.
"Ah, here we are," he said from a few paces away.
He returned to his position behind me and lined up with my ass. Thankfully, his erection was there, prodding against my ass cheeks, its mere
threatening to destroy my sanity. His fingers spread my cheeks apart and coated my asshole in cool lubricant that made me shiver uncontrollably until he pressed his warm back against mine.
That familiar feeling returned—I was
with it now because it seemed to be Roland's most favorite thing in the world—as Roland eased the vibrating egg into my puckered little hole. At this point, it was like an old friend, one that never let me down. My muscles struggled with it at first, but they had grown used to its width, used to anal pleasure in general. I accepted his remote-controlled, vibrating gift deep inside of my tightness.
"Please," I whined again. I had given up my opportunity to dominate him for this—and my body wasn't about to quiet down until the show had started.
"Alright, relax, my pet," Roland said. "I was just priming you." He pulled me toward him and grazed my moist slit with his erection, sending undulating waves through me. My nipples grazed that cross, hardening as sensation hit the sensitive nubs. With authority, he gripped the front of my thi
ghs and plunged into my wetness all at once.
"Ohhh," I moaned, a sound that sustained for so long,
an echoing, continuous drone that expressed so much about how I was feeling. I cried out even more as my muscles clenched him, almost like they were impeccably creating a mold of every bump and ridge of his cock.
Normally such an insensitive entry was undesirable—today, it was
"God, you're so wet, pet," he said. "You
"Fuck me!" I demanded. I had
for teasing right now.
ight then," he said. Roland began pounding into me, a relentless
that almost made me pass out at first. His thighs slapped against my ass again and again, his hand intervening and spanking me periodically to remind my nerves that I was indeed
, conscious and aware of this carnal experience.
The restraints burned into my wrists as I flailed about so wildly, even with my incredibly limited range of motion. My breasts shook with each thrust, his hands occasionally grabbing for them and cupping for only a brief second.
I was on a highway toward my orgasm, moving at a rate that was almost surreal to me. No, I didn't feel like I was going to
at a climax—I was going to crash and burn, engulfed by the flames of passion. Roland pounded, his intentions clear, his body capable of delivering exactly what he wished. He groaned instinctively as he took me.
"You're ready, pet?" he asked, an entirely rhetorical question. He clicked on the vibrator in my asshole and I immediately felt my world disappearing.
"Oh god!" I screamed. The vibrations seemed to go well beyond the areas directly
affected. I gasped for air as my climax was unleashed, taking over me with an intensity that almost hurt. My screams echoed in the dungeon, reminding the walls—and anyone else listening—that this was indeed
I kept ascending, battling to even remain conscious at this point. Time wasn't a conce
pt I understood in that moment. The climax spilled through my body, its fiery path the embodiment of sweet torture.
came again and again,
each peak causing my shrieks of pleasure to re-emerge at yet an even higher volume.
It was hard to keep track of just how many times he pushed me over the edge.
Even after so much sustained, rapid-fire pleasure,
Roland's own finale kept my pleasure alive just a tiny bit longer. I imagined the look on his face each time I felt his cock contract and spill forth inside of me. The muscles would be strained there, his pleasure tightening his body like it was piano wire.
I liked that picture in my mind. I held it there until he was totally spent.
"I don't know what came over me," I confessed.
"Remorse over hurting poor Roland?" he asked.
"God, shut up," I said. "You deserved it."
Roland actually spent the night down there with me, something we hadn't done in a while. Maybe he actually wanted to, or maybe it was just a way to distract my wandering mind. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't convince myse
lf that he wasn't already aware of my suspicions
. If that wasn't the case, maybe his current business activities actually were
. Still, I was his slave, his pet, the one that he dominated—and apparently sometimes was dominated by—that stayed by his side out of desire, not obligation or coercion. I could leave at any time I wanted.
My feelings for Roland were mixed, a blend of confusion, lust, and longing. I still didn't fully understand if being his pet meant that I was his girlfriend or his slave—or maybe neither. Was this a relationship that was supposed to proceed toward a common goal? I still had the option to leave, but wanted to just keep it at that, an
and nothing else
. Even though my feelings for Roland changed on a daily basis, his spell over me physically never wavered at all.
Things improved after that
was a term that actually represented something quite vague. Romantically, things
. Roland seemed more stressed than ever, yet
when I was around
. He never showed any hostility to me, even when things appeared to go wrong. But that also meant that his sex drive was nearly zero, even when mine remained heightened after our experiences.
Overall, it was a very confusing time to be a woman in Roland's household.
Other than the sex thing, l
ife at home was as routine and normal as it could be in the home of a
something else, something very different.
Frederic and I had grown close, perhaps
. He began showering me with attention, almost as if it were something that had been arranged by Roland. I didn't believe that for a second, however. From what I knew of the guy, he was genuine, a real person that happened to be charming and attractive.
On the days I worked, he made sure to stop by, many times taking me out to lunch or to the riverside to take a break. God, his
just made me weak
the knees sometimes. I fought to control myself when I smelled his cologne. He could never sn
eak up behind me because of it—and that was probably a good thing.
With Roland being almost invisib
le, I was feeling things that were dangerously close to
, things that seemed to border on what felt like cheating. I was a sailboat that was out to sea, just drifting in any direction that the wind took me—except that my direction was starting to get clearer all the time...
Frederic had come into my office one day and sat next to me, scooting close after reaching the seat. "Marisa!" he said, smiling. His arm wrapped around my shoulder and gave me a brief side-hug.
eric," I said.
"How have you
been?" he asked.
Good, but w
hat's up with all these missing barrels?" I asked.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"I've been checking every day that I work to make sure the shipping manifests match the number of physical barrels. Sometimes it's off by one or two barrels," I said, thinking I was really showing how hard of a worker I was. His face seemed to flatten, almost to deflate.
What had I done here?
"I thought you were doing weekly checks," he said, h
is somber look still remaining.
"No," I said. "I thought I was supposed to match up the sheets each day."
"That was for your benefit, anyhow," he said. "Sometimes there are daily inconsistencies."
"Oh," I said. "Why didn't anyone tell me that?"
"It wasn't your job, Marisa," he said. He nervously bit the pen in his mouth.
"I just wanted to—"
"This means someone is stealing," he said, his face shifting from sadness to anger.
Had I uncovered a plot or something?
"Yes," he said. "The numbers shouldn't vary that much. Unless Roland is making
transactions off the books."
"Whoa," I said. "I didn't mean to
dig into something like this
"I think he may be doing things, Marisa.
things. He elected me to keep this company's reputation in check after his previous dilemmas in business."
I felt it happen at once, the literal
moment, the connection made in my brain. Neurons fired here and there until all of the sudden my lips were m
oving, my vocal chords engaged.
"I think he might have killed someone!" I blurted out.
I wasn't sure how to gauge his response at first.
Did he know about this sort of stuff already?
"I, uh, just..." I trailed off, suddenly realizing that I had already said far more than I should have. At least we were alone in the office.
"Marisa, you must tell me. I don't care about your allegiances to Roland. This is serious." The look on his face was serious too. Everything about that moment oozed
His hand gripped my shoulder and held there, ensuring that I knew he meant business.
"Ugh," I said.
So much for staying out of this one.
I proceeded to explain to him what I had experienced a couple weeks earlier, talking about the sounds downstairs, the text I had seen, the man showing up at the house. Frederic seemed to listen with utter fascination, digesting every word I said like it was just another part of a truly exquisite—and scandalous—meal.