Slave to Love (31 page)

“What ar—”

“Shhh,” he ordered. “Relax.”

The smooth plastic capsule paused as it kissed her rear entry.

“Mick!”

“I take it this is your first time.”

Panic assailed her as he applied steady pressure to the capsule. She tried to wrench away. He slid his hand up her spine and grasped the back of her neck firmly.

“Don’t struggle, Caro. Enjoy it.”

He turned the vibrator on and she gasped. “No! I— Oh!”

He pushed harder.

She didn’t want to like how it felt.
But she did
. She moaned as the steady erotic hum slowly relaxed her tight muscles. He rubbed the blunt tip over her, probing deeper each time.
Oh, God
. She couldn’t help herself, she lifted up to meet its thrust. With a cry, she felt it breach her, sliding into her forbidden passage.

“That’s right, baby, let it in.”

Her body pulsed, her nipples ached, her bottom felt like a thousand velvet insects were crawling through it.

It felt strange, it felt outrageous.

It felt so incredibly good.

For a moment he let her lean there against the counter weak-kneed and panting, then he wound his hand in her hair and lifted her to stand up straight. The vibrator continued its sinful stimulation within her. She clenched at it tightly.

“Walk to the other room.”

She obeyed him, but reluctantly, her whole body steeped in a hot flush of guilty embarrassment. She didn’t want to walk with that thing in her. She didn’t want to move at all. She just wanted to stand bent over the counter and let it make her come.

He pulled her to the wall of restraints and picked out two pairs of fleece-lined cuffs with clips attached to the buckles. “Put these on your wrists,” he directed, handing her one pair.

He didn’t allow her even a second to think about what she was doing, how she was voluntarily giving herself over to him so completely.

“Tighter,” he ordered when her fingers fumbled and she fastened them too loosely.

Her bottom was on fire. Aching for...something more.

Kneeling, he attached the other pair of cuffs to her ankles. As he buckled each one, he held her foot on the thigh of his chaps inches from his cock.

She watched hungrily as it bobbed rhythmically between his legs, long and angry, trapped in its harness, the purple head erupting like a helmet from the top, dripping with his essence. His swollen testicles looked as though they would burst out of the finger-wide band that constricted the neck of their sac.

Licking her lips, she lifted the pointed toe of her high heel and stroked up his prick, smearing the glistening drops that leaked from its tip with the point.

“Stop,” he hissed, and stood. “You’ll get your chance to taste its bite.”

He grabbed her wrists and roughly clipped her cuffs onto the ends of an aluminum pole about two and a half feet long. There were soft handle grips for her to hold onto, and in the middle of the pole was a ring. He clipped it in turn to a chain hanging from the ceiling, adjusting the height so her arms were stretched high above her head. All this in seconds.

Before she knew what was happening, she was helplessly bound, suspended from the ceiling. The pole and chain supported her weight so it was impossible for her to fall—or to move except in a tiny circle. She was at his mercy.

Her limbs were like molten lead. Her clenching muscles had worked the buzzing vibrator deeper inside her; she could feel it in there, creating havoc with her pleasure-center. Her clit twitched with exquisite need. She couldn’t deny the secret thrill humming through her, knowing her body was totally in his hands and under his control.

“What are you going do to me?”

He didn’t answer, but walked to a concealed panel on the wall. Inside was a keypad. He tapped a series of buttons, and the four oversized monitor screens lit up. Her image came into focus on the screens, larger than life, each shot from a different angle. Suddenly she was staring into her own anxious, terrified face.

He punched two more buttons. Music started playing. Something classical. Baroque, maybe. And her face disappeared from the screen in front of her, replaced by the back of her head and a full rear view of her body.

She yanked at her bonds, turned away, only to see another view of her bound, nude flesh. Wherever she looked, she saw her own writhing image from different angles.

She spun to him. “What will you do to me?” she repeated, suddenly unsure, panic creeping into her voice.

He stood before her, clasped his hands behind his back.

He should have looked ridiculous in those chaps, his flagrant erection jutting out from them like some ancient mammothly-proportioned fertility statue. But he didn’t. He made her mouth water. And her heart quail.

“What would you like me to do to you?”

“Let me go,” she answered.

But that was a lie of desperation, and they both knew it.

In the background, the classical music picked up its pace, mirroring the blood in her veins.

“What are you most afraid I’ll do to you?” he asked quietly.
Oh, God
.

She felt a drop of moisture trickle down the inside of her thigh, graphic evidence of her body’s acceptance, and enjoyment, of Mick’s tortuous game. Evidence that eventually he’d break her and get anything he wanted from her, willingly. Eagerly. Anything and everything.

“Fuck me, Mick,” she said, to distract him from a purpose she’d rather not face yet. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Where?”

The vibrator hummed inside her backside. Her muscles were growing tired of their resistance. Thick pleasure pooled all along her cleft, front to back, more insistent than she’d ever experienced. But she wouldn’t let go. She couldn’t.

“Not there,” she said, reading the curl of his lip with a spurt of dread.

“Liar,” he returned, and strolled around behind her.

She looked up at the monitor. His back had eclipsed her from sight. His broad shoulders, trim waist, muscular thighs captivated her. But best of all was his tight butt, framed in all its naked glory by the cut-away chaps. The powerful muscles in his glutes rippled as he tipped his pelvis toward her, away from the camera.

“Not that one,” he said, grasping her face and twisting it toward the side view monitor. “Watch this one.”

Her lips parted. She could see them both, him standing behind her, his cock in his hand. Her swollen breasts seemed huge, pushed out by the position of her raised arms, the nipples bright red and distended as though he’d just been suckling her.

His hand leveled his cock, aimed the tip at her back entry, and stepped forward.

She spun away. The chain yanked her backwards again. His free hand clamped on her waist, then slid over her abdomen to hold her firmly between the legs. His middle finger skidded over her clit and plunged deep into her, anchoring her fast so she couldn’t move away. His knee wedged between her legs from behind, spread them, and he held her feet wide apart with his boots.

She panted, struggled against his hold. “Mick, no.” But it was no use.

“Watch,” he ordered.

The vibrator stopped.

Her bottom felt suddenly achingly empty, her clit ready to explode, teased to frustration by his immobile finger. She felt slick, with lubrication and her own juices.

She turned to the monitor, panic growing exponentially.

He fisted his cock and brought it to her derrière, eased the head into her slippery cleft so the tip licked at her forbidden entry.

She whimpered. “Mick, please...”

“Please what, baby?”

He rubbed the tip against her, up and down a fraction, moved it in tiny circles. He felt blunt and silky, and oh, so hot. She tried to squirm away, but his hold was like iron.

He pushed gently. She tried to resist. She couldn’t. She gave way a little. He pushed again. She gave way a little more.

On the screen, his face was a mask of concentration. His eyes were glued to his task, every muscle rigid with restraint.

“Will you let me in?” he asked, rough and raspy.

“No!”

He pushed a fraction. She gave.

“Let me in, baby.”

“
No
.”

“Do you trust me?”

“God, no.”

But she did, and he knew it. Her body knew it, too.

Against her will she felt her muscles surrender completely, rings of acceptance radiating from the point of his pressure.

He slid in.

Just the head.

She gasped a deep breath, bracing for more. He held perfectly still.

She could feel the throb of blood pulse at their connection. Felt the scrape of leather straps and metal studs against her outside rim. His finger moved within her other passage, sending a wave of clenching hunger zinging through her.

“Where do you want me?” he demanded.

She’d already lost. She’d already won. He was in her. She’d had no choice. She’d wanted no choice.

“Deeper,” she said. “All the way.”

He pulled out.

“No!”

He tightened his hold around her, leaned his mouth close to her ear. “I can’t. Any deeper and I’d split you in half.”

“Then why?” she cried. “Why make me say it?”
Why make her want it
?

“You need to know your desires.”

“Not if you won’t fulfill them.”

“I will. Just not tonight.” He rubbed his stubbled chin against her cheek. “Now you’ll be ready for me.”

She exhaled with a quiver of displeasure. “I don’t like this game.”

“No?” He withdrew his finger, caressed her clit lightly. She saw stars.

The thumb of his other hand slicked through the ample wetness in her cleft, paused where he’d so recently invaded her.

“I thought you were going to be the killer,” she said, sizzling with frustration, needing something to happen besides this...this torture.

“First I have to be the husband.” He caressed her again, with both finger and thumb. “Be still,” he ordered when she writhed against him.

“No,” she said, and moved closer, seeking to prolong his touch. “I won’t.”

A swift spank stung her bottom.

“Ow!” she squealed, then cried out again when he pressed his thumb deep into her back passage. “
Oh
!”

He massaged her need with his finger, drew out his thumb slowly and rimmed her.

“Oh, God!” Her body went slack. Her whole consciousness zoomed in on what he was doing. “Oh-God-oh-God.”

She felt the first tingling of orgasm shiver through her.

“Don’t come,” he warned. “If you come, I’ll stop.”

“Too late,” she sobbed out.

Mistake.

He pulled his hands away.

“Will you come?”

“Yes.”

He stepped back. The tingling stopped.

Without a word, he left her hanging there in a blizzard of frustration and casually walked to the corner of the room, to the stainless steel sink where he’d left his kit bag. He turned on the water.

“Mick.”

“Yeah, babe.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Washing up.”

Stunned, she watched him do just that. His penis, his hands, the vibrator she hadn’t even realized he’d removed.

“That’s it? You’re done?”