The Auction (13 page)

Next he unwrapped a flesh-colored dildo, this one substantially larger, and squirted lube over its head as well. He stroked her spread sex with two fingers, moving against her labia before sliding them inside her. After several moments he removed his fingers, replacing them with the large dildo. As it pressed its way inside her, Carly felt her vaginal muscles clamping around it.

From her semi-upright position she could see his erect cock outlined against his shorts and she experienced a sudden spasming ache in her cunt. She didn’t want to be filled with rubber and plastic—she wanted Adam inside her. She didn’t want to be strapped down and sexually tortured—she wanted to be in Adam’s bed, in his arms, with his cock, thick and hard, sliding into her wetness as he kissed her mouth and whispered sweet things into her ear.

Stop it,
she admonished herself.

Adam twisted the base of the phallus, bringing it to pulsing, vibrating life inside her cunt, sending whirling tremors of pleasure radiating through her body. He moved to stand beside her, reaching for her breasts.

“Pleasure,” Adam said, as he tweaked her nipples, gently tugging and twisting them, “or what your brain might initially process as pleasure, can be as intense and as extreme as pain. Prolonged sexual stimulation can become a kind of torture in and of itself. Add the overlay of the enforced discipline of self-control and the erotic suffering can be raised to the sublime.” 

Carly was barely listening. All she knew was that she wanted to feel his mouth on her breasts. She wanted to taste his lips and his tongue with hers. She wanted it so much she nearly begged, only managing to stay quiet by pressing her lips tightly together and turning her head to the side, her eyes closed.

To her astonishment, she felt Adam leaning over her, his mouth closing over her right nipple, the nip of his teeth sending a jolt of red hot desire searing through her veins. She could feel the rasp of his unshaven jaw against her skin as he licked and teased her jutting nipple.

His fingers, still slick with lubricant, found their way to her spread cunt, stroking and lightly teasing the engorging flesh of her labia and the hard button of her clit aching for his touch.

Fuck.
Carly felt her body begin to tremble, the telltale heat of a rising orgasm moving over her chest and throat.
No. No, no, no, no.
She stiffened, her muscles rigid, her eyes squeezed closed.
I will not come. I will not come.

All at once his mouth was gone from her breast, his fingers lifted from her throbbing clit. A second later she felt a sudden, startling shock against her inner thigh and she squealed her surprise. Another shock on her mons, just above her swollen sex, made her scream. Her eyes flew open to see Adam holding the shock prod.

“Did you come?” he demanded.

“No! No, Sir. No,” Carly gasped. And it was true. Though she’d been teetering on the edge of a powerful orgasm, the electric shocks had pulled her back sharply from the brink. The dildos continued to vibrate inside her, however, and her nipples ached for the return of Adam’s touch.

Adam eyed her doubtfully for a moment but then nodded, setting the shock prod down on the counter. Leaning over her, he cupped her breasts in his hands, kneading the flesh, rolling her nipples with sure fingers.

Carly bit her lips to keep from moaning. When his fingers again found their way to her spread, vibrating cunt, she shuddered and tensed. She felt as if her body was flowing along a molten, seething river of pure delicious sensation.
Just flow with it,
she tried to tell herself.
Don’t let it take you over.

Adam lifted his head from her left nipple and moved so his mouth was by her ear. “Go on, girl,” he said, his fingers again stroking her clit, “come for me.
Now
.”

At his words, Carly let herself slide over the waterfall at the end of the molten river of pleasure coursing through her body. Spasms racking her body, her vaginal muscles clamping tightly on the vibrator, her hips lifting against the restraint of the leather belt. It seemed to go on, and on, and on until finally she sagged back against the table, her heart thumping against her sternum, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

She wanted him to release her wrists and take the dildos from her body. She wanted to be gathered into his arms so she could hide her face against his chest and feel the beating of his heart against her cheek.

But that didn’t happen.

Instead, Adam flicked something at the base of the vibrator inside her cunt, making it whir and pulse even faster than before. He swirled the tips of his fingers against her distended, throbbing clit and almost immediately she felt the rise of another climax gripping her.

“Oh god.” The words were pulled from her lips before she realized she was speaking.

“Don’t,” Adam said in a warning tone. “Self control.”

“Oh,” she said, not in reply, but in an effort to obey him. His mouth closed again over her nipple, his tongue swirling, his lips caressing.

“Help me,” she whispered, not sure who she was entreating or what form such help would take.

It was no good—the orgasm was hurtling toward her like a wave, inexorable and relentless.

Then came the shocks, sudden bursts of pain like bee stings along her inner thighs. One touched her nipple, exploding in a firework of agony. The orgasm receded like mist burned away by a flame.

“No! No, no, no!” Carly cried, writhing in her bonds. The prod touched her again, on her other nipple, and then, worst of all, directly on her clit. Carly screamed, a long, loud wail that subsided into a series of gasps as she felt something warm and wet glide over her tender, swollen labia.

Lifting her head, she saw Adam crouched between her legs, his dark hair obscuring his face. His tongue moved in soothing circles over her sex, his touch obliterating the shock of a moment before. A sound pushed from her throat, a whimpering mewl. Again an orgasm threatened to claim her and she began to shake. She clenched her hands into fists, digging her nails hard into her palms, squeezing her eyes tight as she fought the rising pleasure wrought by his tongue, coupled with the pulsing, vibrating fullness in her cunt and ass.

All at once Adam pulled away, reaching again for the prod. Carly wailed in frustration and fear as he lifted it, touching the tip to her wet, throbbing clit. She screamed, jerking in her bonds, hitting the back of her head hard against the bondage table.

He was again between her legs, his lips gliding over her labia, his tongue swirling away the fiery sting caused a moment before by the prod. His big, strong hands were on her inner thighs, holding her, spreading her open in both a symbolic and real testament to his complete control over her body and her reactions.

It was too much—too much stimulation, too much pain, too much trapped, aching longing for something she could never have. She was trembling, her heart hammering against her ribs, her breath rasping, tears running down her face.

She began to cry, deep, shuddering sobs that tore through her even while Adam’s lips and tongue and the feel of his strong hands gripping her dragged yet another deep, consuming orgasm from her exhausted body.

~*~

She tasted like honey and fresh rainwater with an underlay of exotic spice. He loved the feel of her shuddering body, the swell of her hard little clit against his tongue, the breathy orgasmic cries as she arched and writhed against him.

He loved the way she took a beating, her nipples engorging, her cheeks flushing, the way she leaned into the whip once she passed a certain point of resistance and surrendered herself to its kiss. He thrilled to her reactions with the prod—the way she startled and gasped, though her nipples remained as hard as small stones, fairly begging for his kiss.

He hadn’t meant to lick her cunt, but its spicy-sweet scent had called to him, making his mouth water with the need to taste it once again. He reveled in his power and her reactions as he licked and teased his bound slave girl with his tongue. He wanted to lift his head, to tell her she could come, but he was lost in the taste of her, the feel of her, the sweet trembling of her body.

Then he heard the sound of her crying and he lifted his head, not sure at first what he was hearing. Tears were streaming from her tightly closed eyes, and her chest was heaving, not with orgasmic shudders, but with sobs. “Carly,” he said in alarm, reaching up to stroke her wet cheek.

A part of him understood what was happening. She was on sensory overload—he’d taken her to that point where pleasure and pain not only merged, but became overwhelming sensation—too much to handle, too much to endure. Her crying was her release, a way for her body and mind to process the flood of sensation he had foisted on her.

But another part of him wondered—had he gone too far again? Had he violated the bond of innate trust between Dom and sub? Did such a bond even exist when the play was bought and paid for?

Quickly but carefully he turned off and removed the vibrators from Carly’s orifices, setting them on the counter for later sterilization. He pulled the Velcro straps from her ankles and undid the bonds that held her body and wrists. He leaned over her, intending to scoop her into his arms and carry her to the sofa.

Before he could this, to his surprise she reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down toward her. Her cheeks were hot and stained with tears.

“Please,” she whispered against his ear. “Please.”

That was all she said, just the single word, as she held him tight and hid her face against his neck. Adam’s cock throbbed in his shorts, his balls aching with need. Without thinking through what he was doing, he reached for his fly. He jerked his shorts open and pushed them down his thighs, kicking them aside.

Carly’s arms were still wrapped around his neck, her face hidden. Leaning over her, Adam positioned his hard cock between her legs and pressed into the grasping wetness. Her muscles pulled him in, hugging his shaft. Carly arched against him, her low primal groan igniting his passion to a fever pitch.

Adam brought his arms under her, pulling her up against his body, thrusting deeper inside her. Her cunt was so tight, gripping him like a wet velvet sheath, milking his cock as he moved inside her. She kept her arms tight around his neck as she undulated beneath him. He could feel her breasts crushed against his chest, the nipples stiff against his skin. He could feel the thud of her heart, or was it his, and feel the puff of her sweet breath as she gasped in time to his thrusts.

“Adam, oh Adam!” she cried softly. “Can I come? Oh please, Sir, may I?”

“Yes,” he gasped. “Yes, do it. Come for me.” Carly’s cunt spasmed around his cock, sucking the hot jism from his cock and balls. He groaned, holding her tight against him until his own shudders subsided.

Their bodies were slick with sweat when he finally let her go and pushed himself to a standing position. She lay sprawled on the bondage table, her eyes closed, her long, wild curls like a lion’s mane around her flushed face, her chest slowly rising and falling, her cunt glistening like a sticky, crushed orchid between her spread legs.

Adam stared at her for a long time, as the sweat cooled and dried on his body and his heart resumed its normal beat. He hadn’t planned to fuck her. The intent—the purpose of this exercise was to break her down through sexual release—to force her into multiple orgasms and in so doing to take her deeper into sexual submission.

Instead he’d been the one enslaved—by her scent, the feel of her skin, the power of her reactions, the lure of her raw sexuality.

Adam Wise was not a man who fell in love. He’d been involved with a number of women over the years, all of them beautiful, all of them sophisticated, elegant and, he realized now, as cold and emotionally shut down as he was.

It was safer that way—that’s what he’d always believed. It was cleaner too, less complicated, less draining. After his brief and disastrous marriage in his early twenties to a woman who’d ground his heart like glass beneath her heel, he’d vowed never again to let himself be ruled by his emotions or his cock.

This whole slave-for-hire situation had been ideal—no unrealistic expectations or illusions on either side. Both he and Carly knew just exactly what they were getting, and that was that. No strings, no messy emotional complications, no miscommunications or recriminations.

Okay, so what was the problem? Why did he feel so strange, so raw and vulnerable? He’d fucked her—so what? That was his prerogative. It was expected—it was part of the package. She was really little more than a kinky prostitute, when you got down to it—a very expensive kinky whore. Definitely not someone worthy of love.

Love!

Adam snorted at the absurd notion and stepped back, bending down to grab his shorts. “Carly,” he said as he pulled them on. When she didn’t respond, he snapped, “Carly! Look at me.”

She opened her eyes and fixed them on his face. Closing her legs, she lifted herself to a sitting position. “Yes, Sir?”

“Did you come without permission during the exercise?”

“The…exercise?”

Adam saw the hurt in her eyes. He ignored it. “Answer the question.”

A blush pinked her cheeks. “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.”

Adam nodded. “Like I said before—we’ve got time.” He grinned, relieved to feel the uncomfortable tide of confused emotions draining away as he regained his control and came back to his senses. “Practice makes perfect.”

Chapter 10

That night Carly lay wide-eyed in bed at Adam’s feet, sleep eluding her. She couldn’t get the memory of that afternoon’s events out of her head. The shock play had been intense, pushing her past self-imposed boundaries and shaking her to her core. But that wasn’t what was keeping her awake.

It was the physical memory of Adam’s cock pulsing inside her, and the way he’d held her so tightly in his arms while he thrust and moaned over her. When she’d first signed up for the slave training, she’d been more than a little apprehensive about what it would be like to be fucked by a man she barely knew and most probably would have little attraction to. She’d talked herself into believing she could handle it, the dangling carrot of thirty-five thousand dollars waiting at the end of the month leading her forward.