The Blind Tiger: An Unusual Paranormal Romance (2 page)

THE BLIND TIGER

Noah waited until he heard Karen drive off before he shut the door.

He had a smile on his face.

He wished he could see her. She sounded beautiful. The sound of her voice enchanted him. Her voice was very feminine, guileless, and caring. He could tell that she was an empathetic person. It didn’t matter if she wasn’t beautiful on the outside. She was beautiful inside, and that was the only thing that ever mattered to him – even before he lost his sight.

It didn’t matter. She was taken anyway. And she was human. He could never tell her who or what he really was.

Noah wasn’t his real name. His real name was filed and tucked away in a small corner of his memory. He would be Noah for now, for as long as he could be.

He turned back to his new home.

Damn. He hated unpacking.

He took off his dark glasses and set them on the table. Then he stripped off his shirt and jeans. His feet were already bare.

Now where was he?

Naked, he crouched. His limbs thickened and lengthened. His skull broadened. His skin sprouted orange, white, and black fur.

A large and magnificent tiger stood in place of the man.

In his tiger aspect, Noah could see. Literally. The beast’s eyes were not impacted by the destroyed brain cells and nerve fibers of the man’s occipital lobe – the part of the brain that interpreted vision. In his tiger aspect, Noah was whole.

Therein lay his conundrum. Did he sacrifice his entire human life to be a sighted tiger in a world where tigers were hunted and put into zoos? Or did he remain in his human form, destined to be a fugitive from his own kind – but incapacitated?

The back door was open.

The tiger ran out into the woods, into the sunshine and greenness and freedom.

But for how long?

THE SLAVE

Six o’clock.

Karen glanced anxiously at the grandfather clock. Zach would be home soon.

She checked her appearance in the full-length mirror in the hallway. She was in her French maid’s outfit. Her waist was compressed with a corset. The bra pads were only a quarter cup. They were reinforced with wire and covered with black taffeta. They lifted her generous breasts to a pleasing height. This time, she would have a spectator.

Her red nipples were completely exposed. She had rouged them earlier – the way Zach liked it.

The corset flared to a black taffeta skirt at her waist. She wore black garters and stockings, and no underwear. She was forbidden to wear any underwear at all times. The taffeta skirt was very short and flouncy, showing off her pussy – also rouged – and her buttocks.

The sound of a car coming up the drive made her turn to the door. Zach was home. For some reason, she thought of the handsome blind man next door and felt guilty. She was never good at hiding her emotions from Zach. But there was nothing to hide. Was there?

Nothing.

She arranged herself in front of the door in her usual greeting position. Kneeling pose, facing the door. Hands clasped behind her head. Thighs apart.

Her heartbeat accelerated again. She could hear its thrumming in her ears, like the ticking of the grandfather clock.

The front door opened.

Zach stood there.

He was a very tall, very imposing man. Blond. Bearded. Hulking. All muscle. He was the epitome of what he did for a living – something which he only inferred at, and she wasn’t allowed to probe deeper.

He paused in the doorway. His nostrils flared as he observed her – her submissive demeanor, her French sex maid outfit, her heaving breasts.

“Good, very good,” he growled.

There was nothing soft or gentle about Zach. When she first met him, she was attracted to his power, to his blond good looks. She was still very attracted to him now, after twelve months.

As for him, he was attracted to her submissiveness, her sweetness, her tractability.

He strode to her and stood in front of her. He wore a well-cut suit. The crotch of his pants bulged, and she could smell his rising lust.

“Master,” she said in a breathless voice, still maintaining her position.

She had surrendered to him two months into their relationship.

She remembered the first time he took her as a submissive.

*

“God, I want you,” he had breathed.

Her pussy clenched at his passion. She desperately desired him because it was obvious how much he desired her.

“But do you know how I really want you?” he added. His eyes were very dark because his pupils were so dilated. He was naked and magnificent, and his huge cock was like a cannon. “Do you know what I dream about at night when I dream of you?”

She was young. In mad, desperate love with this beautiful, dashing figure of a man who would deigned to be with someone like her.

“Tell me,” she said.

And so it had begun.

*

Right now, she raised her eyes to gaze at him – this towering hulk of a man-god. Her knees were used to being on the floor. The skin there was already hardened. She wondered what sort of mood he was in.

His pupils were dilated within his blue irises. Just like that first time he had taken her as a submissive.

He looked down at her.

“Suck me,” he commanded.

Still on her knees, she lifted her hands to his crotch.

“No,” he said harshly. “Unzip me with your teeth.”

Oh. This was difficult. It wasn’t the first time she had done it, but it was still difficult.

Gingerly, she maneuvered her mouth to the fly of his pants. She teased the zipper out with her lips and tongue. His erection was warm and hard beneath his crotch, stretching the fabric and giving her leverage. Her front teeth latched on to the zipper, and she expertly pulled it down the curve of the bulge.

Zach’s huge cock sprang out and almost struck her in the face. He laughed.

“Suck it,” he rasped.

She opened her mouth wide and pulled the tip of it deep inside. He was so thick that he flattened her tongue, making it difficult for her to lick his head and shaft. But that was not what he was after.

“Swallow me,” he ordered.

He had taught her and made her practice on him for months. It was like anal sex. Once you get the hang of it, it becomes easier. She angled her mouth so that her throat was at a good angle. Then she took him deeper.

He pushed inside, gagging her.

“Deeper,” he said.

She coughed against his flesh. His turgid dick was crammed in her throat, and he still sought to go in deeper. She relaxed her throat muscles, just as he had taught her, and he inched in some more. Her throat was very stretched.

I can’t breathe,
she thought, trying to control the rise of her panic.

He caught hold of the back of her head and began to pump in and out of her throat. Each time his crown struck the little piece of flesh at the back of her throat, she gagged and tried to suppress the gagging. He was using her. Using her mouth as if she was merely a sex object.

She used to love being a sex object.

He fucked her mouth raw, until she was finally gasping for air. Then he pulled out, his cock wet and slick with her saliva.

“Good girl.” He patted her head. “Now get up.”

Her head was reeling when she attempted to stand in her black high heels. He grabbed her breasts and kneaded them. He pinched her nipples.

“Ow!” she cried.

He loved hearing her cry out in pain. It only excited him further.

“Nice,” he said.

He lifted the taffeta swirls of her skirt to expose her pussy. His hand dived down to part her nether lips. With a pincer grip, he squeezed her clit.

She gasped again.

“You’re wet,” he observed.

Yes. She couldn’t help being excited by all this attention.

He stuck two fingers into her vagina and massaged her snug tunnel, causing her to squirm with pleasure. Then he pulled them out with a plop.

“Taste yourself.”

He inserted those two fingers into her mouth. She sucked at his digits, tasting her own sour fluids.

He slapped her rump with the palm of his hand. It was a sharp sting, and she cried out again.

“What will it be this time?” He grabbed her breasts and turned her around.

“Please, Master,” she begged with genuine tears in her eyes.

“Choose your punishment.”

He pushed her towards the lounge where large photographs were mounted on the white walls. The photographs were all monochrome, and they were of different naked women in various bondage poses. A blonde was tethered to a stake, being whipped. A brunette was secured in a pillory with a ball gag in her mouth. Another brunette was strung from a tripod. Her breasts were intricately bound with rope, causing her nipples to swell.

These were all real women, Karen knew. Women Zach had dated in the past. Her own photo had yet to be mounted on these walls. Zach only mounted those that he had loved, punished, and dumped. Their relationship wasn’t over yet.

He marched her through the lounge to their playroom. Here, the entrance was barricaded by a cast-iron dungeon door, like the ones in medieval castles. He pushed the door open. Her stomach cringed, as it always did each time she entered the playroom.

Inside, the walls were padded for soundproofing. Zach turned the lights on. The instruments in the dungeon appeared, bathed in the stark yellow bulbs. There were wooden towers, hobbyhorses, pillories, cages, beams, and bars in all kinds of configurations. Hooks and chains were strung from the ceiling and walls. A rack displayed whips, canes, and dildos of different colors and sizes.

Karen was simultaneously exhilarated and terrified. With Zach, she never knew what to expect. All she knew was that the punishments were getting harsher, as though Zach was steadily testing her limits. She had a safe word, but she had never used it thus far.

Zach led her to a tall birdcage. It was made to imprison a human being.

Zach opened the door. “Get in.”

“Yes, Master.”

She entered the golden cage. Inside, she could only stand or sit with her legs curled up to her body. But Zach had other things in mind.

“Hold up your arms.”

She obediently did so as he cuffed her wrists to the manacles hanging from the top of the cage. The manacles were lined with soft fur so as not to chafe her skin. They were also connected to chains that could be adjusted for length.

Once she was properly secured, Zach shut the cage door.

“Turn around with your back facing me,” he ordered.

She did so. She could hear him shedding the rest of his clothes. Shoes, belt, and clothes struck the cold floor.

“Come closer to the bars.”

She pressed her back and buttocks against the cool metal bars.

Zach felt for the area between her buttocks. He pushed two fingers into her asshole – those very two fingers that had been inside her pussy earlier. She heard him moving away. After a while, he returned. She kept her head averted from him at all times.

He parted her buttocks between the bars and slathered her anus with cold lube. She shivered at the intrusion.

Once he had prepped her, he inserted a fiberglass dildo into her anus. It was particularly large, and she writhed as it slithered in, expanding her sphincter and rectal walls – filling her with its girth.

“Turn around.”

She twisted her body to face him.

“Now open your legs.”

She parted her thighs, but not too widely, lest the dildo in her ass slip out. If it did so, she knew that she would be severely punished for it.

He felt for her pussy again. Juices poured out of it, slicking the insides of her thighs.

“Ah, you like this, little flower, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, Master.”

He inserted another thicker dildo into her vagina. It filled her satisfyingly. Now she was doubly penetrated, and her groin was comfortably stretched in every possible way.

He stepped back and studied her. His cock was very erect.

“Keep both of them inside,” he instructed. “I’m going upstairs to take a shower. Then I’m going to make myself a drink. When I come back, I want you to be ready for me.”

“Yes, Master.”

He walked out of the room, leaving her this way in the cage. She had to keep her pussy and rectum contracted at all times lest the dildos slip out, and they were threatening to slip – especially the one in her pussy because her juices were so copious. Zach had always mentioned that this was good tightening practice for her.

She wondered how long he would take this time. Sometimes, he took an interminably long time to come back, and it would be a lesson in patience amid discomfort.

Her thoughts wandered to Noah for some inexplicable reason. How would Noah react if he knew that she was a willing and nubile sex slave? He seemed like a very decent man. Would he be shocked into
not
wanting to know her?

Luckily, he would never view her degradation, so to speak.

Twenty minutes later, and her entire groin ached with the fatigue of muscle clenching. The door finally opened, and she was relieved when Zach reappeared.

His blond hair was wet. He was still naked, and his skin had the shiny pinkness of having just been in a hot shower. His cock was still tumescent. It was such a wondrous thing, she thought – his hard shaft and swollen head standing at attention above his tight balls. She had always found it to be a very beautiful cock.

“Turn around,” he said.

She did so, pressing her buttocks against the bars again. He removed the dildo in her ass. Her sphincter contracted at the sudden relief.

He placed the head of his cock against her gel-coated asshole and pushed.

Ohhhh. So he wanted to fuck her in the ass. She screamed at the sudden stretch – by his thick, hard rod filling her entire rectum.

“Keep the dildo in your pussy,” he breathed against her ear.

His hands gripped the plump mounds of her breasts and squeezed them. He fucked her hard in this manner – short, sharp thrusts in rapid bursts. His groin and thighs slapped against her sticky buttocks as though he was spanking her.

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

“Oh!” she cried with each thrust. “Oh, oh, oh!”

The heated dildo in her pussy was juddered and dislocated. Her wrists twisted against the manacles and she clawed at the air in futile pleasure. She tried to contract her pussy, but the dildo slipped out anyway, fueled by her slippery creams. It clattered against the base of the cage.