Wrecked (The Blackened Window) (23 page)

* * * *

The next few weeks were filled with school, but only as a break from constantly being on her. She knew she was mine, on the surface. She hadn’t really learned what that meant yet, but I pushed her, tried to make her understand. She didn’t really seem to have limits.

I wanted her to find her limits so I had something to push on, but she tried everything I brought to her. She acquiesced. She adjusted and gave in and allowed. Admittedly, I hadn’t pushed as hard as I might have if she hadn’t been a kink newborn, but it was like once she’d tasted it, she couldn’t stop.

I loved it, of course, but it unnerved me too. Usually, if something seems too good to be true, it is. I tried to nudge up against her limits with some things that didn’t seem too rough or fucked up. I repeated the nipple clamps and butt plug. I did want to fuck her ass, and I knew I would at some point, and she seemed completely at ease with that. No reservations.

One Saturday night, I tied her, bent over the back off the couch, and did other shit for an hour or so. She was antsy, but didn’t speak as I cleaned some things in the apartment, ordered some food from Chen and went down to grab it. When I came back up, I caught her shifting her weight and thought that she might be getting uncomfortable. She still said nothing, and that got the half-wood to full attention. I dropped the bag of greasy Asian goodness on the counter and unzipped as I walked over to her. She wasn’t wet at all, only had the baseline moisture that some females always had, so slipping my cock into her felt rough and tight. She stifled a sob against the upholstery of the couch then moaned deeply as I fucked her. She went liquid over me almost immediately and I came, untied her and snuggled her up into my bed. She just took it all in stride, like it was normal. I knew it wasn’t normal.

It was unnerving that she accepted my dominion so easily, wore it with such grace. There had to be a disconnect somewhere. I’d wake in the middle of the night and push her legs apart. As she would just be opening her eyes, I’d start fucking her and she would just lie there, allowing it. Never commenting that she was tired. Never annoyed that I was waking her up. She’d just smile at me and stretch out against me, wrap her legs around my torso and rock into the rhythm of my thrusting, sleepy softness to her features.

After a few weeks like this, I decided I had to push her a little harder. I had gone to Shibaricon a few years back and decided to try some of those techniques. I put on some old R&B that was completely incongruous with having her thighs tied to her ankles so all she could do was kneel at my feet. I box-tied her arms behind her back, with one loop loosely around her neck. Once she was restrained, looking up at me with her big, liquidy, innocent eyes, it was like there was nothing else for me but that room, those eyes, that mouth. I needed her to know that there was nothing for her but that room and me.

Squatting down in front of her, I touched her face with my fingertips and her lashes fluttered closed as she breathed into it and angled her head to the side to push into my hand more. I lightened the pressure of my fingers and traced them down to her collarbone. She slowly opened her eyes and met my gaze, but didn’t speak—she had already learned not to speak unless spoken to when we played.

I sat back on my heels and pulled my shirt off. Satisfied, greedy excitement crossed her features and I smiled.
She thinks I’m gonna fuck her soon, that this will be quick.
I laughed to myself. She wanted it and didn’t balk at all the shit I did to her because she got off most of the time. She could handle delayed gratification, but could she handle orgasm control, orgasm denial? I decided that she wouldn’t come that night, but I would most certainly torture her some. I traced my fingers over her breast, to her nipple and just squeezed lightly. She tensed, expecting harder pressure, but I left it light and moved my hand down to her tummy, then between her legs. She was wet, soft lips parting for my fingers and leaving me sticky.

I stroked over her until her breathing became heavy and pressured. When her hips started rocking against my hands and she was getting wetter, I scooped my fingers across her, collecting what moisture I could, and stood, pulling my cock out. Standing right in front of her, I started stroking my cock with her lube. Her lips parted and she met my gaze, expecting a command, some direction, rough handling or at least use of her mouth.

I didn’t slow my strokes and I knew my face was blank. She stretched up toward me as much as she could in her restraints, nonverbally letting me know how much she wanted me to use her…in the particular way that she wanted to be used. That was the lesson—
I use you how
I
want.

Confusion and frustration crossed her features when she realized I was fucking with her in a whole new way. Then she looked a little disappointed, sad a bit and my cock swelled in my hand. A drop of pre-cum dampened the head and I felt myself start to tighten.

“Open your mouth, girlie.” My voice was tight and strained as I held myself back from ejaculating until her mouth was open. I came hard, splashing in her mouth. When I finished the post-come aftershocks, I tucked back in my pants and walked away.

I smiled at her small sound of disbelief. I got a glass of water and leaned against the counter, watching her. There were a million jumbled thoughts running though my head—the things I wanted to do to her, say to her. How I wanted to make her miserable in a sexy, sensual, degraded way. How some of the most vulgar thoughts went through my mind when I looked at her pretty little self all tied up and confused, my taste in her mouth.

Once I had recovered a bit, I strolled back to her, where she was still silent, waiting. I knelt down on the floor, right behind her and pulled her back to me. She was helpless and spread out in front of me. I traced my hands down her shoulders to her hips, keeping the pressure light. Bringing my hands to her front, I let one rest low on her pelvis, just touching the top border of her cute little thatch of hair. The other hand drifted up her chest, between her breasts until I could wrap my fingers around her neck, just lightly, just letting her know how much worse this could be.

She sighed deeply and dropped her head back against my shoulder. As much as she could let the tension out of her body with all the rope, she did. I traced my fingers over her breasts, lightly still, tracing around her nipples, letting her lean against me. I turned my face into her hair and breathed deeply. She smelled like purity, clean. The sadist in me wanted to make her dirtier. The part of me that was lonely wanted to keep her safe forever.

As I licked her earlobe, I trailed my fingers over her body, slipping one into her mouth. She sucked on it like she was grateful, and my cock started to twitch again. The harder my cock got, the more I wanted to defile her. I took my finger out of her mouth and dropped it down, grasping her pussy, rubbing her clit. As her breathing got heavier, harder, more pressured, I increased the pressure on her clit, just until she started moving her hips a little against me.

I dropped my fingers farther and pressed into her cunt, but just left them there, not moving. She whined a little and rocked her hips as much as she could.
God, such a good little whore.
Her breath came hard and she turned her head away, eyes closed.

“Little girl, what are you doing?” I kept my tone light, but there was a hint of judgment there too. She moaned, knowing she wasn’t supposed to talk unless I prompted her for an answer. I flexed my fingers in her pussy. “This is mine. What are you trying to do with it?”

She pushed her hips forward again, begging with her body. I wanted to tell her what a shameless, degraded, depraved little slut she was. I wanted to show her.

“What do you want, little girl?”

She looked at me, eyes wide and imploring. She opened her mouth to answer me, and I pulled my fingers from her cunt and shoved them in her mouth, deep enough to gag her. Her eyes went wide and watered a little against the reflex. My cock was harder again and I started stroking my fingers in and out of her mouth, letting my own tension build.

“All of you is mine, is for me to use however I want to.” Her eyes questioned that, and I jammed my fingers further in. She shifted to take them, a little bit of saliva drooling out of her mouth. “Even if that means barely using you at all.”

A sad acceptance settled in her eyes, and I pushed her back to her knees, off my chest. I stood, taking my pants off. Her eyes were drawn to my piece. I knew she wanted it, wanted me to fuck her. Instead, I sat on the arm chair a few feet away, just watching her and stroking my cock. Her lips were still wet, and a little drool was on her chin from my fingers as I’d pulled them out. Her chest was flushed and her eyes were wet. A good and proper little slut.

I wanted to tell her all the things I was thinking, like the whole concept of twenty-four-seven service. That she’d be mine to use anytime, anywhere.
Is that what I really want?
Is it what
she
wants?

She moaned a bit, eyes filling with tears and she leaned forward, stretching her back and imploring me all at once. Her eyes were screaming,
please
. And it turned me on all the more. I stood and walked to her and she sat back up straight, hopeful. I touched the side of her face and she pushed into my touch. Her eyes closed. I hooked my thumb into the corner of her mouth and pulled her jaw down, just as I started to come. Into her mouth again. She accepted it.

I untied her and carried her to bed. I put her on her tummy and got some massage oil to give her a good rub down. Being tied up tight like that can be hard on the muscles. She moaned a little into the mattress, and it sounded as sexual as any other sound she had ever made.

“Maybe you just make those sounds for everything? Is that the case, little girl? You can answer me.” I smiled as I teased her. She flipped her naked self over with a glint of humor in her eyes.

“Not before you, Boss.” She started sitting up, still smiling, and added, “Now, I’m hungry. Do I least get to eat some food, since you’re apparently not gonna let me eat any cock?” She laughed hard at the shock that I knew crossed my face.

I stood up, in mock horror. “What’s happening to my sweet little girl? Am I ruining her already?”

“Oh, Boss! I think I get nastier the longer I go without an orgasm. Soooooo…if you don’t like my nasty talk, you could probably fix it.” She little-girl flirted with me, smile on her face, laughter in her eyes.

“Well, can’t change the plan once we start. Sorry, little one.” I tossed her clothes to her, adding, “Get dressed. Let’s get out of here for a bit and get something to eat.”

She dressed and we went to the bar for a burger. She seemed on-edge, but not as bad as I would have been if our roles had been reversed. I kept finding myself staring at her, watching her across the bar where she chatted with Christy and Frank while Jason and I played pool. My mind wandered, impressed with her stamina, her willingness and just her capacity for fun and joy. But I couldn’t make myself trust it. Couldn’t believe that there wouldn’t be some fallout, backlash, something. But she kept surprising me. The smallest little bubble of hope took hold on my dark heart, made me think that there could be someone who could take me as I was.

“Dude.” Jason nudged me with his pool stick. “I’m fucking talking to you, man.”

“What? Shit! Fuck off.” I laughed back at him.

“What’s going on with you?”

“It’s like she has no limits, no push back at all. Everything I do to her, she just takes, with a smile.” I was unable to even put it to words how weird it was.

“Do you want her to reject it?” He gave me a look as he set up his shot.

“No, I don’t know. It just seems too good to be true. She’s damaging my calm.”
Firefly
was such an amazing show.

Jason shot back another Jayne quote, “Shiny. Let’s be bad guys.” We laughed together, but he sobered after a moment and added, “Seriously, why don’t you take her to the Window? If that’s not too much, you’re probably set.”

What would she think of the Window? It’s so much more.
I let the thought of her suspended, bound in rope, float through my mind, loving the image. I had suppressed so much of myself, not wanting to be vulnerable, open to possibly being rejected, or hurt, or left wanting, not to mention the risk of feeling like I couldn’t control it, couldn’t control myself. Or the fucked ramifications of shit going colossally wrong. I weighed the decision over, going back and forth on how I wanted to approach it.

* * * *

A week later, I still hadn’t decided if I should approach it, let alone how.

“Stop being such a pussy.” Jason had a talent for summing shit up.

“I’m not being a pussy and fuck you. I don’t want to go through all the shit I went through with Stacy again.”

He scoffed. “I call bullshit. You’re afraid she’s gonna freak and you’ll lose her.”

“Well, is that a stupid thing to worry about? And stop stalling, let’s go.” I slapped the mat twice to indicate I was ready to start grappling with him. It was a Monday night and Leda was home studying.

He came at me and hooked his foot around the back of my neck. When I took the bait and tried to grab his leg to figure-four him, he shifted and got me into a side guard. We grunted around for a bit trying to submit each other. Ultimately, I broke his guard and locked up his ankle. He tapped.

“Dude,” he said as he grabbed some water. “Either you take her and she accepts it, you take her and she freaks, or you never take her. So you pretend to be something you aren’t or give her the chance to decide for herself.”

I huffed out a breath. He was right. I didn’t want him to be, but he was. I didn’t know how she would handle the magnitude of difference in what I did to her and what my basic drive wanted.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Leda

The Dandy Worhols,
The Last High

School was consistent—more to learn than it felt like I ever could. All the time I wasn’t having sex was spent studying or in class, occasionally eating and sleeping. My grades were actually quite good, for how distracted I felt. What I found was that by the end of the week, when we hadn’t spent the night together for several nights in a row, my concentration got worse. It was like he purified all the distractions out of me over the weekends and, come Monday morning, I could focus on the task ahead. We were public about our relationship and no one other than Stacy really seemed to care.