“I didn’t—damn it—I don’t deserve—what have I—damn it, stop!”
“You belong to me.” He punctuated his edict with a harsh strike that made her jerk. “Every part of you. In all ways.”
“The hell you—”
Another blow landed in the same spot, punishment being layered on. She shook and shivered, struggled to find a way out.
But there wasn’t one.
He was too strong. Too determined. Attacking her ass with his broad palm. Throwing her into a different world. One bordered by helplessness, and inexplicably, anticipation.
Tears burst from her, full grown. Impossible to stop. She didn’t think she was begging him to end what he’d started, but she was saying something, and nothing except pleas made sense.
As the pain intensified, her world lost and regained color. She had to concentrate to make sure she didn’t bite her tongue. Mostly her ass was on fire, beaten into submission by his power.
What she craved.
In her mind’s eye she saw her buttocks redden. As her arousal dribbled from between her legs, his hand continued to pummel her helpless flesh, turning up the heat until it engulfed her entire body.
No, keep going. Hit me until there’s nothing else. Make me yours.
Finally, ages after this insanity started, he pushed her sweat-soaked hair away from the back of her neck. His nail marked where collar and skin came together. Too spent to move, she lay draped over him. So this was what having a man rule her life felt like. All consuming. Her world.
“You’re shaking,” he said. “I wonder…”
No longer holding her in place, he lightly stroked her buttocks. His touch had gone from cruel to what she might call loving if she didn’t know better.
He’d claimed her. She belonged to him.
But it wasn’t all bad. How could it be when for the first time in her life she belonged to another human being? What she’d long craved had become reality.
I need you.
He returned his attention to her collar, moving it about as if it was special to him. She tried to lift her head but an inner voice whispered she could stay where she was for as long as she needed to. The painful pulsing in her ass made fully relaxing impossible so she waited for the discomfort to let up. When she caught hold of what she was experiencing enough to make a list of sorts, she acknowledged it felt as if his hand had claimed every inch of flesh. Maybe only her ass was red, but her nerves had taken the sensation everywhere. His control was total. Complete.
“The things we do,” he said. “The messages we give out without knowing. Humans are fascinating creatures. Vulnerable.”
“What are you talking about?” As raw as her throat felt, she must have been yelling or something close to it during his attack.
“About my need to focus, to remember my goal and the road to it. Refusing to be distracted.”
Whatever his goal was, she was the key to it. Angry at herself for dropping her guard, she put every bit of energy she possessed into getting off his lap. She’d nearly accomplished the herculean task when he ran a forefinger through the ring in her collar and hauled her back onto his lap. She hated the contact!
Yes, damn it, she did! Didn’t want anything to do with him.
Her breath hissing and buttocks throbbing, she ordered herself to stop fighting him. After the first one or two seconds, it became easy. Or easier. Although she didn’t trust how she’d react, she allowed her body to speak to her mind. Pain had ceased to be simple. Instead of being something she longed to escape, she now wanted to explore its complexity.
In a perfect world, he wouldn’t touch her ass again until it had recovered. He’d treat it with what, reverence? Understand how thin the line between pleasure and pain had become. He’d stroke what he’d punished, maybe drape a cool damp cloth over her. Gift her with a soft pillow to sit on, guide her into a shower with a gentle spray. She’d stand naked before him with her eyes more closed than open and her lips parted. Instrumental music would play from hidden speakers, the air flower-scented. When, finally, she’d absorbed everything the water had to offer, she’d turn it off and walk into a large white room. He’d hand her a towel so fluffy and soft she half expected it to be made from feathers. He’d gently pat her bottom until there were no more droplets, draw the towel out of her hands and encourage her to turn in slow circles so he could rub a rose-scented cream into every inch of her flesh.
She’d fall asleep or something close to that, handing her body over to him because he knew it so well.
Hours or maybe minutes later she’d ease back to consciousness. Sense his presence in ways she’d never suspected was possible.
I’m ready for you, he’d say. Whatever you need in the way of sex, I want to give it to you. We have all night—and the whole of tomorrow if that’s what you need. You’ll climax. I’ll come. Repeatedly. Both of us.
A part of her wanted to admit she fully and completely trusted him. That she had no fear, no doubt, no desire for freedom.
But only partly.
Confused, she struggled to send a message to her muscles. Eventually she’d find the strength to put distance between them.
He slid a hand between her legs. “Stay like you are,” he ordered. “Don’t let things go bad between us.”
Bad? Good? Up or down? Right or wrong. Dangerous or safe?
A masculine finger hovered at the entrance to her sex. He wasn’t asking permission or about to plunder her. This might be a game to him. Some insane test she’d either pass or fail. Teasing was a possibility.
Yes, teasing. Taunting. Pushing her buttons.
He slipped into her with her juices easing his journey. Her inner muscles tightened around the invasion. Held on.
“This is what you want.”
She wasn’t sure whether he was making a statement or asking a question. Either way she was vulnerable. Much weaker than him. Perhaps an animal for him to ridicule, to command.
It didn’t matter. Only finding release from this terrible tension did.
Once again, she commanded her muscles to relax, to stay in that fragile state until her pussy insisted on being heeded.
She’d become an animal, a furious beast determined to win this battle—and not caring if she didn’t succeed.
Over and over she clung to his finger, let go, tightened again as he went ever deeper as he plundered not just her sex, but her entire being.
It felt as if she’d been shoved into a tunnel or hole, some perpetually heated place. A space created for pleasure and pain. Something designed to teach lessons she hadn’t known existed before today.
“This isn’t so hard,” he said with his palm against her buttocks. “Not surrender, but acknowledging a new kind of freedom.”
“You call this freedom?”
He pushed even deeper, making her shudder and moan. “What label would you put on it?”
Oh god, don’t stop! “Taking—advantage.” She sucked in a breath. “Messing with me.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I can see why you’d call it that, but you won’t once—if—you understand.”
She couldn’t be sure, but he’d seemed to be trying to engage her in a conversation ever since he’d taken her. He’d start something only to stop—or she’d try to probe his mind before acknowledging how dangerous that could be.
It was safer for them to remain enemies.
“Don’t mess with me.” She raked his calves with so much force she risked breaking a nail.
“I don’t have a choice.”
He was doing it again, spinning her mind in circles when she didn’t have enough for anything to make sense. She couldn’t talk to him. Didn’t want to.
Wanted his cock to rest where his finger had been.
Brought to life by a mental image of her draped over his lap with his finger buried where it had no right being, she again tried to leave furrows in his skin. His jeans wouldn’t let her, damn it.
Rage warred with shame. A liberated woman would never allow a man to do this and she was liberated, wasn’t she?
“There’s no rulebook for this.” He moved his finger about, brushing and bruising. She shivered. “Just doing.”
When would this torture end? Much more stimulation and she’d come—repeatedly. Another wave threatened to tear her apart so she bucked, rising and falling on her captor’s thighs in a desperate attempt to distract herself. It didn’t matter. His finger remained inside her.
You’re making me crazy. Maybe making me fall in love with you.
No! What the hell was she thinking? She hated this all-powerful man, didn’t she?
“It’s time for something else,” he said before she could answer her question, if there was one. “Let’s call it taking things up a notch. Bringing you closer to what I need you to be.”
“No.” Please. “You’re scaring me.”
He didn’t reply, and in the silence, she was forced to admit how much she’d given away. He’d spanked her for reasons only he understood, followed by keeping her ass exposed. Planted his finger deep in her. Left her with no doubt which of them was in control, not that she didn’t already know.
“I’m not going to kill you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
Earlier hadn’t he vowed not to hurt her? What had brought him to this level?
“Let me go.” She struggled, weakly.
She didn’t object to curses. In fact, she’d sworn more in the past few years than the rest of her life, even during her reckless teens.
She wanted them back. The freedom, innocence, and stupidity.
He redoubled his efforts, if she could call them that, by pistoning in and out, his finger claiming her. Heat and longing became a drug. She didn’t try to fight him off. Instead she let his finger speak to her pussy. To let hunger surround her.
She was Joe Risinger’s toy. His plaything.
The reason didn’t matter. Only release and relief did.
“I don’t understand,” the fool who used to believe she was in charge of her life confessed. She waited out a wave of hunger, of near starvation. “What is this about?”
“No talking. Just experiencing.” His finger plowed while he swatted the backs of her thighs with his free hand.
Her neck became too weak to keep her head up. Her arms and legs took the same downward journey. Tears she’d been able to hide while he was punishing her found an outlet. Surely, he felt them soaking his denim. Her buttocks twitched and shook. A fine whimper accompanied every breath. Most telling, her pussy continued its relentless attempt to caress the finger inside her. He’d probably intended what he was doing to make her climax, but his attempt at control was about to become her reward. She was fucking his forefinger, silently laughing. She’d turned the aftermath of a long, hard spanking into pleasure.
There! Need grew with every breath she took. Desire clawed up her spine. Held her tight. Promised release. Ready to cry out.
Out of breath, she lifted her head. “Damn you.”
“Yeah. I know.”
Her climax had started to roll over her when she felt pressure against her tight rim. Startled, she tried to hold back from letting go.
“No! Damn it, no.”
“I don’t believe you. This is something you love. Hell, maybe you’re a pro when it comes to back door action.”
Determined not to engage in a conversation that might expose her even more than she already was, she sucked in air.
He continued to work her bottom hole, applying so much pressure she thought he might breach her barriers but not causing pain. Her inner body waited for him—for something she’d never experienced.
“You aren’t resisting,” he said. “If this was something you had no interest in, you’d be fighting.”
“I—can’t. You—you’re too strong.”
Grunting, he transferred some of her juices from her pussy to her asshole. Then he worked his way into her dark channel, his finger’s girth threatening. Between the familiar fullness in her sex and the strange new stretching sensation, she ceased to exist anywhere else. He’d taken ownership of both holes.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Don’t speak. Stay silent, somehow.
His breathing nearly as loud as hers, he kept after her, plundering and thrusting, taking her apart. Not sure what, if anything, she had in mind, she rocked back and forth.
“Let it happen,” he said. “Give yourself over to need.”
There was need all right, the most powerful desire she’d ever experienced. Her captor, her master, had decided she needed to be broken down, and she was letting him. Reveling in the renewed promise of a climax.
He finger fucked her. That’s what it was, all right, simple and base. One of them in charge, the other being attacked—gloriously so.
A hot wave slammed into her. She quaked before it, mentally stretched her arms and accepted the climax’s power. She was in charge of nothing, not even how her toes repeatedly curled and straightened. Her fingers twitched. She couldn’t keep enough air in her lungs.
And she came. Climaxed. Over and over. Breaking apart.
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