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His Captive by Kiley Beckett – Extended Preview

The dresser was polished wood, its edges antiqued by frequent rubbing. It shone in the low light of a table lamp, and she could smell the lemon polish. It was sparsely decorated; just a crystal bowl set by the mirror she now looked into. The mirror’s frame was set with royal blue tiles that looked painted by hand, each one with a different flower in its center. Julian told her to place her hands flat on the dresser and she complied. Between her hands there was a pristine unopened tube, like something you would find at a pharmacy.

Now he was directly behind her, looking over her shoulder. He put his large hands on her upper arms and she looked at his tanned fingers as they pressed her pale flesh. She asked, “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to take you to dinner.”

“I’d like that,” she said.

“I know you would.”

She smirked, the urge to roll her eyes still came, but it was easier to fight now.

He said, “Look at yourself in this mirror. Look how beautiful you are. When I first met you at my office, I thought a homeless person had wandered in.”

“I’m not homeless.”

“I suppose not, but I suppose you’re calling a dorm room your home. I was there, and it’s not much of a home.”

“I’m at school.”

Now he reached over, the fabric of his sleeve whisking against the sensitive skin on the back of her arm. He plucked the tube from between her hands and she eased backward.

He reminded her, “Keep both your palms on the top of the dresser, please, Miss Armbruster.”

She did, resting them, watching him over her shoulder in the mirror.

“Yes,” he said now, continuing, “I think you’re surprised how beautiful you are. You were a ragamuffin. Shoe polish in your hair, of all things. Crazy.”

“I’m not crazy.”

He twisted off the cap from the tube and tossed it in front of her, where it pinged and clattered over the top of the dresser before bouncing off, tapping on the floor somewhere behind her. He said, “Not crazy… ill-advised. Misguided is what I’d like to say.”

She couldn’t argue with that. This was where he had her. The thing she’d tried to do to him was not good. Because of his privilege she thought he could endure it. Boy, was she wrong.

Now he held up two fingers, and with the other hand squeezed the tube until a swirl of clear gel formed. He tossed the tube in front of her.

“Misguided, Miss Armbruster. Much potential. Perhaps infinite.”

“Nothing is infinite.”

“Don’t correct me.”


The hand without the gel on it whisked up the back of her skirt and raised it until it rested on her shoulders. The scratchy chiffon made rushing noises near her ear. He said, “Part your legs for me. Put your feet farther apart.”

For whatever reason, she didn’t consider disobeying. She leaned forward on her hands, put the right foot wider, then the left. A strong hand clasped one of her buttocks and squeezed. He said, “By the end of your stay, you will be a changed woman. I think you’ll like what you see in the mirror when you look.”

Now she looked in her own eyes, saw her ginger hair gone auburn since it was wet and hanging in ringlets around her collar. Saw how bright green her eyes looked in this light and didn’t hate it. She smiled and was surprised at how white and even her smile looked. If she had some jewelry…

“Yes, I think I called you an insolent bitch in my office. I wasn’t wrong. A little harsh, I’ll admit. But you understand my displeasure.”

“I do.”


Now he clasped her buttock hard enough to part her cheeks. “Hold still,” he said.

His fingertip probed through her crack and touched her anus. She went up on her toes.

“Good girl,” he said. His finger stroked against her until it found the weakness of her aperture and slipped inside. He spread lubricant on his fingers—that’s what was in the tube.

She bit her lower lip, raised her chin and talked to his reflection. “What are you going to do now?”

“I want you to look in the mirror.”

“I am…”

He met her gaze. He said, “You know what I’m going to do. You know it and you want it.”

“I told you I’m a virgin.”

“When I take your virginity, you’ll beg me to do it.”

“I don’t want you to take my virginity.”

His mouth went to a slim line, and he shook his head with disappointment. He said, “You know you do.”

She frowned, watched him, watched his confident gaze. “I do?”

Now his hands were behind her as he pressed his chest to her back, keeping the dress’s skirt upright. She heard his zipper draw down again.

“I’m not ready for this,” she whispered.

“Like I said, when I take your virginity, you’ll beg me. Move forward, put your weight on your hands.”

She did, pressing her tummy against the top edge of the dresser, curving forward on her hands, elbows pointing outward.

The hard end of his huge cock pressed an ass cheek, and she drew in a hiss of air. He stroked it across her ass, slid it into her crack, moved the tip up and down, slipping it across her anus with the silk of the lube.

“Oh, what are you doing?” Her voice was a soft whisper, her hands beginning to tremble. She raised to her toes, leaned into the dresser, her mind somersaulting at the possibility he would do what she thought he intended.

His low confident voice: “I’m claiming this perfect ass.” He smacked one cheek, gripped her flesh firmly, pushed the head of his cock against her tiny back hole.

She groaned, mewled, went higher on her toes, thighs shaking.

“That’s it,” he said, “up a little higher.”

She said, “You’re too big.”

“Up a little.”

She leaned forward farther, her face very near the mirror. The crown of his big cock pressed into her opening; she banged her knees on the front of the dresser. “Oh, wow.”

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered near her ear.

She said again, “You’re too big.”

“You’re doing so well, little one.” He took a handful of hair at the nape of her neck, yanked her head back so she would face her reflection. He said, “Look at that beautiful girl.”

She bared her teeth and watched with squinted eyes. His face loomed over her shoulder, side by side with hers in the mirror. He was so incredibly handsome. Those gray eyes shone in the lamplight. He smiled, showed off the high cheekbones, dimples underneath, then pushed his huge manhood inside her, and her mouth fell open.

“Look how beautiful you are,” he whispered, like he enjoyed seeing her face express the discomfort at his large size entering her body.

She’d never given up her backside before, preferring when the time was right and the boy was right, and to keep things manual and oral.

He said, “Relax, breathe into your stomach—don’t protest.”

Now she raised her hand to her shoulder, touched her collar as Julian pushed deeper. She let out a pained sound. He withdrew and entered again. She moaned and watched what her face looked like when she loved the pain he delivered. It was sexy. She’d never worn such a fine dress, never done something so dirty. The disparity was enormous—and this powerful man had her heart pounding in her chest.

With one hand gripped on her hair, the other pressing on the small of her back, he started to fuck her. The dresser rattled on the floor with their movements. He wasn’t going deep, but, God, his cock was thick. She’d never felt something so awful that made her feel so crazy, so good at the same time. She panted with his thrusts.

He growled, “You think you can control me with a photograph?”

“No,” she gasped, her voice just hoarse rushing air as her mind reeled at the depravity of this awful billionaire.

“Think you can own me?”


I’m the controller. I’m the owner. You understand? You wanted to own me… Now I own you. This is a lesson.” With that, he guided her chin upward so she could look into her own eyes while he fucked her ass. His face loomed close behind, baleful eyes burning into hers through the mirror. His hips slowed their thrusts, his thick size pulsing in her. “I’m going to make you into something valuable. Bring out the gem inside, polish this shabby exterior, chisel off your dirty crust. We’ll find the woman inside you…”

“I am a woman…”

“You’re a petulant child.”

“No, I’m not, I—ah!”

He forced himself deeper, making her bite down on her words. “I’m taking you to dinner, Pearl. I want you on my arm, I want you on my arm looking as beautiful as you do in this dress.”

“I c-could eat…” Her strong words rode on a shaky voice.

Julian chuckled in her ear. “I need you to mind your tongue tonight, Pearl. We have royalty as our esteemed guests.”


“Will you mind your tongue?”

She groaned, the feel of his cock stretching her back hole; painful yet astounding and primeval.

“Will you, Pearl?”

“I-I will…”

“I don’t believe you…”

“I will, I’ll be good…”

“If you’re good, tonight I’ll fuck your tight pussy…”

“Oh, oh, ah…”

“You want it, don’t you? You want it there…” Now his hand slunk along her stomach, his fingers walking up a gathering of the fine fabric of her beautiful dress. He gripped the inside of her thigh, the hard edge of a cufflink scoring a line over her skin.

She moaned—and hated that she moaned.

“Tell me how much you want me to take you.”

She whispered, “No…”

He growled. Chuckled. “I can feel you gushing over my balls, you liar.”

“No, no…”

“You want it so bad and you hate you want it…”


The tips of his fingers slipped across her skin, traveled to the hot wet space between her legs. She chuffed air, her mind fluttering like a butterfly in a gale. As he slipped them across her membranes, rustling her pubic hair, his fingers finding her slick and moving against her like they were oiled, she clenched the floor with her toes; a moan spiraled up, but she bit her lip, held her breath. The moan choked to a whimper.

“I have your faucet running…”

“Coincid—ah—ence…” God, why did his cock in her ass feel so good?

Two fingers—she could picture them in her mind, large, long, well-groomed—slid into her interior, and her stomach fell away through a trap door. The pleasure astounded her; her knees went to water, and she slumped against the dresser. With her body braced now against the solid mass of the heavy ancient furniture, Julian fucked her ass harder, his fingers probing the shallows of her sopping wet virgin sex.

“You behave like a lady at dinner, Pearl, and I will reward you.”

“I don’t—ah, mm—I d-don’t want it from you…”

He chuckled again. “Your virginity is mine, Pearl. I own it…”

“It’s mine, only mine…”

“This pussy is begging for my huge cock, Pearl, it’s sucking on my fingers like your mouth sucked on—”

“I’m not wet,” she cried, futile, “it’s, ah, mm, just the lube…”

Julian released the grip on her hair; she fell forward, looked at her hands as her nails scratched at the dresser’s polish. The furniture’s feet squeaked on the floor; it rattled against the wall; the mirror shook. She watched—but did nothing to intervene—as the crystal bowl hopped its way to the edge then jumped off. It smashed on the floor, her bare feet peppered with tiny shards of crystal. That was when Julian came inside her.

Both his strong hands squeezed her waist, and while he was deep in the throes of passion, he refrained from plunging too deep. His cock pulsed and flexed inside her, then came the wet. Oh, golly, the wetness came in a flood. He sent his seed up inside her, growling in her ear, sating his huge manhood inside her body.

Her right hand whisked between her legs, fanned her naked sex and teased at her own pink pearl. She began to make a high singing sound. When her eyes fluttered open, she saw Julian watching her play with her clit. He sneered. She pulled her hand up and hid the wetness on her fingers.

He stepped rearward, his intrusion pulling from her and her dress fell around her ankles. Hot semen slipped down her crack and ran along the insides of her legs, turning cold by the time it made it to her knees. She bit the inside of her lips and waited for him to speak.

Eyes still on hers, he removed his suit jacket and unbuttoned his cufflinks. He ran his finger around in a helicopter whirl indicating for her to face him. She complied, her rump bracing against the dresser so she wouldn’t fall to her knees. He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his muscle; his cock thrust out from his fly.

He snapped his fingers to regain her attention.

When she looked up again, he pointed toward the rack of dresses, down below where expensive shoes neatly lined a wire rack tray extending across the bottom.

“The silver Pradas, Pearl. Wear those.”

She limped to the rack under his gaze, her ass on fire and leaking. Shoes gathered, she silently sat on a cushion put on the mahogany blanket box at the foot of the bed.

Julian disrobed before her, then donned his tuxedo while she watched, tilted onto one ass cheek.

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