Captive, Mine (28 page)

Authors: Natasha Knight,Trent Evans

Tags: #Contempory BDSM Erotic Romance, #Romantic Suspense

I groaned. He raised an eyebrow in warning and I lowered my gaze to my feet, which were bare, my toes just touching the floor.

We’d stayed off the grid for over a year before finally moving into the secluded house on Graham Island three months ago. The island chain, stretching north of Vancouver Island, was called Haida Gwaii — but Lake still called it the Queen Charlottes. I didn’t argue with him.

We meant to settle here. At least I did, anyway. I was finished with hiding, with being on the run and always looking over my shoulder. Although I knew that last part wouldn’t ever be over. Not really. We were both too realistic for that.

Randall was locked up, DeSalvo had kept his word — too afraid not to — and it was just Lake and I now. I was ready for more. But first, this little exercise of Lake’s.

I watched him, never could get enough of looking at him, his dark eyes, their weighted gaze always drawing me. He stood in worn, faded jeans, his feet bare, his chest naked, the dark trail of hair disappearing into the denim, his erection pressing against his jeans. I licked my lips and gazed up into his eyes once more, lust clouding my vision now. I wanted him, but he wouldn’t fuck me. Not yet.

I had a dozen strokes of the crop coming first, after his version of a time out was paid.

I wasn’t sure what I disliked more, the lashes themselves, or being strung up in the middle of the barn, naked, dirt beneath my feet, the now familiar scent of horses bringing with it this strange anticipation coupled with unbearable arousal. I did like the fucking though. It was always harder after a whipping, that fucking. And I wanted it every time. Craved it.

Lake checked his watch again, then moved behind me. I would have turned to follow his movements, and could have with the way I was bound, but I knew what was expected of me and remained facing forward, facing the open barn doors, looking at the two horses out in the pasture lazing away the summer afternoon. The sun was bright today, the approaching dark clouds making the light even brighter.

I listened to him, listened to any sign that the cropping was about to begin, but he enjoyed my anticipation too much to make this happen too quickly. My heart beat fast, and it took all my effort not to tense my bottom at the slightest sound. He liked me to keep it soft. Enjoyed watching it bounce and redden with each stroke, and in a way, I liked him watching. I liked giving that to him, that small act of submission.

“Time, Lily,” Lake said from behind me, making me jump.

I nodded, as if my acknowledgment was needed for what came next, the part of this ritual I dreaded and desired all at once.

But we both knew better.

I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder to find him taking the longer crop from the wall. It was the same one he used on Balthazar, his horse — although I was quite certain Balthazar never received the sort of treatment I did with the fearsome implement.

“That’s an additional five strokes,” he said as he ran his fingers over the crop. He hadn’t even turned around.

Shit.

I quickly faced forward once more.

“You know better than that.”

He always caught me.

“Five, Lake? Isn’t that…”

“Make it six.”

I bit my tongue, but stomped my foot.

“Seven then.”

I pressed my lips together, forcing myself to remain silent. Nineteen strokes. I could have been done at a dozen.

“Good girl,” he said while he lined the crop up against the fleshiest part of my bottom, just inches above the crease of my thighs.

I reached up to wrap my hands around the chain he’d hooked the cuffs to, knowing I’d need the support once he began.

“In silence.”

I nodded again, everything completely quiet as if even the sounds of birds and insects from outside no longer penetrated the space. In fact, the only sound was that of the crop as the first stroke came down, the slight whistling a warning before stiff leather struck vulnerable, barely warmed flesh.

I gritted my teeth, clenching everything for a moment while pain spread across my skin. One down, eighteen to go. At least he didn’t make me count today. Today was for his pleasure; it wasn’t a punishment I’d earned.

He lined up the second stroke, rubbing the crop across my bottom before pulling back to strike again, just below the first stroke. I stumbled forward, grunting, and before I’d even righted myself, he struck again, three in quick succession, after which it seemed impossible to take the whole of the nineteen strokes in silence.

“Shh,” he muttered, his hand on my hip pulling me back a little so that my bottom was pushed out. “Like that. Take the rest like that.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Calloused fingers traced the line of one of the strokes, crossing over onto another.

“Looks good,” he said, stepping back.

I remained as I was, bent slightly, pushing my bottom out, the humiliating position serving to arouse as much as embarrass.

Lake lined up the next stroke at the center of my ass and struck fast, the whipping sound short before pain exploded along the mark. Again, I stumbled but quickly resumed my position for the next stroke, no longer able to keep quiet. He seemed to accept that though and didn’t berate me into silence. Instead, he kept up with my punishment, laying stroke after stroke until my nineteen were paid and the whole of my ass throbbed, the flesh hot and tight.

“Stay,” he said, although I had no intention of moving. I knew better.

Lake replaced the crop then returned to me. I gasped when his hands wrapped roughly around my hips, thumbs pushing into bruised skin.

“Beautiful,” he said, kneeling behind me.

He kissed me first, kissed each of the thin welts the crop had left, his lips tender before he dug his thumbs into the bruised flesh, pulling my cheeks apart. His tongue licked the length of my sex then and he worked two fingers around to find my clit. I gasped, wanting to push back into him but knowing I needed to remain still, to feel everything, every slight movement of his tongue as he licked, his fingers as he worked my hard little nub. I wasn’t allowed to come, not yet. He’d only allow it once he’d impaled me on his cock.

“Please, Lake,” I said as he continued to tease, to taste.

“Please what?” he asked, rising to stand, letting go of my hips for a moment while he unzipped his jeans.

“Please fuck me. I want to come.”

“You want to come?” he asked, lifting me slightly off the ground and pulling me backward so that his length rubbed all along my dripping sex.

I nodded. “Yes. I want to come. I need to come.”

“You want me to fuck you hard or soft?”

“You know!” I pressed into him, frustrated at his taunting.

“Say it. I like to hear you say it.”

“Fuck me hard, Lake. Fuck me as hard as you whipped me and make me come.”

“That’s a good girl.” He lifted me once more off my feet, this time lowering me onto his cock, making me gasp as he pushed the length of himself hard inside me, my wet pussy needing to stretch to accommodate his girth.

“Yes. Oh yes!” He lifted me slowly, dragging me off his cock before impaling me again, this time closing two fingers over my clit.

“You like being stripped naked and bound while I watch you, Lily?” he asked, lifting again before pulling me hard onto himself. “You like me striping your ass? Because you were dripping before we even started.”

“Please…”

He’d need to give permission and I wasn’t sure I could stand it. If I didn’t though, I’d be in for a real punishment.

“Tell me and I’ll let you come, Lily. Tell me how you like it.”

I hated that he made me do it. It embarrassed me to no end and he knew it.

At my hesitation, he pulled out of me.

“No!”

“Bad girl.” He turned me to face him, lifting me again, taking my arms down, the cuffs off. I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“I’m not a bad girl,” I said, kissing him.

“You are.” He kissed me back, walking me to where the hay was stacked. “Now I know you don’t want that freshly whipped ass to come anywhere near that hay.” He kissed me again as I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist. “Tell me. Tell me what you like.”

“Please, Lake, you know I hate to say it.”

“But I so enjoy making you,” he said, his lips never truly leaving mine. “Besides, I won’t be able to whip you like this in the coming months.” At that he pulled back, smiling, something different in his dark eyes, something almost… happy.

I smiled back, unable not to. I was almost eight weeks pregnant. It hadn’t been planned and when I’d first taken the test, I hadn’t been sure of Lake’s reaction, but it turned out he was even more excited than I was.

We were going to have a baby. The thought of it filled me to overflowing, my happiness so much more than I’d ever imagined possible.

“No, you won’t be able to whip me,” I said, grinning, teasing, as he set me on my feet. I kissed him again, taking his cock in one hand and massaging its length. “I like it when you watch me, Lake. It makes me drip for you. I like it when you spread me wide and look at me, I like it when you lick me. And I very much like”—slowly, I knelt before him—”taking your cock into my mouth, tasting you.” Lake wrapped his fingers into my hair then, groaning as I closed my lips around him, opening my throat for him, taking him deep like he’d taught me.

He looked down at me, his hand in my hair working now to guide me over his length, pressing deep into my throat while I watched him watching me.

“That’s it, girl,” he said, his hold tightening, moving me faster, going deeper.

I gripped his thighs, trying to stay relaxed while he fucked my mouth.

“And as much as I want to shoot down your little throat,” he said after a while, pulling me off of him and raising me to stand before kissing me once more. “I want something else.” He turned me, his breath at my neck as he kissed me, pushing me to bend over the stacked bales of hay. “As much as I like it, I really want to fuck that tight little pussy of yours now.”

I bent, stretching my arms wide as he spread my cheeks apart and slid his length into me, causing me to moan.

“So hot and tight,” he said. “And that pretty little ass is so nice to watch.” He pulled me wider, his thumb coming to press against my bottom hole.

“Please…”

“Come, Lily,” he said, “Come on my cock.”

He began to fuck me harder then, his breath coming short as he dug his fingers into me, his thumb pressing into my asshole, his cock swelling, the walls of my pussy contracting around it, milking it as I came, forcing a cry from his lips as he stilled, his cock throbbing inside me as he came, filling me.

He wrapped me in a blanket afterwards, just as the first roll of thunder sounded. I watched while he brought the horses back inside, settling them in their stalls, leaving the large doors of the barn open. We sat together quietly watching the storm, tucked safe and warm in the blanket, into Lake’s shoulder, his arms around me holding me tight.

“You want a boy or a girl?” I asked, turning my face up to his, nuzzling my chin against the stubble along his jaw.

He smiled, but I knew he also worried. We both did. A child made us vulnerable. Again.

He looked at me. “I want a healthy baby.”

I smiled, tears warming my eyes.

Lake cupped the back of my head and kissed my forehead, holding his lips there. “I love you, Lily.”

I closed my eyes, tears sliding down my face. I laid a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath my palm.

“I love you, Lake.”

The End

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