Authors: Trent Evans
Oh God, yes.
She fluttered her hands at her sides, unsure what to do
with them.
“On the window, over your head.”
Absurdly, she felt relieved he'd told her what to do. Despite
that, the position made her feel even more helpless, further exposed. She had
no doubt that was his intent. Even as she felt something hard and hot touch her
ass, she found herself gazing at the brilliant red gold of the waning sunset,
the beauty of it so unlike anything seen in the valley.
Blaine
was a big man,
and as his cock slid into her, she panted, the very tight fit just this side of
uncomfortable. It was the same every time of course, no matter how often he’d
taken her. She knew he liked that she had to work to take him, that it was
never easy. Erica never wanted easy, she just wanted him — and stretched pussy
or not, she’d have him.
The fabric of his slacks pressed to the backs of her thighs
as he seated himself fully within her, the head of his big penis seemingly at
the core of her. Her body shuddered at the deep penetration, the feel of his
hard thighs against her making her grind her ass slowly against him.
“Shh, don’t move. I just want to feel you, feel you tight
around me. Be still now.”
She moaned, fighting the urge to roll her hips. How could
she? With her Sir’s cock deep within her, the need to work him, to thrust down
upon him was visceral, primal.
He drew a whispered sigh from her lips as he began to
thrust, just slow, deliberate movements at first, the slide of every hot, hard
inch of him exquisite and maddening all at once. He kept at her like that, the
room silent but for her labored breathing and the wet sounds of her pussy
surrendering to the solid strokes of his cock.
“That’s it, girl.” The hand in her hair pushed her face harder
against the window. “You just stay nice and quiet, and let me fuck this cunt.”
He let go of her hair, relaxing the tension in her neck.
The light had lowered further outside, some of the creeping cars’ headlights
now visible on the road below. Erica squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t look
out the window like that.
Could. Not. Look.
A hard thrust shook her body against the glass, as he took
up deeper, faster movements. She moaned again as his hips slammed into her ass,
her bare breasts squeaking against the window. Her nipples had grown so hard,
she was sure they would etch the glass as her body jostled under the assault of
his thrusting.
Hands grasped her waist, squeezing. She responded by
clenching her pussy upon him, earning a deep groan from Blaine. “Good girl!
Such
a good girl.”
Blaine
pulled on her
hips, roughly moving her back from the window. She took one hand from the
glass, trying to balance herself.
“No. Keep them up there unless I tell you otherwise.”
Soon he had her bent almost double, her head hanging down
between her arms, his big hands clasped tightly, possessively around her waist.
Her hair swayed below her as he took up a swift rhythm, pounding into her
repeatedly.
“Oh,
fuck,”
she moaned as he pushed close, filling
her to bursting, the awkward, but pleasurable sensation of the big head forced
against her cervix.
She felt his hands reach under her, clutching her swinging
breasts, squeezing them until she whimpered. He caught her hard nipples between
cruel fingers, pinching and twisting her sensitive flesh, making her cry out.
The pain arrowed straight to her womb, transforming itself as she clenched down
upon him once more.
He leaned over her, still stroking his big cock within her.
“Just wait, girl. I can’t wait until these are mine.”
His? What …?
“I’m going to have your nipples pierced.”
Erica gasped as he squeezed again, his fingers pinching
them at the base where they met the smooth, dark surrounds.
“Kathryn and I talked about it. She wanted to have you
tattooed. But I wanted to have you pierced. Nice, thick gold rings right at the
base. Soon, bad girl.”
The idea terrified her. It wasn’t that she was afraid of
needles at all. Rather, it was the dark fascination with it, with the pain of
it. In her freshman year in college, her dorm mate Shauna had decided to have
her nipples pierced for her boyfriend’s birthday. She’d dragged Erica down with
her as moral support to have it done. Even though the man in the shop had
numbed the nipples, then clamped them, Shauna had still cried through the whole
procedure. Her high-pitched keening was chilling, but it had also stoked an
illicit heat between Erica’s thighs. As she’d watched the man dab the drops of
blood from Shauna’s impossibly red, inflamed nipples, Erica had been shocked at
her body’s physical, lustful reaction to the undercurrent of subjugation, even
degradation, in the act.
Ever since that day she’d wondered how bad it really did
hurt, if it was the kind of pain that would morph into the forbidden desire she
felt after having her ass blistered by paddle or hand. The kind of pain that
made her nipples stand up, her pussy gush.
She grunted once, twice, three times as Blaine
straightened, thrusting hard, shaking her entire body. Fingers reached down to
stroke over her clit, and she moaned, twisting her ass against him. It hurt to
have him stimulating her again, but the hurt just magnified, crystallized her
lust for him. She wanted the pain, needed that edge to the pleasure.
“This … is … how … I … want … you,” he ground out, each
word punctuated by a brutal thrust that drew panicky breaths from Erica. He
leaned over her, still driving into her, one heavy hand clasping her shoulder
in a painful grip, as he whispered in her ear. “If you were mine, I’d keep you
naked, dependent on me for everything. I’d have you chained to the foot of my
bed. I’d wake you in the night and fold you over the footboard. Take you
whenever I felt the urge. No words, no seeking your permission.
Mine
.”
“Yes! Oh,
god.
Harder, Sir!” Erica could feel her
climax gathering, spiraling higher. Both his words and his thick cock worked
her, broke her down, made her a slave to him. Nothing else mattered in this
moment, just the feel of him, his strength controlling her, enveloping her,
binding her body and soul to him.
His.
“Close, so close,” he grunted. His big hand laid down a
punishing slap to Erica’s ass, making her yell, the blow reawakening the
throbbing, punished flesh. A fist yanked hard on her locks, pulling her head
back, the pain blooming in her scalp and driving her lust higher, that agony
earthing in her womb, intensifying the pulsing ache of her clit.
His hips pounded against her in sharp, staccato thrusts,
his tortured groan punctuated by the harsh pull on her hair like the reins of a
thoroughbred. The pain kept her on the knife-edge of orgasm; the feeling of him
riding her like an animal lending a taboo energy to their fucking that was at
once degrading and exhilarating. Then she felt wetness flood within her as he
came, the heat of it a delicious surprise. He slumped over her, catching his
breath. Warm drops of sweat dripped onto her back, his labored breath
whispering through her hair.
She smiled. He’d been saving up on his trip, evidently.
Saving up for her.
They both liked to make her worship his cock with her
mouth, revere the gift of his semen. Often, on the days he’d arranged to have
her visit him, he’d take great joy (and if she were honest, she did too) in
making her kneel naked before him while he brought himself off, thick dollops
of hot come spraying over the slopes of her breasts, her exposed neck.
Sometimes he’d make her hold her mouth open for him, the strangled purplish
head depositing a thick offering on her outstretched tongue. He’d hold her chin
gently in his hand raising her gaze to his, his thumb spreading a drop of his
come across her swollen lower lip, the warm fondness in his eyes melting her,
leaving her defenseless against him. He’d coo to her as he softly told her to
swallow, to take all of it like a good girl. Then she’d lower her gaze,
shivering as the warmth suffused her cheeks, the pleasure and the shame of it
melding within her into a seething mass of lust.
His spent cock slipped from her sex, drawing a ragged sigh
from her. His hands helped her to stand again, easing her back against the hard
planes of his chest. Somewhere he’d shed the t-shirt, and she longed to see the
sectioned abdominals, the powerful pectorals, worship all of it with her lips
and tongue. But he just held her, one muscled arm over her chest, his gentle
palm cupping the weight of one of her breasts.
They just stood there, both of them listening to the other
breathe, reveling in the feel of flesh on flesh. The warm metallic smell of her
Sir’s semen was strong as it leaked sullenly from her hard-used pussy. She had
the urge to run her fingers through it, to taste it, but knew she wasn’t to
move unless he ordered it.
The light of the sun had bled almost totally from the sky,
a smudge of magenta and deep blue at the horizon, the night ushering in the
dazzling star field above.
“I never get tired of seeing it,” Blaine murmured. “That
incredible sunset.”
Erica smiled back at him. “I’ve never seen it before, like
this. At the ocean.”
It filled her with such calm, the pure simplicity of it.
She thought she knew a little now of why long-time sailors might grow
melancholy when away from the sea for too long.
“When your Mistress and I were first married, we spent time
here every chance we got, enjoying this beauty, enjoying each other.”
The pang of longing gnawed at her. She searched her feelings
to make sure it wasn’t jealousy or possessiveness. Such things were corrosive,
insidious, and she was determined never to let herself succumb to them.
No, what she felt was … regret. It wasn’t because he’d had
that time with Kathryn, but regret that Erica couldn’t have shared it with
them. She pictured them standing at this very window, arms wrapped around one
another, two beautiful immortals enraptured by their new love. Erica would be
there with them, naked, on her knees, the chain to her collar tucked in the
crook of Blaine’s muscled arm. She’d press kisses to their thighs, to the
fingers offered to her fervent lips. A silent, loving tableau.
It hadn’t happened of course, but who knew what the future
held? It was a future she told herself not to hope for, her naive attempt to
stave off the disappointment of reality. She knew she was young, a little rash
at times (Mom and Dad would say a
lot
rash), so she tried not to get too
far ahead of things. Blaine, wiser than his years might indicate, had helped
her to let events happen on their own, to surrender to them — and to him. He’d
tried to show her the peace found in the accepting of the vagaries of chance … and
maybe even a little good fortune.
Erica’s stomach growled loudly, both of them laughing at her
startled jump. She turned in his arms, looking at him, then pointedly moving
her gaze beyond him to the bar.
“Guess we’d better feed you, bad girl,“ he said, winking at
her. “All this fucking is sapping your strength. What kind of a vampire would I
be to allow my victim to wilt so soon?”
She giggled at him, kissing his soft, sensual mouth.
Blaine
nipped at her lip.
“Insatiable.”
What more gorgeous specimen of a vampire than her Sir could
there possibly be? She his source of sustenance, his blood slave, bound to him
in more ways than her chains. The thought made her shiver, her pussy awakening
yet again.
“Go get your bread, and bring it to me.” He nodded his
head back toward the bar.
Erica was starving, and just the thought of even that plain
bread made her mouth water. She brought the plate to him, and he took it,
dipping his chin toward the floor.
Sighing, she sunk to her knees. She spread her ass properly
on her heels, her cheeks heating at the bounce and wobble of her breasts. He
stood over her, bright eyes drinking in her nudity. Her gaze took in the broad,
muscular chest, the brown, flat nipples beckoning to her lips and tongue, down
the lean, sectioned abdominals with the light dusting of dark hair that dove
down to his crotch. He’d tucked himself back in, only a tuft of wiry pubic hair
visible in the casually open fly of his black slacks.
He bade her kneel closer, and she obeyed, not able to
divine a way to do it without sending her breasts bouncing once more. Blaine pulled her head to his muscled thigh, fingers stroking though her hair. She kept
her hands in her lap as he’d taught her long ago, though she itched to run them
up the heavy muscles of those thighs, to feel the barely harnessed power of
those legs hum beneath her touch.
They stood that way for some minutes, his fingers feeling
positively divine in her hair, stroking the tension from her scalp. Then he
stirred, tapping her cheek. “Raise your eyes, Erica.”
Clutched in his hand, the piece of bread floated just above
her. She tilted her head, questioning, and he nodded at her.
Then she realized what he intended, and her blush burned to
the roots of her hair, his broad grin registering the gleeful pleasure he took
in her embarrassment. Plucking up her courage, she knelt up, taking the bread
from his fingers with her lips.