Red Hot Obsessions (213 page)

“Such a wet bunny. No coming. You’re not allowed to come today.”

“Uh, Sir. Aaahhh.”

While whacking me good, he ordered, “Don’t come.”

Stop hitting me like that, then, dammit! Fuck.

After eight more smacks had escorted me up to a dangerous teeter, I jerked and warbled when he slid his tongue down my spine in contrast.

He came back up, sucked and bit on my neck and laid on top of me. While devouring my neck, which was arousing enough on its own, he hooked his hand under my hip and quickly claimed my clitoral hood with a pinch. I cried out in pain and ecstasy.

His middle finger gently flicked and slowly circled around the erect, exposed bud underneath at the same time. “This will push you hard, I know, but do not come.”

“Ah, Sir!” I groaned into the blankets because he was driving me mad.

He continued on and on, rolling around on my pink jewel without relenting. “Fight your body and mind for me, Addison. You are not allowed to come.”

“Please, Sir. I can’t...I can’t take it.”

As soon as he said my name in insistence, my pussy squeezed and squeezed, and I creamed all over his fingers.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to stop it. I didn’t mean to disobey you.”

He jerked his hand out from under me and slid off my body to stand. “You
will
learn. Get up.”

With my hands tied up, I had to use my legs to worm my feet down to the floor and bounce my cheek to push off the mattress. My stomach sank when I turned and met his disappointed eyes. That punched me worse than the anger I expected.

He grabbed my arm. “I told you to not come, and you are to do exactly what’s demanded of you. Every speck of you, your heart, mind, body and soul, are all subject to me. You
will
obey me with your entirety. For a split second, because we are so new at this and you’re already sporting some punishment pink, I almost had mercy on you, but then you wouldn’t respect me, and you need to learn to overcome yourself and your wants. You are mine, Addison. This is not just a state of mind, or a role you play. We are in this, so you must give it all up to me, surrender everything and submit in every way. A climax springs from unbridled desire and self-focus, but your desire and focus should be on pleasing me, on not disappointing me, not on getting release for your precious, throbbing pussy. You are sinking into yourself, letting sensations overtake you and win. No. I know it wasn’t out of defiance, but you must stop that and reset your thinking. You
will
align your mind with mine, do exactly as I ask and teach yourself to not come.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I frowned. Hmph. Fun spanking was over. He sat down on the dining room chair, pulled my bound arm hard and tugged me down over his lap. Once I was situated firmly across his thighs, his smacking hand descended furiously on my well-prepped ass. Even though I was warmed-up plenty, the spanks were not restrained at all, making me wiggle and shout out. They held a lot more sting because I’d let him down. He didn’t cease the downpour until I was sobbing at my miserable failure. His swats fell slower and more gently and his hand cupping around my cheeks morphed into a kneading massage.

“You deserve that red hue on top of your bruised ass, Addison. You were self-absorbed, greedy and very bad in coming when I told you not to.” After a few moments of letting me lay here to catch my breath and squelch my blubbering, he stood me up and let me find equilibrium before he captured my mouth in a possessive kiss and bit my lips.

“I
was
bad. Thank you for punishing me and teaching me a lesson, Sir.”

He unraveled all the ribbon in a rush, not exactly unwrapping me like I was his treasure as he intended. I sighed as he let it snake to the floor. “You can stretch your arms. Come into the bathroom with me.”

“Yes, Sir.” My stomach dropped at the mystery. I turned and followed him, waving my arms back and forth in a huge swing.

On the counter was a red rope, a string of graduating purple beads and a tube of lube. No way. That was going in me? You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Bend over and spread your legs.”

“Thank you, Sir.” I bent over the counter and widened my stance for him.

He pulled cream out of a drawer and rubbed it gently on my cheeks and thighs. I moaned at the coolness and much-needed sweetness. He soaked up my butt hole with lube, and I hummed as his finger wormed in and stretched me out. He fingered me much longer than I expected, slowly sliding in and out, making me hot and hungry for a bigger intrusion. Maybe the beads wouldn’t be so bad then. He spread more lubrication over the beads and popped them in, one at a time. Once he was up to the fourth one, he tugged them in and out. I shivered at the sensation and sank down on the marble as he worked me up to take in the whole 10-inch string. When the fattest ones were up inside me, he twisted the big guy on the end as he pulled it in and out, and I groaned in ecstasy and clutched at the faucets. He gave a final heel cram, wiped the excess lube off me with a wash cloth and stood me up.

While scrubbing up his hands with soap and water, he said, “You are forgiven, but it’s binding time again for you, Addison. You can’t be trusted to not play with your pussy or yank the beads out right after breakfast.
I
will feed you.” A few moments later, he dried his hands and picked up ropes.

I watched in the mirror as he wove the middle of the two ropes into a flower. He placed it between my breasts and framed them with in a figure eight and a straight pass right under the perky mounds, then he entwined it behind my back and around my upper arms and threaded diamonds across my ribs and belly, showcasing my navel. The rope felt soft, thank god, rather than prickly. He slid two ends up under my shoulders twice then went back down through the Ferris wheel in the middle of my back and pulled all the ends around to the front and bound my hands together with a few ovals. He’d turned me into art, gorgeously bound art, and I teared up because I looked so beautifully his.

“What do you think?”

“My god,
Sir
, I love it!”

It wasn’t as tight or restricting as I thought it would be. He kept it slightly slack throughout, especially over my abdomen and lower back. I was able to move my hands up and down somewhat, just not a lot.

“Good. I’m glad you like it. You do look stunning, so beautiful.” He kissed the top of my shoulder. “I have EMT scissors in here
and
downstairs, so if you need to get out in a hurry, it’s not a problem. It’s not even knotted, the rope is just threaded through the passes around your wrists. I just have to pull and unwind. Don’t panic. You are always safe. Ready to go down?”

“I trust you. But, um, we’re going down like this? In the kitchen?”

“Is there a sexier way to eat breakfast?”

“Mmm, no, Sir.”

He escorted me out of the bathroom and held onto my upper arm when we got to the stairs and descended. He walked me down the gallery, through the dining hall and into the kitchen that was still holding night-time darkness. “Damn, we’re even up before God,” he said.

The lights came on automatically when we walked past the counter. He motioned for me to sit and I shimmied up on a bar stool.

“I don’t mind. I love spending time with you, Sir.”

“Likewise. Are you okay sitting with the beads in?”

“Yes, it feels good. I like them better than the plug. If I wiggle around, it feels
so
nice. I get a great amount of stimulation. I bet I could come.”

“Good. That’s what I was hoping. It’ll give you practice.”

“What will?”

“Those beads. They’re going to stay in until your break for lunch. Lucky you, Addison. You get to walk around for hours, sit in your classes, talk to your friends, all stuffed up with the purple beads I shoved in there, and you’ll get ample opportunity to work on avoiding a climax.”

“Ohmygosh.”

“Do you object?”

I was so terrified I wouldn’t be able to do it, not come, and not exactly happy with his expectation. I pressed my lips together, silencing the more horrible things bubbling up in my mind. “No, Sir. Thank you for thinking of a way to teach me.”

“How can I satisfy your hunger this morning, my bound beauty? What are you in the mood for?”

I looked down at his dangling cock and smirked.

He scrunched his lips to kill the smile he didn’t want to project, bent over to place his forearms on the counter, and stared me in the eye. My stomach flopped at his deep, sexy voice saying, “Miss Montgomery! You’ve certainly been no angel this morning. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

I laughed and glanced away, my face getting hot. I itched to fan it with my hand.

“What would you like me to make you?” I looked back, catching him right as he licked his full, bottom lip with a slow stroke. “I can whip up some killer stuffed French toast with strawberries.”

Damn. He wasn’t exactly making it easy to exit the gutter. I was still frolicking there at his tongue stroke and the word “stuffed” because if you mix that with strawberries and French-
ing
, yeah, that’d be the best breakfast of all. I smiled at the naughty destination of my trail. “Mmm. That sounds perfect. Shouldn’t
I
be the one making the breakfast?”

“Yes, but it’d be kind of difficult in your condition, wouldn’t it? Next time, the task is yours.”

“Sure, you say that
now
, but you haven’t tried my food.”

“Uh oh. That doesn’t sound good. Should I have 911 on standby?” He laughed as he fired up a griddle and covered it in Crisco that was clumped on a fork.

“No, I’m just not exactly the best cook, Sir. Sorry. I can bake decent cookies though.”

“The kind in a tube?”

“No,” I jeered, stretching out the vowel and shaking my head with a smile. “I participated in a few cookie exchanges for various holidays, so I know some recipes. My chocolate macaroons were a flop, literally, they looked like loose turds, but the rest came out all right.” I watched in amazement as he got everything out and was stirring up eggs and firing up the skillet with the ease of a short-order cook.

“It’s a good thing I like cookies then.”

“Did you learn to cook from your mom?”

His eyes went dark and he looked away. “No. I taught myself.”

“Sore subject?”

“Not really. Maybe.” After soaking pieces of bread in egg, he slapped them one by one on the griddle, six in all. And he looked especially hot and sexy cooking naked, cooking for me. Damn. His sculpted ass begged for munching. “There’s just not much to say. She’s crazy, literally. She won’t stay on meds, so she’s institutionalized.”

“They still do that?”

“For some people. She gave birth to my brother, Sam, when I was eight and he died of SIDS, supposedly, at three-weeks-old. That’s what everyone assumed. She’s schizophrenic and had postpartum psychosis but has never truly snapped out of it. There was no definitive
proof
she killed my brother, though I suspect it, but I think my father may have brushed away the scrutiny by having her committed. She’s doing okay in there some of the time but doesn’t want out. I visit a couple times a year. We’re not really close. That’s a huge reason why I don’t do crazy.”

Not much to say? That was a
huge
story and I was delighted he felt comfortable enough to tell me something so personal, tragic and scandalous. “Hmmm. That’s really sad. So, you basically grew up without a mom?”

“Without a mom? Try neither parent. My dad’s the CEO of an IT company, GridRock Global, so he’s always off, usually in Asia, where the business is exploding. He thought being a parent only required the occasional thrashing, so I got nice, strap welts for my souvenirs every time he came home, whether I’d done anything wrong or not. We’ve never been buddy-buddy. He keeps hounding me to take over the business, but I’d fuck the devil before ever doing that. I have other plans for my life. It’s a constant bone of contention between us. He won’t let up and criticizes my “pathetically common” chosen career path every chance he gets. I have an older half-sister, Carly, and she’s the corporate-hungry one. We never lived in the same house, but we got along on vacations well enough. We’re closer now that we’re adults. I keep hoping she’ll step up.”

“Hmm. That sounds kind of like my life, except my parents don’t pay me any mind at all and I never got spanked. We started off at the lower-end of middle class, with both of them working like dogs. When I was seven, my dad got a new position and, at first, I was excited, because it allowed my mom to quit. I thought we’d be spending more time together, but that didn’t happen. The cash flow changed everything. I mean, we’re not like
this
rich,” I lifted my chin and looked to the ceiling, then back at him, “but not hurting either. The money made them empty shells. They never laugh or sit down and enjoy a meal together. They’re always coming and going. They never ask, ‘How was your day, sweetheart,’ like my best friend’s mom does every time I walk into
her
house. I’d love for my mom or dad to get up in my grill about something, anything, once in a while, just so I know they care. My dad’s a sales exec in golf gear and is always away like yours. It boggles my mind that they can come up with so many lines and varieties of clubs and shoes, but they do, every year. He’s always going to shows and development and prototype meetings and whatnot. I had a stream of nannies, only because my mom was too busy with shopping and cocktail parties. What a waste of her business degree. She’s such a lump on society now. She does nothing.”

“Sorry you had to go through all that. I don’t know why anyone wouldn’t want to spend time with you. There’s nothing else in the world I’d rather do. I had nannies too. Gertrude was the best, and she lasted the longest. Way old and very grandma-like. She kept me from total destruction and stayed on here as one of the house caretakers until last year when she died from cancer.”

“I’m glad you had someone great and influential in your life. I hated all of mine. Every single one was a strict bitch. What do you want to do for a career? What are you studying? What exactly is so ‘pathetically common’?”

He spread the French toast on a platter, smothered them with cream cheese and strawberries, put them together and covered them with more strawberries. He looked adorable when he sucked the bit of white off his finger. “Whipped cream?”