Wolfe (16 page)

Kiara

If Wolfe bit and pulled on the skin of my butt one more time, my eyes would pop. My nipples still burned with what he’d done to them.
Fuck.
My heart was throbbing fast as could be. My breathing was hoarse in my ears. Though he’d stopped me talking, he’d left me freedom to do or not do, to think, or not think, in every other way. And I was still turned on beyond belief.

Freedom, a novel concept where he was concerned.

I tested the binding on my wrists and was tempted to get loose. It would mean the destruction of the bra but...oh my, the idea undid me. I pulled and twisted, wrenched, and something snapped behind my back. Grinning devilishly, I reached blindly and grabbed his hair.

“Ah-huh.” His matter-of-fact tone was unnerving, and more than a little diabolical, but I hung on.

Until...he took hold of my wrists again, bit my ass even harder.
I squeaked out a bitten-off stream of
noes
that weren’t quite the finished word and sounded like panicked grunts – which they were. Not talking was bizarrely elevating my arousal. Finally, after one last shudder, I ceased squirming and waited for him to release my flesh.

With his fingers gentle on my hips, he turned me to face him.

“Naughty. Now you see what happens when you deliberately rip through bondage I place on you.”

With little effort, he picked me up, bodily, to arrange me stomach down over the arm rest of the sofa with my arms in front and my hands clasped. He entwined my fingers with each other, one by one, as if they were some intricate puzzle.

Kneeling, he delivered his next words from inches away. His finger pressed on my nose. “Don’t move, at all, while I decide on your punishment.”

God.
The word
punishment
had jellied into me, heated and laden with a delicious sort of scariness. What was he planning?

Everything he did to me tonight had a sexual context, an overtone. That enthralled me. Or rather, he did.
Wolfe.

How apt that he had the name of a predatory animal.

Even thinking of his name,
Wolfe,
in the privacy of my head inclined me to shivering. Now that he was controlling himself, his presence had a potency that stamped itself on the very air I breathed. I inhaled his power, got off on it, because I was his focus.

“Understand?”

I nodded and I licked my lips, ending up with my tongue tip seemingly glued to my upper lip because foggy thoughts of punishment were whizzing about in my head, until he smirked at me. I sucked my tongue back in and tried to look blasé, despite being ass up over a sofa.

“Good.” He rose to his feet and walked away.

Then he began to amass a collection of things on the sofa before me. After some puzzlement, I realized all of them could plausibly be used on my rear end.

A book, a hardback, was placed there. A curtain cord. His belt. What looked like a stick. A spatula from the kitchen. Last of all, he walked over with something long and thin that had him examining it before he reverently positioned it on the upholstery.

In the firelight, with reflections making one side of it gleam, was the iron fire poker.
Jesus H
...that was metal.

His expression was contemplative, as if using it was a possible.

No way.
I cleared my throat and his gaze flashed to me – a beast spotting a meal that squeaked.

Shocked, I froze.

He was being nice, he’d said. Was that even possible with this man?

Wolfe

The look on her face, after I placed the poker on the sofa, priceless.

“You think I won’t use it?”

She made some small sound so I crouched and shifted the poker closer to her. The poker was heavy, rusty, lethal looking – all the elements that made my balls happy.

Resist.

Oh, I would. I just loved her expression.

“I can imagine the effect on you, even if used lightly. The bruises... Perhaps it would be the right punishment? Or would you rather this?” I retrieved the stick instead. The poker would be an assault rather than a sadistic pain that might enhance her pleasure, but the mind fuck was awesome...because, she almost believed me.

Yes.
The whisper of the word echoed in my head.

There was something wrong with that and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Her, though, I could definitely finger her.

I stood with the stick in hand, swished it back and forth. “Maybe later? We can toy with the poker later.”

Fingering.
Hmmm.
I wriggled the cloth of her panties down again. Somehow she’d righted them after I’d exposed her before. “Did you pull these up when I wanted to see your pussy? Damn. Double punishment. Next time, don’t.”

Her gasp at the first strike seemed the beginning of my concerto.

I remembered my aim – this night was for both of us. And that I loved her. So I switched her ass red, leaving a few stripes and scratches, then I bit her to make her wriggle, then I fucked her with my fingers.

If only I had that dildo.

Her pussy was dripping already. I pulled her panties all the way down, lifted each foot off the rug to strip them from her. The crotch was wet and they’d not even been in contact with her pussy while I’d been switching her.

Such a pretty, moaning, and quivering wreck. Such a striped ass. I drew a fingernail down a few of the stripes to see her twitch and moan. And I’d barely begun.

“Still making noises?” I whispered. “Open your mouth.”

I leaned over her.

Tears had dribbled from the corners of her eyes.

While I stuffed the panties past her lips, I licked at the tears and kissed her cheek. The belt would be sexy wrapped across her mouth and buckled, but I wanted to use it. So I wound the curtain cord around her face and across her mouth to stop her spitting out the panties. I was careful. Swallowing the cloth would be bad so I wedged part of them between the cord and her lips. She shook her head as if to dislodge the impromptu gag and I shushed her.

“It stays. Be good and I’ll be nicer.”

I’d even used a slip-knot at the back of her head so I could remove the gag, fast, if necessary.

Yes, I was nice and safety conscious. If only the poker didn’t catch my eye. It was the equivalent of a rearing cobra – deadly, but fascinating in its terrible beauty.

I wiped my forehead with the back of my arm. It was a sweaty business, making a woman scream. My cock was throbbing painfully, so I stripped, and once I had my dick in hand, what else could I do except the obvious?

Her mouth was taken. I hadn’t thought that one through now, had I?

I crouched beside the sofa again. “Want to get fucked now, Kiara?” With my finger, I traced the outside of the cord where it dug into her face, her lips where they still showed, around her eyes, then along from one eyebrow to the other.

She hadn’t made a noise and seemed hypnotized. The pain had affected her, and the dominance. I reached beneath and squeezed her nipple between finger and thumb until she jerked and whimpered. “Want to get fucked?”

Her nod was accompanied by such a cute admission of hunger in her brown eyes that I relented, releasing her nipple to kiss her gagged mouth. “Good girl.”

I went around behind her, let my cock find her pussy, and nudged inside a half-inch. The feel of that made me close my eyes for a second. But...

Her ass was raised and begging, her hands were free and clutching at the sofa in anticipation. My forehead wrinkled. That wouldn’t do.

So I left her there and descended to the basement where I found the pair of leather cuffs I recalled. These, she wouldn’t tear loose from. They had tiny padlocks. The key – I might need that. No pockets on me, since I was naked, so I left the key on the hook on the wall. Then I ascended the spiral stairs and returned to her.

“Not moved? You’re learning. Put your hands at your back.” I locked her wrists into the cuffs and connected them, locked that too.

This time I drew my cock up and down her slit, until lubricated with her wetness, then I guided myself in, slow as the clench and release of her pussy on me, and even slower when she gripped me tighter. There was agony in making her wait, for both of us, but I stalled and toyed with the switch marks on her butt.

When I had her making small passionate noises and curving toward my pain and not away, I shoved in all the way. I fucked her until she was on tiptoes, struggling to angle her ass into my thrusts, then I pulled out and kneeled behind her. With three fingers, I impaled her, widening her entrance, stretching it this way and that while I talked quietly.

Her gag-muffled whimpers and the haze of lust rising in her mind told me I was definitely doing what turned her on, as did the wetness welling past my fingers.

“I’m not going to fuck you properly for ages. I forbid you to come, Kiara, but you can come as close...” I wormed those fingers in, full depth, then pulled out and sneaked in the fourth. Then I left them there so she was painfully full. “You can get as close to climax as you can. But
don’t
come.”

I made that a command. Then I waited with my four fingers penetrating her until she emerged from her dazed state.

Finally, she nodded, grunted, a reply.

“Good.”

The removal of my fingers left her slumped into the sofa and panting. Her ass swayed in an invitation. With my palms on her inner thighs, I pushed her legs wide and commenced my torture of her clit. I licked her, sucked on it, played with that nub with the tip of my tongue, then sucked on it again with greater suction.

Her squeaking made me stop and grin.

“Almost coming?”

“Mmm!”

I chuckled. I knew anyway, could tell easily.

So I abused her clit some more.

Earlier, she’d showered in our rainwater and she tasted fresh, and only of her own juices. I gathered some on my palm and massaged back and forth over the lips of her pussy then higher, circling, squashing down. I stuck my tongue inside her while I pinched her swollen clit.

She was reduced to muttering groans and mangled words that sounded like the beginning of
stop
as she wriggled and rocked.

Laughing at her probably wasn’t registering, but I enjoyed seeing her desperate, especially when I stopped moving to watch her futilely impale her cunt on my fingers.

A few times, I stuck my cock in her and fucked her, until my own desire to come was near bursting. The last time, I withdrew, and turned her over so she presented her sex to my view...and her breasts. Everywhere I’d sucked or bitten or smacked was a blushing red.

“Don’t move,” I said, my voice low and threatening. “Not an inch.”

The switch, where I’d left it on the sofa, tempted me again. I swiped some lighter, burning lines across the underside of each breast. Her yelps from behind the gag were enticing as fuck.

“Christ, you tempt me. I’d come if I fucked you now.”

She pouted and squirmed, spreading her legs...and with her hands bound and under her. The sight of a bound woman pleading for sex never got old. Her mouth, if I took off that gag, was available for fucking too.

I narrowed my eyes. “Little bitch. God
damn
. You can wait.”

When she came. I would too. It was
The Plan
, highlighted, underlined, engraved on my brain.

Too easy to do her now, to lose myself. So I switched her thighs for tempting me. Then I ate her out again, made sure she reached to the
very
top in arousal, and I kept her there, panting and incoherent with the desire to go over.

I let her quieten, and did it again. In between I flipped her over and paddled her with the book, a hardback copy of
The Princess Bride
. It seemed apt, funny, and made her butt redder.

My hands shook. I stared at them until they settled, then sniffed in a long breath and wiped away more sweat. With my fist around my cock, I circled the sofa.

When she could see me, her gaze latched on. I was her messiah, her Bringer of Pleasure, her Beast. I’d wear all those labels proudly.

“What do you want, Kiara? Say it.”

She coughed around the gag.
You
came out as
ooo
, but I translated well.

“You want to be fucked? Where? Your ass?”

The
no
was quite clear and I grinned. “Okay, no more talking. But, I just put a big tick next to defiling you everywhere. Now I
know
I’m fucking your ass tonight.”

Her indignant hiccup, as she tried to speak, then her scowl, made my grin widen.

I’d calmed, so I put a knee on the sofa near her head and undid the gag, removed the panties, then stuffed my cock into her willing mouth for several strokes. There were liquid, squishy noises as my cock travelled deep, almost fucking down her throat.  When my balls squeezed in, I pulled free and staggered back, leaving her to splutter.

My own breathing was hurried.

Preoccupied, I drifted my gaze to that poker.

No.

I swallowed, needing to distract myself from using it.

“Time to go downstairs, Kiara. Let’s see your other presents. Maybe you’ll get to come.”

Though deeply aroused, she managed an eye roll or two and stuck her tongue out at me, waggled it.

Her sense of humor was intact. So was mine.

I put my forehead to hers. “There are clamps down in the basement that fit tongues.” When her tongue was abruptly sucked back in, I winked. “Not joking.”

I pulled the cord from her neck then dragged her to her feet. The only other object I took with us to the stairs was that poker. When I dropped it down the stairwell, the clang and clatter as it bounced off the metal rungs would have awoken the dead.

Down there, held such promise.

My toes hung over the edge. I had her by the neck. She wasn’t leaving and I took a moment to think and look down through the square hole.

I’d left the lights on and they blazed in my eyes, blinding me in specks where the light flared off metal.

Shiny things were there.

And the poker now lay quiet, a straight line on the floor.

If nothing else, it reminded her, and me, of possibilities.

The hand with which I’d held the poker shook but stilled when I willed it so.

I hadn’t yet told her to speak fully and from how she’d trembled and leaned into my body as we’d walked, letting her stay silent was best. It made her terribly submissive – just how I liked her.

“Shut your eyes and don’t open them until I say. I’ll guide you.”

Her hands were locked at her back, but I could take her weight if she slipped.

She’d be fine, at least until her feet reached the floor below.