Bound to Ecstasy Read online

  “You’re right. It was a fantasy, a way of stimulating myself so I could bring myself to climax. I’d—I’ve never told anyone this, but I’ve visited some pretty graphic Web sites and even bought some bondage videos to give me something visual to build on.”

  “How do you feel about that? Are you embarrassed?”

  “At first,” she allowed, no longer able to stop herself from trying to look behind her. “But the more videos I watched, the more comfortable I became.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell anyone?”

  “Why?” she repeated, unable to keep disbelief out of her voice. “That’s hardly the kind of thing I’d share.”

  “You just told me.”

  “I know,” she admitted on a sigh. Responding to his questions had distanced her a little from the fire in her core, but she’d be a fool if she told herself it wouldn’t again flame.

  “Go back to your fantasy,” he said and brushed her hair off her shoulders. “Share.”

  Whimpering and leaning toward his touch, she nevertheless told herself that she couldn’t possibly have become dependent on him so soon. Surrender didn’t happen to modern, independent women.

  Then what was she doing naked, tied, and on her knees?

  “The next night you had guests, other wealthy and powerful men like yourself. They’d brought their slaves with them and passed them among themselves as they’d done many times before, but you said I wasn’t ready to join them. Instead, you placed me in an arm binder that arched my back in such a way that my breasts were prominently displayed.” Being caught within her dark world made it all too easy to form a mental image of herself as she trailed obediently behind Thorn—or whoever had been the man in her fantasy—watching the other slaves service their masters. Because the man in her images had also gagged her, she’d been a silent observer, and nearly as hungry as she’d become with the egg locked inside her.

  “After they left, you removed my gag and changed my ties so my hands were in front, attached to a rope that went around my waist and between my legs. It was tight, but I didn’t mind because the pressure on my cunt kept me horny and I wanted that. You fed me tiny pieces of food, the first food I’d had to eat since you’d bought me.”

  “Were you grateful?” He continued stroking her hair, and although she loved the touch, it wasn’t enough.

  “I begged you to let me give you head, but you said I had to wait a little longer.”

  “You pretty much made me a bastard in your mind, didn’t you?”

  Startled because his voice was so close, she tried to lean in that direction but nearly lost her balance. Grabbing her shoulders, he drew her toward him until the back of her head rested against him. She was still getting used to his touch after being alone for so long when he reached around so he could cup her breasts. “Why did you make me a cruel master?”

  “Not cruel!”

  “Then what?”

  “You—you knew what I needed, to be taken down inside myself. I had lessons to learn about always putting you first and understanding that you were in control of everything I experienced.”

  “Even in control of what and when and how you ate?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. A wave of embarrassment slid over her at the reminder of what a perfect little bondage slut her imagination had made her. Then the image faded under the pressure on her breasts and the sudden and unshakable knowledge that he needed this as much as she did.

  “A little while ago you mentioned brands. Did I brand you?”

  As she spun off into the past that existed only in her mind, she described the day he’d decided the time had come for her to wear permanent proof of his ownership. By then he’d educated her in the art of sucking cock and when she pleased him, he allowed her to sleep at the foot of his bed. He still hadn’t fucked her but had allowed her to satisfy herself while he watched.

  On this day, he’d immobilized her with leather straps after giving her a pill designed to relax her. Although she hadn’t been clearheaded, she’d taken pride in not so much as flinching as he pressed a hot, small S-shaped brand against the meatiest part of her right breast. The moment the S burned into her flesh, before she could scream, he slapped an ice pack on the spot and held it until the pain died.

  “That night you ordered me to climb on top of you, straddle your cock, and lower myself onto it,” she finished. “Finally screaming the scream I’d been carrying inside all day, I came in seconds. When I’d recovered, I put all my energy into fucking you, and when you climaxed, so did I. We slept in each other’s arms.”

  “Is that what you want? To spend the night in your master’s arms?”

  She was searching for an answer when he lowered himself to his knees behind her. One hand went around her throat while the other gripped her left hip. Bit by bit he increased the pressure on her windpipe until she again rested her weight against him. A thread of fear ran through her, but even as she worked at getting enough air into her lungs, she reveled in this latest proof of how much of her he controlled.

  This was good, more than good, something she’d been searching for for a long time without knowing it.

  “This is part of what BDSM is about,” he muttered with his mouth near her ear. “What I want you to acknowledge and accept as you haven’t so far is that in its pure form, the sub willingly gives up ownership because she trusts the dom. Do you trust me?”

  The first time she’d allowed her darkest fantasy to slip past her barriers, she’d mentally imagined being in a harem, not a place of luxury and wealth, but a secret place in some unknown mountains where a powerful and savage warlord kept females he’d captured from his enemies in the valley below. Because he’d surrounded himself with handpicked henchmen whose loyalty had been bought with freely given cunts, the warlord was supremely confident. He devoted his days to plunder and killing, his nights to satisfying himself on helpless flesh. She’d been one of those women, of course. At first he’d beaten and humiliated her, sexually teased her and taught her that he and he alone fed, watered, and kept her warm. At length he’d broken her down, not with whips but crotch ropes. Bound and helpless, often with plugs in both her openings, she’d been forced to watch while he had sex with his more fortunate captives. After endless nights of hearing their delighted cries of gratitude, she’d begged to be allowed to receive his cock. And when he’d granted her wish, she’d groveled at his feet and then crawled after him as he walked away.

  How could she possibly tell anyone, especially him, about that?

  “Do you trust me?”

  Unable to speak, she settled for nodding, but even as she did she wondered at the insanity or lust or hunger that had brought her to this point.

  “You believe you do,” he continued, his hand making inroads between her legs. “But what you have yet to learn is that this kind of trust is a never-ending journey. We both have to earn it.”

  Was he saying they were going to be together for a long time? Impossible because she had a job to do, bills to pay, responsibilities.

  He must have known what she was thinking because suddenly he forced her head down to the floor. Although he immediately released her, she remained in place, in part because her leverage was restricted without the use of her arms, in part because knowing her ass was again offered to him was a turn-on. Calling up images of how she’d shown her gratitude to her warlord, she wiggled her rear end at Thorn.

  Knowing hands pulled her buttocks apart. Expecting to feel his fingers in her intimate holes, she shuddered and moaned as his cock head slipped into her pussy. “What are you saying, that you want this?” he asked.

  “Yes, please!”

  “Please what?”

  “Fuck me.”

  “No!” He punctuated the word with a familiar slap to her left buttock. “Not that.”

  What did he want? But even with the undeniable distraction of what she’d long been waiting to feel, she knew. “I offer myself to you, master. Please pleasure yourself with my gift.”
r />   “I love hearing that even if it’s part of the role you’re playing.”

  Was she assuming a role? Maybe and yet on another level she’d never meant anything more. Hoping to get him to focus on the physical, she rocked back toward him. Unfortunately, that caused her forehead to rub against the hard floor. “Master?”

  “What, my pet?”

  “I—can’t we use the bed?”

  5

  That earned her another laugh but just as she was trying to lift her head, he pulled free, stood, and helped her to her feet. An instant later she could see; at least his shadow appeared. As she waited for her vision to clear, she concentrated on balancing her weight. She hadn’t forgotten what he looked like, far from that, but being robbed of sight for a while had made it possible for her to concentrate on the stories and scenarios she’d long spun in her mind but had just shared with another human being for the first time. Concentrating on the man himself again served to bring back reality. She had been rendered helpless by a stranger. More than that she’d called him master and offered her body to him, more than offered, begged him to use her. And despite his greater height and nearly a hundred more pounds, she had absolutely no fear of him, at least not in ways she’d share with outsiders. How could she when he was giving her what she’d craved for longer than she dared admit?

  “No more thinking,” he said as he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. Several long, easy strides brought them to the edge of the bed, and when he sat her down on the side of it, she knew it was far different from the cheap piece of furniture that had once belonged to Bondage Babes.

  He sat beside her, his body angled toward hers, so she did the same. Even with urgency running through her, she saw the humor in what they were doing. Here they were, two brand-new acquaintances interested in getting to know each other, but instead of conversations about careers, pets, favorite vacation spots, and political affiliations, they were both naked, and she was tied up.

  And they were going to have sex.

  Eventually.

  Hopefully.

  “Have you thought about what catering to your needs so far has been like for me?” he asked after a long silence.

  “You, ah, you have incredible self-control.”

  “Yeah, I do.” After looking down at his hard-as-hell erection for a moment, he cradled it between his hands as if it was an old friend, a tired old friend. “I’ve learned how to distance myself from my cock, but it’s never easy.”

  There must be something she could say, questions about why he was in this line of work, for lack of a better term, and where he’d come from and how he’d known what he did about her, but she didn’t want to talk, didn’t want anything more to get in the way of her goal. “I don’t have that skill,” she told him. “Not now after what you’ve been doing to me.”

  “In other words, you want to get to the main event.”

  Hadn’t she already made that clear? She was pressing her lips against his chest even before she knew that’s what she was going to do. Using her tongue to bring his taste into her mouth, she again slipped off into the hot sensual world she’d created for herself. To her wonder and gratitude, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and held her there. And when he kissed the top of her head and lightly gnawed on her hair, she slid deeper into the heated fog of her mind.

  Master or boyfriend, owner or husband, it didn’t matter. She was a woman with needs and he a man who understood the depth of those needs even better than she did. “You’re beautiful,” she managed. “The most beautiful man I’ve even known.”

  “What makes me that way?”

  “Your knowledge, your skill.”

  “In sexually restraining and teasing you?”

  She’d gone as far as she could in her ability to think. Now his body was the only thing left, that and her body’s need for it. “Master, please.”

  Cursing under his breath, he held her at arm’s length. Anger blazed over his features but died a sudden death, making her wonder if she had more impact on him than she’d realized before and that he resented her power. “Damn you.”

  “For what?”

  “For making me want you.”

  “Isn’t this what your controlling me is about, so you can get off?”

  “It isn’t that simple, and you know it.”

  Nothing about today was, not that she needed to tell him that. Loving and hating both of them, she struggled to ignore the heat that threatened to take away her ability to breathe. When he released her, for a moment she simply sat. Then, acting on a force she didn’t want to put a label on, she started to slide onto the floor, but although he must have known she wanted to take his cock into her mouth, he seized her arms and pushed her onto her back on the bed. She watched his every move as he lifted her legs on the bed as well.

  His expression was impassive as he lightly stroked her thighs. Even when she gasped and tried to roll toward him, he held her in place while giving no hint of what he was thinking. Still, there was no denying the sweat along his breastbone or the way his cock danced.

  Losing herself in sensation was easy and right. No matter what the rest of the day brought, she’d live in these seconds while he painted her skin with his rough, knowing, and somehow gentle fingers. Beyond all reason, he was fueling flames that had come to life in her mind years ago.

  And she took his gift.

  “What are you feeling right now?”

  Be honest. It’s important. “I love having everything center around me. In my—always when I imagine things like this happening, I have to concentrate on the whole picture. It’s my responsibility to make my imaginary man do what I need him to, and that’s distracting. The way I am now, I can’t do anything except experience it. You’re giving me a gift, an incredible gift.”

  “Some gifts come with a price.”

  “What kind of price?”

  “Maybe I should call it accountability. I hand you something, but I expect you to do the same in return.”

  If he’d wanted her to give her full attention to what he’d just said he wouldn’t still be trailing his hands over her so-accessible and willing body, would he? I’ll think about that soon, she longed to tell him. Just grant me release first, please!

  “I know what you’re thinking.” Leaning down, he pressed his lips against her navel. “Do you have any idea how transparent you are right now?”

  Oh shit, his breath running over her belly! Twitching, she couldn’t guess that he was going to bury his tongue in her belly button until it was too late. “Arr!”

  “No, no.” His hands now pressing on her shoulders kept her from escaping. “I’m not cutting you any slack. Your job is to learn and acknowledge everything your captive body is capable of experiencing. Mine is to keep those experiences coming.”

  How right he was! How determined. Tongue and teeth and lips worked her from her neck all the way to her thighs. Maybe she’d learned her lesson; maybe she’d forgotten how to move. Whatever the reasons, except for the uncontrollable twitches, gasps, and shudders, she held herself in place. It was a matter of pride—that and milking the erotic teasing massage for everything she could. If she dared, she’d tell herself that he worshipped her and that’s why he’d slid his tongue through her fine pubic hair, guided her in bending her knees, and closed his mouth over her labia.

  But that was a naive fantasy, a melting-to-the-core woman’s disconnect with reality. Unlike her, Thorn didn’t lose control. He had a reason for everything he did and lessons to impart to her.

  Bottom line, her body belonged to him. She was his to mold.

  Fine, wonderful, mold me.

  Shit, the damnable ankle restraints were limiting his access to her sex. Struck by sudden inspiration, she planted her feet on the mattress and pushed off, briefly bringing her feet up over her head. Then gravity took over, causing her legs to slide back down.

  “What are you trying to do?” That damnably intriguing amusement was back in his voice.

 
“Give you—give myself to you.”

  “You already belong to me.” He demonstrated by repeatedly rolling her onto her right side and then her left. “Putty in my hands. Go on, tell me that’s not what’s happening.”

  “I’m putty all right! Stop, I’m getting dizzy.”

  “That’s not dizzy.” The moment she was on her back again, he slid his hands under her buttocks and lifted her lower body toward him, letting her know that she was to bend her knees as she did. “That’s sensory overload.”

  No argument there. And no point in lying and telling him that she didn’t belong to him. One thing about his little demonstration, he’d distracted her from trying to do anything on her own. Limp and receptive again, she lay there wondering if it was possible to melt into the mattress while his tongue repeatedly slid over her slit. Maybe not her entire body but her cunt, her here’s my gift to you cunt. Not a muscle remained. She could be in the middle of a full body cramp and she wouldn’t know it. There was him, him—first, last, and only him.

  “Master, master,” escaped her numb and yet sensitized lips.

  “I’m not your master, Evi.” He kept his mouth and thus his breath near her core. “Your body is.”

  “No! You…”

  “I know. You still believe I’m responsible for everything you’ve been experiencing, but you’re wrong.” He slipped both thumbs into her and then separated them, effectively stretching her. “That’s today’s lesson. When you surrender yourself to someone who understands everything surrender entails, you become free to experience as you never have.”

  What was he talking about? “Master, oh, please.”

  “No reservations, Evi?” Although he relaxed the pressure on her pussy walls, his thumbs remained in place. “No modesty left?”

  “Can’t, can’t.”

  “Can’t or don’t want to?”

  Ah, that’s what he wanted from her! “I trust you,” she admitted around the tears clogging her throat and the fired energy centered in her clit. “With all of me!”