Bound to Ecstasy Read online

  He didn’t insist she repeat herself, and although she still would have insisted that everything in and about her belonged to him, she was thankful for the small gift of self-respect.

  But was that what he had in mind, she wondered as he pulled out so he could stroke her wet and hot labia. Maybe, was it possible, maybe she had given him a gift with her words.

  Wondering if that was true, she turned her head so she could study his features. What she found brought fresh tears to her eyes. Yes, he was still in control; nothing about him so much as hinted otherwise. But he wasn’t a manikin or robot, and he was certainly much more than a figment of her imagination. Concentrating on her needs and lessons had taken their toil on him. Strain was etched on his face and in his eyes, and he’d again closed his free hand around his organ. His breaths were deep, yet rapid, and it wasn’t warm enough in here for that to be responsible for the sweat glistening on his chest.

  Despite the distraction of his so-knowing fingers on her clit, something shifted in her. Up until now, everything had been about her journey, but no longer. One thing, maybe the only thing she could give him, was the relief and release he deserved. And in offering a home for his cock, she’d receive her own reward.

  “Thorn?” Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she tried again. “It doesn’t have to go on like this. You’ve been incredible to me, incredible. I want to give you—please, think of yourself now.” She demonstrated by trying but failing to fully open herself to him. “Release my legs, please, and let me wrap them around you. My gift—my cunt is my gift to you.”

  Although he could have rightly pointed out that she was in no position to be offering him anything, he didn’t. Responding to a new light in his eyes, she rolled toward him, which unfortunately separated his finger from her clit. “Not my hands. You don’t have to do that, but please, can’t we have sex?”

  “I could bring you to climax without that happening.”

  Of course he could. Just thinking about the ways and possibilities made her flush with anticipation. “But it’s not what you want. Damn it, Thorn, think about yourself.”

  His grip on his cock tightened.

  “You’re on the edge. What are you going to do, force climaxes out of me until I can’t come anymore and then walk away so you can jack off? You don’t want that; I don’t want it for you.”

  “Doms make those decisions, not the subs.”

  “I’m not your sub!” Am I? “And I haven’t given you the right to be my dom. I’m learning, that’s all it is, learning. Lesson over.” She made her point by running her gaze from his must be hurting cock to her core. “Recess time.”

  “Recess?” He drew out the word.

  “Play, party time, whatever you want to call it.” Was there something else she could or should say? Maybe, but hadn’t she already said enough and did either of their bodies need words?

  One instant he was sitting beside her with his weight pulling her toward him. The next he’d stood and was stalking away from her. Come back! she longed to cry out but didn’t. This was his journey, his decision.

  Slowing, stopping, both hands at his groin, and his shoulders and back tense. Had she ever read anyone as clearly as she was now reading him? In countless ways they remained strangers, but she knew, absolutely knew, that his body was being truthful.

  When he slowly turned and took the first step back toward her and the bed he’d placed her on, she smiled up at him.

  “You have incredible eyes,” he said. “There are flecks of gold in them.”

  “Are there?” I saw silver in yours.

  “And they’re so expressive.”

  “So are yours.”

  Although he was now close enough that she again felt his body heat, she knew he wasn’t going to touch her until he’d had time to digest what she’d just told him. Of course he needed that. After all, his role as a dom was to present an aloof and mysterious image, right? A man in absolute and unwavering control. But underneath that image beat a man’s heart. “Did I dream you up?” she asked. “I wanted a Viking and that’s what you look like.”

  “I’m not a product of your imagination, Evi. I exist.”

  Thank God! “But where? Not in the world I understand and know.” A wave of something beyond sexual need slammed into her. “You were going to walk away a minute ago, weren’t you? Instead you came back to me.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Because we both want the same thing.”

  By way of response, he grasped her ankle restraints and lifted until she could see little except her shins and knees inches from her face. Her buttocks were off the bed, and her hands pressed against the small of her back. Even with anticipation running through her, she couldn’t ignore what she looked like, an offered cunt.

  Sighing, he positioned himself so one leg was bent and on the bed, the other still on the floor. What truly mattered was that he’d aligned his cock so it rested between her labial lips.

  A single long, strong thrust buried him in her.

  Filled! Full!

  The press of his silken balls against her skin momentarily distracted her from the hunger crawling through her. This was a tough man, a powerful man, but not everywhere. His cock might be the obvious gift, but it wasn’t the only one. This sac wasn’t simply part of the package; in it waited his immortality, his unborn children.

  Blindsided by fresh tears, she dove into herself. Not long after Thorn had entered her world, she’d taken a mental count of the days and came away knowing she wasn’t fertile. But if she’d been, would she have stopped him?

  Too deep. Thoughts were for later. This moment and the ones to come were all about sensation. Rewarding and being rewarded. Embracing a closeness time and distance could never alter.

  He wasn’t angry; she sensed nothing of rage about him. Instead, his need ruled him as he threw his strength at her. Sensing his frayed self-control, she wondered if she could reduce him to primal craving as he’d done to her, but for that to happen, she’d have to dismiss her own body. Acknowledging that she was too far gone for anything except this moment, this journey, she realized she was sliding along the sheet. When he tightened his grip on her ankle restraints, her legs started to come down, threatening to separate them.

  “Wait!” she cried.

  The instant he stopped, his muscles tight and jumping, she grabbed the sheet and used it to anchor herself. Supremely proud of her contribution, she smiled up at him. Maybe her legs made it impossible for him to see her expression, but maybe he could sense her mood as he resumed. In her mind, he powered toward her over and over again. His thighs became like hardwood. Sweat built upon the sweat already coating his chest; his mouth was open, and intensity contorted his features.

  As hers must be.

  Yes, slipping out of the self she’d long taken for granted to where hot sensation became everything. Yes, floating in heat. Yes, becoming both more and less than she’d ever been, loose and lost and—

  Lost? Was that what it had come to, her will was gone, mind splintered, body ripped?

  Assaulted by sudden and irrational anger, she whipped her head from side to side. He’d kept her on the edge for so long that falling into the deep hole of no return was only heartbeats away when she gathered the strength to fight what she desperately needed.

  Not yet, not yet.

  Sucking in air through both mouth and nose helped keep release at bay but only barely. Her inner muscles closed down around his gift, forcing him to work even harder. The nuance of each push and pull further tested her self-control. In yet another effort to delay the inevitable, she started rocking, but that only increased her awareness of the hot hard length grinding against her inner walls.

  “Come, come, come!” she sobbed.

  “I am. Shit, ah, ah!”

  There was her Viking. Beneath knowledge and mastery lived a savage and primitive creature who now ground out sounds without meaning. She loved the rough rage of noise coming up from his core, worshipped the w
et flesh slide being played out in her pussy. Lifting her head allowed her to see his strained expression, but an instant later she fell back because every bit of strength she possessed was centered in one place.

  Falling, the monster force pulling her out and up.

  Had the same force gripped him? Would they climax together?

  Too late! No thinking, no stopping.

  “Oh, oh, oh my God!” she sobbed.

  He bellowed, pushed, hammered, held strong and relentless against her. Then he flooded her.

  And she took his gift, clung to it and him as her own climax exploded over and over again.

  6

  Steam fogged Evi’s bathroom, saving her from having to look at herself as she stepped out of the shower, but because she’d already seen her naked body, she didn’t need another reminder. Besides, her sensitive skin had demanded she apply soap as gently as possible. After blotting herself as dry as she gave a damn about, she wrapped the towel around her wet hair and rested her buttocks against the sink.

  Spreading her legs, she made a careful assessment of what she could see of her pussy. Oh, no doubt about it, she’d been well and completely used, her labia and inner tissues demanding recuperative time. She was still warm down there and had no doubt that her inner sex was red and swollen. One saving grace: she was hardly in the mood for a repeat performance.

  Neither did she want to be alone, but here she was, back in her apartment with only the vaguest recollection of how that had happened. Thorn was gone and that was all that really mattered. He’d been there to untie her and she’d fallen asleep nestled against his warmth, but not even his imprint had been on the sheet when she’d awakened. Not that she’d needed a dent in the mattress since his cum had still been both in her and drying on her thighs. Washing off the most vivid reminder of what had taken place between them had been hard, but she’d done the right thing. He was part of something unreal that was triggering her mind’s dark potential when she needed back her world. Her sanity.

  Bottom line, no way could or would or should she even try to plan her life around more of what she’d just experienced. Whether he was a figment of her imagination or a flesh and blood man, she’d be a fool if she told herself he’d be around for the long run.

  Which was just as well since neither her body or mind and certainly not her heart could survive.

  Sighing for what might have been the hundredth time, she put her mind on the complex task of applying lotion and putting on her underwear. She was settling her breasts in her bra cups when she noticed how abraded her wrists looked. Fortunately she didn’t have to see anyone until morning and maybe makeup or long sleeves would hide the proof of what had happened.

  But what had happened?

  Thorn had given her entrance to a place where strong men proved their power over willing women and it had been incredible, nerve shaking but incredible. The real thing, she’d learned, had blown gaping holes through what her imagination had been able to provide. Then when he was done with her, he’d slipped out of her life as mysteriously as he’d entered it and deposited her back in what remained of Dungeon Dames. Not only that, he’d somehow supplied her with the materials inventory that had begun the whole adventure.

  Adventure? No, that didn’t come close.

  Selecting a cream designed for scratches and scrapes, she applied some to both wrists and then to her ankles. She contemplated doing the same to her nipples but wasn’t sure that was the right thing to do. Still, her breasts were much too sensitive for wearing a bra.

  So take off the damn thing.

  Wearing only underpants, she walked out of the bathroom, but by the time she’d reached her bed, where she’d left the rest of what she’d chosen to wear this evening, she’d determined that her labia was just as sensitive if not more so than her breasts. Tugging off the offending panties, she sat on the edge of the bed.

  How long ago had she been on a bed, Thorn’s bed? Other questions crowded into her mind, causing her to shake her head. Denying anything would be a lie and looking for answers would only make her risk what passed for her sanity. Fortified with that scant piece of information, she leaned over and spread her legs so she could study what he’d claimed in detail. There was where his balls had slapped and pressed and kissed. There, exposed by her less-than-steady fingers, was her opening, which yes, was indeed swollen and hot looking. Craving a return to the incredible moments when they’d been one, she slid her finger into her, but it wasn’t the same thing. Another time masturbation might create its necessary magic; tonight only he would do. Maybe no sex until she’d healed but what about cuddling and getting to know each other, having him answer questions about his origins and a million other things, asking him why their connection had revolved around the BDSM lifestyle.

  Like you don’t know, damn it! Stop pretending you haven’t long wanted to explore that road and might have actually done so if you’d had the courage.

  What about tomorrow?

  Falling back, she stared at the ceiling. Any other time and place and man and she’d be able to pick up a phone and make the vital connection, but Thorn existed in his own world or something. He’d come when he wanted—if he wanted.

  And if he was done with her?

  What did she mean, if? This was hardly a relationship designed for the long run. No way was she going to step into her golden years with Thorn at her side. He belonged to her imagination, her fantasies, end of discussion.

  Determined not to cry, she stood on unsteady feet so she could traverse the vast distance to her dresser, where she pulled out a nightgown and pulled it over her head. As dressed as she could stand to be for the night, she stepped out of her bedroom. Although she needed to get something to drink followed by a search for anything digestible to eat, she wound up in front of her computer. After logging on to the Internet, she clicked on a heading in her Favorites and logged into a familiar site.

  Yes, it was all there, pictures and videos of bondage-loving women and even a few men. Not sure what, if anything, she was looking for, she started scrolling. One update after another slid over her screen until she’d immersed herself in what had helped spawn her mind’s secret cave. As graphic as they were, the images, like the places her imagination took her, were safe. Secret and safe.

  Arms lashed behind her, her elbows forced close together while more rope tethered her wrists. Yet another rope led up from her wrists to an overhead pulley which effectively kept her arms high and her body arched forward. She was on her knees and kept that way via the rope tethering her thighs and ankles together, her knees bent. Even more rope ran both under and over her breasts, and thick strands circled the base of her breasts, forcing them away from her body. Large, silver nipple clamps gripped her nipples, and two weights hung from the chain that connected the clamps.

  Hot discomfort ran through her helpless body as she stared at her unnatural-looking breasts. Someone—her master or captor—had placed padding under her knees, and she’d have to thank him for the small kindness. She wore the briefest of panties but they’d been pulled away from her crotch.

  “Spread your legs.”

  By concentrating on the small, awkward moves, she managed to obey the voice. Then she looked up.

  A cock, long and strong and aimed at her mouth.

  “Master,” she whimpered. “What do you want?”

  “For you to satisfy me.”

  Desperate to obey, she leaned toward the cock, but her master was too far away. “Please let me—”

  A disembodied hand gripped her hair and forced her head back. Blinking at tears, she waited, waited as she’d been taught to do.

  “You please me, slave. Do you like the way I’ve rewarded you?” He demonstrated by tugging on the weighted chain.

  “Yes!” Afraid her pained whimper might anger him, she took a steadying breath. “I love the feel.”

  “You’d say that no matter how much they hurt, wouldn’t you?” He added another weight.

  Breathing th
rough the newest pain took all her concentration, but even as she did, the energy between her legs grew. Pain and pleasure. Subservience and power. “I will say whatever pleases you, master.”

  “And do what brings me pleasure?”

  “Yes.” When he released her hair, she again leaned toward the offered cock. This time her hungry lips made brief contact. “Master, let me please you with my mouth. I beg—”

  “I know what you’re going to say; I know everything about you, don’t I, slave?”

  “Yes.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because you demand absolute honesty.” She struggled to lift her bound breasts toward him.

  “And it brings you pleasure to do whatever I demand, does it not?”

  “Yes.” Pain had slid to the far reaches of her awareness, leaving her able to think about the gift of her body and what the man who owned it intended to do with it.

  “Obeying me absolutely fulfills you.”

  “Yes, yes.”

  “Suffering because I desire it turns moments like this into your joy.”

  His cock was so close now, the heated smell seeping throughout her and igniting her pussy. “I am content when you beat me.”

  “But not as content as when I fuck you.”

  That was what it all came down to. When the lessons and forced obedience were over, he always brought her to climax. The explosions had become what she lived for. And were why she strained against the overhead rope until she closed her mouth around his cock.

  Grunting, her master pulled off the nipple clamps and massaged away the hot sting. Then, as she drew him deep into her throat, he wiped sweat off her forehead.

  The night after the most vivid and unsettling erotic dream of her life, Evi puttered around in her apartment until after midnight, but with her kitchen now disgustingly clean, everything ironed, and her personal files so organized it was scary, she crawled into bed. Focusing at work today had taken great self-control because every time her concentration slipped, she remembered what it had felt like to have her arms anchored behind her and her legs forced into a bent position while a faceless man, or rather his potent cock, approached. Every time that had happened, she’d managed to force the image from her mind but not the question of who the man was or why the experience had felt so real.