EMERY

The sound of Liam kicking the door shut reverberated through the bedroom, the vibrations of so strong I could feel them in my spine. The noise seemed louder than it should have, and I couldn’t tell if it was because of how forcefully he’d slammed the door, or because the sound was shaking me to my core.

He stood just inside the door, the paddle gripped loosely in his hand. I tried to get a better look at it, to see if I could get an idea of the kind of torture I was about to be in for, but it was so dark I could only make out the dim shape, just enough to know that yes, it was a paddle, yes, it was wooden, and yes, it was going to hurt like hell.

My pulse raced, and I tugged on the ropes around my wrists experimentally. They were made of some kind of stretchy material, but there was no way they were going to release me. They must have been designed that way -- with just enough give and flexibility so that he would be able to move my body, but not enough that I could get away.

Liam noticed what I was doing, and his eyes hooded and flamed with desire. He liked that I was trying to get away, I realized, a sick feeling blooming in my stomach. My fists clenched and I closed my eyes.

“If you try to struggle it will be worse.” His voice cut through the darkness, rough and ragged.

“You keep saying that,” I said.

“Because it’s true.”

“I’ll take my chances,” I said, and pulled on the rope again, so hard that the material bit into the skin on my wrists.

This seemed to amuse him. I watched as he walked slowly toward the foot of the bed.

His eyes traveled up my body slowly. I was wearing nothing but a t-shirt – no bra, no panties – and something about it was almost worse than if I’d been naked. If I’d been naked, there would be nothing else he could take from me.

Now I had to wait and see how and when he was going to strip me, how he was going to take control of exposing me to him.

He took the paddle and ran it over my ankles, up toward my thighs, moving to the side of the bed as he used the hard wood to push my shirt up, stopping the fabric at the bottom of the curve of my breast.

He was standing right next to me now, and he licked his top lip as his breath began to come in short pants. He slid the paddle back down my body, stopping when it hit between my legs.

“Spread.” His words were fire to my body, the dirty meaning making me feel like I was kindling and he was pouring gas on me and lighting a match.

My ankles were tied to the bottom of the bed – I was already spread. But I spread even wider, as wide as I could manage, and Liam ran the paddle over me before pulling back and bringing it down on my exposed pussy.

I gasped and arched off the bed, not because I was trying to get the paddle closer to me but because I was trying to get away. But with how I was tied, there was really nowhere to go.

“Eager?” he asked curiously, raising his eyebrows.

I shook my head no.

“Good.” He smiled a cruel smile, and I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath. I hated this, hated that he was now seemingly like a demon possessed, when earlier tonight he’d woken me up and moved inside of me so tenderly.

Now he was nothing like that man.

Now he was the man who’d pushed me into the back of his car that night, the man capable of kidnapping and God knew what else.

He set the paddle down next to me on the bed, reaching behind him and pulling off his sweatshirt. The gesture was sexual because he was such a sexual being -- seeing his ripped torso, his biceps flexing as he got naked from the waist up, his body primal and male, sent my arousal into overdrive. But the intent behind it was all physical – he was taking off his sweatshirt because he was about to take his emotions out on me physically, and he wanted to be able to exert himself.

I swallowed.

My heart was beating so fast that when Liam picked up the paddle and moved it back up over the thin cotton of my t-shirt, I was surprised the wood didn’t bounce in tandem with the beat of my heart.

“Liam,” I said. “Please, Liam, I just… I just wanted to be close to you.”

He regarded me, his eyes cold, his jaw clenching. “You wanted to be close to me?” he whispered.

“Yes,” I said. “I wanted to know who that woman was, what you were talking about.”

“I told you it was none of your concern.”

“But I want --”

He leaned down and kissed me, silencing me, his hand fisting my hair at the neck and forcing me up and into the kiss. His tongue invaded my mouth. This wasn’t the sensual, slow kiss of romance or love – in fact, this almost couldn’t be called a kiss at all. It was a gesture of ownership, the ferocity behind it dark and dangerous. There was no emotion except pure sexual and physical dominance, possession, control.

I tried to pull away from him, because I could feel the kiss pounding through my body, the blood pooling between my legs, making my pussy moist with want. His response was to kiss me harder, his tongue lacing with mine, his mouth warm and wet and good.

When he finally broke away, I was breathless and dizzy, confused by how quickly his mood could change, and how quickly my body and psyche could respond, going from pushing him for answers to submitting to whatever depraved sexual needs resided in the dark corners of his mind. He placed his hand over my mouth, his eyes boring into mine as he silenced me and kept me from talking.

“You want to be close to me?” he repeated after a long moment, his voice ragged. He pulled his hand away and allowed me to answer.

“More than anything.”

His mouth parted slightly, and my gaze moved down, watching as his hand gripped the handle of the paddle. He leaned forward again, his tongue licking the seam of my lips.

A strangled moan escaped from deep inside of me.

“This is how I get close,” he said. He grabbed me around the waist, flipping me over onto my stomach in one quick movement, so fast that I was on my stomach, my tits bouncing under my thin t-shirt before I even realized what had happened.

The rope burned into my wrists, and now it was crisscrossed, the lengths twisting in front of me.

My eyes filled with tears.

“If you cry, it will turn me on,” he murmured, and then the paddle thwacked against my ass, so hard I bit my lip to keep from screaming, worried that if I made a sound he would go harder on me.

He made a satisfied noise, and then he spanked me again. It was so much worse than the belt, a different kind of pain. The belt stung hard, but it also spread the pain out. The paddle was big enough to cover more of my skin, and it caused a dull ache that got more intense even after the blow was over, unlike the belt that stung at first but then dissipated.

I had nothing to hold onto, nothing to brace myself against, so I grabbed the ropes as he paddled me again.

“Emery.”

“Yes?” I managed, my voice soft and strangled.

“I am going to make your ass so red you won’t be able to sit down without thinking of me,” he growled.

He pounded me again.

I tried to count the blows in my head, figuring he would have to stop after five more. But then five turned to ten, and I realized he wasn’t going to stop until I begged him.

“Please,” I cried. “Please, I’ll be good.”

“More.”

“Please. It hurts.”

“More.”

“I’ll do anything,” I whispered.

“Look at me.”

I turned my head to where he was standing at the side of the bed, right next to me. I’d been avoiding looking at him, because I didn’t want to see his face as he punished me, didn’t want to see the torment and damage reflected in his eyes.

There was another reason, though, one I buried.

I knew if I looked at him, if I saw that storm of torment and damage inside of him, it would turn me on more.

He tilted my chin up and slipped a finger into my mouth. I sucked hungrily, my body starting to override my mind as it always did. I would give him whatever he wanted, would gladly open to him. Almost automatically, my legs parted slightly.

He pulled his fingers from my mouth and trailed them down the side of my body, the hot wetness sliding over the side of my breast where it peeked out of my t-shirt.

He continued down my skin, his touch burning me to my core.

His other hand pushed the waistband of his pajama pants down, his hard cock springing free, a drop of precum already glistening on the tip. He was rock hard from seeing me like this, tied up and helpless, and from paddling my ass until I begged him to stop.

He cupped my chin and pulled me toward him, and I took his cock into my mouth. He began to fuck my mouth as his fingers trailed lazily over my ass.

“Good girl,” he murmured.

I gazed up at him, knowing how much he loved seeing me with his cock in my mouth. Sure enough, he thrust harder into my mouth, almost making me choke.

His other hand cupped my bare ass, and a moment later his index finger slipped between my legs and grazed my asshole.

I tensed immediately, all my muscles and tendons and ligaments, every fiber of my being resisting that kind of intrusion.

I tried to pull off his dick, to protest, but he held me there for another moment, letting me know that he would be the one to decide when I was done sucking him off.

Finally, he pulled back and let his dick out of my mouth with a pop.

“Liam,” I whispered. “Liam, I can’t…”

“You can’t what?” His voice was mischievous, sinister and so fucking sexy that even as my body tensed, my pussy rushed with warmth.

“I can’t do that.”

“Can’t do what?” He sounded amused now, teasing, but still that same dark sexiness permeated his tone.

“I can’t take your finger there.”

“Where?”

“In my ass.” My face flushed as warm as my pussy as I said the words. As much as they turned me on, I still wasn’t used to talking like this, wasn’t used to these kinds of things being said to me and me being expected – much less wanting – to say them back.

“I don’t want you to take my fingers in your ass, baby girl.”

“You don’t?”

“No, baby. I want you to take my cock there.”

Fear seized my chest, squeezing like a fist as he began to pull his pants off, the V of his hips coming into murky focus in the darkness. His body was cut from stone, every muscle and ridge and peak and valley defined and sculpted.

His six-pack clenched as he bent over and finished undressing. He turned, and I got a quick peek of his hard ass before his hands were on me, flipping me back over onto my back, the ropes untwisting as he mounted me, straddling me around my thighs.

“Christ, you are fucking sexy,” he groaned, his hands pulling at my shirt as he pushed it up. He palmed my tits, the weight of them becoming dense in his hands. “Your body….” He trailed off, as if he were, for once, at a loss for words. “These tits,” he murmured, bending down and sucking my nipple into his mouth, his tongue teasing the tip as the stubble on his face moved over the sensitive disc of my areola.

I closed my eyes and bit my bottom lip to keep from moaning.

When he pulled back, he grabbed the bottom of the shirt I was wearing and ripped it in two, the gesture shocking in its violence and intensity. He tossed the ruined fabric onto the floor.

“Jesus, Liam,” I whispered, instinctually pulling on my restraints, as if I was going to be able to stop him from doing whatever it was he wanted.

He ignored me, instead focusing his gaze on my pussy, where the pad of his thumb was pressing against my clit, beating out a soft, steady rhythm.

Press, brush, press, brush. It was intoxicating, and I wiggled around, trying to get him to keep his finger on me at all times. But he pulled his hand back any time I moved the little bit I could, making sure to slow the rhythm and drive me crazy.

He guided me to the brink of orgasm then back, his fingers gently probing my folds to test how wet my pussy was.

When he was satisfied that I was wet enough, he pushed a finger inside of me slowly, letting me get used to it then curving it up and rubbing inside of me.

I groaned, desperate for him, my whole body wired with want.

“Liam,” I moaned. “Liam, please.”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.”

He gazed down at me, drinking me in hungrily. “God, your body…” he murmured. “So ready for me, aren’t you, baby?”

“Yes.” I nodded, not even caring now what he was going to do to me, just wanting whatever it was so badly it was excruciating.

“You want to fuck?”

“Yes.”

He slid another finger slowly inside of me, and my body accepted him with greed, my pussy clenching on his fingers, almost sucking him inside of me, even as I stretched out around him.

“Look at that,” he instructed, making me watch his fingers buried inside of me. “You’re soaking wet, and yet that cunt is still so fucking tight.”

The sight of him inside of me caused my pussy to spasm. Ripples of desire pounded through my body.

“What do you want?”

“Fuck me.”

I didn’t care if he beat me with the paddle, didn’t care if he tied me down so tight that he left bruises and red marks all over my body, didn’t care if he bit me, lashed me, marked me.

He grinned down at me, and something about the look in his eye – almost crazed, half with desire and half with something else I didn’t recognize -- caused panic and fear to seize my heart, suddenly overriding the desire I’d felt for him, even thought my pussy was still slick with arousal.

He pressed the head of his cock against my ass, and I tensed immediately.

“No.” My hands tightened into fists, and I arched my back.

“Shhh, baby girl. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

“No.” I shook my head. “Please, Liam, I can’t…”

He leaned over so that his body was on top of mine, his lips just millimeters away. His fingers stayed inside of me, curving slowly, rubbing and stroking, keeping me so aroused that the need to come was intense

His hard chest pressed against mine, his body weight flattening out my breasts against the smoothness of his pecs.

“You understand how bad you’ve been, don’t you baby?” His fingers moved in slow circles inside of me as he spoke.

I closed my eyes. “Yes.”

“And you know that there are consequences.”

“Yes.”

“The consequence is that I’m going to fuck your ass now, Emery. I’m going to keep you on your back and I’m going to take your virginity down there like I took it from your pussy.” His fingers, which had been curved inside of me now went straight, the change in angle causing me to groan. He pulled them out an inch, then shoved them back in, being a little rougher with me now.

And then I realized that this had been part of his plan the whole time – to get me so turned on, so wet and wanting that he would be able to take my ass. He hadn’t been being soft and gentle with me at all – he’d been doing what was necessary so that he could get what he really wanted.

I opened my mouth to protest, but he silenced me with a kiss.

“I’m not going to turn you over,” he whispered when he finally pulled back. “I’m going to do it just like this, with you on your back, your legs spread, so I can see those perfect tits and watch your face while I fuck you.”

Shivers moved over my skin as he pulled away from me, goose bumps covering my whole body. My toes curled and then suddenly I flushed warm again, my body hot and my desire building like a fireball.

Liam sat back up, on his knees, and I watched his hard cock twitch and bob as he fingered me once more, twisting his fingers inside of me. When he was satisfied that I was wet enough, he pulled his fingers out and then grabbed his cock, taking the bit of precum that was on the tip and mixing it with my juices.

When his fingers were wet, he slid them slowly over my asshole, lubricating me with our mixed arousal.

“Good girl,” he said. “Just relax.”

“Are you… I mean, will you get me used to it?”

“No, baby,” he said, knowing exactly what I meant without me having to say it. “I won’t use my fingers first. I want the first thing in your ass to be my cock and nothing else.”

And with that, he placed himself against me.

I tensed, waiting.

“Good, baby, let yourself relax.” He put his hands under my knees, bending them again as he positioned the head of his dick against my opening.

I tried to do as he said and relax but it was impossible.

He pushed into me, and the unfamiliar sensation started at the bud of my ass, almost like my body was rejecting him, and a painful, pinching tightness began to rip through me.

Safe word, my mind screamed. Safe word now!

I knew if I did, that Liam would stop, no questions asked.

And yet another part of me wanted him like this, wanted to prove to him that I could take it, that I trusted him, that whatever darkness he was battling, I wasn’t afraid of it.

Something told me that these sexual things that he was doing, that these limits he kept bringing me to and pushing me past, were the way to get him to let his walls down.

So I locked onto his gaze, let myself fall into his eyes as he began to enter the most private part of me, because I wanted to give myself to him, wanted him to see my face when he took the only virginity I had left.

He pushed further, spreading me, and there was a point where I was sure I couldn’t take it anymore, was sure that I was going to have to stop him, and then he was pushing past it, past my body’s resistance.

My pussy was still slick and wet, and his dick was wet from brushing against it and my ass took him readily.

His eyes were on mine, watching my face as I bit my lip. He saw the pain in my eyes, saw the trust in my expression, the love I had for him reflected on my face.

He pushed farther and I cried his name. “Liam.”

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re so fucking tight.”

My ass squeezed his cock like a fist.

“I’m going to come fast, baby girl,” he whispered, pushing my hair back from my face. “Your ass is so tight and the pain on your face is so fucking sexy.”

I groaned as the pain started to give way to arousal, my pussy pulsing as he rocked his hips and pulled out a tiny bit and then pushed back into my ass.

Without warning, the painful, tight sensation exploded, like a rubber band being pushed past its point of resistance, and I came, my orgasm rippling and pulsating through me as I clenched around his dick.

I screamed his name, and the sound of it on my lips made him come too. I felt him shooting off hard and fast deep inside of me as he continued to rock his hips and stare into my eyes as my body and heart accepted him.

My orgasm being to taper off and then, without warning, another one pulsed through my core and I burst into pleasure again, my greedy ass milking every last drop of come from Liam’s cock as he spasmed inside of me.

He pulled out and collapsed on top of me, his chest heaving. My pulse was still racing as he began to untie my wrists.

He stared into my eyes. “Emery,” he whispered. “Jesus.”

My heart pounded as I reached up and stroked his forehead.

I closed my eyes and tried not to think about what the hell I was getting myself into.