CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mr. BDSM
“Lift your arms,” he told me, when we were a scant foot from his forbidding bed.
I did, and he lifted my dress off in one smooth move. He sucked in a breath and circled me slowly. I barely noticed how he perused my body. I was too busy drinking in the sight of him.
His exquisite torso was even closer now, and the lighting was much better. He was even more perfect than I had realized. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. Just hard, rippling muscles roping his tall form.
His hair was the color of caramel in the soft light. It trailed into his stunning face temptingly. I wanted to touch it, I wanted to touch him, but he had said there were rules in here, and the thought gave me pause.
He bent down in a swift move when he reached my left breast, biting me hard through my lacy black bra.
I made a little yelp at the sharp bite, and he pulled back, continuing to circle me. He snapped my thong as he reached my hip.
“You are too much,” he told me. He stopped at my back. “A virgin with the sexiest body I’ve ever seen in my life. Too fucking perfect.” As he spoke, I felt him kneel behind me. I puzzled over what he was doing only a moment before he bit my butt, hard.
I sobbed in a breath. It had hurt. I glanced back. He was kissing the wound now, his teeth marks clearly imprinted into my skin. I glanced at the nipple he had bitten. Teeth marks were clearly imprinted there as well, though he hadn’t bitten me there anywhere near as hard.
“I want to cut all of your clothes off, but I love everything I see you wear, and I have no idea where you got any of it, so I don’t know how to replace it.” He fingered my panties as he spoke.
“The thongs are from Victoria’s Secret. So is the bra,” I told him. Just trying to be helpful.
He gave me an approving smile that was all teeth, followed by a sharp slap on the ass.
“Don’t move,” he told me, moving to the closest bedside table.
My eyes widened. I don’t know what I had expected when he said cut, but the sight of a knife in this room of pain sent a streak of panic through me.
How far would he go? How far would I let him go?
He laughed wickedly at the look on my face. “It’s just for cutting clothes. I would never cut your skin. The thought is abhorrent to me. I just want to blister it a little.”
He came back to me, grabbing the front of my bra and tugging it out from my breasts, cutting it in one clean motion, directly between the cups. His gaze was glued to my small, rosy nipples, and I felt them getting impossibly tighter by the second. He pinched them one by one, softly, then harder, finally giving them a firm pinch.
“How sensitive are they? Did you like the first touch better, or the last?” He pinched them harder still, and I moaned. “Or the fourth time?” he asked.
I swallowed. It was an easy answer for me. I just couldn’t seem to get the words out. I cleared my throat. “The fourth.”
“Good. I have something for you.” He walked back to the side table, reaching inside and taking out some sort of light silver chain.
He was back in front of me, fastening some kind of clamp onto both of my nipples before I even had a clue what they were.
“Nipple clamps. Are they too tight?”
I shook my head, looking down at them. Each nipple was pinched by a small, peach colored clamp, the silver chain connected between them. He wrapped the chain around the back of my neck, fastening it there. The sight of that thin chain, and those hungry little clamps, and the feel, god, the feel, was so erotic that I had to press my thighs together to try to stop the rush of liquid there.
He sliced each side of my thong, removing it and stuffing it in his pocket.
“Climb on the bed,” he ordered me, his voice low and hoarse. I did so. “Climb over to that ramp until your knees are touching it. Yes, right there.”
I felt him climbing up right behind me. Just as my knees touched the ramp, his hand applied a firm pressure to the nape of my neck, pushing until I was face down on the ramp. My cheek lay on the broad end of the riding crop he had left there. My face was low, my ass lifted. Perfect spanking position, I thought.
“This isn’t your knee,” I told him.
He laughed, and it was a very pleased noise. “It is not. My lap isn’t a safe place for you at the moment. We’ll get to that, though, I promise.” As he spoke, I felt him slipping a rope over my ankle. He tightened it firmly, but it wasn’t at all uncomfortable.
“The more you struggle, the more these will chafe. Keep that in mind.” He secured my other ankle and my wrists with swift, economical movements.
He climbed back to a position behind me and the ramp. He leaned over me then, his torso pressing into my back, his groin against my butt. I wiggled, and a hard hand swatted me lightly.
“Hold still,” he told me, slipping the crop out from under my cheek. He lifted his weight completely off of me. I moaned at the loss. He swatted me with his hand for that, too.
There was a long pause while I waited for him, breath held.
“Do you have anything to say before I begin?” he asked me.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Cavendish,” I told him, my tone repentant. Instinctively, I arched my back.
He made a delicious little humming noise in his throat and began to work. The first slap of the leather was more startling than painful, but the slaps got harder as he warmed up. As I had expected, I felt the pain, but my reaction to it wasn’t a negative one. I moaned and wriggled helplessly when the crop hit lower, closer to my sex. He began to slap the crop against me hard and fast.
Abruptly, he stopped. I had received only twenty slaps, distributed all over my butt and the backs of my thighs.
I arched and muttered a protest then and I could hear his breathing, harsh and uneven, behind me. I rubbed my clamped nipples against the soft material of the ramp, liking the harsh bite of sensation it caused.
James remained still behind me for long moments.
“I need to stop there. I don’t want you too sore to lie on your back when I take you. Fuck. I can see the liquid running down your legs.” I felt his fingers stroking my thighs, sliding through the moisture there.
“We need to do a few things before I fuck you. I have a health exam on the table over there. I’ve been tested. All the results are clean. Do you want to see it? It’s available for you. I want to bury my cock in you bare, if you’ll allow. You said you’re on the pill, right?”
I nodded. “I am. I’ll take your word for it. If I thought you would lie about something like that, I wouldn’t be letting you tie me up and pound the V-card out of me, now would I?”
He laughed, a happy sound, and I felt him kiss my cheek from behind in a surprisingly sweet gesture.
He slid the ramp from underneath me with no warning, knocking it right off the bed. I fell to the bed with a soft little whoosh.
He had my ankles free in the next instant, gripping them with his hands. He pushed me up higher on the bed, and in a shocking movement flipped me onto my back with just that contact. My arms twisted above my head, confining me even more. He had my legs spread wide when he tied them this time, and if I’d thought they were tight before, I’d been mistaken. I couldn’t move them at all now. No more wiggling for me.
He studied me in my new position, and I studied him. His gaze was so intense it was mesmerizing. His eyes drank in every inch of me, and then he bent to start on me with his mouth. He started with a soft chaste kiss on the mouth. And then he moved down and not an inch of the front of my body was left chaste. He kissed me from my jaw, down my neck, to my collar bone. Not a nerve in my body was safe. And all the while, I couldn’t move an inch.
He buried his face between my breasts, and pulled up in a quick push-up motion, the chain between the clamps clenched in his teeth.
I cried out at the harsh sensation, but it was a cry of pleasure more than pain. He kept pushing up until my nipples were pulled up, the chain taut. It was exquisitely agonizing. He finally released the chain, opening his mouth, and that was just as devastating, the end of the torture making me sob out a plea.
He suckled each breast then, soft and conciliatory noises coming from his throat as he tended to them.
He licked to the undersides of my heavy breasts, down to my ribs, into my naval, nuzzling my hips, and stopping at my shaved sex. The tiniest patch of trimmed blond hair remained there. He fingered it, looking up at me.
“Fucking perfect,” he murmured, his face serious, and buried his face there to work it’s magic.
I was so wet and ready that he had me coming in seconds. Two fingers inside my cleft and his tongue on my clitoris, his knowledge of those two perfect buttons mind-boggling, and I was so gone, screaming without holding back. His head lifted briefly, and I looked down the length of my body at him. He was framed perfectly between my heaving breasts. I felt absolutely drugged from his attentions.
His caramel-colored hair trailed into his eyes. “Again,” he told me, and did it again.
He straightened after that, slipping his shorts off to finally reveal his full naked self to me. I swallowed hard at the sight of him. That was when I started begging.
His rock hard length looked too big to fit inside of me, but I didn’t care. I wanted it inside of me. If he made me wait another second, I thought I would cry.
“I can’t wait anymore,” he told me in a rough voice. “This is going to hurt. From what I’ve heard, that’s unavoidable.”
I didn’t care. “Please, James. Please, please, please.”
He didn’t hesitate after that, lowering himself on top of me, and lining his cock up against my slick cleft. Sleek muscles sharply defined his broad shoulders as he held himself over me.
An exquisite work of art is about to fuck me, I thought, dazed and out of my mind turned on.
He thrust into me with one hard, brutal motion, piercing my hymen without further ado. I cried out at the shock. I felt so impossibly full. He didn’t stop, thrusting fast and hard, setting an inexhaustible pace that had his sweat dripping down onto me in delicious trails. That initial sharp, biting pain faded as he thrust, turning into the purest pleasure, and the empty space at my core was filled to bursting with a wash of sensations that I could never have imagined.
I couldn’t keep back the sobs that escaped my throat, the tears that trailed down the sides of my face at the exquisite feeling of being both dominated and filled by this man.
He watched me the entire time with those intensely vivid turquoise eyes. My eyes started to close with the pleasure once, and he barked out a harsh order for me to open my eyes and look at him.
I obeyed, though the intimacy of that extra contact was almost too much for me. It was hard to remember that we weren’t supposed to feel anything for each other when he looked at me like I was more important than his next breath.
He pulled out almost completely, had me pleading with him to stay, before he pounded back in with a growl. If I had thought he was letting go before, now he was pounding me into the mattress until I thought I might leave a permanent imprint.
He reached a hand down between us, rubbing circles around my clit without slowing his furious pace.
“Come, Bianca, now,” he ordered, and his order worked as a trigger. I screamed as I came, and he shouted my name as he followed me, burying himself to the hilt as tremors wracked him, his neck arcing with his pleasure. As the waves started to subside a little, he gripped my chin, looking at me with an almost angry, and certainly possessive, gleam.
“You’re mine,” he told me. I had no idea what to say to that, but I didn’t need to respond. In the next instant, he was kissing me passionately, desperately.
He released my wrists and ankles and undid my nipple clamps more quickly than I would have thought possible. He pulled me against him, lining us up flesh to flesh, and started kissing my mouth again, as though he would never stop.
“Thank you,” he told me quietly, just once, when he came up for air, then began kissing me again.