His (8 page)

Suddenly, he pulled out of her woman's passage, placing his glistening head at her bottom hole. "Is there going to be a pre nup between us, Raina?"

He watched her lower her head. Raina knew when she was defeated. "No, Sir," she tried not to whisper.

At her words, he pushed himself against that small opening, only able to force it to accept a small amount of him on the first try.

"Is there ever again going to be any doubt in your mind as to who is in charge here?"

Almost afraid to say it, but even more afraid not to, Raina answered as softly as she dared, "No, Sir."

He simply leaned his hips into her, almost gently, forcing his way into her. Forcing her body to comply with his demands.

"Who owns you, body and soul, Raina?"

Panting, and trying desperately to relax, she breathed, "You, Sir." She could feel him, stretching her almost beyond her capacity, easing off only slightly to then pressed even further in.

"You just keep saying that while I rape your bottom, Raina. There's nothing you can do about it, anyway. You just keep reminding yourself out loud who it is that controls you and your life."

She did as she was told as he took her, her voice breaking as he settled completely into her, up to the hilt, leaning over her as she began to sob at the ache he was creating, and the uncomfortable feeling of fullness she couldn't eliminate. He fucked her slowly at first, in and out, and she knew that he had put some sort of slickness on himself at some point which eased his way, and the easier it got, the harder he slammed into her as she chanted that phrase over and over, hating the fact that being treated this way was only making her that much slicker.

Sometimes, her Master had brought her to pleasure doing just this, and it was the memories of just that situation that flooded her genitals, pooling the ecstasy in a place that she knew wasn't going to get any attention from him for quite some time, if then.

For now, she had to concentrate on repeating who she belonged to over and over as he claimed the very insides of her for himself, reinforcing what she was saying in the most basic, physical manner a man could.

He reached out and was able to grab her ponytail, to pull her head back with a calculated gentleness that belied what he was doing to the rest of her body and use it as a rein, keeping her head up carefully, not wanting to jerk or hurt her neck, but rather just to provide yet another reminder of his power over her.

He took her then, indulging himself completely with and within her, running his hand over her back and bottom, knowing she'd become accustomed enough that he didn't have to be quite as careful as he had been, letting himself go to a certain extent, always watchful of her condition, however.

The end, though, the uncontrollable ecstasy was already tingling in his loins, and he knew that he simply wasn't going to be able to hold off as long as he would like to. It just wasn't going to happen. And he knew that that was for the best, actually, because if he'd continued pumping in and out of her, she might extract a level of pleasure he wasn't yet willing to impart to her. So it was for the best when he threw back his head and roared his bliss to the exposed beam ceiling.

Raina sobbed as he emptied himself into her, each short sharp ending thrust rocking her poor breasts, and coldly pressing the material and zipper of his dress pants against her blazing buttocks.

But it was not over.

Only when he was through, when he'd eked the last of himself out into her bottom, did he disengage from her, clean himself up, and come back around to unhook her from the chains that hung from the ceiling, then her feet from the eye hooks in the floor. He carried her to her trusty table, then reattached her there so that she was immobile again, her bottom at the very end - almost hanging off - the end of the table, her legs held via the bar between them, well back and spread, her privates laid out before him like a buffet.

He rolled his big comfy office chair out from behind his desk, and planted himself in it, where he would have the easiest time of molesting her. Slowly. Calculatedly.

It was a long evening for Raina.

Her Master took complete and total enjoyment from torturing her in the usual manner - spanking, paddling, belting her, using the cat, binding her breasts. But sometimes he tortured her in a completely different manner - he forced her to spend hours on the edge of an incredibly explosive culmination - but wouldn't allow her to actually realize it.

He'd done this several times before, and Raina knew, even though she couldn't see what he was doing, exactly what she was in for. She'd almost rather have been caned for the next three hours rather than having to go through what she knew she was in for.

He knew her all too well. Once he'd sat down, he popped back up, only to remove her blindfold, so that she could see herself and him in the mirror that he'd had hung directly above several days after that awful Santa Claus examination. And, even worse than seeing herself lying there, he began to talk to her, describing just what he was seeing. It added insult to injury that everything he did, everything he said, everything she saw being done to herself, no matter how degrading or humiliating, made her body weep and ache and throb.

At first, he didn't touch her. He merely leaned over, placing his face mere inches from exactly where she wanted him to bury it, speaking to her in that low, almost hypnotic tone he sometimes used if he needed to calm her. "I think I say it every time I get you trussed up in any way at all, but I love seeing you like this. I love it when you're completely helpless. You're such a good sub - you never seem to really rebel, but I like making sure you couldn't even if you were of a mind to. I like having you spread before me - so that I can see every inch, every spec of what your body usually tries to hide from my eyes by its mere design."

Raina could feel his hot breath wafting over her privates, and even just that slightest touch was enough to make her want to arch up against it, which, of course, she couldn't. Raina thought that if he just touched her once, if she felt anything against that part of her body, she would come apart, despite all of the rules he had in place for her about denying her own release until she had permission from him to do so.

And she knew that that was a long time away, and she was right.

As he spoke, he reminded her that if she gave in, if she let herself go one instant before he allowed it, that he would make her very, very sorry. All Raina could hope was that he wouldn't use his mouth until the very last.

His words of warning flowed over her various points of overheated skin of one sort or another, then into her ears, where it traveled back down to the area he was sitting in front of. She was so sensitized to him that she couldn't help but respond to any effort he made towards her, especially in this situation. Her clit was so engorged it was as if it was trying to reach out to him, to gain his attention, and most specifically his touch.

But what he did was draw his fingertips - his rough, callused fingertips - over the area, starting at where her pubic hair, if he had been allowed it, would have begun, down through her natural crease, but consciously avoiding that heightened nub, not pausing to plunge into her dripping womanhood, or even further abuse that already plundered bottom hole of hers. Instead, he just kept drawing his fingers over her, over the close insides of her thighs, into the creases where leg met pubic area, and back up and down again.

Then he donned a leather glove and did exactly the same thing, this time poking a little bit more, not trying to pleasure her in any way, merely inspecting what he owned. He took his time - he had nowhere to go, and he'd seen to it that she didn't, either.

Chapter Six

Raina was ready to burst. He had been very slowly licking her for at least the past year, his broad tongue only coming in contact with that inch or so of engorged flesh for seconds at a time, not spending any time where she really wanted him. She had been reduced to trying to arch up into him when he got anywhere near that area, so much so that he had introduced a belt across her hips that held them nicely in place, such that she no longer even had that outlet, that ability to ease the horrendous ache he was creating.

She could see herself in the mirror on the ceiling and she could see it every time he advanced towards her, and that only made her body anticipate the pleasure even that much more. Raina could see how desperate she looked, how lewdly she was spread and, as if she couldn't feel it already, how completely she was bound, to him and by him.

After what seemed like decades, he finally rested his chin on her bare pubic bone, whispering the words she so longed to hear.

"I'm going to put my fingers inside you now, and then I'm going to put my mouth over that bright red clit of yours. I bet I could talk you into an orgasm right now, couldn't I? I wouldn't even need to touch you."

Raina nodded emphatically, nearly in tears at the thought of the relief she was going to feel when he finally let her explode between his lips.

"We'll leave that for another time."

All of a sudden, with no real warning, she felt herself parted by his thick fingers, which he rudely shoved up insider her. But she was just as happy to have the stimulation as his flesh dragged along hers, inciting each and every already rioting nerve.

"Hold on. Not yet," he murmured, "not yet." He adjusted himself a little, then poised over her clit, his lips actually brushing against her as he spoke. "When you feel me take you in my mouth, then you may come, but not until then. Do you understand me?"

Raina nodded, her eyes transfixed on the images of them above her.

With that, he leaned forward and sealed his mouth over her while his fingers plunged at will in and out of her. As often happened when she had held herself off for so long, it was no longer an instantaneous thing. It took him four, maybe five strokes before the way his hot, wet mouth had settled around her, and the fact that she had permission to give in that anguished ache she'd been holding at bay for so long seeped into her brain and let her let go of the leash she'd had tight around her desires.

When it came; when she came, she could do nothing but slam her head back against the table and truly howl with the agonized pleasure of it; her already stressed voice breaking even further as she gave him wild, full throated scream that signaled the end of any sort of control she might have had.

Her Master brought her through five storms that were nearly as intense before leaning back a little to let her try to recover from them. But she wasn't recovering. She was crying. He cut her loose of everything, literally cutting each bond, and removing each cuff, leaving her more naked than she ever usually was, picking her up and carrying her up to their bedroom.

All he did for the next several hours was hold her. She wept uncontrollably for the first long while, then settled and simply lay in his arms, almost unnaturally silent.

There was no pre nup. There was no year long wait for the marriage either. They had a very small, very private ceremony within the next month, and then a long, private honeymoon in a beautiful bungalow on an island that he owned in the South Pacific, which, during the month that they were planning the wedding and the trip, he had had stocked and opened and cleaned and supplied with everything he could think of, and then he'd sent the staff away, so that he could have her to himself, and they could have the island to themselves.

The moment after they got there, and his pilot left with his private jet - although he had a helicopter stabled there if any sort of emergency arose - he turned to tug her into his arms, kissing her deeply and saying, as he watched the plane become a small dot on the horizon, "Strip."

Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. "Here? Right here?"

He stood staunchly in front of her. "That was the last person on the island but us. Yes, right here, right now. And you know that I don't like to repeat myself."

Raina was already reaching for the spaghetti strap of her flowery dress, but her response was a soft, "Yes, Sir," as she none the less looked nervously around her, as if she expected someone to jump out from behind the nearest palm tree.

When she was done and completely bare, he affixed her cuffs in place - ankle and wrist - and took the small bundle of her clothes and tucked it under his far arm, as he wrapped the other around her waist and began to slowly guide her to the low slung house. "Do you think I'm lying to you about us being the only two here?" he asked, noting her nervously scanning head with a growl.

"No, Sir," she peeped, those eyes flitting to his quickly, then to the sandy ground in front of them.

"Good. Then calm down."

After taking a good long look into his eyes, she answered more assuredly, "Yes, Sir."

The entire month they were on that island, she was never allowed to put on clothing. When she got cold, he allowed her to wrap herself in a sheet, but nothing more than that. She wasn't allowed to close any doors - not that there were many in the ultra open design of the flowing house, but still - not even the bathroom door. Their shared closet had enough clothes for him for a month on his side, but her walk in dressing area was completely bare, except for a pair of sturdy leather sandals he insisted she wear if she decided to walk about the island, which she never did unless forcibly compelled by him.

Knowing that she liked to cook for relaxation and as a point of pride was quite accomplished, he'd had his personal chef create quite a few meals that were stocked in the deep freeze, but he'd also stocked ingredients for meals of hers that were his favorite - which actually ended up being the simplest things she cooked.