Jenna's Consent (2 page)

“Horny girl.” He inhaled her scent loudly, tossing her
panties aside and she moaned. “Your panties are so wet I bet your comforter’s
soaked.” His palms smoothed over the globes of her ass, squeezing and
separating them, sending sensation crackling along her slit.

Jenna mashed her face into the covers, squeezing her thighs
together as hard as she could, trying to find enough friction to get off. But
he knew just what to do to keep the pressure off her clit so she couldn’t get
there.

“Not before I get inside you. Not before you take me again.”

Everything inside her shook when he snapped the knife
closed.

He tossed it onto the mattress beside them and then his
weight was gone in a flash. Before she could freak out that he was abandoning
her, he shoved her legs open, digging below her ribs to circle her in his
embrace.

“I can’t wait to get inside you. I still own this pussy…” He
prodded at her opening. He didn’t stab his dick inside, fucking her for his own
pleasure. He filled her in one long push, separating the muscles of her core
with an urgency that stole her thoughts. Her reservations evaporated along with
the last of her reserve.

Her sex parted for him, gloving him in slick warmth. She
arched to get closer, moaning on each stroke. “Please, Ian. Sir. Take me. Fuck
me. Love me…” The last two words wrapped around her vocal cords tying off
anything else she would have said.

The last two words said it all.

Yes. She was still his.

His to take, to hurt, to use and to leave.

He shafted her so deep it bordered on the most delicious
pain. Her head twitched, unable to stay still for long. His lips trailed across
her neck. He bit the sensitive skin at the top of her shoulder again and she
cried out.

Begging wouldn’t help but she couldn’t keep quiet. “Please,
Ian. I need to come, I need…so bad.” He filled her, stroke after stroke of the
penetration she’d ached for, dreamed of. Her sex wept in relief for him.

Every inch of skin that touched him lit up in thanksgiving.

He was what she wanted, what she needed to feel whole.

He was everything and she couldn’t tell him no. “Please…”
she whispered from her parched mouth as if it were an oath and a prayer—her
promise to give him everything.

The rough pads of his fingertips moved lower on her stomach.
He forced his hand between her and the bed, below the partially combined weight
of both of them. He tugged the lips of her sex open, exposing the bundle of
nerves perched at the top. Her clit pulsed at his touch and she cried out as he
rubbed her wetness around the nerve-laden button.

She tugged against the rope tying her wrists and cursed in frustration—and
arousal. She’d waited for him to be there again, to take the control away from
her. To peel the corset from her chest and lay her bare and open before him,
ready to take whatever he needed to give her.

Goosebumps raced down her legs as he ground into her tight
cunt and she wrapped her feet over his calves.

“Fucking drenched the bed. Damn, I love how wet you get when
I touch you, when I tie you. You don’t get this wet for anyone else do you?”

His voice wasn’t accusatory, just cocky, but he demanded an
answer nonetheless.

Will he leave me with nothing to find my way back when he
disappears again?

She hesitated but only for enough time to concentrate on the
words she had no choice but to reveal. “Rarely. Only when I self-tie. Only when
I’m alone, in your rope, thinking of you.”

“Good girl.”

Emotion clogged her throat. How could two words shred
whatever protection was left around her heart? They ripped her open, exposing
her as the shell of the woman she’d become.

His whispered words taunted her and everything she’d tried
to deny since he’d left appeared before her. “Only I can give you this. No one
else will ever compare to what I do for your body. And your rope? No one’s
pushed you to get better like I did. No one can work side by side with you until
you can tie in your sleep.

“We’re made for each other. Always were. Always will be. No
amount of time will change that. The jackass who wants you? The one who thinks
he can make you submit? Fucking amateur compared to me.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about. I—”

He thrust inside, shoving in to the depth of her sex,
overfilling her pussy to the point of pain.

He cut off the rest of her words and she shrieked. “Don’t.
Lie. Not to me.”

Slowly he withdrew a few inches and she sucked in a sharp
breath, trying desperately to reclaim her focus…but she faltered.

Nick
.

His face danced behind her eyelids even as Ian’s cock fucked
into her with the sole purpose of using her to get off. “What if” stomped
across her mind for a brief second but the reality of what Ian would allow
ruined everything before she even had a chance to think it.

Ian nipped her ear and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to
keep him out of her thoughts but he barreled right through, just as he always
did.

“He’ll never be able to love you enough to erase me. He’ll
never be the kind of Owner you need him to be. He’ll never be the perfect fit
because he won’t be me. You’re mine, Jenna. Mine.”

His words, they were her deepest fears and largest wishes
verbalized. Each once slicing clean through just like his knife could have. But
she didn’t bleed when the weapon sunk in. She’d have no scar to show for her
battle the next day.

At least none that anyone else could see.

Nothing she’d be able to touch or feel or remind herself she
was still whole inside her body.

She couldn’t refute Ian, couldn’t tell him he was wrong,
especially since she’d put Nick off for months, coming up with enough excuses
to fill several books for why she couldn’t date him. Nor fuck him, nor submit
to him, nor wear his collar. She thought of the half-mask she wore when she
tied and her pussy squeezed him. He growled into the flesh of her neck.

“That’s right.” He picked up speed, rubbing her clit in
tight circles, favoring her left side, just how she liked it. He adjusted his
weight over her body and clamped his free hand over her mouth and nose but this
time it wasn’t to keep her quiet, it was to control her ability to breathe.

Electricity shot through her veins.

Breath play fucking rocked her world.

There weren’t many things that called to her the way breath
play did. It was the ultimate way of controlling her very ability to live. It
was an edge she’d danced with before Ian but with him…

Fuck.

He relaxed his hand and she inhaled quickly before he
clamped it off again. His hips moved, jack-hammering into her, fast approaching
the point of no return.

She still remembered how he fucked her right before he came.

His fingers pressed harder on her clit to get her to where
she needed to be.

He let her have a tiny breath and cut it off in the middle,
whispering, “I’m gonna come in your pussy. I’m gonna fill it up with my cum so
you’ll remember whose girl you are. So you remember who you are. Come with me.
Come. Now.”

A violent surge of adrenaline laced her bloodstream. He gave
her an order and she could do nothing but obey.

Her pussy locked down on his thick cock and her orgasm
detonated deep inside her where no one could touch her. No one could take him
from her ever again.

Not even him.

She bucked beneath him, fighting the sensations that
threatened to swamp her. Needing to breathe and wanting it to never end fought
a battle inside her.

He released her mouth and she sucked in a giant lungful of
air.

“Fuck,” wheezed out of him as he buried himself inside her
and bit her shoulder.

Her eyes snapped open as light streamed in her bedroom
window and she sat straight up in bed.

Her pussy spasmed as she moved and she gritted her teeth,
twitching through the last throes of an intense orgasm.

Sweat covered her body, the comforter was twisted around her
legs and she must have kicked the covers off the bed sometime in the middle of
the night. She blew wisps of hair out of her face and clutched her T-shirt in a
tight fist. She stared at it for a second, tilting her head to the side trying
to figure out how it had gotten off the floor.

She rubbed her eyes with her free hand, realizing she was
alone.

Ian
.

Her time with him slapped her in the back of the head and
dunked the rest of her in ice-cold water.

She flung her shirt across her bed as she touched her
wrists, feeling for telltale signs of rope.

Nothing.

She ran her fingertips over her shoulders, searching for
teeth marks.

Just…nothing.

She kicked the rest of the covers off, swinging her legs
over the side of the bed. Opening the drawer of her nightstand hadn’t ever
seemed so difficult but she accomplished it. She peeked inside and there it all
sat. Her pile of jute, coiled in pristine little bundles. It hadn’t been
touched since she’d put it away two nights before. She slammed the drawer closed,
making her lamp fall over.

She fell back on the bed, leaving her legs dangling off.
Staring at the ceiling didn’t help her with the realization that Ian wasn’t
there.

He’d never been there.

He hadn’t found her or come to find her or snuck into her
house so he could claim her again.

He wasn’t ever coming back. She knew it. At least
ninety-nine-point-nine percent of her knew it but it was that last tenth of a
percent that kept her from moving on.

“It’s getting worse.” She said it into the room as if she
needed the helpful reminder.

It had been too long since she submitted. Almost a year
since she’d been on her knees for anyone she actually considered worth her
submission.

When she went that long, ignoring her true nature
that
completely, the dreams came for her. They plagued her all night long, tricking
her mind into thinking her salvation had arrived.

But he was nothing but an addiction.

For the years since Ian had thrown her out that was how it
had been for her. When they were together he was her dealer. Got her so
addicted to the high of submitting to him and then…nothing. They didn’t make
rehab for her drug of choice.

So all she could do was abstain for as long as she could.
Until the dreams and the cravings to be on her knees were like a living,
breathing fire inside her chest.

But the problem was when she finally broke down and found
someone to submit to, it was like that song about having wine after whiskey.

Everything paled in comparison to what she had with Ian. He
was her first and only Owner. The only man she’d ever agreed to wear his collar
with.

So wonderful…until that last night together.

He had asked what she wanted. What she fantasized about.
“Anything,” he’d told her. “No matter what it is, just tell me and we’ll make
it happen.”

“A ménage.” The two words that had changed everything.

That’s what she dreamt about. What she wanted more than
anything to experience. To be so completely overwhelmed with sensation that the
world—past and present and future—completely disappeared.

No worries, no fears, no expectations beyond that perfect
moment in time between three people.

He’d left her that night after an intense scene. He hadn’t
spoken a word to her after she’d admitted what she wanted. He’d fucked her.
Played her hard and then fucked her again. Had nearly choked her out at the
very end before he’d come.

It had been scary and wonderful. He flipped a switch inside
her she’d never fully been able to turn off.

Then he just got dressed and walked out.

She’d fallen asleep, thinking he was just going to get some
water or take a shower or smoke a cigarette, something other than just
abandoning her after wrecking her like he did.

Sub drop had been unreal the next day. For someone that
hadn’t ever really dropped before, it felt as if the world would end on every
breath. On every tear. As if he had carried her gently up the side of the
mountain, wrapped up and protected with his big body and then flung her off the
top without a single word of explanation. He’d never called her again. Didn’t
return her messages or emails.

Several weeks later when she’d finally gotten the nerve up
to go back to his apartment, he’d moved.

The marks from that night faded years ago. The welts on her
ass from his cane disappeared, leaving nothing but flawless skin underneath but
her memories remained fresh.

Scenes scraped across her mind when she fell asleep at
night. They clawed at the momentary peace she found in rope as soon as she
untied herself and put it all away. She couldn’t forget his touch. His
attention. They remained nearby, taunting her. Feeding her soul at night when
her conscious mind couldn’t fight her need for him.

Her love.

His hate.

When he’d tossed her away she’d felt like an orphan. Ever
since she’d been that empty shell, trying to find what would fill her up once more.
Certain things helped. Helping other submissives at The Library find their
wings. It lightened her soul.

But inside she was naked and cold, shivering and unable to
get warm.

She covered it well.

The corsets she wore were sexy, beautiful and desirable.
She’d admit they were even a fetish of hers. They made her feel powerful and
feminine. Pretty.

And they served a purpose. They kept people focused on her
assets, distracting them from digging too deep.

Each of the steel-boned garments were her protection. Her
coat of arms. They kept everyone at arm’s length.

It had worked up to a point.

No one had gotten to her but…

Her own little private masochist coughed up an image of Nick
hovering above her prone body. Deep inside, plunging inside her. Her core
liquefied.