Jenna's Consent (9 page)

“Several more things. No snuggling after a scene. Any scene.
No rope and my corset doesn’t come off—ever.” She spit each of them at him as
if they were venom.

His eyes narrowed as he circled her again, towering over her
one more time when he stopped.

“No rope bondage? No rope suspension? What?” He twisted the
jute back and forth as he manipulated it in front of her.

Whether he did it out of subconscious movement or just to
taunt her, she didn’t know. But she took it as an attack.

“Neither.”

“Why?”

“I agreed to be your submissive, not your therapy subject.
This is about us having sex, hopefully lots of it. That’s it.”

Tendons up his neck tightened along with his shoulders and
jaw.

“I’ll allow the corset and the rope limit—for now. But being
with you afterward, caring for you after I take all you have to give and more,
is going to be one of the best rewards I’ve ever taken.” He continued without
giving her an opportunity to argue. “Safe word? Or do you want me to pi—”

“Ian.” It was out of her mouth, tainting the scene, before
she could call it back. She stared straight at him, trying desperately to hold
his eye contact. No emotion. She hoped she didn’t give anything away.

“I’ve only got one hard limit.”

“Which is?” she asked with a fair bit of trepidation. She
couldn’t remember one top she’d ever fucked who had a hard limit that they had
to discuss.

“Don’t fall in love with me. As you said already. That’s not
what this is about.”

She laughed. Not a soft chuckle or even a snort that could
be construed as cute. She guffawed to the point she had to wipe several tears
off her cheeks with her shoulders. She shook her hair away from her face when
she was somewhat composed and sneered at him.

Staring him down as he stood above her sounded like a good
idea so she eyed him thoroughly until he stiffened. “No problem, Casanova.”

His jaw clenched again but he remained silent.

“Are we done with the interview portion of the evening or
are you going to talk at me all night?”

He tossed the rope at her knees, making her shiver. She
shuffled away from it, no more than an inch but at least it didn’t touch her
naked flesh.

He saw it. He missed nothing as he stalked to the closet.

He came back holding a collar, a package of ear plugs she
normally kept stocked in each toy closet and something else he tucked in his
pocket.

“You owe me punishment from our first conversation. Do you
remember how many?” He wrapped the collar around her throat, buckling it in the
back, tucking the extra tail through a loop on the leather meant to hold it in
place.

She didn’t remember him ever putting a collar on someone,
even for a temporary thing. It felt significant even though he was pissed. She
stuffed it down, compartmentalizing what she wanted, focusing on what she could
have.

“Three I think, Sir.”

“And they were all for?”

“Lying, Sir.” He was right, and that made her want to call
him Casanova again just to push his buttons.

What is wrong with me?
She bit her cheek to keep from
digging her hole any deeper.

“Thirty days. You belong to me. Up on your knees.”

He walked to his toy bag and gathered an arm load of rope.
“What are you doing?”

“Are you safe wording?”

“No, but—”

“But nothing. Up on your knees. Don’t make me say it a third
time.”

She lifted her body, sliding her knees together.

“I didn’t tell you to close your legs.”

He moved back toward her and she shifted her knees apart
again. The concrete floor was suddenly very hard beneath her.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes—yes, Sir.”

“Good. Don’t move.”

Then he started placing the coils of rope around her feet
and shins and knees. He outlined her in rope but never actually touched her
with it. None of them were more than a half inch away. “Close, but no cigar,”
as the saying went.

He went back for more rope once and then he was done. It
looked like a kinky murder scene when cops on TV outlined the victim in masking
tape or electrical tape or whatever adhesive strip they used.

She shifted a tiny bit, trying to alleviate the pressure on
her knees and her ankle came in contact with some of the jute on the far side.
“Fuck,” came out before she could stop it.

The reaction was instantaneous, just like it always was.
Sensation raced up her leg, climbed her spine, spreading warmth and yumminess
around inside her head. Her head fell forward a bit and she tilted it away from
him so she could stare at him.

“I told you not to move.”

“But my hard limit. You can’t—”

“You specifically said no bondage and no suspension. You
still have full use of your legs and you’re not in the air. There isn’t even a
suspension ring above that I could tie you to. I don’t believe I’ve violated
your specific parameters, Ms. Quinn. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” she gritted out as she tried to stay still.

There wasn’t much worse than trying to stay still when her
head told her nerves to do one thing but her heart and her tingly bits at the
apex of her thighs shouted something totally different.

“Hands up. Keep them off your ass.”

She lifted them, resting them at the small of her back.”

“Count.”

“Count what— Fuuuucccckk…”

The first cut is always the deepest, or the first strike in
her case.

A stinging whack raced along the flesh of her ass where he’d
smacked her. “One,” she breathed out as he held a crop out for her to see. She
had no idea how she remembered to count.

It wasn’t a normal crop, of course. It was in the shape of a
little hand. The thick leather tool couldn’t have been more than two inches
across but it stung like a bitch. It was like the love child of a wooden spoon
and a crop.

Awful.

She was definitely learning Nick wasn’t one for normal
anything. Or easy anything for that matter.

“Fun, huh? I had this specially made for me a couple years
ago by a friend of mine.”

Without warning he whacked her on the other ass cheek,
pulling a yip from her along with a, “Two.”

She moved, trying to get away from the pain, and brushed
several coils of rope on her way. Before she could reposition herself he
smacked her again, on the little line where her ass met her thigh. “Three.
Fuck.”

He didn’t say anything else, just proceeded to spank her ass
until she was certain her skin would spontaneously combust if he hit her even
one more time.

But he did, more times than she thought she could handle.

She brushed the rope each time, until she wanted to be
honest with him. To tell him how much of a rope whore she was and how badly she
wanted him to tie her.

Not that she deserved it because she hadn’t been honest
about it, but damn she needed it so bad.

By the end she was nothing but a horny mess, rope touching
her all over.

“Don’t come. Last punishment.”

She thought for a moment, focusing on what he said. That was
three, she realized. The rope surround, the mean crop and then orgasm denial.
Those were all horrible punishments.

“Eyes on me unless I blindfold you or tell you otherwise. I
want to hear you, Jenna.”

“What do you mean?”

He didn’t answer her, just removed the new ear plugs from
the package in his pocket and slipped them in her ears.

Silence.

It greeted her like disappointment. It snuck up on an
unsuspecting victim but once it was there, it permeated everything.

Air flowing in and out of her nose and mouth were her only
companions.

The lack of any other sound disoriented her, throwing off
her ability to stay removed from what he did to her. How he affected her,
simply by kneeling in front of her.

He tucked the cups of her bra below her full breasts,
plumping them up to perch on top. He sucked them into his mouth. She moaned,
trying to stifle it because she didn’t know how loud she was being.

His lips were moving when she finally focused on his mouth.
Most of what he said she couldn’t follow but he said
pretty
and she got
that one.

Her double Ds were big for her slender frame but she loved
them. They’d always made her feel feminine. Guys seemed to like them too and
apparently Nick wasn’t immune.

The color of her areolas morphed into a darker pink when she
was aroused and when she looked at them, she figured they’d be fuchsia with how
bad she needed Nick to touch her. He sucked her second nipple into his mouth,
flicking it with his tongue, to make it hard.

Sweet anticipation raced to her clit, sending an S.O.S.
reply that help was coming.

He closed a clover nipple clamp over her nipple and she
cried out, unable to keep it from him. She didn’t stifle it and she couldn’t
hear if she was shrieking but it didn’t matter.

He wanted to hear her and that was her only objective to
fulfill.

He licked her first nipple again, blowing across it to make
it stiff and she paid attention. He pulled a second clover clamp from his
pocket, squeezing it on the way to her nipple.

She leaned away, following instinct alone but he pinched her
nipple between his thumb and first finger, trapping her in place. Pain raced
outward from the sensitive tip and she bit her cheek to keep from doing
anything more than grunting every few seconds.

The sensation dulled quickly and she didn’t know if she
wanted to thank her lucky stars for it finally going away… Or freak out already
because she knew what would happen when he released them later. She always came
when they came off. The pain was too much for her body to process so something
in her head changed it to pleasure.

Before she could think of things to beg for or promises
she’d make to let her come, he abruptly stood. He had the zipper of his jeans
out of the way in no time and he pulled out his cock mere inches from her face.

He was big. Thick. And so hard it barely moved as he fisted
it. The flushed head flared at the top of his shaft and her mouth watered to
taste it.

He didn’t ask her through any kind of gesture if she wanted
it. Didn’t whack her on the face with it just because he could while her wrists
were still cuffed behind her.

His free hand dove into her hair and he pulled her forward,
feeding his musky shaft into her mouth.

The masculine flavor of his cock seduced her taste buds,
making her salivate, creating a slippery-slidey track for him to fuck.

She licked him, sucking on the head, working the space
beneath the wider edge and the whole time she stared up at him, just as he’d
told her to.

When they found a good rhythm, he released his cock and
double-fisted her hair.

Deep throating him was no problem. She wanted him inside her
in any hole he wanted to claim. The hold he had on her hair and the jerky
movements he made as he thrust into her mouth told her how close he was.

She opened her throat, ready to swallow every drop of him
but instead he pulled free. He jerked his cock, masturbating in front of her.

Sexiest man she’d ever seen.

The first ropy splash of come landed on her breast. The
second and third landed on her corset as he aimed his cock lower.

He was marking her.

She wrung her hands behind her, wanting to touch him,
wanting to help make him come. Her focus flashed back up to his face. He was
gorgeous in the throes of his orgasm.

Dominant, beautiful.

He came on her chest, finishing on her nipples as he spread
his come on her. She jumped when he touched her, brushing more rope.

Then he was down on the ground with her, pushing her
backward until she was lying beneath him. He spread her legs wide, grabbed a
condom and tore the wrapper off as if he was one of the kids in the
Willy
Wonka
movie and he knew he had the golden ticket.

In no time his still-hard cock was covered and he buried
himself inside her pussy. She gasped at the sudden fullness, panting as he
wasted no time fucking her on the floor.

Several rope bundles were beneath her and she lay crooked
because of her arms being cuffed. It was still the best sex she’d had in four
and something years.

A whimper fell from her lips as she realized it actually
could have been the best sex she’d
ever
had.

He leaned down and claimed her mouth, taking every ounce of
pleasure from her and returning it a hundred-fold. He even tucked his arm
behind her neck, bringing her that much closer to his mouth. His gray eyes held
her captive. She couldn’t look away, even if she’d tried. Each thrust shook the
clamps on her tits, making her pussy clench down on his shuttling erection.

His lips worked her mouth open and he tasted her, licking
along her teeth, sweeping in and learning everything. All she wanted to do was
close her eyes and lose herself in the sensation but closing her eyes wasn’t an
option.

When she got that close-to-falling-over-the-edge, she mumbled,
“I will not tell a lie, I will not tell a lie,” in her head over and over.

He pumped inside her, high and so deep she couldn’t hold
back. She couldn’t not come and she fought it for as long as she could. She
begged to come, pleading with him. He said something she didn’t hear and her
brain was too far gone to understand anything else. The fly of his pants rubbed
against her clit and she finally exploded.

Her orgasm rushed to the center of her pussy, where he
continued to fuck her, then catapulted her to the ends of the earth. It was
perfect and amazing and she didn’t even feel bad for coming when he told her
not to because she came for him.

She didn’t come because she wanted to. The reason behind it
had nothing to do with her at all. Her pleasure was his. She gave it to him,
offering herself to him as freely as she ever had before. As much of herself as
she had to give him, it was his.