Plaything: Volume One (7 page)

Amy looked bewildered with delight. She licked her lips as though savoring the taste of me and then the misted veil that hung across her eyes seemed to draw back like curtains, so that her gaze became clear and focussed.

“I didn’t do it to please you,” she said softly, then frowned. She was playing back her words in her head and became suddenly fearful that I might draw the wrong impression. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she blurted in a hurry. “I... I just meant that I did that all for me.”

I nodded because I understood. But I needed Amy to keep talking. I needed her to understand.

“Tell me,” I encouraged. “Tell me what you felt.”

She shrugged, the gesture making her breasts move in a tantalising way. “I did what you told me to do,” she began slowly, figuring all this out as she spoke. “I could hear the song in my head and I just kind of melted into it. I felt it. I let the music kind of guide me…” her voice faltered into the shy self-consciousness of silence for a moment. “When I took you in my mouth, I wasn’t really aware of you – how you were reacting. All that seemed to matter was the need to give myself over to a range of emotions I hadn’t ever allowed myself to feel before. Some of them were sexual, but others were deeper – like layers of sensations that I hadn’t ever experienced. They… they overwhelmed me,” she shrugged her shoulders again. “So that when I had you in my mouth, your cock became a way for me to express myself.”

She lapsed back into silence, this time with a profound but unsettled look in her eyes. “Does that make any sense to you?”

I nodded my head and gave Amy the first genuine smile I had ever shown her. “Yes,” I said quietly. “It makes sense.” I lifted her to her feet and she was close to me so that I could feel the warmth of her body and smell the muskiness of her. She lifted her face to mine and I traced the tip of my finger down the soft skin of her cheek and then across the ruby red of her lips.

“You made submission personal,” I said. “You internalized what – up until now – has always been about the physical for you. What you just did was experience submission for your own satisfaction. It’s the first step to understanding, Amy. It’s the first little piece of knowledge you are going to need before this week is over.”

It could have ended there, but time was too short to waste even a moment. In seven days from now this woman would need to be made ready for a life of objectified submission at the hands of a master who would not respect her.

I reached under her t-shirt suddenly, my hands possessive and insistent. “Open that door again into your soul and learn from what you have discovered,” I pulled her against me and whispered the words into her ear. “Forget the man with you is me – who it is does not matter. What matters is how you handle this experience. What happens next has to be about you…”

I kissed her fiercely, crushing her lips against mine and thrusting my tongue deep within her mouth. Amy’s eyes flew wide with an instant of alarm, and then fluttered closed again. I felt her breath, sensed her body shake off a dark heavy cloak of panic.

And she relaxed.

I was rough. I was deliberately aggressive. This was not me – this was a role-play of the kind I expected Amy to confront daily once she left me. I wanted her prepared, so I set aside those honorable things that I believe in as a man – and I took her with a raw selfish lust that was primitive, unfettered by concern or care or compassion. I took her like a brute.

I pinched one of Amy’s nipples between my fingers, feeling the firm flesh of her breast seem to swell and catch fire, and then I turned her around and put the palm of my hand between her shoulder blades. I pushed her back through the bedroom door and she flailed for balance and then fell onto the bed. I kicked the bedroom door shut behind me and stood over her.

She was lying on her stomach, her panty-clad ass an irresistible invitation. I slapped her bottom hard and the flesh there bloomed with bright color.

“Roll onto your back,” I grunted. “Spread your legs wide and keep your mouth shut. You’re here for one reason and one reason only – to bring me pleasure… and by God, you had better be good this time. You had better be the fuck of my life.”

***

Amy

I could feel the heat behind my eyes, staring up at Robert and liking what I saw. Lord fucking help me and my fucked up sexuality, but I wanted him. I fucking wanted him.

I kept my gaze on his, my lips still swollen from his brutal kiss. The man staring down at me was trying to be impassive, I knew that, but there was something else. We had something. And that something was all I had in the world to hold on to.

I propped myself up enough to pull my shirt over my head. My nipples were already hard as I tugged my hair free of the fabric and cast it aside. He watched every movement but didn’t speak a word. I pinned my bottom lip with my teeth as I shimmied out of my panties, and then I did as the man wanted. I spread my legs wide without shame or embarrassment. I heard the slightest moan from him as I dipped my fingers down to find my clit. Just a fleeting stroke, spreading my pussy wide enough that he could see how wet I was.

I held onto his words, trying to remember his advice, but my mind was already lost in the sensation.

He stood unmoving, eyes unflinching as I ran my palms over my skin.

“I want you,” My voice was just a breath, nothing more than a rasp. “Please.”

I reached for him, surprised at my own nerves. My hands quivered in no man’s land before resting gently on his belt. I hooked my fingers around the leather, coaxing him toward me.

“I’m just a man, Amy. A faceless brute,” he growled. “Remember that. You
must
remember that.”

“Please…” I edged forward, lifting his shirt to press my lips against the hard flesh of his stomach. I kept my eyes on his, looking up as I peppered his skin with kisses. I could still taste his cock, still recall the bliss of nothingness as he’d fucked my mouth. “Robert… please…”

His eyes flashed with the memory, but he buried it, twisting his fingers in my hair with unexpected roughness.

“Are you going to be a good girl?”

I nodded and I meant it.

“Show me,” he ordered, and pushed me, hard. I fell back on the bed and he yanked my knees apart. My pussy was spread so wide, open for his cock, his touch, for whatever he wanted to give me. The thought made my stomach flutter.

“You will be taken however I choose, and you will enjoy it. You will enjoy losing yourself in another’s pleasure. This is your choice as a submissive. Do you understand?”

I nodded again, letting out a long groan as he plunged two thick fingers inside me. He wasn’t gentle and I realized that I didn’t want him to be.

“More, please…” I hissed.

“Show me how much you want it.”

I let my body speak to him, relaxing under his touch enough to melt into the bed. I let myself move, instinct taking over, but my eyes wouldn’t leave his. I took his wrist and encouraged him deeper, but my touch was delicate, gentle against his firmness. Asking, not demanding.

“Good girl,” he growled. “You are so good like this.”

I let my eyes flutter half-closed, my lips parting as my hips moved to his touch, and then I reached for him again, with more urgency this time. I moaned as he withdrew his fingers, but smiled as he freed his cock for me. He was so fucking big.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Please, sir.”

Slowly he unbuttoned his shirt, and I soaked him in for what felt like the first time. He was all steel and hard lines, a perfect specimen of a man. His eyes were dark and heavy, demanding compliance without the need for bluster or theatrics. The afternoon light suited his features, highlighting the salt and pepper gray of his temples against the dark shine of his hair. He was a man who was born to wear a suit, looking all the more delightful for being half out of it.

I didn’t speak a word, letting my expression say it all. I was still floating from earlier, the soft tendrils of music still dancing through my mind as I coaxed him forwards.

He lowered his body onto mine, pressing himself tight between my legs with the tip of himself torturously shallow inside me. I wriggled under him, desperate for more, but he wouldn’t move an inch. My hands climbed his back under the fabric of his shirt, praying he could feel my hunger for him. His breath was hot in my face, and I moved my mouth to his, seeking out more. I wanted to breathe him into me, all of him, until there was nothing in the world but his body, and his pleasure.

Nothing in the world but him.

He crushed my lips with his, using the moment to plunge all the way inside me. I let myself ride the pleasure, let myself
feel
. It felt so real.
He
felt so real.

My kiss was honest and raw, my tongue greeting his like a lover. I heard a growl from his throat, and it made me melt, uncoiling in lust to wrap my ankles around his thighs. I pulled him closer, moved with him, under him, for him. And it was all me, all real. I had nothing left to give.

My body danced to a silent tune, breasts pressed tight into the ridges of his body. My pussy took him all the way in and milked him hard, like I’d been starved of cock my entire life, and then I was moaning, begging for more.

And he loved it.

I could feel how much he loved it.

His body was magic on mine, his face so fucking perfect as he took me over and over. We moved as one, breathing in sync as we crashed into the beautiful void I’d experienced earlier. There was only him.

Just a man.

Except he wasn’t.

I pushed the thought aside. He told me over and over how it was all about me learning to pleasure my owner, and he was just a nobody, a means to an end, a nothing. I wanted to believe him, wanted to believe I could really do this, that I could really be the woman I’d need to be. I wanted to believe the warmth of his lips against my neck would make me tingle just the same if they belonged to another man. That another man’s cock would feel as good as his in my pussy, that another man’s hands would feel as right against my skin.

I wanted to believe I’d moan the same way for another man, that I’d use my body for another’s pleasure in just the same way I was giving myself to him.

We fucked for hours, that’s what it felt like. Fucked until the light dulled outside the window and our bodies were sheened with sweat. We fucked without words, communicating through touch and breath. He was brutal and rigid, pushing me with actions that defied the calm in his eyes, but I took it all from him and begged for more. There was a strange thrill that came from submitting to another through choice, without the sting of the whip and the threat of worse. I felt liberated, a sense of autonomy that I’d been stripped of sizzling up my spine.

It was sunset when he finally tensed and came inside me. He came long and hard, his breathing ragged as he let my pussy milk him dry. He’d been playing the long game, long and calculated, shifting away from the edge whenever he’d stepped too close to orgasm. He’d made me fucking work for it, so much so that I grinned like a Cheshire Cat as his cum spilled between my thighs, giddy with endorphins and euphoria.

“Was that better?” I asked. “Did I meet your expectations?”

“Not bad for day one. We’ve got a lot of ground left to cover.”

“You’re a hard taskmaster, you know that?” I sighed, still smiling.

“You’ll thank me for it when the time comes.”

He pulled up his pants, and buttoned his shirt, once again restoring his perfectly calm demeanour. I watched him through hooded eyes, stomach already churning with what was to come.

I hated the nights.

He seemed to read my mind, and the look in his eyes was a kind one.

“You’ll be safe this evening. Alistair and my father won’t ever bother us here.”

“Where are you going to sleep?” I asked. “You’re staying here too, right?” I fought the panic, the urge to beg him to stay close. It turns out I didn’t need to.

“I was going to stay in my hotel, but I think under the circumstances it would be best that I stay here, yes?”

I breathed a sigh of relief, and he smiled.

I pulled on my t-shirt and panties, padding through to the other room as he led the way. I was beginning to relax a little, my body growing accustomed to his. I was about to comment, but his stance caught me off guard. He was hunched in the doorway, shoulders rigid as he turned over a document in his hands. A big brown envelope had caught his attention, pushed under the door while we were clearly at play. I shuddered at the thought of being watched by the old freak, or even worse, by Alistair.

Even his name gave me the shivers.

Robert flicked through the contents and his expression darkened. The corner of his mouth began to twitch and his brows furrowed sternly. I felt uneasy, certain I’d done something wrong. His silent disapproval affected me more than Alistair’s fists. I felt awkward, embarrassed. Ashamed, even.

“What is it?” I asked, finally.

“You tell me,” he said. “Because if your new Saudi owner has seen even half of this then we are in serious trouble.”

He threw the papers down onto the coffee table and my breath caught in my throat as the recognition sank in. I’d been drunk, stupid, totally and utterly naïve. Still, there was no excuse. I hardly recognised myself.