Terms of Surrender (15 page)

Slany shuddered beneath his tongue.

He raised his head long enough to see her gripping the arms of the chair, as if they could save her, saw her habitually sinking her top teeth into her sumptuous bottom lip. His mouth watered at the remembered taste of her lips, dick twitching in anticipation of a new flavor.

Nick dipped his head again—this time, for a full-fledged sample, opened his mouth over her and lazily sank his tongue in. He closed his eyes at her heady scent, groaned as he drank down her aroma, and she writhed against his mouth. He pushed his tongue further, deeper, to taste her mysteries, tangy sweet woman greeting his buds before he pulled back to enclose her clitoris.

He alternately nibbled and licked her until he felt Slany's fists in his hair, her long, slim fingers grasping and pulling him forward as she arched against his mouth.

"Oh, yes, please, Nick…don't stop."

He had no intentions of stopping. If he had his way, he would keep her locked in this office for the rest of the day until she begged him to take her, to own her.

Slany's thighs squeezed tight around his head, legs trembling with the approach of her orgasm, and Nick picked up his maneuvers, sucking and biting her clit as he sank two fingers deep into her pussy and scissored them right before she violently came in his hand.

He lapped at her, swallowing down every drop of her sweet essence before slowly raising his head to look at her face.

Post-climax, her wanton expression turned him on as much as everything else about her, made him think about waking up next to her in the mornings and seeing that look, that face. Her expression made him think of seeing her long-term.

Nick shook his head and carefully got to his feet, Slany's heavy breathing following him as he went to his desk and sat on the edge of it.

She finally came around a minute later, emerald eyes lust-darkened and sexy as she glanced at him, rolled down her skirt, and held out a hand to him. "My thong."

She had excellent resilience. Already back to her normal self, as if he hadn't just sucked an orgasm from her cunt. He wanted to see how she'd fare once he'd taken full control—of her body, her soul—how she'd fare once he made her his.

Nick pulled the thong out of his pocket and held it up. "You mean this?" He swung it back and forth before her, grinning. "I think I'll hold onto it for now."

"Nick…" She stood and reached for it.

Nick easily evaded her, standing and holding the thong over his head. "I'm just trying to help you get a head start on tomorrow."

"Head start?"

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Gracie C. McKeever

"Why put off tomorrow what you can do today?"

"Nick, please. Give it back."

He shook his head. "I want you to think of me for the rest of the day. Think of me inhaling this and thinking of you. Think of how my hands felt between your naked thighs. Think of how my mouth felt on your pussy."

She closed her eyes and moaned, finally lowering her arms to fold across her breasts. "I don't need to be bare to think of you," she muttered.

"That's nice to know. But for now, I think you need a little incentive to get into the mood."

"The mood for what?"

"To start doing what I say without question." He stared at her, gauged her reaction, saw the expected frown, and moved to nip her defiance before it had a chance to unnecessarily escalate. "Your ad won in the split run, by the way."

She gaped, quickly recovered. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just did."

"You know what I mean. When did you find out?"

"When I stopped by Thorpe’s
on my way to your office earlier." He saw her mind working, knew she remembered the terms of the wager and that she was probably trying to think of a way out of it.

He smiled. No way would he let her out of their little agreement. "I'll pick you up at your place tomorrow after work. And I expect you to be as bare beneath then as you are now."

78

Terms of Surrender

Kate Delaney woke to darkness, a blindfold tied tight around her eyes.

She tried to open her mouth, but a strip of duct tape was firmly in place across her lips.

She tried to stretch her limbs, only to realize, not surprisingly, that her wrists were bound behind her back and her ankles crossed and tied together.

What did surprise her was the muffled rumble of a car's engine against her cheek, the gentle bumps as said car sped over smooth, open pavement.

She was in the trunk of his car, the heavy smell of gasoline and oil confirming it, motion letting her know they were on the move.

Kate's stomach churned with an indescribable feeling of expectation and dread at the realization. He'd never taken her out of the house before, not since first snatching her. She wondered what made now such a special occasion.

She had lost track of time, of how long it had been since she'd come home from her date with Bill Remeni and felt an electric current enter her body as she'd stepped into her apartment.

In the days and weeks since waking up bound and gagged in the back seat of a sedan, taken to the unknown basement apartment that would become her home, she'd been left alone frequently, always bound, sometimes drugged, always restrained in one way or another.

Those first few days had been torture—left alone, vulnerable and helpless, uncertain if or when he would release her, uncertain when would be her last day of life. But she'd quickly learned the rewards far outweighed the fear and doubt, her Master's return almost worth the long stretches of solitude while he was out to work and before he returned to play with her.

Kate barely remembered who and what she was, individuality forfeited to his strong will, forgotten beneath a barrage of beatings and other necessary forms of chastisement.

Her body ached, every inch tweaked, bitten, paddled, and tasered, until her skin was raw and red and perennially sensitized, her body a throbbing mass of flesh unfit for anything except coming beneath the knowing touch of her Master's hands.

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Gracie C. McKeever

She had to pee desperately, couldn't remember the last time she'd been allowed to go on a regular toilet on her own and not have to pee in front of him in a bucket by the bed, where she was permanently tethered. Punishment, he'd told her, for her continued willfulness and talking out of turn.

It was her fault. He had warned her not to question him, or he'd punish her. She'd brought his harsh treatment upon herself.

Her Master knew what was best for her, knew just what her body and soul needed. And when he told her what to do, she should have silently followed his orders. But she'd slipped a few times too many, still adjusting to someone else being in charge of every facet of her life, someone else seeing to her every need without being asked.

She hoped this trip wasn't another form of punishment, something more complete, painful, and terrifying than what he'd done to her so far.

Kate had no idea how long they had been on the road when the car finally stopped.

The trunk opened, and he reached in to lift her out.

She knew it was him, could smell his earthy scent, unadorned by sissy, flowery colognes or aftershave. Just raw and natural, like him.

She shivered in his embrace, as much from the cold as anticipation.

He was gentle as he held her in his arms against his chest, and she had a flash of the other, the last man to hold her against him and make her feel like a woman—vulnerable, but well protected and cared for.

Nick Vega.

He was a forbidden subject to her Master. Kate learned this the first time he'd let her hear the message on her answering machine the other man had left her.

Her heart had soared at the familiar voice, the sexy undiluted timber of compassion and concern so evident in Nick's voice.

But Master said Nick was a pretender, unworthy of her memories or desire, and that she should forget his ever fucking her. That he would make her forget.

For the most part, Master had made her forget. But there had been those rare moments when she couldn't completely erase the other from her mind, the tall, broad breadth of him. The black hair and long-lashed honey eyes that used to make her wet when they'd set upon her.

Kate wondered who was with him now, who was pleasing him, and felt a sudden rush of jealousy and guilt as she listened to the lulling strong beat of her Master's heart, secure in the knowledge he that knew who and what was best for her.

"You've been a good girl these past few weeks, Kate."

Few weeks? Had he been caring for her that long?

She rested her head against his shoulder and nuzzled, hoping he'd take the hint to fuck her and ease her suffering.

"Kate, don't misbehave and try to excite me. I promise to end your pain very shortly."

80

Terms of Surrender

He'd been making the same promise since he'd brought her home, but so far, had not made good on it, only teasing her with what he had in store for her.

He had not put his penis inside her once, not even after driving her mad with the feel of his hard erection and his harsher, skillful mouth, fingers brutally thrusting inside her until she begged him to take her. But he had yet to penetrate her in the truest sense of the word, only brought her to the edge of several shattering orgasms that blinded her with need and hunger, consuming her entire existence, leaving her in a perennial state of wanting.

He peeled the tape off her mouth now, and Kate took a deep breath and waited, afraid to speak without his permission, his training finally entrenched.

She wished she could see his face, look into his piercing reassuring gaze and know he wasn't angry with her or planning to abandon her. She didn't think she could bear it, would do anything to please him if he just didn't leave her.

"I know you're curious about what's about to happen."

"Don't leave me!" she blurted and flinched, waiting for a slap. Nothing came. Instead, he brushed her face with his fingers, and then took the blindfold off.

Kate blinked her eyes and took in her surroundings.

They were in the basement of his home.

Where had he taken her earlier? From where had he returned?

"I'm not going to punish you, because I know you spoke out of need, and I understand."

He caressed her cheek, and she cuddled against his hand.

"Thank you, Master."

"I'm not going to leave you. But I am going to release you."

"Release me?"

He nodded, smiled and she didn't think she had ever seen a more beautiful sight. "Right after I fuck you."

Her heart lurched. "Oh, yes. Please!" She wished her arms and legs were free, but she knew how much pleasure her Master got from seeing her tethered, and she liked pleasing him.

He walked her over to the king-sized bed and laid her on its center before standing up to stare down at her long and hard, making her skin tingle.

"Please untie me, Master?"

"Kate…"

She averted her eyes at his stern warning tone. But she wanted so badly to touch him, to feel his smooth muscles beneath her fingers just once.

"I will make the wait worth your while, Kate. I promise."

He untied her wrists and ankles, made her spread her arms and legs, and bound her spread-eagle to the bed posts – his favorite position.

81

Gracie C. McKeever

She watched him remove his clothes, reveled in the sight of his tall, lean-muscled frame.

She had never seen him naked before, though she herself remained in a perpetual state of nudity since she'd been with him.

Her Master preferred her naked, wanted easy immediate—visual and physical—access to her at all times. And this was okay with her, because she knew her nakedness pleased him.

He crawled up the mattress, slid between her legs.

Kate was already soaked and wet by the time he thrust inside her, deep and hard. She groaned, writhing beneath his corded weight.

"You are mine, Kate. You belong to me. Say it!"

She closed her eyes, loving the feel of his cock finally inside her, clamping her muscles tight around him. "Oh God, yes. Yes, I belong to you!"

"That's what I wanted to hear."

And that's when she felt him tightly wrap both hands around her neck and press.

* * * *

He released her, his calm breathing in direct opposition to Kate's desperate gasps.

She struggled against her bonds, gaped up at him, eyes moist and wide with fear. "Why?"

"You know why. You are my trainee. And I am your God."

She squeaked right before he put a hand over her mouth to cut off any more stupid questions. He peered at her as she watched him, her hazel eyes large and uncertain in her oval face. His erection was painful. "Before this is over, you will know, Kate."

She shook her head, screamed against his palm. He pinched her nostrils closed, watched her eyes bulge. Her struggles became more wild, hips bucking off the bed as she hopelessly tried to pull in oxygen past his hand.

"Don't fight it, Kate. Don't fight me. This is meant to be. I own you. I own your life."

They all fought so hard against the inevitable, so determined to live, to see another day. Why, when there was nothing but pain and rejection for them out in the world? Here, with him, there was no rejection, no pain, just safety. He was doing her, doing them all, a favor.

He held her mouth and nose until she stopped struggling and passed out. He waited several minutes, then brought her around with smelling salts.

For the next hour, he repeated the process, alternately choking her with his hands or smothering her with a palm until she lost consciousness, then waiting a little while before bringing her back to consciousness, drawing out his own excitement as long as possible.

Before he finally choked her to death, he'd come several times—inside her, on her belly and thighs—hardening with each suffocation, violently climaxing with each resuscitation.