Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
Raven
Aclick, then from behind me comes the whir of the motor. The rope lengthens and my wrists lower. I gasp as my shoulders ease, letting out a shuddering breath.
“On your knees.”
My legs are bending before I can even think of resisting him, and he helps with a hand on top of my head, pushing me down.
My weight pulls on my arms again, and the bastard uses this as a gauge, stopping the motor when my knees touch the mat.
I’m forced to kneel up, wrists still pulled high, as helpless as I was while standing.
And more vulnerable in other ways.
“What’s the package?”
At this point I might even tell him if I could, even though I’m not sure it would change anything.
No, fuck that. He’s not getting anything out of me.
“I love your stubbornness,” he says, unbuttoning his jeans.
The length of him presses hard against the denim, drawing my eyes.
A thin trail of hair runs from his navel on down, and I remember licking along it one time.
It’s a discordant feeling: on the one hand, I really hate him right now; on the other, I’ve had my tongue all over his body, and this man is so gorgeous I’m happy to gaze.
It’s messing with my head, an unwelcome distraction before the punishments resume.
He pulls the fly open, buttons releasing one by one with a staccato ripple, and his cock is freed. It’s as mouth-watering as the rest of him, but I know he’s only going to use it to add to my torment.
I’m almost past resisting. Every inch of my body is throbbing in time to my pulse, like echoes of his flogger dance across all of my skin at once. I’m beyond sensitive; I’m electrified, I’m charged, I’m alight.
“You don’t leave me any choice,” he says, stepping forward, his hand gripping my braid, holding my head where he wants it.
The head of his cock brushes my lips as a promise, but he pauses.
“Okay, I suppose there is a choice, and I’m choosing this.
Open up, little hellcat. And let me warn you: if I feel your teeth, you’ll think the flogger was a mink glove. ”
He doesn’t wait but thrusts forward, forcing his way in even though I haven’t prepared myself. He goes so deep, I gag immediately, but it doesn’t stop him. He begins to use my mouth with long, slow strokes, groaning in pleasure every time he pushes into my throat.
There’s nothing I can do but take it.
It reminds me of that first morning after, when he used my mouth like this.
That was my introduction to being face-fucked, but in some ways, this is easier.
The position is better. The helplessness, bizarrely, helps.
I can’t do anything but open to him. There’s no pressure on me; he’s doing all the work.
My only concern is taking breaths when he allows it.
At first, he does. His cock slides past my lips, over my tongue, letting me taste his precum.
Then it pushes farther, into my throat, closing my airway and making me choke and gag.
He seems to like this. He shudders with pleasure.
When he draws back, it’s equally slow, and I have time to take in a breath, let it out, and take another before he pushes in again.
But as his arousal grows, he’s less caring.
He stays in my throat for longer, pulling my head forward by means of my braid.
My lungs are starved for oxygen, vision greying.
He pulls back only when he must, only for long enough for me to gasp a desperate breath, then pushes in again.
My lips press almost to his groin, his cock deep in my throat, that last inch proving frustratingly out of reach.
It’s not that I want to take it, it’s not that I want him to push harder into my throat, it’s just that I’m… competitive.
If I was doing this of my own accord, I’d try for that extra inch, no matter how uncomfortable he is in my throat, or how difficult it is to resist my body jerking as I fight not to gag. But I haven’t agreed to this; he’s just taking. Fucking my mouth while I’m bound and on my knees.
Using me. Like the sadistic bastard he is.
For some reason, it’s making me wet, and I can’t fight that.
My body can’t help its response to his cock, sliding between my lips over and over, both hard and silky soft, stretching my already aching jaw.
Even his hand in my hair adds to my arousal, pain and dominance mingling as he uses my braid as a handle.
Being mercilessly pulled into him, forced to take him as deep as he wants.
He’s claiming me. It’s sex at its most basic. And I’m on my knees, completely unable to fight him, as submissive as it gets.
I shouldn’t be enjoying this. I have to remind myself I hate him.
And I do hate him, especially right now.
But it doesn’t change the fact that, for the longest time, I’ve wanted this man.
It’s not even just that. It’s the knowledge that he’s brought me more pleasure than any other living being.
I’m responding to him because my body recognizes him.
My mind might be screaming no, but my body’s screaming yes.
Neither my mind nor my body knows what to do with that dichotomy.
The worst part is that I think my body is winning, convincing my mind.
He groans as he uses my mouth, his thrusts changing from long and deep to shorter and faster, and I know he’s close. He’s going to come in my mouth, using me as his captive to get off. Is that his idea of taking care of me?
I try so hard to focus on the violation of it, telling myself that what he’s doing is wrong.
But it doesn’t have any effect. Instead, I catch myself licking at him, using my tongue even though I don’t need to.
Anticipating the moment he erupts in my mouth, that heady feeling of power that comes with knowing I made him do that. That I brought him pleasure.
Damn him for making me want to please him. He was right about that too.
Just let that fucker call me ‘good girl’…
Declan moans again as his cock swells between my lips, thrusts short and fast, then he stops with just the head of him twitching in my mouth as his cum spurts out.
Splashing against my tongue, swamping my senses.
So thick and salty, so much of it. There’s no choice but to swallow as another jet follows the first, and another after that.
He shudders with the strength of his orgasm, thighs trembling until he braces.
When he’s done, his cock slips out, and his free hand immediately cups my chin, lifting my face. “Swallow.”
I was going to anyway, but now there’s no choice. I let his cum slip down my throat, even as I glare at him for treating me like this.
“Good girl,” he says.
Motherfucker!
I knew it was inevitable, but I still can’t stop my reaction to it. My body tightens, my heart skips a beat. Pleasure suffuses me for knowing I’ve pleased him. Fucking dopamine releasing, even though I don’t want it. Even though his praise isn’t even deserved. I didn’t have a choice in any of it.
It’s an even stronger effect given how aroused I am, and for how dominant he is right now. I’m reacting to more than just his tone—which has always been enough itself. No, he has me on my knees, bound and helpless, and he’s standing there like a demigod, naked to his thighs, body glorious.
Arrgh! I hate him so much! I fucking detest him!
“I just couldn’t resist,” he confides as he takes a step back, tucking himself away still wet.
“Not with you looking so delicious.” He does his jeans up, gazing at me as he fastens each button in turn, yet leaves the top one open.
A casual disregard that draws my eyes, and I can’t look away.
“That was for me. Now, let’s get back to you. ”
And my body tightens at that, too. I don’t know what he’s planning next, whether it’s more pain or some other abuse. But I know it’s going to suck.
No, not suck. Done that already.
I work my jaw, trying to ease the ache after both the gag and his cock, wondering if I can get away with cursing him out. It’s sorely tempting, but I say nothing. Not wise to provoke.
Declan has the remote out again, and the ropes pull me up.
I wince as my shoulders protest, struggling to get a foot beneath myself, rising against my will.
He keeps going until I’m stretched taut, and then another inch still, forcing me up on my toes.
My weight’s pulling on my shoulders, my wrists, and it fucking hurts.
He’s such a sadist.
“You look stunningly beautiful like that,” he murmurs, half to himself. Then he walks behind me.
I don’t trust him out of my sight, but I don’t have the purchase to turn. At least, not quickly enough to keep him in front of me.
His arm snakes around my waist, pulling me back against him, and it’s actually an improvement. It takes some of my weight off my sore shoulders.
His lips press to my ear. “What’s the package?”
God, I’m so done with that question.
“You already know, you bastard.”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking.” His other hand finds my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple. “Last chance, before things get…” His tongue flicks over my earlobe. “…interesting.”
I try and wriggle in his hold, for what good it does. But I can barely move. “What difference does it make? You’re going to do whatever you want anyway.”
He chuckles with genuine amusement. “You know, at this point, I have to admit you’re probably right. Seeing you like this? I just can’t resist.” His thumb and finger close on my nipple, pinching hard enough that it pulls a gasp from me. “But if you tell me, maybe I’ll be a little bit nicer.”
“Fuck you.”
“That’s my Hellcat,” he murmurs.
“I’m not yours.” So not his. Never will be.
“Really?” he asks, releasing me and letting my arms take the weight again. He walks past me, heading for his damn box of evil tricks. I use the time to desperately try and ease the ache in my shoulders, but there’s nothing I can do that helps. My toes barely touch the mat.