Chapter 1 #2
When Killian returns, my entire body starts prickling with awareness. He has brought something that he sets on the floor, but I don’t turn to see what. I don’t want to ruin the trance of the moment.
“Lift your hair,” he says in that same soft voice as before, coming up behind me.
Slowly, I reach back and sweep my hair up off my neck.
“Close your eyes.” He trails a finger down the front of my neck—over my windpipe.
I let my eyes fall shut and draw a deep, shuddery breath at the feeling of something wide and smooth replacing his finger. Nervous anticipation skitters across my skin as he wraps it around my neck and fastens it at the back.
“What is it?” I whisper, my pulse speeding beneath the strange thing that grips my neck in a firm embrace.
“A collar.”
“Why?” I lift a hand to touch the leather and find a ring attached to the front.
“Because it suits you.”
It feels utterly wrong. A collar around my neck. Only animals wear collars. But somehow, it feels entirely right too. Like I belong to him.
“Take off your dress,” he whispers.
A trance-like state descends upon me as I slowly get up and turn to face him—the guy I’ve been yearning for ever since the first time he took my hand in his and even through the years of taunting and derision that followed.
I reach behind me and pull the zipper down, push the straps off my shoulders, and let gravity drag the heavy skirt to the ground, landing in a pool around my feet.
He watches my every move, then rakes his eyes down my half-naked body. “Stay,” he says with a roughness that has my blood swooshing.
He steps out of my line of sight, and the soft clatter of objects marks his movements as he rummages through a bag and sets things on the floor.
Then he comes up behind me, and the feeling of something descending over my head makes me draw a sharp breath. It’s more leather. Covering my eyes. Shrouding my world in darkness as he tightens the part over my nose to a snugger fit.
His fingers come to my bra clasp, flicking it open, then slipping the straps off my shoulders. “Have you ever played with cuffs?”
“Hand cuffs?” I ask nervously. “No.” I shudder at the idea. I have only had sex once, and I’m not sure that even counts. The guy came so fast I barely realized he had penetrated.
“Me either.”
Something rattles. Cold metal snaps around my right wrist, sending shudders through my body. Rapid clicking sounds as Killian fastens another cuff around my left wrist, locking my arms together behind my back.
I pull at the cuffs to test the strength. No give. And I can’t see. Suddenly, the situation descends over me. I’m alone with the guy who has been taunting me for years. Cuffed, blind, and helpless.
“I-I’m not sure I like this,” I stutter.
“No? I happen to like it very much. You look very beautiful like this.” He drags his hand down my spine, sending a cascade of shudders across my skin and deep into some foreign place within my belly.
“I want you, Jenna, bound and at my mercy. Don’t say that you don’t want this too.
I’ve noticed how you’ve been looking at me all those years. ”
“W-why now?”
“Because you won.”
I release a small laugh. “I honestly thought you’d be mad at me for winning.”
He kisses my shoulder. “How could I be mad at such a beautiful little thing?”
A giggle erupts from my throat as he kisses and nibbles my skin just below the collar.
“Do you want me, Jenna?” he asks in a seductive voice that has a flood of heat rushing through me and washing away the uncertainty.
I release a shuddery breath. “Yes.”
“I want you to show me just how much. Will you do that?”
I nod eagerly, suddenly gripped by an urgent need to please him. “Of course.”
“Will you be a good girl and take whatever I want to give you?”
“Yes. Anything.”
“You really are so much more than I expected.” Wrapping his hand around my throat, over the collar, he pulls me into him, and I nearly moan at the intense heat of his body pressed against my naked back.
“We’re gonna play a game now,” he rasps into my ear.
“I’m gonna ask you whether you want something, and you’re gonna say yes or no—very clearly, so there’s no doubt—and then I’ll do that to you.
If you say no, I’m gonna stop, and you won’t get more tonight. Are you up for that?”
I clear my voice. “Yes.”
He chuckles. “I thought so. Stay put.”
He moves away, and I stand completely still, breathing hard with the rush of it all as he moves things around, both smaller objects and bigger things.
When he comes back, I’m like putty in his hands, openly letting him turn me around and steer me forward. He makes me tell him how much I want him while he helps me onto the piano bench, on my knees, then makes me bend over the now closed piano lid.
“You look beautiful on your knees. All ready and waiting for me.”
I gasp when he nudges my legs apart and strokes a finger over the crotch of my panties.
“Do you want me to take off your panties, Jenna?”
“Yes,” I all but moan.
From then on, all that escapes me is long strings of ‘yes’ after ‘yes’ and breathy moans.
I have no idea what’s gotten over me. Killian asks if I want him to pull down my panties and spank my ass.
I say yes. He asks if I want him to put nipple clamps on my breasts.
I say yes. He asks if I want him to gag me.
I answer in a full sentence, telling him to push the horrible rubber ball past my teeth.
I barely know what I’m agreeing to, yet I know that I want it all. Every little perverted thing he does. I crave his praise, his gentle touch, and even the pain that somehow drives my need higher. I crave the intoxicating feeling of being fully and completely at his mercy—being his.
All the while, Killian taunts me with how wet I’m becoming, touching my opening and teasing, driving my need to insane heights and making me reckless in my desire.
“So fucking wet,” he says, dragging a finger through my pussy lips.
I mewl around the gag, more than a little embarrassed. But when he moves his wet finger backward, through my ass cheeks, I start to tense up.
“You’re so wet”—he presses his finger deeper, onto that hole—“I could lube your ass with your own juices.”
“No,” I protest around the gag, going completely rigid.
“Do you want me to stuff something inside your ass, Jenna?”
I’m about to repeat my garbled protest, but something makes me hesitate. That reckless desire to succumb to whatever he wants. And when he moves his finger back across my slick opening and finds my sensitive nub, all sense of logic crashes in a flood of desire.
I cry out, and more moans have me sputtering uncontrollably around the gag as he circles my clit. His touch is smooth and slick, sending jolts of electricity deep into my pussy. I jerk and buck from the onslaught of sensation, almost afraid I’ll make the piano bench topple over.
But then it all stops. Killian pulls his hand away and takes a step back.
I reel for a moment, feeling lost. Tears well in my eyes as my body keeps pounding with the need to… just go a little further.
“Eease,” I beg around the gag.
“Please what? Stuff something inside your ass?”
I nod frantically, barely even knowing what he’s saying. All I know is that I want—need—more.
“Do you want me to stuff that tight little hole of yours, Jenna?”
I nod again and keep doing so as he presses his thumb to my forbidden opening.
“Are you such a nasty girl that you want me to stuff your ass?”
I groan in utter humiliation, but even so, I can’t stop nodding. “Eease,” I repeat, the gag killing my ability to utter more than slurred strings of vowels.
“Okay then. If you say so.”
A twinge of worry strikes through my brain at his hardened change of tone, but I’m too far gone—too deep in the needy haze—to consider the meaning.
I’m surprised when he leans forward and rips the blindfold from my eyes, but before I can understand why, he probes something at my slick pussy.
I yelp, but the sound morphs into a cascade of moans when Killian circles the toy in my juices.
“Fuck, I’ve never seen anything like it,” Killian rasps, pushing the toy inside me and bringing it back out. “It’s like a goddamn waterfall down here.”
I groan at his humiliating comment, but somehow, it only drives me wilder.
He continues, in and out, a few times, and that small motion alone drives me onto the edge of something I can’t explain. It almost feels like an orgasm, but the orgasms I’ve given myself have never felt like this—like the warning tremors of an earthquake about to rip everything apart.
I wail with desperate need when he removes the toy, leaving an achy emptiness. But then he positions it between my ass cheeks, and a whole new type of sensation awakens, making me moan and arch in open invitation.
“Such a little ass slut.” He smacks my ass. “You actually want this.”
I want to shake my head, but the violent sensations have me crashing down the road I’ve set out on, unable to stop. All I can think is that I need more.
“Fuck,” he groans as he starts pushing the toy inside. It’s not big, but it stretches my inner walls unnaturally. It’s wrong and humiliating in so many ways, but still, I want it.
“You’re such a little slut,” he mocks, all trace of affection now gone. The toy sinks into place, and he steps back, taking it all in. “Show me how much you like this and wriggle your hips.”
Despite the coldness having crept into his voice, I obey, too lost in his control to do anything else.
He delivers a hard smack to my ass, then leaves my side. Blinking against the light of the room, I stare after him. He goes to the tall bookshelves and picks something up. His phone. I watch the blue cover as he places it on the piano surface beside my head.
“I think I have what I need now,” he says.
The fuzzy fog draws back for a moment as I hover, waiting for more.
I hear a buckle open followed by the scratch of a zipper. Then there’s a wet, rhythmic sound. A fist pumping a cock.