CHAPTER FIVE
(Charlotte)
Mounds of pink rose petals lined the hall outside the bedroom, and pink ribbon wound in a curving path through the house. What must have been hundreds of white pillar candles in an assortment of heights illuminated my journey through the otherwise dark living room and down the stairs to the lower level.
I might have appreciated the effort more if I weren’t so sexually frustrated. My pussy clenched with every step, and my tits ached from the nipple clamps the women had only just removed.
Matt had given me a tour of the villa, but we hadn’t spent much time downstairs. From what I remembered, it was guest bedrooms that never got used. The rose-petal path led me to one of those doors. I pushed it open. Matt waited inside.
My knees went weak at the sight of him. It wasn’t like I hadn’t noticed his devastating handsomeness before, but the black suit, the candlelight, the waves in his slightly in-need-of-a-cut hair made me hyperaware of his sharp, square jaw, his broad shoulders and chest, the way he towered over me.
The dark edge in his deep voice as he said, “Hello, princess,” brought a hiccup of nerves to my throat.
The room was decorated much the same as the rest of the house, with candles and rose petals. The bed was made up with a thick white duvet and a mountain of pillows, but there was additional furniture here that I definitely hadn’t seen on the tour. A tall-backed white armchair sat at the end of the bed, and a contraption of chrome bars and padded cushions with hanging straps dominated the center of the room where I was certain there had been a seating area before.
There were also a lot of very interesting implements laid out on a side table.
Matt took in my wide-eyed survey of the room and chuckled. “Are you afraid, princess?”
I shook my head. I trusted him completely. “No, my dragon.”
He walked to me slowly and drew the backs of his fingers down my cheek. He might as well have rubbed my clit; the sensation ended up in the same place.
“Did you enjoy your time with my friends?” His hand drifted down to my shoulder then slowly back to my neck.
I swallowed, my cunt aching at the memory of that big dildo inside me. I’d been so close. They’d kept me on the very edge of orgasm for so long that I was still there, certain every touch would send me over.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his big hand curling around my throat. “Come look at yourself with me.”
There was a tall mirror on the wall near the door to the en suite bathroom. He guided me there, hand still locked around my neck, the other gripping his cane. I watched us moving toward the mirror; me, fully naked beside him, in his suit that probably cost more than I would ever make in a year. I was so vulnerable. Small. Powerless beside him.
He stopped me in front of the glass, his thumb brushing gently over my lower lip. “I’m so lucky.”
The words spread a bloom of pride and desire through me. I did look good. On top of being truly sadistic teases, Asia and Tiffany had made me up like I was going to the Oscars. My hair fell in a volumized cascade of copper curls around my shoulders and down my back, and genius contouring brought out cheekbones I was sure belonged to someone else. The smoky-eye look and dark mauve gloss made me appear sophisticated and regal.
Like a princess, I supposed.
“I can’t wait to make a mess of you.” Matt chuckled darkly. “Would you like that, princess? Would you like all this mascara to run, your lipstick to smear?”
I swallowed hard as the pressure of his hand around my throat increased. “Only if you would, my dragon.”
He kissed my forehead and released me. “Good girl.”
I stood there on wobbly legs as he went to the chrome and leather device in the center of the room. “Do you know what this is?”
I shook my head.
“This is a punishment bench.” He patted the cushioned square on one side. “This is where you’ll lean on your forearms. Those cuffs will keep you in position.” He pointed to the slender padded bar at the center of the bench. “This will support and elevate your hips so that I have total access.”
Despite being called a bench, there was nothing between the armrest platform and the narrow pelvic support. There were footrests, though, stylized stirrups attached to more padded leather, with restraint straps.
“I’ll be able to adjust your legs,” Matt went on, moving one of the footrests up. “I can spread you as wide as I want.”
My own breath threatened to drown out the sound of his voice. He patted the leg rest and said, “Climb up.”
I hesitated. It seemed deeply unlikely that I wouldn’t fall through the damn thing trying to get on it. Matt offered me his hand, and I took it as I placed a foot into one of the stirrups.
“This shouldn’t need much adjusting,” he said as he guided me to lean forward. He was right; the armrest was in the perfect position for me to support my upper body. The padded bar beneath my hips felt strange, but not bad. I was somehow comfortable and in the most awkward position of my life.
So far.
Matt ran his hand down my back, his breath harsh through his nose. “Any trouble breathing?”
“No, my dragon.” Well, not because of my position, anyway. The air on my spread pussy, the anticipation that coursed through me, those were the things that took my breath away.
“If at any time you find it difficult to breathe or your muscles feel strained, let me know.” He paused, then added darkly, “From the position, I mean. If you’re out of breath from screaming or your muscles are strained from coming too hard, that’s a different story.”
I let out a shaky laugh.
“I’ve been thinking about what kind of scene you might enjoy,” he went on. “You don’t strike me as someone who gets off on pain and degradation for pain and degradation’s sake. I want to try something tonight. I want to see what a good girl my princess can be.”
A thick strap fell over my lower back, and he cinched it up tight. I could tell the Velcro was strong from the sound it made as he gave the strap a tug to test it. I was anchored to the pelvic support firmly, but it felt like I could wriggle away, if I wanted to. When he added the straps around my calves, I knew I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Wrist,” he ordered, and I inched my forearm forward. No straps, here; he closed a set of shackles connected to the bench with short chains around each of my wrists and stepped back to admire his work.
“Perfect,” he said, and put a hand under my jaw to lift my chin. “You look perfect like this.”
I flushed with pleasure and instinctively looked toward the mirror. He was right; I looked damn sexy with my ass up, back arched, ready for him to do whatever he wished to me. He went to the side table and picked up a paddle. My heart rate sped up. He put it back down and moved on to a tasseled whip, giving it a test stroke against his clothed arm before putting it back. Then, he came to me and held out his huge hand. “Let’s start with a classic.”
Goosebumps rose on all of my skin despite the comfortable temperature of the room. I’d never been so immobilized, so at someone else’s mercy. And yeah, I trusted Matt. I wouldn’t have come to the island if I didn’t. But it was hard to explain to the primal part of my brain that being tied down specifically so someone could hurt me was going to be fun. That, I realized, was a part of the fun. The fear and the trust went hand in hand. I was allowed to be afraid of this man, this powerful, strong man who now held me captive, without truly fearing him.
The adrenaline and dread were aphrodisiacs. As Matt moved slowly behind me, a thrill of terrified desire went through me.
He chuckled. “I can see your pussy clenching already.”
I shivered.
“You’re wet.” His fingertip gently traced my inner labia, slipping between them and their external counterparts while his thumb brushed along the edges. It was a maddening tease. I couldn’t even lift my hips to get accidental contact with my clit. He withdrew his hand and said, “I want you to count while I spank you.”
“Count?” My throat was suddenly dry.
“Yes. I’m going to start out with five. Count, out loud, every spank. And when we’re done, you’re going to thank me for them.”
And then, without any further warning, he smacked my ass.
It was a lot harder than I expected, and I yelped out, “One!” in shock. Then came the next, striking the other side. “Two!” My ass burned, and I was grateful he hadn’t started with the paddle.
Started with.
Oh no.
The third time, his hand fell on already-spanked skin and a loud, “Oof!” tore from my mouth involuntarily before I uttered, “Three.”
Another slap.
It rocked the whole damn bench.
I called out, “Four!” but I truly considered, Mercy! instead.
I can do this, I told myself sternly. I can do whatever Matt asks of me.
Not Matt. My dragon.
I gulped in air in anticipation of the final spank, but I couldn’t have braced myself for it if I’d wanted to. Instead of smacking my ass, his palm and fingers connected full force with my exposed vulva, hard enough to bring tears to my eyes and a squeal of pain from my throat. “Five!”
The hand that had caused me so much pain stroked my screaming flesh to soothe it. “Good girl, princess.” He dropped a kiss on my bruised ass cheek. “Now, say thank you.”
The blood rushing to my lightly injured parts made everything so much more sensitive. I could practically feel the ridges of his fingerprints as he petted my opening.
“Thank you, my dragon.”
“Thank you for what?” he goaded me.
“Thank you for spanking me, my dragon.” The words would have sounded ridiculous to me under any other circumstance, but in this room with him, they were sacred. And I was proud. I’d endured that brief spanking, and it had pleased him. I craved nothing more than to hear him tell me I’m a good girl, his princess, in his deep, serious voice.
“You’re very welcome, princess,” he told me. “You did a great job. And now, you get your reward.”
Somehow, in the midst of the pain, I’d forgotten all the pleasure I’d been denied earlier. Now that he’d promised it—at least, I hoped that was what he was promising—I needed it.
“I’m going to set a timer for five minutes.”
I heard something beep.
“For five minutes, I’m going to touch you like…” His finger slowly stroked down one side of my clit. “This.”
I moaned at the contact.
“No faster or slower.” He kept up the same pace, alternating the long, light passes on each side with one fingertip. “You did such a good job, you’re allowed to come. But if you don’t come before the time is up…”
I whined in dismay, and he chuckled.
“Of course, if you do come, I’m not going to stop.”
I took a deep breath and dropped my head, determined to focus only on my arousal, which was quickly building back to the height Asia and Tiffany had brought me to.
“Your pretty little pussy is so red and sore,” Matt said, clucking his tongue in pity, his finger steadily applying those teasing strokes. “I loved watching you with Tiffany and Asia. You were so needy, begging for that dildo.”
I had been. In fact, I’d nearly come the moment Asia had shoved it into me. My cunt grasped, feeling way too empty at the memory of how filled up it had been.
“But it wasn’t as nice as my cock?” he asked.
I shook my head, remembering with a hot rush of embarrassment the way I’d screamed out how much I loved his dick.
“No, my dragon,” I panted. “Nothing is as good as your cock.”
“That’s what I like to hear. Do you want this cock tonight?” he asked.
“Fuck, yes.” It was a ragged whisper.
He pulled his hand away from my straining clit and slapped my ass.
“Please don’t stop!” I begged. “I mean, yes, my dragon! I want your cock! I always want your cock in me!”
His hand returned to where I wanted it, where I needed it to be. The brief absence had only made my flesh hungrier. I wanted him to speed up, to get me exactly where I was inevitably headed, but he kept moving that finger slowly, as if it were a metronome.
“That’s better, princess,” he murmured. “You’re getting close. I can tell. I can hear your cunt pulsing.”
Fuck.
“If I slid a finger in there, would you come?” he asked.
“Oh yes, my dragon,” I breathed, hoping he would do it.
“You’ll have to earn it tonight. Just like you’ll have to earn this cock by being a very, very good girl.” The maddeningly slow touches were torture now. I was so close, I kept believing that one more would take me over the edge, but then it wouldn’t. I was creeping toward my orgasm inch by interminable inch. I sobbed in frustration.
“You have plenty of time left, princess,” he assured me. “Relax. Breathe. And don’t tense up.”
That last command seemed impossible as the tension in my pelvis twisted tighter. One more, I promised myself. It will be the next one. The muscles in my thighs trembled. One more. Surely, this would be the last one, the one that would make me burst. One more, and I would—
My orgasm wasn’t the explosion I expected. It was far more intense. I spiraled into it like I was entering a black hole of pleasure, where time stretched out to impossible lengths. It wasn’t a quick rush or a completion. I was lost in an orgasm that went on so long, I saw stars. Then, I didn’t care what I was seeing, because he kept the same pace, the same pressure, and the pleasure never stopped. If anything, it became deeper, until another climax rippled through while I climbed toward another, and another, all of them stacked on top of each other.
When he warned, “One more minute,” I thought, surely, I’ve been coming for an hour by now. Then, all rational thought left me as I was pulled under the waves of another orgasm. This wasn’t like being tortured with too much sensation on overstimulated flesh. I never came down.
When the timer beeped, I groaned in disappointment.
“That sounded pretty ungrateful, princess,” he said, and the scolding in his tone sent me crashing down. “Ungrateful girls don’t get presents.”
“I’m sorry, my dragon.” I would say anything to feel like that again, but a part of me was also ashamed that I’d let him down. That he’d perceived me as not appreciating the pleasure he’d given me. “Please, let me make it up to you.”
I heard his zipper open, and I held my breath. Would he fill me up, finally? Pound into me so hard the bench moved across the floor?
Instead, he stood in front of me, cock in one hand, the other extending a shining fingertip. “Clean it off.”
I opened my mouth, and he put his finger inside, tracing a line down the center of my tongue so I could taste myself on him.
“You’re dripping,” he said. “Your pussy is dripping onto the floor.”
My vivid imagination flooded my mind with the picture.
“Apologize for making such a mess,” he ordered, and gripped a handful of my hair.
Propped up on my elbows, my mouth was aligned with his cock at the perfect height. He took care of the angle by roughly jerking my head back. My jaw dropped in surprise, and that was the moment he thrust forward, all the way to the back of my throat.
I gagged and coughed, drool filling my mouth. I tried to suck on him, swirl my tongue around his rock-hard cock, but he pumped steadily. He wasn’t looking for a blowjob. He was fucking my face.
I humped my hips in the short movements the straps allowed, matching his rhythm and imagining him plowing deep into my cunt. As I coughed and choked and drooled from the corners of my mouth, he whispered things like, “That’s right. Take it, princess,” and, “You’re doing such a good job.”
Fuck, if that didn’t almost feel better than the physical aspect of the sex.
He pulled out, and I gagged on a torrent of saliva. Chuckling as he tucked himself away again, he said, “There. Now you’re dripping from both sides.”
My nerves sang with an overload of sensation. My skin was hot and too cold. My pussy tingled, but my ass burned. My jaw ached from being stretched open, but I desperately wanted his cock filling it again.
I was so caught up in my whole-body check-in that I hadn’t noticed him leaning down close to my ear. His whisper startled me. “Are you beginning to understand now, princess? What I want from you?”
“Everything,” I whispered back.
And I would give it to him.