Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Kris
There had never been passion like that before, never been a desire so strong that it left her breathless.
She’d bought toys that had made her come, some of them escalating her pleasure until she cried out, but even during those hot nights when she’d played with herself, she’d never known anything like the desire Kronos inspired.
He played her body as if it were a musical instrument, ratcheting her need until all there was in the universe was him.
She hadn’t seen the implement, hadn’t noticed it when she’d settled on the rug, but she felt it all right, its relentless swats driving her closer to ecstasy every time he taunted her with the damn thing.
“Kristina.”
The disapproval in his voice threatened the withdrawal of that hedonism, and gasping, she fought to think.
“I’m not allowed to come unless you say I am, Master.”
In the end, rule three wasn’t so hard to recall. It was the weapon he’d wielded against her the first time he’d coiled her into an aroused spring and refused to let her go, and the one she prayed he wouldn’t use again.
“You are doing well.” His hand brushed over her hip, reminding her that despite the horrendous way he’d turned her into furniture, he’d recently removed the weight of his feet and was instead kneeling by her left side. “One more rule to tell me and you may have your orgasm.”
However marvelous the tapping of his implement was at that moment, she hadn’t forgotten how much she’d despised being demeaned.
When she’d fallen to her knees, becoming furniture was the last judgment she’d been expecting him to pronounce.
Being there on all fours and forced to take the weight of his calves was easily the most humbling experience of her life, but the worst of it was that the experience had facilitated exactly what he promised; protracted moments of hush where all she could do was remain there and think.
The queries had rebounded through her head with dismal dismay. How had she got there? Who was the man who’d crashed into her life and captivated her, and how was she ever going to get away from him?
She intentionally hadn’t given any thought to the things he’d instructed her to ruminate on.
Ignoring that request was the only act of rebellion she could exert down there on the rug, but even as the building promise of her release loomed, she recalled how crushing it had been to stay silent and impassive while he voiced his control.
It was as if he’d reduced her to a mere thing he could employ at will; an object he could play with and put away once he was finished with her.
She hated him for that, loathed that he had the strength to make her obey, but equally, she resented herself for not trying harder to resist. Ultimately, she hadn’t even tried to fight him.
She’d yielded, falling to her knees at the first command and then shifted into position like a malleable doll.
It would have been awful enough to have admitted she’d ceded through fear, but deep down, she knew the truth was much worse.
She’d relinquished not because she was afraid of the repercussions, but because she’d wanted to kneel.
She remembered how hard he was when her knees had hit the soft pile, and how much she’d longed to take his cock in her mouth, as though performing fellatio was an act of atonement.
Shifting on her knees, she was equally aware of how wet she was.
She’d been turned on already when he’d given her the instruction to fall to all fours, but after her objectification and the ceaseless attention of whatever he was striking her with, she was ashamed to say, she was fit to burst with need.
Her head lowered at her damning recrimination.
More terrible than being taken or even used as his footrest was the idea that, on some level, the denigration was what she wanted.
Though she didn’t understand why, it was becoming clear that a part of her adored the power Kronos had over her, and she secretly yearned for the demeaning way he treated her.
Out of everything that had happened to her so far, that was the most difficult facet to reconcile.
How could a woman as smart as her want to be ordered to kneel and used however he saw fit? How could she be so tremendously turned on at being used like furniture, and perhaps, most significantly, knowing all of that, how was she ever going to look herself in the mirror again?
“What’s rule four, little one?” His voice goaded her, daring her to inch closer to another scintillating climax and then do something stupid to vex him and mess things up.
She pulled in a shaky breath, conscious of how her breasts ached for his touch. She’d seen him achieve impossible feats, yet his cleverest trick was how he caught her so hopelessly in his grip.
“I must not lie to you, Master.”
She pressed her palms into the soft rug, considering whether the feat was even possible.
When Kronos looked into her eyes, it was as though he was staring directly into her soul; a feeling of vulnerability she had no words for.
How could she defend herself against power like that, let alone think she could lie to him?
He’d only known her for a few hours, but in some ways, he knew her better than anyone else.
He’d acknowledged her intelligence, her frustrations and fears, and he’d given her the opportunity to process her emotions.
He’d also pushed her harder than anyone before him, making completely unreasonable demands on her and even punishing her.
In all of that, he’d unlocked a previously secret part of her, a part that craved someone strong enough to rely on and yield to.
She didn’t yet know how to square the circle, but she could no longer deny it was there.
From her place on the floor, it seemed like there was no hope for Kris.
However much she might rationally choose to leave, Kronos was never going to let her go, and increasingly, she wasn’t even sure what a life without him looked like.
Could she go back to her postgrad studies, drinking with the girls, and chasing idiots like Shaun when she knew he was out there, with his mesmerizing eyes, huge hands, and impressive cock.
How could she carry on without him?
“Well done, little one.” His husky tone washed over her. “Now you get what you want.”
The beautiful, rhythmic tapping between her legs that she’d come to rely on almost as much as her heartbeat stopped suddenly, and as she moaned in disappointment, a long black stick that looked suspiciously like a riding crop landed on the rug by her right hand.
She eyed the implement while her hips bucked reflexively, searching for more glorious friction. Was that crop what he’d been spanking her with? Holy hell. He’d been instructing her as if she were a wild horse he intended to tame, and all the while, she’d reveled in the attention.
She shivered at the confusing thought. She’d never considered herself the type of woman who would enjoy being struck with a riding crop before, but then Kronos had come along, and everything altered.
“Tell me, did you enjoy being my footrest?” His fingers skimmed over her sore backside, dipping between her cheeks until they finally brushed over her labia.
She bit her lip at the heady feeling, hardly remembering a time she’d ever been so horny and ready for sex. What she still couldn’t wrap her head around, though, was how he’d managed it all with a period of belittling, quiet reflection, and a fucking crop.
“No, Master.” Her gaze narrowed at the humiliating memory. “I hated it at first.”
That wasn’t a lie. She remembered how wanton she’d felt dropping to her knees, and all the naughty things she imagined he might ask of her, but nowhere had she anticipated being used as his property.
“And as time went on?” he prompted, suggesting he already knew the answer. With his fingertips sweeping over her soaking pussy, she had no doubt that he did. The aftermath of his so-called ‘outcome’ was more than evident. “How did you feel about it by the end?”
Her brow creased as his teasing fingers circled her aching clit. She wanted to come so badly, just like she needed him inside her. Why was he making her wait?
“Kristina.” His finger and thumb tightened at her sensitive nub, pinching her clit until a streak of hurt ricocheted from the area.
Flinching at the abrupt intensity, she attempted to rise to her knees, but one of his large hands held her down.
“I…” She couldn’t think, the pain melding with her arousal until he was the center of every narrative she tried to grasp for.
She wanted him, but she detested him. She needed him, but she never wanted to see him again.
In the frenzy of that absurdity, there was nowhere for her to go. She was trapped in the labyrinth of his enigma, like a bird caught in a gilded cage.
“Remember rule four.” His fingers slid back to her lips, tormenting her with the promise of everything she wanted. “Tell me the truth.”
The heat of his breath teased her hip, and as he planted soft kisses on her ass, she mewled.
Nothing about the mountain of muscle kneeling beside her should have been as gentle as those caresses were, yet as his lips brushed her skin, she wanted more.
More of his tenderness, and more of his tough authority.
Kneeling there, she couldn’t recall how she’d managed without either.
“Yes, I liked it, Master.” She couldn’t believe she was telling him so, but what else could she do?
He’d already ascertained the truth for himself and would probably punish her again if she lied.
Regardless, she couldn’t bear the thought of being brought so close to the brink once again, just to be left dangling.
The only sliver of sanity in the miasma of the madness he created was the powerful passion they conjured together.
If she couldn’t have that, she might truly go insane.
“But I don’t know why,” she added, squeezing her eyes closed. “I didn’t want to like it.”
“But you did like it.” Satisfaction oozed from his voice, taunting her just as his fingers stroked over her clit again. Her body tensed at the stimulation, her thighs trembling as one, and then a second finger eased slowly into her. “You like being useful to me.”
“Yes, Master.” Her head rose at the confession, her lips stretching wide as he filled her.
God only knew why, but she did like it.
“That’s good.” Cocooning her with his hard body, his free hand swept to her right breast. Finding her nipple, he tugged at the bud until she groaned, and all the while, the fingers of his other hand pumped in and out of her, the tips of his remaining digits grazing her clit at the perfect angle to ensure every part of her was urged back to life.
“Because I’m going to use you that way often. ”
Oh, God.
She clenched around his fingers, her head blurring at the threat, although she could no longer discern if the prospect sounded dire or devastatingly good.
What was happening to her?
She shouldn’t have wanted any of his obscenity, yet there she was, on her knees, longing for his hands and his mouth to never stop their ministrations.
“And little ones who please me with their obedience and wet pussies get rewarded.” He spoke the words into the side of her neck, his voice deep with authority.
She heard the smug smile on his face just as she felt the heat of his body encasing her, yet somehow, the conceit that should have provoked her only enflamed her escalating passion.
She needed more of him, in her, and on her, and she fucking needed it right then and there on the rug in front of the fire.
“Oh my God.” Her fingers tightened in the soft pile between her digits, her eyes fluttering closed as she braced for the intensity of what was to come. “Oh, Master. Don’t stop.”
“I’m not going to stop,” he soothed, curling his fingers gently inside her until all the lights in her head lit up at once.
“Come for me now,” he urged. “Find out what good girls get.”