Chapter 23
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
He walks around me, opening a drawer. I can’t see, and there aren’t any mirrors in this room, so I keep my gaze pinned to the floor. And I wait.
After some rustling, Jake is behind me, his breath feathering over my shoulders as he slips something soft between my wrists. “How does it feel?” he questions, tying off a knot. I attempt movement, but with each tug on the binding, my shoulders burn and my chest aches. I feel like I’ve been throwing basket stunts for weeks, and fatigue echoes in my lungs the way it does after a long run. It hurts. Despite the softness of the leather he chose, my muscles scream. But I love feeling pain for him. What I feel at this moment is clarity .
I am in Bluebell for this man’s pleasure, and I love what a slut that makes me. How powerless.
How free.
“It’s tight,” I admit, but before he can loosen it, I whisper, “but it feels good.”
He partially circles me, and it forces me to come face-to-face with his cock. He strokes it once, and shakes out a drop of precome, which splatters against my chest with a tiny thud. “Mm,” he groans, smoothing his fingers through the traces, rubbing himself into my skin. “You were made to submit,” he hums softly, his voice offering no threat. Just a simple statement. His palm slides over my eyes, rendering me blind for a moment. Hot flesh skims my lips, making my cunt weep down my thighs. Teasing his cock against my lips, eyes still covered, he adds, “You were made to use.” His voice plummets into something deep, dark and desperate. “You’re mine to use.”
“Please.” The single word is a powerful beg, and I want it so intensely I’m shaking with desire. I feel like I've been edging myself since he sucked that splinter from my palm. My brain is full of sand and my limbs weigh a million pounds. All I can feel, all I can focus on is my need . The burning, thrashing, starved, monstrous need between my thighs, screaming for Jake.
But he stops.
“Riley,” he says, the seriousness in his voice sudden. “We went over red and yellow.” He crouches before me, his smoldering eyes searching for mine. “But if you’re unable to speak,” he says, teasing out the statement, encouraging us both to imagine for a moment. My stomach clenches. “Blink in rapid succession.”
He resumes and I finally take a breath.
I’m new to this, and so is he, and yet we operate seamlessly as I bob my head, promising to him that I will always let him know just how I'm feeling. Once he’s satisfied, he leans down, pressing his lips to mine.
And then we become something else.
Not Jake and Riley, but dominant and submissive, giver and receiver, ruler and subject, all of these roles more natural to us than anything to come before. The exchange of safe words feels necessary, but from here on, our bodies move together, and he guides with confidence and power.
I grew up knowing I wanted to teach. Knowing I wanted to coach.
But, being the one who can take his punishment, and who earns his praise–that feels all encompassing—far more important than anything else.
He rears back, twisting the leather shaft in his hand a few times before getting the grip just right. “Count,” he demands right before he strikes, sending the loose tails of the flogger soaring. Each end collides with my flesh at once, snapping at the moment of impact.
My spine holds straight but my shoulders jerk, and a tiny cry escapes as I count. “One.”
His rough praise tends to my stinging flesh. “God, I wish you could have seen yourself, Riley. You looked absolutely perfect taking that strike.” He shakes his head, and my world changes. “You look perfect now.”
He continues, pacing in a circle around me, dragging the stiff leather ends against the soles of my feet. Without warning, he whips me again, and I curl my toes in reaction, throwing my head back as I hiss, “Two. ”
“What’s your favorite number, Riley?” Jake asks, moving around me in a dizzying circle. Each time his erection brushes me, I grow more disoriented, my head swimmy like staying under water a few seconds too long. My pussy clenches in overwhelming hunger, like those first few times you get turned on but don’t know exactly what it is. Electric. Puts your world on its axis kind of pleasure.
I used to say fourteen because it was the age I was when Michael and I finally became a couple. He was my first boyfriend, and it meant so much to me. But I was twenty-four when I left him, and came here, and coming here is now the best thing I’ve done. “Twenty-four,” I squeak out.
He stops his pacing, and with the hand not ominously gripping his flogger, he pumps himself. I can’t look anywhere but at his strong hand stroking himself. Emptiness echoes between my hips, and beneath my tongue, saliva floods. My body knows that, destined for me, this cock is my savior, my everything, and I want it. I want him. Now.
“Please, sir,” I beg, watching with rapt focus as an opaque bead forms on the dark slit. He steps up to me, releasing his cock which stands strong and steady on its own. Plunging his fingers into my hair, Jake yanks my face forward, sending the wide tip of his crown into my mouth, thrusting toward the back of my throat.
I cough. I gag. I choke. But it only lasts a few seconds before he’s stepping back, giving me a chance to breathe. My own spit slips down my chin, rolling under my throat and down my neck. Our eyes come together, and I don’t know what he’s asking, but my answer is yes. I nod, I nod and whisper, “More, sir.”
He rears back, the wild tails of the flogger spreading like fire against my throat, wet with spit from being allowed to suck his meaty cock .
“Three,” I moan, the number sounding akin to foreplay as my head sinks forward, seeking relief from the sting.
“Tell me, Miss Riley, did you think about me after we met?” he asks, grabbing me by the hair again, jerking my mouth to the tip of his cock. I stick out my tongue but he jerks back, not allowing me the sweet taste of him. “Answer,” he commands.
“Yes,” I breathe. “Yes, I thought about you, yes.” The words rush out of me as a tremble starts in my core, my belly shaking, my thighs spasming, desperately anticipating his next move. My heart is racing, but not like how it does when I take a run or workout with the cheerleaders.
This is something else.
Adrenaline. Desire. Release.
He plunges his cock onto my tongue, surging deeper into my throat as he curves his muscled body over me, striking again, the loose tails of his toy hot and painful against my lower back. Reactively, my spine arches as I cry, “Four! Four!” the moment he empties my mouth. The weight I carried to his front door just over an hour ago is gone, completely evaporated.
I tip my head back, tears stinging my eyes, but my vision is still clear. He stands over me, stroking himself, and I open my mouth to catch the precum that threads between his cock and my tongue.
“You sure twenty-four is your favorite number?” he teases, rearing back to whip me again, this time across my breasts.
I suck in a breath, pointed, as my body grows rigid, attempting to stay strong as pain radiates through my chest. My nipples hurt and my skin burns, but everything is warm and fuzzy between my legs, hungry for more, starved for Jake .
“Count,” he reminds me, tone firm but not loud. Jake is powerful without volume, commanding without touch, in control with just a look.
“F-five,” I stammer, a little more pain setting in along my chest and lower back, my mind grows clearer, the clouds of depression and confusion opening wide, giving way to clarity.
“You’re not ready for twenty-four, Riley. But you’re handling the whip so well, you look so peaceful right now.” He lets the ends of the flogger tease me, dragging them lightly down my spine before coming to stand in front of me. Gathering my hair in his fist, he gently tugs my head back. Using his free hand, he guides his cock to my mouth. He doesn’t have to tell me to open.
My jaw parts and I open wide, arousal warming my center as his veiny length slides heavily onto my tongue. He holds himself there, my body quivering and throbbing relentlessly for him as he pinches my chin. “You ready to open up for me?”
I nod, still suckling his tip the way he wants.
“It’s gonna hurt,” he warns, lending me another inch.
Again, I nod on his cock.
He pushes my head back, the butt of his palm pressing hard into the crown of my skull, causing pain to radiate through my temples. A rush of heated delirium comes along with the pain, and I love it. “Ready?”
I nod a third time, and he reaches back, freeing the binding on my wrists with just a few strong tugs. He slips his hands under my arms, and lifts me over his shoulder without a grunt before carrying then positioning me on the bed.
I notice two of his floggers, the handles stitched with gold thread, the leather embossed with paisley patterns all over. I reach for the more ornate of the two, sliding the supple fabric between my fingers. Jake climbs onto the bed between my legs as I study the beautiful craftsmanship. “You’re so talented. I love the pattern, it’s beautiful,” I say with awe, lifting my tone as I twist the toy, analyzing his handiwork from all angles.
He lifts it from my hand, then hovers over me, his body weight suspended by one elbow sunken into the mattress, near my shoulder. His free hand slips between our bodies, and my clit blooms in anticipation, but Jake ignores it. Hardness kisses, then nudges, past my wet lips, and our gazes intertwine as he cautiously pushes the shaft of the flogger inside me, making my walls spasm and my toes curl.
“Gotta warm this tight pussy up a little,” he drawls, his nostrils flare, broad chest sinking against mine with every weighted inhale. “Stretch you,” he adds, gently charging the handle in and out of me. His thumb comes to my clit on the fifth or six pass, and I let out an absolutely feral moan.
“Yes,” I beg, lifting my head off the bed to look between us. His cock is ready, and from this angle, it seems even bigger than before. Like standing at the bottom of the Washington Monument and looking up.
He gives me more of the handle, and before long, he can’t wait. He slides it out of me with a rush, hollowing me. With the bottle of lube in his hand, he flips the top open with a click, and my pulse jumps.
“I’m gonna put some on me, and I’m gonna put some inside you, too. Are you ready, Riley?” He asks, as I watch him twist his hand while he pumps, leaving his veiny shaft glistening.
“I’m ready,” I promise.
He takes my hands, pressing them against my lower stomach. “Hold them there.”
Carefully, he rolls me onto my shoulders, easily draping my calves against his collarbone and chest. Jake's cock aligns perfectly with my pussy, and he’s so big and so hard that he doesn’t need to feed it to me or move himself through my slit to find my opening.
He grips my ankles and captures my eyes with his; dark chocolate espresso irises ablaze with intense foreboding. “Red if you can’t, yellow if you need to slow down,” he reiterates.
I nod, for what feels like the hundredth time in the span of just a few minutes.
The first few inches are a heady mixture of pain and pleasure, the pressure that the intrusion of him puts on my clit feels so good. Intensifying the already immensely swollen feeling, Jake places his thumb on my clit, moving it back and forth, his eyes trained on mine.
He’s watching for the first sign of discomfort so great that I need a break, trying hungrily to please us both while testing me and making sure not to drive me to a pain so great we have to quit. Hovering over me, he tilts his hips, giving me what feels like another few inches. The pleasure wanes, and the pain of being stretched so wide amplifies.
The muscles in my legs flex of their own accord as my spine goes rigid, and I suck in a sharp breath, exhaling to find a sliver of peace through the pain.
“You’re doing good,” he offers, his rough voice urging me forward, making me stronger, because all I want to do is please him and show him how well I can take what he has to give.
I make a mistake just then. His coaxing, his praise, it gives me too much confidence and I push up to my elbows to survey the joining of our bodies, and the journey to fucking him.
Burning, stretched, and trying to maintain calm, I look down to find –
“ Oh my god ,” I cry, the words bursting from my chest. “That’s not even a quarter of it!” I blink down at the massive cock plunging into me, speechless from how much there is left.
“You can do it,” he nudges me on, the commanding timbre of his voice and powerful delivery of those four words has me nodding my head, agreeing. Then again, when wouldn’t I obey and believe?
“Okay,” I breathe, my entire body wracked with gentle trembles, ones that come with intense pain and sharp pleasure.
His gaze is confident. “Come on, let me inside.” He pinches one of my nipples. “What do you say, Riley?”
Somehow, I know just what he wants to hear. “A little more, please, sir.”
He groans, reaching down to give his balls a squeeze. They’re so full, and I have half a mind to point them out, to beg for him to empty them inside me, but just as my lips parts, he thrusts.
“Oh god!” I wail, my spine curving off the mattress as I gasp to take what feels like another three inches at least. I look down, finding him halfway inside. My eyes burn but he repositions my hands on my stomach.
“Feel me,” he whispers, then, gripping my ankles, strides his body toward mine, so slowly that I almost don’t realize it until the burn sets in. My taint, my clit, even my lips–everything down there burns, but I don’t say yellow, I won’t say red.
I want to be his perfect fit.
“More,” I urge, my eyes rolling closed as I press my palms into my body, just in time to feel him slide deeper inside me. I’ve never had anyone or anything this deep, and heat blooms behind my eyes, a knot of unexpected emotion clogging my throat. He moves again, giving me more, but this time, the blinding pain subsides, leaving a clenching hunger aching for resolution. I press my hands down again, and he groans, our eyes coming together over the sweaty terrain of our naked, starved bodies.
“I feel your hands. Do you feel me?” he asks quietly, adding, “I told you we’d make it fit.” He glances down, surveying the scene before his eyes come to mine again. “Another inch and we’re there.”
I nod, my senses growing fuzzy, thoughts wobbly, focus hazy. “I f-feel you,” I moan, because it’s true. There isn’t a single place in my body, not a single cell not overtaken by his presence. I feel smothered and full, and I never want it to end.
Jake Turner is fully seated inside me, and my body is still treacherously needy for him. I press my hands to my belly, and feel him moving inside me. “Please,” I beg him. “I wanna see you feel good. I wanna see you unravel and unspool inside me.”
His expansive shoulders glisten with sweat as he nods, moving his thumb in tight circles. Slowly, he begins retracting himself from my body, only to push back inside. He does this a few times as I moan and try desperately to hold onto reality, the coil of gluttonous need in my belly cinching tighter with each pressing stroke.
“When you’re used to me, Riley, I’ll make you ride me, and you’ll come so hard and so loud, I’ll have no choice but to gag you.” He gains momentum, stroking faster, rubbing more, fucking harder. “My black leather gag strapped to your face, my cock swelling your belly, promises to please me radiating from those gorgeous eyes– I can’t fucking wait, Riley.”
I nod, almost unable to make words at this point. His promises, his vision for our future, his massive cock nudging my g-spot, all the focus on my blooming clit– “Jake, I’m gonna come soon, I’m so close,” I manage.
He stills his hips, one hand sliding free from its grip on my ankle for a moment. He produces the flogger, and dusts it over my bare breasts as he continues to fuck me.
The tease of the ends of the leather against my hard nipples sets my skin on fire, making my clit throb that much more. It’s teasing, it’s ticklish, it’s his flogger– “Jake,” I warn, his name more of a plea than anything else.
The coil explodes, and my orgasm tears through me, making my pussy clench and my stomach knot. My mouth falls open but I can’t speak; I can only rock and moan, writhing down on the best dick I’ve ever had. He whips my bare breasts, but I can’t even scream, euphoria and bliss clog my throat. He continues fucking, alternating between hard thrusts and shallow pumps, still rubbing slippery circles on my clit. My legs threaten to curl, but another hot sting of leather against sweaty flesh has them jumping against his body, weakening from the bliss, adjusting to the pain.
“Look up at me. Open those pretty eyes right now, Riley,” Jake groans, each word raspy and raw as he nears the brink. My eyes climb the rugged terrain of his fit body, starting at his hefty balls. When I reach his gaze, it’s dark, and he’s on the edge. “I’m gonna come,” he says, his face softening as the world around us falls away and he loses himself in the moment. Inside me, he throbs, his aching cock pulsing as he fires off. Warmth bleeds through my hips, and I keep my hands firm on my belly, feeling his cock nudge in and out of me. His face evolves from soft to tight as he finishes off, his orgasm long and hot, the most erotic thing I’ve seen.
Breathing heavily, he opens his eyes, stuffing his hand through his sweat-laden locks. The peace and content that swarms his features after his orgasm is contagious. A smile sweeps his lips, and mine too.
“How do you feel?” he asks, still thick and weighty inside me. Basking in the glow of what we just did together, I don’t even want to move. Hell, I barely want to answer. What if this is some fated, beautiful spell I’m under and answering will break it?
His hands swim down my legs, coming to grip my hips gently. He guides me up the bed at the same time he pulls out, and when he’s finally not filling me, a burning sensation spreads through my groin.
Jake presses a hand towel there, immediately easing the sting.
“I’m okay,” I breathe, my voice coming out faint, almost small. That’s not how I feel, though. I feel incredible, the way a hit of drugs must feel, the way breaking the tape at the final race must feel. I feel like I’ve won, that submitting to Jake proved to us both that I am strong and capable. But his glassy eyes have me wondering if I ever had to prove that to anyone but myself.
“Okay?” he repeats.
I shake my head as he massages my lower abdomen, which feels heavenly after so much internal stretching. “More than that, I just… I don’t know. I don’t want to sound like too much.”
His hands halt movement, and his gaze narrows. “Too much?”
I move to sit up on the bed, to have a conversation with him where I can do more than stare with drool on my chin and hearts in my damn eyes. But he doesn’t allow me. Faster than I can move, Jake snakes an arm beneath me, moving me up to rest against the headboard as he crawls after me, eventually coming to sit by my side. Hip to hip, our heads turned to face each other, Jake’s gaze anchors me as he fits our hands together, grabbing me tightly. “Talk to me.”