Page 53 of Enslaved

A gasp escaped my lips as he rocked into me in one smooth thrust. He stilled as the tip of him went as deep as he could go, touching my womb. Flutters rippled through me as his thick, pulsing cock filled me completely. He was home, and we both knew it.

I shut my eyes, gasping as his lips tugged on a nipple before his tongue captured it in his hot mouth. I didn’t care if he’d punish me for touching him, I needed to. It was as simple as that. My hands kneaded through the hair at the back of his head, urging his mouth closer. He started pumping in and out in a steady rhythm, each stroke making us moan in shared pleasure.

“You’re so tight, little one. So tight…” He shut his eyes. Something in me felt triumphant as I watched his flushed cheeks, felt his sharp breath on my skin as the pleasure of being inside me was written all over his face.

His hands moved, gripping my ass, lifting me off the desk as he increased the pace of his thrusts. Curses in Greek rasped against my ear as he took us both higher.

I stopped fighting him for the moment, lost in where he was taking us. I bit back a scream as I felt the first trembles deep inside me slowly erupt into a crest of a wave. My orgasm ripped through me. It went on and on...more powerful than the ones he gave me when I was on drugs.

I cried, bit his shoulder, as my walls clenched around him. He pulled out, breathing hard, refusing to come.

“Christos?”

“It’s okay my dove. You did well. You please me, the way you let it happen, let go and let me give you the sweetest pleasure a man can give a woman.”

“It was intense,” I admitted.

“Of course it was. I edged you all week. Made you want me even as you fought it, brought you to the brink, then left you to burn. I know you hated me for it, but it was worth it, yes?”

His smugness at how skillfully he seduced me, trapped me into craving his touch made my cheeks hot.

He must’ve seen the flash of anger on my face; his hands yanked the chain of the submissive collar around my neck, spun me around and entered me hard.

“My turn,” he groaned, spreading my knees apart and telling me to press my hands flat on the desk.

I fought it; wanted to deny him anything I could. “Still fighting me? You should be thanking me for giving you the greatest pleasure of your life.”

“That’s all I’m ever going to give you. You’ll never get another piece of me.”

His answer was a sharp slap followed by another and another. I tried to buck him off, but he pressed me down. My stomach lay flat on the cool wooden desk as he replaced his hand with something harder. The whip. He picked up the whip I tried to use on him. The leather rope was a sharper pain; it stung like a thousand bee stings as he brought it down on my soft flesh. I could tell it brought him some sort of perverse pleasure to bring me pain.

“Why Christos? Please stop.” My sobs echoed in the room; my slippery hands slid on the desk as I attempted to crawl over it to escape his torment.

He dropped the whip, his hands caressing my inflamed skin, then I felt the cool touch of his lips where it burned.

I jerked in surprise as his tongue separated the cleft between my cheeks, seeking a forbidden place where I couldn’t imagine letting anyone go.

“N-no…I-uh...,” I gasped as he held me down, his hands spread my cheeks, his tongue finding my puckered hole.

It was decadent, wicked, and oh-so-good.

His soft laugh, made me flush pink as he pulled back, spanked me lightly, letting his fingers tease my forbidden spot.

“Soon, my pet, soon. You must be trained to learn this is natural…a part of the pleasure I can give you.”

My head ached as he tugged my hair, wrapped it around his wrist while his other hand held the chain.He fit himself against my entrance, slid in and rode me to his climax. His hips bucked. His hard thighs pressed down on my blistered and bruised ass as he pumped in and out. The thick head of him hitting my spot. I quivered, convulsed, coming for the devil again.

I felt him shudder against my back seconds before I felt him spasming and releasing waves of his hot seed deep inside me.

“You’re mine, always and forever,” he vowed, refusing to pull out, leaving all of him inside me. The heavy weight of him collapsed on me, lips finding the back of my neck. I was defeated, spent, but it felt sublime. I gave into him, letting it happen and found peace in my submission, my willingness to let go. He might be crazy, but he was right. It felt free. I felt free, despite my chains; even if it was only for the moment in which he made me soar.

No words were needed as he picked up my limp body, carrying me back to the claw-footed tub. He filled the water high, added a few drops of a scented oil then climbed in behind me. I hissed, wincing as the water made contact with the cuts and wounds from where he let his hand and whip fall

“Easy, go in slowly. It’ll feel better. I added some bath salts to ease the pain.”

I bit my lip, hating myself for letting him comfort me, as he laid me back against his smooth chest, kissed my shoulder, while lazily rubbing my breasts with a bar of soap. I was emotionally and physically drained. His soft caresses, lulling me to sleep. I felt safe, protected in the devil’s embrace. I knew he hurt me and would hurt me still, but he’d also kill anyone who dared to touch or look at me. I was his property, and he’d fight to the death for me. I was confused as I drifted off sheltered in his arms. What was it about him that had me on the precipice of both hate and love?

I woke sometime later nestled in his arms in a bed of soft linens. The gentle rock of the boat, the heat of his body, the protective hand that wrapped around my waist, had cracked through the shield I pretended to have in place. I couldn’t stop the feelings I had for him from growing. Despite, how he took me captive—I found myself weakening, wanting to stay, be his for real.

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