Red Hot Obsessions (220 page)

I thought this would feel
fake
in a way, like Addison and Logan just playing around, but he was all shock and awe, pulling me into a vivid capture scene where I really had no clue what to expect or who on earth he was. I so loved the freefall into the black hole of the unknown.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I choked out.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes,
Sir
. Happy?”

“Not … yet.” He brandished a knife, and it glinted in the flickering candlelight. He ran the flat side of it down my cheek.

Tears pricked my eyes and I wobbled and screamed. “What the hell! Don’t hurt me, please, please.”

“I haven’t decided how
much
I will hurt you, but you can count on some sweet pain coming your way, Princess. You’ve been a very bad girl...so naughty.”

My stomach roiled because I didn’t doubt he was serious. His predatory stare was so uncivilized.

He sliced through some of the laces on the bodice of my dress like butter, then ripped the top open, exposing my breasts to his hot gaze. With a giant gouge making it easier to lift, he shoved the entirety of my dress up over my head and hands, leaving it bunched around the pinned ribbons by my hands. I shivered at the exposure, even though it was just Logan. This didn’t feel familiar or cozy at all. There were a ton of dark hallways before us, and I wasn’t sure which ones he’d drag me down. My chest was heaving from the stimulation at being laid bare for his pleasure. I couldn’t help but laugh, though, as it hit me that I was literally in my own bodice ripper. Now, all I needed was to be stuffed with a throbbing member and whisked up to the billowy clouds. Maybe he was really going to take me without any prodding on my part. God, I hoped! Regardless, this was still pretty hilarious.

“Are you finding this funny?”

I was still giggling. “Not quite,
Sir
. I used to read tales of such scandalous things under the covers, with just the blink of lightning bugs in a jar. And now, it’s happening to me.”

“You should cease the foolish display of merriment. Nothing about this is funny. For all you know, you could be in grave peril. Laughter is not what I desire. I want your bones to quake.” He set the fisted knife between my breasts, turned his wrist so the blade was upside down and dug the sharp tip into my skin. And it hurt. Like hell.

I shrieked, “Ow, ow,” looked down, and jerked at my restraints. I freaked out when a little dot of blood bloomed before my eyes. He stabbed me! He fucking– “What the hell are you doing?” His brutality killed all traces of laughter, that’s for damn sure.

“I’ll bet those women didn’t get spanked or blindfolded or mind-fucked. I’ll bet they didn’t cry. Or Scream. But you will.”

I yanked at my hands and struggled to get up and screamed some more. “Let me go. You’re a sick fuck. Let me go. Let me up right now!” I was kind of serious. But in truth,
I
was the sick fuck, and I was terrified of that fact. This was so turning me on, the pain, the unknown, the terror, the dark embers in his eyes. I loved it all.

He pulled a flask out of his back pocket with a cotton ball, wet the puff with whatever the metal vessel contained and doused the little poke, making it burn. His preparation clearly said he intended on doing that,
cutting
my skin. How many more bloody pokes was he going to give me?

I moaned a Siren’s song, closed my eyes and arched my chest up at the bitter sting. I loved his rapid switch from viciousness to tenderness. I was dizzy and felt like I was waning from low blood sugar.

“I
could
let you go, after I check your body for corruption of course, but then you’d lose out on ecstasy like you’ve never experienced before. Whatever Heaven those wenches in your stories reached will be
Hell
compared to the paradise I could take you to.”

While dabbing the point mark, he bent over my stripped-down, spread-open body and left candy kisses on my breasts and shoulders.

“Will you stop fighting me, Princess? Will you concede and let me make good use of that sweet nectar dripping out of your body? Will you let me put that peasant to shame and turn him into worthless, wind-blown chaff in your mind?”

God, yes.

His kisses climbed my chest and neck and fell into a hypnotic rhythm on my lips. He seized my bound wrists, propping his torso up over me, then aligned with my sex and mashed his hardness against it. “Will you be my dirty whore, just for one night? You know you will be stuck in an arranged marriage one day, with some royal twit who favors men or doesn’t even know how to diddle your bits properly.” He bit my lip and tugged it down, then stuck his thumb in my mouth. “I’d start with that sassy tongue of yours. That poisonous snake needs to be tamed and charmed.”

I sucked on his dominant offering until he pulled it away. “Are you going to hurt me?”

“Yes, I said that, but no more knives, no more blood. Similar to the pain you’ve already experienced. You handled that very well, right? In fact, I know you quite liked it, the spanking and the stick of cold metal and the scorch of whiskey. But I will also give you pleasure too. Plenty of it. Maybe soon, you won’t be able to tell the difference. They could converge and become one. Pain was just beautiful to you, was it not?”

“Yes. A little.”

“I know how to make it very pretty. Will you give in to me?”

I nodded.

“I need to hear you. Say, ‘I am your whore. Do as you wish, Sir.’”

“I’m yours–”

He grabbed my face. “No! I am
your whore
. Say it.”

“I am...
your
whore. Do as you wish...Sir.”

“Very well, my lady.” He pulled a black scarf out of his back pocket and covered my eyes, then kissed my forehead. “Now’s about time to start getting nervous. Open that mouth. It’s tongue wrangling time.”

I did as he asked, and he jerked my head up, a tight clasp on my hair, then knelt really low and slid his dick into my mouth. He smelled like that manly soap that made my mouth water, and I moaned and breathed him in deeply just before he forced me to take the whole thing in. This time, I was more prepared and ready for the act, and I opened up wider and stuck my tongue out further. I was able to take this face-fucking more gracefully and comfortably than the last time he tracked along my tongue and stirred up saliva. As he pulled out to let me breathe, I only gagged once. I was not close to retching or anything of the sort, but my arms were aching so badly. I rolled my tongue around him and sucked him like a hungry, horny slut to show my appreciation for his gift. It was such a treat for me to pleasure him and suck him blind. He moaned and shivered as let me ride him for a while, his grasp on my hair loosening.

When he’d had enough, he let go of me and allowed my head to drop back down to the comfort of the quilt. “Mmm. Good girl. I think that tongue has finally learned to serve instead of slice. Wouldn’t you say so?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Very good.” He laid down next to me and raked up all my goose bumps when he dragged his knuckles down my neck, between my breasts, over my abdomen and bellybutton and bypassed my hot zone. Oh, how I ached for his hand to go there. “Oh, Princess. I can see yearning for more naughtiness on your pretty face. Your lips are parted, your head’s tilted back and your breasts keep bopping up to tease and tickle my eyes. What are you longing for?” His fingertips grazed up and down along my inner thigh and peppered me excruciatingly with random dots that didn’t move into the zone I wanted. The strokes on the very far edges of my petals were driving me mad.

My only thought for at least two minutes was,
Go in, go in, go in
. “Mmmm.”

“I’m not giving you what you want until you beg for it.”

“Please, Sir.”

He was still teasing me, edging
so
close, but cruelly avoiding everything moist and red within the folds of my swollen labia. “Yes?”

“Please touch my secret garden.”

“Your secret garden? Please. I know you’re much dirtier than that. Say cunt. Touch my cunt, Sir.”

“No, that’s so crass.”

His elusive touch made my whole body shiver and my stomach pang. “Exactly. When do you get to be crass? Let it out. Say, touch my cunt, Sir. Dine on my sweet nectar.”

I gasped. “Ohmygosh! Touch my cunt, Sir. Savor the nectar that’s waiting for you in my pussy.”

“Mmm, yes, like that. Was that so hard? Don’t you feel released from the shackles of those much more prudish than you?”

“Yes,” I laughed with a nod. “And bad.”

“Bad. You’re right about that, my lady. You are the goddess of smut.”

I snickered, loving that term.

I expected roaming fingers first, but he shoved his head between my legs and devoured my aching, wet slit like a starving beast.

“Aahhhh.” I thrashed and cried out again and again in rills of ecstasy.

His tongue slid up inside me and reunited with my walls and his hands trail blazed heat over my abdomen and breasts. He grabbed at my flesh until it hurt and made me scream. He fired me up so fast. Just before the brink, he lifted his head and replaced the void with two fingers. He rammed them in hard and fast. I kept raising my arched back involuntarily and ground against his hand.

“See? Questionable virtue. What did I say.”

“What. I’ve never given it all. I swear it. On my mother’s grave.”

He pulled off me and tears of joy spilled out of my eyes, but he didn’t see them. They got gobbled up by a damn blindfold. “You were just writhing against me like a girl who knows exactly how to rush ultimate pleasure to her nether region.”

“I wasn’t,” I say, though I clearly was.

“Liar. Don’t worry. I’ll make an
honest
woman of you. But first...you need to hurt mightily for your sins. You need to feel pain that still bites and burns you tomorrow.” He started lightly tapping a small, leather thing up and down my arms and over my breasts, and he drew streaks and circles on my cheeks. It whap, whap, whapped me like a very thick leaf and also caressed me like velvety rose petals. “It feels so soft, doesn’t it? Like a feather’s cousin?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He bopped and dragged it all over me on a travel downwards. The rapping, steady on my clit, was making me weep honey. “Softness. It’s a deception.”

Whatever it was whizzed in the air and fell on my nub with a wicked smack. I cried out from the smarting sting, but I could tell he’d only put a little bit of his might into it. He went back to the excruciating tease of tapping. My arms, my chest, my cheeks, my hungry hills and valleys. He flipped it to land vertically with a dainty drum beat right on my bits. He traveled up and down the slices of swollen fruit with gentle flaps, making me ache for its rough reconnection with my clit.

“Flicked hard enough, the riding crop can leave angry welts. I’ll bet you’ve rapped your horses hard, zapped them like a bee, without giving it a second thought. This baby can hurt like hell. Like so.” It whooshed through the air and landed with splat on my inner thigh. Before I could a snatch breath, he sent a much lighter whack to the pussy lips that he was just tapping into insanity.

“Ow, fuck!” I screamed because the first one indeed hurt like hell, and the close juxtaposition and contrast of the lesser smack felt so good. The two jolts blasting through my body were electrifying. Waving, crackling strings were spiraling out from a central point in my loins. The mark on my thigh flared up into an awful sting and a lingering burn.

“Aw, yes. Indeed say
fuck
or whatever dirty things fly into your head. Give me that sweet, guttural music. So unbecoming of a princess.” He was back on my clit, tapping, tapping, tapping.

Don’t you dare. Not that hard. Please!

He flapped and dragged the tip of it along my clitoral hood and swollen bits. He was making my pussy cry. “Do you want my mark, right on that sensitive button? Do you want it to hurt so good right there?”

I shook my head. I did and I didn’t. I doubted he’d actually hit me that hard there.

Before I could answer audibly, he left a smack on my clit to remember. It made me arch toward the sky, but it was similar in intensity to the nice licks I got on Halloween. No welt, no burn, only a hot, sweet, mother of all, fuck-me, fuck-me, fuck-me sensation that had me dripping and quaking like mad. My sigh turned into a moan. He did it again and again and again in slow, restrained measure right on my hot button, making me rise so fast and cry out at the blurring line between pleasure and pain.

He fired another fierce slap onto my other thigh, snatching my breath and leaving a smarting welt in its wake. But the fire in that one was
so
extreme, it made me laugh out of my mind like a hyena on crack. What was going on? He hit me hard again on the other side, and on the underside of my arm and beside my knee. I loved the switch up of landing pads, as well as the intensity.

I yowled and laughed each time he hit a new spot with force, and I was bucking like a bull rider. I’d never experienced such a delicious ride to the top. Along my arms and legs and breasts even, he gave me nice, blistering slaps, never hitting the same spot twice. I shivered and gnashed my teeth when the crop finally nipped at my ass cheek, right by my hip with a whizzing splat. I thirsted for more of that. Even with the candy cane ribbons in place, he found good, yummy targets of skin to strike, staying down by my bound legs now, leaving me breathless with hit after hit. They got harder and harder, biting me sharply, making me dizzy with warmth and fits of laughter.

But by the eighth butt smack, they no longer hurt at all. I don’t know how or why, but he did it. He flipped my receptors, and I loved him for it. The pain lessened tenfold, and now, each strike of the crop felt like a glorious bop of pleasure that fizzled and swirled electrified spider webs, wild and free. He started roaming again. The lack of tempo and random surprise of the falls had me trembling and breathing raw. My mouth hung open. At each point of impact, a fresh wave of ecstasy flooded through my soul. I was no longer yowling, just laughing and moaning like a high hooker and eager for each stunning whack like a hit from a drug.

Hit me … hit me … hit me
, kept running through my head. My whole body was buzzing and alert. It felt like ants were crawling all over me and airy bubbles were bursting on my skin.