Wrecked (The Blackened Window) (22 page)

“God, you’re gorgeous. Stretched and waiting. Wondering what next.”

I turned on some music, my Lana Del Rey mix. Leda didn’t speak as I climbed back on the bed in front of her and started touching her, knowing how totally vulnerable she felt. I kissed her and she turned her head to kiss me back. I got undressed, hanging on to the nipple clamps I had in my pocket and stood at the foot of the bed, watching her. She almost looked at ease, as if this wasn’t new to her.
Time to change that.
I pinched her nipples, preparing them for the clamps. She made soft sounds deep in her throat, but didn’t open her mouth to let them out. I clipped the clamps to her nipples, but didn’t crank the screws down enough to hurt. The chain between them looked exotic, like she was decorated for me.

I stepped around the end of the bed, looking at her from different angles. “Spread your knees, little girl.” She did, a little. “Wider.” I pushed against her thighs and she moved. Her body was stretched tighter, taut in her bondage. So sexy.

I dropped onto my back and shimmied under her. I put my mouth on her, enjoying the sensation of her trembling thighs brushing my shoulders. I teased her with my lips and tongue. She held for a few seconds, but then gave in to the urge to roll her pelvis across my face.

I steadied her with a hand on her hip, squeezing her. She knew I wanted her to hold still. I kept licking at her and used my other hand to press fingers into her pussy. She was sopping wet, the moisture easily coating my fingers.

Chapter Twenty

Leda

Lana Del Rey,
Cola

He pushed my knees farther apart, and my arms were tighter still. His mouth worked at me between my legs, kissing and licking up my thighs. I couldn’t think of anything but him. The burning in my shoulders and nipples didn’t matter, just his lips. He sucked at my thighs and licked in the crease where my leg met my lips. He ran his tongue over my lips, playing with me. His mouth and tongue tormented me. With my eyes covered and the music loud enough to obscure most sounds, my whole world contracted down to this man licking and touching me, my helplessness and the smoldering burn in my nipples.

I felt my orgasm looming when he pulled his fingers from me. His tongue continued abusing my clit and his sopping fingers slid around to my ass, pressed against me there. Lubricated with my own juices, his finger pushed in relatively easily. I felt more than heard him when he groaned against my wet skin. His finger pressed farther into my ass, and it was a curious feeling, clearly the same set of nerves that fed my pussy, but so different. The pressure was delicious, the violation intense and the stretchy tightness burned a little, only serving to echo the burning in my nipples. I moaned again as he started sliding his fingers in and out of my ass, distracting me, firing little darts of pleasure and shame through my skin.

My curiosity and shift in focus had delayed my orgasm, but it was still there, building. Once his finger was buried in my asshole, he pressed it in various directions, letting me feel the different types of pressure and stretch. Waves of self-consciousness were quickly dispersed by the assault of pleasure in my body. He began pistoning his finger in and out of my ass with increasing roughness and speed, without slowing his tongue on my pussy and clit. An orgasm built in my pelvis and I shifted my hips over his face, making guttural sounds, like an animal in rut. My shoulders were killing me and my nipples were aching, my ass felt speared, but his hot mouth pushed me harder.

I whimpered, a vague panic at the prospect of an orgasm while completely bound. There was no way to twist away from or into it. His hands were locked on me and I was stretched too tight to get away from him. I quaked and panted, trying to control the rising tsunami tide that was threatening me.

But I couldn’t control it.
He
controlled it. I babbled incoherently, begging him to stop, to never stop, to fuck me and destroy me. Anything he wanted.

“Get my face all wet, little girl. Let me feel how hard you come for me.” The heat of his breath against my pussy triggered a deluge of sensation.

“Ohfuckohfuckohfuck. I’m gonna come, Xander.” My moans increased in intensity and the world narrowed further, to only the sensations of my body. He reached up with his free hand and pulled the chain connecting the nipple clamps. The sting of them coming off so roughly, followed by a rush of pain, crashed into the feel of his mouth and fingers as my orgasm exploded through me. The muscles of my ass spasmed because his finger—fingers
—did he press more in?
—were there, stretching me, prolonging the orgasm. A gush of fluid released from my pussy. I could tell from the shift in his cheeks he was smiling against me. Aftershocks of pleasure ran through me, but only for a few seconds because he was moving—off the bed, fingers and mouth away from me.

I heard a metallic sound, and suddenly there was slack on the binding at my wrists. My arms dropped down and he was behind me, pushing me over. My arms were sore and weak from being stretched and I couldn’t catch myself. He grabbed around my waist and lowered my face and chest to the bed, my bound wrists under me.

“There’s my pretty girl,” he murmured, skimming his fingers over the curves of my hips. He was naked and his cock was rigid against me, but he didn’t put it in. Instead, I felt something pushing at my ass. It was wet and cold and rounded smooth. The shock of something cold and liquid on my skin made me jump, but soon there was a new pressure against my ass, which claimed my full attention. He pressed and it slid into me, with that intense burning and stretching like his fingers. It got wider and tighter then
pop!
It was narrow again and in me, stuck. With no waiting, his slipped his cock into my pussy.

Oh fuck, it feels tight and impossible.

I planted my face into the mattress and let my noises go. The pressure and the fullness and the slickness and the tightness were too much. My arms ached and my tender nipples rubbed against the bed as he fucked me. Wetness ran down my legs and the stretching burn in my ass dulled to an almost-but-not-quite unpleasant feeling of being too full. His hands were on my hips, rocking me back and forth on him. In fact, he was barely moving. He was just stroking his dick with my floppy, wrung out, tight, wet body.

He started pulling me a little harder, a little faster, then he shifted his weight so that he was leaning forward, no longer pulling me. He drove his cock into me, hard enough to crumple my body under his a little with each thrust. He was grunting, thrusting with increasing intensity. He pulled out, flipped me over and splattered hot and wet across my tummy, bound wrists and breasts. I was shocked, unprepared. My breath sputtered, but before I could process it completely, he rubbed his cum into my skin and down over my clit. I tried to squirm away from him, the intensity too much, but he grabbed my nipple in his other hand and just tightened his grip when I tried to move.

“Stop it.” His tone was harsh, voice raw. And he slapped my pussy. I jumped, startled by the sound and the sting, but I was almost instantly soothed by the warm pleasure that melted through me as the sting abated.

“Open your mouth.” He shifted his weight over my body so he straddled my head. I opened my mouth and his semi-soft dick slipped over my parted lips. It was sticky and tasted like me as he dipped into my mouth. His balls rested on the blindfold. I closed my lips and sucked my flavor off him. He kept rubbing at me, playing with my nipples, occasionally slapping my exposed pussy, sending stinging shocks of pain quickly followed by pleasure through my clit. His cock started to stiffen again in my mouth.

Oh, Jesus, he wants more.

“Okay, little girl. Let’s take our time now.”

I heard the now familiar metallic sound of the winch, pulling my arms up. The mattress moved under me as he guided me to my knees, spread wide for him again. I was a little disoriented with no visual input, but I thought I was turned around from where I’d started.

The bed dipped and shifted as he slid under me. He stayed sitting up, arms around me, and pulled my face down to him for some sweet, soft kisses. It was such an odd juxtaposition—the sweetness and softness of the kissing with the aching stretch in my arms, the continued stretch and fullness in my ass.

I loved kissing him, regardless of the pain. As we kissed and his warm hands stroked my back, a strange sense of power and sensuality and sexiness flowed through me. It didn’t matter that I was bound and used like this. I loved it. And my body and sexuality were the conduit to these feelings, to this connection with this man. This man that I lost track of myself with,
he
was stroking me and loving me, using me, pushing me. I knew I was safe with him, but I also knew that my definition of safety was changing. I understood what he had told me at the beginning—he would never
harm
me, but he might
hurt
me. I took a long breath through my nose and felt glorified, practically deified.

He lay back on the bed and guided my hips over his, sliding me down his cock. I started rocking and shifting my body over his, on him. With my arms bound up over my head, it felt awkward and precarious, but his hands were there, guiding me, balancing me. My pussy was tender and sore and incredibly sensitive. The fullness in my ass accentuated the tightness and I could feel each shift, each millimeter as he slid into me. I smiled, lost in the moment, unconscious of my lips moving.

“What are you smiling about, little girl?” His tone was soft and I heard the smile in his voice. He kept rocking his hips into me, guiding my hips on him. I got the impression that this was going to last a long time.

“I understand now. I trust you.” Chills ran over my flesh and his hands tightened on my hips. I felt completely freed. I could soar. I could fall. I knew he’d catch me. He gave me a whole separate room in my life, a place where I could just be my most elemental, where I didn’t have to manage anything.

“Elaborate.” A hand stroked up my abdomen, cupping my breast, teasing the nipple.

“I don’t know how to explain it. I am yours. I get it. And, I can just let go. I can stop worrying, because of you. I feel so beautiful. Not how I look, just this beautiful feel, like I’m made of light, subtly powerful, claimed, owned, cherished, relished. I can’t explain it. It feels
right
.” As I spoke, tears welled in my eyes and started to leak out from under the blindfold, my lips twisting with the unnamable emotion.

“Gorgeous girl, you are relished, cherished, mine.” He pushed his hips up into me harder, pulling me onto him harder. Slow, soft tears kept slipping from my eyes, even as my body descended to a new level of relaxation, lulling me to a peaceful mental numbness.

* * * *

Eventually he was done with my body and untied me. He took what I learned was a butt plug out of my ass. I was sore all over, wrung out, aching, exhausted, but I felt completely cleared, washed clean. He helped me into a bath he had run while I was dozing in a post-sex hedonistic haze. He sat on the floor at the side of the tub, sipping a beer and repeatedly prompting me to sip the orange juice he had poured for me. He must have showered already because he was dressed and his hair was wet. When I was done, he helped me dry off, pausing to rub his thumbs over my wrist.

“You’ll have to wear long sleeves this week. You bruise easily.”

I registered this but didn’t respond. The world outside his apartment wasn’t registering now. Beside it was mid-October and the weather was cooler. I could wear long sleeves.

Chapter Twenty-One

Xander

Al Green,
Love and Happiness

I stared at the endocrinology cascade I was supposed to be studying, but the feel of her small body next to mine, her breathing, her soft little movements were too distracting. She trusted me. She was mine.
Mine.
And it felt different. It felt peaceful to have her here, to have her trust me. I could get lost in her. We could make our own little world where I’d just own her and she’d love it.

The sex had been incredible, ridiculous. She’d dropped into subspace, becoming more pliant, languid and passive, until she’d just hung from the ceiling. She’d felt like warm, wet taffy pulled over and around my dick. The knowledge that she trusted me had been my undoing.

When I’d untied her, she’d flopped into my arms, like a sexy, used up rag doll. It was another favorite in the highlight reel I was building in my mind—all her. She looked too cute in my boxers and T-shirt, but I let her sleep. It was early evening, but I thought she was probably going to just stay the whole night. She woke when I got up for a beer. I brought her a glass of water which she drank then she fell back asleep, quickly and easily.

I studied for a few more hours, periodically watching her and daydreaming ways to torture her. Just when my eyes were starting to feel gritty, I got a text.

We need to talk.—Stacy

Not even in the least, bitch

There was a long pause and I thought she had given up. Of course, I was wrong.

I can still feel you. Let me come over.

Do not come to my home. Ever. I’m so fucking pissed at you. Find someone else to bother.

How about Leda? I could bother her.

There was a brief rush of panic at the threat, but I didn’t really believe she would go that far. She and I had a long, sordid history and she had never brought any other girls from my life into it. She was always only interested in fucking with my head. But I was clearheaded in a way that I hadn’t been in the past and it allowed me to see through her bullshit.

The threat hung in my mind, but I chose not to respond, at least until I had calmed down enough to be more rational. Leda turned in her sleep next to me, rolling so she was facing away from me. The wall sconce on my side of the bed cast her in a warm, amber light. Her hair was loose, flailed about behind her, the lines of her back soft. I didn’t want any of Stacy’s bullshit,
my
old bullshit, to touch Leda, never wanted her to even be aware of it.