Binding Agreement Page 3

  Kay descended the stairs, holding up the robe to keep from tripping. She wandered through the ultracontemporary living room, a designer’s wet dream in leather, brushed steel and glass. Not a speck of dust, not a single object out of place. Beautiful, she supposed, but cold.

  She let herself out the French doors onto the sprawling deck overlooking the Atlantic. The boards felt cool and slightly rough under her bare soles. She inhaled the salty perfume of the ocean and let the breeze cool her face. The moon was full, casting silver glitter on the waves breaking onshore. She leaned against the low railing and took it all in. The rhythm and sounds of the ocean had always calmed her. That was why she’d come to the beach in the first place tonight, to collect herself, to meditate on her life thus far—her safe and boring life—and ponder how to turn it all around.

  She allowed herself a small, incredulous smile. She’d made pretty good progress so far.

  Kay lost track of time, spellbound by the hypnotic allure of the ocean at night. She started at the sound of her name spoken close to her ear—a deep, dark murmur that buzzed through her like an electric current. She looked up into John’s unreadable eyes and felt a shiver skate down her spine.

  “You disobeyed me,” he said.

  She frowned in confusion. “You mean…because I didn’t stay in the bedroom? You were taking so long—”

  “You are not to offer excuses.” He’d freshened his drink, whisky on the rocks, which he set on the nearby patio table. He carried something else—a briefcase. The contents shifted and rattled as he set it on the table and unlatched it. The interior of the case faced away from her, so she couldn’t see what it held. She shivered again, pulling the robe tighter.

  “You’re not here for conversation, Kay.” He looked not at her but into the briefcase as he examined the mysterious contents. “Any failure to please me requires a simple response on your part.”

  Kay forced her words past a dry lump of foreboding. “I’m sorry. Sir,” she quickly added.

  John gave no indication of having heard her. The raised lid of the briefcase concealed his hands as he lifted some object, briefly examined it and set it back down. Lamplight from the living room cast a warm glow over them, picking out highlights in his neatly trimmed reddish-brown hair. His face was half in shadow, emphasizing the strong line of his jaw and that aristocratic profile.

  Without looking up, he said, “I didn’t give you permission to cover yourself.”

  Kay said nothing, and after a few moments he looked at her expectantly.

  “Um…I’m sorry, Sir.” She untied the sash with trembling fingers and let the heavy terry cloth slide off her shoulders. The cool night air raised gooseflesh and pebbled her nipples. “I-I didn’t mean to—”

  The sharp look he gave her stilled her tongue. He expected a simple apology then. No excuses. No explanations. She groped for some way to appease him. Her hands came up to link behind her neck as he had positioned her earlier.

  Kay felt the hot stroke of John’s gaze as it slowly moved over her from her upraised elbows to her quivering breasts to the curls shielding her moist sex. Why was her pussy weeping like this, tingling like this? He hadn’t even touched her since joining her on the deck. How could being made to bend to a man’s will cause her body to respond so flagrantly? What was wrong with her?

  It was the anticipation, she decided. They were going to have sex again—that was a given, her reason for being there. She knew it. Her body knew it. Her pussy was preparing itself for the invasion. It was simple biology, nothing more.

  “Your legs are to remain open at all times,” he said, “whether you’re standing, sitting, kneeling, whatever, unless I instruct you otherwise. This will serve as a constant demonstration of your submission and receptiveness—of your readiness to be used for my pleasure. Do you understand?”

  “I understand, Sir.” It came out as a raw whisper.

  “What are you waiting for?” He brought the glass of whisky to his lips.

  Kay parted her legs. She could tell by his stony expression it wasn’t enough. She scooted her feet wider, feeling awkward and embarrassed. John approached her, studying her closely. He circled around her, scrutinizing her from all angles. She felt his warm breath curl down her back.

  Something dark wrapped around her eyes and she cried out in panic. She hadn’t noticed the scarf concealed in his fist. He tightened the swath of black silk and knotted it securely behind her head.

  “Don’t! Please!” she begged, and was rewarded with a sharp pinch on her ass. This ordeal was frightening enough without being deprived of the sense of sight.

  “I’m going to punish you for your earlier disobedience,” he said. “For not staying where I told you to and for covering yourself. Outbursts like that one will only make it worse.”

  Punishment! Kay’s mind whirled as she tried to envision what kind of punishment he had planned for her. Felicia, Felicia, she thought. All I have to do is say “Felicia”.

  “I-I’m sorry, Sir,” she managed. “It won’t happen again.”

  His fingers touched the drenched lips of her pussy, making her jump. They probed the folds as if gauging the extent of her arousal, and she choked back a moan of pleasure. When he fondled the stiff little clitoris, she lost the battle to remain silent. A shrill gasp escaped her, and her hips jerked of their own volition. She bit her lip, struggling to be still.

  “You are here for my pleasure.” His voice was a velvety baritone. His breath tickled her ear. “You must not come unless I give you permission. If you do, you will be punished. You must come when I order you to do so. If you do not, you will be punished.” He pushed three fingers deep inside her grasping pussy. He said, “Tell me you understand.”

  Her voice was a hoarse groan. “I-I understand, S-Sir.” But she didn’t understand. How on earth was she supposed to keep from climaxing when her body responded so extravagantly to his touch? When the simplest command, the very sound of his voice, spawned this raw, pumping hunger within her?

  “We’ll see about that.” Slowly he withdrew his fingers, almost all the way, then just as slowly drove them back in. Patiently he finger-fucked her, endless churning strokes, until her inner thighs were slick with her juices. Kay’s breath came in harsh bursts as she struggled to govern her desire, her body’s need for release. Her orgasm shimmered on the horizon, like gas fumes waiting for a random spark to set them off, and she fought it, fought it with every scrap of strength she possessed. The blindfold forced her to focus strictly on the physical sensations, making it even harder to keep from tipping over the edge. She threw back her head, gritted her teeth, and through sheer dogged will kept the fireball from erupting.

  Finally—finally!—he removed his hand. A ragged whimper escaped her, as if she’d just bench-pressed a refrigerator. Her legs trembled so badly she was afraid they wouldn’t hold her.

  She hoped for a word or two of praise. But all he said was, “You’re learning.”

  Kay felt a sudden chill and realized he’d stepped away from her, taking the warmth of his big body with him. She heard ice clinking and pictured him sipping his whisky. She wanted to ask if she could lower her arms but didn’t dare.

  Her clitoris caught fire and she screamed. She tried to jerk back, but his arm was a steel band around her waist, immobilizing her. The fire moved, sliding over her swollen labia and between them.

  “I figured you could use some cooling off,” he said.

  Ice! He was tormenting her pussy with a cube of ice from his drink. “It—it burns.”

  “That’s the alcohol.” He kept the ice cube in constant motion, apparently aware that if it lingered on one spot even briefly, the startling pleasure-pain sensation would quickly lose the pleasure component. “Tell me about the burn,” he said.

  Was that command prompted by concern or simple curiosity? The ice torture ended as quickly as it had begun, and Kay caught her breath. She still felt the lingering fire from the alcohol. “It’s a…a kind of stinging he
at. I was afraid. Afraid it would get worse, but it didn’t and…” She hesitated.

  “And what?”

  “I guess I like it,” she admitted. “Sir.”

  His warm palm slid up her spine and under her hair. He caressed her neck briefly, then his hand was gone. An expression of approval. Her honesty pleased him.

  “That’s because there was only a thin film of whisky clinging to the ice,” John said. “Much more than that and you wouldn’t have liked it, I guarantee.” He turned her and walked her a few feet until she reached the wooden railing. She could feel it against the fronts of her legs. The railing came only to her hips, which suited his purpose, she realized as he bent her over it.

  A mewl of dismay escaped Kay as he positioned her with her head hanging down and her ass high in the air. The railing was smooth and rounded on the edges but far from comfortable under her belly. John didn’t seem to notice or care as he spread her legs wide.

  Her position was mortifying in the extreme. The breeze cooled her wide-open pussy and the even more private opening above. She could see nothing through the blindfold but knew plenty of light shone from the living room, enough for him to see everything between her legs in excruciating detail.

  Kay listened closely but heard nothing. She struggled to remain as he’d placed her, to be obedient. Where was he? Was he watching her? Had he gone inside and left her alone?

  The sound of his voice directly behind her made her heart lurch. “Reach behind you with both hands,” he said, “and spread your ass.”

  Kay bit her lip. He couldn’t mean it. “S-Sir—”

  “Are you curious about how severe I can make your punishment?” he asked. “Is that why you defy me?”

  She dragged in a shaky breath, felt her trembling hands rise, felt her fingers slide over the globes of her bottom and press into the soft flesh.

  “You can do better than that.” His tone was a tad weary, as if she were trying his patience. If only he’d offer a word of reassurance, some acknowledgment of how difficult this was for her. Still, she couldn’t claim he hadn’t warned her. Submitting to my demands will be harder than you think.

  “I’m sorry, Sir. I-I’m trying.”

  “‘Trying’?” he snapped. “Here’s how it’s done.” John’s hands covered hers and wrenched her ass cheeks as far as they would go, stretching the delicate skin between them. His humid breath mingled with the cool breeze, tickling the little opening. Kay squeezed her eyes shut beneath the blindfold.

  He removed his hands. “Stay like that.”

  “Yes Sir.” It was a hoarse whisper. She dug her fingers into her buttocks, struggling to obey.

  Even though she expected it, the brush of his fingertips on her anus wrung a startled gasp from her. She hadn’t known how sensitive she was there. Her entire body trembled as he stroked and circled the tender flesh.

  His tone was slightly amused as he said, “Why do I get the feeling you’re a stranger to anal play?”

  She didn’t answer. It wasn’t a real question, after all.

  Kay heard him step away. Heard him rummaging through the contents of the briefcase. She swallowed hard. After a few moments she heard his returning footfalls, felt his warmth and the brush of his jeans against her leg. She concentrated on holding herself ruthlessly open as he’d demanded.

  Something cold touched down right there, something cold and wet and astonishingly slippery. Lubrication. She sucked in a breath, felt the hole pucker as he swirled it on. A large, warm hand settled on her waist—an unspoken warning to remain still for what was to come. She blinked against the blindfold, feeling every muscle in her body tense.

  The tip of a finger nudged the opening and pushed inside. Kay couldn’t restrain a little yip of panic. The hand on her waist pressed harder as he pushed deeper, retreated, invaded her again. She knew his finger wasn’t as thick as it felt and prayed this was all he had planned for her virgin bottom, all he’d meant by that scary term “anal play”.

  His hand left her and she allowed herself a relieved sigh, only to catch her breath as two slick fingers now forced their way inside her. “John, no!” His other hand connected hard with one butt cheek, a stinging slap that made yelp and her eyes water. The imprint of his palm felt like a brand.

  “I have some intriguing gags in that toy box over there,” he said as his fingers drilled her. “One of them is anatomically realistic—veins and all. I buckle that thing on and you get to practice sucking cock until I’m ready to give you the real thing. Of course, you won’t be able to say the safe word while you’re gagged. Is that what you want?”

  Kay shook her head, fighting to catch her breath.

  “Say it.”

  She moaned as he worked his fingers inside her, twisting them, scissoring them. Stretching her. “N-no. No Sir. Please don’t gag me, Sir. I’ll be good, I promise.” She wondered why she didn’t just blurt out the safe word now and put an end to all this. But she knew why. As frightened as she was, the fear was tinged with a dark thrill as intoxicating and exotic as opium. A few more minutes, she told herself. She’d endure a few more minutes before calling it quits.

  “Tell me,” John said. “Has a cock ever been in this snug little hole?”

  “Um…well…not exactly. Sir.” She gasped as his fingers drove roughly into her.

  “That’s an inadequate answer. Let’s try again. Have you ever been ass-fucked?”

  “No Sir. My—my last boyfriend tried. I made him stop.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it hurt.”

  His response was a soft chuckle. “Of course it hurt. Make no mistake, Kay, I’m going to do plenty of things to you tonight that hurt.”

  Felicia! her mind screamed. Say it!

  “The point is to get past the pain to a pleasure that would otherwise elude you. This boyfriend,” John said. “Did he prepare you? Like this?” He eased his fingers deep inside her, more gently this time. Her hips rocked to meet them, startling her. Her sex felt engorged. Moisture trickled over her clitoris.

  “No Sir,” she said. “He…he just tried to, um, get in there.”

  “Dry?” With his free hand he pressed on her fingers, reminding her to hold herself as wide open as possible.

  “With a little, um, spit.”

  Another chuckle, now not so amused. “Just as well you booted him out the back door,” John said. “Doesn’t sound like the idiot knew what he was doing.”

  Dave hadn’t known what he was doing. Kay knew that now. John’s fingers slid out of her and she mentally braced herself for the next order of business. Prepared or not, she knew it wouldn’t be easy. She listened for the sound of his zipper.

  To her surprise, he moved away again. She heard him remove something from the briefcase—his scary “toy box”. How she wished she could see what he was doing, could see what was coming. He came to stand behind her again. She flinched as his hand once again settled on his waist.

  “Easy,” he soothed in his deep voice. “Take a deep breath. Let it out slowly.”

  Kay did as he commanded, her heart leaping.

  Something smooth and cold and hard touched her hole. She arched her back. That wasn’t his penis! What was he putting in her?

  “Try to relax, Kay.” He pressed harder on her waist. “This thing’s going in, and the more you fight it, the more it’s going to hurt.”

  “I—wait! What is that? Please, John—Sir!”

  His only answer was to apply more pressure, lodging the object firmly inside her. It was an inch or two long and absolutely smooth. She could tell he’d coated it with lube. Nevertheless, her body contracted around the thing, automatically trying to eject it.

  “I-I don’t want this.” Her voice quavered. “Sir.”

  “Then you know how to stop it.” He pushed harder, forcing her beleaguered opening to expand farther still as a large spherical bump bulled its way inside.

  “Ah! Ah! Oh God!” she cried. “Please!”

  John’s hand strok
ed her back in slow, soothing circles. “Your body is mine to use for my pleasure, Kay. You need to understand that. But you also need to know that while you belong to me, I’m not going to let anything terrible happen to you.”

  “But it—it hurts.” The invading object was some kind of dildo, she now knew, but hard and heavy and strangely shaped. How long was it? How much more would he force her to take? Why couldn’t he just fuck her ass and get it over with?

  “I’m not going to stop until it’s all the way in.” He rocked the dildo for emphasis. “So you can either fight it and scream in pain or learn to relax and accept it.”

  Kay wanted to ask for a moment to collect herself, but he wasted no time ramming the awful thing deeper into her. She did indeed scream as another bulbous portion stretched the tight ring of flesh. She was now able to picture the dildo—a ridged tip followed by a series of round knobs. But how many?

  Learn to relax, he’d said. How on earth…? Kay recalled his earlier instructions. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing herself to let go, body and mind. She did it again and a little shudder raced through her as her muscles conceded defeat.

  Do it, she thought, just do it. He chose just that moment to drive the next hard bump into her. This one was easier—she greeted it with a gasp rather than a scream. Her anus was now stretched around the circumference of the dildo between two spherical knobs.

  She braced herself for the next onslaught, but John said, “That’s all—it’s in,” and lifted her off the railing. Her legs wobbled and he supported her with an arm around her waist. He pressed a soft, Scotch-scented kiss to her mouth. After a moment, he cupped her cheek and kissed her again, a deeper, lingering kiss that made her dizzy behind the blindfold. She wished she could see him, see the look in his eyes.

  “You’re learning to control your fears,” he murmured in that honeyed baritone. “That pleases me.”

  Tentatively Kay reached behind her and touched the part of the dildo that protruded from her body. It was another sphere like the ones inside her, serving to keep the evil thing in place. “It feels…is it made of glass?”