Captured by Time (11 page)

"That's it. I like hearing how you feel when I do things to you. I don't ever want you to stifle yourself, Cimmy. You have to let me know I if what I'm doing feels good to you."

She didn't answer him, but he hadn't expected it. She was already too far gone, and he loved it. He adored how responsive she was to him, how relatively little it took for him to get her so far that she was practically peaking on his hand.

But not just yet.

He had his own needs and desires, and they were making themselves known very loudly and stridently as he watched her having all the fun. So he withdrew both his hands, removing the one between her legs very, very slowly as she began to moan even more fervently with the loss of contact, of sensation.

"You stay right there, keep your hands on the edge of the bed, and don't move a muscle or
I'll
cut the switch."

* * * * *

Cimmy was not about to do anything that might result in something so vicious being used on her ass, so although she writhed a little, she didn't move much, and her hands stayed exactly where they were supposed to be as she listened to him undress.

She heard him take his shirt off with a bit of a painful groan, which was really the only time she thought of breaking position, and that was an automatic reaction to a patient of hers being in pain. But she managed to keep herself together and heard the clinking of his belt buckle as he undid it, which gave her a flashback to when he had last used it on her that had her whole body stiffening in fear… until she heard it clink again when it hit the floor with his pants.

Seconds later, he was back behind her, very close, and she could feel the presence of his fully engorged dick right where the cleft of her bottom met her thighs.

"Poor Cimmy had to be punished, didn't she?" he asked, and she hoped he didn't expect her to answer a question like that. She wouldn't have known what to say. His fingertips roamed over her rump, inspecting here and there. "Your bottom was made to be punished, and I'm going to thoroughly enjoy obliging its true destiny."

One hand guided him to her, the other wrapped her hair around his arm, tugging her head back almost to the point of discomfort, but not quite, as he held her still for his penetration.

Only all of a sudden, it became appallingly clear that it wasn't her pussy he was going to lay claim to this time.

As he settled his engorged head against the entrance to her bottom, resting against her tight puckered entrance, he reminded her, "Don't let go of the edge of the bed, no matter what, Cimmy." Then he began to breach the remains of her innocence. "No matter
what
."

* * * * *

Jude knew he had surprised her, but he had a feeling that any protests she made would just be automatic. A woman who was as much as a sensualist as his Cimmy was, would also be into this. "Relax, honey. That'll go a long way towards helping."

But he was the one who got the surprise when she said, "Please, look in the bottom of my bag. There's a small tube made of a material you've never seen before. It says 'KY'. Please pull out and use it. It'll be a lot better for me than just my own…" she moaned softly before finishing with, "lubrication."

He didn't want to hurt her or damage her in any way, and he wasn't surprised that in her time, they'd found a better way to lubricate things. He had some bear grease at the bottom of his rucksack, but he didn't think she'd much enjoy the smell. He found the tube very easily, and it was of an unfamiliar substance, and so was the stuff that came out of it, but damn if it wasn't very, very slippery too, and completely devoid of scent.

He slathered a generous amount of it on himself, and then put a dollop to her and put the tub down on the bed, just in case it came in handy later. This time he slid into her, slick as a whistle. He didn't take her quickly, but his slow advance was much eased for her, he could tell that from his own end.

And damn, she was so tight. He almost lost himself then and there when his balls finally rested against her bottom.

But he took a moment and got himself right, then opened the tube with one hand, put a dab on the tip of his index and third fingers and brought them around to the front of her. She clenched immediately at the contact, then tried to surge forward—and take himself out of her with the motion—but he reigned her back in by her hair and forced her to slide herself the slight inch or so that she had moved away from him, forcing her to impale herself as if that was what she had wanted to do in the first place. And the eager response he was getting from between her legs told him that that was probably what her body had intended, if not her mind.

She didn't submit easily, this one, and he liked that about her. And he gave himself extra points because she was a modern woman, and he had a feeling that women in her time didn't bow down to men much—in fact, he had a very distasteful feeling that it was very much the other way around.

That was something he could never conform to, so it might better for him if he didn't go back with her, but instead kept her here, with him. Preferably just like this.

And then he began to move, and she began to dance to his tune, trying to move away from him, trying to dislodge him by leaning as far forward as she could without losing either her balance or her grip on the bed. But that luscious hair of hers was a wonderful thing, and he used it to ruthlessly keep her in control. She might have thought she would succeed in ridding herself of him, but she learned every time that it was not to be when he reeled her in, holding her arched back against him, against her will—or rather, against the will of her mind.

Her body was on board with him completely; her clit had grown hugely while his fingers had been torturing it and his cock had been buried within her, in a place she obviously hadn't considered he might want to go.

But Jude was a greedy bastard with women, and he wanted—and would take—every single bit of her for himself. Over and over and over again.

When he finally withdrew from her—not by his own choice but rather his body's by attrition after he'd emptied himself into her—and let her go, he was horrified to see her bolt from him to the other side of the room as if the Devil himself was chasing her.

Frowning deeply as he went to her, he asked, "Did I hurt you? I thought you enjoyed it as much as I did—more than I did. You came several times and I only came once."

He didn't like this one bit. She looked absolutely terrified and was holding her hand out in front of her, as if she thought that would succeed in warding him off, and he liked that even less.

So he ignored it and pinned her against the wall she was near simply by using his proximity to force her to back up. Then he stood in front of her, deliberately mashing their bodies together, and planted a hand on either side of her shoulders. "What is it, honey? Did I do something wrong? I don't want you to be afraid to tell me that, you know—"

"I
know
that," she almost screamed at him. "But I don't want to take the chance that I might fall asleep in your arms. That I might fall asleep
at all
and wake up two centuries away from you!" Her anger, as it always did, quickly dissolved into tears.

He was in an unfamiliar, uncomfortable situation. He wanted to fix everything and anything for her. That was one of the things he knew he could do as a man for a woman. He could provide brute strength at the very least, and that, in his case, combined with reasonable intelligence, he could probably figure out how to provide her with most things she might need. He might not know all of the fancy things men from her age did, but he was pretty well educated for his time, and what was more, he cared about her.

He didn't want to, dammit, but he did.

He wanted to do everything for her, solve all her problems. And yet here she was in front of him with a dilemma he had absolutely no idea how to even begin to solve.

All he could do was haul her into his arms, but the truth was that he was sleepy himself, and he knew that she was exhausted. Completely on impulse, and figuring they had nothing to lose since he wasn't going to allow her not to go to sleep, he grabbed the hairbrush from where it had landed on the floor near them, and brought both it and them back to the bed.

There he blistered her again, ignoring her cries of protest, slinging a leg over hers to prevent her from kicking up and hitting his hand or sliding off his lap. And this time, too, he couldn't damn her with half measures, so he lit into her as if he was again punishing her for having pleasured herself—although this time it was on top of a backside that had already been punished for just that, and he had her howling—however hoarsely—before he stopped.

Then he arranged them very carefully on the bed, and put her on her back, although she protested against it quite vehemently. She didn't want her bottom in contact with the bed. In fact, she informed him quite stubbornly, she wanted to sleep on top of him.

"Cimmy, be quiet. There's a method to my madness. If I'm on top of you, then I'm going with you if you go. I'd rather be in the twenty-first century with you than here without you. And I'm also hoping that that last spanking did the trick; so you don't travel back again. The last thing that happened to you before you went to sleep was not an orgasm. It was a spanking. I'm hoping that'll… I don't know, derail your train or something. I'm grasping at straws here, but it just might work. Besides, you have to sleep sometime."

He wasn't having any of her protests and settled atop her, albeit as far off her as he could so as not to crush her, and within seconds, despite the unusual position, they both fell asleep.

The next morning, Jude could feel Cimmy's tiny frame beneath him as soon as he awoke, although he knew that that wasn't necessarily an indication of anything other than the fact that her lover was the size of a mountain and could very well have crushed her in her sleep. Slowly, almost afraid of what he'd find, he opened one eye and saw that she was staring back at him.

"We did it—we're here, in my time," he said.

Jude wasn't so sure that she should be all that happy about that fact, but they were where they had intended to be, together, and that was something. Apparently, he had been right about the effects of a little—well, not so little—bedtime spanking.

He'd have to remember that. He wasn't at all sure that he could count on her to do so, considering exactly what the cure was.

* * * * *

He allowed her one more day of babying him and them enjoying each other thoroughly, at least until Cimmy realized that he wanted them to go to sleep and that there was always going to be one more spanking for her, regardless of how many she had earned during the day.

But it worked a second time, and they woke up in the cabin together. This time, though, they were leaving for Texas, together with her supplies and the proof of his innocence.

It wasn't an easy trip by any means, and his opinion of her—especially as she told him more and more about what her life was like and just how easy it was to live in that time—rose more notches than he could count at the fact that she stayed with him at all, entirely by choice. He was also thoroughly impressed that he didn't recall hearing her utter one word of complaint the entire time—except when he expected her to each evening, when he had to tip her over his lap and lay into her.

So he tried to save up her spankings until he had to give her one anyway, although sometimes she did things—out of pure ignorance—that got her fanny tanned right then and there, like wrapping the reins of his horse around her hand and putting it in her pocket while she was standing at the horse's head and he was picking a rock out of his hoof at the other end.

She hadn't spent much time at all around horses, and Snow was one patient, well trained animal, that was probably about the least likely steed on the planet to get a wild hair up his butt and bolt. But Jude figured she should have been able to deduce that if the horse spooked with her all wrapped up in his reins, she would be going for a very unpleasant ride along extremely inhospitable ground, and hitting just one cactus would tear her apart. That had gotten her an immediate blistering as soon as he realized what she'd done, and then her regulation one before he let her drift off to sleep.

On one of the days of their journey it was abominably hot, and when he spotted a river ahead, he knew it was time for a break.

Jude leaned forward to nibble on her ear and said, "Let's get your clothes off." She turned and looked over her shoulder in surprise. "To go swimming," he clarified, and chuckled.

He was rewarded with a small smile and knew she liked the idea.

When they came upon a bend in a lazy river, complete with a tall oak tree for shade, he dismounted and reached up to help her.

"Ready to get naked?" he asked, enjoying the devilish glint in her eyes in response.

"I didn't bring my bathing suit. What if someone comes by?"

"No one will come by, I assure you. Come on, it will be good to cool down and wash the dirt off us."

She smiled and nodded.

He was already shrugging out of his shirt while her fingers had barely made any progress on her light day dress. As expected, he beat her into the water, diving into the deepest part of it.

She was much slower and more tentative, as he expected, and when she finally began to inch her way into the water, she was still wearing the ridiculous bloomers she called 'panties' and her chemise. Jude began to walk slowly towards her, as if she were a doe he didn't want to spook.

In the shallows, there was no mistaking where his interests lay. Even in the cold water, he was hard and fully, impressively, erect. The power this woman had over him at all times was bewitching.

"You do swim?" he asked, coming to stand next to her. "They still teach women how to swim in your time, right?"

She almost, but not quite, glared at him. "Of course I do. It's just cold."

He knew that; he could see the way her nipples were peaked beneath the material of her undershirt, although he would have preferred to have deluded himself into thinking that it was evidence of her own desire.

He dove away from her then, into deeper water, and turned around to wait for her to come all the way in, but he wasn't the most patient of men.

"Cimmy, you're taking entirely too long. It's going to be supper time before you're actually swimming," he complained. "How about if I splash you to help things along?" He put his hand up in the water, facing her, as if he was going to do just that.

"Don't you dare, Jude!" She smiled, but he knew she was serious. "You are not to splash me!" she fairly screeched. "I'll get in in my own good time."

He didn't say anything to that, but commenced swimming in an arc around her, getting closer and closer to her. "What about if I grab you and pull you under?"

"Then I'll know never to come swimming with you again," she returned smartly.

He sighed loudly, but had to admit that she was making progress. She was almost in up to the tops of her thighs. "Dive in! You're almost there!"

"Don't push me!"

He ducked under and came up directly in front of her, his arms open wide as if he would hug her.

"Stop that! You can't hug me. You're all wet!"

She was yelling at him, but she was laughing too, and he felt as if a dead weight had been lifted off his heart. With such a long journey, and the way things had started with them, it was good to see her laugh. God she was beautiful.

As he slowly advanced, she backed up until she nearly stumbled backwards, and his hand shot out to steady her, pulling her close instead, inexorably against him for a soft, gentle kiss. But he could tell she was tense that he might pull her in with him, so he stopped there and backed off, and seconds later—her underthings thoroughly dampened by the contact with him—she surface dove into the cool water, popping up a good way away from him.

"Lordy, you can hold your breath a long time!" he praised, swimming over to where she was floating on her back.

"I told you I could swim. I just like to do things on my terms."

He huffed in response. "Stand up," he said, holding her hand to steady her as she found her feet on the sandy bottom.

She looked at him curiously, and he let go of her fingers to come to the top button of her shirt. "You're wearing entirely too much clothing to be able to swim comfortably, aren't you?" He asked the question as if he was going to give her the chance to say no.

In seconds, she was naked in the water. Jude scooted out just long enough to put her underthings on a bush in the sun so they would dry, then dove back in and chased her relentlessly, having the same advantages with his long legs and arms in the water as he did on land, and catching her very quickly, sometimes just releasing her and sometimes demanding a forfeit for his troubles—usually a kiss he was more relieved than he would like to admit that she was, at last, responding to. Because of that, the forfeits became more frequent and much, much more involved, until he finally picked her up and carried her out of the river to lay her gently down on the blanket he had placed on a patch of grass before following her down to ravage her from head to toe, reveling in her soft sighs and ragged moans.

As he broke off a long, deep kiss, he looked down her body to see peaked nipples, and knew they weren't just from the cold. Taking one between his lips, he felt her arch at the stark contrast of his hot mouth surrounding that cold, hard bud; so much so that he crossed between them to do exactly the same thing to its companion, feeling himself surge between her legs with the need to possess her completely.

But he also needed to feel her quake beneath him in her own culmination, so he took his time preparing her relentlessly, kissing her, pinching and licking and flicking those impudent nipples, letting his hand wander down between thighs that parted shyly, a bit uncertainly, as if she were a true innocent in his arms again.

"Shhh, let me love you, Cimmy," he soothed, gently pressing his advantage, fingers cupping her, the tip of his middle finger boldly parting her lips right at her opening to feel that hot slickness that was hers and hers alone christening the tip, then boldly bringing it up to a clit that was stiff and straining and throbbing, rising to meet his caresses as she arched her hips beneath him with an audible moan.

And that nearly put him over the edge himself. He nudged her knees further open with one of his own as he began to position himself between them, leaning down to flick a nipple here, tweak one there, languorously molest his way up her groove to that little pearl and rub it teasingly, demandingly, only to leave off as he lay fully on top of her and entered her with one powerful plunge.

Cimmy nearly screamed with the sensations his possession aroused within her, clutching at his broad shoulders as he began to surge against her, reaching between them to lay a big finger on the center of her pleasure to worry it vigorously as he set an almost punishing rhythm, pounding himself into her.

Jude worried that he might be going a bit too hard on her, but he didn't feel as if he could even control it. Luckily, she didn't seem to be in any distress… quite the opposite. She canted her hips up so that he had even more and deeper access to her, bringing his lips down to hers as he felt her muscles begin to tense in that tell-tale manner that said she was probably ahead of him down the road to the ultimate pleasure.