Make Me (6 page)

When he came after her, he looked like a bull that had seen red, and she did what any red-blooded woman would do – she ran for her life!

He was further away from the relative safety of the bedroom, which she had noted some time ago had a lockable door, but he was much taller and could run faster than she could. She’d made it by the skin of her teeth, throwing the bolt with a satisfied
thunk
.

She hadn’t expected him to kick down the door, but after his first attempt – during which the door nearly came off its hinges, she backed away from it and, with his next kick, it broke wide open. There was nowhere for her to go, unfortunately, although she was smart enough not to go anywhere near the bed.

He trapped her in a corner of the room in a matter of seconds, putting a hand on either wall by her head, giving her nowhere to go but closer to him, and she could already see how aroused he was, the outline of his erection clearly defined behind his zipper.

She stood tall, not wanting to show fear, as if he were a wild animal, but he could see it in her eyes. “Are you afraid, Jodi Susanna?”

“N-no!” she shot back at him with foolhardy bravery.

He smiled, but there was nothing pleasant about it. “You should be. Naughty girls should be afraid that they’re going to get their comeuppance. And throwing something at me is definitely naughty. Running from me after you know you’ve done something naughty only compounds the sin. When I get through with you, you’re not going to sit for a week.”

That thought had her in tears, but he took no notice of them at all. They were expected. They were required. He would accept nothing less from her.

His hands were already on her breasts, kneading them painfully, fingertips biting into her nipples as he tormented and twisted them. She found herself being picked up and deposited on the very end of the bed on her tummy. “Up on your knees, head down,” came his clipped order. Her arms, folded behind her back as they were, were bound there together. She felt his hand at her knees. “Spread them wide apart, but keep your bottom up in the air.” She did her best to comply. When he had her positioned how he wanted her, he said in a dangerously calm tone, “
Don’t
move.”

He could hear that she was already weeping, and as he pressed his hand to her exposed pussy, he found exactly what he’d expected – she was weeping there, too, much more copiously than her tears.

Unable to resist the urge, he slammed himself up inside her with no preamble and began pumping furiously, and the tears on her face dried almost instantly as she began to moan from his rough handling. Cayson reached down and took hold of her shoulder, making sure she couldn’t move away from him in the least as he thrust hard and fast into her. She began groaning and grunting more frequently and harder, and he knew that at least part of that was her enjoyment at his control of her body, his complete possession of her.

But she wouldn’t enjoy what was going to happen next anywhere near as much.

Jodi was too far gone – too distracted by the eroticism of her position, of what he was doing to her, to hear the warnings that were apparent about what was coming. She missed the way he’d stepped away from her, the soft sounds of an implement being readied for use on a recalcitrant bottom.

She missed all of it until the first time the leather smacked up against the exposed flesh that she was freely offering up and, as the second and third strokes lashed down upon her, she was still trying unsuccessfully to deal with the first, sucking every bit of her breath in and screaming it out at the top of her lungs while the fourth and fifth landed, their fiery brand overlapping the others that had fallen before them while his arm rose and fell relentlessly as she bellowed her unhappiness into the uncaring mattress.

Jodi didn’t know how many times the belt striped her flesh before it was folded up and placed very carefully right in front of her face on the bed. He took her again, pounding into her, giving no care at all to her pleasure, using her for his own, and bringing himself very close to exploding within her, but not allowing himself to find that completion quite yet.

She had been relatively quiet while he’d had her, whimpering as he fucked her hard and yelping loudly when he occasionally, cruelly slapped her behind while thrusting into her.

But the moment he withdrew and the belt was lifted off the bed she began to keen, and she didn’t stop again until he did, replacing the belt exactly where it had been after delivering another round of rapidly reddening stripes across her bottom. But this time it wasn’t her pussy Cayson was after.

He dipped his cock into the wealth of her own juices and brought it up to her bottom hole. Jodi was still wailing from the last set of leather strokes biting into already bruised and angry flesh, but his presence at that point on her body brought it up several octaves in volume and urgency.

As he slowly began to claim her there, he asked, “Are you mine, Jodi?”

On a long sob, she answered, “Yes, C-Cayson.”

“Yes, yes you are,” he agreed gutturally as he continued to press himself up inside her, slowly but steadily, until he could go no further, then he withdrew and began again only much more quickly this time, less carefully, until he was fucking her well and truly, feeling the heat of her chastised backside every time he thrust forward.

He took her then, just for himself. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find that she enjoyed it – despite the state of her behind – but that wasn’t something that concerned him at the moment. He didn’t want to injure her, but beyond that, she was his to do with as he pleased.

And he pleased – very much pleased – to do this, until he spurted his load helplessly within her.

It never failed to amaze him in the past few days just how hard he came with her. Harder than anyone else, ever – not that there had been a lot of women in his life, there hadn’t. But he came much harder with her than he did even with himself.

She drained him, and that was a huge compliment to her. When he was with her, he could think of little else but fucking her, and there was very little in this world that could turn his mind from his unusual obsessions. But she did it without guile, without effort.

He could feel her heaving beneath him, out of breath from both the punishment and the fucking, he’d imagine.

She didn’t hear him pick up the belt this time either, but she knew it when it landed across her nates – he made sure of that.

Afterward, he hadn’t allowed her to cum. It was the first time he’d left her hanging, and he’d checked her before he’d let her get out of position – she was definitely not far from it. But he’d closed her legs and untied her arms, massaging both because they must’ve hurt from having been in that position for so long. Then he put her to bed without him. She had pouted prettily but not vehemently. Her behind was in no condition for her to be demanding anything, even sweetly.

Besides, he needed a shower and wanted to get in touch with the agents and ask them to bring them things he knew they needed, and some special things he wanted.

He made dinner for them – which meant that he’d put two frozen potpies into the oven; he was no one’s idea of a cook – and waited for her to wake up naturally. He had made a rule that she was to come and find him as soon as she woke up and she did just that a few hours later, curling into his lap, certain of her reception, as if she wasn’t really quite awake yet, but he found her warmth cuddled upon him to be endearing rather than annoying.

He’d never been able to sleep with anyone else. When he’d been involved with other women, he’d always left right after the sex. He wasn’t much for idle chitchat, and other women frankly bored him to tears. It wasn’t so with Jodi, as he’d hoped. He didn’t require as much sleep as everyone else seemed to – including her – which meant that he got a lot more done than ‘normal’ people did. But when he was sleepy – which tended to be right after he’d had her – he enjoyed knowing she was in the bed next to him. She wasn’t a clingy sleeper, though, either and that helped. She stayed on her side of the bed and he stayed on his.

When he came back from retrieving their dinners, which he’d decided they’d eat in front of the TV while they watched a copy of
Goodfellas
he’d found tucked away behind more war movies, she was still pretty much curled up where he’d put her and didn’t show much interest in eating until he was almost done with his.

She opened her mouth wide as he brought the second to the last bite to his lips, and it was then that he saw her, looking like a baby robin waiting for her mother to put a worm in her mouth.

“I take it you want a bite of my pie?” he asked, thinking he’d rather have a bite of hers, but she looked too sleepy to get the joke.

“Yes, please.”

He fed her as if she was a three year old, even getting her to eat some of her own pie until she shook her head when he offered her a spoonful and he went into the kitchen to clean up and put the remainder into the fridge.

When he returned this time, he caught her wiggling around on the comfy couch. “Ants in your pants?”

“No,” she said almost shyly, “it’s not ants that I want in my pants...” Jodi gave him a hopeful look and even batted her eyelashes at him outrageously. That had him actually laughing, and the sound was painfully pleasant, making her heart skip a beat. She loved making him do that; it was always a surprise.

He hauled her against his side, slapping the hand that had, naturally, found its way between her legs, trying to soothe the ache he’d deliberately left there.

“None of that. Your pleasure is my decision, not yours.”

“Huh?”

An eyebrow went up. “I think you heard me. I spoke very plain English, too.”

Jodi glared at him. “Do you mean I can’t even—”

“I mean,” Cayson said, leaning over her and looking terribly much as she’d pictured in her mind at a time like this, “you’d better
not.
”

She humphed and huffed, but lost her annoyance during the movie, somehow. She didn’t know where he’d found it, but it was one of her favorites.

He didn’t pleasure her when they went to bed that night, either, or the next morning, even though he made love to her both times. And, that morning, when he went to get up, she had to suppress the urge to grab at his hand and pull it down to her aching clit. Just a quick stroke or two was all she needed – nothing in the least elaborate at all – but he didn’t seem in the least inclined to ease her ache.

In fact, it was the next day before he allowed her her pleasure. Not that he hadn’t touched her intimately before then, but it was always with the warning that she was not to climax until he gave her permission, and that permission wasn’t forthcoming until almost two days after he’d taken his belt to her bottom.

And even when he told her as he’d led her to their bedroom that he was going to allow her to cum, she’d still had to wait for it, which made it even worse.

They’d gotten a delivery from their governmental babysitters earlier this afternoon, and he hadn’t allowed her to see any of it, commanding her to sit on the couch and watch something, and absconding with the big box to the bedroom, so that she had no idea what it was that they had gotten.

But when, once she’d stretched out beside him on the bed, he’d told her to roll onto her tummy, she began to wonder. And her hunch was proven right when she felt something cool and slippery being pressed against her bottom flower. Jodi sat up on her elbows, alarm and not a little embarrassment humming through her. “Hey, is that K-Y? And something else? You didn’t ask them to bring us stuff like that, did you? I’ll never be able to look either of them – OW!!”

His hand on her still quite sore backside was enough to get her to shut up. “Repeat after me: it’s nothing for me to worry about.”

She was this far from rolling her eyes, but thought that might not be a good idea at the moment. But it still took her another few swats to realize that he was serious.

“It’s nothing for me to worry about.”

“Someone whose obedience is lacking shouldn’t be rewarded by an orgasm or twelve, should she?” he wondered aloud.

“Yes, she should, yes she should!” Jodi countered, trying not to whine but not doing very well at it.

“Possibly. I think it would depend a lot on how well she accepts the plug I’m about to seat in her.”

He was surprisingly patient in placing it, and she wasn’t in the least uncomfortable with it. In fact, quite the opposite. Until she found out that he wanted her to move while wearing it. Her reluctance to do so got her a thorough swatting, until she’d positioned herself between his legs, where he was sitting up against the headboard, with pillows behind his back, her back to his chest.

He made her hang her legs over his bent knees, and, essentially, that ensured that she was sitting directly on that plug, feeling it constantly being pushed up inside her, and her now her flaming behind, too. “Put your hands flat on the bed and don’t move them or it’ll be another two days.”

Cayson loved the way she whimpered at that. It got him hard as a rock, as if he wasn’t always around her. For a very long time, all he did was play with her breasts – brushing her tightly erect nipples with his palms, squeezing her breasts and pulling those sensitive tips hard while he kissed her, or nibbled his way up and down the side of her neck, whispering tantalizing things into her ear because he knew it turned her on.

“Sometime,” he rasped, “I want to make you cum so hard that you faint.”

She despite her heavy breathing, she chuckled. “You’ve almost achieved your goal, pretty much every time you’ve touched me.”

The stark truth of her words hit home with him. He didn’t have much experience in loving anyone – he loved his mother, but even that was tainted with the memories of how his father had treated him. And he was pretty sure that what he felt for Jodi was colored by huge amounts of lust, but that didn’t seem to him to be a bad thing, for either of them.

He was a wealthy man and careful with his money, so they would never want for anything, and he had no problems at all giving her anything she wanted. Hell, he’d buy her an island if she’d stay with him. But he wasn’t going to let her know that unless he absolutely had to, to keep her of course. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that, because it smacked a bit of prostitution, and he thought that might turn her off.

Or not.

Damn, but he hated emotions, and, of course, she was chock full of them – all women were. They were like tiny land mines for ordinary men to try to navigate, and it was inevitable that they were going to step on one or two along the way. But for him they were hugely explosive things that he wasn’t equipped to understand, so it was that much harder for him. He’d done that with her already – stepped in it several times since they’d started to get closer. She was his now only by special dispensation, and only while this threat lasted.

He had to stop thinking about this or it was going to drive him crazy. He had her now, and he knew what he had to do. He had to make her fall in love with him, somehow, although – beyond giving her great orgasms, he wasn’t at all sure how to go about it.

“Do you still feel the plug in your bottom?”

He heard her sharp intake of breath at the question, but her answer was pouty. “Yes.”

“And your behind? Is it still stinging?”

“Yes!”

One of the hands that had been worrying her breasts ventured down her tummy to that embarrassingly exposed area between her legs. “Mmm, and you like that, too, apparently.”

“No, I don’t!” she countered petulantly.

“Don’t fib to me, Jodi,” he warned, knowing what that tone would do to her. He actually felt her clench at his words as he scooped some of her libation to bring to her clit.

“I’m not fibbing...”

“Yes, you are, and if you continue to do so I’m going to have no choice but to put you over my knee and give you a good paddling.” He reached over and pulled the top drawer of the nightstand open, removing a wooden paddle that he’d had made for that exact purpose. It even had her name on it.

Her first reaction was to want to berate him for the agents seeing that, too, but she caught the impulse just in time – barely. “No! I... I—”

He wondered why it was so hard for her to admit to what she liked, but then, she had a very high embarrassment level. She blushed at nearly anything, whereas he had almost none, so he guessed it had to do with that. And yet embarrassing her always made her wet, so there was that component, too...

Cayson sighed. Why couldn’t sex and love make sense and be logical? Life would be so much easier! He laid the paddle on the bed next to her. “Yes? You were saying?”

“I like it,” she mumbled, barely audible.

That made him chuckle. “Try again, harder.”

“I like it,” Jodi repeated at a more conversational volume.

“Like what?” he asked, thoroughly enjoying the petulant huffing it inspired.

“No, Cayson, please – I can’t say that!”

“Oh, I bet you can,” he prompted, flicking his finger over her clit vigorously, then stopping abruptly. Her outrage was quieted by him picking up the paddle. He was only going to put it away, but she didn’t know that.

“I – l – like that my bottom – is – is stingy – and I l-like the – the... plug.”

It was like extracting a state secret, and she was beet red from her efforts.

“That’s very good. You deserve a reward.”

Her reward involved him teasing her mercilessly, plucking her nipples and strumming her clit, making her arch up against him as best she could, trying to entice him into bringing her to fulfillment, but knowing it would only happen in his time.

And when it did, he very nearly got his wish, reaching down to tug out the plug at the precisely perfect moment, only it was such a profound event for Jodi that, even before he got a chance to drive her to a second, she was up and out of the room, standing by the front door, hugging herself, her eyes wide.

Cayson couldn’t believe what had happened, but followed quickly behind her. He would have gone to her and done his level best to comfort her, but she held up her hand to ward him off.

She wasn’t crying, but she certainly looked as if she wanted to.

He reached behind him, into the bedroom and into his drawer of their dresser and got out a pair of boxer shorts, donning them in case... well, he wasn’t sure of what, but to make himself less threatening to her, he guessed, although the idea that she could really feel threatened by him was preposterous, and he hoped she knew that.

But maybe she didn’t and that was the problem, somehow. Not knowing things drove him up the wall, but he guessed he was going to have to get used to it.

He crouched down, making himself smaller, as she hugged herself with her back to the door. He could see her shivering, although he didn’t think it was from the cold. So he reached around and tugged out a nightgown for her – a pretty, frilly white one that kind of looked like a poet’s shirt, and would cover her to her knees, as well as a pair of undies. Instead of trying to bring them to her and perhaps upsetting her more, he threw them at her, and they landed right at her feet.

Jodi donned them gratefully, sinking, exhaustedly to the floor. After a long moment, she said quietly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak out on you like that.”

“I understand.” He took a step towards her and bonelessly folded himself down onto the floor opposite her, but ten or so feet away.

She snorted derisively. “I doubt it, but thank you for saying it just the same.”

She was perfectly right, of course. He would probably never in his life experience the depth of feeling that she did in her every day life, much less when she’d been teased for a couple of days and then brought to a screaming orgasm. Orgasms for most women were inherently emotional events. Some more than others, but she was a very emotional person, so hers were largely that.