Pandora's Box (14 page)

She shivered and twitched beneath him when he slowly undid the first bow. He bit her satiny skin on his way down and dipped his tongue into her navel but didn’t touch where she wanted him most. She was drenching in desire; her skin was oversensitive and she was sure she would come as soon as he entered her.

Alistair explored every inch of her bare skin, swirling his tongue and tasting her body, from her shoulder to her ankles and up again until she was moaning loudly and he knew the pressure was going to catapult her from the edge. He fully enjoyed the way he drove her mad with desire. He pulled her corset from beneath her. “Now. We are moving this to another level. Easy and slow. Turn around.”

What for? What level?
Sophia wanted to ask, but she did as asked.

His finger caressed her spine, deepening into her ass, toying with her over the silk. He took off the flimsy thong slowly, running his broad hands all over her thighs and calves, pulling her downward on the bed until her arms were stretched over her head, and pushing her on her knees, with her rump up. She was completely exposed.

“I’m pleased with your waxing.” He was more than pleased, he was painfully aroused. He lay on the bed, and his hands lowered her hips to his face. He blew a warm breath before feasting on her.

Sophia let out a low shout of pleasure when his wet tongue touched her; she had been waiting for that since they had started. She knew some men found it pleasurable, while others only did it to get what they wanted. And others who didn’t even do it.

Alistair delighted in it, not only did he like the feel of the velvet skin and the womanly taste, but he enjoyed the power of controlling a woman in such a pleasurable way.

But he had never used it as he did this time. He took Sophia to the edge and back so many times with just his skilled hands and tongue that her delightful moans came out from her mouth one after the other. When he himself couldn’t take it anymore, he repositioned himself and picked up a thin vibrator and lubricant.

Sophia lost all her coherence when she felt a cold gel coat her anus and he pressed the vibrator into her. She tightened in reflex, begging, “Please, plea—”

A slap on her round cheek cut the litany as he gently breached the initial resistance.

A surprised cry left Sophia’s mouth and she heaved.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes.” A barely coherent moan left her mouth as she relaxed, allowing it full entrance and could barely think anymore.
It’s good! Don’t stop!

“Please what?”

Another slap followed the turning on of the vibrator and she moaned loudly. Those slaps were much softer than the ones of the first night and much more arousing.

He pressed himself just to her entrance but didn’t push. “You didn’t answer.”

“Please, Alistair Connor.”

The stinging sensation of another slap was overcome by the pleasure of him entering her unhurriedly.

“Wrong answer. Please, Alistair Connor, what? Say it out loud.”

“Please, Alistair Connor, fuck me,” Sophia shouted. His deep and loud groan fueled her veins with liquid heat.

She was so slick with desire that with one push he was fully settled inside her, stretching her with his massive and wide girth.

Caging her in his arms, he said in her ear, “Wrong again. I’ll make love to you; I’ll take you to Heaven and back, until you learn to obey.”

His fingers dipped firmly in her round buttocks, as he rode her to an edge she didn’t know existed, his own desire under such a strained control that he was totally conscious of every inch of her tight softness around him, of the artificial vibrations massaging him, of every breathing and sensual sound she was letting out. A heated need to let go came over him when he saw how strong her hands were gripping the headboard and how beautiful was the sight of her curvaceous back which he was the one commanding.

She didn’t understand how he could control himself so well. She was trembling so hard she was sure she would beg him to end the sweet torture, but she didn’t. It was painfully erotic to endure it and wait for his order; to wait for him.

She wanted him to come with her.

The man who had conquered her for good.

The master of her heart.

A loud cry of pleasure left her mouth when he pushed into her hard again.

Alistair couldn’t resist anymore the pull that was coursing in his veins. He took off the blindfold, to better see her face. Slapping her butt, he hammered into her faster. The feeling was of unleashing his fantasy was so intense, he shouted, “Who am I?”

Her control was all gone with his thrusts and slaps, she was deep into the fantasy. And she screamed, “Alistair Connor, my master.”

Fisting her hair hard in one hand as he plunged into her, his eyes sparkled with green flames. “Wrong answer! I’m Alistair Connor, your slave.”

He took her mouth in a kiss, thrusting deeper into her.

They tumbled together into a bright abyss of unending pleasure.

Alistair’s hand wandered over the small of Sophia’s back as he looked up to the blue and green crafted canopy. He couldn’t make heads or tails of his own wife. Every day she surprised him and brought light to emotions whenever he felt confused or completely lost. He was almost sure his fantasy would be ridiculed or rebuked by her but she had thrown herself in head first with him.

Sophia was lying on her side, ensconced on his body, with one leg over his. She felt so boneless and sated that she didn’t want to move a finger. But she was so curious that she shifted to look at his strong profile and whispered, “How do you do it?”

“What?” he murmured back, not wanting to break their communion.

“Control yourself like that and drive a woman to such peaks of pleasure?”

He turned to look at her and mirth sparkled in his eyes. “Years of practice.”

“Should I be jealous, Lord Experienced?” She squinted her eyes playfully at him.

“Never. There’s only one woman in my life. You.” His lips hovered over hers in a reverent kiss, before he confessed, “I’ve never said that. To any woman.”

“What?” she breathed as he rolled her over and pushed on an elbow to stare at her.

“I’ve never said to any woman, ‘
I’m your slave’.
That sentence never crossed my lips.”
Alistair’s fingers traced her face and then combed her raven hair spilled over the white pillows and sheet.

She bit her lip, wondering how she should answer. It caught her completely by surprise during the lovemaking and now that he had confirmed it. “Why did you say it?”

“Because I’m not your master. Never. Don’t, mistress. Your slave can do it for you.” He pulled her lip from her teeth and bit it playfully. “You know, Sophia, I’ve switched a few times, but never liked it.”

Oh, damn. Here they come again.
She sighed inward.
Listen to him, Sophia. He needs to talk about it.
“I’ve never understood this switching thing. I still have difficulty understanding the beating. A slap or two is nice, but a spanking, a beating—”

He tutted. “This is not about domestic violence. This is about sex.”

“Still it’s about beating and humiliating.”

“Yes and no. Pain is involved when the partners want it. To be frank, I’ve never liked it very much. Much less, to be a sub. I don’t even like being under a woman.” He smiled at her. “Only with you. It’s not in me, you know. But I submitted a few times under my strict rules, because it pleasured one of my partners a lot.”

“Emma,” she said bluntly.
That bitch.

He gazed at the scar Emma had caused her and traced it, before he confirmed, “Aye, Emma.”

“She is evil,” she murmured with fear in her eyes.
“And she wants you. I don’t understand and you never explained. My fault, by the way, you did try. What was Emma’s place in that... strange marriage? Can you explain it to me? Full disclosure?”

I owe her this.
He nodded and rolled again onto his back, bringing her over his body. “Sophia… This is a hard-core porn story about
your husband
. The man you sleep with; make love to. The man who helps you take care of your daughter.”
Don’t be an asshole, Alistair Connor. There are things that should be kept secret.                   

“Alistair. I hear horrible stories every day at the Foundation. I’m not a nun, or a virgin anymore.” She bit her lip, weighing his reasons. “It’s better to learn the truth than to be lied to. Emma told me a few things already. You are the man I’ve married, the one I’ve chosen. I prefer to hear your side of it.”

Very well then.
He breathed deep, clearing his thoughts. “As you already know, after April two-thousand-one, my status at the bank changed
and Heather bulldozed her way into my life. She was an eager and creative lover and was always available to do whatever I wanted her to. When we went for missionary, although she always climaxed - or faked it - I sensed there was something lacking and I thought it was my fault. After all, I was much younger than she was. She usually called me sir, even when we were alone at work, and once, during sex, she called me sir. I told her not to, but she whispered in my ear that it pleased her to be owned and obedient.” He shrugged. “The kinkier things became, the more she would like it and abide. I faked knowledge, but the fact was, I had never gotten in contact with anyone like her, so I tried the wildest sexual ideas I had without thinking. How naïve. I couldn’t imagine that behind the good employee and the woman who kept the apartment immaculate, my clothes and shoes ready, and even organized, my personal correspondence was a sadist, tortured woman. She liked to be my…” He searched for a word.
Servant? Not quite. Submissive? Yes, but still...

“The word you’re looking for is
slave
,” she enlightened him, in a horrified breath.
Oh, my.
“Wait. Wait—”

Christ, Sophia! No.
His hands moved from the back of his head in a flash and cupped her face, his thumb on her mouth stopped her. “No, sweetheart, never. I’m your
heart
slave. I love you and you’ve won my heart. Ours is an equal relationship.” A crocked white smile appeared on his face. “Well, an equal relationship where I dictate the orders.”

She slapped his bicep. “Dream on.”

He chuckled. Putting another pillow under his head, he became serious again. “She was eager to please and fulfill any fantasy I had. And so many other things. She never told me she was a submissive who needed and craved pain and humiliation. She loved obeying my orders and I did order her around, a bit hurriedly, sometimes even harshly in the office, without even noticing it.”

“Humph!” Sophia settled herself more comfortably on his body, her chin resting on her hands. “You order everyone around. Noticing it or not.”

“Do I order you?” he asked, amazed.

You do.
“You try.”

I wish.
“When she proposed having a threesome, I agreed. She said the girl was clean and on birth control, desperate to be fucked by me,
The Mighty Alistair Connor
, the best stud of the MacCraig stables,” he said ironically. “Sometimes, Heather just watched, and her friends said things to her like,
‘Your stud is fucking me.’
She masturbated and got off hard.”

God!
“And you liked that?” Sophia was trying hard to imagine it. For her it was a clear cause for therapy or even psychiatric intervention. “You liked that women talked to—”
Not wife.
“To her like that?”
That crazy whore.

I never gave it much thought.
“It was like a drug: the more I had, the more I wanted. The sex was so hot, it never crossed my mind that there could be something wrong. I thought I loved her, Sophia. She did everything to please me. I would do whatever pleased her. If she liked it, it was good for me.”

This is wrong. One should never do whatever the other asks just aiming to please.
The answer didn’t convince her very much. “Hmm. So?”

“One woman followed another. Nice, kinky sex. Threesomes, light toys, customs, lace, leather. I had never had so much fun in my life. Thriving in business and being worshipped at night, in the morning and during the whole weekend. I’m sure they had it all planned behind my back: the seduction, the pregnancy, the marriage and the subsequent abortion.”

“They?”

“I can bet Emma had always been behind Heather, and the fucking idiot here never knew.”

What can I say to this? Fucking idiot is an understatement.

He was silent for a long time. “After Nathalie… I tried to glut the emptiness inside myself with the sex and violation of women’s bodies, but I had an uncontrollable craving to regurgitate every nasty feeling that had filled me in those moments. I preferred fragile, extremely thin, dependent and sexy blondes. Until you. When I met you, on that cold January twentieth,” she smiled and he kissed her lips, “my inner soul knew I had found the perfect balance of secure and fragile, strong and independent, and to top it off, feminine and sexy. The way you put first Wales, then me in our places. Oh, fucking hell, Sophia! I thought I would come in my trousers. When you left the room tucked under Davidoff’s protective embrace, I knew I would have to have you. You had the audacity to repel me. That made me crawl after you. I would have groveled if needed. It appealed to my inner male, I had to conquer you.” He pushed up his strong body, leaning his back on the pillows and headboard, shifting her more comfortably on his lap. “When we kissed in the car, I almost took you then and there.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Never, Lord Caveman. Why didn’t you ever notice Emma if she worked at the bank?”

“Emma worked dressed in black suits, wore flats, a tight bun, no make-up, bounded breasts and heavy framed glasses.”

Sophia’s jaw dropped open. “Are we talking about the same woman?”

“Aye, the same. She was a submissive at that time and had to dress like a man. She was
in training
. Figures. Then Heather got pregnant. I was ecstatic; my whole family was against Heather; we married and she aborted a month later. In our bathroom. Her screams terrified me and there was so much blood. I don’t know if Emma helped her.”