Sapphire (7 page)

Taylor fought the ropes in earnest now. The next strap landed on her vulnerable flesh and she screamed, “No!”

The belt struck again, a vicious
yes
in reply. She would give in.

Over and over the leather whipped her, shattering her with each stroke. Perhaps it was the image he’d planted in her mind, but she imagined she felt the ice shattering away. Her bottom became a blaze of pain, and she squirmed frantically to avoid each blow. But they devastated her in their inevitability. Sometimes the belt licked out to sting her hip or the backs of her thighs. Once, it wrapped around her waist, flicking against her tender belly.

Strip by strip, her control fell to pieces, as if Kirliss was indeed stripping armor from her with every stroke of the belt. Each stinging kiss reminded her of her vulnerability.
Here you are naked. Here you are tender.

Without her armor, that blazing passion he’d seen flared, spiraling out of control. She lost herself in it. She screamed it out.

“No, no, no no nononono.”

The unrelenting pain wove through the terrible arousal, swamping her. She no longer formed thoughts, she was only a vessel, swelling to the bursting point. She gushed wordless cries like the fluids pouring from her.

When Kirliss rounded in front of her, golden eyes blazing with feral light, she snarled at him.

He cracked the belt against her thigh.

“Tell me what you want,” he growled.

She thrashed her head, frantic to find the words. Her hair clung to her skin like sticky silk. He lashed her other thigh, the sting of it arrowing into her desperate sex.

“Beg me. You know what you need. Beg me to make you come.”

The belt leather snapped across the fronts of her thighs, lighter than the other strokes, but with a vicious sting that tormented the swollen, wet tissues of her sex.

“Tell me you want it,” he demanded. “Tell me you need this.”

“Yes!” She turned it into a shout, her own demand rising from the ashes of her resistance. “Make me come, goddammit. Please, please, please make me come.”

With a snarl of triumph, Kirliss tossed the belt aside and dropped to his knees in front of her. He trapped her straining hips with lean arms, his sweating flesh hot against her. His fingers clawed the throbbing flesh of her tortured bottom as he thrust his tongue into her sex.

His velvet lips, a shade of stubble on the edges, clamped on to her most private flesh and demolished her. He sucked down tight, his talented tongue flicking against her swollen clit.

Within seconds, Taylor convulsed, her body coiling into the tension and releasing like a spring. She threw back her head, arching against the strain of the ropes, crying out to the heavens while he drank her from below.

Black, red and gold pulsed through her mind. Flooding out. Leaving her clean.

When she was empty, she hung there, slick hands slipping off the ring. Her feet, even in those heels, barely supported her.

Kirliss’s strong embrace did. His arms wrapped her hips while his tongue laved her overstimulated tissues. He licked and kissed at her, bringing her down gently. She gazed down at his dark head nestled against her thighs and wished she could run her fingers through the curls, trace those strong cheekbones.

Slowly soothing turned to teasing. Impossibly, desire flickered into life again. She wriggled against his mouth, a small protest. He lashed her clit with a hard flick of his tongue and she whimpered. Ruthlessly, he revved her up again, driving her higher. Muscles she’d thought depleted tensed. Desire so recently sated flared even higher than before. Flickering edges of climax darkened her vision.

She cried out when he, of course, stopped.

Kirliss chuckled and placed a tender kiss on the juncture of her labia. He tilted his head back to look at her, running stern fingers over her tender ass.

“Welcome back, darling. Ready to move on to the next level?”

It wasn’t over, then. Thank God—she needed much more.

With a sinuous flex of muscles, Kirliss uncoiled to his feet. He came back to her with the champagne bottle, still dripping from the ice bucket. Winding a hand into her hair, he coaxed her head back into an arch, bowing her body and holding the bottle over her upthrust breasts. The icy drops spattered her overheated skin, startling her.

He held the mouth of the bottle over her lips and she obediently opened. The clean froth of it flooded her mouth, dazzlingly cold. She swallowed and he kept pouring, the frosty stream pouring over her throat and breasts. He set the bottle down and, slipping an arm under the small of her back, he lifted her breasts to his mouth, licking away the champagne and the sweat of her pain and desire. He kissed and suckled her while she moaned, a limp flower in his arms.

He licked up her throat and cupped her skull in his other hand. His eyes drilled into her. “You’re mine now, darling. Taylor and M, both.”

She opened her mouth—to say what, she didn’t know—but she lost the words anyway to his devouring kiss. Really, at this point she didn’t care to argue. It could be true—she’d likely yield up whatever he asked for. She knew how relentless he could be in the boardroom, how he kept pushing until he got his way. Now he had her and it felt like a liberation. If only for these few hours, perhaps she could offer him everything.

“I wonder what it takes to get you to stop thinking,” he said against her mouth. “I could practically hear the gears start up again.”

“I never stop thinking.” Taylor caught his lower lip between her teeth, nipping him. “Go to one of your sex-slave bimbos if you want that.” The asperity in her tone surprised her, as did the surge of anger.

Kirliss gave her an unreadable look. Maybe he was surprised that she’d pointed out the obvious. He was good at this and clearly practiced with a lot of women. No one set up a bondage fantasy in their house not to use it frequently.

“I told you before. I’m not interested in having a slave.” He went over to the side table and wiped his hands on the towel, then brought another little table to set in front of her. Its glass top gleamed in the diffused light.

“Then what are you interested in?” Taylor tried to make it sound taunting.

He picked up the black leather belt, coiled it into a neat circle and laid it on the table, glancing up under elegant eyebrows.

“You.”

The answer was simple, straightforward, yet it unsettled her. She squirmed, tugging on the ropes.

“You’re a fascinating woman. You don’t flinch at the bonds, the belt, even my little toys, but when I mention any of the softer emotions, you wriggle like a small child.”

“This isn’t about soft emotions, Kirliss. This is sex.”

“Is it?” His voice was mild as he arranged several crystal bottles and various implements on the table, but the muscles of his chest rippled.

“Yes. This is kink, pure and simple. Not romance.”

“You think this is about me, about my desires.”

“Isn’t it? You seem to be having a good time.”

He slanted a wolfish grin at her. “Can’t deny that.” Then his face sobered. “If I’d approached you with romance, you would have shut me out, yet again. You deny your connections to other people. No one knows the tender insides, do they?”

Suddenly afraid in a way she hadn’t been, feeling more exposed, she tugged on her bonds.

Kirliss watched her, eyes sympathetic. “It’s hard for you, but I will lay you open. The stakes for me are too high. You’ll trust me, because you’ll have no choice.”

She couldn’t tear her eyes from his face.

“Time to pry you open, Taylor. Let’s see if we can find where M is hiding.”

He set something that looked like a small brass telescope with chains attached on the table, then came over to her. Taylor braced herself for more tormenting touches. Did “pry open” mean what she thought it did? None of her lovers had ever suggested that, and she hadn’t been able to bring herself to ask.

Kirliss placed the tip of his finger between her breasts, stroking lightly. “Here. This is where I’m planting my chains, sinking in the hooks. You don’t feel it yet, because you’re covered in scar tissue.”

Emotion roiled, called to his touch like a magnet. She had to break this spell. “That’s ridiculous. It’s not like I’ve been hurt. Had my heart broken so I’m some kind of pathetic spinster.”

“Haven’t you? Has anyone ever really loved you?” He asked the question quietly, staring into her eyes like he might draw her soul out of them.

She steeled herself not to turn away. He wouldn’t learn her secrets by looking at her. “I have family.”

“Not all families know how to love.”

“Not all of us need love.”

His lips twisted in a wry half-smile at her flippant tone. “So afraid. You’ll see. You can be exposed to me and I’ll take care of you. You can trust me.”

He picked up a decanter of oil with a long glass spout and poured the oil over his lean hand, the viscous gold catching the light.

“I’m going to take you up again, push you so high that armor will shatter and I can reach inside. Get ready to fly, darling.”

He moved behind her, giving her a little slap on the bottom that stung her abused flesh. She cried out in surprise, then gasped as his fingers once again spread her cheeks. His finger tickled her back opening, then pressed harder, the oil slick and warm, his other hand clasping her mons to brace her.

“Ever indulged in anal play?” he asked conversationally.

Taylor shook her head, aghast as his finger pressed into her, pushing deeper and deeper.

“No,” she breathed in jagged pulses, “oh no.”

“Good. I look forward to having your virginity, then. Let me in, Taylor.”

He pushed in deeper and she cried out at the violation.

She whimpered. “I don’t think I—”

“Say the word and I’ll stop.” He worked his finger around, the penetration arousing her in a totally different way. She felt her helplessness to stop him more profoundly than ever. The word hovered near the roof of her mouth.

Sapphire
.

She choked it back, refusing to give in. Kirliss pressed a second finger against her muscled rim, holding her in place as she strained to move away.

“Intimate, isn’t it? Having me touch you where no one ever has. When my cock is in you, it will be much larger than this. Not to be vain, but there it is. These are baby steps. Let me in.”

A sob escaped her, though her eyes were dry.

He withdrew his hand, coming around her to take up the towel, watching her with a serious expression. “This isn’t a contest. Don’t turn it into one.”

“Life is a contest,” Taylor snapped. “The strong win, the weak die—or are enslaved.”

“Sometimes strength isn’t what we think it is.”

“I can take whatever you dish out.” The toss of her head would have worked better if her hair wasn’t damply plastered to her cheeks.

“Of that, I have no doubt.” He grinned and held up the telescope thing. “This is what I’m planning to dish next. This will spread you open. For better access to all those vulnerable places you like to keep walled off. I find that various tools like this act like keys. Certain things open locks better than others. I’m very interested to find every trick that will open you to me. I’ll let you look at it, so you can think about what it might do to you.”

He set the brass device prominently in the center of the table where she could study it. Clearly some kind of phallus, it had concentric ridges on it and seemed to be constructed of thin plates that ran its length. Long, thin chains, like for a necklace, ran out of the bottom, which looked to have a sort of dial mechanism.

Oh yeah, she had a pretty good guess on that one. Her anus, still burning from his touch, clenched when she imagined the probable use.

Meanwhile Kirliss had been busy at her feet. He’d pulled rings up through slits in the plush rug, one on either side of her, which seemed to be anchored to the floor below. Taking a pair of silver rings from the table, he locked them around each ankle, just below the rope. Then he attached little chains to them, like the one on the phallus, running them out to the rings on the floor. He glanced up to see her watching the process and winked at her.

“Just in case you take it into your head to try kicking me.”

“What an enticing thought. Perhaps I should chain you up and try a little payback.”

“You’d have to do some fancy negotiating for that one.” Kirliss flashed her a grin. “I look forward to hearing your proposal.”

He unwound the rope from her ankles. As her legs came free, she figured she could kick a little, but not much. He ran soothing hands over her thighs and calves, massaging her ankles as he coaxed her to lift one heeled foot, then the other, so he could remove the high heels. Without the shoes, she had to stand on tiptoes while he pulled off her panties and stockings.

“I’ll lower the ring in a moment,” he told her. “Meanwhile, you look very pretty this way, on tiptoes like a ballerina. I should dress you in one of those stiff tutus with nothing beneath and make you dance for me.”

Kneading her strained calf muscles, he kissed his way up her inner thigh. He placed a light kiss at the point of her mons, urging her legs apart with his grip on her ankles. Hanging on to the ring above her, Taylor tried to comply, but the movement put her weight higher on her toes.

Kirliss licked her folds with a hot tongue and she moaned her approval, her thighs quaking with the effort.

“This is fun, but—” he sighed and stood, “—we can’t have you in that position too long—wouldn’t want to strain your joints.”

He moved behind her to the wall panel where there had to be many dials of torment. Taylor sighed with relief as the ring lowered and she could stand flatfooted again. Her shoulders ached as she lowered her arms for the first time in what felt like forever, the blood rushing warm and tingling into them.

Kirliss came to take her hands in his, studying the ropes he’d bound her with. “Your hands are warm—how do your wrists and shoulders feel?”

Taken aback by the concern in his eyes, she mentally stumbled. “Does it matter?”

He curled his fingers around hers, tucking their hands between them while he bent to kiss her. He brushed her lips with his, then deepened it, lightly feeding on her mouth. “Of course it matters. Your experience matters more than anything else.”