Trust Me (18 page)

A gasping moan escaped her throat as the vibrating finger slowly caressed the swollen bud of her clitoris. She was sore and tender from the night before, not to mention this morning, but the feelings being born insider her were surreal. A mixture of torture and bliss, desire and passion engulfed her like a shroud. Her back arched as she attempted to move against the restraints holding her, but it was futile; she was held so tightly to the cool sheets that the only thing she could move were her fingers and toes; perhaps her hips, but only a little. The primal need of passion continued to burn within her, the dizzy sensation beginning to overtake her. She drew a deep breath to steady the erratic feelings of the desire, knowing she was fighting a losing battle. When he slowly slipped the finger splint into her, she lost all control, she cried out without hesitation, releasing her penned up emotions against his touch.

Creighton circled his finger inside her as she tried to arch her back, screaming in both frustration of not being able to move and the deepest orgasm she had yet to experience. She felt his tongue against her clitoris and found herself growling savagely while he continued his relentless assault on her delicate body. Her arms and legs pulled against her tethers, her muscles shaking and quivering beneath his touch as she struggled to move. A few moments passed before he at last eased up and allowed her to rest back against the soft bed, panting.

“How was that?” he asked and she could do no more than smile, her heart pounding, her breathing a raged gasps as she tried to calm down. He laughed softly as his large hands began to massage her legs, helping her relax until she was once again able to breathe, her heart rate returning to normal. He moved from the foot of the bed where he had been standing and walked back to the kit that had been moved to the dresser. She listened intently to the sounds of the man’s actions, hearing the soft rustle of movement as he padded across the carpet to stand beside her. She knew he was about to show her something else, something wickedly delicious and she was ready for it. She was aroused beyond imagination and was eager to know all of it, feel all of it. She wanted to know what it took to be driven wild and as she tried to struggle against her restraints again she realized that she really didn’t want to move after all.

“You’re starting to like the dark side, aren’t you my love?” he whispered and she nodded. “Tell me,” he ordered as he slapped something soft across the side of her hip making her screech, more from shock then pain. “Say it, I want to hear the words.”

“I like it,” she gasped.

“How much?” Sandra bit her lip again then felt the sting on the opposite hip. “Say it,” he ordered.

“A lot,” she gasped again.

“Want to feel more?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, a little too eager for what she thought should sound nonchalant, but then she didn’t want to be taken off guard with another sting of his assault.

“What do you want me to do to you?” he asked and she could feel herself blush. She didn’t know how to tell him what she wanted; it just didn’t seem right, but again nothing they had done so far was right. “Tell me,” he ordered slapping her outer thigh.

“I want you to drive me wild,” she whispered and listened to his hearty laughter, the cool object slowly caressing the inside of her calves, causing shivers of anticipation to race along her nerves to the center of her desire. She recognized the feeling of leather and blushed even deeper when she realized he was using the riding crop. The idea of it made her feel oddly aroused.

In a deep tone barely above a whisper, he said, “Let’s play.”

Sandra gasped as the leather softly flicked against her calves. She moaned softly feeling the gentle flicks travel up her inner thighs; again and again the leather slapped across her sensitive skin. She braced herself against the stinging, the realization of where he was heading made her feel dizzy and wanton. Her mind envisioned him standing beside her, slapping her naked flesh with the tip of the crop, just as her grandfather did to the horses he rode. It was intoxicating and she braced herself as he neared the brown curls of her apex, but he stopped and she found herself holding her breath, waiting. Still he didn’t move, she couldn’t hear anything more than his heavy breathing and she slowly relaxed, exhaling her penned breath. When she inhaled again she felt the sting of leather against her sensitive nipples and she screeched in surprise. Creighton grinned wickedly, flicking the leather crop across her nipples again and again, softly but causing a deep stinging to race through her breasts, her body turning a soft pink where he had used the crop.

Just when she was about to tell him to stop, he did, sliding the leather tip along her stomach to her navel, down her abdomen and between her legs and back up again. He did this once more, before quickly flicking the crop against the side of her buttocks and she cried out in surprise. He smacked her again on the opposite side and then to her inner thigh. She moaned and tried to anticipate his next move, but it was too erratic, no real order or reason. He flicked her calf, the bottom of her foot once, twice and then a third time before he stopped. He caressed her legs with the leather for several long minutes before he flicked the tip against her lower abdomen, then quickly against her outer hip. She was moaning, feeling confused and overwhelmed trying to think of where he would go next then it happened; she gasped quickly, her voice a mingled mass of a moan and a screech when he snapped the leather across her soft curls. He did it again causing her to gasp again, feeling his fingers spread her vaginal lips apart. The leather slapped against her moist budding desire and she screamed, not in pain but in pure pleasure. It was the strangest, most incredible sensation she had ever felt. Without thinking she began to struggle against the restraints and moaned as he slapped her again.

“Please,” she moaned trying fruitlessly to lift her hips off the bed.

“What do you want, my love?” he demanded.

“More,” she said and gasped at her own admission. He chuckled and obliged her, slapping her swollen clitoris again and she cried out.

“More?” he asked.

“Yes,” she begged again and was certain she would never be able to get enough of this incredible sensation. He slapped her again, then quickly once more, slightly harder before slipping the warm braided handle inside her wet, tight vagina; pushing it in as far as it would go. She cried out against the gentle pressure against her cervix and was rewarded for her discomfort with the heat and moisture of his tongue against her swollen, throbbing clitoris.

Within the span of a single breath she found herself exploding in the embrace of an uncontrollable orgasm, crying out and trying to wiggle against her restraints. She heard his laughter, felt the vibration across his tongue as she screamed her release. He gently bit her delicate flesh, taking her to an even deeper level of release. He wasn’t relenting; he continued to play with her clitoris, moving the thick braided handle inside her, thrusting it at a steady pace, twisting it from side to side so she could feel the thick braid that wrapped around the shaft. The sensations were unbearable as he took her further down the dark path of desire.

“Oh, my God,” she cried out. “Stop, stop, stop.”  Creighton ceased immediately, slowly removing the riding crop and stretching out on the bed beside her, his hand resting on her stomach as she tried to breathe.

“Slowly, Sandra,” he told her, not moving, just keeping his hand in a resting position against her. “Just breathe.”

“Oh, my God,” she gasped a few moments later as control began to seep back into her body. She licked her dry lips and shook her head. “I don’t think I can handle any more,” she told him.

“Yes you can. You just need a few minutes to relax.” She frowned beneath her mask. He said he would stop if she told him to, but now he was refusing. “I know what you’re thinking,” he told her, the amusement echoing in his soft tone. “The point of bondage is to push beyond your comfort zone, to force a deeper satisfaction than you ever thought you could experience. You just need a few minutes to relax before we start again.” Sandra’s frown remained. She didn’t think she could endure more, she was spent, her arms hurt and her legs ached.

Creighton reached out and gently touched her clamped nipple and she gasped, this time in pain.

“Ouch,” she whispered, not sure if he would care that he was causing her pain. Fear began to creep into her settling euphoria, but was quickly replaced with relief as the clamps were loosened and removed.

“I’m sorry darling,” he assured her. “It was your first time and I shouldn’t have left them on so long. I was distracted and forgot.” She felt the warmth of his mouth on her breast as he sucked on the throbbing nipple causing her to whimper.

“I know it hurts,” he told in a hushed whisper. “But the sucking will help get the blood circulating and make them start feeling better. Just bear with me for a few minutes.” She drew a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut beneath the mask as he continued to suckle her breast. Within a few seconds she really did feel better; her breasts were not as sensitive, just tender. She greeted his release of her breast with a sigh of relief, but gasped again as he leaned over her and repeated the torturous sucking on the other breast. She was dizzy and hot and her stomach lurched. She was certain she was going to be sick and bit her lower lip to prevent the bile from coming up, but within a few moments she felt better, her stomach eased and the pain in her breasts subsided.

“Better?” he asked and she sighed, nodding; her tongue wetting her dry lips again. “Stay here,” he told her a moment later, amusement etching his tone. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

“Very funny,” she snapped at him and listened to his laughter as he left the room.

Sandra lay in the room alone; tethered to the bed completely naked, the moisture between her legs trickled down to the sheets beneath her, the sweet soft music of a string quartet echoed from the speakers. She had no idea what he was doing, but as the minutes ticked by panic began to rise inside her. What would happen to her if he didn’t come back? She pulled against her restraints and tried to get free, but they wouldn’t release and her fear grew. She cried out, shouting his name, her voice near hysterical. A minute later the bedroom door opened and the bed next to her sank under his weight.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, concern etching his tone as he placed a warm hand across her stomach. She drew a deep breath, trying to calm down and realized her fear had brought tears to her eyes, which were quickly soaked up by the soft mask.

“Where did you go?” she demanded, unshed sobs filling her voice.

“I thought you might be thirsty,” he told her. “I’m sorry if I frightened you.”

“I was afraid the ship would sink or catch on fire and I wouldn’t be able to get free.” She listened to the soft chuckle next to her ear and couldn’t help but feel relieved as he leaned across her and nuzzled her neck with his wet lips.

“You really read too many books,” he teased her. “I would never leave you behind to drown in my bed, at least not from water and the only fire you’ll feel is from passion.”

“Where did you go?” she asked again, pulling helplessly at the restraints around her wrists and ignoring his attempt at humor.

“I thought you might be thirsty,” he repeated, stretching out next to her on the bed, snuggling close to her side again. She felt the moisture of ice as he traced a small cube across her dry lips. Sandra licked her lips, realizing she was thirsty. He traced the outline of her lips again before running the ice down her chin, over her neck and across her breast to settle on her swollen tender nipple. Sandra gasped at the cool sensation and found herself smiling as he chuckled.

“Are you trying to freeze me?” she snapped, amusement etching her tone.

“No, just trying to help you feel better. Don’t you like it?” Sandra frowned; actually it did make her breast feel better, though her nipples were puckered and hard. Without a word he slid the melting ice across her chest to the opposite breast.

“How does that feel?” he asked and she sighed, offering him a slight shiver.

“Cold, but better. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he chuckled causing her to frown beneath the mask. She received the answer to his comment a moment later when he trailed the ice cube down her sternum to her navel, circling and dipping it into the small hole. Sandra gasped at the sensations, both erotic and cold and he laughed, leaving the ice in her navel as he moved from her side. She sensed him at the foot of the bed, hearing the clinking of ice against glass and braced herself, but instead of feeling the frozen ice on her body as she expected, she felt his lips; hot and moist, traveling across her sternum as he leaned on the bed between her legs.

Creighton’s lips retraced the wet path the ice had just made, his tongue licking the moisture from her body. Sandra sighed, relaxing into his touch while his tongue found the wet, cold pool of melted ice in her navel. He licked at it like a cat, ticking the sensitive skin before traveling further south. His lips seemed to have a mind of their own as he moved down between her spread legs, his fingers opening her labia and his tongue gently licking at her swollen clitoris. She moaned at the sensation then quickly gasped as his long fingers slid an ice cube into her vagina.

“Relax,” he chuckled, his fingers pressing it in further, past the muscles that tried to reject it from her body. “I know it’s cold, but it will be arousing as hell in a few minutes.”

“I have never heard of anyone having sex with ice before,” she snapped.