UndeniablyHisE (11 page)

"Move that ass, baby."

He wanted me to dance, to grind my hips and force the dildo to mirror the thrusts of his cock in my mouth. I wiggled, bounced, moaning as I swallowed around the fat head of his dick. My fingers found his lean hips as my entire body began to vibrate.

"Deeper," he grunted.

I didn't know if he meant cock or dildo so I absorbed more of each into my willing, burning flesh. Tears streaked down my cheeks as my climax slammed through me. I seized, swallowed, came again, sucking and coming and swallowing in unison until Stark broke free, unspent, and grabbed my shoulders.

He lifted, then dragged me toward the bed. Pushing me onto my knees, he grabbed the base of the dildo and forced me to raise cunt and ass high in the air as he pushed my chest onto the mattress.

"Time to fill this sweet ass."

I whimpered but didn't protest. I didn't think about how the only object that had ever breached my anus had been Stark's fingers. I didn't worry whether it would hurt. Pain would cure me faster than pleasure.

Or so I hoped.

**********

Hands bound, nipples clamped, I looked up at the man who, over the course of our second week in Dubai, had become my master. Not the head of my company, not my boss -- but the man who was Collin Stark in his most primal form, giving and taking pleasure mercilessly.

I closed my eyes, re-centering my thoughts to correct them. He was
not
my master. His body and touch were my tools, his passion my means to an end no matter how many times he had made me come over the last seven days, dominating me each night, again in the early mornings before he left for the work that had postponed our departure, and those sweet, stolen moments during the day when he returned to the suite.

I flattened my lips, trying hard not to think of those afternoons. They slayed me. Rather, his behavior during them threatened to end my search for a cure as he invariably pulled me onto his lap. Kissing my mouth, he would lift my skirt, checking my comfort if he left a toy in me that morning. Some afternoons, he would suckle at my breasts, fingers gently exploring me, teasing me but never seeking his pleasure or letting me find mine. Sweet and relaxed, almost loving.

"Look at me, Mia."

Abandoning the memories, I opened my eyes. Stark dropped to his haunches, his all-seeing gaze studying me.

"You still think there's a cure, don't you?"

"Yes." I would not change my answer to please him, taking my continued obstinacy as a sign of hope.

"Sometimes, I think you're right." His gaze drifted from my face to my body. With a measured slowness he extended one fingertip and whisper stroked my clamped nipple.

A shudder rolled over me, my head dipping back as my lips parted to release a moan.

"Then you go and do that, sweet Mia. Reacting like God himself caressed you instead of mortal me."

Fuck, when he had me like this -- at the precipice, bound, teased, stretched, stroked -- he
was
God as blasphemous as the thought felt.

"I won't always feel this way," I countered.

His hand dropped back to his side and his face went through a series of micro-expressions. I marveled for a moment at how I had learned them without trying. Having abandoned my careful analysis, I had reached a state in which I intuitively held an understanding of the man before me that never would have yielded to reason.

He had decided to change tactics -- the wry downturn of his mouth after a single blink told me so. "You said before, you didn't want my trust."

I nodded.

He breezed a finger down my bare side. "Why?"

Sensing a change in his voice, I forced myself not to look for its meaning or source. All week long, I had stayed true to the promise I made myself. No analysis -- just sensation. Every question he asked -- and he had asked so many -- I gave the first answer that presented itself in my thoughts. In the process, I learned more about myself than I had ever known.

"I can't give you mine," I responded, my eyes drifting shut as he brushed the backs of his fingers against the fur of my mound.

"Trust?" His voice changed pitch again, startling my eyes open.

Don't think, damn it. Feel!

I forced another nod as a cold blanket of logic tried to wrap itself around the base of my skull.

Stark snorted. "Baby, you are on your knees, your hands bound, your throat collared, in a foreign country that..."

He stopped and swallowed down the heresy he had been about to voice.

"You have allowed so many things these last few days..." The hand at my cunt drifted toward the flogger, jealousy sparking along the surface of my skin as he stroked the toy's leather handle instead of my body.

Lifting the flogger, he let its suede tails brush up the length of the still flushed thighs he had finished heating just a few minutes before. "And you'll allow so many more before we leave."

He stopped and met my gaze as if waiting for a response.

I blinked then managed nothing more than a soft "yes" of acknowledgement that he had taken many liberties and I would offer him as many more as it took to overdose on Collin Stark.

"Love, how can you still think you don't trust me?"

My lips parted.

I stopped breathing.

He was wrong, but I would have to break my promise not to think if I wanted to prove to him that he had not received my trust, not once. My lips moved -- motions that should have been a response devolved to a quivering mouth.

He kissed me, dropping the flogger so that both hands could smooth along my sides, traveling up over the outward curve of my breasts to dust my shoulders before cupping my face and holding me motionless as the kiss deepened.

His hands moved behind me, one cupping a butt cheek as the other reached for something out of sight. Feeling the cold brush of metal, I knew which new toy he had taken from the tray on the floor. The collar should have given his intent away earlier, but I had been too lost in the crisp slap of the suede tails against my flesh to offer any thought on what might come next.

A hook -- nothing as harsh as it sounds, just a smooth metal ball welded to a curving bar that ended in a small eyelet. The ball would be in my pussy or ass very soon, with a D-ring hooked to one of the rings on my collar and to the bar's eyelet so that the slightest movement in my neck tugged at ass or pussy.

I groaned, trembling in anticipation of which hole Collin intended to fill. Releasing his hold on my butt cheek, he lubricated his fingers. I sensed him coating the ball and then his fingers found my anus.

"Fuck," I exhaled, a mad throb taking possession of my cunt.

Chuckling softly, Collin moved behind me, fingering my ass with one then two then three fingers. I couldn't remain still no matter how much I knew he expected me to. Or pretended to expect. I knew he took immense pleasure from my lack of control, each twitch, moan or climax serving as an excuse to continue playing with me.

"Fuck is right, love." Slowly, he teased the ball into my ass. "I'm going to fuck this sweet pussy until you release all over the floor."

It wasn't a braggart's boast. He had made me come like that more than a dozen times, knew just the right sequence of strokes and bites and rough thrusts it took to make the dam break and the floor flood.

With the ball in place, he pressed against my back and bottom, his pelvis playfully butting against the metal bar. His hands snaked around front to test the clamps. Finding me still sensitive to his touch, he gave a sharp tug and I cried out.

A quick jump of his hands to mine and he freed me from the wrist restraints. "On your knees, baby."

I dropped to the floor, my ass and pussy willingly, eagerly presented to him. He rubbed at my aching slit.

"Head lower, ass higher."

Crossing my forearms in front of me, I used them as a cushion and pressed one cheek to them. My breasts, the nipples throbbing from the clamps, brushed over the cold floor. I squealed, pussy twitching from the overload of sensations, but remembered to lift my ass higher before he could offer a correcting pinch or swat.

"Beautiful, love," Collin whispered right before the fat head of his cock breached my cunt.

Beautiful, love, gorgeous, baby, sweet Mia
-- the words had lightly salted his sentences those first few nights after business delayed our return to the States. By the fourth night, we didn't make it through a full session of play before he had uttered each word at least once.

I no longer recoiled at any of them, didn't subconsciously or openly dismiss his sincerity. That was as much a part of the deal I made with myself not to analyze anything and just feel. When I stopped thinking about how the words should make me feel, it no longer hurt to hear them.

"Baby..." Draping his chest lightly against my back and the metal bar that separated us, he braced one arm on the floor, the other on my hip. "You feel amazing, so tight and swollen."

Swollen, yes. Collin had put a belt on me at lunch. No ordinary chastity device, it came with a thick plug that fitted snugly in my pussy and made me conscious of every minute of the eight hours that passed before he finished work and returned to the suite.

Removing the belt, he had fingered me to my first climax of the night. Sweet, tender, nothing like the lashing that would soon follow, he had me lie on the couch, one foot on the floor and the other tight against the back cushion so that I was fully open to him. He had suckled, too, as he fingered me, his tongue and lips busy teasing my clit.

More than my own release, I saw the tension he had walked through the door carrying ease from his shoulders the closer I approached to my climax.

So, yes, the plug and his fingers had caused the soft tissues inside my cunt to swell and now his thick cock was in me, locked tight as he buried it balls deep. His hand drifted from my hip to the clamp on that side. He ran his fingertip against the hard, aching tip, his lips planting a kiss between my shoulder blade each time a mewling whine escaped me.

He undid the clamp, then shifted his weight and supporting arm so that he could similarly tease the other needy nipple before freeing it. When both devices were off, he pushed down between my shoulder blades, forcing me to lower my upper body until the nipples and breasts were flattened against the cold marble floor.

The sensation made me tighten around him and buck. I pressed my lips together, fighting for control. He hooked a finger inside my mouth and pried it open.

"I want to hear you when you come, want to see your lips quiver and watch you take those hard pants of air because you don't want to let go and let the pleasure claim you."

Relaxing my jaw, I closed my eyes. He had transported me back to that earlier moment when I thought him my master. For the next few minutes, he would be that man. It was okay, too, that temporary surrender. Faced with a wall of pleasure, I had learned to forgive myself the momentary failings when all I wanted were these final moments with him before we both unleashed.

"That's it, love," he coaxed, his fingers sliding over my hip, across my lower belly to the center of my need -- my pulsing, aching clit. He stroked me there, slow and tender and relentless as his mouth found my neck and sucked. "I can feel you coming."

Yes, I had tripped over into another orgasm, my mind floating, lifting, my flesh weightless as he ground against me. My walls contracted, quivered, pulsed. Alien sounds strangled out of my throat and past my lips as his fingers and thrusts discovered a faster pace.

I leaked onto his hand, first in small drips, then little squirts until my release had no recourse other than thick jets that spurted with each buck of my hips...with each sob torn from me. Heat blasted through my stomach then spread to warm my breasts against the cold floor. My cunt twisted around his shaft as my ass slurped and sucked at the metal ball, my entire body a paroxysm of pleasure.

When my wild jerks finally ceased and my cries dropped to satisfied moans, Collin wrapped both arms around me and lifted me onto the bed -- our bed for the last two nights. He removed the metal ball and its bar then the collar. His hands caressed, his lips soothed, each ache evaporating beneath his touch.

Settling next to me, he pulled the covers over us and let me bury my head against his chest. Stroking my hair, Collin said something, repeating it twice more. Trembling through each syllable and repetition, the words finally sank in.

Please don't cry, love.

**********

Something flipped after that night. The toys slowly disappeared. If anything was inside me, it was his cock, fingers or tongue. If he wanted my nipples sore and aching, he pinched and sucked them to that point. If he wanted my bottom red, he spanked it.

Flesh on flesh on flesh.

He took two days off to show me Dubai and the surrounding desert. We watched the sun as it set over the water one night and over the golden dunes the next. He held me through the duration of both sunsets, his hands and mouth leisurely sampling my body, slowly bringing me to a boil so that I climaxed just as the sun dropped below the horizon.

Analysis crept back in. How could it not? This was not the Collin Stark I had known all those weeks. Where I had felt secure offering up my flesh to his expert hands, knowing any marks made would fade within a few hours, I shied at the realization he had started to mark me more deeply.

My heart was in peril.

When he left in the mornings, I cried afterwards. He seemed to know, too, his demeanor altered when he returned at lunch. He cradled me more fiercely those afternoons, forced me to hold his gaze longer. His lips would part and, seeing the consonants and vowels that had gathered along his tongue, I would brace for him to say something. Then he would blink, his mouth sealing, the words retreating back down his throat with a thick swallow.

At the beginning of the fourth week in Dubai, the alarm clock buzzed an hour earlier than normal. Collin shut it off then draped a possessive arm across my shoulder as he nuzzled my neck. The tender grazing moved down my body. When he reached my stomach, he brushed one stubbly cheek against the sensitive skin and sighed.